#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.

[8pxl]

BEGINNERS GUIDE TO BLUESKY

Hiya! Curious about joining bluesky but intimidated by all the features? Already on bluesky but want to learn more? Then welcome to my quick guide on getting started and navigating bluesky!~

What is Bluesky?

it’s a social media site that’s owned by no single person or company. it's aim is to bring back the early days of twitter before bots, elon musk or algorithms took over. Personally I find the site really cozy, wholesome, and engaging. my Bluesky account for example

What’s unique about Bluesky?

→ CUSTOMIZATION: ‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎your timeline is very easy to control. There’s tons of options, so be sure to go through each tab in your settings. some options include: turning off autoplay, changing the order in which threaded replies show, changing DM settings, content preferences and lots of visual app settings.

→ MODERATION LISTS: human made, mass blocklists. These are public lists of accounts that when you subscribe to you automatically block or mute everyone in that specific blocklist. A great way to avoid unwanted content, and interactions. ✦ Moderation lists I recommend will be below the cut

→ STARTER PACKS: recommendation lists on who to follow, made by users. You can even curate your own starter pack of recommendations! ✦ Starter pack recommendations will be below the cut

→ FEEDS: public timelines, basically. There are a lot of feeds you can join, or you can even create your own. I made a feed featuring just my pixel art so it doesn’t get cluttered with text posts or other photos in my media tab. ✦ I’ll post feeds I recommend below and link you to a tutorial on how to create your own feed

→ BLOCKING/MUTING: bluesky has a great blocking system. When you block someone they can no longer see, or interact with you. They also have a feature to make your blog inaccessible unless logged in. you can also mute specific people, delete post replies, and even detach your post from a reblog. You can also mute specific words, phrases, tags etc.

→ NSFW: bluesky allows NSFW content, including artwork, porn, lewds etc. They also have a great moderation page to avoid the content completely, censor the content, or show it if you’d wish. ✦ just go to settings > moderation > toggle on NSFW settings and it’ll let you heavily moderate.

→ LABELS: this is a really cool feature on the site, you can subscribe to certain pages that enable a lot of fun/useful labels that help you in different ways! (like pronoun tags, artist tags etc) ✦ Labels to browse will be posted below

→ COMMUNITIES: the vastly diverse communities really feel like the best parts of tumblr. since you can so heavily curate your experience, it can really feel like a calming oasis. Mine is mostly artists, and other creatives.

there’s also a large community of professional artists, art directors, authors, celebrities, and even the best shitposters from twitter. the app really is what you make of it but it’s thriving right now.

RECOMMENDATIONS & LINKS BELOW ⬎

→ MODERATION LISTS:

HATE SPEECH: NAZIS | MAGA | MAGAv2 | MAGAv3 | TRANSPHOBES & HOMOPHOBES | FAR RIGHT | FAR RIGHTv2 | FAR RIGHTv3 | ELON MUSK FANBOYS | ANTI-BLACK | ANTI-VAX

NFT/AI/CRYPTO: MASTERLIST | AI/NFT | AI/NFTv2 | AI FANBOYS | CRYPTO | NFTs

SPAM/SCAMMERS: SPAMBOTS | BOTS | CONTENT SCRAPERS | CONTENT FARMING

✦ to block or mute everyone in the blocklist at once, click subscribe in the top right corner:

→ STARTER PACKS:

ART: PIXEL ART | PIXEL ARTv2 | WOMEN OF PIXEL ART | BADASS DIGITAL ARTISTS | MAGIC THE GATHERING ARTIST | PAINTERS OF BLUESKY | INDIE COMIC CREATORS | LGBTQIA+ COMIC CREATORS | WEBCOMICS ULTIMATE COLLECTION

GENERAL: WOMEN OF BSKY | AUTHORS | LGBTQ NEWS

SHITPOSTERS: JUNIPER | JUNIPERv2 | MASTERLIST | SCIENCE SHITPOSTERS

✦ for more niche starter packs, use the search function. search your specific interest and ‘starter pack’ and you’ll find some!

→ FEEDS:

DISCOVER | WHATS TRENDING | MENTIONS | ART | TRENDING ART

THE GRAM: a timeline for exclusively image posts from those you follow. no textposts etc. ONLYPOST: similar to the gram, it shows a timeline of only those you follow. no reposts, just original posts. 📌: a way to bookmark posts. just reply with the pin emoji.

✦ there’s tons of others feeds as well! just use the feed tab and you can browse feeds or search for specific ones.

✦ TUTORIAL ON HOW TO CREATE A CUSTOM FEED FOR YOUR ART/POSTS

→ LABELS:

SKYWATCH: most popular label. Lots of useful labels!

AI Labels: identifies AI users, can also enable hiding the posters.

Pronouns: self explanatory but useful. can add a badge with your pronouns!

✦ you can search for additional label bots on bluesky!

OTHER RECOMMENDATIONS:

✦ EXPIRIENCE ENHANCING TOOLS RECS ✦ CLEARSKY: TRACK BLOCKS AND BLOCKLISTS ✦ SKYFEED: CREATE CUSTOM FEEDS EASILY ✦ use the block function often. do not entertain trolls or hate speech. ✦ as well as starter packs, there’s also lists! lists can be used in the same way to create curated lists of accounts. it’s a good way to keep track of specific genres of posters you’re interested in, and finding new ones! ✦ hashtags: use them! they’re beneficial in boosting your post. you can even link hashtags in your bio making you easier to find. another method of making you more visible is if you post an ‘interest’ post! basically just type things you’re interested in and it’ll help people find you / vice versa ! ✦ update your profile first thing, like bio avi etc. make a small post so people know you're real. interact and engage! the communities there are so welcoming!

I think that covers abt everything i wanted to cover! Hope this was helpful and thanks for reading lol

[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 !

[beelinx]

the moment i knew

synopsis: between all the stress of volleyball and final exams, your boyfriend kenma happened to forget a very important day - your birthday. warnings: kenma might be a bit of a bad bf </3 angst w/ (somewhat) of a happy ending. NOT PROOFREAD ! 3.1k words fem!reader

based on this rec <3

it was no secret kenma gets tired easily – everyone can see it, really. he has always had a hard time keeping up with his overly energetic teammates, often opting to miss practice to relax and play videogames.

there were days when kenma was just so exhausted he forgot stuff and even neglected his studies.

well, he couldn’t really do that last one much lately.

final exams were tiring not only for him, but for all the students attending nekoma – and you definitely weren’t an exception.

you spent most of your days studying the hardest you could so as to get good grades and be finally able to relax. at least you had something to look forward to, though.

your birthday landing near finals season wasn’t exactly the nicest thing ever, especially considering most of your friends would be too busy. therefore, you opted for no party; just spending the day chilling with the people closest to you was enough.

as your boyfriend, kenma was one of the first people to be told of your plans for the day. you’d been forcing him to study with you, the idea of him failing because he preferred to play video games rather than studying bothered you immensely. 

“i’ve been thinking.” you’d said during one of your breaks, a half-opened bag of chips in your hand.

“about what?” he mumbled in reply, his focus separated between the game he was currently playing and your current conversation.

“well, i know that with finals and all, everyone’s been super busy.” kenma hummed in agreement. you ate a handful of chips before continuing speaking. “and since my birthday falls in between all this madness, i think i’ll just not do anything.”

he grumbled in reply, so you continued, “maybe just you and some of my best friends can come over, and we can watch a movie or something.” you nodded, already set on your idea. “we can eat tons of snacks, too. i want popcorn – and i can get the chips you like.”

kenma nodded absentmindedly, eyes currently trained on his game system. his focus on you was slowly slipping away.

noticing his detached spirit, you quickly added, “you don’t have to talk to them if you don’t want to though! i know you feel kinda awkward around my friends, but they like you. i promise!”

he hummed once again in reply and stood up slowly, giving you a quick kiss on your cheek – and that basically seemed to mark the end of the conversation. you’d mentioned the party again in later conversations, all in which he seemed to grow more comfortable with the idea.

around three weeks later, it was finally your birthday.

both your friends and your classmates at school had all congratulated you, some giving you gifts. your best friend even brought out a cake and sang you happy birthday, along with your other closest friends, during break. it was nice, receiving so much love from everyone; but something was wrong.

you hadn’t seen kenma all day.

you looked for him everywhere – all his classes, your lunch spots, and everywhere else. you even asked kuroo about it, but he told you he didn’t know, and that it was likely he just overslept and stayed home.

okay, no matter. just because he didn’t come to school doesn’t mean he forgot you existed or anything… right?

you texted him, of course. he replied to you quickly – he always does. he explained he was just feeling tired and that you shouldn’t worry, but that’s not what you were really concerned about.

throughout that whole conversation, never once did he wish you a happy birthday. it made you feel horrible. him forgetting your birthday broke your heart. i mean, it’s not like he didn’t know when he was. you told him. and, sure, maybe he was just so tired with exams that he forgot. but, your friends hadn’t. hell, even kuroo hadn’t – he wished you a happy birthday when you walked up to him earlier.

so, why did he forget?

your thoughts started becoming too much for you. the feeling that the person you considered most important to you currently forgetting such an important moment for you felt soul-crushing. suddenly, you felt tears start to pool in your eyes. you tried to blink them away – and when that didn’t work and the tears started to spill, you wiped them off your face as quickly as you could and rushed to the ladies room.

you rushed with your head down, trying to avoid anyone in the halls seeing your red face. once you got to the bathroom, you locked yourself inside a stall and started sobbing as quietly as you could.

you were suddenly startled by a soft knock on the door of the stall you were sitting in. “...are you okay?” said a soft, questioning voice – one belonging to your best friend. of course, she’d noticed you breaking down. seems like nothing can get past her.

you sniffled and wiped your nose with toilet paper before speaking. “yeah.”

“i don’t believe that.”

slowly, you stood up and unlocked the door of the stall, walking out to meet her. she looked startled upon seeing your red cheeks and puffy eyes, but her features quickly softened into that of concern and sympathy.

“c’mere,” she said, pulling you in for a big hug. then, she grabbed you by the arm and guided you to the sinks, where she ushered you to wash your face. meanwhile, she quickly sent a text on her phone, right before returning her full attention to you.

she gave you a few seconds of silence, waiting for you to comfortable to speak.

“he forgot my birthday,” you whimpered, tears still running down your cheeks.

“who?” she asked. “kenma?”

you nodded in reply, and you swear smoke was basically coming out of her ears. “oh that jackass,” she hissed. “i’ll kill him next time i see him, i swear. what an idiot. how could he forget your birthday? you’ve talked about it time and time again! seriously, i swear that guy better switch schools before i catch his bum ass and-”

before she could finish her threat, the door busted open, revealing your other two friends – yuki and hana. their faces looked red, too, and their clothes seemed disheveled. either they just sprinted all the way here, or they were up to some interesting activities.

your best friend turned around, face seething with anger, and quickly filled them in on the situation. almost immediately, they had all flocked around you, uttering many words of comfort and just as many insults on kenma’s name.

“well… maybe he’s actually planning a secret surprise party?” hana suggested, trying to get you to cheer up, it seemed.

you shook your head. “no, kenma doesn’t like surprises,” you said. “also – i’ve told him before that i wouldn’t like having a surprise party. and he knows today’s plans since i invited him.”

your best friend scoffed, “if he’s willing to forget your birthday then he’s likely to forget tons of other stuff. anniversaries, holidays, picking up your kids for school…” she trailed off, but her point had been made clear. “you should end it now that you know exactly what kind of partner he is, honestly.”

you bit your lip and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. she made a good point, and you knew there was a high chance she was right. but, kenma hasn’t forgotten any of your other anniversaries. in fact, he’s celebrated them all monthly, without missing any of them. you were close to being one year together with him, and during that time he’s been nothing but considerate of you. it seemed he always knew exactly how you were feeling, and what you needed. he doted on you constantly – complimenting your appearance, buying you gifts with all his money, and even trying his hardest to step out of his comfort zone and show more physical affection. despite how heartbroken you felt right now, it still didn’t feel right to break up with him over this.

“i know what you’re thinking,” your best friend said, taking notice of the look in your eyes. she always seemed to know exactly what you were thinking. “‘oh but he’s so nice! he’s never done anything wrong!’” she mocked your voice in a way that almost made you laugh despite the current situation. “but i’m telling you, that’s how it starts.”

“maybe,” you replied, “but i still want to talk to him.”

she sighed dramatically, “alright then, whatever you want.” she paused for a minute, clearly hesitating. “i’m just looking out for you, ‘kay? i do hope this is just a stupid mistake that will never happen again on his part. i really do want things to work out for you; i wouldn’t want you to get your heart broken – especially since i know how much he means to you”

you smiled softly and hugged her again. yuki and hana went on their way, not before wishing you good luck with your talk with kenma. your best friend lingered for a little longer, offering to walk to your next class after the lunch break, which you agreed to.

after school had ended, you said goodbye to your friends once again before heading out. you weren’t going to your house this time. well, you were going sometime, since your party plans with your friends were still on. but given that kenma had forgotten your birthday, you assumed he had likely forgotten about the party, too. therefore, going to his house served two purposes: to remind him of said party, and to have a really serious talk with him.

the walk over to kenma’s house somewhat relaxed you, the familiarity of the trees and buildings bringing a sense of comfort to your stressed-out mind. it was a road you had followed many times before, mostly with kenma, though. a sudden wave of sadness washed over you at the abrupt thought that, if this conversation didn’t go well, it would be the last time you walked through this path to visit his house. the thought made you feel sick to your stomach, the previous sense of comfort banishing almost instantaneously.

suddenly, you found yourself standing at his front door. given the lack of noises and lights, you figured his parents weren’t currently home – they were at work, probably. just as well, it might make this even less awkward for you if his parents weren’t here. because, if things went south and they heard that… yeah, you don’t think you’d ever be able to get over it.

your hesitated before knocking softly at his door. you waited for a few seconds, the sound of your heart thumping erratically in your chest being the only noise your ears could pick up. your heart only stopped once he had opened a door. just for a second though, because then it was back to beating at record speed.

kenma looked nice – he always did, in your opinion. despite his messy hair and wrinkled clothes that suggested he’d spent all day laying down, probably playing a bunch of video games, you thought he looked really good. handsome, even. the corners of your lips almost quirked up at the memory of your friends making fun of you the day you confessed to them your huge crush on him.

“oh.” kenma was clearly startled, not expecting you to be the person knocking at his door. “hey, y/n,” he finally said, smiling softly at the sight of you. it was sweet, but you weren’t here for that. you were here for serious matters.

“can we talk?”

he was taken aback by your sudden tone. it was rare for you to act this way, usually the second he’d opened the door you would have jumped in his arms and started rambling on and on. so, obviously, given your change in attitude, he knew this was going to be a serious talk.

kenma nodded and opened the door more, allowing you to enter. you walked up to his room, the house all too familiar. his bedroom smelled like him – well, obviously it did. a video game was left paused on his desktop, the music coming from it stopping abruptly as he saved his progress and closed the game. he sat down next to you on the bed and stared deeply into your eyes. neither of you said anything; it seemed that he wanted you to take the initiative.

“do you know what today is?” you asked him. maybe you still had a sliver of hope he was just waiting to tell you in person. maybe hana was right and he was throwing a surprise party. maybe.

he paused before speaking cautiously, “last week of finals?”

you scrunched your eyebrows and looked down, “check the date, kenma.”

following your orders, he turned on his phone and checked today’s date. his eyes scanned over his phone for a bit, clearly trying to piece together what you were trying to hint at. it wasn’t your anniversary, not yet. he couldn’t remember any special holidays taking place today. maybe it was another one of those dumb trends based on songs. no, you would’ve told him about that. you would’ve…

wait.

kenma’s head snapped towards yours, eyes wide. “it’s your birthday.” he stated. it wasn’t a question, he knew it was. he didn’t know how he forgot, but now he felt awful – especially after noticing your reaction to his words.

“yeah.” you replied simply, your voice raspy.

he stayed quiet for a second, trying to figure out what to say or what to do. his eyes seemed trouble, no doubt he’s mind was off calculating again.

finally, he opened his mouth to speak.

 “i’m… sorry.”

…

“that’s it?” you said, astonished. “is that all you have to say after forgetting my birthday?”

“i don’t know what else i can say,” kenma responded, “i really am sorry. i’ll make it up to you, i-”

“how exactly do you plan to make it up to me, kenma?” you asked him, trying your hardest to keep your voice level and the tears from making an embarrassing return.

“i don’t know yet but,” he took a deep breath, “i will make it up to you, i promise.”

you scoffed and looked away, “so what? am i supposed to take your word for it?”

he swallowed before speaking softly again, “yeah.”

you took in a breath and closed your eyes. “alright then. i’ll see you around,” you said plainly, right before heading over to the door.

“wait!” kenma exclaimed, grabbing your arm before you could get away. he softened his grip once he’d realized he might hurt you. you felt his fingers caress your arm softly, an action he always did to comfort you. “i know you’re upset, it’s my fault. i was tired and i was stupid, but i…” he took a deep breath, “i’m sorry, okay? i’ll do anything it takes for you to forgive me.”

hearing kenma so desperate was a rare sight. his eyes looked red, as if he was close to actually starting crying. it wasn’t common for him to show so much emotion. so, in your heart, you knew he meant every word he said. kenma was never the type to lie for his own gain. but… still.

you wanted to forgive him, you really did. still – it didn’t feel right to forgive him so easily, your best friend’s words ringing in your ear. however, it also didn’t feel right to not forgive him. so, you made up your mind on what you’d do.

you kept your gaze averted to the ground, knowing deep down that if you looked at him you’d immediately give in.

“kenma,” you started, “i understand you didn’t mean it, but it still hurt my feelings. so i… well, i’m not breaking up with you.” he seemed to relax more at your words. “but i’m also not forgiving you this easily. you need to make it up to me, and then i guess we’ll see where it goes, ‘kay?”

he nodded, “do you still want me to go to your house?”

you bit your lip, unsure on what to say. “my friends might be a bit… hostile towards you, and it may be better if i had more time to think. so… it might be better if you don’t, actually.” he once again nodded, understanding your point.

“we should do something – tomorrow, maybe. i don’t know,” you continued, “you can think about how you’ll make it up to me during that time, if you want.”

“okay,” he said softly, watching as you walked away, not making an effort to stop you this time. he lowered his gaze and stared intently at his hands. you didn’t forgive him, but you also did? he wasn’t sure what to do to fully make it up to you, but he’d have to try his hardest now. he imagined kuroo would make a comment about how down bad he’d become that he’d actually put so much effort into something that wasn’t a video game.

“kenma?”

his head snapped up at the sound of your sweet voice. you were standing just out of his doorway, looking awkwardly at him.

you hesitated, debating whether or not you should tell him that he does have a chance, that you really wanted to forgive him. but if you did then maybe he wouldn’t try, so…

“nevermind,” you shook your head, “good luck on your game. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

his eyes followed you as you scurried away. he only relaxed once he heard the sound of the front door slamming.

you might have backed down whatever it was you were going to say, but the fact that you lingered for a longer while made him feel as if he did have a shot. for a second he’d worried you would never forgive him. that you – kind, sweet, and understanding you – had finally had enough with him and would leave him all alone.

knowing he had a chance motivated him to try his hardest, already planning what he’d say, what he’d give you, and what else he could do. he kept kicking himself over how your birthday managed to slip his mind. it was such a stupid mistake, and he’d make sure it’d never happen again. that’s not what you deserve. kuroo would, without a doubt, call him an idiot, too. 

it didn’t matter, he deserved that.

and you, you deserve the best of the best – which he’ll try his hardest to give you. 

even if it takes him years, he’ll never stop trying to make it up to you.

because you’re you, and you’re way too good for him.

he has a lot of work to do for tomorrow, huh?

[lay-z]

🍷 Day 8 – Dinner time

Synopsis: Kyle has gotten a rare, personal invite to spend Christmas Day over at Captain Price’s house and the young Sergeant is already looking forward to see you again. 

Pairing: husband!John Price x wife!Reader x Kyle Gaz Garrick 

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Kyle’s POV; curvy!Reader (some physical descriptions, not a lot); smut; cussing; drinking/intoxication; objectification; voyeurism; male masturbation 

Word count: 2.9k 

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Kyle knocks on the dark cedar wood front door of the detached, two-storey brick house – or should he rather call it a mansion? Newly renovated, with its own idyllic driveway, extension double garage and, of course, the discreet yet high-tech security system overlooking the whole estate. 

He knows that his Captain spared no expense when he moved you out here after the wedding; to the address somewhere in the countryside near Liverpool that no one outside of Price’s most trusted inner circle knows about. 

Understandably.  

It was quite the surprise to Kyle, when Price had invited him over for Christmas, – “My wife misses ya, son. Ordered me to invite ya over for dinner and you know I can’t deny her anything. Be there at 1800 and bring some wine, aye? She prefers red.” 

And Kyle cannot disobey a direct, – or indirect? – order from his Captain. 

Now it’s 17:47 p.m. on Christmas Eve and Kyle brushes an imaginary piece of lint off his left shoulder before adjusting his fashionable long black winter coat once more as he waits for the door to open, his breath fogging up in the cold evening air whenever he inhales and exhales deeply. 

He doesn’t understand why he’s feeling so nervous all of a sudden, or perhaps he does but he won’t acknowledge that now. So, instead, he questions himself if the bottle of red wine, which he’s currently clutching in his left hand, will be to your liking while his stomach keeps clenching and unclenching repeatedly, nearly making him nauseous.  

And when the door finally opens to reveal you, a bewitching smile on your red-painted lips, wearing a classy black, formfitting cocktail dress with a cutesy Christmas-themed apron tied around your curvy waist, Kyle’s breath catches in his lungs. 

“Hello there, soldier!” You chirp happily and don’t hesitate to pull him into a welcoming hug, “It’s so good to finally see you again.” 

Kyle feels like someone punched him in the throat. He can feel your full breasts press up against his chest as you embrace him eagerly, arms lingering around his neck while he steals a quick whiff of your expensive perfume, and it’s torture already. All of it. 

When you pull back to smile up at him with sparkling eyes, Kyle clears his throat loudly, mentally screaming at himself to pull his shit together. 

“Good to see you, too, Mrs. Price,” he replies, his voice slightly breathless from the unexpected yet much needed hug, “Thank you so much for the invitation.” 

He tries to flash you a charming smile, the one that usually gets him anywhere, but he ends up looking strained and awkward, and feels uncharacteristically insecure – intimidated, even.  

You wave him off with a dismissive click of your tongue as you usher him inside and close the heavy door behind him, locking it with a string of numbers you tap into the small keypad with your manicured fingers.  

“Please, Kyle, no need for formalities with little old me, okay? As much as I love my last name and the man who gave it to me, it does make me feel much older than I actually am.” 

The soft chuckle that reaches Kyle’s ears, makes him smile more genuinely this time, “Yes, ma’am.” 

Kyle already feels more cared for than he has in the past couple of months, when he’d last managed to make himself go home on leave to be with his closest family. Then again, this still feels different, more intimate somehow. 

After you demand to take his coat and hang it up for him, Kyle is sent on his way towards the living room and immediately met by his Captain, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window front that leads into the spacious backyard, wearing a casual chic and terribly civilian outfit, a courtesy of your fashion sense, he assumes. Has to be.  

He has his meaty hands clasped behind his back like the proper old geezer he is as he watches the beginning snowfall outside while the massive, picture-perfect Christmas tree lights up the living room with its warm glowing fairy lights and colourful ornaments. 

By the way he is standing so broodingly, Kyle almost expects a lecture or worse, – a briefing. 

“Sir–” Kyle begins, “If I dare say, this is a mighty fine place ya got here for yourself and your missis.” 

Price hums in agreement, nodding along as he turns around slowly to glance over his shoulder at his guest, “Sometimes bastards like us do get lucky, son.” 

Kyle nods curtly with a tight-lipped smile, wondering briefly when it will finally be his turn, though he’s not thinking about a house or some fancy car.

“Good to see you, Garrick. Glad you could make it.” When Price approaches, he gives Kyle a sturdy trademark pat on his shoulder before brushing past him towards the liquor cabinet, “A drink before dinner?” 

Kyle glances down and lifts the bottle of red wine in his hand, the one he brought specifically for you, before watching how his Captain is already pouring bourbon into two tumbler glasses. 

“Sounds good to me, sir.” He agrees. 

When Kyle is eventually ushered to the dining room next, where the table has already been set with three sets of matching plates, glasses, cutlery and decor, his offered help in the kitchen is waved off by Price. 

“No need for that, lad. Just sit back and try to relax. The wife and I will take care of everything tonight.” 

So, Kyle doesn’t question it, tries not to feel uncomfortable of bad about being looked after like this without being able to offer anything in return, and he manages to relax after a first glass of delectable red wine on top of the whiskey he’d already consumed, though the slight buzz also makes it harder not to stare at your chest whenever you bend over the table to set down a plate of food or refill glasses. 

You’re so unrealistically kind, soft, sweet and nurturing – everything Kyle longs for yet never able to find in his countless acquirement of meaningless flings and hookups, that he briefly wonders if you’re even real. Everything he knows, is always rushed and unpersonal, a means to an end that leaves him unfulfilled and cold each time; loneliness sneaking up at him at night and choking him slowly. Nothing ever sticks and lingers; no one wants to keep him warm and happy; it’s never anything like his Captain has found with you.  

“God, I hope you’ll like it, Kyle,” you laugh coyly as you serve him a delicious-looking heavy plate of pot-roasted sirloin beef with vegetables and mashed potatoes, “I swear, if you don’t like it, then John has lied to me about my cooking skills all this time.” 

But Kyle is too focused on the way your plump tits squish together and nearly spill over the low neckline of your tight dress as he glances over the rim of his wine glass, taking a suspiciously large gulp of the ruby liquid.

He'd eat old, mouldy toast if it meant he could bury his face in your soft breasts afterwards, perhaps even suck and lick on your nipple a bit. And then he catches himself wondering what colour your nipples are, how large your areolas– 

Price chuckles gruffly and his chair scrapes over the hardwood floor as he adjusts it at the head of the table, “You know I would never lie to you about your cooking skills, love. Honesty was a big part in our vows.” 

“Is that why I can’t ask any questions about your job?” You quip, taking the seat across from Kyle, “Kyle, you need to back me up on this.” 

And Kyle’s dark lashes flutter as he blinks rapidly, coming back to reality, to his Captain engaging in playful banter with his dear wife. The woman Kyle is down bad – bad – for. He shifts in his seat, discreetly adjusting the front of his black chino pants below the table and clears his throat, “Uhm, I’m–I’m afraid I’ve signed too many NDA’s to be of service for this, ma’am.” 

Price snorts, shooting his wife a triumphant smile as he picks up his cutlery, “Good lad.” 

Despite an amazing, hearty dinner to soak up the liquor in his gut, Kyle ends up drunk after allowing both wine and whiskey glasses being filled up repeatedly in turns. He’s not embarrassingly shit-faced drunk, but too drunk to drive and definitely too drunk to argue with you and Price about taking a taxi back to the hotel instead of staying the night. 

“I’ve already arranged the guest bedroom for you,” you tell him with the tiniest pout, “– and no one has stayed in it yet, so do us the honour, Sergeant.” 

Price’s warm, heavy palm on Kyle’s shoulder is the nail in the coffin, “You’re spending the night, Garrick. That’s an order.” Another rough pat follows and Kyle slumps in his chair, nodding at his Captain. 

“Makes sense, sir. ‘m sorry for the–” 

“Nonsense,” Price interrupts him gruffly, then gives you a curt nod before you turn on your heels, leaving the living room at once, “Just let her take care of ya and you’re both gonna end up happy.” 

When Kyle furrows his brows in question and opens his mouth to ask for elaboration, his upper arm is already being grabbed, his impressive body lifted out of the comfortable armchair. 

“You have a lovely wife, sir.” Kyle mutters, speech slightly slurred as he sways with his steps next to his Captain, who’s wearing a knowing smile on his lips, “Aye, couldn't agree more, lad.” 

Pretty, plush thing. Ripe and ready to be plucked and consumed, yet utterly devoted to and patient for your dear husband. 

Price is the luckiest bastard in the world and Kyle can’t even blame him for hiding you away here, tucking you under his battered wing to make sure no harm ever comes to you the moment you’d foolishly agreed to become his wife, his to protect and cherish. No, the rough man has devoted his life to making sure that the filthiest dirt of this world never reaches you; determined to keep your beautiful soul pure and give up his own in return.  

Fuck, Kyle would gladly do that, too, if it meant he could so much as dream of someone like you without feeling guilty whenever he’s deployed to some shithole corner of this world, risking his life. 

He’s dragged into the guest bedroom; a large king-sized bed taking up most of its space, new and modern, with bedside tables on each side and the scent of the navy-blue bed sheets still fresh. Through half-lidded, glossy eyes, Kyle notices the white sideboard with a sleek flat TV, a matching tallboy dresser, and a small bookshelf with a plush armchair and standard lamp in the corner. 

“Can you wish your wife a good night from me, sir?” Kyle asks as he kicks his shoes off before struggling to unbutton his dress shirt, unaware of his Captain sauntering over to the armchair. 

Price lets out a deep, rumbling chuckle as he sinks down into the cushions, “Tell her yerself.” 

Still oblivious when the door to the room clicks shut, Kyle shrugs off his long-sleeved shirt before folding it haphazardly. 

“Do you need help with that, soldier?” 

It takes a brief moment for the soft purr of your voice to register in his foggy brain, but when it does, it causes Kyle instant heart palpitations, and it gets worse when he looks over at you, seeing you wearing a red, flimsy babydoll nightgown, a red silky bow adorning your full breasts.  

“My wife asked you a question, Gaz,” Price gruffs out from his seat in the corner, whiskey glass in one hand and cigar in the other, causing Kyle to question his sanity, because he clearly must be hallucinating right about now, “Answer her.”  

Perhaps he’s got alcohol poisoning and is already in a coma. He'd prefer that above... whatever this is. 

“I–I–I–” He stammers, watching as you approach him with sensual steps, a delighted twinkle in your pretty eyes and carrying a tall glass of water in your hand. 

“No need to be nervous, Kyle,” you coo at him and reach for one of his hands before pushing the cold glass against his palm until his fingers wrap around it, “Bottoms up. It will help with the hangover.” 

As the terrific soldier he is, Kyle does as he is told, lifting the rim of the glass up to his lips while his eyes flicker back and forth between you and Price, the latter puffing on his cigar, strong legs spread wide and– 

Kyle sputters and chokes on the last gulp, sobering up at once after noticing the clear outline of his Captain’s raging boner. 

You pat his back to help with his coughing and Kyle’s eyes are immediately drawn to the way your tits jiggle at the movement, making him bite back a groan as you speak so sweetly, “Hey–Hey, calm down. It’s okay.” 

“What the bloody hell is going on here?! Captain!” Kyle demands, his voice laced with a hint of panic as he squirms at the edge of the mattress, praying for the steady flow of blood rushing south to stop while his cock chuffs. 

Before you answer, you glance back at your husband, who gives you a slow nod. 

“John told me that you’ve been through a rough patch lately,” you say, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip as you clearly consider your next words, “– and he suggested that I could try make you feel better.” 

Kyle is momentarily stunned into silence, mouth gaping as the empty glass slips out of his grasp and onto the plush carpet on the floor, “Sir, you–you can’t be fuckin’ serious.” 

You bend forward to pick it up again and the short nightgown rucks up over your back, revealing your plump ass cheeks and the tiny matching red thong hugging your thick curves, and Kyle sucks in a sharp breath as he feels himself getting dizzy. 

“You want to fuck my wife, Garrick,” Price remarks, a plume of thick smoke curling up into the air as he exhales slowly, “Then go on and take her; just wrap it up and don’t be too rough. I’m the only one allowed to mark her up. Right, darling?” 

You nod eagerly, flashing a dazzling smile at your husband before placing the glass on the bedside table. 

“But–” 

Kyle’s objection is silenced when you cup his face and lean in to capture his lips in a deep, slow kiss that has his heartrate spike and his pulse thrum in his neck, even when you pull back again while he chases after your lips with a pathetic whine. 

“Just be a good boy and let me ride you, Kyle.” 

The way you ride his cock so eagerly, plump tits bouncing right in front of his face, your core squelching sloppily, squeezing him tightly with your feet planted flat on the mattress, has his brain go stupid and his initial restraint dissolve like candy floss in water, washed away by the steady current. 

And the noises you're making. Saccharine whines, hiccupped moans, and the way you utter his name so desperate and breathlessly. Oh... Lord have mercy on him... 

His head tips back against the plush pillow, long fingers digging into the fat of your plush hips, thick tendons protruding in his neck while his chest heaves rapidly and his full lips part with a guttural moan. It's warm, so bloody warm and wet and tight and he's losing himself in you so easily, tension coiling and pleasure mounting, up��up–up–up–  

"F-Fuck! Oh, fuck–! I a-ah–” 

Kyle's eyes snap open, staring at the ceiling and his whole body jolts, toes curling as he sits up, crying out in pleasure-pain while he folds forward as if being electrocuted, unable to control it when his balls throb while your perfect cunt sucks him in relentlessly, squeezing like a vice and stimulating his cock until he can't stop it. 

He comes so hard, his vision blurs and frails at the edges; spurt after spurt of potent cum spilling from his ruddy tip into the condom, making him fear it might overflow with it. 

In the corner of the bedroom, a rough groan and muttered curses are torn from the Captain’s throat as he spills into his own calloused fist, perfectly timed and skilfully edged; his milky cum dripping over his scarred, hairy knuckles.  

Maybe this is what peace truly feels like, a small piece of heaven that has been offered to him. All free, no consequences, but the fact that he's hooked now. 

“Mhmm, you didn’t even wait for me to finish,” you bemoan with a pout, your relentless fucking now slowed down to a sensual grind while Kyle quakes with aftershock. He wants to apologize, but his brain is mush, and you beat him to it, anyway. 

“You know... whenever that happens, John has me sit on his face.” 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Kyle is already moving in. 

[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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Got a burning question you want answered?

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Frequent Questions: The FAQ

[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.

[historyofguns]

Randall Chaney's article in The Armory Life reviews the SureFire Mini Scout Light Pro, a tactical flashlight ideal for mounting on defensive rifles such as the Springfield Armory SAINT Victor. Chaney's longstanding experience with SureFire's quality illumination tools encompasses this new model, which is designed for both close and long-range lighting scenarios, ensuring peripheral visibility. The flashlight, offered in black or tan, is exceptionally durable with its Mil-Spec aluminum construct and is designed to be user-friendly with a simple installation process onto M-Lok or MIL-STD-1913 rails. The light's 500-lumen Hybrid Beam Pattern is particularly suited for tactical environments, balancing brightness with situational awareness needs. Capable of running for an hour on a single 123A battery, the Mini Scout Pro is built for intermittent use to prevent detection, following the strategy of lighting and moving silently. Chaney appreciates its performance, deeming it a permanent addition to his duty rifle, while also highlighting SureFire's legacy of innovation in reliable illumination and tactical products.

[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

[nxzz-skz]

A week of (un)dead chaos (OT8 skz)

ᯓ★ zombie!reader x human!OT8skz

ᯓ★ warnings: a little bit of gore, mention of limbs, crack, fluff

ᯓ★this was recommended by @writtingrubberducky (note: since I've never written this genre, I had to get my friend to assist, and I'm sorry if its not the best!)

Synopsis : In a universe where being a zombie is just another part of life, Y/N faces seven chaotic days off without her usual medication, bringing cravings, falling limbs, and heightened reflexes. With her human friends, Stray Kids, as her reluctant yet loyal support system, hilarity and heartwarming chaos ensue. Can they survive a week of mayhem without losing their friendship - or their brains?

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

The day starts no different that usual : you make your way into the shared apartment of the Stray Kids boys, cup of coffee in one hand, your phone in the other. Life as a modern zombie is... manageable. You've been taking the medication that stops the whole rotting-flesh, brain-eating debacle, and it's made sure things stay pretty normal.

Except for today.

"Guys, I have some... news," you announce awkwardly as you set your cup on the kitchen counter and shuffle into the living room. The boys - Chan, Changbin, Jisung, Felix, Hyunjin, Minho, Seungmin, and Jeongin - turn to you from their various spots. Jisung is sprawled across the couch playing a video game on the TV with Jeongin, Chan's laptop hums from the coffee table, and Changbin and Felix are sharing a bag of chips.

“You’re getting married?” Changbin blurts out, chip crumbs falling everywhere.

“No,” you say, frowning at the mess he’s making.

“You’re finally getting a cat?” Jisung asks, eyes twinkling as he pauses his game.

“No… Well, maybe later,” you mutter before shaking your head to refocus. “Anyway, my medication is being switched for a week, starting today. There’s going to be… side effects.”

“Side effects?” Chan repeats, looking up from his laptop. His voice is calm, but his furrowed brow betrays his concern.

You sigh, gesturing vaguely at your body. “I’m going to… smell a little funny, maybe lose a limb or two. Also, I’ll have… cravings.”

“For what?” Minho deadpans, even though you can tell he already knows the answer.

“…Brains,” you admit, barely audible. The word hangs in the air like a thundercloud.

Cue the chaos. Felix screams, dropping his chips as he leaps behind the couch. Jeongin yelps and clutches a cushion to his chest, his game long forgotten. Hyunjin, ever the drama king, dramatically flings himself across the couch, yelling about betrayal. Seungmin grabs a pillow for defense, holding it like a shield.

“Guys!” Chan yells over the din, raising his hands to restore order. “It’s fine! Y/N is still Y/N. We’ll help her through this week. Right?”

There’s a chorus of reluctant agreements, though you catch the uneasy glance Minho shoots your way and notice how Jisung clutches a game controller like it’s his last line of defense. You sigh. It’s going to be a long week.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

You wake up to find your index finger has detached itself during the night. Groaning, you scoop it up from the pillow and wrap it in a tissue before heading to the kitchen for coffee. The smell of eggs and bacon greets you, along with the sight of Changbin humming to himself as he eats cereal.

“Morning,” you mumble, holding your finger awkwardly behind your back as you pour coffee.

“Morning,” he replies, giving you a quick glance. “What’s that?” he adds suspiciously when he notices the tissue in your hand.

“My finger,” you reply matter-of-factly, trying to sound casual.

Changbin’s spoon clatters to the table, and his eyes go wide. “Your… finger?” he repeats, his voice rising an octave.

“It’s normal,” you say quickly. “It’ll grow back by the end of the week. I think.”

“You think?” Seungmin’s dry voice cuts in as he enters the kitchen, eyeing the tissue like it might jump out and attack him. Behind him, Jisung saunters in mid-yawn, only to freeze when he hears the words “finger” and “grow back.”

“Is that…” Jisung begins, pointing at the tissue.

“It’s fine,” you assure him, though the nervous looks the boys exchange tell you they’re not convinced. Minho visibly recoils when you sit at the table and casually place the tissue-wrapped digit beside your plate.

“Can you not leave body parts lying around?” Hyunjin says as he enters, looking half-asleep but horrified nonetheless.

Felix, ever the sweetheart, offers you a bandage. “Here, Y/N. It’s okay. At least you’re not… rotting that much.”

You’re touched by his kindness until you notice he’s holding the bandage with tongs and has sprayed it with perfume.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

By Day 3, the cravings hit. Hard.

You sit at the kitchen table, staring longingly at a raw steak Chan bought for you to cure your… urges. The boys are gathered around, watching like scientists observing a dangerous experiment.

“How are you feeling?” Chan asks cautiously, leaning forward slightly.

Instead of answering, you pick up the steak with both hands and sink your teeth into it. The room fills with the sound of tearing meat, and everyone freezes. You pause mid-bite, glancing up at them.

“Fine,” you say through a mouthful of steak.

The boys huddle in the corner, whispering furiously.

“Is it weird that I think it’s kind of cute?” Felix whispers, earning incredulous stares from the others.

“Cute?” Jeongin hisses. “She's literally chewing on a cow.”

“Better the steak than our brains,” Seungmin mutters darkly, folding his arms.

Hyunjin nods solemnly, holding up a garlic necklace like it’s a holy relic. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he squeaks, shoving it back into his pocket.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

By now, the side effects have fully kicked in, including the dreaded smell. No amount of deodorant can completely mask it, and the boys are clearly suffering.

"Y/N, you smell like... death" Minho announces, grimacing as he waves a hand in front of his nose.

"Thanks for the reminder,” you snap, spraying yourself with an industrial-strength deodorant. The chemical smell mingles horribly with your natural scent, making the situation worse.

The boys try coming up with a plan.

“What if we… wrap you in plastic?” Jisung suggests, earning a glare from you.

“I am not a doll,” you reply icily.

“Febreze?” Hyunjin offers, holding up a can like it’s a magic wand.

“Guys,” Chan interrupts, “Y/N is trying her best. Let’s… maybe use candles instead?”

They then proceed to light every candle in the house. It smells like a floral disaster zone, but they’re too proud of their idea to notice.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Your heightened zombie reflexes become apparent when you accidentally break a door handle. Then a chair. Then Seungmin’s favorite mug.

“You’re a walking disaster,” he says, glaring at the shattered remains of his mug on the floor.

“I didn’t mean to!” you protest, holding your hands up in surrender. “My reflexes are just… heightened right now.”

To prove your point, you catch a fly mid-air with lightning speed. The boys stare in awe, except Seungmin, who just looks annoyed.

“You still owe me a new mug,” he grumbles, stepping around the broken pieces.

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

It all starts innocently enough. You’re brushing your teeth in the bathroom, humming a tune, when your ear decides to detach itself. You don’t even notice until you glance at the sink and see it lying there.

“Not again,” you groan, picking it up and carefully wiping it off. You figure you’ll deal with it later and leave it on the counter. Big mistake.

Five minutes later, Jeongin enters the bathroom. His scream could shatter glass, and it echoes through the apartment so loudly that even the neighbors call to check on you.

“What is it now?” Chan sighs, running into the hallway with the others hot on his heels.

Jeongin stumbles out of the bathroom, pale as a sheet. “It’s her ear! It’s just sitting there! Watching me!”

Felix bravely enters the bathroom to retrieve the offending ear. He returns holding it carefully between two fingers, looking equal parts amused and horrified. “You left your ear on the counter, Y/N.”

“Sorry,” you mutter, snatching it back. “It’s hard to keep track sometimes.”

Felix tries to help by gluing it back on. Unfortunately, he gets the angle wrong, and you end up with your ear stuck to your neck. The sight sends the boys into hysterics, with Hyunjin collapsing to the floor in laughter while Minho wheezes like he’s about to pass out.

“I hate this,” you groan, glaring at your misplaced ear.

“Fashion statement,” Hyunjin manages to gasp between fits of laughter. “You’re a trendsetter now.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

Your new medication finally kicks in, and you wake up feeling… normal. Your skin is clearer, your cravings have vanished, and your fingers and ears are firmly attached. For the first time in days, you don’t feel like a walking disaster.

“You look great!” Hyunjin says, smiling genuinely as you enter the living room. The others nod in agreement, looking relieved.

“You survived the week,” Chan adds, patting your shoulder.

“We survived the week,” Seungmin corrects with a pointed look.

Despite all the chaos, you can’t help but feel grateful. These boys stuck by you through your worst, and you’re pretty sure they’d do it again. Their laughter, their teasing, even their over-the-top interventions—it all reminds you how lucky you are to have them in your (un)life.

“Thanks, guys,” you say sincerely, sitting down among them.

“Just promise you won’t eat us if there’s a next time,” Jeongin jokes.

You grin. “No promises.”

๋࣭⭑────୨ৎ────⭑๋࣭

ᯓ★ Reblogs and follows appreciated!

ᯓ★ Send an ask if there's anything you want me to write for any Enha or Skz member! (no smut)

ᯓ★ : perm taglist : @cafffeineconnoisseur @skzbiasot8 @candyquokka @idiotmaterial @backseat-serenade-dizzyhurricane @hanji-coffee @jeonginsbaee

send an ask or comment to be added!

[headfullarcanedisorder]

So can we agree these 2 were canonical zombies?

Like everyone talks about their complexions post-respective-transformations. How they were both pretty pale before but Now it's just encroaching dead shaded territory.

Because they fucking did. They Actually Just Are Dead.

Like 100% that explosion at the bridge should've killed Jinx. A Grenade less than a Foot away from your FACE??? I'm sure her jaw shattered highkey. Silco carries her body fully limp.

The entire plot sets you up to believe that if Singed didn't Do what he did, Silco would've lost Jinx.

On Viktor's end: that explosion at the council room should've killed him. He was laying limp in rubble after years of an increasingly failing immune system. If Jayce had not intervened and thrown Viktor at the hexcore, the hexcore wouldn't have been able to cocoon Viktor into a safer form.

The plot sets you up to believe if Jayce didn't give Viktor to the hexcore, Jayce would've lost Viktor.

Singed, in season 2, is literally revealed to be, Point Blank Since the Start of the series, attempting to cure Death. We see his daughter floated in a chemical slurry and when asked what was wrong with her and what she was sick with he didn't say she was in a coma, or sleeping, or even what "sickness" she has. Because he confesses she's trying to Cure Her Death.

The plot leads you to understand this Jinx first death narrative as Singed experimenting on Jinx to Confirm his shimmer can do what he needs it to do. Silco barges in with a young, presumed Dead Daughter, demanding Singed fix her. Singed sees a practice opportunity. And takes it. And when Singed successfully brings his colleague's daughter back to life, it confirms to Singed he finally has the chemical means to bring back his Own daughter. It was his final incentive to kick his technology study off in pursuit of his eternal daughter.

And on Viktor's end, he already had one foot in the grave, he's had it there since the start of the series frankly. Since his childhood. A Hextech Shark Missile Explosion is Absolutely on the list of things his doctor has probably perhaps told him to Avoid? If he wishes to prolong his already dwindling lifespan??

But here's the bigger part when it comes to Viktor. When he came back he 100% did not come back human. But he still Was Human. So Let me explain. We all understand Viktor's expressions and behaviors after the hexcocoon were pretty Off. He was more apathetic, more sullen, less. Caring. Almost. But not completely.

When he first begins processing his surroundings again and sees jayce he still Has emotions, an affection towards jayce and an understanding of human morality and action. But he seemed detached from it. Almost like he was reeling from a sudden Lack Of Emotion where there Should've Usually Been. He was just quick to accept it's absence because. Well, you can't be upset about a loss of Emotion when upset Is an Emotion. But by all means any Human feelings he Has, in that Moment, are fleeting at best. Because he just lost his human life. Viktor Completely. Died, and was brought back by the healing of the hexcore.

They are both for all intents and purposes. Canonically Undead.

So their complexion matches that lack of hue post mortem. Because they dipped their toes into that state, but were forcibly ripped from it by people out of their control. Ya know .

[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. 

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