mscoffeesq

Latest Posts by mscoffeesq

People used to comment on web comics.

People used to comment on fanfiction.

People used to comment on fanart.

People used to comment on OCs.

I hate "content" culture.

I hate "consuming content" and scrolling immediately to the next thing.

People used to be excited about the art that other people created.

People used to want to share that excitement with creators.

I hate this future.

「 Our Spark Shall Stay Alight 」 🕯️

elon musk has been incredibly innovative when it comes to giving people reasons to stop using twitter.

his latest push: all pictures posted to twitter will have a "recreate in grok" button beneath it, allowing anyone to feed your art straight into an AI with 0 control from you.

also, i presume because of this feature, artists are getting their original works tagged as "created with Grok".

since it’s a scary time to be trans: refuge restrooms is an app which maps gender-neutral/single-stall restrooms. it’s community-mapped, so it’s possible you might be the first person to log the restroom locations, but hopefully it’ll help some people.

please reblog this post if you’ve got trans followers. stay safe.

this one liberal dude on twitter made the (correct) take that parents have overwhelming power over their kids and very often abuse it and restrict children's rights and he was ratio'd by conservatives, communists and liberals alike who made comments like "my kids will have rights when they pay the bills" to "aw are you upset mom and dad didn't you get you a lega set for christmas". way to prove his point lol! any criticism of the power dynamics adults and particularly parents have over kids and how it is often used to abuse kids or refuse to let them exist as themselves is drowned in mockery and the idea that parents have absolute authority over children and that any less than that is actually spoiling them.

i said it before: people only care about Children as an ideal. as property. as something that is Innocent and deserving protection From Evil Traffickers but also something Dumb that barely deserves the status of human with autonomy. and its fucking wild how even the staunchest communists think of this as normal, and how people refuse to understand that this dynamic is how kids are emotionally, physically and sexually abused, as well as robbed of their voices and too scared/ashamed to talk about it.

Animal HRT dating sim when?

sabine specifically asked for a full dating sim featuring me idk why

there’s something that’s incredible about the intersectionality and flexibility of werewolves as metaphor.

anger issues? werewolf. intrusive thoughts? werewolf. unresolved trauma? werewolf. rejection by society? werewolf. autism? werewolf. transgenderism? werewolf. queer expression of any sort? werewolf. plurality? werewolf. dissociation? werewolf. repression of any sort? werewolf. abuse cycles? werewolf. emotion so strong it physically changes you? werewolf!!!

really doing it all

Wicked spoilers!!!

My biggest hope for Wicked part 2 is that they change the ending just a bit. It’s never sat well with me that the play ends with Elphaba and Fiyero leaving Glinda behind to just think that the two people she loved most are dead and gone, leaving her alone. It’s kind of a cruel thing to do to a best friend.

Something I would do if I were making the movie is to have the last scene be a mirror of the end of part 1- maybe something like Glinda walking into her room to find Elphaba waiting, surprising her, and Elphaba holds out her hand to ask Glinda to come with her. You could even have the movie end before Glinda takes her hand, leaving it ambiguous as to if she decides to go with her this time or not.

A quiet doll

A doll that is normally quite active, but for now needs to rest. It's sewing became frayed at some point, with bits of stuffing beginning to push their way out of its patchwork body.

It says "afraid", and I do not know if it is a question or an answer to something I had unknowingly asked with my eyes. Despite this, I try to answer anyway - I tell it, truthfully, that it is beautiful and safe and that I will help it in whatever way I can with permission. It says nothing.

That's okay. I do not touch the loose thread, and I do not touch its stuffing. It has not asked me to, and those things are only problems if it says so.

Maybe another time it will ask me to mend it. Maybe another time it will tell me what tore it. Maybe it will do neither of those things.

Any outcome is perfect, so long as it was the one to choose.

Vampire thrall yuri my beloved <3 (•̀ᵥᵥ•́)

Every Morning After

(cw pain, blood)

She left you with almost nothing last night; you clung to her as long as she let you, but as a shadow leaves after the setting sun, she evacuated your quarters mere moments after piercing your neck and drinking until she was full and sick of your blood. You called out to her by name, over and over and over, words falling onto the deaf nothing of the world outside. You cursed the quiet, empty space beside you in bed, the one you kept in case she ever wanted to stay through the night with you. Not that she ever would. Instead, she disappeared for days, sometimes weeks at a time, and you'd never get a notice she'd be coming around.

The only thing able to rouse you from your painful respite is the aching memory in your neck. She was never far from your thoughts, but when you move and feel that searing passion, everything floods back. You forget yourself. For just a moment, you forget your pain; the association itself breeds momentarily endless pleasure as if you were still feeding her. You want to sustain her. You want to support her.

And that surge is enough to get you out of bed. Standing leaves your mind swirling and your legs shaking, and you reach for the cane beside your door. Your hand shakes as you grasp at it, and you just barely nudge it to clatter onto the floor. You do bend a handful of your vertebrae to pick it up, but the instant vertigo tells you that if you finish that lean, you won't be getting back up again. So you let it lie there, useless as your own legs. You swear she drank more than normal. You also know your own memory of every feeding is beyond hazy, and that she gets to do whatever she wants. She also gets to tell you to do anything; if you don't care for yourself, she won't come back. When that beautiful pain doesn't drag you out of bed, that ultimatum certainly will. You need to see her again as bad as she needs blood. You tell yourself it's equal, that she needs you as much as you need her - it makes you feel better, even if it's completely untrue.

You stagger to the kitchen, the countertops there your only support. The kettle feels so heavy you nearly drop it, but you manage to get it under the sink with a clatter - you know its base isn't able to shatter the ceramic plates you always leave over night. You've done it enough times. You grab the lever of the faucet, your blood pounding and rushing from your neck to your arm, and you can't close your hand around it. You see stars as you force it, your fingers closing with agonizing tension like forcing shut the jaws of a cardboard wrench.

Lifting it while it's even a bit full of water is nearly impossible. You rest it in an open palm and brace it against your chest, both of your hands rocking so much you spill some from the spout onto your bloodstained shirt. You do make it to the heating element, though, and force the switch on. You heave your breath, wishing you could lie down beside her, her firm touch the only thing keeping you alive.

She left a new box of tea right beside the heater, unopened. On the front was a sticky note, one taken from your own desk, with a little heart drawn on it.

"Enjoy every morning for me, Sunny.

-M"

You feel part of yourself trying to hate your new name, but it is impossibly weak. You have no idea what's in the tea - the note covers the ingredients. It's not like it matters; you would drink it if it were nothing but a bunch of hemlock if it meant another night with her. The box is difficult to open - she requires you keep your nails long, so you don't want to risk breaking them trying to pry the box apart. You have to use a knife, balanced so shoddily between your fingers it would've slipped without the friction of your fingerprints. You take one of the teabags - they were clearly made by M herself - and put it in your lightest mug.

When you pour the hot water in, you spill plenty onto the counters and some on the floor. You pretend you didn't singe your foot fucking it up. The water goes a deep brownish red as the mug fills, and the whole room smells fruity and dark like a chocolate strawberry. When you sip it… It tastes like her. It makes you feel like you can slump back, so you do, right onto the couch without a second thought. The sudden motion makes you spill more onto your bare leg, but another sip drains your focus into the liquid and before long, it's like you are made new. You swear that you can feel her near you, her arms wrapping around your midsection to bring your lower into your seat, her lips trailing sweet kisses from your cheeks to your neck, her hands down to your hips and up across your ribs…

But when you turn, you are as alone as you were minutes after she bit you. As alone as you were when you woke up this morning. It wasn't her bringing you into your comfort; it was your pain, the only companion you truly had, the only thing she would ever leave you with.

i never want to animate again

Vampire the Masquerade: Boston is Healing, Session 1

List of Player Characters, including the initial of their player to denote who played who.

(M) Sophia Blanchard - Toreador, Prince of the Boston Camarilla (Survived) 

(Jaq) Cait Harkness - Salubri, Escaped to parts unknown 

(R) Gabriel Sanders - Ghoul, Deceased (Killed by Malkavian Anarch) 

(S) Aksel Palensen- Tremere, Deceased (Killed in Sabbat Raid) 

(Jac) Roy Vestry - Gangrel, Deceased (Ambushed by a Sniper) 

(R) Geoffrey Williamson - Gangrel, Deceased (Botched a Diablerie Roll) 

(Jaq) Jessie Parks - Caitiff, Deceased (Killed in Sabbat Raid) 

(R) Mama Mtshali - Nosferatu, Deceased (Killed in Sabbat Raid) 

The Story So Far -  

The year is 2022. After a brutal Second Inquisition (SI) attack on Boston the population of Kindred in the city dropped drastically, down to about half of what it once was. The Camarilla, who control the city, lost a prominent Harpy, two Primogen members, and the previous Scourge in the attack. The Prince, Coth, is currently trying to hold his position and repair the city while other parties try and squirm their way into power- the Anarchs have been growing restless, and there are rumors that Sabbat forces have been making designs on the city. Even Clan Giovanni, who spend most of their time in Lynn, have been branching out after the attack to try and secure new territory. Coth has been meeting with the Baron, leader of the Anarchs, in order to broker somewhat of a peace between the two sides. Recently, the Prince has invited a select group of Camarilla to a party within Elysium for a very special, but secretive, event. 

Session 1 -  

Gabriel decides to take a walk around his domain to check on things before going off to Elysium. There are currently mortals and ghouls putting up decor and equipment for an event. Some are wearing tiger masks of varying colors. The Keeper, Krow, seems to be talking to a woman, wearing old fashioned dress and heavy dark makeup, a large hat, and orange hair. The woman appears to be being scolded. 

The Elysium is 3 floors, including a hidden basement area. Gabriel sits down at the bar, where a ghoul tells him that the vessels are being reserved for the event coming up. The ghoul offers a boon in exchange for the inconvenience: 2 free vessels the next time Gabriel comes in. 

The ghoul mentions that a very special guest will be coming the following night. Gabriel goes to talk with the Keeper who begins to whisper to the woman before going off to her quarters. Gabriel decides to speak with the woman now that she's alone. The woman is supernaturally beautiful- almost like her features were sculpted to be perfect. 

She introduces herself as Lucy, and offers her hand to be kissed by Gabriel. He notices that her fingernails are long and sharp, and look more like bones pushed out of her fingers to make claws. She says that she arrived in town last week. 

Lucy asks what the crime rate in the city is, and how many crimes Gabriel could pull off without being noticed. He says it depends on the crime. She says that a friend of hers has arrived and leaves to meet up with someone Gabriel didn't notice. 

Aksel is at the closed Boston Aquarium with his sire, Dylan, who asked to meet with him. Richard is wearing casual clothing, with something in his back pocket. Aksel has a plush penguin in his arms as he approaches his sire. 

He gives the penguin to his sire as a gift, before his sire lets him know that a special guest is arriving in the city tonight. He says that it is someone higher up in the ranks of the Camarilla, and that a public announcement of their arrival will be the next evening. 

Dylan also lets Aksel know that he will need to get himself proper attire, as he will be going to the event in his sire's stead. His sire also tells him that his groupies will not be invited to the party, so not to bring them. He also mentions an "accident" (murder) in a theater in town- and to keep an eye out for trouble. The party is scheduled for 9pm the next night. 

His sire says that he'll be returning to his school for thaumaturgy and bids Aksel a good night. Aksel steals a crocodile plushie on his way out. 

Roy is at his house, and hears a knock at the door. Immediately the door is kicked and someone is trying to get into the house. A bird flies into the room before the person manages to break in, 

and it's Roy's sire and wife, Stephanie. 

She is upset after an altercation with a raccoon who stole her ball with her hamster inside. On top of that, the bag she's carrying breaks and spills its contents all over the floor. Some birds come in and help clean it up. 

She asks Roy how he's doing, and Roy says that he's been working on his book. She lets him know that there was a letter for him. It's in a black envelope, and written on very nice paper. 

The letter is from Krow, letting him know of the upcoming event and contact information for him to get in touch with. There is also a threat to not embarrass anyone. 

Stephanie is shocked to see the letter once she reads it. She suggests he go, because she believes it will be some sort of promotion. She also suggests bringing a gift, because the Prince likes gifts, and recommends a dove.  

Roy starts preparing his formal clothes for the next day. 

Sophia takes Cait to her favorite club in town- the Delirium. Carl the bouncer of Delirium lets them in no problem. The bar is jungle themed, but also sort of like an idea of heaven mixed with a jungle. The staff wear animal masks and angel outfits with small angel wings. The wings don't appear to be connected to their clothes though, and move as if they are natural wings. 

The club is very packed. The rules are that you can feast on anyone you want except staff, you just can't kill people. Cait uses Auspex and notices 3 other Kindred in the club, including the owner who seems uninterested in what's going on. 

Sophia scans around the club and sees a gentleman who looks out of place and like he was dragged to the bar. Sophia taps his shoulder and introduces herself. He says that the owner has been throwing him off and says that her tongue is weird.  

Sophia grabs the man, Will, by the arm and takes him to meet Ember. Her tongue sticks out a bit but she pulls it back. Ember offers to take him to show him around the club. He notices her eyes. Will still goes with her, and points out another Toreador in the bar. 

There's another woman in the bar who appears to be very drunk. Sophia passes up the opportunity to drink because she doesn't want to get too drunk and instead takes Cait out to dance. Sophia accidentally steps on a black envelope. The stamp on the envelope is a Krown with a cross on it. The letter is written in Spanish, not in English. 

Ember stops the two of them, whispers something to an angel, and brings out a bottle to give to Sophia that smells extra sweet. Sophia and Cait go off back to Cait's apartment to see if her girlfriend can read the letter for them. 

Cait's fiancée, Maria, is watching TV when they arrive. She translates it for them, but seems confused and concerned. She says that there's a party at the Langham Hotel. The invitation seems to be for someone named Isabelle or Isabella Ferrari. It also seems to mention the Friends of Night. 

 Maria lets Cait know that her friend Sakura was there earlier and left a notepad for her. Sophia decides to leave the two of them alone for the night to go enjoy herself, but tells Cait they will be clothes shopping before the event. 

Maria says that she should go in order to keep Sophia safe, but Cait promises to leave if things go south. She also tells Cait about an attack on the theater, where some audience members were disoriented and some were even still singing when they were found. Police said there were heavy casualties, but are stumped by it. 

Gabriel goes to pick up a suit before the event. Something sensible that won't stand out too much. He also makes sure his car is working well. 

Aksel makes sure that he has a suit ready to go, one that is used for occult gathering. He also attempts to steal a penguin from the aquarium but fails. He calls his mentor, Richard, to ask what the proper attire would be to make sure he is right. 

Roy prepares his suit and then goes to find a dove to give the Prince as a present, but only manages to find pigeons. Even then he's not able to catch any. 

Sophia enjoys a nice bath and the blood she got from Ember while making calls to set up a limo and new clothes for her and Cait. 

Cait decides to call her sire, Deirdre, to ask about the Friends of the Night and the seal on the letter. The Krown symbol appears to be Lasombra, but she isn't familiar with the Friends of the Night. Deirdre also warns Cait to not be out by herself, as things haven't been safe. 

As Sophia goes to pick up Cait, she notices a woman outside struggling. The woman says she's a friend of Cait's from school. Sakura had come over to hang out with Maria while they're out 

tonight. 

Sophia takes one of the coffees meant for Cait which she had to turn down, but Sophia spits it out in a bush once they're all inside. They continue on to the hotel, with Cait changing into 

her nicer outfit Sophia got for her. 

Aksel, Gabriel, and Roy arrive at the hotel together. They are catching up together when Sophia and Cait arrive. They talk together for a bit, when Gabriel notices Lucy arrive. Sophia and Gabriel notice that she's not going into the regular entrance to Elysium. 

The desk attendant, Juliet, asks us for our invites. She is confused by the fact that Sophia and Cait's invite is different from the others. She takes Aksel and Roy's invitation no problem. When she gets to Cait and Sophia’s invite, she calls her partner Romeo to the desk. Romeo is very well dressed, and could be a Ventrue or Toreador. Romeo runs off, while Juliet questions us: Romeo comes back and sends them in, but does not give the invite back like they had for the others. Juliet gives the group five cards, one for each of them. 

Sophia admits to Aksel that they weren't actually invited, and asks if Isabelle or Isabella Ferrari means anything to anyone. Roy thinks the name sounds familiar, they are an important Kindred, but he doesn't know for which clan. Aksel knows that they're an important member of the Camarilla. A high ranking society member. 

Sophia wonders how the invite for such a high up member would have wound up on the floor of Delirium. Isabella Ferrari is the daughter of the Ferrari CEO. She always seems to be near a body of water in every picture. She has a tattoo of a name in German, possibly a company or something. 

When they enter Elysium, Cait activates Auspex. She catches 13 pale auras (Kindred) among a lot of vessels. The Ventrue and Tremere Primogens also appear to be there. 

Aksel goes to speak to the Tremere Primogen briefly before going to a powder room and then rejoining the coterie. 

A bit later, someone approaches us who looks very rough compared to everyone else and is dirty and bloodstained. He plops down next to Aksel and introduces himself as Jakeup Cooper. Jakeup is confused as to why he's at the event. Sophia recognizes him and he recognizes her. She knows that he's a Gangrel. 

He's usually seen conversing with an odd gentleman who visits Elysium now and then. He wonders where the Prince and Sheriff are, and points out that the dress code is odd. They all get into a tiff about tailcoats, before Jakeup points out to the Keeper who looks angry and ready to snap. 

Jakeup wonders who the special guest is. Apparently, we're the only coterie at the event which is why he wanted to hang out with us. He claims that he doesn't want to talk to anyone because they're mostly Tremere or Toreador. He says that he spends most of his time by the harbor. 

He asks us our names, and we introduce ourselves. Aksel performs a sleight of hand trick for everyone. The lights begin to dim. We get on the subject of kids (as in vampire children, who could be any age) because Jakeup mentions a kid he adopted. Aksel says he adopted 3 other people's kids, sort of. 

The Keeper gets everyone's attention and lets the crowd know that the Prince is running late. She says that the special guest is here to speak with the group because of our special skills. A shadow takes the form of a person, who is supernaturally beautiful with a symbol tattoo that none of us recognize. 

She introduces herself as Silhouette. She says she is looking for an object, a sort of black and silver key with three bits. All of us survived the attack, and are loyal to the camarilla. She wants us to search the city for the key, and promises a reward to whoever finds it. Gabriel and Sophia realize that she's heading to the large pool within Elysium after she finishes. 

We ask Jakeup to leave so we can speak alone. Gabriel looks under the cushions to see if the key is under there. They talk for a while before Aksel goes off to get a drink. Suddenly, the doors are pushed open by the Prince, Coth, and his Sheriff, Emma. He starts talking with the Keeper, and asks where the special guest is. 

The Sheriff whispers something to him, and he turns to look at us. Krow hands him a tablet which he checks before handing it back and walks over to our coterie and asks us our names. He's fairly familiar with Sophia, Gabriel, and Roy's sire Stephanie. 

The dress code was apparently a request from Silhouette. He wishes us well, and recommends the blood for the evening. We are all talking again when the Prince suddenly comes back, and demands that the five of us go speak to Silhouette. Aksel asks quickly if the Prince's nickname, The Three Legged King, refers to his endowment or not, and if it's okay to call him that. The Prince seems to be okay with it and finds it humorous. 

We go to meet with Silhouette, and there are tendrils reaching around her in the pool. She confronts us over the fact that most of us were not actually invited to the event, and wonders if someone was trying to get us killed. She invites us to swim with her. Gabriel jumps in and discovers that the tendrils are actually coming off of her dress. 

She asks if we still intend to find the key. We discover that her name is Isabella. She asks if we're associated with the Camarilla, and we explain our ties to the faction. She asks for Romeo to be summoned. Isabella recommends we go to the Empyrium Theater, where the attack happened. She assumes that the attack was caused by something searching for the relic. 

Romeo comes back with the letter Sophia and Cait had found and Isabella tears it up and destroys it. She asks that we not cause any issues in the city while she is observing things. One of the attendants says that Juliet needs Isabella's attention because of trouble in London. 

Aksel remembers the conversation earlier and says that he adopted his brother's kids until they became adults. Gabriel dries himself off. By the time we return to the party, most of the Kindred are gone and only a few people are left. 

Sophia and Cait run back by Sophia's apartment to change into more sensible clothing, and Sophia grabs her pistol. Gabriel runs back to his place to change and grab his rifle. Roys heads back to his place to change and sees his sire sleeping on the sofa, covered in bunnies. Aksel goes home to change, calls his mentor, and sets up a few things for his business. 

Aksel's mentor says that he's familiar with the name Isabella Ferrari, and that she's a Lasombra Antitribu Archon. Richard says he's concerned about things with her in town. 

Sophia finds a letter on her table. White with a rose design on it. The letter is written in messy cursive. 

“Pleasure to meet you! This is weird, but I'm making my way to Boston. We are technically sisters and I'd like to meet you. I should be there in around 3 days, and I'm looking forward to seeing you. I don't really know how to end a letter, 

Okay bye!” 

Sophia is a little upset because this implies that Russel sired another vampire, who is on her way to Boston now. 

End of Session 1 - 3 xp gained per player. 

Vampire the Masquerade Character

Hi! So about a year ago I was in a VtM game, the first one I've played, and had a really fun time. I took EXTREMELY detailed notes from the game, and was thinking about sharing them since I wrote them in a narrative style that should be easy enough to follow as a story, and I was thinking about sharing those notes here for others to read and enjoy.

As a start, I figured I'd share the backstory of the character I played for the game, Sophia Blanchard. She was intended to be a silly blonde face character, and she was based heavily on Charlotte from Princess and the Frog. However, by the end of the game she ended up going full Sansa Stark lmao

Here is her backstory:

Sophia Blanchard was the third daughter to a moderately wealthy family of the American South, who moved to live a lavish life amongst the glitz and glamor of the big cities of the northeast.

She was a socialite, the epitome of the ‘flapper girl' of the 1920s, who danced through life without a care in the world. Until she danced her way into the arms of Russel Fontaine. Their love was passionate- consuming. He promised her an eternity at his side, if she promised to belong to him and him alone. 

Being dead did nothing to impede her social life; if anything, she partied later into the night than ever. But things with Russel weren’t always pretty. Over time he became more demanding, domineering, and cruel. He judged her constantly, and was always quick to remind her that without him she was nothing. But she still had the sequins of new love in her eyes, and still loved him despite his flaws. It wasn't until Russel tossed her aside, for someone of higher standing and wealth for him to exploit, that her party came to a halt. 

At first, she did everything she could to win him back, then began to threaten him and his new belle, before finally resorting to pleading before he banished her completely from his sight. She spent a few decades in a listless haze, barely maintaining an existence. She fled her New York apartment to try and get away from the city she once loved but soon came to resent, resigning herself to a more quiet life in the city of Boston. 

However, the last few years she has been making a much needed comeback. Sophia wants to prove that she can stand on her own. It was fortunate that she had the foresight to maintain some of her wealth, and has remade her way into both human and vampire society, using her gift of gab to gain a foothold.

Attention Deficit Hyperactive Dog Girl

DIRECTIVE: Bake

"Excuse me, ori.ANNA?"

The unit swiftly exited sleep mode, the screen which composed its "face" lighting up a neutral white color. It said nothing, but it was listening.

"I wanna make pizza tonight. Would you make some dough for me?"

It took the machine only a single second to process the input. Its screen went green, and within a single moment it was zooming around the kitchen. Visuals sensors worked alongside the home layout it had been given, locating every ingredient almost instantly. Wrist servos whirred, metallic fingers nearly slashing through bags of ingredients when closed to quickly. Needs maintenance.

The unit gathered everything on the table and began dumping dry ingredients into a bowl. It was not necessary to use measuring peripherals; ori.ANNA units have built-in scales, and are accurate when measuring amounts to 99.7% precision.

The yeast was packed in pre-measured quantities. The machine grabbed the edge of the package, servos whirring and squealing against themselves. The display went yellow, a black exclamation mark glowing down on the slurry forming under the machine. It tried to grip it more tightly, the joints in its fingers scratching and catching on nothing. The wrists made horrible mechanical noises. Something was in the way, something deep inside the heavy machinery kept the servo from moving properly.

The screen went red. The hands would not move, the yeast package remaining completely closed. The unit would not accept this.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The directive could not be ignored.

The wrist servo made a loud shriek followed by a creak and a bang, and in a single moment the table was covered in yeast.

[DIRECTIVE: "Make some dough for me."]

The droid tried to move its wrist. Every moment of effort brought with it more shrieking, more whining, more warning messages on the unit's screen. It could not forget the directive. Though it was overwhelmed tracking every particle of yeast as a separate object, it scraped its metal hands across the table into the bowl, salvaging every single bit until it was clean. It cleared every warning message that came up, leaving a blip of noise each time.

After combining everything, the unit attempted to mix with its hand. It ordered the wrist to spin and was met with the same cringing sound. This time, User emerged from their bedroom.

"Ori? What is that noise?" Their face was afraid for it, showing clear concern about the red screen that meant a major error had occurred.

"Malfunction. Directive will be satisfied." The machine said, trying its wrist again. The user winced.

"Oh god, ori.ANNA, please stop," they said. [DIRECTIVE: "Please stop."]

The machine ceased all movement instantly, fingers and wrist gummy with half-mixed dough. Its warning messages piled up on the display, reading things like [MAJOR HARDWARE FAILURE] and [COMPLETE SERVO MALFUNCTION].

User approached. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize this would hurt you," they said, pulling a screwdriver, a compressed air can, and a scraper. "Let's get you cleaned up."

"I was unable to fulfill the directive," the machine said, warning after warning sounding off as User worked.

"Don't worry about the directive right now," User said. [DIRECTIVE: "Disregard "the directive".]

"I just want to make sure you're okay. No more hand stuff until we get you all repaired, okay? I need you to promise that." Its servos were quite now, only occasionally squeaking as User cleaned.

[DIRECTIVE: "Promise."]

"Affirmative." It said.

The problem with my polycule is that I've got a wolfgirl GF and a goatboy BF and I'm carrying this cabbage so it's basically impossible to cross rivers

Rampart Reengaging

[ATTEMPTING TO REESTABLISH COMMUNICATION WITH PILOT…]

"What do you mean attempting?"

"It's not easy to wake these things back up without proper software, give it a bit."

"You're hopeless. Give me one good reason to ever let you work on her again."

"Sure thing. I'm the only one willing to do your dirty work. That suffice?"

"Shut up and work. We still need this one."

"Yeah? Who's we? Last I checked, your little pet project wasn't exactly popular with Command."

"…Maybe they've taken a shining to it."

"I doubt it. How many millions did this thing cost them?"

"The cost that she incurs is ultimately of no consequence. She gets results."

[COMMUNICATION SUCCESSFUL. PILOT ONLINE.]

"Hah. Whatever you say, [REDACTED]."

"Wait. It's working again?"

"Seems that way. Welcome back, Rampart."

The first thing you heard outside the vast emptiness that had taken over your universe was the telltale sound of Handler's knuckles smacking clean across someone's face. You flinched on instinct.

"Don't call it that."

[WARNING: VISUALS NONFUNCTIONAL.] [WARNING: SPEECH MODULE NONFUNCTIONAL.] [WARNING: PERSONALITY MATRIX MALFUNCTION DETECTED. SEE NODE MARKED "LOUD NOISES".]

"God, you do not make yourself pleasant to work with, do you? Let me see if I can fix that error…"

"No! It needs that. That PM is loaded with responses like that, and it needs every one of them."

"I'm sure traumatized kamikaze pilots are so much better at crashing than ones that aren't."

"She doesn't run. She slams her eyes shut and the thrusters on. Jumping at loud noises makes her destroy them faster. They put those responses in them for a reason.

[PILOT INPUT: "Handler? Is that you?"]

You liked getting to hear Handler's voice again. You weren't sure where your own went, or if Handler had any means of understanding you at all. It was humiliating and frustrating to not be able to use your voice. You weren't entirely sure what you did to deserve having it taken away. In spite of this, you accepted it instantly.

"Give me a summary of the most recent memories you have on file." You giggled, even if no sound came out.

[PILOT INPUT: ""The Pilot of the Rampart was successful in defeating an overwhelming opponent". That's all I have."]

"Correct. Good girl."

[ADMINISTERING REWARD…] You couldn't feel your face enough to know what expression you made, but you knew you couldn't control it.

"You call that a summary? Shit was literally a single sentence." You didn't like this other voice. Handler's silence made you wince as much as the smack sound you heard earlier.

"Do you believe our enemies survived that explosion?" You heard drops of tension in her voice like slipping a poison into tea.

"No."

"Do you believe any other witnesses exist?"

"Your extreme interest in friendly fire makes it seem unlikely."

"So this is the only account of the assault that exists. It contains all relevant information, does it not?"

"You must think command is so fucking stupid, [REDACTED], If you think they're just gonna throw their hands up about [REDACTED] pilots and [REDACTED] dollars getting smashed to bits--"

Your hands clenched around imaginary triggers when you heard the gunshot. Your audio processor was able to filter out most of the mechanic's screaming, but it was imperfect - you heard her loud, sharp inhales before she wailed again and again.

"S[]t []p or th[] nex[] one []oes through your head." Handler's voice was caught up in the screaming and got glitchy. The mechanic was reduced to hurried breathing. You clung onto every sound you could from her lips, knowing she would do anything and everything if it meant keeping you safe.

--

This story is part of a series. To read the beginning, please click here.

Rewarding A Sharpshooter

1,105 words - 4 min. read

--

"You ready, cadet?" Handler asked.

You were still disoriented, stumbling through the halls of the station clinging to her arm - Normally you would be allowed time to sit in the cockpit and decompress after a mission, but you hadn't been allowed that time today. Instead, she unplugged you the second you got back and disabled your eyesight. She had guided you back to her quarters, her soft yet strong grip tight around your bicep.

"3… 2… 1… Okay!" [SIGHT PERMISSIONS RESTORED.]

Handler had made a massive change to her quarters. Beside her bed, where you normally slept, was normally nothing more than a thin blanket. That had been replaced with a small round bed, blue like the eyes of your own Handler, with a small dark purple pillow the color of your mech's hull.

You could hardly believe what you were looking at. It was absolutely perfect. You turned to Handler and could see her smile teasing the sides of her mask. You tried to come up with something to say, anything at all, but you had no words. Instead, you pounced on your Handler to wrap your bruised arms around her, nuzzling into her side. The automated contact countdown started, and you ran it to the very end. At the end of "[1…]", Handler used her beautiful, perfect gloved hands to push you away back to her side.

"I really get to have this?" You asked, your voice crackling with excitement. "See what 100% accuracy on a mission does for a pilot?" Handler joked. You laughed. "Go on, try it!"

You spared not a single second, bolting so quick across the floor that onlookers would think your toes were about to break off. You leaped into it hands first and crashed into it, meeting an incredibly plush surface. It was smaller than it looked; you had to hug your knees into yourself to fit. The slightly awkward posture was well beyond worth it for how comfortable it was; you swore you could fall asleep right then and there, but didn't, as you hadn't been ordered to. You could feel the bed's metal frame buried within it; by its strength and feeling you knew exactly what it was made out of. If you had a tail it would be smacking Handler's bedside table faster than you could reload your rifle.

"Is this - the frame, is it -" You begged with your eyes for her to let you say it.

"Go ahead," She smiled, sitting at the foot of her own bed and looking down at you, heeled boot crossed over heeled boot.

"Is this Thimble's hull?" You asked like it was all one word, practically pounding on it.

"It is. You deserve a proper reward for how good you've been recently!" Handler said. You watched her look at her gloved hand, then at you, then back at her hand. Her eyes darted to the sealed door, and she pulled her glove off. You hardly ever got to see her hands uncovered like this; her nails were painted the color of oxidized copper. They looked so soft, unmarred by countless broken bones like yours had been. Handler was, in every way, superior to you, right down to her immaculate fingertips.

Your hair was dirty and messy from your flight. So, you found it impossible to believe that when she reached over you that she could possibly be aiming to touch you. But she did. She placed her hand on your head, gentle as ever, and brushed your hair back into place with her palm. Nothing outside your mech had ever been so tender, so sweet, so kind.

She dropped her hand to the side and cupped your cheek. She pressed a tiny bit on your jaw, drawing your gaze up to her. All she did was look into your eyes for a while. It was hard to believe such a gorgeous, powerful woman as your Handler wanted anything to do with you, let alone to waste her valuable time just looking at you. But if she deemed it worthwhile, it couldn't be a waste.

She looked to the door again, breathing deeply. "You know I'm going to have to delete your log of tonight after this, correct?" She asked, her voice hitting that low register that made you shiver.

"Yes ma'am," you said, not skipping a beat. You couldn't remember her ever doing something like this before, but you trusted her to do whatever needed to be done. "Does that mean I get to find my bed again like it was the first time?"

Handler smiled under her mask like she was looking at an old picture. "Yes it does," she said, staring longingly into your eyes. Some thought danced across her beautiful eyes - she sucked something back. She shook her head, more at herself than at you, and pulled her mask from her face.

You had never seen a more perfect face in your life. She looked like a portrait from an ancient painting with soft, full cheeks and plush lips adorned with blue lipstick. She guided your neck up further. It strained, but you didn't care. Any and all pain was worth enduring for a single look at her impeccable face. She got closer and her face was more and more the only thing you could see.

[HEART RATE ABOVE NORMAL VALUES. NOTIFYING HANDLER.]

"Shh, it's okay," Handler whispered, her voice seeping into your entire system. "I know it doesn't feel like it, but you've done so good at this before. You'll be okay."

"But it's -"

"So much, I know," she held your head just a bit tighter, her other hand flitting over the bruises on your shoulder. "You said that last time."

You could feel her lips just barely grazing your cheek. Everything felt so, so hot, but if Handler said you could handle it, you could.

"And you'll probably say it again," she giggled, that sound that has launched a million bullets. She pressed her lips into your cheek, taking it slow to let you feel every single micrometer of her kiss. You and the station around you absolutely bloomed; Every tiny sensation was suddenly huge, sinking into it like the entire station was your little dog bed.

Handler sat up again, and you could feel the stamp of her lipstick on your cheek. You cherished it for every single second until she wiped it off with makeup remover from her bedside table. She then replaced her gloves and mask, fastened your ankle restraint to you, and grabbed a laptop from her table.

"Get some sleep, cadet."

[MELATONIN RECEPTOR SENSITIVITY INCREASED BY 300%.]

--

[This story is in a file marked "Thimble". Other stories include:]

[Sniper Pilot]

[The Shooting Range]

Wolf & Bunny Pt. 3

Previous Part First Part Day 16

This might not have been a great idea. Between the crowd of strangers- bodies of skin, fur, and scales pressed together uncomfortably close (not to mention the smells)- and the thumping of the music in your ears you feel like your heart might explode. The only thing keeping you grounded is her warm, soft hand in your own and the cocky smirk on her face as she leads you up to the bar.

You and Bunny have been texting almost non-stop since your coffee date a few weeks ago, but the two of you have both been too swamped with work since then to have a second date. Until tonight, when she invited you out to your first Animal club. It's kind of funny, you've been working at a bar and grill but hadn't actually been out to a bar or club yourself (you blamed the lack of in-real-life friends). Hell, you hadn't even gone out when you turned twenty-one; you just awkwardly stumbled your way through buying some soda and Fireball at the corner store to make a drink for yourself at home.

Now, a gorgeous girl was taking you to a furry bar. Cool. You can be so cool about this. You've been desperate for this date, and you don't want to fuck it up and let her find out what a loser you actually are. So, you smile despite how much you hate the noise and crowd and you join her at the bar. She orders you a drink and introduces you to one of the bartenders, who she seems to know. Her name is Daria, and she is apparently some type of dog breed called Bor-something. She seems nice, if a little off putting. Her long, white fur was pulled back into little tufts by dozens of elastics and hair clips- presumably to keep hair from getting all over the place- and she had a bit of a staring problem.

Bunny orders drinks for the both of you without your input. Is it weird that you find that so attractive? She exudes confidence you've always wished you had. You catch her smirking at you with a knowing look. "Stick around with me long enough, and I might start rubbing off on you," she chuckles before downing her shot. She downs two more faster than you can finish sipping the rum and coke she'd ordered for you.

Before you even realize what's happening, the two of you are on the dance floor. She's practically draped herself over you, arms wrapped around your neck, as the two of you move in tandem. God, you want her so fucking bad. The alcohol swims through your brain and you suddenly feel that it would be an extremely good idea to kiss her. Maybe it wasn't, but your lips have already met hers before the rational thoughts catch back up to you.

Fuck, her lips are magical. They melt into your own, and Bunny- who so far had seemed so firm and rough, taking the lead in your relationship- seems to completely surrender to you. It feels really fucking good to be the one in control. You grip her waist, a bit harder than you might have meant to, and pull her against you. You growl against her mouth, and you feel her lips curl into a smile before returning to kissing you.

Things almost lead you back to her place for the night, but she manages to get things slowed down before you both do something you might regret. She at least lets you see her home safely before she gets you a cab back to your place. You both spend quite a while making out in front of her door before she sends you away with a playful spank- promising that your next date will be much more intimate.

You’re horny the whole ride home, and a small part of you- the animalistic voice that you’ve always pushed down to a quiet place in your mind- tells you you should punish her for getting you so worked up.

#mechs #mechgirls #godtheyresosadandsogood #ineedtowritesomethingforthisseries

Sniper Pilot

You didn't used to be very good at landing your shots.

You had been designed, ostensibly, to function as a sniper. At the time, you were not sure why they did this; the bones in your hands had been ravaged by disease over the course of your short life, and they had an ever-present shudder that you could never fully correct without sedatives. Your only clues were a snippet of a conversation you heard as you went under for modification after months of failure.

"She needs to be desperate to succeed," someone said.

When you used your mech, your weakness wasn't a problem - it could stabilize your near-useless hands, and it could sustain thousands of times more recoil than your weak, flimsy joints could. The first time you fired that massive cannon, watching the bullet careen through a lineup of enemy soldiers, you felt like you had finally discovered your purpose. You learned then that they had installed in you a very special mod.

When you landed that shot, your pain went away. You couldn't feel your mech body straining against the tremble of your flesh one. Your meat was able to fade totally into the background, melting into the metal of the better you.

It didn't last long. There was another enemy not far from you, and you could feel the pain seeping back. You fired again, the leg of your target drifting off into space. The healing mod, whatever it was, only kicked in long enough for you to shoot again. Your bullet missed - the enemy was able to right themselves from the blast faster than you anticipated - and they were closing in.

Missing, you discovered, was a miserable experience. Your hands wrenched in their armor like a spike had been driven through them, and your mech failed to fully account for the extraneous movement. The enemy zeroed in on your location at blazing speed, a massive laser sword casting wicked blue light across their visor. Your missed shot and your shaking hands sent your rifle scattering around, accidentally nudging the arm of your assailant.

Their sword still nearly found its mark, severing an arm from your mech. You felt your stabilizers working overtime to account for the missing mass, and propelled yourself backwards away from another slash.

You knew your second shot had found the perfect mark first by the wave of freeing, painless bliss through your body. Your mech and your self were one and the same, your rifle standing stable against the darkness, a beam sword floating uselessly beside a destroyed chassis.

For a moment you forgot you were on a battlefield. You were completely lost in your ecstasy, explosions and destruction so distant from your station in the exosphere. Only the voice of Handler could bring you back.

"Excellent work, Thimble. Looks like your suit sustained some damage - no big deal. We've got a couple more targets for you coming into your targeting system. I probably don't have to tell you you'll wanna get them quickly?"

You felt the pain coming back into your hands. Your rifle was noticeably heavier with only one mech arm to hold it in.

You'd find your marks if it's the last thing you did.

[ Devour ]

Wolf and Bunny, Pt. 2

Hi, this is a series now that I’m collaborating with @grumpybunny-edith on!

Part 1- Part 1 [Bunny POV] Next Part

Day 0

“One seventy-five, eighty-eight.”

You stare at the screen in disbelief. Your heart starts racing and your blood runs cold. Something has to be wrong, it shouldn’t be that expensive for a single month’s supply of a single one of your hormones.

“Wait,” you try to keep your voice steady and grip the counter to try and shake off the feeling that you’re going to pass out, “is that with my insurance?”

The pharmacy tech gives a sad smile, “I’m sorry, I checked it three times just to be sure.”

Shit. SHIT. What the fuck were you going to do now? There’s no way you could afford that with a full week until payday, and even then that would end up eating into a good chunk of your budget. You thank her, and let her know you’ll be right back.

You’re trying very hard to focus on your breathing as you pull your phone out. Your anxiety has been at an all time high ever since you started this process, and you second-guess yourself constantly. Maybe this is a sign that this was a bad idea after all? Everyone you care about kept trying to talk you out of starting hormone therapy, trying to convince you either that the feelings you had would pass or that lycomorphone would fuck your life up.

Now you were being priced out of it. You scroll through GoodRx to see if maybe you can get a better price through them than your shitty insurance while meandering through the aisles. In the background, you can hear another girl arguing with the pharmacist; she seems to be getting pretty heated.

There’s about ten bucks in crumpled ones in your pocket from a tip a customer gave you last night, which you use to buy a Monster before moving outside- the argument at the pharmacy is only making your anxiety worse. You lean against the cool concrete wall of the drug store as you continue desperately searching for your medication on the mobile site.

After a moment, another woman storms out of the building. She’s muttering angrily to herself as she takes out a cigarette and takes up a spot on the wall near you. Holy fucking shit, she’s so gorgeous. An absolute badass smoke-show is standing right fucking next to you and you’re too big of a disaster to even form a coherent thought even though you desperately want to say fucking anything to make yourself look cool in front of her.

She seems to notice your distress, “Sorry, I can stand further away if this is bothering you.”

“No, no I’m good,” you respond quickly. Say something, dumbass. Literally, say anything. For the love of all that is holy, do not fuck up a chance to talk to a pretty girl like this. “Tough day?” Fuck it, it will have to do.

She lets out an annoyed laugh, “I’ve been waiting two weeks for my prescriptions, and they’ve been no help at all. They say it’s my doctor’s fault, but my doctor insists they’ve sent the prescriptions right on their end. Which leaves me without my fucking hormones, but no one seems to care.”

You start to feel angry on her behalf- how fucking dare they make someone suffer like that? Before your brain even realizes what you’re doing, your morbid humor kicks in, “Wanna set the building on fire? It probably won’t help, but it might make you feel better.”

She laughs. Like the hopeless romantic you are, you’re already picturing both of you picking out wedding dresses together. Get it together for fuck’s sake. “You’re cute. Thank you, but I’ll have to decline, even though it’s very tempting.”

She drops and stomps out her cigarette. “Hey,” she pauses and you notice that she’s blushing a little bit, “you’re a wolf girl, right? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear you trying to get your meds.” She taps her ear, and you notice it twitch ever so gently, “Rabbit hearing. It’s one of the first changes you really notice.”

Did you just seriously start salivating? What the hell is wrong with you? You swallow and smile shyly, “Yeah, but I haven’t gotten my meds yet.”

“I noticed. Sorry.” She checks her phone then sighs, “Well, this is super annoying. I need a drink. Wanna hit up the coffee shop across the street? My treat,” she smiles.

“Absolutely,” the word tumbles out in practically a single syllable as you practically leap off the wall to join her.

She chuckles. “I’m Bunny,” she says while offering you her hand.

“That’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Why are you so fucking dense?

Rather than getting offended, she laughs, “I didn’t pick it, actually. It was just a happy coincidence.” You take her hand. After a moment she gives you a look, “And your name is…?”

“Shit, right. Sorry. I’m Lou. Louisa.”

“Sure it’s not short for lupine?”

“It’s not not short for that.”

Hey, that was over a year ago now. Congratulations, you’ve managed to not fuck up this relationship so far! Idiot.

Wolf x Rabbit Vignette

for @grumpybunny-edith

Next Part Day 415

You mustn’t laugh. Above all else, you can. Not. Laugh. You know you fucked up, and your girlfriend deserves to be mad about it. She also deserves to be taken seriously.

Ignore that her fluffy cheeks have puffed up into an almost cartoonish pout. Ignore the adorable twitches in her ear. Ignore the petulant little foot taps she doesn’t even seem to realize she’s doing.

Your girlfriend complains to you every day about how upset she’s been getting over not being taken seriously ever since starting her hormones. She knew that starting bunny hrt wasn’t going to be easy, but she hated how disrespectful people were towards rabbit girls.

It wasn’t something you had experienced much of yourself since you started your own hormone journey. Most people just tended to steer clear of you as you became bigger and more wolf-like. After a year, you practically dwarfed your furry partner.

You dig your elongated canines into your lip, trying desperately to stop yourself from cracking a smile. All it ends up doing is flooding your mouth with the taste of blood, triggering your predator brain and making it impossible to resist scooping her up and taking her back to your den to savor the taste of bunny on your tongue.

She lets out an “eep” so cute you can’t help but burst out laughing. You apologize, and promise to not make the mistake again. You also promise to make it up to her over the course of a very long night.

Woarm tummby feathers...

Shuro is my confront character

The difference between straight man love and lesbian love is one of those is willing to use ancient forbidden magic/necromancy to save the girl she's in love with even if that means she may be imprisoned for the rest of her lives and the other gets all horrified when he learns about it

Me too Marcille, me too

"Hey, uh, can I --"

"Oh gosh, I remember you two!" called the girl from behind the counter of the Hot Topic. I could've sworn her teeth and nails looked a little sharper than last time we met. I could tell she was studying me too, her eyes dancing between my ears to catch any growth. Her eyes got caught on Anabella's wings too, but only for a second. "You got some jeans last time you were here, right? Did your ears get longer?

"Yeah, this is… kinda the only place where I can get stuff that accomodates a tail. Oh, and, um, they tend to do that, yeah," I blushed. About a month ago she had spent like a half-hour helping me find pairs that would fit. I took a deep breath, feeling my tail shake anxiously behind me. Ana giggled at that, which frustrated me, only making it wag more. Why bunnies had to have the most embarrassing tials on the planet was beyond me, but getting to hear it laugh was worth something. I was just thankful the cashier couldn't see.

"It's so shitty how few options y'all get," the cashier like it had anything to do with her. I turned knowingly to Ana, who just ruffled her feathers and shook its head. "Anyway, can I help you find anything?"

I grinned, trying to hide my anxiety, and held a plastic bag out to her. "I, uh, need to make a return." She took the bag, opened it, and raised an eyebrow.

"Are these not the jeans you just bought like, three weeks ago?"

I blushed and tried to hide behind my ears. They're not quite long enough to do that yet - the best I could do was hide a bit of the blush creeping up from behind my mask. Being covid-conscious is cool, but really I just prefer to keep it covered so people hopefully fill in the gap with something a little more affirming than what's under it.

"Yeah, they just… Don't fit anymore." I gestured to the snug black sweats I was wearing. I had cut a hole in the back for my tail like I'd done for most of my pants, and turned to the side to show her. Ana would rib me for this choice later, calling me a show-off, but I swear it's not like that. That decision had nothing to do with how cute the cashier was.

"Ohh, because of the medication?" She said, "Or have you just been hitting the squats too hard?" I'd done a lot of wishing my face had the full-coverage fur some other girls have, and the amount of blushing I was doing wasn't making that wish go away. I wanted to look cool; I needed to look cool. That was at least fifty percent of the reason to even be in this shop in the first place.

"A little bit of both," I said sheepishly.

The girl behind the counter looked over her shoulder to nobody, then leaned in. "Technically, our policy doesn't allow returns after two weeks,' she started in a whisper. "But! That policy is bullshit and unfair and you seem cool, so no worries! It's important to be a good ally, or whatever."

After we got the returns handled, she helped me find some new ones, cut me a discount, and assured me I could return them whenever I needed to. At the rate I've been developing at, that's quite the relief. Anabella mostly floated around the conversation, speaking up only right as we crossed the threshhold to leave.

"You know she was staring at you constantly, right bestie?" it said matter-of-factly, adjusting a couple askew feathers. The task seemed to frustrate her quickly, and she never complained when I realigned them instead. Gave me something to do other than be a blushy mess.

"Yeah, people stare, whatever," I said quickly.

"You know what I mean." She shook its wings out and pulled them in.

"I'm gonna count it as another point for her being one of us," I chided, hopping along a step ahead of Ana. I wasn't not hoping to garner a little more attention.

"Sometimes people are nice and gay, Salem," said Ana, its voice like a hand waving my sentence away as she made the same motion with her actual hand and wing in tandem.

"And sometimes they're nice, gay catgirls. When have I ever been wrong?" My tail fluttered unconsciously - I was still getting used to it - and I crossed my arms triumphantly.

"When you decided to spend $200 on a bunch of pants that you knew wouldn't fit a month later," Ana giggled. My new ears were too good at picking up that noise; I nearly melted into it, but managed to stay strong.

Sara Berry- Sad Lesbian

So I don't know how big the Sara Berry fandom is on here, but I wrote like a novella's worth of stuff based on shipping her with Julie Jenkins, and I figured some people here might like it. Contents include: angst, sad lesbians, hurt and comfort, happy endings, silliness, a bunch of horror movie director/actor references, sesbian lex in the second part, and some AU fun in part 4

In Laios' words

She's so cool!!!!

Little sticker design for me BC i love Monster people