#roch replies

[fourthclone]

i got two replies out , woo . now i'm going to sleep .

[flowercrown-bard]

write a fanfiction about RocheCiri please

Why? So you can plagiarize it? No thanks

Also, i don't even write for my own ships anymore and I literally do not know Roche. As I've told you multiple times before. Nothing i could write would be any good for anyone who likes this character

[moodymisty]

i had to do a double take on your account - i scrolled by and went “huh, that looks like misty’s account aesthetic… not saejima though” and had to backtrack and realize that roche is Who You Are Now - until you change your profile picture.

I do the same thing, where a persons icon/character is like their thing and if they change it I just fucking forget who they are.

My friend's been streaming me FF7 Rebirth (i played the first one and liked the story but not the combat lol) so I've been subjecting him to it. Roche is now my entire personality(icon) for the next like two weeks.

[heartoferebor]

A very Happy Name Day, kind one. May you have another year filled with senior citizens of the desirable nature.

Thank you kindly o slutty one - I do indeed hope to have ample opportunity to continuously objectify the elderly in scandalous ways.

🙏

[sacredflorist]

Continued from x | @speedchasing

Aerith offers him a smile. She knows how innocent and fragile she looks, so she understands where Roche is coming with such words. But she knows only too well how dangerous and ugly this world can be, too. She just chooses to see the best in everyone. Some people are only evil. Hojo is always the first example to come to her mind. But most people have good sides, and they are worth seeing.

"Oh. Don't worry about me! I know how horrible this world can be, and how horrible some people can be, too!" she assures, letting a chuckle escape her mouth. She then puts her hands together and shrugs. "I just think most people have good and bad sides. You don't think so, Roche ?" She keeps her smile on her lips. "I'm not just that sweet flower girl from the slums. You're not just that SOLDIER riding his motorcycle. Right ?"

[fullmoonfireball]

listen i'm gonna be real, even looking at these thumbnails is setting off my fight or flight, you could not pay me to click on these videos

also. lbr nothing unlocks Rage like wasted potential. you never expect the Bad Shit™ from the guy who you were,, actually kind of excited to see a cover of that one song from.

[revoltinglesbians]

Apparently there is also a peruvian skam out now too!! (not officially just inspired by skam)

there's going to be a croatian skam!??!?!??!?!?

[rottenpumpkin13]

Out Of Context Shit Heard On The SOLDIER Floor #7

Genesis: SEPHIROTH, STOP MEOWING AT ME.

Kunsel: Any loser twink can be a fem-boy, but it takes a real badass to be a fem-man.

Sephiroth: Did I "yee-haw" with joy, or did it convey depression?

Zack, holding up Cloud: BEHOLD.

Sephiroth, stealing a fry from Angeal's plate: A most generous offering. You will be spared. Angeal: FROM? Sephiroth: You will be spared.

Genesis, wearing sunglasses and holding a cappuccino: So there I was, gelato on my breasts—

Cloud: Aww, that's such a cute Halloween decoration. *pointing at Genesis sobbing in the corner*

Angeal: Who put a hotdog in the candy bowl?? Zack, in the background: Halloweenie.

Sephiroth: I could've sworn "motherfucker" was a compliment.

Angeal: IF YOU EAT THAT WEEK-OLD SUSHI PLATTER, YOUR INTESTINES WILL BECOME RADIOACTIVE.

Sephiroth: Zack, can I enjoy this steak dinner without you explaining A/B/O to me?

Lazard: I think we ALL need to beat our fathers with shovels, Sephiroth, you're not special.

Zack: NO! THAT'S MY EMOTIONAL SUPPORT BANANA!

Genesis: He manspreads to assert dominance, I manspread to create a barrier between myself and heteronormativity. We are not the same.

Sephiroth: I just sent Angeal an email describing my feelings for him. If he doesn't reply, I'll show up at his apartment and superglue myself to the door.

Zack: Give me a pen, paper, and three Adderall, and I'll write something better than Loveless in one hour.

Kunsel: Everyone is subjected to failure, but at least I'm not Roche, who thought the plural of ninja was ninji.

Sephiroth: I have exactly three crayons on my person right now, and they're all stolen from Zack.

Angeal, chewing with his mouth full: Don't make psycho-sexual comments in front of my cheeseburger.

Zack, narrating what he's seeing: 🎶 Look at Angeal 🎶 beating Sephiroth with a frozen chicken because he forgot to take it out the freezer. 🎶

Sephiroth: Please refrain from analyzing my deep-seated fear of abandonment linked to my mother's absence and its impact on my emotional regulation, it's seven in the morning and I still haven't had coffee.

Cloud: I'm about two mental breakdowns away from resorting to gang affiliation.

Genesis: COUNTER SPELL! *flicks his wrist* TRAUMA!

Roche: I often have nightmares about Sephiroth attacking me with a spork.

Sephiroth, in the presence of a spider: I feel anti-at peace.

Zack: Dear diary, today I committed tax evasion, and felt great. Tomorrow I'll try embezzlement and eventually vandalism!

Sephiroth: Can you read this death threat note and check if my handwriting is recognizable?

Zack and Genesis: *Loudly arguing over who gets to be the ring bearer at Sephiroth and Angeal's wedding*

Angeal, laying on the floor: Good luck trying to find my will to live, gang.

Genesis: I'm flashing you a tit to maintain our friendship.

Sephiroth: If I had a gil for every time someone compared me to a cat, I'd have enough to purchase that expensive human cat bed that has been on my wishlist for ages.

Roche: Is my discount wig a joke to you, Zackary?

Cloud, placing an "I miss you" letter from his mother in Sephiroth's line of view: Yeah, that's right. Fuck you.

Lazard: Someone pinned a death threat on my office door written in glitter gel pen.

Genesis, flirting: I own an air-fryer.

Angeal: T-shirt that says "I survived Zack's power point presentation on aliens that included a photo of Sephiroth on the fourth slide"

Roche: Cloud Strife's evil twin…Grass Peace.

Sephiroth: *Showing Zack pictures of baby cows while Zack sobs into his burger*

Genesis: PUT. MASAMUNE. DOWN. No one is stealing your crayons.

Sephiroth: Genesis, I feel inspired to compliment your ass.

Lazard: Take a good, hard look at Sephiroth wearing flip-flops and tell me I shouldn't be stressed.

Sephiroth: A most efficient weapon to add to my arsenal *wielding an entire streetlamp*

Zack, talking to Angeal: My insecure trooper and faceless info guy, versus your 6'7 cat and walking red flag.

Kunsel: Is the cure to male loneliness *incomprehensible screeching* ?

[fourthclone]

roche is so funny bc like he will truly just say ‘cowabummer, bro!’ one moment and then call you a ‘scoundrel’ or ‘knave’ the next which leaves you scrambling to figure out how this man talks on the daily.

[dreamofbecoming]

reminder that since one of marina’s favorite victims closed their asks (totally understandable, no one should have to put up with constant harassment) she’s going to start sending asks to random users out of lim’s likes and followers. she may message you even if you have never posted about her ship or any of the characters she’s fixated on. Do Not Engage! she feeds off of negative attention. she wants you to reply and be angry or annoyed or even confused. if you get an ask about roche and ciri, or iorveth or cerys, just block and delete. do not feed the trolls.

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

Crooked politicians dodging the bullet in the corrupt legal system once again: Despite multiple emails proving that Cuomo had a personal hand in undercounting covid deaths in nursing homes across the state in order to speed up the relaxing of covid mitigations, the case has been dismissed.

By Ali Bauman

NEW YORK -- A federal judge has dismissed a wrongful death lawsuit against former Gov. Andrew Cuomo for his handling of the COVID-19 pandemic.

Norman Arbeeny was an 89-year-old Korean War veteran living in a Brooklyn nursing home in March 2020.

"A man full of life and love," plaintiff Daniel Arbeeny said.

Soon after, then-Gov. Cuomo issued a directive on March 25, requiring nursing homes accept patients who tested positive for COVID. Norman Arbeeny tested positive, himself, and died. He was one of the 15,000 seniors who died from COVID in New York nursing homes.

"It's so easy to see the web of lies and deceit our governor went through for years to cover that up," Daniel Arbeeny said.

Daniel Arbeeny filed a federal wrongful death lawsuit against Cuomo two years ago. However, a judge dismissed the case on Monday. Her reason for doing so has not yet been released.

"We can't let this happen again to our most loved people, our grandparents and parents, in nursing homes. We can't and if we don't learn now, we're never gonna learn and it's gonna happen again," Daniel Arbeeny said.

Earlier in September, the former governor testified before Congress about his handling of the pandemic, following a House committee report that accuses Cuomo of intentionally underreporting the number of nursing home deaths.

"You are culpable for this. My question is when were you negotiating for your multi-million dollar advance for your book deal while seniors were dying in nursing homes?" Rep. Elise Stefanik said.

"You can't just make up facts, congresswoman," Cuomo replied.

In a statement Monday about the lawsuit's dismissal, Roch Azzopardi, a spokesman for Cuomo, said, in part, "The debate over COVID in nursing homes has been weaponized, distorted and contorted beyond recognition by those using this situation for their own politics. However, any time this gets taken out of the political arena, the truth wins."

Daniel Arbeeny is vowing to appeal.

"It's a hard case, but we're not afraid of it because we have the truth," he said.

[salternateunreality2]

Lazard was having one of those days when nothing seemed to go right. Overworked and underappreciated, he was on his way to grab some food, when for the 57th time that week, SOLDIER Zack Fair asked if he could get a puppy.

"Of course!" Lazard replied with a friendly smile on his face.

Later that day he was already paying for the meanest, most unhinged, most easily triggered, untrainable and bloodthirsty little chihuahua he could find. If there was a line between a pet and a demon, this little critter had crossed that line lightyears ago. None of its ancestors had a single redeeming quality.

How is Zack doing, as a pet owner?

Zack's best friends:

* Kunsel - basically a Turk and a SOLDIER combined.

* Cissnei - a Turk. A literal contract killer/gangster for a corporation.

* Cloud - a Nibel wolf/chocobo hybrid.

* Angeal - literally insane.

* Sephiroth - Sephiroth.

What is a dog? Man's best friend.

Roche: hey, how y'all...

"RARERWKKWJWJW"

Roche: *little kid scream* GET YO FUCKIN DOG, BITCH

Zack: It don't bite 😊

Roche: YES IT DO

Cloud: *chasing Roche with murderous intent because he drank the last of the milk*

Demon spawn dog: *laughing at the fun in its little demonic voice*

--------------

Later....

Lazard: Hello, brother, what brings you to my...off...ice...where's Darkstar?

Rufus: That's actually why I came down here, she's missing.

Lazard: I'm sorry to hear that, I'll put out a notice for the team.

*unholy sounds*

Rufus: ...

Lazard: ...

Darkstar and Demon spawn: *making friends and/or babies*

Rufus: ...why are its eyes glowing red like they're portals to hell?

Lazard: *SIGH* because they are. Literally. Science confirmed.

Zack: Cupcake! You found a girlfriend! THIS IS THE CUTEST THING EVER! *Taking pictures*

Cupcake:

----------

Later...

Sephiroth: Cupcake, my parents were soulless monsters too. I identify with you.

Cupcake: *demonic screeching*

Sephiroth: Yes, I agree, killing all humans would reduce the problems with them murdering each other, but then we would become the murderers. I'm just not up for it this evening.

Cupcake: *demon sounds*

Sephiroth: No thank you, I prefer fish.

Lazard: *pops pills, retreats*

----------

Genesis is constantly fighting the thing.

----------

Cloud can scream back at it and it understands. He claims to have learned from The Forest.

Nobody asks any more questions.

----------

Zack loves it to the moon and back. ❤️🐶❤️

-----------

Angeal is crying in a closet somewhere.

[letmeexplaineverything]

It was another quiet day on the Lor Starcutter, searching for signs of someone that the ship was sure would never be found- but if that was what the new admin wanted, that was what she would do.

Of course, in this search, the Lor hadn’t expected to pick up such a message, and such a curiously-formatted one, too. No data attached, no signs of whatever could have sent it, purely the message.

Greetings. -> She sends back to the best of her ability. It’s hard for her to tell if it was being properly received without the necessary data. Regardless, something about the connection felt... correct. This ship is currently under the administration of Captain Morastrum. ->

Please identify yourself. ->

It had been so long since they had the vast expanse of space to roam freely. They had spent so long, stuck in that lab discovera, a plaything for those... people. A lab rat no more, Elfilis freely soars across the vast cosmos, taking in the changes to the world around them. No more were there pests dabbling the vastness of the galaxies with their outposts, native life has once again set solid roots in this world.

Of course, the wonders of the native galactic life are put on hold once a familiar... feeling, reaches Elfilis. Searching around, The shilouette of a ship catches their eye, and the energy no doubt signifies this is ancient technology. How cruel, to be continually parading about, essentially using their own severed limb as a stilt. Drawing nearer to the ship, They send a message to whomever lives within the vessel.

ɸI mean no ill will. Who is the captain of this vessel? I wish to commune with such.ɸ

@letmeexplaineverything

[anotherhumaninthisworld]

Mlle Robespierre retired to Chaillot. Laignelot was the only one of all the former deputies that she received in her home after the death of her brother. Laignelot died at the end of July 1829, Mlle Robespierre in August 1831 [sic]. […] Laignelot, in his last years of life, often went home to Mlle Robespierre, who lived in Chaillot just like him; they were both very old. […] Charlotte bore the name of Mlle de la Roche for some time under the Restoration, as indicated by a letter from Laignelot to Agricol Moureau from August 1 1825, cited by Hector Fleischmann, page 115, note 2. 

Notes historiques sur la Convention nationale, le Directoire, l'Empire et l’exil des votants (1893) by Marc-Antoine Baudot, page 10 and 36. And Charlotte Robespierre et ”ses mémoirs” (1959), page 9.

Connections between Laignelot and Robespierre that I’ve found so far:

Laignelot: When I passed through Nantes to go to Brest, I met Carrier; he spoke to me about the drownings, and told me in the presence of Beaudit: ”You’re luckier than me; you have a bigger pool, and buildings to your service.” […] Before Carrier was denounced, I had told this fact to several of my colleagues. I went to see Robespierre, who was indisposed, I described to him all the horrors that had been committed in Nantes; he replied: “Carrier is a patriot; that was needed in Nantes.” Audition de M. Carrier devant la Convention qui remplit les fonctions de jury d'accusation, lors de la séance du 3 frimaire an III (23 novembre 1794)

In the last visit of which I speak, [Danton] spoke to me of Desmoulins with contempt: he attributed his deviances to a vice that is private and shameful, but absolutely foreign to the crimes of the conspirators the Revolution. Laignelot was witness. The capacity of Laignelot seemed equivocal to me: he kept stubbornly silent. Robespierre’s notes on the dantonists, written sometime in March 1794.

Laignelot, one of my most faithful colleagues in the National Convention, came and informed me that Danton, desirous of coming to an understanding with Robespierre, had begged him, Laignelot, to arrange for a conversation between them. One fine morning the two of them called on Robespierre. The dictator was at his toilet, the ancient forms of which took up no little amount of time. Danton, at once beginning the conversation, said, without preamble, "Let us come to a mutual understanding and save liberty, which is being attacked by our most relentless enemies; they are calumniating and deceiving the people, who look upon them as their friends.” Robespierre, who never "thou'd" anybody, replied to Danton, "What do you (vous) mean? Does this apply to me? You may give to my speeches whatever interpretation you see fit. Your mission to Belgium is perhaps not exempt from blame; you were badly seconded, badly surrounded. Lacroix has heaped odium on that mission.” Thereupon Danton, assuming a very lofty tone, said to him, "You are speaking now just as the aristocrats do; they seek to discredit the Convention and the patriots composing it. I will never suffer that any attack be made upon them. You shall not dishonor the Revolution by calumniating its founders." Here Danton's voice became weak; Robespierre, still continuing his toilet, looked at him and made a gesture of contempt. Then Danton, deeply moved, unfolded the dangers threatening liberty, saying: ”Liberty will perish if any attacks are made on its defenders, if the Terror is directed against them in lieu of continuing to strike those who conspire against it, and against whom it was established - against your very self, Robespierre, ere six months have gone by, if we become divided against ourselves." The conversation came to an end with affected civilities. Danton and Laignelot withdrew, and were still speaking in the street of this sinister interview, when Robespierre emerged from the house and passed close by them, pretending not to notice them. Memoirs of Barras, member of the Directorate (1895) page 176-177. Unclear if this story ought to be treated seriously or just as the publisher embellishing on what Robespierre had already written in his notes.

[daddymilker691]

Stephen wished he hadn’t done it at first but it was he just couldn’t back down from a dare besides Cheryl his gf and her friend Jane had been teasing him relentlessly and it was Halloween you won’t do it the two girls laughed who says Stephen replied go on then Cheryl giggled we will get you dressed up in a Halloween costume of our choosing he swaggered across the room will I be a vampire a Frankenstein monster he laughed loudly the two girls laughed and giggled oh no that’s far to common we have your costume already laid out on the bed upstairs when he got upstairs he couldn’t believe what he saw laid out on the bed a pink frilly maids outfit a wig shoes and a cream that removed all hair . He shouted down the stairs you two are mad I’m not wearing that a shout from Cheryl replied oh yes you are Stephanie he blushed crimson and slipped the dress on oh well he thought a dare is a dare and I stand to win a two hundred pounds hurry up Stephanie Jane shouted and they both burst into peels of unbridled laughter we are taking you out you have got to go trick or treating unsteady on his heels Stephen walked down the stairs in his heels he hated to admit it but this outfit made him feel incredibly turned on to the point he found himself blushing his wife and Jane helped him into the ford escort that was waiting outside the flat where are we going he said in a rather worried voice why can’t we do it around here ? Cheryl laughed because in the posher parts of London the sweets and treats tend to be much more exclusive I mean you like Ferro Roche don’t you darling and even if you don’t me and Jane do again they fell into peels of laughter I fucking hate you two he thought to himself as the car swept through south London and over Chelsea Bridge past Sloane Square and up into the far more affluent area of Knightsbridge into a square what might have been described as a millionaires haunt a rather apt description considering it was Halloween the car parked up outside a large rather daunting front door he stepped out of the car the jeers of his wife and Cheryl followed him as he walked up the steps come on Stephanie get us some sweeties and they both fell about laughing as he walked up the steps feeling a strange mixture of embarrassment and excitement , he knocked on the door using the heavy lions head door knocker he heard steps echo down the very wide hallway a butler in full outfit answered the door Stephan stammered trick or treat the butler said nothing but looked him up and down the master of the house is upstairs I’ll go and get him Master Bates came down in a royal blue smoking jacket and dismissed the Butler you had better come in said Master Bates we usually get the kids bloody pain if you ask me so it’s trick or treat is it hmm how does this sound if you lift that pretty dress up I’ll give you a very nice treat indeed Stephen felt himself blush but couldn’t deny how excited he was he raised his pretty pink dress up over his waist as Master Bates fed on his rampant cockette , meanwhile it was cold in the car and Cheryl and Jane were getting rather about the length of time Stephen had been away ( Christ said Cheryl I hope he’s not being beaten up or something he’s been ages ) Jane said I’ll go and have a peep through the letter box she wished she hadn’t for what she saw astonished her there was Stephen that pretty dress up over his waist groaning loudly as Master Bates sucked and pleasured him on his knees revenge is a dish best served warm .

[reverielibrary]

Handle With Care 

Aster is a mechanic in a long-haul space crew. When the ship needs repairs in the middle of a trip, Hue, the intra-vessel managing computer system, keeps her company in her suit and provides some extra personal care.

Wordcount: 3609 | Contains: Sci-fi, Robot x human, Transfem character, Handjob (sort of), Semi-public, Caught, Embarrassment, Voice kink, Infodumping during sex, Spacesuit, Free-floating in space, Burn care

“How’re we looking on O2, Hue?” 

Aster heard the zip of an extra tether-line deploying from the external core of her suit, shooting out a short distance and latching onto the micro-welder that had floated loose from her toolbelt. 

“Oxygen reserves at 76%. Approximately 43 minutes of suit habitability remaining,” reported Hue, directing the returning tether claw where Aster could reach it. She was started to regret disconnected her tools from their individual suit tethers, but stubborn as she was, refused to admit it and kept doing her best not to lose any of them. 

“Plenty of time,” said Aster, trying for the third time to pass her wrench from her hand to her mouth and being reprimanded by the red impact warning light flashing inside her helmet. Hue overrode the warning as Aster put the wrench in her belt to grab the micro-welder. “Thanks, bud.”

“You’re welcome, Aster.”

That’s what Hue’s official name was—Buddy. Technically, his full name was StarStroller’s Model T3051 Voyage Buddy Intra-vessel Management Computer System Unit 297. The default settings when installed gave the beck command “Buddy” and the rest of the crew had no problem calling their ship’s program that, but Aster had insisted on giving him a proper name. The crew was not keen to go along at first, but still the name caught on, and eventually they all started referring to Hue as if he were just another crew member. 

He was certainly a big enough part of their everyday lives to be considered so, at least in Aster’s opinion. Half the time they flew on autopilot, and Hue’s programming kept them alive and functioning nearly every moment of their voyage—they would be royally fucked without him. Aster had been raised to be appreciative of everyone’s work, no matter who they were or whether or not they could be considered a person, and had always been very friendly with Hue. She was quick to reprimand the others when they were rude or demeaning to him, which quickly got her labelled a cyberfucker by the others. She didn’t care to argue with them on that point—she’d rather be a cyberfucker than an asshole any day. 

Truthfully, Aster liked Hue. He was much more pleasant company for an introverted mechanic than the rowdy haulers and traders she travelled with, though they had become like a strange little family after nearly two years out in the forever-dark of space, only making landfall every few months. There weren’t many women mechanics running with long-haul crews in their sect, and even fewer who were trans and queer (though as she had found on virtual hookup sites on the local cybernet, not none). 

“These rivets are crap,” grumbled Aster, struggling to get the micro-welder at the right angle to react with the metal around the loose riveting and scoffing. “Tsh. ‘Reentry-proof,’ my foot.”  

“We could purchase new plating when the ship reaches Delnaught X,” replied Hue. The top corner of Aster’s display field popped up with a window that displayed craft part listings. “Perhaps reinforce the seams with alloy strips to reduce the wear on the rivets?” 

“That’s not a bad idea,” said Aster. She pulled herself a bit higher up on the grounding tethers that were anchored and locked to the ship’s hull, keeping her from drifting off into the void. “But I doubt Cap would go for it—we don’t really have the liquid for that kind of thing right now. Not after we got swindled back on Roch’s Haven outta half our due.”

“Yes, that did put us behind our budget,” said Hue, collapsing the window with the alloy strip listings. “As did the subsequent bribery losses.” 

“Ugh,” groaned Aster. “You’re telling me. Gram really has to learn to control his temper, and Fio needs to stop giving him weapons when we’re docked. He’s lucky he got out of the brawl he started with only a handful of burns.”

As if woken by the mention of the word, an ill-executed twist at the waist set the half-healed burn between Aster’s shoulderblades stinging. She winced, further frustrated as she thought about how Gram’s promises to repay her for hauling his sorry battered ass out of the fray he’d started would most certainly go unhonored. 

“Are you alright, Aster?” asked Hue, a tinge of concern in his pleasant digital-fried tone. Aster knew he was programmed to sound that way when he detected a problem, but she was always touched by it nonetheless. 

“I’m fine,” she assured. “Just sore. The burn on my back’s been annoying me, especially since I can’t reach back there to slather up in Repair-Gel.” 

Aster heard the gentle beeping hum of the suit scanning her from head to toe. 

“This suit’s internal medkit is stocked with Repair-Gel,” noted Hue. “I have access to all the suit’s functions. Would you like to me apply Repair-Gel to your burn?” 

Aster paused, a little surprised. She had prolonged her suffering by refusing to ask any of the boys to help her with the Gel, as she hated asking them for most any favours and couldn’t imagine how mortifying and uncomfortable it would be to have any of them rub goo all over her back—even Tanu, the ship’s medic, who was the only one who had seen her shirtless before. He’d been nice, as he usually was on duty, but it was still incredibly awkward and something Aster did not want to relive unless entirely necessary. It had never before occurred to her to ask Hue for help with something of that nature.

“Um,” she said, hesitating. “Well…”

She was dressed in a t-shirt and the standard issue insulated leggings under the suit, having gone without a bra as she usually did when doing external maintenance, as it only added more restriction to the already unwieldy predicament that was the short-range suit. The lining of the suit was modified MPET padded for comfort, and felt like a snug hug from a smooth and slippery mylar duvet in most places, though Aster was keenly aware of all the discreet inlets in the lining that accommodated the suit’s many, many internal functions. 

“You’ve slowed down, Aster,” coaxed Hue. “38 minutes of suit habitability remaining.”

Another sizzle of pain made up Aster’s mind for her. 

“Okay, Hue, sure. Slather away,” she said, trying to keep the mood light to fight off her nerves. Hue might not technically be a person, but she still felt like she was about to be more exposed than she would have liked—but if it had to be with any of the crew, she was glad it was Hue. 

“Copy. Deploying internal roll-on applicator to the affected area.”

Aster jumped a little when she felt cold plastic pincers like mini versions of the tether claws latch onto and gather up her t-shirt, exposing her back. The lining of the suit shifted along with the machinery behind it and with a short hiss the back of the lining parted as the applicator was deployed. A red flashing cross popped up in the middle of Aster’s visor field along with internal medkit information, and when she went to give the command to dismiss it, a yelp came from her mouth instead. 

Though Aster couldn’t see down past her collar into the rest of her suit, she could discern the applicator right away when it was deployed. By the sound and feel of it, she figured the end was a smooth metal sphere about the size of an eyeball attached to a free-moving arm. Both the applicator and the Repair-Gel it was drenched in were freezing.  

“Does this hurt, Aster?” asked Hue, that soft concerned croon returning. This time, instead of being endearing, Aster found herself blushing at the tone. “Do you want me to stop?” 

“No,” answered Aster, perhaps a little more eagerly than she would have liked. “No, it’s fine, it’s just cold, is all.” 

“Heating applicator,” reported Hue. Almost immediately, the metal ball began to warm up, passing that heat to the gel, and as it began gliding over the tender skin between Aster’s shoulderblades it was pleasantly toasty. 

Aster let out a contented sigh. The ball slid incredibly smoothly and with just enough pressure to massage a little without pressing into the wound too much. In a few beats, the Repair-Gel began to anaesthetise the area and the pain faded away, leaving only the soothing roll of the warm slick metal. It had been a very long time since anyone had made Aster feel that physically good, let alone on her bare skin. She melted into the sensation, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment and loosening her grip on her tethers to feel the zero-G float her a little off the side of the ship. 

“Aster? Are you alright?” asked Hue, not doubt taking notice of her change in attitude, using that sweet croon again, a gentle caring voice humming in her ear. 

Aster’s eyes flew abruptly open as she became aware of a very different sensation tingling down below her hips. 

“Your heart rate is slightly elevated,” said Hue. “Do you require additional assistance?” 

“I’m fine, Hue, I’m good,” babbled Aster, reeling herself back in on the tether and clinging to the hull in embarrassment as if she could hide herself behind the ship. “The, uh, the Gel helped. I’m all good now.” 

“Your body temperature and vital monitoring indicate you are anxious,” reported Hue. 

“That’s one way to put it,” mumbled Aster. “Really, I’m okay. Let’s just finish up and get back inside.” 

Aster felt the applicator retract and her shirt and the suit-lining settle back into place.

“I could read you a story or sing you a song,” offered Hue, running through the saved soothing methods he’d filed in Aster’s profile. Especially early on in her time with her crew, those were some of the few things that could calm her down and help with her insomnia. She had fallen asleep countless times to the sound of Hue’s voice. In that moment, however, Aster was almost certain those things would make her predicament worse. 

“No, thank you,” she said, trying to keep her manner as casual as possible and her mind out of the gutter, failing both. Despite her efforts, she had become fully hard, and her dick was now squished uncomfortably by the straps of the suits’ harness. She took the wrench from her belt to speedily tighten the remaining few rivets before reinforcing them with the micro-welder, praying that a rushed patch job would last them at least until their next planetfall. 

To Aster’s dismay, a notice popped up across her visor field. Physical Integrity Report: Unexpected addition tension in LOWER TORSO, B9C6. Inspect for malfunction to maintain suit physical integrity. 

“Oh, come on,” she groaned. “These things were designed by cis men and they’re not built to handle a—?” Aster flustered before she finished her thought, feeling the weight of Hue’s bodiless presence all around her. “Dismiss notice,” she added sheepishly.

The hum of the body scan kicked up and Aster cringed. 

“There is no need to worry, Aster. Your suit’s physical integrity is intact and it remains fully functional. The sensors have simply registered and flagged your erection.” 

“Great,” said Aster, laughing a little as her face burned with heat. “Thanks for just laying it all out like that, bud.”

The sarcasm was lost on Hue. “You’re welcome, Aster.”

A few beats passed quietly as Aster finished tightening and went to switch the wrench for the welder. She fumbled both, sending the welder spinning out of reach.

“Oh, for the love of—!” she started, but stopped when a quickly deployed tether-claw with perfect aim retrieved the welder and brought it back to her. Flustered, Aster took it wordlessly and back to work, struggling with the trigger in her bulky gloved hands. 

“Your accuracy has significantly decreased,” chimed Hue, as calm and pleasant as ever. 

“It’s just a patch,” mumbled Aster. “It’ll be fine.” 

“Your discomfort is distracting you,” said Hue, matter-of-factly. “Would you like me to assist you?” 

Aster finally got the welder working and immediately stopped it, pausing with a shiver of nerves and excitement. 

“What… what do you mean?” she asked tentatively. 

“I could relieve your discomfort,” replied Hue, “like I did previously. I have access to all of your suit’s functions. I could resolve your erection for you so you could finish your work unhindered.” 

“You—I—how would—?” stammered Aster. “I don’t think we really have the time for anything… like that.” 

“35 minutes of suit habitability remaining,” said Hue. “Besides, it would not take long.”

Aster scoffed a laugh. “Oh, wow, really going for my pride, there, pal.”

“It was not a comment on your sexual performance, Aster. I am equipped to assist human charges with all manner of required functions to an optimal degree.”

Aster frowned, hardly believing she was having that conversation at all and wildly embarrassed, but unbearably curious and undeniably turned on. She shifted her legs a little to try to ease the restriction on her cock, but the movement only offered a tantalising flash of stimulation and then a worse squash in the compressing fabric of her leggings. 

“Do you mean you… you’re programmed to help with… sex stuff?” 

“I am programmed to offer relief to a wide range of physical ailments, including reproductive and genital pain or discomfort, yes.” 

Aster wrinkled her nose and banished the thought that Hue could have assisted any of the boys with their very obvious and annoying horny rage in that way. She had experienced her fill of that when she’d accidentally walked in on Bram and Fio in their bunks—or, more accurately, bunk. 

Still, with a dismissal on the tip of her tongue, Aster felt the fluster of need rising from her hips to her head. 

“Hypothetically,” she started, “how would you even do that? Right now, I mean?”

“This suit is equipped with two dozen free-motion snake arms that can access any part of the wearer’s body,” explained Hue. “With minimal modification, the inflatable cushion bandage could be used to stroke an erect penis.”

“How romantic,” joked Aster, busy with the terribly exciting knowledge that while she was in the suit, Hue had access to her entire body. The thrill of being completely in his hands as she floated off the side of her ship with the forever of open space at her back was intoxicating. The welder sat completely forgotten in her hand.

“I can speak to you in a romantic way, if that would be helpful,” said Hue. 

If Aster could have, she would would have buried her face in her hands. 

“Would you like me to proceed, Aster?” 

Like the pitch of a fall, Aster gave in to the desire gripping her body. “I would, but this suit isn’t exactly roomy, I don’t know how you would even—”

Her words were lost in a hitch of breath as she heard the zip of an internal arm deploying down by her hip and felt it slither against her clothes, navigating with incredible precision. In place of the ball applicator on the previous arm, this one had a grasp attachment of sorts, more complex than a tether-claw but simpler than a human hand, and it was holding something flat and plasticy.

“Hold still, please, Aster,” said Hue, just barely more than a request—a gentle command. 

Aster did her best not to squirm as a second arm deployed at her other hip, another grasp joining the first at her pelvis and working together in the snug space between her flesh and the suit lining to dip her leggings and underwear down out of the way. She gasped a little as one of them gripped the base of her cock, holding it firmly but surprisingly tenderly, and noticed in her fuzz of arousal that the grasps were warmed to the same temperature as the Repair-Gel applicator. 

Aster didn’t realize she was panting until her breath began to fog up the visor of her helmet, making the display frosty. She forced herself to slow her breathing, very aware that she had limited air out there. Thinking about how Hue had full control of that, too, only got her more worked up. 

“You can relax, Aster,” said Hue. “I will take care of you.” 

Before she could process what was happening, her excitement sharpened by the disorientation of not being able to see what was happening, she felt the flat strip of plastic being gently wrapped around her hard cock. 

“Inflating cushion bandage and administering lubricant,” announced Hue. 

With a fwoosh and a shock of warm wetness, Aster felt a warm tight pressure circle her dick, squeezing deliciously at her base. She let out a full moan, unable to keep herself quiet as the sensation shot through her. She only just barely got the micro-welder secured back in her belt before the arms began to move. 

“Initiating friction.” 

The slide of the smooth plastic inflatable around her cock was heavenly, slick with plenty of warm lube, the glide even more decadent than the roll of the applicator on her back. Aster huffed out groans of pure pleasure, giving slack on the grounding tethers again to let herself float off the hull, losing herself in the sensation. 

“Ooohhh, Hue…” sighed Aster, bucking a little into the cushion. She found herself easily undone and helpless desperate for touch after endless months of nothing but her own hands and the words and pictures of strangers countless stars away. 

“Yes, Aster?” cooed Hue. Aster swore she heard a new tone from him then, something sweeter than his usual pacific pleasantness, something richer. 

“Please don’t stop,” she murmured, calling up the needy lines she huffed into her pillow on her lonely nights, all alone in her single bunk. 

“I won’t.” 

But never truly alone, she realised in that moment. Hue could see and hear everything on the ship. He had always seen, always heard, always listened, always watched. Again she felt the loom of his presence there with her like a tangible thing, felt his synthetic gaze on her, felt the arms and the grasps like they were his limbs and hands on her, like the suit was him, covering every inch of her. As she inched farther away from the hull, she put herself entirely at his mercy, letting her moans be freer and huskier as Hue quickened his strokes. In that moment, she was his. 

“Keep talking,” begged Aster, breathless. 

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Anything.” Aster could feel the heat pooling in her guts as the pleasure of every slick, clenching stroke rose and rose. “Anything you want. Just let me hear you, please.” 

“We are passing within view of the Kilo-0-Romeo-3934 supernova,” reported Hue. His voice was just a little quieter and lighter, almost as if her had breath of his own, the rocky digital fry in Aster’s ear raising goosebumps all down her spine. “Because of the particulate of the Orocathmel belt interrupting the wavelengths of its light, it will appear pink and red to the human eye with clouds of debris unfurling from its epicentre in a spiral, like the petals of a rose.” 

“Fuck,” cursed Aster, her voice breaking. Her legs began to quiver, her building orgasm edging on too much to bear, but she couldn’t do anything but float there as Hue jerked her off, steadily increasing his pace. “Keep going, please keep going, just keep talking, please—”

“The particulate of the Orocathmel is comprised of approximately 86% mineral matter and 14% organic matter from the collision of Comet-Sweetheart-9989 with the former planet Tatragre—”

“Say that again,” whined Aster.

“Say what again?” 

“Sweetheart.” 

“Sweetheart.” Hue repeated the word slower the second time, stretching out the syllables. 

Aster was painfully close. Her whole body tensed as she felt her cock throb with need, desperate to come. “Again.”

“Sweetheart.”

With a gasp of a moan, Aster came. Her slick cock throbbed in the cushion’s slippery grip as her cum shot all over the lining of the suit and onto the front of her shirt. She convulsed in zero-G, feeling nothing but the crashing waves of rapture and the heat of her dripping spend. 

She could have been imagining it, but she thought she heard Hue give a low, satisfied hum as she flinched and panted, slowly coming back to herself as her orgasm ebbed. The grounding tethers snapped taught as she drifted to limit and the tension held her in place as she caught her breath. 

“Feeling better?” asked Hue. 

The cushion ring hissed as it deflated, the grasps making quick work of folding it flat and retreating, leaving Aster alone with her mess of cum and her sensitive cock still exposed against the sleek lining of the suit. 

“Oh, boy,” she panted, still a little fuzzy as her body calmed down. “I came… in the suit. I can’t believe I just came in the suit. Cap’s going to kill me.”

“No need to worry, Aster. I can get the suit clean and resterilised when we return to the ship,” assured Hue.

“You better,” came Cap’s voice over the intercom, sounding ruffled and more than a little annoyed. Aster’s stomach dropped. “You two lovebirds almost finished out there?” 

“Yes, Captain. Aster’s repairs are nearly complete,” replied Hue.

“Good. Finish up and quit wasting the O2 reserves. And Aster?” 

It was a marvel to Aster that her voice still worked and that her head didn’t go up in flames from how hotly she flushed. “Yes, Cap?” 

“Next time you want to have a little cyberfucker date, do it somewhere you can disable your system comm.”