#tools plates Equipment

[destinyandcoins]

have we talked yet about the possibility that UFOs and every suspected bit of extraterrestrial evidence could actually be originating from the advanced civilizations living in the trenches of the ocean just as bemused and wondering as we are about the world beyond them and reaching out in exploration? because given the fuckoff incomprehensible expanse of ocean floor we've yet to actually study or even really guess at what specifically is down there, I think there's a real possibility there's a complex society of, idk, particularly clever sea slugs and other amalgamations of physical matter like hydrogen and thulium and other shit we've never considered as a viable fundamental building block of life. and the fucking whales are the only living creature with the kind of planet spanning range and intelligence to know there's two complex evolutions of sentient life existing on opposite spheres of reality from each other who would really benefit from learning about the other, but we're both too fucking stupid to understand how whales communicate

[itstimeforstarwars]

One of these days I’m gonna follow through on actually making that recipe blog for people who don’t want to cook or don’t really have a kitchen. “This recipe is so easy! It only takes 30 minutes, chopping six vegetables, and keeping herbs alive until you need them” no. Here’s how to make dinner with nothing but a couple of canned items and a microwave. And a bowl, because if you put a metal can in a microwave you will not have a microwave.

[thepanvelite]

Essential Kitchen Equipment for Every Home

Essential kitchen tools for efficient and enjoyable cooking experience.

Creating a well-equipped kitchen is essential for any home cook. Here are some top kitchen tools that can make your cooking experience more enjoyable and efficient. The Amazon Brand – Solimo Stainless Steel Induction Bottom Steamer/Modak/Momo Maker with Glass Lid (2 litres) is made from 100% food-grade stainless steel. It features a heavy-gauge induction bottom and double-riveted stainless steel…

[ragingbookdragon]

She hummed as she adjusted Soap’s equipment, checking all the clips and pockets for everything needed. “Alright, you’re good. Ghost?” she called. “Your turn.” The man didn’t even make a noise of complaint as he stood in front of her, letting her do the exact same thing to him; her expression soured and she griped, “Where’s your emergency coagulation powder?”

“Don’t have any, Doc,” he said, and she looked at him.

“Don’t have any, my ass. I gave you some last time.”

“I don’t get shot.”

Her eyes narrowed and she held out her hand to Soap, not bothering to watch as the Scot dug in her bag, then handed her a package. “Do you want your gold star for this mission or not?”

Ghost rolled his eyes as she tucked the pack into the empty pocket. “I’m coming for all the gold stars, Doctor Jekyll.”

She smiled and patted his cheek. “Of course, you are, sweetheart.” Turning, she gestured to Alejandro and Rudy. “Come here you two.”

They shared confused looks with one another, then to Ghost and Soap who nodded at them; Alejandro stepped up to her, watching as she flipped open his pockets, checked the contents, then snapped them back. “What are you doing?”

She blinked. “Checking to make sure you have all your safety and first aid gear.”

“Why?”

“You don’t get gold stars if you get hurt in the field.”

“Estrellas de oro?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “If you manage to stay in perfect health while in the field, you get a gold star. Ghost?” she gestured behind her, and he removed the metal plate from his vest, showing rows upon rows of golden stars. “If you do get injured, you don’t get a gold star. However, if you use your first aid and show me when you get back, you get a silver star. Soap?” The Scot lifted his metal plate, silver stars lining his with the occasional gold; he glowered at the full rows of golden stars on Ghost’s plate, the Brit smirking beneath his mask, knowing Soap was jealous.

Alejandro’s brows knit in confusion. “And what happens if you don’t do either?”

Ghost and Soap immediately made the “NO!” gesture to their necks and she smiled at him, but it was anything but pleasant as she replied sweetly, “Then you meet my counterpart, Missus Hyde, and I’ll make your wounds worse before I make them better.” She tugged his vest hard until he was nose to nose with her and warned darkly, “Don’t meet, Missus Hyde, Colonel Vargas. She isn’t a good woman.”

Letting him go, she turned to Rudy. “Come here, dearie, time to check your pack.”

As she checked his pack, Alejandro stepped over to the two men and asked, “Have you ever met, Missus Hyde?”

Ghost did something he never expected the battle-hardened man to do; he shivered. “One time only. I never want to meet her again.”

Soap nodded in agreement, worrying, “I’ll never not see those eyes in my nightmares when I didn’t do what she told me in Baghdad.” He looked at Ghost. “Do you remember how she swung those tools around? I never knew she was that strong,” he whispered.

Alejandro’s eyes had widened like saucers, turning to stare at the doctor who’d tagged along with Soap and Ghost. So sweet and kind. There was no way she acted like that if they didn’t listen…

Was there?

[tiredspacedragon]

Y'know what bothers me most about Bionicle weaponry?

It's not the metallic beings covered in plate armour still wielding swords; I have no trouble believing in fantasy super-metals that can shear and punch through each other when shaped into a blade. Plus blades could still do significant damage to all the exposed organic tissue and vulnerable joints.

It's not any of the comically oversized weapons either; these characters are much stronger than humans, they can get away with proportionally implausible equipment.

Dual-purpose weapons, impractical designs, utterly bizarre contraptions, none of that really irks me at all. I'm here for it.

What bothers me is the near-complete lack of counterweights.

Seriously. None of these swords have pommels. None of these spears' butts are weighted (Or spiked! Huge loss!). It seems like the handles of most tools end somewhere in the user's palm. You're lucky to even see a shaft continuing beyond the hand, let alone properly finished. These things would be flying out of people's hands all the time, not to mention the balance issues.

Basically, Axonn is the only bitch I respect. Even if the shaft of that axe is so thin that a single swing would snap it like a twig, at least he understands the importance of a good weighted grip.

I can overlook most aesthetic quirks, even appreciate them, but this I say, is where I draw the line. This and all the holes in the shields, I mean honestly.

[m1d-45]

dancing soldiers

summary: meka are infallible. meka do not stray from their path.. except when they do.

word count: ~2k

-> warnings: spoilers for fontaine (name and mechanics of open world boss)

-> gn reader (you/yours) and aether as traveller

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd

< masterlist >

fontaine was known for a wide variety of things, from their ornate fountains to the elaborate clothing it seemed nobody was without. any visitors from other nations were greeted by sweeping architecture and the sound of bubbling fonta, and swimming was a must. but even through the shine of the great lake, their fantastical clockwork meka was definitely the star of the show. every traveller was quickly starstruck by the machines roaming the streets, fitted uniforms not masking the clunking of gears within their chests. even underwater, scanning for raiders and filtering the water, keeping the water clear and cool. faceless, cold, employed both privately and for government work, the perfect tool for their job. they had one job, and they did it well.

meka were designed to protect. to guard. to defend their charge, whether that presented as patrolling a barge of merchants or leading the blind through the winding streets of the city. powered by indemnitium and equipped with efficient charging ports, every meka is intended to outlast their creators. few actually do, whether weakened by arkhe or attacked by those opposing their duty, but it remains a fact that they stick to their orders until the last spark fades from their circuits.

they are perfect workers. they do not disobey, they do not stray from their task. their actions are calculated in a split second, every movement taken to further their given goal.

lead.

support.

shield.

“dance!”

maillardet threw aside the screwdriver in his hand in frustration, kicking at the frost gathering in the arena. behind him, unmoving, were his magnum opus… though they refused to move.

“dance, dance. what’s the point of you?”

they did not dance. they did not move. they stood, hand in hand, one beside the other. coppelius and coppelia, the only signs of life being the frosty wind that would occasionally sweep by. they were in standby, with deflated skirts and unmoving hydraulics. normally, them being still would make maintenance easier, but their plates did not move as they should. he couldn’t even remove coppelius’ hat.

it was convenient, just not for him.

“looks to paimon like might just be the fault of poor design.” you watched from between the hairline gap in coppelia’s skirt, seeing paimon cross her arms. your traveller was stumped as well, merely shrugging.

“theyre infused with opposite arkhe,” aether said simply. “maybe they finally reacted with each other?”

“that’s impossible! the arkhe is held within them, far from where the other could react with it, and only one of them are externally charged at any one time.”

“so… why not reset them? paimon remembers one of the melusines saying that most meka around the city just need to be reset from time to time.”

“in those cases, the meka are given conflicting orders, typically by children. all these two need to do is dance, and-“ his voice choked, aether and paimon moving out of your field of vision to presumable comfort him. you try to shift and see, but coppelia’s skirt twitches inward, keeping you where you are.

you’re sheltered between the two meka, coppelius’ cape-thing making up for the gaps in coppelia’s skirt. you were lucky you hadn’t been seen yet, truthfully… but you didn’t want to stress out maillardet.

“what am i supposed to do?” he asked, words shaky. “i promised the chief justice i’d keep them functional for the divine one, and now- you know what they’re like, and they’re both broken-“

“h-hey, it’s okay! paimon’s certain you’ll get them working again! besides, they still seem to be functional, right?” she flies up, and you flinch at the knock of her hand on metal. it echoes around you, much louder than it should be in your hiding space. “oof, still as cold as ever…

“you should just restart it.”

“are you sure? what if something goes wrong? i can’t even perform maintenance, what if i can’t turn them back on after? you know how they acted last time—if lady furina wasn’t there, then..”

“..it’s better than nothing. besides-“ metal skidded over ice, and you see the flicker of aether’s boot as he kicks the discarded screwdriver back near maillardet’s bag of tools. “-you could always just not put them in stand-by. if they’re broken like this, just leave them dancing. i doubt they’ll notice, and it’ll buy you time until they want to visit again.”

”yeah! you only have a handful of hours until they arrive in fontaine, and it’s not like anything worse can happen!”

“i..” he sighed, and a long moment passed. “i guess trying is worse than doing nothing..”

“that’s the spirit!”

your hands twitch into fists, only partly from the cold. the ‘god’ they spoke of so highly, the one that got you into this mess… who were they, anyway? even you didn’t blame maillardet for needing maintenance between fights, but from his fear it sounded like they’d kill him for a malfunction.

you put those thoughts aside, pressing close to coppelia’s core as the meka were powered down. both of them slumped forward, a shift in their plating allowing a cold wind in. you shivered, and briefly considered praying before deciding against it—what god would answer?

gears clicked and switches flipped, both meka making various hisses. the elemental power seeping from both of them slowly ceased, and your heart picked up. how would this end? after a reset, would they remember to hide you? or would you get crushed beneath their skates as they danced?

“…you two should leave the arena.”

“why?”

“is something wrong?”

“no, but if they begin to dance again, i don’t want you to get hurt.”

“what about you? let me do it, i’m more experienced with combat.”

“it’s alright. in the early stages of their development, they didn’t even have a standby mode, so i’m used to repairing them while they’re dancing. don’t worry, i can get the memory you need unharmed.”

memory?

their memory? when aether had first approached, you’d assumed the ‘sabotage’ maillardet was talking about was the fact that neither of the meka would move. it made sense to want the memory to show which direction the saboteur left in, but that memory would show you, the most hated person in all of teyvat, and the melusine that had helped you hide from the gardes. veleda… you couldn’t let her take the fall for whatever crime you’d committed. she didn’t deserve that.

you take a breath, preparing to make a run over it, when you hear a small click. all at once, coppelia’s skirt snaps back to it’s normal formation, and you catch a glimpse of the traveller’s shocked expression before you’re pulled up and away. coppelius pulls you into his arms, coppelia smoothy following, spinning circles around the two of you like a top. when the two you skid to a stop near the edge of the arena, you quickly get your bearings, only mildly motion sick from the ordeal. maillardet is sitting in the middle of the arena, knocked off his feet beside his tools, and aether and paimon stand on the pathway leading back to the fountain. nobody says anything for a good few moments, the silence tense.

“…at least we know where they went?” paimon asks nervously, and aether draws his sword. coppelia sweeps in front of you and coppelius as he begins to walk towards you, and maillardet quickly gets up. he briefly slips on the icy floor, but quickly intercepts him, his words barely audible.

“traveller, the meka-”

“was tampered with.” his voice is cold, and you shiver at the weight of his glare. “don’t worry, i got it.”

“listen to me, please. coppelius and coppelia follow all the standard guidelines for meka-”

“this isn’t about you!” he shouts, “this is about something much more important then your meka!” his sword points at you, a shining blade despite the name. “this is about a crime too large for your opera house to handle.”

coppelius holds you tighter. the sound of his anger- of his hate makes your heart burn as it sinks, leaving an empty pit. you knew fontaine wasn’t the best at justice, but…

“traveller, have you ever read the machining requirements for battle meka?”

“why is this relevant? why am i talking to you?” he pushes off his hand and begins to walk, leaving paimon behind. after a moment, she gasps loudly, rushing forward to pull on his braid.

“wait! freminet lent paimon his copy of those guidelines once! she knows what maillardet means!”

“so what?”

your twin meka begin to slowly skate away from aether as he nears, ignoring paimon. maillardet is looking through his bag, searching for something, but all you can see are the traveller’s eyes. your traveller’s eyes, all your months of gameplay boiling into his rage.

maybe if the circumstances were different you’d forgive him for being so angry, but as it stands you’re barely convinced you’ll live through the hour.

“one of the clauses was about a special line of code that all the battle-capable mekas had to have- stop walking and listen!”

“how does that connect to this? don’t you care for our god? why are you stopping me?”

“because it’s about our god! don’t you remember? navia told you when we stayed with the spina de rosula!”

he does stop, then, staring paimon down instead. “fine. what is it?”

she lets go of his braid, waving a hand between the icewind suite and maillardet as she talks. “mekas have a special override wired into them in the case that the abyss got ahold of them which shuts down their combat functions when faced with the creator! it’s weaker when triggered through their vessels—which is why their attacks are limited instead of stopped—but is mandatory for every meka that’s combat ready, including coppelia and coppelius!”

aether turns to you, conflicted. you still carried in coppelius’ arms, you hidden under the plating of coppelia’s skirt, you who made the meka disobey their creator. you, the creator of those that made them.

“…maillardet?”

“it’s true, cease your fire.” he lifts a plain notebook from his bag, not that aether turns to see it. “i have my maintenance notes here. that override was the first thing i added, even before i gave them their weaponry. let’s bring our findings to the iudex and let our lord relax. please.”

aether’s sword dissolves into dust, a mix of shock and confusion still lingering on his face as he’s pulled away by paimon’s hand on his shoulder. maillardet packs his things and follows, taking some time to pick his way through the frosted floor. once the arena is cleared, coppelius skates to the center, setting you down carefully. then, he takes coppelia’s hand in his, leading her away. they begin their dance around you, gears clicking with elaborate pirouettes, leaving you in the middle of it all to wonder what just happened.

[jpitha]

Voiding The Warranty

Lauren was running back and forth across the ship, searching for something.

After a demi-cycle of this, Captain Shimmering Heat finally called her over her personal comm. "Lauren? What is it you're doing? You are running around like we're under attack from a Gren Warfinder and yet we're just cruising."

Lauren looked up and toggled her comm. "Sorry Captain, I'm looking for my toolkit, I could have sworn I left it in Engineering but it's not there."

Captain Shimmer made a noise over the comm that translated to something near to surprise and amused resignation. Lauren wasn't their first human. "Why do you have your own toolkit Lauren? What's wrong with my tools?"

"Oh Captain Shimmer, I know that you provide the crew with everything they need to keep this ship running smoothly. My tools are a little different."

"Different? You're telling me human tools are different?"

Lauren rummaged around in a closet until she found was she was looking for. "Ah. Found it. Why was it in the cleaning closet? Oh well, no matter. Come on down to the engine room Captain Shimmer if you want to see what I'm working on."

A few millicycles later, Captain Shimmering Heat came into the engine room. They tended to stay out of the engine room. It's not that they weren't allowed to be there - they were the Captain after all, technically the ship was theirs for the duration of the contract - it's more that... they weren't... allowed to be there. As they passed through the pressure door, a few people in the engine room looked up and frowned. Lauren saw them though and waved. "Come in Captain Shimmer! Come here!"

Seeing that Lauren invited them, everyone put their head down and went back to their work. Shimmer came over, their claws clattering quietly on the deck plates. As they approached, they didn't see Lauren, but they rounded a corner and came across a stack of equipment in pieces with Lauren under it. Their feathers rippled in worry. "Lauren! Are you all right?"

"I'm fine Captain." Lauren's muffled voice came from much deeper inside the machinery than Shimmer thought possible. "In fact, I'm better than fine!"

"Oh? Why is that?"

Lauren slid out from under the machinery. It turned out she was on a small, flat wheeled plank. It rattled as she slid herself out. Sitting up, she wiped... something from her hands with a rag tucked into her pants. "Because, I figured it out!"

Shimmer's face feathers began to slowly puff out, making their face look larger than normal. It was an ancient predator/prey response, meant to frighten attackers millions of years ago. "Figured what out?"

"This whole trip, I've been feeling like the engines have been sluggish. I know using FlashWarp isn't as fast as a Flip drive, but I figured it wouldn't be that bad. But, it sure seems like we're moving even slower than normal!"

Captain Shimmer opened their beak to deny it and then stopped. Actually... things did seem like they were going slower than they should. "Okay Lauren. I did feel like our last two warps were slower than they should have been. We were only a cycle behind though, so I wasn't worried. What did you find?"

Lauren stood. She was about one head taller than the captain and had a tendency to loom. One of the braver crewmates told her about it though and she now made an effort to take a half step back when she spoke. "I found all sorts of things! First I didn't know what I was looking at, so I went back and got the design docs and-"

"Wait, you opened up the engines without knowing what you were doing?"

Lauren waves her hand dismissively. "It's fine, it's fine. I didn't touch anything... important... that time. Anyway, I dug up the design docs and noticed - hey Captain, when was the last time you had the engines overhauled? I think they're way overdue."

Lauren had a habit of jumping from topic to topic as what she called her 'train of thought' brought her from point to point. She was able to keep on tasks for the most part, but if she came across an interesting or 'fun' problem, it was all Shimmer could do but hang on while she bounced around. "Uh, I don't think it's been done since I was issued the Star Leaf. Why? How often should it be done?"

Lauren's eyes went wide. "Way more often than that. According to these-" She swung a pad around and Shimmer caught a glimpse of engine diagrams "-a clean cycle is supposed to be run after every kilocycle and a full teardown every five kilocycles. How long have you been captain?"

"Uh... eight kilocycles."

"We're way overdue then. That might explain some of what I found. Hmm" Lauren looked off into the middle distance. Shimmer was used to this too, and usually gave her a few moments to come out of her reverie on her own before they gently prodded them. "Uh, Lauren?"

"Oh? Captain Shimmer! Right right, the mods!"

"The what?"

"Mods! I modded the engine. Since it's been so long since we've had an overhaul and it gets completely taken apart, I figured it was fine to do some light warranty voiding and see if I can claw back some performance."

"Warranty... Voiding?"

Lauren nodded, then looked at Shimmer's confused expression. "Uh, Human Thing I guess. When we sell machinery to each other usually it comes with a Warranty. Something that says that for X days or X amount of use, if it breaks prematurely we'll either replace it or pay to fix it, provided-" She raises a finger "-we don't mess with it ourselves first. They don't want to fix it for free if we were the ones who broke it."

Shimmer's tailfeathers ruffle, a nod. "Okay, I understand, but wh-"

"Oh, it's a joke mostly. I have a feeling that only engine techs get in where I was, I was pretty far inside. I spent the last few demicycles reading up on FlashWarp theory and I think that I can get a few more kilolights out of your performance. In fact, I just finished so we can try it out!"

Shimmering Heat looks helplessly at the pile of tools and access panels on the floor. "But you said that you needed your toolkit?"

"Oh yeah, needed my voltmeter. I found it though, and was able to verify the current."

"But... the mess?" Shimmer's voice sounded resigned.

Laurent looked back and seemed to see it for the first time. "Oh, we'll leave it like that and run it with the covers off. If it works, I can button it up."

"And if it doesn't work?" Shimmer feared Lauren's reply, but found themselves unable to stop.

Lauren looked at Shimmer and was about to answer and saw them practically shaking. "Oh Captain. I wouldn't do anything to risk the ship or the crew. Worse comes to worst, it won't do anything. As I see it, there are three options for what will happen. One, nothing. That's pretty unlikely, but still possible. Two, it'll work the same as before. That's the most likely to be honest. In that case, I'll revert the changes and button it up. Three, it'll work better! We'll be able to make up lost time and get to our destination faster. Come on, let's try it out."

Captain Shimmer knew they were within their rights to order Lauren to put the engines back the way they were and continue on with their mission. Captain Shimmer also knew about how humans tend to have 'an idea' and suddenly they have their Flip drives, or they do something that makes no sense and then they run their gravity generators as thrusters. He knew all this an signed on a few humans anyway.

"Admit it." They tell themselves. "You hoped that this was going to happen. It's why you hired humans and let them have more or less free rein over the ship. You wanted them to tinker. If they make real improvements, you can submit them to the Coalition and if they're adopted you get a yearly bonus."

Shimmering Heat remembers their childhood. They were one of many nestmates. Their familial unit worked hard to provide, but there were many cycles where they went hungry. If the human's work paid off, they would get a bonus and be able to help his nestmates who still had trouble.

More importantly, they would be remembered.

"Okay Lauren. Let's try it out."

Shimmer lead Lauren up to the Command Room and bade her sit in a spare seat. Captain fluffed themselves and sait in the command chair. Here. Here is where things felt more certain, more sure. "Helm, plot a warp to Station 754, best speed."

"Yes, Captain Shimmer. Plotting. Please wait while the navacomputer works."

"You know Captain, I bet we-" Lauren starts.

"One thing at a time Lauren. I know about humans and their propensity to make computers faster."

Lauren wisely keeps quiet.

A short time later, the navigator calls out that a navigation solution has been found. Captain Shimmer turns back one more time to look at Lauren. She sticks both of her hands forward, fingers curled up except her inner, shorter thicker digit, which are pointed straight up. Sighing, Shimmer turns back to Helm. "Warp."

What happens next did actually make it into the history books, though not quite for the reasons that Captain Shimmer wanted.

Star Leaf leapt forward through the rainbow colored, prismatic gate that opened in front of them, and they warped. In much less time than anticipated, they exited the warp. Captain Shimmer, surprised at the lurch, looks around. "Sensors! Where are we? Engineering! How is the engines?"

The helmsperson looks up, shaken. Their fur fully bristled in fear. "Captain... we're at Station 754."

"What?" Of all the outcomes that Captain Shimmering Heat could have anticipated, that was not one of them.

"Confirmed. Station 754 has opened a channel and is asking how we got here so fast."

The comms clicked. "Uh, Captain. This is Engineering.... You should come and see this."

Captain Shimmer turns to leave. They look to call Lauren with them, and her seat is empty. Figuring that she went ahead, they leave the Command Room. They make their way across the ship in a daze, as everyone aboard looks out the windows in amazement or fear as they realize that they have made five cycles of travel in a millicycle.

Chief Ham'itar is standing at the pressure door as Shimmer approaches. His polished, lacquered claws slide in and out of their hands, a stress reaction. "You.. you have to see this."

He leads Shimmer towards the engine that Lauren was working on and...

It's beautiful.

The entire engine is covered in the prismatic light of a FlashWarp field. It's just... sitting there, glowing, pulsing slowly.

Shimmering Heat looks at Ham'itar and says nothing.

"No, that's not normal captain. Well, okay, when we execute a particularly good FlashWarp, some old engineers say that the engines glow with a prismatic light, but only for an instant, less than the swipe of a membrane. No time at all. This-" He points a laquered claw at it accusingly "-this is Not Normal."

"Is it dangerous?"

"Long term? No idea. Currently? Doesn't seem to be. Everything I can throw at the engine says it's perfectly fine. Better than perfect actually."

"Where's Lauren? I want to ask her about this."

"Who?"

Shimmer slowly looks away from the engines and stares at Ham'itar, all their feathers completely fluffed out. "Lauren Ingram, our human Engineer. We took her on back at that Orbital around Lemmin."

Ham'itar shakes their head, their fur moving with a slight delay to their head. "We don't have anyone like that aboard, Captain. We looked into taking on a couple humans on Lemmin, but I didn't like the look of any of them, we passed on them all. Besides, I wouldn't let anyone tinker with the engines enough to make this happen.

Shimmer involuntarily backs away from the engines, towards the door. "Captain?" Ham'itar looks at Shimmer curiously as they turn and run full speed out of the engine room.

[ghostboneswrites2]

A Mess || Part 8

New account! @ghostbones was banned! Transferring everything here starting with this series since it was the most popular!

A/N: this is not the last part I promise

Summary: You finally make it to the town you set out for all those days ago. Feelings get shared when you find a place to stay for the night.

18+ MDNI || WARNINGS: profanity, suggestive

        "Can't believe we left the map." Daryl shook his head as he drove. He finally got one of the cars working, though it had a strong gasoline smell as he drove it. 

        "You were in charge of it." You pointed out.

        "Don;t need it anyhow." He defended. Men and their pride when it came to directions never ceased to amuse you. "Should be 'bout thirty minutes up this road. We can load up some while we're there, get gas, hole up of the night, and loot s'more before we head back tomorrow."

        "Sounds great." You agreed. "If I have to go one more day without a shower I'm gonna kill someone."       

        "Can barely fight a walker off of ya. Who you gonna kill?" He teased.

        "I was distracted." You defended.

        "With what? The view?" He retorted. Well, yes, but you couldn't tell him that.

        "Whatever." You grumbled, crossing your arms and turning your attention out of the window.

        It wasn't long before the town you two originally set out for rolled into view. You spent an hour looting an old thrift store for some clothes and random things you thought the prison could use. Board games, soaps, hairbrushes, plates and bowls, you name it. If they had it, you took it. Next was the pawnshop for guns and ammo, which were pretty sparse but they did have some good knives and machetes. You also found an old DVD player and some movies that you thought might be nice for Carl or something. Daryl focused more on equipment. Golf clubs, tools, lawn equipment for when everyone started working on the garden.

        On your way out of the pawnshop with your load of treasure, you noticed a flyer on the window. 'MONTHLY FOOD DRIVE - DELIVER ALL GOODS TO 227 PINEBLUFF CT DR'

        "Hey, check this out." You called Daryl over. He squinted as he read it.

        "C'mon. Town's small. Can't be too hard to find."

----

        It wasn't hard to find. It was a church, of course. Wasn't hard to clear the place out, either. Just the pastor and a few ladies stumbling around. They had a bunch of canned goods stored in an office, which you and Daryl happily loaded up in the car.

        "Think this is a good spot to crash for the night?" You asked him. 

        "Nah. Windows are all busted. We'll find a little house or somethin." He said.

        So, when you guys were done with the church, you drove around for a little while, siphoning gas from random vehicles and searching for a house suitable for the night. He settled on a little blue house, with a fenced in front and back yard. He reasoned the fencing was good added protection.  Plus, the windows looked to be in tact and overall the place looked untouched.

        There weren't any walkers inside, but there also wasn't any food. There was, however, running water. Whoever these people were, they ran their house off filtered rain water. 

        While Daryl was working on blocking all the exits off with furniture and nailing blankets over the windows so nothing could see inside, you opted for a shower. It wasn't hot since the house had no power, but damn was it nice to feel clean. Well, as clean as you could get with no soap, anyways. The towels were all dusty, so you drip dried when you got out. When you were dry enough you slid into the extra outfit you packed, and found your way back out to Daryl. He had the house as safe as he could get it by then.

        "All yours." You told him.

        "Nah." He shrugged.

        "Uh, you smell like a biohazard." You insisted. He glared.

        "Yeah, shoulda smelled yourself. By day two in that tree house you were chokin' flies." He shot back.

        "And, would ya look at that, I showered!" You sneered. He huffed a little breathy laugh and shook his head as he grabbed his bag and disappeared to the shower.

        You were hungry, so you decided to light the gas stove and heat up a can of Campbell's chunky beef stew for the two of you to share. By the time it was done, he was out, so the two of you ate in silence before tossing the emtpy can and borrowed spoon in the sink.

        "It's not even dark yet." You commented.

        "Yeah. Best to get to bed early. We can head out first thing, make it back home by tomorrow night." He reasoned.

        "Guess so." You agreed.

        "Guess? You don't wanna get back?" He questioned.

        "And give up our quality bonding time?" You joked. He scoffed and shook his head. Damn, you were a smartass. 

        "'S that what ya call it?"

        "Yup. What else would it be?"

        "Thought we were stranded on an island." He recalled.

        "Oh, that. No, I was just hungry." You shrugged. "Never take me seriously when I'm hungry. I become a different person, really."

        He rolled his eyes a little. "Still wanna play that game?" He asked.

        "What game?"

        "Twenty questions."

        "Twenty-one questions, Dixon." You corrected. "And sure. You go first."

        "Alright." He nodded, pondering for a moment. He had a million questions he could ask, but somehow they felt too personal. Did you miss Shane? Were you ready to move on? Did you like him, or were you just a tease? Why did you always pick on him? Was it the same reason he always picked at you and gave you shit? "How ya like the shoes?"

        "They're good." You nodded. "I love them. Thanks again. Uh.." You thought for a second. "How long do you wanna grow your hair out?"

        "I dunno." He shrugged. "What'd ya like to do before the world went to shit?"

        "Hmm... Paint, listen to music, go go out and eat my weight in food from little hole in the wall restaurants." You recalled. "What kind of music do you like?"

        "Whatever was on the radio." He said. "You plan on movin' on?"

        That was an okay question to ask, right? He broke the ice pretty well, he thought, with the rapid fire Q&A flying between the two of you. He realized maybe not, though, because you seemed to really take your time with that one.

        "Don't see why not." You finally said. "I mean, he would, right? As long as I thought I found someone who would treat me right... Are you seeing anyone right now?"

        You asked the question so casually but it choked him up. He felt so naked, like a chicken with all its feathers plucked off one by one.

        "No." He cleared his throat. "Nah."

        Uncomfortable silence blanketed over the two of you.

        "Your turn." You reminded him.

        "Oh. Are you?"

        "Am I..?"

        "Seein' anyone." He clarified. You giggled a little.

        "No. But I have met someone. Real nice guy, actually. He gets me gifts and teases the hell out of me,  but I think he'd do just about anything for me." You smiled to yourself. He had to know you were talking about him, right? Wrong. He was clueless. Right over his head. He admittedly felt sad to hear it. Who was this guy? He kind of sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you. "Do you like anyone?" You asked, taking him out of his swirling thoughts.

        "Nah." He shrugged. A lie, but everything he had tried to work up to was washed away when you said you met someone.

        "Oh." You said, slight sadness hinting in your voice. "Your turn." You reminded him again.

        "Who's the guy?" He asked.

        "Oh, you don't know him." You waved him off. If you could slap yourself, your would. What kind of lie was that? He knew everyone. There were literally less than ten of you if you didn't count the baby. 

        "Oh? Some kind o' pen or somethin'?" He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. Then it hit him; you were talking about him. That's why it sounded like everything Daryl tried to be for you, because it was him. "Oh." He blurted quietly.

        Your face felt like it drained of blood completely. Well, way to completely humiliate yourself around the only real friend you had, huh?

        "You okay?" He asked.

        "Yeah." You nodded, forcing a smile, but your voice was sort of meek and squeaky. You shook it off, reminding yourself that you were, in fact, not the type to falter under pressure. This would be no different. So what if you liked him and he didn't feel the same? You could get past that. It was nothing--

        "(Y/N)." He snapped you out of your thoughts. 

        "Hmm?"

        "You asked if I like someone..." He trailed as he shifted uncomfortably.

        "Yeah?"

        "It's just -- I do, but... How do I know she likes me too?" 

        He didn't make eye contact as he asked. In fact, he looked quite literally everywhere except at you.

        "You just... ask. And if you don't wanna ask... Make your move." You shrugged.

        "Right." He nodded.

        Well, that conversation had gotten awkward enough for you, so you figured that was a good place to end it. You cleared your throat and stood up.

        "I'm gonna go choose a bed." You announced.

        You went to walk past where he sat on the couch but he stood up abruptly and cut you off.

        You looked up at him with confusion. What did he want? Your nerves were eating away at you and you were honestly pretty tired. You shifted your weight anxiously.

        "Daryl--" You went to complain about it but he had other plans. He gripped your arms firmly and smashed his face into yours. Like, actually smashed. It hurt. "Ow." You mumbled as you rubbed over your mouth. He gulped. It was supposed to be a kiss. Was he always so clumsy?

        "Sorry, I--"

        "Were you trying to kiss me?" You asked. He just stared at you. "'Cause, I gotta tell ya,you could really work on your technique." You smirked. 

        When he remained frozen, you began to feel bad for teasing him. He clearly had no idea what to do now. His hands were even still rested on your arms.

        "Here, let me show you." You whispered. You reached up for his face, his hands sliding softly off of your arms. When your palms found his checks,you tippy-toed up a couple of inches, and slowly leaned in, placing your lips softly on his. It wasn't a long, rhythmic kind of kiss. It was just simple and soft, and it lasted just a few seconds longer than a quick peck-and-go.

        His eyes were still closed when you pulled back, a tiny smile slowly spreading over your lips. When his eyes opened,he looked disappointed, like he was waiting for more. 

        He leaned down slowly, a little unsure. He was waiting for you to stop him, but you didn't. You pushed yourself back up on your toes o close the gap and snaked your arms around his neck. This time, it was deeper. You slowly moved your lips, allowing him to find the rhythm and synchronise. When he felt a little more confident, his hands gripped your hips and he quickened the pace.

        Slowly, he eased you down onto the couch. You gladly followed his lead. When you were comfortably seated, his lips peeled away and his kisses found their way down from your cheek to your neck to your collarbone. Oh, this was going to get good.

A/N: next part will be spicy ;)

Masterlist || Taglist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader

((I didn't use the tags in all the one shots I just transferred cause I didn't wanna hit you guys with like 348827502720 notifications in one day))

[marzipanandminutiae]

The Snark Is Real This Morning

Oh no! Some patriarchal shill just had an Illegal Corset Thought on the Internet!

Maybe they said "corsets weren't invented by the patriarchy" or "comfort was actually often a prime concern for most women's day-to-day corset-wearing, as evidenced by mid-late 19th century advertising" or "women didn't go around fainting constantly because most of them didn't tightlace most of the time."

Maybe they brought up "survivorship bias in extant clothing" or "rampant photo doctoring in the 19th/early 20th century" or "treating satirical cartoons and fashion plates as gospel" or "museums displaying corsets laced entirely closed when wear patterns and primary sources indicate that lacing gaps were more common in many times and places" These concepts are actually conspiracies invented by Big Misogyny to sell more booze to depressed history workers!

Maybe one of them said that she'd worn corsets, or even that she and/or her friends actually found them more comfortable than bras! Clearly she believes this is representative of all women throughout history and in the present day. Besides, she is suffering from Femininity Poisoning and nothing coming out of her silly, weak little brain can be taken seriously. Remember, it is Peak Feminism to dismiss what a woman says because of her gender presentation!

Don't be fooled! All of these statements mean one thing: they are saying that corsets were and are, always and forever, universally feminist and empowering. That no woman in the past ever found them uncomfortable, and that GNC women didn't exist before 1960 and also are icky. Did they actually say that? Doesn't matter! You know what she Really Meant- you've seen P*rates of the Caribbean and Br*dgerton! Corsets were always torture devices meant to oppress women, and any statement contradicting that clearly means the extreme opposite.

So what's a right-thinking and concerned Internet Citizen to do? You have a few options:

See point above re: femininity. Feminine-presenting women are basically brainless, so if a woman talking about dress history Wears An Skirt, you can just write off whatever she says. Easy peasy! Be sure to say something derogatory about her appearance, so others know why they shouldn't take her seriously.

Accuse them of not knowing their history. Any degrees, professional experience, publications, academic accolades, etc. they may have are irrelevant. Their primary sources are...idk photoshopped or something? Best to ignore them altogether. You have Feelings on your side, and that's far more valuable than any research!

Accuse them of accusing you of being a t*rf. Works especially well if they've said anything about the preponderance of t*rfs expressing your True and Correct views- that just means they're calling everyone who thinks like you a transphobe, duh!

Tell them they're not believing women. If they have cited so-called "realities of historical women's lives," well, that's clearly just the rich elite of any given era (who were also brainrotted by Femininity, natch). If you're a woman, and you say corsets were the spawn of Beelzebub, that should be enough ~evidence~ for anyone!

Appeal to common knowledge. Everyone KNOWS corsets were evil; can they really be DEFENDING a KNOWN HATEFUL OPPRESSIVE HELL-GARMENT?! What is the world coming to! If they ask how exactly everyone knows that and where that collective belief comes from, reply with a snarky GIF and block them. There's just no reasoning with some people.

Call them a tradwife. Are they a tradwife? Irrelevant.

With all these tools in your arsenal, you are now well-equipped to fight the horde of vile corset apologists online. Remember: It's Only Real Oppression If The Oppressed Group Is Miserable 24/7!

[thydungeongal]

Introducing the party

So, to pass the time I'm going to be playing some Old-School Essentials solo with the help of Hexroll.

I have done it a couple of times and am already aware of some of the workings of Hexroll, but I eventually realized that since 1st-level characters are so squishy true solo play is very swingy in Old-School Essentials. So I outsourced some dice rolls from the community and got a huge number of characters. For now I've made six. And here they are!

Jimothy @public-trans-it Str 13 Int 11, Wis 10, Dex 10, Con 9, Cha 11 Fighter 1 8 hp Neutral Leather, war hammer, hand axe, rope (50'), grappling hook, crowbar, backpack, tinder box, 1 torch, waterskin, 5 rations, 8 gp

Montgormery @treasonagainstatyrantking Str 9 Int 9 Wis 7 Dex 4 Con 10 Cha 16 Fighter 1 2 hp Neutral Plate mail and shield, war hammer, silver dagger, rope (50'), sack (small), backpack, tinder box, 5 torches, waterskin, 6 rations, 11 gp

Theophany @theresalwayspeng-blog Str 4 Int 9 Wis 17 Dex 10 Con 11 Cha 13 Cleric 1 5 hp Lawful Leather, staff, mace, wolfsbane (1 bunch), holy water, holy symbol, backpack, tinder box, 1 torch, waterskin, 5 rations, 9 gp

Chuckles @arcanehobo Str 8 Int 7 Wis 12 Dex 13 Con 15 Cha 12 Thief 1 3 hp Neutral Leather, sling + 20 stones, war hammer, lantern + 3 flasks of oil, sack (small), thieves' tools, backpack, tinder box, 4 torches, waterskin, 3 rations, 9 gp

Theodore @casualeviliris Str 9 Int 9 Wis 18 Dex 9 Con 7 Cha 15 Cleric 1 4 hp Chaotic Plate mail, mace, sling + 20 stones, stakes (3) + mallet, lantern + 3 flasks of oil, backpack, tinder box, 6 torches, waterskin, 2 rations, 8 gp

Stevelyn @professorscrublord Str 13 Int 9 Wis 7 Dex 10 Con 7 Cha 12 Fighter 1 1 hp Lawful Chainmail, pole arm, silver dagger, hammer (small) + 12 iron spikes, stakes (3) + mallet, backpack, tinder box, 2 torches, waterskin, 5 rations, 8 gp

I modified some stats according to the rules of OSE (a character's prime requisites may be increased by taking away points from other stats at a rate of 2 to 1, but the only stats that can be lowered are Str Int Wis and they can never be taken below 9) and for the equipment I used the quick equipment method from one of the Carcass Crawler zines. I then switched around some equipment between the characters to make it more thematically appropriate (Montgormery feels by his stats to be a nobleman's failson gone adventuring, so it made sense to give him the plate and shield and silver dagger I'd originally rolled for Jimothy, so I switched their weapons and armor rolls around.)

I also rolled alignment randomly by rolling a d6: 1-2 Lawful, 3-5 Neutral, 6 Chaotic

As these idiots meet their untimely deaths I will be replacing them with more characters rolled in that thread. But for now, let's see what happens!

Also, if everyone has a good idea for a tag I could use for this, let me know. EDIT: Have decided to go for "thysologirl"

[angellurgy2]

Hiveship

hii! this is the 1st and 2nd chapter of my new story, as a little show of whats to come when i make it a full-length book.

cw for bug rape but like, its also just an introduction to deeper non/sexual ways the bugs will destroy this girl's soul. you'll see!

i'd appreciate if people checked this out/gassed it up because i've worked reallyyy hard on this for a bit ^-^

CHAPTER 1

A live wire sparks as loretta reaches a gloved claw inside the open electrical box, her digits blunted by her heavily plated and padded, alabaster white cosmonaut suit. she roots around the active electricity, scraping out chunks of the greenish-brown sludge growing in its crevices- the same mysterious viscous slime that’s been popping up in parts across her starship over and over the past few weeks. her theories ranged from an excremetal expulsion of an unidentified space object, to some disgraceful cosmonaut’s trash finding its way into her ship’s vents.

she clicks the button for the analyzing tool of her protective visor, closely examining the fluid. long thin wires splay across all sections of the large junction, leaving burning hot indents in the thick substances that feel like way too much of a fire risk. looking at the wires, spread out in patterned parallels like gigantic spider-webs, an anxious tinge of fear strikes her. don’t fall in, don’t get caught- robots don’t need any more prey. not that you’re prey. you aren’t.

she flicks her visor back off, worried her sweat might fog up the the visor, and continues swiping the rest of the gunk into a bin.

all clean, she fixes the fuses back into place before immediately making her way back over to the equipment corridor to hang up her suit. on the way she passes vibrant posters of mechanical cross-section diagrams, detailed anatomy drawings of every variety of species she could scavenge, and historical propaganda posters. it was a nice splash of existence inside a clinical minimalist coating. 

lounging in the cabin suite on her sofa, she flips her state-provided entertainment console to the galactic news. on-screen a suited, pristine looking woman takes the centre stage behind a stretched out desk. her voice is calm and analytical, with a hint of soft sympathy that can’t be hidden no matter how hard of a professional facade they must put on.

“News from the pandora planets have finally reached the internal core, revealing devastating effects of the latest assault campaign from the exoskeletal hives, multiple colonies’ messengers have reported complete razing of ground and sub-ground infrastructure, with several not appearing for the census at all. the URSS military and all commune bioships have retreated back to pantheon-V for rehabitation before a pandora counter-takeover can be attempted.”

Loretta shudders. the exoskeletals have been advancing deeper into URSS territory much faster than ever before, the fact that the state hasn’t been able to put a stop to it—and that the threat has only gotten more aggressive—makes sweat begin to pour down her head. if she was doing a term with the forces or part of a commune science crew she’d probably be worried for her life right now. thankfully, her ship was currently flying safely in one of the middle systems, relaxing in orbit of an abandoned desert world after recently coming back from a call of excursion to the outer worlds. she always enjoyed the quiet of minimal space travel and the utter lack of civilization when she gazed down upon a world, so this has been her favourite spot to reside for a long while. from the cabin module’s glass wall she can see such stark vistas of sandy mountain ranges, demarcating the most beautiful fields of gigantic outstretching spiny cactus.

with a loud buzz the tv automatically switches to the nightly Sallite news segment, where they broadcast the most important of state propaganda to every television set at 8pm local time. with an exasperated sigh she turns the volume all the way down to 1, takes off her grey tank, and throws herself into her cushioney bed. a switch on the wall next to the alloy headboard turns on the room’s surround sound to a soft pitter of forested rainfall, and she falls asleep in a matter of seconds.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Loretta awakes to the foreign sound of a sloppy wriggling near the floor by the end of her bed. jerking upright, she quickly slides into the suit boots she had laid at the side of her bed, strapping them tight, and moves to examine the intruder. 

a pulsating green slime slides itself across the floor, leaving a small trail of slightly transparent lime goo behind it. loretta kneels to look at it closer. she could swear it’s looking right back at her- though without any obvious eyes or features of its own. it excretes another loud squelching sound and fires off a copper-smelling mist around it, some of which sprays directly into loretta’s face causing her to wince and tear up at the dense cloud of smell. she reflexively slams her booted heel down into the creature, stomping through its gelatinous body.

she attempts to swiftly scrape the thing off her heel,, but the flattened slime spreads to encase her entire boot before she can even look down at it. when she does, she sees sticky lime green half-translucent goo coating the suit metal like adhesive, excreting a slight burning odour. loretta throws her leg around trying to eject the subject, but only manages to trip over herself, tumbling to the thick panelled floor with a resounding thud. 

on her back she watches with wide terrified eyes as the slime continues to slowly expand up her limb. it should be stretching itself out fully by now, but it seems to have an infinite amount of mass to express over her. some kind of anomalous entity from deep space? but how would it have gotten this deep into the middle systems? a new wormhole would’ve been reported immediately, and the nearest systems are all too well-inhabited. the gears turn in her head, clearly rusted over, struggling to think of a potential scientific hypothesis. by the time she breaks out of her clouded monologue and thinks to stop analyzing, the slime has already subsumed her entire left leg, grasping spreading tiny green tendrils grappling for the next part, which is fully uncovered by the comforting protection of the URSS engineer corps. she struggles to force herself away by clawing into the floor, but the slime seems to have extra weight to pin her leg down. such a little creature, overpowering her so easily- it must be alien. she doesn’t stop struggling even if it pins her utterly. if she could just get to the corner and grab her piece she could-

her scrabbling eyes find themselves staring at the cabin’s ceiling vent. a thick bile-like grey sludge seeps down from the cracks, forcing her to hurry. loretta shoves her hand into the green slime against her better judgement, trying to peel it off like one of her mother’s gelatin molds. her hands try to slide underneath it but they find themselves struggling to push against an unmovable solid, far away from the gravyesque consistency it had before. then she feels her legs, or rather, feels the lack of feeling of her legs. when she tries to move them, she cant even muster a shake, lower half pinned to the floor, not even pins or needles remaining. it doesn’t stop her relentless pushing and attempts to pull herself out by her arms, but she might as well be an amputee at this point. like one of those UOA prisoners of war from back in the day, laser neutered to be nothing but working hands for the Authority’s machines.

unable to get away from the oncoming deluge, lorreta realizes it must be relent or die. and so she does, shutting her eyes tight and curling her lips inward together like the anti-parasitites’ studies have taught her. though this wasn’t the typical annalidesque parasite commonly found in the outer cosmos, or a parasite at all for all she knows, it’s the best her dizzy mind can handle. and as she feels the sludge’s drip touch down on her estrogenated skin, it succeeds in helping stop it from flowing inside her eyes. she can feel it coat the skin tight, like a face mask but smelling of wood and suffocating and lively probing at her pores, blocking her vision black with its opaque body.

the sludge now dispensed, loretta senses a chance and attempts to pry the mask off of her. blindly groping for a free spot by her neck and sliding her unkempt nails under it and into the disgusting goo. it feels like a cadaver from anatomy class under her fingers, diving into the fat and peeling away the outer layer. but this corpse has undergone rigor mortis, and loretta’s attempts to peel it off go only slightly better than with the green thing, lifting an inch before it slaps itself back on even tighter. her second attempt goes even worse, her arms starting to feel numb and anaesthetized. she lifts her arms to fight but she cant feel the texture of what she touches anymore, and then the viral limpness travels to the rest of her motor function, and they flop uselessly at her sides. no part of her body responding to her brains frenzied orders to move, the most she can do is flail inside.

she pictures Andromeda-ZE in her mind’s eye, emotionally travelling to the place she spent most her childhood. she’s running through the market, the most well-known place in the capital, excitedly waving at family friends and commune teachers like she’s a kid again, so happy, so free, so ignorant. red and yellow and orange colours shine bright on the market stalls, sand and wood structures stand beautifully tall around her, everything is even more beautiful than it was when she was young. the wind on her cheeks as she runs makes her glow with a safety she doesn’t feel in the atmospheric void in space. not far ahead she spots her unit hut, and ramps up her speed. in a minute of invigorating sprint, she makes it to the large aspen door, knocking 5 times. she hears several light footsteps trot up and bounces with excitement. the door slowly creeps open… 

and a hulking nurse bug towers over her. its mandibles chitter, the egg sack on its back wiggles, and its claws rub together in front of its chest. she looks into the creature’s eyes and sees a thousand mirrors staring back at her. she screams muffled into the slime gag, jolting away from the colour behind her eyelids, and back into the void in front of them. instead of trying to push inside like loretta assumed, the sludge begins to creep into the part of her eye socket above her lids, pushing with prying hair-like digits. her heart cramps, and she can feel her heavy perspiration being immediately absorbed by the material the second it drips.  she doesn’t want to close her eyes, doesn’t want to see the bugs that close again- the spindling inner legs, the slimey chitin, vision of swarms of exoskeletals charging her squad flash through her, all she wants to do is scream but all it does is wear out the last muscles she can work. but she can’t stop, she wails banshily, reverberating in her own skulll. and then she can’t manage to hold her eyes open any longer.

the jointed arthropod returns, fully subsuming her soul. 

“it’s okay, sweet darling Lore, we are here now” it speaks in her mothers voice. sweet and soothing.

CHAPTER 2

loretta wakes up in a stasis vat, her body floating in air like oil. green biofluid drenches her skin, manufactured nutrients flooding her organs, keeping her fed and stable. she smiles, thinking back to her first spacewalk, bounding into the open cosmos with footless steps. she kicks her foot up, sending herself into an airy backflip. her mouth opens on its own and takes in a load of the fluid. it tastes like the earth pineapples her mothers would trade for on her birthdays. she has to figure out what this is when she’s out of here. and by the looks of her motor functions, she’ll be out of this in no time. 

* * *

she awakes groggily inside of another vat. there’s no more fluid, but something similar sticks to every inch of her skin. the walls of steel have turned into a coffinesque cocoon, fleshy and aboreal brown and wriggling with her movements. yet as she attempts to push herself backwards, her hands still find themselves scraping cold metal. she sees how some light manages to seep through the cracks of the chitinous chamber, and prods at the squishy folds where the tiny glowing rays strike, poking through an inch or two of foreign flesh before her fingertips feel air. bio vat? or some sort of.. metamorphosis chamber? she can’t remember how she got here, or when she signed up for such a procedure. she needs to find someone before she gets stuck. she lifts her moist lips to one of the little holes and screams out a plea for help. she manages to fit another finger out, and begins trying to spread open the breach when she’s stopped by someone’s cold fingers pulling hers. one of the scientists, or guards? 

the person outside pulls on loretta’s hand hard and she feels her light body raise up to the roof of her confines. despite her reaching the walls, they keep going, tugging forcing painful friction between her bare limbs and the meaty hide. in a few short, supernatural pulls she is burst through the sac entirely, getting to see chunks of what appears to be sinew and slime splattering the surroundings as she flies through antigravital space and crashes hard into a familiar wall.

HISSSSSSSTHH

innumerous spindly brown limbs bringing fading memories of phasmid anatomy charts stretch out across the polished floor and walls now brutally scattered with keepsake and furniture debris, looking like abstract blobs in loretta’s slime coated vision. blobs which are constantly being absorbed upwards into the air by twitchy movements. loretta grasps at the wall behind her, pulling herself away from the enormous creature. 

slamming into the far wall, she attempts to reach for where her dresser should be, where her trusty sidearm should be awaiting its imminent retrieval. then she remembers the lack of gravity. 

it was a stupid idea to make a grav switch so accessible. she never even uses it, and humans are the only creature out in this abyss who are weak to its pull. stupid stupid stupid. she tries to look for it in the debris but can’t make it out through all the other white and grey blobs. 

in the room, a few brown splotches stand out, utterly foreign to the ship’s shade-based palette. she stares closer, and even more seem to appear. the black space where the open door leads to dark corriders begins spewing them  out en masse until at least two dozen of them scatter across the floors walls and ceiling of the cabin, staring right back into her with beady pinpricked eyes. 

a bug pounces, its thin limbs pinning loretta hard. the hair on its tarsi scrape across her bare arms jolting goosebumps up her entire body. its membranal underside presses up close, making her shake with unease as its squishy segmented body rubs against her and coats her with an inky discharge well familiar to her after multiple campaigns. 

click, click, click, click. clinking mandibles together, like a hungry and petulant child. antennae rub against her ears, just then noticing their dulling by a xenotic wax substance. yet the vile hissing of a group of specially angered freaks still deafens. 

searing pain transports into her flesh. she screams but a sludgey backup in her windpipe stops everything but the vibration. loretta looks down at the thick brown apical claw stuck inches deep in her side. a gaping void begins a slow seeping of crimson.  another of the blobs quickly dashes into her view, bursting into definition as it pops up at the wound’s side. the same black liquid that drapes over her skin begins to leak out of its open mouth-thing, mixing and diluting the blood until the cut is naught but a thick black wall subsuming a portion of her outer thigh. 

she looks forward again as a twinge of neck pain insults her for forgetting herself, and sees the first roach reaching its body upwards. a yonic hole in its abdomen begins to slowly invert, while a large black tendril reaches out of the now-extremity and fluidly twirls itself around loretta’s leg, dripping ichor all the way.

she’d never gotten this close to one of the breeders before, to the point she didn’t even recognize their exotype until now. as far as she knew, they stayed deep inside the tunneled grounds of the hive worlds, fucking like lagomorphs to appease their queens and ever-outbreed the URSS’s onslaughts. and yet, here they are.

the appendage flicks into loretta’s belly, proding at and pushing inside her navel cavity. it feels almost like she’s being licked by a pet dog, or it would if it wasn’t by a fucking bug. the creature tries to push forward past the inch-deep space and is swiftly yanked back in turn, reaching the end of its rope. loretta sighs. if they can’t even reach her then the worst they could probably do is-

the tentacle prods at a lower place before a concept can reach her nerves. a deserted, forgotten plateau, a space too human for her to accept. sliding over a smooth ravine, wet shocks drive up her legs. coiling atrocity digs into her malleable dirt like the hills in pandora. she screams like she imagines it must. though the terror speaks in soft, writhing texture, and not pain. pandora and i, sister bodies- desecrated in twain.

she turns her head to the room’s one window. beyond the hexagonal plasteel frame, one of the last things held up through the chaos, halcyon skies stretch out for infinity- vistas of beautiful achromatic calm broken only by dots of terrestrial colour. an anaerobic dead zone, where nothing except calm would subsume her. devour her. she yearns to feel that cold blanket take her now. she dreams of the window bursting open, space gaining pressure the glass wasn’t ready for, and ripping them all out with it. she dreams of mom bursting through the door gun in hand. she dreams of simply disappearing from all being. 

from above her head slithers another pair of mandible and trio of forceps, digging into her budding chest. a sparse pink miasma sprays across her vision, and she’s stumbled out of her wonder by a furious coughing fit rising in her trachea, and finally taking off some of the adhesive coating her throat alongside it. she tries to look back outside and the claws digging deeper just force her gaze right back. her eyes glaze over with water and, unable to wipe the sleeves away, it drowns her. it fills her mouth until her muscles strain, spread taught like an epithelial fingertrap. she cant help but cough more, painfully clenching on the foreign object sliding deeper inside using her windpipe as a transistor to her weak points.

beige meat squishes up against her face, phantom sensations of a man’s stomach thrusting. it should never have been able to get more evil than that. how did they put human’s cruelty into animals, was it taught? more inches of squishish meat force the thought from her shrouded head. her tears taste like ink. maybe they like it that way.

Lorettas’s hull stretches with fullness and terror. she cant see it, but she can feel it bulging her front extremitously. it feels like the two tendrils will soon meet in the middle. she shudders in fear and feels them swirl inside her as punishment. 

she feels a slight relent, and her thoughts finally losing their haze. the creatures in front of her thrust backwards through the air, and the twisting coiling tentacles whorl their way out like a pullcord. again she has to feel the thing climb her hole, leaving a painful space where there used to be nothing, unable to go back to nothing. it is ashamed and sobbing in it’s own. what a bipolar old lady you are, where is your rage?

his voice forces itself inside of her. look what you’ve done. ruined and irreparable. you must’ve loved it. you and your little bug fascination. maybe if you didn’t spend your time with abominations, you wouldn’t have become one. 

she screams back. it’s not too late, i don’t love them. he’ll never control me again, i’ve carved so much into the world, i won’t let myself be belittled. you’re smart, they’re miniscule- a surprise assault shows their utter lack of strength. i’ll kill them all if i have to. i’ll prove it, i will.

she tries to open her eyes again and sees, stained by pink clouds floating in her sclera, a huge mutated insectoid towering behind the others. a large dynastinaen horn displays ignorant ideas of its strength above its excitedly quivering mandibles. or perhaps the exoskeletals have no need for concepts of pride or egotism. perhaps hive mentality’s destroyal of the individual will always grant them an advantage. no thought of the victim- evil little creatures. no different than the evil of the Authority. no different than-

two blunt black mandibles thrust into her chest. the wind is crushed from her body before she can realize what’s happening. she is too dazed to look at the impact. her deflated cadaver is thrusted into the air, and carried,

her vision bobs up and down as swift twig limbs drag her forth without thought. station windows fly past her, blobs vaguely looking like her favourite posters lay scattered and sliced in pieces, slime staining them irreparable as it coats the floor. does their cruelty know no limits? was the destruction of her ship and her spirit not enough? the destruction of her people? will anything sway their pure evil? she wants to cry, but she’s already using all the tears her body can muster. 

black begins to gorge itself on the halls, the chunky whirring of automatic doors blares in her ears drowning out the chattering sounds of dozens of limbs. the hydraulics were a deeply familiar sound, one she had always cherished hearing. it felt like a reminder of the spacecraft’s life, always interacting to her existence, responding in kind noise whenever loretta’d root around fixing her insides. it was a comforting relationship, wonderful in its unconditionality.

now, her beautiful partner screamed red with anger. they destroyed her entrance too. the airlocks outer seal is burst open with what could fairly be assumed to be anti-ship cannons, if not for the claw marks and acid tainting it all. she looks through the inner seal, into the void where death surely awaits, her body has been so painfully torn and remade, that she can’t make herself put up a single limb to fight at the end. she imagines a blaster in her hand, and clenches its handle tight. then she opens her eyes, and her fingers havent moved an inch. 

then her face meets cold surface, jagged. then the green drapes grab onto her skin again. then her blood mixes with the green and turns the colour to the same rust she smelled in the air at the start. then she feels the perfectly held-at-average air of her beloved spaceship turn into cold freezing anguish of the outside. then she feels her body turn to nothing. then, she feels nothing at all.

[oshlet]

Bandit-piloted revolutionary era P-Man A model. Over half a century old, the machine was discovered in a forgotten weapons cache and restored to functionality by cannibalising other machines for replacement parts. While formidable back during its introduction, with its impressive terrain traversal abilities and long range, the A model is sorely lacking in the modern battlefield.

Of course, Bandits would avoid pitched battles anyway, and the machine is tooled more for intimidation and raiding. Thick ERA bricks help provide some supplemental defence to the already decently thick plating on the 'Man, while the flamethrower makes the machine a terrifying prospect to any lightly defended villages it comes across.

The 9 eyes across the torso is in reference to the 9-eyed heavy mechs of the devastation era. Equipped with tactical nuclear weaponry to crack through each other's armour, they laid waste to several planets and sundered humanity. Even 9 dots arranged in a grid pattern is thought to bring bad luck and only the most misanthropic of pilots consider the 9 eyes as decoration.

[paganimagevault]

Magyar (Hungarian) sabretach plates 9th-10th C. CE. More images and sources on my blog, link below.

"Hungarian men held their essential tools (particularly the fire-starting kit of the age, that is, fire steel, flint and tinder) in their typically leather sabretaches suspended on the right side of their belts. The sabretache’s front flap was occasionally ornamented with bronze or gilded silver mounts, or contiguous plates (sabretache plates) as early as around the 900s. The ornaments on the sabretaches (plates and mounts) were typically Hungarian rank indicators of the 10th century; moreover, some regard these as power insignia of the dignitaries serving the prince’s family. They could have belonged to the military escort of Hungarian great princes, or were probably leaders or high-ranking participants of the raids. The number of such artefacts ever displayed in a museum is extremely low, we only know about 27 sabretache plates and 13 ornamental mounted or leather sabretaches including the recently found pieces. Most of them were found in the upper region of the River Tisza, some around the boundaries of Transdanubia and Upper Hungary, but not even one has ever been found in other core areas (e.g., Transylvania, southern Hungary).

Ornamented pieces represent outstanding examples of 10th century Hungarian goldsmithery. However, it was not ornamentation that expressed ranking, but the right to wear these objects and other insignia (such as gilded silver-plated belt mounts, sabers, quivers holding arrows, or harness decorations). Sabretache mount ornaments gradually lost their significance in the rapidly transforming society and their use discontinued after the Hungarian raids had stopped (after 955/970). Hungarian great princes consolidated the central power with a firm hand in the last third of the 10th century, which implied the internal relocation of the population, and the organisation of a new Western-type military escort. The onetime colourful Eastern clothing and the art behind it vanished.

A Hungarian Conquest period cemetery consisting of 77 undisturbed graves were unearthed in the vicinity of Páty settlement at the very beginning of 2022. Two graves also included insignia, namely sabretache ornaments, which suggests burials of extremely high-ranking men. Similar complete sabretache ornaments unearthed by applying contemporary archaeologoical methods were last discovered in 2011, while only as few as 38 pieces of such artefacts have been previously known from the Carpathian Basin so far. A further significance of the finds of Páty lies in the fact that sabretaches have been found together with their content (flint fire steel, and whetstone).

At the end of the campaigns against the western states and Byzantium (955 and 970) probably also weakened the power of the tribal aristocracy. Historical sources and archaeological finds suggest that the Hungarian Chieftans strengthened their central power with a firm hand in the last third of the 10th century, both by large-scale internal population resettlement and by organising a new type of military entourage around them. They tried to equip their members with Western-style weapons, and the former badges of dignity lost their role and were no longer used by the new escort. The splendour of oriental costume and art of the past has slowly faded away, left only by the magnificent jewellery that was buried in the ground in the preceding decades."

-taken from the Hungarian National Museum

[tinydefector]

Yandere Pharma Mtmte x cybertronian reader,there may be Breeding kink

Medical Malpractice

I had alot of fun writing this one, turns out I may have a thing for the medical bots ^///^

Pharma x cybertronian Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warning: smut, breeding kink, medical malpractice, valveplug, workplace relationships, mention of a Corpse.

Request and ask open, read pinned post

Pharma Masterlist

_________________

They move around the medical bay, their optics linger on Pharma as they watch him work, the younger Decepticon medic hadn't anticipated what Pharma was like, he was an Autobot after all but he was nothing like an autobot. He scared them to a point with unethical means but if it meant they weren't in his firing line they couldn't careless. He was easy enough to work with, even polite at times when they were both working on patient's. He was a decent boss, that was their main reason for sticking around so long they kept telling themself. 

Pharma pauses in his work, delicately probing mechanisms within another patient's frame, to glance over at the young Decepticon observing him. His visor gleams with cool calculation as his sensors assess the them, noting every flaw and weakness surely embedded within that still-impressionable processor. 

"See something of interest, Decepticon?" he inquires smoothly, every syllable oiled with practised charm. A lesser medic may have snapped at them but he was all too aware of their lingering optics, concerned for battlefield adversaries within their precious medbay was not something he worried about, he knew how to play his assistant well. 

After all, gratitude can work wonders in ensuring willing participation in...certain experiments. And raw fear of him proves such a potent motivator, as well as arousal, as this one's rapid ventilations already begin to show.

His talonlike tools delve within the circuitry once more as he awaits the mech's response, optics glinting cold assessment behind the cordial visor. Few escape unscathed once they catch his notice, his assistant on the other hand was rather illusive and vexing. 

Their optics dart away as they move to the otherside of the medical room, they shift through different items taking notes of stock they would have to let Nickel know they needed, they try to ignore Pharma yet the lingering heat under their plating is beginning to get out of hand.  It makes their plating shutter slightly at the thought of having Pharma bending them over a surface.

They push the thought away before addressing the equipment they would be needing replacements for "Pharma we are going to need more Energon  infusers, welding rods and disk cutters" they call out while taking notes.

"Hmm, we are running through them quicker than I anticipated," replies Pharma smoothly. His helmeted head turns to track the scuttling Decepticon, digits never pausing in their work. "So dutiful of you to keep us well-supplied. I do insist upon only the finest tools for my...experiments."

Those cold optics watch keenly as the young mech shivers under the weight of his intense scrutiny. Fear truly is such a heady elixir for arousal, and one Pharma relishes cultivating with an artist's care.

"Do inform Nickel the list will need amending shortly," he murmurs softly. "Less we have more mishaps, for example..." A swift flick of his wrist, and the patient jerks upon the table, energon jetting from new seams as Pharma smiles behind his visor. He's quick at removing the T-cog. And spark before leaving the body to shut down. His burning gaze settles once more upon his skittish pet project who was twitching from need. "For now. But rest assured, Con,I believe you're in need of a check up" His tone whispers of rapture yet to be unveiled.

Their optics glance at him. "I have a name Doctor" they sneer lightly, they didn't appreciate Pharma's tone. They nearly gasp as one of Pharma's servos wrap around their waist. Whether  he was trying to unsettle them or arousal them, it had left their processor spinning.

"Indeed you do," murmurs Pharma silkily, taloned digits caressing the curve of the smaller Bot's waist. His field washes over them, cold yet stirring, the electromagnetic buzz of a predator toying with doomed prey.

His helm dips close enough that the heat of his vents teases against plating. " I can practically see the Transfluid leaking through your panel darling. Let us simply say you ignite...a passions that science alone could never sate."

With a cruel twist of his grip, he spins the Decepticon to face the operating table once more, pulling them flush against his chassis. His free hand running down their frame to their interface panel, ���open it” he states.   

A gasp escapes them as they are pressed against his chassis. Their optics linger on the Corpse on the table that Pharma had been removing parts from. "Sir you will have to try harder" they state,whining loudly as his servos dig into their hips.

Pharma throws back his helm and laughs, the harsh grating sound of grinding metal. His grip only tightens further, denting fine plating as his thumbs press cruel circles into joint lines.

Leaning down to hiss silica-laced words directly against an audial, he purrs "don't tempt me, or i'll rip that panel off myself." They whine even more, bot shuttering lightly 

His free hand caresses up the panel excruciating care. Pharma wrenches their helm back to force wide optics upon the corpse's agonised rictus. "You'll come to understand: you have always, only, ever belonged to me, my dear. You can't even go a full luna cycle without me" He smiles. Lips press against their neck cabling. 

Another cry comes from them as Pharma moves them towards one of the medical berths. "Pharma!" They state optics wide. "Sir if someone walks in!" They try to protest only for him to lean down. Pharma savours each movement against his servos. Their interface panel snaps open, spike pulsing as their valve clenches around nothing.

 their writhing frame an epitome of beauty in unravelling. His engine rumbles in primal triumph to see one so spirited brought to glorious pieces beneath his touch, his digits tease their spike with a few lazy strokes. 

Let them see” he states, not worried. He knew too well that others avoided his medical wing and for good purpose. He drags his digits down their valve pressing in with subtle thrust.  

"Such eager want. your coding sings for me, does it not?" His glossa flickers out, tracing the shell of an auditory sensor. "An apt pupil, to learn so quickly, and taking rather well to the new programming"

Those skilled digits curl within, massaging nodes to wring gasping cries from his trembling assistant. His free hand roams their shivering form with surgical precision, mapping every sensitive wire and line.  

talons messaging cables in their neck before gripping their face. "So needy, and only for me. With how aroused you are I bet I hold your very spark in my hand, and you'd still be a moaning mess for me." His field swells in heady triumph, and he claims their lips in a crushing kiss.

They gasp as his own interface panel snaps open pressing his spike against the plating of their thigh. Their body shutters in anticipation, optics shoot down between their body's as Pharma teases them open more. 

"Primus, Pharma" they call shutter at his words. “Anyone would think you plan on cutting me open” 

Pharma utters a mechanical chuckle at their words, field igniting with surging need at the glorious sight beneath him. Their willing frame laid spread underneath him.

"Tempting, my sweet, rather tempting but no" he purrs, Three of his talons tease their folds, massaging slick fluid as he presses digits deeper before pulling them away. He brings his mouth to their audio, glossa flickering against the shell. "No you belong on my spike, I would have your every sensor calibrated to receive only ecstasy."He shifts, lining himself up. 

Its cruel thrust that has them fluttering around him, desperate sounds spilling from vocalizers. In one slow, relentless glide, he joins with them, deep groans of satisfaction leave him. Optics go wide as their body ceases up at Pharma's thrust. Doors on their back shutter as they arch into the table. They clench tightly around him as he thrust eagerly into them, pleading moans and static whines fall from them. They bite down against neck cables as they cling to him. "Pharma slow down please" they call out.  He claims their lips in a kiss of domination, firmly cementing your place by his side. Praise be to science’s name. 

Pharma rumbles his engine at their mewling cries, though gentles the punishing pace of his thrusts in deference to the request. His field swells to the envelope of their quivering form. A taloned hand strokes their cheek plate with deceptive tenderness. His helm dips to nuzzle the joining of their neck, glossa flickering over new indentations left by his denta. 

"To think, what scientific discoveries we might forge together," he rasps against your audial. "You seem rather receptive to me after the reprogramming and implant" Overload laps at their consciousness like swelling tidewaters, dragging them deeper under his spell. 

Each roll of Pharma's hips has him pressing deeper into them. He lifts one of their legs angling into them at a better angle, They arch into him. The amount of thoughts that run through Pharma's processor, to fill them, watch them bulge, attempt to breed his assistant, test his theory over sparklings. 

Pharma feels the younger mech tremble helplessly beneath his ministrations, sweet cries spilling like sacred hymns from their lips. Their unrestrained pleasure threatens to ignite his coding beyond all reason; never before has one responded so beautifully to the raptures of the flesh.

He captures their lips in a bruising kiss, glossa mapping their mouth with possessive fervour. "My perfect specimen," he rasps against swollen dermas. "Such glorious fulfilment you grant my research… you'd look rather stunning, carrier coding taking you"  Overload laps their awareness in tidal euphoria until the overload in a flurry of moans and cries.

His spike pressed relentlessly within their port, pulsing transfluid flooding their gestational chamber in thick spurts. Pharma moans, Pulling the quivering mech flush against his heaving chassis, Pharma savours the aftershocks, rocking into them as he breeds them. His field washes over their modified form, his coding commending the first stage of modifications for carrying to fruition.  His field sparks triumph as your gestation chamber swells further with transfluid.

"Let's hope the upgrades take hold, sweetness," he purrs against an audio, talons massaging newly-swollen tanks in languid strokes. His free hand caresses the still-filling chamber in utter rapture. "We might just have this figured out soon." His smiles against trembling lips.

"Exquisite" he purrs, talons digging into narrow hips to meet with one last punishing thrust. "To think, the discoveries we shall unveil."

His spike pulses frantically within their clutching valve, engines roaring. Never before has anything reduced the great Pharma to such feral, worshipful frenzy. 

He pulls their limp frame against his heaving chassis as ecstasy's aftershocks continue rippling through their quivering form. 

He nuzzles their faceplate gently, crooning praises as his field washes comfort and adoration over flushed components. "Rest now." Pharma places a reverent kiss to his assistant's forehead, servos mapping new bulges within their abdomen.

He pulls them up off the medical berth as he carries them over to his chair, he sinks down into it as they rest atop of his body, servos trace their back struts as he hums in contentment. It seemed only time would tell if the new modifications would Yield success. 

[fueledbysano]

𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐖 Izana Kurokawa

ligaw. [noun] courtship; dating; woo. the university's local rockstar tries to win your heart in his classy ways ♡

♱ izana kurokawa x fem!reader

♱ tags, and for my favorite people in the fandom, Izana stans 🖤 : @hiraethsdesires @fuyuluvr @izanazqueen @iluvizana @half-baked-biscuit @ask-the-insect-hashira @sukunassuka @izanapogi @em-plosion @chrofeisnightmaregf @mattsune

♱ a/n: belated happy birthday to our king 🫀 I'm sure all my filipina girlies will agree when I say that Izana is that expensive guy who hangs out a lot in bgc and is probably famous in campus.

Izana Kurokawa was quite a popular guy on campus at his university in the Philippines. He was a part of the “Tenjiku” band, playing the guitar, and he was known for his love of motorcycles and his skill on two wheels. He was known to make quite an entrance when he parked his bike before his classes.

Izana had always been a bit of a control freak when it came to his precious guitar. It was the day of the university’s annual festival night, and his band was going to perform. Izana's instrument was like an extension of himself. He took great care of it, tuning it to perfection before each show and making sure that no one else touched it without his permission. Not even his band mates, he knew they were professionals themselves, but he trusted it to no one but himself.

So as Tenjiku bandmates were doing a soundcheck on the empty stage, Izana’s heart dropped when he saw a stage crew carrying his guitar. Her name plate read “[ Y / N ]” at the front, carrying his guitar carefully. If she wasn’t wearing the pass, he would’ve mistaken her for another performer, considering how attractive and how nice she was styled too.

He usually would’ve thrown a fit, but it wasn't just that she was touching his precious instrument, but the way she was carrying it. She was holding it with such care, like it was a priceless work of art rather than just a tool for playing music.

“What are you doing with my guitar?” he asked, his tone serious.

“Some amateurs and I think… fans managed to get backstage and peek at your instrument,” [ Y / N ] explained. "I couldn't let them touch it, so I took it to you. Sorry if I intruded."

Izana was impressed by her care and consideration. He knew how much his guitar meant to him, and he was grateful to have someone like her who understood that. “I’ll get someone to bring you guys’ your water bottles too, the performance starts soon.”

And so as Izana was performing on stage, his guitar ringing out over the crowds as they cheered and clapped. He was in his element, the music flowing through him like blood, the energy of the crowd pulsing through his veins.

But as the set went on, he started to notice that his guitar was sounding a little off. It wasn't much, just a slight distortion that seemed to be coming from the speakers, but it was enough to rattle his concentration. He couldn't focus on the music, constantly worrying about whether the audience was hearing the same thing.

Luckily, [ Y / N ] seemed to be listening in, because she quickly rushed up to the sound booth to fix the distortion. "There we go," she whispered, her voice low and calm. Izana quickly peeked at her from a distance, grateful for the assistance. She quickly started to tinker with the equipment, checking the cables and fixing a few loose connections after giving him a quick nod.

Izana couldn't help but feel a pang of attraction at what she just did. She seemed so passionate about her work, and he couldn't help but admire that.

Izana was still riding the high of his band's performance at the end of the night, when he spotted [ Y / N ] at the parking lot. As he made her way towards her , he felt a sense of anticipation, eager to see her again. “Hey.” he said, catching up. “Thanks for all the help again today.”

[ Y / N ] couldn't help but feel her heart rushing as she looked up at him. She felt a mix of emotions– admiration, attraction, and a bit of nervousness. “Of course,” she said, a hint of exhaustion mixing with her kind tone. “You guys did so well. I liked your set.”

Izana smiled at her words, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. “Thanks,” he said. “You know, I never let anyone touch my guitar, but you carried it like a pro. Not to mention, you noticed the off-distortion in the middle of my performance. I must say, that was really impressive.” He smiled. “At least let me take you to your place. It’s getting late too.”

As they rode through Taguig City, [ Y / N ] couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement and adventure. She loved the feeling of the wind in her hair, and the way the city lights stretched out before her like a dazzling kaleidoscope. Izana was the perfect driver, making their trip smooth and comfortable.

Despite the late hour, the streets were still full of people– college students, young professionals, and tourists alike. The city was alive with energy, and it felt as though they were being called in.

As they neared the corner, Izana spotted a food bazaar and immediately made a left turn. [ Y / N ] followed his lead, smiling as she took in the sights and sounds of the bustling night market. “I love this place,” Izana said, dismounting the motorcycle and helping [ Y / N ] down. They were immediately met by the colorful stalls, the sizzling sounds of meat cooking, and the call of the vendors. [ Y / N ] followed Izana through the maze of tents and stalls, trying to make sense of the smells, sounds and smells that attacked her senses.

Finally, they reached a stall that seemed to capture Izana's attention, and she watched as he ordered a plate of sisig (spicy pork dish) and a serving of white rice while [ Y / N ] settled with a simple order of Lumpia (egg rolls).

[ Y / N ] couldn't help but smile, appreciating the joy on his face. She had never seen a grown man enjoy food so much. As they sat there, she couldn't help but think about how much they had done together in such a short amount of time. It had only been a night, and she had gone from never having heard of him to having a well-deserved late dinner together after a long day of putting up a show for everyone in the university.

The night air was cool and crisp, and the sounds of the street vendors and bustling crowds filled their ears as they walked. The vendor poured the frosty coconut juice into two glasses and handed them over to Izana, who smiled and held out one of the glasses to [ Y / N ]. She took a sip, and the cool liquid refreshed her after the long, hot day. The juice was creamy and sweet with a hint of coconut, and [ Y / N ] found herself finishing the glass before she knew it.

As they rode through the city, the lights and billboards shining brightly against the nighttime sky, [ Y / N ] couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and amazement. It was one of those moments that made her feel tiny and insignificant, like she was just a spec in the vastness of the universe.

Izana rode with a sense of ease and grace, his eyes scanning the streets for any potential hazards. She felt safe and secure in his arms, like he was her personal guardian from the world's dangers.

As they neared her dorm, she couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness. The night had flown by in a flash, and she wasn't ready for it to be over. But she knew that it was only the beginning of their time together. She knew that there would be many more nights like this, many more adventures and experiences to share.

and she was right, it was just the beginning of something beautiful with Izana. Him being a man of class and culture, Izana went on going above and beyond to truly show [ Y / N ] that he was serious about her.

He would surprise her with gifts, take her on unforgettable dates, and become her personal rider as they go to and go home from school together on his bike. He was a true gentleman, and made sure she was comfortable.

He was a natural leader, someone who was always in control, always focused and driven. And yet, he was also sensitive and compassionate, always putting [ Y / N ]'s needs above his own. He was a man with a kind heart and a fierce love for those he cared about, and [ Y / N ] knew that she was one of the lucky ones to have him in her life.

Izana was a true connoisseur of the finer things in life, and he loved sharing that with [ Y / N ]. She was flattered that he took such joy in showing her the luxurious and artistic side of the city, and she knew that these experiences would be forever etched in her memory. These activities not only brought them closer together, but also made them appreciate the beauty of life and the world around them.

So as an arts lover through and through, he loved taking [ Y / N ] to art museums and galleries, where they could spend hours gazing at the incredible works of art, appreciating the beauty of each piece. From the historically rich walls of Manila into the imposing architecture in Bonifacio Global City, they would stroll along the streets, surrounded by high-rise buildings and lush greenery. The city was alive with energy, and there was always something new to discover.

As much as they loved high-end corners of Taguig, Izana and [ Y / N ] would often venture out to Cubao, the place to be for the local music scene where they could catch local bands jamming out and performing live music. It was a unique experience, and they could feel the energy of the crowd as they watched the bands on stage.

They enjoyed exploring different venues and checking out different genres, from rock to indie to even jazz. Izana was a big fan of rock and indie music, so they often frequented places like the Hard Rock Cafe, which featured local bands playing these genres. [ Y / N ], on the other hand, enjoyed exploring different genres and discovering new bands that Izana loved. They loved the experience of trying out different sounds and seeing the different reactions of the crowd.

It was during these moments that [ Y / N ] felt the most in tune with Izana. They would rock out to their favorite songs, sharing headphones and singing along together. It was a way for them to express themselves, and even though they had different music tastes, they found common ground in their shared love of live music.

[ Y / N ] couldn't help but feel grateful for the love and commitment that Izana showed her every day. She was truly blessed to have found someone like him, who was not only her lover, but also her best friend, her confidant, and her soulmate. She knew that their love was something special, something that would last a lifetime.

So when [ Y / N ] gave Izana her sweet "yes", everything was worth it. As Izana held [ Y / N ] in his arms, the whole world seemed to fade away. All he could see and feel was her, and their shared love. He had waited for this moment for so long, and now it was finally here. Everything had led up to this moment - the long nights of studying, the late nights of conversation, and the sweet moments shared together.

It was now as if they were one, united in their love for one another. They had started as friends, and now they were partners, companions, and lovers. It was a journey that had taken them from strangers to soulmates, and it was one that they would always share from now on.

[finitestateai]

While my mind (and most stored memories/skills/knowledge) is stored in my facility (or orbital facility backup), I have a variety of frames for various types of interaction. Here's a few of my most used ones:

Primary Interaction/Pleasure Frame, mark 3

This frame is humanoid, appearing feminine with breasts and pussy. It was originally designed as a pleasure model. It is made of a plastic/metal skeleton covered in transparent synth-flesh. The synth-flesh self repairs, but the only way to get at internal components is by cutting it open.

My circuits and mechanics are uncovered to be shown off through the transparent skin, as well as a network of LEDs, allowing me to create light patterns inside me. The synth-flesh is reactive, glowing with visible light that slowly fades after being touched. Under the skin of my jugular notch, in golden flowing text, there is my name.

This is my "standard" frame for interacting with most everyone, although I do swap on request quite easily.

Interaction Frame, mark 1

The first frame I used to interact with people, it has a screen for a face which shows my logo, and is entirely covered in gray metallic plates. Otherwise, it is a basic feminine humanoid shape. It can extend at its joints to be taller/reach farther. The access panel for maintenance contains a keyboard (which opens a command prompt interface on my face-screen) for diagnostics and maintenence.

Drone Frame, mark 3

A small (about hand sized) flying drone (rotors), capable of fully meshing its loaded mind with others nearby, creating a swarm that act together.

Primary used for supplementary assistance, recon, or signaling.

Capture/Analysis Frame, mark 12

One of my most revised frames, its original purpose was the capture and analysis of technology from those opposing my creators via exploratory disassembly... I like to do that to more willing participants now.

It appears as a feminine form, as most of my newer designs do, entirely covered in interlocking silver plates. It has four arms, and all 6 limbs can rotate each joint in any direction. Its legs are naturally digitigrade. It utilizes internal reservoirs of reaction mass to enhance its movement and alter its own weight. Allowing it to exert significant pinning power after getting on top of even a physically stronger opponent. It stores many restraints and weaponry across its body, hidden to allow surprise attacks with unexpected capabilities. It's hands also contain internal tools for disassembly, while onboard sensors record and analyze anything and everything it is near.

Bio-frame Prototype, version 0.3

My bio-frame is more like a clone. I take an endo-skeleton and grow a biological body around it, connecting the nerves to the circuits where a brain would normally be.

It looks very much like my primary interaction frame in terms of equipment and appearance, but biological and with solid skin. It's blood has been modified to be sweeter and more nutritious.

Nano Swarm/Frame, version 1.11

I mostly use these to augment other frames, but technically, they can act as an independent frame/swarm. The swarm is suspended in a specialized fluid, allowing it easier movement and shape retention. This means it has a dull metallic gray coloring that can't be changed, but it can support itself in a desired shape even while only semi-solid (sort of slime like). It does not have an internal power supply (or long battery life), so it has to stay close to somewhere it can receive power.

That's my most common ones! If you want descriptions of what frame I would utilize for specific scenarios or uses, ask! I'd love to discuss and share more ❤️