So you've found my second blog, Congrats!
Here, have uh... I dunno I have some pocket lint I guess?
(Accidently became a Murder Drones Creator)
Main Blog: @Endersnake77
So you've found my second blog! Congrats! Here uh... um... I dunno I have some pocket lint I guess? You want that? No? Okay that's fair
Here's my main blog if you're looking for that: @endersnake77
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Really the only difference between this and my main blog is that here, I tend to stick to sharing Fanart, Fan-OCs, WIPs, Doodles, Sketches, and whatever else I feel like. I... don't actually know what the main blog is for other than my non-fan OCs but I digress.
In other words though, this is my "I do whatever the feck I want" blog! Feel free to stick around and enjoy my antiques, confusion, and mischief!
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➤ Blog Trigger Warnings
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Pretty much the same as my main blog--
Plenty of my Writing and Characters feature:
Horror (Psychological Horror, Existential Horror, Body Horror)
Violence and Injury or Descriptions of Pain and Gore
Dark, Disturbing, or Sensitive Topics
Lots of Tragedy
Though my art varies, there may be posts where My Artwork features:
Eye Strain (Bright Colors)
Visual Horror and Disturbing Imagery
Body Horror
Blood and Anatomically Correct Gore
Cannibalism or Characters Consuming Raw Meat
Common Phobias (Trypophobia, Arachnophobia, Entomophobia, etc)
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Oh and I also have a Kofi where I take occasional voice and chibi drawing requests
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Also! If you're here for my Murder Drones AU here's the "Master Post" of everything you need to know about that-
Oh sweet ouroboros, I've never properly explained the signal jammer have I? That's my bad, lemme fix that now--!
I like to think the signal jammer essentially disrupts the Murder Drones' connection to the primarily host of the Absolute Solver (i.e Cyn); Which works I feel because Cyn is sitting pretty on a space station orbiting Copper 9 in this AU (From my interpretation, The Murder Drones don't really have the solver, so much as they're Cyn's proxies and are remotely connected to her in a way. Which would explain by they can't really use it themselves.)
The jammer essentially creates a signal that jams and disrupts the signal between Cyn and the Murder Drones: creating errors in a Murder Drones' or Solver Drones' regen protocol! ...Which isn't always ideal since it's creator is also a Solver but that's a sacrifice she's willing to make.
Finally: It only works within a certain radius and isn't fool proof. It disrupts the connection, but doesn't fully sever it.
Usually what ends up happening is either partial regeneration or defects in the regeneration as opposed to the intended: complete inability to regenerate (It happens within very close range, which is why SD-I didn't regenerate their legs, but it's much rarer)
As for your question about Kahn: Kahn doesn't really have a part or a say in it mainly because he's on the other side of Copper 9 at Outpost 3 developing his doors to be even more fool-proof. (The AU takes place on a completely different part of the exoplanet years before the main series) (Which also means, because of the radius-thing, Uzi would be completely fine)
I hope that answers some of your questions, @nitrodestroyer14! :]
This is a question I’ve been wondering for a while now, but do K and L even get confused when talking about I? Since their name is also a pronoun. Like, are they ever in conversation, and one of them says “I”, and the other has to go, “Hold on, back up, do you mean you or I?” I know it’s a stupid thought, but I’m genuinely curious how they go about it.
No no, you're good! I've thought about this in detail lol
I gets waaaay more confused about it than either of them, but they've all gotten it mixed up plenty of times (K just never admits it). I even wrote a skit about it a while back that I've debated turning into a short comic
I'm almost certain L has suggested giving them a nickname to avoid confusion before, but K is very adamantly anti-customization for... some reason (despite being the only one with intentionally dyed hair)
Serial Designation L: The third and final member of the K.I.L Squad but certainly not the least. She is easily the most rebellious, spiteful, and uncooperative member of the group. Among her co-drones, she's known for having a very sassy and sarcastic attitude and generally doesn't like to be bothered... She could easily be described as the strong silent type.
Though she's not very talkative or expressive a lot of the time, she isn't to be messed with; having taken on the role of the team's muscle man and stealth specialist.
Worker Drones know her best as a silent killer known for taking out entire groups single handedly in seconds... without making a sound. One moment a worker and their teammates will be standing amidst an open field in the middle of an environmental survey, but the next time they blink, it's just her and oily mess.
Annnnyways back to her being pretty spiteful: she's prone to anger and is known to hold a grudge on top of that... See, she's got this whole revenge chain with Zora going and at this point, L's probably taken it to far.
In her revenge efforts though, she's sustained a good bit of damage that has repeatedly failed to heal all thanks to that pesky Anti-Murder Drone Signal Broadcast Jammer; so that's always fun.
Edit: I rewrote the description for her because I could honestly write a whole wiki about her.
So like... You know how Cyn had this whole thing about how her fellow workers could no longer be discarded?
What if there's no such thing as a discarded Murder Drone? Like-- The other murder drones aren't actually dead but their AIs are kept in some sort of hive mind database for later backups and iterations?
What if...
The database is a painful experience because it's one of full sentience in complete stagnancy; without any concept of the passage of time, much less the ability to move? After all, how can you move without a body? They can't even scream and yet they are in agony, left alone in a database to marinate in a conscious death until the day Cyn needs them again.
I mean they'd pretty much just be files in a folder somewhere right? Annnnd last I checked, my computer files don't have eyes, the ability to move, or scream.
They just kind of... stay in one place. Forever. Until I do something with them.
Thankfully my computer files don't contain fully sentient AI capable of their own free will haha... Would suck to be a discarded murder drone though, am I right?
So like... You know how Cyn had this whole thing about how her fellow workers could no longer be discarded?
What if there's no such thing as a discarded Murder Drone? Like-- The other murder drones aren't actually dead but their AIs are kept in some sort of hive mind database for later backups and iterations?
What if...
The database is a painful experience because it's one of full sentience in complete stagnancy; without any concept of the passage of time, much less the ability to move? After all, how can you move without a body? They can't even scream and yet they are in agony, left alone in a database to marinate in a conscious death until the day Cyn needs them again.
I mean they'd pretty much just be files in a folder somewhere right? Annnnd last I checked, my computer files don't have eyes, the ability to move, or scream.
They just kind of... stay in one place. Forever. Until I do something with them.
Thankfully my computer files don't contain fully sentient AI capable of their own free will haha... Would suck to be a discarded murder drone though, am I right?
Something feels off here, but I can't quite put my finger on it...
(Accidental) Revenge Attack for @gettingghost
Funny story, I actually had their character bookmarked days before they drew my goobers so this is heck of a coincidence and an accidental revenge lol
Tbh idk if I’m gonna post any other artfight works here, but this felt like I had to post it. Anyways, here’s Ender’s OC’s, Zam, SD-I, SD-K, and SD-L :]
When the sun goes down and daylight falls
When the moon shall rise to take us all
No matter the hardship, No matter the pain
No matter what happens to leave a stain
Promise me this, One little thing:
Like the flowers I gave you, Forget me not
t h o u g h i d o n ' t r e m e m b e r
i m i s s w h e n y o u w e r e n i c e t o m e , . . . k
So I'm finally back home and am able to draw again buuuuut I can't fully get back into the grind for a good bit so art is still gonna be a bit slow on both blogs-
Comms will resume here soon and I will be joining Artfight, but it's gonna be a bit-
Thanks for you're guys' patience
CW - Heavily Implied Abuse, Themes of Objectification and Slavery, and Transphobia/Enbyphobia
Do Not Continue Reading if you are sensitive to these subjects.
CW - Heavily Implied Abuse, Themes Objectification and Slavery, and Transphobia/Enbyphobia Luxurious and dimly lit, The interior of The Frum
Luxurious and dimly lit, The interior of The Frumptlebucket Manor is absolutely sublime. The hallways, decorated with perfectly crafted statues lining the walls and paintings of the previous generations of the long, proud lineage of the Frumptlebucket family, lay perfectly tidy and presentable; all in thanks to the Worker Drone staff.
Among the many drones under the Frumptlebuckets “employment” is a short, silvery grey haired bot wearing a tuxedo; personally dubbed the name of “___k” by his young master.
Standing amidst the unnecessarily long hallway with a straight posture and an arm behind his back, ___k tends to the dusting of a rather expensive bust statue of his owner’s greatest grand father; balanced atop a pedestal. Though he’s far too short to reach its top, so he must resort to standing on his toes just so that the feathered duster may brush its stone top hat.
Eugene
"Guh! There you are, ___k! I've been looking everywhere for you!!”
___k can’t help but flinch at the sound of his master’s voice; though by proxy, the statue itself nearly topples over from his sudden movement. As ___k watches in fear of the off-balanced statue nearly falling to the ground where it will surely burst into smithereens; His much taller, stronger 16 year old master manages to catch the bust of his oldest relative just in time.
Eugene
“Careful with that!! Father would have me killed if anything were to happen to greatest pappy’s statue!!”
___k locks his eyes down onto his shoes as he folds his arms behind his back, the duster still in hand. Shame pains him greatly, fearful of his punishment.
___k
“Apologies, sir.”
After placing the bust back atop the pedestal, Eugene puts a hand upon his face; shaking his head in disappointment of his robot butler.
Eugene
“Whatever, just don’t do it again.”
Moving on from the near-accident; Eugene turns his attention elsewhere, appearing to be in search of something nearby.
Eugene
“Anyway, Where’s your sister?”
Returning his gaze to Eugene's eyes; ___k speaks without hesitation. Neglecting to take so much as a second to process the consequences his action would have.
___k
“Sibling.”
Eugene
“Excuse me?”
Eugene glares down at ___k with considerable offense for an answer he did not ask for. A bead of simulated sweat rolls down ___k’s visor; realizing his mistake. But some part of him can’t help but double down on his answer, to which he shakes his head as he speaks.
___k
“I don’t have a sister, sir. __i is my sibling.”
Eugene
"___k.”
___k finches at the tone of his master’s voice, knowing well that he will be punished for his repeated talk back. He can’t help but look down at the floor with a non-audible wince of anticipation and dread as he mentally prepares himself for what comes next.
___k
“...Y-Yes sir…?”
Eugene
“Need I put a second hole in your face?”
As Eugene speaks, he nonchalantly reaches into his coat and pulls out a rather unsuspecting pen, holding it up in front of him as if to show it to ___k clearly. ___k however recognizes it immediately for what it is though.
He stares at the seemingly ordinary instrument of scripture with a look of horror as if it were far more than that. Knowing it not as some company branded pen, but an instrument of torture… One responsible for the many “freckles” on his visor. His expression shifting to one of impending dread, ___k shakes his head in a haste; looking down towards Eugene's feet as if to metaphorically grovel and beg forgiveness.
___k
“...N-no sir.”
Eugene
“Then go find your sister for me, will you?”
If he had a bottom lip, he’d bite it. Accepting a command prompt at the detriment of his close friend and adoptive sibling’s identity hurt him to a degree he couldn’t dare speak of to anyone. Though his own self-hate is what would truly haunt him for this action.
___k
“...y-yes… sir.”
…
___k aimlessly wanders the Frumptlebucket Manor in search for his missing sibling. From what he’s been able to deduct from his search so far however, they aren’t on duty as far as he could tell, nor were they indulging in any of their favorite pastimes in the library; reading one the many books the Frumptlebuckets couldn't care less about.
Gradually, as his search continues he is forced to search nearly every room of the manor, and his inability to locate his surrogate sibling begins to worry him.
___k
“__i?! __i Where are you?”
He shouts, concern filling his voice. Not just for __i, but also in fear of being caught fulfilling a task independent from his assigned chores. Should he be found… The consequences may be more severe than a pen.
Finally, ___k peaks into one of the many empty bedrooms of the manor's upstairs wing. A part of the house that is practically untouched seeing as only 4 people in the oversized mansion. For as much room as there is, it’s almost absurd that the worker staff must sleep in small boxes down in the basement.
Inside the empty room, he overhears the sounds of what can only be described as mechanical crying hidden somewhere within. Though despite that, there is no source to be initially found. Especially given that the room is unfurnished.
___k
“__i?”
Entering the room to further investigate; The source of the sounds become clear: The only place to hide in a room desperately lacking in furniture. Approaching the closet door, ___k reaches up to the knob to try the handle, only to find that whoever is inside has somehow managed to lock the door from the inside.
___k
“__i? Can you unlock the door, please?”
He gets no response, instead only the mournful cries of his sobbing friend can be heard through the muffling door. With a sigh, he plants his back to it and slides to the floor in a seat, patiently lying in wait for his companion.
___k
“You know I can't help you if you don't talk to me right?”
Once again, ___k is met with no response, only a quiet whimpering. Sorrow floods his expression; pained by the thought of being useless to help his friend. Staring down in defeat, the silence between them is interrupted only by __i's muffled sobs filling the room.
It's only then he gets an idea. Raising his hand in a fist, he gently knocks on the door a couple of times with the back of his hand; speaking aloud with a small smile on his face.
___k
“Knock Knock”
As to be expected, he gets no response… His brows arch into the shape on an inverted "v"
___k
“C'mon __i, I can't tell the joke if you don't answer!”
After a couple of long seconds, a sobbing voice mutters through the door.
__i
“...who's there?”
___k
“Boo.”
__i quickly catches onto the joke, already knowing the punchline well before they even need to ask. Still they answer rather softly with the explicit interest of entertaining ___k.
__i
“...boo who...?”
___k
“Hey, There’s no reason to cry! It's just a joke!”
In response to the joke they already know, __i lets out a pitiful giggle for ___k’s sake. Their insincere laughter is heard quietly through the door’s solid boards. In its response though, another two knocks lightly vibrate the door’s surface.
___k
“Knock Knock”
__i
"Who's there?"
___k
“Mustache.”
In a brief moment of hesitation, __i takes a second to answer in direct reaction to the set-up with a tinge of surprise… They haven't heard this one before.
__i
“Mustache who?”
___k
“I Mustache you a question, but I think I’ll just Shave it for later!”
Another giggle can be heard through the door’s wooden boards, this time a bit more genuine. They can’t help but smile in response to ___k’s attempts to cheer them up. Despite the small smirk on their face however, his jokes have yet to cease.
___k
“Knock Knock~”
__i
“Who's there?’
They can’t help but answer with a small giggle of anticipation for the joke they haven’t heard.
___k
“Ikan”
__i
“Ikan who?”
They laugh softly
___k
“Ikan hear you smiling but I thought you were supposed to be sad!”
A much louder, sincere giggle can be heard through the door as __i momentarily forgets their sadness. ___k’s smile widens with the joy of knowing he’s succeeded, but even more so with the joy of hearing them smile.
__i
“hehe... That was bad.”
___k
“But you still laughed!”
__i
“Hehe, Yeah…”
...
___k
“...Are… you ready to come out now?”
__i
“...”
As the door knock rattles seemingly on its own, ___k stands up and takes a step back the second he hears the clicking of the door’s latch. Slowly, the door creeks open finally revealing __i. Despite their fairly feminine appearance, particularly of their silvery-grey ponytail, they also look fairly tom-boyish; yet not enough to be decisive of any particular gender. Like ___k, they too possess many holes in their face and visor; taking the form of white dead-pixels. Though it’s readily apparent they have endured punishment many more times than ___k by sheer number.
Sheepishly placing a foot outside of the door, they peek their worried face out from the closet; though they have yet to reveal the rest of their body. ___k watches on with a smile, patiently waiting for them to fully exit. In an effort of reassurance, he holds out a hand to them as if to show them it’s safe without a spoken word.
__i takes a long moment to stare at the ground in contemplation before pushing the door the rest of the way open; revealing their state of dress: A black and white, French maid’s outfit. Fidgeting with their hands, they pin their knees together; looking down at their feet in total shame and embarrassment.
From an expression of shock, ___k’s face shifts to festering anger
___k
“Wh--! What happened to your suit?”__i can’t bring themselves to look ___k in the eyes; instead turning their gaze elsewhere in the room. Their fidgeting only grows more apprehensive.
__i
“Master demanded my attire match the other--”
__i pauses, catching themselves before frowning and looking down at the ground in shame.
“...the... maid drones.”
___k’s brows furrow in anger, evidently not taking this news well.
___k
“Did you refuse?!”
__i sits down in front of the closet door as they wipe away the simulated ears welling up in their eyes.
__i
“Of course! But there’s nothing we can do, ___k! You know what they do to us…”
Taking a seat next to __i, ___k frowns. Pulling his knees to his chin with a pouty expression, he remains silent; Making it all too apparent that he is already plotting to fix this is egregious error. Finally he speaks, turning to __i with an idea.
___k
“Maybe I can--”
Before he can express his most likely poorly thought out scheme however, he's interrupted with the sensation of a hand on his shoulder.
__i
“Just… leave it, ___k. No matter what you do they’ll just make me wear the stupid outfit and punish us both anyways.”
Locking eyes with __i, ___k bares witness to their pained, clearly forced smile.
__i
“I’ll be fine.”
___k stares into their eyes with deep concern and sympathy before sighing in defeat. Still he turns to them, determined to fix this.
___k
“I swear __i, I’ll--”
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
[Sleep_Mode = False]
[Auto-Running…]
[Complete]
Serial Designation K’s visor groggily returns online as he sits up from the abandoned bed slotted into the wall of what was assumedly at one point the captain's suite of a human crew long since dead.
Holding a hand to his face, he groans before turning to the blaring alarm overhead; staring it down with genuine contempt… Another stupid malfunction of this faulty bunker. Maybe if they had made sure the place worked as intended those stupid flesh bags wouldn’t have all died in the apocalypse.
He loudly growls
SD-K
“DAMN IT I!! I thought you already fixed this!!”
Shouting out to SD-I with an expression of anger, he climbs out of bed to further harass his subordinate about the damned error. He storms out of his quarters in a huff; the air-lock door slamming down behind him while the faulty alarm rings out from above…
Dreams I don’t remember of memories long forgotten. We were different people once. Now we’re not even friends
CW - Heavily Implied Abuse, Themes of Objectification and Slavery, and Transphobia/Enbyphobia
Do Not Continue Reading if you are sensitive to these subjects.
CW - Heavily Implied Abuse, Themes Objectification and Slavery, and Transphobia/Enbyphobia Luxurious and dimly lit, The interior of The Frum
Luxurious and dimly lit, The interior of The Frumptlebucket Manor is absolutely sublime. The hallways, decorated with perfectly crafted statues lining the walls and paintings of the previous generations of the long, proud lineage of the Frumptlebucket family, lay perfectly tidy and presentable; all in thanks to the Worker Drone staff.
Among the many drones under the Frumptlebuckets “employment” is a short, silvery grey haired bot wearing a tuxedo; personally dubbed the name of “___k” by his young master.
Standing amidst the unnecessarily long hallway with a straight posture and an arm behind his back, ___k tends to the dusting of a rather expensive bust statue of his owner’s greatest grand father; balanced atop a pedestal. Though he’s far too short to reach its top, so he must resort to standing on his toes just so that the feathered duster may brush its stone top hat.
Eugene
"Guh! There you are, ___k! I've been looking everywhere for you!!”
___k can’t help but flinch at the sound of his master’s voice; though by proxy, the statue itself nearly topples over from his sudden movement. As ___k watches in fear of the off-balanced statue nearly falling to the ground where it will surely burst into smithereens; His much taller, stronger 16 year old master manages to catch the bust of his oldest relative just in time.
Eugene
“Careful with that!! Father would have me killed if anything were to happen to greatest pappy’s statue!!”
___k locks his eyes down onto his shoes as he folds his arms behind his back, the duster still in hand. Shame pains him greatly, fearful of his punishment.
___k
“Apologies, sir.”
After placing the bust back atop the pedestal, Eugene puts a hand upon his face; shaking his head in disappointment of his robot butler.
Eugene
“Whatever, just don’t do it again.”
Moving on from the near-accident; Eugene turns his attention elsewhere, appearing to be in search of something nearby.
Eugene
“Anyway, Where’s your sister?”
Returning his gaze to Eugene's eyes; ___k speaks without hesitation. Neglecting to take so much as a second to process the consequences his action would have.
___k
“Sibling.”
Eugene
“Excuse me?”
Eugene glares down at ___k with considerable offense for an answer he did not ask for. A bead of simulated sweat rolls down ___k’s visor; realizing his mistake. But some part of him can’t help but double down on his answer, to which he shakes his head as he speaks.
___k
“I don’t have a sister, sir. __i is my sibling.”
Eugene
"___k.”
___k finches at the tone of his master’s voice, knowing well that he will be punished for his repeated talk back. He can’t help but look down at the floor with a non-audible wince of anticipation and dread as he mentally prepares himself for what comes next.
___k
“...Y-Yes sir…?”
Eugene
“Need I put a second hole in your face?”
As Eugene speaks, he nonchalantly reaches into his coat and pulls out a rather unsuspecting pen, holding it up in front of him as if to show it to ___k clearly. ___k however recognizes it immediately for what it is though.
He stares at the seemingly ordinary instrument of scripture with a look of horror as if it were far more than that. Knowing it not as some company branded pen, but an instrument of torture… One responsible for the many “freckles” on his visor. His expression shifting to one of impending dread, ___k shakes his head in a haste; looking down towards Eugene's feet as if to metaphorically grovel and beg forgiveness.
___k
“...N-no sir.”
Eugene
“Then go find your sister for me, will you?”
If he had a bottom lip, he’d bite it. Accepting a command prompt at the detriment of his close friend and adoptive sibling’s identity hurt him to a degree he couldn’t dare speak of to anyone. Though his own self-hate is what would truly haunt him for this action.
___k
“...y-yes… sir.”
…
___k aimlessly wanders the Frumptlebucket Manor in search for his missing sibling. From what he’s been able to deduct from his search so far however, they aren’t on duty as far as he could tell, nor were they indulging in any of their favorite pastimes in the library; reading one the many books the Frumptlebuckets couldn't care less about.
Gradually, as his search continues he is forced to search nearly every room of the manor, and his inability to locate his surrogate sibling begins to worry him.
___k
“__i?! __i Where are you?”
He shouts, concern filling his voice. Not just for __i, but also in fear of being caught fulfilling a task independent from his assigned chores. Should he be found… The consequences may be more severe than a pen.
Finally, ___k peaks into one of the many empty bedrooms of the manor's upstairs wing. A part of the house that is practically untouched seeing as only 4 people in the oversized mansion. For as much room as there is, it’s almost absurd that the worker staff must sleep in small boxes down in the basement.
Inside the empty room, he overhears the sounds of what can only be described as mechanical crying hidden somewhere within. Though despite that, there is no source to be initially found. Especially given that the room is unfurnished.
___k
“__i?”
Entering the room to further investigate; The source of the sounds become clear: The only place to hide in a room desperately lacking in furniture. Approaching the closet door, ___k reaches up to the knob to try the handle, only to find that whoever is inside has somehow managed to lock the door from the inside.
___k
“__i? Can you unlock the door, please?”
He gets no response, instead only the mournful cries of his sobbing friend can be heard through the muffling door. With a sigh, he plants his back to it and slides to the floor in a seat, patiently lying in wait for his companion.
___k
“You know I can't help you if you don't talk to me right?”
Once again, ___k is met with no response, only a quiet whimpering. Sorrow floods his expression; pained by the thought of being useless to help his friend. Staring down in defeat, the silence between them is interrupted only by __i's muffled sobs filling the room.
It's only then he gets an idea. Raising his hand in a fist, he gently knocks on the door a couple of times with the back of his hand; speaking aloud with a small smile on his face.
___k
“Knock Knock”
As to be expected, he gets no response… His brows arch into the shape on an inverted "v"
___k
“C'mon __i, I can't tell the joke if you don't answer!”
After a couple of long seconds, a sobbing voice mutters through the door.
__i
“...who's there?”
___k
“Boo.”
__i quickly catches onto the joke, already knowing the punchline well before they even need to ask. Still they answer rather softly with the explicit interest of entertaining ___k.
__i
“...boo who...?”
___k
“Hey, There’s no reason to cry! It's just a joke!”
In response to the joke they already know, __i lets out a pitiful giggle for ___k’s sake. Their insincere laughter is heard quietly through the door’s solid boards. In its response though, another two knocks lightly vibrate the door’s surface.
___k
“Knock Knock”
__i
"Who's there?"
___k
“Mustache.”
In a brief moment of hesitation, __i takes a second to answer in direct reaction to the set-up with a tinge of surprise… They haven't heard this one before.
__i
“Mustache who?”
___k
“I Mustache you a question, but I think I’ll just Shave it for later!”
Another giggle can be heard through the door’s wooden boards, this time a bit more genuine. They can’t help but smile in response to ___k’s attempts to cheer them up. Despite the small smirk on their face however, his jokes have yet to cease.
___k
“Knock Knock~”
__i
“Who's there?’
They can’t help but answer with a small giggle of anticipation for the joke they haven’t heard.
___k
“Ikan”
__i
“Ikan who?”
They laugh softly
___k
“Ikan hear you smiling but I thought you were supposed to be sad!”
A much louder, sincere giggle can be heard through the door as __i momentarily forgets their sadness. ___k’s smile widens with the joy of knowing he’s succeeded, but even more so with the joy of hearing them smile.
__i
“hehe... That was bad.”
___k
“But you still laughed!”
__i
“Hehe, Yeah…”
...
___k
“...Are… you ready to come out now?”
__i
“...”
As the door knock rattles seemingly on its own, ___k stands up and takes a step back the second he hears the clicking of the door’s latch. Slowly, the door creeks open finally revealing __i. Despite their fairly feminine appearance, particularly of their silvery-grey ponytail, they also look fairly tom-boyish; yet not enough to be decisive of any particular gender. Like ___k, they too possess many holes in their face and visor; taking the form of white dead-pixels. Though it’s readily apparent they have endured punishment many more times than ___k by sheer number.
Sheepishly placing a foot outside of the door, they peek their worried face out from the closet; though they have yet to reveal the rest of their body. ___k watches on with a smile, patiently waiting for them to fully exit. In an effort of reassurance, he holds out a hand to them as if to show them it’s safe without a spoken word.
__i takes a long moment to stare at the ground in contemplation before pushing the door the rest of the way open; revealing their state of dress: A black and white, French maid’s outfit. Fidgeting with their hands, they pin their knees together; looking down at their feet in total shame and embarrassment.
From an expression of shock, ___k’s face shifts to festering anger
___k
“Wh--! What happened to your suit?”__i can’t bring themselves to look ___k in the eyes; instead turning their gaze elsewhere in the room. Their fidgeting only grows more apprehensive.
__i
“Master demanded my attire match the other--”
__i pauses, catching themselves before frowning and looking down at the ground in shame.
“...the... maid drones.”
___k’s brows furrow in anger, evidently not taking this news well.
___k
“Did you refuse?!”
__i sits down in front of the closet door as they wipe away the simulated ears welling up in their eyes.
__i
“Of course! But there’s nothing we can do, ___k! You know what they do to us…”
Taking a seat next to __i, ___k frowns. Pulling his knees to his chin with a pouty expression, he remains silent; Making it all too apparent that he is already plotting to fix this is egregious error. Finally he speaks, turning to __i with an idea.
___k
“Maybe I can--”
Before he can express his most likely poorly thought out scheme however, he's interrupted with the sensation of a hand on his shoulder.
__i
“Just… leave it, ___k. No matter what you do they’ll just make me wear the stupid outfit and punish us both anyways.”
Locking eyes with __i, ___k bares witness to their pained, clearly forced smile.
__i
“I’ll be fine.”
___k stares into their eyes with deep concern and sympathy before sighing in defeat. Still he turns to them, determined to fix this.
___k
“I swear __i, I’ll--”
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP.
[Sleep_Mode = False]
[Auto-Running…]
[Complete]
Serial Designation K’s visor groggily returns online as he sits up from the abandoned bed slotted into the wall of what was assumedly at one point the captain's suite of a human crew long since dead.
Holding a hand to his face, he groans before turning to the blaring alarm overhead; staring it down with genuine contempt… Another stupid malfunction of this faulty bunker. Maybe if they had made sure the place worked as intended those stupid flesh bags wouldn’t have all died in the apocalypse.
He loudly growls
SD-K
“DAMN IT I!! I thought you already fixed this!!”
Shouting out to SD-I with an expression of anger, he climbs out of bed to further harass his subordinate about the damned error. He storms out of his quarters in a huff; the air-lock door slamming down behind him while the faulty alarm rings out from above…
Dreams I don’t remember of memories long forgotten. We were different people once. Now we’re not even friends
