WickedCadrach

Fuck. Because nice things should happen for nice people.

Fuck. Because I just had the weirdest flashback of watching Haekel's Tale and being stupidly scaroused at the graveyard zombie sex scene... and if I have a zombie husband... I mean, gotta try that, right?

Guilty. So I used to do lighting for this little auditorium theater, and one night, I see this stage light that just looks kind of 'muddy' and I'm staring up into it like "what the hell?" But I don't want to bring down the whole rig, so I kill the lights, get a ladder, climb up and open the lens to see inside. I'm thinking maybe something came loose inside when the rig was raised or somehow something dripped into it (idk, something normal). As soon as I open the lens, I hear this terrifying rattling and something shoots out directly into my face. I have zero time, my mouth opens in surprise and whatever-the-fuck-that-just-was shoots directly into my mouth. It is bubbling-pizza-cheese-hot and I'm mainly trying not to swallow whatever it is while I start making this deranged bird-call of a scream from the top of a ladder. The rest of the crew is naturally 'alarmed' and rush up under the ladder to shout various versions of "Wicked, are you ok?" I finally get a handle on this thing in my mouth, the problem is, now I have nowhere to spit it because everyone's around my ladder like the final scene in a zombie movie. So I just pick a direction and spit. And about fifteen feet or so below me, I ping one of my fellow crewmembers in the face with a hot lamp (little lightbulb for the stage light) covered in my spit. Someone had apparently changed the lamp in that light but left the old burnt-out lamp inside the light when they sealed it back up, letting it cook in there—and I got to hear fun impressions of my panicked gargling of a hot lightbulb and jokes about how I don't swallow for awhile. The next person is afraid of heights.

Guilty-ish? I really enjoy cooking, but probably every week or two I get myself into a scheduling corner where it's late and I'd rather just get a little pizza or something. The next person had an 'ah-ha' moment this week where something suddenly became clear to them.

Kill. But there's no time to explain!

Fuck. It's a distraction to set up the next kill.

Guilty. I burn more quickly than a crepe. The next person enjoys camping.

hex crawl

Marry. I get the vibe that being part of this throuple would spark some sort of enlightenment... or maybe a superpower.

"Easy... Easy, fella..." Emily whispered aloud as she sent the words flowing through the computer spike into the Hive frame's consciousness. The aftershocks of her climax continued to bleed through the connection as well, adding a surreal tranquility to the frame's gait as it followed her direction and leapt for the passing carrier. The jarring impact made Emily's hand close around the cybered hook holding her in the destroyed cockpit and her breath caught as the frame, unused to having this much freedom, toddled a bit before rolling itself aboard and dropping to a nervous, defensive crouch. The other LU frames meant it no harm, but the freshly liberated mind couldn't have known that for sure—only what reassurances Emily's thoughts were feeding it, drifting in like a memory of a dream. "It's ok..." Emily cooed, but as she did, she could feel the ecstasy and adrenaline already beginning to fade. While the carrier engines pulled her away from the fighting below, she flinched, gritting her teeth as synch-shock rippled through her cyber. For most pilots, synch-shock was an uncomfortable bit of nausea that came with synching to a BioFrame not entirely compatible with them... a new companion or one that harbored some hostility or grudge against them usually. It was annoying, but manageable with deep-breathing and maybe an antiemetic in tougher cases. But for Patches, her abundance of haphazardly-rigged cyber complicated things. She was sharing a mind with the liberated Hive frame, a scared creature trying to understand what was happening through the cracks in the metal shell that blinded its feral mind up to that point—synch-shock was all but inevitable in these cases until the frame calmed down—and it was only natural that part of its anxious padding about and scanning would involve reaching into Emily's consciousness as well, disrupting the mech-parts keeping her together. Error codes flew, and twitches rippled through her limbs as Emily engaged the manual locks to keep her seizing body from simply throwing her from her precarious perch. Riding out the wave, she unlocked her arms and head, releasing a sigh through the metal slits of the vents cut into the sides of her throat like gills. With an unsteady hand, Emily pulled a pill bottle from her jacket, her fingers tacky with the drying neurofluid lingering on her skin. She downed the pill, feeling her body numb, the connection to the hijacked frame dulling slightly, but also keeping it from messing with her cyber any more than it already had. "It's going to be ok," she said once more, reaching through a blasted plate and caressing a bare bit of the BioFrame's flesh beneath. "You're safe." "Emily? You okay?" At Captain Payarkoon's call, Patches rolled her neck, unlocking the rest of her joints and dangling from the exposed hole in the Hive frame's chassis. "All good, Captain. He's nervous but steady." Emily didn't know if the frame was a 'he' a 'she' or otherwise, it was more a habit—the way people tend to assume dogs are male and cats are female until given evidence otherwise—and regarding a Hive frame, they weren't likely to know until someone was able to successfully synch with it. Even after pulling the Hive plating and limiters off the poor creature, it was likely neutered of any external genitalia that might give a hint to its origins or identity. Of course, looking down at her nude Captain, it was extremely clear what sort of bits she was carrying. Maybe it was the lingering bliss of her climax with Scylla or perhaps the warm fuzz of the drugs keeping her body from collapsing in on itself like a dying star, but Emily found she lost her train of thought for a moment as the captain's athletic and glistening body bent back to look up at her. Payarkoon was a hard-ass, but she came by it honestly—Patches would swear she could have bounced at quarter off that dark curve. The Hive frame shifted, giving the Captain an interested look as it picked up Emily's thoughts, and she quickly shook her head to refocus. Business first. "I'll try to keep him reined until engineering can get a—REBECCA! // @GhostSeer//" Emily waved across the open hanger to the dark-haired engineer who had just pulled them out of the fire. "Perfect timing! We hijacked this Hive frame. Can you get under the hood and let us know what we're looking at?"

Guilty. Guitar, mandolin, and I know enough to get around an ocarina. Never been in a band for more than about five minutes though. The next person has written a song.

carpet cleaner

Not guilty, at the moment. This changes day to day, and I'm trying to focus on what I can control. The next person regularly supports or volunteers for a charitable organization.

Guilty. Could be worse. I've never been hospitalized or really treated for it. I've seen friends involuntarily committed (forced to stay in psychiatric hospital against their will) for the things they've said, and that's not something I think I could deal with. The next person believes in 'tough love'.

open relationships

Not guilty. Unless you count school reenactments for whatever those civics classes were called. The next poster has a specific technique or ritual for kickstarting themselves out of a depressive spiral.

Not guilty. Only been as far as 'detained' without being cuffed. I honestly hate how much being raised in a church has given me this phobia around authority figures and 'getting in trouble' - then again, it's also a kink now, so joke's on them, I guess The next person has changed their mind about a person (potential friendship, romance, or sex) after finding out that person's job.

slow pan

"Of course," Emily groaned, seeing the large BioFrame Ya had sighted for her. Taking hold of the black tendrils nearest her hands, Emily's thoughts and small motions helped Scylla to reorient her in the cockpit, turning her booted feet to the fleshy channel at the base of Scylla's white-steel spine. She was panting, her eyes fluttering as sweat poured over her temple and caught in her hair or mingled with the layer of neurofluid on her skin linking her to Scylla's mind. The feeling was intense, demanding her attention. Emily wished she could simply give in... just lose herself in the blissful insistence of the black tentacles her BioFrame used to draw pleasure from her like a pump. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to hold out... tried to make it count. Every second she did built Scylla's fervor, driving the tentacled frame on like a demon on the battlefield. "F-fuck!" Emily gasped, her shoulders tensing as she tried to focus, watching through the shared senses as she felt Scylla galloping over the coastal field in the same rhythm her tendrils were pistoning inside of her. Time dilated as the computer trajectories of Scylla and Patches' cyber mingled with the BioFrame's feral instinct and Emily's own intuition. The shared minds made a plan on the fly, half-practiced, half-improvised. Something that took them both working together to realize. Her feet came together, her pussy clenching on the pumping head of the tentacle stroking her inner walls like the coil of a soft, fleshy screw. The other tentacles around her body slipped from her clothing, coiling around her like a dozen dark pythons that held Emily immobile, tugging her pony-tail painfully back and making her lips part in an O as the weak shiver of barely restrained pleasure—of the orgasm her body demanded and she would not yet give—rippled across her flushed skin. Scylla was at Patune's back now, leaping for the broad war-frame's shoulders like a pouncing jaguar and gripping, perched like a parrot for one small second as white-steel claws and fanning, eight-meter tentacles arced over Scylla's cephalopod head. "Now!" Emily cried out. Release. Like a shockwave, Emily's head was thrown back, her eyes shooting wide and reflecting the dim glistening flesh around her like starlight. Her senses faded, flaring and going dark for one bare second like a candle caught in a harsh wind. Scylla made a roaring, warbling sound, arching in a similar motion as her tentacles and limbs all shot back onto Patune's shoulder, launching her in a leaping arc for the disabled BioFrame. The Hive frames did not expect the abrupt charge and there was momentary confusion as targeting lines were adjusted and defensive postures were swiftly drawn. But Scylla made no move to attack. Reaching the downed frame, her access port slammed to damaged cockpit Patune's mass drivers had just blasted to shreds. There was a wet squelch as black tentacles ejected from Scylla's access port at the base of her torso, and Emily, still in the throes of her own aftershocks was deposited into the broken frame. With a smile, the pilot's cybernetic hand grasped the rent metal, a hook ejecting from the base of her palm to clamp her in place like a climbing piton. With the other hand, she drove a computer spike into the blasted Hive console, directly through a blood stain where the obliterated pilot must have been, and an arc of blue electricity coiled up the spike's lead to the base of Emily's skull. "I'm in! Get to the carrier!" But she didn't need to give the order. Scylla knew what to do. And using the disabled BioFrame as a springboard, the white, tentacled mech propelled herself up toward the low-flying carrier, swinging wildly for the extended platform that would give her a place to land. //Emily makes her Burglary roll to hijack this Hive frame. = 5 = (Burglary +1) + (Edge of Glory boost +2) + (roll -1, 0, 0, +1) + (Fate point invoking Silicon-Hearted Mech Hacker aspect +2) // //I can make any rolls you might want for Scylla if we need to check any of the stuff she's trying to do //

Sorry! It fell through my notifications and straight out of the back of my mind. I'll get a reply out soon to see if we get this Hive frame.

Guilty. Not too different from IsabellaRose's morning routine, it seems. Though, I get to skip the dressing and driving to work in favor of working at home... so I tend to get an early start on my procrastinating. The next person is procrastinating on EcchiDreams instead of doing what they're supposed to.

circumstantial evidence

Years ago, I unironically loved anchovies on pizza. Still do, I imagine. Though, I'm not eating them these days. The next person has a strict morning ritual.

Love stories

Unexpected party