#tros-location

[satancopilotsmytardis]

(In)Delicate Touch

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit

Summary: Commissioned by @zehei Dabi has been working as a professional sub at La Vénus for a year and a half and he really does enjoy working there. The rooms are great, the way they book clients is clear and comprehensive, and he likes his boss a fair bit too. But one night a client goes too far and Dabi finds himself in a bad drop and nursing wounds he didn't want. He expects to get fired over causing so much trouble, but Tomura is there to lend a hand in any way that Dabi needs.

Content: BDSM club, sex work, bondage, impact play, safe word use, subdrop, aftercare, hurt/comfort, hand job, anal fingering, anal sex, daddy kink, multiple orgasms, praise kink.

Word Count: 10878

La Vénus is the only place Dabi bothers to take contracts through anymore. The BDSM club is the best in Kamino and it is the only one that really keeps up with the professionals who want to use it as a place to do business. They even have a portal on their website so that professional doms and subs can put their profiles, their limits, their availability, and a secure line for contacting. La Vénus has rules, of course. They're considered independent contractors and they can be removed from the club whenever the owner dismisses them, but they take a very small cut of the money they earn, and the security they provide is well-worth the price. Dabi doesn't have to be scared of giving his apartment address to anyone or going to a secondary location with a client, and V ensures that they are always abiding by the rules by having a row of rooms for their working doms and subs that have open windows, so that anyone can see inside and be certain that their business is being conducted appropriately. 

If he also happens to think that the owner is hot as fuck with his hair pushed back, his deadly fucking quirk barely contained by his gloves, and his perfectly tailored black suit with a blood red coat, and getting to check in with him before every shift is fucking perfect, then that's his business. 

"Just one session tonight, Dabi?" Shigaraki asks, checking his phone for the contract he and his dom for the night submitted for use of one of those rooms. 

"It's supposed to be a long bondage one." He explains. 

"Hmm, are you sure that all of the information you entered is correct? I thought you only used silk and no nylon for your staples." Dabi is genuinely surprised Shigaraki has paid that much attention to him, or at least to his preferences. He's got upwards of three hundred people in this club every night of the week and he's never seen the other man take a day off in the year and a half he's been subbing here. Not only that but he's got twenty doms and subs on rotation, he didn't think that anyone would bother to remember more than the names of the people he's been working with. 

"It was his first time booking, he might have mis-clicked. Can I still make adjustments to the room setup?" There's only another twenty minutes till the club opens its door and Dabi is supposed to be alone for at least an hour before his client arrives. He was planning on putting on a nice little peepshow for people, but he'd rather make certain that the room and everything is all set up for his session with a client. 

"Of course. I can have silk brought to your room." He agrees. "Do you want red to... match?" Dabi's already put up his coat and bag in the private changing area that the performers have access to, so he's just in his dark red lacy panties and the silver body chains with small red crystal dangles hanging off of them. He used to go for a blue look, but to distinguish workers from anyone else just looking to partake at the club, all of the performers from doms and subs to strippers and workshop teachers have to wear a deep red leather collar with La Venus embellished on it in silver foil. He didn't want the accessory to look out of place, and pivoted to wearing red instead of blue at the club. 

"If it's not too much trouble." Dabi always likes to think about his optics. Other people he's talked shop with around the club say they're usually focusing on a scene when they're in it, and that's great that works for them, but Dabi wants to be certain that he's staying constantly vigilant, and that he's setting himself up for future clients too. If their sessions are all going to be observable, then he is going to be a hell of a sight to see, and he's gonna make sure that he's got his aesthetic dialed in. 

"It's no trouble at all, Dabi." Shigaraki tells him easily.. "Does everything else seem alright?" Dabi reviews the contract again, and that looks like the only thing that was entered wrong, and he nods. "Alright, you're going to be in L2 today," he reaches back on the wall, unlocking the glass door and retrieving the key for the right room. His favorite room actually. He likes being on the left side because the bounce light is a little more diffused from that side, giving people a clearer view through the window, and he likes being in rooms two or three in that hall because those are the ones that people tend to linger in front of more, not wanting to clog up the entryway as they try to get to the seating areas that also line the hall. 

"Thanks, Shigaraki." He takes the key, but the owner doesn't let go of the tag for a second. 

"You know you can call me 'Tomura'." 

"Maybe when I'm off the clock, boss." He retorts easily. No matter how hot the other man is, Dabi doesn't want to get distracted. This is his job, he can't go around fucking that up by getting familiar or, god forbid, flirting with the guy who's establishment pays his bills. 

Shigaraki, for his part, looks wryly amused and lets him head out after that, the next person slipping in to confirm their night's plans as well. Dabi heads to his room to finish getting ready and wait for his silk. Maybe he will have a chance to put on that peep show after all. 

///

Dabi spends the first hour that V is open teasing his nipples and palming himself through his panties on the bed getting himself achingly hard and so close to the edge, but easing off of his peak to keep himself 'unspoiled' for his client who asked for him to be pent up and a little frustrated. Definitely a streak of sadist in him, but Dabi isn't a stranger to that, and he's looking forward to getting thoroughly worked over. 

Jin, one of the security team he recognizes at a glance, brings the new client to the door and Dabi is fully not expecting the blonde man to be so much taller than he is even after knowing he would be from his ID when he booked the session. Dabi steels his nerves. "Goto, it's good to meet you, I'm looking forward to our session." He starts with a pleasant smile. "If we can just re-touch on rules and boundaries, then I'd be happy to submit to you. Would you like to sit?" 

"Yeah, sure." The blond only has one eye, his prosthetic in the missing one looking like it's been forced into place with the metallic spikes around it that is kind of intimidating. He sits and Dabi starts to go through his usual spiel, he restates his hard limits, that they'll be using the traffic light system, the hand gestures that he will use if at any point during the session he goes non-verbal for any reason, and then he turns back to ask if there's anything he needs to go over as well. Goto is flat and unmoved when he says, "No." Sounding more bored than anything and Dabi's skin prickles with the first stirrings of discomfort. "Why are there silks instead of ropes?" 

He frowns slightly, "During the consultation, I said that I couldn't use rope over my staples. Since you said you wanted a heavy rigging session, I had it switched for silk since that's something my skin can tolerate." 

The other man considers the silk for a second before scoffing softly. "Fine. But you can take impact, can't you? If we're using silk, I want to use a paddle instead of my hands." 

Dabi doesn't normally love to use a paddle, it's wider and less accurate, meaning partners can overlap his staples on accident and leave him with fresh wounds. "I think that a riding crop would leave prettier marks, don't you, Sir?" He offers instead carefully. 

Goto looks him up and down and Dabi tries to look smaller and softer for him. Clearly he's more of a sadist than he'd originally thought, but the pay for this session is half of his rent this month. He can put up with this if it gets him what he needs. "Fine." Dabi expects him to ask about his levels, to get the toy off of the offered wall of them and test his tolerance. It's good practice for a session like this, but Dabi figures, 

"Remember, club rules state no impact with any implements across the face, and only light impact across the stomach and places prone to injury. My staples are fragile, so please avoid those where you can, but anywhere else is alright." 

"Yeah, got it, can we get started now?" The blond nearly snaps. Dabi bristles, but says nothing. It's his first time at V as far as he said during the booking. Maybe he's uncomfortable knowing the far wall is a window, even if it looks like a mirror from their side. 

He makes concessions on his politeness and breathes out a slow breath, trying to shake his tension and allow himself to slip into the headspace that he needs to. "Of course we can, if that would please my master." He simpers sweetly, trying for doe-eyed and helpless. 

The man starts to loosen some of his tension and tosses the jacket he was wearing over his black mesh tank top onto the chair in the corner of the room for more intimate cucking or voyeuristic sessions. "That's better, whore. I better not hear another mouthy word out of you, or I'm going to have to get rough." 

Not his favorite type of scene, but Dabi is a professional sub, he submits.

///

Goto is rough with him, and he likes his knots tight. They're loose enough, he thinks, for maybe one of Dabi's fingers, but his feel bigger as they move over his skin and knot them into place. He works methodically, not paying much attention to Dabi himself as he works. He occasionally pulls at the silk with an unhappy set around his mouth, but he clearly knows what he's doing, and Dabi finds himself over the course of an hour, knotted into a few different positions, as the other man gets a good look at his body and how flexible he is like this, before he ends up in a ball tie, tipped on his side. When the ropes are secure, thankfully, the other man doesn't actually also reach for a ball gag. He just puts his bigger hand over his ass, and palms him through his panties. He's not really doing much but groping him, and it doesn't really feel good, but Dabi moans anyway. 

The yelp he lets out the next second is real though as the riding crop comes down across the back of his tied thighs so hard that Dabi would put the pain at a seven already. The sound splits the air and he nearly chokes on his breath. 

"Not another nasty sound out of you, whore. You're not here to feel good, you're here for me to use." 

Dabi holds up three fingers to show that he understands, and then bites his lower lip hard as another crack comes down, this time just beneath his ass. And the next overlaps the first. Then across his exposed hip, along the outside of his thigh. It hurts, going up to a nine and holding there as the man hits him again and again with the crop. he goes over his scars, over his healthy skin, and the blood rushing up to the freshly forming welts as they swell, puts an uncomfortable pressure along his seams, especially around his thighs. He swears that between the ropes holding his legs together and pressed to his chest, and the ache of the impact, he's going to pop out his staples along those seams. 

"Y-yellow," he manages as he's panting between blows. 

"Thought I fucking said to keep your mouth shut?" The riding crop gets tossed to the bed, and in that second, Dabi thinks that he is setting it aside to check in. 

But the next robs him of that delusion entirely. Goto's hand fists in Dabi's hair, and he grabs hard to force his face into the sheets. Dabi barely manages to tuck his chin tighter to his chest so that he isn't smothered into the pillows and unable to speak as the man cuts off the other way he would be able to signal that he needs to stop. "Red!" He cries out, wanting to be let up immediately. 

"God, you whores here have had it too good. Thinking you can tell me what to do? When to stop? You need to learn your fucking place." He snarls, using one hand to hold him down while his other goes to-- Dabi hears the metal and leather sliding through each other as his belt is pulled. Fuck, fuck, fuck, 

"Red! Stop--" He hears the other man spit into his hand and his whole body goes hot with his terror. No, no, no, even if he hasn't moved his panties out of the way yet, if he gets that, or anything else in his seams when they hurt so badly, when they're so close to open, then he could get sick. He can't get sick again, he can't. Dabi tries to fumble for his quirk desperately, wanting to burn the silk from around his body, wanting to scare this fucker before he does anything worse to him--

"Don't you know that I own you?" 

It's like every string in him has been cut. Dabi's whole body goes so instantaneously numb that he can't make his quirk work. I own you. It's not Goto's voice that echoes in his mind. Not pain hits his body as he is shunted so sharply to hiding in his room with Natsuo as their father snarls at their mother. It's a stupid fear, it's an old helplessness that he shouldn't let distract himself now, not when he can't stop that memory, but he has to stop this disgusting man from ruining him even more as he hears his hand moving roughly over his cock. 

"Don't!" His voice doesn't even sound like his own, he can barely recognize it. It hasn't been filled with such sharp, anguished terror since he was burning--

"Get away from him!" There's movement, shouting, a scream behind him, but Dabi is only shakily trying to push his quirk away now, so scared he may light the bed on fire accidentally. He can't hurt his seams again, can't use his quirk right now, he'll burn it all to the ground and he's already destroyed whatever place he had here. Dabi sobs against the bed, his fear too big and sharp to make sense of whatever is happening beyond his body. 

There are voices, he thinks, furious and short, and the kind of whispers that come in the wake of something awful. He's the awful thing. He lost control of a session. He's the one who's broken, bleeding now, if not from his seams, than from his eyes as he sobs on the bed. 

"Dabi," the voice comes, addressing him and the bed dips just the slightest bit. He doesn't know who's speaking to him, just that it's not that man. This voice is low and trying to soothe him, he thinks, but it's hard to focus on anything other than the fear choking his chest and his quirk that is rioting beneath his skin. "Dabi, you're starting to smoke." The voice is so gentle. "No one is going to hurt you anymore." He waits but Dabi doesn't believe him. People are always hurting him. He's always hurting himself. Why would this be any different? He sobs harder and there is a longer pause, probably as the new voice decides where he deserves to be hurt when he's already been broken so thoroughly. "Can I touch you, Dabi?" 

He barely croaks, "R-red--" Through his sobs. He needs it to stop. He has to make it stop. 

"The scene is over, Dabi," the voice promises him. "I just want to untie you. Don't you think it would help if you could sit up, Dabi?" 

Would it? Could he make himself small on his own terms then? He sniffles, but it doesn't stop the tears. He barely manages to nod. 

"Okay, I'm not going to touch you. You just need to hold still, alright?" Dabi does his best to do as he's told, but tensing his muscles lightly makes them start to shake hard. He feels a little tug at one of the silks and then he's got the whisper of... something barely heavier than air against his skin, and the restrictive silk is gone. It happens twice more and then Dabi is able to slump against the bed, his limbs under his own control again, and Dabi does his best to push himself up, mind still swimming through a rolling sickness. Sick. He could get sick again. He could get hit again. He needs to focus. 

It feels impossible to do as he forces his mostly numb arms beneath his chest as he tries to turn around. His vision swims through his tears and he doesn't find the hulking man with blond hair anywhere in the room. The far curtain has been drawn over the viewing window, and Shigaraki is sitting at the foot of the bed, his hands resting in his lap. No, no, no. Further panic makes his ribs constrict sharply around his lungs. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry--" he sobs immediately. He's ruined everything, he's made so much trouble for the club. Oh-- oh god, he's really never going to be able to work here again. He's going to have to go back to what he did before--going to have to take on more clients like Goto, going to have to risk his health, his safety-- 

"Dabi, you don't need to apologize. I just need you to breathe. Can you do that for me?" 

He should be able to, shouldn't he? That's supposed to be the simplest thing a person can do, but he can't quite manage it past the tiny hiccupping sips of air that he's making himself in past the hitching sobs that are shaking his body. 

"...Okay, can you look at me, sweetheart?" Shigaraki's voice goes even softer, and Dabi forces himself to peek up at him from the tight hunch he's made of himself up against the headboard. "That's perfect, now I just need you to follow my breaths. You don't have to be perfect," he soothes, "I just want you to try. Can you try for me, Dabi?" 

Shigaraki takes a slow breath in, holds it for a few seconds, and then he lets it out in a long steady stream. Dabi doesn't think he'll ever breathe like that again, not when his chest is so tight, but he isn't being yelled at yet, isn't being hit, and he doesn't want that to change. He tries so hard for the first few breaths, but he can't stop crying for long enough to manage it on those. 

But Shigaraki smiles at him anyway, "That's it, you're already doing such a good job for me, sweetheart. Can you keep going?" He resumes the patterned breathing, and the soft encouragement makes Dabi try harder. He's already made such a mess, he has to be at least capable of doing this right. 

He forces himself to breathe. Each one stutters and stalls until his tears aren't so constant, until they're just a scattered few droplets on his cheeks and his lungs are able to fill a little more. In some vague, dizzy shadow of his mind, he thinks he was hoping that breathing again would make the awful, cold pit in his gut disperse a little. That maybe the breaths would loosen that knot of dread, but he doesn't feel that happen. His dread stays settled against his nerves as those wake up after shorting out to try to protect him from what was happening to his body. Suddenly, he's not just scared, exhausted, and sick to his stomach, he's in pain too, and he starts to shake, a thin whimper leaving him as he looks down at himself. He has to uncurl his knees from his chest to see the side of his thigh that was exposed to the crop. 

The welt he finds across his scar is so puffy that he can see it clearly, and it's shiny. The color is too dark for him to tell if it's blood, sweat, or if it's because it's just so swollen around the fresh wound, but it hurts and he needs... something. He can't get sick again, but he is having such a hard time reordering his thoughts, figuring out what he needs to do next when everything hurts and his mind is so foggy. 

"Are you in pain, Dabi?" Shigaraki keeps talking to him softly, and Dabi barely manages to nod. "I want to get you something to drink and some medicine, but there isn't anything here." He explains carefully. "Do you think that we can move to somewhere else where I can get you those things?" 

He doesn't want to hurt anymore. He doesn't want to get sick. Dabi barely manages to nod his head, the action feeling like it takes every ounce of his strength.

"Good, do you think you can stand by yourself, sweetheart?" 

Dabi doesn't know. He feels weak and his legs hurt more than anything else. He is shaking already when he just manages to uncurl his arms from around them. It's the first flicker of sense that goes through his head when he kicks off his pumps before even attempting to put his feet against the floor. Shigaraki stands as well. 

"Can I come closer, Dabi? You can hold onto my arm if you need help." He smiles at him as he makes the offer and Dabi doesn't have the energy to speak. He manages to hold three fingers against the rumpled sheets and moves to the edge. The shock of the cold floor against his bare feet is such a small thing to make him uncomfortable, but everything inside of him is already so messy that he can't tolerate it, pulling his legs back up. "...Is it too much?" 

He manages another tiny nod. 

"Okay, can I pick you up? I promise I'll be very gentle, and when I put you down, you'll be able to have some water and something for the pain." 

He doesn't want to think. He doesn't even want to exist right now. He leaves his fingers open against the sheets. Shigaraki can do whatever he wants to him now. He's already broken. What's another fracture in his skin? 

"I'm going to pick you up. I need you to keep your hands where I can see them so I know if it's hurting." Why bother? He won't stop if it does. 

It doesn't hurt when Shigaraki picks him up. He's careful as he lifts him off of the bed, supporting his back with one arm and the other hooking under his knees instead of his thighs to keep as much pressure away from the welts as possible. Dabi is lifted and he gives up. He tucks his face against Shigaraki's white shirt and closes his eyes as exhaustion sweeps so completely through him. 

///

He's not certain how long passes between being carried from that room to finding himself blinking as he notices that there's something sugary on his tongue. It's soda, he realizes after a second, lemon-lime soda. The sweetness of that helps him to take stock of other parts of his body. He is aching and sore. His broken body hates him again and it's his fault. It's always his fault. He should have known better, should have been more careful. But he wasn't and now he's hurting and he deserves it. 

Dabi pulls away from the straw that's being offered to him and tries to take in his surroundings. They're in one of the private rooms, the actual private rooms of the club, and instead of having the lights low and a thrum of music going through the sparse bedroom, the lights are on all the way and it's as quiet as it can be with the activities of the club still filtering in from past the door. Shigaraki is sitting on the chair that has been dragged to the edge of the bed that Dabi's sitting on. The backs of his legs hurt, and he shifts a little on the edge as the other watches him, taking the cup away and putting it on the side table when he finishes with that. 

"...I'm sorry." His voice sounds like it's been completely scraped raw as he tries to make his head clear. He needs to go. He made so much trouble. He has to leave. If he leaves by himself, at least, then he won't have to be kicked out. He would rather save some small thread of his dignity than have to give that up too. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Shigaraki's voice is that same low, careful tone that he doesn't deserve. "Are you still hurting? I had Yumina bring some of the bruise salve. Do you want to put some of that on?"

The welts definitely hurt and he would really like for them not to anymore, but he just shakes his head and starts to stand. "Can I get my stuff before I go?" His voice shakes as he asks. It wouldn't be the first time he's just been kicked out without any of his things. But he doesn't know how he's going to even make his rent without V. He can't have to start over with his whole life without his phone too. 

"... If you think you're ready for that, then I need to know if you want me to call the police." Shigaraki asks. 

Dabi blanches, fear swelling through his chest and making it go tight. "What?" Did he break his contract with the club? He thought he would be fired, not arrested. 

"Do you want to press charges against him? I know it's difficult in situations like this, but if you want to have him arrested, we can do that. If you want..." Shigaraki's expression blackens, "Other repercussions made, then we can decide on that as well." 

Him? His head feels like it's still full of fluff. "...Aren't you mad at me?" His voice is tiny when he manages the question. 

That replaces the darkness on his features with something softer and more surprised in an instant. "Of course not, Dabi. You did everything you needed to, there's no reason for me to be upset with you." He watches Dabi as he says those words and Dabi has no idea what his face does, but he is even more deliberate and careful as he keeps speaking. "I'm sorry that happened, I'm sorry that I didn't get there faster. But you're not in trouble, and we're going to make sure that Imasuji never does something like this again." 

His seams beneath his eyes hurt and he feels something hot and wet drip against his thighs. 

Shigaraki sees him start to cry and shifts slightly before catching himself. "Can I touch you?" 

Dabi hesitates, half expecting to be hit again, but he finally gives a tiny nod. Shigaraki gathers him up, and pulls him close, tucking Dabi's head beneath his chin and getting him to sit at an angle in his lap so that the worst of the welts don't have any pressure against them. And then his hands start to pet so gently over his skin. He holds him and he speaks, 

"I'm so glad you called out for help. I'm so sorry that happened and I'm going to do whatever I can to make sure that nothing like this happens again. I promise that you're going to be safe if you want to keep working here." 

"...I can stay?" 

Shigaraki looks at him like he wishes he could pull all of the pain out of Dabi's skin. He curls a hand gently around the back of his neck and he rests their foreheads together. "Of course you can, sweetheart. I wouldn't want you anywhere else." 

The tears fall a little faster and Dabi tangles his fingers into Shigaraki's shirt, clinging to him as he begins to sob fresh. 

///

It's not until he notices the pain getting more intense in his legs that he tries to take stock of himself again. Shigaraki reaches over to the side table and takes one of the tissues to help dab away the blood from under his sore seams and crusted under his staples. He hisses slightly from how broken and achy they feel and is hit with another jolt of fear over how bad they must be. 

"Are you in more pain?" Shigaraki glances at his watch, "You can have another dose of pain medicine if you want it." 

Dabi doesn't remember even taking the first, but that must mean it's been hours since the last one and he feels sharply guilty for forcing the other to stay for so long dealing with him. "I'm okay," he can be. He will be, he thinks. Maybe. If he's not actually broken from everything that happened before. "I need to go home--" He tries to shift and can't help the sharp sound of pain he makes as he puts a little more weight on the welts and his aching seams. 

"Dabi, I won't make you have anything you don't want, but I need to know you're going to be alright if you decide to leave." 

He swallows, not wanting to look at him, but not trusting his muscles much after how much just that little shifting hurt. "...I need my medicine." He admits quietly. 

And Shigaraki doesn't blink. "Okay, is it in your bag? Do you want me to have someone bring it for you?" 

"...Okay." 

Shigaraki shifts his hold on Dabi's body slightly and he sees him pull out his phone and shoot off a text to Jin to have someone bring Dabi his things. He gets an affirmative, and after just a couple of minutes, Shigaraki is picking him up again so that he can put him on the edge of the bed while he goes over to the door to retrieve the bag. He brings it over and Dabi pulls out the alcohol wipes and his salve before being faced with the location of the hurts and how he's going to manage to check them. 

"Why don't you lay on your stomach? I can help you." He offers gently. "You can watch in the mirror and let me know if there's anything you need." 

He considers protesting, but he doesn't have a better option if he wants to see how these look and how fucked he's going to be trying to get back into his tight leather pants before he walks home. If he can even manage that. "Okay," he agrees quietly, making himself lay on his stomach, the chains and crystal beads pressing against his skin. He takes a shaky breath and turns his head so that he can look at himself in the mirror that's suspended above the bed. 

The welts are dark and crusted with tacky deep red scabs at some of the highest points and the places where they overlap with each other. That's not good, but Dabi is more scared of his seams as his attention goes lower. His staples are doing their best to keep his skin together, the sections there so swollen with irritation from either side of his skin being abused that they've nearly expanded past their limits, but they are, technically, shut. He gives a soft sigh of relief. Shigaraki makes sure he's watching and then starts to clean him up with gentle, deliberate movements, always giving Dabi enough time to ask him to stop before he touches the next place on his body. And each touch is light and careful. His skin is cool through his gloves as he opens the alcohol wipes and dabs away the bits of blood before going to the salve Dabi spends most of his money making sure he never runs out of. 

He immediately lets out a shaky sigh of relief at the first cold touch of the creme against his skin. The medicine is a thin antibiotic lotion that has a slight numbing effect that takes away a lot of the lingering discomfort. Knowing that he is getting what he needs, that his seams aren't actually open, that helps to take away the threads of fear in him, and he lets himself watch Shigaraki in the mirror as he rubs the medicine into his skin. 

He moves in soft circles, making sure to get along the welts and along each line of his seams and puncture of his staples. His hands are delicate, not looking to hurt him any more than he already has been tonight, and Dabi... starts to drift as the fear, pain, and worry ebb. He's being taken care of. He gets that so rarely. Normally he barely lets himself have a minute or two of aftercare once as session is over, and even then, he's usually using that time to try and get his client to book another session while they're still coming down from the high of their domination or while they're still aching for a release they'll need to find on their own elsewhere in the club. But this feels good. He can't remember the last time someone else helped him put the medicine on his skin. 

More of the pain fades as he finally allows himself to relax a little more against the sheets and he sighs. Shigaraki's hand stills for a second, but when Dabi timidly leaves three fingers open against the sheets, he feels three open in return against his thigh before he keeps tending to the wounds and swollen areas of skin. It puts a soft kind of warmth in his body that makes him want more of that. He's being careful, he's listening to him and taking care of him. Dabi wonders distantly if it says something sad and pathetic just that is enough to make his body temperature creep up a little higher the touches continue. 

He doesn't mean to let out the little moan that slips his lips when Tomura's fingers move along his seam towards his inner thighs, but it feels so nice to have a soft touch there. Dabi opens his legs a little more and shifting against the sheets lets him feel that his cock has started to harden too. Tomura stops when he hears that soft sound of pleasure and Dabi is reluctant to look over his shoulder to see his face, instead watching him stiffen over him in the mirror. A sharper fear goes through him. He wasn't supposed to make any noises, was he? Is he going to be hit again?

"Does that feel better, baby boy?" Tomura's voice is a little thicker, lower, and his fingers trail from the inside of his thighs along to the outer edge so that he's not touching any hurts anymore. And he puts two fingers against Dabi's skin, waiting. 

Is this a scene? Could it be? Dabi wants to take away the unpleasantness still echoing around in him from what came before. But... he doesn't know if he'll be allowed that, even when it's Shigaraki's collar looped around his neck. "...Yes, Sir. More?" He chances, keeping his hand as is. 

"Of course baby, just have to tell me if there's anything you don't like." He strokes along his thighs again, and Dabi watches in the mirror as he goes from just trailing two fingers over his skin, to both of his palms open, the soft leather touching his seams and healthy skin. This touch goes between his legs, up a little higher, light and good. A nice touch after the angry ones, and Dabi lets out a tiny sigh. "Does that feel nice, sweetheart?" 

He tucks his face into the sheets, giving up on the mirror, and manages a nod against them. Dabi doesn't normally get to be soft after something so rough, but the contrast feels so good. Like it's putting fluff around all the hurts that were written into his soul and skin. He shifts and Tomura's hands immediately retreat, but Dabi only wanted to push up a little, getting his knees a little more under him so that he would be able to lift his hips slightly as he starts to get harder, and to spread his legs a little more. 

"Good boy," Tomura murmurs, his hands going back to his skin and tracing circles up his thighs, deeper between them. He goes higher, but not where Dabi wants them. He wants something that feels good now. Tomura's already made things so much better. He can take away the last sharp bits of unhappiness in him, he knows he can. "You just have to show me what you need, baby boy, I'll give you anything." And he sounds a little breathless as he speaks. 

It makes the neediness in him go a little hotter and he makes himself let go of the sheets so that he can reach back and find Tomura's arm. He hooks his fingers in the edge of his gloves and feels his face go hot as he pulls at him. He lets his arm be moved and Dabi brings it further between his legs, until his fingers are grazing the edge of his panties. Tomura takes over from there and Dabi is holding onto the sheets again as he moves his fingers lightly over his covered balls and up to his hardening cock. 

"You want to feel good, sweetheart?" His voice going hotter. 

Dabi manages a little nod, still certain he won't be allowed that after before. 

Tomura's fingers stroke up his cock, cupping him through the lace as he hums softly. "I can do that, baby boy, but I need you to move for me." His hand retreats and Dabi wants it back, so he lets Tomura get him onto his back, and Dabi is confronted with the sight of himself in the ceiling mirror. His face is flushed and still a little blotchy from crying. He looks dazed as the chains glitter in the light of the room, his legs spread wide, knees bent to keep the worst of the welts from touching the bed. And his cock is hard and stretching his panties. Tomura moves between his spread legs, leaning over him carefully and blocking his view in the mirror. And there's not a trace of cruelty in his look. His eyes are warm and he's smiling at Dabi softly. "Can I take off your panties, sweetheart? I want to make your pretty cock feel good." 

Dabi bites his lip and nods. 

"Can I hear your color? It will make me feel better if I know you're using them." He asks, reaching to cup his cheek and stroke his thumb just under one of his aching seams. 

"Green, Sir." 

"Good. But you don't have to call me that, baby boy. I can be whatever you need from me right now. What do you want, sweetheart?" 

He wants to be safe. He wants to feel good. He wants the softness and sweetness that he never gets, let alone after something bad has happened. And he wants to be small in the wake of that. "Daddy," he whispers, his face going so hot with his shame, terrified that he can't have this either. 

Tomura's smile makes his eyes warm too as he leans over him, his hand shifting so that he can push his hair from his forehead. The kiss he presses there feels like a balm as much as his medicine did against his hurts. "You're doing such a good job for me, baby boy. Lift your hips a little more." 

He does and Tomura makes sure the thin fabric doesn't rub against any of the welts as he pulls his panties down his legs. Dabi kicks out of them when they're low enough and then he chances reaching for Tomura, getting one hand in his hair that is as thick and soft as he's always wondered. He lets himself be pulled up, but when Dabi wants a hard, messy kiss to reassure him that this is something he can have, he's instead given one that is so soft and achingly tender that it makes him breathless. His whole body gets a little warmer as Tomura kisses him, his hands moving lightly over his skin, stroking up his thighs before he shifts over him.

 Dabi almost whines, but he feels him reaching and hears the rustle of plastic as he finds the bowl on the side table that holds the variety of lubes that are in every room for the club-goers' use. Tomura picks one at random and brings his other hand up to tear it open, and when he wraps his hand around Dabi's length, his glove glides across his skin and makes Dabi's toes curl with pleasure. The touch there, after the pain from before, after denying himself even earlier, makes him gasp, wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck to keep him close as he touches him. 

He moans, his hips moving, trying to get more of that good sensation after a night of bad. "Daddy," he pleads. 

"I've got you, baby boy." He murmurs, pressing a kiss softly to the seam aching under one of his eyes. His fingers move over him, making sure to rub along his ladder and around his head, bringing Dabi's pleasure higher. He whimpers when he tightens his thighs around Daddy's hips and it makes his hurts ache a little. But he doesn't have to hurt for long. Tomura immediately shifts so that he has one hand under his hip, lifting Dabi's weight a bit and moving it higher on his back, making sure that none of the welts are rubbing against the sheets and that he doesn't have to try to get him closer, not when he's holding onto him, his legs supporting his lower half. And letting him feel Daddy's cock is getting hard too where it's pressed against him. 

Tomura doesn't pay his own arousal any attention, his hand moving deliberately over Dabi's cock, searching and finding every place that makes his pleasure sharper. His body is already so exhausted from the night, that it's not hard for him to get lost in the feelings, for his head to start to float into that soft good space that makes him love being a sub. And when he moans and tries to move into the pleasure, he doesn't get yelled at, he doesn't get hurt, instead Daddy gives him more kisses. 

"There, you're doing such a good job, baby boy. I'm so happy that you're letting me help you feel good, sweetheart. You're so pretty when you're blushing like this." And the words put more of that needy, squirmy heat in him through the heavy fog rolling in. He twists his wrist as he strokes him and Dabi moans loudly, hips jumping up into the touch. Daddy sees how much he likes that and he keeps doing it on each stroke, making him shiver and tremble, moans spilling off his lips and his fingers tugging at Daddy's suit jacket as his cock leaks. 

It only takes a few more of those tight, perfect strokes before Dabi's back is arching again, smoke curling out of his throat, as he cums, spilling all over Daddy's hand and his own stomach. He gasps, trembling against the sheets as that bliss soaks through his veins and leaves him absolutely boneless. 

"Perfect, baby boy. You did such a good job for me. I'm so proud of you, precious." He starts to shift, reaching for another wipe to clean him up and even floating, Dabi knows he doesn't want to get cleaned up yet. He doesn't want to stop. He wants Daddy to make him feel so good that he doesn't even remember the welts against his thighs. 

"Daddy," Tomura pauses and Dabi struggles to find more words, "More? Please?" He tries to be careful, making sure to only put pressure on the inside of his thighs as he tightens them around Tomura's hips. And then he rolls his hips down, breathless when he feels how big and hard Daddy's cock is. 

"Are you sure, sweetheart? All I want is to take care of you. We don't need to do anything else." He reassures him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

Dabi knots his fingers in his jacket a little tighter and pulls at it, nodding. "Green. Please, Daddy?" 

"Of course, precious. But if you change your mind, if you don't like something, all you have to do is tell me, and then we'll be all done, okay?" 

"Mmhm," he mumbles, pulling at his shirt again. 

Tomura gives him another kiss, and then only partially disappoints Dabi because he does have to move away if he wants to strip himself of his clothes, the fabric getting tossed item by item onto the chair until he's only wearing his gloves. Only what he needs to make certain that Dabi is safe before he moves back between his legs and kisses his lips again. Dabi loses himself in that, his hands now getting to move over all of the pretty pale muscles that have been hiding under his clothes. 

Daddy's hands move over his skin too, touching his chest, pushing his chains out of the way so that he can play with the rings through his nipples, and over his sides, down his stomach, up his thighs. He goes slowly, his mouth going across Dabi's jaw and along his neck and collar bones, looking for places that make Dabi's skin go warm again. When his hands go lower he opens his legs wider, when his fingers, slick again from more lube touch him tentatively, he gasps, "Green," again before they start to move against him. 

He has to keep one arm around the back of his neck, still scared of being tossed aside while he's getting so close to the perfect floaty place he rarely ever gets to find, but the other knots back against the sheets, needing something else to hold onto. Whimpers and moans spill past his lips as Daddy circles his hole until those nerves are prickling with need. When his first finger presses in he feels gone, as the pleasure aches through him as his cock starts to harden again. 

Tomura opens him up with the same deliberate, gentle movements as he did to soothe his hurts and by the time he has three inside of him, moving against his prostate, he is near tears again from how good he feels this time. "Tomura!" He can't help the sounds spilling from him, his cock pressing against his stomach and drooling fresh pre from how needy every touch is making him. "Tomura, Daddy, please, please!" His nails bite into the sheets and the back of his neck. "Please, I want it, please, want your cock." 

"I'm going to give it to you, precious, just have to wait a little longer." Tomura gives him another kiss before he shifts again, pulling a condom from the bowl of them and Dabi waits with breathless impatience for  him to get it on before he's pulling him back in, and shifting to help him line up. His head rubs against his hole as Tomura untangles his fingers from the sheets, catching that hand and threading their fingers together. Before he can feel overwhelmed from the tenderness of that action, he starts to press inside and Dabi is lost in the stretch of him inside. 

It feels like it takes an eternity for him to be so deliciously, perfectly full. Tomura presses more soft kisses across his face as Dabi pants and whimpers, every breath makes his nerves sing like his whole body is trying to make up for the agony from earlier by amplifying every flicker of pleasure. He's hazy with it as he demands, "Green, Daddy," when he can't possibly stand to wait a second longer for it to get even better. 

Tomura breathes a laugh against his skin, leaning back just enough so that Dabi can see him smile. See his pretty eyes looking at him like he's the whole world. "Okay, baby boy, but you know what to say if it's too much?" He nods weakly and Tomura gives him another kiss as he starts to move. 

Dabi has never had sex like this before. He has never been so deep in the cloud of his subspace, never been touched like he was something precious. He has never had someone moving inside of his body, doing everything they could to make him feel good the way Tomura is. He makes sure that he's rubbing against his prostate, going at a slow, deliberate pace that keeps from putting any hard pressure against his seams or bruises, and he doesn't lose his patience with that. He keeps fucking Dabi so carefully instead of chasing his own pleasure, and he looks at him, holds his hand, like this is all he needs. Like seeing Dabi falling apart under him is all he could ever need in the world. Like he's not a burden, not an inconvenience, not an employee, but something... precious. It all makes his head so messy in such a different way than before that Dabi is smoking again as his quirk heightens alongside his pleasure. 

He is so hazy that he doesn't know how long Tomura is moving with him, kissing him, his hand tightening against Dabi's as they both build their ecstasy higher and higher. But Daddy's fucking him slow, so it must be a while. He doesn't know if it matters though, because when his cock starts to ache again, his balls going so tight, and just before his orgasm pulses through him again, he finds himself squeezing their interlocked hands together a little tighter. 

"Tomura," his name is a gasp and he's not expecting the other to whisper back, 

"Dabi," like he's the most important thing in the world. He really doesn't mean for that to push him over the edge, his body thrumming with pleasure that goes even higher as Tomura bottoms out inside of him as they cum together. Dabi doesn't think he's ever managed that with a partner either, but his fog is far too thick for him to care as Tomura captures his lips in another all-consuming kiss. 

///

They lay in bed together for a while, Tomura pressing more kisses and praise into his skin until Dabi stops trembling with his pleasure. Until his fog rolls back from his mind and after the night he's had, all he can do is feel exhausted. Tomura didn't bother taking off his watch when he was getting ready to fuck him, so Dabi catches the edge of his glove and pulls on it so he can see the time. 

"Fucking hell--" he starts to sit up out of the circle of the other's embrace as he realizes it's dawn. He started his session at eleven. "God, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" His stomach sinks. Fuck, fuck, he cause so much trouble for the club tonight and then he'd fucking slept with his boss. 

"You don't have anything to apologize for, Dabi." Tomura tells him immediately in the same even tone as he did before, with the same warmth in his eyes. "Are you feeling better?" 

He hesitates, taking stock of himself now that his head doesn't feel nearly as out of sorts as he had since he dropped. "Yeah... thanks for taking care of me." 

"Of course--" 

"No," he pushes a little harder, straightening his spine. "You didn't have to do that. You could have left me to deal with it myself, you could have called the cops and let me come down barely-clothed in a police station. But you made sure to take care of me here, and treated the bruises. Thank you." 

Tomura doesn't dismiss the words this time. "...You're welcome, Dabi. Is there anything else that you need?" 

"A shower, breakfast I guess, and the patience to deal with cops and heroes for a couple of hours if I decide to report that douchebag for assault." 

Shigaraki's expression darkens. "This room has a bathroom attached. If you want to go clean up, I can go get your day clothes from your locker and bring them in for you. I can't offer much as far as food goes, but I might be able to help ease the stress of the last part." 

Has Goto been held here the whole time? He'd asked if he wanted to go to the police earlier, but Dabi hadn't been thinking clearly enough to put that statement into any more context. "Okay." Tomura hesitates a second, and then leans in and presses another kiss to his forehead. 

"I'll be right back, firefly." 

///

Dabi goes and takes a shower, and by the time he's finished and dried with the towels that smell sharply of the detergent used to make sure they're clean, Tomura is all buttoned up again and Dabi's day clothes are waiting for him along with another soda, bottle of water, and a bottle of Tylenol. He takes the pain meds, downs the water, and dresses. If he goes to report this then it's going to be a long fucking day to start without a lick of sleep. He should have asked for an espresso martini, though he doubts that any of the bartenders are even still here. 

When he's dressed, white t-shirt, leather pants, leather duster, boots, and his backpack with his medicine, heels, and club clothes inside, he figures there's no putting this off anymore. 

"Okay, let's deal with this fuckwit." He says with more bravo than he feels. 

"If anything is too much, you just have to say the word, and I'll deal with it, Dabi." 

"I appreciate that, Shig, but you can only fix so much." 

Tomura doesn't stall anymore and they leave the private rooms, going through the main area of the club. It's not that unusual for Dabi to be leaving after closing, but it's definitely later than he usually leaves. He's never seen the club completely empty, even the janitorial staff having finished for the day and abandoned it. They go out of the main area and into the hallway of red rooms, and Dabi startles to find the second room on the left has been roped off with velvet barriers because the glass is gone. Dabi pauses, staring at that gaping nothing that's letting him see that the room has been thoroughly cleaned and reset even though he doubts anyone will be using it until the glass is back in place. 

"What happened?" He doesn't remember hearing any glass break. 

"I was in the main room when I noticed the commotion. I didn't want to lose time by running around to the back hallway." 

"You broke the window?"

"No," he says, continuing to move down the hall. "That could have sprayed you with glass. I decayed it." 

"You're insane." Dabi barely manages to say through his thick throat. 

"When I took over this club I said I would make it a safe place for everyone who comes to indulge. I'm not about to let one of my staff, one of my best members of staff, get hurt here." They leave the hall and Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to remain silent. 

Tomura takes him down the service elevator, unlocking the buttons that lead to the basement level with a key and Dabi is a little concerned. He didn't know anyone ever went to the basement levels for anything. But once the elevator is moving again, he reaches back for Dabi's hand and laces their fingers together again, bringing them up so that he can press a kiss to Dabi's knuckles. It puts a warmth, a comfort in his stomach that he's never had the luxury of before. They take the long ride down and when the doors open, Dabi finds the winding pipes and cords that he expected of a place that holds the guts of the skyscraper. Tomura coaxes him out into that tangle of piping, and Dabi follows carefully behind, his quirk sitting hotter under his skin. 

He's led around two corners before they reach a doorway that Tomura knocks on once. He hears a couple of locks being thrown and then the door opens-- revealing Jin, who sees him and immediately breaks into a smile. 

"Hey, Dabs, you doing better?" 

"...Yeah." He wants to ask what exactly is going on, but the other man moves out of the way so that they can see into the room and Dabi bristles, smoke getting trapped behind his teeth as he sees Goto, a gag in his mouth, and his arms cuffed behind him with dampeners where he is strapped to a metal chair that's been bolted to the ground. "What--" Tomura pulls him into the room gently with their entwined hands. 

"Like I said before, we can call the police if you want us to. You have a written contract and a lot of eye-witnesses that will prove that he was in violation of that." He lets go of Dabi's hand to go over to Goto. The other is glaring, his teeth bared as much as they can be around his gag, and Dabi notices that part of his arm is gone. The cuffs are hooked above his elbows because on the right side, everything from the forearm down is gone. And Dabi sees a dangerous thing in Tomura's neutral expression as he takes off his glove, resting four fingers against the back of the chair. "Or we can take care of this now." 

"'Take care of' how?" But the coldness already starting in his gut is answer enough. 

"My quirk doesn't leave anything behind for anyone to find. There isn't even DNA in the dust." He doesn't say it outright, but there's no mistaking this proposal for anything but what it is. And immediately Dabi thinks he should be scared. For as gentle and caring as Tomura just was with him, he can and has, apparently, killed people before. He is dangerous. But he is watching Dabi with that tentativeness from before. Trying to make certain, he thinks, that Dabi is alright just like he has all night. "Jin already sent a double on his way with both arms intact. He can go around living his life until he gets hurt and when that happens, there will be nothing to trace it back to you. You'll be safe, Dabi. No matter what." He promises. 

He'll be safe, he thinks, even if they do go to the cops. He'll be safe, have a club full of witnesses, and his contract-- and he knows that they still won't care. Muscular will get a slap on the wrist, if anything, and then the next time he wants to get his rocks off, he'll go find someone else who isn't in a club full of people who care about what happens to each other. He'll find someone desperate, helpless, and alone, and he'll go further than he could with Dabi-- if he hasn't done that already. "...Your quirk works on anything?" 

"As far as I'm aware." He replies evenly. 

Dabi takes a step forward and Tomura waits. Goto glares at him with his one working eye. Looks at Dabi like he can't understand how someone as low as him could possibly warrant anyone bothering to care about what happens to him at all. It makes that shattered thing inside of him sharpen into something with teeth. He reaches for his face, a flame already in hand and grabs on. 

He can't go hot enough to turn his skull to ashes, not without his seam hurting badly, but it is immensely satisfying to hear him screaming around the gag as it melts over his teeth and tongue as his eyeball boils in his skull. He takes a step back when his hand starts to hurt, and Muscular is still thrashing in the chair, letting out muffled screams. 

Tomura lets it go on for a few more seconds before he catches a part of his arm where the fire hasn't spread yet, and holds on. He screams until he crumbles away. When there's nothing on the chair but dust and the air is filled with the lingering, unpleasant scent of burning hair, Tomura steps around the chair, pulling his glove back on deliberately. Jin slips out of the door, though Dabi sees him lingering outside of it. 

"There. He can't ever hurt you, or anyone else again." He starts to move closer and Dabi takes a step back. 

"Red." The word stops the other man in his tracks, hurt flickering across his features. He takes a deliberate step away from Dabi and doesn't come any closer as he finds the rest of his voice. "...You could though," he says, feeling the prickles of anxiety under his skin. Fuck. Fuck, what did he just do? He might have gotten rid of that bastard, but Tomura owns him now. Even more than he already did. 

"I wouldn't. Not ever, Dabi. If you don't want to work here anymore, then you're free to go. If you'd like a letter of recommendation or a referral to any of the other clubs in this area, I'd be happy to provide it. If you want to stop doing private sessions for a while, then that's alright too. If you want, you can put on some classes-- or you can dance if you want. Kenji mentioned that you two have been practicing together. I can be your boss again," and Dabi doesn't expect the way that makes something go sharp behind his ribs. "Or I can be... nothing to you." 

Dabi hesitates, but Tomura keeps his distance and he can't find even the slightest hint of a lie in his eyes. He just sees them sad and worried, the same way they were when he saw how badly he'd been broken. And Dabi wants them warm on him again the way they had been when he'd held his hand as they came. It's probably wrong, probably insane, but Dabi thinks he could be very happy with Tomura, even knowing that he would destroy the world if it hurt him. He hasn't ever had someone who would take care of him. He's certain Tomura will unless he tells him to stop. And.. he knows now that Tomura will stop if he ever tells him to. 

He's the one who crosses the space between them. "I want a week away," he demands breathlessly. "You don't call, you don't check on me, you don't mess with my profile. You let me leave, knowing I could go to the cops." He catches the lapels of his suit, hands hot with barely contained flame. 

"I can do that, firefly. But," Dabi's stomach sinks, "you need to go up and see Atsuhiro to get your pay for the week. I don't want you to leave without it if you decide not to come back." 

Dabi pulls him into a hard kiss.

///

When he comes back to V a week later, his locker is exactly as he left it, and he doesn't see Tomura until he's getting ready for the consultation. He walks in and finds the other holding himself with his spine straight, looking at his tablet with a furrow in his brow. 

"Dabi, welcome back. I'm sorry, I'm having some kind of technical difficulty. Your bookings for tonight aren't showing up on the schedu--" He catches the edge of the tablet and sets it aside before stepping right back into his space like their last kiss was a minute ago and not a week, and gives him another. 

Tomura goes still against him before his hand wraps around the back of Dabi's neck, his other arm going around his waist, and he kisses him back like he's the only thing that matters in the whole world. Like he's trying to tell him that he'll never be broken again. 

"Canceled them. Just want you to take care of me." He breathes when they part. 

Red eyes go surprised before warming. "I will for as long as you'll let me, firefly." Tomura promises. Dabi seals those words between them with another kiss. 

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, consider leaving a comment!

[plinkamoon]

Moshi Monsters likely uses AI art

I need to talk about this. So recently Moshi Monsters' Facebook, TikTok, and Twitter accounts have recently posted this clip, and I'm going to dissect why this seems so suspicious as someone who is one of the admins in the Moshi Monsters Wiki.

So for context. Moshi Monsters was a family friendly MMO that shut down due to Adobe Flash ending. In this image we have a bright orange asteroid hitting on the ground of Main Street at Monstro City. It seems that this is foreshadowing for a potential Moshi Monsters revival beyond their spinoff and mindfulness apps. Overall, it screams AI to me. There are too many inconsistencies that most artists wouldn't make in the final cut, too many clashing styles, and the way shading and colours are chosen is too inconsistent with the theming. Multiple AI image detection websites say that it is very likely AI generated.

I am aware that generative AI detectors are not always accurate. But for there to be multiple websites saying the same thing with high certainty is a pattern, especially when there are many inconsistent design choices in the artwork itself that is not typical in Moshi Monsters media. There is an oddly shaped figure in the background that does not know if it wants to be a collapsing building or a windmill. There are also instances of bits of the sky being unusually layered over the buildings. There are also strange parts in the background that have blurs, which is typical of AI generated art.

The destroyed sign being destroyed in half but saying "(Wel)come [linebreak] To" also doesn't make any sense. The sign is supposed to reference the "Welcome to Monstro City" sign located in Main Street. When split in half it should have read as "come to [line break] tro city".

The only things in the art that one could argue resembles past Moshi Monsters media is the asteroid and the flames themselves. Their mindfulness and meditation app known as Moshi Kids primarily has Katja Hammond creating the artwork. She has drawn bits of asteroids and planets in the app. The way the orange asteroid is shaded also resembles her colouring style. The flames in the suspected AI art also resemble how fire is depicted in the Moshi Kids app.

HOWEVER, the suspicious part is that only SOME parts of the suspected AI art resemble her art style. Katja Hammond has a background in manga art and has a distinct and colourful art style overall. Her recent Moshi Kids art uses striking and dynamic poses and angles. So either: 1. The overall art is AI generated which took different art styles from different Moshi Monsters media, including Moshi Kids. OR 2. Katja Hammond drew some aspects of the art but either her or someone else in the team added some AI touches into the background and ground-ground. Personally, based on "vibes", Katja Hammond does not strike me as someone who would willingly use generative AI art. So Was There A Response? Multiple people have also noticed that it appears AI generated. The Moshi Monsters social media manager has denied allegations but with no proof on who the artist is or any proof of progress sketches.

It is true that there is a rampant problem with people being too quick to accuse AI to real life artists with little proof. However, this recent Moshi Monsters post has too much evidence stacked against its favour. Moshi Monsters socials eventually adjusted certain parts of the logo where the horns over the "M" are symmetrical and the eye above the "i" is in a more stable position.

I want to believe that the majority of the staff is unaware that their image is likely AI generated, so I tried to also talk about it on Twitter to see if it could do anything.

It would be very disappointing if the art is truly ai generated, because Moshi Monsters has always been a franchise about art and self-expression. Players could publish their fanart in the Googenheim Art Gallery (yes, that is the name please bare with me) in the MMO. There used to be yearly art competitions where the winner would have their Moshling design be made real. The Egg Hunt spinoff app has a gallery for younger artists. I've even made art for their magazines when I was a kid!!

There are many people like myself who played games like Moshi Monsters which served as a creative outlet for us to express ourselves, and this is a franchise that means a lot to me as a past autistic special interest. One of the main reasons I still use the Moshi Kids app every night is because I love the effort put into the art and music. I want to see the Moshi staff do better. You have a wonderful team of artists, please recognise their skill and passion. (Edit: Typos)

[awkward-tension-art]

Darkness on Umbara Chp.7 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter. 6 Chapter 8.

Silk

cw: Rex x Reader, Reader is a medic, incorrect military procedure, graphic descriptions of injuries, blood, swearing, death and battle, Spoilers for the Umbara Arc, Pong Krell is an asshole, reader insert, names of non-canon dead clones, Reader has an emotional breakdown, reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), if i miss a tag LMK

Minors DNI

 While Rex and a few others scouted ahead, You took a desperate shot in the dark.

“General Krell,” you had the comm close to your lips, “We need the medical speeder. There's several wounded that need to get out of here.”

You were met with silence.

“Sergeant Appo, if it's you i'm talking to, get me General Krell before I shove my laser scalpel up your-”

“That will be unneeded, Doctor.” the General’s voice came through on the other end, “The wounded will be extracted when the airbase has been taken.” 

“Sir, some of the wounded can’t wait that long. They need to get to a safer location so I can-.” You were practically begging the Jedi at this point.

“I have the utmost faith that you’ll be able to save them from where you are.” He responded, but even on this end, you could practically hear the uninterested look on his face. You were about to respond but the comm cut. Krell was done with you.

You looked around you, taking in the injured. Three of them needed surgery. Two needed bacta tanks ASAP. Five were entirely unconscious from blood loss and missing limbs.

And one, Fisher, was leaning against a broken and destroyed AT-RT. His chest had been completely eviscerated, exposing broken ribs and damaged organs. You couldn’t do anything, you didn’t have the bacta or supplies to save him. Yet, it would take hours for him to die. 

So you held his hand in yours and gave him as many painkillers as it took to stop his heart. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. 

“Doc?” Nax had remained close, guarding you while Rex and the others went ahead, “Are you ok?” 

“No, Nax.” You admitted, “I’m not.” 

This wasn’t the first time you’ve had to mercy kill. But you hated yourself every time you did it.

He remained silent as he stepped towards you and offered a hand. He was sweet. Very polite. So you took it and stood, “Thank you.” 

The trooper looked like he was about to speak when the ground rumbled. Terror filled your blood. Were there more of those worm tanks!? The air crackled and burned with fire and explosives. They sounded different from the centipede tanks the men shot down earlier…new weapons? You desperately hoped not.

Several soldiers dove over your cover, breathing heavily. Very quickly others joined, remaining hidden. You didn’t want to risk your head to get a look at what was happening. So you knelt, looking at Jesse, who had made it before Rex or the others. He met your confused and worried gaze before answering, “Heavy tanks.”

Rex, followed by Kix and Fives, got to your position. the captain had his comm on, speaking hurriedly, “Sir, we’re overpowered. we need reinforcements!”

“The rest of the battalion is holding the entrance of the gorge, captain.” Krell was on the other end, sounding about as calm and uninterested as when you called, “They're guarding it so your troops can break through to the air base.”

Jesse jerked his head up, sharing a look with Hardcase. Seemed everyone expected such a cold response, but it was still despair-inducing to hear.

A shot exploded directly on the other side of your cover. The heavy tanks were attempting to break through the trees and roots that protected everyone. Another shot hit right above you, raining scorched plant matter down.

You dove towards an unconscious, bleeding trooper and held him close, using your body to protect him from the debris. Once everything passed, you got to work stabilizing him. 

Rex continued to argue with the General, “But sir, we can’t possibly-!”

“You must stand your ground!” Pong fucking Krell shouted from his comm, “Do you read me!? Captain, are you listening? Do not fall back! That's an order!” 

Your lover was unmoving. He was paralyzed in horror that Krell would still push this suicide mission. After a few heartbeats, he shook his head. 

Two voices cried out from the otherside of the cover. You and Kix shared a look before scrambling over to grab them and drag them with the others. Your hands were on one trooper and getting his wounds under control while Kix was dealing with the other.

“Keep the wounded as quiet as possible.” The clone captain nodded to you before addressing everyone else, “Alright, you heard the general. Let's go.”

Jesse whirled around from where he kept an eye on the battlefield, “You can't be serious!”

“I used to think the General was reckless,” Fives spat, “But now I'm beginning to think he just hates clones.”

Dogma stepped forward, clear on which side he stood, “The captain is right. Now let's move out!”

The trooper, Trident, under your hands spasmed. He seized, and you did your best to get him on his side and let the seizure pass, “With who!?” you snapped, cracking under the stress, “Everyone is injured and exhausted or dead!” Trident stilled in your arms, and once you felt his neck, there was no pulse. 

The traumatic brain injury he sustained was too much for him. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

“Isn’t it your job to patch everyone up!?” He retorted, “With all the dead, you certainly are doing a great job!” 

Your eyes widened and Hardcase shot forward, immediately punching Dogma, sending him to the ground. “Shut the fuck up!” he shouted down at the trooper, “You’d be among the dead without Kix and-!”

“Hardcase! Enough!” Rex stepped between them, keeping his gaze level with the heavy gunner, “Fighting each other isn’t going to help.” Despite his words, he cast a glance at you.

Your eyes met him in his helmet. He was checking on you, in his own way. So you nodded, indicating that Dogma’s words didn’t affect you. You’ve been blamed before. Troopers that were grief stricken would lash out at you, blame you for your failings to save their brothers. Though, later, they’d come to you and apologize. You expected Dogma wouldn’t.

Still, you appreciated how Tup knelt to put a hand on your shoulder. Dogma didn’t look at you as he got up.

“What will help is finding another way to deal with the tanks!” Fives got into Rex’s face, clearly angry. Judging by the way his hands clenched into fists, he was ready to start getting physical too, “We can’t take them head-on.”

The captain remained steadfast, “You got any ideas?”

The ARC trooper looked down and shook his head, keeping silent.

“Then this is it.” Rex looked over at the men who remained standing, and turned to get out into the field. 

Hardcase huffed, adjusting the rocket launcher in his grip, “Ok, let's do it!” He, along with Jesse, Tup and Fives sprinted out. Kix was about to follow before he stopped and looked back. 

“Go. Send anyone hurt to me.” you nodded, remaining with the injured. He gave a salute before rushing to follow his brothers. 

Since the squad of soldiers had run out, all attention from the tank shifted to them. No longer were the trees that protected you threatening to fall or collapse from the shots. You looked over your cover, spotting the second tank that was shooting the trees across the field. Its focus was on the men who were fleeing into the foliage to hide. 

A trooper high in the branches fired a rocket. The explosive didn’t do much other than cause the massive tank to stumble. Once it corrected itself, it blasted the poor clone with its cannon.

You waited for the Umbaran to turn its focus away from that side before moving in. Your feet were quick, diving behind downed AT-RT’s, boulders and whatever other cover you could hide behind. 

Once you made it to him, you realized the trip was worthless. He was dead. Half of his body was gone the moment he was hit with cannon fire. 

But he wasn’t alone. Someone else was down, crying and writhing in pain.

Arm missing. Main problem is blood loss. Still awake. I have time. I can save him.

You got to your knees quickly, skidding on the wet ground as you did so. Your pack was off your shoulders as you began to get as many gauze pads and bandages on him as possible. Your hands were stained with his blood as you controlled the bleeding. 

“Come on,” you draped his good arm over your shoulder and stood, “I’m getting you with the others.”

You watched the tank again, waiting patiently before dashing to another point of cover. Getting back to the injured was slower this time, but you managed to get there. Leaning the trooper against a tree root, you commed Krell again, “General, I need the supplies on that speeder!” 

There was only silence. 

“General Krell!” You were desperate, and your voice was shaking from the fear. Fear for the men. Fear they wouldn’t even get a chance to survive, “General Krell, please!” 

Nothing. Unanswered. 

Your hands were shaking and you let out a frustrated, angry cry. The names of the dead replayed in your head over and over again.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Trident.

No. You still had supplies on you. You weren’t giving up. You refused. 

A trooper stumbled over the cover, carrying an ARF trooper. You recognized Silk and Hinge.

“Doc, he needs help.” The trooper slid the injured carefully down. 

Before you even inspected him, you could tell Hinge was barely hanging on, if he was even alive. His armor was blacked and scorched. Smoke still billowed from his body. When you approached, you felt his neck. 

Nothing.

“I’m sorry, Silk.” you murmured, taking off Hinge’s helmet. Carefully, you closed his eyes before standing. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Jumper. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge.

“...we’re all dead, aren't we?” Silk sat down, leaning against the tree. 

You hesitated to answer. Truthfully, you thought so. You wanted to agree. To accept the truth that Krell won and lead all of you to your deaths.

But…Rex would keep fighting. Your kar’ta wouldn’t go down without taking as many separatists as possible down with him. 

You looked at your hand, testing if you could close it in the brace, luckily, you could. You could feel the movement. Feel your fingers on your palm. Your arm, despite the immense damage, was healing. Your nerves were connecting. Your veins and arteries were directing blood flow again. Your body refused to give up.

You could still fight. Just like Rex would.

“No.” your voice was resolute, “I’m not giving up.” You looked over the injured. More had managed to find your location in various states of bleeding, dying or crying, “I’m not giving up on any of you. Even if I have to pick up your rifles to protect you, I’m not giving up.”

Silk sighed and stood, “Doctor,” he saluted, “I am at your command.” 

You couldn’t help but smile softly, “I’ll need your help. Stay within cover, prioritize your safety, but look for any injured. Bring them to me.”

“I’ll help.” Hem, another ARF trooper stood, rotating his arm to stretch his shoulder, “I’m not too hurt.”

“Thank you both.” you saluted as they climbed out of the safety of the trees and roots. The ground shook with another cannon shot nearby. Thankfully, everyone seemed to be out of view. Or the Umbarans weren’t interested in killing those who couldn’t fight back. 

Still, since those heavy tanks weren’t focused on you, it allowed you to continue your job. These soldiers were your patients. They needed you. They needed your skills. And with whatever supplies you had left, you’d try to save them.

So you got to work. Triage. Deal with the more serious injuries. Prioritize. 

Your training took over. You were on autopilot weaving between the troopers. Your supplies dwindled. You ran out of painkillers and bacta entirely. Your tourniquets were the lifesavers at this point. Using them allowed you to spread your bandages and gauze pads between everyone.

Despite your effects, you still lost a few.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno.

At some point Tup had made his way back to you, followed by Hem, carrying Zeke. Silk wasn’t accounted for, but you trusted he would be alright. 

“Doctor,” Tup got to your side, “How can i-?”

Wordlessly, you handed him bandage scissors. He looked confused, even as you removed the minimal armor plating on your sleeve. As a field doctor, armor wasn’t the priority, medical supplies were. You had some plates on your wrists, thighs and chest, but that was about it. Everything else was covered in protective clothing to allow more medical packs and more freedom of movement. 

Which came in handy, “Cut the sleeve up to my shoulder, and then cut it into long strips.” you commanded Tup. 

“Ok…don’t move. I don't want to accidentally nick you.” The poor clone sounded unsure, shy even, but did as you asked. Despite his shaky hands, he kept the shears steady enough to prevent any small injuries to your skin. Once the cloth was separated, you slipped your arm from the sleeve and returned your focus to the other troopers.

Tup was an efficient assistant. Not even a minute later he had the sleeve cut into lengthy straight strips. You grabbed them silently and used them as extra bandages. 

The ground rumbled and shook. One of the tanks was getting close. Too close. You looked up, taking a chance to peer out into the battlefield.

Three heavy tanks were damn near on top of you as they chased those on the field. Through their shining spotlights, you recognized the silhouette of Rex and Jesse running across the field. Rex had a rocket launcher, and with a broken heart, you realized Hardcase must’ve gone down. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Hardcase…

Hardcase.

“Doc!” You jerked your head up, Silk had returned with another trooper slung over his arm. Once he put the unconscious soldier down, he went back out into the field before you could stop him. 

Kix had found you. He was standing on top of a thick root, back to the tanks, looking over the injured you've collected. Something in him snapped because he shook his head before letting out a cry. Your medic friend began to fire his rifle in the air wildly. 

Tup shot up, “Hey, Kix, put it down! You're wasting aim!” When words didn’t work, he body slammed Kix down to the ground, saving him from the massive foot of a tank.

The Umbaran weapon turned its cannon to where Tup and Kix hit the ground. Before it could annihilate the two, it was hit by a rocket. The explosion caused it to stumble, and its powered up shot hit the branches above your triage area. 

Rex had gotten to your position, standing on a toppled tree that was part of your cover. In his arms was a smoking rocket launcher. Despite the situation, you couldn’t help but think of how handsome he looked. Smoke and ash billowing around him. Back straight, standing tall and determined. You could picture his focused gaze under his helmet now. 

The tank readjusted, stabilizing its huge legs. It focused on the captain and was then joined by the two others. They all charged their shots, ready to destroy Rex completely. You ran towards him, intending to grab his hand and…do something! Save him!

Die with him.

Just as your fingers met his, shots rained down from the dark sky. Two Umbaran starships were shooting wildly. Their guns poured out bright green bolts like water, hitting everything they pointed at. 

You looked up and inside the glowing, round cockpit of the Umbaran ships were Fives and Hardcase! They were laughing, trying to navigate the never-before-seen tech.

They were alive!

“Clear out, captain!”

“The big guns have arrived, sir!”

The 501st captain wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest as the tanks exploded. He leapt from the position on the tree and held you close. 

Their rayshields weren’t made for their own shots it seemed. They buckled and broke, breaking down and exploding from their own weaponry. That didn’t stop them from trying to shoot at the clone controlled air support. Thankfully, Fives and Hardcase were doing a good enough job flying; they managed to avoid getting shot down.

Fives and Hardcase skillfully cleared the field. They managed to keep control well enough to finally destroy the heavy tanks that have taken so many good men. As the burst and exploded, killing the Umbarans inside, there were cheers and celebrations.

“Woo-hoo!”

“Attaboy, Hardcase!” 

“Way to go Fives!”

Once Rex stood to cheer with his brothers, you dashed to Kix. The medic had calmed down and was tending to the injured, “I’m entirely out of bacta and gauze.” He looked up at you, “and I can see you’re out of bandages.” 

You nodded, snapping your focus back on the injured troopers. The fight had been brutal. Even those that had managed to get to you alive, were fading fast. For every soldier you saved, it was like two more perished from their wounds. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

You repeated their names. Over and over again in your head. As the quiet took over, Kix helped you with the hurt and dying that crawled their way to your position. You didn’t look up, even as reinforcements ran passed to take that fucking airbase.

“Doc, we need help!” Was the only statement that caused you to bring your eyes up. 

Silk managed to stumble from the smoke. His right arm had been ripped off and his chestplate was shattered. His left hand was placed over his stomach, keeping his innards inside his abdomen. 

“Kix!” You practically howled, bolting from where you were tending to Jesse’s gashed wrist. 

You sent Silk out there! You were the one who asked him to risk his life for others! 

Your hands were on him, getting him to the ground, “I got you, Silk. I got you.” You breathed, ripping off the pieces of his armor. Kix was next to you, scrambling to get the situation under control.

Tup had managed to get a hold of the medical speeder. Krell must’ve finally brought it into the gorge when reinforcements were sent in. Ken and Rin were still on the stretcher, but you didn’t pay them any mind as you threw open crates and bags, scrambling to get supplies. 

Bandages. Bacta. Gauze. Sutures.

Supply levels were low. There wasn’t enough for everyone. But you grabbed everything you could and darted back to Silk.

He was still down, but Kix had stopped trying to treat him. The medic removed his helmet and looked at you, sorrow and despair evident. 

“No!” You dropped what was in your hands and immediately straddled Silk. Your hands were on his chest as you began compressions. The cartilage of his ribs cracked and broke as you began CPR. You were in a frenzy to bring him back, throwing his helmet away to pinch his nose and breathe for him.

Something in you broke. The situation finally hit you and your mind shattered. You sent Silk out to find his brothers. Silk returned injured. Dying. It was your fault. You got Silk killed. 

Dogma was right. You had failed so many of these troopers. They relied on you to keep them alive, and you failed in your duty.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Tears blurred your vision but you weren’t going to stop. Kix said your name, but you ignored him. He grabbed your shoulder, but you shoved him off, “How long!?” you demanded before getting your lips on Silk’s to force air into his lungs. 

“4 minutes,” Kix informed you, “He’s been down for 4 minutes. It’s time to stop.”

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“No it isn’t!” you snapped. Kix looked up at someone who approached. Another injured soldier? He could deal with it. You had to save Silk.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

5 minutes now of compressions. 5 minutes of forcing oxygen into Silk’s lungs. 5 minutes of forcing his heart to beat. Yet it couldn’t function on its own. There was too much damage.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Someone grabbed you and you howled as if burned. Your compressions stopped to thrash and fight. You weren’t giving up. Not on Silk. Too many have been lost. You couldn’t handle losing one more. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

Whoever was holding you had fallen backwards, getting both of you to the ground. They called your name, but you refused to listen. You clawed at their armored wrist, trying to get their hold off of you.

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia.

“I’m not giving up!” Tears were running down your cheeks. You’d finally broken. Under the loss. Under the death and destruction of the soldiers you failed to save. You kicked your legs and tried to get out of the arms that had wrapped around your torso. 

Fyre. Vim. Oz. Ringo. North. Gabe. Tro. Tess. Zeb. Sante. Reign. Pheon. Dawn. Nim. Jamie. Hek. Recon. Mav. Zeo. Fisher. Hinge. Trident. Iron. Mesh. Steele. Bruno. Zeke. Jumper. Aura. Dia. Silk. 

Silk.

Silk.

Silk.

“I know.” Their words, Rex’s, finally reached you. He was hugging you from behind so tightly, “I know, Mesh’la. I know.” His helmet was off and he whispered softly into your ear.

Your breath shook as you let out a wretched sob. You’ve lost soldiers before. They’ve died under your care. But never this many. 

Too many. There were too many! 

You wept, leaning into Rex’s chest, “I’m sorry…” you cried out, “I can’t save them. I can’t…I’m sorry Rex…Please…forgive me!” Your begging and pleading devolved into more sobbing. You’ve failed him. You’ve failed the man you loved and all of his brothers.

Rex remained silent, continuing to hold you.

[lokislady17]

My contribution to the Acolyte Week day 4. Prompt wisdom/ignorance-object/location. I’m going to go with Location and that location is Qimir’s cave. Not just because it’s another female centric romance trope, though I do like that the cave is obviously Qimir’s sanctuary. Everything within, he willing shares with Osha: his food, his space, his knowledge and yes, even allowing Osha to sleep in his own bed while she recovers. I’ve gushed about it before but I’m going to again, the fact that he made a makeshift bed nearby and was asleep next to her while she was unconscious, oh, nothing bad is happening on his watch. But overall, caves a a major motif in the Star Wars universe. Like the sea, caves are symbols of death, rebirth and transformation. Younglings enter caves to find their crystals, a transformative step on their Jedi paths. Rey encountered the dark side mirror and received a very cryptic answer to the question of her parents. That answer being the truth that she already knew who they were-nobodies just like or her (or that was supposed to be it until JJ came back and threw all that out in TROS). In this cave Osha accepts Qimir’s invitation to put on his helmet, ultimately taking the first transformative step in her journey. She receives a vision of what we would later learn to be her own future.

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Violet Cheetah V

Overview

The Violet Cheetah is not a new 'Mech. Instead, it is a conversion kit of the Iron Cheetah. Much of the armor geometry is redesigned and the weapon distribution is shifted.

Capabilities

The Violet Cheetah is primarily a generalist 'Mech designed for operation in command units. The ER PPC of this 'mech allows it to reach out and punch holes in armor while the ER medium lasers provide it some brawling ability. An LB 10-X autocannon rounds out the offensive completement. Providing utility to the Violet Cheetah is a quadruple threat of a C3i computer, a targeting computer, an Angel ECM system, and finally a Bloodhound Active Probe. These systems, when crosslinked to other 'Mechs in a unit, permit it to sniff out the enemy and enable pack hunter tactics. A laser AMS on the left arm finalizes the defensive armament. Included in the conversion pack is a full set of jumpjets allowing for 90 meters of movement.

Deployment

The Violet Cheetah is only known to operate with the Jaguar's Shadow independent drop cluster, who originated the design, though other elements of Clan Smoke Jaguar, most prominently Khan Prohaska Moon, have expressed interest in the design.

History

Produced as a refit kit for the Iron Cheetah OmniMech in 3153 during Operation TOUCHDOWN, the Violet Cheetah was designed and named by Star Colonel Katrina in honor of her lover and abtakha Violet Marigold, who was killed in the initial combat drop onto Helios.

Variants

There are two known variants of the Violet Cheetah conversion kit. The V type mounts an Angel ECM and a Bloodhound Active Probe. The M type exchanges the Angel and Bloodhound for the Clan equivalents of standard Active Probe and ECM systems, while using the saved weight and space to increase the amount of ammunition for the LB 10-X.

Notable MechWarriors

Star Colonel Katrina Moon: the product of an experimental Clan Smoke Jaguar sibko that attempted to replicate the results of the Totem Warrior project, Katrina was present for the Battle of Huntress in 3060 as a young sibcadet. Evacuated from the planet and joining the nascent Fidelis, Katrina would go on to participate in numerous secret raids on enemies of the Republic of the Sphere as part of their campaign of false flag operations. By 3153, as part of the recently reconstituted Clan Smoke Jaguar, and after winning the presdigious Moon Bloodname, Katrina would be tapped to lead a Fidelis-inpsired independent drop cluster, the Jaguar's Shadows. It was with this unit that she deployed to Helios as part of Operation TOUCHDOWN.

(Full TRO under cut; 'Mech originally designed by @starcolonelkatrinamoon / @buttsandboltguns ; art by @theurbanmechcomesforthee )

Mass: 100 tons

Chassis: DSAM Endo 4

Power Plant: 400 Model SF-3 XL

Cruising Speed: 43.2 kph

Maximum Speed: 64.8 kph

Jump Jets: Standard

Jump Capacity: 90 meters

Armor: Composite A-4 Ferro-Fibrous

Armament:

39.5 tons of pod space

Manufacturer: Manufacturing Plant SFF

Primary Factory: Itabaiana

Communication System: TJ6 Bell Integrated Communication System

Targeting & Tracking System: Series III OPT

Introduction Year: 3153

Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X

Cost: 41,824,167 C-bills

Type: Violet Cheetah

Technology Base: Mixed (Standard)

Tonnage: 100

Battle Value: 3,278

Equipment Mass

Internal Structure Endo Steel 5

Engine 400 XL 26.5

Walking MP: 4

Running MP: 6

Jumping MP: 3

Double Heat Sink 16 [32] 6

Gyro 4

Cockpit 3

Armor Factor (Ferro) 307 16 Internal Armor Structure Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 31 48 Center Torso (rear) 14 R/L Torso 21 32 R/L Torso (rear) 10 R/L Arm 17 34 R/L Leg 21 42

Weight and Space Allocation

Location Fixed Space Remaining

Head None 1

Center Torso Endo Steel 1

Right Torso Endo Steel 7

2 XL Engine

2 Ferro-Fibrous

Left Torso Endo Steel 6

2 XL Engine

3 Ferro-Fibrous

Right Arm 2 Ferro-Fibrous 8

Left Arm None 10

Right Leg 2 Endo Steel 0

Left Leg 2 Endo Steel 0

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm

Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm

Weapons

and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage

Jump Jet CT 1 - 2.0

Targeting Computer RT 4 - 4.0

Improved C3 Computer RT 2 - 2.5

Jump Jet RT 1 - 2.0

LB 10-X AC LA 5 2 10.0

Laser AMS LA 1 5 1.0

LB 10-X Cluster Ammo (10) LA 1 - 1.0

LB 10-X AC Ammo (10) LA 1 - 1.0

Jump Jet LT 1 - 2.0

Angel ECM Suite LT 2 - 2.0

Bloodhound Active Probe LT 3 - 2.0

4 ER Medium Laser RA 4 5 4.0

ER PPC RA 2 15 6.0

[probablyasocialecologist]

At least 20 soldiers were killed by friendly fire or accidents during the ground operation in the Gaza Strip, representing one-fifth of all fatalities, according to data released by the IDF on Tuesday.

[...]

According to the IDF’s report, 13 soldiers were killed by friendly fire after being mistaken for enemy combatants, one from a stray bullet and another six in various accidents, such as being run over by armored vehicles. At least one was killed by an Israeli airstrike when an attack helicopter fired on a building where soldiers were located last week. The IDF doesn’t publish the full information on this incident due to various investigations still being examined in the IDF. In total, 105 soldiers have fallen in the ground operation so far. The army estimates that several hundred additional soldiers were wounded by friendly fire or operational accidents in enemy territory. The new figure of 20 casualties who fell specifically from operational accidents or friendly fire is minimal and doesn’t refer to the first three weeks preceding the ground escalation, regarding the casualties on October 7, nor does it include other fronts. For example, an IDF officer was killed as a result of a friendly fire incident near Qalqilya at the beginning of the war, and other soldiers were killed as a result of a tank turnover near the Lebanon border.

[zivazivc]

I'm gonna take some time to digest and think about that comic before I come to a decision. The decision being whether to continue to support you or just leave you be.

If I decide to leave you be, just know that there are no hard feelings, okay?

You are on anon so I don't know if this is someone who I've talked to before, but either way, yes, no hard feelings. I completely understand. It's the internet, anyone can unfollow anyone for any reason, but also I know this is an uncomfortable topic and even triggering to some, and some people are just not here for that. I was contemplating posting it for a while for this reason.

I do kinda want to point out that the purpose was/is not to fetishize a relationship with a minor and I will never fetishize or glorify that ever. It's wrong and unhealthy even if there's no malicious intent present. (am pointing it out because I got a bunch of asks about it and I'm 🧍) But this is fiction, and I portrayed the scenes the way that I did mainly because I made the comic from Floyd's perspective and I wanted to get in his head and show what exactly he was feeling in that moment. If the end result makes you feel uncomfortable or "flustered" (I don't think I'm using the right English word) in a certain icky way, that was kind of the point and I believe should be a normal reaction from an adult.

I spent my high school years (normally 15-19yo, but it was more like 14-22+) living in a dorm in the country's capitol and I attended a vocational school for visual arts that is pretty notorious for having a drug problem (I'm talking about mostly weed) and being full of weirdos (students free and comfortable expressing themselves and experimenting with expressing themselves but weirdos is the used term lol). The dorm is also located very near the city's subcultural center (look up Ljubljana Metelkova if you want, it's kind of what I imagine the underground scenes the bandmates visit looking like) which is like a hangout place for subcultures like punks and metalheads and the lgbtq. Anyway coming from living my whole life in a rural village where I still played with toys to somewhere like that was an insane shock to me. I sometimes felt like a toddler around young adults in a big city. And it was whiplash for many other teens too, some of whom quickly fell into bad crowds and spiraled, often those who came from bad home situations or controlling parents (heck some even came from elementary schools already doing problematic things). The amount of rumors of things happening in that dorm and school (drugs, sex, messing around with older teens/adults, whatever)... (I'm not saying it was like a concerning percentage of students but it was happening) Some of these people who made some bad choices were and some still are my friends, some of whom still struggle with some things today and it's heartbreaking.

Anyway where I was going with this is that in high school I was always kind of the anti all of that (to the point it had the opposite effect on me where I didn't even try out the normal teenage things) and just thinking "what the fuck is wrong with these people?" And recently, when my headcanons for Floyd started going in the direction that they have, I started wondering the same thing. Just not in a judgemental way this time. More like I want to dissect this situation carefully and understand it from everyone's perspective and see what lead up to it. I've always been very fascinated by morally gray and dark fiction for this reason and this is right up that alley.

So yeah, this isn't for everyone, and I can't hold a grudge if anyone unfollows me for it. But what I'm doing here is inspired a lot by real life situations and my weird deep dives into articles about trauma and its effects (also pretty sure I'm also processing some of my own personal emotions through these blorbos but I am not going into that), and I feel like I'm taking a pretty realistic approach to it (if you ignore the fact that this is fucking Trolls). I'm just slowly exploring how a relationship between a teen who comes from a sheltered almost cultish upbringing (pop trolls live in a concentration camp and are dealing with the horrors by singing and enjoying every minute of their every day like life is a ticking time bomb) and a young adult who never got a chance to grow up because he never experienced a childhood and is suddenly being liked by someone for the first time in his life (I'll talk more about Les some other time), would develop into hopefully something okay for both of them. Because I do want them to both be okay in the end. And I'm sharing some of my brainworms online for anyone who's interested. I just can't share ALL of my brain worms and sometimes I forget that people don't have a view of what's going on in my head. Yeah... This answer became long for no other reason except that I can't sleep because I posted that comic, damn. That's what I get for dropping that bombshell on top of what was mostly fun "comedic" posts about the AU so far.

[is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not]

Closest recreation of some Blakist mech i found on the battlefield.

Looked like it had some kind of dampener keeping me from damaging it, so i put Blue Shield PFD on there. 3 guns called Lava guns, not a fucking clue what those are but Plasma Rifles do a similar trick. Ridiculous heat output, sure, but you do have Gauss rifles, so there's that i guess.

Nova CEWS doesnt match anything on the original mech, i just tossed it on there for... reasons. I feel like it and ECM is nice.

Blakist chatter about how it was designed by Jerome Blake himself, yadda yadda, you know the drill. The design spec is supposedly dated back to the 2780s or some shit. For a better historical context, the Schrek tank became standard field in around the 2810s. I think its altered, personally. I call bullshit, it may be cool but it CANNOT be that old.

Downsides? Made of glass and moves at Urby speeds. Like fucking yeesh. This thing crumpled when the "shield" went down.

Whatcha think of it?

(Based on the Ragnarok/Ymir from MechAssault, which i was asked to recreate in MML on a dare!!)

I have fought 3 of these in the past week. Smoke Jaguar forces fighting alongside the SLDF captured one intact.

Here is the official TRO we pulled from its onboard files:

Ragnarok RGNK-1X

Mass: 100 tons Chassis: Celestial Series SP1 Power Plant: Immortus 200 Cruising Speed: 21.6 kph Maximum Speed: 32.4 kph Jump Jets: None Jump Capacity: 0 meters Armor: Durallex Guardian II Clan-Grade Ferro-Fibrous w/ CASE II Armament: 4 Micro Pulse Laser 1 Lava Gun 2 Light Gauss Rifle 1 LRM 10 Manufacturer: Word of Blake Primary Factory: Helios Manufactory Blake-Alpha Communication System: Master's Voice Cel-Alpha w/ C3i Targeting & Tracking System: Master's Sight 1-Omega Introduction Year: 3153 Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X Cost: 26,688,667 C-bills

Type: Ragnarok Technology Base: Mixed (Experimental) Tonnage: 100 Battle Value: 2,097

Equipment Mass Internal Structure Composite 5 Engine (Armored) 200 Fusion 8.5 Walking MP: 2 Running MP: 3 Jumping MP: 0 Double Heat Sink 10 [20] 0 Heavy Duty Gyro (Armored) 4 Small Cockpit (Armored) 2 Armor Factor (Ferro) 307 16 Internal Structure Armor Value Head 3 9 Center Torso 31 47 Center Torso (rear) 15 R/L Torso 21 32 R/L Torso (rear) 10 R/L Arm 17 34 R/L Leg 21 42

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm, Lower Arm, Hand

Weapons and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage Blake's Shield EDFG (Armored) all but HD 1/per - 3.0 Light Gauss Rifle Ammo (16) LL 1 - 1.0 Plasma Rifle RT 2 10 6.0 Plasma Rifle Ammo (20) RT 2 - 2.0 Double Heat Sink RT 2 - 1.0 Micro Pulse Laser RT 1 1 0.5 CASE II LA 1 - 0.5 Light Gauss Rifle (Armored) LA 5 1 12.0 CASE LA 0 - 0.0 Micro Pulse Laser LA 1 1 0.5 CASE II LT 1 - 0.5 CASE LT 0 - 0.0 LRM 10 Artemis-capable Ammo (24) LT 2 - 2.0 Double Heat Sink LT 2 - 1.0 LRM 10 LT 1 4 2.5 Artemis IV FCS LT 1 - 1.0 Micro Pulse Laser LT 1 1 0.5 Light Gauss Rifle Ammo (16) RL 1 - 1.0 Improved C3 Computer (Armored) HD 2 - 2.5 CASE II RA 1 - 0.5 Light Gauss Rifle (Armored) RA 5 1 12.0 CASE RA 0 - 0.0 Micro Pulse Laser RA 1 1 0.5 * Lava Gun operates as Plasma Rifle but does 30 dmg/shot (+4D6 vs infantry, BA, ProtoMechs, and vehicles). Inflicts an extra 2D6 heat vs BattleMechs, Aerospace Fighters, DropShips, and JumpShips. ** Blake's Shield EDFG occupies 1 critical slot in each location except the Head. Operates as Blue Shield PFD, but applies damage reduction to all damage types. Can only be active for 2 turns before automatic shut down, requiring recharge of 2 turns to use again.

Note: Equipped with Full-Head Ejection System & Armored Life Support

Features the following design quirks: Accurate Weapon (Light Gauss Rifle), Battle Fists, Combat Computer, Cowl, Distracting, Improved Communications, Improved Cooling Jacket (all), Improved Life Support, Multi-Trac, Protected Actuators, Rugged (1 Point), Illegal Design (mounts custom equipment), Inaccurate Weapon (Lava Gun), Non-Standard Parts

Note that the internal files still refer to the "Lava Gun" as a "plasma rifle" (because it is largely just an oversized burst fire plasma rifle), and the Blake's Shield system as a Blue Shield system (likely because the former was developed from the latter).

[onewomancitadel]

There's this really obnoxious attitude that the sort of brand loyalty you see in something like fashion (where, except in fringe cases where actual practices are protected, it's superficial, but potent to signal status) is transferable over to other artistic storytelling properties such as books, film, and video games, and that the loyalty of sycophants to the brand is guaranteed; the only thing that matters is that it's called Star Wars and has some of the theme park trappings, a signification without substance or essence. This is why you end up with the corporate takeaway from TROS being "I guess people don't like Star Wars anymore" and not "we are storytelling vandals" and so to get people back that means we need to commit harder to The Brand. That's how you end up with CGI monster Luke.

The idea that audience members may actually be committed to a story meaning something is utterly fanciful. It has Dragon Age on it. You have to like it. You are supposed to like it. They think these properties command the sort of power Louis Vuitton or Chanel does: name which signifies prestige, exclusivity - irrespective of any real location in historical or artistic narrative - because fashion has a totally different job in signifying aspirational character on one's body. And it's true that in other domains people have brand loyalty just because it is traditional - think Ford vs. Holden in Australia, more tribal than anything - and, including for fashion, it is also partly a matter of circumstantial convenience. People need clothes, houses, food, even cars, depending where you live; but your loyalty to storytelling is only so far as it brings you joy or affords you community. The problem is that when you get to the bottom-line margins, a business suit doesn't really understand that, or can't understand it according to their own ethos. And I realise I'm generalising, but it's hard not to see an overwhelming trend - that consumers are seen as little more than manipulable automatons, market figures, gross statistics (maybe in some ways they aren't wrong, that people will take what they're given when necessity calls for it; and of course these can be useful tools).

I once attended a chilling lecture by an anthropologist who had decided to study anthropology out of a desire to best understand the market she and her team wanted to capture at her advertising firm, to control and psychologically influence. She was one of the scariest people I've ever had the misfortune of meeting. You'd think she was a fucking alien, for all that would make me a hypocrite.

I was really confused for a long time about the way they run storytelling "IPs" into the ground - storytelling universes - until I figured out that they're trying to run them like a merchandising house and not a body of narrative, a mythology, for which they are caretakers and contributors. The irony of course is that their methods don't equate to overwhelming commercial success, or a presence in the cultural consciousness, in cultivating any sort of meaningful loyalty at all; they couldn't create a cultural classic if they tried, and don't understand the risks that had to be taken in the first place to make them. Nobody wanted Dune, initially; an auto repair manual publisher apparently took pity on Frank Herbert in the end.

[daylilys137]

End of another month and end of the year! Here are some of the fics I've read recently.

Zutara-

Crush, Crush - Super cute ongoing story about Zuko suddenly becoming Katara's roommate. Poor Katara is struggling, trying to keep up the boundaries she believes she should have with a roommate she has a crazy crush on.

Christmas Chef's Kiss- Katara is a homegrown chef with lots of talent. Zuko is a professional chef with years of experience and education. Both are competing on a baking competition. The description on the food is magnificent!

Hot Ice, Strange Snow - Zuko is injured trying to help Aang escape from the Pohuai Stronghold. This forces him to sorta join the gang early. The slow build of trust, of friendship, the beautiful moments Zuko and Katara have together... I'm really enjoying this one so far.

Reylo-

The Perfect Gift - A fluffy cute Christmas one-shot that I enjoyed. I like the idea of Ben being the Guru of gift giving.

Mr and Mrs Solo- an ongoing fic based on Mr and Mrs Smith. So much tension, angst, and I just cannot wait for more of this fic!

Also read several fics by Writingwife83. My favorite was Armistice. Very fluffy, takes place between TLJ and TROS. Ben decides to take a break after the fallout with Rey for a couple of days. Leia orders Rey to take a break and clear her mind. Both Rey and Ben happen to choose the same location to do this. Ben cooks!

[littlesparklight]

I think what's potentially interesting for the characters is where you imagine Aeneas and his family lived at the very least before the war.

Because this isn't actually straightforward!

The Trojan royal family at some point switch the capital from the city of Dardanos to the newly built Ilon (if you want to strictly follow myth, that's the second Ilos, son of Tros, who builds the city, and not the first Ilos, son of Dardanos). The second Ilos becomes king of Troy/the whole country.

His brother Assarakos, who is the ancestor of Aeneas, remains in Dardanos and becomes king of at the very least that city.

Where is Dardanos?

The Iliad is quite plain; the foothills of Mount Ida.

Some other sources, possibly leaning on/confused with the actual, real-life city of Dardanos, put it on the coast north of where Troy is. (So that Dardanos founds his city in the location where he first landed when coming from Samothrace, but this is clearly not what the Iliad envisions.)

Me, I prefer the Mount Ida location. (Even if I totally did have Tros' family already already in Troy lol, which meant Ganymede had to travel some distance to do his herding business.)

It makes Anchises and Aeneas' connections to the mountain, where they each keep herds later, make a lot of sense. Plus, in the Iliad Aeneas leads the "Dardanians" = men from around Mount Ida. So there's clearly a general location that both Aeneas and Anchises are associated with, even if the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite has her command Anchises to bring Aeneas to Troy when he receives him in Aeneas' fifth year.

Where does Aeneas and Anchises live, then?

You could definitely follow what the hymn seems to say and have them live in Troy, the family having at some point, prior to or during Anchises' life moved there from Dardanos. Or they could live in Dardanos up until some point in the war, when they end up in Troy. There's no source that says anything about Dardanos being sacked, but, well - there's more than enough space in Achilles' 21 sacked settlements Dardanos could be one of them.

[racingliners]

For the writer's block game, if you're still doing RPF, Sewis + candle, knife and silver. If you're not doing RPF, Sophie + anyone of your choice from LITFL + same words!

Hi Clary!!! I am very much still doing RPF but since I was utterly delighted as someone else mentioning my beloved LITFL, I decided to do both 😊

writer's block prompt

Sewis (TRoS!Verse, set Monaco 2018)

Sebastian felt a familiar pair of hands on his shoulders a fraction of a second before the conversation at his table quietened. Right as he looked up, Lewis’ pressed a kiss into his forehead.

“Hello.” Lewis smiled at him softly, as one of his hands slowly drifted to the spot between Sebastian’s shoulder blades where it so happily found itself at home.

“Hi.” Seb’s face split into a wide grin as he set his knife and fork down on his plate. “You’d forgotten what I looked like since I saw you last night then?” He teased, noting that Lewis eyes hadn’t left Sebastian’s face since he caught his attention.

Lewis blushed as Sebastian’s fellow breakfast companions, Shov, Simon and Ron, let out quiet chuckles. Despite it being the traditional rest day in Monte Carlo, the whole team was at the circuit for more meetings and data analysis. It gave a slightly more relaxed feel inside the team motorhome, almost as if they were back at the factory.

“Remind me again why I love you?” Lewis retorted with a bright glint in his eye. As he folded his arms across his chest the silver bracelet that Seb had gotten him for his birthday glinted under the artificial lights.

“Well it’s definitely not his sense of humour.” Simon said dryly before taking another bite of his toast. Sebastian rolled his eyes while Lewis walked over to the bar to grab a bottle of water. Normally Seb and Lewis kept any flirting while at work to an absolute minimum – because while the whole team knew they were together the rest of the paddock was supposed to be none the wiser. As such Sebastian was staying at the same hotel as the rest of the team while Lewis was in his penthouse apartment.

“So,” Lewis grabbed a free chair from a nearby and set it down at the head of the table. He sat down and clapped his hands together while everyone finished the last few bites of their breakfast, unintentionally making the tealight centrepiece jump a few millimetres with his enthusiasm. “How are we gonna win the race on Sunday?”

Sophie/Benedikt - Post Season 1 (2023)

The sound of what Sophie assumed was a piece of cutlery clattering onto the floor a few tables over made her head jerk round to the location of the noise. Two seconds later Benedikt’s head popped up from beneath the white tablecloth of where he and the Red Bull management were sat, and Sophie couldn’t help but let out a small sigh.

As it turned out it was possible to miss someone while being in the same room as them. Even if Ben was going to be hot-footing it to Sophie’s flat the second he was able to once the ceremony was over.

From Sophie’s right Richard quietly cleared his through, and she whipped her head back round to her half-eaten fish course. Martin hadn’t been joking when he said that the Autosport Awards dinner had some of the best food of the year.

“Leon was saying that you probably hadn’t prepared a speech since it’s bad luck.” Richard seamlessly pulled Sophie back into the conversation that she had completely forgotten about.

“Oh yeah, right.” Sophie cleared her throat and picked her knife and fork back up. “No, I haven’t.” She cast a cautious glance around the table, the candle centrepiece still flickering away brightly. “My parents gave me a very long lecture on the flight home from Abu Dhabi.”

A few chuckles ran around the table, and Sophie let out a small sigh as Richard quickly adjusted his silver tie. As she just about heard notes of Benedikt’s bright laugh ripple through the air, Sophie gripped ever so tighter on her knife and fork. That had been close. Too close.

[character-selecton]

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Selection Confirmed. Press Any Key to continue.

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(Page 1. Cont in reblog)

*the profile linked here was created by @character-profiles

[nullheaven]

Tagged by @puppetstringed to answer 15 questions and tag 15 people. ty 🖤 (not gonna tag 15 ppl tho lmao im not that popular)

1. Are you named after anyone?

not that i know of

2. When was the last time you cried?

2 weeks ago i think

3. Do you have kids?

nope

4. What sports do you play/have played?

none im lazy af

5. Do you use sarcasm often?

sometimes

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone?

hair

7. Eye colour?

dark brown

8. Any talents?

painting and being a cunt

9. Scary movies or happy endings?

scary movies

10. Where were you born?

funny portuguese colony located in south america

11. Hobbies?

painting, video gaymes and posting real shit on tumblr

12. Any pets?

2 dogs who i would die for

13. Height?

1,65m lol

14. Favourite school subject?

philosophy

15. Dream job?

pro painter i think but a museum curator would be fine too

tagging: @enig-og-tro @roastie @yuoic @oculus-de-malus @celtos

[loftec]

It's a tag game! Thanks to @deedala for tagging me :D

Name: Elin

Age: 37

Location: Sweden

What's one of your go-to karaoke songs? Singing by yourself in the car or in the shower totally counts. I once learned all the words to Kyu Sakamoto's Sukiyaki just in case I'd ever end up in a karaoke situation, but I haven't yet. My dream karaoke song would be Resistansen or Delikatessen, but what are the chances they've got those on roster?

If you had the power to control one of the four elements, which one would it be and why? Air, so I can turn the winds in my favour when I'm biking somewhere. That's how that works right?

Think of one of your defining personality traits - which animal embodies it? Someone once told my I have the same kind of calm aura as a capybara, I'm not sure that's true but I want it to be.

Are there any fan theories that have stuck with you? Think of the infamous "Scooby and the gang are all actually high"

I feel like there must be better theories that I believe, but I can't think of any now besides "Shrek didn't have a name and made one up on the spot when Donkey asked him".

Name a movie you watched or a book you read as a kid that you were totally not supposed to watch/read at that age.

I don't know about "not supposed to", but I definitely watched Rob Roy at an age that I could not handle it. Seriously, I could not stand seeing Liam Neeson in anything for maybe 10 years after, and I realised only recently that actually it was Tim Roth's fault.

Name a food or drink that you totally hated as a kid and now you really like. My tastes are pretty much the same. I only learned to love cilantro as an adult, but I don't think I ever tried it as a kid.

How about one you still hate? I don't like rosehip soup, or the little dry almond cookies they give you with it, stop assuming I'll like the cookies!!

What's your least favourite chore? Dishes. Every day. More dishes. I am my own worst enemy.

Do you have one that you actually enjoy? laundry and weekly grocery shopping, I have a nice little morning out every Saturday.

And to close it off, share a lyric or two that really resonate with you.

This is from a Swedish version of Frazey Ford's "September Fields". I would cite the original which resonates with me very deeply, but this swedish interpretation has made me ugly cry more than once so... It's a combination of having listened to the original for years and years and feeling it in my soul, and then hearing someone's interpretation of it and it just like... getting it.

Över fälten i september, skiner sommarns sista sol Vi är redo, redo att åldras Vi är redo, vi är redo att tro Vi tror på varandra, det räcker mer än nog

Tagging @the-rat-wins @damnnmilkovich @beckyharvey29 @wehangout @captainjowl @wideblueskies @thisfeebleheart @arrowflier @whaticameherefor and anyone else who wants to do it!

[boinkingbattlemechs]

Catapult CPLT-BW-E 'EM4' (aka 'Creole')

This ‘Mech started off as an unremarkable CPLT-K2, but by the time of its first deployment, was a K2 in name only. Creole was developed in tandem with its pilot as part of the Blackwell Heavy Industries’ experimental Enhanced MechWarrior program, and was the sole such BattleMech developed and deployed, as the revelation of its pilot's existence set in motion events that would resonate beyond Helios, and ultimately help shape the early days of the new Star League... and also ensure the downfall of Blackwell itself.

Creole featured a mixed weapon loadout with answers for threats at any range, and an extensive EWAR suite to back up the well-rounded armament. What set it apart, however, was its unique cockpit configuration. Engineered specifically for use by its pilot EM4, she was as much part of the ‘Mech as the ‘Mech was part of her. A suite of proprietary Blackwell vDNI technology known as the Vehicular Advanced Neural Interface Layered Link Apparatus - or VANILLA - connected her to her pilot at such a deep level that it was hard to determine if the ‘Mech was an extension of the pilot, or the pilot an extension of the ‘Mech. In addition, Creole had cleanroom-grade cockpit filters and an airlock to accommodate its pilot's sensitivity to non-sterile environments.

Though the pair performed extremely well in all simulated environments, Operation TOUCHDOWN was the first time Creole would see an actual combat drop. After being given a clean bill of health by the SLDF MechTechs, the 'Mech would show what Blackwell’s finest - if also most unethical - minds were capable of.

(Creole was designed by yours truly, but belongs to @sapphic-design-is-my-passion / @the-emmapult. Art was done by the ever talented @cromwell300!)

TRO below the cut:

Catapult CPLT-BW-E 'EM4' (aka 'Creole')

Mass: 65 tons

Chassis: Composite Biped

Power Plant: 260 XL

Cruising Speed: 43.2 kph

Maximum Speed: 64.8 kph

Jump Jets: Standard

Jump Capacity: 60 meters

Armor: Ferro-Fibrous

Armament:

2 Micro Pulse Laser

1 Improved Heavy Large Laser

2 Heavy Machine Gun

1 Heavy Machine Gun Array

1 Snub-Nose PPC

2 Improved ATM 3

Manufacturer: Unknown

Primary Factory: Unknown

Communication System: Unknown

Targeting & Tracking System: Unknown

Introduction Year: 3153

Tech Rating/Availability: F/X-X-X-X

Cost: 17,721,688 C-bills

Type: Catapult

Technology Base: Mixed (Experimental)

Tonnage: 65

Battle Value: 1,919

Equipment Mass

Internal Structure Composite 3.5

Engine 260 XL 7

Walking MP: 4

Running MP: 6

Jumping MP: 2

Double Heat Sink 15 [30] 5

Compact Gyro 4.5

Small Cockpit 2

Armor Factor (Ferro) 211 11

Internal Armor

Structure Value

Head 3 9

Center Torso 21 32

Center Torso (rear) 10

R/L Torso 15 23

R/L Torso (rear) 7

R/L Arm 10 20

R/L Leg 15 30

Right Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm

Left Arm Actuators: Shoulder, Upper Arm

Weapons

and Ammo Location Critical Heat Tonnage

2 Heavy Machine Gun CT 2 0 1.0

Heavy Machine Gun Array CT 1 0 0.25

Jump Jet RT 1 - 1.0

CASE RT 0 - 0.0

Extended-Range iATM/3 Ammo (20) RT 1 - 1.0

Standard iATM/3 Ammo (40) RT 2 - 2.0

High-Explosive iATM/3 Ammo (20) RT 1 - 1.0

Micro Pulse Laser RT 1 1 0.5

Improved ATM 3 LA 2 2 1.5

Snub-Nose PPC LA 2 10 6.0

2 Double Heat Sink LA 4 - 2.0

Targeting Computer LT 3 - 3.0

Jump Jet LT 1 - 1.0

Heavy Machine Gun Ammo (300) LT 3 - 3.0

CASE LT 0 - 0.0

Double Heat Sink LT 2 - 1.0

Micro Pulse Laser LT 1 1 0.5

Armored Cowl (Armored) HD 1 - 1.0

Nova Combined Electronic Warfare System HD 1 - 1.5

Direct Neural Interface Cockpit Modification None 0 - 0.0

Improved ATM 3 RA 2 2 1.5

CASE RA 0 - 0.0

2 Double Heat Sink RA 4 - 2.0

Improved Heavy Large Laser RA 3 18 4.0

Features the following design quirks: Battle Computer, Combat Computer, Cowl, Improved Communications, Improved Life Support, Improved Sensors, Multi-Trac, Variable Range Targeting, Cramped Cockpit, Difficult Ejection, Hard to Pilot, No/Minimal Arms, Non-Standard Parts, Prototype