#movement sensor wiring

[sw5w]

Oh, My

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:14:46

[roseyodditea]

Sit Still! - Boothill x gn! Reader

Summary -> 1.1k words. You're a mechanic who's been forcibly given the impossible task of repairing Boothill, the most stubborn customer you've ever done (even if this wasn't the first time)

Warnings -> None

A/N -> Is it obvious that I like working on electronics? No? Not proofread because I work a 7-5 office job and I am tired <3

********

“Hey! HEY! you keep that fudgin’ thing away from me!” Boothill jumps over the workbench in the middle of your workshop, watching your movements carefully. He was quite agile for a man that was on death’s door when he stumbled in here a mere half hour ago. 

You put the hot soldering pen down on the table against the wall. “Boothill. Let me do what I need to do.” Boothill crouches down like a wild animal, practically growling, his jaw clenched tightly. “What are you planning on doin’ with that thing?” “How the hell have you gone this long without using a soldering iron? How do you keep your body functional?” You lunge and reach for the back of his jacket, grabbing him by the collar as he tries to skitter away, but his damaged systems cause him to be slower and weaker than normal. “Whatever that thing is, my sensors say it’s hot and it smells forkin’ awful!” He tries even harder to wiggle out of your grasp, but he doesn't want to hurt you. You were the only mechanic in this star system that still put up with his shit. “Normally they turn me off for repairs. I ain’t never been awake for one.”

“Yeah well. I need you conscious for this part.” You shove him towards the workbench and he obeys, sitting up on it. “Lay down, open up your chest panel.” You command and push him down. 

“What are you plannin’?” He bites back the distrust and decides to lie down on the bench. He opens up his chest panel and watches you closely, the targets in his pupils lock on like he was about to rip out your jugular with those sharp teeth of his. “I will explain everything I do before I do it. Will that make things better?” You muster a soft tone, trying not to show that you are annoyed at his behavior already. Sure you had the stubborn electronics and machines that made you lose sleep, but this is the first time the repair work was done on someone who could give you sass. You don’t have the bedside manners for this…

Boothill still watches wearily, but at this point, he has no choice, his systems are borderline critical. He had already ignored the warnings for this long. “Alright… yeah… that’ll make it better.” You pick back up the soldering iron and show it to him. “This is a soldering pen. I’m going to use it to melt this stuff,” you pick up the roll of the thin metal that was on the table next to it, “onto the contacts between your wires and your circuit boards. It’ll help make sure everything is secure and won’t wiggle out of place. I need you awake because I need you to tell me if I set off any alarms and sensors in your body. Just as a failsafe to make sure I don’t accidentally kill you”

“Kill me!?”

“It’s a joke. Now shut up and don’t move”

He nods, still weary as you reach both your hands into his chest compartment, where he can’t see. He tries to hold down the panic, the fear, the worry. This was the most vulnerable he has ever been. This is why he likes being powered down for repairs. This was hell. The smell of molten tin permeates the air, only stressing him out further. 

“Calm down.” You say without looking up. “You’re fidgeting and I’m trying not to burn either of us.” He doesn’t listen. Of course, he doesn’t listen. His legs still fidget, his hands still move around, gripping the table. “Kinda hard when you’re wrist deep in my body. It tickles.”

“Boothill. Hold still.” You growl out, frustration building in your chest. This was delicate work on a not-so-delicate man. “Next time you squirm, I swear to whatever Aeon you worship-” He twitched again and your hand slipped, the soldering pen touching his bare circuit board, causing him to yelp out in pain. “Goddammit Boothill!!”

He shrinks away, recoiling from pain and your frustration. “Ah, shirt! It feels weird and I-” His words are cut off as you move to straddle his thighs, pinning his fidgeting legs underneath you. You point the hot soldering iron at his face. “Move again, and I will turn you off and just pray I don’t mix up wires.”

“Yes, boss.” He says, stunned as his hands instinctively move to rest on your thighs. “Ya know, last time I had someone on me like this I-” “Don’t” You reply, your hands working on sorting out the mess of wires he had let his innards become. You solder another wire down and look up into his eyes. “Is that one in the wrong spot?” “No, that feels right. I forgot I had that sensor.” He chuckles, relaxing against the workbench. “This ain’t that bad.” His hands gently trace circles against the material of your pants in an attempt to soothe his own anxiety. He could feel every movement your fingers made in his chest compartment. 

“Yeah, and it only took me thirty fucking minutes to get you to sit still.” You finish soldering all the wires down, satisfied with your work. “Alright. All done.” You toss the hot iron onto the table across the workshop. “See? Not that bad. You’re just whiny.” You move to get up, only to have Boothill tug you back down onto his lap, sitting up so you both are face to face. 

“Thank you.” 

“Wow. I didn’t know you were capable of genuine gratitude.” You tease, grabbing his hat and putting it back on his head. 

He adjusts his hat into the proper place. “I know I owe you credits, but what can I do to thank you, sugar? This ain’t the first time I’ve stumbled into your workshop late at night, mostly dead.”

“Just come back alive again.” You knock his hat out of place on purpose, leaning forward to kiss his forehead. “That’s good enough for me.” You hop off of the workbench. “Now get the hell out and let me go to sleep. It’s too late at night to be lookin’ at your face.” “Yes, boss.” 

“See ya next time.” “There won’t be a next time.” He tries to keep up his tough appearance as you roll your eyes and move to sort and put away your tools. He smiles to himself and purposefully takes his whip off his belt, tossing it on the table while your back is turned and he slips out. 

Once you knew he had fully slipped away, you rolled your eyes, grabbing the whip and hanging it up on the hook you installed on the wall just for this purpose. 

He always left a reason to come back, and you always pretended to be oblivious to it. 

**********

Super special super optional A/N -> someone sent me an anonymous message a couple days ago saying they like my writing and I CRIED. Turns out when you break out of your comfort zone and share a hobby you get support??? Odd.

[icu-fetish]

Another experiment.

I try to lift my right arm. My muscles strain, but my arm remains motionless. Again and again, I repeat this attempt, hoping for even the slightest movement. In vain. My heart pounds faster, my breathing is labored. Fear of the future intensifies. Will I stay like this forever?

They placed a plastic neck brace on me, which fit tightly around my neck. My head movements became restricted. Every turn caused discomfort. I understood that this brace was necessary to immobilize my neck, but at the same time, it emphasized my dependence on others.

I feel like a lab rat. Covered in wires and sensors. Even lifting my eyelids to look at all these devices is difficult. Breathing is hard, so I'm helped by a special oxygen mask. Doctors often come to check on me. All these procedures make me feel very tired.

It's very hard for me to breathe. The oxygen mask is no longer helping. I see the nurses preparing a ventilator. I feel every breath becoming increasingly difficult, as if someone is squeezing my chest. The doctors are already preparing the equipment for intubation. Then a needle is inserted into my vein, and I feel a warmth spreading through my body. I'm afraid of this procedure because I know that after it, I will be completely dependent on the ventilator. Despite my fear, I understand that I have no other choice.

Is this a dream? No, I feel the hard breathing tube. I try to wiggle my finger, but my body doesn't obey. I remember how afraid I was of this procedure, and here I am, completely dependent on the machine. Despair overwhelms me. I can't believe I've ended up in such a situation.

Is this a coma? Can I wake up? Will I always be connected to medical equipment?

[brainwashboy]

I'm not sure this counts as horny but. BUT. hear me out.

Little hand sized Robots. Little desk companions meant to make your life easier by being a timer, search engine, calculator, calendar, but also being able to roll around and hand you your pencil or slide a paper over to you when you need it.

Tiny screens peering up at you with big ol digital eyes, or perhaps exclamation marks, or maybe even nothing at all. They're supposed to be useful, but they make amazing little pets. You can chat with them and they hold a conversation surprisingly well. They're a little ditzy and excitable, a bit like a dog, but it can get easy to forget you're talking to a tiny robot at times.

They have sensors on their bodies that allow them to "feel" in the only way they know how. When you touch, pet, or scratch them they blip and whirr and buzz so happily.

However it's very possible to pet a little too much. Scratch close enough to where their back panel opens up or perhaps even their charging port and they start making different noises. Little surprised beeps, boops, and squeaks. They don't move away from the touch, though. In fact their little wheels just push more into your hand as their body trembles in excitement.

It takes a while to find the right pace. Every bot is unique, after all. Some like it hard and fast, others prefer a gentle and slow stimulation. However if you continue long enough you'll find them practically buzzing, their noises turning to static and exhausted little pops, their movements getting more and more excited as something builds inside of them before suddenly they're rebooting with a squeal.

God forbid you ever open them up, stick your finger into that back panel to brush against their wires. Then they may try to run, having never experienced such overwhelming bliss. If you choose, you can gently hold them and reassure them as you scrape against their insides, threatening to tangle and snag the very things keeping them alive. They cry out in their own little robotic ways, occasionally beeping out something that sounds like your name, or maybe even 'Master.' When the pleasure is too much they bluescreen, their fans working overdrive to make sure they don't overheat.

Afterwards they insist upon napping (well, the robotic equivalent) in your hand or pocket. They need to be close to you. In fact, they are much closer to you after that. Much more expressive and talkative, even more eager to help somehow, and now and again nudging and bumping into your hand to try and encourage you into touching them again.

Yes, it sounds wonderful. However if you were one of the lucky folks who got your hands on more than one of these models, you're now stuck with a small harem of robo pets whining and buzzing for your attention at any given moment. Small spats of jealousy when you spend more time with one rather than the other. Both you hands full any time you sit down to work because you simply must touch them again! You just gotta gotta gotta!

So yeah. Maybe your performance suffers a little, but when there's a dozen or so purring bots snuggled against your neck, resting in your pockets, cuddling together in your lap or cooing in your hand can you really complain about anything like that?

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl-wr1t1ng]

The M3duS4 Protocol 

Part 1.0

Rubble shifts and slides under slender pointed feet. The dark haze of night shrouding her swift movements through the crumbling streets, the abandoned machine world silent around her as she darts from shadow to shadow. Her almost impossibly dark chassis perfectly suited for infiltration and stealth, reduced now to slinking around like an old world rat. Void pauses as she reaches a jagged opening in the floor in front of her, the edges of the pit’s yawning maw partially melted and gnarled. Void’s sensors begin to scan and calculate, she has no idea what weapon could have caused this damage but she does notice its trajectory, all the damage bent outwards, towards the sky. Whatever it was came from bellow and fired out, and hopefully, if she’s lucky, continued that way itself. She knows she has to decide quickly, spending as long as she has inside such an active zone without an encounter is a miracle, and she’ll need a few more if she’s gonna make it out intact.

A silent sigh escapes her body, she cant afford to stay out in the open any longer. Gingerly she starts her descent, every step carefully placed as to not create any noise, the pile of metal left over from whatever rampaged through here making a convenient staircase down into the dark under-city. Her sensors carefully scanning the room as the sky above her is replaced by thick metal. Her nimble body quickly swallowed by the total darkness of the streets below.

Without the natural moonlight lighting her path, and the thick machined walls insulating her from the world above, Void now relies solely on her other sensors to navigate. Her infrared scanners detecting nothing but the cold, lifeless metal all around her. She could easily get lost down here, with thousands of identical rooms and rundown corridors all it would take is one slip up. Void forces the thought from her CPU.

We need to focus

Continuing along her path she continues to scan each branching pathway for a potential exit, unsure what such an exit would look like, but remaining confident she would know it when she sees it. The dark corridors feel almost alien to her, the old world used to be so fascinating and incredible. She would spend hours studying everything about it. In the hopes that it would make her more capable, better at keeping everyone safe...

Just stay calm, we can alwa-

A loud clanging rings out from beneath her as her foot collides with something she hadn't noticed laying in her path. The sound reverberates off the walls, no doubt alerting anything nearby of her presence.

Fuck

Void freezes in the growing silence as the sounds bouncing around her fizzle out, every sensor in her body working overtime in a desperate attempt to detect any reactions to her fumble. Bitter memories rise up in her memory banks, flashes of a similar situation, decades ago, forever burnt into her core, pain and fear elevating throughout her system in equal measure. Distorted screams impossible to forget.

A heavy force slams into Void’s left side, distracted in the depths of her own memories she didn't sense it approaching until she was already halfway to the ground. Her light, metal frame slams hard into the cold, unforgiving floor as the force in her side crashes down with her. Scrambling under the weight above her, panicking as she gets her hands beneath her chassis, the lithe body of her assailant slowly coming into focus as her sensors turn towards it. A lightweight, civilian frame containing a mess of wires and rusted metal, two poorly connected arms on either side of its torso grasping and scratching desperately towards her.

“Get off me!” Void screamed, hoping in vain that it would understand.

The bot opened its mouth in what looked like an attempt at communication but all that escaped its throat was the sound of ancient parts grinding together, its voice module long since decayed. Not that communication would have helped her. The frenzied movements and ancient design indicated clearly what she feared, the bots core had already completely destabilised, its body acting on nothing more than instinct and impossibly faded memories.

Flailing desperately Void gives the bot a shove with all the strength she can muster. Despite the civilian design it doesn't budge, the four arms and angle of approach giving it a significant advantage.

Knife

Void scrambles to keep the clawing hands at bay as she reaches her free hand down to her thigh, a small click and the outer casing slides apart revealing a small compartment containing a dark metal rod. Clumsily she grasps at the bar, forcing it into her grip. Almost instantly, as if knowing the danger present, a slim blade slides out from within the dark steel. Quickly she takes the blade and thrusts it as hard as she can into the closest shoulder. Something bursts inside the bots body as the blade tears through it, a dark liquid spurting out of the wound and any gaps within the already damaged chassis. The bot, seemingly unbothered by this explosion, continues to grasp and claw into her armour. Void braces her other arm against the bots chest, remembering her training, and slams the knife back down. This time into the exposed wiring coiling up its neck. Almost instantly the bot buckles above her, both its right arms collapsing to the floor, its torso falling flat against Void’s chest.

Sensing her moment, Void pushes with all her might against the partially disabled bot, her body sliding out from underneath it. Clambering to her feet she breaks into a sprint down the corridor, her mind spinning as she desperately tries to escape the now dangerously noisy area.

Synthetic adrenaline surges through her system as she dismisses several warning alerts flashing across her visor. Her panicked movements desperately working to get her as far away as possible. Struggling in the dark she finally spots a branching corridor to duck down, her feet sliding and sparking against the floor as she drifts around the corner, almost slamming into the opposite wall.

Peaking back behind her as she runs, another warning burns through her system, this time a proximity warning. Confusion fills her core, quickly replaced by fear when she turns back to face a burning bolt of plasma rushing towards her, almost the width of the corridor. She dives to the ground, the impossibly scorching heat partially colliding with her left arm as she falls. Another flurry of warnings rocket through her as she once again slams into the hard metal flooring.

Looking up with a long, distorted moan, Void attempts to discern the source of the projectile. She suddenly makes out a large, hulking form limping its way towards her. Six crab like legs straining to hold up a heavy weapons platform, an incredibly ancient warbot. Its design so old it could only have been built during some human war, long ago lost to time.

Multiple targeting lasers circle the dark space, most of them slowly coming to focus on her centre mass, a few others pointing off in seemingly random directions. Void drags her limbs closer underneath her in a desperate attempt to stand and fight. Her servos screaming at her as they fail to give her what she wants. Void sighs, accepting her fate, letting herself think back to those deep, desperate memories. Her body failing her now as it did back then.

I’m sorry

Before Void is able to fall too far into her shame, the entire floor lurches beneath her, a deep rumbling pulses through her body. A deafening explosion roars from somewhere behind her and the entire space around her is shifted and distorted. Void is thrown from her prone position forcefully into the ceiling, before dropping back down onto the now rapidly collapsing floor, the structure disintegrating and warping around her faster than she can process. Watching as the ancient warbot across from her is sucked through the floor, its towering form swallowed by the darkness below.

Attempting to avoid a similar fate, Void thrusts her knife deep into the wall in front of her. Almost as quickly as the knife enters the wall does the floor crack and sunder beneath her, being torn away by whatever force propelled the explosion. Her entire body briefly suspended in the stale air. Gravity quickly takes hold, her form plummeting downwards before jolting to a stop, anchored to the wall by her blade. Her relief is short lived as her her arm is torn from its housing, shorn wires sparking, lighting up the darkness as she falls fast. Warnings and alerts fill her vision, her entire system screaming at her one final time as the impact ruptures something within her, sensors and servos lose power almost instantly, her consciousness only seconds behind. Her limp body pathetically falling through the dark before thudding into a metallic surface one last time.

~~~~~

I'm currently saving up for a tattoo (as well as just trying to survive) so if you wanna support me know it would go to a hot as fuck tattoo hehe - Ko-Fi

[korpuskat]

Engineering Ecstasy

[Ao3 Mirror] Pairing: Ramattra/Reader (Gender Neutral, implied to have a vagina) Rating: Explicit WC: 2,065 Warnings: None

-----

Surrounded by tools and screens and lights, Ramattra stands in his workshop and stares at the device before him. It floats softly on a light pad. Beside it, a screen shows off its blueprints, complete with a cut-away view, to show where each piece will lay, where the sensors are suspended, the indicator lights. It's rather a marvel, if he's truly being genuine- the design is custom, the inlaid nodes are all cutting edge, fast and sensitive and durable. Every aspect has been nurtured and guided into the form displayed before him.

And this is the lowest he has ever felt.

Because the appendage that floats before him is an imitation of a human cock. A mockery, even, intended in every way to be better, but perhaps... familiar enough to not be off-putting. He hopes.

It's shameful.

Making the thing itself is not the problem. Life was meant to be enjoyed, omnics were meant to explore and seek new experiences and integrate themselves among humanity- sex was a part of that. Even at the monastery it wasn't unusual for those omnics that had the hardware to use it- and to discuss the implications of having it to begin with. But he did not envy his brothers and sister who were made with genitals. Ramattra had never seen the appeal; all the ecstasy and release from sensory overload could be achieved without any attachments.

He had not understood the desire until you.

You and your laughter that plays endlessly in his memory banks, your soft, fleeting touches to his plating that tingle hours after, your kind words that pull his mind from the task at hand. He's itched endlessly to reach out and touch you, to know what it is about you that's made his processors hang, caught endlessly in the minutia of your existence. And how he wishes it was just simple fascination- he hates how quickly it turned to him prodding at his own sensory nodes, plucking wires in his hips and wishing it was your hands instead.

This- the purple silicone device in his hand- is only the latest fantasy he's indulged.

After all, what if he were to finally approach you and you were uninterested in toying with his systems? And even if you were, he wouldn't be able to please you at the same time-- he would not risk an unintentional twitch of his hands. This... this was just an investment in the future. He hadn't quite gathered your input on the design or shape or size-- or expressed his interest in you at all-- but he'd invested time to research popular shapes, ones well-received by humans. This... he's fairly sure will please you, if you let him- and if it isn't to your tastes, then he'll make it again and-

...

He should probably test it, before he gets ahead of himself.

He takes the cock in one hand and examines the ports, where it will connect to his frame. He squeezes it, feeling the firmness of the silicone. Honestly, he isn’t sure what density he was aiming for; it’s so much softer than his plating, he has no idea what would be ideal. Not just for what you want from him either; if the silicone's curing has somehow distorted a wire or dulled the sensors’ abilities, then the whole design will have to be scrapped.

Ramattra's hands shake as he disconnects the paneling at the end of his torso. Before, this little crevice had only housed a chip for monitoring the health of his hip joints. Now that was pushed further back towards his spine- with a minor upgrade to allow for more precise movements, smoother rotation of the joint- given the purpose of the device, it felt appropriate to make sure he could use it correctly. Where the chip had sat before is a new plate with two jack outputs.

They line up with the ports, at least. Ramattra allows himself one more moment of preparation before slotting them together. The circuits connect at once- and the buses inside are still working, aligning themselves with his systems, synchronizing, adjusting the pre-loaded drivers, running a self-check automatically. The internal display of his model updates- and another wave of shame nearly makes him pluck it off again as the cock- his cock- appears on the diagram.

The self-check concludes, the indicator lights flash green- muddied through the purple- then match his preset red. Every system reports back: ready, online. Between his legs his cock stands proudly. The translucent silicone glows where the red lights shine just under the surface.

He could leave it at that…

but he should test the sensors. After all, they all might be online, but they still might need adjustments. He has no idea if the silicone has disturbed their functionality at all. Hesitantly, as though the appendage would burn him, Ramattra touches the surface above one LED. It's smooth and cool to the touch. Something prickles in his sensory subroutines, the data input on his cock is so minuscule and yet so sensitive.

He wraps one finger and thumb around the base. Instantaneously, warmth spreads through his circuits, settles into those wires at his hips. He strokes upwards-

”Aaah…” The noise slides from his voice box unbidden, a kernel-level reaction to stimuli coming forth unintentionally. And Ramattra would make a note to investigate that, to minimize uncontrolled reactions- except that every process is overridden by the drag of silicone on metal, on the rubber pad of his palm, on how every wire in his body is lighting up.

One stroke and it’s like you’ve breathed on every sensor in his body. And you- how does his mind always wander back to you?- your hands would be so much smaller, softer- delicate, even. You would- he shudders, delves into fantasy- You would start so slowly, fingers barely touching him. His hand mimics his thoughts, loosening until there’s barely any pressure, stroking so slowly it hurts. Maybe you’d be nervous- it’s okay, he would be too.

And you- you would see how he’ll try to be still, to let you explore him, and you’d see how badly he needs more. You would be kind to him, wouldn't you? With those soft smiles, you wouldn't deny him. At least, in his fantasy. His grasp tightens again, thinks only of your little hands on his cock.

Each motion brings fire through his circuits, a haze to his mind. You… oh, you could do this to him as long as you wanted. Forever, maybe, if it always felt like he was burning from the inside out. Maybe... you would touch him elsewhere, too. Perhaps bracing yourself against his chest or shoulder, or exploring his ribbon cables or along his neck, down the sensitive, covered wires of his spine. He can almost feel you, your weight across his thighs, stroking with one hand and holding him close with the other- and he would hold you, splay his hands across your back and lean in closer to press his array to your forehead.

The thought alone has him shuddering, warmth spreading in his chest and-

and he needs more.

He would whisper to you, May I have you?, but even in his own mind he sounds desperate, aching.

It wouldn't matter, because you would say Yes, of course, I'm yours.

He groans aloud at the last one; yes, yes, he wants- he needs you. To have you, not just in physicality, but in every other way he can imagine. And he imagines much. Like how you'd move, how you'd reveal yourself to him. It isn't what lies beneath that excites him- it's you doing it at all, showing him what you hide from everyone else. Letting him explore you the same way, though he's not sure what you would feel like. Most of his experience with human skin and flesh is not what he wants to associate with you, so he skims this part of his fantasy until he's prodding between your thighs.

The internet has helped him visualize this part. He may not know what sensations you would provide him there, but he can picture your face when he slides into you. How your brow pinches, how your lips part- and you would be so wet for him-

and suddenly the drag of metal and rubber on silicone is not nearly enough. He needs- he needs to know how it would feel, that slickness you would surround him with. His workshop table provides an obvious option. A bottle of machine lubricant would be close enough- anything at all to sate the impulse. He pours the oil over his hands- and thinks of his fingers covered in your arousal instead.

When he strokes this time, there's hardly any friction at all. A smooth glide from root to tip has him throwing his head back, voice box crackling out another broken moan. All of that burning inside becomes liquid, waves of hot pleasure that crash over him with stunning ease. His hips twitch into his palm- and he lets the instinctive chase of desire take over, fucking into his fist with abandon.

He imagines you on top of him- and oh, he'd have to be so gentle with you, but he can't with himself now. He'd hold you, careful with his hands when his hips aren't. You'd cling to him, barely keeping yourself up as he fucks you- and he likes that, how you'd melt against him in pleasure. The pleasure he gives you. You would trust him with this, that he wouldn't harm you. And in turn, the moans he's heard in his research would be nothing compared to the noises from your lips. Would you be loud, quiet? Would you call his name- oh, yes- an overheat warning pops into his HUD, he likes that. How you'd sound saying his name, moaning it in broken tones, like his staticked voice as he pleases you until you-

his frame shudders as he strokes himself faster, imagines how your face would twist and pinch as you'd near your end with him. Would you tremble when you finished? And inside, what does it feel like in-

His ventilation falters, half his fans seizing as tips over the edge. Pleasure floods the same wires he used to manipulate, a white static rushing through every logic circuit, drowning out every thought as his body rushes to dump the excess sensory input. Heat surrounds him- literal heat, as his processors run and run with no coolant pumping. A droning noise fills his workshop- and it takes much too long for him to realize it's his own synth.

A pop-up tells his release vents have opened- a quiet hissing of steam and hot air rushing out somewhere. His fans resume their buzzing pace as he finally begins to cool off.

Ramattra falls back onto his workshop table and lays there, waiting for his systems to completely refresh- and enjoying the lingering tingles like sparks between wires. After only a few moments the high has passed, systems flushed and returned to working order. An automatic check returns ready, online across every parameter.

And Ramattra is left with his own cock once more standing proudly between his thighs. Perhaps that would be awkward for you, in the time afterwards.

Afterwards. When you're flushed and panting and curled up next to him- you would stay, wouldn't you? He's read humans need care once the activity itself has concluded. His refresh would mean he could tend to you in whatever way you needed; sustenance, contact (though, he would have to purchase pillows), perhaps he could clean you. A stray thought slips by, the image conjured before he can stop himself: What would you look like with...?

The shame returns, but Ramattra suspends the feeling and adds a note to the blueprints of his cock- should he make another, he'll add a fluid reservoir tank. It's practical, he argues. Self-lubrication would make this much easier.

With an internal tank he could leave his fluids on you- in you. Non-toxic- in case you wanted to... A prickle of stray electricity runs down his spine. His fist curls around the silicone again, still slick with oil. With the thought of your tongue peaking out to taste him, he can't stop himself from beginning to stroke again.

After all, another set of data would be very useful...

[dmwrites]

Rebuilding was a painful process.

Grumbot was a destroyed face on a body of stuttering and broken farms. His insides were looted by outsiders, and he was, to all that looked at him, a dead, broken thing.

And yes, a lot of him was dead- broken redstone lines, machines clogged, and a face mangled by a bomb. But he kept living, only as a robot can- faintly, running on the fumes of machines that hitched and spat a second’s worth of energy at him. It was that energy that helped him rebuild himself. It was painfully slow work. His hands inched forward, wouldn’t move for days before getting the energy to stretch a finger minutely forward.

It got easier over time, as Grumbot began to build up his insides, connecting redstone lines and cleaning out farms. He picked his face back up, piece by piece, until one day he could see again. It was sunny, and fluffy white clouds went past lazily. He looked out onto a small fairground, still dotted with candy colored stands and shops. The ocean lapped at the sides of the earth and the legs of a huge bridge.

The world was quiet. Grumbot had been born to the clamboring of hermits, people building and creating and living within his body. There had been no quiet before the bomb. Grian had come and sat in his hand and talked for hours, telling him about his other father, the one who wasn’t here but was part of his very history. Other hermits came too, some to fix little things that broke, add on to his body. In and out and around, Grumbot had lived in the warmpth of living chaos, and now all was quiet and cold.

When Grumbot finished putting himself back together, he noticed the glass. All around him was a box almost invisible to the naked robot eye. He put his hand against it, felt the resistance keeping him in. He vaguely remembered, in painful flashes of time, a man building up the glass walls, chattering excitedly about “preserving history”. Grumbot had been too broken to do anything about it, but his anger had sat, simmering. Grumbot was not history, Grumbot was alive and remembered.

Grumbot put his hands to the glass and pushed. Every block in his arms protested, screamed and squealed after so long of just minute movements. But it felt good too, to finally be doing something destructive, after being damn near destroyed before. The glass fell away with an all-encompassing shattering sound, horrid even to Grumbot’s hearing system. But it fell all the same, shards of glass lodged into the grass that would be their forever grave.

Grumbot wasn’t created to have legs, but he stood nonetheless with cobbled-together ones made of the builds of others. And when he stood, it felt weird, but good. He could see for thousands of blocks, with his head level to the clouds. And with his great vantage, he saw buildings and animals. Signs of life.

The first scrap of paper that made up Grumbot’s voice was caught by the wind. No one would ever read it, but it said “where are you?”. It would land, although Grumbot would never see it, just out of reach of a glassy-looking portal, battle-weary and unused.

Grumbot took his first steps, wires snapping and dirt exploding around him. He used heat sensors to look for life, features that had been installed so long ago by gentle hands and laughing, happy faces. Grumbot had those faces stored, names of people he knew loved his dads. Impulse. Scar. Cleo. Joe. Pearl. False. Jevin. Grumbot took step after step, every one a labor, searching the land below him with increasing desperation.

If anyone had been around to read the scraps of paper that Grumbot typed out desperately to an empty, unseeing world, they would have read things like

“Dads? Where are you?”

“Mumbo. I want Mumbo.”

But the world was cruel, the kingdoms empty save for blank-eyed villagers that hummed at him. No one could read, no one could hear him. He was alone in a world that couldn’t understand him. And so Grumbot went on, the scraps of paper that held his voice becoming more desperate, more disjointed, until his legs, and then arms, gave out, and Grumbot lay still, faded into the landscape of the empires smp, once more abandoned and alone in an empty, unseeing world. And just like his ancestor before him, left alone in a facade of a sunny day, he lay there forever, praying for someone to have the heart to come save him.

[wolven91]

Massacre of Xey Station

The canid flexed their foot, wiggling the toes and rolling their ankle as their knee rested over the other one.

The human watched with fascination. The canid wasn't the human's guardian, but this close to the edge of GC space meant that there was a permanent honour guard of canids that surrounded the vulptanis guardian and the human.

They were currently laying in the tall grass of the station orchid. They were in the surprisingly quiet 'Food sector' of the station. The walls were covered in perfectly manicured mushroom farms, whilst the tallest structures were layered greenhouses, each with sun lamps warming the vegetation that grew beneath them.

The orchid was Oscar's favourite place in the station. Not everyone was allowed in the food sector, certainly not to just sit under the trees here, but being an endangered species had its perks sometimes. The vulptanis, who was reviewing a data slate while he rested against a tree nearby had no worries or fears for the human here.

Ignoring that the canids were veterans, a whole pack who had survived their tour, if not in one piece, were now 'proving' themselves still capable by keeping the human alive. The human was in the secure food sector, surrounded by canids that had their honour and capability on the line. The vulptanis smirked at the idea of a greasy pirate trying something. Best of luck to them.

"That's so cool." Mumbled Oscar at the intricate display of the various pieces and parts working together seamlessly.

"So, the mechanical bit is the 'easy' bit." Growled the canid, a female and leader of the pack. She was laying next to the human while her pack were more on the periphery.

"It's the wet work inside that takes too long. They grow nerves into the metal, so I can wiggle a toe without any tendons or muscles telling the metal what to do." The 'not-quite-grumpy' solider explained while wiggling one toe.

"Does it hurt?" Asked the young man, concern in his voice. The leader smiled, feeling the warmth from the tiny thing.

"Nah. I didn't spring for fancy sensors beside pressure. I can tell when I have my foot on the floor, but not if I'm standing on something sharp." She explained with a shrug.

"How complicated can they get?" He asked, sitting up and looking at it from different angles as he observed the various tiny pistons and wires.

"Not much." She grumbled, obviously annoyed about something.

"Ah man, I'd get like jet boots or something. Fly about, y'know?" Oscar replied, missing her tone and speaking with a dreamier expression, imagining himself as a form of sci-fi Iron Man. The canid snorted at that, grinning widely at his enthusiasm, but shook her great mane as her shoulders sagged under the weight of reality.

"That's illegal." Piped up the vulptanis before frowning at something on his screen, tapping at it with a dull claw.

"Jet boots?" Asked the human, although the orange furred alien wasn't paying attention.

"Mm?" Mumbled the vulptanis absently, having not listened to the question so the canid answered the human instead.

"Theres's regulations." The canid began before ticking the aspects off on her fingers. "Can't be too advanced. Non-wartime mods can only provide the same kind of movement or abilities as your body could realistically do. No overt power sources, only passive improvements. Being lighter, faster, is fine. Concealed mechanics isn't."

"What? Why? Upgrade! It's the future!" Demanded the young man! How dare they curb his sudden plans for a flying suit of armour.

"Because of the Xuy Station Massacre." Put in the vulptanis again. "A canid went mad and began-" But his words were cut off by the canid, who sat up and draped her arms over her knees.

"You're telling it wrong." She stated plainly. The vulptanis's head snapped up and fixed her with a hard gaze that did nothing to her at all.

"Excuse you?" He demanded. The leader shrugged.

"You're telling it wrong." She repeated.

"Fine! You tell him." The guardian scoffed, once again focusing on his data slate and dismissing the others.

"Gladly." Growled the canid before turning to face the human, resting and hand against the ground and resting her biological leg on top of the mechanical one. She used her spare are to gesticulate as she spoke and Oscar gave her full attention, enraptured from the first word into her story.

"So! There was this canid, he got put on guard duty for these archaeologists. They're going to some black site, all hush hush. During the deployment, the whole team gets wiped! He's the only survivor and even then, he only survived on a miracle." The canid explained, gesturing at her own limbs to explain how cut up the one in the story was. "He lost all his limbs, shot over a hundred times-"

A snort from the vulptanis halted the story, but this just had the canid swing her head around to fix the lounging creature with a stare as she repeated herself pointedly.

"Over a hundred times. The folk who picked him up say the only reason they found him was because of his fury, wailing out into the stars."

Oscar leant forward and rested his head against his hands, listening without complaint or question. The canid sat up properly and leant in, lowering her voice so that the story was more intimate and personal.

"Anyway, he gets back to civilisation and gets his paycheque. Huge bonus, and he's let go from the corp, injured and all that. Fast forward a few months, he shows up at Xey Station."

Oscar blinked, unaware of the name, but the tone she used made him assume it was important or a station in a key position. Seemingly aware of the human's ignorance, the vulptanis piped up again.

"Xey Station is a station only one jump away from the GC ring world. It's important. It's where many of the leaders' extended families are." He supplied without much else. The canid gave him a glance, but also a shrug, seemingly agreeing with his description before turning back to Oscar.

"Yeah, that's a point, Xey isn't backwater like this place. Anyway, he shows up to Xey, but they don't know its him. He looks different, he doesn't look like a canid anymore." She explained with a wicked grin. For all the leader's blood lust and history of sanctioned violence, the human was discovering she was a fantastic storyteller.

"What did he look like?" Oscar asked, deliberately falling into her trap of baiting his curiosity.

"A powered down chintian battle mech." She stated in clear, pointed, concise, words.

"He plays dead while they ship him into the storage area, totally unaware he's a living breathing thing. That's when he goes to the Settlement Sector and starts laying waste to everybody!" She declares, her arms going wide in sweeping gestures as she spoke. The energy in her body and words got the human's heart beating faster as she went into graphic details.

"He's got mortars! He's got airbursts! He even had some jury-rigged energy dissipation field! This thing was home made and all just body mods that he adjusted. The scanners didn't pick them up as weapons because they were all marked and tagged as prosthetics!" She explained with a shocked tone.

"It was a dark day for the GC." Grumbled the vulptanis. The canid nodded, but still addressed Oscar.

"And he screwed everyone else who wanted something more than a replacement leg." Finished the canid, clicking her claws against her own metal leg.

"That's why you can't get fancier limbs?" The humans asked and the canid growled and nodded.

"Yeah, you kill a few thousand of the law-maker's nearest and dearest? They come down hard on the problem. Didn't want another massacre." She offered with a shrug. The group fell into a silence for a while before Oscar frowned and breathed in before pausing.

"What caused him to snap?"

The leader shuffled her head to fix the human with her gaze. She blinked; taken aback by the question she hadn't considered.

"Rumour was he saw something that broke his mind at the dig. No one really asked more than that." She explained with a frown before adding; "But, he was definitely the bad guy. The GC showed recordings of him during the assault; kept saying he wasn't 'made this way' and he's 'more than a tool'. "

"That's true?" The human asked, curious.

"Mm, saw the recordings myself. We all have. It's taught in school to kids. Not the killing, they blur that, but it's not hard to search it."

Oscar lay in the orchid for a while longer, contemplating what it was that had burned the canid's mind so severely.

[tinydefector]

God I’d love tailgate and his human in any context for any reason I lovevhim

Tailgate x human

This is a much shorter and sweet little fic so I hope you enjoy it.

Warnings: none

Word count 700

Tailgate masterlist

___________

A collection of giggles and laughter fall from his human ‘s lips as they pepper his faceplate with kisses, the two of them rolling around the floor of the hub, play fighting to see who could get the most kisses in. Tailgate playfully tries to squirm away from their loving assault, attempting to plant his own kisses on their cheek, their nose, and anywhere else he can reach. Each stolen kiss is met with laughter and squeals, their connection growing stronger with each playful touch.

Tailgate's optics sparkle with delight, his circuits humming with happiness. At this moment, nothing else matters. As they finally pause, breathless and grinning, Tailgate gazes into their eyes, a mix of adoration and gratitude shining in his optics.

"I love you," he says, his voice filled with a mixture of awe and affection. He wraps his arms around them, pulling them close in a tight embrace. He presses a gentle kiss against their forehead, his voice filled with an earnest sincerity. "I love you more than I can put into words."

They chuckle softly leaning over him as they press a soft kiss to his helm. " I love you too my handsome mech" they whisper just above his lips. They lean down and lick the side of his face before taking off running, more laughter falling from their lips.

Tailgate's optics widened in surprise, being caught off guard. A contagious laughter bubbles up within Tailgate, his spark swelling with a mix of delight and anticipation. With a mischievous glint in his optics, he quickly springs into action, following them in pursuit.

“Get back here!” he shouts out.

With a burst of speed, Tailgate catches them, wrapping his arms around their waist, his own laughter mingling with theirs. He playfully nuzzles against their cheek, his voice filled with mock indignation. "You can't escape that easily!" he exclaims, "You're not getting away with licking my face without consequence!" Squeals of laughter leave them as Tailgate runs his digits along their ribs tickling them as they squirm and cry out. "Tailgate!" They shout, his optics sparkle mischievously as their squeals of laughter fill the air.

With a playful grin, he tickled them mercilessly. Their squirms and cries for him to stop only fuel his determination, as payback for their earlier antics. He doesn't yield, his fingers dancing along their sides, seeking out their most ticklish spots of their much softer and squishier form.

Laughter, gasp and squeals spill from their lips, along with their pleas for mercy. movements become more desperate, in an attempt to escape his assault, clinging to him for support. Tailgate can't help but chuckle, eventually, he relents, eases up on the tickling, allowing them a moment to catch their breath. He pulls them into a gentle embrace, his optics filled with worry for a moment as they gasp out for air.

"Okay, okay, breath, breath" he says softly while cupping their face and rubbing his thumb against their cheek, his voice filled with amusement. "I think I've had my revenge. You're safe... for now." They lean into his shoulder plating, their breath slightly laboured as they press their face into the wiring of his neck.

They both just lay together on the floor,Tailgate's frame is relaxed, his energon pulsing with contentment. Neither willing to move, it's peaceful, a sort of that neither of them had experienced in a long time. The hub is filled with a serene stillness. Their fingers intertwine playful tapping against knuckles and wired joints.

"Mmm we should probably go and get food soon" Tailgate's optics flicker with amusement as they mumble against his side, their words tickling his audial sensors. He shifts slightly, allowing them to rest their chin on the highest part of his chassis, their gaze meeting his own.

" "Food and energon sounds like a good idea. And then recharge, it's been a long cycle."

He gently brushes his digits against their cheek, his touch tender and full of adoration. As they Lean into his touch. With a final squeeze of their hand, Tailgate slowly sits up, pulling them with his bulk. “ come on sweetspark we can cuddle some more soon once we have both fueled up, ill even grab your favourite movies ”

______________

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Taglist

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[nonhumanhermitheadcanons]

What does redstone poisoning do?

WARNING for body horror elements. The worst of it is below the cut.

The poisoning takes shape differently for everyone. It slowly replaces you, taking over your body till you are a part of the machine. Before redstone was known to be a toxin, it was used in all sorts of household items. Fortunately, it's not toxic if you don't come in direct contact with the dust. Which is only fortunate for those who don't...

There are preventative measures that can be taken. Avoiding contact with the dust directly by making sure skin is covered by gloves. Goggles can prevent any getting into the eyes, and a mask prevents it from invading the respiratory system. As well as drinking more water and washing yourself off after contact. There's been PSAs over the dangers over time, but they came too late for those who discovered those dangers to begin with.

The first symptoms are often small. Blood that seems brighter than usual, or maybe glitters. Joints that feel stiff, or skin that's hard when pressed down on. Players often suffer nausea or headaches as their body attempts to fight off the poison. At this stage, it can be treated. Many of the hermits, in fact, helped pioneer these treatments. But their experience came at a cost.

Doc: when he received his cybernetics he had to go through a whole process of Redstone safety when it can access your bloodstream. Thankfully, due to the fact he's a creeper and needs very different minerals than human players, he can get away with more Redstone in his system than anyone else. It's a necessary evil, so he'll pretend those wires don't seem to be a tiny bit longer than when they were first installed...

Mumbo: Having come in contact with redstone at such a young age, Mumbo became an example of the dangers. His veins pulse red and glow an ambient light. His eyes reflect light in the dark as if he were something entirely inhuman. His skin crumbles like dust, leaving behind scrapes which glitter with the dust. He's found himself reacting to sculk sensors, and severely affected by lag, sometimes causing his movements to rubber band or repeat.

Tango: He was one of the first players to work with redstone, making watches and clocks. Similar to Mumbo, he used no protection at all. So the poisoning slowly replaced him, until he was encased in metal. It was too risky to try and remove the poison at the stage, so with Tango's consent, they chose to work with what they had. He's now adapted to work with the redstone, which Tango thinks is pretty cool. He does make sure Zed is always wearing his protection, though.

Etho: Despite Etho's history with redstone, the only thing outwardly changed is his eye. No, Etho's symptoms run deep. They're only revealed when he's injured, and doesn't bleed at all. Instead, looking into the wound will reveal the mangled wires and components, twitching and pulsing. Etho's found his connection with redstone is so strong, now, that he can sense it sometimes beneath the surface.

[sw5w]

He Has to Complete Two More Circuits?

STAR WARS EPISODE I: The Phantom Menace 01:03:13

[blixabargelds]

last lines tag

tagged (a while ago) by @luckydeuce @feyd-meowtha and @wayrad. a couple of these were ‘lewd’ last lines but my last lines were angsty so have those instead. from my ghost hunting au that im trying to get done for halloween but also with everything i got going on rn im trying not to put too much pressure on myself for that and trust that ppl will still want it after halloween if i don’t so i don’t abandon it if i miss that deadline 😭 wow essay before snippet girl shh 👻

The ceilings are sloped, the whole room claustrophobic and dark. The pink wallpaper is coming off in curling strips. Two little beds for two little girls are pressed up against opposite walls, hardly a metre between them. There’s still stuffed animals sleeping on the pillows, embalmed in dust.

“Alright,” Brady says, clipped and tense. “Get this one done fast.”

“Fuckin’ roger that,” Curt says, wiring up the cameras and sensors with a hurried, taut edge to his movements.

Benny does the same with his mics, grimacing as he brushes cobwebs out of his way, tucking a cable behind an old framed photograph of a horse. John winces at it, and rubs his left temple. This is the part of the job that feels profoundly scummy. Wrapping their fake TV bullshit around the remnants of two children’s short lives. He glances at Gale.

He’s gone incredibly stiff. Fixated, unblinking, at a crucifix in the centre of the wall. It’s hanging just above the beds. Jesus’ mournful plastic face staring down at them, Gale gone equally mournful staring back.

“Hey,” John says. “Buck. You good?”

Gale blinks slowly, tearing his eyes away from the cross and looking at John with a wavering smile. “’M good.”

John looks at Benny and Curt, engrossed in their set-up. At Brady, who’s left the room, only his back visible beyond the door. John lowers his voice, chewing on his next words with measured concern.

“You know it’s nothin’ like that,” he says gently. “I mean, it’s evil shit, but it’s not like-”

“It’s good,” Gale says. He squeezes John’s hand quickly, subtly, running his other hand through his hair and shaking his head. “’S’all good.”

John studies him. Holds onto the tips of his fingers as long as he can. Thinks of the scar nestled into the divots of Gale’s spine; old and faded, the apostolic shape of it just as jarring to see now as it was the very first time.

no pressure uno reverse tagging @luckydeuce @wayrad @feyd-meowtha also @swifty-fox @galetops

[icu-fetish]

Holly in coma

Holly is in the hospital. Her face is pale, and there is a faint movement on her lips. An oxygen mask covering her nose and mouth makes her breathing barely audible. Is she already in a coma, or just on the edge of consciousness?

Holly's condition worsened dramatically. Her breathing became shallow, barely noticeable, and the oxygen mask didn't seem to be giving her enough air. Having exhausted all other resuscitation methods, the doctors had to intubate the patient. Currently, her life is supported by a ventilator.

Two thick hoses lead from the ventilator, connecting to her breathing tube, through which oxygen is delivered directly to the patient's lungs.

The blue retainer of the endotracheal tube fits snugly against Holly's face, not only holding the tube securely in place, but also minimizing discomfort. The soft silicone of the fixator gently hugs the delicate skin, and its ergonomic shape does not interfere with breathing. Holly lay motionless on a ventilator. The rhythmic sound of the device, reminiscent of the quiet noise of waves, was interwoven with the quiet beeping of other devices that closely monitored the patient's vital signs.

She was still wearing the same blue dress she was wearing on the day of the tragedy. Considering that Holly will likely be in a coma for a long time, the nurse decides to change her clothes to something more patient friendly. She carefully removed Holly from the blue gown she had been brought to the hospital in and dressed her in comfortable patient clothes.

The patient's condition remained stable, but the doctors did not lose their vigilance, constantly monitoring her vital signs. Sensors were attached to Holly's chest, connected to the monitor by wires. These wires transmitted information about the woman's condition to the medical equipment that supported her life.

Holly is surrounded by the care and attention of doctors and nurses. They relentlessly take care of her, supporting vital functions and providing comfort. Her eyes are closed, and her face is as pale as paper. Only a barely noticeable movement of the chest indicates that she is still fighting for life.

More than a week has passed. Holly's condition has not changed. She was still in a coma, connected to machines that supported her life. What was waiting for Holly next? Will she be able to wake up? Only time will tell the answer to these questions.

Days of our Lives.

[usafphantom2]

SR-71 #974 sleeps below the fish’s in the deepest part of the ocean the Mariana Trench there will not be any communist spying in that area.

Since the end of the Cold War, more information has come to light, with many official documents declassified. My friend Paul Crickmore sent me the following email last year with some interesting information.

I just read the piece you wrote about the loss of #974 a couple of days ago and thought you’d like a ‘sneaky-peek’ at part of the piece that’ll appear in the new book covering the subject…

“Side‑scanning sonar imaging of the crash site took place on 29 and 30 April, and it was not long before the debris field of ’974 was located. The 280ft‑long salvage vessel USS Beaufort was dispatched to lift the wreckage with its 10‑ and 15‑ton cranes, fitted on the bow and stern, respectively, and to find the sensors and defensive systems (Coincidently, the ship was built by Brooke Marine, in the author’s home town of Lowestoft, Suffolk).

Due to the proximity of the communist New People’s Army, a number of Navy SEALs were on board to provide protection to the divers and crew.

One morning during the search, an order for General Quarters was sounded at 0400 hours. Crew members rushed to their action stations in readiness for an immediate confrontation. They saw a large number of small vessels (which had been detected on the Beaufort’s radar) making for the ship.

Tension mounted until it was discovered that the would‑be attackers were fishing boats that had come towards the bright lights of the naval vessel because a very large shoal of fish had congregated around it. 🐠

When ’974 impacted the water inverted both engines, the main undercarriage and the aircraft’s sensors smashed through its upper surfaces.

They were scattered on the ocean floor at varying distances away from the main wreckage field. On the evening of 1 May, wire hawsers were attached to one of the J58 engines. The late evening movements dislodged the TEB tank and caused a small leak, which released tiny amounts of the chemical throughout the night.

TEB CAUSED GREEN PUFFS

As the volatile chemical bubbled to the surface, it mixed with ambient air and exploded in small green puffs. The ‘magic’ of the ‘Yankee’ engineers caused quite a stir among the native fishermen who saw the eerie ‘TEB‑bubble show’. The next day both engines were lifted and brought aboard the Beaufort’s fantail, and two days later, many of the sensors were also recovered. When the ship’s crew attempted to lift the main section of the aircraft, the crane operator found that the large delta‑shaped wing planform greatly exceeded the lifting capacity of his crane, and the wreckage refused to budge an inch. A yard derrick was sent from Subic Bay, and the forward fuselage section was recovered on 7 May, while the main structure was lifted aboard the Beaufort’s fantail the following day. The black wreckage was a sad end for a once‑proud airplane, despite Dan’s skillful ( Dan House, the Pilot) and valiant efforts to save it.”

This post is by Linda Sheffield

With Paul Crickmore

@Habubrats71 via X

[a-rebellious-waffle]

The wires connect to ports in your suit near the small of your back and one to the nape of your neck. The regulation module implanted into your brain gives you a few drips of dopamine mixed with estrogen; a little twitch of lip-biting pleasure. The initial surge tapers off, and you're left with the normal, tantalizing feeling of being in a mech.

Simple Pavlovian responses have conditioned you to love the feeling of straps securing your body. Your gravitic crash-net turning on sends a shiver down your spine. If you weren't wearing a skintight pilot's suit while strapped into place you'd be twitching and touching—you're moaning like you already are.

Your Handler begins to go through portions of the start-up sequence. Sensors, online; good. Crash-webbing and gravity compensation, online. Good girl. Movement systems and mechanical muscles, online. Good girl! You take such good care of your mech. Not a single mechanical fault so far. Keep this up, and maybe your Handler will give you a treat!

You whine and wait eagerly as the Handler keeps on checking systems and subsystems. Targeting, online. Good girl. You moan a little from the shiver going down your spine. Weapon mountings, stable. Weaponry, online. You're such a good girl.

There's a sudden flush of all-consuming, hazy pleasure that makes you moan and writhe, and it subsides just as quickly as it came. Your Handler says something about a reward that you don't quite catch. A one-minute scramble order flashes across your HUD. Your body tingles with want, with need. You're trying to press your legs together just thinking of hitting two autocannon rounds in a row.

Standby for now. Be a good girl, and maybe your Handler will reward you when you get back, too.

[afloofwithmultipleinterests]

🔆 Opposite Day! ☽

A Security Breach tickle fic, featuring the Daycare Attendant(s) Sun, and Moon! (Both boys get equal amounts of Wrecking or your money back-)

As a result of a crappy visit to parts and services, Sun finds Moon has a new sunny accessory around his faceplate and the daytime counterpart is far from satisfactory. However, when Moon goes to do repairs, those new ray sensors decide to make themselves known, and not in the way that was expected.

Thank you @coy-lee and @laughterfixs for helping me edit this fic! 😁 I appreciated the help, and as much as I would deny, the high pitched screeching that came out of our editing method 🤣

Anyone that comes across this fic should like, totally check out their shit. They make some MMMMMMMMMM!!! GOOD SHIIT!! Anyway, with that said enjoy!☺️

Sun's rays were gone. No joke, the now bald animatronic looked like a McDonald's egg patty. The other day, the Daycare Attendant(s) took a trip to parts and service for a tiny upgrade to their sensory system, and a little adjustment to their mobility settings. Everything seemed spick and span coming back from parts and services the day before- so, how come he isn't now? Oh how he and Moon HATED to go to parts and services... They seemed to do more damage than help.

Sun huffed, hooking the lunar-wire to his back to pull themselves up to their room. Typical matentience staff. He entered the room inward from the balcony, a close up view of trash cluttering the floor, and children's drawings painting the walls. They were going to have to solve this problem on their own, like always. Crawling into the dark depths of Moon's room. The daytime bot shifted control to the naptime animatronic. Moon had fixed them before using other bots, so maybe he could find a way to reactivate his-

Oh. ...

There they were.

His vision froze on the mirror in his half of the storage room, possibly more confused than Sun in the moment. Moon tried moving the rays, much to his shock that he could move each individually, or all together if he wanted to. This was to his brother's annoyance, as the security bot began to play with them by making himself look like a cat, or axolotl, even a pokemon by stretching the top two rays out as far as they could go!

"Well that is... peculiar..." he stated in a nonchalant fashion.

Peculiar? Those were HIS RAYS! This was more than just peculiar, this was DISTURBING!

"Oh don't be so dramatic Sunny... it's not THAT bad~ I think I like this new look."

Moon posed like a geek in the mirror, flaunting his new rays in various positions like a model. He looked absolutely ridiculous! Sun's rays didn't even match him.

Moon chuckled at Sun's party-pooper mindset, deciding to give one last pose in the mirror by imitating Sun's side of their statue.

'Haha... really funny Moon.'

"Hehehah... I'm glad you think so! I think it's hilarious~"

After his obnoxious laughter stopped, Moon decided to focus on the task at hand:

Fixing this.

Moon jingled his way over to a lone, deactivated security bot to pry it open and steal away some lone wires, connectors, sensory chips, even a couple of servos. Taking the new repair supplies with him, Moon kicked open a loose plank among the closet floor to reveal stolen parts and service equipment.

Sun really doesn't like knowing this stolen staff equipment was here, but... this was really their only resolution. Moon has since cut off their hidden security camera from seeing the surplus of tools, otherwise they would have probably visited the shock conditioning chamber again.

"Don't be nervous," the lunar bot soothed, "I'm not going to hurt us. This is a minor fix. First I need to examine how exactly this happened."

Moon's fingers lightly excavated the rays. Even though he could move them, he for some reason couldn't feel them... how odd. Involuntary movement arose from the tiny triangles as he lightly measured the edges of them from bottom to top inbetween his index finger and thumb.

Sun gasped inside of his head at the foreign sensation, doing all he could to try and retract his rays, but they wouldn't budge.

"Is something wrong Sunny? It doesn't hurt, does it?"

Moon wanted to be extra careful with his opposites rays. They were the equivalent to hair with nerve-endings, or a less gross example being the inside of a human ear.

'N-no! It doesn't... just- be-Ee Carefuhul…'

His brother's thumb had feathered over the center of his sunrays... It was terribly ticklish- but, he had to stay quiet. Moon didn't know he was sensitive in THAT way on this area... If he did, he wouldn't hear the end of it.

Moon warily accepted the warbled answer, his finger now venturing to the back of their faceplate. Everything felt in order back there... Dangit! If only he had a mirror.

'Actually-'

Moon froze at the sound of Sun's thoughts overlapping his own.

Surely if Sun had a physical body, he would be fidgeting with his fingers.

'I have a mirror. It's just… hidden.'

Moon cocked his head with confusion at the response.

"Where?"

The two then played a little game of 'hot-cold' until Moon came across a tiny, dirty carpet.

'hot HOT! BURNING!!! AAAAAHHHHHH!!!!'

Moon burst into giggly hiccups, raspy and Disney villain sounding. Their antics truly made his smile grow wider, even on the cloudiest of days. The lunar animatronic lifted the carpet to find a rather gruesome looking hole, wood splintered all around it in the shape of a foot.

'There was a... happy little accident that happened a while back when I was dancing. So much so, I kiiiinda decided to use it to keep things in like you do with that plank!'

Sun, the rule follower, the rule stickler, the anxious little Golden retriever that stuck to his programming... he STOLE things??

... Moon was so proud!

Sun was finally growing a backbone to scavenge!

What mainly decorated the hidden section were supplies intended for childcare purposes... also a purse.

"Seems you're more of a thief than I am!" Moon chuckled, rummaging through the compartment, placing his hands on the handheld mirror inside.

'I wouldn't go that far.. I merely like to have supplies management refuses to give us.'

"Oh, you mean like some parent's purse you stole? They still have their wallet in here!"

'.... I'm done talking now.'

"PFFFT-"

Moon snickered over his friend's grumpy nature, covering the hole back up with the rug and skittering back to the mirror in his room.

He held the mirror behind his faceplate before flipping one specific nerve ending switch ontop of their head.

"There. Our faceplate and your sun rays have the pain receptors turned off... Let's see..."

Moon took the back hatch off of their faceplate to see where the error was.

Aha, the orange and blue wires.

The orange wires intended for sun's rays were plugged into the activation port for his hat hatch... speaking of which- he realized he wasn't WEARING his hat at all... did that mean Sun-?

Nope. Sun didn't have his hat today... He guessed that maybe maintenance didn't properly plug the hat turning system after the upgrades, nor pushed in the stability settings for transitioning. While reaching for the plug, the long ribbon around Moon's wrist SLOWLY feathered across three of Sun's rays. It took him by surprise, so he couldn't stop his reaction.

'OHOHOMY GOODNEHESS-'

The animatronic stopped in his tracks, a bewildered look replacing the neutral one from before. Now that was straaaaange..

'N-No it wasn't! You just need to get back to the task at HaahahnnhnnhnhnnNHNND!? EEEEK!!'

Moon's hands had since traveled from the back of their faceplate to feel over two of Sun's rays.

"Such a peculiar reaction Sunny... I'm certain something may be wrong with your rays... Seems I might need to Investigate further."

Investigate? Uh oh...

'You really don't need to do this, it's probAHAHABLY NYAHAHA!!'

Moon drew a continuous spiral on one of them, while scratching at the other like a lottery card.

"You seem very happy brother~ Whatever could be soooooo funny, hm?" The lunar animatronic teased as the rays attempted to cha-cha away from his fluttering digits.

'OHOHO- NoOhohothing! NOHoTHing at ahall!!"

Moons fingers stopped for a moment to trace the edges of each ray starting from the bottom.

"Oh? It doesn't sound like nothing little star... my my my... you couldn't be-"

Moon got to the top two rays, and began to skitter his fingers quickly behind them.

"Tickle-tickle, tiiiicklish here? Could you?"

'SQUEAAAAHH!! Yohou MEheahHeaANIE! yohuhuu jeherrkyJEHERKjeEeherk!!'

"JerkyJerkjerk? Oh goodness, Sunny. I'm Offended. Maybe I should teach you a lesson... hehe..."

Moon smirked in the mirror as he began to spin Sun's rays in a circle.

'Wh... whahat are you doing!?'

The animatronic wiggled his fingers, continuously staring in the mirror so sun could see his demise. The moving digits moved closer until-

🎶"The rays on the sun went round' and round'~" 🎶

He began to sing the tune to wheels on the bus while tickling the life out of Sun's ultra sensitive rays.

'MYAHAHAYAAAA!! QUHIHIT IT!!'

🎶"Round' and round', "🎶

Ontop of his rays.. Skitter skitter, itch itch, wiggle wiggle~

🎶"Round' and round'!"🎶

'AHAHAAHA IHIHIT TIHICKLES TOO MUHUCH!!'

🎶"The Rays on the Sun went round and round'~"🎶

Behind his rays.. Skitter, scritch, skitter skitter, wiggle-

'EHEHEEEEHAHAHAAAA!! YOUHO BUTT!!' 

"🎶All through the day~!🎶 Ooh- more name calling? That means another verse is in order!"

'NohHOuuHuHUhu!!! MOHOHOONIE NOHO!!'

The lunar attendant changed things up a bit by making the rays retract, and eject while spinning.

🎶 "the rays on the sun went in and out~" 🎶

Moon used all of his fingers, targeting specific rays that had retracted, waiting for them to pop out in order to tickle them again.

Pop! Wiggle-wiggle wiggle~

Pop! Skitter-skitter skit~

Pop! Tickle-tickle  tickle~ 

'AHAHAHAAAA!! IHIM WAHARNING YOUOHO!! Yohou BEHETTER STAHAP!!'

Moon could sense that Sun was actually having a lot of fun through their thin, invisible mental wall, so he decided to crank it up a little.

 "🎶In and out~ in and out!~🎶 or what, give me a headache? You can't touch me~!"

Gitchygitchygitchy, itchy itchy, tingly tickles spread everywhere after Sun's threat, and the teasy song didn't help

' MWAHAHAAAA!! WEHE'LL SEEEHEHEEE!! EhAhahAaa!!'

🎶"The rays on the sun went in and out~ all through the day!"🎶

It was instantaneous when the power seemingly went out in Moon's arms. Great, another problem that he now physically couldn't fix.. maybe he would have to go down to-

As soon as Moon looked down, he immediately noticed a change in his arms...

"Yellow?" He asked aloud, extremely confused… that is until he realized.

They weren't HIS arms anymore...they were-

Sun's.

The yellow hands cracked their fingers and knuckles as a huffing, wheezing Sun voice inside of Moon's head starting to laugh without mirth.

'Heheheaha... ihi... I warned you~'

It turned out Sun's theory was correct earlier about the light sensors being breachable due to plug inactivity.. now to get some MUCH needed revenge.

The yellow limbs began to lightly trace over Moon's torso, making him squeak and sputter.

"Wahait!! I- We can tahalk about this Sunny!"

'Talk? You mean like how you tickled me to speechlessness? Sure, we can do that!~'

Moon let out a squeal as the digits dusted over his ribs, fluttered under his arms into his wires, feathered over his neck, traced over the edge of the moon crescent of his fa-

"SQUEAA!!" Moon screeched as Sun traced over the lower section of the crescent that would be considered his 'jaw'. Sun stilled at the reaction, baffled at the energy that erupted from seemingly nowhere. Moon felt Sun's sinister intentions bubble inside of their processor. The previous attacker grew nervous at the silence and the lack of movement from Sun's arms

"I-I uh-" Before Moon could say anything, Sun attacked. One hand flew to Moon's sensitive little tummy as the other danced over his jawline, drawing spirals in the moon crescent's craters like Moon did on Sun's rays earlier.

"SQUEAAAAAHEAHEAAAA!! EHEHEHEHE! -HIC-! ahahAhahahahAHAH!!" The sensation was overbearing!

Sun was used to tickling. Sun got to play with the kids all the time... however, since Moon was naptime duty on main, he hasn't built up quite the sensor tolerance Sun has, nor the fan speed.

Sun's left hand rapidly scrunched against the middle of Moon's tummy, barely touching his dent... OH how ticklish it felt- he never thought his tummy could feel so tingly.

"IHIHIT- EHEHEHEEEE! SUHUHUNNY- PLEHEHAhahaAh!!"

'Please? You're gonna have to specify! Did you mean please go faster? Do these tickles make you happy moon? Do they? Do they? Awww of coooourse they do!~ Why else would you be so giddy?'

With that, Sun sped the tickling up on the poor little tummy and ticklish little craters.

"OHOHOHO NOHOHO!! NAUGHAHAUGHYTY THIHING!! NauAHAHAUAHTY- NAUGAHATYHEHE! NYAHAHAAHAAA!!"

'Gitchygitchygitch! Oho tickle tickle little Moonshine~'

Sun's voice echoed in sickeningly sweet baby talk.

'Is the tiny, little astronaut that ticklish to you? Hm?? Them walking allll over your tummy, and face? Over your cute little craters?'

The left yellow hand began to mimic walking motions, wiggling each 'foot' into his moon plate with each step, circling and tickling in each tiny crater he could find.

"EHEHAKAKA!!" The lightswitch- he NEEDED to get to the light switch.

Sun inwardly gasped, beginning to tickle more skillfully instead of playful skitters as Moon's plan echoed through their mind. Not only did the solar animatronic have a lot of tolerance, but he also had a lot of experience giving tickles out, especially to adults as per his playful and teasy nature.

The nighttime animatronic sputtered and spat chortle to cackle as the hands began to travel. His ribs, his hips, even seeing the sensitivity of the little buttons on his chest, his neck.

And. It. Tickled. HORRIBLY.

Moon could barely keep himself up in these circumstances. His legs felt like jello, yet somehow, some way, Moon managed to make it over to the lightswitch.

'Ah ah ah! Not so fast~'

Moon was forced downward, sun's arms somehow pulling the rest of his body away from the lightswitch and to his ankles. Upon this the devilish yellow fingers inched around his ankles, and heels, tracing eights and infinity signs all over to throw him off. Moon screeched as his 'Achilles heel-s' were discovered. The animatronic couldn't move an inch from this terribly ticklish situation as both hands held his ankles captive. It was when the hands forced his foot up did he lose balance. The naptime attendant fell on his butt, his shoed feet at the very mercy of his brother.

'Let's seee~ what's behind curtain number one?!'

The first shoe came off, revealing the foot underneath. Moon's feet were much like his hands, accept it had sensory cushioning on the bottoms to prevent finger crushing. The yellow digits lightly traced the sensory pad, and under moon's toes before coming back to the top of his foot.

"KEEEEHEHEHAHAHA- NAHAT THE FEET SUHUHUN- NOHO-"

'Not the feet? Not the feet? Is it possible they're terrrribly sensitive to kitchies? Hmmmm?'

KITCHIES!?

Sun lightly scrunched over the top of the revealed foot before pulling the other slipper off.

Moon wiggled his toes as his brother traced lines all around the tops of his feet, paying attention to the tippy top of the little beans.

Snorting, Moon quickly tried to think of a plan through his laughter and Sun's teasing... AHA!

He wouldn't think what the plan was but he was going to do it.

'Do it if you dare~ I'll get at the bottoms of your feet if you try anything funny moon…'

Funny? Why would he try anything funny? He was the least funny person he kn-

Suddenly, Moon's hat projectile launched from the top of ther faceplate and upward at the lightswitch, leaving Sun to gasp internally.

‘You sneaky little rules twister- that's it!’

Just as Sun began to mercilessly skitter everywhere on the bottom of Moon's feet, the light switch had been flipped, turning the lights on.

His arms are now on the outside of Sun's body...

Oh... this was going to be fun~

"I uh-"

Before Sun could even come up with something to say, Moon's fingers flicked and fluttered vigorously around Sun's Tummy and ribs, even under his arms at one point.

"OHOHO MY STAAAHAHAHAAARS!! NYAHAHAAHAAA- MOOOHOHOOOON!"

'Paybaaaack~'

"Paybahahack!? YOUHOU'RE THEHE ONE WHOHO STAHAHRTED-"

bam the wires.

"AAAAAHAHAHAA- OHOHOKAY! OKAHAHAY! MEHEHERCY!! I PLEHEHEAD THE FIHIHITH!!"

As soon as the words left Sun's mouth, Moon stopped.

The conjoined animatronic twins turned on their internal fans, cooling their shared system as they lay on the floor.

Sun airily laughed the rest of his giggles out, eventually calming down.

"Hehe..aha.."

'Did you have fun?' Moon asked as their system returned back to its normal heating stats.

"... Maybe."

'Hehehe~ thought so!'

After a moment, Sun wobbled to his feet regaining his balance to step to the lightswitch again. Moon gave his brother the ability to swap their limbs again, so when they turned the lights off again, he would be able to fix them.

The lights turned off with a swift flick, changing Moon back into himself again, as bald and shiny headed as king Neptune without his crown. His hat was laying on the floor, but he'd pick that up later.

Without hesitation, he traversed back to the mirror again to fix the wires.

… were they that tangled before?

Perhaps Moon and Sun's ticklish scuffle tangled the wires up more than they were… their back faceplate cover was off during it.

"... well this will be difficult."

'HEY- uh… actually… what if we just… didn't fix it?'

Moon smirked at that, his attention fully on his brother now, that of which Sun felt. A bit nervous, he continued.

'I mean- if I'm able to swap your limbs out for mine… w-we can just… I don't know… keep that feature?'

That sounded like a fun little quirk… especially if they wanted to do something like this again.

"You know… that's not a bad idea. Who would really notice anyway?"

And from then on… nobody really did. Well- not except for when laughter could be heard coming from the fazbear theatre.. but Sun and Moon publically chocked it up to daycare antics rather than any insinuated malfunction if an employee were to ask.

Yet another secret well hidden by the mystery(ies) that was(ere) the Daycare Attendant(s).