#quick-detach system

[historyofguns]

In a detailed review on The Armory Life, veteran police officer Randall Wilson assesses the Safariland 6360RDS duty holster for Springfield Armory's Echelon handgun. The article emphasizes the critical importance of retention holsters for law enforcement, recounting Wilson's decades-long experience with Safariland products, notably the model 6360RDS. Highlighting features such as the Automatic Locking System (ALS), Self Locking System (SLS), compatibility with red dot sights like Trijicon RMR, and weapon-mounted lights such as the Streamlight TLR-1, Wilson concludes that the holster excels in security and usability. The review reinforces the holster's sturdy SafariLaminate construction, its ability to protect the sight and firearm, and its significance in enhancing officer safety through rigorous training and proper equipment use, essential for preventing disarmament in field scenarios.

[pseudowho]

Yet Another Nanami Kento Sex Pollen Fic, Part Two

The reader encounters an aphrodisiac diffusing Curse...which she brings home to Nanami Kento.

Read Part 1 first HERE!

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When you had looked up through the billowing steam of your shower, and seen Kento's broad figure filling the doorway, your conscious thought had juddered to a halt, and you became all compulsion and instinct.

Nanami Kento stood, his weight shifted slightly forward on one leg, as one hand reached up to grab the doorframe, and the other squeezed his cock, which was hardening rapidly under his hand. He was exactly as you had left him; shirt splayed open with all the buttons ripped off, and trousers shunted down at the front, clinging to the jut of his hipbones, trail of honey-coloured hair pathing the way to his hand, which was stroking himself so keenly.

I suppose he didn't think to leave my clothes alone, you thought, but...I owe him.

You met Kento's eyes and tried to read him as your mind stuttered, and your heart leapt into your mouth as Kento crossed the room in three long strides. As you grasped the shower door and began to open it, the glass banged and rattled as Kento's shaking hand gripped it and slammed it closed.

"...Kento? It's okay, I know how it feels. Come on, I can he--"

"No," he spat. Kento held the door closed, but his hand was quaking, at war with itself. You felt your heart pound as noticed his other hand, gripping his throbbing length, the tip now an angry red-purple.

"I don't want to hurt you," Kento forced, "This is...different. I could stop you, but you...you couldn't stop me...if you wanted to."

Your heart clenched for him. You knew the desperate need he was experiencing, and he had helped you. But, as you took him in, ostensibly huge, all raised planes of muscle over strong bones, you knew he was right. But still--

"I trust you, Kento. I know you wouldn't hurt me." Kento looked at you darkly, hungry and wolfish, teeth bared.

"I wouldn't be so sure," he pressed, and the way his eyes lingered on your body, naked breasts heaving and wet under the steam, Kento thought of breaking you underneath him, the effects of the pollen having made your wellbeing completely second to his need, he felt like he'd surely die unless he used your body to relieve his own.

Forcing himself to look away from you as you pressed your hands against the glass, looking at him with such tender concern that he could have wept, Kento felt every thread of his nervous system on fire.

With a sinking nausea as Kento felt this...this...substance working through his synapses, his body and brain were getting hotter and hotter and his grasp on rational thought and decision-making were reducing. His brain was no longer working. He panted, hand letting go of his cock to run through his hair. Kento shivered at how erotic his simple touches to himself felt. After tugging his hair sharply at the roots, nearly groaning aloud with the pleasure, Kento's fingers trailed to his lips, ducking two fingers past them to suck on his own fingertips. He moaned around them, and you watched him, fascinated and terrified at how animalistic Kento had become.

His skin felt too tight, every sense piqued, and his hand on the shower door shook harder as he heard you switch the water off; as if detached from the rest of his body, this hand squeezed the door closed, but his other hand pressed, with his forehead, feverishly against the glass as he stared you down. Looking into his eyes, you saw less and less Kento there as he struggled to contain himself. Kento breathed out shakily.

"I'm going to open the door," he spoke, each word pained and deliberate, "and you're going to run, and lock yourself in our room. Are you ready?" You stared at Kento, speechless.

"Are you ready?" he barked and you jolted, nodding frantically. His white knuckled hand swung the door open and you leapt past him, rounding the corner as you ran to your bedroom, hearing quick footsteps approaching behind you and you got inside the room, slammed the door and locked it--

A fist banged on the outside of the door as Kento roared, and you fell back onto the bed, still drenched, hair dripping down your back (or is it cold sweat?). You heard footsteps, flat, heavy and pacing.

Kento ran his fingernails up and down the back of his head and neck, pacing furiously, ashamed of how quickly he nearly hunted you down after he had let you out of the shower. Reaching down, lifting his legs one by one, he wrenched his slippers off and lobbed them across the room where they bounced meekly off the high windows. Throwing his shirt and trousers to the sofa, he sat hard on the floor with his back to your door, face in his hands as he genuinely worried he may die from the heat and desire pooling in his stomach and coiling outwards through him.

Kento's cock sat, heavy and throbbing against his belly, pressed upwards by the waistband of his boxers. The hair on his stomach was wet with pre-cum. Pushing his boxers fully down, with one arm draped over his eyes, Kento began to stroke himself, squeezing hard, desperate and chasing relief.

She felt better after she came, he thought, panting as his hand stroked fast, wet strokes from tip to base, she felt better, you will too. Kento continued to work on himself, feeling tears prick in his eyes and growling when he felt absolutely no relief.

On the other side of the door, you tentatively knocked. "Kento?" You heard a low groan in response. "Look, I...I know you're trying to keep me safe, which I love, but...I know you're going to need something other than your own hand."

Silence. You continued, "So, you can come in here and I promise I can take it, or we can call Shoko?"

"We are absolutely not calling Shoko about this," Kento forced, low and angry. Your lower belly twisted, and you knew you needed to force Kento's hand. He needed this. He needed you.

"Or, I could just..." you started, sounding braver than you felt, leaning your back against the wall beside the door, "touch myself, and you can cum in your hand to the thought of me."

Kento was revealing in his silence. You continued, moaning softly as your fingers began to rub small circles around your clit, and you heard a heavy weight shift against the door. "I'm wet," you gasped softly, "you'd barely need to do anything, just hold me down and sink straight into me." Kento growled on the other side of the door.

"Stop it," he barked, "I'm warning you."

"I can take it," you pressed, continuing to pleasure yourself, moaning sweetly, folds wet and glistening now, "Please come and fuck me...daddy."

The door flew inwards off its hinges with a bang, wood splintered, and you squealed as Kento reached around the doorway and gripped you hard by the throat. Using his other hand to strip his boxers completely away, he pulled you nose to nose by the throat, your tiptoes scraping against the floor as you gasped, lightheaded.

"You can take it, can you?" he rumbled, pupils blown with lust, his cock hard against your belly. Pressing a hard kiss, all teeth and tongue, to your mouth, he threw you onto your bed where you bounced, face down, "Let's see, shall we?"

You squealed again as Kento grabbed you by the waist and threw you up the bed. Lifting your face from the pillows, you moved to turn to Kento, "I'm sorry, I just--" You were cut off with a cry as Kento grabbed your hair by the roots, forcing your face forwards. Kento began to position you like a mannequin, pressing your tummy down and your arse up, and finally grabbing both of your hands where he made your fingers clasp to the headboard of the bed. Stretched and quaking, you felt Kento's hands grip you firmly by the hips.

"Hold onto something," he growled, before bottoming out inside your dripping pussy in one sharp thrust. You cried out, hips trying to scoot forwards up the bed as you adjusted to his size, seeming bigger than usual with how thick and aroused the pollen had made him; Kento slapped the side of your thigh hard and you squeaked, the pleasure sharp and bitter.

Kento slapped your sex back onto his cock one, two, three times and came with a shout, the orgasm bursting along his skin, his moaning a ragged, injured sound. Time stood still as he poured cum into you, feeling it drip down his balls and your thighs, carrying on and on until his moans turned to low pants, continuing to thrust slowly into you.

Kento waited for the desperate clawing at the back of his neck, the itching at the base of his brain, to pass...his stomach swooped, like falling at the start of a dream, to recognise that he felt no better. Furious, devastated, Kento grasped you by the hair to pull you upright, his chest feeling like a brick wall against your back, as his cock remained throbbing and hard inside you. Still holding you by the hair, he tipped your head sideways, biting deeply into the soft skin above your pulse point.

Kento felt sickly delighted to feel you shaking in his arms, and thrust upwards into you, cock gliding effortlessly along the tight wet slick of your pussy. His tongue and teeth ghosted along the shell of your ear, and he whispered low and dangerous, as he splayed his huge, fine-boned hand across your lower belly.

"How deep am I?" He thrust again, harder, letting go of your hair as your head fell back against his shoulder. You squeaked as his knees batted yours aside, forcing you to fall deeper around his lap. "Can I get any deeper?" His freed hand gripped the side of your hips, pressing you down onto him. You gasped, mewling and writhing as you felt his cock bully against your cervix, and as he pressed your belly inwards and downwards, you twisted, squeaking as you saw stars, both hands reaching back to clasp desperately round the back of Kento's neck.

Kento buried his nose into you, sniffing deeply. "Are you ovulating?" he intoned, continuing his relentless assault on your limp body as he lifted you, pressing you up and down slowly and deliberately, stretching you, as you felt that if he went any deeper he'd surely thrust past your cervix and into your womb. You almost sobbed, voice muffling as his hand left your hips and clasped over your lower face, shushing you, almost tenderly.

"I know you are...I can smell it," he groaned, slamming you down hard, enjoying your hot little breaths behind his huge hand, "It's...delicious." You wanted to tell him how close to finishing you were, but were totally voiceless with his hand over your mouth. Your pussy fluttered tellingly around him, and Kento chuckled.

"Don't worry, you'll get your turn. Shit, this stuff is...it's..." Kento felt the urgent need to orgasm begin to burn through him again, and he rumbled his displeasure, throwing you back onto the bed and flipping you, overwhelmed by the urge to breed you, and keep you home so he could fuck you all day if he wanted to.

Pressing your knees up to your chest, your face burned with pleasure and pain as Kento slammed into you again, his hips snapping wetly against yours at a relentless pace. He grabbed your hands and brought them around your knees, forcing you to hold your legs in place as he lifted your arse off the bed, dragging your pussy back and forth along his cock on time with his thrusts.

A dam broke inside you, feeling Kento so deeply that it felt like he owned your whole body, and you came with a sob, wounded by the pleasure as you trembled, completely used as Kento continued to drag himself in and out of you, soft splatters of his and your cum dripping into the bed every time he thrust into you.

Kento chased his high, needing release or he'd surely perish, and he revelled in the tight squeeze of your plush walls around him, grunting and moaning unashamedly as you squirmed, babbling his name, which could be another language as far as Kento was concerned as his brain sank into the primal urge to keep cumming inside you until you were round and beautiful, full of him. The thought spurred him on, and he leaned over you, caging you in with his arms, your thighs crunched against your abdomen, and Kento took your nipple between his teeth, whining around you.

You grasped the back of his head, pressing it into your breast, feeling his pubic bone slam against your clit, your second orgasm hypersensitive and painful, your hands shaking as they tugged Kento's hair, your lips trembling with easy praise for him.

Kento tasted the bitter tang of blood and metal along the sides of his tongue as he came again, his skin electric, and dying stars in his eyes, and growled a bestial growl of relief as he began to feel the itching desire ebb away, finally satiated.

Pulling out of you, he looked down at the mess between your legs, puffy folds covered in a pinkish mix of blood and semen, and Kento groaned into his hand.

"I'm so...I'm so sorry," he panted, shaking and exhausted, reaching up to stroke your forehead, pulling your arm from over your face. You smiled weakly at him, bruised, aching and completely spent.

"It's okay," you reassured him, stroking his abs softly, in small circles, "but we really should get rid of those clothes. And have a bath." Kento nodded, swiping his sweaty hair back off his head. He glanced behind him, blushing faintly.

"And...fix that door."

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Would it have been sexier if he'd kept the slippers on? Uncertain.

[justblades]

⌕ FLIMSY FEELINGS, 18+

⟢ CHARACTER : blade x afab! reader WC : 1.4k

⟢ WARNINGS : EXPLICIT, MDNI. dubcon, somno, voyeur! blade, oral (fem receiving), sadistic masochistic themes, mutual masturb#tion, cunnilingus

⟢ A/N : we don't have much info abt his character rn but i tried my best with the available provided info as of the moment !! enjoy <3

raven hair ripples from the bitter cold winds blowing, the glint of crisp solferino hues show a reflection of an unknown person - someone the stellaron hunters just happened to pick up as they tread upon weaving the threads of fate, just how the screen play director foretold.

it was just blade and you alone, encompassed by the archaic, gunmetal gray walls. blade watches your slumbering figure as he wears a solemn face, lips pressed into a thin line, not showing any kind of expression at all except for a stoic mask.

is it really a mask? no one could tell. blade just proceeds to stride towards your body, feeling an aching sensation he needed to tend to. it's a feeling he'd come to despise - but it's still a part of his bodily function. even though he abandoned his old way of living and is now in a pursuit of his path to vengeance, there are trivial things he must fulfill at once.

blade slowly descends to your position, vision still not anchoring away from your dozing shape. humans truly are fragile, he thought to himself— to see someone in their vulnerable state, it feels quite intimate. it was an epiphany blade had for a long time ago he forgot when, but all he knows right now is there's just one thing that must be done.

he feels his pants grow tighter by the minute, the flickering light bulb casts a darker shade of monochrome gray on the crotch part. the navy haired doesn't delay any further and proceeds to get it done. blade unbuckles his belt swiftly, letting the item crash against the concrete flooring; followed suit is an act of self pleasure, he gradually wraps his dominant around his throbbing girth, reveling the wamrth he had to offer to himself in dead silence.

the stellaron hunter may not show it but gratification already courses through his system. at a slow pace, he continues to lean more towards your figure, his cock now at its full glory. its head twitches, itching for a sensation for it to be enveloped in; something warm, something tight and something alive. three qualifications that his mere hands could not satisfy.

perhaps that was your sole purpose for you being brought here in the stellaron hunters' temporary hideout. he rips your clothes with one clean cut from the cracked sword he brandishes, one of the many ways he showcases his astonishing swordsmanship. steadily positioning himself from your slit, a hot, rock hard feeling rubs on your lower lips.

blade's heart begins to pulsate against his rib cage, each beat becoming louder and faster in such an irregular manner. the more he got to feel your slippery cunt, the more eager he only got. and with one powerful thrust, he successfully makes his entrance inside you, his cock lavishing the comfort of your velvet walls clamping around his length.

he huffs a deep breath and only realizes it late as he catches a quick whiff of your scent— for some reason, he was drawn on. the male inches forward your neck, his hands tightly clasped on yours to make sure there would be no attempt of escape. presently atop you while you laid on your stomach, you could feel some faint but added pressure on your limbs plus a somewhat familiar presence from above.

blade was only detached from what you were feeling and only carried on with his own intentions. he rams inside you with no forewarnings, his tip fills you all the way up to the very brim. a breathy, whiny moan erupts in the vicinity that undoubtedly came from you but he heeds no mind to it— continuing to pound into your walls, intruding with such an abrupt pace and not in gradual motions.

in anything that he does, he emanates of destruction. a polar opposite of care, tenderness and love; it shows in his rough, vertiginious thrusts, his firm tight touch, and lastly, in his facial expression. you were not one bit shocked, if anything, you just accepted what is happening as of the present. being used as a cocksleeve for a passing feeling, it rips at your heartstrings but you were powerless before him.

you continued to pretend as if you were still dozing off in spite the mewl that you tried so hard to bite back, stifling more noises threatening to slip out. it would be far more awkward if you're awake as you weren't one bit acquainted with blade. not even shared glances, all the information you have is an overheard conversation from the hunters, only knowing his sole name : blade.

the swordsman eventually begins to drop his guard down, becoming more lax at letting his guttural groans come undone from his mouth. his bandaged hand wanders on your naked, exposed skin, traveling to places where he finds the most appealing. aside from the sound of skin slapping, clothes shifting and his jagged breathing were accompanied by the chime of his dangling scarlet earring.

a sharp pang of pain follows from a loud smack sound. it was his slender hand coming into harsh contact against the plush of your ass, leaving darker imprints from your complexion - it was no doubt, his spanking's seal. you could no longer play pretend as you wince from the pain, your eyes shot open and you turn your head.

your vision was then graced by the indigo haired, he took notice that you were awoken but as usual, he's cold as a gelid ice. he did not care.

when suddenly, he withdraws his cock from your pussy and flips your body around— thus making you meet his face, catching you off guard from your current dazed state. you slowly look up to meet his sharp gaze to the point that you could see your own image from his vivid cerise eyes. your very first locked gaze with blade, and mayhaps the last. his hand clasps on yours once again but only to bring it down to your cunt, he proceeds to uncurl your balled up fist.

he guides your fingers to stroke and pleasure yourself, your own digits prodding through your wet entrance. your breathing quickens, a foreign sensation brewing in the pits of your abdomen; meanwhile blade doesn't do anything but to watch on your expressions. "continue." blade commands ; his raspy, deep voice resounds into your ears.

you were struck with both of shock and nervousness, his tone laced with authority and coldness to it yet again. as embarrassing as it is to do it in front of a man you've never met in your lifetime, you obey his order, continuing to pump your fingers in and out of your coiling walls before his predatory naked eyes.

the navy haired pleasures himself at present, along with you - matching your rhythm. your legs spread open in front of him to feast upon that no man has ever tasted, an unfamiliar sensation wells in his heart. he groans and picks up the pace of him stroking his own erection, a feeling of release immediately dawning upon him.

with blurry vision, for a moment, you could see a hint of sadness and regret behind the vermillion windows of his soul. although the actions he's committing currently are lascivious and of lust, you swear to yourself there was something more than what meets the eye.

as quickly time flashes, strings of muddy white spring out from his cock, the liquids spilling into your exposed tits and your panic stricken face. he catches his breath in the midst of it, heavy panting echoes inside the enclosed vicinity. "i didn't order you to stop."

his words pierces your perturbed mind, he pertains to your masturbation ending just as when he reached his climax. the male swiftly gathers all the cum littering your skin with one hand and one movement, cupping the liquids carefully only to insert all of it into your pussy.

a moan bubbles from your throat, feeling his long fingers curl inside your sticky walls. blade, even though a stoic man most of the time, he's also full of surprises. he flicks his tongue over your clit, the pointy tip rubbing viscules and in circular motions on the specific spot.

your back arches, waves of pleasure crashing upon your lethargic self. blade doesn't halt and carries on to suck your walls out, margins of his sticky lips perfectly fitting with your lower ones. his tongue once again skillfully glides over your sensitive parts— earning him your climax as it spills out from your hole, adorning his sharp, masculine features as if your ejaculation was an accessory.

it felt ecstatic, as if your body drifts into the seventh heaven from blade's cold touches. in spite of the overwhelming gratification pooling in your body, hundreds of questions start to flare up in your mind, mainly about blade's identity. naturally, it rolls from your lips, a question he didn't see coming.

"what are you really?"

among the many blank faces blade shows you this night, he finally unravels a different one upon encountering your question. "are you really that fervent to know?" he rhetorically asks as a sneering smile creeps on his lips.

my masterlist !

[sandplague]

pathologic 3 save & sound 2024 presentation

this is a quick attempt at a transcript of the presentation. I think I got most of it but there are some words I was unable to hear, I can't say I have a lot of practice doing this and that's on me so if any of you guys can help me I'll edit it asap

Ressa Schwarzwald: I'm Ressa from Gameowdio. Our team has been working on Pathologic 3 with Vasily Kashnikov and his apprentice Nikolai. This video will feature some of the audio stuff we've made together.

Our goal regarding audio direction was to give the real experience of being in the epicenter of an epidemic. Fully realistic, no bullshit. So we are obviously shooting this video in The Town. We realized pretty early that the game was quite different from the original Pathologic 2 because of the time travel mechanics. So for the prototype we built a time travel machine [the date November 1924 shows on screen], which appeared to be quite useful to record some source sounds, and [date changes to November 3024] make this video in just half a second using existing technology.

Let's start with the music.

Vasily Kashnikov: Hi, I'm Vasily Kashnikov, audio director of Pathologic 3 project. I'll tell you how our music is structured. We were already thinking about how the Bachelor's game would sound when we were working on Patholgic 2 and writing music for Haruspex. In Pathologic 2, the music had more ethnic and real motives (motifs?) and instruments. Since the city and its customs are familiar with Haruspex since he was a child, he is involved in the traditional way of life. In the case of Pathologic 3, this is the view of an outsider who evaluates everything from the point of view of rationality and science. Therefore, we are trying to make the Pathologic 3 soundtrack colder and more detached from the steppes and ethnicity in character. There is more synthesis, guitars at the same time, the Bachelor communicates with those in power so the soundtrack contains a large share of minimalist so-called furniture music that could sound in the beginning of the last century. Piano etudes and references to composers of that time: Satie, Debussy, etc. The soundtrack is a rather eclectic mix of dreampop, downtempo, and (?) minimalism.

In the city when the Bachelor is alone with himself, we emphasize the cold mind of the rhythm section: less emotional harmony, and sometimes electronic timbres. In the rooms where we need to separate the main character from those he interacts with, we use more expressive harmonies and more classical instruments: piano and guitar passages.

When we designed the interactive music system, we assumed that time is finite, and the music had to change depending on the amount of time the Bachelor had left. However, we later abandoned this system and now the music changes depending on the state of the Bachelor himself, who can fall into apathy or psychosis. To emphasize these states, we apply filters and effects to different layers of our tracks and get a slower, muffled sound in the case of apathy, and wired (?) nervous, glitchy in the case of psychosis. In the infected quarters, there are interactive systems that... [screen begins to distort] oh my god, Nataliya! Please stop this!

Nataliya Radina: Whoops, hehe, sorry. But yeah, basically the other system we created reflects everything you hear in the game. Such as... If we use our gun when dealing with the local thugs, the longer we aim the weapon at the people, the less sounds of the outside world we hear and the louder becomes the heartbeat. To add to the intensity, sharper tone was used along with a high pitch tinnitus sound. If the psychosis level goes to the maximum, it starts to damage Bachelor's health, which is accompanied by flashes on the screen, as well as low heartbeat and short breathing sounds.

Vasily Kashnikov: In the infected and rebel's quarters, there are also interactive systems that change the character of the music by adding or disabling instrument layers depending on the state of the world or the Bachelor's equipment to fight the plague. As a result, we have 12 tracks for each day spent in the city. they can freely switch between each other and several dozen themes for locations and characters, and all the music is subject to change depending on the state of the Bachelor.

Nataliya Radina: Since the game has a weather changing system, we also wanted to reflect that in our audio feedback as well. The game has global wetness parameter that shows how intense the rain is. The more it rains, the more squishy and muddy are the steps of the outside surfaces. Moreover, if you come closer to the window, you can hear the rain pondering on the glass. Even in the middle of the plague, we always have room for cozy moments, right? My favorite part of that system is involving cows. [cow moo]. So, when it's raining, you can actually hear very very soft sound of raindrops dropping on those bovine butts. And I personally think it's beautiful.

Artur Ramanouski: Hi, my name is Artur, and I was also involved in creating some sound assets for the game.

Probably the hardest thing to record were the footsteps. I had everything planned out: bought the equipment, got every type of surface, but...there was one small thing I overlooked: I live in a city with over 12 million people. Noise everywhere. The solution was simple and ingenious: I recorded everything on a Sunday, because in Buenos Ares, Sunday is the one day when no one does anything.

Nataliya Radina: One of the most important places in the game is the cathedral. There we have a system of ladders that control the speed and direction of time. Direction wise, we can have it flow normally, or reversed. [entire presentation is rewound very quickly so it's back to Ressa]

Ressa Schwarzwald: She is super professional.

Nataliya Radina: As for the speed, we can make it stand still, go twice as fast, or half normal speed. We created an audio system that has to (?) understand what is actually happening around (inaudible). When we reverse time, spatial effects are added to the surrounding sounds. Ambience, steps, and the mechanism itself. When time stands still, we increase the low frequencies in the ambience, and all the other sounds are muted to zero. Now lastly, when the time goes twice as fast, or half the original speed, the pitch of the surrounding sound changes accordingly.

The coolest part of this system is that it's been actually implemented into the game engine using only one parameter.

Ressa Schwarzwald: Thank you for watching. See you here, later!

[mysewingadventures]

Making the ✨Lioncourt Gown✨ (Part 4/4)

It's been such a fun project working on the Lioncourt Gown (aka Interview with the Vampire's Lestat de Lioncourt's theater costume -

made into a 1790s women's redingote) and I can finally say that I have finished it. It's done, and I love it. It didn't turn out exactly how I'd planned, but that's how it is with me and sewing. I admire anyone who can just stick to their original plan haha but that person is not me. Usually, when sewing I don't think too far ahead, I just do it until I hit a point where something just isn't working out and have to find a way around it. I'm also self-taught, so my workarounds may not be standard procedures when you actually know what you're doing. But I'm still really, really happy with it, and I did a little photo shoot as soon as it was done.

But anyways, here's the final part of this project.

In my last post, we left off with the still detached but finished collar/yoke and the finished bodice. I attached the yoke to the bodice, and then went on to make the final piece - the outer skirt.

For that, I essentially did the same thing I did with the bodice and the sleeves. I attached the colored satin triangles and stitched them down with the tape. Here is a picture just before I attached the tape:

This process is very time consuming and I had severely underestimated it. I did end up finishing it in a day, but it was the only thing I did that day. You have to stitch super close to the edge or the satin is going to fray and stick out and it's not a pretty look. It did end up happening in a few places, so I had to take the stitches out and redo them. But when that was done, I added red tape to the raw edges of the fabric and finished the skirt.

Then finally, it was time to attach the skirt to the bodice. For that, I gathered it with a quick basting stitch to bring it to the needed width and then had to hand stitch it in place, making sure I was attaching it only to the lining layer so the stitches wouldn't be visible from the right side.

Once that was done, it was time for the first complete try on! For one, I was really excited to see it as a basically completed project, but more importantly, I needed to know where to put the buttons. So I put on all my layers for this (shift, stays, bumroll, two petticoats, the skirt, and the bodice with the outer skirt), and realized... it was a bit smaller than anticipated. It fit, but I'd planned to make it double-breasted and the front panels didn't overlap quite enough to make two button rows possible while keeping them centered. So I ended up deciding in that moment I was only going to do one row of buttons. The original only has one row, so it was fine either way. But while on the topic of buttons, another thing: I'd mentioned in a previous post that I wasn't sure whether to add buttonholes or to fake the closure with hooks and eyes, and I decided to do neither. I was way too scared of the satin fraying if I did button holes and the whole hook and eye system is pretty annoying to do, and since I'm only really gonna wear it once or twice a year I decided to just use some red pins to pin myself into the dress for the day. This protects the satin from fraying and is less work for me. It doesn't look super professional though and while historically accurate for some dresses in the 18th century (some even used to sew themselves, or have someone sew them into their dresses), it was not used on redingotes (as far as I'm aware) for practicality reasons. Redingotes are essentially riding coats and were used primarily outdoors, so buttons was the most common way to close up these types of garments. Still, I did not want to risk ruining the fabric, so I decided to do it this way.

So once I'd figured out where to place the buttons, I sewed them into place. On a side note, I do love the way they look. They're so pretty.

I added four in the front, two on each sleeve and four in the back.

So this is it. It's done.

This was, mostly due to the color details, the most time time-consuming and frankly expensive project I've ever worked on (well, maybe except for my very first dress as I still didn't know what I was doing back then - that one took me literal months hah). But it was so worth it. It's been in my bedroom for a few days now and I smile every time I see it. I still can't believe it's in my possession.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

[askagamedev]

Vertical Slice Breakdown - Dragon Age Veilguard

It's been a few days since the Dragon Age Veilguard gameplay video was released. I posted a challenge for aspiring developers to identify as many specific features and systems as they could spot. My expertise is in gameplay, so that's where I will be focusing. Expertise on visuals like lighting, rendering, shaders, etc. should be directed elsewhere.

0:22 - In-Game Cinematic with moving cameras 0:30 - Seamless cinematic transfer to gameplay, quest tracking UI element, different walking speeds 0:36 - Interactable element with UI 0:43 - Camera movement - orbital motion, but likely not detachable 0:53 - Party member movement, including waiting for the player as part of an escort sequence 2:08 - Uninteractable NPC actors perform animations 2:13 - Scriptable terrain changes/destruction 2:18 - Scriptable interactions with multiple actors 2:29 - Uninterrupted conversations when transitioning from gameplay to in-game cinematic 2:39 - Context-specific traversal method with special traversal animation (balancing across a thin beam) 2:50 - Small sequence that is likely unloading the last area and loading in data for the next environment. Likely also locks players off from returning to the previous area. 3:22 - Conversation wheel with "personality" icons and paraphrased words 3:39 - Dynamic inventory in game cinematics, show player's items 3:46 - Scripted Player equipment change during cinematic 4:04 - Quest variables (e.g. player background) result in different NPC response 4:27 - Combat UI including current target (four red dots), Combat log 4:30 - Player can jump 4:33 - UI Melee danger indicator for incoming attacks - silver for enemy attacking, gold for shortly impending damage 4:35 - Player can dash/dodge 4:39 - Event log - Items/Loot notification 4:42 - Shooting UI including hit/miss indicator (red reticle), time scaling, arrow charging (rounded purple bar above arrow count), arrow refill cooldown 5:03 - Some kind of special charge/jumping attack 5:09 - XP gain UI, Quest objective completion UI, Quest objective map indicator UI 5:12 - Auto sheath weapons 5:15 - Potion use/Health recovery 5:18 - Recover potions from the environment 5:40 - Quest objective indicator change on approach 5:49 - Ranged attack danger indicator 5:51 - Defensive action (player reflects damage back on ranged attacker) 6:06 - Enemies can be knocked off edges when fatal 6:10 - Destructible objects in combat, can be scripted 6:16 - Some kind of "special" dodge skill with VFX, likely a rogue class skill 6:51 - Second context-specific traversal method (sliding down a slope) also likely a second "can't go back" type of lockoff 7:01 - Action/Command UI (party/self ability commands) 7:06 - Specific skill used, skill cooldown, enemy debuffed + UI (weakened), resource used (purple bar at bottom of screen) 7:07 - Quick use button mapping, likely for controller face buttons 7:09 - Resource bar refills on its own and on attack damage 10:47 - Different kinds of health bars (likely magical shield and armor) 11:59 - Boss UI with both magical shield and armor bars. Not sure what the number 4 there indicates 12:15 - Telegraphed danger zones projected onto the floor 12:22 - Quick recover timing event 14:45 - Conversation option for branching cinematic 14:51 - Follower approval UI event log 18:49 - Destructible object with health bar and UI highlighting

Each of these elements is something that would need to be designed and implemented by someone on the gameplay team working with UI, engineering, and art. See anything I missed? Which did you get?

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[malicedragoness]

Nsft Havik Headcanons

Listen up y’all. This is by far, without a doubt, the weirdest thing I have written for this blog. Havik is not for everyone. So please read the warnings before you decide to read.

I don’t know why I’m attracted to this damn zombie man. But goddamnit!

Let me know if y’all want a part 2 or have questions.

WARNINGS: Havik is his own warning, body horror, limb detachment, lots of blood, manic behavior, Havik saying absurd shit.

-At first, he hates your guts when he meets you. He’s not supposed to want you. Owning things and keeping them in line aren’t his philosophy. A relationship feels like confinement and ownership. There shouldn’t be ownership. And yet he wants to keep you to himself.

He hates it. You represent everything he is against and he hates that he wants you. But if you returned his affections, he would keep you close to him and act like a violent guard dog to anyone that gets close to you.

-Havik is a chest guy. It’s not so much for nipples/boobs, but he has an obsession with your heart. He wants to be able to physically touch it and it tortures him that he can’t. So he settles for being as close to it as possible.

Havik favors positions where he can see and feel your chest and salivate over it. His favorite pastime is to lay his head on your chest and listen to your heartbeat like a thief trying to crack open a safe.

One thing about being with Havik, you need to get used to some of the absurd shit he says. During sex he’ll comment: “Just one chomp. One good chomp and I’ll be eating your heart out of your body, and sip your life’s blood.”

“I can hear your blood singing to me.”

“So sweet. So forbidden. Please, let me just lick it?”

Once Havik reaches a certain point in your relationship, he will let you physically touch his heart. He opens his chest to show you how fast it beats when you’re around. “Only you can make my heart dance like this.”

Even if you don’t want to touch it, he makes you. In his own delusional way, he’s showing you he trusts you.

-Masochist. It should go without saying that Havik enjoys pain, specifically if you’re the one to inflict it. From simple things like nipple clamps and tight cock rings, to drawing patterns in his skin with a knife. He gets off on you hurting him.

And while he loves pain, Havik would never turn away any tenderness you give him. If you stroke his hair, he’ll rub his head into your hand like a kitten. He will take any form of touch and affection you give. Gentle or cruel.

-Havik is proud of how absurdly flexible and detachable his body is. He can arch his body in different ways and put it in angles that aren’t humanly possible. Sometimes he detaches his head and will watch his body fuck you from across the room. There are times during sex where he has you hold his detached head to your chest while he fucks you, so he can listen to your heart beat.

-Licks your blood like it’s a delicacy. If you’re ever injured in a fight or if you have a cut on your finger, Havik is quick to come lick it. He’ll moan in ecstacy tasting your blood and his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Your blood is a shot of adrenaline to his system, and he gets more impatient than usual, and wants to drag you off to fuck you that instant.

-He is loud! There’s no restraint with him. He growls, he moans, he screams, he talks. He can never be quiet. So if you don’t want to be caught in the act, make sure you’re not anywhere public.

-Oral sex can be tricky for him. It’s not that he lacks enthusiasm. Far from it. But with no lips he’s relying heavily on his tongue and fingers to give you pleasure. For men, he circles his tongue around your cock and uses his hands to jerk you off.

-Love bites and nibbles replace all the kisses he could’ve left on your body. After his face got damaged, he realized he prefers it this way. Bite marks litter your skin and he’s all too happy to run his tongue over them.

-Havik experiences bouts of mania after fighting and being covered in blood. When he’s high in his mania, his masochistic tendencies get extreme. He wants you to slice him up, tie him down, pull his hair, torture him by making him cum multiple times so he gets overstimulated. He wants to feel pain.

Eventually, he will rip his arms off to get out of the restraints so he can take out his energy on you. And when he’s in it deep, he’s loud and sets a brutal pace.

“You feel so gooooood! I want to see your brains spill out of your head!”

(Keep in mind, he would never hurt you like that. But he says things in the throes of pleasure.)

When he goes through these episodes, it seems like it lasts for hours before he finally stops. Once he comes down from his high, he is exhausted from the emotional overload. He’ll cling onto you, shaking and crying. Desperate for an anchor as he rides the waves of his mental crash, loving the feel of you petting his hair.

-After being together for a while, he’ll break off one of his fingers and give it to you. Havik won’t grow it back. He puts it on a cord for you to wear around your neck. It’s his way of proposing to you. No matter where you go, you always have a piece of him.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 06 Chapter 06 | directive override⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

As you helped Andy to his feet, his body still shuddering from the aftereffects of the stun baton, you could feel the tension in the air between the group.

Rain moved toward the locked door, her steps urgent, her voice cracking with desperation. "Andy! Andy! Open the door!" Rain's voice trembled, her hand pounding against the cold, metallic surface of the airlock, as if her plea alone could unlock it.

Andy's reboot had been slow. His expression was still blank, as though his systems were struggling to catch up with the situation. "Sorry," he murmured, his voice soft but devoid of its usual warmth. "I couldn't stop them."

Rain's eyes flashed with panic as she heard Tyler's voice call out to Bjorn. "Bjorn? What's going on?" Tyler's voice was sharp as he heard Bjorn's erratic breathing on the other side.

"Andy's gone crazy!" Bjorn crackled through the intercom, his voice a bitter snarl.

You looked over, catching the dread in Rain's eyes, her face pale and drawn. "What are you doing? You gotta come back for us, mate," Tyler said, a hint of fear creeping into his tone "We just need to get out of this damn airlock before this ship—"

"Not before she turns off the psychopath," Bjorn's words were quick and venomous, cutting through the chaos as Rain turned to face you and Andy, her expression a mixture of confusion and terror.

You stepped over, feeling the weight of the moment press down on your chest. "We don't have time for this shit!" you shouted, cutting through the mounting tension. "We need to focus on getting out—all of us."

But before anyone could react, a loud, screeching alarm filled the air, piercing through the station. The entire Romulus seemed to shudder under your feet, and in that split second, you felt a sickening lurch in your stomach.

The Corbelan, for some reason, had begun to spin out of control.

From the corner of your eye, you could see the flashing lights of the ship's navigation panel flicker wildly as the hauler veered off its course, its thrusters sputtering before crashing hard—first into a nearby fuel tank, then a little further down.

The impact was devastating.

The force of the crash sent you sprawling to the floor, your head slamming against the cold metal with a sharp thud. The air was knocked from your lungs as the entire station groaned under the strain, metal shrieking in protest as it buckled and twisted around you.

"Shit!" you cursed, trying to push yourself up, but your limbs felt heavy, the weight of the chaos pressing down on you. A thick, acrid smell filled the air as fuel began to leak from the ruptured tanks, the harsh scent stinging your nose and burning your throat.

Sparks flew from overhead wiring, some of the lights flickering out as the station destabilized. The entire room tilted slightly, and you could hear the deep, ominous creak of the Romulus groaning under the sudden pressure.

Panic clawed at your chest as you realized the whole station had been thrown off balance by the impact. You forced yourself to stand despite the dizziness swirling in your head.

You felt Andy's hands on your arm, steadying you with surprising strength. He seemed unaffected by the chaos; his eyes locked onto you with that same blank, detached expression. "Are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm, eerily calm given the disaster unfolding around you.

"Yeah..." you managed to reply, though your head was still spinning from the fall. "I'm fine."

You watched Rain fall to her knees, her hands gripping the cold metal wall as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Her wide eyes filled with panic, darting between you and Andy, and the fear in her voice sent a chill down your spine.

"Andy!" Rain's cry echoed through the unstable station, her voice cracking under the weight of her desperation. "You have to open the door. We're not going to make it!"

You rushed to her side, kneeling next to her, your hands immediately going to her shoulders in an attempt to steady her. "Rain, breathe—just breathe. We'll figure this out," you said, though even as the words left your mouth, the doubt gnawed at you.

Time was running out faster than you could process.

You cast a glance back toward Andy, who had been staring at the door with an unsettling calm, as though the chaos meant nothing to him.

Something inside him had shifted; that much was clear. He didn't seem to hear Rain's pleas—didn't react to her fear.

Instead, his focus shifted to the far end of the room, where the damaged synthetic, Officer Rook, lay slumped against the wall.

Andy moved toward Rook, his steps unnervingly precise, like someone on a mission.

Behind you, Tyler frantically fumbled with his headset, calling out through the crackling static, his voice filled with panic. "Bjorn! Bjorn, what the hell are you doing? You have to come back for us—now!"

There was no response from Bjorn. Only silence—the thick, terrifying kind that made your heart pound harder against your ribcage.

You knew something had gone horribly wrong.

You turned your gaze back to Andy just as he knelt beside Rook, his hand reaching out to touch the damaged synthetic's chest.

For a moment, everything seemed to still, the sounds of the station fading into the background as you watched Andy lean closer to Rook.

The world had narrowed to the singular task in front of him—information, orders, directives. His system was running its calculations, weighing the risks, the best possible outcomes.

They had miscalculated.

"You said we had more hours," Andy stated, his voice soft but steady as he examined Rook's damaged systems.

Rook's head jerked slightly, his voice crackling with static as he spoke. "The explosion has shifted the axis of the station. It will now hit the asteroid belt earlier."

Andy processed this new information—every possible path, every outcome—eyes briefly glancing toward the others. The image of destruction played out in perfect clarity in his mind. "Where did they land?" he asked, his tone devoid of emotion, already moving to the next step in the plan.

"The Romulus hangar," Rook replied, his voice eerily calm, pulling Andy from the flood of data. "On the other side of the station. Away." He then directed his voice toward the station's AI system, "Mother, what does substance Z-01's integrity look like?"

A brief pause.

Then, the smooth, automated voice of MOTHER echoed through the room. "75%"

"There is still hope." Rook's eyes flickered as he shifted slightly, his systems struggling. "We must find a way to the Romulus module," he added, his voice filled with a strange urgency.

Andy turned his attention back to him, something flickering in the back of his mind. The faint echo of a voice, a call that had led him to this moment. "I heard your voice in my head..." he said softly, his synthetic mind replaying the memory. "Calling me."

"N-D-255. Artificial person," Rook replied, his voice glitching slightly, but there was a strange respect in his tone. "Your model was the mainstay of our colonization push. An honor to me." He paused, his systems faltering as he tried to sit up straighter. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Research Officer Rook, and I respectfully request your assistance."

For a moment, there was hesitation—a glitch in the directive, a faint spark of an old program running deep in Andy's systems.

"Unfortunately," he began, his voice steady, "I only have one directive: Doing what is best for..." He stopped, the words hanging in the air as the data shifted inside his mind. Rook's words, the events of the station's destruction, the upgrade—it all began to merge into one singular path.

Rook tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he realized the shift happening inside Andy. "The directive in your upgrade overrides the old one."

"Yes," Andy replied, his voice blank, devoid of hesitation now. Andy's systems whirred as he recalculated his approach. "What is required of me, Mr. Officer?"

"That you complete our mission," Rook said quietly, his gaze locking with Andy's as he gave his final directive.

Andy nodded blankly, rising from his position next to Rook. The data was clear now.

He had to move.

He had to protect them—her.

You watched Andy stand, his movements slow and deliberate as he turned back to you, his movements fluid yet mechanical as he processed the information, relaying it with the same detachment that had become characteristic of his behavior since the upgrade.

He looked at you with that same unsettling calm, but there was something behind his eyes—something you couldn't quite read.

"The station has less time than we thought. We need to move. It's not safe here."

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you like a physical force. "What do you mean?" you asked, your voice shaky. "How much time do we have?"

"Two hours," Andy replied, the words falling from his lips like a death sentence. "Maybe less."

You felt Rain's hand on your arm, her grip tight as if grounding herself to reality. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with fear.

The station had been destabilized, and every second spent lingering here was another step toward certain death.

"We can't stay here." Andy turned towards you. "It's not safe anymore. We need to find a way to the Romulus hangar," he said, his tone unchanging. "There may still be hope, but not if we stay here."

You gave him a quick nod, knowing there was no time to argue or question. "Let's go."

Andy turned and started walking ahead, his steps silent but purposeful.

You cast a glance at Rain, who stood frozen for a second, before she gathered herself, grabbing Tyler's arm. Tyler seemed dazed, still clutching his headset.

As you began following Andy, Rain and Tyler fell into step behind you. The tension between them was palpable, and you couldn't help but overhear their hushed conversation.

"It's all my fault," Tyler muttered, his voice laced with guilt.

"Yes, it is," Rain replied quietly, her tone cutting. "Yours, mine, and everyone else's. We made the decision together. We'll probably get to them."

You swallowed the scoff that rose in your throat, refusing to let it slip out. The irony was sharp, but there was no point in arguing about blame now.

There wasn't time for that.

You focused on the path ahead, your eyes locked on Andy as he led the way, the familiar sounds of the station's deteriorating systems echoing all around you.

Each step felt heavier, the looming reality of time running out like a noose tightening around your neck. And yet, there was something strangely calming about Andy's presence. His movements were efficient, calculated—like he had already anticipated every possible scenario.

For a brief moment, you wondered how much of Andy was left under the cold exterior that had taken over. You shook off the thought, focusing on the chaos ahead as the station creaked and groaned under the weight of its impending destruction.

Andy glanced back at you, his voice breaking the silence. "We must move faster. Time is running out."

And with that, you kept pace, knowing there was no turning back now.

The four of you slowed down as you approached the next corridor. The atmosphere around you felt suffocating, the low hum of the station's dying systems accompanied by distant, echoing creaks. Andy walked ahead, reaching over to a thermostat embedded in the wall.

As he pressed the buttons, he told you all what he'd learned from Rook. His fingers deftly adjusting the temperature higher, a soft beep indicating the change. "The parasitoids have no eyes. They go for sounds and heat signatures."

"What?" Rain's voice was thick with confusion and fear.

Andy's focus shifted, his synthetic eyes flicking over each of you, calculating the situation. "Your body temperature," he explained, his voice as cold and detached as ever. "If we raise the temperature in the room, we might turn invisible to them. If we're quiet enough."

The air around you seemed to still, as the gravity of the situation pressed down on everyone.

Your thoughts raced. The station was falling apart, and now you were dealing with predators that could sense heat and sound. You exchanged a look with Rain, whose face had paled considerably.

"The temperature now matches that of your bodies." Andy stepped away from the thermostat, staring over at the three of you with an unreadable expression. "The creature shouldn't be able to see you."

You swallowed hard, your mind racing with the weight of his words.

"But stress, fear, and panic will raise your temperature and expose you," Andy continued, his eyes meeting yours briefly. "Sweat and goosebumps are your skin's attempt to cool you down. Watch out for that."

Rain inhaled sharply behind you, trying to keep her breath steady, while Tyler seemed lost in his own world, the headset still clutched tightly to his ear.

"Keep calm and be quiet," Andy added, his voice even.

Just as you took a tentative step forward, a faint hiss echoed through the corridor—a sound that made your stomach drop. Several facehuggers slithered across the cold, metallic floor, their spindly legs scraping against the ground.

They were scattered, milling about as if unsure of where to go, their movements slow and disjointed.

Just as Andy had predicted, they couldn't see you. The temperature in the corridor matched your body heat, rendering you and your companions invisible to the creatures.

You could almost feel the collective sigh of relief from Rain and Tyler, their breaths shallow as they tried to remain calm.

Your heart pounded in your chest, each beat loud in your ears as you walked in silence.

The facehuggers continued to move aimlessly, their eyeless forms twitching, occasionally lifting their heads to scan the air, but they didn't react to your presence.

Every second felt like a fragile balance, one wrong move threatening to shatter the stillness.

Andy led the way, his movements deliberate and soundless. His expression remained unreadable, but you could sense his intense focus. You followed behind, your eyes darting between the milling creatures and the door at the end of the corridor, willing yourself to stay calm.

Suddenly, a crackle of static erupted from Tyler's headset, piercing the quiet like a gunshot. Then Kay's voice broke through the static, distorted and shaky. "Bjorn, come on!"

"Stay away!" Bjorn's muffled shout came through, his panic unmistakable.

Tyler's eyes widened as he whispered into the mic. "Kay?"

That was all it took.

The facehuggers reacted instantly. Their heads snapped toward you, their bodies coiling as they hissed in unison, a chorus of unnatural, wet sounds that sent a wave of fear crashing through you.

"Run!" you shouted, your voice sharp and commanding. "Run, now!"

The corridor erupted into chaos. The facehuggers darted forward with terrifying speed, their limbs skittering across the ground as they closed in.

You bolted, the cold air burning your lungs as you sprinted, your footsteps pounding against the metal floor.

Behind you, Rain let out a small cry of fear, but you didn't dare turn back.

The hisses of the creatures were too close, the sounds growing louder with each second. Tyler's heavy breathing and stumbling footsteps echoed beside you as he tried to keep pace, his focus divided between Kay's panicked voice crackling through his headset and the horror unfolding around him.

Tyler gasped for breath, his voice frantic as he yelled into the mic, "Kay! I'm here!"

You could hear the tremor in his voice, his desperation clawing its way to the surface, but you couldn't afford to slow down.

Your legs burned as you raced down the corridor, your breath catching in your throat, the relentless sounds of the facehuggers close behind. Their hisses were now intermingled with the rapid thuds of your feet and the frantic pulse in your ears.

The corridor stretched on, endless, but you kept pushing forward, the fear of being caught too great to slow down. You could feel the hot breath of the facehuggers on the back of your neck, their limbs skittering across the ground too close for comfort.

Kay's voice crackled again through the headset. "Tyler, you have to help me! I can't get the door open!"

Tyler's voice, raw with desperation, cut through the chaos. "By the red button—there's a key!"

"I can't find any key!"

"It must be there!"

There was a pause—a heartbeat of silence broken only by the sound of your footsteps and the frantic hisses of the creatures closing in on you.

Kay's voice suddenly broke through the static again, filled with relief. "Okay, okay, I have it!"

You pushed forward, heart thundering as you neared the door at the end of the corridor. Andy had already reached it, his hands moving quickly over the controls. Rain was close behind you, her breath coming in short, ragged bursts.

The door began to slide open, the mechanism creaking as it strained under the pressure of the emergency systems.

"Come on, come on!" you urged Rain through the door, Andy already working to shut it behind you.

Tyler was slower, lagging behind as his focus wavered between running and Kay's frantic voice in his ear.

Andy's hands moved swiftly, and you heard the mechanism of the door starting to close. You shot a look behind you, seeing Tyler trailing farther back.

"Run, Tyler!" Rain shouted, panic lacing her words. Tyler glanced back just in time to see the facehuggers surging forward, their bodies flailing as they threw themselves toward the open doorway.

Andy's hands hovered over the door controls, his expression cold and calculating.

"Wait!" Rain screamed at Andy, her voice thick with fear. "Stop closing the door!"

Tyler gave one last burst of speed, diving through the shrinking gap just as the door slammed shut behind him, the facehuggers crashing against the other side of the thick glass with sickening thuds.

Tyler collapsed to the ground, panting heavily. Rain crouched beside him, her face pale, her hands trembling as she checked on him.

"You almost pinned him in the door!" she snapped, her anger flaring as she looked up at Andy.

Andy's cold gaze flicked down to her, unmoved by the accusation. "Yes," he replied evenly, "but I didn't. I timed it perfectly—with more success than last time. Don't you agree?"

He turned his attention back to the glass, where the facehuggers continued to throw themselves against the barrier, their bodies thudding against it with unnerving persistence.

"They have come closer," he stated calmly, turning his gaze back to you. "We need to move on."

You glanced at Rain, who was helping a panting Tyler back to his feet, her expression still tense. There was no time to dwell on the near-miss, no time to argue; staying in one place wasn't an option.

Without another word, the four of you began to move again, the sound of the facehuggers' relentless hissing echoing in the corridor behind you as you pushed forward into the unknown.

☆

☆

The four of you hurried down the corridor, your footsteps echoing against the cold metal floor. The tension between you, Rain, Tyler, and Andy was palpable.

Every step felt heavier, the weight of Kay's voice still lingering in Tyler's ears. The hangar bay was just ahead; the door sealed shut.

As you approached, your heart sank.

On the other side of the door was Kay, her face twisted in terror as she pounded against the glass, her palms slamming into it with a frantic rhythm. She was sobbing, her words barely coherent as she screamed for her brother, her knuckles white from the force of her strikes.

The fear in her eyes was unlike anything you'd ever seen—raw and overwhelming. She was trapped, desperate; her face pale and streaked with tears. 

"Tyler!" she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her panic. "Please! Bjorn's dead—there's a monster in here! You have to help me!" Her sobs came in sharp gasps, the sound of someone utterly consumed by fear.

Tyler rushed to the door, his hands pressing against the glass as if he could reach through to her, his voice shaking as he tried to comfort her. "Shhh, it's okay, Kay. Take it easy. I'm here." He turned, his eyes darting frantically to Andy. "Andy, open the door. Please."

But something was wrong.

You noticed Andy wasn't moving, his gaze locked on the space above Kay's head. His stillness was unnerving, like he wasn't even in the room with you anymore.

It was as if he was entirely focused on something else—something none of you could yet see.

You reached out, your fingers gently brushing against Andy's wrist, your voice soft but filled with concern. "Andy, what's wrong?"

Before he could respond, Tyler's voice cut through the tension. "Andy!" his voice cracked, the desperation rising. "OPEN THE DOOR!"

Rain joined Tyler at the door, her expression tight with worry. "It's okay, Tyler. We'll get Kay out of there," she said, trying to keep her voice steady. "Andy, come on."

But Andy still didn't move. His eyes stayed fixed on whatever he was seeing beyond Kay. Rain glanced over her shoulder at you, her worry turning to frustration. "Andy! Open the door!"

A cold chill ran down your spine as you glanced at him, his face unreadable, yet there was something unnerving in the way he stared, completely focused on the space behind Kay.

And then you saw it.

Your breath hitched as your eyes followed Andy's gaze, locking onto the horrifying silhouette that hovered just above Kay—the Xenomorph.

"Oh Gods," Rain whispered, her voice barely audible. Tyler's face drained of color as he saw it too, the monstrous creature's black, shiny form looming in the shadows behind his sister.

Andy's calm presence beside you was unnerving—you felt his stare, cold and unreadable, as if he was waiting for you to understand something before speaking.

"Kay, look at me!" Tyler shouted, his voice trembling with desperation. "We'll get you out! Andy, open the fucking door!"

But Andy didn't flinch. His voice was steady and eerily calm as he said, "That's what the creature wants."

Tyler's desperation turned to fury. "Open it! Open it, now!" he shouted, slamming his fists against the door in frustration.

Rain ran to Andy, her voice thick with emotion. "Listen to me! She's pregnant, Andy! She's going to have a child! The door takes two seconds to open, please! You have to open it!" Her words were frantic, her eyes wide with fear and helplessness.

Andy's gaze remained cold and detached as he replied, "The creature will be able to reach in here easily."

Kay's voice broke through again, her sobs becoming hysterical as she looked back and forth between Andy and Tyler. "Why won't you help me?! You're one of us! Andy, open the damn door! Please!"

Tyler's panic reached a new level; he came over, dropping to his knees, his voice broken, pleading. "Andy, please. I have to go in after her."

Seeing Andy's lack of movement, Tyler turned to you, his hands shaking violently as he grabbed yours. His grip was tight, almost painful, but what struck you more was the look in his eyes—wild and terrified.

Tears streamed down his cheeks, his voice trembling as he pleaded with you. "Please, Y/N, you have to make him open it," he gasped, the weight of his fear palpable in every word. "I can't... I can't let her die like this. I can't lose her."

You could feel his hands trembling, the raw desperation in his touch, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at him. Kay's frantic cries echoed in the background, her fists still slamming against the glass, the terror in her voice growing more hysterical with each passing second.

"Tyler!" she screamed again, her voice breaking as she struggled to keep her panic under control. "Why won't you help me?!"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked between Tyler and Andy, feeling the tension pulling you in two directions.

Andy was still staring at you, his face unreadable but understanding. He could see it in your eyes—you had made your choice.

You looked back up at Kay, but then the Xenomorph's empty, soulless eyes locked onto yours through the glass.

For a moment, time seemed to stop.

You could feel its gaze pierce through you, cold and predatory, as if it were weighing whether you were its next target.

Your breath hitched, the world around you narrowing to just you and the creature.

And then, in a split second, you knew.

You knew Andy was right.

Without looking at Tyler or Rain, you slowly let your hand fall away from Andy's wrist, your body going cold as you realized what had to be done.

You couldn't open the door.

You opened your mouth, your voice barely a whisper. "I—"

And then... the creature moved.

In a sickening blur of speed, a dark blur of motion descended from the shadows above Kay's head, the sharp edges of its form cutting through the dim light. The Xenomorph, its glossy black body gleaming with a sickening sheen, lunged forward with terrifying speed.

Kay barely had time to scream before the creature's long, whip-like tail coiled around her throat, silencing her in an instant. Her eyes widened in shock and terror as her hands clawed at the tail, her feet kicking wildly as the creature lifted her into the air with ease.

"NO!" Tyler's scream was deafening as he threw himself against the glass, pounding on it with all his strength, but there was nothing he could do. He could only watch helpless as the creature slammed Kay against the door with brutal force.

The glass shuddered under the impact, cracks spider-webbing out from where her body hit.

Her eyes locked onto Tyler's, wide with terror and pleading for help, before the Xenomorph's tail sliced across her throat in a clean, brutal motion. Blood splattered across the glass window, obscuring her face as she went limp.

Her body dangled in the creature's grasp, lifeless, before it began dragging her away, her blood leaving a sickening trail behind.

You could only stare, frozen in shock. Your mind struggled to process what had just happened, your heart thudding painfully in your chest.

"I'm sorry," Andy said, his voice as calm as ever. "I could do nothing to save her."

Tyler's voice was shattered, filled with rage and sorrow. "You could've opened the damn door!" he screamed, his fists slamming against the glass again and again.

Andy remained unmoved. "Then we'd all be dead. We have to move on before the creature finds its way in here."

With that, Andy turned and began walking toward the elevator, his movements deliberate and mechanical.

Rain stared at the ground, too overwhelmed to speak. She looked between Tyler and the blood-streaked glass where her friend had been moments ago.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you forced yourself to move. You gave Rain a look, knowing she was struggling, and without a word, the three of you followed Andy.

As you stepped into the elevator, the tension was unbearable. Tyler collapsed onto the floor, still trembling, his knuckles white from clenching his fists. Rain stood beside him, her face drawn, her gaze distant.

Andy pressed the button, his movements calm, his eyes forward.

Rain's voice eventually broke the silence, barely above a whisper. "Andy... what is your primary directive?"

Andy tilted his head slightly, his eyes blinking slowly as he responded. "I have received a new directive. To do what is best for the company."

Rain's eyes widened with horror as she turned toward him. "I have to remove the module."

Andy's gaze remained fixed ahead, his voice devoid of emotion. "Unfortunately, it is not in the company's interest."

The elevator stopped, the doors sliding open with a soft ding. Andy stepped forward, turning to look back at the three of you, his eyes as cold as the metal walls around you.

"We must move on," he said, his voice calm and unyielding. "Now."

You clenched your fists, biting back the tears threatening to spill. The module—that cursed module—had changed him.

The Andy you knew, your sweet Andy, was buried beneath the cold programming that now controlled him.

A/N: ahh, its almost over, just 2-3 more chapters left. i cant wait to write more one-shots for andy 😩❤️

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer sadslasher13 ravenswife izzymae288 fairy-cores-world whattadroid tikitsune stevieharringtongf

[impybutt]

Sezak had never seen a leather jacket before. What cause would someone ever have to wear another's skin? It struck him as alarming, to say the least.

Exposure risk wasn't something he or many others ever considered: His people were designed for efficiency, just like the rest of the spacefaring races. Or, that's what he assumed. It's common knowledge, isn't it?

Genome mapping is just the norm, and entire civilisations have been curated from raw materials, Sezak's included. It's far more energy and resource efficient than terraforming, in any case. That's what it takes to reach the stars: curated efficiency.

No one ever did it just by trial-and-error, did they?

But here was Suri, a Human, wearing the skin of... what did she call it? Some other kind of mammal, he forgot the name. Something absurdly simple. Anyway, apparently this is just normal for Humans!

"But why?" Sezak asked, incredulous. "What's the point?"

"Well, these days thanks to climate control and artificial atmosphere, it's mostly a style thing. But you know, early humans back on earth, why would you just leave a perfectly good skin to rot when you could wear it for protection?"

"Protection from what!? Under what circumstance are you finding an unused skin?? Wait-- is this another religious thing? I've heard that Humans have a lot of those, and they don't always make sense from the outside."

Suri looked confused (or constipated? Human faces are deceptively complex, it takes a long time to learn how to read them), and seemed to be studying Sezak for a moment. Her eyes darted over his synthetic clothing briefly, with its cultural flairs and decorative adornments, all carrying the signature texture of replicated matter.

Then, with sudden clarity, "Oh! Humans weren't curated, mostly we're organic."

Well, that's just absurd.

Sezak muffled his involuntary 'kek-kek' with a quick apology, covering his mandibles.

"Pardon me, that means your entire lineage came from raw evolution. That takes billions of years, I find it very unlikely."

"Yeah," Suri was nonplussed. "The leather is a throwback to when our ancestors had to survive in the wild. We hunted our meat, then used what was left for tools and clothing. It's actually a pretty proud part of our history; Earth was habitable, but definitely not easy."

Now it was Sezak's turn to look constipated, which never happened because his people weren't curated with such a terrible design flaw.

"So humans just bumbled their way into space on their own, like a larva figuring out how to fly? All... clumsy and inelegant, and... Messy? Without any outside help? Without any climate-matching!? Is that why you have those absurd suits!?"

"Yeah, it's also why our bodies just malfunction in weird ways for no obvious reason," Suri looked a little too amused at Sezak's undisguised horror - not that Humans are essentially raw nebula mobilised by a star's age of convenient mutations, but that they exist in such a state of volatility with no apparent qualms about it.

"Oh great wells," Sezak breathed, reeling from his new perspective. "So many of you wear leather. Hold on, is that why Vikram is always visiting the health centre?"

Suri's eyes crinkled, and she bared her teeth -- in a laugh, okay. Sezak recognised the 'kek-kek' noise humans make in thrill, though theirs is a more glottal 'hach-hach'.

"Yes, Vikram has auto-immune issues. Which means that sometimes, his immune system will attack his own body depending on the irritant. Or weather. Or his cortisol levels."

Sezak stared at Suri for a long time, trying to figure out if she was pranking him.

"I think I have a lot of reading to do," he muttered, incredulous.

"Start with the human eye, it's an absolute mess. Do you know how little it takes to detach a human retina?"

"WHY ARE YOU TELLING ME THIS"

[stardustizuku]

PART 4: Royalty Kinda Sucks

So, here’s the situation: When we are first introduced to the concept of Nobility, as seen through the Nobility’s eyes, it becomes apparent that there’s a reason behind every nonsensical tradition there is. 

You must always smile and conceal your emotions because else, you’ll be in danger, making yourself the enemy of someone you cannot refuse. Civilians must be devoted to their Lord/nobles because they’re the ones with Mana, and without Mana, the farmers suffer. There’s no food, there’s no agriculture. 

And at the beginning of the series, Rozemyne accepts this as the truth.

She sees how the amount of Mana offered correlates to the very livelihood of the commoners. Just like her, we as an audience, believe this story 100%. There’s an order to things, Nobility is inherently superior, some people just wield more power than others. 

Despite this, however, Rozemyne never fully buys into this idea. 

Ferdinand and the rest of the nobles say “There’s no need for commoners, they live entirely by the kindness or lack of it from the nobles”

While, on the surface, Rozemyne agrees to it (or more like, cannot find a way to counterargument), each every action since proves that she very much disagrees. 

She keeps listening to commoners, keeps trying to employ the orphans, educating the kids, and forming connection with the merchants. Her instance on staying on the temple is very much a way for her to cling to her commoner origins and refusing to let go of them. And, whenever someone tries to take advantage of them, she tries her hardest to stop it by any means possible.

My favourite argument she makes, is when she explains, in Part 4 to Hartmut that: 

“If we view this as nobles thinking up trendy goods and commoners making them, then nobles are the thinking mind while commoners are their hands and feet, no? Overloading commoners with unreasonable demands is no better than crippling one’s own arms and legs”. 

On the surface this is an argument that appeals to nobles, seeing commoners as nothing more than another tool that must be properly utilized. However, Rozemyne is inadvertently sneaking in one of her own core views: Nobles and commoners and equals. 

Rather than seeing commoners as an entirely detached object, she introduces the idea of commoners and nobility existing in an ecosystem. And here comes the first bit of proper commentary: 

Hierarchies are fundamentally flawed, and what we need in a society are communities. 

Rozemyne, being a chronically ill person, depends on others to do her work. To survive, we need communities and support networks. Some of the most brilliant minds and powerful players of the game do not thrive in a society that rigidly adheres to power structures such as nobility. Those so quick to toss away and dispose of whoever doesn't "fit in". Best example is Ferdiand - who was stiffled by Veronica.

This is juxtaposed with Ferdinand Hirschurl and Christine, all geniuses in their own right, extremely capable and talented. Neither of which was able to survive Ehrenfest. Even nobles of other duchies state that a single talented individual is incapable of turning the tides of their duchy. 

It’s only when Rozemyne comes into the picture, forcing people around her to function as a community, as a system, that any real change is made. She’s remarkable, perhaps more than for her intellect, in her ability to raise people. Her ability to form systems and networks of highly skilled attendants what allows her to be perceived as a saint. 

This is a direct contrast to her days as Urano, where she only ever submersed herself in books. I don’t doubt that Urano was as much of a genius as Rozemyne is - but her inability to connect and create a community to help her out was what caused her to be isolated. Only ever to see books and nothing more.

As Myne, she was forced to confront how vital to her survival family and community mean. As Rozemyne, she was forced to build her own, due to how nobility absolutely destroys said community in favour of a hierarchy. 

And all of this, is a microcosm of Royalty. 

The same attitude the nobles have to commoners is a direct 1:1 to how royals treat other nobles. They see nobles as little more than objects to be ordered around, and just like noble destroy communities and networks, royalty destroys them. Just on a much larger scale. 

Rather than seeing other duchies as, you know, arms and legs to make Yurgenschmidt more powerful, capable or rich, they see them as pawns to move around to protect/save Royals themselves. As if they are Yugernschmidt.

Whenever they say “for the good of Yurgenschmidt” it’s always synonymous with the “good of Royalty”.

The duchies only exist to serve Royals, and not the other way around. They’re more than happy to cut off Ehrenfest and let it struggle, even though it’s slowly becoming the new hot spot for technological inventions in all the country. They’re essentially crippling their own body, to save themselves. And sure, in other contexts maybe it could work. Rather amputate an arm rather than lose the head. But that’s not what they’re doing. They see their “arms” as disposable. Why bother to save one, when you have another that can work as well? (Which is dumb)

This is a direct criticsm of politicians, or position in powers, that see for themselves, rather than for the greater good of a country or the collective. People who would exploit the most vulnerable in a community to keep the status quo, all while claiming it's "for the greater good".

Sisgwald in particular is a great example of what Wilfred could have become if Rozemyne had no stepped in. He very much sees his wives as nothing but ways of attaining more power. He refuses to even think of other people reaching the throne and sees nothing past his own ego.

That’s why he is so taken aback by Rozemyne. Here comes a girl, with so much more experience at negotiating than him, calling him out directly over the many faults that royals are committing. As she points out, they went into a meeting expecting to extort her so completely blind they couldn’t see why Ehrenfest would be unwilling to enter negotiating. 

Ferdinand explained in Part 3 how, whoever has more information in a conversation between nobles has the upper hand. This ought to be the way everyone approaches anything, but Royals very much can’t comprehend this in regards to a lesser/middle duchy. To them, all duchies are the same (much like all commoners are the same to nobles) and do not require the information. This is, to put it bluntly, idiotic to the point of impressive. 

The best example? The very same meeting they had.

Rozemyne was able to get what she needed. Sure, the Royals also got what they wanted. But that’s it. They were able to obtain the bare minimum. While Ehrenfest was able to walk away with extensive concessions and much more room to make preparations. All while bruising the ego of Royalty.

And because they lack this ability to see nobles as a network, they also have the same problems nobles have. Their petty family drama gets dragged onto the surface for all the country to see. They're giving away information that's critical for negotiations without even noticing.

Hell, they almost exploded a war because Anastasius couldn’t tell Eglantine he liked her. Instead of raising each other up, like Rozemyne does, they drag each other own. Their lack of communication causes Rozemyne to be thrust into the middle of their family feud, trying her damnest to solve their problems, while they worry abt their own selfish desires. 

But perhaps the most crucial network that they’ve lost is: Information. 

Due to the fact that Ascendance of a Bookworm is a light novel about books - it’s inevitable that we would stumble at some point with the importance of achieving information preservation. Urano herself, as a librarian, is acutely aware of how easily information is lost. Rozemyne on her hand, has had to see the direct impact this has. 

The reason why the Grutrissheit is lost, is not just the war. It’s the lack of any real information preservation. And this is artificially created by the Royals themselves. 

The Grutrissheit was passed by from heir to heir, but this also meant that very few people were capable of accessing the information. When war struck, those few people were killed, and the texts that remained were written in ancient languages. A language which all but few could read (Let’s put a pin on that*).

And now, we find out that Royals of the past (possibly) implemented a barrier so that no one BUT royalty could access the Grutrissheit. This makes it so that the best Zent candidate they have right now, cannot even touch it. 

In an attempt to shield themselves from others, potentially, stealing what they think their “rightful” position is - they’ve blocked access to information. And now that they’re been killed NO ONE HAS ACCESS TO IT. 

This is something that Rozemyne, as a librarian at heart, is desperately trying to avoid. Through her transcriptions and the rapid spread of the printing industry, she REFUSES to gatekeep information. She wants it to be accessible to anyone who wants, as long as she can get something of equal value (aka, other stories/books), and that's only to emphasize the VALUE books inherently have. 

This is all to say, that the politics of AoB are quite simple if looked through these perspectives, and framing Royalty as the flawed institution it is. 

It’s about how hierarchies of power are bad. The few, who have not proven their worth, have the power to deny information to a large population and deny themselves any responsibility for their actions. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm initially presents you with the idea of Nobility as something rational, just to later point out all the ways it which it’s failing. The only reason why many things are working or improving in Ehrenfest is because of Sylvester and his ability to properly integrate Rozemyne’s ideas. 

Ascedance of a Bookworm also states that this is not a fix that can be solved in a single action, in fact it cannot be fixed in single generation. Something that Rozemyne critiques of Sisgwals is his insistence that all problems ought to be solved quickly so they cannot cause harm in the future (again, amputating an arm to save the head). 

But this is proving to be a flawed response. This idea of cutting all crippled arms is what gives way the purges, and the mana crisis they’re having. 

Rozemyne, perhaps as a chronically ill child herself, does her best to avoid this. She recognizes that just because someone isn’t “up to standard”, doesn’t mean they cannot be rehabilitated and integrated back into society. She does this believing human life to be valuable regardless of what can it offer - but because of the world they live in she has hidden this behind the “so they can give back to society”. 

It’s way more productive to save someone than to kill them. This creates a bunch of problems, yes. But it’s worth it. Being a leader it’s not an easy job. 

It’s something even Ferdinand comments on. To be a Zent, you have to give up everything you love for your country. And that means EVERYTHING. Something that, if I’m being 100% honest, I don’t think Sisgwald understands. The mere idea of him waiting to be Zent simply because that’s what he’s been told all his life is tantamount to laughable. 

At this point, the best option is undoubtedly Eglantine. If he fails to understand this and clings to a throne he’s no longer the best suited for - it’s nothing but useless pride wrapped in a cocoon of delusion. 

There’s so much that needs to be learned and work to be put in. Rozemyne does not accept the role, not because she’s humble, but because she understands this. Leading takes hard work, it takes time, it takes effort. She does not want it, and why should she? She has been offered none of the privileges of royalty, yet she’s expected to perform their labour and duties.

Those who benefit from Royalty are basically dumping all their work on her lap. Well, granted, not all the work. But definitely a good chunk of theirs. For example, transcribing ancient languages to find their stupid bible, instead of asking the temple. 

(*PIN: And mind you, people can absolutely still learn ancient languages. But another huge fault of the royalty, as it is right now, is that there’s no one willing to put in the time and effort to preserve or revive their own goddamn culture).

Yeah, sure, maybe Rozemyne has a duty to rule, as she’s the most capable…But. She shouldn’t. Royalty, who’s been trained their whole lives to rule, or support rulers - should be more than well-equipped to solve their own problems. Hell, they have attracted top talen- No. They’ve stolen top talent from other duchies, they have all the resources they could want, and they have the ultimate say on absolutely everything. Tell me why they want to poach another talented person from their duchy? 

It’s not Rozemyne’s responsibility to solve the problems of royalty. In other words, it’s not our duty to solve politicians’ problems. It’s not our duty to solve the problem of first-world countries, it’s not our duty to solve other people’s problems. 

Ugh, I’m getting heated. 

This is all, mind you, after Rozemyne was told in her early years she wouldn’t be able to achieve anything because she’s just a commoner. Which, again, bullshit. She’s the prime example that there’s nothing that prevents a commoner from being on the level of an archduke, or hell, becoming a Zent, other than a social one. Truly, Yurgenschmidt’s nobility as made-up as our own. 

The introduction, or rather, the direct criticism of royalty in part 5, is the house of card toppling in all the themes touched barely in previous parts.

The issues with meritocracy, the absurd power inbalances, the outdated view of older generations that refuse to give way to a better future for the youth, as well as a hierarchy based on an entirely made-up concept. 

It quickly proved to be absolutely a political story. But I find it so impressive that it’s not something you would notice, or at least be explicitly made aware, until Part 5. 

Part 1 - 4 made sure to lay the ground of how this world works, then in Part 5 it decided to break the illusion that it is, in fact, working. 

PREV <;< MASTERLIST >> NEXT

[the-goya-jerker]

love what youre doing here, this is an inspired axis upon which to critique art

i Must know your thoughts on francis' bacon's 1953 "study after velázquez's portrait of pope innocent x." ive always found it a fascinating piece, and im pretty sure it draws a lot of inspiration from goya's black-painting-era work.

So, for a quick reference, this is the painting this is a study of:

Bacon had a period where he liked to do studies like this of classic works.

This one depicts Pope Innocent X as a rotting figure in a a chair that almost seems to glow. Is this rotting figure screaming or has it simply rotted so much that it's mouth has fallen open?

To me this painting very much feels like an inversion of the original. The delicate lace and warm colors present in the first are replaced with the loosely painted details and cool colors of the second. Instead of being a painting of a calm man who speaks for God, it is the painting of a corpse assailed by holy light, seemingly in agony from it.

Personally, I like to read some divine agony into the painting. There is something divine occurring to Innocent, or maybe even around him with no regard for him, and it is agonizing, if it has not killed him already.

I think the hatred the Christian God can impose on his creations is something I find kind of erotic. There's this immense power from above that you can never understand, only hope that it loves you as you're told it does. It does not speak to you, it is detached and cold. And yet you know it's wrath is absolute, that it could kill you all in a moment. There's something, in my outsider view, that enjoys that in a way. Total helplessness and complete power, with no chance to break out of the system.

Generally, I also think my view of the Christian God skews very Eldritch, which is sexy, so...

Also, I'll be up front, holy vestments get me going.

Rot is also really sexy. The degradation of the familiar as it returns to what it came from to feed the earth around it, that's hot.

Overall, for me, this one is a 9/10. Another pretty solid one from Francis Bacon! Also, feel free to share your interpretations in the replies, I do love to hear people's thoughts, even just on the painting itself, devoid of eroticism.

[spotaus]

Did some redesign mock-ups for Ec-4o.verse Cross, Fresh, and Error!

These guys didn't really *need* redesigns but I was having a ball with Trech (Ec-4o!Fresh) and gave him Arcade Carpet designs and decided I needed to redesign some others too! (Check below the cut for Old Designs, Lore, and a Stupid Screenshot from my pal @/Neonsix67)

So OLD DESIGNS:

(We're gonna act like I drew Trech more than twice-)

So, old art, yucky, whatever. We know the drill lmao- but because Ec-4o.verse is such an ongoing project these guys have been through a bunch of redesigns. Regrettably, me from 2 years ago was unaware of Layering and Shape Language, so they look kinda gross.

Cross' design has consistently been my favorite I think, just because he was a later addition and so had a bunch of my newer ideas integrated. They all have their flaws tho (Cross was too lean and got thrown between Baby and Grown Guy too often in my art. Error uhhh... yeesh. When I say I couldn't draw him, I meant it. I never knew what to do with his wires and I kept putting him in armor? Fresh just wasn't fleshed out enough. He was that SparkleDog of my verse.)

Also: I wanted Fresh to be top-heavy, like, big baggy round clothes on his upper half then lil guy legs. Cross I wanted to be more flat and strict, hense his clothes being all Tube-shaped. Then Error needed Triangle vibes. His old design was too Rectangle for me. The exposed limbs are mostly just for me because I love a-symmetry and also I don't keep a consistent clothing style, so I like to keep a visually interesting element (like a limb) exposed for clarity's sake when I draw them in new poses later.

LORE:

Cross: A robot (Ecto) who was initially a Guard-Model ecto. He was one of the last to be turned over when the government was rallying citizens to donate their bots to fight in the war. He was remodeled and supplied with a special task by his Programmer: Protect THE FILES at all costs. He's rather small for a guard-bot, but makes up for it with his agility and sheer stubbornness. Blue finds him heavily damaged and on low battery in an old lab, guarding a room that was sealed tight. His Old design utilized Shields (scarf detached to become them) but his new design is much more focused on quick bursts of offense. If he gets you first, then you're no longer a threat.

Error: an Ecto who was one of the first bots handed over. He was a former data storage bot that worked at a small library. As one of the first data-bots to come in, he was immediately modified and put to work alongside other Ectos to compile all of the nation's history into their data banks. Error was particularly receptive to overloads of data, so he continued to be modified and made into the prime data-bank. When the war started, he was eventually hidden away and sealed in an air-tight room. Eventually Cross was sent to guard the door. They were eachother's only company for... years? Error isn't fond of touch or tampering with hid systems, as everything he knows is barely abd haphazardly stored on unsafe files. Each Crash he endures takes more and more of his own personal data away, and he refuses to lose any more.

Fresh (Trech): A Parasite that was created by Sci to repair living beings in the same way that an Ecto can auto-repair itself. Fresh is actually a liquid that, when placed in contact with a wounded/dying person, it can invade their systems and stop all forms of bleeding/dusting. Fresh wasn't supposed to be sentient, and was meant to be scrapped, but he ended up being vital in stopping the war. In turn, Sci granted him freedom. Fresh can inhabit humans, monsters, and Ectos, but prefers skeleton monsters. He often defies the logic of his world, but what Fresh doesn't? Blue meets him far into the story after he's unraveled a lot of mysteries. Fresh just drops by after hearing rumors of Blue's repair work, and is met by less-than-warm reception from Error and Geno.

Other:

I was trying to save the image and my phone was bugging out, so I sent it to Neon. Safe to say she has peak comedic timing 😌💖 (For the record, we are both adults, and also my parents are aware I draw utmv stuff, so she had to make the threat actually a threat lmao---) I also love Chilchuck talking with the Operator. We are the dynamic duo frfr.

[boxboxblog]

Explaining F1 Language pt 1

I use a lot of jargon in my posts, so I hope this is informative.

DRS = Drag Reduction System. It is a flap on the rear wing that opens and closes to reduce drag, It is only available in DRS zones of a race track and if your car is within 1 second of the car in front of you.

Chicane = Series of sharp corners, usually in opposite directions (think 'S' shaped), used to slow cars down and encourage overtakes.

Dirty Air = Disrupted, rough, hot air that drivers get when they are behind another car. It makes the car go slower and heat up faster.

Clean Air = Fresh cool air that a car with no one in front gets. Less drag and helps keep car cool.

Halo = Titanium arch that crosses over drivers head, used for safety.

Pole Position = Starting the race in the first position

Pit Wall = A wall where engineers analyze data from sensors in car, watch race, and advise driver. Only a drivers specific race engineer is allowed to talk to them. Team principals are also there.

Points Position = 10th place and up

WDC = World Drivers Championship. The driver with the most points wins.

WCC = World Constructers Championship. the team with the most overall points wins

Straights = The non curved part of a race track, where basic speed is most important

Street Circuit = A race track built over city streets. Often very sharp corners and thin tracks. Examples include Monaco, Singapore, and Baku.

Classic Circuit = A built track that remains, often more typical of older track styles. Often have long straights, wide tracks, and rounded corners.

Undercut = A strat where a driver pits earlier than whoever they are racing against in order to use fresher tires to set a quick lap time and overtake their rival before they exit their own pit stop.

Overcut = Opposite of undercut, where a driver stays out longer than their rival in an attempt to gain time up on them. The goal is that when they pit they come out ahead of their rival due to the gap they create.

The Racing Line = The perfect line for a driver to follow that gets them around the circuit the fastest. Most drivers follow the same line one after the other. There is an outside line and inside line on corners.

Marbles = Small bits of rubber that come off of tires and accumulate off of the racing line. Can reduce grip if driven over.

Dirty Side = Part of track where marbles, dirt, and debris gathers

Clean Side = Usually the racing line, where there are no marbles, debris, or dirt.

Parc Fermé = Area where cars are placed after qualifying and the race. Teams are not allowed to make any changes to their car once they enter this area.

Flat Spot = Flat area on tires caused by aggressive braking. Cause vibrations which means they are to be avoided as much as possible.

Lock-up = When a driver brakes to hard, it causes one or more wheels to stop rotating. Often leads to tire damage or missing a corner.

Blistering = damage to the surface of the tire caused by excessive heat. The tire rubber heats up and peels off. Can lead to bad tire performance.

Graining = When small parts of rubber detach and and reattach to the tire, creating an uneven surface. This reduces grip and often occurs when tire temp is off.

Box = Term used by race engineers to call driver into pit

Push Lap = You'll hear 'push, push' a lot, which essentially means drive aggressive and at max speed.

Mode Push = Engineer tells driver to switch to higher engine mode

Lift and Coast = Fuel or tire saving technique where driver lifts off of throttle early before corner and coasts before braking.

Delta Time = Target lap time during a safety car to ensure they are within allowed speed but keeping up with strat

Oversteer = When the the rear of the car loses traction and slides out in corner, the driver has to correct with opposite steering input. This is oversteer. Overcorrecting can lead to a spin.

Understeer = When the front of the car loses grip, causing the car to continue straight instead of turning, a driver must adjust steering or braking to compensate. This is understeer.

Lifting the Throttle = Slightly reducing pressure to accelerator, often used during fuel management or tire conservation.

Bottoming = When a car's chassis or floor hits the track. Often causes sparks.

Power Unit = Combo of Internal Combustion Engine and Hybrid Energy Recovery Systems (simply, the engine though its more complex then that)

Stint = A period of racing between pit stops. For example a car will go on a 15 lap stint, then pit, then a 30 lap stint after.

Tyre Deg = short for Tyre degradation, when the wear makes the tire (and car) lose performance

Safety Car = Slow car out out to force drivers to slow down when there is debris or a crash on the track. Drivers are not allowed to overtake when the safety car is out.

Virtual Safety Car = System used when they do not want to deploy safety car because incident will be cleaned up quickly. Same rules as safety car.

Brake Bias = Distribution of barking force between front and rear wheels. Can be adjusted to help balance, especially in wet weather.

Quali= The day before a race, drivers aim to set a time and make their place on the lineup order. There is Q1, Q2, and Q3. Only top ten make it to Q3 and attempt for pole.

Purple Sector = Fastest sector time set by any driver during a session.

Track Evolution = The way a circuit's grip improves during a race weekend. Effected by rubber build-up, debris cleaning, temperature, weather, time, and surface type. Big part of strategy.

Out Lap = Lap immediately after leaving the pits during qualifying. Used to warm up tires.

In Lap = Lap where driver is heading for the pits

Flying Lap = a fast lap in qualifying when the driver is trying to set a time

Formation Lap = Lap right before race start where drivers can warm tires and help track evolve

Tear-Off = A thin plastic sheet on driver's helmet that can be peeled away mid race to get rid of dirt and debris. Drivers have several.

Scrubbed Tires = Tires that have been used briefly but still have lost of life. Can be an advantage because they are slightly worn.

Overtake = When a car gets by another car

Recovery Lap = Lap after an incident or pit stop where the driver focuses on getting back into race rhythm and warming tires.

There will be a part 2, I ran out of words. Oops.

Cheers,

-B

[quietforest-system]

Okay, real quick. we accidentally ended up on sophieinwonderland's blog (we had her blocked so I'm not sure how this happened but whatever) and it really fucking ticked me off so a little PSA

We are firmly anti-endo. They are not systems, they do not belong in the same spaces as actual systems, the majority of them are uninformed and hateful. I don't support attacking or harrassing anyone, system or singlet, because of their beliefs.

We have a fuckton of trauma with an endogenic system who tried to manipulate us, a traumagenic DID system, into thinking we were also endogenic, causing us to develop incredibly unhealthy splitting patterns, a lot of amnesia, a lot of 'decoy' alters, a lot of fucking trauma, and forcing us to detach from society and reality. They also used their BPD to manipulate and abuse us, stating we were manipulating them since we knew they had BPD, or when we tried to take a break claiming it was because we didn't love/support them when they had a BPD episode.

Obviously that's not going to be every endogenic system, I understand that. My system understands that. But I have literally never, in my time online, seen an endogenic system who didn't perpetuate some kind of genuinely dangerous misinformation or support something else (proship, attacking people for beliefs, terf, transreligion/transsystemhood, etc).

Yeah, some anti-endos are out of control, they're malicious, sure. But that doesn't account for the vast majority of anti-endos. Most of us are people who have been traumatized by endos or are just normal fucking people who are tired of chronically online people finding excuses to 1) mock our disorder or 2) not get help for what's actually wrong with them

Just my and my system's thoughts here.

- Glenn (He/Him) 🎸

[clangenrising]

Month 12 - Leafbare

Leafbare had become increasingly lonely for Yarrowshade. The loss of both Nightfrost and Scorchplume had taken a heavy toll on his social life. He still went hunting with Pantherhaze and Barleypaw but the energy wasn’t there.While Pantherhaze was sweet, and practically his brother, they didn’t have the same back and forth that he had with Scorchplume or Nightfrost and their absence had left a void in him that no one seemed to be able to fill.

Normally he would have gone to Goldenstar for help with that, but she had become increasingly busy managing Floodpaw’s training and keeping up the alliances with the other Clans. Now that Smokyrose had gone back to work, the two of them had started making frequent trips to the other Clans to discuss policy and next moves. Goldenstar had even told him she was planning on introducing them to the system of Soft Oaths and True Oaths she had developed. That seemed like a risky idea to him but she was determined and once she got an idea in her head, it was hard to get it out. 

And so Yarrowshade had thrown himself into teaching Barleypaw. She was coming along so well - practically taller than him already and an expert at bird catching. She was maturing too. After the battle, she’d been so ready to fight if it came to it even though she was terrified and he had been so proud of her. He’d also felt incredibly guilty though, him with his bruised ribs and wounded ego, for throwing himself into a fight he hadn’t had a chance of winning. What would have happened to her if he had died there? The thought made him feel sick to his stomach. 

He lay awake one morning, stewing over that thought. He had always been happy to focus on hunting instead of fighting, to let cats like Songdust and Russetfrond take charge in battle, but now… He realized that was a luxury he didn’t have anymore. He was tired of losing cats and being helpless to stop it but he did have the power to try and stop someone else from losing him. He rose from his nest, resolved to do something about it. 

The day was unseasonably warm and lightly cloudy. Goldenstar and Oddstripe were talking softly near the Stoneperch while Smokyrose tried to detach herself from her kittens at the mouth of the nursery. 

“I know, I know,” she said, “but I have to go, my dears.”

“Are you coming back?” Slatekit cried, her big golden eyes wide. 

“Yes, of course I will,” Smokyrose soothed, licking the kitten’s forehead and then prying her tail free from her clutches. 

“Hey! Hey, mom!” Fogkit said, seemingly having an entirely different conversation, “Guess what!”

“What, Fogkit?” Smokyrose sighed with a smile. 

Fogkit bounced up and down on her paws and asked, “If- If you hold your breath too long, will you die?” 

“No, sweetheart,” said Smokyrose, “You can’t hold your breath that long, your body won’t let you.” 

“Really?” Fogkit squeaked.

“Yes,” nodded Smokyrose, “now I really need to go, but I’m sure Ospreymask or someone can play with you.” 

“Okay,” Slatekit whispered. Fogkit was holding her breath but nodded excitedly. Yarrowshade shook his head. Kittens… How did they have so much energy?

Stepping away, Smokyrose joined Goldenstar and Oddstripe, saying, “Alright. Let’s get going.” 

“Wait up!” Yarrowshade said, realizing he needed to be quick. “Goldenstar, do you have a moment?” He bounded up to join the three of them. 

“Um,” Goldenstar glanced up at the sky and winced. “Maybe. What’s up?” 

“I was wondering if you had some time to help me with some training,” he said.

Her wince intensified. “I’m sorry, Yare, we’re expected in EarthClan.” 

Yarrowshade looked at Oddstripe and frowned. “Is Stormwhisper still missing?” 

“Yeah…” the healer frowned, big ears folding back. “And Fishtrick has whitecough.” 

“Damn,” Yarrowshade wilted. What kind of healer just went off and didn’t tell anybody? He wondered if perhaps Stormwhisper had died but pushed the thought away. Despite being EarthClan’s current healer, he had once been a formidable warrior. It was unlikely he had been killed by something, or at least Yarrowshade hoped so. 

“Besides,” Goldenstar said, “I’m talking with Orangestar about our next moves today. We’ve gotta find a way to stop the rogues from stealing our prey.” She was right. Even though no city cat had been caught over the border since the battle, they still ventured into Clan territory to snag prey and food was only getting scarcer. 

Yarrowshade sighed and nodded. “Alright. Good luck, Goldie.” 

“Thanks,” she purred, bumping her head against his. “Why don’t you ask Russetfrond for help? I’m sure he’ll be able to handle whatever training you need.” 

“Oh,” Yarrowshade swallowed tensely. “I don’t know-” But she was already walking away, Oddstripe and Smokyrose close behind. He sighed again. “Great.” 

Behind him, Fogkit suddenly gasped for breath and said, “She’s right! You can’t do it!” 

Yarrowshade ate breakfast and watched as Sparrowpaw came out to entertain the kits for a while. Barleypaw eventually joined him and the two began tossing the kittens as high as they could into the air, a game which involved a lot of squealing and shrieking. By the time Russetfrond came out of the warrior’s den, Yarrowshade had withdrawn deeply into his own mind. He frowned as he watched Russetfrond pick out a fish from the prey pile, contemplating whether or not he should even try asking for help. 

Russetfrond was a huge grump, the kind of cat who took everything far too seriously. When they were apprentices, Yarrowshade had enjoyed getting on his nerves and pushing the boundaries of his rule following, but as they’d grown up Russetfrond had only gotten angrier with him and it had stopped being fun and started being annoying. He was a strong believer in going with the flow and Russetfrond’s rigid adherence to law and order drove him up a tree. How did Goldenstar expect such a strict curmudgeon to teach him anything?!

Still… He watched Barleypaw playing with the kittens and thought again about what she would do if he died. Reluctantly, he stood and crossed the camp to where Russetfrond was eating. The deputy looked up at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Hey,” Yarrowshade said, then cleared his throat. “I was hoping to do some battle training today and Goldenstar said maybe you could help me.” His pride was writhing inside him but he kept his expression stoic. He couldn’t back out now.

Russetfrond grunted and said, “Sure, I can take Barleypaw out with the others today and-” 

“No,” interrupted Yarrowshade. “I meant me.” He took a deep breath and let it out, trying to muster the effort to continue. “I want to be a better fighter.” 

“You really should have thought about that while you were an apprentice,” Russetfrond said flippantly. 

“Come on, man,” Yarrowshade said, a growl edging into his voice. “We’re only gonna have more and more battles with these rogues. I want to be ready.” 

Russetfrond squinted at him for a long moment. “Say please.” 

“Ugh, are you serious?” Yarrowshade tossed his head back in frustration.

“Yes,” Russetfrond insisted. “If you want my help, you’ll ask properly.” His eyes narrowed, a challenge. Yarrowshade considered waiting for Goldenstar to get back instead but the idea of her being disappointed in him or pushing herself too far to add helping him onto her long list of responsibilities made his throat feel tight. 

Eventually, he sighed and said, “Russetfrond, will you please help me with my battle training?”

Russetfrond grunted and stood, twitching his tail to beckon Yarrowshade to follow him. “Alright. Come on.” Yarrowshade blinked in surprise. He had expected Russetfrond to nitpick his tone or say no anyways just to spite him. He wasn’t about to protest, though, and so he followed Russetfrond out into the fields to a sandy training ground near camp. 

“Alright,” Russetfrond said again, turning back to him, “Where did you want to start?” 

“Um,” Yarrowshade hadn’t considered it. “How not to get my tail handed to me by a pair of kittypets I guess?” 

Russetfrond scowled. “The first step is to stop underestimating your opponents. These kittypets aren’t pampered weaklings like we used to believe. Many of them are skilled fighters and if you keep pretending you’re above them they’ll beat you every time.” 

“Okay, fine,” Yarrowshade rolled his eyes. He didn’t care for the way Russetfrond was treating him like a little kit. 

“Pay attention!” Russetfrond said with a frustrated growl. “You asked me for help, okay? If you’re not gonna take this seriously you can leave.” 

“I am taking it seriously,” Yarrowshade groaned. “Don’t expect me to be all ‘yes, sir’ and ‘no, sir’ okay? In case you forgot, I’m older than you.” He huffed a bitter laugh through his nose, tail twitching, and started tearing at the sparse grass with his paws. Why was Russetfrond like this?

“Then act like it already!” Russetfrond snapped. “You make everything into a joke! It’s infuriating.” 

“Okay, whatever,” Yarrowshade shook his head. “You just like feeling better than everyone ‘cause your mom was leader.” 

“I have a legacy to maintain,” Russetfrond growled, his own tail lashing, “just like Wildstar of old. I have to make my mother proud! You have no idea what that’s like!” 

Yarrowshade grit his teeth furiously. As a kitten, he had been found wandering through the territory, starving and confused as to why his mother had abandoned him out in the grass.

The Clan had taken him in, filled his belly, and treated his fever. They had given him a place to call his own and he had tried his hardest to make them proud, to make sure they never regretted their decision to welcome him in. For Russetfrond to insinuate that he didn’t have anyone to make proud filled him up with rage and indignation. 

“You badger-whelp!” he snarled. “I ought to shred your ears for that.” 

“Try it,” Russetfrond dared, arching his back into a battle stance. “You want some combat training? Let’s go.” Yarrowshade laughed. Russetfrond just bared his teeth. With a shock, Yarrowshade realized he was serious. 

“Alright,” he laughed again, rolling his shoulders and sinking into a stance of his own. “You asked for it.” The threat was all bravado - he knew he was outmatched - but the urge to get sent back to the healers’ den trying was too strong. Even though he had felt guilty about getting beaten by those kittypets, he had to admit there was something satisfying in the pain, something he deserved. 

Giving a yowl, he sprang, claws swiping for Russetfrond’s ears. Russetfrond, to his surprise, lunged up to meet him, crashing his skull up into Yarrowshade’s jaw which caused his teeth to snap down onto his tongue with a jarring ‘clack!’ He hissed, reeling back and spat blood onto the sand. 

“You fight like a hunter,” Russetfrond said, still in a battle crouch but not advancing. “You try to get a hit in before your target can notice but that doesn’t work with cats. You have to wear them down or wait for an opening, you can’t just win by being the first to make a hit.” 

Yarrowshade grit his teeth in pain and anger. Now Russetfrond was trying to teach him? He sprang again, this time going low to try and snap at his opponent’s neck. His teeth found purchase in Russetfrond’s thick ruff of fur. Pushing forward, he tried to topple Russetfrond onto his back, but the sturdy tom hunkered down and swatted him roughly in the eye. 

“Ow!” Yarrowshade cried out, falling backwards to nurse his wound. “Fox-dung, man, that’s not cool!” He groaned and cradled his paws against his eye. 

Russetfrond ignored him. “You’re still doing it. Don’t just rush in. Test my defenses for weaknesses first.” Yarrowshade took a deep slow breath to release the pain then slowly lowered his paws, blinking until he could see again. It seemed his eye would be alright, if a little irritated for a while. The moment of pause had already started to leech the anger out of him and, as he took another slow breath, he felt his temper coming back under his control. 

Fine, he thought, We’ll try it his way. He lowered himself into a more defensive crouch and started to prowl closer and Russetfrond shifted his posture to account for the change in tactic. Once Yarrowshade felt like he had closed enough distance, he darted in, one paw batting out, then hopped back. Russetfrond followed him with a few strikes which he dodged. He smiled. The tempo of the battle had changed significantly and he liked it. 

“Good,” Russetfrond said as they circled each other. “This part of the battle is like stalking the prey. If you forget to do this important step and just go charging in you’re going to lose your catch nine times out of ten.” 

“Right,” Yarrowshade said, suddenly understanding. He shifted his posture ever so slightly, keeping his body low to the ground and his limbs close to his body where it was harder to hit them. He was stalking his prey, metaphorically tasting the wind and accounting for the light. He lunged forward with another few swipes and two of them managed to hit Russetfrond in the head. Excitement rising, he pressed his advantage, rearing up to bring more weight down with each strike, but then Russetfrond lunged, tackling him to the ground. He writhed and scrambled and Russetfrond let him go. 

“Better, but you still need to have more patience,” Russetfrond said. 

Yarrowshade nodded. “Alright. How ‘bout this one?” He attacked again, leaping high into the air with the intent to land on Russetfrond’s head, and his opponent reared up to meet him. They met in a flurry of blows, claws sheathed, until Russetfrond hit him in the gut and he hopped back again to catch his breath.

“Not bad,” Russetfrond smirked, “but maybe don’t announce your attacks next time, yeah?” 

Yarrowshade laughed and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, shaking out his pelt. “Let’s go again.”

[spyderlondon]

A Mischievous Symphony (1927)

The Amazing Digital Time Capsule AU AND STORY ART by @the-amazing-digital-time-capsule @mangotangerinepastry (Given permission to write this. They've been super helpful in the making of this!)

THIS STORY IS SOFT CANON- ALTERNATE TIME PERIOD FROM THE ORIGINAL AU! I just had an idea of what to do and wanted to write this!

------

[Access:/ Host memories

Time period: 1927 during The Director's leadership]

----

"No, no, no!" A harsh, male voice sounded out towards the man on the piano, "You can't just keep doing what you like, Caine! I gave you a certain way to play this piece and I very well won't allow you to mess this piece up!" He snarled in anger, almost sounding like he wanted to throw his baton at the pianist.

"Oh, come on, [REDACTED], can't you lighten up at least a little?" Caine could be heard laughing, his voice jovial as his eyes moved upwards to face The Director. From the sound of his tone of voice and how his teeth moved, the pianist had a smirk as he taunted the man scolding him. His vision suddenly went pitch black as a quick snap of teeth crashing together was heard right before something that could be perceived as hitting the front of the teeth from the outside- presumably the baton after the man conducting him finally got fed up with how he was acting. He opened his teeth a tiny bit to see The Director seething with rage despite how obviously whatever puppeteer controlling this place was currently puppeteering him as the leader of the capsule had the metaphorical strings held taut as to do avoid further damage.

The Director had to close his eyes to keep his anger from boiling over before he breathed out slowly- if Caine didn't know better, he could've sworn he saw steam leaving the man's mouth and ears. He chuckled softly to himself at the idea of that before suddenly shutting himself up as soon as he noticed the piecing glare that could've easily burnt holes through his teeth. The pair of dentures suddenly felt a tad threatened by the look- at least it meant he was doing a swell job in angering the leader, he supposed.

"Leave." The Director spoke finally, his tone was deathly calm- which admittedly, did strike him to the core with slight fear. As rebellious as the man was, he had to own up to the fact that this tone and posture being shown in front of him was a little bit terrifying, "Did you hear me, pianist? I said, LEAVE!" He demanded once more.

Caine frowned a bit but went silent as he moved the lid prop away and down before closing the lid carefully and had the cover of the keys placed on top of them. He huffed as he left the room before the leader had a chance to blow a gasket and actually tried to lunge at him. "At least this gets me away from [REDACTED]..." He huffed a bit as he headed towards his room.

-------

Caine sighed, feeling a tad tired after dealing with The Director as long as he did. How could he be that uptight all the time? Was it really all because of the some weird puppeteer that controlled him? He shook his head- there was still so much he didn't know about the time capsule and whatever was keeping everyone here. What he did know is that he had to keep his personality intact as much as possible, he couldn't let this whole system get to him. He knows that there were people who couldn't take it anymore but... their names? Faces? He couldn't remember those details about them anymore... He hated that the most, no one deserves to be forgotten about- even that awful Director deserves to be remembered in some capacity.

As he got lost in his thoughts, he continued his path to his room while greeting a few of the other inhabitants in an aloof manner until he was alone in his room.

He sighed lightly as he leaned against the closed door, feeling a bit detached from reality as his thoughts continued to get away from him. That is, until he noticed his reflection in the full body mirror next to his dresser- it seemed to snap him out of his reverie as he stared at himself in the reflection.

The first and most obvious part of him was his head, or he supposed, the lack of head- instead of a head, he had dentures that had crozat braces connected on either side and the back to which kept him from opening too wide. The teeth of the dentures, he noticed, looked a bit like piano keys as if it were a cruel joke on his choice of instrument and role in the capsule. The next thing that was pretty hard to miss were his eyes that were connected by veins that attached to his upper jaw- they had two different colors: his left iris was a purplish-blue while his right one was olive green. Both of his eyes were bright and had a slight mischievous sparkle to them despite how they dulled a bit after his practice with The Director.

The pianist let his gaze drift down his reflection to look at his outfit next: he was adorned with simple white long sleeved shirt, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to his elbows which let his pale skin show from underneath and the collar of his shirt was lightly folded down to allow for his neck to be seen. Over his shirt were brown straps that connected to his navy blue slacks that had a small silver chain that was attached to a small army dog tag coming out from his right front pocket and the bottom part of his pants barely covered the top bit of his brown cap toe dress shoes that a tan bit where the toes were.

He felt himself calm down a bit as he took in his appearance through the mirror's reflection- just remembering who he was helped him feel sane at the end of the day. He may be stuck in this odd place for who knows how long but it didn't mean he had to lose his sense of self even if others have.

Caine shook his head as he stretched his arms forward a bit. Everyone else should still be at work doing whatever The Director was, well, directing them to do. He was pretty sure that he was the only inhabitant that was kicked out. He hummed as he decided to lay in his bed to take a nap, kicking off his shoes to the ground before he got under the covers.

----

A pattern of knocks on the door woke the pair of dentures from his slumber- although, it was more of a rather light sleep as he couldn't stop his mind from racing the entire time. The knocking sounded again except a bit louder this time and a voice came with it, "I know you're awake, Caine!" A male voice came through the door as the pianist rolled his eyes and sat up, slipping on his shoes.

Caine opened the door right when his friend was about to knock on the door a third time which ended with a fist hitting the pianist squarely on his olive green eye. The tap dancer quickly pulled his fist away, "You really chose a bad time to answer the door-" He cleared his throat apologetically, moving back a step and averting his gaze.

Caine placed a hand on his, now swollen, eye and sent the man in front of him a look, "Care to explain why you were knocking on my door in the first place, [CLASSIFIED]?" He questioned flatly, a bit of annoyance in his tone after the accidental punch in the eye. He began to walk off to get some ice with the tap dancer coming from behind him and to his side.

"Oh, right!" The tap dancer blinked as he was reminded that he wanted something from his friend, "I was just wondering if you wanted to help me practice my tap dancing routine with your piano as my music?" He questioned with a smile.

"After you hit-"

"I will also buy you dinner and some whiskey!" The man was quick to interject before his friend could refuse his request, knowing he couldn't very well reject an offer like that.

Caine stopped mid sentence as he heard the rest of the deal before scoffing a bit, "You're lucky I see you like an older brother, you [%$^$*$@]." He pushed him lightheartedly, teasing him a bit.

"Yes!" The tap dancer pumped his fist with a grin, excited to spend time with Caine despite how they hang out a lot anyways.

-----

Clicks and taps of a pair of shoes could be heard on the stage as the tap dancer of the capsule practiced his routine while piano music filled the air from the pianist sitting at the grand piano that sat next to the stage. Fingers danced across the keys with practiced taps and strokes, nothing like how he played for The Director, the music here was elegant and went well with the beat of the taps.

Caine looked up from the piano as he played, his fingers still expertly pressing every key correctly and in time despite not being watched, and smiled as he enjoyed the scene of his best friend dancing away without a care in the world. The pianist could help but to feel the beat of the song just from the tap dancer's metal from the soles of the shoes hitting the wooden stage, his friend always performed extremely well with little to no mistakes that he was always in awe every time he watched him or even just listened.

The pianist moved his head back towards the piano as he closed his eyes, just listening. All the sounds on the outside- the piano playing its classical music, the taps and clicks from the stage and even the chatter amongst those just watching and listening from afar- all of it sounded like a symphony to him.

He just wanted to live in this moment as long as possible.

---

[Stop the log]