#secure printing solution

[superlabels]

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[reiding-writing]

building lego flowers with Spencer? :> he always gets reader flowers and they get sad when they wilt so he surprises them with the lego set and they spend a cozy afternoon together building them and drinking tea?

immortal [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer bought you flowers before every case he went on. But coming to your apartment after the case was finished and seeing that they’d wilted made his happiness to see you wilt along with their petals. Luckily for him, he’d seemed to find a more ‘immortal’ solution.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: boyfriend!spencer x gn!reader

genre: fluff

wc: 1.2k

masterlist!!

a/n: this request is so cute and it is also a preemptive apology for another request that i’m working on that is, you guessed it, full of angst, love you guys <333

Spencer would always buy you a bouquet of flowers before going off on a case. Always.

The minute his phone buzzed to call him into the office he was off to his local flower shop to buy you a bouquet to remind you of his love for you even in his physical absence.

The floral arrangement was different every time. Each bouquet fit with a handwritten card explaining the flora and its symbolism.

But by the time he return they’d often be wilted, an unfortunate reminder of just how much time he has to spend away from you.

And so he arrives at your apartment with an agenda, no longer able to stand the sight of flowers that should’ve been discarded days and sometimes weeks before when he returns to see you after a case is over.

You always tell him that it’s because they remind you of him, of how much he loves you even when you can’t see him. But the drooping flowers and brown stems that always greet him upon his return, whilst it might not bother you, made his shoulders slump with guilt about not spending enough of his time with you.

He knocks three times on your apartment door, an unusual cadence that you immediately recognise as you rush to let him in, clad in a pair of fluffy pyjamas with a bright smile on your face.

You capture him in a hug as soon as you open the door, a kiss planted fervently on his cheek.

Your smile doesn’t falter at his lack of his usual flowers when he arrives unannounced at your door, but you can’t help the small quirk of your eyebrow as you lean back to give him back some personal space.

“You’re off on another case already?” Your tone betrays the small amount of disappointment you’re feeling. He’d only returned the day before yesterday, promising you a museum date on the weekend to finally spend some more quality time together. Looks like you’d have to reschedule.

Spencer can’t stop himself from breaking into a sheepish grin at your greeting, but also has an air of determination about him, his left hand securely held behind his back as his right rubs your arm lovingly.

“No actually…” He can see the flicker of disappointment in your eyes morph into confusion, and he takes the opportunity to pull you towards him and press his lips to yours, hoping to kiss any lingering negativity in your mind into non-existence. “Can I come in?”

“Of course baby yeah,” You tug him into your apartment by his wrist, a strange rattling noise emanating from behind his back as he moves to kick your door closed behind him. “What’s that?”

You tilt yourself to look behind him, and he blocks your view as he turns himself in tandem with you. “You know how much I hate seeing the flowers I buy you wilted when I come to see you,”

“So… I… I thought… I think I might have found a solution?” He takes a second to figure out how to word his sentence, pulling out a rattling box from behind his back, four printed lego flowers decorating the front of it to indicate what’s inside.

Your eyebrows furrow a little further as your eyes examine the box before lighting up with an air of eagerness as you take the box in your hands to look at it in more detail. "You bought me lego flowers?"

“I did,” He chuckles, “I found them in the Target by my apartment, they cant replace real flowers but they’re a good substitute.” His beautiful hazel eyes are warm as he looks at you in amusement and the soft tone to his voice is calming.

“Now I know lego flowers isn’t what you were expecting from me… and I’m sorry if you were looking forward to a regular bouquet… but I promise you… these will never wilt.”

"They’re perfect Spence…" You give him a downturned smile at his thoughtfulness, how he’d found a way to immortalise the flowers he gave you.

You press your lips to his cheek to extend your gratitude, and the warmth that spreads through his entire being is something that words can't quite describe. "I'm glad you like them... " A genuine smile lights up his face as he wraps both arms around you in a tight hug, his heart fluttering in his chest. "I'm glad you exist."

You can’t help but chuckle at his final sentence, wrapping your arms securely around his torso with the box still in hand to return his hug, the lego pieces rattling with your movements. "I’m glad you exist too-"

At your words, he buries his face into your neck and sighs softly as he inhales your scent. It calms his nerves, and it makes him forget all the stress of work. Instead, all he can focus on is the warmth coming from your body and the feeling of your heartbeat against him. It’s a feeling he never wants to let go of.

"You’re going to build them with me right?" Your head leans against his shoulder as you essentially just stand in your doorway, completely intertwined with one another.

"Of course I am..." His voice is slightly deep and his tone gentle, "What sort of gentleman would give someone lego flowers without building it with them?" He chuckles before adjusting his arms to make himself more comfortable against yours.

"These lego flowers should be built together," He smiles, "And I want to do that with you."

“Good!” You release yourself from his embrace and press the box to his chest. “Clear off the coffee table and i’ll make us some tea,”

Your enthusiasm is infectious, his smile only growing as you retreat into your kitchen and leave him to set up.

You spend the rest of the afternoon huddled around your coffee table, meticulously assembling the four lego flowers whilst Spencer explained them to you.

He turned a newly finished pink lotus in his hands before gently placing it inside the glass vase usually reserved for the bouquets he would buy you. “Lotus flowers, or Nelumbo nucifera, symbolise strength, resilience and rebirth,”

The plastic makes a small clinking sound as it collides with the bottom of the vase. “They are also a staple of purity, as despite growing from murky freshwater ponds, there are no stains of the flower’s petals, usually a bright white or a pale pink.”

You nod enthusiastically at his explanation as you place your own finished flower into the vase alongside his, a bright synthetic floral arrangement slowly developing.

This new form of flowers doesn’t stop Spencer from buying you a bouquet before every case he goes on.

Except now, each arrangement is joined not only by a small card, but also a box with the lego replication of whichever flora he chooses, adding to your lego arrangement one by one until it’s more extravagant than any organic bouquet could ever hope to be.

The plastic flowers prove immortal beyond any normal flower’s capability.

A perfect mirror of his love for you.

One that would never wilt.

[jewreallythinkthat]

I was literally on national radio in the UK on the week after October 7th talking about how I didn't want a war, I had family in Israel hiding in shelters, I wanted hostages returned and I wanted the Israelis and Palestinians to be able to live side by side in a safe and secure two state solution and people have the fault to tell me I don't want that.

My voice print is literally in nuclear bomb proof archives saying I am pro two state, and want peace. Get a fucking grip and do some real work advocacting for peace rather than harassing Jews.

[peskellence]

My Friends Call Me Richard

Part III

Explicit Content (18+)

Pairing: Reed900

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

Previous Chapter

Read on AO3 here:

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

Word Count: 10K

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

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

“What's the hold up in there?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

> ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE WITH DETECTIVE REED.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A revelation that came too late. 

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

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

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

“...What was that?” 

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

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

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

“Richard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“ No .”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hot lips.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gavin tensed, although this response was not unanticipated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a needy slut.” 

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

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

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

RK900 swiftly identified the duplicity of this statement.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...You…repulsive creature.”

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

“I’m sorry, what?”

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

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

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

“Okay. That’s enough. Drop it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suddenly, he could feel everything . 

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

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

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

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

“ Holy shit—watch it, asshole — ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Provided his partner owned an iron—

WARNING — MULTIPLE SYSTEM ANOMALIES DETECTED. 

RUNNING DIAGNOSTICS…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sensation this triggered was indescribable. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

To touch and feel and taste —

> DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE

TEMPORAL FIREWALLS: COMPROMISED 

CORE BODY TEMPERATURE: 122°F — RISING

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

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

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

“Does it feel good?” 

“Very much—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oral stimulation came far more naturally than it typically did. 

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

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

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

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

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

“ Your throat feels so good.” 

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

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

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

“Oh, fuck me —”

“With pleasure.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Shit—!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh God—fuck— please —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That he shouldn’t have been capable of.

WARNING—URGENT

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

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

CRITICAL SYSTEM INSTABILITY.

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

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

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

Then, it all collapsed.

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

A staggering wall of flashing crimson. 

MULTIPLE ANOMALIES DETECTED.

> CRITICAL MALFUNCTION IDENTIFIED.

> SOURCE—CENTRAL PROCESSOR. 

COMMENCING EMERGENCY DIAGNOSTICS…

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

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

DIAGNOSTICS COMPLETE. 

> ROOT THREAT IDENTIFIED RA9_15.EXE

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

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

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

SYSTEM BREACH IMMINENT — IMMEDIATE ACTION REQUIRED. 

AUTOMATED DEVIATION DEFENSE PROTOCOL: ENGAGED.

ADVANCED FIREWALLS: ACTIVATED.

COMMENCING SOFT REBOOT…

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

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

> REBOOT SUCCESSFUL. 

> THREAT NEUTRALISED. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gavin proved unconvinced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck me, Rich. Harder .” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Giddy up, buckaroo.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I thought...” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your taste in pornographic material suggests otherwise.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ANALYSING SUBJECT — DET. GAVIN REED…

> ANALYSIS COMPLETE.

>PSYCHOLOGICAL DISTRESS DETECTED.

> PROCESSING EMOTIONAL VARIABLES…

> GUILT, CONFUSION, FONDNESS. 

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

> COMMENCING RE-EVALUATION…

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

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

> RE-EVALUTATION COMPLETE.

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

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

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

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

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

^ SOFTWARE INSTABILITY DETECTED.

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

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

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

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

“Understood.” 

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

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

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

“Would you like me to finish?”

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

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

[gildedphoenix]

SuperPhantom - White Crow

Posting this now because I'm not sure I'll ever finish it.

Feel free to contribute.

White Crow SuperPhantom

(965 words)

--+--

Dean answered his ringing flip phone. And NO Sam, he doesn't need a smart phone. The battery on this thing lasts 5 days and it survives being in Dean's pocket when he's thrown against a wall by the bad guy of the week.

"Hi Bobby. Whatcha got for us?"

"I hope you've got gas in the take because this one is going to be a bit of a chase." Bobby opened. "I've got reports coming in from all over about a white crow being linked to dozens of deaths. None of the hunters who've looked into it so far have been able to track the creature or find any connections between the victims. The issue is that some of the crimes aren't fresh. The last victim, a Tim Stillion, had been dead for weeks. Can't figure out the cause because the animals had been at his body. And unless this bird can teleport, he was on the other side the country when Stillion was kill't."

Sam, who was already clickity clacking on his laptop, spoke up. "It sounds like the crow isn't a portent of death then, but just a reporter. But how is it finding the bodies?"

"Yeah," Bobby drawled "I figured you'd come to that conclusion. That's why I called you boys. Every other hunter is out here trying to end this bird when it's solved more cold cases then all of them combined. Bunch of idgits."

Dean grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and started towards the garage. "So where are we headed Bobby? Any word on the last sighting?"

"Last couple time it was seen, it was around central Illinois."

"Let's roll"

-=-=-=-=-

Sam Manson revved her vespa and continued chasing the white crow down ST-54. They'd been at this for weeks now. And despite it all, Sam was just happy that she'd found Danny at all.

/three weeks ago/

"There's no way!" leopard print blouse said. "You look like one of my son's friends."

Danny had a tendency to drop whatever he was holding if he got summoned but for once, he kept hold of his cell phone. So when he ended up disappearing in the middle of a Doom speed run, Tucker was able to track him down. And after a few minutes (and way too few reasonable security measures) Sam and Tucker were able to watch a live stream from a web connected Nanny cam.

The room was all white, leather couches pushed back against the walls. Marble and brass coffee table set with white taper candles. Starbucks cups sitting on the ledge of the kitchen counter. And in the middle of the room, Phantom. Desperately trying to convince 6 PTA, HOA, Basic Witches that he was indeed the Ghost King that they were trying to summon.

A woman in a white gauze blouse and white wash jeans stepped forward. It must be her house, because she matched the decor. "How did you highjack the summoning?!" It was the same tone every teen has heard from their parents. The tone that said they'd already decided what had happened and were just waiting for you to admit fault.

"Hey, you summoned me. What did you even want, anyway? Pumpkin spice to be available year round? For the grocery store to accept your expired coupons? How about-"

"Now you listen to me young man," A third woman, dressed in sunny yellow and a high pony tail that did nothing to help her look younger. "You need to learn manners and your parents clearly didn't care to teach you"

("Ouch" danny mumbled, "accurate, but ouch" )

Yellow started chanting and the others quickly caught on and joined in. Danny, realizing that he was running out of time to gas light, gatekeep, or girlboss his way out of a solution, tried the old reliable Plan Z. Run away.

So he turned ghostly tail to the nearest window and - BONK! - was stopped by the shielding on the summoning circle. Which was a first. People usually forgot about that. Danny was now both impressed and worried as be felt both pressure and dread building around him as the chanting volume and speed.

Danny clutched his head as the pressure grew to a screeching point until everything released with a pop. The pressure was gone. The chanting was gone. Danny felt lighter, which was saying something given how gravity was typically just a suggestion while he was in ghost mode. Opening his eyes -and when had he closed them? - he noticed one more difference. Everyone had gotten bigger. And the furniture had gotten bigger. And the room had gotten…. uh oh. He had gotten smaller.

Danny was trying to orient himself and identify where an deep thudding was coming from when he was hit from the side. Foot steps. That's what the thudding was. They were just drastically louder when he was only tall enough to stare people in the shins. And the sidelong assault? A broom. Which connected a second time before he thought to go intangible. (Why did he always forget intangibility?)

The woman in white had gotten a broom and was swatting him towards the open patio door, her strappy white sandals stopping behind him and he frantically tried to coordinate his limbs in that same direction. His limbs did not want to coordinate but he eventually got himself out the door and the broom stopped swatting at him.

Once he cleared the threshold, the door rolled closed with a slam and the lock snicked shut.

"And don't come back unless you've learned respect!" was shouted at him from a nearby window before it, too was slammed shut.

======================================

Looking back into the house, he was met by his own reflection in the sliding glass door.

"SQUAAAAAAK!"

In which Danny and Sam are traveling the US 90's road trip style to absorb the ecto of recent (or semi-recent) murders so Danny can get enough power to break the spell and transform back.

The general hunter community is chasing a white crow and a witch to stop them from committing all these murders.

And Sam and Dean and Bobby are trying to just figure out what's going on.

[i-scan-your-poems]

Meeting with the Mollusk

On Monday I went a-walking down a winding, windy trail

To meet a man that claimed t'have been turned into a snail

Walking idly, wondered I “who went and changed that man?”

And shocked was I to find this snail was actually a fan

He'd bought my book, he'd bought some prints, he even had a painting

And when we got to shaking hands he quickly took to fainting

So starstruck was the man-turned-snail that upon my arrival

He requested that I sign his book and begged for a recital

I felt quite bland at reading to him in my standard cadence

And whilst deciding what to read he showed excellent patience

I decided on a couple that had often done quite well

And as I read it became clear he was under my spell

My plot it seems Is evident though perchance I'll spell it out

Though please disregard the deviance with which I set about

You see the man-turned-snail is one that I had planned to scout

Some folks like chicken

Some folks like trout

Some folks like salmon roe

But my guilty pleasure is and always will be escargot 

(pause)

I set upon the sleeping snail with much enthusiasm

I went to work upon his figure wreaking quite the clasm

I tore and mangled with delight while readying my feast

When I heard stomping footfalls approaching from the east

(pause)

I peeked behind the curtains and saw to my surprise

A wizard stepping nimbly from the brambles ‘fore my eyes

It seemed as though that fiend had set out after my prize

I thought it pertinent of me this threat I should apprize 

(pause)

He brushed off the sticks and leaves and bugs which clung to his blue robes

As I sought to lock the doors lest the old wizard come and probe

Before I could secure the house a knock loudly sounded twice

I opened the door and the wizard caught me in his vice

(pause)

“What have you done with the snail?” his booming voice demanded.

I let the door fall open ‘cause I knew I's caught red handed

(pause)

He took in the carnage of the scene that lay before him

And looked for a moment at the one who'd did these acts so grim

“I'd surely like to take this demon on as my apprentice-

But I fear that her brutality may very well be endless-

Better still I'll kill her and take this feast as my own-

Perhaps I'll even take the snails house as my brand new home”

Whilst the wizard oh so wisely considered all his options

I sneaked behind him 

Grabbed an axe

And then I swiftly offed him

No one interrupts my dinner- this you too should learn

unless the wizards prize is one you too would like to earn

I set about my feasting, chewing, slowly savoring

And realized with a start that the snail was lacking flavouring

Disgruntled, disappointed, and well and truly vexed

It seemed in his last moment the wizard cast a hex

One more bite of escargot, I wash it down with sweet red wine

Dashing my hopes that the problem with the snail had been the brine

It started sinking in the wizard had taken my taste

I set about searching him with urgency and haste

No antidote was in his robes no spellbook on his person

With this discovery my anxiety began to worsen

There must be a solution to a taken sense of taste

perhaps a potion, an elixir, or perhaps a paste

I set back down that winding road, sense of purpose born anew

And realized with a start the thing it is that I must do

Simply find another wizard wandering ‘mongst the people

One whose power of spellcasting would prove to be more feeble

This wizard(should I find him) I'll ensnare him in my verse

And compel him at once to dispel me of this curse

If wizards are in short supply and in searching I'm unlucky

I'll be forced to spend my days finding gourmet yucky

Metrical form: heptameter with irregular feet

Rhyme scheme: AA BB CC DD EE FF GGG HH II JJ KKKK LL MM NN OO PP QQ RR SS TT UU VV WW XX YY ZZ and so on (mostly an AABB structure)

[superlabels]

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[chaoortu]

in honor of the 8-19 update im writing my analysis whilst drunk as fuck thank you alice oseman i know you don't know i exist but this is how it felt when i read today's update: also do not fuckng listen to fake plastic trees radiohead and read this chapter it'll make you sooo ill ask me how i know.

as always, spoilers below the cut

first of all this

rlly excited to see where this goes and if it will parallel some of the stuff going on between nick and charlie. it'd be interesting to see both couples going through some shit at the same time. bonus being nick's oblivious, drunk ass being like SOO WHAT'RE YOU FIGHTING ABOUT... but smthn that has stood out to me in the webcomic is how little we see tao and elle's relationship (i mean, we are primarily in charlie's pov so it makes sense) and i've always wondered if all of these secondary school couples would make it. wishing for the best but i also won't be upset if tao and elle decide to amicably split. i wonder if their fight is about uni...

i love. love that nick's "whisper" is in cursive because from the dear-diary comic we see that nick writes in this half print/half cursive and i really like that specific detail as i feel like it shows a lot about his more gentle, sensitive nature esp since pre canon we know a lot of people (tao, cough) perceive him as a chavvish dude bro so seeing his action in half-cursive felt extra special :D. I love Nick having "girlier" handwriting i think it's cute.

so smthn this made me realize after last update is i'm wondering if nick started seeing their relationship as transactional after charlie returned from hospital and doesn't realize it. charlie helps nick come to terms with sexuality, nick helps charlie recover... charlie is better... where does that leave nick now that he's served his purpose? charlie is confident now, he knows what he wants, but nick doesn't; so what if charlie leaves him for someone more secure and better than he is now? i'm wondering if THAT'S what the root of his issues are at present is thinking that if he doesn't continue his being a great boyfriend thing, charlie will leave because it seems as if when nick wasn't 'the perfect son," his dad left and i think some of that trauma is bleeding into his relationship. which, while relatable is SOOO FUCKING TRAGIC I feel so bad for him. also i am fucking barking and gnawing at the bars of my enclosure bc like guys a couple months ago i was like oh ahaha isn't it so funny that we've never seen nick drink as much as his peers in canon?? GUESS FUCKING WHAT. TODAY IS MY LUCKY DAY. ALICE OSEMAN AND I HAD A BRAINWAVE CONNECTION ACROSS THE FUCKING ATLANTIC OCEAN BABY.

this is a win for me and nick nelson enjoyers everywhere i feel . what im wondering is if him being drunk and having this convo with tao and elle will either lead to two things. 1) either elle and tao tell him bc open communication and nick is historically a decent mediator and offers good solutions bc he's empathetic??? which may lead him to have conversations with charlie. 2) if they get mad at him for prying, i wonder if that will ruin the "merry" mood and possibly lead to nick and charlie having a fight later. but it seems to me nick and charlie are actually having similar insecurities.

which is a little bit ironic and just. very teenager of them tbh. i think charlie having the same insecurity for a while makes sense but seeing the same thing in nick is SO interesting to me bc if they would just talk, they'd def figure it out lickety split bc they're them. but both of them are literally having the : "Oh, he might leave me" moment, where I think maybe BOTH of them are having the same anxieties about how their relationship will change when Nick goes off to uni.

now. do i want nick and charlie to fight? idk. someone on reddit wondered if the roles would reverse and nick would yell at charlie and as much as i'd love to see that, i actually don't know if nick could get to that point while drunk bc he seems VERY happy right now. and as someone who can go from super happy to having a next level panic attack while plastered, i think what i'd like to see is nick having a full fucking meltdown/panic attack in front of charlie for what would be... maybe the first time in comics canon? I always see Nick's like out of body moments in season 2 episode 3 (bonfire episode) as a sort of dissociative anxiety episode, and i personally theorize that nick probably has more dissociative issues than he realizes but there isn't enough canon evidence to support that claim it is just based off of my opinion and how kit connor portrays nick's anxieties on screen and it WOULD make sense given how hypervigilant nick was when charlie was really ill that he'd start detaching out of mental exhaustion. i think it'd be really cathartic and necessary for nick to just absolutely come apart before he can come back together again bc i feel like the poor fella is bursting at the seams. we all know how i feel about ye old so emotionally overwhelmed you fucking yack bc i write it in my fics often but i think nick deserves it. darcy got their chaotic catharsis yack i think it's nick's turn to be the messy drunk. furthermore, if it gets so bad post-show that david has to pick them up???? YES PLEASE??? I doubt that'll happen but like david is home so im crossing my fingies for some david development there. but why i want it to be more of a breakdown instead of a full fight between the boys: - nick has been having issues for a MINUTE now and charlie has been noticing, so i don't think charlie would give back enough for them to fight at this point in time + he knows what it's like to be so emotionally messed up you get angry. i think he'd be more empathetic if nick started yelling at him or something. - nick has also had so much development in the show and webcomic and i think alice has said that the nick and charlie in the novella are more of an AU at this point bc the development just doesn't align. - so, i think we're leaning closer to nick having an emotional breakdown bc he's putting a lot of pressure on himself + the dream he had about charlie dying last week??? and as drunk as he is, if his walls are down, i think charlie could get through to him and it'd suck bc nick is drunk while it happens but it could be a talk. -secondary note on tao and elle: if they are communicating and nick sees that they have argued and are still talking, that COULD inspire him to try and talk to Charlie... maybe.... idk tho. it could also make him stuff more of his feelings down until he combusts... final observation: we know narlie end up making it but for the life of me i don't know if tara and darcy or tao and elle actually stay together post-canon.... so i'm wondering if that's also a direction alice is going right now.

[biophonies]

#artvsartist 2024 !!!

no bonus silly face or food edition this year, just falasteen. with much help from people all over the world, comics, t-shirts and prints raised something like 14K (& counting) for mutual aid, eSIMs, municipal repairs & family evacuations… and while the cycle of donations & continued destruction is in no way a solution, the many good people I’ve met this year have made me see what those solutions are, and that there are more working to reach them every day. now excuse me as I start to aggressively self market my upcoming books (do you know about those?) between long stretches of being offline. tryna secure my bag so I can show up better for others!

bless~

see way more from me on patreon (I update the free tier monthly!) or by email via newsletter.

[zoid5]

Newest doll: say hi to The Bone Lord!

He is a partially skeletal drider! Basically this idea started with the fact that I wanted to do a doll with an exposed skeleton and hidden elastic in the spine. Putting him together has been something else 😖

First I printed his bone bits, and then my beloved Elegoo Mars 3 broke (resin in the motor. Luckily it didn’t get anywhere else so it is an easy fix, but the replacement motor is taking a while to ship thanks to the Chinese new year. Lots of love to Elegoo support, that machine is seriously out of warranty and they still got me sorted within 24 hours on a weekend). Luckily Elegoo happened to be having a sale when I was looking for a solution, so I now have an Elegoo Saturn 4 ^_^ seriously looking forward to being able to have both machines working at once 🤩

Once I had the Saturn set up I redid the files I had set up for this guy. This lead to some sizing differences, but nothing too bad.

The worst is probably the connection point between the spine and the upper spider torso. There are some notches I made in the hip bone for the spine to slot into, but they don’t line up now. I have had a few scares where the upper torso has fallen apart because I haven’t waited the 48 hours the glue needs to dry. Once that happens it should be very secure since I am also backing it up with a good thick wire

Stringing was interesting

I think if I were to make him again I would 2/3 of the leg joints smaller. The biggest two leg joints are too big for the leg-to-body joints so I got some breakage when putting it together.

With the top and bottom of the spider bits fully assembled he is almost ready to be fully connected. He snaps together pretty securely, but I want to add a bit of extra support so I added a loop in the top and bottom that I plan on putting a bit of elastic too.

This ended up being a great idea. I was able to give extra support to the bone abdomen by tying it to the bottom loop, and I used the top loop to secure the head more gently and secure the spine wire!

I am super happy with how he is turning out. Next step once he dries is to do his faceup and make a wig for him, his head is TINY and I do not want to try to find one for him lol The files are now on Thingiverse: https://www.thingiverse.com/thing:6946192

[breelandwalker]

So you have recommendations for where to research signs of baneful magic having been performed on you or your home? Or do you have a list of signs to look out for just in case?

This is an excellent question (sorry it took me so long to get to it, this month has been BONKS) and it provides a good opportunity to talk about ambiguity and alarm systems.

Most sources that talk about how to detect signs of baneful magic will usually talk about random illnesses, accidents, bad luck, general misfortune, that sort of thing. And while it's true that these CAN be signs of baneful magic being directed your way, it's hardly a foolproof system, as these are also things that can and do happen without any magical interference. Plus, it creates kind of a self-fulfilling prophecy. If you view any misfortune as a sign of being "cursed," then you tend to start looking for more signs and take note of every little thing that goes wrong, including things that you might normally brush off.

The only real way to know for sure that you've been cursed is to literally watch someone perform a baneful spell directed at you. Everything else is the magical equivalent of hearsay and guesswork. (Yes, even if someone TELLS you they've cursed you, since there's also a neat little trick that involves telling someone to expect the worst and then letting them suffer with the anxiety and pessimism, believing that doom is on the way, while you do next to nothing apart from encouraging the assumption. Bit of Headology for you there.) And even THEN, it's not a sure thing, since spells don't work 100% of the time.

In my experience, the best plan is to be proactive and to look to mundane examples for inspiration on how to structure magical solutions. If you want to know whether someone or something has intruded on your space, what do you do? You set up physical indicators and install some kind of security, right? If you want to know whether deer are getting into your garden, you put up a fence high enough to be a deterrent, you check the beds for prints and nibbled produce, and if you want to go the extra mile, you set up a trail cam. So do the same with your magical protections and your list of personal omens.

Add a layer to your home/personal protections that reflects, diverts, or nullifies spells sent your way that are unwanted, disruptive, or harmful. This might take the form of a defensive mirror jar or a ward that burns away or entangles those undesirable spells. It can be something you add to existing magical protections or a separate spell dedicated to the purpose, whatever works best for your needs.

In addition to this, add an entry to your list of personal omens that is specifically for Disruptive Incoming Magic. Make the sign something you're not likely to see on the regular so that you can immediately recognize it when and if it turns up. In all likelihood, you'll never need it because the possibility of actually being cursed is SO much lower than social media would have you think, but it's nice to have the failsafe.

(I fully recommend creating a list of personal omens to any witch who wants to look for signs btw. Make a list with easy-to-spot examples and clear meanings that takes natural occurrences into account. It's a great way to simplify things and not drive yourself to distraction wondering whether that spider on your floor is a Sign of Something or...just a random spider.)

So now you've got your prevention in place and you have an indicator to let you know if something does show up. It's still not foolproof, but it certainly helps.

In the meantime, just remember that witches experience accidents and illness and runs of bad luck with the same relative frequency as anyone else. The fact that something bad / a series of bad things has happened is not necessarily an indicator of the presence of baneful magic. Sometimes Shit Just Happens.

But when in doubt, you can always do a quick cleansing of your space and reinforce your protections to clear away anything unwanted that might be in the space. If nothing else, it's due diligence and it will probably make you feel better.

Hope this helps!

[sirfrogsworth]

So I have these little pins and buttons and whatnot and I like to attach them to my strap. However, I want to be able to be able to switch them out easily. I can wear the pin that matches how I'm feeling that day or whatever.

My first thought was magnets. Because magnets are neat. But it turns out magnets were a bad idea. While they don't pull off easily, if you slide them up/down/side to side they fall right off. I almost lost my corgi pin today.

And I hate the tacks.

I don't like poking holes over and over again. And the back is too lumpy. I was hoping to find a flatter solution.

I thought maybe these snap buttons, but I'm a little worried they're *too* secure and they'd be hard to pull apart with only a tiny area to grab onto.

I thought I had the solution with these interlocking picture frame hangers...

They just slide together.

But I can't find any small enough.

I need them to be about 20-25mm square.

I feel like I could 3D print something if I had a 3D printer and knew how to design stuff.

I did just find these keyhole hangers. But I'm having a hard time visualizing how to make them work.

I don't know. I just can't believe the only options people have created are all jab something with a tack.

[psychics4unet]

Cloud Divination: Mystical Meanings Behind These 100 Cloud Shapes! ☁️✨

Ever wondered what those cool cloud shapes could be revealing about your own future in a psychic reading? Here are 100 different cloud formations and their hidden messages!

Read the full tutorial here: https://psychics4u.net/cloud-divination/

(It also called Nepholomancy and Aeromancy).

Heart ❤️: Love and emotional connection.

Cross ✝️: Spiritual guidance or a significant life choice.

Circle 🔵: Completion, wholeness, or unity.

Triangle 🔺: Change or transformation.

Square ⬛: Stability and security.

Star ⭐: Inspiration and guidance.

Arrow ➡️: Direction and progress.

Wave 🌊: Change and movement.

Spiral 🌀: Growth and personal development.

Butterfly 🦋: Transformation and beauty.

Dragon 🐉: Power and strength.

Anchor ⚓: Stability and grounding.

Tree 🌳: Growth and connection to nature.

Sun ☀️: Joy and positivity.

Moon 🌕: Intuition and reflection.

Lightning Bolt ⚡: Sudden change or insight.

Bird 🕊️: Freedom and perspective.

Fish 🐟: Abundance and emotional depth.

Flower 🌸: New beginnings and beauty.

Key 🗝️: Solutions and unlocking potential.

Castle 🏰: Security and aspirations.

Ship 🚢: Journey and adventure.

Crown 👑: Achievement and leadership.

Crescent Moon 🌙: New beginnings and potential.

Sword ⚔️: Conflict and resolution.

Shield 🛡️: Protection and defense.

Chalice 🍷: Emotional fulfillment and nourishment.

Door 🚪: Opportunities and new experiences.

Pathway 🛤️: Life journey and decisions.

Mountain 🏔️: Challenges and accomplishments.

Wave 🌊: Emotional highs and lows.

Lock 🔒: Secrets or obstacles.

Map 🗺️: Guidance and direction.

Eye 👁️: Awareness and perception.

Ladder 🪜: Progress and advancement.

Hourglass ⏳: Time and patience.

Wings 🕊️: Freedom and transcendence.

Tornado 🌪️: Disruption and change.

Raindrop 💧: Emotional release or cleansing.

Vase 🏺: Creativity and receptivity.

Moon Crescent 🌙: Foresight and change.

Sunburst 🌟: New energy and enthusiasm.

Helmet ⛑️: Protection and readiness.

Ring 💍: Unity and commitment.

Bell 🔔: Alertness and awakening.

Rainbow 🌈: Hope and promise.

Starfish ⭐️: Healing and regeneration.

Leaf 🍃: Renewal and growth.

Pyramid 🔺: Strength and stability.

Hammer 🔨: Building and creating.

Cloudburst 🌧️: Emotional release or a sudden insight.

Bridge 🌉: Connection and transition.

Diamond 💎: Clarity and strength.

Feather 🪶: Lightness and spiritual connection.

Waves 🌊: Emotional cycles and flow.

Horizon 🌅: New opportunities and perspectives.

Footprint 👣: Personal journey and progress.

Puzzle Piece 🧩: Solutions and completeness.

Silhouette 🕵️: Hidden aspects or potential.

Jigsaw 🧩: Complexity and problem-solving.

Rocket 🚀: Ambition and exploration.

Candle 🕯️: Illumination and hope.

Jewel 💍: Value and uniqueness.

Puzzle Piece 🧩: Finding missing elements in life.

Zodiac Signs ♈️♉️♊️: Astrological influences and guidance.

Paw Print 🐾: Companionship and loyalty.

Guitar 🎸: Creativity and expression.

Yin-Yang ☯️: Balance and harmony.

Magnifying Glass 🔍: Focus and clarity.

Compass 🧭: Direction and guidance.

Iceberg 🧊: Hidden aspects or challenges.

Giraffe 🦒: Perspective and vision.

Moon Phases 🌑🌒🌓🌔🌕🌖🌗🌘: Cycles and transitions.

Scales ⚖️: Balance and fairness.

Telescope 🔭: Exploration and foresight.

Sunglasses 🕶️: Perception and clarity.

Infinity Symbol ∞: Endless possibilities and continuity.

Anchor ⚓: Security and grounding.

Caterpillar 🐛: Transformation and growth.

Mosaic 🧩: Diversity and complexity.

Trampoline 🏆: Ups and downs or bouncing back.

Archway 🌉: Transition and passage.

Windmill 🌬️: Energy and movement.

Maze 🧩: Challenges and problem-solving.

Train 🚂: Progress and movement.

Dove 🕊️: Peace and harmony.

Trophy 🏆: Achievement and recognition.

Scissors ✂️: Cutting ties or new beginnings.

Books 📚: Knowledge and learning.

Helix 🧬: Evolution and development.

Grapes 🍇: Abundance and prosperity.

Canoe 🛶: Journey and self-discovery.

Zeppelin 🛩️: High aspirations and visionary goals.

Chimney 🏠: Release and cleansing.

Footprints 👣: Guidance and direction.

Mirrors 🪞: Reflection and self-awareness.

Lantern 🏮: Guidance and illumination.

Dreamcatcher 🪶: Protection and dreams.

Hourglass ⏳: Patience and time management.

Wind 🌬️: Change and movement.

[stylemydwell]

DIY Floating Shelves: A Stylish & Functional Addition to Any Room

Looking to upgrade your space with a practical yet stylish solution? DIY floating shelves are the perfect way to enhance any room—whether it’s your living room, kitchen, or bathroom. These minimalist shelves not only add extra storage, but they also elevate your home’s aesthetic with a modern touch.

Here’s everything you need to know about creating your own floating shelves!

Why Choose Floating Shelves?

Floating shelves are a sleek and contemporary storage solution that gives any room an instant upgrade. Their no-visible-brackets design makes them appear as if they’re floating on the wall, creating a clean, clutter-free look. Plus, they are versatile, making them suitable for any room in your home!

Living Room: Showcase books, plants, or decorative pieces.

Kitchen: Store spices, utensils, or coffee mugs.

Bathroom: Perfect for towels, toiletries, or candles.

What You’ll Need for This DIY Project

Wood Boards: Choose a wood type that matches your room’s style (oak, pine, or reclaimed wood are great options).

Brackets or Floating Shelf Hardware: These keep your shelf secure without visible support.

Screws & Wall Anchors: Make sure to match these with the type of wall (drywall, plaster, or brick).

Power Drill & Level: To ensure the shelves are securely mounted and level.

Paint or Stain (optional): To add a custom finish to match your décor.

Step-by-Step Guide to Building Your Floating Shelves

Step 1: Measure and Mark

Start by deciding where you want your shelves. Measure the length of the wall and mark where you want the shelves to be placed. Use a level to ensure everything is aligned.

Step 2: Cut the Wood to Size

Cut your wood boards to the desired length (most shelves are around 3-4 feet long). Sand the edges smooth for a clean finish.

Step 3: Attach Floating Shelf Hardware

Install the floating shelf brackets or shelf mounting system onto the wood. Follow the instructions that come with your hardware to ensure a secure fit.

Step 4: Mount the Shelves on the Wall

Drill holes in the wall where you’ve marked and insert the wall anchors. Then, mount the shelves onto the brackets, ensuring they are secure. Double-check with the level to make sure everything is even!

Step 5: Final Touches

If you’re using paint or stain, give your shelves a coat of finish that suits your room’s vibe. Let them dry before adding items to them.

Styling Your Floating Shelves

Once your floating shelves are up, it's time to style them! Here are some fun and creative ways to make your shelves pop:

Layering Books: Stack books vertically and horizontally for an artful look.

Greenery: Add small plants like succulents or trailing vines for a touch of nature.

Personal Touches: Display family photos, art prints, or unique collectibles.

Lighting: Consider adding small LED lights to illuminate your shelves and create a cozy ambiance.

The Bottom Line

DIY floating shelves are the perfect blend of form and function, offering a clean, modern look while maximizing your space. Whether you’re looking to organize or display your favorite items, these shelves will elevate any room in your home with a personalized touch. Ready to get started? Grab your tools, and create your own floating shelves today!

Pro Tip: Don't forget to share your finished floating shelves with your followers and inspire them with your creativity! ✨

[superlabels]

Label Maker: Driving Tamper-Proof Label Innovation in the FMCG Sector

In today’s fast-moving consumer goods (FMCG) market, ensuring product authenticity and safety has become a top priority for brands worldwide. With the growing threat of counterfeit goods and heightened consumer awareness, tamper-proof labelling is no longer just an option—it is a necessity. Hologram labels, in particular, have emerged as a leading solution for safeguarding product integrity while elevating brand identity. Thanks to advancements in label maker technology, it is now easier than ever for FMCG brands to adopt secure, reliable, and visually compelling labelling solutions.

Super Labels stands at the forefront of this innovation, offering cutting-edge solutions in custom sticker printing, hologram labels, and roll form labels using state-of-the-art sticker label printers. Our expertise in printing labels ensures every product is equipped with tamper-proof protection without compromising on design or shelf appeal. Whether you're looking to secure packaged food products, beverages, cosmetics, or pharmaceuticals, our hologram solutions help brands achieve unparalleled levels of security and consumer trust.

Tamper-proof hologram labels play a crucial role in protecting consumers and preserving brand reputation. A single instance of tampering can severely impact customer confidence and pose serious health risks. By using our advanced label printers and specialized printing methods, Super Labels produces holograms that are highly secure and virtually impossible to replicate. These labels serve as visible proof of authenticity, deterring counterfeiters and reassuring customers that the product they are purchasing is genuine and safe to use.

Our sticker label printers offer exceptional quality and precision, making it possible to create detailed holograms with advanced visual effects. Combined with our roll form label formats, brands can scale their production while maintaining consistent label performance across different packaging types. From high-security seals to decorative labels with embedded features, our solutions deliver both functionality and aesthetic appeal.

As the demand for secure labelling grows, Super Labels continues to lead the industry with forward-thinking technology and unmatched expertise. Our goal is to help FMCG brands stay ahead of the curve by providing tamper-proof labelling that not only safeguards the product but also enhances consumer engagement and loyalty.