#design & lightweighting study

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Mazda E-go Concept, 1990. A diminutive (3.6metres long) 1+1 tandem-seat mid-engine rotary powered sports car. It's rotary engine made 170hp but it weighed only 550kg but sadly remained a one-off

[eulersfeverdream]

The Porsche 911 Reimagined By Singer - Dynamics & Lightweighting Study

from Collecting Cars

[fannedandflawless]

The Uniform Was Armour

An attire analysis of Severus Snape, as portrayed by Alan Rickman

What does it mean to wear forty buttons every day? To choose black not for fashion, but for function? To wrap yourself in discipline and precision while others wear colour and comfort?

I’ve been studying Severus Snape’s wardrobe across every film—and what began as curiosity quickly turned into full analytical obsession. Because beneath that iconic silhouette is an entire philosophy stitched in wool, linen, and silence.

Let’s talk about it.

👔 The Buttons, Layers, and Surprising Realism of Snape’s Wardrobe

Yes, I’ve zoomed in. Repeatedly. Across every film, from Philosopher’s Stone to Deathly Hallows, I’ve counted his buttons—frame by frame, button by button, layer by layer. Let’s just say—I’ve become very familiar with this frock coat’s construction.

And darling, here’s the breakdown:

3 unbuttoned at the collar

9 buttoned down the front

10 per sleeve

4 per leg

🧮 Total: 40 buttons.

Forty. Let that settle in your bones.

On set, most were decorative—Alan Rickman wasn’t fastening all forty by hand. Hidden zippers, snap closures—clever costume design. (This is based on standard film costuming practices—where elaborate garments are often modified for ease of dressing with hidden closures. No official quote confirms this for Snape's outfit specifically, but it aligns with how similar costumes are constructed.) But in-universe? If the real Severus Snape wore this...

It’s safe to assume he used a spell. Realistically, no one’s spending fifteen minutes every morning fastening forty buttons—not even Severus Snape. He had essays to mark, potions to brew, and a corridor presence to maintain.

And oh, that presence.

—

🧥 The Full Layer Breakdown (Based on Alan Rickman’s Film Costume and Button-by-Button Image Zooming)

1. White high-collared shirt – stiff, sharp, and always buttoned to the throat. Clean. Severe. Scholar-coded.

+ Black cravat or neckcloth – visible in several key scenes (notably when inspecting the cursed necklace and seated with the Dark Lord). Likely silk or satin. It adds formality and structure, anchoring the layers while communicating a quiet, old-world elegance.

2. Inner black buttoned layer – possibly a waistcoat or inset panel. Tailored close. Minimal.

3. Frock coat – double-breasted with 14 visible buttons. Structured. Commanding. The real statement piece.

4. Long open-front robe – that iconic swirl. When he enters a room, it follows like a shadow.

5. Straight black trousers – clean-cut, no nonsense.

6. Tall black boots – polished leather, confident heel.

7. (Possibly) sewn-in underlayer for structure – subtle but significant.

—

🪡 What Could the Fabrics Be?

Shirt: Cotton or stiff linen—light but architectural. Holds the collar high.

Inner layer/waistcoat: Lightweight wool or twill—close fit, breathable, efficient.

Frock coat: Wool blend or gabardine—thick, silent, unmistakable.

Robe: Wool or silk-blend—fluid with weight, designed for drama.

Trousers: Soft wool or worsted—no embellishments, just utility.

Boots: Black leather—lived-in, lacquered, ready to move.

The entire ensemble whispers: do not underestimate me.

—

🔥 How Did He Survive the Heat?

All black. All layered. All day. In July? (Or August, depending on the school calendar—but we’ll get to that heatstroke later.)

The answer is geography. He lived in the dungeons.

The Slytherin common room sits beneath the Black Lake—stone walls, filtered light, the occasional squid gliding past. Cold enough to preserve potions and secrets alike.

So yes—he wore forty buttons and never broke a sweat. Because the walls were colder than any seasonal breeze. And honestly? So was he.

—

🧼 How Many Did He Own?

We never see his wardrobe, but let’s be honest—he’d need more than one. You don’t brew over a cauldron daily without carrying the scent of asphodel and burnt fluxweed for hours. Add parchment ink, dust from centuries-old tomes, a hint of candle soot—and you’ve got a potion master’s signature scent.

And let’s not forget: Hermione Granger literally set fire to his robes in Philosopher’s Stone—whether it was the hem or that slightly fluffy bit at his ankle, the damage was real. There can’t have been just one. Not in a school full of reckless students and volatile substances.

These garments weren’t just iconic—they were functional. And surely duplicated.

Three, at minimum. Five, if he allowed himself the luxury. All identical. All immaculate. Possibly with a charm or two to keep the folds crisp and the fabric warded.

—

🧣 The One Exception—His Layer for Weather

Across eight films and countless scenes, Severus Snape’s uniform never truly wavered—except once, perhaps twice.

In Philosopher’s Stone, during the infamous Quidditch match where he counter-cursed Quirrell’s jinx, he wore something different:

A high black scarf

Fingerless black gloves

A heavier, textured outer cloak—draped and more tactical

It’s the only time we see his silhouette altered so clearly.

Still black, still formal, but slightly more utilitarian. Weather-appropriate, perhaps? November in the high stands of the Quidditch pitch must’ve been brutal—wind cutting, robes whipping. Most students wore house scarves not just for pride, but to survive the chill.

So yes, that scarf and heavier cloak weren’t just stylistic flourishes. They were practical, protective, and quietly prepared.

Either way, it stood apart—and not just in costume. In that moment, he was cast as the villain, misunderstood and brooding in layers.

And I must wonder—where did that cloak go? At first glance, I assumed it had been lost to the flames of Hermione’s accidental sabotage in Philosopher’s Stone. A dramatic end to a singular garment.

But then—rewatching Goblet of Fire—there it was again. During the Hungarian Horntail trial, Snape sits beside McGonagall, and if you look closely: folded cuffs, denser weave, a broader drape over his shoulders. The silhouette is unmistakable.

The scarf and gloves are gone, but the cloak’s presence speaks volumes. Not flashy, but deliberate. A return not for spectacle, but for utility. Its weight, its shape, the quiet precision in its fit—nearly identical.

So no—it wasn’t destroyed. Not gone. Not forgotten. Simply reserved. Practical. Intentional.

Another glimpse into how even the rare deviations in his attire still follow a purpose. Nothing is ever random with Severus Snape.

Still all black, still stern—but there’s something in the added structure that reads more formal. Less dungeon-brewer, more event overseer. It’s functional, wind-resistant, and dignified in a cold, open-air setting.

Perhaps it was kept for outdoor events—or those requiring a touch more presence. It reminds us that even the most stoic wardrobe had its layers—and that nothing Severus Snape wore was ever without intent.

Even when the silhouette shifted slightly, the reasoning didn’t. Whether reserved for specific events or dictated by weather, every layer had purpose. He was always watching. Always calculating. Always protecting.

—

🖤 What the Uniform Meant: Endurance as Identity

The choice to wear such rigid attire wasn’t just style—it was declaration. It was discipline. It was Severus Snape, sealing himself into something he could control.

"It is endurance. Conditioning. Discipline—of body and mind. This attire is not meant for ease. It is meant for containment."

That’s how I imagine he would have spoken of it, if ever asked. With restraint. With precision. With the same measured control that shaped his every movement.

He didn’t wear black because he liked the colour. He wore it because black absorbs. It doesn’t reflect, doesn’t shine, doesn’t distract. It takes.

And if someone ever questioned the heat? The weight of so many layers?

"If I wear less… I feel more." "And for someone who has spent most of his life bearing what others cast off, that is… not always bearable."

It was never about temperature. It was about endurance as aesthetic. About turning vulnerability into fabric. A way of saying: I will bear what others shed.

To wear layers was to keep the world at a distance. To button forty buttons was to remind himself: control is chosen. Every day.

"There is a certain power in being the only one who does not wilt under pressure. Let them sweat. Let them squirm. I remain."

Snape didn’t need robes that breathed. He needed robes that held.

Because the man beneath them had spent a lifetime feeling too much. And hiding it all in plain sight.

And somehow, it worked.

He endured.

And never once did his silhouette flinch.

[bunny--manders]

Hello can you explain the ladder comment i am an aspiring lunatic please and thanks

Hello, fellow lunatic! Here's a close-up of a ladder in the game so you can see the pegs.

Iron nails had to be hand-forged during this period (Henry even has some lines about what a pain in the ass it is to make them) and we're still centuries away from technology like galvanizing steel, so they wouldn't be that durable for something like a ladder you need to leave outside.

Instead of wasting expensive nails on constructing items like this, medieval woodworkers would be fitting bits of wood together by carving out slots and fastening them with wooden pegs. Here's an example of some fancy joinery techniques for something much nicer than a ladder:

And here's a roughly contemporaneous with the game picture of woodworkers constructing a building, so you can see how they're drilling holes and hammering in wooden pegs in places where modern builders would use nails. (Source here with more info from an experienced woodworker who can describe the technique better than me)

I am very much an amateur at carpentry and traditional techniques are not my specialty, but I'm assuming the lower pegs on the ladders in the game are some extra support for the rungs so they can take more weight, and the upper pegs are what's holding the rung in place in place instead of a nail. It's very cool to see how much thought and research has gone into these tiny details!

Modern furniture makers have pretty much the opposite problems as medieval builders. Hardwood is more expensive than steel, nails and screws are cheaply mass-produced, and the main goal in most furniture design is creating something lightweight that can be shipped in flat packs and assembled by a customer with no craftsmanship experience at home.

Modern consumers are also used to moving and buying new furniture many times during their lives; the idea that you might be repairing a solid wood chair that your great-grandkids will be using daily just isn't a thing anymore, so we just don't have a reason to build like this anymore unless it's insanely high end artisinal work or a hobby project not intended to turn a profit. We joke about what would blow the mind of a medieval peasant, and I think our casual complaints about cheap disposable furniture shipped around the world and thrown out after a few years of use would be up there on the list of brain-melting things about the modern world.

(Disclaimer that I am in no way an expert in woodworking or medieval furniture construction! It's a very neat field of study for academic historians. Living history sites often have someone hanging around on staff or as a volunteer who specializes in historic woodworking techniques, so if you have anything like that in your area you can find some guy who would LOVE to talk your ear off about this.)

[spencersmopbucket]

Tides of Venom (3) | Finnick Odair

Pairing: Finnick Odair x reader Summary: You. the Snake of Seven, had a knack for being efficient. You'd do what needed to be done to get out of the arena alive. But is it that simple?

Warnings: Death. Brutality, basically. The reader being the Snake of Seven.

(NOTE: I am writing the arena and the games differently. It won't be exactly like the movie. The arena isn't a clock, for one. It's very similar to the one in Katniss's first games -- except more water.)

The waiting area was oppressively quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the training facility. Gone were the sounds of clashing metal and grunts of exertion. Here, the silence was almost deafening, broken only by the faint hum of Capitol machinery and the soft clicks of heels against polished floors as attendants flitted in and out, making final adjustments to the tributes’ outfits.

You sat in the corner of the room, perched on a small bench as you tightened the laces on your boots. The gear they’d given you was lightweight but durable, designed for speed and agility rather than brute force. Perfect. The Capitol had spared no expense in ensuring every tribute had what suited them. Something practical. You cracked your neck as you closed your eyes, taking a deep slow breath.

You were strapping in. You were becoming her.

Across the room, Reid paced nervously, his fingers twitching at his sides. His dark hair was slicked back, but a few strands had already fallen loose, sticking to his forehead. He looked up at you every so often, his expression a mix of fear and determination. You could see it in his eyes: he knew he didn’t stand a chance out there. Not against the Careers. Not against the arena itself. And certainly not against you.

“You need to stop pacing,” you said sharply, not looking up from your boots. “You’re wasting energy.”

He stopped mid-step, glancing over at you with a sheepish expression. “Sorry. It’s just… hard not to think about what’s coming.”

You finally looked up, your cold e/c eyes locking onto his. “Thinking won’t help you now. You either act, or you don’t. That’s the only thing that matters in this arena." You say coldly, standing up.

Reid nodded, though you could tell your words hadn’t reassured him. He sat on the bench opposite you, his hands clasped tightly in his lap. “You’re not scared?” he asked after a moment, his voice barely above a whisper.

You tilted your head, studying him. Scared? No, that wasn’t the right word. Fear had no place in your mind anymore. Not after everything you’d been through. “Fear’s a luxury I can’t afford,” you said finally. “Neither can you.”

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he looked away. “I’ll try.”

You sighed, leaning back against the wall. Reid wasn’t going to last long. He was smart, sure. Probably the smartest person in the room. But intelligence only got you so far in the Games. The Careers would tear him apart the moment they got the chance. That thought settled heavily in your mind, twisting uncomfortably in your chest. You’d made up your mind days ago, but now, sitting here with him, it felt more real than ever.

In your own interest and in the best interest of Reid, you would take him down first. Before anyone else touched him. In some twisted way, in a way that you knew his parents wouldn't understand, it was an act of mercy. An act of kindness. You would be quick, keeping it as painless as possible.

Maybe you would take the coward's way and kill him while he was asleep. Maybe you would creep up behind him and snap his neck. Whatever it was, it would be your first act in the arena. You weren't going to let one of the bloodthirsty careers, especially Cashmere, who had shown an interest, get to him.

He was too soft, too gentle, too kind.

The waiting room’s oppressive stillness was broken by the sharp sound of the door opening. A Capitol attendant stepped inside, her polished smile as jarring as it was false. Her words were clipped, her tone professional, like this was just another day at work for her.

“It’s time,” she announced.

You stood immediately, tightening the last strap on your gear. The air around you grew heavier, the tension suffocating as you glanced over at Reid. He hesitated, his hands twitching at his sides before he rose to his feet. His face was pale, his jaw set, but his trembling hands gave him away.

“Stay close,” you said again, your voice firm. It wasn’t a suggestion.

He nodded quickly, following behind you as the attendant led you into the hallway. The stark, polished walls glimmered under artificial light, the hum of Capitol machinery filling the air. Your boots clicked rhythmically against the floor, a steady beat counting down the seconds until everything changed.

The launch pads came into view, their cold metal surfaces gleaming with a sterile finality. Capitol technicians bustled around, making last-minute adjustments and murmuring instructions you ignored. The attendant gestured toward your designated platform, and you stepped onto it without hesitation.

The metal beneath your boots was icy, a jarring contrast to the heat simmering in your veins. The glass cylinder descended around you, sealing you inside with an eerie hiss. Across the room, you caught one last look at Reid as he stepped into his own tube. He glanced your way, his eyes wide, searching for reassurance you didn’t have to offer.

As you started ascending, you once more closed your eyes, speaking to yourself in your head.

Don't be merciful.

Don't slow down.

Don't show weakness. For the love of God, don't show pain either.

Get what you need, nothing extra. Don't waste time.

Be smart. Always be one step ahead.

Ignore Finnick Odair.

When your final thought rang through, you opened your eyes. You were being lifted into the arena.

The arena was a brilliantly crafted nightmare. It was a perfect circle, with the Cornucopia perched on a central island surrounded by water. The golden horn gleamed blindingly under the sun, its shadow stretching across the pristine white sand that encircled it.

The water surrounding the Cornucopia wasn’t the refreshing blue of a tropical paradise. It was a dark, ominous teal, its surface deceptively calm, rippling faintly under the weight of the tension in the air. Beyond the water, the arena’s outer edge formed a ring of dense jungle, the foliage impossibly thick and teeming with life. Towering trees with unnaturally large leaves cast deep shadows, and the air buzzed with the constant sound of unseen insects.

Your eyes narrowed as you looked around.

The jungle beyond the water loomed like a living wall, an unrelenting mass of greens and browns that seemed to move and breathe on its own. Thick vines twisted like snakes around tree trunks, and the undergrowth was so dense you could barely make out what lay beyond the first few feet. The shadows within the trees were darker than they should have been, as though the jungle itself was hiding secrets, waiting for the right moment to reveal them.

The air was heavy with the oppressive heat, already making it hard to breathe. Sweat began to form on the back of your neck as you stood still, your boots firmly planted on your platform. The sound of the jungle’s distant life—the chirps, growls, and rustles—melded with the faint lapping of water against the shore. It was a cacophony of unease, designed to unsettle even the strongest minds.

You shifted your focus to the Cornucopia, your sharp eyes scanning the scattered supplies. Weapons glinted in the sunlight, their edges polished to a lethal shine. Packs of various sizes were scattered haphazardly across the sandy island, their contents unknown but undoubtedly essential for survival. The tantalizing glimmer of resources was a trap—a lure for the desperate and the greedy.

To your left, Reid stood frozen on his platform, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he took in the scene. His wide-eyed terror was palpable even at a distance, and you clenched your jaw. You had no room for distractions. Reid was a dead man walking; it was only a matter of when, not if.

The countdown began.

A booming voice echoed through the arena, counting down from sixty, and the tension became suffocating. Your hands curled into fists, every muscle in your body coiled and ready to spring. Each second that ticked away felt like an eternity, the sound of the clock reverberating in your ears. You inhaled deeply, steadying your nerves. You had one chance, one opportunity to grab what you needed and retreat.

“Forty-five,” the voice droned.

You assessed the tributes, your mind calculating distances, reactions, and potential threats. Cashmere stood with a smirk on her face, her hand flexing at her side like she was already envisioning her next kill. Finnick’s expression was unreadable, though his stance was loose, casual, and far too confident. Brutus practically vibrated with anticipation, his eyes locked on the Cornucopia like a predator eyeing its prey.

You noted their placements and trajectories, marking who would go where. You weren’t the strongest or the fastest, but you were smarter, more calculated. You wouldn’t waste time vying for weapons with the Careers—those were theirs for the taking. You needed supplies, something to sustain you in the hellscape that awaited.

“Thirty.”

The seconds blurred together now, each heartbeat syncing with the countdown. Your eyes darted back to the Cornucopia, mentally tracing a path to the nearest pack that wouldn’t put you in the Careers’ immediate line of fire. A medium-sized bag lay just off-center, near a long, slender blade half-buried in the sand. Close enough to risk. Far enough to escape.

“Fifteen.”

Reid shifted nervously, glancing toward you as if looking for direction. You didn’t return the glance. He needed to make his own choices now. The arena wouldn’t wait for you to hold his hand.

“Ten.”

The sound of your own breathing drowned everything else out. Your chest rose and fell rhythmically as you prepared to sprint. Your fingers twitched at your sides, aching to move, to act.

“Nine.”

The sunlight glinted off the Cornucopia, a final cruel beacon of hope for those foolish enough to think they’d find safety there.

“Eight.”

Your muscles tensed, coiled tight like a spring about to release.

“Seven.”

This was it.

“Six.”

No hesitation.

“Five.”

Every second counted.

“Four.”

A decision was a life.

“Three.”

The world stilled.

“Two.”

The game began.

“One.”

And then, the gong rang.

The instant the gong rang, you propelled yourself forward, your boots slamming against the metal platform as you launched into motion. The sand was firmer than you expected beneath your feet, but you didn’t let it slow you down. Your eyes stayed fixed on your target: the medium-sized pack lying just off-center from the Cornucopia, its muted green fabric almost blending into the sand.

Around you, chaos erupted. Tributes surged toward the golden horn or scattered into the jungle, their movements frantic and desperate. The sharp clanging of metal meeting metal filled the air as the Careers, with their practiced ease, went straight for the weapons. The sounds of screaming began almost immediately, some cut short, others turning into gurgles as blood spilled into the pristine sand.

You tuned it out. All of it. Your focus was singular.

The pack was closer now, and you adjusted your path to grab the blade lying beside it. You skidded to a halt, crouching low as your fingers wrapped around the hilt of the knife. Its weight was perfect—light enough for precision but heavy enough to do damage. You sheathed it quickly, slinging the bag over your shoulder in one fluid motion before turning back the way you came.

You darted away from the Cornucopia, weaving between other tributes as the chaos continued to unfold. A boy from District 10 lunged at you with a spear, his face contorted with fear and desperation. You sidestepped him easily, slamming the heel of your boot into his knee as you passed. He crumpled to the ground with a scream, but you didn’t look back.

The jungle loomed ahead, its thick shadows promising cover but also danger. You pushed forward, your breath steady, your movements calculated. You didn’t hesitate as you plunged into the dense foliage, the cool shade of the trees enveloping you like a second skin. The sound of the bloodbath at the Cornucopia faded slightly, muffled by the jungle’s oppressive canopy.

You didn’t stop running until you were deep enough that the sounds of violence were just an echo. Finally, you slowed, your breaths coming hard and fast as you ducked behind a massive tree trunk. You slid the pack from your shoulder, quickly unzipping it to assess your supplies.

A waterskin. A few packs of dried meat. A coil of rope. A small first-aid kit.

Not bad. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to get you through the first day. You slipped the knife from its sheath, holding it tightly as you scanned your surroundings. The jungle was eerily alive, its sounds louder now that you’d stopped moving. Insects buzzed relentlessly, and the occasional rustle of leaves hinted at unseen creatures moving through the underbrush.

Your mind raced as you considered your next move. The Careers would consolidate their power at the Cornucopia, picking off stragglers who lingered too long. You had to stay ahead of them, keep moving, and find a vantage point to observe the arena’s layout. Knowledge was your best weapon here, even more than the blade in your hand.

Your eyes narrowed as you thought of Reid. He’d run in the opposite direction, veering off toward the water’s edge when the gong sounded. He hadn’t even tried for supplies, his fear and lack of instinct driving him to flee. You exhaled sharply. You couldn’t think about him now. Not yet.

A faint rustle nearby snapped you back to the present. You tensed, the knife in your hand at the ready. Your heart pounded in your chest as you strained your ears, trying to determine whether it was an animal or another tribute.

“Come out,” you said coldly, your voice steady despite the tension in your muscles. “I don’t have time for games.”

The underbrush parted slowly, revealing…

...a woman, a Victor you didn't recognize, her wide brown eyes filled with terror. Her hair was tied back messily, dirt streaking her face. She held no weapon, just her trembling hands raised slightly in a gesture of surrender. She was from one of the outlying districts—you recognized her as the girl from 11, the one with the quick hands during training.

She froze when she saw you, her chest heaving as though she’d been running for her life, which, in a way, she had.

You didn’t lower your knife. “What do you want?”

Her lips parted, but no sound came out. She swallowed hard, her gaze darting to the blade in your hand, then back to your face. Finally, she whispered, “Please... don’t.”

Your grip tightened on the hilt, but you didn’t make a move toward her. Your mind calculated the risks. She wasn’t a threat—not yet. If you let her go, she could alert others to your position. If you killed her now, it would be cleaner, simpler, less risky in the long run.

But her trembling frame, her pleading eyes—it twisted something in your chest. A pang of something unfamiliar. You shoved it down. Compassion had no place in this arena.

“Turn around,” you ordered sharply. “Walk away, and don’t let me see you again.”

She hesitated for a moment, her body rigid with fear. Then, with a quick nod, she backed away, keeping her eyes on you until she disappeared into the foliage.

You exhaled heavily, letting your arm drop as the knife remained at your side. A small part of you cursed your decision, but the rest—the part that still clung to a shred of humanity—felt relief.

You slid the knife back into its sheath and adjusted the pack on your shoulder. The jungle wasn’t going to wait for you, and neither would the other tributes. You needed to find higher ground, something that would give you a better vantage point to scope out the arena.

The faint sound of running water caught your attention, and you followed it cautiously, keeping low and moving quickly. The dense jungle opened up slightly, revealing a narrow stream cutting through the terrain. You knelt by the water, cupping your hands to take a quick drink, your ears tuned to every sound around you.

As you rose, your thoughts returned to the bloodbath. The Careers would be regrouping by now, and anyone who had tried to challenge them was likely dead. Reid’s face flashed in your mind again, pale and terrified as he’d sprinted toward the water’s edge.

He wouldn’t survive the night.

Your jaw clenched as you forced the thought away. Survival came first. Attachments—emotional or otherwise—were liabilities. You tightened the straps on your pack and began moving upstream, your eyes scanning for any sign of movement.

The arena was waking up now, and you could feel it. The air grew thicker, the sounds of the jungle louder, more chaotic. The Capitol’s hand was everywhere here, manipulating the environment to push you, trap you, force you into confrontation.

And yet, as the sun began its slow descent, you felt a flicker of resolve deep within you. You weren’t here to survive. You were here to win.

Whatever it took.

-

Hours had passed. The sound of the cannon was like a beautiful melody, reminding you of those that you wouldn't have to take care of. You were up a tree, glaring down onto the ground, waiting for someone to drop down on.

Alerting the others of your position was stupid. You wouldn't move until you had to. You wouldn't move until there was someone to get rid of, to get you closer to home.

Your bag hung on the branch securely as you sat next to it, your expression mildly bored. You prayed to yourself that Reid hadn't died yet.

As if on cue, you heard his voice.

Pleading.

Then, you heard Cashmere's.

Your body tensed immediately, muscles coiling like a spring as you shifted silently on the branch. The sound of Reid’s voice, frantic and desperate, cut through the humid air, sharp enough to make your chest tighten.

“No, please,” he begged, his voice trembling but still carrying that faint, foolish hope that someone might show mercy. “I don’t have anything you want. Just let me go.”

Cashmere’s laugh followed, low and cruel. It echoed through the jungle like a predator’s growl. “Let you go? Oh, sweetheart, it’s not about what you have. It’s about making a statement.”

You inched forward on the branch, your e/c eyes narrowing as you spotted them through the foliage below. Reid was on his knees, hands raised defensively in front of him, his face pale and streaked with sweat. Cashmere stood over him, a spear glinting in her hand, her posture casual yet predatory. She was savoring this moment, drawing it out like a cat playing with its prey.

“Please,” Reid tried again, his voice cracking. “I’m not a threat to you.”

“That’s the problem,” Cashmere said smoothly, twirling the spear. “You’re too easy, Reid. No challenge. No fun. But I’ll admit...” She tilted her head, smirking. “Your fear is so fun.”

Your grip tightened on your knife as you watched, anger simmering in your chest. Cashmere wasn’t killing him for strategy or supplies—she was doing it for the thrill, the spectacle. It was pointless. Cruel.

And you weren’t going to let her have the satisfaction.

Carefully, you secured your pack and shifted your weight, positioning yourself on the branch directly above them. Your mind worked quickly, calculating the angle and force you’d need to take her down cleanly. You couldn’t afford a drawn-out fight—not with other tributes potentially nearby.

“Any last words?” Cashmere purred, raising the spear with a flourish.

“Yeah,” you muttered under your breath, pushing off the branch. “Mine.”

You dropped like a shadow, landing squarely on her back with all your weight. The impact sent her stumbling forward, the spear clattering to the ground as you wrapped an arm around her throat, yanking her off balance. She thrashed wildly, her hands clawing at you, but your grip was ironclad.

“Reid, move!” you barked, your voice sharp.

He scrambled back, wide-eyed, as you wrestled Cashmere to the ground. Her nails raked against your skin, drawing blood, but you didn’t flinch. With a quick, precise motion, you drove your knife into her side, aiming just below her ribs. Her body went rigid beneath you, a strangled gasp escaping her lips before she collapsed.

You heard garbled speech as crimson poured from her mouth, her eyes still wide in shock. Moments later, they closed in what seemed to be exhaustion.

The cannon boomed a second later, the sound reverberating through the jungle like a judge’s gavel.

You shoved her body off you and stood, breathing hard as you turned to face Reid. He was staring at you, his face pale, his hands trembling. “You... you saved me.”

You barely registered the words before your gaze snapped to Reid, his eyes wide with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. But as you took a step forward, your instincts screamed at you. You were being watched.

A shadow darted behind a nearby tree, too subtle for Reid to notice, but not for you. Your heart sank as another figure emerged from the foliage.

It was the girl with the dark hair, the one who had been trailing behind you both. You didn't have time to think. She’d seen everything—Cashmere's death, your unguarded moment. She wouldn’t hesitate.

Reid was too distracted by the scene unfolding before him, too overwhelmed by the adrenaline and shock. You had to act fast.

Before the girl had a chance to make her move, you whirled around to face Reid, your hand snaking out like a viper. You grabbed his neck in a brutal grip, yanking him toward you with surprising ease. His eyes widened in panic, but he didn’t scream. He just stared at you, trying to process the sudden shift in your demeanor.

“W-what—what are you doing?” Reid gasped, his voice trembling.

“I’m doing what needs to be done,” you hissed, your face cold and emotionless. “I'm sorry. But this is the easiest way. I'm doing it for you.”

His face contorted with confusion, his body struggling weakly against your iron grip. His hands clawed at your arm, but it was futile. You could feel his pulse racing under your fingers, his fear palpable.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “Don’t... please don’t do this. I trust you.”

But the trust was meaningless. You had your orders, your mission. And that mission wasn’t to protect him. It was to survive.

With a swift motion, you twisted his head to the side. His body went limp instantly, the bones in his neck snapping like a twig, the life leaving his eyes in an instant.

The cannon fired immediately after. The sound deafening, final.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you stood over his lifeless form, your hands slick with blood. It didn’t matter how much your heart ached in that moment. It had to be ended before he suffered a worse fate. The worry was setting you off focus -- and even if you'd tried to save him, to bring him home, it wouldn't have worked. You couldn't act as well as Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. It would've cost you too much.

You stood over Reid’s body, your chest heaving with a mixture of exhaustion and something darker—something you didn’t want to acknowledge. But then, as you looked down at him, something unexpected happened.

A single tear, clear and cold, slipped from the corner of your eye and ran down your cheek. It was slow at first, as if the reality of what you had just done was finally settling in. The warmth of it contrasted sharply with the coldness of your heart, and for the first time in a long while, you felt the weight of your actions.

You quickly wiped it away, as if the motion could erase the moment. But it stayed with you, the faint trace of moisture on your skin, lingering like a whisper of the person you used to be—the one who might have hesitated, the one who might have saved him.

But you couldn’t afford that weakness now.

With one last glance at Reid, you turned and disappeared into the jungle, the tear still burning a path on your face, even as you moved further away from everything that had just happened. The silence swallowed you whole, and the only thing left was the sound of the jungle and the fading memory of a decision made in the name of survival.

[k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl-wr1t1ng]

The M3duS4 Protocol 

Part 1.0

Rubble shifts and slides under slender pointed feet. The dark haze of night shrouding her swift movements through the crumbling streets, the abandoned machine world silent around her as she darts from shadow to shadow. Her almost impossibly dark chassis perfectly suited for infiltration and stealth, reduced now to slinking around like an old world rat. Void pauses as she reaches a jagged opening in the floor in front of her, the edges of the pit’s yawning maw partially melted and gnarled. Void’s sensors begin to scan and calculate, she has no idea what weapon could have caused this damage but she does notice its trajectory, all the damage bent outwards, towards the sky. Whatever it was came from bellow and fired out, and hopefully, if she’s lucky, continued that way itself. She knows she has to decide quickly, spending as long as she has inside such an active zone without an encounter is a miracle, and she’ll need a few more if she’s gonna make it out intact.

A silent sigh escapes her body, she cant afford to stay out in the open any longer. Gingerly she starts her descent, every step carefully placed as to not create any noise, the pile of metal left over from whatever rampaged through here making a convenient staircase down into the dark under-city. Her sensors carefully scanning the room as the sky above her is replaced by thick metal. Her nimble body quickly swallowed by the total darkness of the streets below.

Without the natural moonlight lighting her path, and the thick machined walls insulating her from the world above, Void now relies solely on her other sensors to navigate. Her infrared scanners detecting nothing but the cold, lifeless metal all around her. She could easily get lost down here, with thousands of identical rooms and rundown corridors all it would take is one slip up. Void forces the thought from her CPU.

We need to focus

Continuing along her path she continues to scan each branching pathway for a potential exit, unsure what such an exit would look like, but remaining confident she would know it when she sees it. The dark corridors feel almost alien to her, the old world used to be so fascinating and incredible. She would spend hours studying everything about it. In the hopes that it would make her more capable, better at keeping everyone safe...

Just stay calm, we can alwa-

A loud clanging rings out from beneath her as her foot collides with something she hadn't noticed laying in her path. The sound reverberates off the walls, no doubt alerting anything nearby of her presence.

Fuck

Void freezes in the growing silence as the sounds bouncing around her fizzle out, every sensor in her body working overtime in a desperate attempt to detect any reactions to her fumble. Bitter memories rise up in her memory banks, flashes of a similar situation, decades ago, forever burnt into her core, pain and fear elevating throughout her system in equal measure. Distorted screams impossible to forget.

A heavy force slams into Void’s left side, distracted in the depths of her own memories she didn't sense it approaching until she was already halfway to the ground. Her light, metal frame slams hard into the cold, unforgiving floor as the force in her side crashes down with her. Scrambling under the weight above her, panicking as she gets her hands beneath her chassis, the lithe body of her assailant slowly coming into focus as her sensors turn towards it. A lightweight, civilian frame containing a mess of wires and rusted metal, two poorly connected arms on either side of its torso grasping and scratching desperately towards her.

“Get off me!” Void screamed, hoping in vain that it would understand.

The bot opened its mouth in what looked like an attempt at communication but all that escaped its throat was the sound of ancient parts grinding together, its voice module long since decayed. Not that communication would have helped her. The frenzied movements and ancient design indicated clearly what she feared, the bots core had already completely destabilised, its body acting on nothing more than instinct and impossibly faded memories.

Flailing desperately Void gives the bot a shove with all the strength she can muster. Despite the civilian design it doesn't budge, the four arms and angle of approach giving it a significant advantage.

Knife

Void scrambles to keep the clawing hands at bay as she reaches her free hand down to her thigh, a small click and the outer casing slides apart revealing a small compartment containing a dark metal rod. Clumsily she grasps at the bar, forcing it into her grip. Almost instantly, as if knowing the danger present, a slim blade slides out from within the dark steel. Quickly she takes the blade and thrusts it as hard as she can into the closest shoulder. Something bursts inside the bots body as the blade tears through it, a dark liquid spurting out of the wound and any gaps within the already damaged chassis. The bot, seemingly unbothered by this explosion, continues to grasp and claw into her armour. Void braces her other arm against the bots chest, remembering her training, and slams the knife back down. This time into the exposed wiring coiling up its neck. Almost instantly the bot buckles above her, both its right arms collapsing to the floor, its torso falling flat against Void’s chest.

Sensing her moment, Void pushes with all her might against the partially disabled bot, her body sliding out from underneath it. Clambering to her feet she breaks into a sprint down the corridor, her mind spinning as she desperately tries to escape the now dangerously noisy area.

Synthetic adrenaline surges through her system as she dismisses several warning alerts flashing across her visor. Her panicked movements desperately working to get her as far away as possible. Struggling in the dark she finally spots a branching corridor to duck down, her feet sliding and sparking against the floor as she drifts around the corner, almost slamming into the opposite wall.

Peaking back behind her as she runs, another warning burns through her system, this time a proximity warning. Confusion fills her core, quickly replaced by fear when she turns back to face a burning bolt of plasma rushing towards her, almost the width of the corridor. She dives to the ground, the impossibly scorching heat partially colliding with her left arm as she falls. Another flurry of warnings rocket through her as she once again slams into the hard metal flooring.

Looking up with a long, distorted moan, Void attempts to discern the source of the projectile. She suddenly makes out a large, hulking form limping its way towards her. Six crab like legs straining to hold up a heavy weapons platform, an incredibly ancient warbot. Its design so old it could only have been built during some human war, long ago lost to time.

Multiple targeting lasers circle the dark space, most of them slowly coming to focus on her centre mass, a few others pointing off in seemingly random directions. Void drags her limbs closer underneath her in a desperate attempt to stand and fight. Her servos screaming at her as they fail to give her what she wants. Void sighs, accepting her fate, letting herself think back to those deep, desperate memories. Her body failing her now as it did back then.

I’m sorry

Before Void is able to fall too far into her shame, the entire floor lurches beneath her, a deep rumbling pulses through her body. A deafening explosion roars from somewhere behind her and the entire space around her is shifted and distorted. Void is thrown from her prone position forcefully into the ceiling, before dropping back down onto the now rapidly collapsing floor, the structure disintegrating and warping around her faster than she can process. Watching as the ancient warbot across from her is sucked through the floor, its towering form swallowed by the darkness below.

Attempting to avoid a similar fate, Void thrusts her knife deep into the wall in front of her. Almost as quickly as the knife enters the wall does the floor crack and sunder beneath her, being torn away by whatever force propelled the explosion. Her entire body briefly suspended in the stale air. Gravity quickly takes hold, her form plummeting downwards before jolting to a stop, anchored to the wall by her blade. Her relief is short lived as her her arm is torn from its housing, shorn wires sparking, lighting up the darkness as she falls fast. Warnings and alerts fill her vision, her entire system screaming at her one final time as the impact ruptures something within her, sensors and servos lose power almost instantly, her consciousness only seconds behind. Her limp body pathetically falling through the dark before thudding into a metallic surface one last time.

~~~~~

I'm currently saving up for a tattoo (as well as just trying to survive) so if you wanna support me know it would go to a hot as fuck tattoo hehe - Ko-Fi

[theresattrpgforthat]

Mint Runs Games - And You're Invited!

Hello folks, I'm running another one-shot in the Open Hearth Gaming Community, on Saturday, April 26!

External Containment Bureau is a game of paranormal investigation and bureaucracy using a lightweight, hackable version of the Forged in the Dark design framework. You play as trained agents of the External Containment Bureau, an organization tasked with the study, identification, and containment of paranormal phenomena.

If you are interested, you can sign up here!

You can also enter the Open Hearth Discord here!

[cherry-blossom-qf]

Before the year is officially over (at least in my time zone) here's some fun facts about my mago's y'all would probably like:

Skylander Magolor - Has ridden on the back of the some of the winged skylanders during the years his magic was setback and still does to this day as most of them fly much faster than him. The winged skylanders he rides on don't mind this, as he is extremely lightweight.

Necromancy Magolor - He has studied in both magic and business just like the rest the magos on list (except for Magomon), but Necro's the only mago here that has some studies in medicine. I think the reason for this is pretty obvious. But at least his cult members get free medical treatment... from a unlicensed doctor... oh dear.

Undertale Magolor - When I was first designing UT's underground look, his color palette was almost going be green and yellow and the lore behind that was going to be Toriel making his new clothes out of Asriel's old ones. That was until I realized that a little morally messed up. So I changed the colors and changed the lore to being that his underground clothes were made out of some of Toriel's old robes.

Promise Prince Magolor - During the design process for him, he was almost about to have a much darker and not so kid-friendly story, with Prince being some kind of "love-slave" (to put it lightly) and the Oakley being a somewhat toxic lover (like one of those very questionable romance webtoon comics). But then the idea of this AU having Beauty and The Beast troupes came to mind and I IMMEDIATELY jumped on that bandwagon as that was the kind of romantic storytelling I actually enjoyed!

Blind Magolor - The mask he wears over his eyes is just as reflective as a mirror. So when he holds hands with someone to look through that person's eyes, he's able to see their face if the person looks at his mask.

Freelancer Magolor - The gun he uses (USP Match Pistol) was actually recommended by a friend of mine who knows all about firearms. I asked him "what's a gun that's beginner friendly and easy for me to draw?" and he gave me that.

Magomon - He shares some traits with the BlackGatomon line, so if this was a completely different story, he could evolve into a LadyDevimon.



[imtrashraccoon]

Normally I would write the characters in some sort of competition or playing a board game for a prompt like this, but not this time.

TW: Implied/Referenced Alcoholism

First & Next Day

@owl-bones

Bad Sansuary II: Dust - Show Off

Word Count: 1,781

Night had fallen hours ago and you had headed out with Reven to look for any suspicious activity, splitting up to cover more ground and to avoid the patrols. Unfortunately, there were a lot of guards, so much so, that you weren't able to do much investigating. As a result, you ended up studying the guards instead and noticed something odd.

All of them had a large symbol of a purple eye painted on their helmets. You hadn't thought this was that unusual earlier, but now you noticed that the symbols varied in design. Some were larger, others more sloppily painted, and yet they all had the same distinct outline of an open eye. It was a rather crude symbol, too simple for a military standard, and seemed to have nothing to do with the city itself nor the kingdoms nearby.

Hearing footsteps, you abruptly reached for your dagger, only to make eye contact with Reven. He paused and eyed you warily for a moment, moving closer when you relaxed again. You waited until he joined you leaning against the wall before saying anything.

"Did you notice the amount of guards in the streets?" you whispered. "Certainly seems like overkill to me..."

Reven nodded in a thoughtful sort of way. "yeah, it was annoying," he grumbled.

"Have you ever seen a symbol like the one on their armour?"

"nah, but there's a weird temple with the same symbol plastered all over." He held up a dark bottle you hadn't noticed earlier and chuckled. "someone in this damn city has good taste in offerings though."

"What?" you hissed, turning to look at him fully. "Why would you steal from a shrine?!"

He raised a bonebrow at your outburst but otherwise seemed unfazed. You could only stare at him in shock, hardly believing he had actually just stolen from a holy place. Apparently, he was more insane than you had first thought.

"it was going to waste." He shrugged and popped the cork before adding, "why should i care about a god i've never heard of?" You watched silently as he took a swig from the bottle of spirits. "why did i have to get picked for this? i'd rather be anywhere else but this stupid city..."

With a sigh, you motioned for the bottle. "Yeah, but it could be worse. We could be trekking through a desert and be dealing with sand or heat."

Reven nodded solemnly and passed the bottle over.

You took a swig and nearly coughed, finding the spirits much stronger than you had been expecting, but managing to swallow it down. You weren't a lightweight by any means, but you had a feeling you wouldn't be able to drink much of the alcohol without suffering the consequences.

"What's really bothering you?" you asked while passing the bottle back.

He grunted and took another drink. Apparently he wasn't interested in talking and his brooding act was starting to get on your nerves. So, you tried a different approach.

"I never took you as the religious type," you hummed softly, motioning at the Rytos amulet he was still wearing.

His mismatched eyelights flared up for split second and you had to bite your tongue in an effort to keep a straight face. Judging by his reaction, you had a feeling you were on the right track. Now you just had to coax the answer out somehow.

"If you just tell me what's wrong, I promise I won't bother you about it for the rest of the mission."

He stared at you for a moment, his red eyelights glimmering with irritation and another emotion you couldn't place your paw on.

"tell you what," he started to say, his voice low and dangerous. "if you think you can hold your liquor and beat me in a drinking contest, i'll tell you."

You glanced at the bottle, watching the way the dark liquid seemed to leap with every subtle movement of his arm. You should put a stop to this foolish plan right away. Both of you needed to keep a level head and the last thing you wanted was to get charged with public intoxication. Still, you really wanted to get to the root of the problem.

"Fine," you sighed. "What are the terms?"

Reven thought for a moment. "we take turns, taking a drink and asking a question. if either of us don't want to answer, we take two drinks." He grinned maniacally at you and held out the bottle. "sound fair? or are you too chicken?"

You rolled your brown eyes. "Please, I eat chickens for dinner," you muttered and took a swig from the bottle. The liquor burned going down, but you were determined to drink the spellsword under the proverbial table. "Did the amulet belong to someone?" you asked.

He frowned and shook his head. "it was always mine," he huffed. You watched as he took another drink, mentally noting that this might be a sore topic for him.

"how did it feel to kill someone for the first time?"

You felt a chill run down your spine at his cold tone of voice. He wasn't looking directly at you, but in the dark of the alley, the red of his eyelights seemed to glow brighter than usual. You hadn't even considered what questions he would ask and now you were wondering if this game had been a mistake.

"It was...exhilarating," you murmured. "We were told it was all part of the job and not to let it get in the way of our duties, but no matter what I do, nothing compares to that first taste of EXP."

Reven grunted in response and passed you the bottle.

You took a deep breath and chased it with another drink, wiping your muzzle on your hide bracer. "When did you leave the Order of Rytos?"

"nine years, five months, and twelve days."

You didn't expect him to be so straightforward, staring at him for a moment before realizing he was waiting for you to pass the bottle back.

He swirled the contents around for a moment, staring down at the cobblestone in thought before tipping it back once more. "would you ever want to see your family again?" he asked quietly.

Family. The word felt bitter on your tongue and sat like a pit in your gut. You didn't have many back in your old kingdom, but they would have been informed of your death. As far as they knew, you had died a warrior's death during the failed attack on the Dark Fortress. If you were to see them again, that image of your legacy would be shattered and there would be questions. Questions that you didn't want to consider answering. Of course you missed them, but you also couldn't bear the thought of disappointing them.

Wordlessly, you took the bottle and downed two gulps of the powerful liquid. Your body shuddered at the harsh taste, but other than your eyes beginning to water, you maintained your dignity.

"i figured as much," Reven commented and took back the bottle. Without hesitation, he drained the last of the contents and set it down on the cobblestone.

You gave him a confused look. "I didn't even ask you anything..."

He shrugged, still not making eye contact. "you were going to."

You huffed and looked up at the night sky. He must have cottoned on to your line of questioning and now you weren't sure what to do next. You could already feel the buzz from the alcohol and if you weren't careful, you had a feeling you would be a complete mess in the morning.

The fur on the back of your neck prickled and you got the distinct sense of being watched. Half turning around, you caught Reven staring and for a moment, you said nothing, only staring back to see if he'd realize and get the hint.

As the unofficial staring contest stretched on, his permanent grin sharpened with an odd sense of glee. "you have a higher tolerance than i thought for someone so small," he commented with a dry laugh.

"Excuse me? I'm only a little bit shorter than you." You crossed your arms, feeling your fur bristle and the tip of your tail twitch with irritation. "Look, I just... I have plenty of experience."

He nodded, letting out another bitter sounding chuckle. "yeah... some demons can never be defeated." He clutched at the amulet and sighed. "acting as paladin again has brought up...a lot of dark memories that i prefer to keep buried. it doesn't help that perez has been...angrier than usual."

"Who's Perez?"

Reven's skull whipped around as if he had been slapped. His eyelights had shrunk down to little pinpricks of angry crimson and he clenched his fists at his sides. You stumbled back, but before you could make a run for it, he opened his mouth to speak.

"perez is my brother," he said in a now deathly calm tone of voice.

The cool night air seemed to turn frigid and you inadvertently shivered. Your fur stood on end and your breath came in short gasps as your heart threatened to explode in your chest. In that moment, you felt compelled to look around, to search for a presence that wasn't there, and yet, you couldn't shake the eerie feeling in your gut.

"W-why...is he angry...?" you whispered, your nerves finally getting the better of you.

"because i killed him."

Your mouth dropped open in shock at his admission, but before you could even begin to process it, his expression darkened and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

"no...i didn't! i love him... i wouldn't-!"

He suddenly dropped to his knees, clawing at his skull, barely registering the resulting harsh sounds of his steel gauntlets scraping against the bone. He kept muttering variations of denial over and over as his voice grew rougher by the second. Purple tears pooled at the corners of his eye sockets before cascading down his cheekbones and to the cobblestone below.

For a moment, you stood there frozen, not knowing what to do. Your partner had just admitted to familicide and then denied it in the same breath. How were you supposed to react? Should you say something? The longer you hesitated, the more you began to feel bad for him. He was clearly having a mental breakdown and you wanted to run away? No, you couldn't leave him alone in a place like this.

Moving carefully so as to not startle him, you knelt down in front of him and took his hands in your own. "It's okay, I'm here if you need me, Reven."

[metalbvcky]

METALVCKY 2024 STUCKY MASTERLIST

Another year, more cake!!! I'm unstoppable 🥳 Last year, I finished Aster and began brainstorming/outlining No Cure For Love, but I also managed to slip a few oneshots in between as usual.

This year, 2025, I'll be focusing on No Cure for Love, a secret MTH fic, and very possibly the overdue Bloom!Verse wedding fic (the muse is currently making lots of noise for that one...). I also want to continue/finish Daddy's Himbo whenever that muse returns. So all in all, plenty of multi-chapters to go around!

Shelves of Aster - E - 126,517 (26/26) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Bookstore AU, Sugar Daddy, Age Difference, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Top/Dom Steve, Bottom/Sub Bucky

A career in design has given Steve wealth and friends, but no partner. StarkTech rules the appliance industry, and the latest device has kept Steve from the dating world. Steve wishes he had time to jump back into the scene, find a new sub or a sugar baby, maybe someone to spoil.

Running into a store minutes before closing would soon show Steve what he’s been missing.

Bucky's life has had its ups and downs. His asshole ex threw him away shortly after moving to Brooklyn, which left him without a place to live. The owner of a local bookstore, the same woman he befriended while studying for finals, had been kind enough to ‘adopt’ him on that dreadful night.

Between freelance writing and a part-time job, Bucky doesn’t know when he’ll get laid. He wants a boyfriend. Romantic dinners, movie night cuddle sessions, and sexual experiences he’s only dreamed about.

What's the chance they're both kinky?

A Daddy's Himbo - E - 8,761 (2/? TBC) - Modern AU, Exes to Lovers, BDSM, Dom/sub, Getting Back Together, Sub Steve, Dom Bucky

It’s been well over a decade since Bucky moved to the west coast in search of different opportunities. He left his old life in New York behind, and even though starting from scratch sucks balls, he made it work. The leather and kink community opened their arms to him and he was reborn.

Then years later, he's offered to help out an established kink festival. The problem? It's on the other coast. But he's a professional dom, and he's not one to betray the community that got him here today.

What he hadn't expected, however, was running into an ex on the day of preparations.

His old sub.

A Bed Cluttered with Rosebuds - E - 4,785 (1/1) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Established Relationship, Domestic, Dom/sub, Top/Dom Steve, Bottom/Sub Bucky

Steve slams the driver seat door closed with an overdue sigh. Work was mentally draining today. Hours of countless, boring meetings. Far too many, far too long away from the sweet boy he comes home to. His sweetheart, his baby, his Bucky.

Like a good boyfriend, Steve brings pizza and wine for the two of them to share. While lounging in bed. Because lazy evenings are best spent with a loving partner.

The night doesn't end there.

“Tell me, Kitten,” Steve says, resuming to stroke Bucky’s hip, down his thighs. “How would you feel about strong, teasing patterns? If Sir fucked your pretty face at the same time?”

“Please,” Bucky outright begs. The needy sound has Steve’s briefs tightening, arousal increasing from the eroticness. “Please, Sir. Want everything. Your cock. The toy. Need it so bad.”

Steve chuckles darkly. He has the best sub in the world.

Tonight We Ride - E - 2,058 (1/1) - Canon, Established Relationship, Smut, Couch Sex, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky

Bucky might be a drama queen when it comes to sex with Steve.

It's no secret, okay? When your best friend of several decades goes from a super skinny twink to a Greek god of sex appeal, well, don't blame Bucky for drooling and ogling.                                                            “These,” Steve grunts, palms tugging at the lightweight fabric encasing Bucky’s thick upper thighs, “need to come off. Now.”

The shorts (short shorts) are removed in a desperate haste. Bucky barely has time to get them off his ankles and onto the floor before Steve pulls him closer, all the way down until Bucky’s freed cock brushes against soft fleece. His mind is still stuck in the gutter when two flat pads circle the surrounding area of his rim, dry skin against skin. There’s a groan, and then the pornographic sight of Steve sliding his fingers over his tongue, twice.

“Oh god, Steve.”

I Think We're a Pizzeria Now (There Doesn't Seem to be Any Marinara Around) - M - 7,526 (1/1) - Shrunkyclunks, Mob AU, Post 2012 Avengers, Opposites Attract, Drunk Steve, Mob Boss Bucky

All right look. Steve only wanted a pizza. The building seemed decent enough, and Steve's drunken state of mind assumed the pizzeria sign meant local freshly made pies. He stumbled inside and took a seat in a booth, too drunk to notice the absent aroma of baked bread, tomatoes, and mozzarella.

The staff in the back seemed to be taking an awfully long time, but Steve could wait. He looked over the decor to pass the time, while pot and pans and an occasional scream blended in the background. At some point he dozed off. Then his hunger became more apparent, and a redhead woman shoved a couple of small cakes into his hand and told him to eat.

Later, Steve would learn the establishment was not a restaurant. But the headquarters of a mafia group.

And the mafia boss was not happy to see Captain America in his domain.

Or was he?

The Lost Footage - E - 2,035 (1/1) - Pornstar AU, Established Relationship, Daddy Kink, Light Dom/sub, PWP, Top Steve, Bottom Bucky

“I watched a video of you,” Bucky blurts, unable to stop his tongue.

Steve leans back, face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“The— The bondage video. I didn’t know it existed until Clint texted me and I couldn’t not look because the link was there and—”

“Baby boy,” Steve coos, voice deepening. “Did you get off to Daddy being fucked?”

The evidence in his shorts turns Bucky on harder.

“You were so hot, Daddy,” Bucky says, cheeks dusted with arousal.

Winter's Indulgent Sugary Sweets - T - 10,403 (1/1) - Shrunkyclunks, Bakery AU, Baking, Baker Bucky, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Christmas Fluff, Meet-Cute

Two weeks before Christmas, Bucky, somehow or someway, becomes the sole baker for the Avengers.

Bucky gladly accepts the order, of course, but he never thought it would lead to hours upon hours of time-consuming work. Cookies are now the bane of Bucky's existence.

There is one nice thing... Captain America. In his bakery. Broad shoulders and all.

God, Bucky could lick the sugar off of his lips.

-----

TUMBLR FICLETS

A Snowy Getaway (Steve/Bucky/Natasha) - T - 481 (1/1) - Ficlet, Moodboard, Cabin Fic, Snowed In, Crack, Fluff, Team Bonding, Fourth Wheel Clint

There's No Cure For Love (snippet) - T - 256 (1/1) - Ficlet/Summary, Moodboard, Medical AU, Doctor Steve, Patient Bucky

The Wedding of Rogers-Barnes - T - 83 (1/1) - Modern AU (Bloom!Verse), Ficlet/Summary, Moodboard, Fluff, Weddings, Romance

[journeytothewestresearch]

I've heard the idea that Monkey is 7 times immortal thrown around a couple times, but my count has only ever gone up to 4 (the peaches, the pills, the wine, and his daoist studies). How immortal IS Monkey?

(Note 09-07-2024: I am going to edit this for more clarity. It will differ from previously shared versions.)

I count eight categories of immortality.

In place of using “layer” or “level,” I’m choosing to designate his various immortalities as “categories.” This is because a new layer of divine longevity or durability would surely be added for each immortal peach, elixir pill, or cup/jug of heavenly wine consumed. Hence, eating multiple peaches would be one category, eating multiple elixir pills would be one category, and so on and so forth.

There are two sets. The first are achieved before or during the journey:

1) Daoist Longevity Arts - Ch. 2

I discuss the exact methods here.

A photomanipulation by me.

2) Erasing Allotted Lifespan - Ch. 3

[After Monkey is summoned to hell in his sleep and thereafter threatens to beat the Judges of Hell for their mistake] The Ten Kings immediately had the judge in charge of the records bring out his [Sun's] books for examination. The judge, who did not dare tarry, hastened into a side room and brought out five or six books of documents and the ledgers on the tens species of living beings ... He [Monkey] had, therefore, a separate ledger, which Wukong examined himself.  Under the heading "Soul 1350" he found the name Sun Wukong recorded, with the description: "Heaven-born Stone Monkey. Age: three hundred and forty-two years. A good end." Wukong said, "I really don't remember my age. All I want is to erase my name. Bring me a brush." The judge hurriedly fetched the brush and soaked it in heavy ink. Wukong took the ledger on monkeys and crossed out all the names he could find in it. Throwing down the ledger, he said, "That ends the account! That ends the account! Now I'm truly not your subject" (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, pp. 140-141).

A print from the Japanese children book Son Goku (1939).

3) Immortal Peaches - Ch. 5

[After being appointed the guardian of the Queen Mother of the West's immortal peach groves] The Great Sage ... asked the local spirit, "How many trees are there?" "There are three thousand six hundred," said the local spirit. "In the front are one thousand two hundred trees with little flowers and small fruits. These ripen once every three thousand years, and after one taste of them a man will become an immortal enlightened in the Way, with healthy limbs and a lightweight body. In the middle are one thousand two hundred trees of layered flowers and sweet fruits. They ripen once every six thousand years. If a man eats them, he will ascend to Heaven with the mist and never grow old. At the back are one thousand two hundred trees with fruits of purple veins and pale yellow pits. These ripen once every nine thousand years and, if eaten, will make a man's age equal to that of Heaven and Earth, the sun and the moon..." One day he [Monkey] saw that more than half of the peaches on the branches of the older trees had ripened, and he wanted very much to eat one and sample its novel taste. Closely followed, however, by the local spirit of the garden, the stewards, and the divine attendants of the Equal to Heaven Residence, he found it inconvenient to do so. He therefore devised a plan on the spur of the moment and said to them, "Why don't you all wait for me outside and let me rest a while in this arbor?" The various immortals withdrew accordingly. That Monkey King then took off his cap and robe and climbed up into a big tree. He selected the large peaches that were thoroughly ripened and, plucking many of them, ate to his heart's content right on the branches. Only after he had his fill did he jump down from the tree. Pinning back his cap and donning his robe, he called for his train of followers to return to the residence. After two or three days, he used the same device to steal peaches to gratify himself once again One day the Lady Queen Mother decided to open wide her treasure chamber and to give a banquet for the Grand Festival of Immortal Peaches, which was to be held in the Palace of the Jasper Pool. She ordered the various Immortal Maidens ... to go with their flower baskets to the Garden of Immortal Peaches and pick the fruits for the festival ... [After meeting with the Great Sage's ministers] The local spirit went into the garden with them; they found their way to the arbor but saw no one. Only the cap and the robe were left in the arbor, but there was no person to be seen. The Great Sage, you see, had played for a while and eaten a number of peaches. He had then changed himself into a figure only two inches high and, perching on the branch of a large tree, had fallen asleep under the cover of thick leaves (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, pp. 161-162).

A new years print found online.

4) Immortal Wine - Ch. 5

Our Great Sage could not make an end of staring at the scene [the heavenly feast set for the Immortal Peach Banquet] when he suddenly felt the overpowering aroma of wine ... standing beside the jars and leaning on the barrels, he abandoned himself to drinking. After feasting for a long, he became thoroughly drunk... [...] [After returning to Flower Fruit Mountain and meeting with his children, he says] "When I was enjoying myself this morning at the Jasper Pool, I saw many jars and jugs in the corridor full of the juices of jade [yuye qiongjiang, 玉液瓊漿; lit: "Jade liquid and jade syrup"], which you have never savored. Let me go back [to heaven] and steal a few bottles to bring down here. Just drink half a cup, and each of you will live longer without growing old" ... He took two large bottles, one under each arm, and carried two more in his hands. Reversing the direction of his cloud, he returned to the monkeys in the cave. They held their own Festival of Immortal Wine [Xianjiu hui, 仙酒會], with each one drinking a few cups" (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, pp. 165 and 167).

A screenshot from the 1986 Journey to the West TV show.

5) Immortal Elixir - Ch. 5

[After Sun Wukong drunkenly stumbles into Laozi's laboratory in the Tushita Heaven] He found no one but saw fire burning in an oven beside the hearth, and around the oven were five gourds in which finished elixir was stored. "This thing is the greatest treasure of immortals," said the Great Sage happily. "Since old Monkey has understood the Way and comprehended the mystery of the Internal's identity with the External, I have also wanted to produce some golden elixir on my own to benefit people. While I have been too busy at other times even to think about going home to enjoy myself, good fortune has met me at the door today and presented me with this! As long as Laozi is not around, I'll take a few tablets and try the taste of something new." He poured out the contents of all the gourds and ate them like fried beans (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, p. 166).

A detail from the 1835 Japanese translation of Journey to the West.

6) Ginseng Tree Fruit - Ch. 24

In the mountain there was a Daoist Abbey called the Five Villages Abbey [Wu zhuang guan, 五莊觀]; it was the abode of an immortal whose Daoist style [name] was Master Shenyuan [Shenyuan zi, 鎮元子] and whose nickname was Lord, Equal to Earth [Shi tong jun, 世同君]. There was, moreover, a strange treasure grown in this temple, a spiritual root that was formed just after chaos had been parted and the nebula had been established prior to the division of Heave and Earth. Throughout the four great continents of the world, it could be found in only the Five Villages Abbey in the West Aparagodaniya Continent. This treasure was called grass of the reverted cinnabar [cao huan dan, 草還丹], or the ginseng fruit [renshen guo, 人參果]. It took three thousand years for the plant to bloom, another three thousand years to bear fruit, and still another three thousand years before they ripened. All in all, it would be nearly ten thousand years before they could be eaten, and even after such a long time, there would be only thirty such fruits. The shape of the fruit was exactly that of a newborn infant not yet three days old, complete with the four limbs and the five senses. If a man had the good fortune of even smelling the fruit, he would live for three hundred and sixty years; if he ate one he would reach his forty-seven thousandth year. [After Wukong learns the complicated method of harvesting the fruit] Parting the leaves and branches, he knocked three of the fruits into the sack ... The three of them [Monkey and his brothers] took the fruits and began to enjoy them (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 1, pp. 453 and 462-463).

Monkey holding ginseng tree fruit. Image found online.

This previous article talks about the history of this magical fruit.

Sun Wukong is not truly immortal during the journey, just long-lived and hard to kill. Immortality in Ming to Qing-era popular literature means that you can live for a long time but still die if injured badly enough. Think of it like an infinitely long candle being blown out instead of having a chance to burn for centuries or eons. For example, Investiture of the Gods (Fengshen yanyi, 封神演義, c. 1620), a sort of prequel to Journey to the West, is full of immortals killed in battle with heavenly weapons. Some even have their immortality sapped away before dying in one of many celestial traps. The biggest of these traps is the "Ten Thousand Immortal Array" (Wanxian zhen, 萬仙陣), so named because it can apparently kill myriad transcendents.

The second set of immortalities are achieved at the journey’s end once they reach the Buddha’s blessed land. These shouldn’t be lumped together with those acquired before and during the pilgrimage.

7) Divine food and tea - ch. 98

Then Buddha turned to call out: "Ananda and Kasyapa, take the four of them to the space beneath the precious tower. Give them a vegetarian meal first. After the maigre, open our treasure loft for them and select a few scrolls from each of the thirty-five divisions of our three canons, so that they may take them back to the Land of the East as a perpetual token of grace." The two Honored Ones obeyed and took the four pilgrims to the space beneath the tower, where countless rare dainties and exotic treasures were laid out in a seemingly endless spread. Those deities in charge of offerings and sacrifices began to serve a magnificent feast of divine food, tea, and fruit-viands [仙餚、仙茶、仙果] of a hundred flavors completely different from those of the mortal world. After master and disciples had bowed to give thanks to Buddha, they abandoned themselves to enjoyment (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 4, p. 349). [...] This time it was Eight Rules who was in luck and Sha Monk who had the advantage, for what the Buddhist Patriarch had provided for their complete enjoyment was nothing less than such viands as could grant them longevity and health and enable them to transform their mortal substance into immortal flesh and bones [... 壽長生，脫胎換骨之饌，儘著他受用。] (Wu & Yu, 2012, vol. 4, p. 350).

While the quote refers directly to Zhu and Sha, Monkey certainly benefits from the meal as well, gaining another category of immortality.

Monkey eating yummy food.

8) Buddhahood - ch. 100

Sun Wukong, when you caused great disturbance at the Celestial Palace, I had to exercise enormous dharma power to have you pressed beneath the Mountain of Five Phases. Fortunately your Heaven-sent calamity came to an end, and you embraced the Buddhist religion. I am pleased even more by the fact that you were devoted to the scourging of evil and the exaltation of good. Throughout your journey you made great merit by smelting the demons and defeating the fiends. For being faithful in the end as you were in the beginning, I hereby give you the grand promotion and appoint you the Buddha Victorious in Strife [Dou zhansheng fo, 鬥戰勝佛] (Wu & Yu, 2012, p. 381).

I'm adding this as another immortality category since as a Buddha, he is now completely free of the wheel of reincarnation.

It’s important to note that the novel ends before Monkey is able to perform any feats as a Buddha. Therefore, making claims about his subsequent abilities is outside of canon.

A lovely drawing of Sun Wukong as a Buddha by the talented @ninjahaku21art.

Source:

Wu, C., & Yu, A. C. (2012). The Journey to the West (Vols. 1-4) (Rev. ed.). Chicago, Illinois: University of Chicago Press.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Renault DeZir Concept, 2010 (including brochure). An all-electric concept car that was revealed at the 2010 Paris Motor Show. It featured a 148bhp electric motor and a Kevlar body, weighing just 830kg, allowing it to accelerate from 0 to 62 mph in 5 seconds. The DeZir was designed to showcase Renault's future design and technology directions, particularly in electric vehicles. 

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Novel framework allows for tunable ultrasound propagation in microscale metamaterials

Acoustic metamaterials—architected materials that have tailored geometries designed to control the propagation of acoustic or elastic waves through a medium—have been studied extensively through computational and theoretical methods. Physical realizations of these materials to date have been restricted to large sizes and low frequencies. "The multifunctionality of metamaterials—being simultaneously lightweight and strong while having tunable acoustic properties—make them great candidates for use in extreme-condition engineering applications," explains Carlos Portela, the Robert N. Noyce Career Development Chair and assistant professor of mechanical engineering at MIT. "But challenges in miniaturizing and characterizing acoustic metamaterials at high frequencies have hindered progress towards realizing advanced materials that have ultrasonic-wave control capabilities."

Read more.

[thebeetleguy]

Quick warning: there are images of arachnids towards the end of this post.

Something about Subnautica’s biology has me really really normal about it as of late. In anticipation for the release of Subnautica 2 I’ve decided I’ll dedicate a portion of my time every day to studying the physical anatomy of Subnautica and Subnautica: Below Zero’s more interesting fauna because they’re interesting and weird!!!!!! Love them.

My opening thoughts are the Chelicerate. It’s classified as a Leviathan-Class creature in Sector Zero of 4546B. There are two types of Chelicerate. The main one you meet is the red one pictured above. Though, if you go beyond the natural limits of the map, you will encounter the Void Chelicerate at the edge of the sector.

General assumption and geographical analysis leads one to the conclusion that Sector Zero of 4546B and the main zone we play in in the original Subnautica game are separated by a large expanse of ecologically dead waters. The only two creatures we know to be capable of surviving in these waters are Void Chelicerates and adult Ghost Leviathans, a species from the prior game that I’ll discuss at a later date.

Now, the Chelicerate is a large predator, albeit on the smaller scale for Leviathan-Class fauna, that uses its four mandibles to trap prey and keep it from escaping. The game’s official databank entry states the following:

“ These large mandibles of the chelicerate are composed of a bony material that crushes and saws through bones and muscle with ease. The mandibles open up while the backward facing teeth dig into flesh and prevent easy escape. The prey is pulled towards the chelicerate's mouth and devoured.”

As we can see, the chelicerate hunts aggressively with a “trap and catch” method of hunting we see in real-world marine fauna like the monkfish, which uses it’s mouth to trap and hold prey. This hunting method is brutally effective when scaled up to a creature the size of a chelicerate, especially considering their lightweight, maneuverable build. This also allows the chelicerate to grasp objects, like Robin’s submersible vehicles, and damage them.

Rather uniquely on 4546B, the chelicerate sports a segmented exoskeleten with flexible plates that allow it to maneuver and move with agility through the water while also protecting it from the pressure of 4546B’s gravity. Very cool!

> “The chelicerate’s body is made of a thick segmented exoskeleton. The exoskeleton grows in flexible overlapping plates. This provides protection from the atmospheric pressure while giving the chelicerate the maneuverability to easily pursue prey.”

I think the thing I liked most about the chelicerate when viewing its in-game model and animations was that it moved like a whale, with horizontal tail fins that pushed it through the water with an up and down movement of its tail rather than a side-to-side movement we’d see in modern fish and shark species. This really feels right for them especially considering the way the plates of the exoskeleton overlap and lay on each other which would (reasonable assumption) make much side-to-side movement restricted and awkward to pull off.

Subnautica is infamously good at drawing inspiration from real-world animals and applying design aspects of those animals to these alien creatures in a way that feels familiar but unique and fascinating in its’ own way. The chelicerate is no exception. Named after the subphylum “chelicerata” they, fittingly, resemble species under the chelicerata subphylum like horseshoe crabs or eurypterid. Their four-pronged mandible-jaws remind me of the camel spider, as well. See here:

As we can see the solifugae also have these four, claw-like mandible structures. Fascinating!

The chelicerate seems like a fusion between the eurypterid and camel spider if it was dunked underwater for a few million years and turned big and red. I really love this creature and I think about it often.

This was my attempt at wordvomit analysis of the chelicerate… yay.

[goldbiz]

the origin of the supersuit.

booster gold, aka. michael jon carter's history with the suit starts off back in his timeline, the 25th century. after the scandal that ended his football career michael sought out work as a janitor / security guard at the metropolis space museum after regaining some of that pride he had lost but also realising that there were no other prospects lined up for him. one night after lots of drinking and the desire to change the tracjectory towards where his life was heading, he stole a bunch of gear and took off for the past. the first suit, the mark 1 is still a mix of different tech that he acquired in the future.

materials.

the outer layers of a fabric that conceals the mechanical wirings inside consist of a sleek but blended element of a fine futuristic-leather-like-material that is form fitting while also not limited to a strategic metallic gold like armoured plating on areas of protection including the chest piece where his 'star' logo is positioned, his wrist gauntlets / gloves that are attached to the mounted blaster rays and leg areas. the boots, the collar in some designs are all made of that same fabric that additionally is lightweight, durable, and reflective in a subtle way. since setting up shop in modern day metropolis, goldstar inc. booster has brought on / invested in the best scientists / engineers possible to study the tech and create more modified and enhanced versions to accommodate to different situations whether that is pr events / formal or to just spring into the action on the go and depending on the threat, these modifications could be more armoured or more light. down below is the following / general additional tech in booster’s ensemble:

the power suit.

the overall power-suit that booster gold wears is not only a fashion choice, but is filled with advanced technological advancements that also serve as an overall power supply to all the other tech and wiring connected to it's mainframe. beneath all the padded leather and armoured plating, the suit also allows booster to have super strength and rapid manoeuvring.

booster shots.

nicknamed 'booster shots' these wrist-mounted blaster rays are always used as pure offense. each wristband has the capabilities of firing out directed energy rays at the push of a button / lever type thing that is concealed beneath booster's gloves. the force of the blasts also can be adjusted to either simply stun opponents or or create actual destructive blasts. unless it's called upon in a moment of need, booster's default settings are always set to stun mode. rarely ever will he use the destructive mechanisms unless he really needs to take on big threats because the wrist blasters take the most strain on the overall power supply booster relies on to power his entire suit’s system.

vision goggles / visor / enhanced sunglasses.

one of the most important pieces of tech in booster's ensemble is his eye vison goggles, later remodified with another design in the form of sunglasses to blend in with a more modernistic / casual setting. these goggles function as IR sensors that allow him to do things like detect body heat, night vision, facial recognition / biometric tracking, comms and hacking integration, vital signs monitoring, environmental hazards and microscopic vision.

legion flight ring.

one of booster's favourite pieces of tech is his legion flight ring, originally designed by the legionnaire brainiac 5, it harnesses an alien-like metal to provide the one who wears with it with the power of flight. it took a little tinkering around and getting used to at first but since becoming acquainted with it, booster has discovered that the wearer does not need to be actually wearing it rather than just have it be in close proximity but it's not something that booster risks personally, especially if he might need it's aid in unexpected places. the ring has also been able to help booster translate many different languages on earth, and regions within the vicinity of space / beyond.

thrusters attached to boots.

probably the most 'superficial' aspect that has been implemented into his ensemble since the legion ring carries all the weight and that is the thrusters attached to booster’s boots. booster likes to personally activate them when he's showing off some big feats in town square or he's putting on some kind of a show for his audience. and even on personalised assignments, he just thinks it's one of those things that looks cool and gives his overall look a little flair. their only good use is that they help to break a fall by allowing some positioning and manoeuvring. this is one of the main upgrades the engineers in-house took a liberty in adding additionally.

headset / communications system hidden inside cowl or in the form of a headset earpiece. 

this one isn't so far and ground-breaking in technological advancements but more or less a simple communications device that allows booster to communicate with skeets or anyone that needs to reach him on the fly.

force field belt.

specifically in the original suit's design, one of the many items michael jon carter stole was a force-field belt originally belonging to the legion of superheroes. since becoming acquainted with it, it has since been integrated into the suit's system making it's usage rather obsolete but it is able to generate force fields capable of deflecting missile blasts or even preventing oxygen-loss in the vacuum of space.

other versions / enhancements.

public relations suit.

this is version of the suit is purely reserved for pr events because it sheds away a lot of the technology required from his main suit. it's practically just made of regular leather fabrics with minimal wiring on the inside. booster is still not useless in his suit, it has built in tech like his booster shots if he needs to stun any opponents / bad guys. the main noticeable differences of this suit really include shedding off the traditional cowl and goggle look, opting for more traditional sunglasses which is the only piece of tech that comes with the suit that still retains all the features that would featured in the goggles only with modifications in materials engineers at goldstar inc. had to accommodate to. for this look in particular, booster really wanted the ensemble to look more 'sporty' as a callback to his football days hence why it has a nascar-like design. it's intention is to be more modernistic to appeal to a more zestful audience. booster has done cover shoots, attended talk-show interviews in this suit and has attended pr events where he's more representative for his sponsors as a mascot as opposed to needing to be there with a save. this suit is filled to the brim with sponsor patches / logos.

mark i.v2 suit.

this reinvented take on the original mark 1 armour is identical to booster's original suit. it's changes are more cosmetic rather than being functional. one of the major changes includes that instead of opting for an all gold look for the gloves, they are now blue with armoured wrist gauntlets now added additionally that hold the trigger buttons to activate his booster shots. the biggest functional difference to this suit is that it's sleek design makes it less sturdy than the original and far more easier to move in.

additional pieces / the booster jacket.

the jacket is where things start to become prominently more about aesthetics. it's tailored to look like an ordinary leather jacket only with the blue and gold colours on standby. it has the patterns you could find on the ordinary booster ensemble and is once again more or less worn for more colder weather or just to simply look good at public relation events when the nascar ensemble becomes too much of a drag to put on. booster loves this jacket, he makes sure it's always taken in to a professional cleaner that checks for deep stains, or if the lining or the zippers need repairs.

the cape.

the cape was something that came and went rather swiftly, booster's audience instantly caught onto it as a cliché and according to skeets, his faithful automaton, his approval rate took a massive dive. anyway, he has not ever worn the cape again but sometimes when he's feeling frisky, he might try it on for size behind closed doors.

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Legendary Black Cat

Selena de la Rosa, known across Marley as the Legendary Black Cat, is the world's deadliest assassin—a master of agility, precision, and deception. When Marley turns against her, she is shipped to Paradis as a living weapon, chained and drugged, with her survival all but assured to be short-lived. But Selena is no ordinary prisoner.

Bound by no one, loyal to none, Selena plots her next move, determined to seize her freedom by any means necessary. Yet, her plans are complicated by the Scouts who captured her, particularly Captain Levi Ackerman—the so-called Humanity's Strongest Soldier. Selena is intrigued by his strength and reputation, but her pride refuses to acknowledge him as her equal.

Caught between Levi’s unrelenting gaze, Selena plays a dangerous game of manipulation. She’s biding her time, but when the moment comes, will her calculated escape bring her freedom—or will her path collide violently with Levi’s unwavering resolve?

The Black Cat has always landed on her feet, but for the first time, she might meet her match. (Levi x OC)

Chapter Forty One

The hangar at Scou headquarters was a cavern of controlled chaos, its high stone ceiling echoing with the clank of metal and the low hum of machinery. The air was thick with the scent of oil, leather, and anticipation, the flickering lanterns casting long shadows across the polished floor. 

The Special Ops Squad stood in a tight circle, their new black stealth uniforms sleek and form-fitting, designed for silence and shadow. The fabric was lightweight but durable, hugging their bodies like a second skin, the dark matte finish absorbing the light to render them nearly invisible in the dark. Each uniform was equipped with modified ODM gear, its canisters and cables painted black to blend seamlessly, the blades sharpened to a lethal edge. Holsters at their hips held compact pistols, a last resort; Selena had insisted remain silent unless absolutely necessary.

Selena stood at the center, her presence a blend of fierce confidence and quiet warmth, her eyes scanning her squad with a mix of pride and protectiveness. Her black curls, which had grown past her shoulders in recent weeks, were now cropped back to neck length, a practical choice she’d made last night with a quick slice of her knife, the shorter style framing her face with a sharp, no-nonsense edge. The stealth uniform clung to her curves, accentuating her athletic build, the ODM gear strapped securely to her back, its cables coiled like a predator’s muscles. Hidden beneath the fabric were her signature knives—blades strapped to her thighs, wrists, and ankles, each one a deadly extension of her assassin’s craft. A black mask dangled from her belt, its design simple but effective, covering everything but the eyes, ready to be donned at the drop zone.

Levi stood beside her, his own uniform a mirror of hers, the black fabric emphasizing his lean, compact frame, his gray eyes sharp and unyielding. His ODM gear was meticulously adjusted, his blades gleaming, a pistol holstered at his hip. His dark hair was neatly combed, his expression stoic, but his gaze softened when it lingered on Selena, a silent acknowledgment of their shared resolve and love.

The squad was a study in contrasts, their nerves and determination etched into their young faces. Eren’s green eyes burned with intensity, his hands flexing as he adjusted his gear, his resolve to strike Marley unwavering. Mikasa’s dark eyes were calm but focused, her uniform fitting her like armor, her blades ready, her near-mastery of the 100 Cuts of Pain a quiet source of confidence. Armin’s analytical mind already mapping their route, his fingers twitching as he double-checked his gear. Jean’s jaw was tight, his skepticism tempered by trust in Selena and Levi, his pistol holster secure. Connie’s grin was subdued, his energy channeled into checking his ODM cables, while Sasha, her, patted her holster, her sharpshooter’s instincts sharp despite her nervous fidgeting.

Hange bustled nearby, her glasses glinting as she inspected the airship—a sleek, camouflaged beast with a dark hull and muted engines, designed for stealth. Its surface was painted in mottled grays and blacks, blending with the night sky, its propellers whispering rather than roaring. Commander Erwin stood at the airship’s ramp, his tall frame imposing in his own black uniform, his blue eyes scanning the squad with a commander’s scrutiny, his presence a steady anchor for the mission ahead.

Selena clapped her hands, drawing the squad’s attention, her voice clear and commanding despite the weight of the moment. “Alright, my precious amateurs,” she said, her tone warm but firm, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “We’re a few hours out from Liberio. Let’s run this down one last time. We board the airship, reach Marley in three hours, and drop at 23:55 over the port. There’s a guard change at midnight, which gives us a window to land unnoticed. We use ODM gear to hit the drop site, set up our rendezvous point, and move to the military base. The top brass—Calvi and his officers—meet at midnight in the underground bunker. We have five minutes to infiltrate, kill, and get out. No mistakes.”

Eren nodded, his voice steady despite the tension in his shoulders. “Five minutes to take out the head of Marley’s military. We can do this, Selena. You’ve trained us for it.” His faith in her was palpable, his fists clenching with determination.

Mikasa’s voice was calm, her hand resting on her blades. “We’ll follow your lead, Selena.” Her words were a quiet vow, her trust in her mentor absolute.

Armin adjusted his mask, his voice thoughtful. “The port’s layout is open, but the base has narrow corridors. We’ll need to stay tight, move as a unit. Selena, you’ve got the guard rotations—any changes we should anticipate?” His blue eyes sharp.

Selena’s lips quirked, her pride in Armin’s foresight evident. “Good question, Armin. The rotations haven’t changed in years—Marley’s too arrogant to think anyone would hit them like this. But if they’ve tightened security, we’ll adapt. You’re our strategist; keep those gears turning.” She gestured to Sasha. “Sasha, you’re our eyes from a distance. If we need a distraction, your aim’s our ace.”

Sasha grinned, patting her pistol. “Got it. I’ll keep the noise down with my bow and arrow, but if I have to use my gun, I’ll do it.” Her nerves were evident, but her resolve held.

Jean crossed his arms, his voice cautious but resolute. “Five minutes is tight, but we’ve drilled this. In and out, no heroics. Right, Connie?” He glanced at his friend, seeking reassurance.

Connie nodded, his grin returning, though it was tighter than usual. “Yeah, man. We’re stealthy now, thanks to Selena. Like shadows, right?” He adjusted his mask, his energy a buoy for the group, his trust in their training unshaken.

Levi’s voice cut through, low and sharp, his gray eyes sweeping the squad. “You’ve faced titans, survived worse than this. Stick to the plan, listen to Selena, and don’t fuck up.” His tone was harsh, but his faith in them was clear, his presence a steady anchor. He gestured to the small pouches at their belts, each containing Hange’s compact bombs. “After the brass are down, we plant these. Hange’s toys will level the base. Marley won’t know what hit them.”

Hange popped her head out of the airship’s cockpit, her grin wide. “Oh, my babies are gonna make a mess! Timed charges, remote detonation, enough to turn that bunker into rubble. You just plant them, and I’ll handle the boom!” Her enthusiasm was infectious, easing the squad’s tension, her hands already itching to pilot the airship.

Erwin stepped forward, his voice calm but commanding, his blue eyes intense. “This mission is Paradis’s first strike against Marley. You’re not just soldiers—you’re the blade that cuts their heart out. Selena’s expertise, Levi’s leadership, and your training make this possible. Cripple their command, and we buy time to end this war. I’ll be on the airship with Hange, ready to extract you. Trust each other, and come back alive.”

Selena nodded, her gaze sweeping the squad, her voice softening, a rare vulnerability breaking through. “One more thing,” she said, her hands tightening at her sides. “I told you before, and I’m saying it again—prioritize your lives. If this goes south, get out. Levi and I will handle the rest. I want you kids back in one piece. Promise me.”

Eren’s voice was fierce, his fists clenched. “Selena, we’re not leaving you to clean up our mess. We’re doing this together, and we’re all coming back.” Mikasa nodded, her voice soft but resolute. “You’ve taught us to survive. We won’t let you down.”

Armin’s eyes shimmered, his voice steady. “We’ll be careful, Selena, but we’re not abandoning you. We’re a team.” Jean’s skepticism softened, his voice firm. “Yeah, no way we’re letting you and the Captain hog the fight. We’ve got your back.” Connie grinned, his energy infectious. “Family sticks together, Selena. We’re not dying today.” Sasha, her eyes glistening, nodded. “We’ll make you proud, Selena. Promise.”

Levi’s gaze softened, a flicker of warmth in his eyes as he watched the squad rally, their bond a quiet strength. “Tch,” he muttered, his voice low. “Bunch of brats making promises. Just don’t make me drag your asses out of there.” His hand brushed Selena’s, a subtle gesture of reassurance, his trust in her and the squad unwavering.

Selena’s lips curved into a shaky smile, her heart swelling. “You kids,” she said, her voice thick. “I’m already proud.” She turned to Hange and Erwin, her resolve returning. “Let’s move. Time to board.”

The squad filed onto the airship, their boots echoing on the metal ramp, their black uniforms blending with the dark hull. The interior was cramped but functional, with benches along the walls, a small armory of spare blades and gas canisters, and a cockpit where Hange settled, her hands flying over the controls. Erwin took a seat near the ramp, his presence a silent command, his eyes scanning the squad with a mix of pride and resolve. The airship’s engines hummed to life, a low, muted thrum that vibrated through the floor, the stealth design ensuring near-silence as they prepared for takeoff.

Selena and Levi stood at the center of the cabin, the squad gathered around, their masks dangling from their belts, their faces a mix of nerves and determination. Selena unrolled a small map of Liberio, pinning it to a crate, her finger tracing the drop site. “We use ODM gear to hit the rendezvous point—a warehouse rooftop, here.” She tapped the map, her eyes meeting each squad member’s. “From there, we move to the base, infiltrate the bunker, and take out the brass. Plant the bombs, get out, and latch onto the airship. Five minutes, in and out. Questions?”

Armin raised a hand, his voice cautious. “If the guard change is delayed, do we adjust the drop time?” His mind was already running scenarios, his strategic instincts sharp.

Selena nodded, her respect for him evident. “Good catch. If the change is delayed, we circle once and drop at 01:05. Hange will signal us. But I doubt it’ll happen”

Jean leaned forward, his voice low. “What about the titan shifters? Zeke, Pieck, Porco—they’re in Liberio. If they show up…” His concern was valid, his eyes flicking to Levi, seeking reassurance.

Levi’s voice was clipped, his gaze hard. “If they show, we’re already gone. Stealth is the priority. Selena’s plan keeps us out of their reach.” His hand rested on his blades, his readiness a silent promise, his faith in Selena’s expertise unwavering.

Eren’s voice was fierce, his eyes blazing. “We’re not just hitting the brass—we’re sending a message. Marley’s not untouchable. We can do this.” His passion was infectious, bolstering the squad’s resolve, his trust in Selena and Levi a quiet fire.

Selena’s smile was fierce, her hand resting on the map. “Damn right, Eren. We’re the blade they’ll never see coming. You’re ready for this—my assassins, not just soldiers.” Her words were a rallying cry, her pride in them a steady flame, her faith in Levi a rock she leaned on.

As the squad dispersed to their seats, checking gear and masks, Levi pulled Selena aside, his hand on her arm, his touch firm but gentle. They stepped into a quiet corner of the cabin, the hum of the airship a low backdrop, the squad’s chatter fading. His gray eyes searched hers, a flicker of concern breaking through his stoic facade. “Selena,” he said, his voice low, rough with emotion. “Don’t be reckless out there. I know you—you’ll throw yourself into the fire to protect those kids. Promise me you’ll come back.”

Selena’s heart tightened, her hand covering his, her fingers lacing with his. “Levi…” she said, her voice soft, her eyes shimmering with love. “I’m not reckless, not with you watching my back. I promise I’ll come back—to you, to them. But you promise me the same, Capitán. No heroics either.” Her smile was teasing, but her grip was firm, their shared vow a quiet strength.

Levi’s smirk was faint, his hand squeezing hers, his voice a low murmur. “Tch. Deal, stray cat. Together, always.” He leaned in, his forehead brushing hers, a brief, stolen moment of closeness before the mission consumed them.

Selena nodded, her resolve hardening, her hand lingering on his before she stepped back, her voice steady. “Let’s do this.” 

The cabin was quiet now, the squad’s nerves tempered by their training, their black uniforms a promise of the shadows they’d become. Selena stood at the map, her eyes tracing the route, her faith in her amateurs and her Capitán a fire that burned bright. The clock ticked down, one hour to Liberio, the mission a heartbeat away, their resolve unyielding as they soared toward their destiny.

…

Hours later, the airship sliced through the night sky, its camouflaged hull a shadow against the starless expanse, its muted engines a low hum that barely disturbed the clouds below. Inside, the Special Operations Squad sat in tense silence, their black stealth uniforms blending with the dim interior, their faces set with a mix of resolve and nerves. 

The airship shuddered slightly as it reached the drop site, the port of Liberio visible through the clouds below, its docks a faint outline in the moonlight. Hange’s voice crackled through the cabin, her tone uncharacteristically focused. “We’re over the target. 11:54 p.m. One minute to drop. Masks on, people!” The squad moved as one, pulling their black masks over their faces, the fabric covering everything but their eyes, transforming them into specters of the night. Selena’s mask framed her green eyes, her gaze sharpening, the Black Cat ready to strike. Levi’s mask accentuated his piercing stare, his presence a quiet storm beside her.

Erwin rose, his tall frame commanding attention, his voice steady but resonant. “Scouts, this is our moment. Marley believes they’re untouchable, but tonight, you prove them wrong. You’re not just soldiers—you’re the blade that cuts their heart out. Selena’s expertise, Levi’s leadership, and your training make this possible. In five minutes, you’ll cripple their command, and Paradis will stand taller for it. Trust each other, move as one, and come back alive. We’re counting on you.” His eyes swept the squad, a rare warmth breaking through his stoicism, his faith in them a palpable force.

Eren nodded, his eyes blazing through his mask. “We’ll make them pay, Commander. For everything.” Mikasa’s voice was soft but firm. “We won’t fail.” Armin adjusted his gear, his voice steady. “Five minutes. We can do this.” Jean, Connie, and Sasha exchanged determined glances, their nerves tempered by their bond.

Selena’s hand brushed Levi’s, a silent vow, her voice low but fierce. “Let’s do this, amateurs. For Paradis.” Levi’s nod was curt, his eyes locked on hers, his trust absolute. The ramp hissed open, revealing the cloud-strewn night, the wind howling as the airship hovered high above Liberio. The squad lined up, their ODM gear ready, their hearts pounding but their resolve unyielding.

“Go!” Hange shouted, and they jumped, plummeting through the clouds, the cold air biting their exposed eyes. Selena led the descent, her body angled like a diving hawk, her ODM gear humming as she steered toward the docks, the port’s outline sharpening below. Levi followed, his form precise, the squad trailing in a tight formation, their black uniforms blending with the night. The clouds parted, revealing the sprawling docks, wooden piers, moored ships, and the faint glow of lanterns marking guard posts.

Selena’s eyes locked on the landing point, a shadowed warehouse rooftop near the port’s edge, its flat surface perfect for their rendezvous. She fired her ODM anchors, the cables snapping into the roof’s edge, her body swinging gracefully to land in a crouch, her blades drawn. Levi landed beside her, his movements fluid, his watch already out, the five-minute countdown ticking: 23:55. The squad followed, their landings silent but swift. They drew their blades, their eyes scanning the darkness, their masks hiding their fear.

Levi’s voice was a low hiss, his watch glinting. “Five minutes. Move.” Selena took point, her hand signals sharp and clear, guiding the squad toward the military base, a hulking structure of stone and steel just beyond the docks. The port was quiet, the guard change imminent, but every shadow held danger. They moved like ghosts, their boots silent on the cobblestones, their ODM gear coiled for action.

A dockworker appeared, his lantern swinging, his mouth opening to shout. Selena’s knife flew, embedding in his throat, his body collapsing before a sound escaped. Mikasa neutralized another, her blade slicing silently, her movements a mirror of Selena’s training. Eren and Connie dispatched a third, their blades swift, their faces grim. They didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—each kill was a necessity, the threat of an alarm a death sentence. Selena’s heart ached for their innocence, but her resolve held; they were assassins now.

The base loomed, its iron doors a barrier to their target. Selena signaled a halt, her eyes scanning the entrance, her hand testing the lock—bolted tight. “Shit,” she muttered, her voice muffled by the mask. “No keys.” Eren and Mikasa dropped to a nearby guard’s body, their hands searching his pockets, but found nothing, their movements frantic as seconds ticked by.

Sasha, perched on a crate, spotted movement—a guard rounding the corner, his mouth opening to yell. Her bow was in hand before anyone could blink, her arrow flying with deadly precision, piercing his throat. He choked, blood gurgling as he collapsed, his body twitching in the dirt. “Got him,” Sasha whispered, her voice steady, her sharpshooter’s instincts flawless.

Levi checked his watch, his voice sharp. “One minute thirty gone. We’re out of time.” His frustration boiled over, his foot slamming into the door—once, twice, five times—until the lock shattered, the metal screeching as it gave way. The noise was a thunderclap in the silence, and shouts echoed from within, boots pounding as Marleyan soldiers rushed toward the breach.

“Ambush!” Selena hissed, her ODM gear firing, her body swinging into action. The squad moved like a well-oiled machine, their training kicking in. Levi’s blades flashed, carving through a soldier’s chest, blood spraying as he spun to the next. Selena used her ODM cables as a weapon, mimicking Levi’s technique, her anchors latching into a soldier’s torso, yanking him forward as her blade slit his throat. She pivoted, using his body as a shield, absorbing a flurry of shots from another before dispatching him with a knife to the heart.

Eren’s ferocity was unleashed, his blades a blur as he cut down two soldiers, his roar muffled by his mask. Mikasa shredded a trio, her movements a deadly dance, blood pooling at her feet. Armin’s precision was surgical, his blades targeting vital points, while Jean and Connie fought back-to-back, their teamwork seamless. Sasha’s arrows flew, each one a silent kill, her bow a whisper in the chaos. The Marleyans, trained but unprepared, fell like wheat before a scythe, their screams cut short by the squad’s ruthless efficiency.

The bloodbath cleared a path to the stairwell, the stronghold’s entrance below. Selena nodded at Armin, their pre-planned tactic ready. He pulled a compact bomb from his pouch and hurled it down the stairwell. The explosion was a muffled roar, the screams of soldiers below echoing as shrapnel tore through them. The squad fired their ODM gear, diving into the smoke-filled stairwell, their blades finishing the wounded—quick, silent kills, their masks hiding their grimaces.

Levi checked his watch, his voice urgent. “Two minutes left. Move!” They landed in a corridor, the stronghold’s meeting room just ahead, its reinforced door a final barrier. But a wounded soldier, hidden in the shadows, raised his pistol, the gunshot deafening in the confined space. Jean cried out, collapsing as blood poured from his leg, the bullet lodged deep.

“Jean!” Connie shouted, his voice cracking, but Mikasa was faster, her blade silencing the shooter, his body slumping. The alarm blared, a piercing wail that echoed through the base, lights flashing red, the entire facility now alert. Selena’s heart sank, her worst fear realized—their stealth was blown, the titan shifters and reinforcements likely en route.

“Fuck!” Selena cursed, her voice sharp, her mind racing. They were so close, the meeting room within reach, Calvi and the brass behind that door. Retreat was logical, but abandoning the mission now meant failure, a chance lost forever. Her eyes met Levi’s, his gaze hard but resolute, his trust in her unwavering. “Take Jean and get to the rendezvous point—now!” she ordered, her voice brooking no argument. “Board the airship and get out!”

Eren’s eyes widened, his voice fierce. “Selena, we’re not leaving you!” Mikasa’s hand tightened on her blades, her voice steady. “We finish this together.” Armin’s face paled, his voice urgent. “We can still—”

“Retreat, now!” Levi roared, his voice a whip, his gray eyes blazing through his mask. “That’s an order! Move!” His authority was absolute, his fear for the squad’s safety overriding their protests. Connie hoisted Jean onto his back, the wounded soldier groaning, blood dripping onto the floor. Mikasa, Eren, Armin, and Sasha formed a protective barrier, their ODM gear firing as they ascended the stairwell, their figures vanishing into the smoke, their reluctance palpable but their obedience unwavering.

Selena and Levi turned to the meeting room’s door, the alarm’s wail a relentless pulse, the base alive with the clamor of approaching soldiers. Levi’s watch showed one minute thirty seconds left, the odds stacked against them. Selena’s heart pounded, her knives in hand, her resolve a fire that burned through her fear. “Levi,” she said, her voice low, her eyes meeting his through their masks. “This is it. We might not make it, but Calvi’s in there. We end this, or we die trying.”

Levi’s hand brushed hers, a fleeting touch, his voice rough but steady. “I’m not letting you die, Selena,” he said, his eyes fierce, his love for her a vow etched in steel. “We do this together. No one’s touching you while I’m here.” His resolve mirrored hers, his determination to see her survive a force as unyielding as his blades. He stepped back, his stance shifting, his foot poised to strike the door.

Selena nodded, her green eyes blazing, her body coiled for action, the Black Cat ready to strike. “Together,” she said, her voice a quiet vow, her trust in him absolute. Levi’s foot slammed into the door, the metal groaning as it buckled, the sound a thunderclap in the chaos. They exchanged a final glance, their bond a lifeline in the storm, and as the door gave way, they surged forward, blades drawn, ready to face their fate.

~

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