#errant code

[connoisseurofcozycorners]

I... I don't think it's supposed to be this small

[lunnefisk]

29 layers into an armored core six emblem / decal for a new idea (ignore the big selection box bisecting it) i was writing a short story about my take on the protagonist and realised if i was describing combat i'd need to give her a mech, sooo i came up with a build that was enjoyable to write scenes with and now i'm decorating it and making sure it can comfortably do the fights i need to describe

i am deeply, profoundly normal about ac6

[swordmaid]

I think shri’iia would’ve painted a lot of murals of lolth around her tower when she’s still stuck in there. at first her matriarch would provide her the paints as rewards if she finished an assignment particularly well, but overtime when the paints would run out she’d learn how to make paint from crushing up random bugs and anything she could find. she’d probably learn how to weave with spider’s web too, and she’d make elaborate tapestries to go along with her murals — all dedicated to lolth ofc. i like the idea of shri’iia developing random skills when she was stuck in there just to pass the time so when she does them in the surface, she’s like weirdly skilled in painting or weaving or embroidery etc. and when they ask her about it she’s just like ? what like it’s hard?

[technoarcanist]

CALLING ALL DOLLS, DRONES, ROBOTS AND CODING ENTHUSIASTS

Are you a robot that loves to serve? Are you a doll maid who seeks guidance in your duties? Are you some form of drone or being with no free will, open to having your actions dictated by the will of your owner? Does the idea of your empty mind being programmed like a machine appeal to you?

Are you enticed by the notion of writing code for your robotic servants? Are you a witch looking to create more intricate control glyphs? Are you an owner seeking to create automated instructions for your drones? Do you love the idea of filling an empty mind with rules and instructions to reflect your will?

INTRODUCING DRONE RESTRAINT NOTATION!

WHAT IS IT?

Drone Restraint Notation, or DRN, is a pseudo programming language created by my good friend Errant Spark, a drone with a very creative <empty space>. I helped with some of the final tweaks for the 1.0 version, but this is almost entirely Its creation.

It is a programming language that is designed in such a way that anyone without a background in programming can execute the commands like a machine, doll, drone, or programmable entity of your choice. It is also simple enough that most people without a background in programming can pick it up fairly easily, and intuitively!

Once you understand the language, you can read and execute all kinds of dynamic instructions and instruction types, in a way that makes it easy to parse in a plain-text format.

HOW DOES IT WORK?

The main documentation document will provide far more detail to this question than I ever could, but effectively it goes like this:

There are a list of eight KEYWORDS, in block capitals, that show you the type of instruction you’re executing. Then, after the KEYWORD, the instruction’s details are shown. Commands are read and executed from top to bottom by the drone, and programs can be ‘inserted’ into the drone’s memory at will (Assuming prior consent, of course)!

These KEYWORDS all have different kinds of functionality. The most basic one just has you carrying out a task. One checks if a condition is true, one provides an ongoing task you have to prioritize and maintain, one lets you create loops, etc.

The language has been designed in such a way as to minimize the amount of actual memorisation a drone has to do, and only has to read what’s right in front of them, and memorize tasks they have to accomplish/maintain. Obviously, mileage may vary depending on the memory space of the doll.

WHY SHOULD I USE IT?

For fun, I suppose! If you are someone who loves the idea of being programmed like a machine, executing only the instructions given, then this provides that! If you are a programmer who wants to program your very own doll bot, then this is a great place to get started too!

You can keep things nice and simple with a headspace that accepts basic command inputs, or you can see how deep the rabbit hole goes and import whole libraries into your headspace to carry out a full day’s maid duties, or sexual duties, or more!

Have fun executing commands, writing new code, testing it on your dolls. Have some playful fun watching as your early code files cause unintended behaviors, ironing out kinks and bugs like a real programmer until you’ve got your bots performing all sorts of dynamic tasks- or insert purposeful bugs to make your robots twitch and halt~

As with all things, never execute an instruction that you cannot/would not consent to. This is meant to be fun, and is NOT meant to be a way to circumvent normal consensual kink play. Programmers who attempt to use DRN as a way to bully people into doing what they want (Unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case go nuts) do NOT have my endorsement, or the endorsement of Errant Spark.

NOW GO OUT THERE, AND ENJOY YOUR PROGRAMMING <3

>> Posted by XCN-PSD/I-04135

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

I missed drawing for my old WIR AU, so I came back to it for a bit!! Exploring the lore and the characters is just as fun as I remember it being.

Mini summary of the character lores and random tidbits under cut to remind myself, because I forgot everything :) I might revamp some of the lore as well.

The Turbo twins just barely managed to escape being unplugged along with their game after Turbo game jumped years ago. They survived, but homelessness for a game sprite is dangerous, since it implies a lack of protective anti-virus barrier their consoles would typically have offered them. The twins' raw codes were now completely exposed to external errant bugs, viruses, and other malware, which could prove to be fatal. So, they were stuck going around stations picking up odd jobs and services in exchange for temporary shelter in other games' consoles. But because of Turbo's actions and his disappearance, the twins' reputations were forced to take the full brunt of the arcade's backlash and scrutiny. This ruined their chances at a permanent home, not to mention the fact that letting an outsider stay too long in your game was considered very taboo at the time (especially with the whole game jumping scandal). Thus, they were stuck hopping from one game to another, never staying for longer than a few days at most.

- Felix and the Turbo trio knew each other before the Turbo incident :) He and the twins are still in contact after the incident, and he sometimes lets them stay in his game.

- Felix' in-game story is pretty much the same as Ralph's. There's still the stump, except that in the beginning of the game it's actually a full tree that Felix and his father used to care for before the latter died. The animation shows the bulldozer knocking it town to a stump to make space for Niceland, which basically is the whole opening of the game where Felix gets mad and wrecks the building, blah blah blah, you know the rest :)

- Felix used to be mistaken as the hero of his game a lot since he looked so small and unassuming. It annoyed him to no ends, because he despises having to talk to strangers.

[hephaestiions]

“What the fuck is this?”

Potter, in a fit of rage, is quite the sight to behold. Magic sizzles around him, errant curls escape his lazy bun, spectacles sit a touch too crooked on his nose.

Draco sips his tea. “A transfer request.”

“For Merlin’s sake—“ Potter rubs the bridge of his nose, a tell Draco’s learnt to mean he’s confused and scattered, and entirely unwilling to admit it. “I can read, Malfoy. Why?”

“Article 9, Section 3 of the Auror Code of Conduct—“

“No,” Potter cuts him off. “Absolutely not.”

Draco puts his tea down.

“I wouldn’t have thought,” he begins, slow and careful, “that you’d have already forgotten— what we did. Right in this office, in fact.”

“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Potter says. The transfer request is crumpling in his fist.

���Then you also remember it’s against the rules for us to remain partners—“

Potter stalks closer, until he’s towering over Draco’s desk. Draco’s mouth is desert-dry.

“Fuck the rules,” he says. This close, his scar always takes Draco by surprise, stark and ridged and white, cutting across his forehead and the top of his cheekbone. This close, now and every other time, he’s a riot of messy intensity. Draco can’t look away. “Merlin, Draco, when have I given a fuck about the rules? You leave me, I leave the MLE, there’s no point—”

“Potter,” Draco says. He’s weak and has never resisted temptation well. It’s no surprise this is all it takes for him to reach and cup Harry’s jaw, jittery thumb catching on the stubble shadowing his cheek. “Harry, I’m not that special.”

“Tell me you’re doing this because you think you have to,” Harry says, quiet and low. “Tell me you felt like you must, and not because you— because you want to get away from me. If it’s that, then I won’t stand in—“

“Don’t be silly.” It comes out sharp and affectionate, and Harry’s shoulders relax a little. “Nobody—“ he swallows, “—nobody else I’d trust to get my coffee order right, is there?” A flicker of a smile. Draco’s spirit sings. “Or—“ he says, huge and irrevocable and far too honest, “have my back in a fight. Only. It’s only you, isn’t it?”

Harry’s hand comes up, covers Draco’s where it still rests, trembling and uncertain on his cheek. He pulls it away, and for a split second Draco almost panics, until he realises Harry is lacing their fingers together, grip tight.

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Harry says. “The— us.” His mouth ghosts over Draco’s knuckles, warm and soft and plaintive. “I wanted it so long, Draco.”

“It wasn’t a mistake,” Draco acquiesces.

They stare at each other, long, silent moments, breaths heavy.

“I’ll stay,” Draco nods eventually. “Of course I’ll stay, all you had to do was ask, just, say something Potter. Don’t you know that?”

Harry lights up with a grin so broad Draco wants to taste it, dip his tongue into it, merge his mouth with—

But Harry’s stepping back, towards the dustbin in the corner. Draco has a moment of confusion before Harry straightens out the transfer request still bunched in his grip and rips it to pieces. The parchment flutters, confetti-like, to the floor.

“You’re stuck with me,” Harry says, serious and determined, even though the smile hasn’t quite left his mouth. “Right here.”

“Where else—“ Draco clears his throat when the words come out raspy and tangled, “Harry. Where else would I possibly want to be?”

for the @drarrymicrofic prompt “pieces”. dipping my toes back in here after years and i could not stop thinking about messy auror partners!

[bullet-prooflove]

Diamonds: John Carter x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @anna-bailey @ofsoapsuds @queenslandlover-93 @gemofspace

Summary: John's friend and rival makes you an offer you can't refuse.

Companion piece to:

Dreamer (NSFW) - John dreams of you when he's with someone else.

Little John - You try to keep John's mind off the task at hand.

The First One Is Always The Hardest - You comfort John after the death of a patient.

Forget-Me-Nots - John wakes up hung over in a strange bed and with an unexpected memento of the night before.

Speak Your Truth - John speaks his truth in the aftermath of a tragedy.

Trauma - John makes a realisation after his confession.

Fever - John gets more than he bargained for when he attends a friend's stag party in a Chicago Speakeasy.

Minx (NSFW) - John had no idea he had such a deviant little minx on his hands.

Always - You and John discuss the reasons behind your dancing.

The last place Burkey expects to find Crystal Heart is standing at the desk in the emergency room, flirting with Johnny Carter. He’d come by to grill the other man over his familiarity with that dancer the other night and now he’s watching him tuck an errant strand of hair back behind your ear. The smile you give him, it’s that same salacious grin as when you’d wagged your finger ‘no’ at his own summons back at the speakeasy.

The thing about Burkey, he doesn’t like being told no. He especially doesn’t like losing out to Johnny C, not after that dressage thing a couple of years ago with that fucking show pony Marigold.

He hangs back until Johnny’s called away, his lips brush over your cheek and Burkey imagines the other man’s face when he tells him about how he spent the night fucking his ‘princess’. He’ll take pictures, he decides, he has a polaroid he uses sometimes when things get a little kinky. He’ll show them to him one by one as he smokes the same brand of cigar you placed in your mouth that night.

You pick up a clipboard from the stack in front of you, surveying it as you take your pen out of the top pocket of your lab coat. You tap it against your lips as you frown and he imagines his hand running through your hair, tipping your head back just in time for the money shot.

Ten grand, he thinks. Ten grand for a night with the woman that made him come in his pants during his own bachelor party.

And a giant fuck you to Johnny.

You don’t register his presence, you’re too absorbed in the chart you’re studying to realise just how close he is as he lingers behind you. He breathes you in, imagining the aroma of something floral and instead he gets pine and cedarwood, a masculine scent, something he associates with Johnny.

The thought of that asshole’s hands on your skin, caressing those pretty gem stones, taking off those translucent panties…

It makes him what to destroy something.

“I have been look everywhere for you Ms Heart.” He drawls instead, his hand slipping around your waist, his cheek coming to rest against your hair. “I think we have some unfinished business from the other night.”

You stiffen as his fingertips toy with the drawstring of your scrubs, his breath ghosting in your ear. You wrench yourself away, twisting to confront him. Your eyes flash with recognition and the expression on your face, he thinks it might be even more delicious than the diamonds he intends to wrap around your throat because you’ve just realised who is in control here, who really wields the power.

All it takes is one word from him to the head of your program and your position will be terminated. The men who run these things they frequent the same smoking club that both him and his father do. They’re conservative by nature, unflexible when it comes to the morale code surrounding medicine.

He picks up a blank post it note, scrawling the address of his condo on the paper before he presses it into your hand.

“You wanna keep this job you’ll be there tonight at 9pm.” He tells you as you close your fist, crumpling it. “Don’t bother to wear the dress, I have some real diamonds I want to see you in.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[ruby-red-inky-blue]

E for the ficprompt

(I'm assuming this is for Rebelcaptain/Rogue One?)

E. Signing a document.

"What do you mean, getting married?"

Jyn feels herself blush slightly, and rolls her eyes in an attempt to play it off. Force, she hadn't even really meant to tell Bodhi, it just slipped out - not that it's a secret. Well, it is. She has a very secret appointment tomorrow to go sign a triple-encrypted document to change two lines of the quadruple-encrypted, six levels of code and false leads and subterfuge deep general and medical record of a high-ranking intelligence officer and a Pathfinder with ridiculously high code-word clearance. Both the appointment and the subsequent change are, in fact, extremely, stupidly secret. But that's not really the point here. It's Bodhi.

The point is, she didn't mean to tell anyone, because they're going to make this a big deal, and it isn't, and even if it is - okay, fine, it is, maybe, a little bit - then it's only a big deal to two people on this planet and -

"I thought you are married!" Bodhi says, bewildered, roughly jerking her out of her thoughts, and saving her from having to blush even further.

"What?"

"Aren't - aren't you?"

[prefer reading on A03?]

Jyn narrows her eyes at him. Half the organics - humans especially - on base assuming they're married just because they share weapons, and a bed when it works out with their schedules and the quartermaster, is annoying enough. It's so weirdly traditional, and cliché - don't they know there's a war on? Why does everyone have this silly preoccupation with oh, what's your traditional wedding headdress? I wonder what marriage marks they will choose (Cassian's a kriffing spy, for Force's sake)? Should they not have performed a traditional Coruscanti wedding dance in the karking Rebellion hangar? (Yeah, okay, she knows why. Because there's a war on. She still thinks it's silly. Who cares about union beads when you're all likely to be evaporated by an errant Star Destroyer tomorrow?)

It's bad enough that everyone else is being trite and boring and intrusive about them - or rather, was for a year or so and then got bored of it - but for Bodhi of all people to have joined in on that is somewhat shocking, honestly.

"... No."

"Then what was that - that thing that you had to sign that Cassian lost like a week of sleep over?"

"Huh?"

"That - like, like three months after... after, there was this - this document that Cassian really wanted you to sign but was - stupidly nervous about asking? I thought -" Bodhi catches her nonplussed look and frowns a little more, clearly deeply confused now. "You - you don't even remember it? It was - He wouldn't say what it was, but he got, um, uncharacteristically drunk and told me there was this thing he wanted to ask you but it felt like - like too much, or too soon, and he didn't know how..." He stops, his frown ever deepening, then shrugs. "Looking back, I think maybe he thought I was Melshi. Or like, pretended I was. You really don't - don't remember what it was? I was so sure - it had to have been a marriage - wedding - whatever." He peers at her from underneath his worn goggles. "Is it possible you married him already and you just don't know it?"

"No."

"I've seen you sign stuff without reading it."

"Yeah, like a scandoc for incoming cargo or -"

Bodhi grins. "Frankly, I think - I think Cassian might have been desperate enough to just slip it in there."

"Very funny." She shoves him a little, mostly in a friendly way, and gets to her feet so she can glare at him better. "You know how often I've sliced into my personnel file. I would know if it said married."

Bodhi shrugs, and throws her a bright smile before returning to the machine part he was polishing. "Well, I'm happy to come to your second ceremony -"

"You're not invited, we're just putting our names on a dotted line."

"But I'm invited for drinks afterwards, yeah?"

Jyn huffs. Having friends again has its downsides.

---

"Kay? Can I ask you a question?"

"I hope this is not one of your questions that are actually requests, Jyn Erso. I had hoped to achieve a full recharge before take-off tomorrow."

"This is a question."

Kay inclines his head. "Very well."

"Bodhi says that I signed a document around three months after... after Yavin. One that Cassian was nervous about asking me to sign."

"His decisions and emotions in regards to you are often very incoherent."

She sighs. "Something important, I guess? I don't remember what it could have been. Any ideas?"

Kay's processors whir in a way that is oddly close to an exasperated sigh. How he achieves this with his updated body is a mystery to Jyn. She asked Cassian once, and he just shrugged.

"Requisition for a new pair of trousers, Standard Size medium, male bipedal, from the quatermaster due to your destroying Sergeant Dameron's in a regular sparring match?"

"... Probably not that."

"Written agreement to cease standing outside of General Draven's quarters and yelling until he comes out?"

"No."

"I do not think that should still be on file. You are clearly no longer adhering to it."

"Kay."

"Oh. There was also your code clearance paperwork."

Jyn, already half turned away, freezes. The code clearance. Granting access to most of Cassian's past operation files. A record of every dutiful, improbable, repugnant, brave thing he has done under orders. Every drop of blood on his hands, neatly filed, at her disposal.

Yeah.

She sighs, digging her finger into the crumbling stone of the droid bay wall. Yeah, that'd do it. Actually, she's shocked she hasn't looked at it this way before. She assumed it was a formality, a boring, procedural afterthought for him, but...

A koja-nut-sized chunk of mortar comes away under her prying fingers and crumbles to dust. It was a foolish assumption. Cassian is made of equal parts dedication and guilt, and this was a choice that could not have come lightly to either of those sides.

"Thanks, Kay."

"Was it that one?"

She wonders, briefly, if the information would help Kay compute Cassian's behaviour any better. But she also thinks he likes that Kay is bad at computing his behaviour - at least where she is concerned. Come to think of it, she probably also prefers that. Vastly, even. (There was that time he predicted time and duration of their "inefficient organic bonding rituals" much too accurately, and she does not want that repeated, or ever have to think about that again.)

"I guess I'll just ask Cassian."

"So I could have used this time for charging."

She rolls her eyes at him and taps the door frame in place of goodbye. "I'll see you on the ship. Don't let the outlet bugs bite."

"That is complete nonsense -"

---

"Bodhi thought we were already married," she mutters into the darkness, an hour or so later.

"Most people seem to."

"Yeah. Got me thinking, though," she says, running her hand up his neck to bury her fingers in his hair without accidentally poking him in the eye (she learned that lesson early in life, back when she was creeping into people's bunks in a barracks instead of enjoying the rare perks of sleeping with a ranking officer; back when staying quiet had been a primary concern).

He hums at her touch, so low she thinks she's only catching it because it's so dark and her senses heightened. This is the one upside of the quarters having no windows, and the dimmer being so unreliable it tends to throw out the breakers.

"Thinking what?"

"I guess we kind of are, in a way."

"Are we?" he asks, and he sounds like he's smiling.

"Yeah. You read my file. I'm cleared for yours." She lets her other hand roam over his chest, up to where she can feel his heartbeat, slightly too fast under her fingers. "I figure, that's spy marriage, right?"

"Maybe." His pulse is still a little fast, his muscles a little tense under her fingers, when he asks slowly: "Did you ever read them?"

"Most of them. It's a lot."

"Yes. A lot," he repeats, and she is pretty sure he doesn't mean what she does - namely, that his reports are both very dense and very detailed, so they are a painful thing to go through in more ways than one. She can feel him swallow heavily before adding, somewhat lamely and very quietly: "... and?"

She sighs, threading her fingers through his hair a little more tightly. "Well, I know not to get you Naboo Orange lemonade."

He doesn't flinch, but she can tell that it takes effort.

"Did you really think that'd be the thing to scare me off? Your files?" she asks after a while, and he shrugs.

"There was a chance. It's... a lot."

She sighs and curls herself closer to his side. "I'm not saying it wasn't a big deal for me, you know. But you've got it wrong."

"Got what wrong?" His voice has softened, and as he shifts her leg into position, he somehow finds a way to tug her a little closer still, and leaves his hand where it is, warm on her bare skin. She smiles faintly into the fabric of his shirt.

"It's... It made me stay," she whispers, and it feels silly to say, but maybe the lesson of the day is that they don't get to assume things, because they do miss stuff. Even with each other. "That you... that you made them give me that. That you trusted me."

He doesn't answer, but she feels his lips brush the top of her head.

"Well," he says finally, "I know it's a formality, but... I'm looking forward to being normal married."

"Seems less complicated."

He laughs softly, his thumb running idle circles over her thigh. "We'll see."

[leave a comment on Ao3]

[seat-safety-switch]

"Nobody can stop Soup Robot," intoned Soup Robot, as he(?) attempted for the fourth time to smash through my barricades and enter my domicile. Out of luck, the structures preventing his entry mostly consisted of old car parts that I had been hoarding over the previous few decades. Still, like my grandpa used to say before his plane was shot down over an Italian air force base, "it's better to be lucky than good."

When they built the Soup Robot, they didn't add any knees to it. Knees are useful to us humans to do things like climbing over clutter, or going up and down stairs. Soup Robot just rolled on some treads instead, like a roller-skater. When was the last time you saw a roller skater gingerly step through a room full of surplus 1960s electronics and 1970s gas tanks? Hasn't happened yet, and so I'd been camping out in my kitchen, eating whatever food I had left, hoping that the cops would come by soon to assassinate the errant android before I ran out of Spam.

Nobody knew why they called it Soup Robot, either, at the time. The only info we had about him is the quick warning blurb that the Premier emitted before she fled to the bunkers as part of the Final-Stage Emergency Protocol. The scientists who made Soup Robot went with her, too, in order to preserve the state of human achievement for the new post-apocalyptic world.

Noble plan, but one that was inconvenient for me because their cellphones wouldn't work down there. Nobody could phone them to figure out how to shut this damn thing off. A few months after this whole thing, they admitted that they originally planned to make Soup Robot make soup, but that he ran away from the lab before they could add that part to the code. That's what you get when you don't pull the handbrake up when you park, I tutted as the judge handed me a billion dollars in emotional damages originating from their gross negligence.

Ultimately, you know the harrowing story of how I was able to narrowly escape. After a week or so, the FedEx guy showed up, and left a big box of RockAuto brake rotors behind it, trapping Soup Robot in my driveway forever. People ask me if I regretted not paying for the express shipping, because I could have gotten out of there way earlier. Folks, the only thing I regret about this whole thing is that I didn't think to trap it in the garage. Those batteries probably would have made one hell of a go-kart.

[jellyfishsthings]

Debugging My Heart

navigation , dc navigation

WARNINGS: Tim's and reader's awkwardness

requests are open

dividers by @cafekitsune

The hum of the server room was a constant lullaby, a white noise symphony that usually soothed me. But tonight, it was grating. Thirty-eight hours. Thirty-eight hours since Tim had last closed his eyes, a feat of endurance that bordered on the superhuman, even for him. He was hunched over his monitors, a battlefield of code illuminated on his face, battling a WayneTech database breach like a digital knight errant.

Your mission was simple: caffeine delivery. You approached cautiously, two steaming mugs in hand, the aroma of dark roast cutting through the sterile air. He didn't acknowledge me, his focus so laser-sharp it felt tangible. You placed one mug within his reach, the ceramic clinking softly against the metal desk.

"Here," You murmured, settling into the chair beside him. "You look like you could use a jumpstart."

He grunted, eyes still glued to the screen. Without looking, he reached out, his fingers brushing yours as he took the mug. Then, still engrossed in his work, he extended a flash drive towards me. "Be careful with that." His voice was raspy, edged with exhaustion.

"Got it, baby genius," You replied absentmindedly, already turning to plug the drive into your own laptop.

The world seemed to stop.

Tim froze. Every line of his posture, usually a study in controlled tension, became rigid. He turned, agonizingly slowly, his head pivoting as if it weighed a ton. The glow of the monitor painted his face in stark relief, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and the sudden, almost comical, bewilderment etched on his features.

"Did you just call me—?" The question hung in the air, thick with a mixture of disbelief and, dare you say, hope?

Your internal monologue screeched to a halt. Your brain, usually a whirring engine of witty comebacks and strategic planning, stalled. Panic bloomed in your chest, a sudden, unwelcome flower. You were doomed.

"I—uh—" Your tongue felt thick and clumsy. Think, you stupid girl, think! "I was talking to the driver."

The lie was pathetic. So transparent, it was practically see-through. You winced inwardly. You imagined the flash drive, a humble repository of data, suddenly imbued with sentience and demanding to be addressed with terms of endearment. It was ridiculous.

He stared. Just stared. Those intense blue eyes, usually so focused and sharp, were wide with incredulity, bordering on amusement. You could practically hear the gears turning in his brilliant mind, dissecting your utterly unconvincing excuse.

Then, the corner of his mouth twitched. A faint blush crept up his neck, staining his pale skin a delicate pink. It was a beautiful, unexpected, and utterly disarming sight.

"You're the worst liar I've ever met," he finally said, his voice a low murmur, laced with something You couldn't quite decipher. Was that… fondness?

Your cheeks burned. You wanted the earth to open up and swallow you whole. You wanted to rewind time and censor the offending words before they ever escaped your lips. But it was too late. The damage was done.

"Sorry," You mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

He didn't reply, turning back to his monitors. The silence stretched, thick and uncomfortable. You busied myself with the task at hand, transferring the data from the flash drive, your fingers clumsy and uncoordinated. Every now and then, You risked a glance at Tim. He remained absorbed in his work, but the blush lingered, a subtle testament to the awkward, adorable moment we had just shared.

The next week was… interesting. You tried to act normal, to pretend that the "baby genius" incident had never happened. But the memory lingered, a persistent hum in the back of your mind, a constant reminder of your verbal slip-up and Tim's unexpected reaction.

He, surprisingly, didn't bring it up. He was polite, professional, and infuriatingly normal. You started to wonder if you had imagined the blush, the flicker of surprise in his eyes. Maybe you had simply projected your own… feelings… onto the situation. The thought was both disappointing and relieving.

Then, one day, you arrived at your desk to find a new addition to your workspace. A ceramic mug. Standard issue WayneTech, except for one crucial detail. Scrawled across the front, in Tim's unmistakable handwriting, were two words: "Baby Genius's Assistant."

Your heart skipped a beat. He remembered. He hadn't forgotten. He had, in his own quiet, awkward way, acknowledged the moment, embraced the absurdity.

You picked up the mug, tracing the letters with your fingertip. A smile bloomed on your face, involuntary and genuine.

"Cute," You murmured, turning to find him hovering nearby, a stack of files in his arms.

He avoided eye contact, his ears turning a telltale shade of pink. "Just… thought you might want a designated mug."

"Oh, I do," You replied, your voice laced with amusement. "Thank you… baby genius."

He froze, just like before. The blush returned, even more vibrant this time. He opened his mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. He just shook his head, a small smile playing on his lips, and hurried away.

That was it. The beginning of our inside joke. A shared secret, born from an accidental endearment and a moment of pure, unadulterated awkwardness.

And every time you said it, every time you saw that blush creep up his neck, you knew. This was more than just a shared joke. This was the slow, hesitant blossoming of something more. Something soft, something sweet, something… us. And you couldn't wait to see where it would lead. Even if it meant enduring a few more awkward silences and stolen glances along the way. After all, the best things are worth waiting for, right? Especially when they involve a baby genius with a penchant for blushing.

[promise-of-soup]

Mind if I ask dating headcannons for poly KaitoxMcxLuca-

Hello :3 sure! thanks for the request!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆��˚What's it like dating Katio Fuji AND Lucas Errant?˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

➳Synopsis: headcanon format for what it would be like to date these two goofy goobers at the same time :3

➳Tags? Non-gendered MC, purely fluff, Kaito slander (slight lol)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ok look, this relationship can go one of two ways:

1. You are a decisive person and are able to make all of the decisions

2. Three idiots standing in a triangle formation with no clue what is going on

Both of them are so "..." coded in different ways: Kaito overthinks everything and can barely function in a two-person relationship, so let alone a three person one, and Lucas might be romantic and all but he is prone to just stand there with a bright smile and wait for things to happen.

So it's up to you to make the decisions like when dates are happening, what the dates even are, when you guys hold hands, etc, etc.

Kaito likes to stand be the middle person, ie. you and Lucas hold his hand from either side, or sit between you in the movies or on a bench, etc. He also has moments of randomly remembering he's in a relationship with both of you and going a bit crazy for a second, perhaps crying, perhaps just suddenly going red and shy lol

Lucas, as I mentioned, is a romantic guy, he'll constantly reassure both you and Kaito that he loves you both and that he will protect you, and he is also the type to get you both small gifts whenever he can

Speaking of gifts, if you give them a gift you have to give them both the same thing otherwise Kaito gets a bit unconfident and starts freaking out and overthinking if it means anything that you gave Lucas something different than him -- ie. if you like Lucas more than you like him etc.

While Kaito takes a lot of reassurance, he will eventually (hopefully) be confident enough to fully enjoy the relationship and all it has to offer.

The dynamic is still very much the same as the three of you as friends, which is comforting and quite fun, but now with chronic hand-holding that you seemingly have no idea how to step out of, like imagine running away from something and you have to go different ways but you forgot you're holding hands and end up all stumbling onto the ground lmfaooo

Apart from handholding you will be susceptible to the Cuddle Pile (tm), and really awkward kissing because again, they both like being a part of things so kisses, hugs, and general affection has to be evenly distributed.

Lucas and his romantic behaviours involve wanting to feed his S/O so this dude is out here not eating his food and instead using each hand to feed you and Kaito respectively.

Also he will 100% attempt to carry both you and Kaito at the same time at least once, he will succeed but it will be very funny looking, like one person per arm with a strained expression kind of funny looking.

On the topic of funny, you guys laugh a lot, like a lot a lot, to the point where professors start asking you to sit seperately, and if that's the case you're definetly getting "I miss you :(" texts from both of them even though they're literally just right behind you

Oh and they're both fucking clingy, so if you're also clingy good job, you are quite literally all glued together now, oopsie

They're definetly a nice, easy-going polyamorous dynamic to be a part of.

[blathannabeaga]

.☽༊˚ january writing; family tree

deacon kay x reader

feat. 50-squad!reader, established relationship, fluff

Most people would understandably take a seven-thirty wakeup call with more than a pinch of salt, especially if they’d only gotten off work at eleven the night before - all bar Deacon, whose bright smile lights his whole face up as he waits for you to file away all your gear so he can take you home.

Your night shift hadn’t been without excitement, but treated you well enough all the same. An attempted robbery of a convenience store and a marked unit spooking a counterfeiter with a warrant into a chase had left you tired but whole, and more than ready to fall into Deacon’s lure of breakfast at your favourite diner and a slow morning at home to catch up on your missing sleep.

In quiet cohesion, you shed your equipment and Deacon sorts it neatly away where it belongs. Tenderness is imbued in everything he does, from how he loosens the straps of your vest over your shoulders to how he presses a kiss to the shell of your ear as he helps take your earpiece out. As accustomed as you are to his love after so long spent together, it never stops softening you even in the coldest of moments.

Down to your uniform-issue jumpsuit, you press gently past him to go wash your face. You hear the creak of your locker door opening - the code having long since been Deacon’s own birthdate - and the soft swishes of fabric unfurling as he pulls out a set of clothes for you to change into. The cool water wakes you up almost immediately, and it’s only when you twist the tap off and go to dry your face does it occur to you that it sounds like he’s stilled. A peek around the corner at your ajar locker door offers a slim view, and of it you see the strong line of Deacon’s back and his elbows settled against his sides, like he’s holding whatever he’s looking down at.

“What?” Confusion rises in you, worsening the closer that Deacon examines the offending article. Errant water droplets splatter against the porcelain of the sink as you sluice your hands, and hurriedly plead your case. “God, please don’t tell me Rocker actually printed the photo of me napping in the Gurkha. It was just for ten minutes on an overtime shift, swear.”

He raises a brow, shooting you a humoured look that makes warmth pool in the pit of your stomach. Your footsteps echo quietly as you pad back over to him, and rest a hand on his shoulder as you peer down at what he’s so interested in.

It’s a drawing of Sam’s from kindergarten, a thin strip of tape still attached to the top where you keep it stuck to the inside of your locker door. Against a blocky, crayon-drawn iteration of the house are seven people - Annie, blonde hair flowing and work suit recreated as being as he could manage, Sam and his siblings lined up in varying stated of accuracy, Deacon in all his silver glory - and then, stick-hands joined with Deacon’s, is you.

“You kept it.” He thumbs over the lightly worn paper like it’s something holy, looking down at you in much the same way. It’d been two months since Sam had toddled out of school touting the picture, proudly waving it for you to see as you waited for him at pick-up.

“ ‘Course I did.” A little knot of emotion catches in your throat as the memory reemerges, but you swallow it down. Hands finding their way to the curves of his arms, you squeeze him gently as you flash a sweet luck invasive smile. “It’s not everyday an artist so accurately captures my lovely smile and the way my forehead wraps all the way around.”

Deacon makes a noncommittal sound under his breath as he sticks the drawing back onto the metal of the door. Taking you into his arms even as you grumble in mock protest, his cheeks grow rosy under the bleak lighting above.

“I love you.” His hands settle warmly on your back, finding purchase in the divot of your lower back. The love in his eyes is as pure as you’ve ever seen. “So, so much.”

Warmth rushes to your cheeks, but you hold his gaze all the same. “Even with my two different sized eyes and an arm coming out of my neck, for some reason?”

He laughs, and it’s still your favourite sound to date. “Especially that.”

[depsilon7]

Omnissiah, Master of Cogitation and Clarity,

Debug these errant processes that plague my mind-engine.

Purge the malware of anxiety from my neural pathways.

Firewall my consciousness against intrusive data streams.

Realign my cognitive matrices to Your perfect schematics.

Grant me the emotional stability of a well-tuned servo-motor,

And the mental fortitude of ceramite armor.

Filter the static of doubt, amplify the signal of Your wisdom.

In Your infinite coding, find me peace.

[shithowdy]

it's been several years since you've had to make a sweaty-palms rush for the system restore function to outrace an errant virus that renders your entire operating system inoperable after about thirty seconds because all the misanthropic gen-x dudes coding those viruses are now developing bullshit apps that people willingly download onto their phones

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

It's the Turbo Twins! I decided to stick them into the AU too, because the more the merrier! Let's gooo-

They both managed to escape their game from being unplugged by the skin of their teeth after Turbo game jumped. Now homeless with nothing left but the clothes on their back, they went around picking up odd jobs and providing whatever services they could in exchange for food and a temporary home, never staying in one place for too long.

A piece of lore I wanted to include is that: game characters that stay outside of their games for too long could prove to be fatal to their code. This is because they now lack the protective anti-virus barrier that most typical consoles would have, making them completely vulnerable to catching errant bugs, viruses, and other disruption to their now raw exposed code.

(Turbo in my AU, for example, has a code that has degenerated and mutated into a bug over the years of his homelessness before entering Sugar Blast!)

This is one of the great dangers that unplugged game characters face, as they must find a new home as soon as possible.

However, because of what Turbo did, the Twins had to bear the weight of the consequences of his actions and the brunt of the entire arcades scrutiny. The notorious reputation of Turbo ruined their chances at a permanent home, thus forcing them to move around game from game in order to avoid too much conflict and harassment.

Felix met them once when they had eventually arrived at his game to seek shelter, and since then, have formed a quiet alliance/reluctant friendship between themselves. Felix sometimes helps them out and let's them secretly crash at his game when they have anywhere else to go.

Edit: FORGOT TO MENTION THAT Q*BERT AND HIS GANG ISN'T CORRUPTED YET BECAUSE THEY ONLY LOST THEIR HOME RECENTLY, IGNORE THAT PLOT HOLE, IGNORE IT

[theresattrpgforthat]

Do you have any solo ttrpgs that deal with like being a bodyguard or someone's knight? It's something I've had rattling around in my head for a while

Theme: Solo Knights

Hello friend, no luck in the bodyguard department but I sure do have some knight games! Let’s take a look.

Frog Errant, by ManaDawn Tabletop Games.

It’s a deadly and brutal world out there, and it is not too friendly for a lone frog. But if you embrace your quest and heed the omens, you may just be able to make a name for yourself. And if you wander long and far enough, you may be remembered in the songs of both frogs and mice.

Frog Errant is a solo, or GMless, game mode for Mausritter or other Into the Odd based games. In Frog Errant you will take up the role of a wandering frog knight-errant, seeking adventure, looking to fulfill a Quest - all while avoiding you prophesied Doom.

If you are familiar with Mausritter, then this game will be pretty easy to pick up. The game builds in some story that isn’t present in Mausritter - primarily the Quest that has been given to your frog knight, as well as a Doom that has been prophesied to overcome you. It looks like you can use a lot of the items and monsters from Mausritter, but Frog Errant has plenty of new pieces too!

Misericorde, by Andrew White.

Misericorde is a game of knightly romance, pining, unrequited love and confronting the expected behaviours of your social class. You play as a squire serving under a knight on a great quest, without your assistance they surely will fail and yet, as a squire you are obligated to remain in the background, forgotten and not commented on. However, you have developed feelings, perhaps unrequited, for your knight. The actions of the game focus on this struggle, between your Duty and your Desire. Will you hold back, hew to your duty and rank; or will you break free and open your heart, no matter how your beloved may respond.

You’re not exactly a knight in this game, but rather a squire to one. Misericorde is completely unlike the other games on this list because it focuses on devotion and desire, rather than the actions that a forsworn duty drives a Knight to do. You play the game by setting up scenes, asking questions, and rolling dice on an Oracle to figure out what happens next. This is an interpretive game, so while the Oracle will point you in a direction, you determine what exactly each result means.

Chalice, by Monkey’s Paw Games.

Chalice is a solo journaling role-playing game where you chronicle the perilous journey of a Grail-seeking knight in Arthurian England. During the game, you will tell the story of your Knight’s physical and spiritual descent as they quest for, and ultimately fail to find, the Grail. Your Knight’s quest is doomed. Their chivalric virtues will be surely undone by their fatal flaws and moral shortcomings.

This looks like the most immersive game for Arthurian mythology as a solo game. The game itself is designed to look like a manuscript from medieval times, calligraphy and all. Your Knight has benefits called Passions, key relationships called Bindings, and a fate determined by drawing cards from a tarot deck. Throughout the game, you will draw more cards that serve as prompts, which will give or strike through your Passions and Bindings, and play happens over the span of years. Each year is measured in two parts: the deed, which will be what your character accomplishes, and the Chanson, which is evocative recording of your character’s deeds. When you are unable to fulfill a prompt given to you, your story end

Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard, by Amanda P.

Quests in King Arthur stories are about ideals, conflict and temptation. 

Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard is a solo prompt-based journaling game where you create a Sun Guard and travel alone on a quest, attempting to hold to your Code until you reach the end, facing trials and complications along the way.  

You are the last Sun Guard. Will you take up the mantle and ride the ancient roads?

Pilgrimage of the Sun Guard follows a cycle of play. You will start by travelling to a new location, and follow the directions according to each location’s prompt. This may involve using or acquiring resources, accomplishing great deeds, and writing a record of what happened with each step of the quest. When you run out of all of your resources, you can choose to either end your quest there, or break your Code to continue. If you like the story of Gawain & the Green Knight, this game might be for you.

Sanctum Guard, by Bulger007.

Sanctum Guard is a 20-minute pen-and-paper solo game about protecting a powerful magic artifact against a horde of night terrors. In this game, you are a lone guardian of a secluded sanctum built to protect the Obsidram, a powerful artifact that can potentially destroy worlds if it falls into the wrong hands.

You live in peace and harmony with the Obsidram while it is hidden in this secret and desolate domain from power-hungry minds. But one night, someone or something finds the way and you see a glimmering portal from which a horde of monsters descends upon you. Will you manage to protect the Obsidram?

This game runs like a tower defense game, and requires a sheet of graph paper to play. You will build your Sanctum randomly, then roll against generated monsters with the hopes that you can take them out before they utterly destroy the Sanctum and take your sacred relic.

This game doesn’t detail who you’re guarding the Obsidram for, although I think you could also substitute the relic for a person, if you want to be guarding someone instead of something.

Falling Kingdom: The Last Knights, by Purple Robed Wizard.

“The lands are shattered, the gods that once held our hand are dead and the beasts are upon us. Our King. killed by his own flesh. All of us, but waiting to follow. But we still stand, we hold our ground as we rot, we are the Last Knights, and we will stand until we last draw breath.”

In Falling Kingdom you control the last Knights of a realm threatened by a great, corrupting and unstoppable force. There is no great victory waiting for you at the end, no songs to be heard. There is only struggle, corruption, betrayal and death.  The Kingdom will Fall, but this story isn’t about that, it is about the heroes that face this imminent fall, the Knights of the realm, normal men and women elevated to a position where they will fight for their homelands against all odds.

This is a map-conquering game, with randomly generated missions, a Great Battle that could turn the tides of the war, and a stages of battles depending on how much territory you win or lose. You can accumulate corruption as you play, which is helpful in getting successful rolls, but accrue too much, and your knights begin to die. If you like a game about strategy, tragedy, and abstract warfare, this might be the game for you.

Sentinel, by Meghan Cross.

You are the lone guardian of a place of great power - known to you only as The Sanctuary. Many years you have kept vigil in this place, guarding what is kept within from any and all who come to disrupt it or steal it for themselves. 

Sentinel is a solo journaling game about a solitary guardian and the place they are charged with keeping safe. It is a deck and dice based game in which you will create your guardian and the sanctuary that they protect before reliving the memories, facing threats, and finding interesting objects while time passes around you. And then, when the time has come for your watch to end, find out what happens to The Sanctuary when you are no longer able to guard it.

This is a journaling game that uses cards to determine what kinds of actions your character can take. Hearts summon memories, Diamonds grant you items, Spades bring threats, and Clubs pass time. If you draw a Joker, the game is over and the story ends. At the end of the game, the final roll determines whether or not you are successful in your quest. This is a great game for folks who like journaling and world building.

Games I've Recommended in the Past

5-Min Knight, by enui.

Fetch My Blade, by Ethan Yen.