#OUT OF CALIBRATIONS ::||:: ooc

[sclfmastery]

What the fuck did I just watch

No but to the anons I'm getting, I agree, something feels Off. Not Bad, just Different. There's a plenitude of reasons, practical and in=universe, that could explain this, but I am definitely still adjusting, LOL!

Maybe I'll be more articulate after I've digested a bit.

[chanelrolls]

Code Overload | Caleb

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

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

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

part 2 here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No. Focus.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Recalibration in progress. Estimated completion: 24 hours.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right into him.

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

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

Don't. Do. It.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looks up at you, which was a mistake.

Designed to fuck her.

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

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

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

The panel displayed a single line of text:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Silence.

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

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

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

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

Choose. You have to choose.

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

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

"Yes." Oh, you're brave.

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

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

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

You gasped.

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

"Are you sure?" He whispered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Caleb needed more.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, again.

And again.

And... in again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[raitrolling]

ok ig ill do the drawbox thing

good luck to anyone who attempts it that website is finicky as fuck lmao

[mazeeelabyrinth]

*⁀°▪︎♡ you didn't knock. he didn't lock. classic sitcom timing.

*⁀°▪︎♡ pairing: lads lis x afab!reader

*⁀°▪︎♡ tags: second person pov, 18+, shameless smut, masturbation, masturbation interruptus, big dicks in hand, caleb stole a panty, ooc, crack

*⁀°▪︎♡ a/n: reverse situation of the previous one. I'm just catching up with my ao3, don't mind me.

*⁀°▪︎♡ wc: 819

masterlist ❀ ao3 ❀ navigation

You were just looking for a snack. His snack stash.

That’s how this whole thing started.

A snack. A goddamn midnight craving.

You padded barefoot through the dimly lit hallway of the apartment, oversized T-shirt slipping off your shoulder, the vague scent of cologne and clean sweat clinging to the walls.

Your man was supposed to be out doing—whatever space princes/artists/surgeons/criminals/pilots did at 10:00 P.M.

You weren’t expecting him to be in his room yet. Especially not doing that. Okay, maybe hoping for a payback from when he caught you flicking the bean.

But fate said, “You know what this bitch needs? Trauma. And thirst.”

*⁀➷ Caleb

The door to Caleb’s room was slightly ajar. Rookie mistake. You pushed it open — and instantly regretted everything.

There he was. On the edge of his bed, shirtless, pants tugged low, one strong arm working furiously over his cock with the enthusiasm of a teenager who just discovered incognito mode. Your panties — your lacy black ones — were in his other hand. Pressed to his face. Inhales like he was breathing in the scent of goddamn salvation.

“Caleb?!”

He froze — mid-stroke — then blinked at you, unrepentantly. “Oh. Hey, pipsqueak.” His smile was boyish, shameless. “Look, I can explain. I mean, technically you walked in on me—”

You didn’t know whether to scream or pass out. Probably both.

“I was just… y'know. Field testing. Gravity calibration. With your scent. For morale.”

Absolutely no shame. Zero.

And his dick? Still very much in his hand. Still twitching.

*⁀➷ Sylus

You should have known better than to open his door without knocking. The moment your foot crossed the threshold, the scent of cigarette smoke and trouble hit you like a damn freight train.

He was reclining on the chaise like a smug demon prince, shirt unbuttoned, long legs spread just enough to show you everything. And yes — hand wrapped lazily around his cock, stroking it like he was painting sin itself.

He didn’t even flinch.

“Well, well. Finally decided to stop pretending you’re not curious?”

Your jaw dropped. “Oh my god, Sylus—!”

He exhaled smoke from between parted lips, red eyes locking onto yours. “Careful, sweetheart. Keep staring like that and I’ll assume you wanna help.”

You spun to leave. He chuckled darkly.

"Door's always open. Just like my fly, apparently."

*⁀➷ Zayne

The quietest of them all, and somehow, this was the most traumatizing.

You were looking for damn snacks. How the hell were you supposed to know he'd be in his medical office — alone — pants unbuttoned, brows furrowed, hand gripping himself like he was solving equations via ejaculation?

He gasped your name — like a curse or a prayer — eyes wide behind those fogged-up glasses.

“Zayne?! What are you doing?!”

He immediately turned away, shoulders tense. “Please leave.”

The surgeon was malfunctioning. Visibly. You were 98% sure his soul left his body.

“I—this isn’t—You weren’t supposed to—”

The poor man couldn’t form a full sentence. You backed out slowly, your own face burning hotter than his sterilization lights.

...But you did see the way his hand twitched when he thought you’d left.

Zayne sent a text 30 seconds later:

We will never speak of this.

Also, knock next time.

There’s an emoji. It’s the knife.

*⁀➷ Rafayel

The door creaked open like a horror movie cliché. Except instead of murder, you got moaning.

Soft, breathy, absolutely shameless moaning.

You peeked in and nearly bit your tongue.

There was Rafayel, shirt open, chest flushed, one leg kicked over the arm of a chair, head tossed back dramatically. In his lap — a tube of body oil and a very busy hand. He looked like a damn Renaissance painting if it had a NSFW rating.

“Oh,” he sighed, completely unaware. “Such divine tension…”

“RAFAYEL!”

He yelped — actually yelped — flinging his arm over his lap like a kid caught drawing dicks in class. His eyes went wide, cheeks pink.

“Don’t you know how to knock, love?! This is private creative expression!”

“…You were jerking off.”

“With aesthetic flair!”

*⁀➷ Xavier

Xavier’s room was too quiet. Eerily so. You stepped inside, worried he’d forgotten to eat again — only to realize that no, he was very much occupied.

Standing at the window, bathed in moonlight like some tragic poetry quote, hand fisting himself in slow, deliberate motions. His head leaned against the glass. Eyes half-lidded. Breath fogging the pane as he murmured something that sounded suspiciously like your name.

Your brain blue-screened.

“Oh. You’ve returned earlier than the statistical forecast predicted,” he said softly, cock still in hand like this was just a casual Tuesday.

You backed up.

He turned to look at you fully. “Should I stop? Or... do you want to watch the stars fall with me?”

...

This man was going to be the death of you.

[tsumuus]

neito monoma who never seems to shut up, also never knows what to say around you…

The support course at U.A. had its own rhythm, a unique hum of activity that was different from the hero courses. You were used to the clanking of tools and the buzz of machinery, but what you weren’t used to was running into a certain blond-haired boy every few days.

It all started during the sports festival. You’d been helping out with the equipment, ensuring everything ran smoothly behind the scenes. That’s when you first met Neito Monoma. He had been so intrigued by your work and your passion for support technology that he ended up lingering longer than necessary, asking questions that, at the time, seemed genuine.

Ever since that day, it seemed like Monoma kept showing up wherever you were. In the halls, near the cafeteria, even in the support course workshop when he was supposedly just passing by.

It happened again today. You were working on calibrating a gadget when Monoma suddenly appeared at the door, looking awkwardly out of place.

“Uh, hey, yn,” he stammered, shuffling his feet. “I was just… um, just checking out how things are going.”

You raised an eyebrow, a little amused. “You don’t need to check up on me. I’m fine.”

Monoma’s face turned a bright shade of red. “Oh, right. I mean, not that I was, you know, checking up on you. Just curious about the, uh, stuff you’re working on.”

Kendo and Hatsume, who were chatting nearby, looked over with interest. Monoma’s eyes darted to them, then back to you, as if suddenly realizing he was being watched.

“Right, uh, so this is the new prototype?” he asked, leaning in a bit too close and almost bumping into your elbow. “Cool. Really, really cool.”

You chuckled, trying not to find his nervousness endearing. “Yeah, it’s a pretty neat piece of tech. Want to take a closer look?”

“Uh, sure!” Monoma said, moving to stand next to you, but his hand accidentally brushed against yours. He jerked his hand back, mumbling, “Sorry, didn’t mean to—”

Kendo and Hatsume exchanged glances, clearly entertained by Monoma’s discomfort. You tried to keep the conversation going despite his awkwardness.

“So, have you, um, had any interesting encounters with support equipment recently?” you asked, trying to steer him into more familiar territory.

Monoma’s face reddened further. “Encounters? Oh, well, I mean, I, uh, did see some interesting stuff in the hero course, but nothing as… impressive as this.”

The more he spoke, the more tangled his words became. His usual confident demeanor was nowhere to be seen. It was clear that he was trying—and failing—to play it cool.

“Well, if you ever want to discuss support tech or need any help, feel free to ask,” you said with a smile. “I’m always around.”

Monoma’s eyes widened with surprise and relief. “Really? I mean, yeah, sure! That’d be, um, great. I’ll, uh, see you around.”

You nodded, watching as he left the workshop, his steps a little faster than usual. You couldn’t help but wonder why he always seemed so flustered around you. Maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way you did.

As Monoma walked away, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. Running into you was always the highlight of his day, even if he never quite knew what to say. But he’d keep trying.

masterlist

a/n so ooc but idrc lol

[psuedofolio]

Last week on my character a day thread was more "Magical Girl SCP" characters and I'm realizing I didn't share the pictures from the last time I brought out the psudo scp universe characters so here they are. I'll make the whole story someday. Lore/flavor text is as follows: 1: Fairbanks would often have to insist Isabelle stop skipping her small arms training. She rarely said it, but she was very fond of the junior researcher. And she knew just how unsafe the SAFE Research Department could be.

2: Fairbanks' Notes on the Vampire, "Drymouth."

After 21 days without feeding, she will enter a state of altered consciousness and will speak true prophecies. The Board believes it is worth the ethical costs of starving her. I believe she uses her prophecies to guide us to our destruction.

3: Partial Transcript: Tattoo Parlor, 3:25 PM

Subject X66: "I'm still kinda nervous about the pain, ya know. I'm sure you get that a lot."

Witness: "I... what is... Is that a body mod?"

Subject X66: "What are you talking about?"

Witness: "Holy fuck it moved!"

4: Codename Sunshine is the first entity to take a role in DIR Fairbank's "Special Taskforce." Though the Director believes she is wholly reliable and a potential asset for our field agents, many are skeptical. Her ability to "transmute light into burning liquid" is quote: "Scary AF."

5: Agent Nathan Collier returned to work with REDACTED three months after the incident with Valeria's escape. His personal heroism in subduing the entity aside, it was decided he was unfit for field work. Instead he was reassigned to the SAFE Department on so called "babysitting duty."

6: Ben died a few years ago in an unrelated accident, but ever since then what appears to be his "ghost" continues to check the halls for anomalous readings. Once we calibrated his scanner to account for his own emanations, he returned to being a valued member of *redacted*

7: What limited things we do know is REDACTED's body is made of particles which "absorb" em waves of all kinds, from light to radio. Though REDACTED manages to bypass nearly every security measure we have, they have no connections or intentions that qualify as a threat.

8: Contrary to popular belief, Franklin is NOT an anomalous entity. He is merely a holdover from REDACTED before it became REDACTED. His "good humor and fatherly advice" has often made agents question his true nature. And security monitors him as agents often confide secrets with him.

(ooc note, it was about an hour after drawing this that I realized I basically just drew Clint McElroy)

9: Frm: Dir Fairbanks The girl in our care is not to be referred to as "anomaly" or "spider thing" or by her case number. She has come to us willingly. Her name is Penelope, and but for her anomalous mutations is a normal child. We will provide her normalcy. That is an order.

[strawberrykidneystone]

i was gone for two seconds

garrus vakarian x fem! shepard

summary: in purgatory, shepard steps away from garrus for a second and her stool was taken

a/n: if it sounds like that one scene from victorious you're right and you should say it #mybad

tags: tooth rotting fluff, set in ME3, catty comments (sorry i’ve been rewatching dance moms), garrus being oblivious as always, shepard being rightfully pissed (smh), species hostility kinda???, reassurance, lovey dovery gross stuff, ooc bc garrus says ily (LMAO), busy couple making time for each other ):

ao3 version

shepard was sat at the bar in purgatory with her legs crossed in a little black dress and heels, nursing a purple drink that she had already forgotten the name of. she was waiting for garrus to arrive to have some semblance of a proper date for the two of them. however, knowing him, he most likely got caught up with calibrating the weapons in the normandy for the umpteenth time, but she didn’t blame him nor was she mad. in fact, she had arrived later than their decided time as well since she got caught up in her own paperwork.

suddenly, she felt a tap on her right shoulder. she looked over, but saw no one. she turned her head to the left and saw the face of her favorite turian with a nervous smile on his face.

“sorry for running late shepard, the primarch needed help with-”

shepard leaned in and cut him off with a kiss, pulling back and patting his chest with a smile, “garrus i barely got here, you’re fine big guy, i get it.”

garrus’ shoulders relaxed and a sigh of relief left his mouth, settling into the stool next to her, “thank you sweetie, i can’t promise that it won’t happen again, but i can promise i’ll always make up for it.”

he had been holding a hand behind his back, bringing it forward to show to her with a blue blush creeping up his neck. shepard looked down at his hand and gasped, picking up the gift and examining it, “a thermal scope! i’ve been wanting to try one of these babies out forever!”

shepard grinned like a kid on christmas and threw her arms around garrus’ neck, kissing his cheek with an emphasized “mwah”. garrus wrapped his arms around shepard’s waist and purred with her in his arms, looking at her with love in his eyes.

“i’m glad you like it.”

“like it? i love it.”

“more than you love me?”

“know your limits vakarian.”

the two laughed together and shepard let go of the embrace, garrus’ hand remaining on her thigh with her hand over it. he waved the bartender over and ordered a drink. the two of them chatted for a while about anything and everything, talking to each other as if they were the only ones in the room. shepard excused herself to go "powder her nose", aka she's had to pee for the last 10 minutes and couldn't stand it anymore.

when she returned, she was met with a surprise.

a female turian was sitting on the stool that she had occupied not long ago, talking to garrus a little too enthusiastically for her liking. as shepard approached, she was able to hear their conversation.

"why don't you stick to your own species? that little human has nothing on a real turian woman."

garrus looked appalled and opened his mouth to say something, but shepard cleared her throat before he got the chance. her hands rested squarely on her hips, her eyebrows raised with her jaw tightened. the turian woman looked her up and down, then rolled her eyes, "speak of the devil."

"that's commander devil to you."

garrus laughed at that and covered it with a cough, letting shepard take the lead.

shepard plastered on the fakest smile she could and tilted her head, "sorry, but this little human couldn't help but notice that you took my seat. i’d like it back now."

the turian scoffed and slid out of the seat, shoulder-checking shepard as she passed her, "he's all yours, who wants a man with a damaged mandible anyways."

shepard balled her hands into fists before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, letting her fists go before walking up to garrus.

"shepard i'm so sorry, we were talking about the newest black widow that was released onto the market yesterday and then suddenly she changed the subject-" shepard cut off his rambling by taking his mandibles in her hands and kissing his lip plates, kissing all around his face before pulling back to look into his eyes, searching for any semblance of doubt in them. when she found none, she smiled reassuringly to him and rubbed her thumbs against mandibles.

garrus reached up and wrapped his hands around hers, turning his head to kiss her right palm before nuzzling his cheek against it. she knew he was being genuine, and even if she was blatantly flirting with him, shepard knew he would never pick up on it, that's for sure.

"for the record, i am one of those women who find scars attractive."

garrus laughed by letting a puff of air out of his nose and kissed her other palm, "for the record, i love my commanders a little devilish." shepard snorted and plopped down into her seat again. she leaned her elbow against the bar and resting her hand against her cheek.

"i love you vakarian."

"I love you too shepard."

"why don't we go back to the normandy and i can show you just how devilish i am," shepard said with an impish grin on her face.

"i wouldn't mind a little demonstration. i am a physical learner," garrus flirted back before quickly downing his drink.

shepard giggled before finishing the rest of her drink, standing up and grabbing his hand before leading him back to the Normandy. she glanced back just before they left purgatory and made eye contact with the turian woman from before, sticking her tongue out childishly as she led the love of her life back to their own home away from home.

notes: i'm actually happier with this piece than i thought i would be!! pls leave a comment if you want a part 12 with smut 👀 if i made any spelling or grammatical error pls lmk too

[animementrash]

AOT veterans headcanons

Characters: Levi Ackerman, Erwin Smith, Hange Zoe

Tags: just random thoughts on the main three vets, they/them pronouns for Hange, some may be ooc?, SFW only

A/N: Here are my headcanons based on how I percieve them, I have some more for the rest of the characters but I'm posting only three for now because they are longer than expected. (I also have NSFW ones but I'm waiting until I get more comfortable with sharing my thoughts before posting those) Hope you like them and thank you for reading!

Levi Ackerman:

Washes his hands constantly, almost too many times a day.

Would rather fight a titan with an arm tied to his back than do the dishes. The mere thought of soggy leftovers sticking to his hands makes him gag.

Avoids going out to public places because he’s aware of his popularity inside the walls and doesn’t know how to act when he’s the center of attention.

Following the previous topic and contrary to popular beliefs, this man would never reject a gift/letter/trinket given to him by a local. It can be the most random thing but he will always accept them with a small nod, he’s deeply thankful for their blind trust in him.

Yawns and stretches ALL THE TIME, he is known for sleeping as little as 3 or 4 hours per night and while he’s able to go on with his day without problems, this doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling drowsy all the time so he’s almost always letting out quiet yawns and stretching his arms to ease the soreness of his body.

Sneezes a lot when cleaning. It’s not rare at all to hear him sneeze when he’s dusting or sweeping, if someone says “Bless you” to him he’ll quietly mumble a “thanks” before getting back to cleaning.

Has a favorite seat at the dining table and gets grumpy when someone takes that place before him.

Speaking of dinner, this man eats SLOW AS HELL, he’s usually one of the last to finish his meal.

Is constantly thirsty because he refuses to drink anything but tea.

Has memorized everyone’s footsteps and knows who’s coming to his office before they even knock the door.

Cleans and calibrates his ODM gear daily even when he’s not planning on using it.

Doesn’t like to be in new recruit’s trainings because he gets anxious when most of them hurt themselves while getting used to work with the ODM gear.

Trims his hair weekly, most people believe he shapes his haircut and has hairdresser-like skills when in reality all he does is trim it to avoid losing the shape it already has.

Can’t read cursive even if his life depends on it. One time Erwin handed him a memo written in cursive and he got so frustrated because he didn’t understand what it said that he ended up ignoring the memo. Turns out Erwin needed him to turn in some reports earlier than usual and got scolded because of it.

Loves eating fruit. Fruit was considered an ultra luxury item in the underground so when he realized how much fruit he could eat once he was in the scouts, he got obsessed with it.

Whines and complains a lot for a person who’s known to be grumpy and stoic. Ask him to do something he dislikes and you’ll hear a bunch of huffs and puffs before he goes to do it.

Talks with his horse. A lot.

Wanders through the empty halls when he can’t sleep and doesn’t bother to bring a candle to light the path, the cadets now believe there is a ghost haunting the headquarters.

Erwin Smith:

Hums and whistles a lot, he’s always making some kind of noise while signing reports or walking down the halls. You can hear this man before seeing him.

Takes more time than he’s willing to admit in styling his hair every morning. He is a firm believer that appearance matters a lot so he puts a lot of effort on his.

 Has a specific pair of glasses he uses when reading, almost no one knows about it besides Hange who helped him choose the right ones.

Talks in his sleep, it can vary between mumbled nonsense to full on speeches.

Has a journal that is more like a diary because he writes all his thoughts/hopes/fears on it but he’d be damned if someone refers to it as a diary and not a journal.

Is lowkey afraid of insects but plays it cool when he comes across one because he doesn’t want to come out as “weak”.

Snaps his fingers when trying to remember something.

People think he’s a very wise and smart man because it’s very common to find him “deep in thoughts”, truth is he just tends to zone out and disassociates like crazy.

Loves dogs, he’s the biggest dog person in the scouts. Often stops and pets dogs he finds while taking a walk downtown.

Cleans and polishes his shoes every night before going to sleep. Whenever his face gets reflected on the shiny shoe a smile appears on his lips.

Not always but sometimes sneaks out behind the barracks to smoke some cigarettes, tries to hide all evidence afterwards because Levi will start complaining about the awful smell.

Would rather be late to an early meeting than go without shaving, has to shave daily because by the end of the day he already has a shadow beard.

Is well aware of his attractiveness and uses it to his advantage when needed.

Visits his father’s grave every Sunday and spends most of the day there. Sometimes brings a book and reads it out loud.

Smacked his face after trying to see through a clear glass Levi had cleaned earlier, after laughing for several minutes Levi scolded him for dirtying his glass.

His wardrobe is full of neutral-colored clothes, he sucks at matching outfits so goes with the safest options.

Knows very well Levi can’t read cursive so when he’s bored, he scribbles gibberish on a paper and gives it to Levi saying it’s important to get it done by end of day just to get a laugh.

Has relatives living inside the walls who refuse to acknowledge him, some of them even pretend he died the same day his dad did.

Has an ongoing bet with Hange to see who makes Levi laugh the most, so far Erwin is winning by one but only because he accidentally fell from his horse and Levi found it hilarious.

Arm-wrestles with Miche a lot, especially after they had a few beers.

LOVES dancing, this man knows how to dance and isn’t afraid to show it. (Sadly for him he also loves to clap when dancing and this makes everyone laugh)

Hange Zoe:

Is both street-smart and book-smart, is the only person who has beaten Erwin in a chess match and also beaten Levi in a wrestling match.

Almost always has pencils sticking out of their hair, they place them there for a moment and totally forget about them.

Levi restricted them from using fountain pens because they would spill ink and stain everything and everywhere.

The reason why their glasses have straps on is not only because the risk of them falling off is smaller but also because according to them “it makes them look cooler”.

Wanted to join Erwin in giving instructions to Levi written in cursive but since their handwriting wasn’t as good as Erwin’s they opted for giving instructions in riddles, this makes Levi even more furious than the cursive ones.

Just like Levi, Hange takes a long time when eating dinner but the reason for this is not because they eat slow but because they talk a lot. By the end of the meal their food is either cold or soggy.

Tried to bite a titan once just to show them how it felt to be “on the receiving side”.

Their horse has tiny braids on its mane made by them when they were nervous.

Refuses to brush their hair because their ideas may “fall off” if they do it.

Tackled Levi once when they saw an “eerie figure” roaming the headquarters halls and thought it was a new species.

Has read more books than anyone in the scouts, knows a little of almost everything.

Says “wait, what?” at least twice when talking with someone, before that person can repeat themselves, they interrupt with a completely related answer and expect the person to continue speaking as if nothing happened.

Almost all cadets go to them for advice, they take this very seriously and never joke around when listening to their concerns.

Just like Erwin, they have relatives living nearby the headquarters but they’re not interested in one another.

Has a tendency to bite their nails when nervous, all his fingernails are short and bumpy because of it.

Is very quick at math and calculations.

Always carry a pocket notebook with them and writes anything that catches their attention so they can investigate about it later.

LOVES bugs, is always trying to catch them and examinate them. One time they trapped a cockroach and created a full design of an “armored suit” based on them, when Erwin asked where they got the inspiration for it, they just placed the cockroach in Erwin’s desk and Erwin almost fainted on the spot.

Randomly goes to Miche and asks him “what do I smell like?”, Miche stopped participating on their little riddles when Hange decided to put rotting food in their pockets before asking.

All their books have little notes and highlighted parts on them. Sometimes has two or three copies of the same book because their view on certain parts changes over time.

Takes pinky-promises as a legit way of commitment.

[dandystkworldofficial]

Dandy's Tickle World RP #1 [MASTERPOST]

Welcome to the first official Dandy's Tickle World RP! You can go here for more information regarding the RP!

[CURRENT PARTICIPANTS]

💡🩷Brightney- @fluffyfeatherfun

🌸🌈Dandy- @dandy-dandicus-dancifer

🦌❤️Rudie- @rudieloo

🎭🧵Razzle and Dazzle- @razzdazzlinatcha

🫧🎀Poppy- @heartsforcutepoppygirl

🦐💢Shrimpo- @shrimp-hates-tickles99

🧹🩵Tisha- @tishasfeatherduster

🎣⛵Finn- @switchback-finn

Be sure to follow the rules stated:

No NSFW

No weird stuff

Don't be a jerk

You don't have to be too experienced to do the RP, but try not to go OOC.

Let's not make the RP angsty, as we're all here to have a fun time!

Please be sure to join the RP if you'll actually participate...

Most importantly—well, have fun everybody!

When a new floor opens, a new post will open with the 'twisteds', amount of machines, current toons and their status! But to survive, there's requirements...

Whenever your pick up an item, wander around or do a machine, you need to spin a wheel from 1 to 6. Landing on 1, 2 and 3 means that the twisteds spotted you.

^ (Increase and decrease chance by 1 for every Ticklevision that's missing. For example, since Brightney has one star of Ticklevision she needs to land on a 6 to not get spotted.)

^ You MUST be honest with what you got, as you're the only one who can do it.

For picking up items, you spin a wheel to find out what you get. You may use items before or during an event, like in a situation where you're getting chased!

If you get caught by a 'twisted' while you're at one heart, you'll experience a skill-check like quick time event in which you'll have to press the calibration area at the right time to avoid getting tickled

^ If you hit "Good Job!", you'll have to redo the event. But if you hit "Great Job", then you'll be freed. You will have to do this quick-time event three times.

When you 'lose 3 hearts', you'll be dragged to an alternative exit that isn't accesible unless your eliminated, called a "waiting room"

The shopkeepers in here are Astro and Pebs!

And that's pretty much it! Hope everyone enjoys the RP!

[beneathsilverstars]

ooc of me to go this long without thinking about a daycare teacher au but i'm doing it now and i think siffrin would teach babies, nille would teach toddlers, isabeau younger preschoolers, mirabelle older preschoolers, and odile the after-school kids.

baby rooms are very routine-based with lots of written notes and almost no variation from the schedule, which would work well for siffrin! i think older kids might stress him out because he's kind of sensitive lol, but babies can't be mean to you or each other. and they definitely need more snuggles in their life, which babies are great for.

toddlers enjoy a lot of rough and tumble play because they're calibrating their proprioceptive senses, and people tend to hc nille as active and strong. having a bad reaction to sudden touch could be an issue with any age group, but at least toddler classrooms are built to make it easy to keep track of where everyone is at once, and toddlers don't care if you react weird sometimes!

early preschoolers are trying to learn how to name and manage big feelings and navigate interpersonal conflicts, but still can't communicate very clearly, so isabeau's emotional perceptiveness would come in handy. he's also strong enough to still be able to carry them and swing them around easily. and he's very silly, which is a plus with any age, but esp kids who are old enough to have active opinions but not old enough to hold a long conversation.

pre-kindergarten is the era of mastering basic skills like writing letters, using scissors, and naming days of the week; mirabelle loves taking all sorts of classes, so i think she'd love teaching all sorts of skills! and since she's used to working through her own anxiety, she would probably do a good job helping kids who are starting to become aware of more complex social dynamics and getting shy and self-conscious.

odile is self-assured and unflappable enough to be able to handle big kids, who will pounce on a hint of weakness. i think she'd get quite bored of cutesy early childhood stuff, but elementary school kids can play real games and do cool big projects! and she'd definitely notice when any trouble starts brewing so she can nip it in the bud.

none of them are lead teachers lol, except odile since the ratio for elementary schoolers only requires one teacher. euphrasie is the director, and mirabelle works there because she went to the same center as a kid and remembers it fondly. bonnie goes to the after-school classroom, and nille gets that sweet employee discount on childcare. odile is doing this temporarily while she looks for a job teaching adults in her actual field, isabeau kinda defaulted to childcare because he has way too much experience taking care of younger siblings, and siffrin applied to every job in the area and happened to get this one first. <3

[mageofquandrix]

OOOO, palm kisses for Julien? 👉👈

So, @blightedcrow and I have a little OC ship, so this is Julien Mercar and Dawn Ingellvar. I'm still getting a feel for Dawn (so it might be a bit ooc) but I loved writing it!

----------

Julien carefully inked his blueprints, fighting to keep his hand steady despite his fatigue. With the Darkspawn and Venatori in the tunnels, Ashur had mentioned that they could use some more passages, more redundancies in case one became blocked. So, here he was - burning the midnight oil to plot them out, so Tarquin could get the blueprints back before anyone noticed they were missing.

Still, he noted with a smile as listened to the sound of a metal-nibbed quill scratching on parchment, it wasn’t all bad. On nights like this, he and Dawn gathered up their work and took it to big dining table, working together until one of them called it a night. Considering how little time they got to spend together, he was grateful for it. Tonight, they sat on either sides of a corner, close enough that their knees occasionally brushed. Julien pretended it was an accident every time, but it hardly ever was.

The scratching stopped, and Julien immediately glanced up to see Dawn flexing and rolling his wrist. He frowned. It was the third time in an hour. 

“Sore?”

“Hm?” Dawn looked up with that stupid little expression he got whenever his focus was interrupted, and he tried to re-calibrate himself back to the rest of the world. “Oh, yes. A bit of a cramp, I’m afraid. Nothing to worry about.”

Julien scooted his chair a bit, and gestured for Dawn to give him his hand. At Dawn’s curious expression, sighed and gestured again, giving him just a bit of a grin. “C’mere, darlin. You’ve worked enough tonight, you can take a break.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Dawn grumbled under his breath, but he gave his hands over anyway, just watching as Julie laid it palm-up in his own hand. Julien began working his thumb into the palm, working gently into the meat of it. Dawn let out a soft sound, his fingers immediately relaxing for just a moment. It was short lived, though, as he blushed and tried to pull his hand back.

“You don’t need to-“

“I want to.”“You do enough-“

“I want to. Dawn. Do you like it?”

A pause, then a small sigh of surrender. “Yes.”

“Then let me. I like it.” He started to work on the top of his palm, digging gently into the spaces between his knuckles. “Feels good to do something nice for you.”

Julien’s calluses dragged against Dawn’s skin, and he wished he had some lotion or something to make it smoother. Maybe, if Dawn let him do this again, he could use whatever he used to keep his hands so soft. Still, it seemed to be working; Dawn slowly relaxed more and more into his seat, he eyes sagging until they finally closed. The feeling of triumph warmed him as he switched and began on the other hand; it felt good to get the Watcher to just relax.

Once he finally finished, he held them both, just running his thumb across the back of his hand. “Better?”

“Much, thank you,” Dawn said, looking up at him through those long lashes, with that soft, sweet smile. Shit. Julien didn’t know if Dawn knew what that did to him, the way it made his heart skip a beat, how he felt like he would do just about anything, fight just about anyone, if it meant he could see it again.

He wanted to tell him but…nah. Not yet, anyway. Too fast, too early. Too close to an admission he wasn’t quite ready to make, and that Dawn wasn't ready to hear.

Instead, he pulled Dawn’s hand up to his face, and allowed himself a small sigh as he turned in against it. His stubble, grown out from the day, rasped against the smooth skin. He pressed a soft kiss into the center, then another, longer, into the meat of his thumb, letting it linger even after he opened his eyes. He caught Dawn’s, holding his gaze for a long moment until Dawn, shy, broke it and looked away.

“Thank you,” Julien said as he let Dawn have his hands back. He rolled his neck and shoulders, pretending not to notice as Dawn ran a finger over the spot where his lips had been. “Alright, back to work.”

(note: Julien’s an elf, but can grow facial hair. I know this isn’t canon, but I’m doing it anyway.)

[justkillingthyme]

Ok I’m posting my f!layton script here. It’s like 10k words and very ooc. Separating it into 5 parts for ease.

It’s written in script format, and the ending isn’t canon to the au.

Scene 1: Dimitri, Claire, and Layton

(There’s a set of three high pitched beeps as the light comes on. CLAIRE wakes up, and sits up on the table. She’s in a lab. The walls are white and the light is harsh and bright. DIMITRI is at a desk in the corner, typing on his computer. When he notices her, he turns in his chair.)

DIMITRI: Oh, you're awake? That took longer than usual.

CLAIRE: Sorry if I worried you. There’s been some bugs in my system.

DIMITRI: Hershel’s been messing with your code again?

CLAIRE: (sighing and rubbing her face) yeah.

(DIMITRI turns in his chair, looking worried.)

DIMITRI: So that’s what’s causing all this instability?

(With no response from Claire, DIMITRI stands and starts walking towards her.)

DIMITRI: (softly) Claire, you can’t keep doing this.

CLAIRE: (acting innocent) Doing what?

DIMITRI: (gestures at her) This! Shutting down every other day and ripping all your wires out!

(Claire is beginning to get angry, and tries to stand up. She fails and sit back down.)

CLAIRE: I’m sorry if it's so inconvenient for you to do your job.

DIMITRI: Don’t put words in my mouth. That’s not what I’m saying.

CLAIRE: Then what are you saying? That you hate putting me back together again? I didn’t ask you to!

DIMITRI: You know damn well what he would do to me if I refused to rebuild you, Claire. And it’s not that I hate doing this, it's that I hate that it happens in the first place! I hate that you keep destroying yourself when you know it won’t fix anything!

(CLAIRE tries to get up again and takes a few steps before her legs give out. DIMITRI catches her and lowers her to the ground, then hovers over her)

DIMITRI: Careful, your legs aren’t calibrated yet. (pause) It pains me to see you like this, Claire. You know I care, right?

(CLAIRE smacks away his hands and glares.)

CLAIRE: You don’t care about me. The only one anyone cares about is Claire Layton, ‘beloved wife and friend’. Not me. You only care about the dead girl I was modeled after.

(DIMITRI is about to respond, but he hesitates. LAYTON enters stage right. DIMITRI visibly tenses.)

LAYTON: Claire!

(LAYTON picks CLAIRE up and sets her back on the table, then turns to DIMITRI)

LAYTON: (threatening tone, gritted teeth) What happened?

DIMITRI: (taking a step back) She tried to stand up. Her legs aren’t calibrated properly yet because of the shut down.

(Towards the end of DIMITRI’s sentence, CLAIRE grabs LAYTON’s sleeve, and shakes her head. He backs off.)

LAYTON: Out.

(DIMITRI nods and exits stage right, hesitating and looking back at LAYTON and CLAIRE, then shaking his head and leaving.)

LAYTON: He’s incompetent. I ought to throw him out with the others.

CLAIRE: (pursing her lips) He’s the fifth one this month, Hershel.

(LAYTON runs a hand through her hair)

LAYTON: You could have gotten hurt. I can’t allow that. I need you, Claire.

CLAIRE: Dimitri is the best one so far. He’s the only one that can read all your blueprints, and he knew the real Claire too.

LAYTON: (displeased) I wish you wouldn’t say that.

CLAIRE: What? That there’s a real Claire?

LAYTON: You are real.

(There’s a pause where CLAIRE doesn’t respond)

LAYTON: (More firmly) You are.

(CLAIRE looks away, silent.)

CLAIRE: (flatly) My legs are fine now. I can go.

LAYTON: Then come along. I had a wonderful picnic planned for us in the gardens, however this morning’s (searching for the right word) …incident had them postponed.

CLAIRE (visibly down) A picnic sounds lovely, dear.

(LAYTON helps CLAIRE up, and they hold hands as they exit stage right. CLAIRE is a little unsteady on her feet.)

[ladyluscinia]

OFMD fandom has me thinking about Protagonist Centered Morality, like, in general.

I feel like we only call it that when we think it's been handled wrong and are criticizing it, even though - let's be honest - we have all bought into some degree of protagonist centered morality in our favorite show. Like. It's the beating heart behind the very idea of a Mook - the faceless darkside minion that your heroes can destroy without any moral consequence for that action because who gives a shit? It's basically inescapable in every cop-show (or reskinned cop show like spn), chosen one story, action movie, revenge quest, underdog tale... we fucking love it when the universe agrees "yeah they earned that" and will generally just roll our eyes at people going "ok but you know your fictional murderers are doing bad things, right?"

Until we don't.

And, like, as an offshoot of this... 99% of the time, when you're criticizing a show for its protagonist centered morality, the most straightforward way to get your point across is complaining about whatever happened. "X did Y and then we're just supposed to forget about it?" Or "X is being such a hypocrite about Z!" And then someone else (real or hypothetical) pushes back with some point about how the story / other characters / etc. don't treat this as a problem and that kicks off the framing criticisms. But is it really about what they did?

People will object to the protagonist centered framing of actions they don't consider that serious, and be satisfied or unconcerned with the framing of actions they find borderline unforgivable. Protagonist centered morality can casually handwave (or seriously penalize) the whole spectrum of morally questionable actions from being a shit in high school to committing massive war crimes. Sometimes the primary complaint is that the protagonist already took a stance against this action, so now being fine with doing it themselves is hypocritical and out of character, and the problem with protagonist centered morality seems to be more that it's letting the OOC part slide.

The concept engages with genuine criticism of a characterization or character's actions as a shorthand, but the part it's actually complaining about is closer to feeling the narrative failed somewhere on a meta level to calibrate how much the audience should care about this event (and what level of in-universe caring would then satisfy).

It's not (at least usually) a fancy way of putting forward character crit of the good guys - most people who want to do that are just going to do so directly. If anything it has more in common with being upset at a story for breaking your Suspension of Disbelief (usually in the arena of character relationships).

[the-janitor-esc]

*wearing bandages and ESC Janitorial Service uniform and carrying a backpack* *strolling into the portal room*

*confused* Back? O-o - #500 (Nestor)

I returned on foot. Very good job guarding the portal *shutting the portal off and calibrating again before reopening to a different location* Don't allow any staff to enter the portal.

Affirmative. o-o7 - #500 (Nestor)

*stepping through to wait on a beach*

[20 minutes later]

*dragging themself ashore slowly* *soaked* *moving stiffly from healing burns*

*throwing the backpack across* You'll need those

*weary* *drying off with a towel and changing into bandages and uniform from the backpack* You knew and said nothing.

The current future is...acceptable. Shall we return to the Center? My visit is up, and I imagine you are suffering a headache from Goldfinch.

((ooc: Long post! Long post! cw: home invasion, body horror, illusions to being dangled threateningly from a balcony, manhandling, explosions, house fire, restrained and gagged, gunfire, freefalling and being swallowed alive))

[Sunday, June 15, 2025; Nightfall]

The Hamptons. The Goldfinch estate. A three story cottage standing proudly at the end of a five minute driveway and penned in by hedges, overlooking the sea. It boasts a humble three guest houses, containing ninety-nine spare bedrooms, tennis courts, a racetrack, and the finest wine cellar and bars in the neighborhood.

The cottage is dark and quiet, which Henry Goldfinch finds unusual given he stocked his summer retirement home with a live-in staff of ten.

Unfortunately, he has dismissed James, his chauffeur, for the night.

Fortunately, it is a short walk to the door; the first week out of his wheelchair has exhausted him and tried his patience, and he is looking forward to a quiet night in, resting in his easy chair with spirits and a run-down of the latest golf results.

Samuel does not open the door at his approach.

Beth and Margarita are not in the kitchen.

Jorge, Dottie, and Selena do not come at his calls; Jack, Priscilla, and Kei are nowhere to be found.

He calls James, who is already halfway across Long Island, and requests him back; something is wrong, and James will "be back with you shortly, sir."

Henry walks to his bedroom; he has a panic room there since the Incident. He feels watched, stalked, the whole way.

His room lays in an unnatural darkness; he thinks the curtains were open when he looked up from the ground floor, but he cannot remember it clearly and no moonlight filters in. It is no matter; the electricity will chase the shadows away at the flip of a switch, and he gropes the wall.

The wall is smooth and cold, foreign; it has a strange texture that is very much not wall-like. As he brushes his hand across the familiar space where the switch should be, he feels the wall quiver underhand.

Henry stumbles back out of the doorway as his room almost collapses in on him. The walls, or what covered them, peel away, filling the space with moonlight and shades of his furnishings. The shapes of his furniture are not the only familiar outline revealed.

The visage fills him with a horrid sense of déjà vu: a humanoid shape - the skin gel-like and jet black speckled with white - advancing with menacing purpose. It is a living starfield that haunts his nightmares even a decade since he last saw it.

"Stay away from me! Security will be here any moment!"

"I highly doubt that, Henry; you dismissed your staff a few hours earlier and cancelled your security services," his own voice replies to him from the abomination, following after him as he backs along the hallway. "I am surprised you have balconies in your home after the last time we spoke..."

Terrible, cold hands seize him, lifting him off his feet and slamming him into the wall. He is pinned, feet dangling; with a jolt of fear, he remembers looking into a straight drop at the streets of Monaco years ago at these same hands and a lost friend's voice whispering from that loathed mass ,"shall we see if a Goldfinch can fly?"

"Did you forget we had a deal, Henry?" The abomination is thankfully no longer speaking in his own voice to him, nor any of the doomed Lab 5 members. "I stopped attacking Mercury labs and you were not to interfere with me any further. Yours have been messing about my place of work and dogging my steps once more."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

His teeth and bones rattle when the abomination lifts and slams him back against the wall. The shock jolts down his spine and makes him groan as it jostles his recently healed injuries.

"Your agents have spied on me, attacked me, attacked my employer's building and staff, and I will have no more of it. You ruined our lives, Henry."

He feels the front of his shirt sinking into the creature's skin, and it takes a step closer with intent.

"Nemesis is no more!" His heart hammers against his ribs. He's desperate to find the right set of words to banish the Horror holding him back to wherever the Hell it came from this time; his life cannot end like this. "I disbanded the group years ago, I swear!"

The sinking stops. Two bright glowing spots, like eyes, appear in the head; he can feel it staring into him, judging. He presses his feet against the wall, trying to stabilize himself further.

"On my word and my family's graves, I ended Nemesis; if it was still active, I would not send them after you, not after Monaco. Please."

Henry's back slides down the wall as the abomination lowers him back to his feet; it looks down at him, scrutinizing. He is not foolish enough to think danger has passed; he read the reports on Margo and watched the footage from his other labs. Lab 5 was brilliant, and their creation is a ruthlessly efficient monster.

The abomination is still pondering him when a window shatters downstairs; another window shatters somewhere above. It still grips him, but loses its humanoid shape; its stretching out, rising up like a questing snake, to try to see further down the hall in the direction of the breaking glass. Three more windows smash somewhere in the depths of the cottage. There is a series of explosions that cause the flooring to tremble underfoot, and he finds himself being dragged back down the hall and into his open bedroom.

"Help! He-"

Gel presses against his mouth, so thick the noises cannot find their way passed it; he whimpers against it as he's pulled further into the room and along the wall.

They stick to the shadows of the room. The 'eyes' disappear, but he has the sense that the creature is looking out the window, at the room, at him all the same.

There is smoke starting to creep into the room from downstairs; he can feel the Horror quivering.

Henry spots the glint off a gun outside the bay windows at the same time the creature does. Whoever is outside cuts off two shots through the glass and, in a show of that terrible efficiency, the creature smashes through the broken windows to engulf them, dragging him with it like a crash test dummy.

He hopes that wasn't James; there is nothing left to tell if it was James. There is no time to dwell on the thought with the abomination swiftly dragging them across the upper patio with a rain of incendiary bullets pursuing them. He finds himself in front of the creature, shielded and shoved; sometimes, he catches sight of parts of it forming paddles to pat out fires dancing on its skin. A bullet gets passed his shield and wings him, but he barely feels it.

"Deep breathe, Henry" is the only warning he gets before the creature throws them both into the infinity pool. The water is cool and jarring. He doesn't get his bearings about him before it propels them through the water and jumps over the lip at the cliff side.

He finds himself cursing himself for ever owning an infinity pool instantly. Alex took him skydiving once, and he had vowed to never do it again; yet, here he finds himself with the land flying by him to his left and the moonlit ocean lapping at rocks below him and quickly growing closer. He screams behind the gel and thrashes in its confines. The cold, flexible skin starts wrapping around him, along his limbs, torso and head. He loses sight, hearing, feeling, plunging into its inky depths.

Henry Goldfinch is tucked away into the C.S.S.P.E.R. before they hit the waves; The Janitor sinks to the ocean floor, processing what they learned and working out how long it will take to return to the Evil Science Center.

[lucluvr]

the secret vows of the heart

on a short trip to liyue with kaeya, he soons realizes how overworked his "friend" truly is. good thing kaeya's great at massages!

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა kaeya x reader / fluff / no warnings / a little suggestive (it's kaeya) / biting !!! / self indulgent / he's a little ooc sawrry / massaging / reader is mentioned to be the traveler however they are not lumine or aether

meeting an old friend in sumeru was the last thing you expected to happen to you today. it's not an unwelcome surprise-- especially when this said "friend" was kaeya. you find him on the port on your way home from completing a favor for tighnari. he greets you with a soft smile, his shoulders relaxing at the sigh of you. 

the two of you chat at a local dhaba. you find out kaeya's on business trip and has a few more days to spare before heading back home. 

"say…how would you like to spend some time with me before i go back to mondstadt? we could visit liyue?" he asks as he picks apart of his paratha. he sees the slight hesitation in your eyes and tilts his head. "you've been working yourself to the bone. why not take a small vacation, hm? i promise i'll keep you safe," he winks at you, which ends up looking like a smile more than anything.

his eye twinkles with hope as he grins. you let out an airy chuckle and nod your head. taking a small vacation with an old friend isn't something you get to do often. his face lights up as he picks apart another piece of the paratha. he dips it in the sambar, bringing it closer to your lips. he lets a teasing smile replace his boyish grin as you reluctantly take the food in your mouth. he laughs so hard his shoulders shake. this is gonna be a fun trip…

your trip to liyue was smooth sailing, but the moment you made it there you were already aiding someone in need. kaeya watches as you try to come up with solutions to captain wu's fraudulent issues. for the sake of your reputation, kaeya plays along as the helpful friend of the well-renowned traveler. however, when the two of you arrive at the hotel his mood drastically changes. he's upset. not at you, but he is a little grumpier than typical. 

his silence does not go unnoticed on the way to the hotel. despite your many prods at him, his answer remains the same.

"im alright, dear. no need to fret," there's a slight sharpness to his tone that makes your heart sink a little. is he upset over captain wu? did you say something to upset him? these thoughts cross your mind as you dry your hair in the bathroom. kaeya sits on one of the beds in the suite, his mood clearly sour. you sigh heavily and place your towel on the bed.

once he notices your presence, he sits up. kaeya beckons you over, tapping the space next to him. you obey and sit beside him. his head immediately falls onto your shoulder and he sighs. his arms wrap around your waist. his sudden clinginess surprises you. 

"kaeya?" you call out his name in that honey-like tone he adores. he wishes he could hear you say it all the time. 

"hm?" is all the says. he lifts his head up so his lips ghost over your neck. you feel his breath on your nape and ears. 

"please tell me what is wrong. you're worrying me," you turn to cup his cheek in your hand. you lean forward, planting a small kiss on his forehead. your tone makes his heart break a little. he never intended to cause you more stress. he believes he's not worth to even be in the background of your thoughts. he truly didn't expect you to even remember him when you crossed paths in sumeru. 

"you," he pauses, carefully calibrating his words. "you were supposed to rest, not add another task to your roster." his hands gently cup your shoulders. his thumbs rub into the knots on your neck and shoulders. a soothing sigh is released from your lips and kaeya smiles. his pillowy soft voice tells you to lean back. with a slight nudge, he has you laying between his legs. he rubs his fingers into your back, hands tracing lower then back up.

"what was i supposed to do?" you ask him in a soft tone. with a teasing smile on his lips, he leans down leaving a small kiss on your shoulder. 

"allow me to take care of it," his icy breath dusts over your ears, making you squirm in his hold. he chuckles, reeling himself back. his fingers continue to massage the sore muscles on your back and shoulder. 

"if i let you do everything, i wouldn't have my role as the honorary knight, now would i, captain kaeya?" you reply to him with that same teasing tone and smile. he laughs again (he thinks everything you do in endearing) and leans back down to your neck. his nose and lips brush the soft skin. gently, he bites the skin. 

kaeya’s heart squeezes as your giggles ring through his ears. they settle in the deepest parts of his brain. he could never forget the sounds of your laughter, your voice.

kaeya often deludes himself into believing that he only sticks around with you because you take care of him, make him feel loved, appreciated. however, when he sees you work yourself to the bone, selflessly do anything for anyone, he finds himself growing protective of you and your heart.

kaeya can’t ever imagine a world without you. sure, he loves being loved by you. but he enjoys loving you even more. it soothes his soul knowing that you can rely on him, trust him to protect and help you through tough times.

the letters you send him, the small trinkets and photos, kaeya keeps them in a drawer tucked away from the cruel world. he keeps them close to his self-proclaimed “selfish heart.” however, the kaeya albreich you know is the furthest thing away from selfish. he is the selfless one.

as kaeya’s fingers rub into the muscles of your skin, he tattoos the contours of your back into his brain. he reminds himself of how ticklish your waist and hips are when his fingers smooth over the skin.

his heart beats at the same rhythm as yours. he will always be here, be your rock, your knight in shining armor. kaeya will be selfish for you. all he wants in return for his love and affection is you— he will be not be satisfied with anything else.

"brat," you let out a hearty laugh at his actions. your smile is infectious and he too mimicks you. your hands intertwine with the other as your laugh to your hearts' content. the two of you have not discussed you obvious feelings-- not yet, at least. nor have you discussed the way your heart flutter anytime you make eye contact. yet, kaeya reassures you: “no matter how far away you travel, no matter who you befriend or makes enemies with, i will always be here to take care of you-- in sickness, and in health, my dear.“

a/n: i just finished his hangout today :(( my sweet prince i love him so dearly!!!! anyways, this is slightly based off of his fifth hangout ending. he may be slightly ooc btw. enjoy <3

[karriethemechtech]

For your Glimpses of the Past game, might I request INJURED, please?

(OOC: Of course you can!)

(It's over 2000 words now, oh wow. I did not know I even had writing like this still in me. Genuinely thank you so much to all of you for managing to instill this level of passion in me again. I put it under the read more since it's quite long and I don't want to destroy your dash. I'll finish the other prompt or two I have, I hope I edited this one enough; I need a nap.)

            “Alright, Alpha lance, move to the right! Beta lance, with me!” barked the Captain. “Let’s sweep this place and go home. I’m getting awful tired of taking orders from that Feddie bigwig.”

The orders had been simple: Capellan landing crafts had been detected on long-range scanners touching down twenty klicks from the garrison. Not that it mattered, thought Karrie. The sensors were ancient, radar-only, and prone to failure. She had offered to take a look at them for their employer, of course; the Captain almost had to pull the Federated Suns diplomat off her after she even suggested the equipment they had been provided with was poor. And it would have been such a simple fix, really nothing more than a calibration. It would have taken Karrie no time at all, even if she’d looped in the spare seismic sensors she’d pulled from the last share of salvage…

“DeLacey! Distracted, are we?” the Captain shouted over comms. “Alpha lance is moving out! Get your lazy ass out there!”

Karrie grumbled a rough agreement and turned her ‘Mech around; the beaten Trebuchet gave a tipsy sway of protest as she trotted after the rest of her lance.

“Captain! Are we sure there’s anyone here at all?” she asked.

“Just get back to work.”

And so the patrol proceeded, one mind-numbing minute blending into the next as the darkly-painted ‘Mechs marched across the rolling plain. Even the land was bored; the grasses were punctuated by very few trees, and the tree line marked the horizon through the shimmer of the summer heat. Conversations started and ended quickly, the relentless monotony eventually robbing the MechWarriors of anything new to talk about. Some groaned their complaints over the comms; they were usually met with the Captain’s swift and brutal reprimand. But even he’s starting to get tired of this, Karrie realized.

The Captain’s voice balanced on the razor’s-edge of sleep as he broke the yawning quiet. “Alright, Dark Wolves! That’s enough. Just another false alarm.” He punched the console. “Time to head home!”

He sighed. “What a waste of time.”

No sooner than the Captain finished speaking, all hell broke loose.

Alpha lance’s Thunderbolt lurched suddenly. The MechWarrior screamed into the mic, “Mines! Fuck, it’s an—”

Her ‘Mech staggered, an awkward hop on one foot. One step forward was all it took to trigger the second mine, and suddenly the Thunderbolt was on the ground, the mercenary’s screams filling the airwaves as her machine erupted in a fiery blast.

In the tall grasses and trees, previously undetected engines roared to life, the angry howl of diesel engines kept warm waiting for this very moment. An ambush! Tanks and vehicles raced out of hiding like bolts of lightning. The Trebuchet’s TRO computer squealed with the strain of identifying them all, flashing their information across Karrie vision almost too fast to read.

“Hold formation, Wolves!” said the Captain. “We don’t know where those mines are. Alpha Lance! Deal with them.” His King Crab opened its massive claws, revealing the massive smoothbore cannons within.

Karrie panicked. Vehicles! It was so obvious. She almost couldn’t believe how easily she’d fallen for it. She flipped a switch on her control panel and missiles poured from her Trebuchet’s torso—anti-mine rounds, exploding near the ground as she fired on the burning hulk of her former coworker. The mines retorted in fiery bursts, filling the air with smoke. Perfect. In a flash, she ran for the tree line, her ‘Mech’s arms an exaggerated “follow me” wave as she looked back on the other members of Alpha lance. The lance’s Griffin leaped after her; the Centurion did not.

“What the hell are you doing, Karrie?” came the ‘Mech’s pilot over comms. “Captain said to stand ground!” He braced as a shower of missiles pelted the Centurion’s armored left side. “And that’s what I’m doing!” With a yell, the mercenary opened fire with the Centurion’s autocannon, and the air filled with the scream of high-volume lead.

“You dumbass! You’re going to get yourself killed!” The Trebuchet rocked from the impact of a tank shell—thankfully only class five, based on the armor report, she thought.

Karrie flipped her comms to a private channel. “You!” she said to the pilot of the Griffin. “Do you want to die? No? Then follow me!” The MechWarrior offered no response but continued to follow. Karrie ran along the tree line, stopping only to kick or shoot the half-dozen armored trucks that had her in their sights.

SRMs flashed into burning light against her left leg, and to her dread the Trebuchet’s engine let out a low, pained whine. “Infernos! Captain, they’ve got Inferno rounds!”

“What are you doing out of formation, MechWarrior? Get back in line!”

“Sir, now’s not the time!” Karrie retorted, simultaneously retorting to incoming fire with the ‘Mech’s missile banks. The missiles arced through the air gracefully, and it was all she could do not to feel mesmerized watching them as she loosed another salvo for good measure.

“Bullshit. You two get back here!” The violent boom of the Captain’s AC/20s shook the windows of the Trebuchet’s cockpit.

A second round of Inferno missiles struck her ‘Mech’s right side, and warning lights began to flash. The targeting systems are giving out! She needed time to cool.

“Cover me!”

Her lancemate’s response came in the form of hot blue laser fire as she ducked into the woods. She counted the seconds, heart racing with fear. Her breath caught hot in her throat. One, two, three. The heat gauges finally started to dip below the red. Four, five, six…

“Karrie! Get back in the fight!” The Captain’s voice was somehow louder in her neurohelmet than the retort of his guns. “I don’t pay cowards!”

“Sir, I’m doing what I can!” Her Trebuchet pounded out of the trees, emerald beams pulsing from its arms as she fired on the tank the Centurion was currently trading shots with. The tank’s turret began to rotate, bringing its cannon to bear on the barreling ‘Mech, but not before she slammed her foot into it, punting it like a football with as much force as the myomers could give. It flipped once, twice in the air before landing with a crunch on its turret.

“You ass, I had that!” shouted the Centurion’s pilot.

“Please, you’re full of holes!” Karrie scoffed, already bringing her ‘Mech around to another target. “You should stay with the lance!”

“And you should stay in formation, MechWarrior!” shouted the Captain. “Now get back here!”

His lumbering ‘Mech broke into a run, followed by the rest of Beta lance. The ground shook with the impact of the Assault ‘Mechs’ weight. “You see that? Their lines are opening! We’ve got a chance to get behind ‘em!” The Captain’s autocannons boomed, followed by curtains of missiles from the ‘Mech’s flat carapace. “Dark Wolves, with me!”

“You heard the man,” said the Centurion’s pilot. “Move, DeLacey.” He broke into a run, pulling the smoking ‘Mech alongside its heavier allies. With a disgruntled sigh, Karrie obliged; as she did so, her heart sank.

“Sir, this is wrong. They’re ambushing us; why would they leave a hole like that?”

“’Cause we’re kicking their asses! Now move!”

“Sir, we should pull back.”

“Is that cowardice I hear, MechWarrior?”

Karrie drew in a shuddering breath. “No, sir!”

“Attagirl.” The captain grabbed a fleeing truck in the King Crab’s claws and crushed it as he ran, tossing it aside like an empty can of beer.

Without warning, the company’s HawkWolf flashed with brilliant light. It stumbled, briefly connected to its assailant by three bolts of lightning, and crumpled to the ground.

“Sir, there’s another force!” said the Griffin’s pilot. “They have PPC carriers!”

The King Crab skidded to a halt. “Shit, it’s another trap! Dark Wolves, stay close!”

PPC fire arced through the air again. Two shots went wide over the King Crab’s wide shoulders while a third struck the flat top of the ‘Mech dead on. It rocked on its feet for a moment before once again breaking into a run towards the hidden tank, autocannons rolling like thunder. A second bank of PPC beams struck the side of the captain’s machine—this time two hit dead on, putting smoking holes in the ‘Mech’s right claw. Karrie loosed a salvo of missiles at the second tank, joined by the now-upright HawkWolf, desperate to provide the company some cover. The missiles scattered into a bough of trees, from which another volley of crackling beams issued as if in reply. Karrie broke her Trebuchet into a mad run, dumping more missiles into the trees in hopes she might knock out one of the second tank’s emitters.

A click. The missiles had run out. Had she miscounted? “Sir, I’ve run dry!” Karrie yelped.

“Move, Delacey!” came the Captain’s reply.

“What?”

“I said move—"

And the world was a blur of color and noise. Karrie screamed. Ice cold pain shot through her body, and her hair stood on end. The moment seemed to stretch on forever, a cacophony of agony punctuated only by the slicing of shrapnel into her flesh. Karrie leaned forward in her seat, reeling, vision blurry. She was going to die here. As the pain overwhelmed her senses, that she knew. She was going to die here. It started as a low rumble in the back of her mind, She was going to die here, then echoed backwards off her forehead, she screamed in protest, She was going to die here, the echoes were joined by others as her mind filled with a whirling cacophony of panic and pain, She was going to die here. She could feel it. As the pain scrabbled across her nerve endings, reached all the way to the tips of her fingers, arcing from them like a Tesla coil onto the delicate electronics in front of her, it was as certain as a wedding vow.

She was going to die here.

Slowly, wretchedly, the world came back into focus, the ringing in her ears blocking out most of the raging battle outside the ‘Mech. There was a burning, smoking hole right in the center of the Trebuchet’s face—her window was gone. She was lucky she wasn’t too. Hot wind whipped through the newly formed void as she limped her Trebuchet towards the Captain’s damaged King Crab.

The Captain shouted something at Karrie; she couldn’t hear a word he said. Her skin was still flushed with pain; blood dripped down her exposed arms and onto the floor. She raised her ‘Mech’s arms, VSP lasers firing wildly as she tried half-consciously to find purchase against something. Anything. The Captain shouted something again. It almost sounded like retreat, but over the din of the battlefield she couldn’t tell.

But She was going to die here. No longer an echo, the thought erected itself a deathly promise in her clouded mind.

“…Go!” Karrie screamed like a wounded animal. She spat blood from her bleeding tongue and continued to fire. The engine shrieked in protest as one, two impacts struck the torso. The rest of the company limped away behind her, into safety, away from the clutches of the Capellan trap. Below her, the failing containment fields of the mech beat like a giant heart in time with her own. Once more she bellowed a desperate cry of war, and once more she fired her meager payload into the oncoming wall of tanks. As they approached, the pulses got closer together, the ‘Mech itself flinching even as Karrie failed to.

Huh, some detached part of her thought. The pulses always have prime number frequencies. Another cannon round planted itself in the Trebuchet’s exposed chest and Karrie’s head snapped back in her seat.

The impact left her brain no room to think. There was no room left to shout.

Only shoot. Another shot. Another shot. Another shot. Another shot. And another.

Karrie didn’t even notice as her ‘Mech tumbled to the ground beneath her.

One. More. Shot.

Then relief.