NOT just A ROBOT
shipping meme
There's always a right tool for the job, be it as simple as a hammer for a nail or on up to the much, much more complex. In this, the near future, the new tool for the abstract, post-modern job is no longer from the humble tool box - it's robots. Robots have taken over most sectors, such as assembly, law enforcement, and even health care. Things run so much smoother when they're automated. Yet the most impressive factor is that robots have just recently begun to enter a sector previously believed to require human touch: the personal sector. From personal assistants to robo bodyguards to pleasurebots, most anyone who's anyone has a personal robot these days. Of course, humanity being the narcissistic charmers we are, all "companion" sector robots are made in our own beautiful image, or close to it.
But you know this. You have a personal robot, after all...or you are one.
Whether owner or robot, it's important to remember one key rule: robots, no matter how human they appear, cannot feel emotions. Any appearances thereof are programming in the AI.
Robots certainly, absolutely, cannot fall in love. Again, any appearances thereof are programming in the AI. If that's not the case, and "love" still seems present...
...well, a toll that no longer functions correctly may not be right for the job.
HOW TO PLAY ➟
- Comment with your character, preference, and whether you want to play a human or a robot.
- Reply to others.
- Use the RNG to choose a prompt or pick one yourself.
OWNER ➟
- Long Time Owner → You and your robot are a well-oiled machine, no pun intended.
- New Purchase → Congratulations, you have your brand new personal bot!
- Second Hand → Someone else owned this robot before you, but it can't be too damaged. There's no way you could afford a brand new one, anyway.
- For Science! → Your interests in robots are purely scientific. No matter how yours begins to act towards you, honest!
- Rescue → Whether you took them from the dump or from a bad owner, you brought this robot from the jaws of deletion.
- Reluctant → You never wanted a robot, but you've got one thrust on you anyway.
- Cruel → They're just a fancy computer, so you'll treat them however you like.
- See the Humanity → Even if you know it's all machinery and programming, you can't help but see the human side of your robot. They shouldn't have to be a servant.
- What's Real and What's Not → The lines are beginning to blur between real people and their emotions and your robot.
- Incompatible → You can't be with a machine, either romantically or sexually. You're simply not compatible.
- Too Engrossed → They say you've created a fantasy world. You're forgetting reality, or choosing to ignore it.
- Don't Care → You won't listen to what the others say; you know how you feel.
- Have to Pull Away → The close relationship you had with your robot has to be put aside for your own good.
- Live a Normal Life → As much as you can, you and your robot live like a normal couple.
- Bad End → Your robot is taken away, reprogrammed, or destroyed.
ROBOT ➟
- The Perfect Robot → You know what you and exactly what you were made to do. You will not stray.
- More Human than Human → Whoever programmed you made you to be just like a human.
- Conflicted → There is no way you could have what they call "feelings." But what is this stirring in your circuitry?
- Confused → Why do people treat you like a robot? You're a living thing, damn it!
- Damaged → Somehow, you've been corrupted. You're a blank slate and have to be cared for, though it should be the opposite. Or it could be that you're showing erratic behavior that no robot should...
- Shown Kindness → When you're treated kindly by a human, you are unsure how to process it. It makes you feel - content.
- No Longer Just a Program → Your "love" and "affection" may have been shades and imitations at first, but that's not the case any longer.
- Obsolete Model → You know you're old. Will you be forced to leave your master's side?
- Jealousy → A robot should not feel jealous. Still, you envy those close to your master.
- Job is Personal → You were programmed to protect or to serve, though you also do it because you...care
- Second Chance → Your old master tossed you aside and now you are wary. But you've been given another chance instead of being used for scrap.
- Rogue → There is no way you will be tied to the oppressive system. You refuse to serve the Living Things. Somehow, though, you've become aligned with one.
- One of a Kind → There are no other robots like you, and perhaps you are intended for a sinister fate. Rather than face your true duty, you have escaped to take refuge with a human.
- Specialty → You were created specifically for this one special person.
- Reprogrammed → Because of previous defects, you were taken back to factory settings before. However, that treacherous virus, "love," is bubbling back up.
- Android → You can't just forget the part of you that was - still is - organic.
- Learn to Be Human → Despite the odds and the prejudices you both will face, you have decided to live as a free, living person with the one you care for most.
- Bad End → You're to be junked, impacted, wiped clean, or taken away from your owner.
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bakerstreet2018-08-13 08:08 pm
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He chases it, still slow but perhaps a little more deliberate. Chases it by ducking to carefully test Tony's lower lip with the softest trace of tongue. It's not intrusive, it's not demanding, it's searching for something. Testing a hypothesis.
Granted, he's having a hard time focusing on it with the softness of hands along is back, along his shoulders. This, too, is new- the intimacy of a touch that lingers, and not in the same way that Tony occasionally settles at his side or clasps his shoulder. This is a gentle and affectionate affair, searching in equal measure. If it weren't so comfortable it might be overwhelming; if he weren't stoned it might be terrifying. As it stands he's got just enough of a block on his inhibitions that it becomes lazy and dreamlike, unhurried and thorough.
And if his hand slides up Tony's chest to curl around his shoulder, well... that's sort of a selfish thing. ]
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Kissing's an art and Tony? Has more than enough experience to consider himself something of a master. His nails dig in slightly at Bruce's scalp, lips parting in blatant invitation. Dip in deeper, take more, he's into it. Here for it. Taking back, a little, as his hand slides down to the small of Bruce's back and gently tugs, causing his shoulder to tighten, flex. Closer would be better. Bruce is solid, he knows he's solid but feeling that weight is more comforting, more grounding than he'd expected and he wants-
Wants to be pinned down to the sofa by it. Wants to be wrapped up in that hollow created by Bruce hunching inward. It's a lazy kind of wanting, the sort that settles in the blood like honey when you know the good thing's coming in time. His tongue glides out, dragging against Bruce's top lip, flicking at the seam. Asking, as much as Bruce had been asking with that first press of lips. ]
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He learns something new about himself: fingernails gently scratching along his scalp make him breathe in a quiet, sharp inhale at the feeling. Lazy electricity melts down his spine and a flush takes hold of him making his skin feel taut. Whether it's that or it's the gentle tug that gets him shifting, he honestly couldn't say. Move he does, though, with a guiding hand on Tony's shoulder pressing him gently down and back onto the couch. He follows in tandem, slow and easy and without ever breaking away from the kiss, a knee settling somewhere just to the left of Tony's legs and against the back of the couch.
How can he possibly break away with Tony's lips parting and inviting an entirely new level of exploration? He accepts the invitation easily, with the gentle opening of lips still sealed against the world but parted to allow access, encouraging it, requesting it. ]
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Body chemistry changes when you shove a generator in your torso. Who knew?
The hand at the small of Bruce's back shifts as it becomes less of a grounding touch and more of Tony's arm just, holding him. Supporting him, coaxing him close to come in and curl around him. To lean his weight down and make out on the sofa like teenagers or something, it doesn't matter.
Tongue against tongue and that same sigh twists out of him again, long and low and easy huffed through his nose as he finally gets a taste. ]
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The rest of him settles carefully, tentatively, not his whole weight like he's afraid of pressing down too hard on the man beneath him, afraid he's fragile or he'll find himself short of breath. Achingly careful and deliberate in every single piece of this, not even the slightest loss in control.
For someone accidentally kissing someone else, it sure as hell seems like he has every single scrap of his shit together.
This is a research mission, this is a new planet to explore, this is uncharted territory and he's always been knowledgeably adventurous. The way he holds himself atop that left elbow leaves space along their right side, leaves him hovering in places where his body doesn't press to Tony's, leaves him an expanse to travel with his right hand, and travel it he does.
It snakes down from that grip along Tony's shoulder, snakes down until it finds the hem of Tony's shirt where it's ridden up an inch or two from his sweats. Fingertips trace that exposed skin, dipping in just an inch to feel the warmth of his stomach, teasingly gentle and endlessly patient, always asking permission without saying a fucking word.
Not that he could, with the beautifully metallic taste of strawberries and copper chasing his tongue. ]
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Oh.
Oh.-
He drops his head back enough, hand coming around to cup Bruce's jaw as he stares up at him, wide eye'd and wondering. ]
This is why you were so tense? [ Like it matters, but it doesn't. Not when he can lean back in and seal their lips again. Tease his tongue alongside Bruce's and breathe him in. Shiver his way through the trailing of his fingers and maybe get a little bit of his own back.
Sure, he's built this body. Laid out every nerve strand by strand, implanted the hair, painted freckles into the skin- but it's something new and precious under his calloused palms as he skims his hand under Bruce's shirt in turn, resting the flat of his palm against the small of his back. The shape is known, the motions familiar but the warmth? Unique to Bruce, who's exploration already sidles up against a razor thin scar. Something old from the earlier days of flying around, and he's littered with them. Some are sensitive, some are ticklish, but this one? Prompts a shiver. A subtle arch upward into the contact, into the bulk and warmth of Bruce's body. Asking with a touch and there's not a single thing Tony thinks he could deny him.
Not now. Not like this. ]
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Not Tony seeing through him in complete hindsight, summoning up sudden conclusions on things Bruce had done a marvelous job at suppressing. There's no denying the slight widening of his eyes, the way they duck down and to the left like he's thinking about skirting the truth.
Tony doesn't give him the time. He blows Bruce's expectations away with a hand on his jaw and lips sliding along his again, and something thrums through him. Manifests in the form of a rush of air from his nose, not a sigh so much as an exaltation. Yeah, that's precisely why he was so tense, thank you.
Up until now, he's done a marvelous job at controlling his body. It lasts right up 'til Tony's hands, rough and soft at the same time somehow, slide up the bare skin of his back. Heat pools low in him in a response he can't quite keep from happening anymore, the shift of his hips back and away is almost an apology.
But he doesn't stop. He can't. Couldn't if you paid him, because his own fingers find dips and ridges, fine lines that make Tony shift beneath him and shiver. He could write a book about this, every piece of this. He could publish an entire series, like J.K. Rowling. Seven books at nine hundred pages each. He's got the muse, the motivation, the desire. ]
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Don't laugh. He absolutely cannot laugh- but he doesn't let that just be, either. It is what it is and dealing with it is part of the human condition. So it's rude, probably, to try and tug him back in.
He's a guy, he doesn't mind, these things happen, it's not the current point or highlight of the moment. Tasting his lips is. Learning the shape of his smile from point blank range until he does have to pull away to suck in a slow breath, blinking dreamy eyes up at Bruce. He gets it, now. Gets everything of the awkwardness and he could feel a way about it. Should probably try to talk about it.
But this feels too good to interrupt with conversation.
His head lolls back against the cushions as a soft groan twists out of him and, he could be a more active participant. Might be in a moment but- letting Bruce explore, letting him dig in and find what works, what doesn't? That's worth enjoying. Heat blooms under his skin, has nis nails digging in slightly, his breath shivering out because even the tumble last week wasn't like this. Wasn't this warm, wasn't this slow. Wasn't something he could savor and with little more than a kiss and a touch, Bruce has pushed that other person so far out of his mind Tony will be lucky if he can remember their name ever again. ]
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Tony tugs him back in and, reluctantly he goes. Settles himself back down again preoccupies his mind feeling the taut lines of Tony's stomach, feeling around his ribs, palming around his side and sliding fingertips beneath him to his shoulderblade.
He separates their mouths for a moment but not to end things, not to make another quick observation, just to make a noise that runs through him like hot water. ]
You took your shirt off. [ He admits finally, quietly, speaking in soft murmurs for the first time since this began, fingers still idly trailing. ] And it... I don't know, it turns out I have a... thing.
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To say the least, it's fucking distracting. Enough to make him want to escalate but- slow. Lazy and slow and taking their time and there's a comfortable pace going he'd like to continue. Still. He can't help but hitch his hips a little, arching into every pass of Bruce's hand like a cat, only to go still at that sound. He's pretty sure he didn't give Bruce the ability to make sounds like liquid sex.
Mostly sure. ]
Oh? [ He tips his head to the side, hand slipping up to brush his ridiculous fucking curls out of his face. ] What, um. What kind of thing?
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Tony himself is probably one of those people. Meanwhile, Bruce has touched himself exactly one time and that is the full extent of his sexual prowess. It's. Fucking unpleasant to think about. He does not like being ignorant on a subject, it goes against his primary drive.
A thumb strokes carefully along the dip Tony's shoulderblade makes as it disappears into his back, that few inches before his spine. ]
Like a- kind of a... shoulders. Thing. [ He admits, with just the smallest detectable trace of embarrassment lacing the words. Humility, maybe, or... apology, for eyeing him up when they had a job to do. ] So yes. I was an asshole, and I acted like a dick. I'm sorry. But- in my defense... I mean, it was... a lot.
[ A lot of neck and shoulders and back and crawling around side by side shimmying down his body, pressed in tight closed quarters breathing against his jaw.
If Tony can put himself back in the moment with this new context in mind he might have a little understanding for Bruce's struggle that day. ]
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Oh. A shoulders thing.
That does paint the entire second half of their adventure in an entirely new light and, again, he doesn't laugh. Because he knows that level of shame just waiting to reach out and drag you down, knows what it's like to want and not understand how to go about it. The sulky near teenager act sort of fits, then and-
Shit Bruce is effectively a teenager in his social development.
If only he wasn't too stoned to give a fuck.
Tony leans up, pressing his lips to Bruce's sweet and slow, gentle as anything. The barest drag of tongue, the lightest scrape of teeth, new variables in the overall equation that is kissing. New flavors to try, new tools in the arsenal. ] Hey.
[ He murmurs, cradling Bruce's stupidly square jaw in his hand, thumb smoothing across his cheek. ] It's fine. You've never been- and it's confusing for us too, when we're not used to it.
[ A beat, and he tilts his head to the side. ] Should I, um. Should I take my shirt off for you now, or would you rather it stay on?
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[ He starts, taken aback by the offer, faltering between a resounding yes and the want to make sure he's not... crossing a line, or god forbid making Tony feel pressured to cater to him through feelings of obligation or pity, or-
He shifts back, falters, slips his hand from behind Tony's back to trace his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger. ]
You really... don't have to do anything you don't... want to do, it's not like-
[ Not a requirement, not like he's not having... a good time like it is.
And if the shirt comes off he can't guarantee any real semblance of respectability.
A traitorous single-minded part of his anatomy is inclined to be more enthusiastic about the idea, but he's a rational man damn it. ]
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Just an idle back and forth stroke against flesh gone pink from kissing, his eyes dark, his smirk slightly coy. Just a little. He should honestly take mercy. NOt pull out the tricks because apparently he doesn't need them. Bruce digs his shoulders.
Really digs his shoulders.
Likes him. So he doesn't need to try to get him into bed since- there's nothing to prove here. But one part muscle memory and a lot of curiosity has him parting his lips to suck the tip of Bruce's finger into his mouth, tongue curling around the pad and- yeah. They'll get back to the shirt thing, probably. ]
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And then.
And then.
And then lips part and the soft hot wet of tongue curls around the sensitive digit and his pupils blow dark and Tony's looking him in the eyes when he does it. He can't even pretend he isn't bothered by it, not when he's pressed against Tony's thigh like that, and the sudden feeling of his stomach bottoming out manifests undeniably physically in a hot second.
He exhales a slow and shaky breath. ]
That is... trouble. That's what that is. That's...
[ Christ. ]
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That's what I want to do ever time I see you reach up to touch your own mouth. That or kiss you.
[ If they're being honest. ]
So I've got a- hand thing. Your hands. They're distracting, very often, as in nigh constantly.
[ So they- they're in the same pot of slowly boiling water, cooking next to each other. Tony can't bring himself to care, not when he can watch Bruce's eyes go dark, not when he can feel him get that much harder, that much more physically effected than he might've thought possible. It's always a headtrip, knowing he can do this to someone, but Bruce? Who always plays so stoic and wry?
It's almost as good as twisting a laugh out of him or one of his genuine smiles.
Eyes still locked on Bruce he turns their hands over, pressing a dry, chaste kiss to the back of Bruce's hand; less coy, more projected innocence. It's all in the eyebrows, really. ]
So let's just- cards on the table. Whatever it is you're thinking? I want to. I very much want to.
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Something he hadn't imagined for a second to be within the realm of possibility. Something he hadn't even remotely put on the table because he's pragmatic and not optimistic.
He's never going to be able to absently play with his lips again without flushing. It's going to be impossible, he's going to realize he's doing it and summon the vividly clear feeling of Tony's mouth. It's... ruined forever, and he can't even say he's particularly upset about it. ]
Yeah, until about... five minutes ago I didn't even think you'd- [ Even consider... ] I didn't really have a plan lined up, but I'm... sure I could put together a few ideas.
[ A beat, then wryly: ]
How do you feel about powerpoint presentations?
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Stoned Tony just...likes the way Bruce's hair feels against his palms, Likes being able to pull him in gently for another kiss. It's less want, more affection. Dry and chaste and as easy as the afternoon started, thumbs swiping idly against Bruce's scalp. ]
Mm? [ Power point? He blinks, brow furrowing, utterly baffled before his nose crinkles, eyes slipping shut as giggles twist out of him. Soft and lilting, wrapped up in a warmth he hasn't felt for another person since-
Since Pepper. He tips his head forward enough to rest his forehead against Bruce's, smile audible. ] Sure, Bruce-Goose. How fast can you whip one up?
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[ Judging by the mouth wrapped around his finger a minute ago? He tilts his head, sort of a wry shrug, lets it speak for itself.
Creepy, though? No, not even in the slightest. Not even for one second. Tony's been nothing but considerate, compassionate, kind. Good to him from the first second, good to him now, every space in between.
The hands in his hair feel good in an entirely different way, in a comforting way, in a way that makes him want to lower himself down and close his eyes just to feel it. He'll take a chaste kiss as a viable alternative though, and return it just as sweetly. Huffs a laugh into at the sight of Tony's nose crinkling.
This is... good.
If he'd known this is all it took he'd have gotten them stoned weeks ago. As far as how to proceed from here though? How to take things to the next level, or carry them beyond this gentle stopping point? He... isn't actually sure. He's too hesitant, uncertain in the ideas he's got or how to get from point A to point B with them. ]
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At least until Tony tries to reach for his e-blunt and can't quite manage it. He tries, discreetly, to reach for it without giving up much of the comfortable sprawl they've found themselves in but it's just out of reach. ]
Fucknuggets. Shift a sec? [ He lists, strains, and manages to get ahold of the slim rod, rolling it close enough with the very tips of his fingers before snagging it off the coffee table. ] Want a lesson in another vital part of the 'getting baked' experience?
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Is it too much? He can't help but wonder, but this is the most physicality he's ever had and he'd be lying if he said it didn't fill him with a warm and lazy contentment. He can hear Tony's heart beating, he can hear the gentle hum of the reactor in his chest. Hard to be uncomfortable with such a viscerally calming situation.
An eyebrow does arch, though, at the question. He tips his head up, keenly curious, eyeing the thing in Tony's hand skeptically. ]
Tentatively, yes?
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[ It's a little juvenile, he'd only ever really smoked with Rhodey and they just puffed and passed through the years when time came around, so a part of him is deeply curious. It's not something he's had a chance to try since he was a wee nerdling in MIT and if his memory served? It was fucking hot. Enjoying the burn (which the vape won't provide and he's fine with that, he likes his lungs) sucking on the waft of smoke and someone's bottom lip, listing into their space all the while? It's some kind of intimate and, well. ]
The smoke shouldn't damage your lungs at all and you won't process anything; though it might trigger an escalation in the sim you're running? I'm not sure. But- [ He tilts a smile in Bruce's direction, eyes bright, tongue dragging across his bottom lip. ] Does that sound like something you'd like to try?
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[ He points out, sounding amused. He can't imagine it'll accomplish anything, the limited need for oxygen his system requires is for mostly functional efficiency, he doesn't really absorb things through the tissue in such a way that they would impact his processor. In short, it would do absolutely nothing unless he associated it with the triggering if the simulation patch.
But.
If it'll make Tony happy, why the hell not. It's not like it's putting him out or anything. ]
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[ He'd somehow conned Bruce into trying this with him under the guise of academics, he'll not push anything else on him afterward. But- if he's down? And he does seem down. Tony takes a long, slow drag from the vape, turning and tilting his head to just about fit their lips together, a bare breath away.
Smoke thick on his tongue, in his throat, his lungs, he exhales slowly against Bruce's mouth, bottom lip just barely touching. A kiss that is and isn't a kiss, the heat banked under his skin coiling into something like less than vague interest. Which means (finally) the rest of his body starts getting with the program, heating, hardening just fom being this close for this long. ]
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Tony breathes out. He breathes in. Slow, careful, wisps of smoke escape them but not many. His lungs fill with a gentle heat but, in by the simple nature of their material and what he is he doesn't cough.
When he exhales, it's because he can feel Tony physically react to it, a gentle pressure against his hip. It forces the breath from him in with a long, low sound that's almost a sigh.
He has no strong opinions on shotgunning, but very strong opinions on Tony's reaction to it. Experiment success. ]
We could do it the other way around if you want.
[ Because when he exhales there's almost no carbon dioxide. Might make for an interesting turn of events. ]
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