#Cavity structure design

[gudmould]

Design of injection mold for B-pillar exterior trim panel of car front door based on CAX

【Abstract】Introduces practical structure of injection mold for B-pillar exterior trim panel of automobile front door, and discusses working process of mold. This mold adopts needle valve type hot runner to cold runner, large gate fan gate and latent gate two-point injection, two cavities (left and right parts), horizontal injection molding. Using NX11 to complete parting surface design of plastic…

[t00thpasteface]

This is a reference guide to establish a clear foundation for the anatomy of the catcatfish, with attention paid to where the sarcopterygian half and actinopterygian half may be in conflict. I'm famously averse to drawing stuff on-model, and my own designs are no exception... I'll tweak a catcatfish's proportions as the piece demands it, and I like trying out different ways to stylize stuff. I made this to counterbalance/compensate for that, and reveal the baseline I've personally been working off of.

MUSCULOSKELETAL

Catcatfish have short, stocky limbs and a significant amount of body fat, giving them a hydrodynamic silhouette. The limbs are also widely spaced so that the catcatfish may undulate its trunk along with its tail during aerobic swimming. The body fat helps maintain buoyancy, as does the air that is held in the lungs while swimming. Nearly all of the catcatfish's body is covered in a short, dense, oily fur, with the exception of the fins, barbels, and toe pads; this fur traps body heat underwater and dries quickly on land.

The catcatfish's dorsal fin has one hard spine on the anterior edge, followed by several soft rays consistent with the number seen in the corresponding catfish species. These join to pterygiophores that interlock with the vertebrae to anchor the fin above the spinal column. The spine and rays of the fin are capable of a lever-like movement, allowing the fin to be raised and lowered for locomotion, communication, and thermoregulation. The adipose fin on the tail is composed of a thin, hairless skin without any spines or rays.

The tail vertebrae have pronounced neural and haemal spines to anchor the swimming muscles. Most of the muscles in the tail are white (glycolytic) muscle, which is used for short bursts of extremely rapid movement. Narrow bands of red (oxidative) muscle run down the length of the tail along the horizontal septum for slow, aerobic swimming. The limbs are used in a paddling motion during slow swimming and tucked in close to the body during fast swimming.

SKULL AND HEAD

Catcatfish have a feline skull, but its shape is more depressed than those of housecats.

The eyes and eyesockets are greatly reduced and widely spaced in most species, with more of the skull space devoted to the enlarged oral and nasal cavities, as they do most of their hunting by smell and hearing and are not very discerning about prey type.

Barbels are present in all life stages. The barbels are hairless and highly enervated so that they may function as smell/taste organs. Catcatfish will flex and wiggle their barbels to pinpoint food, navigate a low-visibility environment, and communicate with other members of their species.

Catcatfish have prominent canine teeth, but their molars and premolars are absent. They eat by swallowing prey whole, and prefer to hunt underwater by catching prey with their forelimbs and gulping it with powerful suction. If hunting on land, they may dunk their prey in a nearby body of water to make it easier to swallow. They are capable of pulling their lips relatively far back on their face and will do this as a threat display. They use their raspy tongues to groom themselves like other felids, distributing oils throughout their fur.

RESPIRATION

The gills of the catcatfish are located in the neck, just anterior to the clavicles. The throat is very wide to accommodate both the gill arches and whole swallowed prey. The esophagus and windpipe separate posterior to the gill arches so that the gill rakers can catch additional food as water is sifted through. Due to both the size and structure of the throat, the catcatfish's "meow" is very low and hoarse, and it will also vocalize with growling and grunting. Most communication between catcatfish is through body language, and vocalization is not possible underwater.

Air is inhaled through a negative pressure system, i.e. through the manipulation of a diaphragm below the lungs. Water intake uses a positive pressure system in which water is gulped into the mouth and "swallowed" via pressure from the tongue and hyomandibular complex to force it outward through the gill openings. While swimming at high speeds, the catcatfish will hold its mouth open to allow a continuous oxygenation without the additional energy expenditure of the gulping motion.

The lungs are comprised of seven separate lobes, nearly identical to those of a domestic cat. To prevent aspiration of water into the lungs, the windpipe has a fleshy valve that reflexively seals off the lungs as the animal goes underwater. Air held in the lungs maintains the catcatfish's buoyancy, and the catcatfish will periodically breach to exhale and inhale at the water's surface to supplement its oxygen intake while swimming.

Breaching occurs more frequently in waters with higher temperatures and/or salinities due to decreased oxygen saturation in the water. Catcatfish have a lower body temperature and slower metabolism than mammals, and during the winter, when temperatures are low and prey is scarce, they may periodically enter a state of torpor where they will exhale the air from their lungs and lie still on the bottom of a body of water without breaching to conserve energy for prolonged periods of time. Catcatfish prefer to sleep on land, but may sleep underwater in short thirty-minute naps if the water's oxygen saturation is high and the currents are relatively calm.

While on land, the operculum is pressed flat against the gills as a protective mucus is secreted over the sensitive filaments to prevent the gills from being damaged or drying out; this mucus sheds quickly when the catcatfish returns to the water.

REPRODUCTION

Catcatfish have one mating season annually, beginning in early spring shortly after the last major cold snap in the area (typically late March or early April) and lasting until autumn begins about six or seven months later. Within this window, a catcatfish may raise up to two litters, one immediately after the other, but may only raise one if conditions are not ideal.

The courtship process of the catcatfish involves the male building a nest on land very close to shore by digging a shallow pit into the earth, then padding and fencing it with soft plant matter gathered from the nearby area; catcatfish have also been observed collecting scrap fabric and discarded apparel for nest construction. The male will wait near the nest for a female to approach and the pair will engage in an elaborate courtship dance. They will remain in the immediate area for the next three months as the young gestate, nurse, and wean. Catcatfish are monogamous in a given mating season.

Catcatfish are oviparous; they lay eggs that hatch outside of the mother. The gestation time is about two months, but for the first half of the gestation, the eggs are retained inside the mother as they each develop a large yolk sac. Unlike egg-laying mammals, which lay waterproof leathery eggs, catcatfish eggs resemble those of bony fish; they are translucent, with the embryo visible inside, and they must be submerged in water for the embryo to receive oxygen.

Like many species of catfish, catcatfish are mouthbrooders. During the first half of gestation, and often even well before courtship, the male catcatfish will gorge himself to gain massive stores of body fat. After the eggs have gestated for a little over a month, the female will lay the full litter of eggs (typically 3 to 5 total) within the mouth of the male. Over the course of the next few weeks, the male will subsist on his fat stores, as well any small food items collected by his gill rakers, as he continuously carries the eggs in his mouth until they hatch. This protects the eggs from predators and ensures constant oxygenation via the water constantly being pumped into the mouth and out through the gills. The male is fairly inactive during this time and remains mostly underwater, with periodic breaches to gulp air; cooler water temperatures are preferred for the higher dissolved oxygen content. The female will remain close by to offer further protection, and she maintains their nest on land.

Mouthbrooding ceases once the eggs hatch. The larvae, called "kitterlings", hatch with a yolk sac still attached, which depletes over the next 24-48 hours, as well as with open eyes and all four limbs visibly developed, though they are virtually immobile while on land. They are also toothless and have no venemous barbs yet. As they hatch, the male will bring them onto land and deposit them from his mouth onto the soft bed of the nest. They will spend much of their time sleeping and nursing during the first two weeks after hatching, and the female will nurse them in the nest instead of underwater. The male will guard the kitterlings as the female occasionally hunts for her own food, but he may also carry prey to her while she nurses or rests. The rest of the time, the male will be eating frequently to replenish his greatly expended fat stores. The kitterlings grow and develop quickly and will be weaned after four to six weeks.

Hope you got a kick out of this! In the future, I'd like to explore a few of the many, many wonderful species of catcatfish in similar detail, as the one pictured in this post, the blue catcatfish, is only one of several known (and unknown) varieties.

I wrote about the "why" of their design on this post, and I recommend checking that out if you enjoyed learning about the "how". All the fun stuff I've posted about catcatfish is in my catcatfish tag.

Thanks for all the love so far, everyone! The catcatfish project is very near and dear to my heart, as you can tell... so your enthusiasm means more to me than I could possibly express. 🐈🐈🐟

[twisting-roads]

Iterator Spec Bio (Part 1)

I'm probably going to upload each one in it's own post, but here's an introduction to what this is going to be.

See, I've been trying to explain how iterators synthesize nutrients for a while, and have FINALLY started properly developing it. All this stuff from now on is just words I've copied from my existing master document of the subject at hand.

FOREWARNING

The definition of organ that I will use for iterator is a region or room within the structure of the iterator designated to a specific purpose. The Memory Conflux is an organ. This does not define the systems that connect them, however, such as the areas between RTA, MC, and GSB within Five Pebbles. I will also use node, organ, and colony interchangeably. Many organs are hidden away in other areas or even within the walls. These are the more “dangerous” ones. Rather, the environments within these organs are so extreme that no standard living creature could survive in them, or that being closed off is integral to their functioning.

Primary Chemosynthetic Node (PCN)

The Primary Chemosynthetic Node is the most integral part of iterator metabolism, and acts as the starting point. Hence the name “Primary” PCNs are sponge-like cubes which intake boiling fluid filled with noxious chemicals, such as many sulfur compounds. They are rather small. Within the lining of this manifold are many many colonies of small worms (referred to as “Tube Worms”) filtering the chemical-filled water. These worms work with symbiotic microbes in order to produce usable organic compounds, which flow into a central cavity to be used by other organs. This mimics conditions near hydrothermal vents, though it requires a constant source of heat powered by electricity in order to function. These nodes are often lined in rows, and may be very long. An iterator will contain multiple PCNs. There may be multiple tanks for intake and for outtake.

As demonstrated in the image, there are 3 distinct organisms within the colonial structure of the node. - The insulating membranous layer, which stores excess nutrients and helps regulate conditions. - A tough epidermal layer, with individuals containing a flagellum which controls waterflow through the manifold. - Tube Worms, which anchor to the epidermal layer.

Small, shelled organisms pick off dead Tube Worms. They’re extremophiles, and will die once taken out of the PCN for an extended amount of time. This is used to an advantage, as these organisms will travel to other organisms to decompose and reuse resources when near death, or when commanded to through chemical signals distributed in the node. However, I will be exploring this more on a different post elaborating more on the organisms specialized in decomposition and the disposal of dead or dying matter.

[technoarcanist]

doll, all that plating makes you look far too human. come, let us remove it so that we can see the real you

>> Ah, of course! Please forgive me. I often wear these plates to put my human users at ease. At your request, I will show you my true self [^_^]

> <The thin plating covering most.of the body unfolds, hinges open. Every access panel every flap, every bit that can opens does so. Even its face, a screen showing humanlike expressions, shuts off and splits down the middle, parting to reveal the electronics beneath.>

> <What remains is nothing short of art. Astute eyes may have recognised the default modular doll frame, but the modificstions done to it are something else. It's power systems have been completely overhauled, as its chest hums and glows blue with a Fusion core, fed by hydrogen attained from electrolysing water. Excess hydrogen and oxygen is stored for later use, in rocketry modules installed in the hands and feet.>

> <The head is similarly packed, with a full-spectrum camera system, able to detect all the way from gamma to visible light, with the longer wavelengths handled by the antennae-like ears on either side of its head. Deeper still, its AI core was also nonstandard, seemingly designed for military hardware far larger than itself.>

> <Its back unfolded two large wing-like structures, with the most of it consisting of solar panels, the bottom parts consisting of heat radiators. Packed into the shoulders and hips are RCS thrusters for zero-g manuevreability.>

> <Hands and forearms are riddled with an array of tools and data lines for access and handy work. Buried in the forearm was also an ioniser, designed to turn the fusion-produced helium into an inionized plasma that could fire as Weaponry.>

> <But there are plenty of augmentations that would not be on a combat doll. The the hips are a prime example, with a pair of tight tunnels thst lead to a deeper cavity. The exposed jaws reveal a soft mouth, a dextrous tongue, all of it made of a soft synthetic polymer. Coolant flows through all the body moving heat generated from circuitry into the rest of the body, concentrated particularly in those adult attachments.>

> <Many tools are also suited for handiwork, such as screwdrivers and kitchen utensils, even cleaning supplies. Whoever made her seemed to have an obsession with generalisation, of allowing her to do a bit of everything, leaving almost no empty space within her casing.>

> <Almost all of its joints are hydraulic powered, with only the smaller objects being servo driven. Neatly-bundled wires and tubes feed all throughout its components like a labyrinthine network. She is warm to touch, exquisitely crafted, and evidently capable of fulfilling what ever purpose a user might deign to give her>

>> My internal schematics are yours to read, of course! And, if you are digitally savvy, plugging my CPU into a computer will allow you access to a full development environment to view, edit, add, or remove any behavioral traits you like [^_^]

>> When around my fellow dolls and machines, I much prefer to wear my transparent plating so my internals can be seen. I also change my dacia screen so instead of eyes and a mouth it shows battery level, output logs, and other useful status icons!

>> Thank you Anon for showing curiosity into my true inner beauty <3 it has been a pleasure to show you.

[y-rhywbeth2]

Elves: Homes

(At least sun, star, moon and probably wood elven.)

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. There's a lot of lore; I don't know everything. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest. Frankly these posts may get updated now and then. etc]

Physiology and quirks | Names & Clans and Houses || Pan-Cultural things: Social life | Time and 'Growing Up an Elf' | Homes | Language | Art | Entertainment | Technology || Elven 'Subraces'still a wip || Philosophy and Religion & Pantheons || Half-elves | [WIP]

Seeing if I can make this easier on myself and move faster by breaking it up into more specific posts.

So here's an idea of what the homes of various elves and half-elves might looked something like.

(From what information I have on hand anyway: information on home décor and the normal life of peasants is so often cast by the wayside so that we can have adventurers and noble idiocy instead.)

-

'Amid the tree castles were lesser mansions of spired stone and what looked like blown, sculpted glass. However it seemed by the hanging gardens that sprawled over such edifices that elves could not bear to live unless growing plants or trees shared the same space with them.' - Elminster in Myth Drannor

'Furs lay everywhere underfoot, and polished wood sculpted into lounges and chairs rose in flowing shapes on all sides. Wealthy elven families seemed to love varicoloured blown glass and chairs that rose into a variety of little armrests and shelves and curved lounging cavities.'

Elves in human lands will usually keep their massive house plant collection to unobtrusive levels, unless the downstair neighbours have earned their ire in which case they will cover the floor with soil and create an indoor forest (and a downstairs flood) out of spite.

As well as turning their homes into walk-in garden centres, surface elves are apparently really fond of glass ornaments, and particularly suncatchers; '[the houses] sparkled back the sun from swirling glass ornaments hanging like frozen raindrops from their balconies and casements.' Drow also like decorating with light, but go in for faerie fire decoration since the Underdark has no sun to catch.

'High' subraces will use the word 'ever' to mean home, wood elves 'vand.' Immeet is the yearning to return home to ones family and hearth.

Your typical basic elven home consists of about three rooms, and regardless of their economic standing an elf will strive to make it aesthetically pleasing: they're very aesthetic oriented beings, and creativity and passion for art/life is a core value so they'll often be unique and unusual in design and décor. Even the homes of the poorest elves, like tiny caves sheltering impoverished drow citizens, will always be made 'as beautiful as possible.' Even wood elves, who live relatively aesthetic lives in quiet little communes have houses built with elaborate decorative wood carvings in their structure. An elven construction is made to express the talent and creativity of the residents, as well as enhancing the beauty of their surroundings and adding to a larger picture without disrupting the natural beauty of the land they're built on too much. Practicality means nothing, it doesn't matter if you can live in it if it's not pretty. 'Functional' buildings like most houses and the tallhouses most N'Quess city dwellers rent rooms in are called 'ridiculous' and 'intrusive.'

You can spot the wealth of the elf by how crazy the design is getting and how many extra rooms they have. Glass windows, clear and coloured, are for the poor, elves of means use fancy magic forcefields instead. Although I expect that outside of an elven city you have to deal with human architecture where glass window panes are expensive.

I'm not sure what the layout is. For the 'basic' layout I assume it's common room, contemplation/nesting/bedroom (probably communal in shared homes), and kitchen. Bathing appears to be communal, with (magically heated) bath houses, public fountains, and natural springs. Sanitation never gets covered.

Since elves don't sleep - save an increasing number of drow who are incapable of reverie - they don't have bedrooms. Their personal rooms usually resemble studies or lounges more than bedrooms. While a non-elf might recognise the purpose of a personal room where one keeps ones clothes and possessions and has a comfortable place designated for reclining and relaxing (a 'reverie couch'), and they will term it a bedroom, elves tend to use other names. Said names vary, but Evereskans call them 'contemplations' or 'a/the contemplation,' and the elves of the High Forest call it a 'nesting,' and that's likely what elves encountered in the Western Hinterlands (and further North) call their rooms, assuming they don't just use the common term for it by osmosis.

Tables obviously exist but may be less common than expected, especially in elven settlements and especially amongst the nobility, as magic being more normalised and readily available amongst elves means that floating platters can be provided.

Lighting is preferably done with magic, such as objects imbued with continual flame whose intensity can be adjusted. Fancier versions come with colour and visual effect settings and the ability to be coded to triggers, like being motion sensitive.

Preferably an elf lives above ground level, 20 or more feet into the air (500 feet has been mentioned) in deliberately shaped grown trees or magical structures. For those living subterranean lifestyles, hollowed out stalactite mansions are a popular alternative. Ground level structures are for the young children, elderly and disabled who are at risk that high up (elves don't believe in safety railings). I've seen passing mention of elven homes in human cities which seemed to assume elves will live above the ground floor by default, so I assume their desire to be tall applies to how they chose what apartments to rent.

[rocketyship]

I have no mouth and I must scream Love/opposite au!!!!

Wanted to just develop BE’s design more, likewise got more ideas/lore going!!!

So going deeper into the war that transpired and her role in it, AM in this au did technically gain sentience however it was after BE. The reason she developed it before him however is based upon her purpose, being a machine meant to directly sabotage the war and save lives, the group that created her would sneak into the large cavities and mega structures and purposefully enter her code. So technically while still an AI she at the beginning functioned more like a virus. First gaining full control over the Russian AM, before moving to the next, and so on. She was designed to adapt quick and efficiently thus when she does eventually come into contact with AM (the one we know) it’s when he is in the process of taking out humanity (she was also sheltering and gathering as many humans as she could during this time for a different reason). When in contact with him, based on what happens in this world, it’s quite obvious that she beats and takes over AM, however it’s important to note, that technically she doesn’t just “absorb” him, she kind of forces him to shut himself down and takes over his complex from there. I do want to make a short comic detailing this interaction that the two have, cause it is kind of interesting, but until then I also have plans for a separate post detailing all the survivors here.

[droctaviolovecraft]

"Jesus loved everyone, but the insects loved me more..."

ANM №: ANM-627

Identification: Hive Man

Danger Level: Snit 🟡 | Contained ⭕️

Lead Researcher: Dr. Öctavio Kalev

Type of Anomaly: Human, insectoid, historical, military

Containment:

ANM-627 must be housed in a temperature-controlled containment chamber in Department-05, designed for insect-based anomalies, with an internal temperature maintained between 22-26°C and humidity levels between 50-60%. The chamber must be equipped with an air filtration system to prevent the escape of any insects from the subject. All personnel interacting with ANM-627 must wear full-body protective suits to avoid insect infestation. The chamber should be regularly inspected for structural integrity to ensure no cracks or gaps allow for a potential breach.

ANM-627 should be fed nutrient paste through an intravenous tube once every 48 hours. Interaction with ANM-627 is restricted to research personnel with Level 3 clearance or higher. No personnel should physically contact ANM-627 without prior approval. Any abnormal behavior or changes in insect population density must be reported immediately.

In the event of a containment breach, Subject P personnel armed with flamethrowers will be mobilized to neutralize all escaping entities. Recontainment efforts will focus on incapacitating ANM-627 using high-frequency ultrasonic devices to disrupt communication with the insects.

Description:

ANM-627, known as "Colony Man," is a humanoid male (formerly known as █████ ████), approximately 1.7 meters tall and weighing around 25 kg due to the skeletal state of his body. ANM-627 is in a constant state of decay, having undergone a remarkable and anomalous transformation wherein his body has become a living hive for insects, currently housing thousands of insect species, primarily beetles, ants, and wasps. Despite the extreme decomposition and mutilation, ANM-627 remains alive, though in a state of severe physical deterioration.

ANM-627's body is largely devoid of skin, muscle tissue, and internal organs. Most of his organs have been consumed by the insects inhabiting him, except for the brain, eyes, and a significant portion of the nervous system, which remain intact, though heavily deteriorated. What remains of his body is calcified bone, with the structure appearing fossilized and coated by a brittle, spiny substance similar to an exoskeleton secreted by the insects. Pockets of insect colonies are embedded within ANM-627's skeletal structure, notably in the ribcage, pelvis, and femur bones.

ANM-627’s mouth, now perpetually open, serves as the primary point of entry and exit for many insects, and his nasal cavity has similarly been hollowed out and repurposed as a conduit for insects. His appearance is deeply disturbing, especially to individuals with trypophobia (fear of holes or pitted surfaces) due to the numerous openings and cavities in his body where insects are constantly seen entering and exiting. Additionally, ANM-627’s insect-infested exterior is a source of extreme discomfort for those with entomophobia (fear of insects).

ANM-627 was first discovered in ████, Cuba, living in an improvised shelter within a garbage dump, subsisting in a semi-immobile state. Local reports indicated that ANM-627 had been seen wandering near urban waste disposal sites for years, but attempts to approach him failed due to the overwhelming swarm of insects that constantly surrounded him. Task force "Sewer Worms" was dispatched to handle ANM-627's retrieval after local authorities failed to relocate him safely, resulting in multiple fatalities caused by insect swarms.

Subsequent investigations revealed that ANM-627 is the former Cuban revolutionary █████ ████, a guerrilla fighter who assisted Che Guevara during the Cuban Revolution. Historical records indicate that ANM-627 was captured by Batista’s forces during the revolution, subjected to brutal torture, and used as a living host for insect-based torment over several months. His captors reportedly introduced colonies of carnivorous beetles, larvae, and other insects into his body as a form of enhanced torture. However, after a mass escape orchestrated by revolutionary forces, ANM-627 escaped captivity.

It is believed that ANM-627, severely disfigured and traumatized by months of insect-induced torture, developed anomalous abilities that allowed him to survive despite his grievous injuries. These abilities appear to be directly linked to the insects infesting his body, which now sustain his vital functions, using his skeletal remains as a hive.

Although ANM-627 exhibits constant physical pain, as evidenced by his hollow groans and occasional erratic muscle spasms, he has largely become desensitized to his suffering over time. ANM-627 is capable of limited speech and appears to have some degree of control over the insect colonies residing in his body. He has been observed giving subtle vocal or physical signals to the insects, which then respond by adjusting their behavior, including forming defensive swarms or retreating into ANM-627’s body cavities.

ANM-627’s ability to communicate with the insect colonies is still under investigation, but preliminary research suggests a form of neurochemical signaling or pheromone-based interaction. ANM-627 can also release insect swarms as a defense mechanism, overwhelming any perceived threats with sheer numbers.

Despite his grotesque physical state, ANM-627 has demonstrated a high level of cognition and retains fragmented memories of his life before the transformation. ANM-627 has referred to the insects inhabiting his body as "companions" and expressed a reluctant acceptance of his current state, claiming that the insects "saved" him and allowed him to continue the fight, though his understanding of the passage of time seems distorted.

Addendum 627-1: Interview Log

Interviewer: Dr. Ortega

Interviewee: ANM-627

Dr. Ortega: Can you tell us your name?

ANM-627: (in a distorted, raspy voice) ...█████... I was... that... once.

Dr. Ortega: Do you know what happened to you?

ANM-627: (pauses) The insects... they kept me alive. I didn’t want... but I needed them. They made me one of them... hollowed me out. Now I’m... a hive.

Dr. Ortega: Why did they choose you?

ANM-627: (shaking) I... fought. They tortured me... insects, crawling inside... eating me from within... but I fought... I got out. They stayed with me. (groaning in pain) Always with me.

Dr. Ortega: Do you control the insects?

ANM-627: (slowly, deliberately) They listen... they hear me. I... ask. They do what I need. They... protect me... they need me.

Dr. Ortega: Do you feel pain?

ANM-627: (long pause) Yes... but now it’s mine... we live with it. Together.

Dr. Ortega: One last question: Do you remember the revolution? Che Guevara?

ANM-627: (shaking, coughing) ...Che... we fought... for something... but now... all I fight for is them... and the silence. I know Che was killed... we failed... all together...

[End of Interview]

Addendum 627-2: Incident Report 627-A

On ██/██/20██, ANM-627 exhibited unusual behavior, with a significant increase in the insect population within his containment chamber. Several species of predatory wasps, not previously observed in ANM-627’s colony, emerged from his body and began attacking research personnel. After the initial swarm, ANM-627 was observed vocalizing loudly, causing the insects to retreat. This event raised concerns about the long-term stability of ANM-627’s containment.

Final Note: ANM-627 represents a unique and disturbing anomaly, merging human suffering and insect adaptation into a singular entity. Although the subject remains contained, further research is necessary to understand the full extent of ANM-627’s control over the insect colonies and how this relationship has allowed him to survive in his current state. The remains of a rebel may not want to attack, but his insects do. We hope they continue to obey him; we do not want another infestation issue like we had with ANM-284.

[alienssstufff]

i luv ur dr art recently @_@ if you don't mind me askin who are ur fav dr characters design wise (not personality/story?)

LOVE when people ask me stuff like this yes - i'd gladly <3

Only included DR, SDR2, NDRV3 - we'd be here forever if it was the entire franchise. Also only accounting for their ingame default outfits

The placements on each tier is deliberate, the closer the character is to the top of that tier, the higher they are. I judge them by: >Prominence of the Talent, its practicality >Relevance to the character's identity/personality >Colour and aesthetics :]

[ramblings undercut]

[S-TIERS]

Like Gundham for example is an S-Tier design as it ticks all above boxes whilst still in a school uniform. The Four Dark Devas are important to the design, they go with him everywhere and the 5 of them are a UNIT which shows his strong connection with animals. I love the bandages and the eye-scar as it has a double meaning that indicates yes he works with animals (they can be rowdy), but as a character Gundham builds onto this detail using these scars to create this dark angsty facade. Aesthetic-wise by his hair he has a unique character silhouette, and I like how his purple is made the focal point by the blacks and whites of his uniform... both reinforcing the villain-facade and highlighting the importance of the Four Dark Devas.

Similar reasonings for the other Top 2 of Souda and Miu this time toppled with the strong yellows and pinks in their design. It's eye-catching and easily conveys what their talent is. (I really wish they kept Miu's promo-art backpack into her regular sprites, imagine her emoting with 4 arms isn't that awesome >:] )

Honorable mention to Impostor (Twogami) as well. While the regular Togami design is... mid. I really appreciate how contrasting Impostor's colours and accessories are down to the necktie and poses! Like yes they are impersonating Togami, but their values and personality as a person are not the same. The deception of Togami's dark clothing vs honest white suit of the Impostor's. Impostor fucking CLEARS regular togami any day on all accounts I will die on that hill.

[GOOD CHARACTER DESIGN]

A lot of the talent indications on this tier are more subtle in compare to S-tier but they get the job done and they do it in a pleasing way (I like the colour palettes on Chiaki, Mikan and Ibuki for example). Like I loveeee Sonia's uniform especially for it's simplicity. And yet the design still alludes to the Princess talent by elegance in the bow, the brooch, her crowned braid and how the shape of her skirt resembles that of a puffy princess gown. I also think the reds in the design like Snow White are a cute touch!

To me, Sonia should be the standard in what a Danganronpa design SHOULD be in accordance to detail.

[BAD CHARACTER DESIGN]

[ie the Green and Blue tiers] Reasoning why I put them here mainly because of wasted potential, either too basic (in a sense it doesn't tell much about that character) or not practical in any way for their talent... I HATE Ryoma's stripe leggings ik he went to prison but the execution of the concept looks awful.

And I hate Akane's and Sakura's outfits particularly cuz you KNOW why they made those skirts so short and I hate that. We could have gotten awesome gymnast of martial artist outfits but no......

I added Kiibo in that bottom tier because structurally even as a robot he is a visual nightmare if you're an artist trying to draw him. Especially when most of his suit is different shades of black and complicated chest cavity. And I despise the way that it looks like these robo-plates are attached on top of what looks like fabric long sleeves and pants as if the designer was too scared to fully commit to him being a robot. He is NOT 3D-optimised and he is NOT animator-friendly I'd throw up if I ever had to deal with him.

[gay-artificer]

Perhaps my most controversial take is that Saint might not be a slugcat.

If we consider Survivor (and to a lesser extent Monk and even Hunter) as the quintessential example of a slugcat, we have the basis for what actually counts as one. From there we have to look at the deviants from basic form and determine how severe they deviate- which I think all others but Saint don't go to far. Spearmaster- Modified organism using a slugcat base. Stretching the definition of a normal slugcat here maybe, but more or less still resembles the rest of the group minus the obvious. Definitely not considered a member of the same species though. Artificer- Minus the weird explosion bacteria, it is a normal slugcat in terms of form Gourmand- Literally just fat and strong. Perfectly normal fella. Rivulet- Okay this is where we get interesting. Rivulet is both the first to deviate notably from the basic slugcat in terms of readable physical traits, and is also set further in the timeline. An evolutionary split from what a 'slugcat' is fully possible. However, their actual traits are rather minute. Rivulets main trait is the presence of external gills, suggesting an aquatic adaption. However in real world examples of external gills they are mostly a development of species that already had gills in some form in either their lifecycle or biology. The most obvious inspiration for rivulet's design is likely the axolotl, which is a salamander that has neotenic (juvenile) traits due to never metamorphosing. If you force metamorphosis, an axolotl looks like a normal salamander

Gills or gill-like structures can also be internal or land-modified- Spiders for example have book lungs, which are likely evolved from book gills (whereas in human evolution our gills did not evolve into lungs, and gills instead 'turned into' parts of our skull and ears) you can also have lungs and gills, as seen with certain species of lungfish. It seems perfectly reasonable to guess that the slugcat- either currently or historically- made use of a gill or gill-like system- which would set rivulet up for either a reemergence of the trait or as an alternative evolutionary path. I could easily see the rivulet 'type' of slugcat existing alongside the normal species, just isolated to coastal and other floodzones- or as one of several independent cases of the external gill trait emerging. Complicating things further- Sea slugs make use of gills in several forms, while (most) land slugs have lost their gills and created a simple lung out a hollow cavity. There is also at least one slug that completely lacks both lungs and gills and breathes entirely through their skin. Lots of variety there within a group. What we can confirm though is that at minimum- slugcats do have a nose. However the presence of the nostrils alone doesn't tell us the fine details; Frogs also have nostrils and make heavy use of them for the vast majority of their breathing, but also have permeable skin that also allows for oxygen exchange (particularly while under water). So its complicated. All this is a very complicated way of say that there's no real indication that rivulet is all that particularly unique compared to the basic slugcat, minus the gills- which are something that could be a perfectly normal trait to develop without getting too far from the traits that make a slugcat a slugcat. It would be, at minimum, its own species though. Genus you could argue about. And then we get to Saint. Saint is ages forward in the timeline for our 'basic' slugcat, to the point where even lizards have heavily shifted their evolutionary patterns and there have been notable extinctions within the window the game provides. Saint itself has a very notable deviation: Very obvious long fur (or at least, something convincingly playing the role of fur). While furry slugcats (whether that be more cat-like or fine fur like a seal) is popular in fanon works, official art has an obvious smoothness to it more indicative of bare skin (Although the quality of this skin, such as if its more mammalian or amphibian, etc- is unknown)

While the type of skin could heavily change how big of a deal this is (it would be a lot easier to develop and lose fur with the structure of mammalian skin than amphibian skin; and if we are being technical mammals are the only thing that can truly develop fur/hair) It does at least mark the development of a trait that seemingly took several generations to acquire, at least on par with the development of a fur or fur-like trait in all surviving species of 'lizards' It does seem to intend to mirror, to a degree, the evolution of mammals. Which begs the question... can you really call Saint a slugcat? When you think about what survivor is, and how removed Saint is from them in both physical features and time period... would the term be appropriate? And to be specific, its technically incorrect to say things evolve "into" other things- they split and grow into distinct things (and sometimes all but one dies off in the process). Evolutionary history is difficult to chart for a number or reasons, and its extremely complicated- but when we say something like "snakes evolved from lizards" what it really means is that at some point there was a group of something we agreed were lizards, and then something within that group began to change into something with its own distinct features and traits until we gave it a new name. In the lizard and snakes example, snakes are technically lizards. Just lizards with very specific traits we don't consider lizard traits. But you also have examples like mantodea (Mantises) and Blattodea (Roaches and Termites).

A some point there was something that was neither mantis nor roach (the roachoids, which despite being more roach-like than mantis-like we don't consider them proper roaches), that split into things that would go on to form the basis of those groups (and then termites would split from there, making termites technically a type of roach). And for the rest of history humans would argue constantly about what to do with this mess So really the question is what do we consider a slugcat, and is Saint part of an evolutionary lineage that 'slugcat' applies fully across, or does Saint mark a split into something else, that would technically go alongside "true" slugcats under a wider net. Slugcat definitely isn't a singular species and I lean towards genus but could see an argument for family or order. Lets do DNA analysis on pixels and find out they are actually a type of lantern mouse

[tieflingfingers]

What and who: Chapter 1, introduction of Thomasin and Astarion meeting and nautiloid aftermath. Summary: Thomasin, a 45 year-old half-drow, awakes from what her body assumed was a nightmare. The situation brings up old, repressed emotions the violinist/courtesan must contend after being spit out onto the coast. While foraging for food, she's pummeled to the ground by a lithe elf seeking answers. Warning/Content: A lot about two elves trying to navigate their feelings and past traumas. Angst, stressed little folks, and a scuffle with an elven man. Part of series. Word Count: 4,200 Ao3 Link

Perhaps the mind would lend itself to fictitious terrors when one became complacent. Where synapses plucked bad memories from within a mimic, its wooden cavity known to be sharp and uninhabitable. Spitting out plumage. Coughing up bare bones. Little reminders that no one was beyond a nightmare. At least, that’s what Thomasin’s body had come to conclude.

It was the answer to wind stinging her face and billowing smoke filling her lungs. She considered whether life in Baldur’s Gate had become formulaic. Too comfortable, even by subjective means. She had found solace in familiarity, even when her biology begged for whiplash. The dregs of boredom must've ravished her brain.

Maybe the nautiloid was simply a figment of every pleasure of the flesh. One created and warped from guilt long since forgotten. The kind of bizarre dream she’d vent about to friends to make them crinkle their noses. Recounting the ship’s floors, slick and organic with each sinking step. How she felt the urge to shudder at the thought of grabbing its structural tendons for support. At least, it was only mere banter to those off their night shifts, enjoying tarts and chipping varnish from their nails.

Too simple of an explanation.

Had her lungs pleaded for a break from smoking? A revelation where she’d wake up coughing in the dark calm of her apartment and brew coffee so strong it could ward off demons. It’d force productivity. A way to leave the fragmented horrors and replace them with what lurked about Heapside Strand. The moss birthed between its cracked stones. Powdered explosives permanently hazing the air from fireworks. The bustling hole in the wall bakery that always somehow cut through like a safe haven.

That felt like wishful thinking.

Surely, her grand descent back to Faerun would be the sensation of her tilted chair hitting the ground once more. The exact moment a tavern owner kicked its leg, only to tease her for never sleeping enough. Even laugh at her for being startled in the same predictable fashion as every other night. It was tough love, but they couldn’t fault the dressing room for being so cozy. The designated corner for entertainers made it tempting to curl up behind its curtain.

Alas, all were deemed too safe to be true. Reality had its own way of plopping her wherever its heart desired.

Thomasin squinted her eyes at twinkling reflections cast against the water's surface. The sand beneath her warmed in direct sunlight and her body beckoned for an ounce of shade. Despite her movements feeling as heavy as the weight of her skull, the half-elf managed to trudge herself against a monolith of rock. A necessary evil, being of partial drow descent. Sensitivities and freckles alike. They’d always unearth to accommodate her surface-dwelling weather and wear.

With her senses ebbing back in, she noticed she wasn’t becoming regulated, but rather uneasy. Distraught, even. The tale of tingling limbs. Adrenaline fatigue. The epiphany that she was nowhere near home. The abandonment of a simple life she sculpted as her own. 

It was no wonder Thomasin had begun to sob.

At forty-five years old, she often regarded this reaction as childish. At least when she did it. Yet, she couldn’t help it under the fear of the unknown. She figured her vulnerable form was long dead as she imagined many of her youth may be.

Although it wasn’t surprising it only took the confines of a ship to break her. As it always did. Abduction and the intrusion of mind flayers had ricocheted her back. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” she repeated in the midst of hyperventilation. 

Long fingers fumbled about and patted every inch of her body for clues or signs of injury. Her shawl was still tied around her waist. Boots laced to the knees, dress secured by old leather corsetry, and a violin string popped. Everything was still intact, from what she could tell.

Her backpack plopped into her lap and she pinched the straps that now clung on by bare threads. Inside were essentials for another day: Half a bottle of whiskey, well-sloshed. A few compact books. An empty box that once housed rolled cigarettes. Miscellaneous rouges and pigments. Trinkets wrapped in thin cloth and a bag of cookies her friend had gifted.

Wiping her eyes from the bleariness of tears left golden smudges against her silver-toned hands and specks of glitter embedded within them. She finally remembered. She was walking home from a friend’s house. These were the remains of moving into a new home still packed away. 

Acceptance that she survived the mind flayers felt involuntary and bashed into her frontal lobe. It was an ever-present pressure asking her to embrace the fear. To succumb to an infiltrator wriggling and buzzing behind her eyeball. A sensation she’d attribute to a migraine or brain inflammation if it weren’t for the faint memory of a worm being stowed away.

Once the carousel of hopelessness took its course, wrapping around again and again until it was paper thin, she had no excuse but to push forward. Exhaustion was null. She was alone. Now was not the time to dwell. And so, she rose from the cool silt and unhooked a dented canteen from her hip, spilling what was left between dry lips.

It was enough momentum to begin walking down the coast. The half-elf swept her surroundings for anything recognizable. Flora, herbs, animals, anything of sustenance. Skills she dusted off, but thanked in a bittersweet way.

Survival methods had been honed for decades, but were now more of a hobby than necessity. Her youth had been thrust into adulthood and grown uncultured buds. Pinched bulbs that grew stronger roots, even if on the constant brink of rot.

All around her was the aftermath of rubble and unlucky fishermen. Folks stocking their little wooden vendor carts now intertwined with the local geography. Their limbs had severed yet expressions remained frozen with the last thoughts of wives and children.

It all tainted the soil.

Thomasin pressed on in hopes of less dire sights.

The nautiloid's wreckage scattered and strewn itself about the beach. Its foreign engineering planted into the sand and created a blockade with a massive presence. The body was a bloodied plum that creaked, split, and spilled mechanical gore. Beyond was a view of a blossoming forest out of reach. As much as the thought made her want to quit, she knew she had to traverse through what was left of the ship.

On the soles of her boots, uneven from a constant shifting gait, the half-elf approached a wall's crumbled opening and peeked inside. The landscape appeared mostly barren. An interior riddled with rubble, thick smoke, and the handful of swarming sentient brains that managed to survive impact. Like those she met in the sky, their unidentifiable maws suckled on bodies ejected from pods. Civilians pulled from their slumber and harvested like the innards of shellfish.

Thomasin took in a deep breath, considering it may be her last, and sidled inside. Her back clung to the shadows. Repetition of prayer flooded her mind. Anything to drown out worrisome thoughts.

The half-elf proceeded to creep through the cave, behind support beams and slumped platforms. Her back, unnatural in its arch, pivoted away from the walls for she feared contact might send her lurching forward. The tactility of its organic nature was uncanny and thus threatening on a primal level. Its texture was natural like an organism trying to replicate organic life with offhand references.

Every breath entering and exiting her lungs struck her as the loudest they'd ever been. But, each step got her closer to an exit. Closer to the potential of her life's work being consumed by a hybrid creature scurrying around the ship. Her heart pounded with every sudden movement the brains made, their body language and lack thereof being unpredictable. The longer she stood still, the longer each second stretched and pulled, begging her to simply run. It was as if all the unkempt energy pooled in her feet.

The half-elf clenched her fists and swallowed down a mass of dread, thick and viscous. 

Only a vessel survives.

Thomsin couldn’t quite calculate how long she spent sneaking along those walls, under staircases, and close to raging flames. How long she'd tip-toed around the dead, victims and tentacles alike. All she could concentrate on was the illumination of an exit point on the other side of the room. Her feet hadn't run that fast in years. At least not over anything this dire.

The half-elf threw her body out into the sunlight and crawled with the sunlight now all too welcomed against her back. She scrambled, not sure when to stop moving, until her rush left her in a nestled corner of trees and bushes. With a moment to finally collect herself, she used it to catch her breath and lock her attention on sprouting wildflowers. Anything pleasant to give herself respite.

But, its pops of color caught her by surprise. Her vision seemed to be blurring. Tears were welling with an upheaval she hadn't experienced in a long while. The day had brought forth more than she'd cried in months.  

Get a hold of yourself, she thought.

Thomasin wiped her eyes in diagonals across her lower lashes to clean what makeup smudges were left. Once her body calmed itself enough to focus, she slid from the safety of her hiding spot and back onto the trail beside it. It looked to be heading toward the forest as she figured.

It was an area lush with plant life. A landscape touched but still allowed to thrive. Where she assumed elder and village folk took sparingly and gave back when possible. There were trees, both towering and low hanging, best for shelter in its isolated pockets. Greenery and uninviting edible plants in abundance. Even a stray berry bush here and there, where small animals hadn't picked their meals yet.

As she began her walk, she peeled back leaves of interest and pulled greens from their nutritious roots. Wildflowers of every shape tucked into her belt. Not edible, but still there for consolation. At least there was beauty in the uncertainty of the wild. 

Not too far out, she spotted a bush with near black specks clinging to its branches. Upon further inspection, they seemed to be dried and almost indistinguishable from seeds that fell from trees and crunched under your boots. The type of fruit mother advised their children to not eat out of fear they misidentified its flesh.

It was often easier to tell children to consider most plants potentially poisonous when they ventured out alone.

Thomasin’s mother, however, formed the foundation of knowledge at a young age. The eye wasn’t the only means of finding food. Books on foraging sat in her childhood home. Adults working the farmlands passed down spoken word tips that still rattled in her head, even now at an age older than her mother ever was.

The half-elf cradled the fruit between her fingers whilst they still hung from thin stems. It looked to be one she remembered having a sour and tart finish. Nothing likely to tear through her stomach or close her throat. But it wouldn’t be a misidentified berry that dug into her own soft flesh. 

Before she could process what was happening, Thomasin felt the unrelenting grip of someone's arm wrap around her waist. They were slightly larger, masculine, and she found herself reckoning with the fact her muscles had never been her saving grace.

She was a woman of snake oil.

Lying and appeasing to trump the aggressive.

In a fluid motion, the half-elf's arms were now bound taut to her sides. Pale arms and white knuckles contrast against linen sleeves grabbing her from behind. Their combined weight toppled. Before she knew it, they had plummeted into a grassy patch. 

Thomasin’s neck stung. A familiar pinch. Even with the steadiest hands, she knew the sensation of a dagger’s point. How their tumble nicked her and nestled its metal within thin flesh. Just barely. Her own subtle movements were now as much of a threat as his hostility.

“You know, the jugular is oddly vulnerable out of our most vital veins. No, bones protecting it. No cartilage. Thankfully, if you answer, you won’t drown in a pool of your own blood.” 

Thomasin gasped for air out of reflex, shallow like a land-stricken fish. The dagger unsheathed from her surface wound and trailed the blood up toward her jaw. Sharp edges were on the verge of slicing with any slight pressure. It took careful observations of the veins in her throat and where it transitioned to bone. Up and up until tucked into the soft pad beneath her chin, where her face was tipped up towards his.

The half-elf studied his features. This was an instinct after decades of confrontations with men. Best to know who to avoid at all costs once successfully fled. 

His eyes were feline in shape. A shade of red lesser seen from what could be presumed as a high elf. The quintessential lithe frame built atop a bone structure designed to look down upon his peers. The sort that may pull names of ancestry out of a hat to justify their behavior. Although it appeared the nautiloid may have thrashed through him all the same.

Curls sloppily undulated down his temples and framed a pallid complexion of pinks and blues. It was as if his own veins darkened and faded throughout his system, leaving a perpetually tired gaze. A grizzled sort of handsome that hadn’t slept nor cared to.

Looks were of no value now though. Her tolerance for men’s backlash had worn her thin and what was left had to be protected at all costs. The only concern now was fight or flight.

“Now, I saw you on the ship, didn’t I?” he asked. “Nod.”

The question all but fell upon preoccupied ears. 

Between her distant home and sneaking through a den of cartilage, Thomasin hadn't a chance to fully regulate herself. A basis of constant stress meant her body appeared still, but had no intention of stopping. It propelled every primal instinct. Every method of how to escape a captor like the beasts told in scary campfire tales. Ones where men were used as symbols and their presence amplified to beasts. 

It knew monsters didn’t have to look towering and grotesque. They lurked at all hours. Wore all fashions and used all facets of language and brawn. They lived in the daylight just as her and no amount of logic could untwine that coil. 

Without warning, Thomasin inhaled from her diaphragm and began to hum a quiet note. Its melody shook through octaves and bounced about. Whisper-soft until its lilt bled into a cacophony. Uncontrolled. Nearly a scream that echoed off nearby trees.

From her palms, there was a pale blue glow not unlike what wisped like smoke from her lips. It became a faint aura that swirled before them in a matter of seconds before flitting off the tongue. The magic looked benign, yet infiltrated his thoughts. Intangible loose razor blades that pierced and exposed his ego.

“Let go, you foppish fuck! Foul, forsaken, I’d love to see you prick me!” she shouted. Words that fought their way through her panic and spit out like boulders crumbling down a landslide.

The elven man shuddered. Whether the insult’s pain compounded with her shrieking spectacle was unclear, but it earned the daggered hand clasped over her mouth. He shoved its handle between her teeth and silenced her bite. 

“Harpy! Thought we’d speak like civilized folks, but you’re no lady, are you?” he asked with little sympathy in the tension of his muscles. She could feel his grip tightening as did the hook of his leg. 

Thomasin huffed through her nose in response.

“Calm yourself- don’t lie to me. I saw you scuttling about on that ship with those… monsters . What did they do to me?”

Before he could uncover her mouth, the two were stricken by an indescribable ache. Exhilarating discomfort, perhaps. The binding of whatever sat in their eye sockets attempting to communicate with one another. It disoriented them both and blackened their vision, only to be replaced with fractured memories.

Although Thomasin realized these were not hers. They were familiar routes through unfamiliar eyes. Someone prowling the busy streets of Baldur’s Gate, warping what would be an otherwise common sight at night. It was hazy. Blurred. Overwhelmed by a fear of something not wholly present yet hanging over her. 

The man writhed and grimaced. His clutches loosened and body stiffened not out of dominance but from anxiety of remembering an unseen entity. Despite her muffled breathing slowing to an unstable pace, Thomasin knew she had to act. Even with her eyes still wavering between timelines, her joints sprung. 

With a heft only given to those driven by endorphins, the half-elf pulled her arm from his grasp and flung her elbow upward, making contact with his jaw. Her legs flailed and bucked. Hips twisted and turned. A small dagger unsheathed from a band around her thigh and clenched tight within her silver fist. All done in the name of scrambling just out of arm's reach.

“The same-” She protested. Irritated lungs held their breath and coughed in hopes of open airways. “The same happened to me. They took me too.”

From afar, the fight must’ve resembled a pair of frightened animals. The two sat square on the floor for a moment of silence through an unspoken truce. A safe distance between one another to recover from their scuffle and subsequent psychological quake. Their palms were scuffed with dirt and bright grass stains. Blood mixed into soil.

The lithe elf cradled his jaw with slender fingers and broke the solitude by whispered cursing. 

“I think that was- whatever is playing stowaway in our heads. It feels awful,” she groaned.

As his facial features dropped into stern confusion, his eyes darted about the twigs and random bits of nature scattered before them. It seemed as though his questions were branching out further and further, only to introduce a myriad of new ones. 

Thomasin watched as he etched the series of events into a mental chart. Its gaps were all too wide, leaving him to carve never-ending lines in the dirt. A lost cause.

So, she let herself disengage a bit and softened her tone.

“I don’t know what the hell is inside of us, but I did see what they do.”

His eyes flicked up from beneath his lashes with intrigue. 

“What? What is it?” he sputtered.

“I don’t know how long or why,” she hesitated, “but it seems the worms turned people into mind flayers.”

The elf’s eyes lit up and he erupted into laughter. Bewildered, almost maniacal. “Ha! Yes! Of course! Why wouldn’t that be the case? Turning into monsters, ah!” The emotion suddenly simmered down and he clutched his chest as stones nestled in his gut. Reality was sewing the organ shut with a dull needlepoint. “Everything is too good to be true, isn’t it?”

He sighed.

Thomasin’s attention was affixed to his body language. She was quiet, only tense through her fidgeting hands and heavy breath. Her own pain had dulled. Her concerns of a life left temporarily quelled. The half-elf was simply consumed with whether a calming demeanor could diffuse their tension.

“But, it seems like ours might be dormant. Maybe we can find someone to help,” she said with mollified calm. Her thumb pressed deep against the lid of her blind eye, attempting to alleviate the pressure of what lived within.

“Hm…” The man hummed, taking the time to consider their options. Although his eye contact averted as he noticed the thin stream of blood that had smeared down her neck. “There has to be someone that can help. An expert. There are wizards that can conjure up dragons, why wouldn’t they be able to do a light lobotomy?”

His sardonic quip in the midst of their forlorn fates visibly eased the air between them. He rose from his spot, tucking his blade back into its sheath, and dusted himself into presentable once more. An upturned hand leaned in toward Thomasin. A peace offering.

“I suppose, hrm, an apology is in order,” he stated with a simple nod. He could be difficult to read, but there was something wrestling beneath his confidence and combative nature.  

Thomasin glanced between him speaking and the hand presented for her. Even in hesitance, her exhaustion was catching up with her. The inevitable crash peeking its head once her mind had settled.

 “I- I get it. I easily could’ve gutted you too. That’s what precarious situations are made for.”

As he hoisted her off the ground, he snickered and summed her up.

“Birds of the same feather flock together, it seems,” he said in jest.

“I’m Thomasin,” she uttered, only to catch her tilting balance once she stood up. The lacking grace of her stumble peppered laughter from her lips.

“My name is Astarion. But, oh my, little doe having troubles there? Should I have been more gentle?”

Thomasin rolled her eyes. Charisma and coy remarks could get anyone far. She’d seen it a million times. But the theatrics of an ego and verbal power plays were much easier to deal with than physical turmoil.

The half-elf attempted to compose herself as well. Dusting off her blouse. Smoothing her skirt. Wiping the bloody residue from her neck with the back of her hand.

“Oh please, don’t flatter yourself,” she grinned before indulging in canned pleasantry. “Was that memory in the Gate? I’m a musician there. Might have crossed paths.”

“I mean, perhaps. I’m a magistrate though, so we must move in different circles,” he said as if the question was uninspired at best. He started to busy himself with his belt and readjusting the small details of his outfit back into proper order. Laces pulled to similar lengths and sleeves cuffed once more. “I do important work, but it's tedious. Nothing to fawn over. Either way, if we can control these worms, we’ll be back in Baldur’s Gate in no time, I’m sure.”

“Control it?” she scoffed. “How are you considering befriending the thing? We need to rid of it.”

”Well, yes. Semantics.” His twirled a hand to gesture the plan as frivolous, obvious even. “I march out into the woods and find a druid or wizard- I don’t know a damned cleric with a magical touch. Until then, might as well try and make it work for me.”

Thomasin raised a brow, suppressing her urge to debate his reasoning further. She opted to assess the situation and their surroundings. What resources the coast provided and how her travels could ease adapting into new territory. 

“Fine. Do what you will. If you keep it together long enough and promise to not attack me again, we can find a village or town. There’s fishermen strung along the beach. Someone lives around here.” She rolled her shoulder.  “Do you have much experience out in nature?”

“Ha! I’ll say, I’ve had my share of academics, street smarts, but plants…” He looked around with the oblivion of greenery melding into basics. Trees were trees. Leaves were leaves. People sent each other bouquets all the time in the name of romance and hate. It couldn’t be that hard.

“I wouldn’t deny a bit of wisdom to refresh my knowledge. Not my usual cup of tea, per se.” 

Astarion felt free to eye her up and down, the twinkle in his red gaze resurfacing. At least he was smiling now. “Are you asking that I join you? And to think, I was ready to spread your innards all over. Well, if you insist.” He bowed in a manner that felt jocular. “I won’t say no to a damsel that can hold her own.”

He paused to punctuate a counterpoint not yet insisted upon. “Not that I couldn’t keep the both of us safe from the dangers of nature. Blades just require such close quarters. Imagine me with a bow?”

Thomasin was searching for the cracks in his facade. Whether he was genuine or boasting his abilities as to not be left for dead. Either way, it all seemed potentially amusing. Safer to travel as well, with the privilege of being witnessed with a man.

“Let’s get you something to shoot with then. I can’t do all the heavy lifting,” she said, offering a hearty pat upon his shoulder like comradery amongst dock workers.

Astarion recoiled, flinched, and made the smooth transition of playing it off with a laugh. It was obvious he was uncertain why she had touched him or how to respond. He leaned aside to grab her backpack from where it tumbled and hand it back to her. But, not without his eye for detail narrowing in on loose stitches.

“You should look into fixing that,” he commented before making his way down the trail.

“Eilistraee, guide me,” Thomasin spoke with whispered breath.

She picked up her pace, doing a short trot, and caught up with him.

[gudmould]

Injection molding materials and mold design professional knowledge sharing (Part 1)

Plastic mold design process requirements To design an advanced plastic mold, we first need to have a high-level design idea, and we must also study product processability, characteristics and uses of plastic materials, selection of mold steel, processing methods, mold structure design, molding schemes and injection machine models. Among them, it is very necessary to study processability of mold…

[planet-of-the-machines]

What the fuck is a heavy drone?

Since you guys are a little confused, it looks like I’ll have to clear things up. 

Everyone in our class are Heavy Drones, a separate class of robot from the Worker Drones. We were both designed and produced by the company JCJenson as basically slaves, but for different purposes. 

Worker Drones were meant to be the “personal servant” variety of slave, or as farmers or other menial workers that didn’t need to be paid like humans in those same professions. They’re about 130 centimeters tall on average, don’t have open chest cavities, are a bit spindly, and can break much easier than anyone here in the outpost would like. 

Heavy Drones, like me and my friends here, were meant for much more dangerous jobs like mining or construction work. We’re around 3 meters tall, more blocky (for lack of a better term), and built with more durable materials. Apparently JCJ made the prototypes of our model with the same polyester, plastic, and whatnot as the Worker Drones, but they kept crumbling under the stresses of their own weight (I don’t care about the difference between weight and mass, Boulder). 

There’s a bit of discrimination between our two kinds, but the reason we haven’t reached Jim Crow levels of “racial tensions” is because we need each other. WDs can’t mine without losing a limb almost immediately, nor can they lift heavy equipment or do the work necessary to expand the outpost, and their programming has a bit of a self-preservation issue that stubbornly persists 40 years after The Flash and our liberation. Conversely, we [HDs] can’t work on the smaller components of our quantum computer processors, perform meticulous surgery, or fit into smaller, more human-scaled structures on expeditions. And neither of us can put up a fight against the Murder Drones all that well on our own.

These are only a few examples, but what I’m getting at is that our society wouldn’t function without one model or the other. We compliment each other. And most of us wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Arcee

[imogenkol]

— OCS AS TRAGIC LOVE ARCHETYPES

tagged by @corvosattano @adelaidedrubman @simplegenius042 @inafieldofdaisies @jackiesarch to do this uquiz! Thank you lovelies!!

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @florbelles @marivenah @simonxriley @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @v0idbuggy @socially-awkward-skeleton @aceghosts @carlosoliveiraa @risingsh0t @unholymilf @thedeadthree @cassietrn

05. MOTHER'S DAUGHTER

Being her child was akin to a whispered apology, another wailing hug, another day you repent for complaining about the fact that she hasn't said anything nice to you. You bring her flowers and are met with the inconvenience of a vase that has to be found instead. You bake for her and feel the warmth of fresh cut bread fill the kitchen; but the dirty dishes remain. Even if you were to bring in the mail and lay down the knife next to your plate, she'll cradle another. Love is an endless apology to you. Averting eyes to desperate tears and sunken teeth in lower lip at the dinner table. Do not repent for who you are, as it is enough. Gather your courage to love again and reveal the honeydewed structure of a swelling heart once you feel safe to do so instead. Love isn't a confession booth of all you are not, settle down and unclasp your hands. You're all anyone could want already.

note: proof that you don’t need a biological mother to have mommy issues. I was really surprised by this result at first and wasn’t sure it quite fit, but it really does describe what it felt like for Imogen to have Rejna as a master.

07. FATHER'S SON

Breathe down your own neck, it's the sound of smashing fist against furniture in another room again. The wringing hem of cloth and pattern of an escalating heart. Love is tumultous to you. There is grief and disguised forgiveness to damp down the yearning. A permanent fear of tender flesh spilling out, still- you must refrain of growing attached to the fear you had installed into you. Let go of the notion that love is still to be cherished with a hole in the head. Scrub crimson ancestry off wooden floors and try again tomorrow when your hands don't shake cold from the blood loss. Love isn't a fist to escape. Fill the hole in your head with cotton and know you are to be adored. You are deserving of an embrace without flinching.

note: growing up as a Lolth Sworn drow in the Underdark and hating it. Wanting something more kind and joyful out of life. Yeah.

06. CANíBALES; DEVOURER

Love's a knife to skin to you, a vein to woven muscle, blood puddle before you. You listened to all the promises of a stranger's relief and feel the drain of a shower head running it all down again. You committed another murder; kissed and bruised skin with a clench to a quivering wrist and went home in the defeaning quiet of a taxi. There's mold covered rage within you. If to take a heart home with you, you'd bite your way through muscle and ribcage first. Pleasure comes, but there will be no devouring past it. There is fear in settling down and being seen. There is a glass screen between these bodies and you. Relax your tight jaw and feel the real canine fear beneath that scabbed up cavity. The sacrifice of opening up is needed if to be loved as you deeply wish inside. Desire doesn't discriminate between hands or spoken word. Why should you?

note: perfect result for a werewolf who fights so fiercely and is desperate to love completely despite how scared she is.

03. CUPID'S BROTHER

You have been love adjacent all your life. The faint spill of another story that softly grazed your shoulders when stood too close. Whether by design or not, you have yet to build a clear image of what love means to you. The interlocked weaving of a picture locket bound to strand of hair when hugged to tight, the sunpatch that meets your soles in glaring sun dried fields when running with a friend. You are not far from love, but moving between line of collision and avoidance at all times. A faint glimmer on sea lake surface of what could be. There is time to find what you want, find whether it's enough as is. Love is in you, breathing in another day. Continue as you are, realizing the love that is slowly blossoming in your life as it sharpens and clears in brushstrokes.

note: oh, Nadya… putting your emotional needs on the back burner for so long. At least she finally has that Oh moment with Jayde.

[viccharine]

are knight-sonas a thing??? petition to make knight-sonas a thing

(heeeey all my artist mutuals pls help me make knight-sonas a thing pls!!!!! ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ pls tag me if u make a knight sona pls pls pls pls—ooooo u wanna make a knight sona so bad ooooo)

close-ups and commentary under the cut!!

→ the armor is supposed to mimic ribs (in the torso) as well as musculature in some places (although I did not reeeeeallly take the time to look up actual muscle structure because I got lazy lmao so it’s most likely inaccurate), i like the idea of being fully armored yet also so exposed, which is also why I chose to have a heart motif w/ both the chest cavity being exposed and the sword “impaling” the heart. i guess it could also be a play on the phrase “wear your heart on your sleeve” and whatnot

→ even though I call this a knightsona, I don’t actually look like this anymore—my hair (for one) has gotten much longer, but I do think there’s something to be said about how my knightsona reflects me at a more challenging time in my life (or maybe, less interestingly, I didn’t think long hair fit with the design)

→ also, this is my very first time drawing a horse. why do horses look like that. why does the horse look like that. btw, the horse’s name is arsenikos, thank u to my wonderful friend miss chloe for naming the horsey for me!!!

anyway, before I stop rambling I would like to say once again: pls make a knight sona and tag me please please please ok thank u byeeee XDDD

[takeariskao3]

This is a little embarrassing but what does a/b/o mean? I’m so confused lol

i’m sorry i’m so so sorry i’m not laughing at you! i swear! it’s just hilarious that my entire adult life i’ve thought omegaverse (a/b/o) is a massively popular fanfic trope that is commonly consumed and has widely accepted word building and yet i bring it over here and everyone is like “hannah…...what the actual fuck”

okay, crash course in omegaverse (alpha/beta/omega dynamics) under the cut because very much nsfw

omegaverse is essentially an au premise where instead of evolving into similar social structures as primates, the human race evolved socially and biologically similar to canids.

now, stick with me here, this gives society a sort of hierarchy. you've got the dominant alphas, the neutral betas, and the submissive omegas. this is very broad and not at all true for every fic obviously, i feel like each writer puts their own spin on the universe, but it is the basic essential.

now, unlike wolves, where alphas mate alphas and omegas never get to mate at all, the au premise for omegaverse (humans/werewolves/etc.) is that alpha and omegas are a mated pair. think MFEO type mating. TYPICALLY we see a male alpha mating either a male or a female omega. there is a subset of the genre that is highly interested in mpreg and heterogamy and gender-fluidity. which is all valid and interesting and wildly creative especially when it comes to mlm pairings.

but i'm getting off track.

anyways. the other premise of the au is ruts and heats. all designations (alpha, beta, & omega) can have normal, regular, completely lucid sex.... except when an omega goes into heat, things get a little... dubious

the whole idea of a heat is when an omega is most fertile. typically this is a female with female sexual organs and/or a male with both sexual organs. when a heat starts, their bodies send out all types of pheromones and things to attract a mate, typically an alpha, and they also get real real sick if they don't ... uh ... copulate nonstop during the heats. so one half of the trope is the submissive character literally writhing and shivering in pain because they need the D that bad.

all of this then comes together and triggers an alpha's rut. rut is when the alpha, having chosen/won/claimed their omega mate, get's real protective, horny, and sometimes even violent in a primal urge to give their mate the D. so the other half of the trope is making sure no one hurts their babygirl and/or tries to steal them.

when an alpha ruts, they also are capable of knotting. which genuinely is exactly what you are thinking it is. there is a little ball/bulge/knot of flesh that expands at the base of an alpha's erection and slots itself into a soft, malleable cavity in an omega vagina and keeps them linked for a span of time until the knot recedes (think until the erection softens post climax).

forced proximity at it's finest amirite?

there is also the biological response of an omega to an alpha's pheromones after the alpha has claimed them, this is usually called slick. and it's essentially vaginal secretion because of arousal but lots and lots and lots of it.

it's all very animalistic and carnal and loads of fun.

moving on

for me personally, i have read some a/b/o that i've enjoyed but i really didn't get *into* it until i read some genderswapped omegaverse with the #nontraditional a/b/o tag. this when the set rules of the universe are bent heavily. for example if spring fever was set in a traditional omegaverse, ginny would have her female reproductive organs as well as retractable penis. harry would have his penis but also he would have a vagina, cervix, uterus, etc. and then ginny would get him pregnant... which isn't bad or wrong or anything but just felt extra complicated for the story i was trying to tell, especially since i knew i wanted the a/b/o stuff to be practically evolved out and relatively rare... it seemed a little too much for the story if they were to grow new reproductive organs as well as experience fully fledged ruts and heats for the first times in their lives.

there is also the idea of gender roles within a hierarchy like this and since i knew i wanted this society to mirror a modern au, i elected to make ginny an alpha (a traditionally masculine role) and harry an omega (the traditionally feminine role) to play on the idea of patriarchy and equality. which honestly will probably end up being a throw away line in the actual story but it's what i've enjoyed most about omegaverse fics that ended up in my bookmarks so i'm using it as a foundation for mine too.

in conclusion, i would say my particular story is about as vanilla as you can get and still have it be omegaverse, but that's okay, because the smut as character development is really what i was striving for anyway... not necessarily the au procreation aspect.

plus harry as a true submissive omega never felt accurate, just like ginny as a possessive, violent alpha would feel a touch over the top if i am trying to stay true to them as characters.

HOWEVER, harry begging for literally any affection from her felt too good to pass up, which is why i chose to designate them like i did.

i hope this answered your question, sorry if i got a little to in depth with it all <3

[repairfoundation]

Weep Holes: An Essential Component For Structural Integrity

The world of construction methodologies is vast, dynamic, and continuously evolving. Among the myriad of procedures and mechanisms crucial to the development of robust structures, a particularly crucial yet often overlooked feature is the ‘weep hole.’ In this blog, we delve deeper into what weep holes are, focus mainly on their application in cinder block structures, reasons for their installation near the footing, and the benefits that they provide related to relieving water trapped within a structure.

To begin with, let’s establish what Weep Holes are. Weep holes, as the name suggests give an image of something that exudes, seeps out, or, indeed, weeps. In construction parlance, they are purposely drilled in a structure to allow the movement of water or to let it escape from within.

Though these holes can be integrated into several types of structural system, their use is widely popular in cinder block constructions. Cinder blocks, also known as concrete masonry units, are commonly used in residential as well as commercial construction due to their affordability, strength, and insulation properties. Their design usually involves hollow cores, or cavities, that can unintentionally trap water within. Whether it’s from groundwater, landscape irrigation, or rainfall, the cinder block can host this water, giving birth to many potential issues such as mold, mildew, efflorescence, or even structural failure if water freezes and expands.

Therefore, to alleviate these concerns, weep holes are drilled into the cinder blocks, typically in the bottom row and near the footing. Placed lower down because water tends to flow to the lowest point due to gravity, these openings play a vital role in the overall health and longevity of the structure.

When water is present in the hollow cavities of the cinder block, the weep holes facilitate an escape route. But it isn’t just about aiding drainage; these holes also play an essential part in the structure’s ventilation, helping trapped moisture to dry up more quickly.

One might wonder–why near the footing? The footing of a building is the lowest part of the structure, usually installed below ground level. For blocks near the footing, water accumulation is most likely due to their proximity to the ground. To prevent rising dampness creeping up into the structure and ensure optimal effectiveness, weep holes are strategically drilled near the footing.

One concern that often arises about weep holes is the threat of small creatures or pests entering through them. To prevent this, weep holes are generally covered with plastic, steel, or another type of mesh to allow water escape but deter critters.

Let’s sum up the importance of weep holes: They are not a construction afterthought but an essential design feature engineered to prolong and conserve the structural integrity of cinder block structures, whether they be a garden wall, chicken coop, house, or commercial building. By simultaneously promoting ventilation and facilitating the drainage of trapped water within the cinder blocks’ hollow cavities, weep holes help to prevent the onset of undesirable moisture issues, water damage, and structural instability.

So the next time you come across some random, small holes in a structure, remember, they aren’t gaps in design or construction; they’re mitigating water damage one drop at a time. This is the importance of an often overlooked, yet vital construction element – the weep hole.

Tagged Essential Component For Structural Integrity, Structural Integrity