transmechatrist

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— R. Arnold

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The term 'ship' is too vague. I don't think they should date i think they should be fucking regularly. I don't think they should date i think they should yearn for eachother endlessly but never have it be requited. I don't think they should date i think they should kiss one night and never talk about it again. I don't think they should date i think they should hate eachother so much that it turns into bottled up lust. I don't think they should date i think one of them should have a one-sided crush on the other. I don't think they should date i think they should have a situationship that ruins their lives. I don't think they should date i think they should stab eachother

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i love writing porn and i wont feel bad about it. understanding the eroticism of a character is character analysis if u are enlightened.

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set the scene setting prompts (but a little more specific) from yours truly.

001, a convenience store past midnight.

002, a hospital waiting room at 3 in the morning.

003, a photoshoot outdoors in the middle of winter.

004, an indoor filming set of a detective's office.

005, a new house/apartment filled with unopened cardboard boxes.

006, a swing set in an empty playground at night.

007, on stage in an empty theatre.

008, inside an old abandoned house.

009, an empty cemetery at night.

010, the arrival hall at an airport.

011, the last train compartment that's not full.

012, the roulette table in a casino.

013, on the deck of a cruise ship.

014, a kitchen during a black out, surrounded by candles.

015, a treehouse in the middle of the woods.

016, on the dance floor during a wedding.

017, behind the chapel before the wedding ceremony starts.

018, backstage during the middle of a concert.

019, a crowded club during a bachelorette party.

020, standing in front of a painting at a museum.

021, a small, intimate family barbecue.

022, a gazebo while it's raining.

023, the back of an empty bus.

024, a hotel room with only one bed.

025, an empty balcony while a party goes on inside.

026, a bar just after closing.

027, an empty sports stadium.

028, lakeside while the sun is setting.

030, an empty stretch of road beside a broken down car.

031, in front of a suspicious pool of blood in an empty parking lot.

032, in the crowd of spectators during an underground fight.

033, a plane during a bout of turbulence.

034, on kiss cam at a sports game.

035, at a table during a charity gala.

036, a masquerade ball.

037, a halloween party in a suburban house.

038, the beach in the late afternoon.

039, a dressing room after a big performance.

040, exploring the depths of a mysterious cave.

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The engineer takes the offered phone with a cock of their head, “…thank you.” They flip it open, check the contacts. Burner device, single number saved, probably near impossible to trace, even less possible to connect to him. Made sense. They shut it again, give him a nod. Mind wanders briefly to what else might be lining his pockets, but tiredly passes over its curiosity just as fast.

“That should suffice. I’ll return your notes next time, for now let’s wrap up payment ahnd-“ at the mere thought of rest, Sverre’s body makes itself known again with another yawn. They turn with raised hand in an attempt to stifle it, but catch it too late. “-And then you may leave,” they continue with a small sheepish smile after they finish, “…apologies. I will make a project estimate in your absence. For now, how would you like to pay?”

A hand already reaches for their tablet, ready to pull up their standard consultation contract and hand it over for him to look at.

The sim watched them, at first. Watching for whatever response might be gleaned from their initial look through the diagnostics. But they appeared focused, and he couldn't see their face from here, so eventually his gaze wandered.

He rested back in his seat in SILENCE. Clicking keys intermittently carried through the quiet. Revenant lay patient, the glow of his gaze slightly dimmed but awake all the while until the engineer eventually spoke up again. Optics followed their standing then, and their filling up with water at the sink.

So, they were THAT TYPE.

His regular modder was meticulous and scheduled. She took breaks at intervals on the dot. He knew not everyone worked that way. A number of the Legends worked like Sverre, sinking into a project without surfacing until their body or mind wouldn't cooperate anymore.

Revenant took his cable once unplugged, let it slip through his hand as it withdrew neatly back into whatever slot under his chest it had been drawn from. With his free hand, he produced a simple burner phone out of one of the pouches lining his chest and handed it over. "Use this." The phone only had ONE CONTACT on it. And if any number other than this phone messaged that contact, it would be bounced back.

[transmechatrist]

HAVE A YOUNG SVERRE NEPOTISM HIRE (infatuated with boytoy extraordinaire-)

[ character on the left is from @ccyberretchh ! ] [ art inspired by ]

[transmechatrist]

these violent delights.

dialogue prompts from these violent delights by micah nemerever.

i never told you my name.

who puts those awful ideas in your head?

you're forever assuming the worst.

what's that face? you look like you're going to cry.

you're one of those people who worry all the time, aren't you?

i don't worry, i ruminate. they're distinct actions.

nothing made you. you just are.

beautiful things are supposed to hurt.

people tell you you're shy all the time, don't they?

i don't know how i ever got on without you.

a little trouble is a good thing for a young person.

i wasn't born yesterday. i know what kids get up to.

it's good to have guns to stick to.

you could do anything to me and i'd let you.

i'm not ready to be seen. not yet.

i don't need you to treat me respectfully. i'm not made of glass.

tell me you love me, at least. please. i need to know somebody does.

do i look normal? i can't tell if i look normal.

you can get away with anything, as long as you act like an authority on the truth.

don't tell me what i want.

you know you're just about the worst liar i've ever met.

i don't think you've ever felt anything that didn't hurt you.

you're so square, you're a cube.

i just want you to believe me when i tell you you're worth something.

there are limits to what you can expect people to understand, without living it.

you can't fight everybody all the time. you still have to live with them.

i forget how blue the sky can be outside the city.

i'm going to push you off a cliff, you fucking boy scout.

thank you for trusting me with this.

be a kid while you still can.

please believe in the things i try to tell you, instead of the things you think you deserve to be told.

if the sun touched you for even a moment, you'd go up in flames. like a vampire.

your voice changes when you're angry.

what a lonely, dreary thing it is to know the truth.

you never look away, even when your eyes are closed, but i'm never certain you can see what's really there.

tell me you need me. in those words.

can i tell you something? that i'm all but certain you won't believe?

i never lie to you. but sometimes, i wish i could.

you never let me pretend the truth is alright when it isn't.

you have a profound, elusive sadness about you.

you didn't. please tell me you didn't.

you and your awful little games.

why would i bother to grow my own conscience when you're always around to pester me?

you're going to help me escape.

this house is a shadowbox, never meant for human things.

you have no right to stop me, and you're not going to try.

you're sweet, when you want to be.

do you want me to kill ____? i mean it.

it might do you good to be an orphan.

you're just so sincerely creepy.

wealthy people pay handsomely for the privilege of ignoring cries for help.

i've never seen you like that before. not once.

i've decided to learn to be impulsive.

the worst damage humans do isn't rooted in malice, but in thoughtlessness.

there's such a thing as right and wrong. anyone can figure out the difference if they're willing to think for themselves.

there's no part of you i can't see.

i don't want to hurt you. please don't let me.

you're ridiculous, sometimes. but that's alright.

i don't want you right now. go home.

i'm not like you. i don't even have a shape of my own to hold anything else in place.

i'll never matter the way you do, and you know it.

say what you need to say.

if you say the word 'deserve' one more time, i'm driving us off a bridge.

i've been meaning to talk to you about ____.

i'm worried about what you're getting into.

you don't see me. you can't. you never could.

it's your life. you're entitled to make your own mistakes.

i want you to know you deserve better. you don't have to put up with ____.

you scare the hell out of me. you really do.

you look the same way you always have.

i was worried i'd lost you.

i'll take care of you. i don't need you to be brave.

all i want to do is make you happy, and you're the unhappiest person i've ever met.

i would rather be cruel than weak.

i want you to let me be nice to you today. i don't care if you think you deserve it.

this place looks like somewhere in a jigsaw puzzle.

it's always been real for me. every second.

please don't say anything to my mother.

we can't fix it if you don't tell me what happened.

i'll call you when i can stand the sight of you. don't hold your breath.

hiding the truth is still lying.

i thought you'd finally trust me if you knew i'd kill for you.

i'm just as much of a monster as you are.

i was missing part of myself my whole life, until i met you.

righteous fury leaves no space for fear.

you can always talk to me. about anything, okay? i love you no matter what.

you played [game] in school, didn't you?

no one tolerates boredom worse than the idle rich.

someone needs to be looking after you.

you know you can't actually stop me, right?

i want to be able to look at you.

when you need to, you will understand.

i'm only ever early when i'm afraid.

people talk themselves into the strangest things when they want to look impressive.

in the end, there's no difference between trusting someone and underestimating them.

[transmechatrist]

Grounding techniques don't really work for me especially in public... "five things I can see" I see a bunch of people pissing me off

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fake idgafer. i saw tht haunted look in ur eyes

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Their untouched drink spills immediately, and just about empties onto the chest of whomever it may be they just ran into with gusto. They gasp at the realisation, and they’re just about to apologise, but suddenly his hands are on them—

They sputter loudly at his patting, drink splashing more as they attempt to ward off and push against his hands, but he is utterly persistent until their loud grunt of, “Stop-!” seems to finally have him realise how utterly insignificant his touch is, having resulted in nothing but pure exasperation bubbling up and out of Sverre as they finally push his hands off of them.

“Seriously?! I-“ they grit their teeth as they attempt to douse the flames of their anger. They shake their head with an irate huff, hold up their hands; whether to placate him or themselves, who’s to know.

The fact of the matter was only just sinking into them; quite literally, in fact- as the drink that had sloshed onto their clothing had just about managed to seep through every thread of fabric of the front of their mask and neck gaiter, and covered a good amount of their shirt, too. How much had been IN that glass?!

It reeked of strong alcohol and chemical energy drink and they gag at the stench, head shaking abruptly as they lean back, in reflexive attempt to escape the drink permeating their senses and making their eyes squeeze shut from the burning intensity of it.

“Jesus fuck dude, what the hell is in this thing?!” their hand darts up instinctively to pull off their mask, lungs aching for fresh air, but they catch themselves just in time, and eyes shoot open again to frantically look around, their sight frustratingly blurry, but—

everyone was STARING at the two of them.

Eyes flit, full of panic, their ears ring, head throbs, “you- we- where’s the bathrooms?!” they hiss out breathlessly, voice hushed yet raised in almost pleading distress. Heart beating loudly, their hand snatches almost blindly for his wrist, wetly narrowed eyes intense as they attempt to pin him with their desperate stare.

He's supposed to be here for publicity. Lately that hasn't really been his thing, but he'd be the last to admit he'd volunteered to promo new tech just so his brain wouldn't have room to idle on its own.

But Octane's never been known to be particularly committal.

So instead he's traipsing around the back of Ramya's shop, picking up the latest gadgets to show up between this visit and the last, yapping the engineer's ear off while she's putting the finishing touches on the new demo. It's only a matter of time before she inevitably-- and as impolitely as possible-- tells him to buzz off after he's gotten in the way one too many times.

Dejected, he heads past security posted up by one of the entryways, drink in one hand embellished with a crazy straw that spells out 'fuck you' in over-elaborate script. He's throwing some catty remark back at Ramya over his shoulder before his scrawny frame crashes into another body around the corner.

"Ay, what the f-- oh."

Whatever lingering annoyance he harbored from their Legends' spat turns immediately apologetic on account of half his drink having sloshed over the rim and spilled down the passerby's attire. "Sorrysorrysorry, uhhh, here." He paws ineffectually at some of the fabric until it's clear his hands are not, in fact, made of towels.

He turns in place a few times, holding his drink aloft, and casts his gaze about helplessly for perhaps a rag or handtowel he can steal from one of the vendors - but the room is packed and there's barely space to maneuver. With a huff of finality he turns back around.

"Olvídalo, I got nothing, amigo, you're just gonna have to be sticky."

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Sverre glances briefly at the papers as they are mentioned. Quirks a sympathetic, tired smile at his comment. “Yeah, I can imagine,” they muse for a quiet moment, before decidedly sitting up. They stretch, take a deep breath, feel their joints crackle and pop.

“Alright,” they declare, mostly to themselves, and swivel back towards their screen. Time to get started.

Zoning in on his code comes easily to them; naturally. And even without his earlier suggestion, their notepad would have immediately been pulled close- they had never in their life seen something like this.

The errors would have confused them, without the information they had come to put together; now they were just fascinating. They scroll along, clicking their way around, absorbing whatever knowledge they could glean, all the while their pencil scratches away incessantly at their side.

Very often, they take pictures. Resolve to study it in more depth later, compare it to the notes they were given, alongside the ones they were taking themselves.

Security and other uniquenesses of working on him would be something to consider in the time until they next saw him again, alongside the wealth of knowledge they were sure to find in his modder’s comments. For now, they were trying to form a picture of their own. Get a feeling for him, for his internal workings.

There had been an update, the engineer notes, and they were sure they could find specifics in the papers given to them. They flip through them briefly, compare the writing to what they’d observed themselves. There were distinct changes in coding - some incompatible configurations overlapping in errors, quite a bit of corruption - but most of it seemed to have settled adequately in replacement of the old. Either way, such clear hammond formatting, and it was almost a familiar comfort, the way they recognised the structures cradling Revenant’s mind and body.

It was also very clear however, how old the sim was. Newer models the engineer had worked with had way more optimised integration of systems, and while his code surely once gleamed with functionality, there were countless signs of editing, many quite simply sloppy.

His code was a worn down patchwork of creation, and they were distinctly impressed by his sheer functionality in spite of this. Felt a certain respect quite simply for the fact that he was still alive.

…And wanted to get hammered, apparently. Yeah, no wonder.

They couldn’t have said how long they’re under, but by the time their brain stops forming proper thoughts and disrupts them from their fervour, the little clock hand had made its way past 11pm.

“Al’ight, I’m done for today,” they declare, laying down their pencil; and certainly sound the part, as a yawn rips out of them. They rub their face, feeling distinctly groggy now that they’d snapped out of his code, and their throat was practically screaming for water. How they always managed to lose their own bodily senses when doing work would forever be a mystery to them.

They stand swiftly, balance at the corner for a moment as their circulation sways, then grab a cup of water from the sink. Drink it down, fill another. And another. Put it down after with a sigh of pure relief. Gods, had they needed that.

They stride back towards their desk, “I’m gonna unplug you now, yea? I’ve gotten a decent feel for your systems, but I’ll want to review all the notes n’ such. How do I contact you for a follow up?” They speak as they move, and he is unplugged by now- with them having stood in front of where he’d been sitting, holding out his cable back to him with a quirk of their head.

"No," Revenant answered, nonchalant. He wasn't kidding.

He didn't expect it would be enough to turn them away from the job, or his modder would have recommended SOMEBODY ELSE - or otherwise committed to the task herself. Nonetheless, he knew it was a hard pill to swallow. "Screenshots, no. Pictures, sure." Revenant gestured for the folder of notes. "Should be some pages about security in there." The facets of his system he could override and those he could not. What was an obstacle and what could be worked around.

The simulacrum held Sverre's gaze at their final query. "Not my first rodeo," he drawled.

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@transmechatrist : gives Rev a new years kiss on his snout

[transmechatrist]

apologies for not responding to rps in like a week now. am in a bit of a new years slump. I’m hoping to get back to it latest next week, when my usual routine starts up again ❤️‍🩹

[transmechatrist]

Stop saying “there are plenty of fish in the sea”. I’ve got my eye on one specific, emotionally distant salmon with commitment issues