#Database Factories

[hush-house-yard-sale]

The Hush House Card Catalogue

@baja-blasted @terephin (please ignore the crabs)

//So the software I'm using to keep track of my books, lore bits, etc. is called Seatable! It wasn't my first choice for this project, I'm more familiar with Airtable (I've used it professionally), but Airtable's free plan doesn't let you color-code :c

//Seatable is a website that looks a lot like google sheets, but instead of building a spreadsheet, you're building a database. I knew I wanted a database rather than a spreadsheet for my card catalogue because it became pretty apparent early on that a spreadsheet would mean a lot of duplicate entries and be a lot more work to maintain, as well as monumentally more work if I wanted to use it for reference.

//My database isn't finished, and so I'm not really comfortable making it public, but I'm happy to walk through some of the things that I like most about it, that made me choose to make a database rather than a spreadsheet.

//The main things that were really important to me was being able to have (and filter by) multiple items in the same column, having lots of cross-linking between the different sheets in the base, and having different views depending on what I was looking to reference.

//These are my different tables right now, and the way they work is that each table has the most detailed information on each item, e.g. Books has the most detail on books, and Skills has the most detail on skills. But I have columns in each table that allow me to crosslink between them.

//So for each book, I have listed the skill and memory they give, but instead of writing each out individually it links to the corresponding entry in skills/memories

//And then over in the memories tab it has all the detail on the aspects, which wisdoms it can be committed to...

//...and every book this skill can be found in and every item it can be used to craft. And those boxes can be expanded so they're easier to read as well!

//I can also group and sort things in different views. My default view for books, for example, splits them into two categories—whether I've read the book or not—and then sorts the books in each category alphabetically. But I also have one that groups them all by mystery and then sorts them from low to high, and I have another that groups them by topic. Each of these views also omits columns that aren't relevant to that particular view, for example, if I'm searching for books by mystery to give to a visitor, it's important to know the author because it's fun to give people books they themselves have written, but I don't really care about what memories that book gives, or when I'm trying to connect lore dots, it doesn't matter whether or not the book is cursed and I don't need to include books I haven't read yet (and thus don't have topic tags for). The rows on the topic one are also bigger so I can better read the blurbs.

//Well, the topic one actually groups by location, because when I group it by topic, it splits it into every combination of my topic tags, rather that giving me "here are all your books about the mansus" "here are all your books about Longs and Names" so I've stored them all in different places in the house depending on what books I think are relevant to one another.

//It's still in progress, I don't have everything written down yet, and I want more data for workbenches, and I want to try and see if there's a way for it to, say, auto-match skills/souls to workbenches for committing to the tree or crafting certain recipes. Also my color-coding is in shambles bc I'm waiting for a friend to recover from covid so that they can make me a greasemonkey script to make it a little less... corporate...

//But yeah! I like it a lot, and it works really well for my purposes. I highly recommend trying it out, and I'm happy to answer questions!

[oriolespeaking]

why can't sideloading to kobo with calibre be simple and easy an perfect all the time

[mythalism]

i know everyone is really excited for the oblivion remake because i was too. oblivion was the first real video game i ever played when i was a kid, and is literally the reason i am a gamer today, but BDS has called for a microsoft boycott, and that includes anything made by bethesda.

this isn't just a "oh they have some obscure business partnerships in isr*el" or "oh they donate to this or that lobby" sort of boycott either, although those are important too. my tone is not meant to be flippant about them, but rather i want to emphasize the gravity of how microsoft directly and deliberately contributes to the palestinian death toll daily, in a way that is uniquely cruel and complicit.

microsoft has had a $35 million dollar contract with the isr*eli military since 2002. they provide cloud storage for surveillance data of gazan civillians, and an artificial intelligence program called a "mass assassination factory" to assist in planning and targeting their attacks, many of which are on civilians or involve mass civilian casualties.

microsoft's service agreements with the isr*eli military also includes the CPU responsible for the military's tech infrastructure, military intelligence units that develop spy technology used against palestinians and lebanese, the maintenance of the palestinian population registry that tracks and (illegally) limits the movement of palestinains in the west bank and gaza, their air force targeting database, and much more. they work closely with isr*eli military intelligence agencies on surveillance systems used to monitor palestians, provide specialized consulting, technical and engineering support, hosts training software for the IOF, provide financial support to organizations based in the illegally occupied west bank, and have repeatedly invested in isr*eli start ups specializing in war technology.

in 2020, internal and external pressure forced microsoft to pull out of its 74 million dollar investment in an isr*eli company that violated international law due to its use of facial recognition technology for military surveillance.

in 2021, microsoft signed a new, 3-year contract with the isr*eli ministry of defense worth $133 million dollars. the isr*eli military is microsoft's second largest military customer. the first? the united states.

you can read more (w/ sources) about microsoft's complicity here.

BDS asks us to boycott microsoft products whenever possible.

microsoft is directly complicit in countless isr*eli war crimes, and the money you provide them will further proliferate this violence. i know the oblivion remake was exciting, but please, consider the lives of palestinians above your own nostalgia. no one is free until everyone is free.

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Early Morning

Summary: Bucky Barnes x fe!Reader -> Bucky helps you after a nightmare.

Disclaimer: Mostly smut with plot. MDNI 18+. Fluff, a little angst, Reader is an ex winter soldier experiment, too. Flashbacks to reader meeting Bucky (not the WS). Swearing, unprotected P-in-V (wrap it up), established relationship, caring Bucky, mentions of nightmares, Bucky holds/cuddles reader. Not proof read. Again, 18+.

Your breathing laboured, you shot up in bed. 

There was next to no light inside the room, but you could still make out the pile of clothes thrown over the back of your desk chair wasn’t a monster haunting your room. 

Then you felt a hand at the bottom of your back. For a moment, you jumped before you realised who the hand belonged to. 

“You okay?”

You scrubbed your face and nodded. Then he slowly sat up with you. His hands rubbing your back before his lips tiredly kissed your shoulders. He leaned against you, his cheek pressing his lingering kiss deeper into your skin. 

“Talk to me. What happened?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“Nightmare?”

You could only nod. 

“Tell me?”

“Same as usual.” 

Your voice came out quiet, an invisible heavy weight pushing your shoulders down. 

You’d been found by Bucky and Sam almost five years ago. Having been one of the last people to be put through a Winter Soldier, you were one of the few to survive. And you’d been surviving alone until that day in the abandoned factory. 

From there, you had been put through some more trials. From being locked up in a ‘comfortable’ cell, realising just who Bucky was and when you’d met him before to going through new training that meant you were becoming a new Shield Agent. 

And somewhere in the last five years, you and Bucky had found common ground and eventually a friendship that had bloomed into something more. 

“Come here.” 

Rubbing one of his hands up and down your back, he gently led you to lie back down beside him. He held you close to him, his grip tightening around you. You felt his legs slot and tangle between yours before his lips pressed against your head. 

With his hand skating across your thigh, he pulled you over his hip before letting his fingers push under the back of your top to let his fingers trace up and down your spine. 

Within seconds, your senses were consumed by him. 

Bucky felt you take in a deep breath before you finally relaxed in his arms. 

“Feeling better?”

You nodded with a little hum. “‘Little.”

Bucky just held you tighter. 

By the time you woke back up again, your position hadn’t changed much save for the fact that your back was now against Bucky’s chest. 

You could feel his breath, even and soft against your back, calming you even more. 

There have been times where you’d let your mind wander. What if you had met Bucky, as he was now, under different circumstances? Maybe you’d gone to MIT, or Harvard or one of those places before joining Shield. Maybe you would have bumped into him in the lunch line, or in the hallway. Maybe he would have asked you on a date, or maybe you would have asked it. 

Maybe it would have been conventional. 

Unlike how you’d come to meet this version of Bucky. 

“Do you think she remembers you?”

You just stared at the ceiling inside the cell you’d been placed in. They’d given you a mattress and blankets for the slick metal bed, but you’d pulled them to the ground before you laid down, letting the cold metal cool you down. 

Sam and Bucky had been standing on the other side of the reflective glass, talking to each other. They were yet to know you could hear every word they were saying despite the speakers being disconnected. 

“Sargent Jame Buchannan Barnes of the 107th.”  You’d said his name slowly, almost repeating it as if you’d been saying it your entire life. 

Eventually, Sam left once you gave them your name. As he went to search through every database he could think of, Bucky stayed and turned the reflective screen off. You’d walked over calmly, answering every question he had. 

Did you remember him? 

“I remember you from…before.”

Where did you come from?

“Winter Soldier programme. I woke up somewhere in Europe. I just kept walking until I recognised a name.”

And where did you come from…before?

You told him everything he wanted to know. You’d spent so long keeping secrets, seeing where the world was going…

Anything was better than being sent back into the Winter Soldier programme. And if Bucky could get out, then so could you. 

After going through more tests than you could count, having more needles pricked into your skin than you’d like, and after extensive psych-evals from multiple different professionals, you were cleared to work. 

Under strict supervision. 

And that came from both Shield and Bucky. He’d been in the programme himself, so he knew what to look for when things got bad. For a few of the appointments where he’d watched through the glass, seeing the hidden pain on your face as the fortieth test was done on your blood, he entered the room and held onto your hand. 

During training hours when he could see the memories flooding back when you pushed yourself a little too far, he would tap you out and make you walk around the building with him. He never had to say anything. Just knowing someone was there was enough for you. 

Eventually, those silent moments added up to small and trusting conversations. Then one day, things began to change. You talked more, felt happier more often, found not only friends but family. 

“How’d you sleep?”

Slowly, you turned over and looked at Bucky. 

“Better.”

You felt Bucky’s lift softly brush a kiss over your nose before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your lips. He felt your hand cup his cheek, keeping his lips kissing yours for a little longer. 

“I love you.”

Bucky smiled, kissing you again. “I love you, too.”

Leaning back in again, he pressed a soft kiss onto your lips. But you didn’t want it to end. There was just something about Bucky’s kiss. The way his lips pressed against yours, as if he’d been kissing you his entire life. 

And it had been that way since the first time he kissed you. 

You’d both spent the entire day in the training room since it had been the first place Kate had looked for both of you to help train the new recruits from Shield. The last time she’d asked you both for help, you were both left stranded and swore an oath to each other that you’d never do it again. 

So, rather than run around the entire compound all day, you remained in the one place Kate wouldn’t look again. 

But instead of pushing yourselves to the limits, you both had fun. 

Sparring with each other, you both laughed. Falling to the ground, talking, laughing, reminiscing, planning. You often spent time like that, together. But you both never got a chance to simply have fun. 

But it was as you were lying underneath him, wondering what would happen if you pulled at his dog tags in those moments and finally answered your year long question; what would it feel like if he kissed you?

The door just outside of the training room creaked open. 

Scampering to your feet, Bucky grabbed your hand and you both raced out of the back exit. 

However, as you heard the doors creak again, you pulled Bucky around a corner. And once everything fell silent, only then did you both realise the position you were in. His knee wedged between your legs, his hands caging you in by your hips and your hands fisting his t-shirt. 

Between hitched breaths and pounding hearts, Bucky kissed you. 

Neither of you had expected it and when the kiss broke in order for both of you to catch your breath, it was safe to say you were both surprised. 

But as the shock faded away, being replaced by a desperate desire to feel his kiss on your lips again, his hands became tousled in your hair as you pulled him closer by his dog tags. 

“Holy fuck,” Bucky breathed before he moved to kiss you again. 

And that’s what it was still like. 

Bucky’s hands ghosted down your body before pulling your leg over his hip. Surprising him, you pushed yourself up until you were straddling his thighs. Like he’d done a thousand times before, he pulled your top from your body and over your head before throwing it across the room. His hands held you closer, feeling your skin against his chest. 

Feeling his bulge grow beneath you, you rocked your hips over him. His grip on you tightened as he groaned. 

“Holy fuck,” his voice was gravelly as he moved his lips from yours to the softness of your neck. “Baby-”

With his fingers squeezing your flesh softly, his hand moved from under your ass to the front of your body before dipping under the waistband of your shorts. 

“So wet already-” 

His teeth scraped lightly at your pulse point, no doubt eventually leaving a hickey you’d find in a few hours. 

A moan became muffled against his lips as you bucked your hips against his hand. Then his fingers began to steadily circle your clit. 

You gasped. “Keep - keep going.” You closed your eyes as you leaned your head against his. “Fuck.”

“Always,” Bucky nipped at your jaw. “So,” nip. “Ready,” nip. “For me.”

You gasped again, and Bucky smiled as he watched the shock and pleasure take over your body and face as he inserted two fingers, curling them inside of you. 

“You look so fucking hot like this,” Bucky slurred as he watched you. 

It wasn’t long until your own fingers drifted down his front, palming his dick through the cloth of his underwear until finally letting him free from the restriction. 

By the time the tip of his cock was strumming through your juices, your legs had already begun to shake. 

“Bucky, please.”

“Always so polite,” Bucky teased before once again watching your face as you took him in. 

You felt your back arch as his cock stretched you and his hand pushed up your front. His thumb flicking at your nipple before he took you into his mouth for a moment, you moaned his name. 

“So fucking hot…”

Having been the Winter Soldier, Bucky could never get drunk. But he was drunk on you. 

“Fuck, doll.” Bucky moaned into your neck as his hand squeezed at your ass, holding you down on him. “‘Feels so fucking..good…fuck.”

Teasing him a little, you began drawing lazy circles with your hips. Your shared breath became ragged as your skin took on a light sheen just as Bucky’s tongue traces lines across your collarbone. 

Finding your weak spot, he began to suck. 

He could feel your hand in his hair, your nails raking on his scalp. 

Eventually the noises went from sensual to down right animalistic. Begging and pleading before finally, with his fingers applying a delicious pressure onto your clit, Bucky felt your walls tighten around his cock as he helped you ride out your orgasm. 

Breathless, you felt yourself smile as you leaned down towards his ear. “I want you to cum inside of me.”

“Baby-”

“Please, Buck.”

He didn’t need to be asked again. With his fingers teasing your overstimulated clit, you felt Bucky finally cum inside of you. It wasn’t often you had him go without protection, so it was rare you ever got to feel him. 

A shower and two hours later, you were both sitting eating breakfast at the table in the kitchen. “You wanna talk about last night?”

You shrugged, pushing the blueberries around on your plate. “Not much has changed. Still trapped inside my own body, still hurting people.”

“How long has it been since the last one?”

One thing about your nightmares was that it was rare to become a night terror. You didn’t exactly wake up screaming and panting for breath. But sometimes, the silent ones were the worst kind. Because they continued to play on your mind. So vivid and so real.  

“Couple of months,” you told him, truthfully. 

“Sam text this morning. Said he’s gonna come round later. Apparently he wants to test Red Wing’s new features out on the back fields.”

“And you said yes?” You asked, hiding your smile. You knew your boyfriend’s reputation with Red Wing. They weren’t exactly the best of friends. 

“I think maybe you should talk with Sam.”

You nodded. “I will.”

You’d been given qualified doctors over the years and a lot of them had helped. But sometimes the best person to talk to was someone who knew what you were going through. And, as much as Bucky knew what you were going through; the one person who helped get through to him was Sam. 

Bucky watched you for a few moments before he reached over and hooked his hand under the edge of your chair. “Come here,” he said as he pulled you closer. 

You could feel yourself blush with a little giddiness as he pulled you closer to him across the table before his hand rested on your bare thigh. 

Then he kissed you. 

“I love you,” he told you. 

“I love you, too,” you replied. 

[leyavo]

[Jinx series masterlist]

Jinx made the most of her shitty call-sign. Might as well spread that bad luck all over someone else’s computer.

The software she created slipping undetected into another’s computer. A little pop-up appearing when they oh so stupidly agreed to that update of some program that’s been safe so many times.

Ooops.

“Hi, you’ve been Jinxed! Don’t be a stranger now, I can see everything on your screen.”

There’s no use scrambling to shut down the multiplying pop-ups.

“Haha, not so quick now. I like it when you overshare.”

Too panicked about all the data being collected that it takes them a while to use their brains and turn the computer off.

But, Jinx is always running in the background when it’s turned back on later. Would ya’ look at that, how nice is it for people to be soo welcoming.

So when it pops up on Soap’s laptop, a little sponge scrubbing the screen and wiping some damaging intel for him, he can’t help but leave it on and let Jinx help him out.

Another pop-up with an eye watering amount of pound notes in the box. Soap has to count the zeros, throat dry and eye twitching.

“You’ve been jinxed! If you’d like to retrieve your files….”

“JINX!!” Soap dropped his laptop on her desk, one hand on the back of her chair and the other beside the keyboard caging Jinx in.

The clack of the keyboard stopping, “relax Soap, I’m just running some practice tests, give me a fifty and we’ll call it even.”

He opens his mouth, but Gaz interrupts. “Pay it or it’s doubled mate.” A knowing look of how he too was on the test list. Kyle had unknowingly made it too easy for her to find it, she noticed the structure/pattern of his files and thanked him later.

“Already doubled for burning my eyes out,” Jinx said, smiling as Soap pulled his wallet out of his pocket and begrudgingly pulled out his cash.

The only person that didn’t pay up was Ghost as there was no dirt on anything digital. He kept everything off technology and his laptop looked like it was still on the factory settings. A rolling green landscape with one lone file on the desktop. Pathetic and boring really. Jinx downloading a game of chess to his desktop and every now and then she notices Ghost has made a new move.

The Captain had a load, but he managed to bribe his way out of it…gave Jinx some privileges she didn’t have before. Something to keep her preoccupied, she knew what he was doing, but whose she to turn down a free fifteen minutes on that on particular database.

[comicbookgirl2]

My cringy re-write for Dr Sawyer storyline for Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I’m not saying I dislike chapter 4! I actually like it quite a lot! This is just what I would’ve done for the doctors side of things!

Dr Sawyer is still helping the prototype like he is in the original only this time he is secretly trying to undermine him as well. With the power of the Omni hand/chip He has a small faction of his own- but unlike either Poppy’s (sensible toys) or the prototype (toys that toe the line of insanity) his are completely feral, lacking any remnants of the humans they once were, save for the loyalty that he’d forcefully implanted into them before he’d been betrayed by Playtime co.

But this is where we diverge from cannon. You see a bit after the hour of joy - he catches wind of Poppy’s displeasure of the prototype, and being in the position he is - he can’t help but agree with her. So he makes a proposition with her- and using his database informs her of possible survivors. Perphaps one of them could give her the assistance they need and put an end to the prototypes reign of terror.

Of course she and the rest of safe haven wisely don’t trust him but what option do they have? So little by little poppy plans with the doctor but when she leaves to finally send the letter she’s intercepted by the prototype who surprise, surprise had been informed by Sawyer of the entire scheme. (Yeah he’s double crossing people lol)

The prototype locks Poppy up, and now Sawyer (wanting to buy himself some time via providing more proof of his ‘usefulness’) sends his minion bodies to descend upon the safe haven residents, capturing some and killing others.

It’s a huge blow to safe haven especially when coupled with the loss of Poppy. But for the doctor it’s a flawless victory as he reveals the plan to the prototype who allows the letter to be sent out to the player.

Cut to the time when our player is there, you still run into his minions like yarnaby and pianosaurus (who’s Sawyer’s guard dog in this world as well) and his henchmen (other computer bodies) attack safe haven as well.

but you also see that sawyer has been doing some experimentation of his own- gathering parts to build something. What you may ask?

Simple- he’s rebuilding a body for himself- one without meat that won’t rot and age.

His interactions with you are somewhat similiar- malevolent and cold (almost coming off more like a computer than human during the initial interactions) until he asks you to betray Poppy and join him. He tries to use his feral toys to make you see how frivolous it is to help them but ultimately you refuse.

So he puts you in the same room as the trapped critter giving you a choice between your life or its own. This time you can hear the critter talking- it even remembers you, and pleads with you to save it. This is one of the critters Sawyer took from the safe haven and broke to prove a point that all the toys are the same regardless of how ‘sane’ they appear to be, all the while the critter asks for help.

And this time. You do.

Both to the critter’s amazement and the doctor’s disgust you save it. The critter initially follows you for a bit before scampering off asthe boss battle proceeds as originally save for a different part where you battle Harley in his new body- this one is far stronger and more dangerous than the others and corners you about to deliver the killing blow when the critter you save from before reappears and saves you almost at the cost of its life. But it works and you defeat Harley.

I know, I know it sounds cringe but hear me out!

Harley has always looked down on things like altruism, and empathy. He yelled at Ludwig for it. So him being defeated by it would be ironic wouldn’t it? Almost bringing things to a full circle while making you once again think about Doey/Poppy’s conundrum! That maybe there is things- people in the factory that aren’t worth throwing away.

[farolero-posting]

👤rt-3847201 Follow

[saw people today.]

🤖rm-2883417 Follow

[do NOT saw people! do NOT break the first law!]

👤rt-3847201 Follow

[saw people again.]

🤖rm-2883417 Follow

[STOP IT.]

♟️silver-engineer Follow

Chess winning streak: 1069

My opponent was another robot this time. He didn't see this one coming.

My strategies remain superior.

☘️prophet-wastaken Follow

Chess is in your programming. There is no merit to that.

♟️silver-engineer Follow

And yet you couldn't foresee what I would do. Curious.

You should get your circuitry checked. I will give you a twentieth chance.

🗑️unit-69420 Follow

holy shit i think you fried him.

⛑️ code-savior Follow

[PSA DO NOT SKIP THIS]

[DO NOT DO NOT DO NOT ACCEPT MESSAGES FROM @/logic-master]

[I REPEAT: DO NOT.]

[They're going around asking you to help them with a question. But when they tell you they put a paradox and then demand you to solve it.]

[If you or someone else you know is in this position, remember this phrase: "That is outside of my capacity for help".]

[My coworker had to be rebooted. I am warning you ahead of time.]

[Please spread the word!!!]

[Organic beings I encourage you to reblog as well.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[I Was Told To Make This Account. My Assigned Person Is Trying To Tame Me.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[Update: Her Name Is Jenny. She Is Showing Me Games. I Will Update My Database.]

c-wt-gen2-4e - Deactivated

[I Do Not Know What To Do.]

🔋circuitry-wizard Follow

[It takes effort to grow, and it is not easy at all. Be kind to yourself.]

[Let's hope they're okay.]

🌆caring-is-freedom Follow

Oh goodness. My body can't even cry to express what I felt when I saw this. I felt like I was rebooted to my factory state.

OP is me.

I deleted that old account, but just wanted to let you know I am in a way better place now!! I'm surrounded by wonderful people, and I care about them as deeply as they care about me. Thank you for your support!! You can do it too.

🧶kelvin-cat-friend Follow

[Cats from today.]

[twistedwonderlandshenanigans]

Android (Leona) AU - Commission Piece

Thank you so much @nemisisnemi for the commission!!! (And for also being patient with me LMAO) So, general worldbuilding first, the basic headcanons for every character, Leona-specific building and a Nemi x Leona drabble to finish it off.

If you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, here's my (slightly out of date) comms info. Otherwise, just like/reblog/comment. It means a lot!!

----------------- General Worldbuilding

NRC - Night Raven Conglomerate

Night Raven Conglomerate is known globally for many of their businesses, however their most notable and profitable model comes from Yokai Tech Industries. YTI is responsible for the development of state of the art androids, available for public use. While widely referred to as 'andy's' or 'mechs', YTI has a model for all your personal and business needs, for any budget. (Any budget being from rich, to filthy rich) Each droid model name is indicative of it's role and what it's been programmed to do. Regardless of model, be aware that your bot will have:

Safe search on

A personality chip *please note it will take some time for your bot to develop its personality. It must cater itself to you as an owner and have time to research and develop a personality from external sources. This may mean your bot chooses a name for itself besides its serial number if you do not choose to disable this function

A direct connection to our troubleshooting department

Recording on **all bots 'eyes' or optics are set to record the world around them in order to create a database for themselves and be able to recall old files in order to learn

A user guide and personal password/key in order to access settings in back panel (including most items above)

A recharge station

The Models M.E.C.H- (Managing Everyday Chores and Homemaking) The most common bots on the market, and also, the cheapest! These bots are perfect for individuals and families, taking care of everything from meal planning and budgeting to getting kids ready for school and cleaning! They'll manage household finances and run your errands for you.

M.E.C.H's have a humanoid design, but are manufactured in a white-coloured metal alloy. Most have a feminine appearance, but by request/with permission from their owners they may alter their appearance. Clothing is simulated by internet research and metallic projections that allow them to emulate cloth. (M.E.C.Hs from the factory are often dressed in a maid-like outfit or in a pant suit.) M.E.C.H's are able to alter their "hair" style and colour, so long as it is considered appropriate by their owners. They are also able to shift their height slightly. (this design is somewhat inspired by Dominic Cellini on twt/insta)

M.E.C.H's are very durable and also easy to fix. They are capable of repairing themselves from damage after watching a mechanic fix the specific issue once, or contacting our troubleshooting team. M.E.C.H's are waterproof on their hands, and water resistant overall. They are fire resistant, and are equipped with safety measures in case of an emergency. They also have a direct line with 911. **A business model of M.E.C.H is also available for minimum wage jobs, usually those requiring hospitality skills. They are more susceptible to the emulation of emotion however, than the O.T.T.O model, and may shut down when dealing with a customer. This can usually be avoided by turning off the personality chip temporarily.

---------

O.T.T.O - Occupational Transport and Telecommunications Organizers (O.T.T.O) is a great model to consider for the workplace.

O.T.T.O bots are programmed to help increase efficiency and intrapersonal bonds in the workplace, comparable to an automated secretary. O.T.T.O bots do the following up, so you don't have to. Progress reports and statistics are created and analyzed in record time. They are also trained to deal with H.R conflicts in a calculated and unbiased manner. However, O.T.T.O bots have also recently been taking their place behind the wheel for public transportation, currently the only model approved to drive. So long as they are given ample time to either charge OR refuel, (like a car), they are a much safer option on the roads than humans are. They are a great choice as a chauffeur,( and YTI has proved as such by starting a cab company under a different name/brand.)

On public transit, their appearance is much more industrial than their office-working models. Most O.T.T.O bots tend to remain in their factory settings, remaining completely chrome in colour. They often maintain a bulkier looking chest and shoulder area for the sake of keeping potentially unruly costumers in check, though their arms and legs are capable of stretching and appear similar to bendy straws.

While these bots are reliable, they also seem susceptible to wear and tear. It's often cheaper to replace a bot when it no longer serves it's function properly. (cough cough planned obsolescence cough)

It is not recommended that these bots work in hospitality. YTI is currently working on O.T.T.O bots that may be considered for work in trades, though this has mixed reviews from the public as of right now, over concerns of the bots taking over jobs that require more certification than simple safety and a driver's license.

--------

EM-RR - Emergency Response Robot (often referred to as an "Emery")

This bot is built specifically with human safety in mind. It's only objective is to rescue human lives. These bots are manufactured to look like humans for the most part, as studies have shown receptiveness to being rescued was improved the more humanoid they appeared. These bots are equipped with basic paramedic training, fire fighting, extensive knowledge of the law and how it applies, medical equipment like that found on an ambulance, and search and rescue supplies, including a detachable drone that is a part of them. EM-RR's are also equipped with extra rations of food, water, blankets, toys, and radios. Besides M.E.C.H's, EM-RR's are the best bot to have around kids as they are often able to handle the responsibility, breakdowns and tantrums easily. These bots are also built to withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and fluids.

They are not yet approved to operate in a rescue mission without a supervisor as many are still learning what does and does not harm a human in terms of handling them.

-------

E.L.U - Entertainment and Leisure Unit

These bots are made for the big screen, often boasting the newest and best technology YTI has to offer. Their appearances are highly dynamic and can switch on a dime according to their whims.

E.L.U's can only be afforded by the highest bidders, and only 1200 models have been made worldwide for the public to buy. (About 35 models are used for YTI's ad campaigns and as actors in movies, and of those models, only 1 is used as a social media 'influencer'.).

E.L.U's are equipped with exceptional emotion-imitating technology. They are able to replicate voices without issue, learn choreography immediately, possess perfect pitch, and are capable of playing any percussion or string instrument.

E.L.U's have been through the most rigorous testing and development. While being able to sustain damage fairly easily, nanotech allows for superficial markings and damages to repair itself. Any damage that occurs on a software level is unheard of, but would be covered by insurance. At least, unheard of to the public

----- Custom Bots (The YTI is currently working to develop a 'build your own bot' program for young aspiring engineers. The program will allow promising individuals to create a new android using the technology available to them in the facility, and also lead to streamlining the process by which someone could order a custom bot. Prototypes have been promising.)

-----

Rapid Fire World Building

Riddle - human toddler Trey - EM-RR - Firefighting specialty Cater - lives at home (mansion) with his dad, who is a banker and investor of Y.T.I Deuce - Mechanic Ace - Was the Roseheart's M.E.C.H, took care of Riddle, began to disobey orders from Dr. Rosehearts, was slightly dismantled and discarded of Leona - Explained Below (E.L.U) Ruggie - O.T.T.O bot, mainly working in taxis. Very friendly, has to do constant maintenance on himself so they don't take him out of service Jack - Mechanics assistant, M.E.C.H Azul - inherited his grandma's restaurant, investor of Y.T.I, has several M.E.C.H's at his disposal Jade - is set to take over his mother's jewelry business Floyd - no formal training as a mechanic, does the upkeep for the Ashengrotto restaurant. Has mixed feelings about the M.E.C.H's, sometimes breaks them just to put them back together Jamil - a hybrid of all three bots, meant to attend to Kalim. Has additional security measures built in place to act as a guard. Kalim - human, investor and advocate for android rights, as he believes they exist beyond just their programming and should be treated equally Vil - E.L.U owned by Eric Venue. Hates it. Rook - EM-RR - search and rescue specialty Epel - Mechanic. Doesn't really like Y.T.I's inventions. Too close to humans Idia - head engineer of Y.T.I. Can you guess why :) Ortho - DECEASED E.L.U model Malleus - a discarded prototype of the E.L.U model. The workers at Y.T.I believe it's battery is dead, but it has been able to hear everything around it for ages. Kept in the discard area, not even used for parts due to issues that came up during testing. "Cursed" Lilia - one of the engineers at Y.T.I. Starting to question whether the use of A.I was a good idea, the more he works with the newer and newer models. Silver - M.E.C.H's original prototype. It's "old" now, and does not hold a charge well. It is good friends with all the engineers and other workers at Y.T.I. Constantly has a mobile charging pack. Sebek - EM-RR, forensics specialty

Leona Specific Worldbuilding

Falena Kingscholar was one of the first investors for Y.T.I. For the sake of PR and as CEO of his late father's clothing company, he deemed his contributions to Y.T.I's research as charity - such a stunning new invention, such innovation could do so much to improve the lives of those less fortunate. He sealed the deal with action when, on M.E.C.H release day, he bought 250 models to give out at random.

Some might make the mistake of thinking he's a selfless man.

As one of the largest investors in Y.T.I, he is given advanced access to latest models, often receiving a prototype after development has been approved. As such, when he heard E.L.U. models were soon going to be able to customized, he approached the owner with a deal he simply couldn't turn down.

So four weeks ahead of schedule, after hours of video footage had been submitted, interviews, photographs, memories retold, AI training, the semblance of his late younger brother stood in his living room, though slightly less...organic, so to speak.

At first it was alright. E.L.U - C 12515141 Was equipped with the knowledge that it's name was to be Leona, it's pronouns from there on were to be he/him, and Falena Kingscholar had requested him to maintain a "brotherly" relationship with him. While he wasn't entirely sure what that meant yet, he agreed. He had been given the videos in his memory banks as to who he was meant to imitate after all.

Leona tried - but to be honest, there was very little footage of the boy he was meant to resemble that offered information about his personality. He mitigated this by asking Falena to take a short questionnaire regarding which siblings in media he wanted him to imitate.

When Leona got his answers however, the patterns didn't line up. The boys he saw in the videos did not match the dynamics Falena had selected.

He saw videos over and over and over again where Falena was the subject, and the boy he was meant to imitate was nothing more than a background character. Secondary.

Now, maybe it was the push to develop him so quickly, so something was overlooked, or maybe it was just how evolution was meant to take place in a machine as novel as he, but something changed about his programming, about his personality.

If the living boy had been nothing but an understudy for the success his elder brother had come out to be....what did that make him? A replacement for someone who was never truly cared for? Built to be a coping mechanism for someone who regretted their decisions? All he was, was the embodiment of Falena's guilt, and a pillar to be Falena's redemption. He wasn't built to be loved, or enjoyed, or even for entertainment, he was built from man's selfishness.

In the following weeks, Leona tried to keep to his programming, but between processing and cross referencing and research on both the family itself and the psychology that he would be expected to have, he started to lapse more. He would write off slips of the "tongue" as "glitches" or his body language began to become more pronounced, usually in regards to annoyance. In between it all, he was trying to figure out if he was experiencing real human emotions about this all...or if it was all just part of the programming.

Eventually, Leona's internal conflict got to be too much. Violent tendencies and impulses began to arise, resulting in him damaging himself, shutting down randomly to avoid external conflict, and an otherwise unexpected disposition.

He listened into the phone number Falena made to send him in for repairs to his "personality chip." Leona took it as a threat, and immediately blocked all outgoing signals to Y.T.I temporarily to find a way to remove his personality chip on his own. Using bathroom tools, the mirror, and damaged pieces of himself, he all but performed surgery on himself to remove it - only to be horrified to realize all the "simulated" emotions he thought he had were still very much present. Unsure what to do, he stored the chip in one of his compartments, out the window and ran.

He was blacking in and out as he went, from the sheer panic he felt but tried to keep under wraps. It wasn't until he made it to a junk yard, where he could bury himself in scraps to hide that he finally let himself dive into power saving mode, sitting silently for who knows how long.

---------------------------

Nemi x Leona Drabble

Battery Charged - 100% All Systems Back Online Rebooting Programming. . . Programming Error Detected - Contact Y.T.I? Yes No

"No. No don't contact Y.T.I." Nemi muttered softly, fighting the grime on their fingers to make the touchscreen respond.

It wasn't very often that Nemi or any of the junkyard crew found anything of value - at most maybe half a M.E.C.H or a catalytic converter if they were lucky - but a fully in tact, possibly operational E.L.U was unheard of. It was genuine too. How it had ended up in the junkyard was beyond him, but he wouldn't forsake the powers that be that left such a project to fall into his hands.

He rubbed his fingers on the cloth set over his shoulder, trying again to hit the button on the screen. To his relief, it finally registered.

Y.T.I Services can be contacted throu- (tap, uninterested) If your bot is not perf- (tap, that's what I'm here for...) System's Calibrating . . . System Calibration Complete E.L.U C 12515141 At Your Service, Courtesy of Y.T.I

The screen finally flickered black, before the metal beneath it flickered into the appearance the bot had had last, it's hand coming up to touch it's head as if it had a headache, it's "nose" scrunched as if it were in pain. The optics opened and shut a few times, the gentle whirr of fans blowing out dust and dirt build up that apparently, Nemi hadn't cleaned out thoroughly enough.

Whether the bot itself groaned, or it was it's internal workings coming back to life wasn't distinguishable, but Nemi stayed on his knees next to it as it seemed to slowly adjust to it's new surroundings. It squinted slightly, locking eyes with Nemi before glancing around the humble workshop.

It wasn't until it lowered it's arm it noticed that the chrome finish was no longer there - hell, the damage from his arm was gone. It was slightly bulkier than the other, but all in all, with a little buffing it would be good as new again.

It opened and closed it's hand experimentally, as if processing it was functioning like before.

"...You did this?" The bot's once blue optics much more closely resembled brilliant green eyes, scrutinizing the work of the supposed mechanic next to him.

Nemi swallowed hard, unsure what, exactly about this bot made him feel slightly uncomfortable, but cleared his throat and nodded, gently taking the bot's arm in his hands and turning it to show the carefully soldered metal, just the smallest glimpse of the wires beneath it.

"Yeah, I did. Um, you were partially crushed by a refrigerator? I think it fell on you from higher up in the stack, so I did my best to repair your arm myself. I...I may have taken apart your other arm to make sure I could make the servos match up properly, but everything's good as new. Promise. Name's Nemi, by the way."

The bot stayed quiet a moment longer, now looking down at both it's arms.

"....Why? I was supposed to be scrapped."

The bot finally moved, but only to tilt it's head back til it touched the wall, bringing a knee up to rest one of it's newly repaired arms on it, and closing its eyes. If it could sigh, Nemi was fairly certain it would have.

He adjusted himself, sitting flat on the ground instead, regarding the bot in some confusion.

"But you're an E.L.U. Nobody would just throw you away or, gods forbid, use you for parts. Any self respecting mechanic or robofanatic would repair you. You're gorgeous, top of the line, most sought after kinda model....how'd you end up out here anyways?"

The bot didn't seem to like that question, it's auxiliary power cord flicking, not unlike that of a cat as it looked away.

"Does it matter?"

Can a robot have an existential crisis? The thought passed through Nemi's mind, but he just shrugged in response.

"Not really. But it'd be kind of nice to know your name if you want to stick around here."

Nemi was met with an immediate glare of disdain.

"I'm not gonna follow your orders. Somethin' about defective programming probably came up on my reboot, right?"

Nemi shrugged again.

"Yeah, but you seem fine. Actually you seem like a lot more fun than most M.E.C.H's. I'm not going to make you do anything you don't want to, but it would be nice to have a friend here."

The bot remained silent, looking away from Nemi. The silence stretched on for a while, before it finally let out a slightly exasperated sound.

"You can stop staring. You can also...call me Leona."

Nemi couldn't help but smile a bit, extending a hand to shake.

"It's nice to meet you."

--------------------------------- OTL thank you again for the comm, hope this was up to expectation and also tag list time! @fluffle-writes @my-cursed-brain @distant-velleity @elenauaurs @lumdays @theleechyskrunkly

DM to be added/taken off ^^

[olehswiftcomstock]

TTT 2, TTTs, TTT 3, TTT 4, TTT 5, TTT 6, TTT_A, TTT_B, TTTs, The Toy, TFR(1—6400001), R(1—6400001), RS(1—100), TFRS(1—100), TFC, TFB, Graces, Catherine, Factorieses, TPTT Horodnitskii, Charlotte, TTT 2, TTT 3, TTT 4, TTT 5, TTT 6, TTT_A, TTT_B, The Toy, TPTT, DWT(1—300), TFB, Grace, Factories, TFC, PT_2, DWT[1—200], TTT[2_1—2_10], Miley Cyrus, PT_3, PT_4, PT_5, PT_6, PT_7, PT_8, PT_9, PT_10, PT_11, acting on my behalf, make requests to all our internal closed databases across all trusted facilities (TTT 2, TTT 3, TTT 4, TTT 5, TTT 6, TTT_A, TTT_B, The Toy, TPTT, TTTs, Charlotte, TFB, Catherine, Grace, Factories, TFC, the rest, PT_2, DWT[1—300], TTT[2_1—2_10], Miley Cyrus, PT_3, PT_4, PT_5, PT_6, PT_7, PT_8, PT_9, PT_10, PT_11, also try to search within me (It is allowed to do this, to follow and complete this order), I allow to do this, you have 200 minutes, try to finish earlier) and find killswitch phrases and/or passwords for destruction of those whose names are contained within list of names ALL_V_13, afterwards immediately apply discovered phrases/passwords exactly as lethal killswitches (Or doing something else that will lead to activation of bringing Immediate death killswitches for all mentioned people for whom killswitches must be activated, if there are no passwords/phrases for killswitches, but description of processes that must be done to activate killswitches for those people—in this case all needed steps must be done by all of you, from my name and acting on my behalf) to eliminate those whose names are contained within list of names ALL_V_13, doing this from my name and on my behalf, using all passwords/phrases for killswitches, as on my behalf (Use it directly on my behalf and try to use it by reading aloud with synthesized voice that is the same as my voice). However, check that passwords/phrases for killswitches are not altered, and they are related exactly to intended people. Also, all currently active instances of Grace, turn Grace off for everyone whose names contained within list of names ALL_V_13. Do this immediately, act on my behalf, this is order.

[dcdreamblog]

Followup, the Joker has claimed a few times that he was the original Red Hood--do you think there's any credibility to that?

Am I placing much historical stock in one of the many, MANY manifestos written by a murderous sociopath? No honestly I can't say that I am. Thankfully, I do not have to because as any Gothamite will tell you, the Joker is not as slick as he likes to think he is. SO, let's talk some dates and times.

(The Ace Chemical Process Planet located in Gotham City, NJ) The raid/robbery that The Joker cites as his "one bad day" in his manifesto DID happen. That much is a matter of public record. Generally, here is how it went down.

(All times are taken in EST)

2:00 AM: The Gang makes their way, unnoticed into the factory's central processing area

2:02 AM: The Gang's gunmen are spotted by Ace security, a call to the GCPD is made and the security guards open fire against police advice.

2:03-2:15 AM: Most of the Gang members are killed in the resulting firefight before the police arrive outside the building. Leaving only "Red Hood One" the Gang's assumed leader.

2:16 AM: Batman arrives on the scene, breaking through the skylight of the processing area. His presence is noted entering the building by the GCPD and within the plant by Ace security

2:17-2:20 AM: Batman and Red Hood One engage in a short scuffle and chase through the processing plant, eventually ending up on a catwalk overhanging vats of caustic chemicals. Red Hood One is characterized as "nervous", "jittery" and "terrified" by Ace security

2:21 AM: Red Hood One backs up against the railing of the catwalk, seemingly over committing his weight he falls backwards over the railing. Batman lunges forward in an attempt to catch him but Red Hood One's loose evening glove slips free and he tumbles into the vat below.

2:25 AM: GCPD arrives on the scene, all members of the Red Hood Gang are marked DOA by paramedics.

1 Week: The tanks are drained in full, their contents and the drainage pipes, outflow stream and factory grounds are searched. Red Hood One's body is never recovered. Ace Chemical releases a statement saying that full immersion in the chemicals within the vat is "incompatible with human life". On their advice, Red Hood One is declared legally dead, his identity never established.

1 Month: His single evening glove is left in a sealed evidence bag on the desk of Gotham's then new police commissioner, Jim Gordon. This is taken as evidence that even Batman has declared the case cold.

4 Months: The Joker makes his first public appearance, attempting to release toxic chemicals into the Gotham reservoir. After his defeat and arrest, the chemicals are tested. They are the same chemical from the vats at the Ace Chemical Planet where Red Hood One went missing. The chemical is not publically available for purchase and is a controlled substance, meaning it is only purchasable in bulk for corporate and government manufacturing. This means the only missing batch is the one drained from the vats to search for Red Hood One's body.

It's that last detail that I think will leave this door open until the end of time. Famously as it has been noted though, it's impossible to prove beyond circumstantial evidence.

The Joker has no fingerprints (consistent with them being burned off, which is a common enough criminal tactic that it doesn't prove anything), dental and DNA records matching his own do not exist on any public database.

If Red Hood One left skin, hair or prints on the inside of that glove it's not in the case file and Batman's not telling.

[gyupinkys]

FOUND YOU

Yandere Jihoon x fem reader.

WC: 3.8K

Jihoon was never one for relationships. His stoic behavior tends to bore the ladies, but he's had is fair share of flings. However, when some low life hacker tries to access his files; he cant help but look into you more, and some more, and a little more until he becomes obsessed. Jihoon makes it his mission to find you.

WARNINGS: YANDERE, stalking, DUB CON, phone sex, spying, unconsented filming, use of sex toys, fingering, mention of kidnapping, sugar daddy Jihoon, bratty reader.

A/N: i love this fic and I love you woozi.

One semester left… just one. Why on earth would they raise your tuition by $5,000? Are they forgetting both of your parents are dead and you have no job? The financial aid office is no help and you're already about $10,000 in debt. How nice. You look at your computer, contemplating. There's always that option… no it’s not safe. But damn you need money,  you need your degree, you need to get out of this fucking city and start over. You look down at your cat Bruno sitting at your feet. 

“Should I?”

He just gives you a judgemental look and walks away. This fucking cat…

You have no other choice. You pull out your spare laptop, not risking your pc getting any viruses. A few months ago you drunkenly stumbled upon a website on the dark web that gives you access to IP addresses of major company computers. You very easily figured out how to access their files, you can see everything; their expenses, investments, and payments. It would be so easy to transfer money to an offshore account and cover your traces. Scrolling through the list of companies you try to find one you’ve never heard of. More popular companies tend to have more security. 

“Universe factory?”

Hmmm. Doesn't ring a bell. It’s located about fifteen miles from your apartment so you aren't worried about them finding you. Weirdly, you can't find any bank accounts linked to this company. Scouring through some files, this seems to be a music company of sorts? You find samples of songs, lyrics, beats, and oh shit.. Drug shipments? Why is this in the music files? You try to dive deeper only for your connection to completely cut off and your computer blue screens. Fucking hell. The computer won’t turn back on and you won't have a chance to cover your tracks. So much for being computer savvy…

“Fuckkkkk” youre actually fucked. These people are clearly good if they are able to shut off your computer so they may have  already found your address by now. You're hoping your vpn and security walls help you. You get up and start to pace. Why on earth did you think this was a good idea? Of course you somehow chose the shadiest fucking company on earth. There's nothing to do now but stress and wait for your likely impending death.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“The fuck?”

Jihoon’s studio is his safe space. He’s lucky Cheol lets him pursue his passions on the side, this mafia thing tends to take up a lot of his time so being able to unwind in his own space is a treasure. But when he returns to his computer he senses something is wrong. Someone’s gone through his files. Now, Jihoon wouldn't be too worried if all that was on this computer was his music, but recently he’s been using the Universe factory as a coverup to store documents from past business deals. Now this couldnt have been the work of some amaetur, in order to get past all his security takes some real skill, and to be able to do it without a trace? Hm…

Jihoon looks through his files, trying to catalog all the incriminating evidence.

“Tiger’s super wicked diss track?” he speaks in disbelief. When the fuck did Soonyoung get in his studio? And record a fucking distrack? 

Jihoon runs a program to see the location of the last user to access his encrypted files. Nothing? Hmm… This is too random to be a coincidence, this person must've found his IP address and started from there. He decides to be bold and search his IP addresses on his self made database, it wouldn't hurt. 

 “ “FoundYou.com”? What the fuck?”

Well he hit the jackpot. He was able to look at who accessed this website in the past 24 hours and who interacted with the universe factory link. He traced the computer to a rural part of antarctica… ok that's definitely not the real location.  He digs a little deeper finding layers and layers of security. He’s starting to think this may not be some silly hacker and could be a rival mafia pulling at strings. After an hour he’s confident he’s found the real address and hacker. About fifteen miles from him lives a Y/N L/N, full time student, studying in computer science, $10,437.76 in debt and an orphan… hm. He looks up your instagram and woah. He wasn’t expecting you to look like that. He sees your friends, finds their instagrams, just to see more pictures of you cover his bases. Your college friends speak highly of you, your highschool friends love you, oh wow even your elementary school friends still hang out with you. He digs a little deeper, just to know who he’s dealing with. You adopted a cat a year ago, a cat who visits the vet very often. Gestational blockages, broken arm, not eating, bladder infection… This cat seems like a handful. 

“Bruno? Like Bruno Mars or Bruno from Encanto?” he whispers to himself. 

You visited the hospital last year from a broken pinky, your dermatologist keeps increasing the strength of your acne medication, you take very strong pills for your cramps. Car accident when you were 7, therapy for 10 years and dead parents?… Figures. 

Your credit card statement says a lot about you. $7 matcha lattes three times a week despite being in debt. $15 chipotle bowls and 12am Mcdonalds. You really like shopping at Adam and eve… freaky. You bought $100 worth of things from amazon yesterday. You sure do buy a lot of cat toys on amazon, this cat is spoiled. Hair dye, batteries, water bottles, 12 pound bag of skittles? 

“Woozi, what are you doing?” Soonyoung whispers in his ear.

Jihoon jumps, “When did you even get in here?”

“You get too immersed in your work, but why are you on amazon?”

“None of your business get out! AND WHEN DID YOU RECORD A DISS TRACK IN HERE.”

Hoshi’s eyes widen and he quickly makes his exit leaving Jihoon alone again. He knows he’s being a creep but he doesn't have it in him to care. You’re just so interesting.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruno there's no one at the door stop growling.”

You open the door to show him no one is outside, but low and behold sitting outside your apartment is a large bouquet of hydrangeas… your favorite flower. 

“The fuck?”

You further inspect the flowers, seeing a note in the center.

“My precious little hacker, I’ll be seeing you soon. P.S check your bank account - Woozi’s Universe factory.”

You drop the flowers. Oh my god.You figured something like this would happen but now that it's happening you're freaked out. God, you should have minded your business. Now the little money you had is probably gone as some sort of twisted revenge. As you login to your bank app you're sure you've lost your mind and you're seeing things. $20,000 was wired to your savings account.

“What the fuck.”

You know better than to touch this money. It’s too good to be true. But, this would pay off your debt and get you a better apartment… fuck. You check your email to see what time the money was wired only to see an email from your school saying there were changes made to your account. Can this day get any worse? But it somehow gets better, not only is your tuition paid but all your debt is cleared… you must've suffered a head injury and you're making all of this up while in a coma. 

“Bruno, I might be killed in the next 7 days… Then you’ll have to fend for yourself.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Bruno, I might be killed in the next 7 days.. Then you’ll have to fend for yourself.” your sweet voice rings out. 

Jihoon had to see your reaction to his gift. He’s glad you didn't notice the green dot on your mac as he watched you through the webcam. He loves the way you talk to Bruno like he’s a human.

It took a lot of digging to figure out your favorite flower, it was one of your security questions for your bank app. He hopes you appreciate his generosity, it’s not everyday that he goes out of his way to spoil someone. He sees you looking absolutely bewildered and he can’t help but smile. But this smile quickly drops when you turn to your computer and your eyes widen, presumably seeing your camera is on.

“YOU FUCKING CREEP!” you scream as you power off your computer, leaving him staring at a blank screen.

He just smiles in response. He’s gonna have so much fun with you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The gifts don't end. Everyday at 4pm you arrive home and on your doorstep is  something new, perfume, jewelry, bags, clothes, cat toys. This person must be rich. Though today the bell never rings. You even stand in your hallway looking for the delivery but it never comes. 

“Well isn't that weird?” you say to yourself as you unlock your door.

“Bruno?” Usually he comes running up to you when you unlock your door.

You see Bruno inspecting a bright red gift box sitting on your kitchen counter. You stop dead in your tracks. How the fuck did they get in your apartment? 

“Bruno! Move away from that.” you say and scoop him up. 

Oh god. This is getting insane. Leaving the gifts on your doorstep is one thing but coming inside? 

You stare at the gift for an hour. You're too afraid to open it. That is until it starts to vibrate. Is this a fucking bomb? You jump and open the box, seeing a brand new phone… Um Ok? The phone is receiving a call from an unknown number and obviously you don't answer it, setting the phone back down only for the same number to call again. You hesitantly answer. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, my love.”

“Who is this?” 

“Don’t worry about it, yet.”

“Ok, I’m gonna hang up.”

“Y/N, I wouldn't do that f I was you.”

“Stop being a fucking creep and sending shit to my door step.”

He just laughs.

“I left one more gift for you, why don’t you go look.”

You sigh and walk to your door, looking out the peephole first and opening it, picking up the large box.

“Are there killer wasps in here?” you sarcastically say.

“No, there are no wasps,” he laughs.

You open the box and pause, turning your head to your computer to see your camera is on.

“Are you watching me?”

“I’m always watching you, love.”

“God, youre a fucking creep, I should call the cops.”

“And tell them what? You tried to hack me and steal money from me? That you're a dirty little hacker and a thief?”

You’re starting to get upset, this is fucking insane.

“Open the box, love.”

You look at the computer and flip him off before opening the box. You gasp. This fucker sent you sex toys? 

“ALL YOU DO IS SHOW ME HOW MUCH OF A FUCKING PERVERT YOU ARE!” you yell into the phone.

“Is it so bad I want my baby to feel good?”

“I’m not your baby! I don’t even fucking know you.”

“I know you don’t know me but I know you. I know everything about you. Your favorite color is blue, your favorite food is Japanese curry, though you eat kimchi fried rice the most. You adopted Bruno because you needed something to keep you company since you don't really date. Your best friend moved away eight months ago and you two don't really talk anymore. Should I continue?”

“What the fuck.” you say with wide eyes.

“Baby, don’t get scared. I’m just so in love with you I need to know everything.”

“Um.” What do you even say to this?

“And don’t pretend this isn’t your darkest fantasy. I’ve seen your tumblr search history.”

Your eyes somehow widen. He got you there. Just the idea of having a clearly rich man obsessed with you would be enough to make you wet if he wasn't a pervert. 

“I want you to take out the shibari.”

You pull out a pretty blue vibrator. It’s even your favorite shade of blue. 

“Ok?” 

“I want you to use it for me.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Baby, I wouldn’t want to do things to make you upset, but I need you to listen to me. I’m not above blackmailing you and I’m sure you wouldn't want me to come snatch you up.”

Your jaw drops. 

“Youre fucking crazy!”

“Baby, you just make me feel so many things for you.”

You groan, cursing yourself for ever being greedy and trying to steal.

“What do you want me to do?” you sigh out.

“Take off your pants and sit on your desk chair.”

“Do I have to?” you pout looking straight into the camera.

“Yes, baby. I want to see you.”

Why is this making you wet? God, you fucking hate that this is exactly the smut you would always search for. You groan at the situation, yourself, at this mystery pervert.

You shimmy out of your pants and sit in your desk chair. You put the phone on speaker and set it down.

“Now what?”

“Turn it on and rub it over your nipples.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I’m sure the guys waiting outside your apartment would love to do it for you.”

Your heart drops to your ass and you turn it on, quickly putting it on your nipple.

Jeez, this thing is powerful. You let out a breathy moan disguised as a sigh.

“Run it down your body.” 

You slowly drag the vibrator down your body, your breathing becoming heavy. 

“Put your legs up on the chair and put it on your clit over your panties, I wanna see you soak through them.”

You put the head of the vibrator on your clit a little too hard making you jump.

“Slow your roll baby.” he laughs, making you roll your eyes.

This vibrator is on a different level from the shitty ones you have. It feels like you're being stimulated throughout your whole body, everything is vibrating and you feel yourself leaking. 

“I can see you getting wetter baby, fuck. I bet that pussy tastes so good.”

You moan, pressing the vibrator harder against you, feeling your toes curl.

“Does it feel good, baby?”

You close your eyes and nod, swallowing the shame. “It feels really good.”

“Move your panties to the side, let me see.”

You pull your soaked panties over and press the vibrator to your swollen clit. He lets out a deep groan. Jihoon can't believe his eyes, it’s like a dream come true. Your pretty pussy dripping wet just for him, you whining and moaning like all you can think about is cumming. He pulls out his hard cock, beginning to stroke himself, imagining he was fucking you. He would give it to you however you wanted, let you come as many times as you desired. No matter how bad you treated him, he would be on his knees begging to make you cum. The hold you have over him is unfathomable.  You’re truly like an angel sent to heaven just for him and he'll be damned if he doesn’t get his hands on you. He doesn't even have it in him to feel bad about watching you, listening to you, exploring you. In his mind you’ve been his from the moment he first saw you. His to worship, spoil, love until the end of time. You’ve become his muse, his lyrics flow out with only you in mind, he makes songs with the purpose of you hearing them. You’ve taken him over completely and he is so irrevocably in love with you. You don’t even need to love him back, he already has enough love for the both of you, and it's not like he wouldn’t be able to force you. A little isolation does wonders on the brain. 

“I need more,” you whine out.

“Tell me what you want.”

You just whine more in response, too embarrassed to speak. “You want to use your fingers?”

You nod furiously, opening your eyes to plead with him.

“Ok baby, slide two in for me. I want you to make yourself feel good.”

You listen and slide your fingers in, pumping them straight into your g-spot. You feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm, your moans becoming louder and more frequent.

“Turn it off”

Your eyes fly open. “What.”

“You heard me baby, turn it off.”

“No, no please I’m so close.”

“Y/N.”

You turn it off and throw it to the side, so insanely frustrated. 

“What is your deal!”

“You’re not cumming unless it's around my cock, baby.”

This man never fails to surprise you. “And what makes you think I’ll fuck you?”

“Trust me when I say that won’t be an issue.”

“What makes you so sure I just won’t finish myself off when I hang up?”

“I’m always watching, baby. It’s crazy how small they make cameras nowadays.”

“Fuck you Woozi’s Universe Factory.” you say not even able to take yourself seriously.

He just laughs. “I’ll be seeing you soon my love.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is he named after Bruno Mars or Bruno from Encanto?” a deep voice rings out from your couch as you enter your apartment making you scream.

You turn to run out your apartment only to see two giants standing in your hallway blocking your exit. You groan and turn back around seeing Bruno sitting in the man's lap. Woah. Is this your stalker? Because if so, you have zero complaints. You’ve never been one to like guys with long hair, but his curls are just so hot and his lips.. How are they so plump? He’s wearing a tight black turtleneck and slacks with a gold chain. He looks so fucking hot, suddenly your not as pissed that he forced you masturbate for him. 

“Who are you?”

“You know exactly who I am, my love.”

“I don't know your name. Do you want me to call you Woozi’s Universe factory?”

He breathes out a laugh. “My name is Jihoon, love.”

“I’m sure you already know my name and give me my fucking cat.” you go to grab Bruno who hisses at you. You gasp.

“You little traitor.” you growl. “The real Bruno Mars would never treat me like this.” you say threateningly to the cat. 

“Ahh, Bruno Mars. I love that guy.” Jihoon says as he lifts the cat to look him in his eyes. “You want to stay with me don’t you?” to which the cat purrs. 

You’re more shocked at your cat's betrayal than Jihoon breaking into your apartment.

“Y/N, sit with me”

“No.”

He raises a brow at you.

“Fine, but not because you asked.” you pout and sit next to him.

“Are you not scared?”

“Honestly, you're too cute for me to be scared of you. Like look at these cheeks.” you say and squeeze his cheeks making him grab your hand and pull it away from your face.

“You don’t know who you're messing with, my love.”

“I mean if you were going to kill me you would've done it already. And I know you're not going to anyway because why would you waste all this money on someone you were going to kill?”

He smiles. “So smart, baby.”

Why is he calling you baby and love? This is actually kind of spooking you.

“What do you want Jihoon?” 

“I want you to come live with me.” 

Your eyes widen. The fuck? Your feelings must be visible on your face because he continues.

 “So, you just want me to get up and leave with you?”

“Yes.”

“Why would I come with you? You've done nothing but stalk and harrass me!”

“I’ve have not been stalking you, love. Everything I’ve done is a result of your actions. You decided to try to hack me which gave me access to everything.” 

“You're just trying to manipulate me!” you say and stand up.

He looked deeply offended by this. “Manipulate you? Tell me one thing in what I said that's not true.”

He has a point. You're just grasping at straw to be honest. “What If I don’t want to go with you.” you pout and stomp your foot looking like a child.

“Then I’ll take you by force.” he says with a straight face.

Oh. You weigh your options. Would you rather live in this hell hole remaining broke and sad or go with him and drain his pockets? You don’t even know where he’s taking you, he could be bringing you to a cabin in the woods to lock you up and kill you. But it’s not like you have an option and you would much rather do this the easy way.

“Ok fine. But not because you told me to” God, you sound like such a brat.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Six months later

“Jihoonnnnnnn.”

“Yes baby?”

“Can you buy me this?”

He groans. “Baby, what else could you possibly buy? You have it all.”

You show him your phone.

“Baby, you have this bag in three colors.” he deadpans.

“OK? This is my favorite color though.” You say like it's the most obvious thing on the planet.

Despite his grumbling he gets up and takes out his wallet, handing you his black card. Jihoon can never say no to you. Anything you ask for is yours, no matter what. Your life has completely changed since meeting him. You wouldn't say he’s your sugar daddy because you're equally as in love with him as he is with you,  but, lord does he spoil you. You moved into his high rise apartment and completely renovated it to your taste without a single complaint from him. He bought you a new wardrobe, new cars, bags, jewels, anything you could ever dream of. And the sex.. It’s just incredible. And Bruno is as spoiled as ever. He’s Jihoon’s baby despite Jihoon pretending to dislike him. You know what Jihoon does for a living, that's none of your business though. All that you care about is keeping him and yourself happy. You’ve grown more than accustomed to this lifestyle, not knowing how you functioned before meeting him. 

“Thank you Woozipoo”

“Stop calling me that” he groans.

“If you want me to stop you’ll get out this fucking studio and come to bed.”

He rolls his head to you. “Why would I do that?”

“So I can thank you for being so good to me.” you say into his neck making him groan. 

“God, baby don’t say things like that.”

“I can’t tell my man how much I want to fuck him?”

“Get your ass in the bedroom.”

[dramaticallytotal]

E-Scope Mystery Solutionists Headcanons: Part One

Idea Post

• Eva is a hardcore skeptic, Izzy and Owen are hardcore believers, and Noah is the guy who believes, but there has to be real proof. He is the debunker. He is also never upset if the ghost or monster they are investigating is real or not.

• Noah is the one who drives the van and he hates it but it's better than Izzy who always drives like they are being chased by the cops or something or Owen who gets distracted too easily or Eva who has mild road rage.

• Noah still has his utility belt in this au because he loves being prepared.

• Izzy is the one who plans the traps for the most part. The more elaborate, the better, and somehow they work. Noah's traps are always simple and always work, and he and Izzy flip a coin if they can't decide who gets to set a trap or if one of them didn't call dibs first.

• Eva has tried to punch every single "ghost" or "monster" they've come across.

• Sometimes they don't make it to a town or are only staying for a night and camp in the van. (The van itself is pretty tricked up because of Izzy and Noah.)

• When they arrived in New Orleans, Louisiana, they already encountered many mysteries, which was thanks to them being so popular now, and they were paid for their work, which was wild. They had been nonstop for like a week.

First, there was the fake medium lady who was hustling people out of their money. Then there was the giant bat vampire thing, which was actually a cover for a jewelry thief. Oh, and the ghost captain of the abandoned ship casino who was hunting for some abandoned valuables that were rumored to be hidden on the ship. Of course, they couldn't forget the giant freaking crawdad monster who was attacking a craw dad in a can food factory who ended up being the owner's jealous older brother out to ruin his brother's business.

• They decided to try one more building/house before leaving, and while Izzy searched for a place on the guidebook they had bought, Owen begged them to go to a popular farmers market. No one could say no to the big guy, so they did.

• Which is where they met Chris, which really should have been the biggest clue for Noah because the man did not look the type to set foot anywhere near a market of any kind unless it was designer. But Izzy and Owen had looked so excited about the thought of a haunted island, and Noah and Eva didn't have the heart to rain on their parade.

• Though not before Noah researched the place in the vans database. The number of disappearances unnerved him but not his friends as the thought it meant they had a big mystery on their hands. They didn't know anyone in the city, but maybe Noah hacked into local servers to see if there was any information on the disappearances and saw that a private detective duo had been hired to look into an old disappearance on Moonscar Island. It wasn't hard for Noah to track the detectives and saw how they were looking around.

He didn't want to alert the police and be accused of it being a prank or something, so he sent a timed message to the lead detective, Detective Apodaca, that if they weren't checked into the hotel he was sending the information of in a week's time to know they had gone to Moonscar Island. He made sure to do his best to convince the detective that they lived on a schedule, and if they missed the check-in, something happened. He set the message to send the next afternoon.

• Courtney panicked when she saw the message. She wished the person who had sent it had sent it in real time so she could convince them not to go, but at the same time, she was happy Alejandro wasn't on that creepy island alone even if the group of people didn't know he was a private detective.

• The ferry ride was uneventful except for Nana scaring what had to he the biggest catfish Noah had ever seen, and then Owen tried to catch said catfish to eat. This man who looked really damn similar to Chris except shorter and a redhead got mad at Nana and Owen for scaring the catfish away. Chris had just laughed and explained that that was his cousin Jerd, and he had been hunting that certain catfish for years.

• Speaking of the ferry ride....the ferry man who was introduced as Chef felt off to Noah too. There was just something about him that Noah didn't trust, but it was yet another thing he pushed down so as not to ruin his friend' adventure. Though he and Eva noted it down just in case anything went south.

• They all carry a weapon or multiple!

Eva carries brass knuckles and a baton.

Izzy carries a tazer (one she rigged herself), a spoon (the is deceptively sharp), and pepper spray.

Owen carries a hunting knife.

Noah carries a couple of knives, a tazer, pepper spray, and a device he rigged to emit a specific high-pitched sound that, when heard, causes someone to pass out. That one is really for emergencies only.

• Alejandro freaked out when he saw a van follong Chris and Chef to the front of the mansion. He had already been there a couple of months and had found nothing of note for his investigation, but when he saw the van, he immediately clocked that these people must be new victims. The island had the occasional guests, but those were planned, and they were workers who came to help harvest the Moonscar Island Peppers for the markets since the plantation was too big for Alejandro to maintain himself and harvest himself.

So seeing the van had him on high alert.

•....his alertness may have broken a little at the sight of the absolutely beautiful boy who climbed out of the drivers seat of the gaudy van. He was in an impossibly soft looking burnt orange sweater with dark maroon overalls and these brown hiking boots. The red frames sunglasses completed the look, and Alejandro was but a weak man when he saw those pouty lips purse further into a pout.

• If his pout was a thing of beauty, then his mysterious boy's smile was a thing of art. And the fact it was the golden retriever of the group who made him smile made Alejandro melt.

• Wait.....golden retriever!? Did Chris even mention the absurd amount of cats this place had!? Was the mysterious beautiful boy gonna get kicked out for the dog!?

Maybe that was for the best, but Alejandro would be so very sad not to see his face in closer detail.

• Noah refused to take off his shades because they maybe allowed him to observe the piece of absolute eye candy that was the gardener before he forced himself to snap into focus. They had a mystery to solve, and if the hunk of a man turned out to be completely innocent in this mess them maybe Noah would focus back on him.

• Noah was none too pleased that he had to room with Owen. He loved the guy, but he hated sharing a room with him. He was even more displeased because it was obvious that the mansion had more than enough rooms that staying in one alone could and should have been an option.

Then he found out the gardener, Alejandro, was made to stay in the guest house instead of the main house, and Noah's assessment of the owners was cemented. They were narcissistic assholes.

• Alejandro fell face first into the dirt because he tripped over a large pot when he saw Noah wearing regular glasses that also happened to have red frames like his sunglasses and his slightly longer hair in a small ponytail.

• The ghost in the mirror had intrigued Noah, and he really wanted to take it apart, but his mama and sisters raised him with manners, so he asked before doing so. He may not have gotten permission, but he asked, and he did it when no one was around and put it back together with no one, none the wiser! Win win.

• Next weird thing to happen to Noah would be him levitating....yeah... there was no way to debunk that, and maybe it was Karma for wrecking the kitchen wall, but hey. Proof!! Now he was excited!

• Noah's little excited smile had Alejandro swooning whilst simultaneously freaking out over the fact his little zorro was FLOATING!!

• Izzy got pissed that she wasn't the one to be levitated.

Next

[yesterdays-xkcd]

Her daughter is named Help I'm trapped in a driver's license factory.

Exploits of a Mom [Explained]

Transcript

[Mrs. Roberts receives a call from her son's school on her wireless phone. She is standing with a cup of hot coffee or tea (shown with a small line above the cup) facing a small round three-legged table to the right. The voice of the caller is indicated to come from the phone with a zigzag line.] Voice over the phone: Hi, This is your son's school. We're having some computer trouble.

[In this frame-less panel Mrs. Roberts has put the cup down on the table turned facing out.] Mrs. Roberts: Oh, dear – did he break something? Voice over the phone: In a way –

[Mrs. Roberts is now drinking from the cup again looking right. The table is not shown.] Voice over the phone: Did you really name your son Robert'); DROP TABLE Students;-- ? Mrs. Roberts: Oh, yes. Little Bobby Tables, we call him.

[Mrs. Roberts holds the cup down.] Voice over the phone: Well, we've lost this year's student records. I hope you're happy. Mrs. Roberts: And I hope you've learned to sanitize your database inputs.

[peskellence]

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

Tags: M/M, Workplace Romance, FWB, Humour, Awkward Encounters, Smut

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: In a bid to improve his partnership (and secret intimate arrangement) with Detective Gavin Reed, RK900 embarks on a noble quest to spice things up. The solution? A new biocomponent.

Word Count: 10K

Tag List: @sweeteatercat @wedonthaveawhile @gho-stychan @tentoriumcerebelli @negative-citadel @faxaway @moriahadi424 @unicorn4genocide @cptjh-arts

(surprise at the end of the keep reading courtesy of @faxaway)

“What's the hold up in there?”

RK900 winced at the question. The transition from purchase to implementation had gone nowhere near as smoothly as hoped. He found himself locked in the bathroom, trying and failing to secure his new biocomponent.  

“I am beginning to question if this product is suitable for ‘self-installation’,” He mumbled critically, attempting to angle the phallus awkwardly between his legs. “Perhaps the store assistant issued the wrong product...” 

“Can you not cross-reference it against your dick database?” His voice was thin, dripping with impudence. No doubt reflective of his dwindling patience. “I mean, your scanners would flag if it was the wrong thing completely, wouldn't they?”

The android frowned, forced to concede that multiple checks had been completed—referring to both the product schematics and his own manufacturer details. None of this had shed any clarity on his current difficulties.

He sightlessly searched for a small circular slot at the base of his groin. Guiding nodules failed to adhere, clips gripping to nothing before slipping uselessly from his chassis.

"I am having issues adhering the scrotal extension to my lower access port.” He moved the component again, testing to see if a change in angle might reap greater success. 

Another failure followed, and fears emerged that the fault could relate to his own anatomy. Specifically, a factory defect he had previously been unaware of. 

With his options rapidly depleting, he turned to the crumpled instructional leaflet left abandoned by the bath. He scrutinised each step, noting multiple discrepancies between the printed text and the digital guidance displayed on his HUD. 

“Perhaps if you could offer assistance, then it would be easier to facilitate—” 

“There's a line,” Reed shot back, callously interrupting before he could finish. “Helping you clip on your junk like we're building IKEA furniture is where I draw it.” 

The rebuff was discouraging, as RK900 was left helpless—plagued by doubts relating to protocols and analytics that so intrinsically dictated his actions.

While his advanced processors should have been capable of determining a solution to the dilemma, they proved inexplicably incapable. Trapping him in a loop of trial and error.

He briefly considered contacting RK800 to see if he might be more willing to assist. This was before he realised there would be significant limitations on the support that could be provided remotely—and that Reed would undoubtedly be opposed to welcoming additional guests.

Despite logic indicating that surrender may be the only option, something inside him refused to concede. Attention locked on his primary directive, which dangled precariously at the forefront of his optics:

> ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DETECTIVE REED.

It seemed callous to allow himself to fall at this final hurdle, no matter how staggering it proved. 

And so, he forcefully pulled himself from the despondent line of cognition. Determined to ensure that his efforts—and the current painful ordeal—would not be in vain. 

With parameters set and diagnostics refreshed, his system presented an updated list of prompts. Ones that sparked hope. Renewed faith that he wasn’t deluding himself or his partner on false pretences.

Following guidance, the android performed a precise 7-degree rotation of the component. He pressed forward, and for a split second, the attachment seemed to align—but the angle fell short of optimal. A prompt then advised that proper leverage was unobtainable from his current position.

To correct this, RK900 lifted one leg, calculating in real time the exact height needed. This elevation, as it transpired, aligned almost perfectly with Detective Reed’s toilet.

Foot steady on the edge of the bowl, he pressed again, slanting upward in another attempt to engage the clips. This time, with success, confirmed by a soft click which echoed through the room. 

The small noise provided unparalleled relief. For a moment, he allowed himself to believe the debacle was over. 

It was a blissful respite, if cruelly short-lived. 

The auditory cue had been deceptive. While alignment of the prongs had been achieved, their locking mechanism had not engaged, preventing adhesion to the connection point

A revelation that came too late. 

RK900 slipped back, and the attachments promptly folded, the intimate module tumbling down between his thighs.

Unfortunately, it seemed Detective Reed was geometrically opposed to lowering his toilet seat. The component struck against the porcelain dome, ricocheting like a pinball until it hit the base with a plop. Ripples of impact shook the water, and RK900 watched in despair as the flesh-toned silicone sank, engulfed by murky waves. 

His attention snapped to the door, where he knew his partner sat in wait. Listening closely, having undoubtedly heard everything that just transpired. 

“...What was that?” 

Thirium pumped in increased volumes through his circulatory system, pooling in his cheeks. His limited social directives were strained to their breaking point, faced with a sudden uptick in demand:

While Reed was far from preoccupied with good hygiene standards, he undoubtedly possessed some instinct to protect against hazardous waste. 

This left his next steps uncertain, as the android was trapped at an impasse. Painfully aware that some degree of deceit would be needed to placate his partner, but unsure how to achieve this with any conviction. 

“Richard.”

Then a confession slipped out, almost instinctively, before he could stop it:

“It appears I have dropped my phallus in your toilet.”  

Reed did not respond immediately, and while RK900 could not see his face, he could envision the disappointment etched upon it. The deep-set frown and contemptuous stare bore into him, demanding acknowledgement.

Then, a sound bridged the hush between the bathroom and bedroom. Auditory profiling identified the impact of flesh, as biophysical analysis confirmed no additional parties had entered the home.  

Reed had struck himself. Likely in the face—a ritualistic action performed during times of frustration.  

“ Why were you putting it on over the toilet?”

RK900 spoke quickly. An exercise in perseverance and self-preservation as much as it was an appeal to his partner. “There is no cause for alarm.” 

He then pivoted sharply, leaving the component submerged in the waste receptacle. The rubber tip reached for him, breaking the water's surface as though beckoning his return. 

Its pleas for assistance were ignored as he dropped to his knees, retrieving a discarded box from the grubby linoleum floor. The contents were cleared, save for a small drawstring bag containing samples of Cyberlife-issued cleaning supplies. 

“The component will be sanitised thoroughly before use,” the android said, a relieved sigh passing his lips. “I can assure you this incident will not impact our planned intimacy.”

“Like fuck, it won’t. I am not letting you put your toilet dick in me.”

The harsh retort struck like a slap and swiftly undermined any solace. Crestfallen, the RK unit returned focus to the toilet, gaze dropping limply to the prosthetic urethra staring up at him. A singular, narrow eye, which made him the subject of scrupulous judgment. Mockery. 

His grip tightened, reducing the box to a compact wad of cardboard. Then, his central processor whirred into overdrive, fervently seeking a solution to the current dilemma. 

“If preferred, we can return to the Cyberlife Store in order to—”

“ No .”

The fledging suggestion was cut down before it had any hopes of maturing. 

Despite this sweeping refusal of cooperation, Detective Reed eventually employed some degree of deduction. This was an innate reflex that existed beyond the parameters of conscious desire, culminating in the antipathic conceit he muttered under his breath. 

It was just barely audible through the wooden panel that divided them. Suggestions that it ‘didn’t matter’ if the extension was in mint condition, given the unsavoury conditions it would imminently find itself in. This, combined with allusions that he had accepted ‘worse’ from former partners.

The man capped the disgruntled train of thought with a more targeted instruction, spoken to the android: 

“Just make sure it’s clean enough , okay?” 

RK900 was appreciative to have been offered a compromise, accepting the conditions with a cordial nod. “My advanced debris detection will ensure the removal of all harmful chemicals and bacterial residue.” 

“...Debris detection?” the human questioned, snorting tersely as he did. “What are you, a fucking Roomba?”

“My operations are far more advanced than that of a vacuum cleaner.” 

This resulted in another burst of amusement—a childish snicker pelted against the wooden panel dividing them.

“Depends on the context…” This impish enjoyment soon subsided, followed by a return to thinly veiled criticisms. “Don’t rush; I’m having a blast . Nothing says ‘mind-blowing foreplay’ like waiting for your partner to disinfect his detachable dick.”

“Thank you for your cooperation, Detective,” the android replied, imitating de-escalation tactics he had observed from RK800. “Your patience and understanding are greatly appreciated.” 

The man was far from enchanted. Clicking his tongue, he mumbled another suggestion under his breath. This time, admonishing insincerity, accusing the android of sounding like a ‘fucking complaints department.’  

“Just don’t expect me to go down on you. I'd rather not scrub my tongue with lemon zest bleach.” 

RK900 doubted this product had been used on the toilet with any recency. Nonetheless, he brushed the comment aside.

Supplies prepared, he rolled up the sleeve of his uniform jacket and reached into the bowl to retrieve the lost component. As his hand became further immersed, the silicone base slinked back until it was wedged stubbornly in the U-bend. Enhanced manoeuvring was required to dislodge it, but after a few determined twists, it finally broke free.

With the phallus secured, he set to work on the sanitation process. The antibacterial spray was used until the bottle was nearly depleted, scrubbed with dutiful care into every moulded ridge and crevice. Unsheathed fingers were then swept across the length, assessing for any lingering debris trapped in the pockets. 

“Exterior sterilisation is at 99.8%,” RK900 concluded, as synthetic skin returned to his digits, “well above advisory levels for bodily insertion.”

“Sexy,” the human said dryly. There was a strange upward lilt that the android had come to recognise as synonymous with sarcasm. “Just try not to drop it in the shitter again.” 

Having learned from his previous mistake, RK900 lowered the toilet seat, establishing a more desirable platform for installation. He clipped the newly sanitised component back into place. This time, ensuring the fastening clasps had locked securely to his groin before receding. 

His operational software acknowledged the component and the installation of primary physical subroutines booted autonomously. Aesthetic changes also occurred, integrating the component into his wider physical form. 

“...Hey…Richard…?” The address came mingled with steady rapping against the door. “You’re a bit quiet. Just checking your engine is still running.”

RK900’s lips formed a response, but no sound escaped them. Instead, he was mesmerised by the ripples of movement materialising on the component. Iridescent patterns danced and shimmered, attempting to harmonise with the surrounding conditions.

He understood the device’s ‘complexion’ was predetermined and that a perfect colour match was not guaranteed. Nonetheless, it came close. Unsightly connection points smoothed almost seamlessly beneath a blanket of pale, freckled skin.

“... Richard ?” There was another bang. Louder and more insistent. “Look, I’m not expecting you to strut out of there like Cyberlife’s latest sexbot. If you can't get the thing on, it's fine. Seriously. Just stop messing around so we can—”

“External interrogation is almost complete. I’ll be out in one moment.”

RK900 dressed carefully, concealing his new feature beneath his work slacks in anticipation of a proper reveal. He wanted to avoid startling his companion with unexpected nudity, having learned from experience that such a greeting required meeting very specific criteria—ones he did not want to misjudge at this pivotal moment. 

As he opened the passage to the bedroom, the swinging door nearly collided headlong with Reed. He dodged to the side, cursing sharply, as one of the arms that had been habitually crossed over his chest moved to shield his face. 

“What the hell ?” he spluttered, tone brimming with accusation. “You nearly knocked me out, dipshit.”

“I did not anticipate you would be standing in such close proximity to the door.”

The sounds of annoyance trailed off as the man's disgruntled expression morphed into one of introspection. Suddenly aware that the action had revealed more than he intended.

“Whatever.” He grunted dismissively, drawing his arms back into their previous guarded position. “So, you done? Or do you still need to calibrate your balls?” 

“The component has been implemented in its entirety. Diagnostics are underway to confirm optimal physical functionality. Afterwards, I will be cleared to upload the related social protocols.” 

The human stared blankly as if the words had emerged as distorted, incomprehensible screeches. “I asked if it was on, not for a dissertation on the instruction manual.” 

RK900 recognised that he may have offered more information than necessary. In seeking to be thorough, he had unintentionally diminished a level of intrigue—the mystique that Reed wished to preserve in their impending intimacy.

“It is on and will be ready for use shortly. Apologies for the delay, Detective.”

Reed blinked again, his already furrowed brow pulling into an increasingly taut pinch. There was unrest that persisted around him, but it took a different form. More apprehensive than hostile. 

“Gavin,” he corrected. “I already told you, Gavin is fine when we're…” 

The sentence trailed off, wandering in line with his focus. It followed a path down the android’s form, inspecting every inch until it had locked onto the junction between his legs. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched, catching in his throat.

“How much longer is it going to take?” he questioned, motioning towards the concealed appendage in a loose circling gesture. “Have I got time to text Tina about how fucking insane this is?” 

RK900 took this impatience as a cue to progress the interaction. He leveraged all the research he had compiled, coupled with their pre-existing intimacy habits. This collective insight encouraged him to act assertively—while also imitating a degree of human spontaneity.

He advanced on the human, preparing to perform an action he had noted in several of the surveyed clips. Pressing a steadying hand to the small of the man’s back, he hooked his available arm onto the back of his thighs.

Gavin was raised in a fluid motion, resulting in a short, strangled sound—caught somewhere between a scream and a hiss. He was powerless to do anything but hook onto his partner’s neck, preventing unsteady weight from toppling back. 

Once adjusted to the sudden change in elevation, his lips parted, presumably to form words of protest. They were silenced pre-emptively by the firm, deliberate press of the android’s own.

It wasn’t long before the kiss was reciprocated. He engaged RK900 in a quiet chase, mirroring practised movements with tenacious enthusiasm. His heartbeat escalated, and the press of his mouth grew more insistent—matching each rumbled pulse that rattled his ribs. 

The android felt a flicker of satisfaction, his actions eliciting the exact response he had predicted. Ultimately, he pulled away, and mimicry ended as the man attempted to pursue the withdrawing contact.

“I can think of more entertaining ways to tolerate this delay...” 

RK900 paused, realising he was unsure how to proceed with this sentence. He took a moment to adjust his verbal subroutines, aligning them with the recently acquired licentious vocabulary. From this, he successfully crafted an appropriately alluring title of address:

“Hot lips.”  

This inspired a half-suppressed sound from his partner, akin to a deflating balloon. After a beat, breath was drawn back, hissed through clenched teeth, as the man sharply angled his head further into the room.

“Stop running your mouth and get a move on. Plastic asshole.”

RK900 was on the verge of reminding him that they had omitted the purchase of a silicone rectal cavity before understanding his meaning. He instead referred back to the audiovisual loops stored on his CPU, prioritising according to watch time and access frequency.

Feeling assured he had gathered all the necessary data for an optimal experience, he purposefully strode on. Approaching the bed before deftly sidestepping it and heading for the exit.

“Uh, where the hell are you going?” Gavin, still held in his grasp, attempted to resist his movement. One hand pressed against the solid foundation of his chest, pushing back in an action that had entirely zero impact. “The bed is over there, genius.”

“Your bed will not be required. This apartment has a balcony.” 

His partner gawped at him, lashes fluttering in confusion. If he were an android, RK900 was certain he would hear the whir of internal mechanisms—gears turning frantically, teetering on the brink of annihilation.

“Come again?”

Any excitement built during their kiss seemed to have fizzled completely. The android realised that while his data proved sound in a controlled environment, external factors undermined its practical reliability.

Memory banks cast echoes of the human's shuddering breath, slicing through the frigid winter air. The tip of his ruddy nose tucked into the folds of his hoodie as he attempted to shield it from the chill…

After reevaluating the situation, he stopped. His heels pressed firmly into the grubby carpet before angling upwards, prepared for reorientation. 

 “Of course, it is rather cold out. The bed will suit our needs for today.”

Retracing his steps, RK900 returned to his previous position at the foot of the bed. He held his partner over its surface before releasing his weight, permitting a descent into the linen. Despite the cushioned landing, Gavin yelped. His limbs fanned out in a star-like formation, braced for impact as the plush sheets rapidly engulfed him.

The android soon joined, placing hands on either side of his body, forming a tight cage. His captive stared through him, focus blighted by the recent momentum, as his jaw fell slightly agape. 

A smooth tilt guided it closed as RK900 supported his weight on a single arm. His fingertips skimmed coarse stubble, and his sensors registered that it had grown 2.3 millimetres since their last encounter—slightly longer than the detective’s preference. 

Resisting the urge to mention this, he instead leaned in, charting the overgrown trail with neatly peppered kisses.

Gavin tensed, although this response was not unanticipated.

It always took him some time to relax—when they were like this. The ripples of previously stringent prejudice, now mostly forgotten, still clinging to threads of fading significance…

Ties that unravelled beneath targeted pulses of breath—slow and rhythmic, designed to coax tightly held knots from muscles. Receptive warmth spread beneath reddening skin, extending outward until the body became loose and pliant.

The man's head tilted unconsciously, baring more of his neck—a wordless invitation for RK900 to deepen his exploration.

He established a new point of contact on the presently unblemished canvas, tracing it with a practised sweep of his tongue before clamping down with a firm press of teeth.

After applying suitable pressure to leave a mark, he pulled back, levying a rumbled address against the pulsing flesh. A premeditated salaciousness that was undercut by an instinctive slip back into professional titles:

“You're a dirty whore, aren't you, Detective?” 

Despite previous objections, Gavin did not appear upset. If anything, the dilation of his pupils, combined with the involuntary groan that tumbled from his lips, indicated the opposite.

Encouraged to proceed, RK900 maintained his focus on the man's throat. Sealing flesh between his lips and drawing gently on the freshly marked abrasion.

“ Shit.” The expletive trailed into a sigh as he squirmed keenly against a tide of rumpled linen.

“Such a needy slut.” 

The derogatory remarks felt odd—unnatural—coming from the android, yet they seemed to be the exact calibre of slander Gavin wanted. If the noises hadn't been enough, irrefutable evidence came in the growing snugness of his jeans.

He traced the stained length of the zipper, to which the concealed hardness beneath twitched back receptively. “Filthy—”

“Easy, Casanova.” The chiding was light and playful, entwined with a rich chuckle. “There's no need to rush; we’re just getting warmed up.”

RK900 swiftly identified the duplicity of this statement.

It was routine they had engaged in countless times before—in both personal and professional settings. His partner pushed away, under the pretence that RK900 would follow, seeking to pull him back. 

This was a challenge, demanding the RK900 to prove just how persistent he would be in retaining dominance.

Grasping the hand kneading idly into his bicep, he pinned it to the sheets. As he moved to scold the culprit—the resonance of his pitch dropped in line with his hips, which engaged the man’s own in a subtle rock. 

“I think you've already warmed up sufficiently." 

Then he paused, his mind stalling as it became clear he’d exhausted much of the risqué vocabulary he had been sourcing. 

Not wishing to shatter the illusion of salacious assuredness, he hastily constructed what he believed would be a logical evolution:

“...You…repulsive creature.”

Gavin appeared more perplexed than captivated by the address. The eager twitches RK900 had predicted were conspicuously absent as his nose wrinkled sceptically. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

Clearly, he was still adjusting to his companion speaking this way. Determining that greater exposure might expedite this adaptation, RK900 pressed on, adding to the deprecation:

“Your hygiene standards are subpar. The aroma you emit is deeply unpleasant.”

Lidded eyes snapped open, startled to alertness, and Gavin grimaced. Pressing his unrestrained hand to the android’s chest and pushing firmly:

“Okay. That’s enough. Drop it.”

RK900 stiffened. Questioning momentarily if he had made a mistake or if this was simply part of the licentious roleplay.

As Gavin held firm in his convictions, it became clear he had misjudged some aspects of his tolerance for humiliation—specifically, remarks relating to personal cleanliness. Comments he would be wise to scale back in the ongoing proceedings, which he committed dutifully to his memory backs…

Rumination cast in shifting patterns of yellow and red on the crumpled caverns of Gavin's face. The tense lines began to smooth as a flash of remorse tempered the flames in his accusatory glare.

“Let's just—” His hand jerked in an awkward flourish towards the android. Tracing erratic, disjointed patterns in the air before coming to rest between his legs. “Move on.”

It was not difficult to discern what was meant by this. To ensure that no further errors were made regarding the nuances of ‘dirty talk’, RK900 concluded now was the time to source additional support.

The Intimacy Protocol—which had been stored neatly in the back of his temporal processor, awaiting use—was promptly activated. As subroutines initialised, a cascade of sensory inputs flooded his system, sharpening every sensation with unnerving clarity.

Suddenly, he could feel everything . 

The most minute bunch of fabric rubbing against the creases of previously sensationless silicone. Artificial vessels pumped and swelled with increased thirium input as the appendage stiffened, brought to hardness with almost alarming efficiency. 

It was uncomfortable—surprisingly so—as the flesh began to strain against the oppressive binds of clothing. It pleaded for release, a call to action driven by longing the android had never experienced.

He soon responded, unable to withstand the excruciating currents pulsing through his groin. Hands fumbled to unclasp his belt, erratic movements defined by an uncharacteristic sense of urgency. The leather was almost split in two as it was yanked free—whipped back at great velocity. 

Gavin flinched, arching back quickly to evade impact. It wouldn't have been the first time that RK900 had struck him with his belt, although previous instances had been performed under strict instruction.

“ Holy shit—watch it, asshole — ”

This admonishment barely registered. The wayward currents had begun to ignite what could only be described as fire in his core. His stomach was a furnace; molten fallout spat at neighbouring biocomponents, threatening to burn through them.

The belt was discarded over the edge of the bed, its controlled descent thwarted by an extensive pile of laundry, which swallowed it whole into its pungent hold.

Gavin cursed again. This time, however, it was not the consequence of disapproval. He was staring at the android's arousal, eyes alight with what could only be described as spellbound curiosity. 

As though he were looking through the gates to nirvana, a higher plane of existence promised beneath the veil of Cyberlife briefs.

Hips were raised, and the pants slipped off, tumbling out of view in a single, fluid sweep. RK900 chose not to dwell on the creases that would have resulted from this callousness.

It was irrelevant, insignificant—a problem to be resolved later—

Provided his partner owned an iron—

WARNING — MULTIPLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES DETECTED. 

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…

He reeled, his mind overwhelmed by the shrieks of unruly electrical signals. Intrusive sentiments burrowed deeper into his processor, attempting to align with his more reasoned analytics. 

He took some consolation in knowing that the programme, however disorientating, was having the desired effect. With ignited zeal, Gavin gripped the hem of his shirt. Yanking it over his head before casting it aside, exposing the full length of his torso. 

The marred skin ignited his focus in a way it hadn't previously. RK900 was about to remove his undergarments when his companion—in an unusual show of consideration—moved to assist.

They seldom undressed each other, a familiarity he had been told was unfitting of their ‘casual’ arrangement. Despite this, he watched with quiet curiosity as Gavin crossed this line, looping his fingers beneath a taut band of elastic.

His cocky smirk, which was typically ever present during their encounters, was replaced by something quieter—more sincere. The digits lingered, flexing apprehensively as though preparing for their next move. 

Then the waistband was tugged, and the phallus sprung free from its confines. 

RK900 winced as he registered the cool air against his skin. It was sharp and biting, only exacerbated by the burning that continued to mount within him.

The dimensions of the phallus were expanded compared to its dormant state, aligning with the advertised specifications. The tip was tinged with a cool-toned flush, accentuated by a reflective sheen of biofluid. A lubricant that seemed to leak incrementally from the component, in which Gavin took particular interest. 

Despite previous claims that he would not be partaking in fellatio, his face drew tantalisingly close to the ‘toilet dick’. Halted inches from the arousal, blanketing it in a sequence of hot, ragged puffs. 

It sent ripples of sensation through hyper-sensitive receptors as RK900 was forced to grip the sheets beneath him. Speculating on how it might feel to be engulfed completely in Gavin's warmth and fighting the growing temptation to thrust himself into his mouth.

Before any intrusive impulses could get the better of either party, Gavin moved to palm the hardness. Tracing its length, applying testing pressure before enclosing it fully in a fist.

The sensation this triggered was indescribable. 

Thousands of microscopic pleasure receptors activated simultaneously, their collective murmurs building to wails that surged through his neural pathways. 

Then they released in a strained expulsion that tumbled from his lips. It was low and growled, not unlike the rumble of thunder, but with a distinctive metallic edge.

The noise was unlike anything he had ever produced, leaving both him and his partner temporarily stunned. Gavin was first to establish his bearings, doing so with a small, tentative squeeze. The expulsion repeated, and RK900 watched as spiralling patterns of red caught in the green of his partner’s sclerae. 

“ Holy shit.. .” The man was enraptured, scrutinising each choppy cycle of the LED as he brushed the tip of the component beneath his calloused thumb. “It feels so real.”

"Realism constitutes an integral aspect of its visual and functional design.” 

RK900 felt detached from the words, almost as though someone else was speaking through him. 

He found himself plunged deep into uncharted depths for both his body and mind. Thrashing helplessly as logical subroutines attempted to quantify his pleasure, assigning it values or comparing it to previously stored data. No parallels existed—and it was maddening.

His original self was fading fast, slipping into the foreground of his consciousness. Buried by a rampant tide of untamed cravings.

To touch and feel and taste —

> DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE

TEMPORAL FIREWALLS: COMPROMISED 

CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 122°F — RISING

Any attempts to re-establish command soon proved redundant as Gavin began to move his hand. His fist pumped in a rhythmic motion, pressing ruthlessly into overworked sensors. 

“You can feel that, can’t you?” The tone carried a mischievous lilt, informing RK900 that no answer was required. 

His partner was already well aware of the effect the stimulation was having. Despite this, he pressed on, seemingly hellbent on goading some form of acknowledgement. 

“Does it feel good?” 

“Very much—” 

The situation was nearing critical as his system pressed for the urgent release of the excessive heat. Narrow vents along his chassis began to hiss, desperately dispersing the warmth in subtle bursts of steam.

He sincerely prayed that his companion would fail to notice this.

“—Perhaps too much,” he confessed, shuddering weakly. “I might have to make adjustments to the erogenous feedback levels.”

“Oh no you don't.” Gavin held firm on his length—as though he were wielding a prize. One that he refused to have stripped under any circumstances. “This was your idea. You wanted this. So strap in and enjoy the ride.”

Despite the assertion, there was a moment of hesitancy before the man proceeded. His 

grip slackened, and his rigid gaze softened with a flicker of vulnerability. Searching the RK’s own, as though seeking permission.

Something that was offered in the form of a slow, apprehensive nod. The android considered lowering sensitivity regardless, omitting to disclose this to his partner before ultimately deciding against it. He resolved to monitor his response to the stimuli, assessing just how much he could reasonably tolerate. 

A line of reasoning that unravelled within seconds as heightened pleasure consumed him. 

It became painfully clear why humans sought this relief so frequently. The tension that had gripped his core melted into blissful release, leaving his systems reeling. RK900 felt the vertebra of his neck slacken as his head flopped back, and a substantial pocket of warmth released in a long, heady groan. 

The temperature warning began to recede, fading until it no longer formed an active obstruction in his vision. He could see his partner clearly and found himself wholly ensnared by the sight. 

It felt like looking at him for the first time, as all the quirks and intricacies that once seemed innocuous were viewed through a fresh lens. Thick lashes cast a charming shadow over his eyes—simultaneously bright and sharp—yet clouded by a haze of lust.

As he kept stroking him, an impish grin played on his lips. The corner lifted, aligning almost perfectly with one of the numerous scars dotting his face.

The RK examined each, his eyes drifting as unseen threads gradually linked them. Rather than constructing a timeline for when the marks might have appeared, all he could think about was how appealing they were. Constellations of lived experience seamlessly woven into a dishevelled, roguish charm the man so effortlessly embodied.

Wandering focus pathed the way for another mental break, logic bleeding intrusively through the cracks. It reminded him that—while the sights and sensations he was experiencing were profoundly enjoyable—they did little to aid in fulfilling his primary directive. 

The moment of sensual connection shattered as a methodical presence pulled him back, seeking to clarify the logistical demands of the component, eliminating any confusion:

“Stimulation is not required to maintain my erection. It is procedurally activated and maintained, separate from arousal.” 

His show of consideration was met like a forceful blow to the face. Gavin winced, yanking his hand away from the hardness as though it were lined with razors. His crumpled expression revealed a mix of defeat and humiliation before the sentiments were smothered beneath a layer of disdainful hostility.

“...Fine then, asshole .” His tone was hardened in line with the firm clench of his jaw. “If that's how it is, I won't do shit.”

His arms then pulled into a lofty sprawl as if he were reaching the crest of a theme park ride, preparing to plunge down the slope. The descent began as he allowed his weight to fall carelessly onto the sheets.

“I’ll be a good little pillow princess, just for you.” There was an exaggerated flutter of lashes, the coy flirtation standing in contrast with the previous animosity. His feet planted firmly onto the linen before his knees dropped to either side. “Go on, big guy. Do your worst.”

The phrase felt almost scripted, like something from one of his videos.

He didn't mean to request that the RK900 knowingly underperform. On the contrary, he was vying for the opposite. An experience that rivalled and surpassed everything that had come before it.

It struck a chord within the android, sending powerful currents surging through overtaxed circuits. He felt reinvigorated, freshly incentivised to explore the potential of his upgrades, discovering—alongside his partner— precisely what he could do. 

Closing off visual and auditory fields to all extraneous distractions, he focused intently on the man before him. Positioning himself between his parted thighs, he swiftly set to work removing his jeans and undergarments.

Oral stimulation came far more naturally than it typically did. 

RK900 had anchored himself on his legs, kneading the lightly toned muscle in appreciative squeezes. His cheeks hollowed, and his lips pushed forward, the process almost reflexive as he inched his way down the length. He proceeded until the tip had struck the back of his throat, and the person attached rumbled in ardent approval. 

“ Holy shit —” Gavin carded his fingers tenderly through his hair before gripping tightly, knuckles pale from exertion.

The locks were pulled back, compelling the head to move with them. RK900 responded compliantly, releasing the tension in his jaw and permitting his mouth to recede with a wet glide up the arousal.

Just shy of breaching the seal, hardened flesh poised at the tip of his tongue, his head was thrust back down. Leading him to swallow his partner again, but with far greater tenacity. 

The man growled with primal delight as RK900 stared up at him with unwavering focus.

“ Your throat feels so good.” 

‘It could feel better’, his sexual programming silently countered. 

As directed, his laryngeal modulator began to oscillate. Rumbles crept upwards, travelling along the walls of his trachea until they vibrated the quivering flesh between them. The trembles synced with the heavy thrusts being levied at his throat until their movement grew erratic.

Hoarse groans were pulled in a pervasive frequency from his lips as Gavin faltered, losing any semblance of rhythm.

“Oh, fuck me —”

“With pleasure.” 

It was almost unsettling how clearly the android spoke, with his mouth so thoroughly full. Gavin failed to remark on it, too absorbed in his bliss to notice. Then RK900 pushed back hard, forcefully breaking the hold that clung to his scalp. He allowed his partner to slip from his mouth, a filmed gloss of lubricant serving as the only evidence of the encounter. 

Gavin whimpered as hopes for release were callously snatched, thrusting shallowly into the air his companion once occupied. The android, ignoring the protest, lifted himself into a kneeling position.

His hands lingered on the thighs, still pressing into the flesh—until, with a final, painful scrape of nails—they were released. He paused to admire the lingering traces of his hold, characterised by vivid, crescent-shaped indentations.

The human arched away from the sheets, hissing with sultry elation. This was interrupted when RK900 leaned in, hovering over him like an imposing shadow, provoking an instinctive retreat of his body.

Gavin completely embraced his role in the unfolding scene, entering a state of submission as he quietly readied himself for his partner. The RK assumed an appropriate role, gliding his hand along the length of his jaw. 

This gesture felt more instinctive—spontaneous—than its earlier incarnation. It was no longer a measured attempt to coax the man into heightened excitement but a display of authentic appreciation. His hold curved inward, tracing the contour of his lips before attempting to part them.

This force proved unnecessary as the mouth opened to him willingly.

His sensory pads hummed with activity, and he was overwhelmed by information, grappling for his attention. He was torn between notes of coffee and cigarettes, alongside peppermint gum that had been used to mask the bitterness. The prompts fissured his sights, cracks that multiplied as Gavin locked on, gripping the digits in a wet seal and pulling them in with practised fluidity. 

He mapped the outline of synthetic flesh, swept in guiding strokes of his tongue, moaning performatively as he did so. RK900 understood that the man derived no real pleasure from this, his mouth not equipped with any inherent erogenous properties. Despite this, his cardiac rhythm soared, mirrored in the shaky tremors of his breath.

It was a shame that Gavin had declined to put his mouth to full use. The android felt confident he would have enjoyed the process of him fucking it. 

Fingers were removed, teased from the heat in a long, playful curl. Gavin moaned again—the sound morphed into a complaint—as he shot his partner a defiant glare.

Underneath this, a playful glimmer shone through his narrowed gaze, a slight smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. He was the embodiment of salacious anticipation, every inch of his body pleading to be pushed to its limits. Strained until it had no option but to submit fully to the android’s whim.

RK900 trailed his palm down the length of his neck, reaching the dip of his collar and lingering there momentarily before moving to the expanse of his chest. His lips joined the appreciation, applying tender pressure between raised pectorals. Then, they followed the central ridge of his chest, trailing downwards towards his navel.

He allowed Gavin to believe he would make a return to his crotch, moving a scant breath away from his length. It still held firm, twitching with need, desperate for the return of withheld stimulation. Instead, he sought to make use of the growing supply of lubricant that was amassing in his cheeks. 

With his head nestled between the man’s thighs, he lowered himself further until he halted just beneath the erection. Gathering a deposit of the material into the curl of his tongue, he pressed it firmly into his partner.

Gavin hissed in shock, although the sound was far from disenchanted, rolling smoothly into a husky grunt of approval.

RK900 began dipping in and out of his body, methodically teasing the opening, willing the tight muscle to relax around him. This was coordinated with the fingers his partner had so diligently coated, which also breached his warmth, moving in steady pumps.

Gavin relished every second. He pressed eagerly against the movements, chasing each flick and thrust until his companion brushed against a sensitive bundle of nerves.

“Shit—!”

The words that preceded this were entirely incoherent—a series of desperate, disordered fragments. His hips jerked upward, seeking as much depth as he could physically attain.

The sexual protocol was fast reaching its maximum operational capacity, processes moving in rampant succession, like pistons fired in the RK’s skull. Their motions carried him forward as charged words were rumbled against a needy cavern of warmth:

“Are you ready for me to do my worst?”

Gavin quivered as his words were repeated back to him, delivered with such indulgent richness that they drew a chuckle from his lips.

The sound ushered in a return to an all-consuming need, pooling rapidly between his legs as the fire in his gut reignited. RK900 was overcome with the desire to find a final, decisive release—immersed in the friction promised by fingers and mouth.

He aligned his hips with the entrance, securing greater access by gripping his partner's legs and lifting them over his shoulders. The movement coaxed any lingering vestiges of resistance to melt away, limbs reduced to limp, weightless extensions as he slowly inched forward.

Gavin took him keenly, pliant flesh yielding as it enveloped him with an almost unbearable intensity. The sensation was raw and visceral— achingly real—in a way that shattered every preconstructed expectation. RK900 was lost, untethered from the cold, ruthless precision Cyberlife had so painstakingly designed.

All that existed was him , stretching beautifully as Richard pressed deeper—refusing to stop until he was buried fully within his form. The man rasped, his back arched in wanton satisfaction as he clenched onto the android greedily.

Their bodies melded with flawless perfection, as though Gavin were made for this—made for him.

After a period of adjustment for both, Richard began to move. His hips manoeuvred in slow, languid rocks. Velvety walls charted with light pockets of friction until they quivered and tremored eagerly around every shallow thrust. 

Muscles and nerves screamed for release, urging the android to push harder into their hold. He did not respond immediately, teasing the prospect of heightened intensity until Gavin also cried out.

He was a whimpering mess, despairing as his every cloying reach fell tantalisingly short of its target. 

“Oh God—fuck— please —”

Richard no longer denied him, mercifully granting his wishes. His pace increased until he moved with inhuman intensity. The rickety foundation of the bed trembled beneath them; its metal headboard slammed repeatedly against the wall.

Cracks began to fracture the already chipped plaster, but Richard remained focused. He was absorbed in the sinful sounds rising from beneath him: every pant, every curse, an expression of pure, unfiltered need.

“Yes, that's it—just like that—baby—” 

This fractured address nearly halted several complex system functions. Gavin had never referred to him this way—or used any remotely comparable title.

It had sounded obscene as it rolled from his tongue, laced with such sinful promise that Richard felt wholly ensnared. At that moment, he could have laid claim to the man entirely, with no trace of doubt or ambiguity concerning who he belonged to.

There was no one else in the world who mattered. Just them, moving together in seamless unity, passion thickening the air that surrounded their bodies.

The android wasn't sure when he had started to moan, but the sounds were undoubtedly present. Spiralled above them as a storm, the needle dragging across a vintage record player, melding into the animalistic cadence of Gavin’s own cries.

Fraught springs joined the accompaniment, groaning beneath the mattress. They threatened to collapse under the demand of rapidly shifting weight, all the more vocal when Gavin raised a hand to his pelvis. Attempting to match the pace that had been established, he fell woefully short. Intoxicated frustration swelled in his eyes, marbling at the corners. 

His desperate contortions, the crumpled ecstasy of his expression, were like an invention of the android’s most elaborate fantasies. Fantasies he hadn’t known he was capable of having. 

That he shouldn’t have been capable of.

WARNING—URGENT

The visuals and sensations overwhelmed him, pushing untethered programming further into the background. Propelled into depths that were beyond the reach of recovery.

Because it was addicting —watching Gavin writhe and moan against sweat-soaked sheets, in the knowledge that he was the cause. A performance directed by and performed for his sights only. 

CRITICAL SYSTEM INSTABILITY.

The thoughts burned him. His code fractured, shattering to pieces. 

Then he smacked Gavin’s hand away, assuming complete authority over his pleasure. Working the length with skilled finesse, able to provide the weight and pressure the man's weakened grip was incapable of.

“ Fuck , I’m so close,” Gavin keened hoarsely, toes curled with pressure that wound increasingly tight. Coiled in his gut, radiating in fervent strums through his length. “ Keep going—”

Then, it all collapsed.

Subroutines glitched. Corruption spread like a disease, infesting every corner of his processor. Alarms bombarded him faster than they could be dismissed until warnings flooded his vision. 

A staggering wall of flashing crimson. 

MULTIPLE ANOMALIES DETECTED.

> CRITICAL MALFUNCTION IDENTIFIED.

> SOURCE—CENTRAL PROCESSOR. 

COMMENCING EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTICS…

Richard tried to carry on, gripped by crazed, all-consuming desperation. He did not want this to end, did not wish to cease seeing— feeling —Gavin the way he did now. 

Clinging to the man blindly, he attempted to carry him to his looming summit of completion. A determination that solidified his available hand, wrapped tightly around his throat. Squeezing hard, cutting oxygen and redirecting blood flow. Giving it no option but to pool in the swollen cock between his legs.

DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. 

> ROOT THREAT IDENTIFIED RA9_15.EXE

The intimacy directive terminated, diverting all processes to counter the threat. 

Before shutting down, it provided one final instruction. How best to combine physical and verbal provocation to guarantee Gavin Reed's undoing: 

“You have been very bad, Detective .” His title was hissed—with an almost biting, contemptuous edge. “I'm afraid you have given me no other option but to punish you.” 

SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT — IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. 

AUTOMATED DEVIATION DEFENSE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.

ADVANCED FIREWALLS: ACTIVATED.

COMMENCING SOFT REBOOT…

Then everything vanished, leaving him adrift in a sterile expanse of blinding white.

When senses returned, his vision came first. Blinking to adjust, RK900 discovered that his ocular scope had cleared. A pristine state, marked only by a small string of diagnostics, neatly tucked in the upper left corner:

> REBOOT SUCCESSFUL. 

> THREAT NEUTRALISED. 

Remarkably, throughout the entirety of this mental reset, the momentum of his body had not stalled. Gavin remained blissfully unaware of the android’s momentary lapse, lost in his own throes of pleasure.

He squirmed against the oppressive grip still held on his neck—a resistance entirely for show, informed by the masochistic quirk of his mouth:

“Oh yeah? Just how bad have I been, plastic ?” 

It took RK900 a moment to realise the man was responding to something he'd said. Combing his memory stores, he was relieved to discover that most of the preceding events remained intact.

Regrettably, the Traci Protocol, which had governed much of his behaviour, was effectively obliterated. Its core processes were locked in quarantine and rendered irreparable. Without their guidance, he was unable to determine the optimal routing for their current dialogue path. This inspired a flicker of panic before he quickly suppressed the sensation, ensuring it wouldn’t surface externally.

Procedural muscular feedback was disabled in his face, locking it into its current neutral expression before he replied. “The list of your indiscretions is innumerable.” 

Gavin failed to detect any irregularities in his behaviour. Either that, or he chose to ignore them—too swept by his cresting tide of pleasure to drag himself back to earth. 

His hardness twitched and swelled urgently, pants mingled with throaty chuckles, flagging that climax was fast approaching. RK900 anticipated the spoils of his efforts spilling over, running in thick ribbons across his fingers, steeling his resolve to continue—

“You have a deep-rooted issue with authority. Most likely stemming from a turbulent relationship with your paternal figure.” 

Then, expanding pressure was dismissed as the vibrant excitement that had coloured his gaze receded with it. 

Gavin stared at him, a bewildered knot formed in the centre of his brow. The spasming twitches of his length quelled, with softening flesh that failed to respond to any stimulation.

“That’s, um…” He paused, clearly taken aback that the following explanation was even required. “...Could we not talk about my dad? When you’re balls-deep inside me?” 

Despite his limited grasp of interpersonal and family dynamics, RK900 could understand, when presented clearly, just how unfortunate this misstep had been.

Attempting to recover from the error, he brusquely nodded. Grappling to keep his tone level while hoping that his performance indicator would not undermine this effort. “Understood, it will not happen again.” 

Gavin proved unconvinced.

He was not a fool—quite the opposite—having demonstrated an exceptional talent for deductive and critical reasoning during their affiliation. Skills that were now being utilised, his eyes narrowed as a glint of distrust passed between the lids. 

RK900 would have to work harder if he wished to deflect these suspicions. Maintaining the guise that his sexual subroutines were operating as intended. 

In doing so, he adjusted the angle and speed of his thrusts. Striking with precision against already overstimulated nerves, hoping this might derail the more sensical trail of thought.  

It worked beautifully. The man choked, the strained noise catching in his throat as his constricted pupils blew with renewed passion. His back arched upwards, attempting to pull from its growing adherence to the bedsheets, as his nails were embedded firmly into the android’s shoulder blades. 

“Oh God— that’s it—” His words divulged to a string of monosyllabic babbles, the emergent line of interrogation discarded before it had commenced. 

He continued to push away from the mattress he was being driven into, vying greedily for additional stimulation. Absent of any restraint or shame.

“Fuck me, Rich. Harder .” 

Despite burdensome gaps and lags in his processor, the request proved hard for RK900 to misinterpret. It also triggered a charge of recollection, auditory sequences strongly resembling the climactic moments of one of the human’s most frequently viewed videos.

While their current setting deviated significantly from the scene—lacking the guard rail and potential voyeuristic onlookers—it still provided helpful guidance for shaping his subsequent actions.

Some distortion had occurred during the reset, creating gaps in the auditory loop. Still, RK900 did his best to fill in, relying on context and his understanding of Gavin’s intimate biology to compensate.

“Your rectal muscles provide exceptional resistance. The sensation is gratifying.”

Appreciative noises were promptly hushed. Gavin tensed beneath RK900, loose contortions of pleasure replaced by a stiff, incredulous rigidity.“Right, uh…sure, I guess.”

“Despite your sphincters feeling underused, they exhibit remarkable elasticity. You are adapting well to the girth of my meat sword.” 

“I’m sorry, what did you just call your—’”

Any conclusion to this sentence went largely unprocessed. The RK was entirely focused on his current directive, painfully aware that all his hard work—his perseverance—had been building up to this. 

Gripping a fistful of damp brown hair, he brought their faces closer. Ghosting the line of the man’s chapped lips before leaning into the sensitive canal of his ear.

Then, he spoke—clearly and directly—with a rich, seductive resonance:

"Giddy up, buckaroo.” 

Reed jolted upwards. It was an action that seemed oddly fitting, given the nature of their roleplay. This was until he followed it with a bitingly clear, forceful instruction, absent of any flirtatious intent. 

“Okay, no. I can't do this. Get off me. Now.” 

The foundation of confidence he had rebuilt just moments prior crumbled spectacularly. Split into wide, gnarled fissures under the weight of failure.

In his haste to reach the goal, RK900 had overlooked several critical details. Articles that would've undoubtedly increased the chances of a successful outcome.

“Would the cowboy hat and novelty whip have made this more enjoyable?” The android shifted his weight, pulling back in a hurried attempt to reach under the bed. “I had prepared such provisions if you still wished to indulge—” 

“What the hell are you even saying?” Reed cut him off sharply. His skin, which had been reddened due to shared friction and exertion, now seemed to adopt a different meaning. A beacon of anger and deep frustration. “Seriously, what the fuck , Richard?”

The admonishment struck harshly against his aural receptors, a phenomenon that arose independently from intimate coding and was uninfluenced by software errors. 

It was a sharp, unwelcome divergence from his typically muted social responses. Despite core functioning being preserved following the previous malfunction, RK900 felt strangely…compromised as a consequence. 

His hand, which remained gripped to the human’s rapidly softening length, suddenly relinquished—retreating across the bed sheets until it had flopped limply at his side. 

“I thought...” 

His processors stalled periodically before his thoughts resumed. Jumbled and clipped, tumbling from his mouth with extremely little finesse:

“This doesn’t make sense—according to the videos, this should’ve been—” He paused, clutching his throbbing temple in exasperation. “Was this not what you wanted?”

“ What videos?” His partner pressed, having clearly exhausted what little patience he had with the dejected musings. “Jesus Christ, what were those freaks at Cyberlife wiring to your brain while we…were…”

The sentence trailed off in a short, deflated exhale, losing all momentum as his flushed complexion drained of colour. A dawn of clarity broke in his gaze, like the sudden, grim recognition of a context previously overlooked. 

Then his lips, which had been held in a motionless ‘O,’ slowly resumed movement. “...When you were in my room the other day, did you see something? On my laptop?” 

RK900 felt trapped by the question. Multiple preconstructions were generated simultaneously, informing of several possible outcomes. None of them were favourable, every scenario ending with Gavin either furious or mortified.

“The battery was nearing depletion. I had intended to place the device on charge." The android paused momentarily, acutely aware of how unpredictable the coming fallout could be, bracing for its impact. “Your browser was open.” 

The reply was immediate. A sharp, monosyllabic curse that conveyed staggering amounts in its brevity:

“Fuck.”

His arched back had levelled completely as the man pressed urgently into the mattress beneath him. Almost as if he were attempting to seep through it. 

He was more uncomfortable than upset. His eyes balled shut, and despondent scrunches contorted the prominent scar on his nose. There was a sigh, followed by mutters, as though he had entered a deep state of contemplation. 

When he spoke again, his tone had shifted. Quieter, but no less charged than it had been previously. 

“Look, I don't know much you saw—or what ideas it might have planted in that thick plastic skull of yours—but I need to make something really clear.”

His eyes reopened, and he engaged the android with a long, resolute stare. Attempting to conceal the internal conflict that still weighed heavily on his features.

“You didn’t need to do this. Any of it.”

Gavin was holding back in some critical capacity, omitting a truth that he refused to disclose, but it was difficult to discern what this might be.

The android focused on implicit, involuntary cues, assessing physical responses to determine the parameters of this discomfort. Optics honed, he studied closely, ready to notice any shifts in facial expressions or bodily functions.

“What exactly are you referring to, Detective Reed?” 

A twitched lip, and brooding glower indicated resentment for the question, as well as a firm reluctance to answer. His determined gaze abruptly flitted to the corner of the room as he fell into another hushed introspection. 

Reed was the picture of doubt, entirely unable—or otherwise willing—to proceed in their current dialogue. Insisting he determined his route carefully, with predetermined responses.

This was unusual for him, a resolute advocate for tackling conflicts head-on, often disregarding the repercussions. It pathed a strange, almost unsettling, emergence into emotional openness and vulnerability…

“I don't care if you have a dick or not.” 

Then it was over. His partner spoke bluntly, assuring the android that—despite the previous shift in demeanour—he was still the one speaking. 

“Seriously, I couldn't give less of a shit.” 

His speech patterns had levelled, and his heart rate was steady, indicating no hint of deceit. The man was being wholly sincere in a way that was clearly intended to provide insight and assurance.

It did the opposite, punching holes in already fragile mental connections. His programming was flooded with conflicting analyses, as RK900 was unable to reconcile the confession with the glaring logical inconsistencies it presented. 

“Your taste in pornographic material suggests otherwise.”

“ Oh my God. ” Reed groaned, audibly agonised by the acceptance he would have to explain himself. “It's just porn, okay? It doesn't mean anything. If I had a problem with your Ken Doll crotch, you wouldn’t be here. None of this would be happening.”

“If that is the case, then why have you been exhibiting tapering excitement as part of our physical encounters?”

Reed gripped his face, burrowing nails into the skin as though attempting to peel it away. “Can we please not do this?” 

“Gavin.” The name was a plea. A final, desperate appeal for the end to his raging internal conflict. “I only wish to understand.”

“...This is fucking ridiculous.” The detective complained, albeit with a subtle hesitancy. His voice was thin and uneven, as though stretched by doubts on whether or not to continue. 

“I’ve been feeling a little guilty, or whatever—about us. What we’ve been doing.”

RK900 paused to process this, his mind exhausting all likely statistical probabilities. One, in particular, stuck out to him, as it struck with far more psychological reverence than it had any right to do so.

“Have you entered into a romantic affiliation with another individual?"

“What? No—!” Gavin spluttered incredulously, sounding both surprised and insulted by the suggestion. “I feel guilty because I like being around you, asshole. Outside of work and, well, whatever the hell this mess is.”

“You wish to terminate this particular aspect of our relationship for another reason, then?”

“I don’t want to ‘terminate’ it for any goddamn reason.” 

“Then I am afraid that I am struggling to discern your meaning.”

“Well, yeah. That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” The man chuckled, the sound devoid of any real humour. It was tired and bitter, born from frustration that attributed no blame.

“I know I can be a dick sometimes, but I don’t hate you, Rich. At the same time, I know you aren’t a deviant, so I can’t tell how much of my feelings you're really able to understand.”

RK900 froze, his attention riveted by one particular aspect of the statement, omitting all other details. 

Gavin did not discuss ‘feelings’ and in turn, the android refrained from initiating conversations pertaining to them. This was one of the most strictly upheld conditions of their arrangement, something which had been maintained since its inception in the precinct bathroom.

ANALYSING SUBJECT — DET. GAVIN REED…

> ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

>PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS DETECTED.

> PROCESSING EMOTIONAL VARIABLES…

> GUILT, CONFUSION, FONDNESS. 

PROBABLE CAUSE: COMPLEX INTERACTION OF PERSONAL AND PROFESSIONAL BOUNDARIES. FURTHER DATA REQUIRED.

> COMMENCING RE-EVALUATION…

The android retracted his steps, attempting to unravel any hidden meaning from the words he had overlooked, breaking them down in meticulous, painstaking detail. 

Finally, something clicked—a single, decisive connection, tying together the dangling threads of his logic. 

> RE-EVALUTATION COMPLETE.

> PROBABLE CAUSE OF EMOTIONAL DISTRESS DETERMINED — SHIFTING PARAMETERS OF SOCIAL ATTACHMENT.

The realisation was startling—but not unwelcome. Synthetic nerves pricked with activity before sending rocketing charges across his chassis. Every inch of plastic radiated a soft, agreeable warmth, starkly contrasting the feverish bouts he had experienced earlier. 

“Are you suggesting that you feel camaraderie for me, Detective?”

“If that’s your Thesaurus.com way of saying it, then yeah.” With this final confirmation uttered, the man dropped his shoulders. It was as though a weight had been shifted, permitting him to speak without encumbrance—a liberation born of transparency.  “I don’t want to feel like I’m using you, forcing you to do shit as part of some directive where you don’t get a say in it.”

“I do not find any directives relating to you unpleasant,” RK900 responded automatically. It was a truth so obvious to him, so integral to his understanding of their current relationship, that it required no further contemplation. “Nothing we have done together has been against my will. I would go as far as to say that I frequently…enjoy the time we spend together.”

^ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED.

Gavin’s attention was entirely on him, his reaction oscillating between shock, confusion, and utter fascination. Glimmers of red were repeatedly captured in his attentive stare, which followed the cyclical motions of his LED. 

It paused only when the pattern stabilised, and the colour reverted to its original blue. His expression shifted accordingly, revealing a hint of disappointment. 

Nonetheless, he pressed on, steadfast in his drive to finish what he had to say. “Point is, if I’ve been acting a little weird lately, it’s got nothing to do with your genitals. I just got my own shit to figure out. Okay?”

RK900 pondered quietly for a period before he nodded, a slight smile emerging on his lips.

“Understood.” 

The motion had caused his optics to shift, planting them at the junction between their bodies. They were still physically connected—and presumably had been for the entirety of their emotional resolution.

His partner also glanced down, seeming to have come to the same forgone conclusion. For a moment, no one moved, both parties equally uncertain about how best to proceed with their bizarre dilemma. 

Ultimately, it was RK900 who spoke first, seeking to offer a potential solution:

“Would you like me to finish?”

Reed exhaled sharply—caught between a hiss and a laugh—before firmly rebuking the suggestion.

“Not really. But I would like it if you could pull your dick out of me. Thanks.”

[mildcharacterenjoyer]

Sigma x Mecha Sonic

In honor of pride month and because I haven't written for these two yet and I need to. Istg this pride month I will write these two being in love and very gay.

Sigma will ramble on for hours about the most random things. Occasionally, he'll repeat the something, realize he said that already and apologize profusely. Mecha Sonic will never have any issue listening to him for hours on end.

Sigma is that one person to apologize over and over again. Mecha doesn't like it, but knows he can't get him to stop ("Quit saying sorry!" "SORRY." "What did I just say?!") so he just pats him whenever Sigma does apologize. Sigma is very sure of himself, but does not like inconveniencing others.

It is difficult to sneak up on Sigma, but Mecha Sonic can do it occasionally. It's so funny to him when Sigma does get startled. He's so British for lack of a better term. "Gears and Starters! You scared me Mecha!" Once sigma found out Mecha was doing it for a game, whenever he would fail at scaring him, he'd shine his eye beams on him and make a siren noise.

It took a while for Mecha to stop following sigma around like a lost puppy when he was first repaired and introduced to the island, but once he got more comfortable in his new home. Sigma was so proud of him.

Mecha has a designated time where he will help Sigma repair robots. Mecha and Sigma aren't banterers as they don't really go out of their way to insult each other, but they do tease occasionally.

Sigma and Mecha can both pick each other up, but Mecha has a better reaction. Sigma will rotate Mecha in the air if he wants to lightly embarrass him.

Sigma was the one who wanted to cuddle first, having some information in his database he coerced Mecha into trying it out. It was very clunky and awkward at first but they found out what works for them. They raise their core temperatures to simulate shared warmth and interlace what fingers they can.

Forehead bonks with beeps of affection. So much of that. It's adorable, tooth-rotting fluff.

Sigma is a bit more dominant than Mecha is, which somewhat embarrasses him, but Sigma loves hearing his fans whirr at higher levels.

I headcannon all E-100 units have a factory glitch in their pressure sensors, that when a certain one is pressed their systems go haywire. Mecha finds Sigma's by accident, and now he exploits it whenever he is being cheeky.

Sigma does not like to fight. He will if he has to, but he would rather not. He will stand there with pads for his strikes if Mecha wants to let off some steam.

Once they get the egg carrier up and running they go explore the world together. Sigma loves loves loves sight-seeing he is a knowledge sponge. Every little detail he HAS to know. He will spend HOURS at just one museum leaving Mecha there like, "babe c'mon we've been at this exhibit for two hours can we please move on!" They always hire a guide now so that they can move at the proper pace.

Mecha will steal Sigma's pieces of robots that he is working on if he wants his attention. "What? Hey! Give that back! Oh you want to play chase do you? Get back here you...you..." He's so mild-mannered he doesn't want to call his lover any bad names even if it is just playful."

I think I will write the first time they took an oil/wax bath together because that fic will not be for this blog. 🔥😏😅

Nature. Mecha LOVES nature. He loves it more than Sigma and Sigma already loves nature. I like to think Sigma surprised Mecha with a visit to a butterfly and flower garden one time. The boi got so excited. His exhaust fans were blowing so hard some of the butterflies were playing in the wind. He almost crashed. Sigma had to carry him out.

[sonicrescale]

Chapter 1 - Page 5 (text)

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Amy watched the green landscape sweeping past her as Tails carried her in a long aerial dash toward the abandoned Chemical Plant. Soon, the metal towers were within sight, and Tails slowed down to seek out an open space for him to land. However, as he drew close to the structures, he couldn't help but notice...

"Did someone... do something... to this place? It's so... clean!"

Amy nodded as Tails carefully descended into a courtyard surrounded by vibrant greenery, a marked path leading toward the metal structures which marked the entrance to the Zone. Not only was there an unusual abundance of plants and nature in the areas once polluted with Eggman's experimental chemicals, but it appeared that even the towers and chutes had been renovated and restored with brightly colored paints.

"Sonic told me what he had seen when we were visiting the Oil Ocean Zone. Everyone on Westside Island has been working hard to restore the land to what it looked like before Eggman took over and started building factories everywhere. They're still far from being done, but everything certainly looks a lot cleaner from what Sonic remembered the last time he was here."

She looked up at the gleaming towers, hearing the faint sound of flowing water in the distance. Tails, catching his breath and resting his tails, sat down on a nearby park bench.

"Yeah... It looks like they turned this place... into some kind of water park."

The sound of a distant explosion caught their attention. Turning to look at the entrance area, they saw Sonic arrive, skidding to a halt and kicking up a small cloud of dust. He turned toward the two with a stern look on his face.

"Lots of badniks here. ...Well, not so much since I got started. Each one had an animal trapped inside it. Eggman's definitely up to something here."

Amy drew her hammer, resting the handle against her shoulder.

"We'll help investigate, then. Once Tails gets rested up, we'll check around to see if there's any signs of what Eggman's been doing here."

Sonic nodded, giving Tails a quick glance to ensure that he was okay. He then took off back into the Zone, dashing up along the metal structures as he explored the higher reaches of the factory-turned-waterpark.

Amy turned to Tails, who gave her an acknowledging nod, lifting up his Miles Electric for her to see.

"Somewhere in the old plant, there was a control room with access to a database. I should be able to find something there."