#Color Fastness Testing Equipment

[sophieguo]

Shoe Upper Lining Friction Color Fastness Testing Machine: Ensuring Durable and High-Quality Footwear

The Importance of Color Fastness in Footwear Manufacturing In the competitive world of footwear manufacturing, quality and durability are key factors that consumers look for. One of the most important characteristics of high-quality footwear is its ability to maintain its appearance, especially when it comes to color. Whether it’s a high-end leather boot or a stylish synthetic shoe, maintaining…

[yeonzzzn]

need a fic about staff!reader and idol!sunghoon who have to fool around in secret (but it’s not really secret bc hoon cannot control himself).. until its the newest headline on the gossip pages

anon, I love this fr fr!! your brain is *chef kiss* this one is for you!

pairing: sunghoon x afab!reader word count: 1.7k

Sunghoon tried to not make it so obvious. Tried to keep it a secret and his feelings nonexistent when the other members or staff were around. To hide any signs he could possibly be in a relationship or even talking to someone. 

Except, Sunghoon is way too obvious. He can’t keep secrets and shows his feelings all too well. He can’t help but get possessive or jealous making it again, obvious that he’s in a relationship. 

It didn’t start that way though. 

From the moment you were hired to be one of Enhypen’s new stylists, Sunghoon took a liking to you, trying to find any way possible to get his dick inside you. 

Except he was shy at first, keeping his dirty thoughts to himself and his hand late at night in his bedroom. 

It took months before Sunghoon started to get confident in flirting with you, testing the water at first to see how you’d react, and when you reacted the way he hoped…oh you were done for. 

You caught up to Sunghoon’s antics really fast. Noticing his eyes on you. Noticing how he was always the first in the dressing room and the last to leave. Always putting himself in front of you to style him so you didn’t get the chance to even style one of the other boys. 

Sunghoon was so obvious, but you found it cute, enduring, and kinda hot. 

Sunghoon wanted to get to know you, sure. But the attraction he felt and the thoughts of getting his dick wet kind of outweighed that. But you worked with him, there was plenty of time to get to know you. 

It wasn’t until a wardrobe malfunction happened that it really kicked things off between you and Sunghoon. 

His shirt ripped in the middle of taking off some of his equipment in between sets to readjust. Having staff members send him running to you to fix it. 

You looked at the whole torn at the back of his shirt, “The whole is too big, won’t be able to sew it back together. It’d be too obvious.” So it was settled on a shirt change. You walked to the clothing rack, picking an iced blue color shirt that matched his black jeans perfectly, “This one should do, here go ahead and—“

You weren’t expecting to see Sunghoon in the process of lifting the shirt off his body and dropping it to the floor. Exposing his toned body. Your eyes scanned his abs, his chest, his biceps…Bless whoever opened the first gym and started the chain reaction of opening them everywhere. Truly a blessing. 

Sunghoon smirked, loving to see the blush on your cheeks, getting you right where he wanted you. 

“Like what you see, pretty?” 

You made eye contact with him, trying every way possible to keep your breathing even. 

“Uh, h-here’s the new shirt,” you said, quickly placing the shirt in his hands and turning to walk out of the dressing room, except obviously, that didn’t happen. 

Sunghoon grabbed your arm and pulled you back, trapping you between him and the vanity. 

“Don’t leave me just yet, aren’t you supposed to make sure the shirt fits?” he rolled his hips against you, feeling his hardening cock against your stomach, “I’m sure it’ll fit perfectly though.” 

You knew Sunghoon knew what he was doing, trying to make a play on words for how well his dick would fit inside you. Granted, it was working, regardless of how flustered you felt at that moment. 

“Hoon, you have ten minutes before going back on stage,” you whispered, fingers gripping the sanity in hopes of keeping yourself from shaking. 

“Then we have ten minutes to get busy, now don’t we?” He leaned his face closer to yours, “YN, Let me make you feel good.” 

You nodded, letting him drop his hands to your legs and lift you on top of the vanity, rolling your skirt up your thighs and spreading your legs. 

Sunghoon didn’t think this would be the way he finally fucked you, but he was here for it nonetheless. 

He finally got to feel your lips on his, finally, had you wrapped around him perfectly as he pounded into you at a fast pace since his time was limited. The vanity rocked against the wall, being completely sure he was creating scuff marks on the white paint from the way he was fucking you against it. His hands squeezed your breasts. Tongue shoved down your throat. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him even closer to you as you cum, making a mess on his cock. He couldn’t get enough of you, spilling his seed inside your pretty cunt and giving himself two minutes left to spare before going back on stage. 

Sunghoon took any chance he could to fool around with you. Pulling you into any tight corner he could. Bending you over chairs, vanities, and the couches in the break room back at the HYBE building. Fucking you against walls at the stadiums they would perform at. Pressing your naked body against the mirrors in the practice rooms, leaving handprints behind once you two were finished. 

It wasn’t too long before he started developing feelings for you, wanting more than just sex with you. 

Sunghoon was already obvious as it was to the other members, they weren’t stupid. They knew he would sneak you over to their dorms late at night and he would sneak out of the dorms to your apartment. 

But once Sunghoon caught feelings, phew it was way worse. 

It became harder to not give you attention. To kiss you, touch you, spoil you. To act like there was nothing between the two of you when everyone was around. 

Becoming possessive when another male staff member would talk to you. Be jealous if one of the other members needed a wardrobe change and you were the one to take care of them. 

It became way too obvious to the point that Sunghoon finally broke down to the members about his feelings for you, their response being “DUH! We knew that already!” it made him feel relieved sure, but because of his idol status, he had no choice but keep it secret anyways. 

Which only made it harder once the two of you finally became official. The members and staff all knew, but the fans and the rest of the world didn’t. Sunghoon wanted to show you off but knew he couldn’t for your safety. 

It was comeback season for Enhypen. The boys were booked left and right for interviews, TV shows, and radio shows. The boys were busy and on a time crunch, but that didn’t stop Sunghoon from pulling you into the supply closet filled with the radio show equipment. 

“Hoonie,” you whispered, “Someone will notice we’re missing!” 

Sunghoon wasted no time pinning you against the shelves, his hands fiddling with the button on his pants, “Jake will vouch for us. Need you so bad baby.” 

You could tell your boyfriend was nervous, this was a major radio show. And what better way than to relieve his nerves by fucking you?

You lifted your skirt and slid your panties to the side, giving Sunghoon full permission. 

He licked two of his fingers, then slid them between your folds, groaning at the feeling of your cunt wrapped around his fingers. 

“Such a good girl for me,” he whispered against your lips, “always taking good care of me.” 

Sunghoon knew you didn’t have much time to waste, knowing you were ready to take him once your juices started leaking down his hand. 

He replaced his fingers with his cock, slowly sliding into you. Moaning out your name once he bottomed out. 

He wrapped one of your legs around his waist, giving him even more access to your cunt, and started pounding into you. 

Sunghoon gripped one of the metal shelves, using it to his advantage to push further into you, shaking the entire thing. 

The two of you moan against each other's mouths. Your fingers tangling in his hair. 

It didn’t take you long to cum. The fast pace Sunghoon was fucking you at with the help of his grip on the shelf along with him hitting your g-spot, it had you spilling over the edge. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Sunghoon growled, “Love when you cum on my cock.”

Sunghoon glanced up at his watch, seeing he only had minutes left, “I’m gonna go faster baby, okay? Wanna cum in your sweet pussy before I have to go.” 

You nodded, holding onto him tighter, settling your face in his neck. 

Sunghoon pistoned into you, fucking into you in a primal state. You attached your lips to his neck, teeth biting down on the skin to keep your moans from reaching outside the door. 

“hmmm, fuck, I’m cumming baby, oh fuck.” 

Right when Sunghoon released his load, the door to the supply closet swung open, and one of the radio show hosts' staff members stood there staring at you two, watching as Sunghoon slowly continued to push his cock into you, chasing what little high he had left.  

“I’ll come back later,” the staff member said, quickly shutting the door. 

It wasn’t news to anyone when all the famous KPOP articles on Twitter were talking about your sexual act in the supply closet. 

Sunghoon sat in the makeup chair, reading the articles on his phone while laughing his ass off. 

“They can’t even get the full story right,” Sunghoon laughed even harder. 

Your face turned red as you organized the boy's outfits for the comeback show tonight. 

Heeseung was also reading about the articles but from the tweets their fans were making, “Some of these posts claim they already knew you were fucking someone and that these articles just confirm it.” 

“Can’t we sue that radio company for even opening their mouths?!” Jake asked, fidgeting with the zipper of his jacket, “They went against Sunghoon’s privacy.” 

Sunghoon just shrugged, “Not like I care anyway. Not my fault the guy decided to be a dick.” 

Jay leaned over Heeseung’s shoulder, reading the comments, “Some of these say you kept going even after getting caught.” 

Sunghoon just smiled, not saying a word. 

“Oh, you’re sick,” Jungwon said, giving him a side-eye.

Sunghoon shrugged his leader's glare off and looked over in your direction, falling more in love with you than he was before, “At least I don’t have to hide anymore.” 

“That’s the thing,” Niki rolled his eyes, “You were obvious from the beginning!” 

“Exactly,” Sunoo said, “This only just made it easier for you two.” 

Sunghoon didn’t care that his relationship with you got exposed, because now he didn’t have to try to hide. Even though he sucked at hiding anyways. 

[malevessel]

Can you make a story about Spiderman being possessed?

Nick Fury had failed completely, and because of him, New York had lost one of its greatest heroes, but that its a long story.....

He liked the kid. At first he was suspicious when he found out about his age and family problems, but he quickly gained confidence. He really was a hero. But as well as his good qualities, Peter Parker managed to get on the nerves of the SHIELD director. His jokes and pranks, as well as his verbosity, drove the agent crazy.

Fury had seen the wall-crawler's serious side on occasion, when he really needed to be serious. In his eyes, he was perfect: fast, focused, relentless. And he could be deadly, if it weren't for the fact that his friend and neighborhood Spider-Man didn't like to kill. Fury respected that.

But for this particular mission, Nick Fury didn't need a funny, bouncy hero. He needed someone who was focused, and ready to follow his orders.

There were only four people available. Stark was simply uncontrollable, and his favorite pair of assassins were lacking in capabilities. He had never underestimated the capabilities of the Widow or Hawkeye. But this target was a powerful "enhanced" one, which had already claimed the lives of several agents. In addition, they were all too well-known in the media, and Peter had not yet gained so much fame.

He was perfect. Strong, agile, smart... But Fury knew that wasn't enough, and that Peter couldn't make it. That's why he assigned Agent Rock to this "project." He was one of SHIELD's instructors. He was known for being ruthless and very strict. He was the same age as Fury, but had been paralyzed when a grenade blew him up.

Agent Rock clearly agreed when Fury asked him to do the mission, armed with Peter Parker's body. Nick thought it was a great idea, and a powerful combination. Peter Parker's body, with a very experienced Shield agent at the wheel.

Fury and Rock talked for hours about the plan, and about the possession procedure. It was actually very simple. Thanks to Shield's research into magic, they had discovered an artifact that allowed its bearer to possess a person's body uninterruptedly. After that, he scheduled a meeting between Agent Rock and Peter Parker. Fury wanted Rock to meet the Kid before starting...

A few days passed while everything calmed down a bit, and the day before the mission began arrived.

Kidnapping Parker was easy. The young man did not expect that when he opened his bedside drawer he would be shot with a cloud of sleeping gas. Not even his powers helped him to resist, and he fell asleep when SHIELD agents entered to kidnap him from his room and took him to the SHIELD base. Fury was in charge of justifying his absence to his aunt and his friends, as well as to the school.

They took him to a room and laid him on a bed as Fury and Rock entered the room. Rock was nervous, which was understandable. Although the mission probably didn't cause him any concern, the fact of being able to walk again, especially in a young body, and with those powers, must have caused the agent an unparalleled excitement.

Rock was carrying a military briefcase in his wheelchair, which Fury recognized from the Shield equipment unit. Days ago, Rock had requested new equipment, according to Peter Parker's measurements, and his own tastes. It was understandable, because the strict Agent Rock did not like the colors of the spider suit at all. No, Agent Rock liked something more tactical. And he also liked to use weapons, something that Peter hated.

Fury gave Rock the magical artifact when they entered the room, a small black sphere with gold engravings, about the size of a marble, maybe a little bigger. He told his agent to swallow it, which he did. The sphere would remain in Rock's body until he wanted it to. Fury then gave his friend privacy.

A long 30 minutes passed without anything happening, as Fury waited outside, hoping that all would be well, and assuming that the strict ageist Rock was just 'testing out' the younger body. The door suddenly swung open, revealing Agent Rock, equipped with a black suit, armored in some parts and with plenty of military equipment. Guns, knives and ammo. Peter Parker's voice greeted the Shield director, a little distorted by the mask.

"Agent Rock, reporting for duty!!"

Fury smiled......Actually, I think we would do well to say..... "Spider Soldier, reporting for duty"

..........................

Well, originally this was just going to be a short story, but I really liked the topic, and I'm going to make several more parts.

As I said, I'm going to continue writing and slowly continuing everything I started. I hope you have patience, and that those of you who have asked me for stories don't worry, I will publish them little by little.

[leahrintarou]

☠︎︎ DAY ONE: TOYS FT. TSUKKISHIMA ☠︎︎

☠︎︎ WARNINGS: soft!dom tsukki, usage of a vibrator, female anatomy, orgasm denial, edging, drabble.

☠︎︎ WORD COUNT: 780+

"y/n, something came in the mail for you"

y/n looked up from the the device that rested on her lap before seeing tsukishima holding a small package in his left hand, his phone in his other, eyes focused on the screen. y/n reached an arm out while tsukishima handed her the boxed item.

"thanks, tsukki" she mumbled before placing it onto the nightstand beside her, almost avoiding her gaze from the box. "you're not going to open it?" tsukishima was able to pick up on her sudden odd behavior before a smirk made it's way to his lips.

"um, i'm doing an assignment that's due in a couple hours, it can wait. I'll open it later."

"hm, okay. i'll be back" y/n's eye's immediately darted up to be met with tsukishima's back, watching as he took lazily steps towards the rooms exit. "where are you going?"

"i have to pick up some volleyball equipment from the gym" he said before finally exiting the room.

y/n let out a sigh when she finally heard the front door close. she turned her attention to the package that was resting on her nightstand and carefully closed her laptop before setting it aside on the space beside her.

taking the box into her hold, y/n saw that the seal was already severed on the opening. she re-read the name on the front of the box before silently cursing herself. she'd accidently ordered the package under tsukishima's name since they shared the same account.

he'd mistaken the package for his own.

y/n felt an uneasy feeling in her gut after remembering tsukishima's smirking expression. she hesitantly opened the box, the purple colored item being the first thing that she saw.

being in a small daze, she didn't pick up on the sound of the front door opening once again, but she was finally snapped out of that daze when she heard tsukishima's voice. "you wanna test it out?".

y/n's heart basically pounded out of her chest when she heard his tone. "i thought you were leaving?" she questioned. "and i thought you had an assignment due in a couple hours?"

but, you seem like you have different priorities," he eyed the item that was being displayed in y/n's hold, an anticipating smirk growing onto his lips. "shut up" y/n mumbled, making quick movements to put away the device.

tsukishima took a couple steps up to y/n's seated figure before stopping her movements by placing a light grip onto her wrist. "you sure you dont wanna try it? you looked pretty curious just now, y/n." she looked up at the blondes figure and a groan erupted through her voice.

"what if it doesn't feel good?"

"you're the one who decide to buy it, but either way; if this toy ends up being shitty, i'll show you why you can alway rely on me if you wanna feel good."

-------------

that's how the two ended up in their current situation, with tsukishima repeatedly adjusting the frequencies of the toy just to hear y/n whine due to her pleasure being taken away so suddenly.

"you can handle it a little longer, can't you?" tsukishima admired y/n's unsteady breathing and her pleasured/annoyed expression. he continued to alternate frequencies by controlling the device through a small remote, ignoring y/n's small pleas.

relaxing himself, back against the headboard while y/n laid back, against his chest, tsukishima had a cocky smirk on his lips. he was able to get y/n worked up so easily and with a click of a button; he was able to take it all away just as fast.

he'd noticed how y/n's moans were slightly different than usual, more impatient, more needy, and less quiet. to be frankly honest he'd never expected it to have such an effect on y/n, but due to the fact that the vibrations were traveling directly to her bud, he couldn't help but let out an amused hum.

"you wanna cum, y/n?" tsukishima turned down the frequency since he actually did want to hear a coherent answer from her. "please" she answered through pants, gripping the fabric of tsukishima's sweatpants.

he placed a small peck to y/n's bare shoulder, turing the frequency of the toy on it's highest setting almost immediately sending y/n over the edge. her legs waverd, feeling every inch of her satisfied pleasure course through her body, erupting paired sounds past her lips.

"I guess this thing wasn't so shitty after all. round two?"

"can you give me a minute?" she rolled her eyes, still trying to steady her breathing after tsukishima finally turned off the toy.

"nope"

and with singular response, the toy was imeedietly turned back on, letting an uncontrollable yelp leave the lips of y/n.

[saiintvalentiine]

Ok. To preface this, I began writing this on December 21st 2024. We didn't know shit about shit when it came to the upcoming war. So there's a lot of random things in here that contradict UU canon super hard. You just gotta accept that ok? Ok. Glad we're on the same page. anyway.

I present to you: my roughly wrapped "what if mapfies were ex soulmates in UU during some unspecified war period that doesn't match up with canon's war timeline" fic. warnings for blood in the first part. divider

Word count: 1,719

The Invis Mafia isn't a force that can be fought at a distance. You have to be close enough to notice the invis particles and figure out where to strike. Once their armor is on, then it becomes easier to track them down with a bow, but by that point it's about surviving the encounter rather than strategizing. Wifies is only supposed to be here to dodge around and drop supplies off to the actual warriors, Ken and Wato making kits and stuffing bundles as fast as they can and handing them off to Wifies. Wifies is the fighter of the three, used to the violence of the server and tested by its whimsies, so it's not that big of a risk to send him into an active battlefield.

It's here that he gets caught up in a fight though, a few more kits in his inventory and two mafia members (that he can see the armor of, at least) ganging up on him. He's just trying to get away from them. He doesn't care if they live or die as long as he can leave, since he's left Ken and Wato alone for what feels like too long.

A sword glances his jaw from behind, and he ducks away before the sword can return. A third person, then. They're pushing him back and away from the main fight, likely realizing the role he's been playing of getting supplies back and forth, keeping the Warriors well equipped and healed.

He's fucked.

He can see the blurry shapes of the Warriors, but it's impossible to tell who's who most of the time— unless, of course, it's Spoke, Parrot, and Wemmbu, with their strange colorations. Wemmbu is further out, bouncing around with a mace and wind charges, a streak of violet wherever he lands. Parrot's tropical toned wings are spread above as he lands in and flies out of different knots of fighting.

But Spoke is nearby, midnight face and phosphorus eyes obvious. And where there is Spoke, there is—

"Mapicc!" Wifies calls out.

The tremble in his voice comes from a mix of exhaustion and anxiety, and a small, secret fear that festers in every word he's ever said. But there's a sword through one of the armored mafia members, and Mapicc is a black and red smudge as the second fighter tries to hold him off. Wifies turns to deal with the final unarmored third, getting a spray of blood to the face for his troubles and a whole lot of useless crap.

"Wifies!"

Turning around, Wifies opens one of the kits and shoves a healing potion into Mapicc's hand.

"Drink," he commands, finding a strength splash potion next and smashing it at Mapicc's feet. "I'm almost out of kits, and Ken and Wato have been alone for too long, I have to go, thank you—"

A wet hand presses into Wifies's jaw, skin stinging as healing potion is spread into the surprise wound from earlier. Wifies can't help but blink at Mapicc, taking in his shadowed face under his helmet. His eyes glow red, and Wifies isn't sure if it's from the bloodlust or the strength potion. They haven't seen each other face to face like this since they stopped being soulmates.

Unstable is a big and wide server; you really don't get the chance to cross paths with people who aren't looking for you. And Wifies hasn't had time to look for anyone as he tries to make up for all the dead Farmers along with Ken and Wato, and Mapicc has dedicated himself to adventuring with Spoke. Parrot has been unapologetically against anything Wifies as well, meaning he hasn't been whisked off to far corners where he might run into Mapicc in the meantime.

"Next time don't wait so long to call for me," Mapicc says, stepping back. He takes the warmth of his hand with him. "Don't let them get the drop on you like that again."

"I won't," Wifies replies. He's not sure to which he's replying to.

Mapicc nods once and then they're both off in opposite directions, Wifies back to the Farmers base near the edge of the fight and Mapicc back to Spoke's side.

Potion brewing is methodic and hot. Wato and Ken run warm, but Wifies runs cold enough that handling dozens of blaze rods in a tight room isn't a hassle. He's in charge of brewing up as many health options as he can, alongside strength and harming and a hundred other things.

They did a wonderful job hooking everything up to farms. He never runs out of melons and spider eyes, though he's got to make a run to the gold farm soon.

It's as he's nursing a burn on his thumb and contemplating how he's going to make the trip that someone knocks on one of the pillars at the doorway.

“Coming,” Wifies says, shoving a bottle of water into an empty brewing stand.

“Hey.”

Parrot's a tenuous presence in the Farmer district. Wifies is the only one who gives him the time of day usually, Wato outright ignoring him and Ken taking any chance to make jabs at him. They're. . . working on their relationship.

“Hey, what's up?” Wifies doesn't stop working. He starts taking out completed bottles of healing and corking them. “It's a little early to restock kits, I'm nowhere near done with all the brewing.”

“No, actually, I came to talk to you,” Parrot steps further into the brewing room, and when Wifies looks over, he's already starting to sweat.

“Let me put these water bottles in and we can talk outside. It's too hot for you in here with your armor.”

Quick, methodic work. It takes no time for Wifies to cork everything and replace the bottles, starting another round of healing potions. Together, he and Parrot step out of the brewing room and into the wide open hall where the breeze helps cool them off.

“What’s up?” Wifies rubs at the blaze burn on his thumb.

“I heard from Spoke that you got ambushed in the last battle. I wanted to check in.”

Wifies doesn't want to laugh at the strained way Parrot stands, the awkward way he can't keep eye contact. Wifies doesn't know what this back and forth with him is. He just wants things to go back to the way they were, but Parrot won't let them, instead flipping between hot and cold almost randomly.

“I'm fine,” Wifies decides, pressing his thumb. “I called for help.”

“That's good,” Parrot says after a beat. “It was really chaotic.”

“It was.”

They stagnate. Wifies's mental timer tells him he has to add the next ingredient to the potions soon. He's got just enough glistering melons for this round of restocks, but he needs to go to the gold farm soon. He loses track of himself trying to sort the logistics of it in his head, staring into the brewing room.

“Is something the matter?”

“I have to make a gold run soon, but going alone would be bad. Ken and Wato are dealing with a problem at the iron farm all the way in the farming district so it's just me right now.”

“I can go with you.”

Wifies glances over at Parrot.

“Sure, I'd appreciate it a lot. Meet me under the statue at noon tomorrow, okay?”

“Yeah, I'll be there.”

Wifies nods and says, “I need to keep brewing, but I'll see you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Parrot leaves, a habit as easy as breathing to him, and Wifies stays, a habit easier than living.

The world bustles below, hundreds of lives continuing within the walls of the Farlands. It's a quarter past noon, and Wifies is still waiting under the statue. He knows how things go— Parrot gets dragged into a new problem, has to fix a new hole in the sinking ship of his life. It's alright. Wifies would've liked it if he'd shot a message over, or responded to any of Wifies's messages, but what Wifies likes and what he gets are never in line with each other.

He scrolls aimlessly through his message list. Ken had sent him a video of Wato accidentally falling into a water stream last night, Wato had updated him on the iron farm this morning, Retro asked him a question about a cypher and he'd answered. Nothing from Parrot.

His eyes land on Mapicc’s name. He might be busy, but at this rate Wifies will have to go alone anyway, so he might as well ask.

[Wifies]: I need to make a run to the gold farm. Can you come with me?

[Mapicc]: sure wya

[Wifies]: at the statue

[Mapicc]: 10

So Wifies waits ten more minutes.

“Dude, you're all sunburnt,” Mapicc says as he lands in front of Wifies. 

“I’m too pale to be sitting out in the sun like this,” Wifies rolls his eyes and touches his face. It stings a bit, but it’s nothing a potion can’t fix right up.

“How long you been standing here?”

“A while.”

Mapicc tilts his head, not coy nor rough, but definitely judgemental. Wifies sighs and shrugs his elytra on. That’s the thing about having been soulmates; Mapicc knows, and Wifies knows that Mapicc knows, and it’s turtles all the way down.

“I’m going now,” he sing-songs, trying to slither away from Mapicc’s finely-tuned judgment. “And I’ll go alone if I have to.”

“Wifies,” Mapicc is there, nudging his side.

“What?”

“Were you waiting for Parrot?”

Wifies sighs again.

“Yes.”

“All I needed to know.”

Mapicc straightens up, rockets in hand. He’s got a solid stance from all the years of fighting, and he always feels so real standing next to Wifies. He fiddles with his own rockets for a moment before sliding closer and putting his head on Mapicc’s shoulder. The strap of his elytra digs into his cheek for a second before disappearing as Mapicc unequips it.

“What are you doing?” Mapicc asks with a snort like he isn’t putting an arm around Wifies’s shoulder.

“Showing affection.”

“Gross.”

It’s very gross. But Wifies doesn’t mind, and as long as Mapicc doesn’t care to push him away, then it’s fine to be a little gross.

Wifies straightens back up and rubs at the burns on his face and says, “Let’s go.”

[dudeimjustagirll]

Time and Again

Ao3 link :p

A short mutual pining fic I made for Dick Grayson from Young Justice This is set in season 2 Haven't watched S4 yet so no spoilers pls :( This is very good for 10 year old me bc when I say that I was in love with this boy I am NOT kidding🥀

Your story didn’t start with an explosion, though it may as well have. You were eleven when you first tried to harness exotic energy, a science fair project turned personal obsession. Inspired by the pages of physics textbooks far beyond your grade level, you had an idea���a reckless, brilliant, world-breaking idea. A closed-loop energy system, something that should have been impossible. But you had to try. You built your experiment in the basement, cobbled together from scavenged parts and your father’s old lab equipment. He had always encouraged your curiosity, always pushed you to think bigger, dig deeper. He never expected that his daughter would accidentally tap into something beyond normal physics.

The moment the feedback loop engaged, time itself seemed to shatter around you. A single second stretched impossibly thin, the world around you slowing to something unrecognizable. The air thickened, clinging to your skin, resisting every movement. Light fractured, bending at unnatural angles, warping colors into hues your brain couldn’t fully process. Sound distorted—muffled and stretched, then sharp and stinging, like reality itself was trying to right what had just been broken.

And then, just as suddenly, it snapped back into place.

You were on the ground, your lungs burning as you gasped for air, every muscle trembling from the sheer force of whatever had just happened. Your head pounded, your limbs ached, but you were alive. Changed.

Your father found you there, wide-eyed and breathless. He should have been terrified. Any other parent would have panicked—rushed you to a hospital, called specialists, tried to fix whatever had gone wrong. But not him. No, the moment he saw you—really saw you—his expression wasn’t one of fear. It was fascination.

He crouched beside you, studying your face like he was cataloging every micro-expression, every telltale sign of something extraordinary. His voice was steady, curious. What did it feel like? he asked. What did you see? What do you think happened? There was no panic, no hesitation—just pure, unfiltered wonder.

And in that moment, you realized—he wasn’t going to treat this as a curse. He wasn’t going to try and take it away.

From that day forward, he helped you understand it. Nurture it.

Chronokinesis. That was the closest term you eventually settled on, though neither of you had a perfect name for it back then. You could slow time, speed it up in bursts, navigate the seconds and minutes with a precision no one else could comprehend. But stopping time completely? That was something else. That was unnatural. It tore at you, unraveled your muscles like fraying thread, left you writhing in agony when you pushed too far. You learned your limits fast. But pushing them? That became an inevitability.

Because if there was one thing your father taught you, it was that the boundaries of science existed only to be tested.

Joining the Team had been a natural step forward. Your abilities were invaluable in the field, making you a nightmare to fight and a godsend in a crisis. 

And then there was Robin.

The two of you were cut from the same cloth—strategic, chaotic, too damn smart for your own good. You understood him, and he understood you. Matched each other’s energy. Missions together felt effortless, like you were operating on the same frequency, anticipating each other’s movements before they happened.

And somewhere along the way, the lines blurred.

There wasn’t one particular day that you admitted your feelings to one another like a pair of lovesick fools in a romantic comedy, but there were moments—small, fleeting ones—that built into something undeniable. A glance held too long after a mission. The way his fingers brushed against yours when handing you a weapon, only to stay there a second too long. The way your heartbeat picked up when he laughed, like some part of you knew before you ever did.

Furthermore, there was never an official label, never a moment where either of you sat down and said this is what we are . You weren’t interested in all that. It was just… you and him . Late-night stakeouts that turned into whispered conversations. Training sessions that ended with breathless laughter and lingering touches. Trust deeper than words.

Wandering eyes when you thought the other wasn’t looking. Hands that strayed—just for a second longer than they should have—brushing over knuckles, ghosting against jawlines. And the kisses—never planned, always inevitable. The kind that started as curiosity but quickly turned into something else, something neither of you cared to name. The kind stolen in dimly lit hallways, behind doors that should probably have been locked.

And maybe that was why it hurt so much when it had to end.

You remembered it so clearly. It was around two years after you had initially started going out. It had been late, Mt. Justice’s kitchen empty except for the two of you. You hadn't wanted to have this conversation, but it had to happen. It was for the best.

He stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, gaze locked onto you like he already knew what was coming. Of course he did. He was Robin. No, Nightwing, now actually. He was the World’s second greatest detective. He noticed everything.

"So that’s it?" he had asked, voice steady. Too steady. Like he was already bracing for impact.

You swallowed hard. "I don’t think I can do all of this."

His expression didn’t change, but you saw the shift in his posture, the barely perceptible tightening of his jaw. "All of what?"

"I’m joining the League," you said, the words steady, certain. You’d been turning the decision over in your head ever since the offer came. And the more you thought about it, the more it just felt... right. Like the next step you were meant to take.

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—something you caught even through those stupid sunglasses he insisted on wearing indoors. Pride. Admiration. But beneath it, something else. Something sharp. He nodded, exhaling slowly, like he was piecing it all together in real time.

"That’s... that’s amazing." His voice was warm, sure. "You deserve this. You’re going to do incredible things—I know it."

You swallowed, the weight of his words settling in your chest. He meant it. You could hear it in the way he said it, in the quiet certainty of his voice. And yet, part of you wondered if he knew just how much it meant to hear him say it.

You forced a small smile. "Thanks. You too."

Silence settled between you for a beat, stretching just a little too long. Then you took a breath.

"It’s just…that, and university, and this life..." You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. "And us—whatever we are."

Saying it out loud made it real in a way you weren’t ready for. You’d always known this moment would come—that you couldn’t stay in the same place forever. You had pushed yourself too far, worked too hard, to not take this step forward. And yet, the weight of it settled heavily in your chest.

His smile faltered, just at the edges, and that told you everything. He meant what he said. He was proud of you. But there was something else, something unspoken sitting heavy in his throat.

He exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "You don’t have to—"

"I do." Your voice was quieter now. But firm. "You know I do. If I can’t give this my all, then what’s the point?" A breath. A beat. "And you... you deserve someone who can."

A silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. For a second, you almost wished he’d argue, tell you that you were wrong, that you could make it work. But you knew him too well. He understood why you were doing this, it just... sucked.

Finally, he let out a breath, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "We’ll still be friends. I’m not going anywhere."

And he didn’t.

But that didn’t mean it got any easier.

Neither of you let go, not really. The habits never faded. The casual touches, the way you still worked together seamlessly on joint missions, the way you fell into old rhythms like muscle memory.

The way he still lingered when he walked past you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. The way your hands still found each other in the chaos of a fight, grasping wrists, steadying shoulders, anchoring each other like you always had. The way his voice softened when he said your name, even when he was all business, even when he pretended none of it meant anything anymore.

And the worst part? The way you caught yourself waiting for it, anticipating it, like some part of you still thought things hadn't really changed. Like some part of you was still his, and he was still yours.

It was stupid, you knew. Dangerous, even. But neither of you could seem to help it.

And it wasn’t just that you were passionate—you were brilliant. Genuinely, undeniably intelligent. Your professors saw it, your classmates saw it, and it had even landed you an internship at S.T.A.R. Labs. The kind of opportunity people fought tooth and nail for, and yet, you had earned it with sheer capability. There were days you spent hours in the lab, pouring over equations, running simulations, and discussing cutting-edge theories with scientists who actually valued your input. It was exhilarating.

But balancing hero work? That was a different beast entirely. Juggling late-night missions with early-morning lectures, reviewing mission reports while trying to finish your thesis—sometimes it felt like you were living in two different timelines. You’d show up to class bruised, exhausted, chugging coffee like your life depended on it, but somehow, you made it work. Barely. There were nights you crashed at your desk, costume still on, half-written reports scattered between physics textbooks and mission briefs. You were constantly running on the edge of exhaustion, always one misstep away from burning out completely.

And yet, you wouldn’t change a thing. Because this was the life you chose—the life you wanted . Even if it meant stretching yourself impossibly thin, even if it meant stealing moments of rest in between saving the world and trying to understand it.

And then, there was Nightwing.

He had always been sharp—quicker than most, both physically and mentally—but becoming the team’s leader had refined him. The way he assessed a battlefield, how he calculated risks in an instant, the sheer weight of responsibility he carried—it was something honed through years under Batman’s shadow. He never had the time for college, never needed the degree to prove what everyone already knew. He was brilliant, his mind working a mile a minute, always solving, always planning. But there were moments—quiet, stolen moments—where he let himself just be .

And in those moments, he found himself yearning . For you.

He’d never admit it, but he loved the conversations you had, the way you could switch from discussing mission logistics to debating the nature of particulate matter without skipping a beat. He loved the fire in your eyes when you got passionate about something, the way your mind worked through problems even he couldn’t solve right away. He had faced some of the greatest minds in the world, but none of them made him feel the way you did when you got lost in a theory or cracked a joke mid-equation.

And then there was your game—the ridiculous, nerdy drinking game that started as a joke but had become something sacred. Whenever you had the rare moment to grab a drink together, you’d throw impossibly hard math problems at each other, laughing as you scribbled solutions on napkins, pretending you weren’t just looking for excuses to stay in each other’s orbit. Maybe even an opportunity to show off for the other? Multivariable calculus, theoretical physics, puzzles only the two of you would ever think were fun. No one else knew. It was yours.

One night, after a particularly grueling mission, you found yourselves at a dimly lit bar, phones in hand, generating math problems through some question-dispensing app. The drinks had loosened you both up, and at some point, you absolutely butchered the pronunciation of the binomial theorem. The syllables came out in a tangled mess, and Nightwing nearly choked on his drink from laughing so hard. You smacked his arm, grinning through your own laughter, and just like that, the exhaustion of the mission melted away.

It was in the middle of that shared, breathless laughter that a pair of strangers—just as tipsy as the two of you—pointed and slurred something about how you made an adorable couple. You barely had a second to process before you and Nightwing were tripping over each other’s words, voices overlapping in a frantic attempt to correct them. “Oh, no—” “We’re not—” “Just friends—” “Not like that—”

The strangers exchanged a look, smirks creeping onto their faces before one of them raised their glass in a lazy toast. “That’s what they all say,” they chuckled, eyes glinting with amusement before turning back to their own conversation. You both sat there for a beat too long, letting the words settle uncomfortably between you. He was the first to clear his throat, pivoting the conversation back to your next problem with forced ease, but you couldn’t quite ignore the warmth spreading across your chest—or the way he suddenly couldn’t quite meet your eyes.

He loved the sound of your laugh—bright and unguarded, something that felt like home, in the most abstract way possible. He loved the way your eyes lit up when you found a breakthrough, the way you challenged him without ever making it feel like a fight. He loved your attitude, the way you pushed yourself, the way you never let anything—powers, expectations define you.

And so he yearned. Silently, skillfully. Because that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Hiding things. Bearing weight without complaint. He told himself it was fine. That you had moved on, that he had too. That this was just another part of the job.

But sometimes, when he caught you looking at him like you used to, when you laughed just a little too long at one of his dumb quips, when your fingers brushed against his for just a second too long—

He let himself wonder if maybe, just maybe, you were yearning too.

The latest mission had been a success—both League and Team members working together, efficient, coordinated, seamless. Adrenaline still buzzed under your skin as the dust settled, relief washing over you. And before you even thought about it, you turned to him, grinning, and pulled him into a hug.

Big mistake.

Your heart lurched in your chest, and you felt it—felt everything. The way his arms tightened around you just slightly, the way he exhaled like he’d been holding his breath. The way his fingers pressed into your back, firm but reluctant, like he didn’t want to let go. The second stretched impossibly long, dragging you back to all the times before, all the fleeting touches and stolen moments you told yourself didn’t mean anything. But they did. Every single one of them.

You could feel the familiar warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against yours, just a little too fast, just a little too telling. It was dangerous, this feeling, this moment suspended in time where it felt like the past and present had blurred together. You knew if you looked up, if you met his gaze, you’d see it—the same unspoken thing that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

But this—this was a mistake.

You pulled away quickly, muttered something incoherent, barely trusting yourself to form words. His arms dropped to his sides, a fraction too slow, like part of him had still been holding on. And for a split second, before you turned away, you swore you saw it—the flicker of something raw, something unresolved, in the way he looked at you.

You forced yourself to move on like it never happened. Like it didn’t shake you to your core. Like you weren’t already thinking about calling your dad the second you were alone, because god, you needed to talk to someone about this.

You told him everything. The way you still felt. The tension, the familiarity, the stupid, frustrating fact that you weren’t over it, not even a little bit.

He listened, letting you get it all out before finally speaking. "Time moves forward whether we like it or not. Nobody’s an exception to that rule, not even you," he said, voice steady. "But that doesn’t mean we don’t carry pieces of the past with us. Maybe the question isn’t if you still feel something—but what you’re going to do about it."

The next time you saw Nightwing, it was in a training session. You had volunteered to help the freshmen with their sparring, something you did every now and then. He was there, observing, arms crossed, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"It’s good to know you’re playing teacher today," he teased as you stepped onto the combat simulation floor.

"Figured someone’s gotta make sure these kids can throw a decent punch," you shot back. "Unless you wanna take over?"

"Oh no," he grinned. "I’d hate to steal your spotlight."

With the team gathered, you scanned the room. "Alright, who wants to volunteer first?"

Silence. Nobody moved. You sighed, folding your arms. "Seriously? Nobody?"

And then, after a beat, he stepped forward. "I’ll go."

You rolled your eyes. "Of course you will."

He just smirked.

The spar was intense—quick strikes, dodges, counters. It was easy to forget the audience, easy to fall back into the familiar rhythm of fighting him. Blow for blow, neither of you relented. Footwork sharp, bodies twisting, the tension building with every dodge, every calculated move. A step too close, a brush of skin, a heartbeat too long staring at each other before the next strike. It ended in a tie, both of you breathing hard, staring each other down with something charged in the space between you.

"You’ve gotten better," he mused, tilting his head.

You smirked, heart still hammering. "You haven’t seen my best yet."

"Maybe I should."

Time stretched impossibly thin, the weight of his words hanging heavy. Reckless. Stupid. But you still smiled, still let yourself fall into the banter, the tension, the pull that neither of you ever really let go of.

You were in trouble.

"These two need to get a room," someone muttered, just loud enough to break the moment. You snapped your head to the side, catching Beast Boy leaning toward Blue Beetle with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows.

M’gann smacked him upside the head before you could even open your mouth. "Not. Helping."

Beast Boy yelped, rubbing the back of his head. 

You rolled your shoulders. "Focus up, Beastboy. Unless you want to be my next sparring partner?"

He threw his hands up in surrender. "Nope! I value my life, thanks."

Nightwing chuckled beside you, a familiar, low sound that sent something warm curling in your stomach. "I don’t know. Could be fun watching you take him down."

You arched a brow at him, still catching your breath. "And what, you think you’d last long against me at all?"

That damn smirk. "I think we both know the answer to that."

Your pulse kicked up, and you hated how easy it was to get lost in this—how easy it was to fall right back into the push and pull, the teasing, the almosts.

Yeah. You were so, so in trouble.

Eventually, the training session wrapped up, but Nightwing didn’t leave. He stayed behind, and so did you. The others filed out, leaving the two of you in the lingering quiet of the training room. It wasn’t awkward—at least, not in a way you weren’t used to.

You could still hear the distant murmurs of conversation from the hallway, the shuffle of boots against the floor, but in here, it was just you and him. The overhead lights buzzed softly, casting long shadows across the tile beneath you. You rolled your shoulders, stretching out the lingering tension from the session, acutely aware of the way his gaze lingered.

He stood by the railing, arms crossed, watching you with an expression you couldn’t quite decipher. His mask hid his eyes, but you knew him well enough to catch the flickers of emotion beneath it. "You really haven’t changed at all. Still showing off, huh?"

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was no real malice in them. "I think that someone's just a little bit salty."

He tilted his head, smirking. "You sure you’re not cheating? Maybe freezing time mid-fight to reposition yourself, get the upper hand on me?"

You gasped, clutching your chest in mock offense. "How dare you? Accusing me of using my powers unfairly—right to my face, no less."

He chuckled. "I mean, you do have a history of bending the rules."

"I bend physics, not rules. Big difference."

"Mhm. Convenient excuse."

You rolled your eyes, but the grin tugging at your lips betrayed you. "Just admit I’m better and move on."

"You’re so much more than that."

It was casual at first, but something in his voice shifted, something more than just playful rivalry. You turned to face him fully. "Spit it out, Grayson."

His jaw tensed, and for a second, you thought he’d brush it off. But instead, he exhaled, looking at you like he was trying to memorize every detail. "We never really let go, did we?"

Your stomach flipped. "What?"

"You know what I mean." His voice was quieter now, but heavier. "I thought we were doing the right thing—giving ourselves space, focusing on work. But… every time I see you, it’s like none of that mattered."

You swallowed hard, because—God—you knew exactly what he meant. Every time you worked together, every mission, every glance across a crowded room, it was like the universe itself was conspiring against you.

"I still think about you," you admitted before you could stop yourself. "More than I should."

His lips quirked, but there was no amusement in it, only something raw. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "Yeah."

Silence. The air between you crackled like a live wire. His gaze flickered to your lips—briefly, almost imperceptibly—but you caught it. You always did.

"This is a really bad idea," you whispered, and you weren’t sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

"Probably." His voice was barely above a murmur.

But neither of you moved away.

His hand brushed yours, hesitant, then firm. His fingers curled around your wrist like he was grounding himself—like he was making sure you were real. And then, finally, finally , he closed the space between you.

The kiss was slow at first, like testing a theory, like waiting for the universe to correct this mistake. But when it didn’t, when the only thing that happened was the way his hands slid to your waist, the way you pressed into him like you’d never stopped—

It deepened.

Eighteen months of restraint cracked apart in a second. One of his hands found the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly close. Your fingers tangled in his hair, dragging him further into you. It was messy, desperate, overwhelming, but it was real. And you weren’t stupid enough to run from it this time.

When you finally broke apart, breathless, his forehead rested against yours. His grip on you hadn’t loosened, like he was afraid letting go meant waking up from whatever the hell this was.

Your breath was uneven, your pulse pounding in your ears. His was too—you could feel it against your skin, rapid and unsteady, betraying the calm he usually wore like armor.

You let out a shaky laugh, your lips tingling. "Well. That was… nostalgic."

Nightwing chuckled, low and hoarse, his breath fanning across your cheek. But there was something else beneath it. He exhaled sharply. "Yeah, we’re screwed."

Your breath hitched at the admission—at the way he said it, like he wasn’t dreading it. Like he was already coming to terms with it, as if he’d known all along that resisting this was a losing battle.

"Probably," you echoed, softer this time.

His fingers flexed against your waist before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His pupils were blown wide, his expression unreadable, but there was something there—something searching. Like he was waiting for you to say it first.

"So what do we do now?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.

A part of you wanted to overthink it—to map out the consequences, the risks, the inevitable fallout. But another part of you, the part that had been holding back for too damn long, already had the answer.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his suit, grounding yourself. "We figure it out."

He huffed out a small laugh, shaking his head, but there was no hesitation when he whispered back, "Yeah. We always do."

[therandomhalfrussian]

Ronnie Petersons chronicles #9

Ronnie Peterson at the 1000 km race of Brands Hatch.

Right, about a postings schedule… Not gonna be able to post as usual next week either. So much unplanned stuff happening right now. For compensation you guys will get this chronicle a day earlier than usual. But unfortunately it is a bit shorter than usual too.

I love when I actually find a picture of Ronnie I’ve never seen before that’s is not just him in his cars. Look how adorable he is!!! That racing suit and his yellow 1978 one is probably my favorites. He fits well in light and/or bright colors.

Do excuse any grammatical errors, English is not my first language. “(italics)” is my explanation of things.

Chronicle 9 below:

“Carrousel at 200 knots”

(Late April, Madrid, Spain)

“Sometimes you get to go on a carrousel-ride. Involuntarily. When I drove out on the track to drive the first practice session before the 1000-kilometer race for sports cars at Brands Hatch I hit a bump. The entire rear end was lifted. And there Peterson sat and went for a carrousel-ride at 200 knots (≈370 km/h).

I spun all along the straight like a piece of butter in a hot pan. The turn in front of me approached rapidly, but I managed to get the nose in the right direction and stabilized myself. Then it was just for me to pit. All four of the wheels were completely ruined, I had spun that hard.

We had some problems getting the Ferrari ready before the world championship race at Brands. When it was time for start we had adjusted everything backwards and forwards and yet we did not get the pieces functioning properly. Much of that because the track was so bumpy.

…the track felt like a slingshot

When we drove here last time there was a bunch of small bumps on the track that in themselves were not so pleasant. But not the organizers had tried to fill them in but instead there were now just a bunch of large bumps. It felt like being on a slingshot all the way.

Well, me and Tim got second place, and that is not much to be ashamed for. Ickx and Andretti who won drove really fast, and the main thing is that the world championship points still go to Ferrari. The fact is that I led the race for a while and never got below third place.

Before Brands Hatch me and Tim went down to Modena where we inaugurated Ferrari's new testing track, and it is something fantastic. I do not think any other team has the opportunity to develop like Ferrari has right now. The new track that is just for testing racing cars has a complete equipment for that purpose.

For example it has a top modern timing system made by Heuer. There are timing places every fifty meters around the whole track and that means you can study how a car drives along the whole track in detail. You can for example see if the acceleration on a certain turn has gotten better after an adjustment or if the braking range has shortened after a brake adjustment.

The new car is not finished yet. But it is coming along…

There were a lot of people there for the inauguration, around 300 journalists were there from the entirety of Europe to watch. Right now I am in Spain to prepare for the Spanish Grand Prix which will start on the 1’st of May.

So the point is for Niki Lauda to get the March 721x that I drove with at Brands Hatch during the Race of Champions, while I am getting a new one of the same model. My car will be lighter thanks to Robin Herd using new metal alloys that are both super light and super expensive.

As soon as my car is finished we will have to start transferring all the minor adjustments made on the old car to the new one. But I do not think there will be a problem getting it done before the race.

It is quite important that everything goes well down here in Spain, especially since all of you can see me on TV. I have heard that there will be a live broadcast in color even on Swedish TV and that is quite fun.

Not a lot of driving in Sweden this year

Something that is less fun about Sweden is that the race organizers cannot decide about anything. Now I have heard that neither Kinnekulle nor Karlskoga will have their planned Formula 2-races this summer.

That means that I might not get a chance to drive in front of my home crowd and I think that is really sad. Furthermore I have worked hard all spring trying to convince my friends to line up for the race so the starting field would appear really strong.

It is kinda weird that the Swedish organizers seem so confused by organizing a simple Formula 2-race when so much is already laid out for them. I think the crowds would come if they invested in getting a few Formula 2-racers home with how popular the motorsport seems to be in Sweden.

Spain then next time. See you later!”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You can find the original chronicle (in Swedish) here.

I feel kind of bad for Ronnie. He was so excited to drive a Formula 2 race in Sweden. Then nothing. Damn you un-organized organizers! At least Anderstorp got added to the F1 calendar in 1973.

Also what is this guys luck. It’s practically non-existent. Why was his car either falling in pieces (ahem March 721x you beautiful piece of scrap) or some outward conditions ruining every race yet he managed to finish in respectable positions. I can only imagine the back-pain from a bumpy track like that too.

Thank you for reading, if you notice anything wrong or have anything I can improve on please tell me!

[lisinact]

ACID,,,

what an intro

he's a little insane and roughly sketched & colored but here is my own “ler oc” (i have no idea if anyone has made this oc b4 LOL)

ofc he's part of the truffula flu au cuz why not

here is my son

he's an acid addict. i promise he has a lot of depth....

read below for his character chart ^^

Name: Acid

Age: ~24 (est.)

Pronouns: He/They

Height: 6’4”

Appearance V

Pale skin with chemical burn scarring in random parts of his body. There’s a serial code tattoo: #A1-CD on his neck.

Wears a tattered, makeshift hospital gown top. Other fabrics or clothes are just scavenged (maybe stolen, he doesn’t remember). Often has medical bracelets still on. He can’t take them off since he has been programmed since day to never remove them. Wears patched-up cargo pants and a lab coat he stole (covered in pins). He’s often barefoot or in mismatched shoes. He doesn’t care about his appearance, let’s be honest.

Carries a metal IV pole sharpened at the base, used like a staff/spear.

Sometimes also has stolen syringes and makeshift chemicals he mixes for fun. He desperately tries to recreate the acid mixtures he was given as a test subject.

Short, messy hair. Matted after awhile since he doesn’t know how to take care of himself. It’s also overgrown in some parts. Therefore���he can be unhygienic.

Blue, dilated pupils. Constantly. It’s rare to see him fully sober or not going through withdrawals.

Backstory V

Acid was raised in a corporate-run experimental facility, used as a human subject for biochemical testing. Specifically, he was part of a long-term exposure program testing the effects of hallucinogens, stimulants, and immunity boosters related to Truffula byproducts. He started as a child test subject because he was an orphan and became known only as a number: #A1-CD (hence “Acid”).

He was kept in a sterile, windowless environment for most of his life. Monitored, drugged, tested. No sunlight. No music. Just needles, white walls, and glowing fluids.

At 19, the facility was overtaken by outsiders/rebels. Acid escaped into the real world being fully addicted, chemically warped, and absolutely overstimulated by everything.

Personality V

Chaotic good(ish)…Feral with a technicolor personality. He’s desperate for stimulation, connection, and acid.

Painfully extroverted. Talks fast, touches things, invades personal space, always moving. Introverts HATE him, like, almost 100% guaranteed.

Wildly unpredictable. Friendly one moment, crying the next, then breaking a window for fun. You can never be too certain of what he will do or say.

Drug-seeking behavior: Will beg, trade, or manipulate for acid since it’s his holy grail. He’s willing to do just about anything to get his fix.

Weirdly smart. Despite his state, he knows a lot about chemical reactions, medical terminology, and body language like he’s a raccoon with a doctorate. This also means he can be observant of people.

Medical V

- Visual & auditory hallucinations (some persistent, even off acid)

- Tactile overstimulation. Hugs feel like burning, wind is too loud, etc. To add to that, there’s trauma connected to it so he hates: sirens, lab lights, metal sounds. Those trigger panic attacks.

- Tics and twitches, especially when overwhelmed

- Delirium during withdrawals, sometimes forgets where he is

- Suffers from chemical burns in his mouth and throat, sometimes foams slightly when he’s mid-withdrawal or after a bad “mix.”

- Often breathless, but he never stops moving so he just talks through gasps.

- Malnutrition: brittle nails, sunken cheeks, always looks tired.

Other details V

He doesn’t understand how society works: things like money, privacy, or personal boundaries are a foreign language to him.

Has no concept of birthdays, family roles, or holidays. When people talk about “parents,” he tilts his head like a confused dog.

Often tries to recreate the acid mixtures he was dosed with, but has no precision tools or clean equipment. Most of it is unstable or contaminated. Licks questionable substances to “test” them.

Will lick his fingers to clean them. Or use dirt. Or moss. Whatever’s around. Keeps little bottles of old lab sanitizer in his pockets but doesn’t know what they do. They just smell like “home”.

-

Lmk what yall think LOL idk this is my first time posting a ler OC

[glitchedoutpxie]

“Soft Muscle”

TMNT 2003 - Raphael ficlet series - Episodes 9 + 10

Genre: slow burn romance

Pairing: Scientist fem!reader x captive Raphael

Read episode 1

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Episode 9: Angel In White

Stockman's surveillance grid always had brief gaps between system sweeps where even the air felt stiller. He always came online at 7am. With only a few minutes to spare before the guards walked in for the morning, you moved fast.

The electrodes attached to Raphael's neck and collarbone blinked a slow red, waiting for command signals. You crouched by the panel near the floor, heart thudding in your throat. Pulled back the casing with trembling fingers. The wires inside were coded by color, just as you'd memorized from your early days building this machine.

You reached for the blue one.

Snapped it with a quick twist.

The lights dimmed for half a second, barely noticeable. But enough to make the next command misfire and buy him precious seconds if things went south.

"I have a bad feeling about this," came a hoarse whisper.

You looked up.

He was watching you. Eyes still sunken with fatigue, but alert.

You straightened, wiped your fingers on your coat. "Don't worry. I got it."

"You'll get caught."

You chuckled. "Most likely."

You tapped the screen beside him to reset his vitals just as Stockman's face blinked onto the central monitor. That static smile, that too-smooth voice.

"Good morning, Dr. y/n. Is our subject ready?"

You flashed him your sweetest smile. "Yes, Dr. Stockman."

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Episode 10: Countdown

Stockman was enraged as you sat at your desk, the big screen hanging from your office's ceiling airing his tantrum. It's been days since the equipment started… inconveniently malfunctioning. The tests were not yielding the desired results. Feedback and readings were inconsistent. Raphael was not screaming.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" his voice grated through the speakers.

You kept your gaze neutral, lips pursed. "Of course not, sir."

"Then explain how a Class 7 restraint fails twice in one week! Explain why Subject R's synaptic resistance remains stable despite continuous exposure!"

You flipped through your clipboard with a casual calm that took effort to maintain. "Perhaps the Subject's brain chemistry is simply... adapting."

"Adaptation?" Stockman snapped. "It's a turtle, not a tactical genius! And you—" He leaned in, pixelated face large and twitching. "You've grown soft."

You straightened. "I monitor. I report. That's my role."

"No. Your role is to deliver results." He turned toward someone off-screen. "Prepare her for reassignment if this continues."

The screen cut off.

You exhaled only after the silence returned, rubbing your temple as you stood. Your gaze drifted toward the door that led deeper into the lab—toward him. 

You needed to get him out. And fast.

That night, you convinced the guards to let you into the archives room for study purposes. Told them you were working on fixing Baxter's machines and needed some manuals. 

In reality, you beelined for the row where the city's underground maps were kept. You whipped out your notebook and started scribbling.

*⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･⁠* *⁠･⁠゜ﾟ⁠(✿⁠) ゜ﾟ⁠･*

Read episodes 11 + 12 >>

[frakyeahbattlestargalactica]

Monty Jaggers McGraw:

I am writing new BASIC programs to demo at my VCF Southwest 2025 exhibit of my 1979 Tektronix 4054A color vector graphics computer.

One of the programs I am writing is a 1978-1979 Battlestar Galactica TV demo. That TV show had $500,000 of Tektronix vector graphics computers and test equipment and many screenshots of their green vector storage CRT displays - some stills - some animated. These computer graphics were generated on both 1975 4051 and 1976 4081 vector graphics computers - predecessors to my 4052 and 4054A computers (see first photo attached).

Miami Herald TV 1978 magazine interview with the Battlestar Galactica set designer indicated extras on the set stationed in front of the 4051 computers were playing games during filming to increase realism and were so absorbed they kept playing after the cut! (article page attached).

The 4051 and second generation 4052 were the same physical size and used the same CRT and same Display board, but the 4052 and 4054 computers replaced the 800KHz Motorola 6800 CPU with a custom four AMD2901 bit-slice CPU to create a 16-bit address and data bus ALU which emulated the 6800 opcodes and added hardware floating point opcodes to speed up these computers 10x over the Motorola 6800, doubled the BASIC ROM space to 64KB and doubled the RAM space to 64KB!

I created these vector bitmap graphics using a "3D CAD" picture I found on the web of the Battlestar Galactica (last attachment).

As far as I know - there was never any 4050 BASIC program to view bitmap pictures on any of the 4050 computers. The 1979 4014 vector graphics terminal had a grayscale bitmap mode in the Extended Graphics option board, but I have only found a couple of bitmap 4014 images on a single Tektronix demo tape cartridge.

My 4050 BASIC program to display bitmaps works on all 4050 series computers - with an optional Tektronix 4050R12 Fast Graphics/Graphics Enhancement ROM Pack. This ROM Pack speeds up displaying vector images (including vector dot images) 10x over using BASIC MOVE and DRAW commands.

The Battlestar Galactica bitmap image in R12 binary format is 332234 bytes - slightly larger than would fit on a DC300 quarter-inch tape cartridge in the internal tape drive of all three 4050 computers, but would have fit on a 3M DC600 tape cartridge with a capacity of 600KB - it would have been very slow to load.

I designed an Arduino board to emulate the Tektronix 4924 GPIB tape drive - with the help of my software developer. My GPIB Flash Drive board contains a MicroSD card with gigabytes of storage and the Flash Drive emulates a GPIB tape changer, storing all the files of a "tape" in a single directory. I have also attached to this post a photo of my GPIB Flash Drive.

I have recovered almost 100 Tektronix 4050 Tapes and posted the ones I think are the most interesting at this time on my github repository for Tektronix 4051/4052/4054 computers: https://github.com/mmcgraw74/Tektronix-4051-4052-4054-Program-Files I included Tektronix published MATH volumes 1, 2, and 3 and Electrical Engineering, but I don't think they have a lot of use today. I have in my collection but not recovered tapes on Project Management, Statistics, and over 100 more tapes from the very active user group, which Tektronix made collections and published abstracts in their newsletter and the newletter customer got the tape for free. Commercial software like CAD programs were likely encrypted to eliminate copying - since Tektronix 4050 BASIC included a SECRET command which would then encrypt the program file as it was recorded to tape and add a SECRET flag in the tape header that would signal to BASIC ROM when that file was accessed to decrypt the program when it was loaded into memory. One big limiter to the size of the program was RAM in the 4051 was limited to 32KB and the 4052 and 4054 were limited to 64KB of RAM, although Tek BASIC did include commands to allow program "chunks" to be overlayed as necessary. Tektronix used those commands in their 4050 System Tape which was shipped with every system and included a tutorial on many of their BASIC commands. The tutorial ran on the original 4051 with 8KB of memory, and if the program detected 16KB of memory it would APPEND larger program files to speed up the tutorial.

[honeyedmiller]

Hiiiii

I love your writing. I was wondering can you please write a pedro×reader when they realize that they're pregnant and it's just so sudden and unexpected and shock them both?

aww tysm, and yes omg. Pedro would be the sweetest dad ever 🥺

warnings: mentions of nausea and getting sick, unexpected pregnancy, little bit of angst, fluff. no use of y/n.

word count: <1k

“I don’t feel so good again.” You groan, slowly getting up from bed. Pedro watched you worriedly as you scurried to the bathroom to puke out all of the contents in your stomach, again.

You’d been feeling really nauseated and fatigued the past few weeks, and Pedro was getting really concerned about your well-being.

You felt him rub your back gently as he held your hair back, comforting you through your illness.

“Maybe it’s time we go to the doctors, honey. I’m getting really worried about you.” His voice is soft, full of concern.

You nod your head in agreement, tired of feeling like this nearly twenty-four seven now.

So, the next morning, Pedro took you to a private clinic near his house.

“Good morning Mr. Pascal, Mrs. Pascal,” The doctor said, and you blushed at the assumed last name. It made you blush even harder that Pedro didn’t even try to correct the doctor. “What brings you in today?”

“I’ve been feeling really ill recently. I’m constantly nauseated and so exhausted. I thought it was stress from work but I don’t get like this usually when it becomes tough-going.”

The doctor nodded at what you were telling him, and he hummed. “Have you taken any pregnancy tests lately?”

And just as fast as the color rushed to your face, it drained. “No.” You say meekly, looking over at Pedro who looked just as stunned.

You both tried to be so careful… there’s no way you could be pregnant. Right? Right?

“Well, let’s not be too hasty. Let’s run some tests but I will have you take the pregnancy test just to be sure.” The doctor said, and you nodded.

You proceeded to do a series of tests, but the doctor quickly came back with the shocking news.

“It seems you actually are pregnant, ma’am.” He confirmed, showing you the test results in black ink. You couldn’t believe it.

“But I– I don’t understand. I just had my period a few weeks ago.”

“That could’ve actually been implantation bleeding. I’ll give you two a couple of minutes before I get a sonographer in here to do an ultrasound on you, okay? Congratulations.” He smiled at you both, exiting the room.

It seemed like ages that both of you sat in silence before an overwhelming sense of panic surged over you, and you started to cry.

“I’m so sorry.” You kept muttering, covering your face with your hands. Pedro immediately pried your hands from your face as he embraced you tightly, kissing your head.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, honey. It takes two to make a baby, right? I have every much responsibility in this, too.”

“But, what are we going to do? You have filming coming up soon, I have my job… we’ve only been together for a year, Pedro. This is–”

“Sh sh, hey, it’s okay. It’s okay,” He cooed, rocking you back and forth slowly. “We’ll figure it out, okay? You can quit your job. I make plenty for the both of us. You can come with me to Vancouver, if that’s something you wanted to do. I’m in this with you every step of the way, baby.”

You cried in his arms for a bit before the sonographer came into the room, rolling in the ultrasound equipment.

She smiled sympathetically at the two of you before instructing you to lay back and lift up your shirt.

“The gel is going to be a bit cold. My apologies.” She says before squirting some onto you, taking the wand and moving it around. You could see a tiny figure in the darkness of what you presumed was your uterus.

“There’s baby,” The sonographer said with a soft smile, pointing to various parts of the body. “Looks like you’re about six weeks along.” She concludes, taking snapshots of the screen.

“Little baby Pascal.” Pedro whispered, looking at the screen and then down at you. His grip on your hand got tighter as he brought it to his lips, kissing the back of it.

The more you both stared at the screen in wonder, the more you both fell in love with your little creation. You knew it wouldn’t be easy with your hectic lives, but if you were to do this with anyone, you were so glad it was with Pedro.

[vgprintads]

'Vectrex'

[VECTREX] [SWEDEN] [MAGAZINE] [1983]

"The next big poltergeist to come bopping into your neighborhood is General Consumer Electronics' Vectrex. It actually lives up to its billing as the one that "brings real arcade play home." Vectrex is a programmable package that comes with its own nine-inch monitor. Advertised at around $200, it boasts the first-ever vector-graphics screen for home use. Color-television screens operate with raster scan, the process of lighting up zillions of tiny color dots to create images. Vector graphics, on the other hand, uses thin black-and-white line drawings to form clear, brilliant geometric shapes that can give the illusion of three-dimensionality. The arcade game Asteroids is the most popular example of vector graphics; Vectrex games look a lot like Asteroids. The major vector graphics drawback is that it can't produce color images, though we'll eventually see video games that combine the two styles. For those who get the hue downs and lose concentration without color, G.C.E. has. equipped its system with a set of plastic slides that fit over the screen. Standing near the G.C.E. display at last June's Consumer Electronics Show in Chicago, I overheard a competing company's rep sneer at Vectrex, "All this proves is that they haven't got color capability." He was right. But an even more distracting problem than the lack of color—which you'll get used to—is the simplicity of the shapes that vector graphics can create. It's hard to believe that that thing on the planet's surface in Scramble is an alien fuel repository when it looks more (exactly, in fact) like a box with an X through it. Still, most of the Vectrex games are set in space, where six lines can represent a pretty fierce-looking Klingon cruiser. The action in these games is superior to that in any of the TV-dependent systems. The visuals are adequate, even starkly compelling at times; the joy stick and the four-button controls are extraordinarily sensitive; and the music is by turns challenging and inspiring. Mine Storm, an unabashed imitation of Asteroids, is programmed into the Vectrex monitor. As a freebie, it's incomparable—tougher in some ways than Asteroids (not Asteroids Deluxe: nothing is tougher than that). The game presents plenty of mean mines, a devilish triangle that rushes out near the end of a rack and a mess of heat-seeking quasi-stellar things that'll make you wish you were a reptile. Remember Asteroids strategy: You've gotta fly or you'll never beat Mine Storm. Vectrex is fast, challenging and stimulating, thanks to G.C.E.'s having liberated home video from the television set. Give it at least a test fly before you buy. The choice you finally make from among all of these games will depend largely on your personality and on what gets you off. Some of that decision will boil down to whether you want action or good looks every former high school boy can identify with that." ~Kevin Cook, Playboy (January 1983)

Source: Allt om Hemdatorer, 1983 (#3) || Internet Archive; Bultro

[crossatlanticsoftware-blog]

Expert Picks: The Best Shopify Website Designers for 2025’s Trending Store Features

The world of eCommerce is transforming faster than ever, and Shopify remains at the forefront of that evolution. As brands aim to deliver exceptional user experiences and capitalize on design-led growth, the need for a skilled Shopify designer has never been greater.

Cross Atlantic Software specialize in bringing together cutting-edge creativity and eCommerce functionality. In this article, we’re diving into the top Shopify website designers to watch in 2025 and sharing expert insights on the trending Shopify store design features that are shaping the future of online retail.

Why Shopify Design Matters in 2025

Before we get into the list of designers and specialists, it’s important to understand why Shopify design is more critical than ever. Online shoppers expect more than a functional website—they want intuitive navigation, fast load times, visually engaging layouts, and mobile responsiveness. That’s where the expertise of a Shopify specialist comes into play.

What Makes a Great Shopify Website Designer?

A truly standout Shopify website designer goes beyond aesthetics. They focus on:

Conversion-driven layouts

Brand-centric user experience

Responsive mobile design

SEO-optimized pages

Seamless app integrations

Let’s take a look at what trends are dominating Shopify in 2025 and who is best equipped to execute them flawlessly.

2025’s Top Shopify Store Design Trends

1. Personalized Shopping Experiences

Thanks to AI and data analytics, personalization is no longer a luxury—it's an expectation. Smart Shopify store design integrates AI-driven recommendations, dynamic product displays, and personalized landing pages. This keeps customers engaged and encourages more frequent purchases.

2. Video-First Product Displays

Static images are taking a backseat in 2025. Leading Shopify website designers are building immersive product pages with background videos, 360-degree product views, and storytelling clips. These elements give customers a real feel for what they’re buying, right from the screen.

3. Mobile-First Design

With more than 75% of eCommerce traffic coming from mobile, top Shopify specialists are prioritizing mobile performance. Think smooth scrolling, effortless one-tap checkouts, and pages that load in the blink of an eye—because today’s shoppers won’t wait around.

4. Eco-Conscious Branding

Consumers are more conscious of sustainability. Modern Shopify store designs are incorporating eco-friendly color schemes, carbon tracking widgets, and transparency tabs to showcase ethical sourcing.

5. Modular Design Systems

In 2025, agility is key. Many Shopify designers are adopting modular design systems—reusable UI components that let store owners update their sites quickly without starting from scratch.

Meet the Experts: Top Shopify Website Designers for 2025

Cross Atlantic Software works with some of the most forward-thinking professionals in the Shopify ecosystem. Here are the types of Shopify website design services that are in high demand—and who’s delivering them.

1. The Strategist Shopify Designer

A strategist isn’t just focused on look and feel—they focus on conversion. They use analytics, customer behavior, and A/B testing to inform every design decision. Our own Cross Atlantic Software design team is known for combining user psychology with clean aesthetics to boost ROI.

Best for: DTC brands looking to scale quickly.

2. The Visual Storyteller

These Shopify website designers are all about emotion. They create visual narratives through imagery, layout, typography, and animation. For lifestyle, fashion, and beauty brands, this approach is especially effective.

Best for: High-end or boutique brands seeking emotional engagement.

3. The Technical Shopify Specialist

Some projects require deep technical know-how. Whether it’s integrating custom features, building subscription logic, or streamlining complex product catalogs, these Shopify specialists bridge the gap between design and engineering.

Best for: B2B, SaaS, or stores with unique backend needs.

4. The Speed-First Optimizer

If performance is your priority, look for a Shopify designer focused on speed. These experts optimize image sizes, reduce unused code, and streamline user flows—all to reduce bounce rates and increase sales.

Best for: Mobile-heavy industries or global brands.

5. The Brand Builder

A great store starts with great branding. These Shopify website design services offer end-to-end support—from logo creation and color palette development to building a custom Shopify theme that aligns with your vision.

Best for: New brands or rebrands that need full creative direction.

Why Choose Cross Atlantic Software?

With hundreds of projects completed and clients across North America, Europe, and Asia, Cross Atlantic Software is more than just a design agency—we’re your eCommerce growth partner.

Our Services Include:

Custom Shopify store design

Theme development and optimization

UI/UX design tailored to your industry

Shopify Plus migration and setup

Full-stack Shopify website design services

Cross Atlantic Software believes every brand has its own story to tell. Our Shopify specialists work closely with you to make sure your store doesn’t just look great—it feels like you.

Client Success:

One of our recent clients, a sustainable fashion label based in Los Angeles, came to us for a full redesign. Their outdated store had a high bounce rate and poor mobile usability.

Our team implemented a modern Shopify store design with immersive video elements, quick-load product pages, and mobile-first navigation. Within three months:

Bounce rate decreased by 27%

Mobile conversions increased by 40%

Average order value rose by 15%

This is the power of working with expert Shopify website designers who understand trends and business objectives.

Conclusion:

If you're planning to launch or revamp your Shopify store in 2025, don’t settle for generic templates or cookie-cutter solutions. Partnering with an experienced Shopify designer or Shopify specialist can make the difference between a store that looks good—and one that converts.

Cross Atlantic Software is passionate about building digital experiences that drive growth. Whether you’re a startup looking for full Shopify website design services or an established brand wanting to refresh your Shopify store design, we’re here to help.

Ready to future-proof your eCommerce store? Contact Cross Atlantic Software today for a free consultation and let’s create something extraordinary together.

[pssluxesalon]

Get Flawless, Long-Lasting Results with Permanent Makeup in Indore

In today's fast-paced world, every minute matters — and spending hours in front of a mirror every morning isn't always possible. That’s where permanent makeup comes in. Offering a natural, time-saving solution to your daily beauty routine, permanent makeup in Indore has become increasingly popular among working professionals, brides, and beauty-conscious individuals.

Whether you want fuller eyebrows, defined lips, or smudge-proof eyeliner, permanent makeup — also called semi-permanent makeup or PMU — enhances your facial features effortlessly, giving you a flawless look 24/7.

What is Permanent Makeup?

Permanent makeup is a cosmetic technique where pigments are gently deposited into the upper layers of the skin using a fine needle. This technique mimics the look of real makeup — but lasts for months, or even years. It’s safe, effective, and a game-changer for people who want to simplify their routine without compromising on beauty.

Most Popular Permanent Makeup Services in Indore

Indore now boasts several premium salons and certified professionals who specialize in a wide range of PMU services. Some of the most in-demand options include:

1. Eyebrow Microblading

This is one of the most requested PMU treatments. If you have thin, patchy, or uneven eyebrows, eyebrow microblading in Indore can give you a fuller, well-shaped brow with realistic hair strokes. The result is soft, natural-looking brows that last up to 18 months.

2. Permanent Lip Blushing

Say goodbye to dull or uneven lip color! Permanent lip blushing in Indore enhances the natural tint of your lips, giving them a youthful, soft pink or peach tone. It also improves shape and definition, making your lips look fuller and more symmetrical — without fillers.

3. Eyeliner Tattoo

No more struggling with shaky eyeliner. Permanent eyeliner defines your lash line with precision. Whether you prefer a subtle enhancement or a bold liner effect, it’s a great solution for people who wear makeup daily or have sensitive eyes.

Who Can Benefit from Permanent Makeup?

Busy professionals who want to save time daily

Brides and brides-to-be who want to look picture-perfect

People with patchy brows, pale lips, or skin conditions

Those with allergies to conventional makeup

Fitness lovers who want sweat-proof beauty

Permanent makeup not only enhances natural beauty but also boosts confidence.

Why Choose Certified PMU Artists in Indore?

When it comes to permanent makeup, experience and training matter. Always choose a South Korea certified PMU artist in Indore or a salon that offers safe, hygienic procedures using high-quality pigments and equipment.

Benefits of choosing a reputed salon include:

Detailed consultation and design mapping

Safe, sanitized environment

Use of top-tier PMU tools and pigments

Minimal discomfort and fast healing

Aftercare support and touch-up sessions

Is Permanent Makeup Safe?

Yes, when done by trained professionals using sterile tools and top-quality pigments, permanent makeup is safe. A patch test and consultation are always recommended before the procedure. Proper aftercare also ensures longer-lasting results and prevents infections.

Follow Us:

https://www.instagram.com/psssalonsindore

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Is it possible to change turn signal lights to LEDs?

Yes, it is technically possible to replace your turn signal lights with LED lights, but it requires careful retrofitting to avoid electrical problems and violations. Here’s what you need to know:

✅ Benefits of LED Turn Signal Lights Lifespan: LED lights have a lifespan of 25,000-50,000 hours, while halogen lights have a lifespan of 500-1,000 hours.

Brightness: 200-300% more light output (up to 1,500 lumens).

Faster Response: Instant on/off for improved visibility.

Power Saving: Each bulb consumes about 0.5-1A, while halogen lights consume 2.0A per bulb.

⚠️ Main Challenges & Solutions Overclocked Flashing (Fast Flashing)

Cause: Halogen lights consume more power → the factory flasher relay expects this load. LEDs consume less power → the relay “thinks” the bulb is burned out.

Solution:

Load resistance: Add parallel resistors to simulate the power consumption of halogen lamps (e.g. 6Ω per bulb, 50W).

Disadvantage: Generates a lot of heat (needs heat sink/metal bracket).

LED flasher relay: Replace the factory relay with an electronic flasher (e.g. EP36 for GM, CF18 for Japanese cars).

CAN bus decoder: Must-have for modern cars (e.g. iJDMtoY/LASFIT kits). CAN bus system error

Problem: Modern cars monitor circuit resistance. Low LED current triggers "bulb off" warning/dashboard error.

Solution: Use CAN bus compatible LED bulbs with built-in resistors (e.g. SNGL, Philips Ultinon). Legal compliance

Colors: Amber (front/side) and red (rear) are legally mandatory in most areas. Pure white LED turn signals are illegal.

Beam Pattern: LED lamps must not cause glare (reflector housing bulb designs only - LEDs may not be used in projector housings unless DOT certified).

Photometric Standards: Must meet SAE/DOT or ECE R6 regulations (look for "SAE/DOT compliant" packaging).

Housing Compatibility

Avoid using halogen housing LED lamps that are not equipped with a beam cutoff. Glare can blind other drivers.

Solution: Replace the entire housing with an OEM/LED-specific component.

🔧 Step-by-Step Installation Guide Check Compatibility:

See your vehicle manual for bulb type/size (e.g., PY21W, 7440).

Use a compatibility tool (e.g., Google Lookup). Get Parts:

LED Bulbs: Front: Amber (e.g., SNGL 7443), Rear: Red (e.g., SNGL 7506).

Resistors/Relays: Use a kit such as the Lumen LM200 Resistor Kit. Installation:

Disconnect negative battery terminal.

Replace bulb: Unscrew socket → remove old bulb → install LED (align pins).

Place resistors across positive/negative wires of each bulb (use solder/heat shrink tubing).

Mount resistors on metal surface (not plastic/trim). Testing and debugging:

Turn on hazard and signal lights. Verify there is no overclocked flashing.

Scanner dial error (use OBD2 scanner).

📜 Legality Checklist Requirements: US EU/UK Color (frontlight): Amber or white¹ Amber only Color (rearlight): Red Red Intensity: ≤100–300 cd² ≤170 cd (sidelights) Beam diffusion: DOT/SAE compliant ECE R6 compliant

¹ Only factory-equipped turn signals are white (check individual state laws).

² Photometric testing of aftermarket bulbs is rare, but must be done on factory designs.

💡 Smart Alternatives Plug-and-play kits: Brands like OPT7/LASFIT include resistors and connectors.

Full LED taillight assemblies: Replace the entire assembly (e.g., modern factory LED upgrades).

Hybrid bulbs: Halogen/LED combos to avoid overclocked flicker (e.g., Philips X-tremeUltinon).

🛠️ Cost breakdown Component price range LED bulb (pair) 20–60 Load resistor (pair) 10–15 LED flasher relay 15–40 Professional installation 100–200

⚠️ Key risks to avoid Fire hazard: Never mount resistors on plastic. Use wire sleeves and thermal tape instead.

Warranty void: Modifying factory wiring may void dealer warranty.

Insurance issues: Non-compliant LEDs may complicate accident claims.

Recommendations: For classic cars: Resistors + standard amber LEDs.

For modern cars (2010 and later): CAN bus compatible bulbs + flasher relays.

When in doubt: Use the Philips Ultinon Pro6000 kit with built-in decoder.

Always test the beam pattern against a wall at night and verify compliance with local DOT/ECE standards. If DIY isn’t an option, specialty shops like CARiD can provide vehicle-specific kits.

[open-hangar]

Space Defense Lanzer Ep. 6

LUNARIAN MECHANICAL RECORDS

Μακάριοι οι Παρατηρητές

Prototype Lanzer Type-Artemis

Size: 18m, 51 tons

Power Output: ~800 MW/minute onboard, [REDACTED]

Pilots: 1 active pilot

Weaponry and abilities: Space flight, limited atmospheric flight, modular weaponry and armor. Limited onboard weaponry.

Etc.: Despite appearances, this is NOT to be confused with the MP Synth-OSi-equipped Lanzers, which share lineage with the Artemis. Changes to this Lanzer by anyone other than Lt. j.g. Truth MUST be approved before implementation.

Lieutenant Junior Grade Elysian Truth stood at attention before their mother, as all Lunarian soldiers are trained to do. This is a monumental occasion, as few receive a personal briefing from any one member of the council like this. Elysian felt honored, and was dressed in their finest black flight suit, white cloak, and rebreather mask. They stand at full attention, waiting for an “at ease” that never comes.

Councilwoman Resplendent Truth snaps her fingers, and the room grows dark as a map of what was once known as the continent of Africa extends across the wall behind her. It zooms into the southern half, and then it goes further until it’s just the southernmost peninsula. A striped zone surrounds Kwazulu LBZ to represent Siyanqoba’s anti-air coverage, along with a small flag on its very outer edge.

“Our long campaign pushing the Earthling savages back to their wasteland has proven effective. Our battleships stationed above the LBZ’s ensure that nothing leaves the atmosphere, but our spy scopes believe that they might have figured out how to make their own Lanzers, instead of just digging them up out of the ground.”

Even if Elysian’s face were visible, it would be difficult to gauge his reaction to this. It’s difficult to imagine the Earthlings with anything approaching real technology, but the idea of some of them putting up a decent fight was a little exciting.

“You’re going on a special assignment,” Councilwoman Truth explained. “We believe that they’re planning on testing whatever they’re making outside of their protected area as bait. You and the Type-Artemis are going in alone and taking that bait.”

Elysian’s hand shot up to their chest in salute. “I will track this machine down and annihilate it.”

But their mother wasn’t fast enough to interrupt them. “Unlikely. The Type-Artemis is good, real good, but the smart move from the savages’ point of view is to send a small army along with… whatever they have to extend their anti-air coverage. That’s why once you confirm this thing’s existence, you’ll tag the entire area for orbital bombardment and get out. The Artemis is too valuable to let you destroy it.”

Their mother’s lack of respect for their piloting ability is what really hurts Elysian. With Luna’s help, the lieutenant has racked up a higher kill count than any other Lunarian over the course of the campaign… The councilwoman picked up on this slight hesitation.

“I will stand no showboating or hotdogging. The Synth-OSi AI is without a doubt our most valuable battlefield asset. If anything, ANYTHING, happens to it…”

She marches directly towards her child, and rips Elysian’s rebreather off of their face as a violet haze bellows out of it, and holds it above her head. “We both know the consequences.”

The lieutenant does their best to remain stoic, but the symptoms start kicking in in the predictable manner. First, it becomes harder to breathe. Shallow at first, but slowly growing into something like an asthma attack. Then, their vision starts to blur. Colors start to disappear, and everything becomes blurry and wobbling. And lastly, his muscles start to go. Elysian fights it for as long as possible before their knees start to buckle, and their beet-red face bursts out in shallow wheezing. Resplendent returns the mask to its normal resting spot.

“Dismissed.”

—

“Trajectory proceeding as calculated. Opening heat vents. Heat shield not necessary. Entering lower atmosphere in 5 minutes, approaching landing site in 20. Any further requests, Lt. Truth?”

Luna’s voice wasn’t comforting to most, but to Elysian, it was the sound of their oldest friend. “Nope, proceed as planned. Bring up the most up-to-date aerial map of the landing site, I want to see if our new friend is waiting for us.”

A map flickers open on one edge of the panoramic hud surrounding the pilot’s seat, and Lt. Truth flicks one of their fingers to drag it closer to the front.. It shows a grassland sparsely populated by trees, and is updated once every couple of seconds or so. Sure enough, there’s exactly 1 mechanical object resembling a Lanzer patrolling between two random trees.

“How far in can you zoom?”

The map expands to fill the entire hud, and then focuses in on the object, but it’s mostly just a blurry mess of pixels.

“Would you like me to digitally enhance it, Lt.?”

Elysian shakes their head, knowing that it would be pointless. “Don’t bother, your guess would be as good as mine.” They instead lean their head in and squint, comparing it to their mental database of pre-disaster Lanzer models. “It looks like it’s just a Ground Lanzer… Mark II? But it’s carrying something on its back.”

“Remember what the Councilwoman said, Lieutenant,” Luna proclaimed out of nowhere, almost instinctively reading Elysian’s intentions. They wave the invisible presence away.

“Yes, yes, I know.”

—

The retro-boosters in Type-Artemis’ legs ease its descent into the savanna with no problems, and the hud blinks a red triangle in the distance where the orbiting ships’ cameras spotted the target. Sure enough, it was a Ground Mark II with some sort of large backpack. The lieutenant sizes it up from a distance when a lunarian voice comes over comms. “Lt. Truth, this is the LMS Perseverantiae reporting that we’re ready for bombardment. Just fire the tracker at the location from the catapult equipped on the Type-Artemis from a safe location once you’ve determined the target and we’ll do this rest. Orbital ship out.”

A display on the hud listed all of the Type-Artemis’ weapons in a handy list. Beam rifle, beam sword, tracker catapult. The rifle and the sword were attached to the Lanzer’s power systems and were basically infinite if both reactors were activated (Elysian’s skin itched at the thought). The catapult had a big 1 next to it. After a second’s deliberation, the lieutenant switched over to the rifle, and the Type-Artemis automatically drew it and aimed it forward. It’s just one Ground Lanzer, Elysian thought to themself. Luna didn’t say anything as they marched into range, took aim, and fired.

Luna's aim assist sent the shot directly to where the enemy Lanzer was going to be based on its current trajectory, but it almost knew where that shot was going and zipped laterally, offering Elysian a better view of what was on its back. It was the shape of a turtle shell, covered in plated metal and glass. Is that a second cockpit? No… what good would that do? They didn’t have time to dwell on it before Ground Lanzer determined the Type-Artemis’ position and open fired with its machine gun and forced the lunarian to respond in kind.

The two danced in a violent ballet for several minutes, trading shots and dodging them in kind, all the while the two machines grew closer and closer until they were practically in range to touch. “Lieutenant, we are currently too close to the target. Retreat and fire the beacon.” Elysian didn’t have to voice their disagreement, they were already too focused, too excited, and having too much fun. “Fire the second reactor, Luna.” “That is not a wise course of action, Lieutenant. We are currently acting outside mission parameters.”

Elysian frowned. Luckily, they knew exactly what to do to get the machine’s AI to do what they wanted. He triggered the emergency unequip functions on the rifle and the catapule, which both launched well clear of the battlefield as the Type-Artemis automatically drew its melee weapon. Elysian could have sworn that they heard Luna groan as this happened. “Emergency situation detected. Activating second reactor.”

Magnets in Elysian’s flight suit yank them back into the cockpit’s seat, forcing them to sit at a reclining angle as a 6-pack configuration of large needles press themselves into Elysian’s back around their spine. It used to hurt, but now it feels exhilarating, like the fight was just now getting good. Violet crystals slowly creep in the edges of the pilot’s vision, and with a raspy yell, Elysian fires off a message across all open channels: “Let’s dance!”

Firing the second reactor in the Type-Artemis always had the same effects: Faster boosts, longer range beam sword, more powerful weapon blasts. But the most fun part was always Elysian’s radically improved reaction speeds. Everything moved in slow motion. Every other pilot was just a child in playground equipment. And this one was no different, as it seemed to just stand still and did its best to block and parry elongated sword attack with its pitiful axe.

But then it does something that the lunarian didn’t expect. With an almost pre-programmed motion, the Ground Lanzer grabs the Type-Artemis’ free arm after a wild sword swing, and brings it close into a tight hug. They were too close for the lunarian Lanzer to swing its powered up sword, and the machine’s faces grew close enough to kiss. “Wh… Get off! Savage scum!” Elysian charged up the boosters for a violent getaway, but it was too late.

The earthling machine’s turtle shell blasted off of its back, and swung up and around in a controlled rocket burst aided by a thick cable attacking it to the Ground Lanzer. It was already staring directly into the Type-Artemis’ back as a thick tentacle with its own beam sword ejected out of a metal panel and directly through the lunarian mecha’s head, killing all outside cameras feeding into the cockpit. “Disaster situation detected. Imminent mission failure, violent chargon leakage, emergenc-”

The entire cockpit fills with a thick grey fluid, the sound of igniting fuel, and then darkness.

Art by https://x.com/REEvolt119956