#foam slitting machine

[clonedchaos]

Machine Memories- Day 7: Projection

Summary:

Heidi has a gift for the Projectionist.

Rating: G/PG

These next few prompts may be on the shorter side, this upcoming week is going to be busy! Please bear with me.

The Projectionist was always drawn to the shadows of the studio. It was an innate feeling, and one that took him to the deepest depths where few dared to venture. Here, he frequently spent his days in a maze of winding hallways and pools of ink. Only the projections thrown up against the wall kept him company, unless he had a sparse visitor or two of course. 

A faint ring diverted his attention from a projected picnic scene. It was the elevator.

Someone was down here.

The Projectionist sloshed through the puddles towards the center room in a mix of tension and curiosity. A Lost One with a bow tie around her neck and a crinkle in her eyes was waiting at the base of the stairs. His limbs slackened at the realization that there was no immediate danger. Heidi was the closest thing he knew to harmless; having wandered down here one day with her daring explorer friend.

She bounced on the balls of her feet and waved him over. "Morning, Shutter! How are you today?" Heidi asked.

The Projectionist whirred in response, mostly in objection towards the nickname. Oh well, it couldn't be helped. She was going to use it one way or another.

"I have a surprise for you!" She continued and reached into the overflowing satchel just barely hanging on by a thread at her hip. She pulled out a compact camera and a shiny film reel. "Audrey took some pictures of the outside world! We just figured out how to transfer it to a reel! Would you like to take a look? I figured you might enjoy it."

The Projectionist's gears clicked. The outside world? He hadn't given much thought to that. All he really knew were the studio's depths. It was the only home he knew.

He stepped forward and tilted his head as a sign of acceptance. Heidi removed the present reel and replaced it with the new one. Instantly, flashes of color were thrown against the wall. Greens and browns of trees mixed with a rich blue. Puffs of white dotted the sky in varying shapes and sizes. Pink tulips and clumps of lavender danced in the wind.

The next slide was of a small orange critter with triangle ears, pink nose, and a tufted tail. He had never seen a creature so peculiar. It reminded him of the Ink Demon in a way, only with slitted eyes and fluffy fur. 

A pebbly shore stood in stark contrast with a foaming sea-green ocean. A bright yellow orb sank below the horizon, painting the sky with vibrant oranges, yellows, pinks, and blues.

What was it like? To see something other than pools of ink and rotting wood?

The Projectionist went through each and every photo, frequently backtracking as he noticed more and more subtle details. 

Heidi silently stood by, still bouncing on her heels as she observed the projections. "Brilliant, aren't they?" She finally asked.

Brilliant. Yes, it was. Suddenly his world got bigger. It was somewhat scary, and bright. But it was also filled with bursts of color... and life. Life outside of the studio, of the shadows.

He hoped one day he'd be able to see it.

[blithesrps]

Act I Scene V

“Now we’re talking! Finally some good shit.”

John Rocket slammed his mug down on their makeshift table, wiping the foam from his stubble with a massive forearm before sliding the cup over the table into the waiting hands of Kite Wisterly. She giggled, taking the mug and spinning on her heels to pour another ale out of the cask they’d swiped as a reward for their fifth successful intel mission complete. They’d just set up camp for the night, crates and logs forming their furniture around a crackling fire. It had been almost a little anticlimactic, how smoothly everything had gone, but perhaps that was just a sign of their team beginning to click. 

They were certainly an odd bunch, but then again, so had been everyone recruited by Styx for the Nyx Initiative. It had taken some adjusting to get to know one another’s strengths and weaknesses, but after almost a year of training together as a team they were finally moving like a well oiled machine. 

“What about you, Z?” Kite asked as Rocket took his now full mug back with a rumble of thanks.

“Nope,” the stoic woman replied, not opening her eyes from where she leaned back in a tilted chair, cigar lazily rolling between her lips. 

“If you’re offering, love, I’ll take another,” piped up a fox beastman tapping away at an encrypted tablet beside Z. Kite rolled her eyes but acquiesced, miming spitting in his mug and making Rocket laugh. With Caesar Cotter served, Kite poured herself a mug. Generally her tastes preferred a more delicate brew, but hey, when in the field one couldn’t get picky, could they? As her ale pulled to a head, she tilted the cask, judging what remained inside. 

“We’re just about finished. Where’s the captain?” Kite asked. 

“Ara doesn’t drink,” Caesar replied, flicking his gaze up from the tablet.

“Does sometimes,” Z interjected, flicking her ash onto Caesar’s tail and getting the chair beneath her kicked as a result. 

“Very well, she doesn’t drink on missions,” Caesar amended as he dodged a retributionary swat, putting the tablet down and stretching. Still…it was unusual for her to disappear without saying something. 

“She’s a big girl, don’t worry about it,” Rocket grunted, “Cotter, pass those cards over and stop working. Reports can wait until extraction tomorrow.”

“Can they? We’re still in enemy territory, you know. If our throats are slit in the night however will Styx get their intelligence? I hear those soldier slaves they breed here are no joke.” Caesar obeyed nonetheless, grabbing the cards and coming over as Kite cheered happily. She flashed hopeful eyes at Z until the woman groaned and stubbed out her cigar, coming over to join as well. 

“One game, then we track down the boss,” she said, settling on her seat and picking up the cards Rocket dealt her. 

“Yeah, yeah. Kite, slide that keg over so we can top off.” 

Soon a jumble of coins, gum, cigarettes and other detritus had filled the center of the table, Rocket was dealing the third game, and Ara still had not returned.

She was in the belly of the beast.

Her every sense was on fire, screaming at her to flee. The smell of the cold tunnel walls, the sound of creatures skittering in the dark, the taste of her own fear on her tongue…it was all Ara could do to keep moving forward. 

Because she had to. She had to. It had already been so long. There was as good a chance that Rat was dead as alive. In fact, Ara had been trying the whole mission to convince herself he was dead. If she believed it first, she might fool herself into thinking the despair would hurt less when it was confirmed. 

The hive tunnels were still. She had passed only three hivechildren since entering her old hive, two busy rutting in a corner and one skittering down a tight tunnel with blood on his hands. Few hivechildren roamed at night, knowing the dangers that awaited them if they did. The guards, Ara found, followed the same pattern they had when she’d been there. There was no reason to change them, she supposed.

Hivechildren did not escape. 

As she tread deeper, Ara was heavy with the knowledge that she too had never technically escaped. She’d been dragged away by the underground river, half drowned and rescued only by magic. That had been luck, perhaps a blessing, but no escape. The further Ara walked in, the louder hissed the voice that said she would not be able to claw her way back out again.

The voice sounded like Thorn. 

If she met him, Ara knew she’d have to kill him. If Rat was dead, she would kill Thorn regardless. A part of her wanted to hunt him down first, see the look on his face when he realized she had lived and come to claim retribution. But Ara also knew it would not be an easy fight, and she wouldn’t risk blowing her cover unless she could accept that it might be the last thing she’d do. 

She was coming up to the central barracks, a curling room with hundreds of cells that housed the hivechildren. Their whispers and soft breathing echoed like waves lapping on a pebbled shore. Somewhere, someone was sobbing. Ara felt her chest tighten, and she had to stop until she could breathe again.

She had left most of her clothing at the mouth of the air shaft she’d used to break back into the hives. Stripped to her underthings, barefoot and rubbed with dirt, Ara knew she would still stand out from her kin if anyone looked closely at her. Over her time at Night Raven College, she had gained weight and muscle, too healthy to pass as a hivechild. She only hoped her slim disguise  would get her far enough. 

On silent feet, Ara moved through the shadows. Slowly she climbed the spiraling walkway, passing the open mouths of cells with a carefully confident gate. She belonged here, Ara told herself, she was one of them. 

At last, Ara reached Rat’s cell. She hesitated, hovering beside the edge. She could hear breathing from inside, but not well enough to know if it was Rat. Fear of what she would find kept her frozen, unable to step forward and face the truth. Then, from the cell, came a whispered voice.

“G-g-go away…I d-d-don’t have any m-more t-t-tokens…I d-d-don’t have anything…” 

Ara let out a long breath, then without moving into sight, she whispered back.

“Rat. It’s me.” 

–

It was silent in the Styx extraction sub. They’d made the pick up effortlessly, filing their gear and bodies into the waiting mouth in less than ten minutes. There were no witnesses, no evidence left behind. All things considered, their mission had gone seamlessly. 

But they were leaving with one more body than they had come with. 

The boy’s name was Rat, which Caesar had countered was not much of a name at all before Ara silenced him with a sharp glare. None of them understood where he had come from. Ara did not talk about her past, beyond that she had come from this continent and that she was something called a ‘hivechild’. Presumably so was this boy, though he and Ara could not have been more different. 

If they had questions or protests, none were voiced. Ara rarely demanded the obedience she was entitled to as lead of their small team, but when she did, it was absolute. Caesar could only assume that the boy had been a secret part of their mission only divulged to Ara, though Rocket suspected she had gone for him without the permission of their benefactors. 

Regardless, none of them were about to argue against taking him with. The kid looked like shit. He had one bruised and swollen eye and was favoring his right leg, the bones in his arms jutting out around lean muscle. Before arriving at camp he must have washed in a river, because he had shown up dripping and shivering, very much indeed like a rat that had leapt from a sinking ship. Ara had forced him to pace himself, but he hadn’t stopped eating since she’d introduced him, slowly working his way through Ara’s remaining rations and one of Kite’s that the girl had offered him. They may have been skeptical, but they weren’t monsters. 

“Hey. Do you need a sweater? Cold?” Caesar was presently trying to mime to the boy, rubbing his hands over his arms and speaking slowly. 

“He can understand you,” Ara answered coolly, Rat flicking his gaze up to her before back to Caesar’s feet. 

“And how should I know that?” Caesar huffed poutily, even as he dug into his bag for his spare sweater. He held it out, giving it a shake when Rat didn’t reach for it. He waited for Ara to nod and only then took it, quickly pulling it over his head and giving a soft gasp of relief at the warmth. Kite watched his all from where she was curled against Z’s thigh, eyes slightly narrowed in a catlike contentment. 

“Almost home kids,” Rocket called back from the pilot’s seat, where he was lazily watching the auto-pilot guide them back to Styx. Caesar noted Ara’s shoulder’s falling in the slightest betrayal of relief. He tutted his tongue, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. 

That was trouble he wanted no part of.

[as-enterprises]

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Established in 1971, A.S. Enterprises embarked on foam manufacturing in 1989. Renowned for their cutting and processing machines tailored for flexible polyurethane foam, the company offers a comprehensive selection of machines for both vertical and horizontal cutting.

Among their lineup, the ASE Circular Cutting Machine stands out as an essential component of their horizontal cutting machinery. These fully automated marvels efficiently slice flexible PU foam blocks into a range of thicknesses, from thin 3mm sheets to plush mattresses measuring 100-200mm. The circular saw machine boasts a robust welded steel construction, complete with a table crafted from standard steel sections. This cutting workhorse pivots on rollers, while the cutting unit moves vertically on two sturdy pillars.

What is a Circular Saw Machine?

A Circular Cutting Machine is a workhorse in the world of foam processing, known for its low maintenance demands and exceptional cutting prowess. It comes in various sizes and necessitates specific safety precautions, especially for novice users. This machine features a 30mm wide blade knife mounted on four PU-coated balanced wheels, all affixed to alignable bearing hubs. The blade moves through pre-tensioned knife guides, ensuring precise cutting throughout the process. Powered by an electric motor that drives the rotary table, the automatic cutting process incrementally adjusts the slitting section to the desired thickness after each revolution. The actual cutting operation is executed by an endless band saw blade. Circular saw machines find versatile applications, making them suitable for cutting a wide range of materials, from metal and foam to plastic and ceramic.

[rediscoverhearing]

Protect Your Hearing With Custom Earplugs Perth

Earplugs are an essential part of your safety gear if you work with machinery or play live music. The noises produced can be dangerous to your hearing and if not protected correctly could lead to irreversible damage. However, it is possible to protect your hearing while maintaining the ability to hear important sounds like speech and music. This is where custom earplugs come in, as they are made to fit the specific shape of your ear canal. These earplugs are an investment but are a lot more cost efficient than using disposable earplugs which don’t offer a perfect fit and leave slit leaks in your ears that allow the sound waves to pass through and not reduce the dangerous levels of noise.

Generally, earplugs are a foam cylinder that is inserted into the ear canal and then compressed. The earplugs are then moulded into the shape of your ear so that it blocks out most of the external noise. This is a great option for industrial workers as it allows them to maintain their balance, while still protecting their hearing from loud sounds such as machines or music concerts. However, they are not ideal for music lovers or those who want to hear the details in their audio. They can be uncomfortable and if not properly inserted are not designed to block out all the sounds but only some, leaving the listener to struggle with a lack of clarity and muddy bass. This is why a custom fitted pair of earplugs can make a huge difference and are an effective option for anyone who needs to protect their hearing.

Custom earplugs are fitted by a qualified Audiologist to ensure that they are comfortable and effectively block out the noise you want to avoid. They are usually made out of soft silicone that is both flexible and hard wearing, so they can withstand lots of use and last 3-5 years depending on the care that they receive. Keeping them clean and in the right storage place will also extend their life.

The first step in getting a set of Custom Earplugs Perth is to book an appointment with your Audiologist. They will examine your ear canal and eardrum to make sure they are healthy and free of wax. A small sponge attached to a string is then inserted into the ear to prevent the impression material from entering too deep and possibly damaging the eardrum. A piece of soft putty is then injected into the ear canal to create a mold and as it hardens will capture the exact shape of your ear. The earplugs are then sent off to the manufacturer for manufacturing and can be ready in 2 weeks.

A range of different styles of earplugs are available, so your Audiologist will help you choose the best option for your lifestyle or work environment. These include customised industrial earplugs, music earplugs and swimming earplugs. They are available in a variety of colours and styles to suit your preference.

Rediscover Hearing the Joy of Hearing with Your local & WA owned Independent Audiologists. Your local Hearing Aid and Tinnitus Specialists. Combined experience of 38 years.

[egretmfg]

INDUSTRIAL ADHESIVE TAPE

As one of the professional industrial tape manufacturers in China, Egret supplies many types of industrial adhesive tape. Particularly, applied to refrigerator, air conditioning, ducting work, building, insulation industries. Not to mention our advantage of coating abilities, we also have capabilities to slit, cut, rewind, die cutting and other converting services. Important to realize, our strong adhesive tape is aluminum foil tape, PE tape, po film, PET tape, MOPP/TPP tape, PVC non-adhesive tape.

Choose Egret as Your Industrial Adhesive Tape Supplier

Choose Egret as Your Industrial Adhesive Tape Supplier. Egret mfg offers many kinds of adhesive tapes, including Aluminum foil tape, PE white tape, PET blue tape, Masking paper tape, Cloth tape, PVC air conditioner tape, Vinyl electrical tape, Double-sided tissue tape, TPP/MOPP tape, Foam tape (VHB,PE,PU, EPDM, NBR, PVC,EVA,etc), BOPP packing tape, Kraft paper tape, PE protective film, PVC duct tape, etc. We mix and produce our own formula adhesive to save cost & improve adhesion.

Moreover, Egret has 10 adhesive coating lines. Likewise, 15 slitting machines with huge capacity. Additionally, our products certified with UL, ROHS, REACH, BS, CE, etc.

Furthermore, we’re Top 1 seller for aluminum foil tape in refrigerator industry in China. Especially, Egret is a golden supplier of Samsung, Toshiba, Haier, Midea, Arcelik, Hisense, etc

Features Of Industrial Adhesive Tape

What are the benefits & features of Egret adhesive tape?

Egret adhesive tape can replace of the bolts and nuts, to make it clean looking.

High adhesion and excellent tack

Good aging resistance for both indoor & outdoor use

Joints/seams sealing against moisture and vapor barrier

Easy hand tear for workers to use on-site

Excellent heat & light reflecting of aluminum foil backing

Combination of baking material ensures high flexibility and conformability

Extremely easy for hand-tear, easy-used by workers

Neat and invisible looking to be excellent alternative to metal fasteners, welding

[epefoammachinery]

PE/EVA Foam Cutting Machine,Slitting Machine,Bandsaw,EPE Foam Auto. Vertical Cutter(Custom Design)

EVA/EPE Foam Vertical Cutting Machine can clamp, cut, and feed planks. This is ideal t cut PE, EPE, PP, PU, XLPE etc. foam materials. It's designed to increase the production rates and provide operator safety.

[iwaslut]

— milf!mikasa

note: yeah i wanna fuck mikasa <3

ft. milf!mikasa ackerman

warning: gn!reader, nsfw content, milf!mikasa, modern!au, oral (milf!mikasa receiving)

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT

milf!mikasa is the kind of milf who you don’t even realize is a mom at first. she’s in the gym nearly every day, and her physique attests to her dedication. she’s fit as fuck with a nice round ass and tight abs that are always on display for all other gym occupants since she likes to don tiny sport bras as she works out. the only thing that clues you in to the fact that she’s a mother is that she drops her kid off at the gym-provided day-care before going off to lift weights in a corner of the gym.

although she’s a mom, you know she’s not married: the distinct absence of a ring on her finger assures you of that. your interactions are always brief and polite when you greet her from behind the gym’s front desk. you discreetly check her out when you make your rounds, wiping down machines that grant you the best view of her ass when she bends over to squat.

you’re completely content with the limited interactions you exchange and admiring how fucking hot she is from afar. that is until she requests for a private training session. it surprises you, to say the least, since from what you’ve observed, mikasa does not need a trainer at all. if anything, she could probably be a fucking trainer herself. you keep these thoughts to yourself however as she books a private training session for next time.

her session is scheduled near closing time so it’s no surprise that by the time mikasa shows up, the gym is essentially empty with only a few others milling around throughout the facility. it’s only mikasa who shows up, no child in sight, which makes sense when you think about it because the day-care’s hours don’t run this late into the evening.

with a nervous smile, you lead her in the direction of the training room, which branches off from the main floor. it’s rather secluded from the rest of the facility, but mikasa doesn’t seem to mind at all.

you quickly lead her through a quick warm up before getting down to the focus of the session. as you’re guiding her through a stretch, your hands placed on her hips to steady her balance, you freeze when the curve of mikasa’s ass presses against your front. assuming that it was an accident, you compose yourself and continue assisting her until it happens again, except this time she pushes against you harder this time.

realizing that it was purposeful and not accidental, you're quick to take charge of the situation. knowing that the training room is relatively private and that there are only a few people working out in the facility, you’re not worried that anybody will come disturb you. if they do, they should consider themselves lucky for the show you’ll give them.

“that’s a nice arch, miss ackerman. be sure to maintain it.” 

face pressed into the side of the mat that you laid out earlier, mikasa’s ass is up in the air, back curved into a beautiful arch. after admiring her form for a moment, you sink to your knees. you nudge her toned legs wider apart with your hands, which she’s quick to respond to, spreading her knees further apart to make room for you to kneel right behind her.

“you’re dripping mikasa.” running a finger along the seam of her tight spandex, you’re amazed that she’s soaked through them. she harshly exhales through her nose when you nudge her clothed lips apart, firmly pressing your middle finger over the material that’s covering her dripping slit.

before she can enjoy your touch more, you move your finger away from her clothed pussy, hooking deft digits into the waistband of her spandex and panties and pulling them down in one swift sweep to pool around her ankles.

“such a pretty pussy you have.” a quiet moan spills from mikasa’s lips when you lean your head down to lick a long stripe over her wet cunt. arousal smears and coats her inner thighs, steadily dripping down in drops onto the foam mat beneath.

“f-fuck.” mikasa’s head presses further against the mat as you continue to lick her pussy. even as her thighs tremble in pleasure, the perfect curve of her back never falters. if anything, she arches it more, pressing her ass back into your face and tongue that lavishes her pussy in attention. she shivers when you pause from eating her out. your warmth breath fans across her cunt: the entirety of your lower face covered in a mixture of your spit and her juices. when you meet her eyes, you give her a promising grin.

“be patient, baby. i plan on fucking you after you cum on my tongue.”

[disturbedbydesign]

The Widow and the Wolf - Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x dark!exWidow!reader

Summary: After Natasha Romanoff took down the Red Room, the former Widows scattered to the wind. Raised to be a killing machine and released into the world with nothing and no one, you decided to use your newfound autonomy to take down the bad guys of your choosing. But now Natasha is riddled with guilt for leaving you on your own. She wants to recruit you, rehabilitate you, make you part of a team again. But the rest of the squad has reservations, and no one is more against you than Bucky Barnes.

Warnings: Graphic violence; Mentions of domestic violence, rape, pedophilia, human trafficking, child sex trafficking; eventual Dubcon (not Bucky); eventual smut; slow(ish) burn enemies-to-lovers. [More warnings will be added as necessary but these are the Big Bads.] 18+ only, no minors.

A/N: This is canon-adjacent in that I just decided to pick and choose who I wanted to write for and what parts of canon I wanted to use. Best not to think too hard about where it falls on the timeline because the canon is a mess and we all kind of hate it anyway.

If you prefer to read on AO3, you can do so here.

Chapter One

You’ve been tracking him for days, not that it was hard. His patrol schedule is always the same, as is his after-hours routine: drinks at the Irish pub on Reade Street with the other boys in blue. It’s a cop bar but you waltz right in, looking lost even though you know the name, rank, and various misdeeds of every guy in the place. He looks at you, because of course he does—his wife assured you that he has a wandering eye, among his other sins.

You take a seat at the bar. “Double vodka rocks, please.”

The bartender pours you your drink and you take a deep pull, savoring the burn of it. Then you wait, but it doesn’t take long—it never does. Sergeant Thompson sidles up to the barstool next to you.

“Hey darlin,” he says, his breath reeking of cheap beer. “You lost?”

You turn to him with an innocent smile. “Evening, officer.”

“It’s Sergeant,” he says, tapping his badge, “but I won’t hold that against you. So, what’s a pretty young thing doing in a dive bar with a bunch of old men?”

“I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner but she bailed on me. Figured I’d grab a drink before I head home.”

“And where is home?” he asks, not that it’s any of his business, but cops think they deserve answers to any questions they feel like asking.

“Williamsburg,” you lie.

“You’re pretty far from home, then,” he replies, even though you both know that you aren’t. He takes a sip of his beer and the foam leaves a trace like a mustache before he licks it clean. “It’s late. Why don’t you let me drive you? Wouldn’t want you on the subway this time of night.”

“It’s only 8:30,” you say. “I think I’ll be just fine.”

He leans in conspiratorially. “Well, I really shouldn’t be telling you this—open investigation and all that—but we’ve been on the lookout for a guy in the area, serial rapist, real nasty piece of work.”

That’s one thing the two of you have in common at least.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you home, darlin.”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” you admit. “Can’t get much safer than the NYPD, right?”

He laughs and so do you, knowing that nothing is farther from the truth—especially when it comes to this guy.

Sergeant Thompson speeds across the Williamsburg Bridge with his flashers on, headed toward the address you gave him. Of course, that’s not actually your address—you don’t have a home anymore—it’s just one of many rundown warehouses in the neighborhood, variously used for impromptu raves and as drug dens and, in your case, a private place in which you can take care of business without fear of being interrupted.

“This is me,” you say, waiting for him to let you out of the back of the cruiser where he insisted you ride—caged in like a helpless animal, or so he thinks.

“This place?” he asks. “Looks like it’s about to collapse.”

“You’d be surprised what they can do to these places on the inside—gentrification and what have you. My rent is astronomical.”

“Still,” he says, “I’d like to walk you up. Looks a bit unsavory.”

“If you insist, Sergeant.”

The second you get up the stairs to the top floor, you inject him with the etorphine, straight into the jugular, and down he goes. It never gets old—how easy it is, when they think that they are the predator and you are the prey. You drag him into the loft where you’re already set up for a long night’s work.

When he comes to, he’s fixed to the chair with (among other things) his own handcuffs, mouth taped shut and a rag shoved in for good measure. You don’t want to hear him talk; it’s time for him to listen. His day of reckoning has come. He starts to squirm but between the cuffs and the duct tape and the sedative still coursing through his veins, he’s not going anywhere. Even if he did get free, you could take him down easy. It’s what you were trained for. It’s what you were born for.

“Welcome back, Sergeant,” you say, and he screams something unintelligible through the rag which, if you had to guess, would be some combination of “cunt” or “bitch” or any of the other choice words he likes to use on his women.

The tarps are laid meticulously around the room, placed strategically to catch any and all evidence of what you’re about to do. When he notices them, he goes still, because he knows. Part of him knows.

“So,” you say, pulling out the Thompson file, “this is quite the impressive resume you’ve got here, Sarge. Lots of civilian brutality complaints, including a few choice allegations from female prisoners. Oh, and then there’s the domestic violence and marital rape. You’re a real charmer, huh?”

There’s more muffled screaming but you ignore it—the last gasps of a dying man.

“Here’s the thing, Sarge. I know you think that you’re above the law, because you are the law, but you aren’t. Your wife is real tired of your shit, and me? Well, let’s just say that my motto is protect and serve.” You lean in close enough to smell the salty sweat on his brow. “And unlike you, I actually mean it.”

You pull your favorite knife from your thigh holster and slit him from ear to ear. “See you in hell, Sergeant.”

You sit on the edge of the table, swinging your legs and watching him bleed out. It doesn’t take long. The actual disposal is the real work. You set about chopping him into manageable pieces and you find yourself missing the days when you didn’t have to cover your tracks alone, when there was a clean-up team to take care of it for you.

But you’re freelance now. You’re not a Widow anymore. She made sure of that.

Sometimes—like right now, when you’re dripping sweat and every muscle in your body is screaming its exertion as you saw through bone after bone—you hate Natasha Romanoff. You know why she did what she did; you understand that, objectively, it was the right thing to do. But did she ever stop to consider the repercussions of her actions? She got out early and found a new family and became one of the Good Guys. But you? You entered the Red Room with nothing and you left with nothing.

They always said you were born to be a killer. It’s all you’ve ever known. So what exactly did she expect you to do? You may be free of the mind control, but you never had the chance to develop a mind of your own. Killing is all you know. At least now you get to pick your own targets.

Once you’ve got Sergeant Thompson all squared away, you pack him up in the trunk of his cruiser and drive upstate, listening to the 80s station you like. It occurs to you that most people have heard these songs a thousand times—so many times that they know the lyrics instinctively, can sing them without even having to think about it. It’s all new to you, though. You can’t decide whether it makes you sad to think about all you’ve missed or whether you’re lucky that you get to experience for the first time what everyone else is already tired of.

When you get to the farm, you dump Thompson in the holes you’ve already backhoed, then you hop on the Cat and fill them all in. You shoot a text to Mrs. Thompson from your burner—just a thumbs-up emoji—and she replies with a smiley face. It was only so long before he would have killed her; she knows it as well as you do. The only people that will grieve the dearly departed Sergeant Thompson are a bunch of assholes who are one false move from ending up in your web.

You didn’t charge Mrs. Thompson your usual rate—just what she could afford without drawing the attention and ire of the Mister. Sometimes, depending on the circumstances, you even work pro bono. After all, you only kill people for money who you would happily kill for free. You consider it a service, something for the greater good of society. You’ll take money, sure—you need it to live and to continue your work—but not from people who can’t easily spare it.

You have standards. You have a code. That’s the difference between the you that served as a mindless weapon wielded by others and the you that decides for yourself how to use the gifts you’ve been given. No women. No children. No collateral damage. Only Very Bad Men who’ve done Very Bad Things. You don’t see the harm in it, not really, and as you settle into bed you come back to the thought you often have before a fitful night of sleep: who’s the real avenger, Natasha?

*****

Natasha wipes her brow and throws the rag down on the mat, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging half of it before she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. Bucky has barely broken a sweat from their morning sparring session, and he doesn’t even try to fake it. He’s in an especially grumpy mood.

“This is a bad idea, Natasha.”

“To some people, maybe,” she says, “but I want to bring her in anyway. I don’t understand how you of all people are against me on this, Bucky.”

“Uh, for starters, she’s a serial killer.”

“That’s a bit of a harsh assessment, considering the circumstances. And do I really need to remind you that the same could be said about the two of us? That a lot of people still say that about us?”

Bucky sighs, because he knows she’s right, but this is different—you are different. “It’s not the same,” he grumbles, but he’s not entirely sure it isn’t, and that’s what’s really bothering him.

“Look,” Nat says, taking a step toward Bucky, “I need to try, ok? I know what she’s going through because I went through it, except she’s completely alone out there with nothing and no one. You and I… we had people behind us, helping us.”

“And what if she says no?” Bucky asks. “Are you just gonna let her go on doing what she’s doing? She’s killed… how many is it now?”

Natasha mutters something under her breath and Bucky looks at her expectantly. “What was that, Tasha?”

“25 people in the last 6 months,” she states, her mouth set in a hard line.

“Exactly,” he says.

“I would like to point out that they were all very bad people. So...”

“Tasha,” he says, and he puts his hand up to silence her. “I can’t help you on this. I’m sorry. I want to, but I can’t.”

Natasha huffs out a laugh. “You know what, Barnes? You’re real high and mighty for a guy who–”

Natasha stops herself when she sees the ice-cold look in Bucky’s eyes. “Go on. For a guy who what?”

“Nothing,” she says. “I’m sorry. I’ll go on my own.”

“Well, good luck to you. Hope you don’t get your throat slit.”

Bucky stomps off and Natasha is left wondering if she’s about to make a huge mistake. She knows you’re volatile, that a part of you must resent her, but she needs to make it right. At the very least, she needs to try.

Natasha grabs her tablet and scrolls through the latest intel on your whereabouts. She’s just missed you in New York, but she thinks she’s got a jump on your next target: some coke dealer down in Miami with a predilection for underage girls. Just a brief glance at this guy’s file is enough to make Natasha’s blood run cold. She knows why you do what you do. If she’s honest, it doesn’t bother her one bit that you’re doing it. It’s the thought of you out there on your own, filled with hate and anger and thirsty for bloody vengeance, that frightens her. Because maybe one day—left to your own devices, lost in the chaos of your troubled mind—getting the Bad Guys won’t be enough for you. Maybe you’ll decide that some of the Good Guys aren’t so good after all. Maybe you’ll even be right.

She contemplates being honest with Steve and telling him where she’s headed but decides against it. Steve isn’t on board with her plan. Natasha doesn’t fault him for it—he doesn’t understand, he couldn’t. Bucky, though... that’s a disappointment, and it surprises her. If anyone knows what it feels like to spend your life as someone else’s weapon, it’s Bucky Barnes.

Natasha waits until nightfall to “borrow” the Quinjet, and she finds Bucky waiting for her when she gets to the hangar.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, “but only as back-up. She’s dangerous, Natasha.”

“Maybe so,” Natasha replies, “but only because she’s afraid.”

*****

You knew that she’d be coming for you sooner or later. Might as well get it over with. Your little stilt cabin on the outskirts of the Everglades isn’t quite set up for company but at least it’s tucked away and difficult to access. You’re surprised she brought him, though—that was a mistake. You and she could have a nice long conversation, but you have nothing to say to the Soldat.

You climb up the tree to your lookout platform and hoist your sniper rifle onto your shoulder, following their slow but steady progress through the knee-deep swamp water, trying to line up a decent shot as they weave in between the bald cypress trees. When you see your chance, you take it, and you put one about an inch from where the Soldat’s metal arm meets the flesh of his shoulder. It ricochets off, as intended, and he jumps forward to shield Natasha. You hear her laugh through your earpiece.

“Relax, Barnes. It was a warning shot. If she wanted to hit you, she would have.”

“She did hit me,” he snaps.

You smile as you descend from the tree to meet them.

“Well well well,” you say. “If it isn’t the Murder Twins. To what do I owe this unwanted visit?”

“You know why I’m here,” Natasha says.

“Yes,” you reply, “but why is he here?”

The man she calls Barnes looks at you with disdain and you give it right back to him. You can tell that shot in the arm really pissed him off and it pleases you to no end.

“He’s just watching my back,” she says. “That’s what happens when you’re on a team.”

“Right, The Avengers. How adorable.”

“Listen,” Natasha begins, but you stop her.

“Let me save you the trouble of whatever little speech you have prepared. I’m not coming with you. I’m not going to Widow rehab and joining your ragtag group of misfits. And I’m not going to stop doing my work just because you come here and bat your eyes and smile pretty at me.”

“Your work?” spits the Soldat. “Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Bucky, don’t-”

“Let him talk, Romanoff,” you say. “He obviously has some… opinions. Now that he’s got the mask off, he can finally speak for himself.” You take a step towards him, your rifle in hand but not pointed at him. “So speak, Soldat.”

He looks flustered and not a little bit angry. You can tell he doesn’t like to be called by that name. “Killing people isn’t work,” he says.

You huff out a laugh. “And what is it that the two of you do, exactly? Run a coffee shop?”

“We are not the same,” he says, and you smile because you know that he doesn’t actually believe that—how could he after everything he’s done?

“I think we are exactly the same, Soldat, with one huge exception: you’re still letting other people tell you what to do, and I’m done with all that.”

“This is pointless,” he says.

“Now that is something you and I actually agree on.” You turn to Natasha. “You should go while you still can. I have work to do.”

But Natasha just won’t let it go. “I should never have left you alone,” she says. “This is my fault. Let me fix it.”

“I don’t need to be fixed,” you snap, and you raise your rifle and point it directly at her head. “Leave, Natasha. And take your little pet with you.”

The Soldat grabs her arm gently. “Let’s go, Tasha. She’s hopeless.”

You feel a pang of something then—some indescribable form of melancholy. You try to keep it off your face but you can tell from the look in his eyes that he sees it. A minute tremble of your lip, the quick double blink—it gives you away, and now you’re really pissed off.

“Leave. Now,” you yell, and it pierces through the sweltering darkness. “I’ll make you sorry if you don’t.”

You watch Natasha and the bionic man make their way out of the swamp. You don’t turn your back on them, not that you think they’ll try to take you by force. That would be unwise and Natasha knows it. Once you’re satisfied that they’re gone, you return to the cabin. The bloodied man in the linen suit lays strapped to the bed where you left him, squirming and shouting around the gag in his mouth.

You have to stop yourself from making this a messy affair, but the anger you feel—at her, at him, at everything—is making it difficult to temper your darker urges. You’re not one for torture, even though this man absolutely deserves it for the horrible things he’s done. You almost give in, but you remind yourself that this is a job—it is work, despite what the Soldat may think—and you have to remain professional.

You grab the man’s file off the desk and pull a chair up next to the bed. “So, Mr. Garcia, where were we?”

CHAPTER TWO >>>

[worldsover]

Fermata ft. Chuu

length ✦ 5651

genres ✧ Dal Segno sequel; dirty talk; oral; makeup fetish; more subby!Chuu

✦✧✦✧✦✧

You write to keep your concentration and disconnect you from your ever-changing concerns. For all your ideas, the true crux of putting a piece together is actually making something concrete. The self-control you require to be consistent, and consistently creative, is what makes music so hard to stay focused on. This album must be finished. This year. No written promises but you have to do right by her after all you've invested. You fucked Jiwoo in the mouth yesterday. Real right of you to do.

“Coming!” Jiwoo must be far from the front door with how her holler resounds the apartment. Where do you put your hands? Pockets are natural though they don't feel like it. Many but not enough footsteps grow in loudness but you expect a stampede anyway when the door opens. Instead, only Yerim and Sooyoung manifest in the opening hallway.

“Hello, oppa! Jiwoo unnie is just… Umm. Taking care of business.” Yerim playfully elbows you when she pulls you in but you stop her to take your shoes off. Sooyoung sends a brusque wave your way and not much else as she collects assorted effects and clothing around the living room. There isn’t nearly as much noise as you expect.

Look around in confusion. “Did I miss something? Is today a holiday?”

“Jiwoo isn’t the only one who’s got schedules, PD-nim,” Sooyoung says.

Yerim turns around. She also has some nicer pants on, and a loose-fitting red top. “Unnie, you’re just visiting your family.”

“And that’s a schedule.”

“Well oppa, I have a CF to film so, ha!” Yerim raises a hand, victorious she just won the conversation. High five. She’s satisfied but Sooyoung gives no regard, clearly looking for something.

“What about the other girls?” you ask.

“I’m not a manager. Just count yourself lucky the dorm is so empty.” Yerim says.

“Damn, we can even record some demos too. Good thing I brought the mic. Hold on, before you guys go, wanna listen to some of our songs?” you say.

“Finally!” Yerim says.

“Just play it out loud, I can hear it,” Sooyoung says. You offer your help with whatever she’s searching for though she brushes you off and insists she can do it herself.

Yerim brings out a bluetooth speaker from underneath the living room couch and coughs because of whatever dust she just procured.

Pull out your Macbook from your backpack and connect it to the speaker. You think about which track to play and pick the one that shows off Jiwoo’s voice the best so far, Jiwoo - Deeper.

Yerim immediately gets into the beat, bobbing her head and dancing. However, when the chorus hits, her ears perk up and she starts cheering at the notes that Jiwoo belts. Sooyoung also turns an ear towards the speaker in curiosity.

A vacuum interrupts the music. Jiwoo swoops in with the machine, scurrying her shapely legs with no heed to their bareness. She pushes up her fake circle glasses and says over the commotion, “I knew you needed this! Oppa, hello!”

“I’m trying to listen to the music here!” Yerim covers her ears.

Sooyoung looks down and pauses at the edge of the couch. “Oh hey, there’s my bracelet! Really nice music by the way!”

“Wow, you guys are so kind.” Jiwoo says, her voice piercing the screaming vacuum without effort. She turns it off realizing she's the only one can really do so. “You still like the music now?”

“No unnie, I mean it,” Yerim says.

“Why are you wearing just that big tracksuit sweater? Do you even have shorts on?” you interrupt the gushing. Jiwoo turns around and hugs herself as if she dropped a towel, even though her immodesty comes from her lower body. Good thing no one notices her sweater ride up for a moment to reveal white panties. Sooyoung looks at you confused while Yerim smirks to match yours. She wasn't even looking at Jiwoo but she could probably tell from your face. Damn, she’s too perceptive.

“Well, it looks like that’s my cue to go,” Yerim says.

“I’m so confused,” Sooyoung looks back and forth at you and the other two girls in the room. You shrug your shoulders, pretending to take solace in her ignorance of the situation.

“Come on unnie, we’ll go together. I’ll go out to get money and you go out to get your kisses from mommy and daddy.” Somehow that didn’t sound too offensive but Sooyoung punches Yerim anyway.

“Oppa, can you finish vacuuming for me?” You’re about to make a retort about labor laws but Jiwoo runs to the bathroom and immediately you hear Jiwoo practicing melodic runs. They’re definitely not the ones you taught her, unless moaning was part of the routine.

“So she has to get her vocal cords ready too huh? I’m suuure that’s all she’s doing in there.” Yerim keeps poking at your bicep with two fingers. You turn on the vacuum to try and hide her overt naughtiness but Yerim’s devilish look tells enough. For full measure, she winks at you as she drags Sooyoung out of the dorm. Mental note to deal with that can of worms for later.

Head to the big bedroom where Jiwoo’s still doing vocal exercises. Three bunk beds line the walls while pillows, blankets and bean bags litter the floor. As the centrepiece of the room sits a simple wooden table, short enough to rest on the polystyrene filled chairs while adequately comfortable to get work done. She stands proud on top of the table as she practices the actual runs you tell her to do.

“Oh, oh, ohhhhh, oh, ohhhhppa!” She jumps down from the table and nearly tackles you when she locks her legs around you in a hug. Take a second to balance yourself while holding her as tightly as possible.

“Jiwoo, you’re eager today.”

“Of course I am, oppa. I’m soooo excited to. Record. Of course.”

“Well if you are, please get off of me.”

“Oppa! You don’t like my hugs?” she says nearly falsetto. Her aegyo throws you off, so you throw her off. Onto a bean bag. “I guess that’s a no.”

“No, not no. I mean. We have to be focused, Jiwoo. Is there any rope or anything?”

“You just said we have to be focused, oppa.”

You wave your hands in denial. “What’d I say about acoustics?”

“Ohhh, like the foam at the studio?”

“Exactly. Especially with how big this room is, we’re going to have to need all the insulation we can get. Ahhh!” Your random shout rumbles throughout the room and startles the relaxing Jiwoo. 

She stands up. “I get it! Geez.”

“Oh yeah, I need a pop filter too.”

“A thin fabric right? For all the p-p-plosives.”

“Mhm.”

Inevitable. Jiwoo takes off her panties and you shake your head laughing in disapproval.

“Come on now, that’s just not sanitary,” you say.

“So you’re saying you don’t want them?”

“No, I’ll just confiscate them for your stupidity. Tsk. Find some pantyhose.“ She gets up. “Ahem. Not used.”

The panties have a tiny wet spot, and your nose takes a quick bask in its musk but Jiwoo immediately catches you.

“And I’m too horny,” Jiwoo says with characteristic sass. You put it in your pocket as she gets pantyhose from her drawer. After fashioning a stand for the pantyhose for her to sing into, you both get to work hanging up blankets from the bunk beds while clotheslines become pillow-lines. A makeshift room within a room, still centered by the table but now surrounding you with cushioning cloth instead of acoustically reflective drywall.

Barely enough space for jumping jacks but you start doing them anyway and it flummoxes Jiwoo for a moment. You don’t need to tell her to join in. Sit down to play an instrumental from the laptop and she pauses the exercise before you motion for her to continue. 

“I need you with the right energy for the beat.”

“Yeah, I figured. Synthwave is really popular now, huh?” Her bouncing to the rhythm rides her hoodie up again but now her cute slit and bare legs are plain to see. Your tongue dries your lips. She catches her breath before stretching one last time. Keep it together. “So are we recording?” 

You nod. Take out the microphone and two pairs of in ear monitors for listening, and connect all the devices to the computer. After setting everything up, Jiwoo gets up and you hold the microphone and filter for her.

Click. “Aaand, recording.”

Click. “One more.”

But that’s it. Two takes. You could not get a better sounding Jiwoo than that. Not a quick demo but the actual release vocal track, since even in such an imperfect recording environment, it sounds perfect to your ears. A little frustration since where was this Jiwoo in all the previous sessions? Maybe you’ll have to consider more visits for recording though you’re not sure if you could make another miracle happen to have everyone else out of the dorm at the same time.

“Jiwoo, that was a- Dammit, that was perfect,” you say.

“Of course, it was!” Not that there’s much room in the improvised recording studio but she ensures you feel even less of it when she gets closer. “Sooo. Wanna fuck my face?”

“That’s not the arrangement! You didn’t mess up.” 

“You definitely sound disappointed I did a good job,” Jiwoo says.

”Of course I’m not disappointed.” You sigh. Are we doing this again? A single flitter of her brows. “I’m not going to fuck your face this time, okay? You have to be able to take that dick all the way down yourself.”

No protests. She lowers her head once in gratitude. 

"Thank you for the meal!" Jiwoo says as she shows off her pearly whites in a big smile. She turns her head up to look at you lovingly as she cups your balls with her hands before she lowers her head again for a precursory smooch onto your cock. This time, she gives the same slow care to your shaft with her lips as she is to your balls with her hands. As if she wasn't going to ruin her makeup.

Restraining your panting and cries of ecstasy is arduous enough with Jiwoo engulfing you when-

“Kim Jiwoo!” Sooyoung’s voice reverberates from maybe the living room or the foyer.

Jiwoo side-eyes the study door. Her head does not stop its seesaw. Is this girl so entranced by your cock that she feels not an ounce of dread?

Sooyoung yells, “I forgot something! Just wanted to let you know I’ll be back later with dinner!”

“Okay! Thanks! We’re busy,” you choke on your words as Jiwoo does the same on your dick, “Uh, listening to the mix!”

Sooyoung, still shouting, but attempting to say lower, “Sorry! I’ll go now. Bye.”

Wait a few minutes before getting up, and of course Jiwoo’s lips are still wrapped around your cock as you walk towards the door. Dorm is empty. She must have performed magic taking off her shirt and underwear to play with herself because you can't remember if she's ever stopped sucking you off. The kinematics don't add up. More likely, you’re slightly faint from her perilous suction, making left and right difficult directions to parse from each other.

"Fuck you're already so good, Jiwoo." 

Pull her up and carry her to deposit onto the bottom bunk of the bed by the window.  She ends up belly diving onto the mattress’ surface and her buttcheeks recoil just the slightest bit.  Jiwoo notices and starts giggling when she plays around with her perky cheeks.

"You like my ass, oppa?" Nod.

“I said I wasn’t going to fuck your face today. Fuck. Maybe I’ll fuck you there instead,” you say in a low bass.

Her eyes turn into full moons at your suggestion. You laugh. 

”Naughty fucking girl. Next time, when you’re a good girl. Such a fun ass though.” Follow through with the compliment as you line up your cock to the prone girl’s mouth, arcing down to fondle her round buns. It's a miracle and also a bit embarrassing that your erection is soft after all that. Best guess is that it's had so much stimulation, but all of the masturbation after recalling your previous facefuck probably didn't help. Jiwoo takes her index and middle digits and raps them on your cock to a freeform beat.

“Aww oppa, your cock. I need to make it big and meaty again,” Jiwoo whines and her pout confesses that she's a little disheartened, however her eyes are more determined.

“Tell me all the ways you want me to use you." She raises her vivid eyebrows and lists her head a little forward. “Okay, miss ‘I won’t let go of this cock even when there’s others in the house’. Don’t worry, we have plenty of time. Just relax and go on.”

“Hmph. Fine. Well, your dick is right here, sooo after I lick it up,” which she begins doing by inspecting your shaft with intent, before finding a spot she deems scrumptious enough to lap up. “You fuck this dirty mouth pussy clean while I play myself on my tummy just like this.”

Jiwoo sounds ridiculous talking with her tongue out but at the same time, her cheeky lisp fortifies your cock. Her hands wander underneath herself and she reels back, titillated by her own words. You watch the small woman fondling herself with both hands while your erection at half-mast presses against her face in suspense.

“I could flip myself over and I’d never let go of oppa’s cock, I promise, then you could see your bulge in my fuck hole.”

How could this girl talk so filthy? Her face doesn’t even look like it should utter the word darn, yet here she is giving a study of her throat’s distension from your dick.

Jiwoo continues, one hand rubbing her clit fervently, “Then, maybe. Maybe oppa could get on top of me and pretty please eat my little pussy out while he shoves his cock into me?”

You couldn’t just stand idly by, though it wouldn’t be the worst with how her mouth vibrates your cock harder as her tone gets more gravelly and hungry. When you reach down, you see her wet slit preoccupied with two fingers from her other hand. It doesn’t stop you from slipping one in the increasingly creamy hole.

“Then oppa, if you still wanna at least?” her voice shrinks, but then returns in volume as she crescendos, “You keep your mouth on my slit as you lift up my legs and your silly slut is upside down and she’s choking on your cock and Jiwoo can’t breath and all the blood rushing to her head and you cum and Jiwoo doesn’t let any of spill out cuz Jiwoo is a good slut for oppa, and oppa, oppa, please!”

You join in stroking and rubbing her squishy soaking pussy lips and she looks up from her haze.

“Kim Jiwoo.” Your voice is stern and it seems more than any physical stimulation that your deep beckon is what sends her past the edge. Her pussy swallows whole your finger still inside her, wetness replacing all sensation that the digit once had. She accompanies her whole body’s spasms with loud visceral moans. It takes more than a mere moment to close her eyes and restore her breathing. The bedroom smells a little salty from all the fluids leaking her mouth and slit.

“How much porn have you been watching?” you say.

“As much as you oppa.”

Swallow down a bit of spit. “Huh?”

“Remember our very first recording session, you forgot your laptop and I returned it to you?”

“Fuck,” you say. Jiwoo stretches and lay spread-eagle on the bed, a gooey strand connecting between her two thighs. She licks her fingers.

“You're lucky I found it. Oppa, it’s all your fault I’m like this. Plus all those fancams of me in the same folder. I wanted to confess sooner but I needed more opportunities to be with you.” She sucks her hand more earnestly.

“I didn’t think sucking dick counted as confessing.”

“Hey, I did say I like you. Did you already forget? Tsk. Typical boy.”

“Look at this dick.” You didn’t have to say that because she’s already drilling holes into it with her eyes. “Remember how I said I was basically recording for free? Make your own inferences.” The round shape of her mouth in understanding is perfect.  "Now, open wide."

"Yes! Mm..."

 It’s hard to say which position is your favorite.

Fucking her face is straightforward but you pay closer attention. You’re certainly not down that deep, as you can still feel her uvula recoil on your tip and react with thick gagged out spit. Nothing like your cum but she sucks and spits the liquid in and out anyway. She definitely enjoys playing around with fluids in her mouth.

Jiwoo pulls away when she upturns herself, as she coughs with whatever throat muscles you hit. Her head hanging upside down off the mattress would be the perfect perspective to see your cock’s imprint on her neck but she still can’t manage the depth. The angle certainly makes your pistoning easier as your balls slap against your nose in more forceful pushes, playing vulgar slapping noises that mix with her gagging.

Afterwards, you lean over and move her head to get the mattress’s support instead of dangling. Hunch down to her wetness and the taste of her nectar more than makes up for the difficulty of thrusting while on top of her. Already having difficulty breathing with a cock in her airways, you don’t want to crush her under your weight. Still, you spend the most time between her thighs, taking in the muskiness of her pussy and all that it releases. It explains Jiwoo’s long drawn breath through her nose if you have a similarly alluring scent. There’s also the possibility your length steals too much air from her wet, gagging mouth but in this position, it’s her choice to hold your shaft in her throat for that much time.

Pick her up by the ass and cup the top of Jiwoo’s cheeks. Well, now they’re the bottom as she’s upside down in this piledriver sixty-nine position, both of you sucking and licking as closely as possible. She’s definitely enjoying the scents and tastes. You could drop her on her head and she'd thank you if you kept your cock in her mouth. Maybe you heard her mumble something like “yummy”, but anything resembling consonants are far past the point of physiology and linguistics. If anything, holding Jiwoo upside down makes her look more like a used sex doll than the cute girl that she is. 

A whole lot of mess to clean up later. Cans of Febreeze, maybe some rags and a mop. New sheets, soaked with nearly every bodily fluid mouthfucking can provide. However, all that work pales to the pure torture you’ve put upon yourself to not cum.  It helps with how often you pull out of her mouth as for all her prodigal gagging, she also looks thankful when you give her moments to rest her jaw and lips. Somehow you're in control the entire time yet you have not an ounce of it, avoiding your inevitable fate. Finally, you can rest. Now you’re thankful you jerked off many times before this to last as long as you have. 

Of course, resting did mean you were on an office chair and she was on her knees, but still. It’s a break from all the exercise.

“You know oppa,” she says with a smile on her face.

“I was waiting for you to ask,” mumbling as she often does on your erection.

“Jiwoo-ah! Wear lip gloss.” How she manages to get that out so adorably with a cock in her mouth, you will never know.

“But I figured,” bobbing down, “I was sucking you off so sloppily,” and up, “It’d be such a waste of makeup.”

The girl made a point though you say, “I’d still like to see it one time. Alright? I don’t wanna have to ask either.”

“Okayyyy.” She says as she purrs on your dick. The little devil knows how weak you are when she talks with a full mouth. You still aren’t going to succumb this time. Pulling out of her mouth is as difficult as last time but you snap your head back and you snap your head away. 

"Nooo." A familiar cry. What if she didn't even like the taste of cum? No time for questions as your body falls apart in the clashing brass and woodwinds. The obnoxious dissonance making you pulse and pulse. You aim below her neck to allow the cum to drip down her collarbones and petite tits. Rub her nipples, sticky with your load and she lets out a little squeal when you tweak them.

"Pwetty pwease oppa. Your cumdump Chuu-ah really wants your cum." She puts her pointer on her swollen cheek. God, she's too much for one man but that’s the situation you put yourself in. 

Plop. 

Plop.

"Jiwoo, please. It's so sensitive," you whimper as she keeps sucking the tip.

"You get to do whatever you want oppa."

"Fuck.” Pull Jiwoo off of you. “Maybe I will."

You collect your load from her tits as an impressive volume drips down.

"Ahh," Jiwoo says but you push her down one last time with your unstained hand and your other uses a finger to penetrate her little pussy, providing it with the semen that she desperately wants.

"I hope this is good enough for now." Her squeaks in time with each finger on your sticky hand exploring her insides confirm that it is indeed.

A step closer and your rehardening cock finds her labia, small but inviting. She gasps and shudders as you tease her pussy lips in a familiar way. It’s just as sensitive for her as it is for you with how much she sweats and writhes from the shaft The friction of the pussyjob is unbearable and instead of juices dripping from within her, a heavy volume of watery liquid squirts out. 

“I’m so, I’m so sorry oppa.”

“It’s okay, Jiwoo.” You put the tip in. “Doesn’t that feel so good.”

“Yes! Thank you. Awwww,” She says when you pop it out. In another world, that tip pushes past and you ravage her. But at this point, you have standards to uphold.

“Be a good girl for me and you can have more, okay?” Give her a rainbow dildo to practice with.

"Oh I already have one, oppa. This looks like it fits better though. Well I guess worse considering how much bigger it is. Just like. Yours. Fuck."

Despite all her orgasms, she looks ready to masturbate yet another time.

"We can't just cum all day Jiwoo," you say. She sighs and nods in understanding.

“Where am I gonna hide this? It really stands out.”

“Just keep it inside you.” Her eyes light up. “No wait.”

Jiwoo giggles. “C’mon oppa, they should be back any time soon.”

You finish up some final touches in your recording. There’s definitely more hitches when it comes to dealing with vocal recordings in such an improvised setting but it’s certainly not as much of a problem as looking at any of the other members in the eyes as you stay for dinner.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

tYou tend to get in a rush when you procrastinate as much as you do. It’s her first album, there’s no reason to rush her first album. Besides, the strength of any artist’s work is in their sophomore album, since they’ve had forever to work on that first one and now people are expecting the second. In either case, you really have time, but you don’t let yourself feel that. Instead, mixing and recording, once a job you enjoyed doing, has turned into a series of stressors in your life.

Jiwoo’s in a rush too. Why is she in such a rush?

“Hello. Oppa. I. Uh. Heard you got into a fender bender.” Every word sounds laborious as she opens the door to the studio. You step out into the hallway then look left and right. Nothing out of place.

“Yeah, just some scratches. You okay, Jiwoo?”

Her lips tuck in when she walks forward even a step. “Yep, doing juust fine. We gonna get to recording or what?”

“I mean if you say so.”

Each step towards the booth has her hitch her breath just a little, but she looks focused as ever so you waste no time and hit record. Should you text another member and ask if anything's off about Jiwoo today? Her singing is fine, maybe a little more vocal fry in her voice than usual, but it fits the sultry ballad.

You text Chaewon as Jiwoo keeps trying out different intonations for the pre-chorus.

Chaewon: "she was all flirty and weird today"

You: "lmao aight, tell something idk"

"yeah yeah, but this is different" 

"different how? she's always like that"

Jiwoo sees you typing and stops her singing to ask if anything's wrong. You shake your head and wave your free hand, gesturing for her to continue.

"i guess less wordy and more touchy today? good luck, lmk if you figure it out"

"i will. see ya later" 

Curious. You set your phone down and inspect Jiwoo's eyes and her crinkled nose. Hmm. 

A few hours later, you’re still recording. For how well the session at the dorm went, it feels like you’re back to square one with all of her mistakes today. She had such a good first takes too but her vocal quality is definitely receding, and in a different way than usual.

“I need to go to the restroom. I’ll be back,” you say into the microphone.

You go quickly to relieve yourself. A lot of water today. Needed it looking at Jiwoo in whatever weird state she's in. For some godforsaken reason you have an urge to take her mouth right now and completely ruin her. This album is never coming out.

Slowly creak the door to the studio open. No need for surprise anymore. Jiwoo pulls out a dildo from her sobbing vagina in the vocal booth and drags it up her body. Her eyes are closed, her focus clearly on the sensation of the dildo finally removed for her. She really went through with your suggestion. Must've been in there for a while considering Chaewon noticed something off earlier today. The dildo meets Jiwoo's lips, both wet from her desire and she shoves it in as deep as she can in the first try. 

Walk towards the Macbook and notice that it's recording. Shit, how much space did you have left on it? Hopefully, not going to have to clean it up later.

Finally, her eyes open and she smiles looking at you while she touches herself with one hand and deepthroats herself with the other using the toy you gave her.  She pauses her masturbation for a moment, tapping her ear. A new audio clip in Ableton, so put on your headphones.

“Come here oppa. I did a bad job today, didn’t I?”

The only words she needs for you to drop everything and walk into the booth. 

“You did,” you say as you unbuckle.

In a single stroke, she swallows your cock, matching the reinsertion of the dildo into her pussy. Jiwoo makes a tight vacuum seal with her luscious lips and shows off how well she manages her breath. Air squeezes through in her nose as you rarely unfastened yourself from her suction, and as she rarely allowed you to. Her lips are a good cock ring, her mouth a fleshlight. At the very least, this gave you much patience with her recording, knowing you were allowed to use your frustrations to turn the talented young lady into an object to use.

It’s incredible how little she has to touch herself to achieve orgasm when your cock is in her mouth. To be fair, keeping the dildo as long as she has inside of her must be a feat of its own.

“Jiwoo. Did you have this in you all day? I bet you’d prefer it were the real thing, huh?”

“Mmmhm. Mmmm!" She convulses at once. The toy squeezes in and out of her while she moans and spills saliva all over your cock. “Fuck, I wanted to cum all day but I had to wait. It’s your turn now, right?”

Jiwoo pulls out the soaked dildo and with her little fingers teases the skin of your dick before maintaining a tight grip. Her hand’s perfect rhythm and all the sucking she’s done so far today gets you right there and over the edge as quickly as she did. You unload all over the colorful sex toy and Jiwoo doesn’t let you have time to think as she puts the cum-covered toy back inside her.

You suck in some air. ”Who said you could have that cum? Lie down on the couch.” No pretense. Is there love between you two? Pull down her spotted top before mounting her modest but perky tits. It’s been barely a minute yet you’re already ready and solid once again. She tries to lean her head forward to retrieve her oral punishment-

“Thank you!”

Reward. Now that you think about it, maybe this isn’t working. The supine girl beneath you flitters her lashes, curious as to why you haven’t yet thrust into her mouth.

“You know much I love to see you work for it. Go on.”

As your cock is standing upwards at attention, she struggles raising her head to match yours, gently poking her tongue out to lick the frenulum.

“Ahh. No fair! I can’t reach. Ppfh.” She spits on it in frustration. “Ppptt. Let me have it.”

Her tongue wiggles around fruitlessly. Spit on her face in retort and you both laugh looking at the mess you’ve made. Yet at last, after playing with her food for what feels like an eternity, Jiwoo manages to wrangle your head with her tongue, guiding it to her eager lips.

“Now I better not feel that barrier, okay? Track 1.” And slowly force your way into her throat. You feigned frustration with her inability to fully take you down, but this was heaven. Regardless, stopped by her cursed reflex, you say: 

“Not good enough.” You’d almost feel bad about this.

“Again.” If it didn’t feel so good.

“One more.” Another submersion into her sopping mouth, the friction of her soft lips and tongue opposes all the lubricating slop from her throat. 

Unsheathe. “Oppa, oppa wait. Let me get something. You’ll like it.” You concede, getting off of her, and she pulls from her purse bright red lip gloss. “Watch me stain your cock!”

In a rush, Jiwoo vandalizes her lips red. Her makeup artist would be embarrassed. Of course, that makeup artist would be outright scandalized if they could see the precious idol with her back hunched over the arm of the couch, her upside down face inviting you.

You walk up and give her a good view of your balls. Tickle her neck and she leans forward to plant a pure kiss. On your cock head. “You know we haven’t kissed once yet? You haven’t even said anything about how you feel about me!”

“Neither did you.” Move your hands from Jiwoo’s neck to her bare chest and play with her stiffening nipples.

“Well, let me show you.” She plants another smooch on your shaft. And another. Yet another, until it’s turned into a full-on makeout session with your penis. The upended Jiwoo has to twist herself to leave the entirety of your flesh marked with lipstick stains. However, her best work is her french kiss where takes your dick in and plays around with her tongue, as if the mindless beast could kiss back. She leans her head back out one more time to receive you.

A sharp push and her tiny tits respond with the subtlest jiggle. 

All but an inch of your shaft covered red. “I’m so close,” she pouts.

“Well, so am I.” You keep thrusting and feel your orgasm get closer. You’re on the edge.

“Mwah.” Her lips’ release leaves your blank head even emptier.  “Mwah mwah, mwah.” She fixes her top back and wipes around her lips.

She takes wet wipes then a mask from her purse while you stand dumbfounded. There are four walls in the room. Wires spill from your laptop. One, two, three, four. You are one beat away from orgasm.

Her voice snaps your focus back. “Oppa, that was a good recording session, but you know. Ha Rin unnie has to pick me up. Bye!” Jiwoo scampers away, wiping at her face.

You might actually explode next time, in more ways than one. Guess you deserve this one though.

✦✧✦✧✦✧

AFF, AO3

Just wanted to get one more thing done before the new year so I chose this since like I said, this was originally written as one part. In fact, this is actually the very first smut I wrote. However, I kept getting stuck and adding more, so a trilogy it is then. That’s right, one last one coming up!

[blurredlandscape]

ARE YOU READY FOR THIS?

Following my intuition feels like playing with fire...

Unsteady and hot; yet mesmorizing..

Reading the subtext; feeling the flow

Where is this underlying reality?

Is it even real??

If it goes unnoticed?

It's an immense burden meeting people in the physical realm

When you feel a simultaneous existence with them on another plane

Double meanings manifest

Unconscious yearnings, veild threats, secret desires

They are subconcious things; Clamoring

Surging forth

Undulating and wave-like

Foaming, frothing edges

Immediately lurking beneath

Their skin becomes thinner

Pearlescent as a clam's trade

Their eyes become translucent

Widening, glistening and yeilding in their desire to surrender

Lips parting sweetly

Panting, desperate breaths escape

Hoarse with the succumbing

So very close to conscious self expression

Pressing against the membrane betwixt this life and the next

Like precise impressions raking their fingertips across silky sheets

Soft shadows that squirm and trail into endless spiralings

Shapes that haunt and mock me

Teased now into tempers and tantrums

Fists pounding against the effervescent partition

Thin like the unbroken hymen

Yet tough and forever stretching

Impenetrable territory to cross

Just out of reach

The black storm claps! Climatically,

Then retires suddenly

Into pulsating tracings of voluptuous desire and violent pleasures

Mouthing their dark promises that both repel and entrance

Flowing into shadowy tendrils of silent rebuke

Whistfully caressing the gauzy landscape

Unacknowledged in the end

They retreat

The immenent threat recedes..

Their skin becomes thick and bark-like

Eyes compressing, still and distant

Leaden heavy;

Like twin scabbards sheathed and buried

Mouth settling into one, thin grim line

A puppet full of its own mimicry

Seething hiss escaping

Unexpressed tensions released like a well oiled machine

Shutting off the soul

It's trapped!

Its essence hid behind slick plates of interlocking menace

Metallic and clean

What was that you almost said?

"You'll never know me"???

That's what you picked from your bag of weary cliches and tricks?

I thought I almost saw your sunrise

Honest

Like the thrill of a new dawn

The vibrant colors of your horizon

Like an exuberant red blush

Arising from the pure pleasure of your being-ness

Open wide, vulnerably strong

Only to be shut out

Stuffed into the darkest corner of your mind where the peasants live

The small space

The allowable space

The comfort zone

High walls all around and a bone chilling cold that seeps into the corners of my ever being

Walls thick with pain and sweat

Darkly and deeply entrenched

My heart seizes, clenched for the way you keep me out

My fingers scrabble for purchase against the slick, still surface of your defenses

I need to escape!!

It makes me want to die

Like a final wail!!!!

If only your hand would shove its way down my throat

Cracking and splitting the corners of my mouth into a gargantuan joker’s smile

Thrusting ever deeper

Ohh to feel your girth!

Your dark hairs clutching and catching at my teeth

As I swallow you whole

The taste of your skin like maple

And terror

Flowing down the meat of my throat

Sweet, terrible sensations of choking

Gasping

Lungs heaving against the thickness of your oak

Ohh finally my breath escapes me

Never to return

As my eyes dim; dissolving this world

Twin slits closing in ecstatic fullness

Your veiny fingers gently flick the pulsing membrane of my heart

Firm, like a god finally closing around the intimate flesh of my organ

It fills your palm

Squeezing gelatinous, through your finger's violent embrace

Your anger and heat transferred and burning me up!

Like funneled flames set against my soul

My GOD!!!

The thrill of you taking my life!!

It brings forth rapturous tears

That spill in grateful torrents from the depths of my zealout's eyes

Spend my soul's breath

Cheaply and freely

Let it flail about,

Flare and explode in its own well of painful delights

That would be so much better than a life infinitely dwelling in the stale cold air of your allowable space

Suspended and dull

Like an eternally slow death

One eternal breath slowly exhaling..

Forever confined within the catacombs of your concious mind

[fuffleton]

David from camp camp would be a top. Anyways there was music from my neighbor’s house through the summer nights. In his blue gardens men and girls came and went like moths among the whisperings and the cham- pagne and the stars. At high tide in the afternoon I watched his guests diving from the tower of his raft, or taking the sun on the hot sand of his beach while his two motor-boats slit the wa- ters of the Sound, drawing aquaplanes over cataracts of foam. On week-ends his Rolls-Royce became an omnibus, bearing parties to and from the city between nine in the morning and long past midnight, while his station wagon scampered like a brisk yellow bug to meet all trains. And on Mondays eight ser- vants, including an extra gardener, toiled all day with mops and scrubbing-brushes and hammers and garden-shears, re- pairing the ravages of the night before.

Every Friday five crates of oranges and lemons arrived from a fruiterer in New York — every Monday these same oranges and lemons left his back door in a pyramid of pulpless halves. There was a machine in the kitchen which could extract the juice of two hundred oranges in half an hour if a little button was pressed two hundred times by a butler’s thumb.

At least once a fortnight a corps of caterers came down with several hundred feet of canvas and enough colored lights to make a Christmas tree of Gatsby’s enormous garden. On buffet tables, garnished with glistening hors-d’oeuvre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark gold. In the main hall a bar with a real brass rail was set up, and stocked with gins and liquors and with cordials so long forgotten that most of his fe- male guests were too young to know one from another.

By seven o’clock the orchestra has arrived, no thin five-piece affair, but a whole pitful of oboes and trombones and saxo- phones and viols and cornets and piccolos, and low and high-

[kendrene]

Lena passes her own “test” with flying colors.

It’s not a test really, but her heartbeat gets successfully recorded. She’s distantly aware of the EKG’s machine slowing, of the rustle coming from her side when Kara stands to leave, but she’s just so tired, and even though the gurney isn’t remotely related to the memory foam mattress back at home, she falls asleep.

She wakes up with something warm and soft pressed into her side. When she cracks open one eye, Lena finds that Kara somehow managed to cram herself on the gurney as well, one leg thrown possessively over Lena’s.

“How long have I been asleep?” She asks, blinking the room back into focus. Details flicker, objects change, as though she’s in two places at once.

“A few hours.” Careful fingers move errant strands of hair away from her eyes, Kara’s lips soft against the corner of her mouth. “You were very tired, yes?”

“I was.” Lena sighs in agreement, turning her head to catch Kara’s lips more fully.

Without hesitation, Kara kisses her, slow but fervent. Hungry. Lena’s brain shuts down, unable to parse anything beyond the softness of Kara’s lips on hers, the heat of their breaths mingling.

The kiss deepens, Kara’s tongue licking into her mouth with practiced confidence, teeth catching Lena’s lower lip and tugging just enough to make it ache, and the spark of strangeness she’d felt at the brush of mouth against mouth is extinguished.

Of course Kara kisses her like this whenever Lena wakes up in her arms. It’s what they do. And it’s just as natural to feel Kara disentangle, thigh shifting to part Lena’s, one hand dropping down, precipitously close to the edge of her panties. The fabric already clings to Lena’s slit, and as Kara breaks away from the kiss to look into her eyes, she gushes more.

“Please,” she breathes, already melting with anticipatory heat. “Yes.”

Kara’s eyes are a paler blue than usual, reminding Lena of siberian latitudes whenever the light hits them just so. At her consent they soften, darken, and the hunger she felt simmer under the surface of their kiss transfers there, bursting into flames.

She expects that Kara’s fingers will dip inside her underwear, and at the thought of feeling her slip through the mess she helped create Lena moans, low in her throat.

Instead, Kara surprises her. She strokes along her dripping slit, yes, parts her for further exploration, but does so through the silk of Lena’s underwear, using it to tease.

I’ll fly back to you (always) V - read now on Patreon

[as-enterprises]

Basic Vertical Foam Cutting Machine for PU Foam Blocks | A S Entterprises

The Basic Vertical Cutting Machine (V4B Model) is designed to provide a reliable means of cutting bigger PU blocks into smaller ones and trimming the sides of flexible PU foam blocks. The cutting accuracy of this vertical saw machine is +/-2 mm and uses an AC power supply of 415 V. The model V4-B offers a cutting height of 1200 mm and a cutting length of 2200 mm. The cutting machine features a 1200 mm table inside and an 1828 mm table outside. It requires a horsepower of 2.25 to run efficiently and weighs a total of 1200 kg. Standard equipment required for the setup of this vertical cutting machine includes:

Adjustable side supports for height adjustment

Laminated wooden tabletop

Slitting section for balanced blade-wheels

Electric blade driver motor

Electric grinding attachment

Table frame on bearing slides for easy operation

Lower and upper band-knife guidance

[roci-by-book]

Nemesis Games [WIP]

“Towers of curved ceramic and steel made great piles, denser than mountains. Hair-thin wire hundreds of kilometers long stood on plastic spools taller than Filip.” (5)

“Filip shuffled down the rows of welding rigs and metal printers. Tubs of steel and ceramic dust fine than talcum. Spiral-core mounts. Layers of Kevlar and foam strike armor piled up like the biggest bed in the solar system.” (5)

“At the emergency ward, he found himself wheeled into an automated surgical bed not that different from the ones on the Rocinante.” (158)

“The passage was the usual design of inflated Mylar and titanium ribs.” (221-222)

“The curve was like the airlock on the Roci, and the design of the latch. Martian design. And more than that, Martian Navy.” (222)

"The bridge looked like the Rocinante's younger brother" (222)

“She pulled herself out of her crash couch and walked out to the common room. It was so much like the Roci’s galley that her brain kept trying to recognize it, failing, and trying again.” (262)

“Magnetic pallets locked to the decks and walls in neat rows. She wondered idly where it had all come from, and what promises had been given in exchange. She went to the nearest, plugged the array into the pallet, and popped it open. The crates unfolded.” (263)

“A toolbox in the machine shop had a bent hasp and, given a few minutes, could be forced open. The Allen wrenches inside would open the access panel on the lift wall between the crew quarters and the airlock, which was where the secondary diagnostic handset for the comm array was stored.” (304)

“While she worked, pressing the plastic into the seams, scraping out whatever had gathered there, doing it again, she tried to fit the new information into the larger scheme of things.” (306)

“When the deck was clean, she dropped the spatula into the recycler, stood, and stretched.” (307)

“In her bunk, her fingers laced behind her neck, she stared up at the blackness on the ceiling. The interface screen at her side was dead.” (311)

“The ship lurched hard, snapping the gimbals of the couches forty-five degrees to the deck.” (329)

“One bulkhead failed to open, reporting vacuum on the other side, and they had to backtrack.” (330)

“The comm array was unable to transmit either broadcast or tightbeam.” (330)

“She popped the straps loose and sat up, pulling her leg away from the needle.” (338)

“In the lift, she selected the machine shop and gripped the handholds as the mechanism dropped her down the body of the ship.” (338)

“The machine shop was empty, all the tools locked in place, but with enough tolerance that when the ship lurched, they all rattled: metal against metal like the ship itself was learning to talk.“ (338)

“She stumbled, her head crashing against the metal shelves.” (339)

“All the wrenches, epoxy welders, voltage meters, and cans of air and lubricant were strapped in place, She flipped through the close-packed layers to a line of Allen wrenches and plucked out the 10 mm.” (339)

“She gathered up a voltage tester, a wiring crimp, and a light-duty soldering iron and stuffed them in her pockets.” (339)

“She killed the lift between the crew quarters and the airlock, bracing herself so that the deceleration didn’t leave her trapped in the middle of empty air.” (340)

“The access panel was fifteen centimeters high and forty wide and opened on the major electrical routing through the center of the ship. If she cut though all the cables there with a welding torch, all the traffic would have rerouted instantly to other channels. Apart from a few warning indicators, nothing would happen.” (340)

“The screws were integral to the plate and didn’t come free, but she felt it when the metal threads lost their grip.” (340)

“Ten. The plate came free. She scooped up the handset, checking its charge. The batteries were nearly full. Connection read good.” (341)

“Channel eighteen was a comm array using the D4/L4 protocols that the Rocinante did for broadcast.” (341)

“Hand over hand, she pulled herself along the shaft and then into the corridors.” (342)

“The narrow corridors of the crew deck seemed too wide.” (344)

“The occasional ticking and popping of the expansion joins adjusting to shifts in temperature were like the knocking of ghosts.”(344)

“He undid the straps on his couch, floating forwards.” (346)

“He stopped at the med bay on the way to his quarters.” (346)

“Fred landed feetfirst on the wall, ankles hooked into the handholds like he’d been born in the Belt.”(348)

““All the bunks are the same,” Holden said. “Except mine. You can’t have mine.”" (349)

“The halls had the same anti-spalling covering that the bridge and the mess had, but marked with location codes and colored strips that would help navigate the ship. One line was deep red with HANGER BAY written in yellow Hindi, English, Bengali, Farsi, and Chinese.” (355)

“Across the corridor from Alex, Prime Minister Smith was huddled behind the lip of a doorway.” (356)

“Another burst of fire sang past, tearing long black strips from the walls and deck and filling the air with the smell of cordite.” (356)

“She drank the same version of chamomile tea that the Rocinante made, and it felt like having a secret ally.” (364)

“The mess was empty, the screens turned off and the crew set away.” (364)

“First drawer: gauze and bandages. Second drawer: one-use blood cards for maybe a hundred different field tests. Third drawer: emergency medical supplies like decompression kits, adrenaline shots, defibrillation tape.” (368)

“The medic had her sit up, the cushion of the medical table crackling under her shifting weight. The analgesic was a spray that went in Naomi’s mouth. It tasted like fake cherry and mold.” (369)

“The cabinet doors were open, spilling test cards and preloaded hypodermics across the floor.” (369)

“She fell to the side, her belly to the deck, decompression kits the size of her thumb pressing into her face as Miral writhed around to kneel on her back.” (369)

“She wanted to say something, but she couldn’t, so she just watched as Karal opened the door then closed it behind him. The lock slid closed.” (371)

“Wet with her saliva and no bigger than her thumb, it was the sort of thing any mech driver kept with her. A tiny ampoule of injectable oxygenated artificial blood and a panic button what would make an emergency medical request for an airlock to cycle.” (371)

“Fred held up the coffee cup. The name TACHI hadn’t quite worn off the side, red and black letters half-erased by use.” (381)

“The crash couch was bolted to the deck with thick steel and reinforced ceramic canted so that any direction the force came from was compression on one leg or another.” (407)

“The drawers were thinner metal, the same gauge, more or less, as the lockers. She pulled them out as far as they would open, examining the construction of the latches, the seams where the metal had been folded, searching for clues or inspiration.” (407)

“The tiny black thumb of the decompression kit, she kept tucked at her waist, ready to go if she could just find a way.” (407)

“The mirror was polished alloy built into the wall. No help there. If she could take apart the vacuum fan in the toilet...” (408)

“A simple EVA suit hung there, suspended in the null g by thin bands of elastic.” (423)

“The indicator went from green to red under her thumb.” (424)

“The airlock door closed behind him, the magnetic seals clacking.” (424)

“The lock was small enough he could put flat palms on both doors.” (424)

“Naomi thumbed the emergency override. Three options appeared: OPEN SHIP DOOR, OPEN OUTER DOOR, RETURN TO CYCLE.” (424)

“Without magnetic boots, she’d have to reach it with bare handholds, but she was close.” (426)

“She plucked the black thumb out of her belt, twisted it to expose the needle, and slammed it into her leg.” (426)

“The airlock indicator on the Chetzemoka’s skin blinked, the emergency response received, the cycle starting.” (426)

“There were handholds on the surface – some where deigned, but others were the protrusions of antennae and cameras.” (427)

“Maneuvering thrusters lit along the warship’s side, an ejection mass of superheated water glowing as it jetted out.” (427)

“And then, Mfume was gone, bolting up the ladder toward the cockpit faster than the lift would have taken him.” (431 - 432)

“Holden tapped in an order for another coffee.” (432)

“Finding Sun-yi and Gor wired into gaming googles shooting the crap out of each other in simulated battles – because as weapons techs with no one to shoot at they were getting antsy – stopped being weird and edged into sort of endearing.” (432)

“The hatch to the cockpit was closed, but Holden could still hear the wailing of the raï that Mfume liked to listen to during his shift in the pilot’s seat.” (433)

“Holden sat on the couch beside Fred’s and leaned in.” (433)

“The first disappointment was that the controls were in lockdown. She tried a few passwords – FreeNavy and Marcoisgreat and Filip – but even if she got it right, there was no reason to expect that they’d left the biometrics profiles turned off.” (448)

“The three EVA suits that remained didn’t have batteries or air bottles. The emergency rations were gone. She expected the toolboxes to be gone from the machine shop, but they’d taken out the racks that held them too, the drawers from the cabinets, the LEDs from the wall lights. The couches were all slit open, gel and padding pooled on the deck beside them. The drug delivery system and reservoirs were gone. The only water was in the drives; ejection mass to be spit out the back of the ship. The only food was the residue in the recyclers that hadn’t been processed back into anything edible. The stink of welding rigs and burning still hang in the air, so the air recycler was probably running unfiltered.” (449)

“The deck shook under her, the vibration of thrust setting up resonances that no system even tried to damp down.” (449)

“There should be a way through the machine shop. All machine shops were supposed to be connected at the back.” (449)

“The EVA suits weren’t powered and didn’t have bottles, but they had seals and reinforcement. She could take the cloth apart, and salvage some lengths of wire. Maybe something solid enough to cut with. And could she use the helmet clamps as a kind of vise grip or clamp?” (450)

“In a real ship, it would all have been protected by conduit. On this piece of crap, the wiring had all been fixed directly to the hall with a layer of yellowed silicone epoxy.” (452)

“Across the space, maybe four meters away, an indicator light went amber, and she was falling sideways. With the extra illumination, she could see the round, tree-thick body of the maneuvering thruster. She put out her arms, catching herself against a steel strut.” (452)

“Three sorties ago -- number forty-four -- she’d thought there might be a diagnostic handset. Not that should could speak into it, but she might have been able to tap out a message. But despite the fact that handsets like that were standard and required, there wasn’t one” (454)

“She scrambled down, moving from strut to strut, watching her hands and feet with every movement so she wouldn’t midjudge.” (455)

“The air in her suit didn’t feel stale or close; the carbon dioxide scrubbers worked well enough on passive that she wouldn’t feel the panic of asphyxiation. She’d just gently pass out and die.” (455)

[stregacorvina]

She-ra!! (part 1)

Good morning! As you may have noticed, I decided to add a new entry on my journal routine: every Tuesday I will show you a single set, not a collection.

And from the title, you can easily tell what is the topic of this new entry, She-ra! This weekend I bing watched the 5# season on Netflix and I was so ispired to do a Bjd version! I will miss this show soooo much now that is gone, I really want more episodes...

I have to say that it has been a very long time since I fell so in love with a tv show, even if I wasn’t a big fan of the 80s version (I have seen it when I was a child but I don’t remember much) I think it is so full of positive messages and representation, we needed a show like this from a long time, especially if we consider it is a show for young people.

I will not write a full review here as there is plenty around the web, but I really suggest you to check out the show!

The animation is just average-good, modern anime get us used to excellent quality levels, but every character is so well characterized (well, the main ones, the background cast are just...background unfortunately) and as I said it is full of positive messages and LGBT representations that are still lacking in most tv shows, most of all the ones for young peoples... in conclusion, it is not the BEST show ever but a very interesting example in the wide world of the tv shows! How I wish a show like this when I was a teenager!

Going back to the costume, I will not spoiler you the new costume of this latest season (even if you probably have seen it in the Netflix thumbnail as I did) and also because I do not like it very much, I decided to make the first one, very different from the 80s one but very fitting for this new teen reboot!

I was already studing this costume when the first season aired because I was thinking of cosplaying She-ra in some conventions (as right now I have almost the same bodytype), I am still thinking about it... never say never...

Let’s start talking about the...

- Materials

I chosed white spandex for the main part of the costume: the top and the shorts, golden spandex for the details (with some foam structure inside to keep the shape) and red cady fabric for the cape - I have already used this fabric for a Thor cape some times ago and even if it is a bit pricey compared to my usual materials but it is really worth the price! It has the perfect flow and the look...speaks for itself! -

For the chest and the tiara’s gems I will use some glass gems I bought from Aliexpress some time ago, painted with different nailpolish; for the shoes, the armbands and the tiara I will use foam and fabrics...I am still thinking about making the sword or not...we’ll see.... 

 - Step 1: patterns

I decided to use the patterns I did for the pajamas set with a few alterations.

For the top I used the t-shirt base without the sleeves (I am still thinking about making a binder - a sport bra to compress the chest, often used for female cosplayers to do male characters - because these dolls have sooo much breast compared to the original character...)

For the shorts I used the pattern for the pajama pants, already altered to make some leggins a while ago (I will show you their set in a few weeks)

When the She-ra set will be done you will find the PDF pattern pieces, including accessories, in my Etsy shop.   Done with the bases, last’s start with the...

- Step 2: shorts

I decided to start from the shorts because I tought they will be the quickest piece, so after cutting the white spandex base I started to handmade sew the golden stripes on the sides...you will see A LOT of handsewing in this project!

Before joining the two parts I decided to give the stripes a good press and I fitted them on my model doll to check the lenghts.

After I decided the hem lenghts I sewn waist and legs with a very tiny zig zag stitch on my machine and i noticed that the spandex elasticity was enough to not use an elastic band on the waist.

(After seeing them with the top on I then decided to shorten them for the second time because I didn’t like the final lenght) With the shorts done, it was time for the...

- Step 3: top 

I made the base in white spandex but before joining the pieces I decided to do the crest on the front. 

As you can see in the pictures, at the beginning I was going for a single piece, a top with a flared bottom, but in the end I decided to redo this part because I didn’t like the “skirt”.

I decided also to add two little darts on the bust because these dolls have really too much breast! As everythig is soo small in this project it was almost all handsewn, so I decided to discard my initial idea to make the crest with foam covered in golden spandex and I went for a golden spandex cut-out, handsewn obviously.

After finishing the crest I decided to wait until the end of the top to add the glass bead because I will probably work with this piece a lot! So i decided to go on with the flared part and to do the final version of it. Firsty of all I cut away the wrong part,

then I redraw it as a half circle “skirt” in three parts, one for the back and two for the front, with the center front slightly shorter than the back. I was thinking about leaving the raw edge but in the end I made a little zig zag stitch just like the shorts.

And then, for ending with the white spandex, I made a tiny hight neck collar, mostly handmade as well. I was thinking about the usual stripe of velchro fastener in the back but I noticed that a small slit on the back was enough to fit the doll’s head, so I didn’t add it but only a small snap button on the neck (most of the back will be hidden with the cape anyway...)

To finish the top I started to make the epaulettes, with 2 mm foam as a base. I drafted the basic shape in paper pattern, then I made it two times in foam and then on a double layer of golden spandex.

I sewn the little gap with tiny handmade stiches and the I attached them on the sleeve cap with some others handsewn stitches.

This is the (almost) finished top! Isn’t it lovely? My fangirl soul is so eager to finish this costume!

This is a little preview with the flared part attached...I’m alredy in love!!

- Step 4: cape and belt

Before starting with the accessories, that I will probabily show you in Part 2, I made the cape and the belt to finish the base of the costume.

For the cape I made an half-circle to add more volume at the hem and I also made the top wider than the shoulders so I can gather it a bit more.

(BONUS PIC - Salem wants to try the cape on)

I really love the look of it! I put the cape aside for now because I still need white thread on my machine so I will hem it later on...

For the belt I decided to sewn it onto the top instead of doing another single piece (also to hid the waist seam because I didn’t like that much)

I made a mock up with white spandex to check the lenght and the V depth, then I use this mock up as the pattern for the final one on golden spandex.

And this is the finishe top! I really like it and I cant’ wait to finish this project! As finishing touches I still need to add the glass bead on the crest and the snap button on the neck.

See you on Thursday as usual for the second part of this loooong entry where I will show you the accessories and the final look.

See ya!

Chiara (StregaCorvina)

Bentornati! Ho deciso di inserire una piccola “deviazione” alla pubblicazione del giovedi: il martedi sarà dedicato ad un set singolo, non una collezione!

E come potete immaginare dal titolo, questo primo martedi è dedicato a She-ra! Quest weekend ho divorato la 5° Stagione appena uscita su Netflix e mi sento decisamente orfana percio ho deciso di realizzare anche la sua versione BJD.

Devo dire che il reboot Netflix di She-ra è una delle serie che mi ha “preso” di più negli ultimi anni, era da tanto che non mi appassionavo così tanto ad una serie, sebbene non fossi una grande fan dell’opera originale (che ho visto da piccola e non mi ricordo quasi per niente...) Secondo me è una serie piena di messaggi e rappresentazioni positive, c’era davvero bisogno di un cartone simile, soprattutto se consideriamo che si tratta di un prodotto indirizzato ad un pubblico giovane.

Non starò qui a fare la recensione dello show visto che in giro se ne trovano tantissime, ma vi invito caldamente a guardarla se non lo avete ancora fatto! Le animazioni non sono eccelse ma sono belle, gli anime più moderni ci hanno ormai abituato ad un livello qualitativo davvero alto, ma i personaggi sono caratterizzati benissimo (per lo meno i principali, diciamo che i secondari sono davvero...sullo sfondo e basta) e come dicevo la serie è piena di messaggi positivi e rappresentazioni LGBT che sono ancora un po troppo trascurate dagli show per ragazzi...insomma, non sarà il capolavoro del secolo ma una piacevole novità nel panorama cosi vasto delle serie televisive! Avrei tanto voluto crescere con una serie cosi vent’anni fa...ma mi rendo conto che ai tempi una serie così per ragazzi era impensabile! 

Parlando di She-ra, per non spoilerare troppo il nuovo costume che indossa nel corso di questa serie e che non mi piace particolarmente, (ma se avete visto la copertina su Netflix ve lo sarete spoilerato comunque come è successo a me) ho deciso di riprodurre quello della prima trasformazione, che si discosta parecchio da quello originale degli anni 80 ma che calza a pennello per il mood più teen di questo reboot!

Avevo già puntato questo costume quando uscì per la prima volta su Netflix perche avendo un fisico abbastanza simile ad Adora, avevo in mente di farne il cosplay in qualche prossima fiera....progetto che non ho ancora abbandonato del tutto chissà... perciò partiamo con la scelta dei materiali.

- Materiali

Ho deciso di utilizzare lycra bianca per le parti principali del completo, la casacca e i pantaloncini, lycra oro per tutti i dettagli (irrigidita da una base di foam qua e la in base alla funzione) e cady rosso per il mantello - avevo già usato questo cady di medio peso per il mantello di Thor in un precedente cosplay e anche se è leggermente più caro del tipo di materiale che sono abituata ad utilizzare ne vale decisamente la pena! Cade benissimo e l’aspetto...si commenta da solo -

Per il petto e il diadema userò degli ovali di vetro colorati con smalto per unghie per lasciare intatta la trasparenza, mentre scarpe, bracciali e diadema avranno un’anima in foam e il resto in tessuto... sono ancora in dubbio se fare la spada o meno, vedremo un pò in futuro...

 - Step 1: patterns

Avevo in gran parte le basi gia pronte da quando ho fatto i pigiamini, perciò per la casacca sono andata abbastanza tranquilla con la base della tshirt (sto ancora valutando se fare una sorta di binder - per chi non lo sapesse è una sorta di reggiseno sportivo che comprime abbastanza il seno, usato parecchio dalle cosplayer per avere un aspetto più “maschile” - per nascondere un pò il seno delle bambole e restare più in linea con la fisionomia del personaggio)

Per gli shorts invece ho utilizzato il cartamodello dei pantaloni del pigiama che avevo precedentemente modificato per fare un paio di leggins super aderenti (che vi farò vedere prima o poi)

Quando il set sarà finito troverete il cartamodello in PDF nel mio shop su Etsy completo di accessori.   Le basi ci sono, perciò iniziamo subito con...

- Step 2: shorts

Ho deciso di iniziare dai pantaloncini perchè mi sembravano la parte più rapida del costume, perciò dopo aver tagliato la base in lycra bianca ho iniziato ad applicare - rigorosamente a mano per mantenere l’elasticità - la striscia dorata sui lati.

Prima di unire le due parti ho dato una bella stirata alle strisce e ho fatto una prova sulla bambola che stavo usando come modella per vedere la giusta lunghezza.

Soddifatta degli orli ho cucito gambe e vita con uno zig zag stretto e alla fine ho deciso che l’elasticità della lycra era sufficente perciò non ho inserito nessun elastico in più.

(Una volta finita anche la casacca ho deciso di accorciare ancora un po i pantaloni perchè mi sembravano troppo lunghi). E con i pantaloni finiti era il momento di passare alla...

- Step 3: casacca

Ho realizzato la base in lycra bianca e prima di unirlo al dietro ho iniziato subito sul davanti la decorazione in lycra oro.

Come potete vedere nelle immagini, inizialmente avevo pensato di fare una casacca svasata sotto, in un pezzo unico, invece poi sono tornata su questa decisione perchè non mi piaceva la parte della “gonna”. 

Ho anche aggiunto delle piccolissime pences nel giromanica perchè queste bambole sono troppo prosperose per non averle! Viste le dimensioni ridotte dello stemma sul petto alla fine ho deciso di scartare la mia idea iniziale di farlo in foam e ho semplicemente fatto un’applicazione di lycra cucita poi a mano con micro punti nascosti.

Una volta cucito tutto il contorno dello stemma ho deciso di aspettare la fine della base per incollare la pietra al centro visto che avrei dovuto manipolarla ancora tanto, perciò sono passata oltre e come vi accennavo all’inizio, ho deciso di cambiare la parte bassa della casacca perchè non mi piaceva più e l’ho tagliata via.

Per fare la parte svasata ho tagliato una “gonna” a mezza ruota divisa in tre parti con cuciture sui fianchi, leggermente più corta sul centro davanti. Avevo pensato di lasciare l’orlo a taglio vivo ma poi ho deciso di fare un piccolo orlino a zig zag come per l’orlo dei pantaloni.

Infine per terminare le parti in lycra bianca ho fatto un mini collo alto, anche questo cucito prevalentemente a mano visto le dimensioni ridotte.

Avevo deciso di chiudere il retro con una striscia di velcro ma considerando la presenza del mantello ho deciso di fare solo un’apertura fino alle scapole e chiudere poi il collo con un automatico.

Per concludere la base del costume ho iniziato le spalline, dopo aver fatto una prova con un pezzo di carta per decidere la grandezza definitiva ho realizzato una mezzaluna in foam (bhe, due) e l’ho riportata su un doppio strato di lycra oro.

Ho chiuso poi la parte lasciata aperta con dei piccolissimi punti a mano e le ho attaccate al giromanica, sempre a mano, con dei punti nascosti.

Ed ecco la casacca quasi pronta pronta! Non è un amore? Il mio animo da fangirl è super entusiasta di fare questo costume!

Per concludere la casacca ho attaccato la parte della “gonna” ed ecco una preview...gia la adoro!!

- Step 4: mantello e cintura

Prima di passare agli accessori, che visto la lunghezza di questo post verranno presentati in una Parte 2, mi sono occupata della cintura e del mantello, per concludere la base del costume.

Per il mantello ho deciso di realizzare una mezzaruota per averlo bello ampio e fluente, leggermente più ampio della larghezza spalle in modo da drappeggiare un pò la parte alta.

(BONUS PIC - Salem che decide che vuole provare il mantello)

Direi che come ampiezza ci siamo! Per il momento visto che mi serve ancora il filo bianco sulla macchina da cucire mettiamolo da parte, lo finirò più tardi.

Per la cintura invece ho scartato l’idea di fare un pezzo separato visto che il costume aveva già tanti pezzi e ho deciso di cucirla sulla casacca per nascondere la cucitura sotto la vita.

Ho fatto prima una prova con un pezzo di lycra bianca per decidere l’altezza e la profondità della V, poi l’ho usata come base per quella vera e propria realizzata con due strati di lycra oro.

Ed ecco la casacca finita! Mi piace sempre di più e non vedo l’ora di finirla!! Come ultimo tocco devo aggiungere solo la gemma al centro dello stemma e l’automatico dietro per chiudere il collo.

Visto che questo post sta diventando lunghissimo vi farò vedere gli accessori e il final look nel prossimo post, che verrà pubblicato normalmente di giovedi.

A presto!

Chiara (StregaCorvina)

[ask-de-writer]

SEA DRAGON’S GIFT : Part 52 of 83 : World of Sea

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SEA DRAGON’S GIFT

Part 52 of 83

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

140406 words

copyright 2020

written 2007

All rights reserved.

Reproduction in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the express consent of the author.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users   of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights.  They may   reblog the story provided that all author and copyright information   remains intact.  They may use the characters or original characters in   my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions.

All sorts of fan art, cosplay, music or fiction is actively encouraged.

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New to the story?  Read from the beginning.  PART 1 is here

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A Dragon’s grin split Mecat’s face, showing her many very large fangs.  “The Gift was not wasted on you, Little Bite.  You think like a Dragon.  Yes, so long as you actively seek justice from the Naral fleet, you may have refuge in the Dragon Sea.”

“A last quest’n, t’en.  May we assemble witnesses on our be’alf an’ bring t’em north, t’ t’e ship?”

“The Law of the Naral fleet says that you may have witnesses.  We will allow you to assemble what you need for your case.”

“Oi see wye Kurin luves ye so muckle, Mecat.  Oi wad give ye a ‘ug, ‘twere it permitted,” said Tanlin quietly.  “Ye ‘ave given us a fair chance an’ given ane t’ t’e fleet as well.  Did ye guess t’at we donnae wont t’ leave our fleet?”

The massive head tilted curiously.  “I would appreciate a hug from you, Little Bite.  I did not guess that there could be two who would want to do so.”

Tanlin spread her arms wide, finding the same problem that Kurin had, Gatherings before.  Mecat’s muzzle was simply too large to get a grip on.  Still, she did her best.  She was surprised to feel the large powerful tendrils that fringed Mecat’s mouth wrap gently about her as well.  Another surprise was that Mecat was warm to the touch.

When they parted, Frath said, “My sister has been far more interested in humans than the rest of us.  Considering the speed with which you’ve spread through the ecology and the far reaching effects that you’ve had, it just proves once again that she always has been and always will be wiser than the rest of us.  That’s why we listen to her.

“Did you know that she had me steer this storm over nine hundred miles out of it’s planned path, just to isolate you from the rest of the fleet so that she could have this talk?”  He snorted.  “Ridiculous, I would have said.  A ship more or less is not a matter that will result in ecological disturbance.  Of course, she saw it differently.  Now I understand what she was getting at.  As usual, she is right.”

Now that it was not a matter of defending her ship, Tanlin realized just what she was doing, talking to a Great Sea Dragon as if he were a guest in her cabin for flavored water and crunchy snacks.  She got weak in the knees.  She sat down and tried to calm herself.  The Wide Wings flew off from her shoulders.

Even though partly overcome by her temerity, curiosity led her to ask, “Frath, ye talk an’ breathe, ‘ow can ye live under woter?”

“Do you know, you are the first human to ask any of us that question?  It is simple really.  I am moving air through the same gills that I use to breathe water.”

“If ye ‘ave gills, ‘ow con ye talk?  Or breathe air for t’at matter.”

“My gills are a series of fine tubes stacked together into organs similar to your own lungs.  Water comes in through my nostrils and is pumped through the gills and then normally exits by my gill slits.  In air, I close down about seventy percent of the tubes because there is so much oxygen that I might suffer ill effects if I did not.  I also close my gill slits.  That makes the air exit by my mouth.  I make the back of my throat vibrate the exiting air column and modify it with my tongue and mouth to make words.  The part that I use to vibrate the air is used for echolocation when I’m underwater.  Do you follow me?”

“Oi t’ink so…”  Just then the Sea Hawks returned, each one carrying a fish in its talons.  They dropped the fish into Tanlin’s lap and landed beside her.  The female of the two picked up one of the fish in her beak and tried to put it into Tanlin’s mouth. Tanlin took the fish into her hand, bit off some and began to chew. Both birds watched her carefully, then took off up to their nest.

Frath giggled.  “Speaking of mixed up ecology, you have just been formally adopted as a part of their flock.  You gave them a safe place in the storm, defended their nest and brought them food.  When they thought that I was a threat, they tried to defend you from me, and then, when you got overcome with weakness, they got food and tried to take care of you.  I think that they’d fight to the death for you, if they had to.  You do make the oddest friends.”

Tanlin smiled at the Dragon.  “Speakin’ o’ w’ich, w’en ye arenae steerin’ storms around, could ye come an’ talk t’ m’?  Oi like t’ ‘ear ye explain t’ings.”

“What, just be friends?”

“Aye.”

“Let me think about that one.  Maybe ask my sister.  Nobody ever asked that one before either.  I think that they were afraid of us because of our size.  Kurin and Mecat are the only friends like that, and long ago there was Jenn the Whale’s friend, who was our friend too.”  Frath submerged in a swirl of foam and was gone.

Chapter 19: Aftermath

The Grandalor rode the center of the storm northward.  In the eye of the Coriolis Storm, the weather was no worse than a badly choppy, windy Winter day.  They followed their progress north by moon sightings made possible by the clear sky overhead.

In many regards, the area was like the storm track that ships tried to escape into.  The iron gray whitecaps were full of hungry, feeding creatures of all sizes.  There were the usual Strong Skins, swarming around any injured or dead creatures.

The Wide Wings, ranging out from the ship to hunt fish, began to point out a place over a mile from the Grandalor.  They swooped down and climbed back up in graceful circles, found their station and swept down again.

The lookouts were wise enough to know that Tanlin was interested in anything that the birds did.  They notified Barad and Tanlin came up to the deck shortly after hearing of the odd behavior of the birds. She watched for only a few moments, getting a faraway look on her face as she did.

Tanlin came back to herself, shaking slightly, as if fitting herself back to her own body.  Pointing at the place the birds were indicating, she said, “Tis a Hag school Barad, m’ Luve.  T’ey’re feedin’ on a dead Lesser Dragon.  Some’re fair sized.  T’ere’s little shelled Hags, too.  Ought t’ get some i’ we put a net oot.”

Barad ordered a fine meshed net spread and had helmsman Macoul make for the Hag school.  Men and women, under the direction of the Masters who had designed it, prepared the big war catapult for a better use.  The massive coils of springy rope that drove its bow arms were tensioned. The windlass strained as it pulled the machine back to full cock. It was loaded with a massive harpoon, meant to breach the hull of a ship.

By this time, the lookouts were guiding the ship to its most advantageous position for firing into the school.  Bosun Modanet was riding a seat at the back of the catapult’s beam to aim it.  When he judged the roll of the ship to be proper, he struck the release with a mallet.  The results were sobering.

Due to refraction, he had missed the Hag that he was aiming for.  The bolt blasted all the way through the carcass of the seventy foot Lesser Dragon, penetrating nine feet of hide bone and muscle.  It jolted the line anchors that pulled it to a stop, over a hundred feet away.  That wasn’t all.  The recoil threw Bosun Modanet from his seat and slid the big machine five feet back across the deck.  It was secured by tackle or it would have gone further.  As Modanet picked himself up, he saw one of the catapult crew being helped to sickbay. His arm obviously broken.

“What happened to Karlan?” he asked, shaken.

“He was hit by the cocking cable block when it came off tension during firing,” was the reply.

It was a more serious and careful group that prepared the catapult for its next shot.  Modanet tied himself to his aiming seat.  The lessons learned paid off on the next shot.  They pulled the bow a shorter distance and changed the recoil tackle.

Aiming for a big Hag, the Bosun allowed for refraction this time.  The bolt smashed through the creature’s cephalon, just back of the tentacle roots, destroying one enormous eye and the brain behind it.  They let the big cephalopod hang on the harpoon line until it quit flailing and the deadly barbed tentacles dangled lax.  It was snared into a cargo net and pulled aboard, straining all the lifting tackle of the Grandalor to do it.  Twelve thousand pounds of dangerous — and valuable — creature lay on the deck ready for processing.

They killed two more smaller ones before the school fled.  Some of the Lesser Dragon carcass was salvageable, hide and bone, mostly.  The meat was going over and was contaminated by Hag venom as well.  The near priceless head, with its many long, strong fangs was already gone from the carcass.  The remaining meat was still valuable as bait.  More than twenty Strong Skins were added to stores before a Wing Ray showed up and took it all.  The monster was big enough that the Grandalor was not willing to risk putting a harpoon in it.

Karlan, arm splinted and in a sling, just looked at the powerful whirlpools made by the wing tips descending through the water ninety feet apart. Sardonically he said, “What if it were to notice that we pricked it?”

Bosun Modanet nodded soberly.  “I was on the Light of Dorac when the Kellen did that.  We saw it happen.  The Ray broke the harpoon lines like weak string.  It sounded, then jumped.  It hit the main mast just below the main yard. The impact rolled the ship and the Wing Ray landed on it at the same time.  The Kellen was gone in under a minute.  We beat the Ray to one of the survivors.”  He turned to watch the bustle of men and women processing the catch.

TO BE CONTINUED

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