#Robot Calibration

[dynaloginc]

Dynacal: Precision Robot Calibration by Dynalog-US That Powers the Future of Automation

In an era of automation that is changing rapidly, precision is everything. Whether it’s aerospace, automotive, or advanced manufacturing, accuracy around robot calibration is critical. The difference between success or failure in your operations rests on the quality of the robot calibration. This is where Dynacal—developed by Dynalog-US—enters the equation as an industry leader of robotic calibration and validation solutions. Dynalog has established its position as a leader by providing accurate, scalable, and innovative tools to the largest industries as well as rising technology companies. 

So, what is Dynacal? Why is it important in the world of automation? 

What is Dynacal? 

Dynacal is Dynalog's corporate robot calibration software and hardware system. It provides accurate calibration for industrial robots at scale by driving robot operational precision, minimizing robot operational positional error. Through Dynacal, users can calibrate their robot kinematic model and find offsets, significantly increasing precision and repeatability of their TCP (Tool Center Point). 

In simple terms, Dynacal is the means of getting the maximum performance from robotic arms used in high-precision applications. 

Significance of Dynacal in Automation

Robots are being integrated in to more complex tasks than ever before in manufacturing or other automation types. From laser welding to fly drilling, anything over a few millimeters can result in production lapses, losses, and worse, potentially cause harm to employees. Dynacal helps reduces these negative consequences by ensuring your robot is operating within the smallest tolerances.

Dynalog's Dynacal robot calibration system delivers benefits on multiple levels, including:

- Shorter production downtimes

- Less re-working and waste

- More accuracy on complex tasks

- Furthermore, we help customers achieve compliance to industry standards and quality control processes

We all work in industries with stiff competition and limited margins. The improvements that Dynacal offers our customers translates directly to profit loss/profit appreciate on balance sheets.

What is the technology that drives and enable Dynacal?

How does Dynacal deliver such reliability? Dynacal employs very precise measurement devices like laser trackers or photogrammetry systems to retrieve the actual positions of the robot in a 3D space.  The Dynacal software compares these actual measurements to the positions that are expected from the robots internal model. This software then refines the robot's measurements and automatically updates the robot's control system kinematic parameters. The end result, a robot that didn't accurately perform a task before calibration, can do the task many times more precisely after calibration! 

Further, Dynalog-US is a company dedicated to robotic calibration and validation.

Who Is the Dynacal System Used By? 

Dynalog-US has always been preferred by OEMs, Tier 1 suppliers, and systems integrators. The Dynacal system has been used in:

Automotive manufacturing (body-in-white, final assembly)

Aerospace component fabrication

High-end electronics manufacturing

Industrial automation research

Robotic quality inspection configurations

The Dynalog system is trusted by big names because they are resilient, repeatable, and compatible with most major brands of industrial robots such as, FANUC, ABB, KUKA, and Yaskawa.

Dynacal Versus Conventional Calibration Procedures 

Traditional robot calibration procedures are manual, laborious, and prone to human error. In contrast, the Dynalog Dynacal system automates much of the calibration procedure and incorporates advanced measurement tools and statistical models to produce accurate and consistent results.

Some of the primary benefits of Dynacal include:

Reduced set-up time: Dynacal’s intuitive software workflows and automation enable you to reduce setup times.

Higher accuracy: Dynacal can achieve sub-millimeter accuracy.

Better robot-to-robot consistency: Calibrating multiple robots to work together is easy with Dynacal.

Integrated reporting: Calibration results are retained for audit and compliance.

TCP Calibration & Robot Accuracy equated via Dynacal

One of the most valuable tools that Dynacal provides is the ability to correctly complete TCP calibration. TCP is the point of the robot where it interacts with the workpiece whether it’s a welding tip, a cutting blade, or even a sensor.

If the TCP is out by even a small amount, the movement for the robot, which is reliant on TCP, can become misaligned.  All the TCP calibrations Dynalog does for its clients allows the robot to always know exactly where the tip of its tool is. This is particularly critical in multi-step processes where the effects of cumulative errors would result in larger errors.

Integration with Robotic Inspection Systems

One of the most crucial selling factors of Dynacal is how easily they are compatible with robotic inspection validation systems. Many manufacturers have in-line inspections using CMMs (coordinate measuring machines) or robotic vision systems. Since Dynacal allows for accurate robot calibration, the inspection data becomes significantly better.

In fact, Dynalog's fleet of calibration and validation tools work together with vision-based robotic systems to enhance not just positioning, but inspection data reliability.

Dynalog - US: The Company Behind Automation

For more than 20 years Dynalog - US has led the industry in robotic precision solutions. Located in the United States, they provide industry tested products which include:

Dynacal (robot calibration)

DynaPose (robot positioning accuracy validation)

DynaGuide (guidance system calibration)

DynaCompare (in-process robot accuracy monitoring)

What makes Dynalog different than others is their dedicated focus on robot calibration and robot validation. Unlike others who want to dabble in all of these areas, Dynalog is focused on helping their clients maximize their robotic systems' accuracy and efficiency.

Conclusion - Why Dynacal is a Smart Investment

If your business depends on robotic automation, consider investing in Dynalog's Dynacal system. Dynacal improves accuracy accuracy.

[verynewguy]

Bless the urge to rewatch “The magic tomato” cuz who is this cutie

[sugarpucks]

We're doin' weird shit in here

[mutipede]

Wake John Madden Up Inside

[astridellejo]

This is delicious, especially that last paragraph with the pressure sensor calibration.

i saw someone joke about robot girls as an example of kinks that are just impossible to ever be made reality, like they're completely in the land of fiction. but ... that is just not true!

you can set the mood in your room. turn off the lights but put on some little coloured purple and blue blinkers. sit her down on the edge of your bed and sit down behind her. let her eyes flutter closed since there's no reason to keep them upon in this dark, safe room. softly coo into her ears, she's been such a good robot day! doing so many tasks so efficiently! making everyone around her so happy. but, silly her, she overdid it. so you're just going to have to do a tiny bit of repair work. "will that be okay, dear?" of course it will be. she trusts you completely. you're her admin. you created her. of course she has a safeguard preventing just anyone from powering her down, but she lets you override that with no resistance. such a good girl.

press your finger into the back of her neck, and then drag it down her spine. as she powers down, glide her limp body softly onto the bed. put her feet up so she's lying down completely now. maybe hold her limbs up a bit and let them drop. yep, she's powered down now. she's not unconscious, just mental faculties are capped at 10% and body autonomy is disabled. all you have to do now is find where she's sustained some damage. trace your fingers all along her chassis, poking in with a "screwdriver" to take her outer layer off and examine the wires and joints. hmmm... oil is a bit thin. these wires are too close together, could cause sparking and overheating. goodness, your fan is dusty. you've been working so hard, haven't you? gently turn her over onto her stomach now. it's time to investigate her processing unit, her software.

make sure her arms aren't stuck underneath her. once she's all comfy, you can unscrew her entire back panel. make sure to trace your fingers all around her back and spine as you do, robot girls love that shit. the soft human touch is heavenly to a machine of metal and electricity. and such a well designed chassis too, so beautiful. but off it comes, what's underneath is even prettier! oh, even now, it's still hot to the touch. you've been thinking so much today ... you don't need to think anymore though. just let me explore you. read out her event log for the day. algorithmic neural plasticity score. joint lubricant levels. corrupted data percentage. things like that. they're like scores to her. praise her if she's gotten good ones, tease her if she's gotten bad ones.

i could write so much more and maybe i will...like roleplaying injecting a virus into her neck or chest, and feeling the code flow all down her body...your cock can even be the usb!

also, at some point lay your whole body weight onto them - arms over her arms and legs over her legs. to calibrate pressure sensors or something. bc lets face it if she's a robot girl then she is 100% a neurodivergent cutie who'd love that sm <3

[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.

[0guyboom]

Series of calibrating my new printer, I’ll be spending most of this week working on the robot and I hope to have my first functional prototype by this weekend so be ready!

[electricalinsightsdaily]

A4988 Current Limit: How to Set A4988 Driver Current Limit?

Setting the A4988 current limit is crucial for ensuring optimal performance and preventing overheating of the motor and the driver itself. The A4988 allows you to adjust the A4988 current limit by manipulating the voltage on the VREF pin.

Here’s a step-by-step guide on how to set the current limit on the A4988:

Steps To Set Current Limit On A4988:

Understand the A4988 Pinout: Familiarize yourself with the A4988 pinout, particularly the VREF pin, which is used to set the A4988 current limit.

Determine the Desired Current: Know the current specification of your stepper motor. This information is typically provided in the stepper motor datasheet.

Identify the Sense Resistor Value: Check the A4988 module or datasheet to find the value of the sense resistor (often around 0.05 ohms). This value is needed for the A4988 current limit calculation.

Read More: A4988 Current Limit

[zhelin-thames]

Wrong Number texts #1

Danny: So then Skulker decides the best way to catch me is by building a giant robot suit. But he forgot to calibrate it for the Ghost Zone’s gravity, so it immediately toppled over and crushed his entire lair. Absolute genius, right?

Jason: I’m torn between laughing and feeling secondhand embarrassment for him. Do all your villains suck this much?

Danny: Hey, I don’t pick my rogues’ gallery. But yeah, most of them are either weird, incompetent, or trying way too hard. Vlad’s the only real threat, and that’s just because he cheats.

Jason: Billionaires always cheat. It’s in their DNA.

Masterpost

[aquar-io]

can someone tell me why the new calibration for the robot arms makes them kiss

[dynaloginc]

Unlocking Robotic Precision with Dynaflex by Dynalog-US

In our rapidly paced world of automation and advanced manufacturing, robotics is continuing to reshape efficiency, precision and innovation.  Leading this transformation is Dynalog-US, a well-known name in robotic calibration, inspection, and integration solutions.  One of its most innovative products is Dynaflex, an advanced solution focused on robotic flexibility and performance optimization.  So, what is Dynaflex, and why is it important to manufacturers and robotics engineers?

Let’s take a look at how Dynaflex by Dynalog is pushing automation prospects further, and why this tool is becoming a "must have" in all sectors.

Why Dynaflex?

Dynaflex is an advanced robotic measurement and diagnostic tool developed by Dynalog-US, specifically to measure and improve the dynamic flexibility of robotic systems.  In laymen's terms, Dynaflex measures the amount of flex or deformation a robot experiences while under load.  This information is vital since flex must be considered to maintain acceptable levels of a robot's precision, repeatability and accuracy.

Most traditional calibration tools are concerned solely with static accuracy.  While Dynaflex is also concerned with accuracy, it delves deeper into the dynamic behaviours of the robot which most traditional tools do not incorporate, nor do they offer ways to improve those measures.  Whether a robotic arm is welding, assembling, or packaging products, understanding how the robot flexes as it moves about doing its work allows for better programming and ultimately better overall result

Why Robotic Flexibility is Very Important

Robots are amazing machines that can perform a variety of sophisticated tasks accurately and quickly. Robots are limited in their overall performance because they can suffer from tool deflection, joint compliance, and vibrations from their base which degrade positional accuracy. These small variations can have large implications in precision-based industries like automotive manufacturing, aerospace, and medical device manufacturing, where aspects locally must be at millimeter and sometimes sub-millimeter tolerances.

This is where Dynaflex comes into play by Dynalog; Dynaflex gives an accurate and precise measurement of a robot's physical performance under different operating conditions. This information allows engineers to tune robot paths and minimize errors to deliver the right output.

Additional Benefits of Dynaflex

Dynaflex has several differentiating features that provide it with more advanced capabilities compared to other robotic diagnostics tools:

Non-contact laser tracking measurement Real time data recording and actions of the robot and how the load reacts to that Advanced reports on base flexibility, link/joint compliance, and dynamic deflection of the robotCompatible with all leading robot brands including ABB, FANUC, KUKA, and Yaskawa Canny integrate into a current calibration process

These features make Dynaflex a powerful companion for roboticists aiming to enhance the performance of robotic cells or conduct detailed robotic system diagnostics.

Applications in Various Industries

Dynaflex is valuable in any field of application it's required, and it can be used wherever robotic precision is essential.

Automotive Production: increase the accuracy of weld seam, and body panel alignment.

Aerospace Assembly: control tight tolerances in the assembly of components.

Electronics Manufacturing: validate accuracy of PCB handling and soldering. 

Medical Devices: maintain consistent quality of assembly of sensitive devices. 

Industrial Automation: improve every aspect of a robot’s motion in handling materials, packaging, and inspection.

Wherever a robot is required to consistently provide high accuracy, Dynaflex by Dynalog-US provides unparalleled insights and improvement.

The Dynalog-US Advantage 

Dynalog-US was founded and exists for the purpose of bringing intelligence and precision to robotics. For many years they have been at the forefront of robotic calibration and inspection technologies. Dynalog is known for its comprehensive solutions for robotic inspection and calibration that identify and fix issues beyond calibration alone with deeper mechanical or structural information.

Dynalog was successful because of leadership that put customer first and retained an organisation committed to support and provide thorough training on the full use of tools such as Dynaflex without a steep learning curve. Dynalog's standards of measurement have been adopted by global manufacturers and leading research institutes — Definitely an indication of quality they have pioneered in robotic automation.

How Dynaflex Works Alongside the Robot TCP Calibration

Dynalog provides common services for Robot TCP (Tool Center Point) Calibration which ensures that the robot programming accurately matches the location of the tool in the physical world. TCP calibration looks at the static position of the tool while Dynaflex takes it a step further in understanding the static picture from movement and operation under load.

When considered together, they show a full picture, magnetic or static and dynamic, of the performance of a robot, making programming and execution more consistent and reliable.

In Conclusion: Why Investing in Dynaflex Is a Smart Investment

If you are serious about leveraging robotic systems as much as possible Dynaflex from Dynalog-US is more than a tool, it is an investment you make in performance, quality, and work excellence. Dynaflex can help you recognize flexibilities you did not know existed and help improve responsiveness of the robot so you can decrease downtime, reduce product defects, and get your ROI.

With the push for robotic automation as the underpinning of modern manufacturing there is no margin for errors. Let Dynalog help you stay ahead, with it offering Dynaflex as the smarter way to measure, diagnose, and help optimize robotics performance.

Ready to bring precision to your automation? Learn more about Dynaflex and other robotic calibration tools by visiting Dynalog-US.com

[roachedtea]

fellas is it gay to calibrate your robot oomfie's receptors inspiration

[tikitakatia]

Barça: Player Mode — A. Putellas x Reader

"Initial Calibration"

Pt. 1

WC: 3.3k

Summary: Every match, glance and brush of her against you pulls you deeper in, until the world outside starts to feel less real than the pitch. You tell yourself it’s just data, but some programs can't be written off that easily.

You don’t open the box right away.

It stays in the center of your apartment like a deactivated time bomb carrying a meaningful silence. It's like it knows it’s not ordinary. Like it’s not just a simulation kit, but a door you’ve been itching to walk through again since the moment Alexia faded from the last match.

You take the slowest shower known to mankind, pull on a sweatshirt then pick at your dinner as you watch the box wearily, like it´ll grow some legs and jump you at any moment.

When you finally manage to find the strength to crack it open, it’s quiet. You see smooth layers of black foam, and each piece of equipment is tucked into its place like it was designed just for you. The haptic suit feels lighter than you remember. You slide it on slowly, each part fitting closer than it did in the museum, like the fabric already knows your shape. The gloves lock in with a soft click. You press the headset into place and feel it seal around your face like a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Then you hear a robotic voice.

“Welcome to Player Mode: Home Beta.”

“Initial calibration required. Please stand on the platform.”

Your body moves before your mind finishes processing. You step onto the motion plate, the one you installed earlier under the rug, and it adjusts beneath your feet, holding you steady. Your heart’s already ticking faster, but the system doesn’t seem to care.

“System check in progress. Standby.”

The lights dim and Camp Nou builds around you in silence.

The sound comes second. A low, ambient, wind moving across the pitch in the slow hush of evening. The stadium is empty. Sunlight drips across the sky in soft streaks of peach and gold, long shadows curling along the field like smoke. The floodlights are dimmed to a hum. 

No fans. No noise. Just you and the air.

You take one step forward and your foot hits turf with a softness that makes your chest pull tight.

“Motion recognition active.”

“Walk to the center circle.”

You move. Your legs aren’t tired yet, but they feel something. Anticipation, maybe. Memory. The system walks you through the basic steps: running, turning, shifting your balance side to side. It feels clinical, even as your body moves like it knows what’s coming next.

Then the voice changes.

“Emotional calibration in progress.”

You stop breathing for a second.

Across the pitch, the tunnel lights flicker on.

You hear the sound first, the steady and unhurried clack of cleats on concrete.

Then she steps out into the field with all the certainty in the world, like she has never gone, like she’s always been here. No fanfare. No smile. Just Alexia, moving toward you in the quiet, golden hour.

Her face is neutral and focused, and her gaze cuts through the space between you.

“It’s great to see you back,” she says, voice smooth. 

“Let’s win some trophies together.”

You don’t say anything. You laugh quietly to yourself. You’re already spiraling, and she’s not even doing anything. Just standing there and saying lines the system gave her.

“Look at me,” she says.

You do without even thinking about it.

“Stay still. We’ll sync your heart rate now.”

The air shifts and you hear it before you feel it, a soft thud in your ears, a second later than your own. Then again. Louder and closer as it's syncing. Your breathing evens and hers does too. Her shoulders rise when yours do and she blinks when you blink. It’s eerily beautiful and also very unfair.

Then she steps closer.

She lifts her hands and begins to touch you like she’s doing a pre-flight check. She lightly taps your shoulder, elbow, the small of your back and the rest of your body like she’s scanning you. The pressure is minimal and professional but your brain is not cooperating and your body starts to react anyway.

Then she reaches up.

She takes your face in her hands gently but firmly, and tilts your head just enough to meet her eyes.

Your knees nearly give out.

The haptics overfire in your chest, neck and face. It feels like heat, electricity and softness all at once. Her hands are warm, bigger than you imagined, and too steady. Your breath catches. Your heart stumbles and your fingers twitch at your sides.

She stares right into you.

And then, with zero inflection, like a system prompt she says:

“Heart rate increased.”

You let out something between a laugh and a wheeze. Your whole body wants to collapse into her. Or the turf. Maybe into the sun, you weren't sure yet.

She doesn’t react. Instead her hands drop and she steps back as if nothing happened.

“Touch registered. Response noted. Emotional sync confirmed.”

The next voice that returns isn’t hers, it’s the system’s again.

“Calibration complete. Save profile?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

She turns back to you, and this time her face doesn’t look neutral. It looks... open.

“Welcome back, Y/N.”

And just like that, she’s gone.

You tear the headset off five seconds after it ends.

You’re flushed, your mouth is dry, and the suit is suddenly too much. You peel it off slowly, breathing like you just finished a sprint, and sit there on the floor, staring at nothing.

You're not going back in tonight, you couldn’t even if you wanted to. You needed to sleep or cry. Or scream into a pillow.

Maybe all three.

You spend most of the next day on autopilot.

You wake up and go through the motions. Coffee, emails, you even pretend to clean something and not one second of it feels real. You’re physically present, sure, but mentally? You’re still on that pitch. You’re still hearing your heartbeat sync to hers. You’re still standing under those fake-perfect sunset lights while she looked at you like you were the only person on the field.

You spend a full five minutes staring at your fridge before you realize you already ate. Everything just feels… dumb now. Small. Flat. Like how is anything supposed to feel real again after that? And the worst part, the absolute worst part is how incredibly, embarrassingly hot the whole thing was. You flop onto your bed and immediately pull a pillow over your face because you’re not okay.

She had both hands on your face. Like full palms. Like someone telling you to calm down in a movie before they kiss you or change your life. They were big. Not just big, they were “holy shit you could pin me to a wall” big.

Warm, soft and strong.

And her touch was like… measured. Gentle. But in control.

The kind of touch where you’re like: oh. okay. so I guess you’re in charge now.

And her eyes??? Hazel. Up close. So close you could count every fleck of gold. So close it felt personal. Like she could tell what you were thinking. Which is a nightmare because what you were thinking was extremely illegal and probably against the beta tester guidelines.

And THEN. The audacity. The absolute programmed audacity of her saying:

“Heart rate increased.”

Like girl??? No shit!!! Look at yourself!! Look at your face!!! Look at your hands!!! You’re out here touching me like we’re in some emotionally repressed, slow-burn enemies-to-lovers sports romance and then acting like it’s MY problem that I’m overheating????

You groan out loud. You’ve never been thirstier in your life and the worst part is she’s not even real. She’s code. Gorgeous, smug, perfectly responsive code.

You roll onto your side and look at the headset sitting on your desk.

It’s still there waiting with the manual next to it still unopened. You haven’t read a single page.

You tell yourself you’ll check it tomorrow. Right now, you're too busy trying to figure out if it’s normal to feel this horny and emotionally broken over a high-performance AI.

You know the answer.

You're logging in again tomorrow.

The game ends in a flurry of movement, fast passes, a final goal, then a whistle that cuts through the roar like a clean edge.

You don’t score, but you play well. You know you play well. Everything feels more connected now. The haptics fire with just enough intensity to trick your body into thinking it really did run five kilometers and you’re breathing like you earned it.

Aitana runs past you, grinning. “Nice recovery on that cross,” she says, tapping your shoulder.

Fridolina follows her, slicking sweat from her forehead with her sleeve. “You don’t stop, do you?”

Ona gives you a quick smile, then nods toward the sideline. “Come on. Locker room.”

You pause and try to play it cool. “Right, yeah. Totally.”

Ingrid jogs up from behind, patting your back as she passes. “Feels like you’ve been here longer than four games,” she says with a warm yet distant tone.

You want to respond but you don’t get the chance because Alexia’s suddenly beside you.

“Hey,” she says softly. Not game-mode sharp, but something gentler.

You fall into step next to her like your body remembers how.

“Locker room?” you ask, trying not to sound like a dumbass. 

“That’s… new.”

She glances at you. “Beta version. Full facility access. So you get the whole picture and not just the games.”

You nod. “Cool. Yeah. Makes sense.”

She looks at you a little longer this time, then smiles.

“Kind of nice, right? To not disappear the second the whistle blows?”

You weren’t expecting her to say that.

You nod. “Yeah, it actually is.”

The hallway opens into a wide, bright locker room with white tile, wood benches and the Barça crest above the lockers like it’s watching over everything. You follow the flow of bodies and sit near the end, peeling off your gloves like you’re really going to shower here. Like this is your space.

The others are talking, laughing and moving around you but you’re barely listening.

Alexia drops down on the bench next to you, towel hanging loosely around her neck and she leans forward, elbows on her knees, and looks over.

“You played better today,” she says.

You blink. “Oh, thanks.”

She nods. “You read the midfield better. You’re starting to know where to be before the ball gets there.”

Your heart stutters and you try not to show it.

“Guess I’m learning.”

She gives a low, almost-smile.

“You’re good at learning.”

You look at her. Really look, and realize her eyes are lighter here. Not golden, not hazel, but something in between. Her skin’s still flushed from the run. Her voice is quieter than it was on the pitch. And even though she’s sitting like she’s resting, she’s present. Entirely. Like she’s still in the match, still reading the field. 

Only now, that field is you.

You swallow hard. “You always watch this closely?”

She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Part of the program.”

But something about the way she says it makes your chest go stupid again.

You don’t know what to say after that, so you sit there in the hum of the locker room while she looks away, towel in hand, hair damp at the edges.

You forget, briefly, that you’re not supposed to want this so much.

You’re supposed to be testing a product.

The sim doesn’t fade right away this time. There’s no hard end. No white-out screen or sudden silence. You just stay, listening to the shuffle of cleats and low conversation, the sound of water running somewhere down the hall. You could log out.

But you don’t want to.

You don’t know how long you sit there next to her, saying nothing.

There’s no system prompt telling you to move. No fade-out. Just her beside you, quiet and real and close enough that you could reach over and..

You don’t.

Eventually, Alexia stands. Stretches. The sound of her cleats against the tile pulls you back to yourself.

She drapes the towel around her neck again and glances back at you, brows lifted slightly like she’s checking if you’re coming.

“You should walk out with me,” she says.

You nod. Too quickly.

She doesn’t wait for you to catch up. Just walks slowly enough that you can. You fall into step beside her again, the same way you did on the pitch. The hallway outside the locker room is quieter now. You pass framed jerseys, old team photos, a few doors you want to open but don’t.

Alexia looks ahead as she talks, like it’s nothing serious.

“Hope you liked that,” she says. “Most testers never make it this far.”

You glance at her. “Yeah? Why not?”

She shrugs. “People drop out early. Get bored. Think it’s just matches and goals. They don’t stick around long enough to see the rest.”

You nod, feeling the warmth bloom again in your chest.

“If you’re ready to head out, the car park’s that way.” She gestures ahead.

There’s no goodbye. No confirmation screen. Just her, pointing toward a set of heavy double doors at the end of the corridor. You walk toward them slowly, half-expecting her to follow.

She doesn’t. You look back once and see that she’s already turned away, walking the other direction.

The moment you step through the doors, the sim fades.

You’re back in your apartment before you even feel the headset lift. You’re still standing on the platform, sweat sticking the suit to your back, fingers curling like they’re still holding the edge of a locker bench.

You breathe in, then out and say her name once under your breath just to see how it feels now.

The next time you log in, it drops you mid-game again.

No countdown. No tunnel. Just the field under your feet, the weight of the boots on your legs, and the soft golden light curling across the pitch like the system’s figured out your favorite aesthetic. The crowd buzzes low and steady in the background, and your heart syncs to it without needing to try.

You’re tracking back on defense. Quick, sharp, locked in. Everything feels more responsive. When you shift your balance, the haptics register it like muscle memory. When the ball comes loose, your body already knows what to do.

You don’t score this time, someone else does, but you get the clean assist that leads to it. The whistle blows sharp and final, cutting through the sound like a ribbon, and you slow to a jog as the simulation eases into its post-match rhythm.

From across the field, Alexia claps once and calls out, “That’s it, read it early!”

Your chest pulls a little tight. You tell yourself it’s just feedback. Praise, nothing else. But your mouth still twitches into a small smile.

Back in the locker room, it’s familiar now. The lighting’s soft, the layout clean. Aitana passes you on the way to the benches, tossing you a nod. Frido offers a water bottle like you’ve been doing this for months. Ona drops next to Ingrid and unties her boots like it’s routine.

You make your way to the edge of the row and you barely sit down before Alexia brushes past, towel slung over her shoulder, hair already starting to curl from the sweat.

“You’re starting to read me better,” she says matter of factly.

“It’s faster now.”

You blink at her.

It doesn’t sound like much. Could mean anything. But the way she says it, low, casual and almost thoughtful, sits with you longer than it should.

She doesn’t stay. Just drops her gloves beside you and keeps moving.

Eventually, you follow. Out through the back hall, past the framed photos and kits, through the long stretch of hallway that leads to the car park. She doesn’t walk you this time. She just gestures toward the doors like you know the way now.

You step through.

The sim fades.

When you take the headset off, you swear your heart’s still beating to the rhythm of her voice.

Your hands move without thinking. You check the console screen out of habit, expecting the usual post-match breakdown. But today, it looks different.

There’s the regular stuff, sure, match time, pass accuracy, stamina output. But then, below that, a new set of lines.

Emotional Index: 55%

AI Memory Progression: Adaptive Learning Enabled

User Anchor Profile: ACTIVE (Locked)

You stare.

You scroll.

Three new menu tabs are now visible, tucked in the corner of the dashboard like they’ve always been there.

Memory Archive.

Emotional Sync Tracker.

Custom Interactions – Locked.

You click on the archive first. Not because you mean to. Just because it’s there.

Inside, it plays back fragments of previous sessions. Highlight clips, movement sequences, even audio pulls. One is labeled 

“User-Specific – Incomplete.”

You hover over but don't open it

At the top of the screen, a soft system notification fades in.

Thank you for completing your fifth session. Player-AI engagement intensity has exceeded the standard curve. Adaptive interaction pacing will continue to adjust.

Your finger hovers over the “more info” icon. You could dig deeper. Could look at the sync logs, the anchor settings, the memory timeline.

But you don’t.

You close the window instead. Lean back in your chair. Eyes on the screen, heart still caught somewhere back in that locker room.

You know you´re getting deeper into it, and you like that.

You land in the match like it’s nothing.

Another session. Another sun-washed pitch under your feet. The system’s loading times are seamless now. No voice prompts, no menu fades. Just you, the weight of your kit, and the thrum of noise around you that your brain already calls real.

The play’s fast today. You’re not leading it, but you’re inside of it. A cog in the right place. You don’t need to think anymore, you're starting to just move. Which is exactly why it catches you off guard when you hear her voice.

“You’re not hesitating at the turn anymore.”

You freeze for a fraction of a second. Not enough for anyone to notice, just enough for it to echo.

She said that before.

You remember it clearly. Session three. Midfield. You had barely known how to read the field back then. And today? You played differently. You were off position most of the time by design.

You push it down and keep moving.

After the goal, the sim doesn’t end right away. You’re back in the locker room again, sweat sticking to your neck, your muscles burning like they’ve actually done something. You’re untying your boots when she sits next to you.

Alexia.

Same towel, same post-match calm.

“You played slower today,” she says softly. “Not in a bad way. You were thinking more.”

You glance at her. “Was it that obvious?”

She shrugs, almost smiling. “You hold your breath before you pass.”

You blink.

It’s not said like a tease. It’s not said like she read it off your performance stats. It’s said like she’s been watching you closely over time.

You laugh too quickly. “Weird thing to notice.”

Alexia leans back against the bench. “I’ve seen you do it a few times.”

There’s no reason for that to matter. There’s no reason for her to remember that.

She looks at you then, full-on. Not like a teammate. Not like a program.

Like a person.

Then, quietly: “What made you try that cross in the second half?”

You stop breathing just for a second.

“What?”

She turns her head away, like she didn’t notice how that landed. “It was different. I wasn’t expecting it.”

You don’t answer but your pulse kicks a little harder under your skin.

She doesn’t ask anything else. Just stands, drops her towel into the bin, and heads for the back corridor.

When you leave through the car park, the doors open slower than usual.

The sim fades like it always does. But this time, it takes longer to let go.

You pull the headset off with shaking hands.

You tell yourself it was just an update. A system test. The AI probably logs behavioral changes now. It’s not weird. Not really.

But that?

“You hold your breath before you pass.”

You didn’t teach her that.

Pt. 3

[stealingyourbones]

Tim’s exhausted form, slumped over a well worn and torn office chair abruptly woke as the announcement of his 92nd attempt at bringing back his best friend failed in the computers robotic tone.

Tim slowly gets up, his back and joints aching from sleeping in such a uncomfortable position, trudging his way over to one of the many cloning pods, the swirling fluid within glowing a bright green hue as bubbles flit around the oxygenated tank.

His hands trace the glass, watching the bubbles rise for a few minutes, before his tired eyes glance back down and suddenly he wasn’t exhausted anymore.

Slightly floating from the bottom of the tank, laid a small glowing sphere no bigger than a marble. The tiny thing resembled glass or a very polished rock that seemed to both emit and absorb light at the same time.

Tim was up and alert, flitting between the many machines surrounding the cloning pod, calibrating the machines to start growth around the sphere. The computer reading off changes in the pod, saying errors on the origin of the sphere or what it may be.

Tim doesn’t care. It may be his friend, it might be nothing, it may be something else entirely. But for the first time since the first dozen experiments there’s progress. For the first time in so many months, Tim finally lets himself have hope.

[dark-l-angel]

so, pretty much everyone agrees that Damian Wayne isn’t a touchy person, but do you have any fic ideas on just how much touchy is too much? And how he would communicate that? Plz and thank you for your time

Damian Wayne and physical affection? It’s one of those things that’s almost more of a power struggle than an emotional need for him. He's that tightly wound ball of distrust and stubborn pride, so touch? That’s not just personal space violation.. it’s a potential vulnerability he’s not ready to expose.

Now, when people talk about Damian being "touchy," I think they miss the nuance. He’s not the type to throw himself into a hug or happily accept a pat on the back. He’s that one kid who, when you put an arm around his shoulders, will either freeze up or awkwardly push away. Not out of hate, but out of this primal instinct to keep control of himself in a world that’s never really given him a chance to feel safe.

The whole "too much" thing? Yeah, that line is thin. It’s not like he’s a robot who can be calibrated. His reactions are a bit of a mixed bag. On one hand, he’s had to learn how to not be affectionate, so any touch, even the smallest, might send him into defense mode. But on the other, he craves connection in that weird, twisted, "I don't know how to ask for it but want it" kind of way.

If you look at how he might communicate it.. his words would likely be sharp and full of that "you’re annoying me" bravado. Think: "Stop. I don’t need this." Or, "I said don’t." It’s never gentle because Damian doesn’t do gentle. But in the rare moments when he does show vulnerability, it’s in these awkward, almost childish ways that are wrapped in pride.. like flinching away when someone brushes against him, or standing stiff as a board when Bruce tries to pull him in for something resembling a hug.

Now, if we’re talking about how Damian would handle it once he realizes he’s got no choice but to deal with it, I think there’s a learning curve. He might never be fully comfortable with the concept, but there could be that rare moment when he tentatively accepts a touch. Imagine, after all his tough guy act, he might actually reach out "just a little" toward Tim or Alfred, trying to match that same softness they show him, but struggling with every second. That moment when he wants it but doesn’t know how to ask.. it’s gold in terms of character depth.

So, to me, the line of "too much" isn’t about him being incapable of affection. It’s that his whole identity is built on control. And any touch, any hug, is a potential breach of that control. What makes it too much isn’t the touch itself.. it’s the vulnerability it demands. Damian doesn’t need affection, but damn, does he need to let down his walls just enough to trust those around him? That’s the hard part.

[hannahbarberra162]

Under the Microscope, Part 14 (Yan Sabo x Reader)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

The other parts

TW: light somnophilia

Huge thank you to @tryingandfailingtowrite for editing, beta-ing, and helping me with the smutty scene. Thank you to @sordidmusings, @moldychefboyardeecan and @gouraminnow for beta-ing and leaving your comments and suggestions! Thank you to @kitsunechan707 for the Sabo somno inspo :). I'll leave one more thank you at the end to not spoil a bit.

Sabo didn’t have to look at the clock to know what time it was. The darkness of the sky was just being penetrated by the early grays of the dawn, sunrise still a few hours away. After so many years of being in charge of various flanks of the Revolutionary Army, Sabo had become accustomed to waking up and starting his day before five in the morning. Even when the two of you had been on the island together, he’d maintained his routine and worked for hours before either you or Ace started stirring. He always had so much to do, countless reports to read and letters to write, plans to work on, and missions to oversee. It felt like he never had enough time to finish everything he needed to accomplish. 

But now as he watched as your chest slowly rose and fall, your even breath tickling his skin. He couldn’t find it in himself to move away from you. He knew he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, but he didn’t want this time to end. As he came to his senses, he realized he was on his back in the bed with you crowding his side, trying to absorb his heat. Your face was pressed against his chest near his beating heart. Sabo brought his flesh hand to rest on your side and put the metal one behind his head. His fingers twitched with the urge to run both of his hands over your body, to feel all the dips and curves under his soft touch. But it was still early and you needed rest. 

 That and Sabo wasn't as forward with you as he was previously. He certainly wanted to kiss you again or have you in his clothes, but given the intensity of recent events, he thought it best to pull back and allow yourself to calibrate to your new normal. To his surprise, his strategy worked. At least for a night. You'd asked him to stay with you and clutched him tight all night long. Yes, you'd asked for Ace first and were really after the warmth of his mera-mera, but he supposed being a sentient heating pad was better than nothing.

Sabo's metal hand ran through his hair, and he winced when one bearing snagged on his hair and pulled a few out. You hadn’t truly grasped what Sabo was telling you with the metal hand, but that was okay. He should have guessed you'd be too distracted by the tech to focus on the meaning behind his example. He wanted you to see that, despite losing his hand, Sabo was still himself. You’d known him as he was for the entire relationship, and finding out he had a metal hand hadn’t changed your perception of him. If anything, it probably endeared him to you a little, given your proclivities. He’d try again later that day to get the example to sink in for you, this time without robotics.

In truth, it broke Sabo’s heart the way you talked about yourself, just like it did when he heard Ace do the same. In that way, you were so similar to Ace, so sure that everyone would discard you at the slightest inconvenience or trouble. That you didn’t have any value to anyone besides what you provided. You’d spoken to Ace about his own issues, but Sabo supposed it was more difficult to apply those same ideas to yourself. 

 Sudden movement from you distracted him from his thoughts. You stirred slightly in your sleep, your brow furrowing as you worried about something in your dreams. A small whimper escaped your lips as your fingers gripped his shirt tightly; whatever you were dreaming about was surely unpleasant. 

Sabo slipped his flesh hand down the neck hole of your shirt to run it up and down your back. He didn’t think you’d mind, you probably would prefer his touch to whatever unpleasantness you were reliving. He kissed the top of your head while bringing his other arm down to hug you tightly. He hoped you weren’t dreaming about the beating you’d taken - he would do anything to have you forget that entirely. Your jaw had been wired shut for weeks, so it wasn’t like he could ask about it, but he suspected you wouldn’t have spoken about it even if you could. Yet another similarity between you and Ace - two people who shoved down their hurt until it erupted at a later time. Maybe he’d try to gently prod and see how you were feeling, he thought as he soothed you. You quieted back down in his arms, your brow smoothing out as your dreams took a more pleasant turn.

But after rubbing your soft skin to calm you in your sleep, Sabo was left with another problem – his raging erection. His flesh hand was still under your shirt and his only option was his robotic hand. He yearned to stroke his cock with you so near but the metal was a much rougher sensation than skin. He could do it, he’d masturbated with it before, but it wasn’t as pleasant. While thinking what to do, Sabo’s fingers traced circles into your back, his aching cock practically throbbing for contact. A near smile graced your lips when you let you a soft sigh, and his decision was made.

Sabo reached for the nightstand at his side and grabbed his glove off the top counter. Sabo used his teeth to pull his glove on with muscle memory while keeping his eyes trained on you, making sure you remained asleep for the duration of his activity. His cock strained against his pants, uncomfortably pushing against the metal zipper. Sabo reached down and unfastened his pants, freeing his weeping cock as it stood rigidly at attention. Before you, the thought of masturbating next to a sleeping woman would have never crossed his mind, but the vision of you peacefully resting on his chest was too much for him to ignore right now. 

His eyes slid closed when he finally wrapped his hand around himself and he imagined it was your hand that fisted the base of his cock.. It was more challenging with the texture of the leather glove, but he’d make do. Sabo slowly stroked the length of his cock, spreading the beads of pre-cum down his shaft with a tight grip. It felt wrong to stroke himself to the thought of you while you slept peacefully next to him, but not enough to stop him. Sabo took care not to wake you as he worked his hand up and down at a measured pace.

 His movements sped up with the thought of your soft skin under his fingertips., His mind conjured more images of you as he pushed himself towards his climax. The way your lips would curve so sweetly when you smiled. What you might look like underneath him when you took his cock. The way your cheeks would hollow when you sucked him off and how you would beg him for his touch. His imagination went further, picturing the tears that would threaten to fall when you pleaded for a reprieve. Your poor pussy overstimulated and dripping as you repeated his name like a prayer as he drove you toward another orgasm. The ring of Sabo, Sabo, Sabo in his ears seemed almost real as his cock twitched and throbbed at the thought. 

He came with a soft grunt, his cum spurting all over his lower stomach. Luckily, he’d been on many missions in close quarters, so making little to no noise while cumming was easy. He was still wearing his clothes which made cleaning up his mess easier. After he ensured none got on you, Sabo gently undid the buttons of his shirt with one hand. Sabo reluctantly rolled you carefully off his chest and onto your side. Slipping out of his button-down, Sabo tossed it on the floor and cuddled up behind you. He yawned just as the rays of the morning sun came up over the horizon. He really should get out of bed and get going. There was so much to do - meetings and notes and plans and calls and-

Sabo yawned again and pulled you closer to his chest, his eyes sliding closed once more.

Your POV

You blinked awake in the same bed that you’d been in for weeks now. But instead of having to turn your head to look out the window, the sunshine was streaming into your room. Oh yeah, Sabo had moved your bed….and was still in it. You felt his warmth at your back; the heat ebbing and flowing with each even breath he took. His arm draped over your middle, and your legs were tangled with his as he twitched slightly in his sleep. His metal hand was in front of you, and now you could inspect it without feeling weird about being watched while you took your time to examine it. 

You slowly picked up his wrist and held the metal contraption as you marveled at the intricate details of its workings. Someone had put a lot of effort and love into Sabo’s prosthetic, even making the plain metal have a filigree style to match his general proclivity towards…frills. It wasn’t a surprise that people loved him; you’d seen the way the RA staff treated him before the battle. Still, you hadn’t thought much about the people Sabo would call his family and friends outside of Ace. 

You were still enraptured by the joint work of the hand when you felt Sabo stir behind you. You dropped his hand and pretended to sleep yourself to ward off any awkward conversations. Sabo yawned but didn’t rub his face on you or pull you closer like he sometimes used to do on the island at night. Instead, he removed his arm and raised them both above his head, grunting as he stretched his limbs. 

“G’morning, Sunny,” Sabo said, smacking his lips a few times and rubbing his chest with his prosthetic hand. His morning voice was rougher and deeper than usual. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember waking up with Sabo on the island — he was almost always gone by the time you woke up. 

“Get out, I gotta pee,” you stated with a roll of your eyes, “and why’s your shirt on the ground?” 

Your eyes narrowed as you eyed Sabo. He had never taken off his clothes when you’d slept together before. It seemed odd to wake up to a shirtless Sabo the first time you actually asked him to stay.

“Hm? You kept asking me to be warmer and warmer. Problem was solved when I took off my shirt,” he said with a pleasant smile. One more stretch, and Sabo sat upright in the bed before he swung his legs over to the side. “D’ya need any help to get to the bathroom? I know the nurses helped you walk there for a while. Speaking of -”

“No. Go, Sabo,” you urged, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. In truth, you had needed help walking when your bones were broken, but the nurses had done it without making you feel weak. If Sabo helped you, you might consider turning yourself into the Marines out of sheer humiliation.

There was a knock on the door and it immediately opened to reveal Marco on the other side, your chart in his hands. You hated it when people knocked and didn’t wait for a response before they entered. His smile widened a smidge as his eyes passed between you and Sabo. You wanted to protest that it wasn’t like that to Marco, but it probably wouldn’t have changed his mind anyway. The men had already both annoyed you and the day had barely started.

“Good morning yoi. I see you’re already up — we’re gonna work on some physical therapy and test where you are now that you’re healed-” Marco began before Sabo cut him off.

“In a few minutes, Doc. She needs to-”

“ She can speak for herself. Get out , Sabo,” you said, nudging him with your foot. “Marco I’ll be ready in a few minutes, please leave,” you stated with a sniff.

 You’d never been so direct, always afraid of confrontation or that people would take your words wrong. Now you were bossing around Marco the Phoenix and the Second in Command of the RA like they were errant school children. Marco smiled placidly, unoffended at your statement. 

‘I’ll knock again in 15 minutes-”

“And you’ll wait until I tell you to enter,” you said primly. 

“Of course,” he said, nodding his head at you. Sabo hummed, picked his shirt off the ground, and placed his hat on top of his head. He turned to face you and tried to kiss the top of your head as you dodged him. 

“Be back soon; I’ll go get us breakfast. It’s gonna be a great day,” he said with a bright smile. 

It was not a great day.

In fact, this was one of the most irritating days you could ever remember. It was only beaten out of first place by the time a colleague incorrectly explained to you the concept behind a paper that you authored. Everything was so much more difficult than you remembered — stretching, walking, not bumping into things, judging how far away things were, reading, writing… you were so angry that you wanted to explode everything. Again.

The morning began with Marco leading you through physical therapy exercises due to your deconditioning. He’d healed your body, but your muscles were still weak from weeks of disuse after lying in bed. You were on the floor on a thin mat as Marco stretched your legs, pushing them past what was comfortable. Not only did the stretching cause you discomfort, but Sabo had also invited himself into the room. He threw Marco nasty glances whenever the doctor touched your skin. It was purely professional, but that didn’t stop the dark look that grew on Sabo’s face.. 

For example, Marco was stretching your hamstrings with you. You were laid on your back as Marco took your ankle in his large hand and pushed your leg towards your chest. The groaning of strained metal was audible as Sabo tightened his grip on his pipe. Marco’s patience had finally run out and he kicked Sabo out. 

Not only was the stretching painful but you found that even walking short distances was a challenge for you. Once upon a time, you could walk all day long with no issues, like you had on the island. Now walking up and down the hallway of the ship left you needing rest. Marco kept making you sit down after every pass down the hall. Yes, you needed it, but it was so annoying to sit there while Marco yapped at you about slow and steady progress and muscle retention. After about an hour, you left to go nap in your room before lunch, before he could tell you yet again what admirable progress you’d made.

What really tipped you over the edge was when you and Sabo spent the early afternoon together in his room. You two sat at his desk as he tried to help you rebuild your reading ability. The desk was cluttered with books, letters, and papers, so there was barely any room left for your remedial work. The two of you sat side by side, thighs touching as he went through the basics of phonics with you. You couldn’t even move the desk to get more space from Sabo since it was bolted to the floor, so it wouldn’t move in a storm.

Between your traumatic brain injury and your missing eye, there were several obstacles ahead of you that needed to be solved before you’d be able to be read at the level you were before. Sabo was patient and kind, and you really tried to keep that in mind, but every little comment from him felt like a personal blow. Each one cemented just how behind you were and how much progress you’d have to make before you could be somewhat competent again.

Marco had suggested starting with basic phonics and working your way up to determine where exactly you were with your reading ability. It was a good idea, but after about five minutes, you were ready to be done with the activity. It was humiliating to sit there with Sabo and have him write various letters in combinations and have you sound them all out — and even worse to find out that you couldn’t remember them all. You were a published scientist, allegedly at the top of your field, and you couldn’t predictably tell Sabo what sound “ch” made.

“Wonderful, you’re doing so well, Sunny! Now, what sound does this letter make?” Sabo asked, pointing to a letter on the paper. Your eye had a hard time keeping up with the tasks required and your mind was spinning from all the exertion. You weren’t doing well, you thought bitterly, barely a month previously you’d read through all of Sabo’s textbooks on the island in a matter of days. 

“Sabo, I’m taking a break,” you said, reaching with the heel of your hand to rub at your good eye. Sabo caught your wrist and held it down to the table; a scowl pulled at your lips when he stopped you.

“Let’s just do five more, OK? We’re almost done with two-letter combinations and we can work our way up to three-letter words after your break. Is your eye tired -”

“Yeah, my eye’s tired,” you snapped while using your other hand to rub your eye. Sabo frowned at you.

“Don’t rub, it’s not going to help. If you’re tired, we can do some eye exercises before we move on to practicing depth perception -”

“I don’t want to do eye exercises, ” you hissed at him. You didn’t want to do eye exercises or leg exercises or practice your depth perception or any of the things that you now needed just to be you. You wanted everything to go back to the way it was before, how things used to be for you. Sabo squeezed your hand and gave you a thoughtful look.

“I know you’re having a hard time -”

“Oh, you know, do you Sabo? You know I’m having a hard time?” your voice began to rise as you yanked your hand back from his. Sabo’s eyes widened as he put down the pencil in his hand.

“Sunny, if you’ll let me -”

“If I let you what Sabo? Put me in seastone again?” you yelled, your frustration letting your bottled anger leak out. 

“Sunny, I -”

“No! Shut up , Sabo! You always have an answer for everything, and I’m sick of it! You plan everything in my life, and it’s not fair! I’m not your puppet to move around how you want - I don’t wanna read anymore, I don’t wanna look at letters anymore, I don’t wanna practice my depth perception or stretch or do any of that shit! I DON’T WANT TO DO IT ANYMORE!” you screamed loudly enough to make your voice crack, but it did little to quell the fire that raged in you. There was so much you were angry about, but you couldn't even keep all the thoughts in your mind, which only served to enrage you further. 

With a small roar and all the adrenaline you had in your body, you swept all the books, pens, papers, and notes Sabo had on his desk onto the floor and stomped out of the room.

Sabo’s POV

Sabo sat unmoving in his room as papers wafted all over the floor. He’d never seen you so volatile before, and he wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Yes, he knew you were still mad about the seastone bracelet, and he did want to talk to you about it, but your explosive reaction was something new. Marco had told him you’d be emotionally labile and perhaps prone to anger but he didn’t think you had it in you to yell at him. 

He liked it.

Sabo wanted you to feel comfortable enough to yell at him, like you did with Ace. He wanted you to feel safe in your ability to rail at him, knowing that he’d never purposefully cause you any harm. Of course, he didn’t like that you were upset but he felt better knowing that he was perhaps becoming another safe space for you. After all, Ace was leaving the next day and you’d need someone else to rely on. Sabo needed that person to be him. 

Even so, Sabo did feel guilty for pushing you so hard with the lessons that day. It had been a long morning spent with Marco in physical therapy, followed by a draining session of learning to read with him. You were uncomfortable during the time you spent in his room, fidgeting and second guessing yourself at every turn. Your missing eye also played into the issues at hand; Sabo remembered his own strain when he had to relearn to do things without his left eye. He knew you were impatient to get back to working order, but it wasn’t going to happen overnight. He’d keep helping you no matter how much you destroyed his room. 

Sabo sighed as he looked at the upturned books on the floor. He knelt as he began picking them up and placing them haphazardly on the desk to be sorted later. Maybe piling them would add more drama for the next time you shoved them off.

Your POV

Your stomping would have been more cathartic if you hadn’t had to take a break on the stairs on your way to the deck. After resting a minute, you regained your strength and made your way to the deck of the ship while trying to avoid bumping into anything. What you really wanted to do was climb into the crow’s nest and stew there, but you weren’t confident in your climbing ability yet. Then Sabo and Ace would freak out and the cycle would start anew. No, for the time being, you went and sat on the floor of one of the Marine lifeboats after removing the covering. You brooded there and errantly rubbed both your eyes—Sabo be damned—when the smell of a campfire drifted towards you. 

“Don’t rub -”

“If you tell me not to do one goddamned thing, I’m pushing you overboard,” you deadpanned to Ace. He chuckled and sat on the floor of the lifeboat facing you. 

“Bad day?” he asked in an amused tone.

“Fuck off,” you replied as tears filled your good eye. 

“Whoa, didn’t mean to - hey, Sunny, I’m sorry,” he said as you wiped your eye again. He was leaning forward with both arms open but you weren’t in the mood right now.

“Don’t touch me,” you said, hugging your arms across yourself. Ace looked crestfallen, but you didn’t care. You wanted to feel bad and sorry for yourself and it wasn’t your problem that he’d come to find you.

“Tell Sabo and Marco I’m fine. Leave me alone,” you said, pulling your knees to your chest.

“They didn’t send me. I felt the bad vibes in the air and wanted to come commiserate. You know I’m always down for a good sulk,” Ace said, tipping his hat up with his finger. You snorted but didn’t smile. Stupid Ace and his stupid jokes that made you feel a little better.

“Are you gonna show me something else to make me mad?” you asked, reaching into your pocket to touch the bounty poster that you kept on your person at all times. Ace frowned and looked up at you, the very picture of a sad puppy.

“No. I’m sorry, Sunny. I didn’t mean to make you so upset. I don’t know why I did that,” he said, inspecting the skin of his arm to avoid eye contact.

“It’s alright. Sabo probably wouldn’t have shown me anyway. I’m glad I know,” you said, looking past him at the sea. The two of you sat in silence for a few moments before Ace couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why’re you out here anyway?” he asked, now fiddling with the medallion on his hat strings.

“I threw all the stuff off Sabo’s desk and yelled at him,” you replied, still staring past Ace.

“Hah! Hell yeah, I’m not the only one in trouble,” Ace said with a grin. You shrugged. You felt a little bad about pushing the books onto the floor - you’d seen some land on their spines and splay open - but you’d go back and apologize later. Maybe. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Ace said apropos of nothing, still fiddling with his hat. 

“Wh - wait, I thought you had a few more days,” you sputtered. The news was unexpected — you knew he’d be leaving shortly but not that soon.

“No, Marco’n me gotta head off to Wano. Gotta help Loof like always. I think he’s gonna try to take down Kaido? Not really sure,” Ace said speculatively. “But I getta see Yamato and Izou either way, so that’ll be good too.”

“Can I come-” you said as soon as the thought popped into your mind. Maybe Ace would let you join him, and you could-

“No. Sunny, you’re not coming with me. It’s too dangerous. You’re staying with Sabo. We talked about this on the island and it’s even more true now. You need someone to protect you, and there’s only a few people strong enough to do it. Me ‘n Marco will be busy and I don’t want you getting kidnapped or hurt. You’re staying with Sabo,” Ace said with finality as he crossed his arms across his chest.

“I don’t have to stay with Sabo, I could go-”

“No,” Ace said, as if he had the final say in everything. 

“You’re not the boss of me, I could go…I could go to the moon!” you said petulantly as you kicked at him weakly. Ace barked out a laugh and moved his legs to avoid your attack.

“Yeah, to the moon. Good one, Sunny.”

“I could! To the man on the moon!” you said firmly, banging your fist on your knee for emphasis.

“Hah! D’ya need me to get Marco? You hit your head again?” Ace asked with a smile.

“No, he’s invited me! Y’know, Eneru?” you said, waving your hand at the sky.

“What are you -”

“ENERU!” you said, now pointing at the moon visible in the late afternoon sky. Ace’s puzzled look had you zooming in on the moon multiple times until you saw a familiar palace.

“What the fuck -” Ace said quietly as you searched for Eneru. You spotted the strange man and zoomed in a little further. He was sitting on his throne, his long earlobes moving on their own in the low gravity of the moon.

“My goddess, what brings you to my domain? Another discussion about plasma?” Eneru asked with an indulgent smile, but you didn’t return it — you weren’t in the mood to smile back. You’d had some interesting conversations with him in the past about electricity, but now wasn’t the time. “Ah, your eye! What have they done to-”

 You didn’t want to hear Eneru’s strange talk about being a god and how you could be his goddess.ou flicked your hand through the magnification to remove it.

“Did-, do-do people know about that guy? That he’s there ? That- but he- why does he look like that?” Ace sputtered, shaking his head in confusion. 

“Dunno. He appeared on the moon one day,” you stated flatly, “Ace, please, can’t I go with you and Marco to Wano? I’ll be good.”

Your eye filled with tears as you pleaded with him again. Ace sat up and extended his arms toward you and this time you did take him up on the offer. You sat between his legs as he wrapped you in a giant hug. You leaned your chin on his freckled shoulder and allowed his warmth to envelop you.

“No, Sunny. You can’t. It’s not about being good or not. You need to learn how to like, walk again, and read again, and do all the things you like. You’re not a fighter and that’s all there’s gonna be there. All I’m good at is fighting, I gotta help Loof-”

“That’s not all you’re good at,” you interrupted, leaning your forehead on his shoulder to sniffle. “You can also eat faster than anyone else,” you said with mock sincerity. Ace laughed and you chuckled into his shoulder. 

“Wait till you meet Luffy, he’s just as bad as I am. Sabo’s the only civilized one of the three of us.” You hummed at the mention of Sabo as your gut churned. The longer you sat there with Ace, the worse you felt about how you’d lashed out at Sabo. It wasn’t his fault you were tired and upset, at least not about the reading and eye exercises. He deserved the bit about the seastone, but the rest was uncalled for and you’d have to apologize. You sighed heavily and laid your head on Ace.

“You wanna know what I do when I’m sad?” Ace asked, rubbing your back.

“What?” you replied, picking up your head.

“I blow stuff up. You wanna blow stuff up with me?” he asked, pushing you back a little to look at your face. You nodded, your eyes locked on his.

“Yeah. I really do.”

Thank you to BubbleBul on Ao3 for the suggestion that Sunny would see Eneru on the moon <3

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