#box compression testing

[graysonworld]

Contact the premier supplier of box compression testing equipment

Did you know that a box compression testing machine is a crucial tool for businesses in the packaging industry? If you are planning to purchase one, contact the reputed box compression tester manufacturers India. This instrument helps determine the maximum load a box can withstand without deforming or collapsing during storage or transportation.

[effectivelabindia]

If you are thinking of buying a packaging testing tool that can accurately measure the load-bearing strength of your packaging boxes, then we will inform you about one such machine called the box compression tester. A box compression tester is a packaging testing equipment that indicates the load-bearing strength of corrugated boxes.

[texcareinstruments]

How to test the compression strength of box and containers? ASTM D642, ASTM D4169,ISO 12048,IS 1060

📦💪 Box Compression Tester – Ensuring Superior Packaging Strength! 💪📦

Protect your products with packaging that truly stands up to the test! Our Box Compression Tester evaluates the compressive strength of corrugated boxes, cartons, and packaging materials, ensuring they are up to the challenge of stacking, handling, and transportation pressures.

✅ Simulates real-world shipping and storage conditions 🚚 ✅ Prevents box collapse and product damage 📦 ✅ Guarantees long-lasting durability and structural stability 🏗️

Stronger packaging means safer, more reliable deliveries! 💯

📩 Get in touch with us today to improve your packaging standards!

TEXCARE Instruments Limited Testing Instruments | 24x7 Customer Support: +91-8802270444 📧 Email: info@texcare.co.in 📞 Contact Us: +91-9899309879, +91-9990592299 📍 Visit us at: I-84, Road No. 19, UPSIDC Site-C, Surajpur Industrial Area, Greater Noida-201306 (UP)

Relevant Standards:

ASTM D642, ASTM D4169, ISO 12048, IS 2771, IS 7028, IS 1060

[effectivelab123]

The Effective Lab India Box Compression Tester evaluates the compression strength and durability of packaging materials, such as corrugated boxes and cartons.

[prestotesting]

Box compression tester is an engineering perfect lab testing instrument designed to assess the ability of corrugated boxes to withstand the compression force while stacking. This lab testing instrument is created for the paper & packaging industries and the manufacturers of corrugated boxes are highly interested in attaining this engineering perfection by testing-instruments and measuring the compressive strength of their boxes with maximum accuracy.

It is necessary to determine the potential of cardboard used to make corrugated boxes to withstand a compressive force so that the items within the box remain safe as well as to calculate the number of boxes that can be stacked over a corrugated box by determining its compressive durability through the box compression tester. Presto digital box compression tester works well to test the compression strength of boxes accurately. 

[catt-nuevenor]

A Brief Guide on Uploading ChoiceScript Demos to Itch.io

Since Dashingdon is shutting down, and there will be a lot of folks wanting to host their ChoiceScript demos elsewhere, I thought it'd be a good idea to provide a brief guide on how to do so for itch.io.

This is for Windows in the folder actions, but it shouldn't be too difficult for folks to translate for Mac. This also assumes you haven't changed any of the files within your game folder other than those found under 'scenes'.

Within your game folder, locate the 'web' subfolder, right click it and select 'Send to' then 'Compressed (zipped) folder. Name your newly compressed file something sensible, and I recommend moving it to a new folder outside of your game files, just to keep everything neat and tidy.

2. Assuming you already have an itch.io account, navigate to your dashboard, and click the 'Create New Project' button.

3. Name your project as you like, and under 'Kind of project', select the 'HTML' option.

4. Set the 'Pricing' to 'No Payments', you cannot use ChoiceScript for profit unless it is with the Choice of Games or Hosted Games publishing labels. No one wants to get in trouble unnecessarily here.

5. In the Uploads section, upload your newly zipped file we made in step one. After it's finished uploading, you'll be given one drop down and two tick boxes. You need to tick the 'This file will be played in the browser' option.

6. I've found so far that 'Viewport dimensions' work quite well for desktop at 1080 x 640. Either use these numbers or experiment and find what works best for you.

7. You must tick the 'Enable scrollbars' option for your game to display properly, otherwise options, text and buttons can be clipped off the bottom of the viewport.

8. Continue filling out the rest of the form, or skip it for now and scroll all the way to the bottom to the 'Visibility & access' section. Here make sure you have 'Draft' selected. This prevents others from finding your game until you're ready, and I always recommend play testing things before you make your work public.

9. Finally, hit the 'Save' button, then go and have a look at your creation by hitting the 'View page' link. And there you go! When you're ready for public release, just change the option in section 8 to 'Public'.

---

A few things to bear in mind about hosting on itch.io:

There isn't currently any way for your readers to save their game. I'm sure someone could write in a plugin similar to Dashingdon's at some point, but as for right now, this isn't available. See addition/edit below.

Make sure you properly tag your game with the 'choicescript' and 'interactive-fiction' tags. There are an awful lot of games on itch.io and it's easy to get lost in the crowd. Make sure folks can find you by having the right tags.

I hope this brief guide was useful to folks.

Best of luck to you with your writing!

---

Addition/Edit:

Thanks to @hpowellsmith for bringing this to my attention. You can add save functionality to your game by using this addon:

The ChoiceScript Save Plugin

Just tried it out on my own game and it works perfectly.

Rather than run through the addon author's own tutorial here, I'll just forward you to the Readme on their Github page.

One small note I would add is when it asks you to make the two small additions to your index file, make sure you right click the file and open it with your coding program, don't double-click it as this will just open it in an internet browser, and it won't give you the access to what you need to change.

[myrleius]

half a world away — hinata s.

hinata s. x long-distance gf!reader│wc: 1k

synopsis: It’s midnight in Japan. Afternoon in Brazil. You call to wish him a happy birthday.

cw/tags: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship

It was already past midnight when the call connected.

Your phone screen glowed with his name, the ringing finally giving way to a flicker of motion, static, and then—

“Yn!”

Shoyo’s face filled your screen—bright-eyed and sun-drenched, hair a little damp, cheeks flushed. His smile was so wide it made your chest flutter.

“You’re still awake?” he asked.

You grinned sleepily, grabbing a tiny party horn from your desk and giving it a weak, off-tune blow. “Happy birthday!”

He laughed. “Isn’t it already the next day for you?”

“It still counts,” you said, stifling a yawn. “Besides, I wanted to see you.”

The sunlight streaming behind him cast everything golden. He was sitting on the floor, back resting against the wall near a glass veranda. You caught a glimpse of his volleyball bag off to the side, and the faint chirp of birds filtered through the open window.

“You just got back from practice?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, brushing his hair off his forehead. “Sand training. My legs are dead.”

“I bet.” You leaned your chin on your pillow, voice softer. “You look good, though.”

He ducked his head at that, smiling a little to himself. “I, uh… I got your box.”

Your eyes lit up. “Really?”

He nodded, scooting out of frame for a second. When he returned, the cardboard box was in his lap, your handwriting sprawled across the top, a cartoon sun sticker slapped beside the shipping label.

“I wanted to wait ‘til I was on call with you,” he said, even as his hands were already halfway through the flaps. “Kind of. I peeked.”

You laughed. “I knew you would.”

He grinned and started pulling things out, holding each one up proudly like treasures: compression sleeves from Kageyama, a bottle of heavy-duty sunscreen from Tsukishima with a sticky note taped to it that read ‘So you don’t fry like shrimp,’ good luck charms from Yamaguchi, a small scrapbook of Karasuno memories from Yachi, a waterproof belt bag and  mini first-aid kit from his mom.

Then came a small beaded bracelet with ‘Go Nii-chan!’ spelled out in blocky, colorful letters.

“Natsu,” he murmured, running his thumb across the beads.

He reached down again and brought out the last gift. Your gift.

A set of small glass bottle keychains, each one filled with liquid dyed soft blue. There were different shapes floating inside—a sun, a heart, a star. Each had a small bell tied to the loop, delicate and clear.

“These are…” His voice trailed off. “They’re for my bags?”

You nodded. “One for every strap, every zipper. I even tested them. They’re loud enough that you’ll hear them if they’re moved.”

You hesitated, then added quietly, “I remember how upset you were… about the wallet.”

He looked up, eyes meeting yours.

You gave him a small, knowing smile. “The one from Natsu?”

He swallowed, hard. For a moment, he didn’t speak.

“She saved up,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Her own allowance. She was so proud when she gave it to me. And I just—” His voice cracked a little. “I lost it in the first few days.”

“Shoyo,” you said gently, “you didn’t mean to.”

“I know, but…” He let out a breathy, embarrassed laugh and covered his face with one hand. “I didn’t even tell her. I couldn’t. I didn’t want to disappoint her.”

“You’re not a disappointment,” you said, firm and quiet. “Not to her. Not to anyone.”

He held one of the keychains between his fingers, the bell making a soft jingle.

“I miss home,” he admitted, eyes still fixed on the little bottle. “More than I thought I would.”

You nodded, holding back your own words to give him space to speak.

“I miss you,” he added. His voice cracked, soft and small. “I miss hearing your voice in person. I miss walking you home. I miss having someone to hug after a bad game. I miss—everything.”

Your heart ached in your chest.

“I know,” you whispered. “I miss you too.”

He looked at you, eyes tracing your face through the screen. “Is it bad… that sometimes I just want to give up and come back?”

“No,” you said. “That’s not bad. That’s normal. What you’re doing is hard, Sho. Of course it’s going to wear you down sometimes.”

You took a breath, eyes soft.

“But missing home doesn’t mean you’re failing. If anything, it means you care. It means you’re giving it your all.”

He blinked, breath shaky.

You smiled through your own tears. “You’re doing something really brave, Sho. You made it over there, chasing a dream most people wouldn’t even dare to try. And yeah, it sucks. It’s lonely. It’s exhausting. But look at you. Look at how far you’ve come.”

“I don’t feel brave,” he mumbled.

“You are,” you said, your voice certain. “It doesn’t always feel like it, but we see it in you. Every day you keep going, even when it’s hard—that’s bravery, Shoyo.”

Shoyo closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, they were wet, but clearer.

“I only have a year left,” he said quietly.

You nodded. “One more year.”

“And then I’m coming back.”

“I know.” You grinned. “And when you do, I’m going to give you the fattest, wettest kiss ever.”

He laughed through the tears, bright and unguarded. “I’m holding you to that.”

Then, as if he couldn’t help himself, he leaned a little closer to the camera, mischief lighting up his eyes.

“Better brace yourself,” he said, licking his lips with exaggerated flair. “I’ll practice slurping on spoons.”

“Ew, Sho!”

“You started it!”

The two of you laughed, carefree and weightless, as if there was no ocean, no time zone, no distance between you.

When the laughter settled, he wiped his eyes with the hem of his shirt. “God, I love you.”

Your heart swelled. “I love you too, Sho.”

He leaned closer to the camera, resting his chin on his hand, eyes still damp but soft. “Thanks for staying up. And for the gifts. And for… just being you.”

You smiled at him, full and warm. “Of course. Happy birthday, Shoyo.”

A pause.

“Keep flying, okay?”

His eyes sparkled.

“Always.”

note: I forgot it was Hinata's birthday days ago.

[aspenmissing]

Hey hey hey! If you're comfortable with it and you have time, can I request a oneshot with Jayce, Viktor, Jayvik, Ekko, Vander, Silco and Jinx reaction to reader making something similar to odm gear and seeing it in action?!

🫶🏼🫶🏼

Btw, I'm literally in love with all of your works 😍

ᴛᴀᴋɪɴɢ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ || 7815 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛꜱ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ'ꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ)

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ʜᴇʟʟᴏᴏᴏᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ! ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ ꜰᴏʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ, ɪ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴇᴄɪᴀᴛᴇ ɪᴛ ꜱᴏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴡᴀꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜱᴜᴄʜ ᴀ ᴄᴏᴏʟ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴇꜱᴛɪɴɢ! ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴛʜᴏᴜɢʜᴛ ᴛᴏ ʟɪɴᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ! ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏʏʏ!! <3 <3

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx | ᴇᴋᴋᴏ

JAYCE

Jayce had always been the golden boy of progress. The hammer-swinging, wide-grinning symbol of Piltover’s brilliance. Councilman, inventor, icon—he walked the gilded halls like he was born to ascend them. But lately, his gaze had begun to wander.

Not out of boredom. Not out of arrogance.

But toward you.

And you? You were busy reinventing gravity.

You hadn’t meant to make a weapon. Not exactly. It started off as a dare to yourself—just a sketch on a coffee-stained napkin after watching a Lanes courier vault from rooftop to rooftop like a ghost, ducking patrols and disappearing into the smog. If they could run like the wind, you thought, then surely someone could fly.

The gear you built was crude compared to Jayce’s polished designs, but elegant in its ambition: compressed air canisters, dual-hook grappling lines, and gyroscopic stabilizers synced to wrist-mounted control pads. All of it powered by a humble shard of low-yield Hextech crystal you'd salvaged from one of Heimerdinger’s rejected prototypes.

It was heavy, loud, and clunky.

It was beautiful.

And it worked.

Jayce found you in your workshop just as the sun began bleeding through the stained-glass windows of the Academy’s lesser-known wings. Blueprints lined the walls in overlapping layers, curling at the corners. Tools lay scattered like breadcrumbs leading to invention—or madness. Half-drunk mugs of cold coffee sat abandoned beside scorched wires and busted coils.

You were hunched over your workbench, muttering to yourself, soldering a filament to the ignition trigger on your left gauntlet. Sparks snapped against your goggles. You didn’t even hear the door creak open.

Jayce leaned against the frame, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. “You know, for someone who claims they’re not an inventor, you’re making me look bad.”

You didn’t look up. “I’m not trying to show you up. Just trying not to die when I test this thing.”

Jayce pushed off the frame and walked in, eyeing the crude-yet-impressive rig strapped to your hips. “That’s not exactly comforting.”

You finally glanced at him, smirking. “Want to see me jump off a building?”

Jayce blinked. “...Please tell me you’re joking.”

=

The platform you chose was high enough to make Jayce question all your life decisions.

It overlooked one of the older industrial sectors of Piltover—full of brick towers and tight alleyways, perfect for testing mid-air pivoting and anchoring. The wind howled up here, snapping at your coat as you stood on the ledge. The city sparkled below, gold and steel and smoke, a puzzle box of possibility.

Jayce stood below, pacing like a man awaiting a death sentence. “You’re not actually going to jump off that thing, are you?!”

You called down, voice bright. “Only one way to find out if it works!”

“If it doesn’t, you’ll die.”

You looked over your shoulder and grinned. “Yeah, but I’ll die cool.”

“Y/N!”

You winked, took a breath—then stepped off the edge.

For one long, heart-seizing second, there was only free fall. The city blurred into streaks. Wind screamed past your ears, cold and brutal.

SHHH-KA-THUNK!

The hook slammed into the side of a clocktower. The cord snapped taut with a jolt, swinging you wide in a violent arc. Your stomach dropped. Your heart leapt. And for the first time in your life, you flew.

The stabilizers activated, a dull thrum beneath your ribs, balancing your core as the gear recalibrated mid-air. You twisted your hips and fired again—another line hissed into the upper edge of a smokestack. Your momentum curved sharply, propelling you into a tight spiral between two towers. You screamed—half exhilaration, half raw joy.

Your laughter echoed over the rooftops, bright and feral and alive.

Down below, Jayce was frozen. His hands gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white. He watched you defy gravity with nothing but grit and ingenuity and a bit of salvaged Hextech. His heart was in his throat.

And then you descended, cutting your final line, landing hard on the stone platform with a rough skid. The boots groaned beneath the impact. You dropped into a crouch, panting, flushed and grinning like a lunatic. Hair wild. Eyes blazing.

You looked like you'd stared down death and come back with stars in your lungs.

Jayce rushed to your side, but stopped short, stunned.

You stood tall, unhooking the gear, chest rising and falling with adrenaline, your voice breathless. “So… that went well.”

He didn’t answer. Just stared, open-mouthed. Awestruck. A little terrified. A lot in love.

“Holy shit,” he finally breathed. “That was—”

“A little terrifying?” you offered, tilting your head, trying to downplay the way your knees still shook.

Jayce dropped to one knee in front of you, fingers gently reaching to cup your face. “No. That was incredible.”

You blinked, suddenly shy in the face of his sincerity. “Yeah?”

He smiled, eyes crinkling with affection. “You just... defied physics. Gravity. Sanity. And you lived. You flew.”

You leaned forward until your foreheads touched, your voice soft, but electric. “Told you I wasn’t trying to show you up.”

Jayce chuckled, brushing a wind-swept strand of hair from your cheek. “You didn’t. You reminded me what progress really is. It’s not always polished. It’s not always safe.”

His hand slid down to rest over your pulse, thundering beneath your skin. “Sometimes it’s messy. Bold. Brave. You.”

And then he kissed you—hard and breathless and full of awe—like he was afraid you'd launch into the sky again and never come back.

But for that moment, at least, your feet were still on the ground.

VIKTOR

The lab was a mess—and not in the “scattered blueprints and spare parts” kind of way Viktor usually tolerated. This was the chaotic aftermath of trial and error. Cables snaked across the scorched floor, copper coils were fused together from overheating, and a faint trail of smoke curled toward the ceiling from the metallic heap that hung from an exposed support beam.

You sat cross-legged in the center of it all, a smear of grease on your cheek, your elbow propped on your knee, and your chin cradled in your palm. There was a wrench resting across your thigh and soot in your hair. You were silent, staring at the failed test like it had personally offended you, oscillating between frustration and grudging admiration.

Then came the sound of metal striking stone—tap, thud, tap, thud—as Viktor’s cane echoed down the hall and into the lab. He stepped in, sharp eyes scanning the damage with the calm horror of someone far too used to your antics.

He stopped in the doorway, took a slow breath, and tilted his head. “Moje srdce… dare I ask what used to be over there?” (My Heart)

You grinned, teeth white behind smudged lips. “Progress, my dear Viktor. Beautiful, explosive, back-bruising progress.”

His eyes moved from the twisted steel to you. “Ah. So nothing survived.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” you said, standing and brushing ash off your trousers. You flexed your gloved fingers, then made your way to the far corner of the lab where a cleaner workstation stood. With a flourish, you unveiled what looked like a harness out of a madman’s dream: waist-mounted grappling hooks, gas-propelled canisters, retractable wires, and twin foot-thrusters that shimmered faintly with traces of Hextech filaments.

“Introducing…” You struck a dramatic pose. “Omni-Directional Mobility gear. Or ODM gear. Designed for vertical traversal and high-speed movement across complex environments. It’s how I’ll win the council’s innovation grant. And maybe a few races across the rooftops of Piltover.”

Viktor limped closer, inspecting it with narrowed eyes. “Y/N… this looks incredibly dangerous.”

“That’s because it is,” you replied, chest puffed with pride. “And that’s the fun part.”

He glanced at you, then the ceiling scorch mark, then back at you. “You wish to wear this and use it?”

“Not wish,” you corrected, lifting the harness. “Will. Today, actually. Just need someone brilliant, charming, morally conflicted, and devastatingly handsome to oversee the test and make sure I don’t die. Know anyone like that?”

Viktor sighed, his shoulders slumping. “If you break a limb, I will be the one repairing it. You do realize that, yes?”

You stepped in and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, leaving a small grease smudge behind. “Then I’ll count myself lucky to be in the hands of the man I love.”

His lips quirked. “Flattery won’t distract me from how thoroughly unhinged this is.”

“But it might distract you a little.”

=

Academy testing grounds

The wind was biting. Cold and sharp against your cheeks as you stood on the rooftop, the city sprawling out below you like a maze of steel veins and sun-kissed rooftops. The gear whirred softly at your hips, the pressure tanks fully loaded. You inhaled slowly and looked over your shoulder.

Viktor stood behind the safety railing, gripping his cane tightly with one hand and a clipboard in the other. His face was unreadable, though his knuckles had gone white.

“Ready?” you called, shouting over the wind.

“No,” he replied immediately. “You are about to do something ridiculous and untested.”

You winked. “Perfect.”

And then you launched.

The air cracked as the grappling hooks fired, slamming into the ledge of a tall tower. The cable lines tensed, and with a jolt, your body was flung forward. You whooped as momentum carried you, the world rushing by in a blur of sky and steel. It was fast, chaotic, but you felt free.

Midair, you activated the thrusters. They kicked with a violent whoosh, redirecting your flight as you arced toward Viktor’s observation platform. Your heart pounded against your ribs. Gravity bent to your will.

Then came the landing—less of a “graceful drop” and more of a “controlled crash.” You tumbled across the stone, rolled onto your back, and lay there, gasping, grinning at the sky.

Viktor’s shout rang out. “Did you just— You almost hit the tower! Do you have any idea how close you were to breaking your neck?!”

You pushed up to a seated position, hair wild, cheeks flushed. “But did you see it?!”

He appeared at your side moments later, cane tapping faster than usual. He knelt beside you with difficulty, worry etched across his face as he checked your limbs for damage.

“Nothing broken?” he asked, voice softer now.

You shook your head. “Just bruises and adrenaline.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, forehead brushing yours as his hand cupped your cheek. “You’re brilliant. And utterly reckless. You do realize that my heart cannot withstand this level of stress?”

You leaned into his touch, your smile gentler now. “But you’re still here.”

“I always will be,” he murmured, brushing a windblown strand from your face.

And then, amidst the burn marks and the distant whine of retracting cables, he kissed you.

It wasn’t rushed. It was grounding—his lips warm, his hands steady, the world shrinking until there was only you and him and the soft hum of victory in your veins.

=

The two of you worked in companionable silence. The lighting was low and golden, casting a soft glow over the room. Viktor scribbled calculations while you tuned the fine control servos on the ODM rig, your hands moving instinctively, tired but fulfilled.

“I was thinking…” you began, voice soft, screwdriver turning a bolt with a quiet click.

He hummed in acknowledgment, not looking up from his notes.

“If I can get the controls more intuitive, maybe… I can build a version for you. Reinforced with Hextech. Lighter. Something that integrates with your cane so you can shift balance mid-swing.”

The scratching of pen on paper stopped.

“You’re designing one for me?”

You glanced up and met his eyes. “Well, yeah. You deserve to fly too.”

He looked at you then, really looked. Something in his expression melted—a vulnerability he rarely let surface. He reached over and took your hand, gently, his thumb running over your grease-streaked knuckles.

“You’re extraordinary,” he whispered. “And very bad for my blood pressure.”

You grinned. “But good for your heart?”

His smile deepened, quiet and tender. “Always.”

And in that peaceful moment—surrounded by half-finished inventions, half-burned schematics, and a love that had only grown stronger through every storm—you realized that even with both feet on the ground, Viktor had already taken flight… right into your heart.

JAYVIK

The low hum of Hextech resonated through the lab like a living pulse, intertwining with the soft, rhythmic tap… tap… tap of Viktor’s cane on the metal floor. The air was thick with the familiar scent of hot copper, solder smoke, and machine oil — the smell of progress, of obsession, and of long nights spent working too close together to call it anything but love.

You were hunched over your latest creation — a contraption that looked like it had crawled out of a wild dream. It hugged the contours of your back like an armored exoskeleton, lined with pressurized canisters, dual-wired harpoons, and flexible tubing that gleamed in the dim light. It was part weapon, part miracle. Messy. Volatile. Brilliant.

“I think I’ve finally got the pressure calibration right,” you muttered without looking up, goggles slightly fogged and a smudge of grease streaked across your cheek. “I just need to test the grapple retraction system. Then it’s go time.”

Jayce, who had been pretending to tinker with one of his hammers across the room, finally gave up the act and crossed over to stand behind you. His arms were folded, muscles tense in that classic overprotective spouse stance. “You mean the part where you launch yourself across buildings and hope the retractor doesn’t snap you in half like a slingshot?”

You grinned without missing a beat. “Exactly. That’s the one.”

Viktor let out a quiet chuckle as he approached, his gait measured, each step echoing softly. He rested a hand on the edge of the worktable, fingers brushing against scattered blueprints and half-finished schematics. “Perhaps I should prepare a stretcher. Or at the very least, a very large mattress — to catch your fall or Jayce’s panic-induced fainting spell.”

You finally looked up, blinking behind your goggles. There they were — your constants. One a silhouette of elegance and intellect, leaning on a cane like it was just another limb, gaze sharp and endlessly curious. The other was all warmth and strength, already frowning like a man about to witness his wife jump off a cliff — because he was, and also because he’d probably jump after you if it went wrong.

“You two are such worriers.” You clicked the final piece into place with a satisfying snap. “I’ve triple-checked the failsafes. Besides, if this works, it could completely revolutionize mobility in Zaun’s lower sectors. Think about it — no more ladders, no more stairs. Just… freedom.”

Viktor tilted his head. “You mean imagine how many times Jayce will try to steal it and crash into a wall.”

Jayce gasped, scandalized. “I have never crashed anything.”

“You broke your nose piloting a hoverboard,” Viktor said without even blinking.

“That was once. And I blame you for giving me faulty schematics.”

“You forgot to attach the stabilizers.”

You sighed dramatically and stood, slipping your arms into the harness and adjusting the shoulder straps. “Alright, boys. Save your flirting for later. Time for the show.”

=

Outside, on the reinforced test field behind the Academy, the sunlight glinted off steel beams and tall support poles — like the skeleton of a city waiting to be explored. The wind picked up, brushing your hair back as you adjusted your gloves and flexed your fingers.

Viktor had claimed a seat on one of the benches, cane resting across his lap, eyes gleaming like molten gold in the sun. Jayce stood beside him, arms crossed, brows furrowed in an expression that said, I support you and I’m terrified for you all at once.

“You’re sure about this?” Jayce called out, voice raised just enough to carry across the yard.

You looked over your shoulder at the two of them and gave a cocky little salute. “Hold your jaws. This is gonna be awesome.”

Then you fired.

The twin harpoons launched with a thwip, embedding into one of the topmost beams with a satisfying clang. The canisters hissed — and then you were flying. Your stomach flipped as the retraction system yanked you upward, the world blurring into streaks of blue and silver and wind-whipped exhilaration.

You twisted midair, feet tucking as you angled your trajectory, and then released. Your body arced like a missile, flipping once, twice — before you fired again. This time you zipped sideways across the course, weaving between beams like a pendulum with purpose.

Jayce whistled low, utterly floored. “Holy—”

“She’s like a pendulum,” Viktor murmured, leaning forward. “A very fast, very terrifying pendulum.”

You caught the edge of a high beam with your boots and crouched like a predator, grinning down at them. “See?”

Pop.

The grapple line detached.

Your heart dropped into your stomach as gravity reclaimed you, wind roaring in your ears.

Jayce bolted, sprinting toward the landing zone with panic written all over his face. Viktor didn’t move — not because he didn’t care, but because he saw it. The backup line hissed a split-second later, catching you mid-fall and slinging you into a wide arc. You landed hard on the practice pad with a bounce and a skid, rolling once before stopping in a tangle of limbs and laughter.

Jayce reached you first, hands on your shoulders, eyes wide and wild. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!”

You were still laughing, breathless and glowing. “Only a mild one.”

Viktor arrived a moment later, slower but smiling, his eyes scanning you for injury with clinical precision and something much softer underneath. “You are reckless. And brilliant. And you are never testing that without us again.”

You pulled them both in, fingers fisting in shirt collars, tugging their warmth toward you. “So… you liked it?”

Jayce looked like he was still recalibrating his pulse. “Are you kidding? I’m already thinking about how to integrate the grapples into a gauntlet system. Make it more compact. More… me.”

Viktor leaned his forehead to yours, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m thinking about how proud I am. And how much you terrify me, mé srdce.” (My Heart)

You turned to kiss his cheek, then did the same to Jayce, who grinned despite himself. “Good,” you said. “That means it’s working.”

And for a brief moment, the three of you stood there — inventor, engineer, idealist — tangled in love and sweat and adrenaline. A messy little triad of heartbeats and Hextech, tethered tighter than any wire could hold.

VANDER

The Last Drop was buzzing with its usual late-night hum — drunken laughter, clinking glasses, the low rumble of arguments that hadn’t turned serious yet, and the occasional crash that followed Mylo being a menace. Warm lantern light flickered against the stone walls, casting shadows that danced over patrons leaning into their drinks and their secrets.

You were tucked away in the back room Vander had cleared out for you weeks ago. It used to be a storage space — cluttered, dusty, forgotten — but now it smelled like oil, copper, and ambition. Tools were strewn across the workbench in organized chaos. Gears, bolts, lengths of wire, and scrawled blueprints layered with sketches and notes in your handwriting. At the heart of it all, clamped between two heavy vices, was your prototype: a pair of mechanized grapple gauntlets rigged with compressed gas triggers and reinforced cables.

Vander leaned in the doorway, arms folded across his broad chest, watching with quiet curiosity. His figure took up most of the frame, a silhouette against the dim glow of the bar beyond. He looked like someone who belonged in every room he entered — steady, grounding, impossibly solid.

“You planning to take flight, love?” he asked, voice rough with humor and affection, a teasing smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

You glanced up from tightening a gear spindle, grease smudged across your cheek and temple. The lamp above you flickered once as if catching your grin.

“Not quite. More like... launch, swing, land dramatically. Maybe with a flip,” you replied, your eyes sparkling with anticipation.

He let out a low chuckle. “You planning to be Zaun’s first flying rat?”

You turned in your chair, wiping your hands on a stained cloth. “You laugh, but this could be the future of getting around down here. No more broken ladders or hoping someone doesn't cut the bridge ropes just to win a bet. It’s fast, it’s nimble—”

“—it’s dangerous,” he cut in, stepping closer, his brow lifting in that familiar are you serious? kind of way.

You met his gaze, unflinching. “Since when has that ever stopped us?”

He exhaled a warm laugh through his nose, one hand reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. His fingers lingered, calloused but gentle. Then he leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your temple — careful not to disturb the leather strap of your goggles perched on your head.

“Alright,” he murmured, voice quieter now. “Impress me.”

=

A few days later, the air was thick with Zaun’s signature blend of fog and soot as you stood atop a rusting industrial tower in the middle of the Undercity. The whole district stretched around you in tangled metal veins — walkways, bridges, and pipes stacked like a forgotten puzzle. Below, the streets pulsed with green-glowing chem lights and the chatter of the sleepless.

The wind tugged at your coat as you adjusted the weight of your gear. The twin grapple-shooters on your arms clicked into place, the gas canisters hissing faintly with built-up pressure. Every wire, every trigger, every mechanism had been triple-checked — and yet your heart still hammered like a jackhammer in your chest.

“Alright,” you whispered to yourself. “Let’s give ‘em a show.”

Below, Vander stood near the base of the tower, arms crossed again — but this time with a crease between his brows that hadn’t been there before. Vi, Claggor, and Powder were shouting and waving from a nearby platform, barely keeping their balance on a rusted railing. Mylo had already passed Powder a crumpled napkin IOU for “one sweetcake", reluctantly.

“No faith,” you muttered. “Typical.”

You pulled your goggles down, took a deep breath, and jumped.

Thunk—SSSHHHRIP!

The first hook launched with a mechanical snap, embedding into a distant support beam. A split second later, the second grapple flew, catching onto a dangling pipe. Suddenly you were airborne, pulled forward like a pendulum unleashed, your feet leaving the platform as the city fell away beneath you.

The wind howled past your ears, and you let out a sharp laugh — half adrenaline, half triumph. You twisted mid-air, released one grapple, and fired again, catching another beam and swinging in a tight arc. Your coat flared behind you like wings, boots skimming just above rooftops and rusted ductwork.

You skimmed by a crumbling building close enough to snag a loose poster with your shoulder, then kicked off a ledge to adjust your path — the city becoming a blur of smoke and steel.

“SHE’S A SPIDER!” Vi shouted, eyes wide with exhilaration.

“SHE’S GONNA DIE!” Powder screeched, half-hiding behind Claggor.

“SHE’S GONNA DIE AWESOMELY!” Mylo added, pumping a fist.

Vander still said nothing. But his eyes never left you — locked onto every twist, every lurch, every daring manoeuvre with a look that was part amazement, part horror, and something deeper… something fierce and protective.

When your boots finally made contact again, skidding across a rusted catwalk, you staggered once — knees threatening to buckle — but managed to stay upright. You threw your arms out dramatically, panting, exhilarated, alive.

“Ta-da!” you called out, voice hoarse but proud.

And then Vander was there. You didn’t even see him approach — just felt the heavy warmth of his arms wrap around you, pulling you into a firm, grounding embrace. He smelled like metal, smoke, and safety. His heart was racing beneath his shirt.

“You’re insane,” he murmured, voice low, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “But you’re brilliant.”

You melted into his chest, your goggles askew and breath still catching up. “So you liked it?”

“I loved it,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your face. His thumb brushed a grease smudge from your cheek. “But next time you test something that could kill you, I’m standing behind you with a net. And three people holding it. And a bloody mattress on the floor.”

You snorted, grinning. “Deal. As long as you let me strap you in next.”

He blinked. “You want me to fly around like that?”

You winked. “Zaun’s protector in the skies? Think of the legend. You’d be unstoppable.”

Vander groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder with a deep, rumbling laugh. “You’re gonna be the death of me, love.”

“But I’ll make it look good.”

SILCO

The hiss of steam and metal reverberated through the underground workshop, the scent of oil thick in the air. Sparks danced in the low light as you tightened the last bolt on the gauntlet wrapped around your wrist. The final adjustment clicked into place with a satisfying snap.

From the shadows, Silco watched you, arms crossed, one brow raised in silent amusement.

“Still trying to kill yourself in increasingly creative ways?” he drawled, his voice rich and amused, smoky like the exhaust pipes just overhead.

You glanced back at him, a smudge of soot across your cheek, your hair pinned back haphazardly. “If it works, I’ll be able to move through the city faster than anyone. Rooftops, alleys, smokestacks—it won’t matter. No enforcer or bounty hunter could catch me.”

Silco stepped closer, his boots echoing against the iron floor. “Is that what this is about? Evasion?”

You turned back to your workbench, fingers trailing over the dual-wired harpoons attached to the side of the waist harness. “It’s about control. About not waiting around for someone else to come save Zaun. This tech… it’s the next step.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His lone eye studied the way your muscles tensed, the way your voice dropped when you talked about progress, revolution, invention. He’d seen men claim devotion to Zaun before, but rarely had he seen someone build for it the way you did.

“You intend to test it today,” he said finally. Not a question. A statement.

You nodded. “I have to.”

Silco sighed through his nose, stepping forward until he was just behind you. “I’ve lost too many people to risk, Darling.”

You paused, heartbeat stalling at the gravity in his voice. Then you turned to face him, placing a gloved hand over his chest.

“You won’t lose me,” you said softly. “Trust me.”

=

The winds howled above Zaun that night, a storm rolling in from the Piltovan cliffs. You stood on the edge of a decrepit smokestack, your boots balanced on a narrow pipe, wind whipping through your coat. Below, the chaos of Zaun continued—scuffles, steam, and shadows.

Silco stood on a nearby rooftop, watching.

You pulled your goggles down over your eyes, tightened your grip on the handles connected to the dual cables at your sides, and took a deep breath.

And jumped.

For a second, your stomach flipped. Then you fired the first harpoon.

THUNK—the bolt lodged into the side of an iron tower.

The world lurched. You twisted your hips, activated the gas burst—

WHOOSH.

You soared.

The second harpoon fired, a graceful arc of metal singing through the air. You caught another anchor point and let the cables reel you in. The wind tore past you, your body weaving effortlessly between support beams and smokestacks like a bird finally given wings.

From the rooftop, Silco watched with stunned disbelief. You were a streak of movement against the skyline—your coat flaring behind you like a second shadow, cables slashing through the fog, each movement calculated and smooth.

Then—click—you heard it. A snap, not unlike the sound of a bolt misfiring. The world tilted in a rush of panic.

The second harpoon cable jerked loose, the tether unraveling into the night air. You yanked at the handles, but the burst of gas only sent you spiraling toward the industrial skyline.

No, no, no.

Your heart raced as you fumbled with the gear. The gust of wind fought against you, sending you careening into the narrow gap between two rusted buildings. You tried to correct yourself, but your boots hit the edge of a metal ledge and—

Splash.

The icy cold water surged around you, and for a moment, everything went silent. Your heart hammered in your chest, the cold of the water seeping into your bones.

Silco’s eye widened in alarm. Without thinking, he made a move to leap toward the edge of the rooftop.

“Y/N!” he yelled, voice breaking through the roar of the storm.

But just as his foot hovered over the side, a head popped up from the water below, drenched hair slicked back against your face, but your grin wide and wicked as ever.

“Did you see that?!” you shouted, eyes alight with triumph. “I almost had it!”

Silco stood frozen for a moment, his mind still trying to catch up with the wildness of it all. A slight breath of relief escaped his lips, his chest tightening as he looked down at you, drenched and laughing in the storm-riddled waters below.

“Almost?!” he barked, though the edge in his voice couldn’t mask the relief beneath it. His hands clenched at his sides, the storm swirling around him as his gaze never wavered from you.

You waded out of the muck, pulling yourself onto a dock, shivering slightly from the cold as you powered through the moment.

“Almost,” you repeated, flashing him a grin as you pulled your goggles up and wiped your brow. “That was just a test run.”

You laughed again, the sound like a spark of life amidst the dreary, storm-soaked night.

Silco finally exhaled, eyes softening beneath his hard expression. “You’re reckless.” His tone was scolding, but it lacked its usual bite, as though his concern was beginning to outweigh the irritation.

You crossed the distance between you with a few long strides, ignoring the cold water dripping down your clothes. “But it worked, didn’t it? That’s progress.”

Before he could respond, you reached up and cupped his jaw in your chilled hands, pulling him into a kiss. The taste of rain and salt filled your mouth, but it was the way he kissed you back that mattered. Slow, deliberate, as if this was the only moment that mattered.

When you broke apart, his lips were still close to yours, voice soft. “Zaun needs people like you.”

You smiled, resting your forehead against his, your breath visible in the cool night air. “Then I’ll make sure I’m always there.”

Silco’s gaze lingered on yours a moment longer. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And with the city howling below, storm winds rising, and your gear still dripping water, you knew one thing for certain:

This was only the beginning.

JINX

Y/N had always been the tinkerer, the one to dream up outlandish inventions and make them a reality. After all, this was Zaun—a place where even the wildest ideas could find a home, if you had the guts to try. But today was different. Today, Y/N was finishing something truly ambitious, something that could push the boundaries of the impossible.

"Jinx!" Y/N called, their voice brimming with excitement as they held up the strange contraption in their hands. The device was a pair of mechanical wings, connected by an intricate web of coiled wires, with powerful grappling hooks and a sturdy harness. The whole thing hummed with barely contained energy, waiting to be tested. "I think it’s ready!"

Jinx, who had been pacing around the workshop with her usual boundless energy, practically bounced over to Y/N. Her wide eyes gleamed with unrestrained excitement, her messy hair flying every which way as she got a closer look. "No way! Is it really gonna work? I mean, this looks like something straight out of a crazy dream!" She reached out to touch one of the coils, sending a spark of electricity racing across the surface.

Y/N smirked, adjusting the straps of the harness before securing the device onto their body. "You’ll be the first to test it," they said with a wink, tightening the straps as they went. "You always love to take things for a spin, right?"

Jinx’s grin widened even more, her eyes dancing with the kind of excitement that only she could muster. She wiggled her fingers in the air like a mad scientist on the brink of chaos. "Oh, hell yeah! But you’re telling me this thing can actually fly?"

Y/N chuckled, adjusting a few more bolts and tapping a small switch. The wings and coils buzzed to life, the mechanisms humming beneath the surface. "Not exactly flying," Y/N explained, their voice confident, yet with a touch of thrill in it. "More like... swinging? It’s a grappling hook system, but with a bit of flair. You can swing from buildings, dodge attacks, and move fast enough to confuse anyone trying to catch you."

Jinx's eyes practically sparkled, her expression a mix of disbelief and pure joy. She jumped up and down, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "That’s so cool! I can’t wait to see it in action! Let’s go already!" Her voice was high-pitched with excitement, and Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at her contagious energy.

With a mischievous smile, Y/N nodded, their heart pounding in anticipation. "Alright, but you have to promise not to break anything... too expensive."

=

Before Y/N could even finish, Jinx was already out of the door, dashing toward the towering rooftops of Zaun, her long legs carrying her effortlessly through the cluttered streets. Y/N followed, their heart racing as they activated the ODM-like gear. The coils sprang to life with a satisfying whir, and the powerful lines shot out toward the nearest building. Y/N leaned forward, bracing themselves as the grappling hook latched on, and in an instant, they were pulled off the ground. With a swift motion, they swung into the air, the sensation of weightlessness rushing through their body.

"Woah, this feels amazing!" Y/N shouted, feeling the adrenaline flood their veins as the wind whipped past their face. They zipped across the city, swinging from one building to the next, their heart racing in time with the motion of the gears. The city’s sharp angles and broken skyline blurred beneath them, making it all feel like a thrilling dream.

Jinx, already several rooftops ahead, turned to look over her shoulder. A wide grin spread across her face, and she let out a loud, enthusiastic cheer. "That’s sick, Y/N! You’re basically a flying ninja!" she yelled, spinning in a wild loop in the air, her laughter echoing in the open space around them.

Y/N adjusted the controls, steering their body with precision, twisting and flipping mid-air. The gears responded with almost eerie accuracy, letting Y/N glide effortlessly from rooftop to rooftop. "It’s working!" Y/N shouted, the exhilaration of the moment making their voice crack with joy. "I’m actually doing it!" They shot past Jinx, their heart hammering in their chest as they looped around a nearby building, feeling like they were defying gravity itself.

Jinx, not one to be outdone, suddenly had an idea. "Let’s make this interesting!" she called out, her voice full of mischievous glee. Without warning, she grabbed a nearby bottle—something filled with a strange, fizzing substance—and tossed it toward Y/N with a wicked grin.

"Catch!" she screamed, her voice bubbling with wild delight.

Y/N didn’t even hesitate. Instinct kicked in, and they swung toward the bottle with a practiced motion. In a split second, they snagged it mid-air, the hooks of the gear latching onto it. They adjusted their grip, the coil pulling them forward with explosive force. Y/N twisted, using the momentum to avoid a shower of sparks from a nearby generator, their heart hammering in time with the rush of wind around them.

Jinx’s laugh echoed behind them as she spun through the air in a dizzying loop, her reckless energy perfectly matched to the wildness of the moment. "Alright, let’s go higher!" she yelled, the sound of her voice high with excitement. "What’s the point of swinging through Zaun if you can’t make it a little dangerous, huh?!" With a devilish grin, she shot up the side of a nearby tower, her feet barely touching the crumbling wall as she darted upwards like a streak of lightning.

Y/N’s pulse spiked, and they grinned back at Jinx. "Lead the way, Jinx! I’m right behind you!" They gave the grappling hook another twist, sending themselves off after her with renewed excitement. The city, a chaotic blend of towering buildings and endless pipes, blurred around them as they pushed the gear to its limits, zipping higher, faster, the wind catching their hair as they moved through the skyline like a pair of wild spirits.

=

The next hour passed in a blur of adrenaline and laughter, the two of them testing the ODM-like gear in every conceivable way. They swung between the crumbling remnants of factories, launched themselves through open gaps in buildings, and even twisted through tight spaces where the gears barely had room to function. Each stunt felt wilder than the last, each near miss more exhilarating than the one before.

As the sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the city and painting the sky with shades of orange and pink, they finally slowed down. Perched atop a tall, crumbling tower, they took a moment to catch their breath, the rush still lingering in their veins. Jinx looked over at Y/N, her wide eyes full of admiration as she wiped a strand of hair from her face.

"You really nailed it, Y/N," she said breathlessly, her voice full of awe. "This is insane. We could totally make a fortune with this... or cause some major mayhem."

Y/N wiped the sweat from their brow, their chest still rising and falling with the excitement of the ride. "Well, I didn’t build it for the money," they replied with a smile, their voice steady but laced with thrill. "But yeah, I have a feeling this could come in handy."

Jinx’s grin returned, wider than ever. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the kind of gleam that spelled nothing but trouble. "In that case..." she said, voice low and dangerous, "...I think we should test it again. Only this time, we’ll throw in some explosions. What do you think?"

Y/N rolled their eyes with a sigh, but deep down, they knew they wouldn't be able to resist. "Sounds like a terrible idea," they said, laughing despite themselves, already knowing where this would lead. "But yeah, I’m in."

And with that, they both leapt off the tower, ready for whatever madness Jinx had planned next.

EKKO

The dim light of the workshop flickered overhead, casting shadows over the cluttered benches and scattered tools. Y/N’s hands were steady, their brow furrowed in concentration as they fine-tuned the final mechanism of the experimental device. A sleek, slightly bulky contraption—a blend of steel, wires, and hydraulics—rested against their waist, its metallic arms extending out with a series of intricate, almost alien hooks.

It looked like something from a far-off world, but Y/N could feel the familiar thrill of possibility coursing through their veins. This was it. The dream they'd been working on for weeks. The sensation of freedom, of flight, of soaring through the air with nothing but a few precise movements. It was almost like the stories from their childhood, when they'd heard of people flying, moving like the wind, untouchable by the city's weight.

As their fingers worked on securing the last bolt, Y/N couldn't help but smile. The thought of what this could do for Zaun, for everyone stuck on the streets, in the underbelly of Piltover's shadow, excited them. They’d never seen anything like it here—no one had.

"You're up to something dangerous again, aren't you?"

The voice that broke through their focused reverie was familiar, warm, and full of affection. Ekko stood in the doorway, his arms crossed and a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes scanned the device with a mixture of admiration and concern. He'd seen Y/N make countless creations over the years, but this one? This one had the potential to change everything. The way he looked at them, though, was both awe and the kind of worry that only came when someone you loved was diving headfirst into something reckless.

Y/N turned to face him, their lips curling into a smile. "Well, you know me. I like to keep things interesting." They gave him a sly wink before returning to their work. "This could change everything for Zaun. Think about it—imagine being able to move faster than anyone could catch us, slipping past the enforcers, taking back the streets. It could be like we’re untouchable. You could be a hero with this, Ekko."

Ekko pushed himself off the doorframe, taking slow, deliberate steps toward them. He was always so composed, but there was a softness in his gaze that only came when they were alone, when the world wasn't watching. His fingers brushed lightly against their shoulder as he kneeled beside them, inspecting the device more closely.

"You're brilliant, you know that?" His voice was soft but filled with admiration. "You always come up with these crazy ideas, and... somehow, they almost always work. But this? This one’s on another level. I don’t know if I’m ready to watch you swinging around like a lunatic."

Y/N laughed, a teasing lilt in their voice. "You’re just scared you’ll get left behind. You know I can’t always be the one to keep your feet on the ground."

Ekko grinned, shaking his head. "Maybe. But I like to think of myself as a little more grounded. Someone has to keep you in check, after all."

Y/N smirked and leaned back, wiping their hands on a rag before standing up. "Check’s overrated. Besides, I’m not asking you to do the crazy stunts—just watch and be impressed. I need a reliable audience."

He raised an eyebrow, the playful challenge in his eyes matching theirs. "I’ll watch. But don’t expect me to join you up there. I’m not some stunt double."

"Fine, suit yourself." Y/N grinned and attached the grappling hooks to the wall, adjusting the straps around their waist one final time. They hit the power button on the device, and a quiet whirring sound filled the room, followed by a soft hum as the system powered up.

For a split second, everything was still.

=

Then, in a flash, they fired the hooks into the far wall with a controlled precision, their body jerking forward with an exhilarating rush. There was a moment of weightlessness, followed by the sudden jolt of the hooks holding fast. Y/N swung gracefully across the room, their feet briefly leaving the floor, their body suspended in mid-air like they were born for it. The air was cold against their skin, but the sensation was pure freedom—the kind of freedom they had been dreaming of.

Ekko’s heart raced as he watched them fly through the workshop, his mind not quite catching up with what he was seeing. Y/N twisted and looped in the air, soaring effortlessly like a bird in the wind. Their laughter rang out, filling the space as they glided, the motion so fluid it seemed unnatural, like they were part of the wind itself.

Ekko’s chest tightened with awe, but there was a spark of concern in his eyes. This was what they wanted, what they had been pushing toward. But now that he was watching it, there was something unsettling about it, too. The risk. The danger. He couldn’t help but imagine what would happen if something went wrong.

"Alright, alright," Ekko called out, voice laced with a mixture of amazement and reluctant admiration. "You were right. That’s... that’s pretty damn impressive."

Y/N gracefully swung back, the motion so smooth it looked like they had been doing it their whole life. They landed with a soft thud, their feet touching the ground as if they'd never left. "Told you. What did I say about leaving you in the dust?"

Ekko’s grin softened as he stepped closer, his expression tender, though still filled with that playful edge. "Just promise me you won’t get too carried away. I’d hate to see you crash into a building or something." He placed a hand on their shoulder, his thumb brushing over their skin with an unspoken affection.

Y/N’s eyes twinkled, and they turned to face him, leaning in just a little closer. "Oh, come on. You know I’ll always have a soft landing for you. It’s kind of my thing."

Ekko rolled his eyes, but the warmth in his gaze softened the motion. He stepped in front of them, a slight smirk on his lips. "Just make sure that soft landing isn’t me catching you mid-fall."

The words hung between them, and for a moment, there was only the sound of their shared laughter, a sweet, lighthearted sound that filled the room. Y/N could see the worry in his eyes, the way he wanted to protect them from every danger that came with the thrill. They stepped forward, resting a hand against his chest.

"I’ll be careful, Ekko. I promise." They whispered the words softly, and Ekko felt the weight of them. He could hear the sincerity in their voice, but he also knew that Y/N was never someone who could stand still. They would always push boundaries, always chase the next big idea.

"One day, Ekko," Y/N continued, their voice full of determination, "we’ll take this to the skies. Together. We’ll make the whole city see us."

Ekko’s heart swelled with affection for them. They had a fire in their eyes that could never be snuffed out. They weren’t just dreamers—they were visionaries. And though he worried, he also admired the hell out of them for it.

"Together," he echoed, his voice steady, his smile softer than before. The promise between them was real, unspoken but understood. Whatever came next, whatever risks they took, they would face them side by side.

And, with one last look at the gear—shiny and bold and full of potential—Ekko knew that, no matter how crazy it seemed, Y/N was always going to push the limits. And he would always be there to catch them, no matter how high they flew.

[graysonworld]

How to Choose the Best Box Compression Strength Tester

Making sure our packages are safe and don't break when they're moved around is really important. Box compression strength tester is a Packaging testing instrument that help us know if a box can handle being stacked or piled up. This guide helps to pick the right testing tool by looking at how much weight it can take, how accurate it is, the types of materials it can test, and if it follows certain rules. 

Why Testing Box Strength Matters

Before we talk about how to pick the right box strength tester, let's understand why it's important. Box compression strength tells us how much weight a box can handle before it breaks. This is super important, especially in industries where boxes are stacked or piled up, like in shipping and manufacturing.

1. How Much Weight It Can Handle:

The first thing to check when choosing a box strength tester is how much weight it can handle. Different situations need different capacities, so make sure it can handle the weight your packaging might face in real situations.

2. Accuracy:

Accurate measurements are key for good results. Look for testers with advanced load cells and control systems that give precise readings. This ensures the data you collect is reliable and shows how well your packaging actually performs.

3. Testing Different Materials:

Packaging comes in many forms, from cardboard to plastics. A good box strength tester should be able to test different materials. This way, it can work with all the different packaging materials used in the industry.

4. Following Standards:

There are rules, like ASTM D642 and ISO 12048, that guide box compression strength testing. Make sure the tester you pick follows these rules. This ensures that your testing methods are consistent and accurate.

5. Easy to Use and Automated:

Making things easy is important. Look for testers that are easy to use with simple controls and can even automate some tasks. This makes testing quicker and reduces the chances of mistakes.

6. Analyzing Data and Reporting:

After testing, you need to understand the results. A good tester should provide detailed data analysis and clear reports. This helps you make smart decisions when designing your packaging.

7. Durability:

Testing happens a lot, so the tester needs to be tough. Pick equipment made from strong materials that can handle frequent use and different testing conditions.

8. Works Well with Other Testing Methods:

Sometimes, you need to use different testing methods together. Choose a box strength tester that can easily work with other testing tools. This makes sure you get a full picture of your packaging quality.

9. Calibration and Maintenance:

Regular checks and maintenance keep the tester accurate and lasting long. Pick a tester with easy calibration processes and clear maintenance guidelines. This helps minimize downtime and keeps the tester working well.

Choosing the right box strength tester is a big decision. It directly affects how good your packaging is and how much your customers trust you. While features are important, so is the cost. Find a balance among the features you need and what fits your price range.

For more details, visit: https://www.packingtest.com/box-compression-tester-digital/

[effectivelabindia]

The Effective Lab India box compression tester is a necessary equipment to ensure the quality of packaging material, which is used to measure the strength of the material of the corrugate boxes during packing. This machine ensures that the packaging products or boxes can withstand the pressure during stacking and shipping without collapsing, bending or warping. This helps manufacturers maintain product safety during transportation or ensure the quality and strength of the product before it reaches the market.

[labzenix]

High-Precision Box Compression Tester by LabZenix

High-Precision Box Compression Tester by LabZenix

When it comes to packaging strength, accuracy matters. LabZenix brings you a High-Precision Box Compression Tester designed to deliver reliable and consistent results for all types of corrugated boxes. Built with advanced load cell technology and an easy-to-use interface, this machine helps manufacturers assess the real-world durability of their packaging. Whether you're in logistics, FMCG, or e-commerce, LabZenix ensures your boxes meet quality standards before reaching the customer. Trusted for its innovation and performance, LabZenix is committed to supporting packaging excellence with cutting-edge testing solutions tailored to your industry needs.

[applewatersugar]

The Sims 2 - 3D Eyelashes [EU-CU]

It's finally here!! AAAAAA! There's not much to talk about, other than the usual information. Hope you enjoy them!!

☆ Informations ☆ Compressed | 172 poly | 20 swatches | Slider & Facial expression compatible | Accessory Box ready

☆ Downloads ☆ Simblr.cc ☆ Credits ☆ Kijiko for the eyelash textures simnopke for the mesh help and tips platinumaspiration for the accessory box tutorial nonsensical-pixels for the object help beestew for the object testing/help Fire_Flower for the object help Creators of SimPe

If you have any problems or anything else that you want to discuss with me, feel free to message/ask me about it! :)

[iwrite0]

Katsuki Bakugo X Type 1 Diabetic! Reader

Is this like, a hella self insert? Absolutely. but..

there's no but. I just needed this and thought I'd share.

A/N; incase you don't know a Dexcom is about the size of a quarter and a half that tells you your blood sugar levels though an app or a small electronic pod

REQUEST ARE OPEN!

Honestly, even getting into U.A. felt like a war. A constant, uphill battle where you had to prove your strength twice over—once against your peers, and once against the quiet skepticism in every adult’s eyes. Like you weren’t just trying to be a hero. You were trying to convince the world that someone with Type 1 diabetes could be one.

It wasn’t enough to have the power, the skills, the drive. You had to show you could manage your body, your numbers, your entire damn life like a well-oiled machine. That you wouldn’t be a liability on the battlefield. That your condition didn’t define you.

So, when you got accepted into U.A., when you stepped into the shining halls of Class 1-A, you made yourself a promise. Only the people who needed to know would know. Teachers, nurses, support staff. That was it. You didn’t want pity. You didn’t want the whispered “Are you okay?”s or the sideways glances when you pulled out your insulin pen. You didn’t want to be someone people worried about before they respected.

You wanted your classmates to see you as strong. Capable. Normal.

And that meant hiding the Dexcom sensor under compression sleeves. Tucking insulin pens in the hidden folds of your bag. Silencing alarms before they had the chance to betray you. Even when you started dating the loudest, brashest, most brutally honest guy in your class—Katsuki Bakugou—you kept it quiet. You didn’t want him to see you as fragile, didn’t want to invite the fierce protective instincts you knew he’d have. You wanted him to love you, not feel obligated to babysit your condition.

The week had been hell.

Extra drills. Quirk testing. Combat simulations that pushed you beyond the edge. It was the perfect storm—intense physical strain, fluctuating adrenaline, erratic blood sugars. Highs that made you nauseous and foggy. Lows that made your limbs feel like they didn’t belong to you.

Now, walking back to the dorms, it hit. Hard.

Your vision blurred at the edges, greying out like static closing in. Your forehead was slick with cold sweat, and your steps faltered. The floor seemed to rise unevenly beneath you. You just needed to get to your room. Just a few more steps. Juice box. Bed. You could deal with it alone, like always.

But Katsuki’s voice cut through the fog like a lightning bolt.

“Hey, dummy. What’s with you?”

You tried to wave him off, keep your voice light. “Just tired, Katsu.”

But the panic started crawling up your spine before the words even finished leaving your mouth.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The alarm from your phone screamed through the quiet corridor, a piercing, repetitive sound that ripped your carefully built mask to shreds.

No. Not here. Not like this.

Your hands trembled as you fumbled for your phone, trying desperately to silence the alert. Your fingers weren’t cooperating—numb, uncoordinated, clumsy. The screen blurred in your vision. You couldn’t see the buttons, couldn’t press anything. Just stop it, just shut it off—

“What the hell is that noise?” Katsuki stepped closer, narrowing his eyes, trying to peek at your phone.

“Nothing!” you gasped, trying to twist away, your heart racing—not from fear of him, but from the shame curling in your gut. “It’s just—my phone!”

You turned to retreat, to make a break for your room before he could see what the screen said. But your knees buckled. The hallway tilted. You slammed against the wall, your shoulder catching the brunt of the fall with a sickening thud.

Katsuki was on you in an instant.

“Hey—” his voice was sharp, but the moment his eyes locked onto yours, the anger melted into panic. He grabbed your arm, steadying you, and that’s when he saw it.

The Dexcom. The screen.

“55.”

He froze.

“What the hell—what does that mean? Fifty-five what?”

You couldn’t answer. Your mouth was dry. The words wouldn’t form.

“It’s… my blood sugar,” you finally whispered, so low it barely registered. “I- I'm diabetic.”

It was the first time you’d ever said it out loud around him.

And gods, the shame that came with it.

Tears welled in your eyes—not just from the crash, not just from the adrenaline, but from the fear of what he might say. What he might think. That he’d look at you different now. That the image he had of you—strong, sharp, reliable—would be replaced with something smaller. Weaker.

But he didn’t shout. He didn’t scoff or sneer or accuse.

He stared at the number, then at you—your pale skin, your trembling hands—and everything in him shifted.

The confession hung in the air, a raw, exposed truth. Tears welled in your eyes, not just from the terrifying low, but from the shame and fear of finally being found out.

Katsuki didn't explode. He didn't yell. Not at you. He just stared at the screen, then at your ashen face, the realization dawning on him. He scooped you up, surprisingly gentle. He moved you Infront of him. He yelled over his shoulder for someone to bring him some juice. You could barely focus enough to hear his voice tremor. He cradled you, pulling you close, his warmth a surprising comfort against your trembling body.

The following second where blurry, someone ran over with a juice box that Katsuki practically ripped open, bringing it toward your face.

“Drink.”

You tried. You really did. Your hands shook so violently that he took over, holding it to your lips, helping you sip. The juice tasted artificial and too sweet, but it was a lifeline. After a minute, you could breathe again. Your hands stopped spasming. The floor steadied. You could think.

After a few minutes the sugar hit you blood stream, the dizziness subsided, and the tremors eased.

70, Still low. But better.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, voice low, hoarse. He pulled you into his arms before you could answer. You felt his hand on the back of your head, the other gripping your waist like you might vanish. “Of all people—you didn’t think I should know?”

You pressed your face into his chest, your voice a broken sob. “I didn’t want to be a burden. I didn’t want you to treat me different. I’ve always taken care of it. I just wanted you to see me—not the disease.”

He pulled back enough to meet your eyes, his expression somewhere between furious and devastated.

“You think I care about that?” His voice cracked. “You think I’d ever see you as weak because of something like this? You think I’d want you suffering in silence, hiding from me, when I could’ve helped you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t.

He carried you the rest of the way to your dorm, gently this time, like he was afraid you’d break apart again.

“Next time, you tell me. You hear me?” he said as he tucked you into your bed, still holding your hand like a lifeline. “You don’t do this alone anymore. Not while I’m here. Not when I care about you this damn much.”

And for the first time, maybe ever, you believed it.

[alphyser]

Random things in my MHA DR about 1-A!

Mineta was originally part of the class, however during the quirk apprehension test at the start, he got the lowest score and that Aizawa noticed him acting creepy so he acted on his threat to expel someone and gave Mineta the boot. That way, it'd also serve as a warning to others.

Mineta was actually hilarious though on first day. Actually made me crack up a lot, especially since I also have a dirty sense of humor. But then he he tried to peek under Yaomomo's skirt and the illusion was shattered. (For a moment I thought he could've been great </3)

I unironically voted for Sero during the class rep elections. Him and Yaomomo had a tie and he dropped out of the nominations saying that Yaoyorozu should be the vice-representative for 1-A over him. (Sero is such a sweet soul in my DR.)

Bakugo Katsuki, despite having fashion designers for parents, only ever dresses in the most basic clothing. Black compression shirts and sweatpants are his go to and when he feels like it he sometimes wears graphic tees and jeans. But he also criticizes others a lot on their fashion sense. (He one time straight up scolded Mina for an hour because she wore a shade of yellow that didn't go with her skin tone.)

Sato, without fail, will always have a box of some type of sweets on him. Man is a god send. He brings like this little lunchbag and he has two tupperwares of sweets. One time he had these donuts and each of them were a cool new flavor I've never seen before, like a raspberry donut with candied bacon, it sounds gross but he makes it taste good somehow.

Most Sundays, Aoyama usually goes out to visit this stray kitten in a park near U.A. He feeds all the time too. He has little cat treats in his bag always. He doesn't even like cats that much, but he sees himself in the kitty. Weak and can't do anything about it (Aoyama deserves better.)

Sero makes the MEANEST avocado salads ever. Like actually godsent. It's avocados, tomatoes, red onions, bell peppers, cucumbers, cilantro, parsley, garlic, black beans, jalapeno, lemon juice, olive oil, salt and white pepper, and queso fresco all tossed together. (Yes, I memorized the recipe because I wanted to make it in my CR 😭)

Oddly enough, Koda sleeps really loudly. Like he snores, talks in his sleep, grinds his teeth, even clears his throat sometimes. He fell asleep in the common room once on a sat evening watching Princess and the Frog with Tsu and my god, everyone in the first floor could hear it, even on the second floor only it was a little more muffled.

Iida dresses wrong. Not bad, wrong. He doesn't dress ugly, in fact he's one of the most well dressed in 1-A. The issue is, he never knows what outfit for when so he either always ends up overdressed or underdressed. We went out to get groceries and he was wearing a first date outfit (He looked fine asf but like for groceries?? 😭)

I don't know how it happened but for some reason, Monoma and Yaomomo are friends. Like not frenemies or just acquaintances. Like real actual friends. They hang out sometimes and gossip with Kendo. He even tones down the 1-A hate passion canon in her presence, it's actually amazing to see.