#data science remote work

[codecrafted]

Remote Data Science Jobs Are Booming: Here’s How to Prepare

In the ever-evolving digital economy, data has become the backbone of decision-making across every industry. From e-commerce giants and fintech startups to healthcare and manufacturing sectors, organizations are increasingly relying on data science to unlock hidden patterns, predict outcomes, and guide strategic planning. What’s truly revolutionary, however, is how this once location-dependent…

[kamalkafir-blog]

Thermal CFD Engineer

Job title: Thermal CFD Engineer Company: Tata Technologies Job description: : We are seeking a Thermal CFD Engineer – eMotors to lead thermal and fluid flow ***ysis of high-performance automotive eMotor systems… for a Thermal CFD Engineer to be based at our customers site in Gaydon. Our Engineering Research and Development department… Expected salary: Location: Gaydon, Warwickshire Job date: Sat,…

[automatticdata]

Data Talks & Conferences Recommended by Automatticians

This post highlights specific data conferences and talks recently recommended by Automatticians (employees at Automattic).  Staying informed is key in the fast-evolving field of data science. At Automattic, we value continuous learning and regularly attend conferences and talks that advance our understanding and skills.  This post shares a curated list of events and talks that have particularly…

[etoilecyber]

A Lustful Twist of Fate

“You just couldn’t let me go could you.”

No matter how sneaky Vance always thought he was, Kyle had been one step ahead.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t anticipated his former Best Friend to follow him after he left the city. After all, Vance Dane had always seemed to do everything in his power to undermine and take the things he loved. He didn’t understand why.

Kyle Marks had befriended him when he was all alone in High School and they never left each others side since then. He shared his hopes and dreams with him, went to the same university to study Media with him. Even got a job at the same advertising agency together. He didnt realize it at first but he noticed that Vance would alienate him from others and started outperforming him when Kyle was starting to get distracted from the anxiety. Vance denied doing so and insisted he was his friend. And yet, the isolation continued.

It got so bad that he couldn’t take it anymore. Instead of picking a fight, he sent in his two weeks notice and moved to another state. He hated that his dream career had gone down the drain. But he had to take it in stride. Be the bigger man. Start over and try his luck with a new career path.

Even if Vance could do this to him, he couldn’t. He was his best friend. And the first man he ever had feelings for. But these days, knowing how far Vance would have gone to destroy him, those feelings had vanished, replaced with anxiety that he would come back.

So imagine his (not) surprise when he saw Vance sneaking into his data lab where he was conducting mind to data physical conversion research.

Vance was the strong one, but Kyle was always faster. A single syringe of tranquilizer to his neck was all Kyle needed.

Vance had slumped to the floor, barely awake from the effects of the drug.

Kyle kneeled down and faced his former friend, ruffling his hair.

“You’re always taking things from me. My dreams. My ambitions. Even the people around me. I let it go because you were my friend but still you persist. I dont know what kind of sick game you’re playing but I’ve had enough.”

Vance grunted as Kyle dragged him by the hair to one of the chairs in the lab. He all but slammed the near unconscious man down and slowly stripped him down to his underwear.

“I’ve taken the high road long enough. I moved away and started over and everything.”

The anger pulsated into Kyles limbs as he attached nodes to Vance’s temples and chest, its wires connecting to a nearby computer.

“All I ever wanted was for you to like me but you still insist on taking from me.”

He felt a tear drop from his eye as he started typing away the commands to start his program. The button on the remote on the table lit up, ready for use.

Kyle stripped to his underwear and grabbed the remote. He approached Vance, who was now fully unconscious.

“Maybe I should take something from you instead.”

Kyle walked over to the chair opposite of Vance and plugged nodes to his own temples and chest.

He stared for a moment, suddenly aware that he’s about to perform a human trial on untested experiment. He was normally rational enough to not let himself perform what could possibly be a crime against humanity. Or worse, death.

But his emotions were getting the better of him.

He deserves it. I’ll make him pay.

Even if it kills me.

And besides… Science requires risk.

There was no going back now.

He stared at his would be body soon. From a distance, Vance looked like he was smiling. Perhaps a reflex of the muscle. No more doubting. This was going to work.

With a heavy breath, Kyle pushed the button.

He felt his body convulse, like electricty was pumping into his heart. His body was sweating and his brain felt like it was getting sucked by a straw. Across, Vance’s body had started convulsing as well, his body arching slightly upward in shock.

For a moment, Kyle felt like this was the end. Maybe he shouldn’t have let his anger win.

And suddenly it went black.

Kyle woke with a start. A ragged breath escaping his mouth. He felt extra groggy.

“Wha-“ he covered his mouth, his voice deeper than usual. He looked down and saw hands that were familiar but not his. And he looked across to find… his body slumped over.

“It worked… It actually worked!” The anger all but disappeared. He had finally succeded.

“I wasn’t hoping to do human trials until later, but this proves it. The mind can be turned into data and moved.”

He ripped the nodes from his new body and walked over to his unconscious old body.

“Maybe now… I can go back to my old life. Maybe it wont be a pipe dream anymore without him getting in the way.” He caressed his old face and slowly lifted his head up by the chin. “Everyone will just think he’s crazy if he starts saying he swapped bodies with me.”

Kyle walked off to grab a towel and look at a mirror. This was a face he was so used to seeing but being inside was a whole new level of ecstacy he was never used to.

“It’s so weird… being in this body. But its…” he wiped his face with the towel and took a sniff.

“…so emasculating. Fuck… Vance is really hot.”

Kyle looked down, his new member straining hard against his shorts. An image he had wanted to see his whole life. And pulling it out confirmed what he had only ever imagined.

“Shit. Mine isn’t bad but this is a whole new level of huge.”

He grabbed hold of his new shaft, the sensitivty eliciting a moan from his mouth. He didnt even process any thought and just started pumping.

“Fuck… FUCK!”

It was like a geyser of white just erupting out of him. The intensity was way beyond anything he’s ever experienced.

He scooped up some from the mirror and gave it a taste.

“Salty…”

He heard his old body stir from behind and he felt an evil grin creep up his face. He walked over as he watched his old body wake up.

“Hey. How’s it feel, Kyle. To have all of this ripped away from you.”

Kyle flexed, feeling the mighty hard muscles from his stolen body. And it felt good.

Vance, in Kyle’s body blinked a couple of times before sitting up. His face remained blank, as if he was still processing.

“Too stunned to speak? Missing all of this? Have a taste of the old you.”

He swiped his cum stained hand over to his old body’s mouth.

“And nice package by the way. Thanks for that. Mine aint bad but sheesh. You sure won the genetic lottery.”

He wanted to be satisfied, but the lack of a violent reaction was souring his victory.

“Well, say something.” Kyle finally said.

Vance stood up and walked over to the mirror. Quiet at first, as if to take in what he now had. Kyle expected trembling, shouting, begging. Anything!

But the words that came out of Vance completely shattered him.

“This was everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Vance raised his new arms, taking in Kyle’s body as if it were a prize.

“W-What…?”

The smile on Vance’s face was anything but the anguish Kyle wanted to see.

“You have no idea how much I’ve dreamed of this… To be in your flesh.”

Kyle’s breathing intensified, everything clearly not going as planned.

“What are you saying? What the fuck is going on?! This is supposed to be my revenge!”

Vance turned around, walking towards him in such a sultry way that seemed ultra foreign from Kyle’s body.

“Revenge? Why would I want revenge? I’ve never hated you nor have I ever wanted to destroy you. Quite the opposite actually.”

Vance hugged himself, feeling his body from every inch of what he could touch.

“Vance..!” It was Kyle’s turn to be speechless.

“You said all you’ve ever wanted was for me to like you. Kyle, liking you was never a problem.”

He licked his cum stained lip as he began exploring his new cock. A foreign feeling from what he was used to but a dream made reality completely ramped up the sensitivity Kyle’s body normally had. But unlike Kyle, Vance was slow, delibirate. Edging himself as he pumped his new cock in front of Kyle.

Kyle felt like he was being manhandled but he couldn’t stop watching. His own new cock springing back up in arousal.

“I’ve wanted you for as looooong as I could remember. Since that day you saved me from my loneliness. I needed you to be mine. And mine alone.”

Kyle’s breath hitched, backing away as Vance approached him.

“I did everything to be at your side. I’ve followed you to your career path. I got rid of anyone that would stand between us. Because all you need is me. No one can have you”

Kyle tripped down to the chair behind him. This time, Vance caressed his trembling face. It terrified Kyle to watch his own face contort into this kind of… lust… that he would never normally have.

Vance planted his lips into his body’s mouth, forcing his new tongue to dance with his old one. He pulled back, letting their saliva bridge and trail down.

Kyle was panting, overstimulated from the revelation and sexual intensity.

Vance purred, enjoying his slightly higher voice.

“It killed me to see you leave. I never realized that the success I was bringing for us hurt you. But its over now.”

He pumped faster now, their dicks and their sweaty bodies colliding.

“I will follow you to the ends of the earth. I wont let anything stand in my way. I trained my body to protect you.”

With his free hand, Vance twisted his old body’s nipple and he ravaged Kyle’s neck with a long, sensual kiss.

“And now… I can. Forever.” He let out a long gutteral cry completely foreign from Kyle’s usual demeanor. A stream of white cum showered Vance’s old body.

He panted, smiling from an orgasm he never felt before. He scooped up some cum and gave it a taste. “From within, I will always have this… delicious body. And no one who ever wants to hurt you will know it was never you in the first place.”

He licked the rest of the cum up and kissed Kyle. Letting Kyle’s former sweet tasting cum swirl within both their mouths.

“Come here. I will show you the depths of my love.”

It wasnt love. It was obsession.

“Vance… Vance, no. Vance-“

Vance covered his mouth.

“Shh… it’s Kyle.”

The new Kyle smiled before planting his new mouth into the new Vance’s dick.

“OH GOD!” Kyle- no, Vance held onto Kyle’s bobbing head as he received the best head he’s ever had in years.

“Kyle… KYLE!”

His new cock warmed up, another round of cum finally erupting. And Kyle swallowed it all.

~

It had been three months since the body swap.

Vance had moved into Kyle’s home and restarted his career in a new advertising agency. Kyle would soon join him, a return to a life he had supposedly “abandoned” and quietly supported him. The experimental research for Kyle’s mind to data project was shelved and hidden away.

While Vance went on to enjoy a life of success, Kyle would enjoy the body of his one true lust love.

“Rest easy baby. I wont let anything or anyone hurt you…”

-

Hey! Etoile Cyber here. I’ve been a long time reader of body swap stories and thought I’d try my hand at wrting one for once!

I Hope you guys liked it!

[blackwidownat2814]

Pairing: Tyler Owens x female reader, Tyler Owens x shy!reader, Tyler Owens x insecure!reader

Word Count: 1408

Summary: You begin your new job as a Tornado Wrangler (remotely), and meet most of the team. It isn't until you suffer a little mishap that you meet the man himself.

A/N: Thank you all so much for the wonderful response to the Prologue!!! I didn't think it'd be that much of a hit, so I was surprised with all the love. After finishing this chapter, I feel like it could've been part of the Prologue, but oh well. It's been a while since I've written as well, so bear with me. As always, thanks to my awesome beta, @buckysdollforlife, for their help with this and for creating the header for this story (I LOVE IT!!!!) and bestie, @13braincellsonly, for allowing me the use of their son's name and personality when I needed to come up with a horse. **All descriptions of Ziggy the horse were approved by his momma.** And as always, I will be cross-posting this to AO3. If you see this story anywhere besides AO3 or Tumblr, it's stolen.

City Girl Knows Her Stuff

You became a Wrangler near the end of the season that first year.  Kate picked you up at the airport with two members of the team: Lily and Dani.  Lily immediately pulled you into a hug, chatting a mile a minute about how excited she was to have you on the team.  Dani (perhaps picking up on your shyness) offered a handshake and big smile, welcoming you to Oklahoma.  Kate was more than happy to let Dani and Lily talk your ear off on the drive to Sapulpa, where you’d be staying with Cathy until you found a place.  She knew it was somewhat difficult for you to make friends, so she was happy to see you enjoying a conversation with two new friends.

You got to meet Dexter when he came by in the van to pick up Lily and Dani.  You thought he was funny and enjoyed some very science-centric conversations with him.  Before they all left, Lily let you take her drone for a spin.  You enjoyed it so much that for your birthday later that year, she gifted you a smaller drone that wasn’t quite like hers, but it had a small camera and small, tinny sounding speaker.  She even had it painted in your favorite color.  That would become one of your absolute favorite gifts.  It made you cry.

Like most storm chasers, you had to have a job in the off season, so you got a remote data analyst job with the NOAA offices in Norman and moved out to a place just out of Sapulpa.  This would allow you to visit Cathy at the farm and work on data in the barn workshop the Wranglers had set up.  You even got yourself a cat.  Abandoned due to his looks and runt status (according to the shelter), you snatched him up the first time you saw him.  Black cats didn’t scare you.  Life with Roach (you’d spent quite a bit of time watching The Witcher) was idyllic and you were happy.

By the time you met Boone, the Wranglers felt like family…and Boone felt like the brother you never had.  Like Boone, you were an only child and didn’t have much of an extended family and it was a bit lonely in the beginning.  The difference, however, was that Boone was an outgoing guy and it was easy for him to make friends and talk to people he didn’t know, whereas that scared you half to death most of the time.  You loved his boisterous way of being, but you also appreciated that he (like Dani) could tell when your social battery had run down and turned it down and would sometimes sit with you in a quiet environment.  Sometimes he’d sit and nap while you read or he’d pick up the latest meteorological article (or sometimes the latest comic he picked up at the shop).  He didn’t even make fun of your nickname like others had before, so you trusted him.

The day of Cathy’s pre-tornado season bbq, while cleaning some dishes, you confessed to Boone that you were nervous about meeting the head tornado wrangler himself, Tyler Owens.

“T’s a sweetheart B, you got nothin’ to worry about.  Why are ya nervous?”

“Boone!  He doesn’t know me, what if he doesn’t think I’m a right fit for the team?  What if he doesn’t like how I do work?  Y’all are famous ‘round here, what if he gets irked by the fact that big crowds make me nervous and it takes me forever to become comfortable with people?  You know it’s not easy for me to talk to people I’ve never talked to before”, you cried in exasperation.

“B, imma need you to take a breath, okay?” Boone reassured you as he placed his hands on your shoulders.  “If Ty thought any of those things, I would definitely not be workin’ with ‘em.”

You were so busy trying to get yourself to relax that you missed Kate wandering into the kitchen.

“B, are you freakin’ out about meetin’ Tyler again?” she asked.  You and Boone nodded.  “Well, you don’t have to worry.  He won’t be able to come today, said he had to drive down to Texas to see his parents.”

You breathed out a sigh of relief, sending some of your hair floating up.  “Good, I have time to relax about it.  Thanks Kate.”

“Thank Tyler’s parents.”

“Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Owens!” you said to no one in particular and dried your hands, as you looked over at your friends.  “See you two out there!”

Kate and Boone followed, but stayed on the porch, both taking twin sips from their beers.

“You think either of them has any idea what’s about to happen to ‘em?” Boone asked.

“Meaning that Tyler is going to become enamored the second she opens her mouth?”

“Yup.”

“And that she’s going to have the same thing happen to her the second she comes into contact with that cocky cowboy swagger that he exudes when you meet him the first time?”

“Yup.”

“No, I don’t think either of ‘em knows what’s coming.”

A few days before the chasing season began, you brought Roach down to Cathy’s, where he would be staying while you were out with the Wranglers for your first season on the road.  

While there, you asked Cathy if you could saddle up your favorite of her horses, Zig, nicknamed Ziggy.  He wasn’t the brightest of the bunch; he was the type of horse you’d see in a video because someone thought he was dead but in actuality, he was just sleeping.  You swore that his mother, a horse named KJ, rolled her horse eyes every time someone caught him playing dead.

Ziggy may not have been the sharpest pitchfork in the barn, and may not have enjoyed doing much of anything besides looking dead when he slept, but he enjoyed riding through fields with you.  He knew whenever he saw you approaching with a bowl that he was about to get one of his favorite snacks: ice cubes with apple bits in them.  You put Ziggy’s snack bucket down so he could munch while you brushed him and got him saddled and ready to go for a ride.

When Ziggy let you know that he was done with his snack, you popped in your earbuds and shuffled your favorite classical music playlist on Spotify.  You found it was one of your favorite ways to relax.  After you climbed on Ziggy’s back, and kicked him into gear, you took off for the open fields near the road leading up to the farm.

You’d been out there for a while when you started hearing the faint rumble of an engine, but ignored it because trucks passed near this area all the time.  You probably shouldn’t have ignored it though, because when that modified-to-withstand-tornadoes red Dodge Ram 3500 turned on to the road and took off towards the main house, Ziggy took off after it.  By now, you shouldn’t have been surprised that he recognized the truck or the person in it, but you were…and because you were so thrown off by it, your hands (stupidly) had not been holding the reins.  And because you had not held on, you went flying off Ziggy’s back while he just followed the familiar truck.  Lucky for you, the fall didn’t cause you to go unconscious, but it did knock the wind out of you after you landed hard on your back.

As you attempted to take deep breaths, you heard someone yelling and running towards you, so you tried to sit up.  The voice yelled for you to not move, so you listened and stayed on the ground, with your eyes shut.  You just lay there, waiting.

All of a sudden:

“Are you okay?” the voice asked.  You knew that you knew who the voice belonged to but you were so thrown by being thrown that your brain wasn’t focusing.  You blinked your eyes open, and your vision swam before focusing on the most beautiful face.

“Wha-”

“Are you okay, darlin’?” he asked as he helped you sit up.

“Uh…”

“Did you black out?”

“No.”

“Do you know where you are?”

“Cathy’s farm, in Sapulpa.”

“Do you know your name?”  He smiled when you told him.  “Where’d you come in from?”

“New York City.”

“Why are you here?”

“I’m the new data analyst for the Wranglers.”

“Well…looks like we got another city girl that knows her stuff.”

Tagging: @ladybirdbeetle7 @omgbrianab @itsdesiree86 @avengersfan25 @keyrani @thedonswife13 @lonelyghosts-stuff

DON'T FORGET TO LIKE AND REBLOG!!!!

Main Masterlist

[mbari-blog]

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We invite everyone to join us on this journey of exploration, science, and stewardship.

[hai7ani]

yves, bestie. i’m gonna need more of this loser virgin rindou x single mother. like him getting with her?? oof. homie losing his mind just touching her. 😭 absolutely tweaking tf out.

collection

Oh I think he likes calling to check up on you. Comes over with food and maybe pizza sometimes because your son loves the one he buys at his usual pizza place. Plays lego with your kid while you go on a work call or shower and Yuzuha's just sitting at the dining table eating the leftovers with a towel wrapped around her head.

It's cozy most nights. On some when it's just you and him and your son's asleep and Yuzuha's not home you like taking the time to know who he is while you turn the TV on for some noise. There's a lot to know about him. Technically he is doing music as a side hustle because it earns less than his main income (a liquor store staff) but he works the job anyway to fund his hobby and it's respectable, you think. He has an older brother who's studying accounting in Keio and he was supposed to attend the same university majoring in data science but he's said that things don't always work out for him.

He had eczema when he was younger and would always scratch on the spots that has left scars all over his skin. You inch closer to touch on it one night when he shows you, just out of curiosity, and you flinch at the way he flinches. He's red and fidgety and then he excuses himself to the bathroom. You feel bad. You think you'd overstep his boundaries and you want to apologise. He's a nice person who's helped you out countless times and you don't want things to be awkward.

He comes out with wet hands and his foggy glasses stuffed into his pocket. Doesn't speak about what happened and turns the volume up with the remote but he's sitting closer to you this time. He puts his phone face up and his screen lights up from a text message from a friend. His wallpaper is a photo of the sea. He leans forward to read it but he doesn't reply.

💬 Shion

yo

wanna go drinking

For some reason after seeing him like that you don't feel the need to say sorry anymore. You think it's fine. You ask if he wants more chips and when he nods you grab onto his knee to push yourself up. Sharp nails digging into his meat. Feeling his muscles tense beneath your palm. Ass in his face while you block the screen to fix your shirt and then walk away just like that.

He slides into the bathroom again when he thinks you're not looking.

[elladreams]

The Perfect Setup (Zandvoort) // LN4

summary: Zandvoort '24. A young engineering prodigy, recruited by McLaren to solve complex F1 challenges, grapples with media scrutiny and an undeniable chemistry with driver Lando Norris. As tensions rise during a crucial race, they must balance professional duty with their growing personal connection.

warnings: she/her reader, smut (18+), unprotected (shower 😳) sex, size kink.

words: 6.9K

The roar of engines filled the air, a symphony of power and precision that reverberated through the paddock. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline mixed with the salty breeze from the nearby coast, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that signaled another race was about to begin. The McLaren garage was a hive of activity—mechanics making last-minute adjustments, engineers poring over data, and drivers mentally preparing for the challenge ahead. Amidst the controlled chaos, you stood, a pillar of calm in a world of speed.

You have always stood out, a prodigy in a field where experience often outweighed talent. But here you were, at the heart of one of the most prestigious teams in Formula 1, your hands and mind guiding the finely-tuned machinery that could make or break a race. At just twenty-two, you were already a respected figure in the paddock, known for your brilliance in engineering and your unyielding dedication to the sport.

Your family had sacrificed so much to help you reach your potential. You were always miles ahead of the other kids. While they were playing with dolls or video games, you were more interested in how those things worked. At six years old, you were already taking apart remote control cars, not to play with them, but to understand the intricate systems that made them move. By the time you were ten, you were building small engines from scratch, fascinated by the power and precision of mechanical systems.

Your parents quickly realized they had a prodigy on their hands. They encouraged your curiosity, enrolling you in expensive science and engineering programs meant for kids much older than you. You thrived in these environments, always eager to learn more, to push the boundaries of what you could create. By the time you were a teenager, you had already won several national engineering competitions, earning a reputation as a young genius in the world of mechanics.

When you first discovered Formula 1, everything changed. The speed, the technology, the sheer complexity of the cars—it captivated you like nothing else. You devoured everything you could find about F1 engineering, learning about aerodynamics, power units, and the delicate balance between speed and control. While other teenage girls were dreaming of prom dresses and much older boyfriends , you were dreaming of being in the garage, fine-tuning the machines that drove the world of motorsport.

Your parents knew that pursuing a career in F1 was a long shot, especially for a young woman, but they supported you every step of the way. They worked multiple jobs and sacrificed their own dreams so that you could chase yours.

Thankfully, your talent didn’t go unnoticed. By the time you were 16, you had caught the attention of several top engineers in the F1 world, earning an internship with Mercedes. You quickly made a name for yourself as a technical genius, capable of understanding and improving complex systems that seasoned engineers struggled with. The paddock buzzed with stories of the young girl who was instrumental in Mercedes' dominance.

With your newfound fame came an onslaught of media attention. Reporters from major news outlets were relentless, hounding you for interviews and prying into every aspect of your life. They asked invasive questions about your personal relationships, sought your opinions on the sport's latest controversies, and even pressed you to address misogynistic rumors linking you romantically with certain drivers. The spotlight, once a place of professional pride, had become a battlefield where your every word was scrutinized, and your achievements were often overshadowed by baseless gossip.

Zak Brown fought tooth and nail to bring you to McLaren, recognizing that you were the missing piece they needed to conquer the new regulations. When it became clear that the team was struggling to master the latest specifications, he knew they needed someone with your unique blend of technical expertise and innovative thinking. Zak saw in you a mind that could bridge the gap between theory and practice, someone who could not only understand the intricacies of the new rules but also translate them into real-world performance on the track.

But today, on the day of Max Verstappen's home race, there was an unmistakable charge in the air—tensions were higher, the stakes more personal. It wasn’t just another race; it was a proving ground, not only for the car but for you, the team, and especially for the driver who had become both your greatest challenge and your fiercest ally: Lando Norris.

Lando, the young, fiercely talented star of McLaren, had a natural charm that made him a media darling, but it was his relentless drive to win that truly defined him. From the moment you joined the team, your relationship with Lando had been anything but smooth. Your strong wills collided over every detail, every decision. He saw you as a nuisance, someone who constantly questioned his instincts and pushed him beyond his comfort zone. To you, Lando was stubborn, even arrogant at times—a driver who needed to understand that perfection on the track wasn't just about raw talent but about achieving the perfect synergy between man and machine. And today, that’s exactly what you were trying to achieve.

Standing in the garage, you reviewed the data on your tablet for what felt like the hundredth time. You had pulled an all-nighter, fine-tuning an experimental setup that you believed could give Lando the edge he needed on this notoriously challenging circuit. But convincing him to trust your untested approach was another matter.

Lando stormed into the garage, the top part of his race suit hanging low on his hips revealing his fire proofs, his expression a mix of frustration and determination. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, glancing at the setup specs displayed on the screen. “This is what you’ve been working on all night?”

“Yes,” you replied, meeting his gaze without flinching. “This setup could give you the downforce you need through the corners without sacrificing speed on the straights. I’ve run the simulations a dozen times—it works.”

“Simulations?” Lando scoffed, running a hand through his curls in agitation. “Simulations aren’t the same as the real thing. We can’t afford to take risks like this, not here, not today.”

“This isn’t a risk, Lando,” you shot back, your voice steady despite the tension. “This is a calculated decision based on hard data. I wouldn’t be recommending it if I didn’t believe it would make a difference.”

He crossed his arms, his jaw set in that stubborn way you’d come to recognize all too well. “You’re asking me to trust a setup we’ve never used in a race, in front of Max’s home crowd, no less. What if it doesn’t work? What if it costs me the race?”

“And what if it wins you the race?” you countered, stepping closer to him. “You know as well as I do that playing it safe isn’t going to cut it against Verstappen on his home turf. We need every advantage we can get, and this setup is that advantage.”

Lando stared at you, his eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. But you didn’t waver. You believed in this setup, and more importantly, you believed in him.

Finally, he relented, nodding slowly. "Fine. But if this doesn’t work, I swear I will never let you live it down."

“It will” you interrupted, a small tired smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ll be right there with you, making sure it does.”

A ghost of a smirk played on his face, his eyes betraying the glimmer of a sparkle. For a moment, the garage was silent, the two of you standing closer than you realized, caught in the intensity of the moment. The intoxicating blend of his dark, amber-scented perfume mingled with the unmistakable and familiar scent of the paddock, created a heady aroma that threatened to cloud your senses entirely.

Your breath hitched as his gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a fraction of a second before flicking back up to your eyes. You could feel your cheeks burning as his gaze caressed you.

Lando cleared his throat, breaking the spell and stepping back.

"Well, let's get this done." he said, his usual light tone returning as he ran a hand through his hair again. "Wouldn't want to keep the adoring crowd waiting." He winked.

You rolled your eyes and smiled, thankful for the change in energy.

You both turned back to the screen to finalize the setup adjustments. As you worked side by side, the air between you felt different—not just charged with the usual tension, but with a deeper, more intimate connection. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped, and you had moved from being teammates to something more.

The race was minutes away, but for the first time, you felt like you were truly part of a team—Lando’s team. And that, more than anything, was what mattered. The moments before the race were a blur of final checks and hurried conversations. You stood by Lando’s car, your heart pounding with adrenaline, not just from the intensity of the race but from something deeper—something you were trying desperately not to acknowledge. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the Zandvoort Circuit, you caught Lando’s eye. He was already in his race suit, helmet in hand, but there was a softness in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you’d both been dancing around for months.

The starting grid was tense with anticipation. Lando had secured pole position in a spectacular qualifying session, and the team was buzzing with excitement. But everyone knew this race wouldn’t be easy—not with Verstappen starting right behind him, eager to impress his home crowd.

The lights went out, and the roar of the engines filled the air as the cars launched off the line. Lando got a good start, but so did Verstappen. As they barreled into the first corner, Verstappen made a daring move, diving down the inside and taking the lead. The crowd erupted in cheers, the sea of orange on its feet as their hometown hero took charge.

“Hold steady,” you whispered under your breath, your eyes glued to the screen. Lando had lost the lead, but the race was far from over.

The next few laps were a blur of precision and strategy. Lando stayed close to Verstappen, not letting him get away, but it was clear that the McLaren’s setup was allowing him to conserve his tires while maintaining pace. The tension was palpable, every corner, every straight a testament to the fine-tuning you and the team had worked so hard to perfect.

As the race approached its midpoint, an opportunity presented itself. Verstappen, pushing hard to maintain his lead, began to show signs of tire degradation. You watched the data closely, your fingers gripping the edge of the console.

“This is it, Lando,” you said over the radio, your voice steady but laced with anticipation. “His tires are gone. You’ve got this.”

Lando didn’t respond, but you knew he’d heard you. His driving became more aggressive, more precise, as he closed the gap to Verstappen. And then, on lap 47, the moment you’d been waiting for arrived. Lando set himself up perfectly coming out of Turn 9, using the slipstream to his advantage. As they approached the hairpin, he made his move, diving down the inside with the confidence of a driver who knew his car—and his own abilities—were more than a match for the challenge.

He retook the lead, and this time, he wasn’t about to let it go.

“Nicely done, Lando!” you cheered into the radio, unable to keep the excitement out of your voice. The entire team erupted in applause, but your focus remained on the car, on the driver who had just reminded everyone why he was one of the best.

The final laps were a masterclass in control. Lando maintained his lead, keeping Max at bay and managing his tires to perfection, while also building a substantial gap. As he crossed the finish line, taking the checkered flag, the McLaren garage exploded in celebration.

“You did it, Lando! You won!” The words burst out of you, the relief and joy evident in every syllable.

Lando’s voice crackled over the radio, filled with the same emotion. “We did it. The car came alive.” A flush of pride warmed your cheeks. This was your win, too—your idea, your hard work, your dedication to perfection.

As Lando pulled into the pit lane, the world seemed to slow down. He stepped out of the car, removing his helmet to reveal a smile that lit up his entire face. You had joined the team to celebrate alongside Lando. Before you knew it, he was walking toward you, his eyes locked onto yours. The team was cheering, clapping him on the back, but Lando didn’t stop until he was right in front of you. He reached out, taking your hand in his, the contact sending a jolt through you.

“Thank you.” He said simply, the words full of meaning.

Your smile widened as you squeezed his hand, the rush of adrenaline and pride filling you with a new kind of certainty. In this moment, the only thing that mattered was him, and you. You squeezed his hand, your heart racing not from the adrenaline of the race, but from the intensity of the moment between you. “Thank you for trusting me, Lando.”

There was a brief silence, the noise of the celebration fading into the background as the world narrowed to just the two of you. Then, with a quick glance around as if to check that no one was watching too closely, Lando leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek, his breath warm against your skin.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he repeated, a whisper that sent your heart into overdrive.

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through you. “And we’ll do it again.”

The race had been a victory, but this moment—standing with Lando, the connection between you undeniable—felt like something even more precious. It was the start of something new, something that went beyond the garage and the racetrack. 

—-

The podium celebration had been nothing short of electrifying. The roar of the crowd, the spray of champagne, and the sight of Lando beaming as he hoisted the trophy high above his head was a moment you knew you would never forget. As the McLaren team gathered to celebrate, you found yourself on the podium alongside Lando, representing the team that had worked tirelessly to secure this victory. It was a whirlwind of emotions—pride and undeniable joy.

But as you made your way back to the garage drenched in Ferrari champagne, the adrenaline of the win still pulsing through your veins, you rounded a corner and nearly collided with Chiara, McLaren’s senior PR manager. Her usually composed expression was tense, and you could tell immediately that she had something on her mind.

“Great job out there,” Chiara started, her voice measured but tinged with concern. “The team couldn’t be happier, but we need to talk.” Your stomach sank as a sense of foreboding crept over you. Chiara had been your main point of contact for media communication since joining the team, and you knew that if she was this worried, it must be something serious. You felt a knot form in your stomach. The way she was looking at you told you that this wasn’t just about the race. “What’s on your mind, Chiara?”

She glanced around, making sure no one else was within earshot, then pulled you aside into a quieter corner of the garage. “Look, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but we need to be careful about how things appear. The media and fans are already buzzing about you and Lando, especially after that little moment after the finish.”

Your mind flashed back to the celebration, to the kiss on the cheek Lando had given you, the way his hand had lingered on yours just a bit longer than necessary. It had felt private, special, but of course, nothing was truly private in the world of Formula 1, especially not when the cameras were always rolling.

“You know how it is,” Chiara continued, her tone softening slightly. “Fans are passionate, and the media loves a good story. They’ll spin anything to make headlines. I’m not saying you can’t have…whatever it is you have with Lando, but we need to manage the optics. The last thing we want is for this to distract from the team’s success.”

You nodded, understanding her concerns. The last thing you wanted was to give the press ammunition to turn your hard-earned victory into tabloid fodder. But the idea of keeping your newfound feelings for Lando hidden, of pretending there was nothing between you, felt like a bitter pill to swallow.

“I get it, Chiara,” you said finally, meeting her gaze with determination. “I’m not going to let them turn this into a scandal. Lando and I…we’re professionals first. We’ll handle this.”

Chiara smiled, relieved by your response. “I know you will. Just keep in mind that perception is everything in this sport. And right now, you both have the world’s attention.”

With that, Chiara gave your arm a reassuring squeeze before heading off to her next order of business. You stood there, rooted to the spot for a moment, letting her words sink in. The exhilaration of the victory still buzzed through you, but it was now tinged with the sobering reality of the situation. The weight of her advice pressed down on your shoulders, reminding you that nothing in this world came without its complications.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair, dislodging tiny droplets of champagne that sprayed out like glittering confetti. The sticky remnants of the podium celebration clung to you, a tangible reminder of the night’s highs. What you needed now was a serious shower—something to wash away not just the champagne, but the lingering tension from your conversation with Chiara.

As you made your way toward the team’s private quarters, the hum of activity in the paddock slowly faded, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Chiara’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the reality you both lived in—a world where every glance, every gesture, could be dissected and spun into a narrative you had little control over. The media would indeed be relentless, and the fans, always watching, would be insatiable in their curiosity. But how could you distance yourself from something—or someone—that had become so central to your life, to your happiness? The chemestry you shared with Lando was undeniable, and no amount of PR maneuvering could erase what you felt for him.

As you reached the lockers, you turned on the shower, eagerly anticipating the soothing warmth of the water to ease the tension knotted in your muscles. The promise of relief was a welcome thought after the intensity of the day.

You let out a small sigh, beginning to discard your champagne-soaked clothes. The polo that had clung to your skin now felt heavy, both physically and metaphorically, as you peeled it off and tossed it into the laundry bin. The day’s victories and challenges seemed to weigh on you all at once. The exhilaration of the win, the tension with Lando, the quiet moments where everything between you felt so effortless—they all mingled in your mind, creating a cocktail of emotions that left you feeling both intoxicated and exhausted.

You stood there for a moment, stripped down to your underwear, the cool air of the locker room a welcome contrast to the heat of the day. Lost in thought, you hadn’t even noticed Lando entering until you felt his presence, a subtle shift in the air that made the tiny hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. The realization of how exposed you were hit you all at once—half-naked and vulnerable in more ways than one.

Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but something in the way Lando looked at you made you pause. His eyes, darker now with an intensity that was impossible to ignore, roamed over your body, lingering on the curves and lines revealed by your lack of clothing. The heat that flushed your cheeks had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the way his gaze set your skin ablaze. You couldn't meet his gaze fully, not when you were absolutely sure it would burn you from the inside.

He murmured your name, his voice low, vibrating with a tension that matched the fire in his eyes. The way he said it, the way his gaze traced over you, made it feel like a caress. “Look at me.”

There was a challenge in his tone, and you met it head-on, your breath catching as your eyes locked with his. In the fluorescent lighting of the locker room, his features seemed more defined, his jawline sharper, his lips fuller.

There was no mistaking the desire that simmered just beneath the surface, a reflection of the same need that pulsed through your veins. It was as if the world had narrowed to just the two of you, the space between you crackling with a chemistry that had been building for far too long.

Lando took a step closer, his gaze never leaving yours, and with each inch he closed, the air around you seemed to thicken, heavy with anticipation. He was close enough now that you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, the scent of his skin—champagne and amber with a hint of the adrenaline that still lingered from the race—filling your senses.

The silence stretched between you, and yet, it was as if an entire conversation was taking place, unspoken but understood. Every fiber of your being was attuned to him, the tension between you palpable. "I can practically hear that big brain of yours working overtime." he said, his voice even lower now, almost a rumble. His hand reached out, fingertips brushing lightly against your arm, leaving a trail of electricity in their wake. The touch was gentle, but it was enough to make you shiver, your skin hypersensitive to every point of contact.

The last remnants of your resolve began to crumble, and you could see the same struggle playing out in Lando’s eyes. There was a flicker of hesitation, a silent question hanging in the space between you—whether to cross this line, to take what you both so clearly wanted.

But then he stepped even closer, his hand sliding up your arm to your shoulder, his fingers tracing the curve of your collarbone. The touch was light, almost reverent, but it carried the weight of everything unsaid between you. His eyes followed the path his hand made, and when he looked back up at you, there was no more hesitation, only a hunger that mirrored your own.

“You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice rough around the edges, as though he was barely holding himself back.

You could feel the heat pooling between your legs, a familiar ache begging to be satisfied. With every brush of his fingers, you felt your resolve crumbling.

You tilted your chin up, your lips parting in invitation. The look in his eyes was pure need, a reflection of the desire coursing through you. He leaned in, his breath warm on your lips, his scent simply intoxicating now that it was mixed with the sharp fruity champagne.

It was as if time had slowed down, and all you could focus on was the heat of his body, the anticipation of his touch, the promise of everything that would come next. And then, finally, he closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body.

The feel of his lips on yours was electric, sending sparks racing across your skin. His mouth moved against yours, hungry and demanding, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. You opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss, savoring the taste of him. It was like nothing you had ever experienced before—the combination of the champagne, the adrenaline, and the sheer relief of finally giving in to the chemistry that had been simmering between you was enough to make your head spin.

As his hands roamed over your bare skin, igniting a trail of heat wherever they touched, you could feel your body responding, the desire building with every passing second. He kissed you like a man starved, and you met his hunger with your own, matching his pace. Your hands found his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palms, the heat of his skin drawing you in like a magnet. He was solid and real beneath your touch, and you pressed yourself against him, the sensation of his body against yours igniting something primal and uncontrollable inside you.

Lando’s breath hitched at the contact, his hands splaying across your back, fingers digging in just enough to send a shiver down your spine. His mouth hovered just inches from yours, his breath warm against your lips, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter between you, ready to snap.

“Lando,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, more a plea than anything else.

That was all it took to break the final thread of restraint. There was no gentleness now, only the raw, urgent need that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever.

You kissed him back with equal fervour, your hands sliding up to tangle in his damp curls, pulling him even closer as his hands roamed over your back, your waist, every inch of skin he could reach. The heat of his body, the taste of him on your lips—it was overwhelming in the best possible way, drowning out every thought that wasn’t about him, about this.

Lando’s hands found the clasp of your bra, and with a practiced flick, he had it undone, the fabric slipping away as his hands moved to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples in a way that made you gasp against his mouth. The sound seemed to fuel him, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping into your mouth as he backed you up against the lockers, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat between you.

You could feel the solid press of his body against yours, his arousal evident as he pinned you to the lockers, his hands never ceasing their exploration. Reaching your panties, his fingers slid under the band, tugging them down in one smooth motion, his movements sure and confident, as if he knew exactly what he wanted. The sheer contrast of standing before him completely naked while he remained fully clothed amplified the raw vulnerability of the moment, making it feel intensely intimate and charged with a potent, almost primal, energy.

Your own hands moved lower, sliding down his clothed chest, his hard abs, until you reached the waistband of his pants. The feel of his muscles tensing under your touch sent another wave of desire through you, and you wasted no time in slipping your hand beneath the fabric, finding his impressive length and trying to wrap your fingers around him.

His forehead resting against yours as he sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes closing as the friction elicited a rush of pleasure that had him breaking the kiss to let out a curse. For a moment, he just stood there, his breath ragged, his hands tightening on your hips, as if trying to steady himself.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, and the raw honesty of it sent a thrill through you.

“Good,” you replied, your own voice husky with need, your hand beginning to move with deliberate strokes that had him groaning, his head dropping to your shoulder as he tried to keep himself in check. He reached for his fireproofs and pulled them off, his movements almost frantic. You helped him, pushing the fabric over his hips, revealing the perfection of his physique.

You couldn't help but stare at him, taking in the lean, sculpted lines of his body, the taut muscles that flexed with each movement. You inhaled a sharp breath as your eyes finally landed on his cock, hard and swollen with desire. You were no stranger to the male anatomy as your hormones and curiosity had gotten the best of you in the past, but you were starting to become nervous about taking his impressive size inside of you.

Before your brain could spiral too far, you felt Lando's hands on you, his touch firm but gentle, his calloused fingertips sending shivers of pleasure through your body as he traced patterns along your skin, as if he was trying to memorize every inch of you. The chemistry between you had ignited into a full-blown inferno, and neither of you had any intention of putting it out. 

In a fluid motion, Lando lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he carried you over to the shower that had been steaming in anticipation. You giggled as the warm water hit your skin, the tension between you melting away as the shower cascaded over you both.

"I've been wanting to do this since the moment I saw you," he said, his voice low and rough, the sound of it sending a shiver of anticipation down to your core.

"Then don't make me wait any longer," you replied, a challenge and a plea, and the heat that flared in his eyes at the words was enough to make you burn for him.

He lowered his mouth to yours, the kiss slow and deep, a delicious contrast to the urgency. His hand reached between your legs, finding the wetness there and stroking with just the right amount of pressure, his thumb circling your clit and making you gasp into his mouth. He seemed to know exactly what you needed, and he used it against you, building you up slowly but surely, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter with every expert movement of his hand.

You clung to him, your nails digging into the slick skin of his back, a desperate attempt to anchor yourself against the waves of pleasure that threatened to consume you. He entered two of his thick fingers making you whimper at the stretch. His free hand was on the side of your face, tilting it up to capture your lips with his, kissing you with a tenderness that belied the urgency of the situation. You knew he was trying his best to prepare you for his cock, but it was a lot. He was a lot.

"I don't think you're going to fit," you whispered, feeling embarrassed, but he just smiled, his fingers still working their magic.

"Oh, I will," he promised, and you felt a jolt of desire shoot through you at the certainty in his voice.

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you felt yourself clenching around his fingers, the pleasure intensifying as he stroked your g-spot with precision. Lando swallowed your moans, the feel of his body pressed against yours, the warmth of the water surrounding you, and the expert movements of his hand bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He was relentless, his fingers working you relentlessly until the pleasure became too much, the tension snapping and sending you crashing over the edge.

The orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling in its wake, and Lando held you close, his hands gentle now as he supported you. You were gasping for air, the feeling so intense it was almost overwhelming. He murmured your name, his voice soft and low, the sound of it making something inside you ache.

You looked up at him, meeting his gaze, the intensity of his eyes almost enough to make you forget how to breathe.

"I've got you," he murmured, his voice full of emotion, and in that moment, you believed him.

Slowly, the haze of pleasure began to clear, and you became aware of the tension coiled in his body, the way his muscles were taut with restraint, the evidence of his own desire pressed against your thigh. He was still rock-hard, and you suddenly wanted nothing more than to feel him inside you, to experience that connection on a deeper level.

"I'm ready," you breathed, your voice laced with a need that you could no longer deny.

He nodded as he turned you around, pressing your face against the cool tile, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the water. Your breath hitched as he lined up his cock with your entrance, the blunt tip already threatening to breach you. He gathered some of your moisture by rubbing his tip against your folds, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"I'll go slow," he whispered, as his other hand grabbed your neck, forcing you to arch your back. He took a moment to burn this very image in his mind. He had thought about this moment countless times before, but now that it was happening, it was even better than he could have imagined.

With a slow, deliberate push, he was able to get the head inside. Your eyes shut as you felt the stretch, his girth much more than you were used to. You let out a whimper as you reached for the hand currently holding your neck, seeking his support. You could hear him mutter under his breath, the words too quiet for you to make out. You assumed it was a string of curse words, but you didn't dare look.

With his hand gripping your hip, he pushed deeper, slowly but steadily, inch by inch. You could feel every vein on his perfect cock, the stretch dancing on the edge of pain and pleasure. He kept stopping, pulling back a bit and then pushing deeper again. You could tell he was doing his best to let you adjust to his size, but it was still a struggle.

Once he bottomed out, he groaned as you let out a sound that you've never heard yourself make before. A mixture between a moan and gasp. His hands traveled up your body, finding your breasts and giving them a squeeze, before settling on your shoulders. You could feel the water trickling down your back as the steam created a haze around the two of you. You were both panting, trying to catch your breath. You could feel his hot breath against your ear.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rough, a mixture of desire and concern.

"Yes," you answered, not even recognizing your own voice, "I'm just a little...full."

He chuckled at that, his cock twitching inside you. He slowly started moving his hips, the drag of his cock against your walls lighting up every nerve in your body. You couldn't string two thoughts together as he started creating a torturous rhythm. One of his hands travelled down to your bundle of nerves, pinching it with every thrust.

"Fuck," you cursed, "fuck, fuck, fuck." You couldn't believe how drunk you were on him.

He chuckled as he grabbed you from the now warm tile, resting you flat against his front. The new angle allowed him to reach deeper, making you whimper and whine with every thrust. His hands reached for your jaw, tilting it so he could stare deeply into your eyes. He was watching every reaction, every change in your expression.

"Tell me what you feel." he demanded, his voice hoarse, and you forced yourself to open your eyes, meeting his gaze. The intensity of his stare was almost enough to send you over the edge again, but you clung to the last threads of your self-control, desperate to prolong this moment.

"I feel...I feel everything," you gasped, the words barely more than a whisper. “I’ve never felt like this b—"

He silenced you with a kiss, swallowing the rest of your words. It was a clash of tongues and teeth, a battle for dominance that neither of you could win. The heat between you was unbearable, the need for release consuming every thought. You knew he was close, could feel the tension coiling in his muscles, the way his thrusts were becoming more erratic, less controlled. But you weren't ready to let go, not yet.

You pulled away from the kiss, forcing him to meet your gaze. "Please don't stop," you begged, your voice rough with need, "I need you, Lando."

That was all it took. His eyes darkened, and he let out a growl, his grip on your jaw tightening as he captured your lips again, the kiss almost violent in its intensity. It was as if a switch had been flipped, the raw hunger between you reaching a new level.

He fucked into you with wild abandon, his hips snapping as he chased his release. The pleasure was blinding, the sensation of his cock filling you, stretching you, sending you spiraling toward the edge. You could feel the tension building, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter until you could no longer hold back.

The orgasm crashed over you like a wave, stealing the air from your lungs as your body shuddered in his arms. Your eyes closed, the white light behind your eyelids pulsing in time with the waves of pleasure washing over you. You couldn't breathe, couldn't think, could only cling to him as you rode out the storm.

Lando buried his face in the crook of your neck, his lips finding the delicate skin there, sucking and nibbling. You could feel the pleasure building again, the combination of his cock inside you, his hands gripping your hips, his lips against your neck sending you hurtling toward another climax.

"I'm close," he panted, his voice rough with need, "so close, fuck."

The words sent a surge of heat through you, and you clenched around him, feeling him shudder as his own release washed over him. You grabbed as his curls, forcing him to look at you, the intensity of his gaze pushing you over the edge again, the pleasure so intense it bordered on pain.

"Fuck, I can feel you," he gasped, his cock twitching inside you as your core milked him, the sensation of his release triggering another wave of pleasure.

You both clung to each other, riding out the waves, the intensity of the moment rendering you speechless. You were both gasping for air, the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your bodies. Lando buried his face in your neck, his lips ghosting over your skin, the sensation almost too much to bear.

You stood there for what felt like an eternity, wrapped in each other's arms, the only sound the steady beat of the water as it cascaded over you. You couldn't remember the last time you'd felt so sated, so utterly spent.

Finally, Lando pulled back, his eyes searching yours, his expression a mix of emotions—relief, contentment, and a hint of something else, something that sent a thrill through you. He brushed a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle, almost reverent.

"That was...fuck," he said, his voice rough, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

You grinned, the joy and satisfaction evident in every line of your body. You could feel him slowly softening inside you, and you reluctantly unwrapped your legs, letting him slide out of you. You gasped feeling yourself become sore already. He chuckled as he noticed, turning off the water and wrapping you in a towel, gently drying you off before lifting you up in his arms.

"You're gonna kill me," he muttered, a spark of humor in his voice, and you laughed, the sound echoing off the tiles, the sound carefree and light.

You kissed him, slow and deep, the kiss full of promises and possibilities. This was only the beginning, and you both knew it. You pulled back, gazing at him with a mixture of awe and admiration, your heart full of the realization of what you'd found, the connection between you now undeniable.

"Get that perfect ass to media duty before they start sending out a search party," you teased, a chuckle escaping as you watched the realization of his looming responsibilities flicker across his face.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, giving you a quick peck on the lips before setting you down, "but just know, this was the best shower I've ever taken."

You smirked, unable to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. "I'll keep that in mind."

As he left, a sense of calm washed over you, the satisfaction of the moment lingering in the air like a sweet perfume. The memory of his touch, the weight of his body against yours, the deliciously filthy sounds he had coaxed from you, would stay with you forever, a private treasure. You sighed, reveling in the warmth and comfort that seemed to envelop you, the afterglow of your tryst still humming through your veins.

[alltoomaples]

Speed of Science🧬💻💌

I'm dating a STEM girlie and you're not (F1 Edition)

a/n: and im baaaaaacccckkkkk (like anyone even missed me lmao) with the long overdue request! life of a postgrad StEm girlie here and the struggle is really realll af. but besides that, I'm writing this down as a headcanon for the drivers requested on this poll i had posted long back here. I've always wondered how there's soo minimal povs/ocs where they are a scientific researcher, analyst, etc. sooo i dedicate this one to all the STEM F1 girlies out theree <33

alsoo quick shoutout to my girlieee @smoooothoperator for inspiring and motivating me to get back at writing!🥹🫶🏼 check out her lastest ongoing work 'What Was I Made For? ' its amazing and thats a FACT!! do check her works! its absolutely amazing❤️

check out my works: until i found you masterlist | other works

Scientific Art Illustrator - Charles Leclerc

As a Scientific Art Illustrator, you specialize in creating visually captivating and scientifically accurate illustrations that depict complex biological, astronomical, or technological subjects.

Charles first discovered you through your works at an exhibition where their stunning illustrations of Formula 1 cars caught his eye. Impressed by their attention to detail and artistic talent, they struck up a conversation about their mutual love for precision and creativity.

During a peaceful weekend afternoon, Charles suggests a spontaneous visit to a local art supply store. Excitedly exploring aisles stocked with vibrant paints, fine brushes, and specialized papers, the two of you engage in discussions about artistic techniques and innovative tools. Amidst laughter and shared enthusiasm for creativity, you bond over your mutual appreciation for the intricacies of art and science, making the afternoon a cherished memory of their shared passions.

After being away from home during race season, Charles always finds a framed series of sketches by you for the races you couldn't make it, capturing his most memorable racing moments. Each sketch is intricately detailed, depicting not only the speed and intensity of the races but also the emotions and determination etched on Charles' face. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Charles hangs the sketches in his study, a constant reminder of your support and admiration for his passion.

...

Data Scientist - Lando Norris

A Data Scientist specializes in analyzing large volumes of data using statistical methods and machine learning techniques to extract insights and make data-driven decisions.

You and Lando first connected through a mutual fascination with racing data at a technology symposium focused on sports analytics. Your presentation on advanced predictive modelling in motorsports caught Lando's attention for its innovative approach to enhancing race strategies.

During a cosy evening at home, Lando playfully challenges you to a friendly data analysis competition using real-time telemetry from previous races. Their banter and shared excitement over dissecting racing data create a lighthearted and memorable bonding experience.

You two would watch old races and analyze historical racing data together, playfully debating optimal pit stop strategies and analyzing driver performance trends, their shared passion for racing and data fostering a deep connection and mutual admiration.

...

Oceanographer/Marine Biologist - Oscar Piastri

An Oceanographer or Marine Biologist studies marine life, ecosystems, and ocean processes to understand and protect marine environments and resources.

You and Oscar crossed paths during a research expedition to study coral reefs in a remote location. Your expertise in marine biology and passion for conservation impressed Oscar, sparking their connection.

Amidst the hectic F1 season, Oscar surprises you with a weekend getaway to a coastal retreat, where they explore tide pools and participate in a beach cleanup together, reaffirming their commitment to environmental stewardship.

You gave Oscar a custom-made charm bracelet featuring miniature charms of marine animals they've discussed during their beach walks and conservation talks. Each charm represents a meaningful moment in their relationship, from their first discussion about oceanography to their shared admiration for marine life. Oscar wears the bracelet during race weekends as a reminder of you and all the love and support you give, both on and off the track.

...

Mechanical Engineer - Daniel Riccardo

You are a passionate Mechanical Engineer, specializing in advanced automotive design and performance optimization.

Daniel first encountered you at a technical conference organized by one of the team sponsors where you presented groundbreaking research on aerodynamic innovations that caught his attention.

Often, while you meticulously draft engineering schematics at their home office, he makes sure that you have your "engineering emergency kit" beside your workstation, which is a tray of snacks and their favourite coffee – ensuring they're fueled for their late-night brainstorming sessions. For when he's away for races, he stacks them up with small cute notes.

Before Daniel heads to a crucial race, you surprise him with a meticulously crafted miniature replica of his race car, complete with detailed decals and a personalized message of encouragement engraved on the base. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Daniel proudly displays it in his motorhome, a reminder of the reader's unwavering support both on and off the track.

...

Statistician - George Russell

A Statistician specializes in collecting, analyzing, and interpreting numerical data to help organizations and individuals make informed decisions.

You and Russell first crossed paths during a university seminar on advanced statistical modeling in sports. Your insightful analysis of Formula 1 race data caught George's attention, sparking a lively discussion that led to mutual admiration for each other's analytical skills and shared passion for racing statistics.

During a particularly demanding race weekend, the reader surprises George with a meticulously prepared statistical analysis report highlighting his strengths and areas for improvement based on recent race data. This thoughtful gesture boosts George's confidence and motivation, showing the reader's support in his pursuit of excellence.

During a weekend getaway, you guys stumble upon a local go-kart track. George, always up for a challenge, suggests they have a friendly race. Knowing George's competitive spirit, you secretly calculate his optimal strategy and surprise him by winning with a perfectly executed last-minute overtaking maneuver. George is impressed by the your strategic thinking and playfulness, and they share a lighthearted and joyous moment celebrating their shared love for racing and friendly competition.

...

Astrophysicist - Logan Sargeant

An Astrophysicist studies the physical properties, behavior, and evolution of celestial objects such as stars, planets, galaxies, and the universe as a whole, using principles of physics and astronomy.

Logan and you first crossed paths during an expedition to study a rare astronomical event—a comet passing close to Earth. Both passionate about astrophysics, you found yourselves sharing a telescope at a remote observatory, marveling at the comet's beauty and discussing its celestial significance late into the night. Their shared awe and intellectual connection sparked a mutual admiration that grew into a deep bond over their shared passion for exploring the wonders of the cosmos.

During a quiet evening at home, Logan excitedly shows you a new telescope he acquired for stargazing during race weekends, expressing his eagerness to learn more about the cosmos together and sharing their enthusiasm for both racing and astrophysics in equal measure.

Before a critical race weekend, the reader surprises Logan with a personalized star chart that maps out the night sky above the upcoming race venue during the race weekend. Each star on the chart is marked with a heartfelt message of encouragement, reminding Logan of their unwavering support and belief in his abilities on and off the track. Touched by the thoughtful gesture, Logan treasures the star chart as a symbol of the reader's love and encouragement throughout his racing career.

...

Climate Scientist - Lance Stroll

A Climate Scientist studies climate patterns, environmental changes, and their impacts on Earth's ecosystems, using data analysis and modeling to understand and address global climate challenges.

Lance crossed paths with you at an eco-friendly racing event where Lance was advocating for sustainable practices in motorsport. Being a respected climate scientist, you caught Lance's attention with your insightful presentation on the environmental impact of racing and innovative solutions for reducing carbon footprints in the sport. Their shared passion for sustainability sparked an immediate connection and admiration for each other's dedication to making a positive impact on the environment.

One weekend, Lance surprises you with a homemade dinner featuring sustainably sourced ingredients, proudly showcasing his culinary skills while discussing ways to reduce your carbon footprint. His earnest commitment to sustainability and your shared vision for a healthier planet melts your heart, making this a cherished moment you both treasure.

You, being deeply involved in climate science, often spends late nights analyzing data or writing research papers. One evening, Lance bring him a cozy blanket and a mug of your favorite hot beverage, quietly sitting beside him as he works. You look up from your laptop, touched by his thoughtfulness, and pulls him into a warm embrace, grateful for his unwavering support and understanding of your demanding but vital work.

...

taglist: @lndonrris @thatgirlmj @lwstuff @dannyramirezwife-f1dump @moonypixel tysm for your suggestions! apologies on taking this long to write😅🫶🏼

a/n: hope y'all enjoyed reading this! this was my first time writing a headcanon and for f1 drivers beside charles and lando so hope i did justice to all.

i'm being wanting to read some good domestic bliss, sweet, adorable and lovey dovey blurbs, fics of lando (i talked abt it here) soo maybe i'll work on some drafts at some point cause i'm currently in the middle of project work of my masters degree soo don't know when i'll be posting soo until next time, see yaaa and going back to read mode 👋💓✨️

check out my works: until i found you masterlist | other works

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Demon-haunted computers are back, baby

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

As a science fiction writer, I am professionally irritated by a lot of sf movies. Not only do those writers get paid a lot more than I do, they insist on including things like "self-destruct" buttons on the bridges of their starships.

Look, I get it. When the evil empire is closing in on your flagship with its secret transdimensional technology, it's important that you keep those secrets out of the emperor's hand. An irrevocable self-destruct switch there on the bridge gets the job done! (It has to be irrevocable, otherwise the baddies'll just swarm the bridge and toggle it off).

But c'mon. If there's a facility built into your spaceship that causes it to explode no matter what the people on the bridge do, that is also a pretty big security risk! What if the bad guy figures out how to hijack the measure that – by design – the people who depend on the spaceship as a matter of life and death can't detect or override?

I mean, sure, you can try to simplify that self-destruct system to make it easier to audit and assure yourself that it doesn't have any bugs in it, but remember Schneier's Law: anyone can design a security system that works so well that they themselves can't think of a flaw in it. That doesn't mean you've made a security system that works – only that you've made a security system that works on people stupider than you.

I know it's weird to be worried about realism in movies that pretend we will ever find a practical means to visit other star systems and shuttle back and forth between them (which we are very, very unlikely to do):

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

But this kind of foolishness galls me. It galls me even more when it happens in the real world of technology design, which is why I've spent the past quarter-century being very cross about Digital Rights Management in general, and trusted computing in particular.

It all starts in 2002, when a team from Microsoft visited our offices at EFF to tell us about this new thing they'd dreamed up called "trusted computing":

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/05/trusting-trust/#thompsons-devil

The big idea was to stick a second computer inside your computer, a very secure little co-processor, that you couldn't access directly, let alone reprogram or interfere with. As far as this "trusted platform module" was concerned, you were the enemy. The "trust" in trusted computing was about other people being able to trust your computer, even if they didn't trust you.

So that little TPM would do all kinds of cute tricks. It could observe and produce a cryptographically signed manifest of the entire boot-chain of your computer, which was meant to be an unforgeable certificate attesting to which kind of computer you were running and what software you were running on it. That meant that programs on other computers could decide whether to talk to your computer based on whether they agreed with your choices about which code to run.

This process, called "remote attestation," is generally billed as a way to identify and block computers that have been compromised by malware, or to identify gamers who are running cheats and refuse to play with them. But inevitably it turns into a way to refuse service to computers that have privacy blockers turned on, or are running stream-ripping software, or whose owners are blocking ads:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/08/02/self-incrimination/#wei-bai-bai

After all, a system that treats the device's owner as an adversary is a natural ally for the owner's other, human adversaries. The rubric for treating the owner as an adversary focuses on the way that users can be fooled by bad people with bad programs. If your computer gets taken over by malicious software, that malware might intercept queries from your antivirus program and send it false data that lulls it into thinking your computer is fine, even as your private data is being plundered and your system is being used to launch malware attacks on others.

These separate, non-user-accessible, non-updateable secure systems serve a nubs of certainty, a remote fortress that observes and faithfully reports on the interior workings of your computer. This separate system can't be user-modifiable or field-updateable, because then malicious software could impersonate the user and disable the security chip.

It's true that compromised computers are a real and terrifying problem. Your computer is privy to your most intimate secrets and an attacker who can turn it against you can harm you in untold ways. But the widespread redesign of out computers to treat us as their enemies gives rise to a range of completely predictable and – I would argue – even worse harms. Building computers that treat their owners as untrusted parties is a system that works well, but fails badly.

First of all, there are the ways that trusted computing is designed to hurt you. The most reliable way to enshittify something is to supply it over a computer that runs programs you can't alter, and that rats you out to third parties if you run counter-programs that disenshittify the service you're using. That's how we get inkjet printers that refuse to use perfectly good third-party ink and cars that refuse to accept perfectly good engine repairs if they are performed by third-party mechanics:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/24/rent-to-pwn/#kitt-is-a-demon

It's how we get cursed devices and appliances, from the juicer that won't squeeze third-party juice to the insulin pump that won't connect to a third-party continuous glucose monitor:

https://arstechnica.com/gaming/2020/01/unauthorized-bread-a-near-future-tale-of-refugees-and-sinister-iot-appliances/

But trusted computing doesn't just create an opaque veil between your computer and the programs you use to inspect and control it. Trusted computing creates a no-go zone where programs can change their behavior based on whether they think they're being observed.

The most prominent example of this is Dieselgate, where auto manufacturers murdered hundreds of people by gimmicking their cars to emit illegal amount of NOX. Key to Dieselgate was a program that sought to determine whether it was being observed by regulators (it checked for the telltale signs of the standard test-suite) and changed its behavior to color within the lines.

Software that is seeking to harm the owner of the device that's running it must be able to detect when it is being run inside a simulation, a test-suite, a virtual machine, or any other hallucinatory virtual world. Just as Descartes couldn't know whether anything was real until he assured himself that he could trust his senses, malware is always questing to discover whether it is running in the real universe, or in a simulation created by a wicked god:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/28/descartes-was-an-optimist/#uh-oh

That's why mobile malware uses clever gambits like periodically checking for readings from your device's accelerometer, on the theory that a virtual mobile phone running on a security researcher's test bench won't have the fidelity to generate plausible jiggles to match the real data that comes from a phone in your pocket:

https://arstechnica.com/information-technology/2019/01/google-play-malware-used-phones-motion-sensors-to-conceal-itself/

Sometimes this backfires in absolutely delightful ways. When the Wannacry ransomware was holding the world hostage, the security researcher Marcus Hutchins noticed that its code made reference to a very weird website: iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com. Hutchins stood up a website at that address and every Wannacry-infection in the world went instantly dormant:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/10/flintstone-delano-roosevelt/#the-matrix

It turns out that Wannacry's authors were using that ferkakte URL the same way that mobile malware authors were using accelerometer readings – to fulfill Descartes' imperative to distinguish the Matrix from reality. The malware authors knew that security researchers often ran malicious code inside sandboxes that answered every network query with fake data in hopes of eliciting responses that could be analyzed for weaknesses. So the Wannacry worm would periodically poll this nonexistent website and, if it got an answer, it would assume that it was being monitored by a security researcher and it would retreat to an encrypted blob, ceasing to operate lest it give intelligence to the enemy. When Hutchins put a webserver up at iuqerfsodp9ifjaposdfjhgosurijfaewrwergwea.com, every Wannacry instance in the world was instantly convinced that it was running on an enemy's simulator and withdrew into sulky hibernation.

The arms race to distinguish simulation from reality is critical and the stakes only get higher by the day. Malware abounds, even as our devices grow more intimately woven through our lives. We put our bodies into computers – cars, buildings – and computers inside our bodies. We absolutely want our computers to be able to faithfully convey what's going on inside them.

But we keep running as hard as we can in the opposite direction, leaning harder into secure computing models built on subsystems in our computers that treat us as the threat. Take UEFI, the ubiquitous security system that observes your computer's boot process, halting it if it sees something it doesn't approve of. On the one hand, this has made installing GNU/Linux and other alternative OSes vastly harder across a wide variety of devices. This means that when a vendor end-of-lifes a gadget, no one can make an alternative OS for it, so off the landfill it goes.

It doesn't help that UEFI – and other trusted computing modules – are covered by Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act (DMCA), which makes it a felony to publish information that can bypass or weaken the system. The threat of a five-year prison sentence and a $500,000 fine means that UEFI and other trusted computing systems are understudied, leaving them festering with longstanding bugs:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/09/09/free-sample/#que-viva

Here's where it gets really bad. If an attacker can get inside UEFI, they can run malicious software that – by design – no program running on our computers can detect or block. That badware is running in "Ring -1" – a zone of privilege that overrides the operating system itself.

Here's the bad news: UEFI malware has already been detected in the wild:

https://securelist.com/cosmicstrand-uefi-firmware-rootkit/106973/

And here's the worst news: researchers have just identified another exploitable UEFI bug, dubbed Pixiefail:

https://blog.quarkslab.com/pixiefail-nine-vulnerabilities-in-tianocores-edk-ii-ipv6-network-stack.html

Writing in Ars Technica, Dan Goodin breaks down Pixiefail, describing how anyone on the same LAN as a vulnerable computer can infect its firmware:

https://arstechnica.com/security/2024/01/new-uefi-vulnerabilities-send-firmware-devs-across-an-entire-ecosystem-scrambling/

That vulnerability extends to computers in a data-center where the attacker has a cloud computing instance. PXE – the system that Pixiefail attacks – isn't widely used in home or office environments, but it's very common in data-centers.

Again, once a computer is exploited with Pixiefail, software running on that computer can't detect or delete the Pixiefail code. When the compromised computer is queried by the operating system, Pixiefail undetectably lies to the OS. "Hey, OS, does this drive have a file called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope." "Hey, OS, are you running a process called 'pixiefail?'" "Nope."

This is a self-destruct switch that's been compromised by the enemy, and which no one on the bridge can de-activate – by design. It's not the first time this has happened, and it won't be the last.

There are models for helping your computer bust out of the Matrix. Back in 2016, Edward Snowden and bunnie Huang prototyped and published source code and schematics for an "introspection engine":

https://assets.pubpub.org/aacpjrja/AgainstTheLaw-CounteringLawfulAbusesofDigitalSurveillance.pdf

This is a single-board computer that lives in an ultraslim shim that you slide between your iPhone's mainboard and its case, leaving a ribbon cable poking out of the SIM slot. This connects to a case that has its own OLED display. The board has leads that physically contact each of the network interfaces on the phone, conveying any data they transit to the screen so that you can observe the data your phone is sending without having to trust your phone.

(I liked this gadget so much that I included it as a major plot point in my 2020 novel Attack Surface, the third book in the Little Brother series):

https://craphound.com/attacksurface/

We don't have to cede control over our devices in order to secure them. Indeed, we can't ever secure them unless we can control them. Self-destruct switches don't belong on the bridge of your spaceship, and trusted computing modules don't belong in your devices.

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/17/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

Image: Mike (modified) https://www.flickr.com/photos/stillwellmike/15676883261/

CC BY-SA 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/2.0/

[cognitivejustice]

Locally adapted, decentralised innovation is reshaping what environmental monitoring in Africa

Projects like AirQo in Uganda and Clarity Nodes in Nairobi are deploying low-cost particulate matter sensors to create real-time urban air quality maps.  

These portable devices, calibrated against reference stations, are not housed in government ministries—they’re installed in schools, markets, and transit corridors. 

This hyperlocal, community-focused deployment marks a decisive shift toward monitoring as a distributed public good. 

In the water space, compact mobile testing kits—some linked to smartphones—are enabling NGOs and universities to test for E. coli, nitrates, and fluoride in boreholes and streams.  These kits don’t require lab infrastructure or formal training, making them ideal for community-led sampling in rural areas. 

Remote sensing is also playing a vital role. Satellite data from programs like Sentinel and MODIS is being used to track vegetation loss, algal blooms, and surface water dynamics.  

In Lake Victoria, a hybrid approach pairs satellite analysis with on-the-ground sensors��offering a model for blended, multilayered monitoring frameworks that don’t depend on centralised equipment alone. 

Perhaps the most transformative development is the rise of citizen science networks.  

In Ghana, Nigeria, and Uganda, residents are using hand-held air monitors to document conditions in their own neighbourhoods.  

These datasets are often shared via open-access platforms, where they inform city planning and regulatory debates. They also demonstrate a growing confidence in decentralised data ownership and interpretation. 

Universities across the continent are enabling much of this innovation. Institutions like the University of Cape Town and Makerere University are not only building and testing sensors but also training local technicians and hosting data platforms. Their work has become a central node in an emerging, distributed monitoring ecosystem. 

Source

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

NASA tech to use moonlight to enhance measurements from space

NASA will soon launch a one-of-a-kind instrument, called Arcstone, to improve the quality of data from Earth-viewing sensors in orbit. In this technology demonstration, the mission will measure sunlight reflected from the moon— a technique called lunar calibration. Such measurements of lunar spectral reflectance can ultimately be used to set a high-accuracy, universal standard for use across the international scientific community and commercial space industry.

To ensure satellite and airborne sensors are working properly, researchers calibrate them by comparing the sensor measurements against a known standard measurement. Arcstone will be the first mission exclusively dedicated to measuring lunar reflectance from space as a way to calibrate and improve science data collected by Earth-viewing, in-orbit instruments.

"One of the most challenging tasks in remote sensing from space is achieving required instrument calibration accuracy on-orbit," said Constantine Lukashin, principal investigator for the Arcstone mission and physical scientist at NASA's Langley Research Center in Hampton, Virginia.

"The moon is an excellent and available calibration source beyond Earth's atmosphere. The light reflected off the moon is extremely stable and measurable at a very high level of detail. Arcstone's goal is to improve the accuracy of lunar calibration to increase the quality of spaceborne remote sensing data products for generations to come."

Across its planned six-month mission, Arcstone will use a spectrometer—a scientific instrument that measures and analyzes light by separating it into its constituent wavelengths, or spectrum—to measure lunar spectral reflectance. Expected to launch in late June as a rideshare on a small CubeSat, Arcstone will begin collecting data, a milestone called first light, approximately three weeks after reaching orbit.

"The mission demonstrates a new, more cost-efficient instrument design, hardware performance, operations, and data processing to achieve high-accuracy reference measurements of lunar spectral reflectance," said Lukashin.

Measurements of lunar reflectance taken from the Earth's surface can be affected by interference from the atmosphere, which can complicate calibration efforts. Researchers already use the sun and moon to calibrate spaceborne instruments, but not at a level of precision and agreement that could come from having a universal standard.

Lukashin and colleagues want to increase calibration accuracy by getting above the atmosphere to measure reflected solar wavelengths in a way that provides a stable and universal calibration source. Another recent NASA mission, called the Airborne Lunar Spectral Irradiance mission, also used sensors mounted on high-altitude aircraft to improve lunar irradiance measurements from planes.

There is not an internationally accepted standard (SI-traceable) calibration for lunar reflectance from space across the scientific community or the commercial space industry.

"Dedicated radiometric characterization measurements of the moon have never been acquired from a space-based platform," said Thomas Stone, co-investigator for Arcstone and scientist at the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS). "A high-accuracy, SI-traceable lunar calibration system enables several important capabilities for space-based Earth observing missions, such as calibrating datasets against a common reference—the moon, calibrating sensors on-orbit, and the ability to bridge gaps in past datasets."

If the initial Arcstone technology demonstration is successful, a longer Arcstone mission could allow scientists to make the moon the preferred reference standard for many other satellites. The new calibration standard could also be applied retroactively to previous Earth data records to improve their accuracy or fill in data gaps for data fields. It could also improve high-precision sensor performance on-orbit, which is critical for calibrating instruments that may be sensitive to degradation or hardware breakdown over time in space.

"Earth observations from space play a critical role in monitoring the environmental health of our planet," said Stone. "Lunar calibration is a robust and cost-effective way to achieve high accuracy and inter-consistency of Earth observation datasets, enabling more accurate assessments of Earth's current state and more reliable predictions of future trends."

IMAGE: NASA's Arcstone instrument will be the first mission exclusively dedicated to measuring moonlight, or lunar reflectance, from space as a way to calibrate and improve science data collected by Earth-viewing, in-orbit instruments. Credit: Blue Canyon Technologies

[kamalkafir-blog]

Software Quality Engineer - Entertainment

Job title: Software Quality Engineer – Entertainment Company: Sky Group Job description: , Product or Data at Sky is about building the next and the new. From broadband to broadcast, streaming to mobile, SkyQ to Sky… of people love. And we do it all right here at Sky. What You’ll Do: In the role of Software Engineer (Entertainment Release… Expected salary: Location: Brentwood, Es*** – London Job…

[askagamedev]

Summer 2025 Game Development Student Internship Roundup, Part 1

Internship recruiting season has begun for some large game publishers and developers. This means that a number of internship opportunities for summer 2025 have been posted and will be collecting applicants. Internships are a great way to earn some experience in a professional environment and to get mentorship from those of us in the trenches. If you're a student and you have an interest in game development as a career, you should absolutely look into these.

If you know of any game development internships that aren't listed here, please tell me! I'll try to collect another batch when EA posts theirs as a follow-up.

Technical Artist Intern (Remote!)

Sound Design Intern (Remote!)

Game Design Intern

Game Engineering Intern

Data Analytics & Data Science Intern

Localization Production Intern

Environment Art Intern

Animation Intern

VFX Intern

3D Character Art Intern

Site Reliability Engineering Intern

Concept Artist Intern (Canada)

Animation Intern

VFX Intern

Game Engineering Intern

Technical Artist Intern

Threat Intelligence Analyst Intern

UI/UX Design Intern

User Research Intern

Computer Graphics Intern

Software Engineering Intern

Production & Project Management Intern

Concept Artist Intern (California)

World Designer Intern

3D Artist Intern

Animation Programmer Intern

Animation Technical Design Intern

Audio Design Intern

Backend Engineer Intern

Balance Design Intern

Character Artist Intern

Engine Programmer Intern

Environment Art Intern

Game Design Intern

Game Security Intern

Gameplay Programmer Intern

Gameplay Systems Engineer Intern

Salesforce Developer Intern

Software Engineer Intern

Environment Art Intern

Game Design Intern

Gameplay Programmer Intern

Tools Programmer Intern

Technical Artist Intern

Technical Character Animation Intern

Technology App Portfolio Intern

Tools Programmer Intern

Concept Artist Intern

At time of writing, Electronic Arts was performing maintenance on their recruiting site and should have new openings posted on November 12th 2024. I'll do a second round of internship opportunities once they post, along with Ubisoft and any others I missed.

Brush up your resume and focus on any game dev work you've done. Amateur game dev work counts! Tabletop game mastering counts! Amateur board and card game design counts! Making your own CCG fan sets or draft cube counts! Game jam work counts! These make a bigger difference when it comes to hiring than most other kinds of work experience.

If you need assistance with your resume/CV, cover letter, or have other questions, join our discord and ask. The server is full of experienced developers who can help review your materials and give you suggestions. I also suggest taking a look at my Game Career FAQ. There's a lot of answers in there already. Best of luck out there.

[Join us on Discord] and/or [Support us on Patreon]

Got a burning question you want answered?

Short questions: Ask a Game Dev on Twitter

Long questions: Ask a Game Dev on Tumblr

Frequent Questions: The FAQ

[mariacallous]

As the Trump administration's Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) continues to rampage through the United States federal government, essentially guided by Elon Musk, the group has also been upending traditional IT boundaries—evaluating digital systems and allegedly accessing personally identifiable information as well as data that has typically been off-limits to those without specific training. Last week, The New York Times reported that the White House is adding Musk-owned SpaceX’s Starlink Wi-Fi “to improve Wi-Fi connectivity on the complex,” according to a statement from White House press secretary Karoline Leavitt. The White House's Starlink internet service is reportedly being donated by the company.

Spotty internet is an annoying but highly solvable problem that WIRED has reported on extensively. Of course, the White House is a highly complex organization operating out of a historic building, but network security researchers, government contractors, and former intelligence analysts with years of experience in US federal government security all tell WIRED that adding Starlink Wi-Fi in a seemingly rushed and haphazard way is an inefficient and counterproductive approach to solving connectivity issues. And they emphasized that it could set problematic precedents across the US government: that new pieces of technology can simply be layered into an environment at will without adequate oversight and monitoring.

“This is shadow IT, creating a network to bypass existing controls,” alleges Nicholas Weaver, a member of the nonprofit International Computer Science Institute's network security team and a computer science lecturer at UC Davis. He adds that while secret and top secret information is typically (but not always) processed only on special, separate federal networks that have no wireless access, the security and uniformity of White House Wi-Fi is still extremely important to national security. “A network like the White House unclassified side is still going to be very sensitive,” he says.

“Just like the Biden Administration did on numerous occasions, the White House is working to improve WiFi connectivity on the complex,” White House spokesperson Karoline Leavitt tells WIRED in a statement.

A White House source who asked not to be named supported the switch, arguing that in some areas of the campus, “the old Wi-Fi was trash.”

Researchers point out that while Starlink is a robust commercial ISP like any other, it is not clear that it is being implemented in compliance with White House Communication Agency requirements. If the controls on the White House Starlink Wi-Fi are more lax than on other White House Wi-Fi, it could introduce security exposures and blind spots in network monitoring for anomalous activity.

“The only reason they'd need Starlink would be to bypass existing security controls that are in place from WHCA,” claims former NSA hacker Jake Williams. “The biggest issues would be: First, if they don't have full monitoring of the Starlink connection. And second, if it allows remote management tools, so they could get remote access back into the White House networks. Obviously anyone could abuse that access.”

One baffling aspect of the arrangement is that Starlink and other satellite internet is designed to be used in places that have little or no access to terrestrial internet service—in other words, places where there are no reliable fiber lines or no wired infrastructure at all. Instead of a traditional ISP modem, Starlink customers get special panels that they install on a roof or other outdoor place to receive connectivity from orbiting satellites. The New York Times reported, though, that the White House Starlink panels are actually installed miles away at a White House data center that is routing the connectivity over existing fiber lines. Multiple sources emphasized to WIRED that this setup is bizarre.

“It is extra stupid to go satellite to fiber to actual site,” ICSI's Weaver says. “Starlink is inferior service anyplace where you have wire-line internet already available and, even in places which don't, inferior if you have reasonable line of sight to a cell tower.”

Weaver and others note that Starlink is a robust product and isn't inherently unreliable just because it is delivered via satellite. But in a location where fiber lines are highly available and, ultimately, the service is being delivered via those lines anyway, the setup is deeply inefficient.

While Starlink as a service is technically reliable, incorporating it in the White House could create a long-term federal dependence on an Elon Musk–controlled service, which could create future instabilities. After European officials raised concerns earlier this month on whether Starlink might stop serving Ukraine, Musk posted on social media: “To be extremely clear, no matter how much I disagree with the Ukraine policy, Starlink will never turn off its terminals … We would never do such a thing or use it as a bargaining chip.”

[shiorihyugawrites]

The Legendary Black Cat

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

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

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

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

Chapter Thirty Nine

The laboratory in the Scout Regiment headquarters buzzed with the quiet intensity of discovery, its stone walls echoing with the clink of glass vials and the scratch of quills on paper. Lanterns cast flickering shadows across cluttered workbenches, where microscopes, charts, and chemical vials formed a chaotic mosaic of science.

Hange stood at the heart of it all, her glasses slightly fogged, her hands deftly manipulating a syringe containing a faintly glowing liquid—the last remnants of the mind-control serum extracted from Levi’s bloodstream. Around her, a team of medics and researchers worked in focused silence, their faces etched with determination, the air heavy with the sharp scent of antiseptic and the hum of machinery.

Hange’s voice broke the quiet, her enthusiasm a spark in the dim room. “Alright, team, let’s piece this together. The serum’s a nasty bit of alchemy—part organic, part synthetic, with a neural binder that hijacks the brain’s command centers.” She held up a diagram, her finger tracing a web of chemical bonds. “It turns the subject into a puppet, responding to the remote’s frequency. But without Zeke’s device, we’re flying half-blind. We need that activation signal to crack the full mechanism.”

A medic, a wiry woman with ink-smudged fingers, looked up from her microscope. “Section Commander, we’ve isolated the core compound. It’s a neural suppressant, but it’s spiked with something that amplifies physical performance. Captain Levi’s blood samples showed sky-high adrenaline and endorphin levels, even under heavy sedation.”

Hange’s eyes lit up, her mind racing. “That’s the gem! The serum didn’t just control him—it made him a damn juggernaut. It shut off his pain receptors, cranked his reflexes and strength past human limits. Under its influence, Levi was a machine—faster, deadlier, unstoppable.” She leaned forward, her voice dropping with intrigue. “If we could harness that enhancement without the mind-control aspect, we’d have a game-changer. A soldier who feels no pain, who can fight through anything.”

A researcher, a lanky man with a nervous twitch, frowned. “But it’s dangerous, isn’t it? Captain Levi’s recovery was brutal—his body was pushed to the edge. And without the remote, we can’t replicate the full effect.”

Hange nodded, her excitement tempered by caution. “You’re right. We’re nowhere near weaponizing this. We need more data, more samples, and that damn remote. For now, we focus on understanding it—how it binds, how it amplifies, how we can neutralize it if Marley tries again.” She set the syringe down, her gaze drifting to a map on the wall, red pins marking Marley’s strongholds. “Zeke, Pieck, and Porco are still out there, and if they’ve got more of this serum, we’re in deep trouble.”

The medic woman hesitated, her voice tentative. “Do you think Marley will use it again? After it failed on the Captain?”

Hange’s lips curled into a grim smile. “Oh, they’ll try. General Calvi’s too obsessed to quit, and Selena’s made it personal. He’ll come for her, serum or no serum. We need to be ready.” She clapped her hands, startling the team. “Back to it, folks! Let’s crack this before Marley cracks us!”

…

Meanwhile, Levi Ackerman stepped out of the infirmary, his posture rigid to mask the pain that pulsed through his bandaged abdomen. The medics had cleared him to leave, his self-inflicted stab wound healing enough for movement, though each step was a reminder of the nightmare he’d endured—Zeke’s serum, the horror of attacking Selena, and the desperate act of plunging a blade into his own chest to save her. His gray eyes were sharp, his face pale but resolute, a soldier reclaiming his strength.

Selena walked beside him, her skin catching the light, hereyes warm with quiet relief. She carried his small bundle of belongings, her arm brushing his as they moved toward his quarters, her presence a steady comfort. Her black curls bounced with each step, her energy subdued by days of worry but buoyed by his recovery. “I’ve been keeping your place spotless, Capitán,” she said, her voice light with a teasing edge. “Sterile, just how you like it. Dusted every corner, swept the floors, even shined that precious teapot of yours.”

Levi’s lips twitched, a faint smirk softening his stoic facade. “Tch. I’ll believe it when I see it,” he muttered, his voice rough but laced with affection. “You’re not as meticulous as you think, stray cat.”

Selena laughed, the sound bright in the quiet corridor. “Oh, please. I’m the greatest assassin in the world. I can handle a broom.” She nudged him gently, mindful of his bandages. “But go ahead, inspect it. I’ll wait for your grumpy verdict.”

They reached his quarters, a sparse room that reflected Levi’s disciplined nature—a single bed with crisp linens, a desk with neatly stacked papers, a chair, and shelves holding books and tea supplies, all arranged with surgical precision. The air was fresh, the surfaces gleaming, a testament to Selena’s efforts. Levi’s sharp eyes scanned the room, searching for flaws, his hand trailing along the desk’s edge. He paused, his finger catching a speck of dust, and he held it up, his brow arching. “Sloppy,” he said, but his tone was soft, almost playful, his gray eyes glinting with something close to amusement.

Selena rolled her eyes, setting his bundle on the chair. “You’re impossible, Capitán. I slave away, and you find one speck? Ungrateful.” She grinned, her teasing masking the relief that flooded her at seeing him upright, his fastidiousness a sign of his returning strength. “Bet you wouldn’t find a single crumb in my old hideouts back in Marley.”

Levi’s smirk widened, a rare spark of humor. “Your hideouts probably smelled like bad decisions,” he shot back, easing toward the bed with careful steps. Selena moved to help, her hands gentle but firm, guiding him to sit. “Tch. I’m not an invalid,” he muttered, but he didn’t push her away, his hand brushing hers as he settled.

Selena’s smile turned mischievous as she sat beside him, her fingers tracing the edge of his bandage. “You know, we’re matching now,” she said, her voice teasing but warm. “My bullet scar from Kwasi, your stab wound from… well, you. We’re a pair of walking battle scars.”

Levi’s eyes softened, his hand resting on her thigh, the contact grounding. “Matching, huh? Guess we’re both too stubborn to die.” His voice was low, the weight of their shared survival hanging between them. Selena curled closer, her body fitting against his, her arm wrapping around his neck to pull him into her embrace. She pressed his head into her cleavage, her hold fierce and protective, her warmth a balm to the pain that lingered in his body.

Levi’s voice came muffled, laced with mock irritation. “Selena… I can’t breathe.” His hands settled on her waist, his touch light but steady, a silent acknowledgment of her closeness.

Selena laughed, loosening her grip but keeping him near, her fingers caressing his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw and the faint scars that told his story. “Sorry, Capitán,” she said, her voice softening, her eyes searching his. “I just… I need you close.” Her smile faded, her expression turning serious, a shadow of their ordeal crossing her face. “Levi, promise me something. Promise you’ll never nearly kill yourself for me again. Please.”

Levi’s eyes darkened, his hand stilling on her waist. “Selena…” he began, his voice rough with emotion, his usual stoicism fraying under the weight of her words. “You think you’re damaged, that no one should die for you. But you’re wrong.” He shifted, wincing slightly but holding her gaze, his intensity unwavering. “You’re everything. Your soul… it’s the same as mine. We’ve both walked through hell, seen things that’d break most people. If you’re damaged, then I’m damaged too. Our souls are cut from the same cloth—scarred, but unbreakable.”

Selena’s throat tightened, tears prickling her eyes as his words sank in. “Levi…” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I just… I can’t lose you. Not like that. Not because of me.”

Levi’s hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that escaped. “I can’t promise I won’t try to save you,” he said, his voice steady despite the pain in his eyes. “If it’s you or me, I’ll choose you every time. And I know you’d do the same, Selena. You’d tear the world apart for me, wouldn’t you?”

She nodded, her tears falling freely now. “In a heartbeat,” she admitted, her voice raw. “I’d burn Marley to the ground for you, Capitán.”

Levi’s lips curved into a rare, genuine smile, his hand tightening on her cheek. “Then we’re the same. But… let’s make a different promise.” His voice softened, his eyes searching hers. “Not to die for each other… but to live for each other. To keep fighting, together, no matter what.”

Selena’s heart swelled, her tears mingling with a shaky laugh. “To live for each other,” she repeated, her voice firm, a vow etched into her soul. “I promise, Levi.” She leaned down, kissing him deeply, her lips soft but fierce, sealing their pact. His hand tangled in her curls, pulling her closer, their kiss a quiet rebellion against the war that waited outside.

When they parted, Selena rested her forehead against his, her breath mingling with his. “You’re stuck with me, Capitán,” she said, her voice teasing but thick with emotion. “No getting rid of me now.”

Levi’s smirk returned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Tch. Like I’d want to,” he muttered, his hand still in her hair, his touch a silent promise of his own. They lay there, the quiet of the room wrapping around them, a fragile shield against the world. Selena’s fingers traced lazy patterns on his arm, her warmth easing the pain that pulsed through his wounds. Levi’s gaze drifted to the window, where the setting sun painted the sky in hues of amber and violet, a fleeting moment of peace in their turbulent lives.

The weight of Marley’s threat lingered, a shadow neither could ignore. “Calvi’s not done,” Levi said, his voice low, breaking the silence. “He’s out there, plotting, and he’s got his sights on you.”

Selena’s expression hardened, her assassin’s instincts sharpening. “He’s licking his wounds right now,” she said, her voice steady. “Zeke, Pieck, and Porco slipped away, but they botched his plan. Calvi’s probably tearing into them, screaming like a madman. But he’ll come for me again. It’s personal for him—always has been.” She paused, her eyes narrowing, a flicker of the Black Cat’s pride surfacing. “He’s obsessed, unhinged. That’s his weakness, and we’ll exploit it.”

Levi nodded, his jaw tightening, a spark of his usual ferocity returning. “We’ll be ready. He’s not touching you, Selena. Not while I’m here.” His voice was fierce, a vow as binding as the one they’d just made. Selena smiled, her hand squeezing his, her confidence bolstered by his resolve.

They fell silent again, the room bathed in the fading light, the world outside held at bay. Selena curled closer, her head resting on his shoulder, her curls spilling across his chest. Levi’s hand rested on her back, his fingers tracing the curve of her spine, a quiet act of reassurance. The war loomed—Calvi’s madness, the serum’s threat, Marley’s relentless pursuit—but in this moment, they were enough. A scarred soldier and his stray cat, bound by love and a promise to live, their souls forged in the same fire, ready to face whatever came next.

…

The next day, the training field at headquarters was alive with the rhythm of disciplined chaos, the morning sun casting long shadows across the trampled grass. The air carried the crisp bite of early autumn, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and polished steel. Levi stood at the edge of the field, his posture rigid despite the faint ache in his bandaged abdomen, his gray eyes sharp as they surveyed his Special Operations Squad. They moved through their drills, their ODM gear humming as they swung between wooden posts, their blades flashing in mock combat. The squad’s movements were precise, honed by years of training, but their glances kept darting to Levi, concern etched into their young faces.

“Captain, shouldn’t you still be resting?” Jean ventured, his voice cautious as he landed from a swing, his boots kicking up dust. “You just got out of the infirmary. That wound—”

“Tch,” Levi cut him off, his voice a low snap, his scowl silencing the field. “Five laps. Now. Stop whining and move.” His tone brooked no argument, his authority absolute despite the pallor of his skin. The squad exchanged nervous glances but obeyed, their footsteps pounding as they jogged toward the perimeter, their green cloaks flapping in the breeze.

Eren muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Mikasa to hear, “Stubborn as hell.” Mikasa’s dark eyes flicked to him, her expression unreadable, but she said nothing, her focus returning to the laps. Armin, jogging beside them, sighed, his voice soft. “He’s pushing himself because of Marley. We can’t afford to slack off either.”

Connie grinned, his pace light despite the exertion. “Yeah, but does he have to be so grumpy about it? I swear, the Captain’s gonna outlive us all just to spite us.” Sasha, panting beside him, nodded, her ponytail bouncing. “As long as he’s not making us clean the barracks again. My arms are still sore from last time.”

Levi’s gaze followed them, his expression unyielding, but a flicker of pride softened his eyes. His squad—his reckless, infuriating brats—were growing into soldiers he could rely on, even if they drove him up the wall. But Marley’s looming counterattack weighed heavily on him, the memory of Zeke’s serum and General Calvi’s obsession with Selena a constant thorn in his mind. There was no time to waste, no room for weakness, not even his own.

Nearby, Selena stood under the shade of a gnarled oak, hereyes alight with a mix of mischief and determination. Her black curls were tied back, her blades gleaming at her sides. She clapped her hands, drawing the squad’s attention as they finished their laps, their breaths heavy but their spirits high. “Alright, my precious amateurs,” she called, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Gather up. Today, I’m teaching you something special—one of my techniques. The 100 Cuts of Pain.”

The squad’s reaction was immediate, a chorus of excitement rippling through the group. Eren’s eyes blazed with enthusiasm, his fists clenching. “Hell yeah! That’s the one where you shred everything in seconds, right?” Jean nodded, his usual smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. “I’ve seen you pull that off, Selena. It’s insane. Count me in.”

Connie pumped a fist, his grin wide. “Let’s do this! I’m gonna be a badass like you, Selena!” Sasha, still catching her breath, bounced on her heels. “If I learn this, maybe I can cut a potato in one go!”.

Armin, however, was more reserved, his blue eyes thoughtful as he adjusted his gear. “It looks effortless when you do it, Selena, but… it’s not, is it? That kind of speed and precision… it’s going to be tough.” Mikasa, standing beside him, nodded, her expression calm but cautious. “Your techniques are complex. We’ll need to focus.”

Selena’s smile widened, her pride evident. “Smart kids,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “The 100 Cuts of Pain isn’t just about swinging blades. It’s about momentum, precision, and control. You crouch, channel all your energy into one burst, and deliver five cuts per second for ten seconds. That’s a hundred cuts, each one lethal, without losing speed. It’s my signature move, and it’s not easy. But you lot are tough. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Levi watched from a distance, leaning against a fence post, his arms crossed despite the faint twinge in his wound. He didn’t interfere, his trust in Selena absolute, but his eyes never left her, a quiet admiration in his gaze. She was a force of nature, his stray cat, and seeing her take charge of the squad stirred something deep in his chest.

Selena set up a training dummy, its wooden frame scarred from previous drills, and demonstrated the technique. She crouched low, her muscles coiling like a spring, her blades glinting in the sun. With a sudden burst, she launched forward, her blades zigzagging in a blur, the air whistling with each strike. Five cuts per second, her movements a deadly ballet, the dummy splintering under the onslaught. In ten seconds, she stopped, her breath steady, the dummy reduced to kindling. “Who’s first?” she said, sheathing her blades, her voice calm but commanding. 

Eren stepped up, his confidence bordering on cocky. “I’ve got this,” he said, mimicking her crouch. He sprang forward, his blades swinging, but his rhythm faltered after ten cuts, his arms trembling as he lost momentum. He stumbled, panting, his face red. “Damn it… that’s harder than it looks.”

Selena’s laugh was gentle, her hand patting his shoulder. “Not bad for a first try, Eren. You got to ten. Work on your footwork—keep your weight centered.” Eren nodded, his frustration tempered by her encouragement.

Jean went next, his focus intense, but he managed only twelve cuts before his arms gave out, his blades clattering to the ground. “My arms are screaming,” he groaned, shaking them out. “How do you make that look so easy?”

Connie’s attempt was enthusiastic but sloppy, his seventeen cuts wild and imprecise. “I feel like my shoulders are gonna fall off!” he complained, collapsing dramatically onto the grass. Sasha, ever eager, managed nineteen cuts, her energy infectious but her technique lacking. “Ow, ow, ow!” she whined, rubbing her wrists. “Selena, you’re a monster!”

Armin approached cautiously, his analytical mind breaking down the move before he started. He reached eight cuts, his precision impressive, but his stamina failed, and he stopped, gasping. “It’s… incredible,” he said, his voice awed. “The coordination required is unreal.”

Mikasa was last, her dark eyes focused, her movements deliberate. She crouched, her form near-perfect, and launched into the technique, her blades a blur. She reached forty cuts before her rhythm broke, her arms trembling as she stopped, her breath heavy but controlled. The squad stared, wide-eyed, and Selena clapped, her grin wide. “Forty on your first try, Mikasa? I’m not surprised, but I’m impressed. You’ve got the makings of a master.”

Mikasa’s lips twitched, a rare hint of pride in her expression. “It’s… harder than I expected,” she admitted, flexing her hands. “But I’ll get better.”

The squad gathered around Selena, their complaints mingling with awe. Jean shook his head, his voice incredulous. “Forty cuts, Mikasa? I couldn’t even hit twenty! Selena, how the hell do you do a hundred without collapsing?”

Connie nodded, his arms dangling limply. “Yeah, seriously! My whole body’s screaming, and you do it like it’s nothing. How’d you even come up with this move?”

Selena’s smile faded, her eyes growing distant, a shadow crossing her face. The squad fell silent, sensing the shift, their usual banter replaced by a quiet respect. Levi, still watching from the sidelines, straightened, his gaze sharpening as he recognized the look in her eyes—a glimpse into the hell she’d survived.

Selena’s voice was blunt, devoid of her usual warmth, as she spoke. “I created the 100 Cuts of Pain when I was thirteen, in Marley’s Assassination Training Program.” She paused, her hands tightening on her blades, her knuckles paling. “When my body started to… develop, my overseers decided I was ready for ‘seduction training.’ They thought it’d make me a better assassin, using my looks to get close to targets. I refused. I told them I’d kill anyone who tried to force me.”

The squad’s eyes widened, a chill settling over the field. Levi’s jaw clenched, his hands balling into fists, but he remained silent, letting her speak. Selena’s voice grew quieter, but it carried a steely edge. “They didn’t like that. So they stripped me naked and threw me into a cell with ten of Marley’s worst prisoners—vicious, brutal men, the kind who’d tear you apart for fun. They left me there for a whole night, thinking it’d break me, make me compliant.”

Sasha’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes glistening, while Connie’s grin vanished, his face paling. Jean’s fists clenched, his usual bravado replaced by a quiet rage, and Armin’s analytical calm shattered, his expression one of horror. Eren’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with a fury that mirrored Mikasa’s, whose hands gripped her blades as if ready to strike.

Selena continued, her voice steady but heavy with memory. “I didn’t have my usual weapons, just a single knife I’d hidden in my hair. Those men came for me, and I knew I had to act fast. I needed a move that could shred anyone who got close, something quick and lethal. That’s when I created the 100 Cuts of Pain. I crouched, focused every ounce of strength, and cut them down—five cuts a second, no hesitation. By the end of the night, all ten were dead, and I was still standing.” She paused, her eyes distant, her voice softening. “It was brutal, but it made me stronger. It gave me a technique that’s saved my life countless times.”

The field was silent, the squad frozen, their breaths shallow as they processed her words. Levi’s eyes never left her, his heart aching with a mix of pride and sorrow. Selena had been through hell, forged in a crucible of cruelty, yet here she was—still fighting, still smiling, still teaching these kids with a warmth that defied her past.

Sasha broke the silence, her voice trembling as she lunged forward, engulfing Selena in a fierce hug. “Selena…” she whispered, her face buried in Selena’s shoulder, tears soaking her uniform. Connie was next, his arms wrapping around them both, his usual humor replaced by a quiet protectiveness. “You’re incredible,” he said, his voice muffled. Jean joined, his hug awkward but genuine, his voice rough. “You didn’t deserve that. None of it.” Armin followed, his embrace gentle, his eyes shimmering. “You’re stronger than anyone I know,” he said softly.

Mikasa hesitated, her stoic facade cracking, but she stepped forward, her arms encircling Selena, her voice barely audible. “You’re family,” she said, the words carrying a weight that resonated with them all. Eren, his anger still simmering, joined last, his hug fierce, his voice gruff. “We’ve got your back, Selena. Always.”

Selena stood at the center of the group hug, her poison-green eyes glistening, a lump in her throat. She patted their backs, her voice teasing but thick with emotion. “Alright, alright, don’t think this hugfest means I’m going easy on you today. Back to work, amateurs.” She grinned, but her hand lingered on Sasha’s shoulder, her gratitude unspoken but clear. These kids—her squad, her family—cared for her, and she’d fight for them as fiercely as she fought for Levi.

Levi watched from the sidelines, his arms still crossed, his expression unreadable but his eyes warm. The squad’s love for Selena was palpable, a bond forged in battle and trust, and he felt a quiet pride in her ability to inspire them. She was more than an assassin, more than the Black Cat—she was a leader, a mentor, a light in the darkness of their war.

Selena caught his gaze, her smile softening as she extricated herself from the hug. “What, Capitán, no hug from you?” she teased, sauntering toward him, her hips swaying with her usual confidence.

Levi’s smirk returned, his voice low. “Tch. I don’t do group hugs,” he said, but his hand brushed hers, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. “You’re good with them,” he added, his tone softer, his eyes holding hers. “They’re lucky to have you.”

Selena’s heart swelled, her fingers lacing with his for a moment. “They’re my amateurs,” she said, her voice warm. “And you’re my Capitán. I’m the lucky one.” She squeezed his hand, then turned back to the squad, clapping her hands. “Alright, enough sappy stuff! Back to training. Mikasa, you’re up again. Let’s see if you can hit fifty cuts this time.”

The squad groaned but complied, their spirits lifted by Selena’s resilience. Levi remained at the fence, his gaze shifting between Selena and the squad, his mind turning to the war ahead. Marley was coming. But watching Selena, her strength and warmth a beacon, he felt a quiet resolve. They’d face it together.

…

Hours later…

The training field at Scout Regiment headquarters was bathed in the amber glow of sunset, the sky a tapestry of crimson and gold that cast long shadows across the trampled grass. The air was cooling, carrying the faint scent of earth and sweat, the hum of ODM gear fading as the Special Operations Squad pushed through their final drills. 

“Keep your knees bent, Connie!” Selena called, her tone firm but patient as Connie stumbled through his attempt, his blades faltering after fifteen cuts. “You’re losing momentum. Focus on your core!” Connie groaned, his arms trembling as he collapsed onto the grass, panting. “My core’s focused on not dying,” he wheezed, earning a chuckle from Sasha, who was rubbing her own aching wrists.

Eren, his face flushed with effort, launched into another attempt, his blades slashing the training dummy with fierce determination. He reached twenty-two cuts before his rhythm broke, his breath ragged as he staggered back. “Damn it,” he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. 

Selena’s lips curved into a wry smile, her hands on her hips. She glanced at Mikasa, who was preparing for another try, her dark eyes focused, her form near-perfect. Mikasa’s blades flashed, carving forty-three cuts into the dummy before her stamina gave out, her chest heaving as she stopped. Selena clapped, her grin wide. “Forty-three, Mikasa! You’re getting closer. Keep that footwork tight.”

Jean, leaning against a post, shook his head, his arms dangling limply. “Forty-three? I’m stuck at sixteen, and my shoulders are screaming. This move’s gonna kill us before Marley does.” 

Levi stood at the edge of the field, his posture rigid despite the faint ache in his bandaged abdomen, his gray eyes tracking every move. He’d been observing all day, his presence a quiet anchor, his own attempts at the 100 Cuts of Pain weeks ago a distant memory. He hadn’t mastered it on his first day either, a fact that gave him a grudging respect for Selena’s skill and the squad’s determination. 

The squad was breathless, their uniforms rumpled, their faces flushed with exertion, when a sudden shout shattered the evening calm. “I DID IT!” Hange’s voice echoed across the field, her figure sprinting from the headquarters’ entrance, her glasses askew, her arms flailing. She barreled toward the group, her lab coat flapping, her face alight with manic excitement. She didn’t bother with a greeting, her words tumbling out in a breathless rush. “Theserumit’sallaboutpainreceptorsIcrackedithowitworksandwecanuseitohmygodthisis—” She choked, her voice catching as she gasped for air, her hands clutching her throat.

Levi’s scowl deepened, his patience thinning. “Oi, Four-Eyes, shut up for a second,” he snapped, grabbing a canteen from Sasha’s gear and thrusting it at Hange. “Drink this and slow down before you keel over.”

Hange gulped the water, her chest heaving as she took deep breaths, her glasses fogging slightly. “Right, right, sorry,” she said, her voice still rapid but clearer. She wiped her mouth, her eyes gleaming with uncontainable excitement. “Okay, listen up, because this is huge. The serum—the mind-control stuff we pulled from Levi’s blood—we’ve figured out more about how it works. It’s not just about hijacking your brain. It messes with your pain receptors, shuts them off completely. That’s why you were so deadly under it, Levi. No pain, no limits. You were like a damn titan in human form!”

The squad froze, their exhaustion forgotten, their eyes wide with shock. Selena’s brows shot up, her hand instinctively brushing Levi’s arm, her voice sharp. “Wait, Hange, you’re saying the serum made him stronger because he couldn’t feel pain? That’s… insane.”

Levi’s expression darkened, his voice low and clipped. “Great. So I was Marley’s perfect weapon.” The memory of his serum-controlled attacks on Selena still haunted him, and the idea of the serum amplifying his lethality only deepened the shadow in his eyes.

Hange waved her hands, her enthusiasm undeterred. “No, no, you’re missing the point! If we can isolate that pain-blocking effect, strip out the mind-control part, we could use it. Imagine soldiers who can fight through injuries, push past their limits, without losing their free will. It’s a game-changer!” She paused, her grin faltering as she registered their stunned faces. “Okay, yeah, it’s risky, and we’re not there yet, but this is a breakthrough. We need to tell Erwin—now!”

Eren’s eyes blazed, his voice eager. “If we could fight without pain, we’d crush Marley. Titans wouldn’t stand a chance!” Jean, more skeptical, crossed his arms. “Sounds like a double-edged sword. What’s the catch? No pain means no warning when you’re hurt, right?”

Armin nodded, his analytical mind already turning. “Jean’s right. It could make us reckless, push our bodies too far. But… if we could control it, dose it carefully, it’d be a massive advantage.” Sasha, still rubbing her wrists, tilted her head. “Would it make training easier? ‘Cause my arms are killing me right now.” Connie snorted, nudging her. “You’d eat a whole titan if you didn’t feel pain, Sasha.”

Mikasa’s voice was calm but firm, her gaze steady. “It’s powerful, but dangerous. We’d need strict protocols.” Her words carried weight, and the squad nodded, their excitement tempered by caution.

Selena glanced at Levi, her poison-green eyes searching his. “What do you think, Capitán? This could change everything, but… it’s your blood they’re working with. You okay with this?”

Levi’s jaw tightened, his hand brushing hers, a subtle gesture of reassurance. “If it helps us end Marley, I’m in,” he said, his voice steady but laced with resolve. “But we do it right. No shortcuts. I’m not letting anyone else become a puppet.” His eyes flicked to Hange, his tone sharp. “You better know what you’re doing, Four-Eyes.”

Hange saluted, her grin wide. “Trust me, Levi, I’m all over this! Come on, let’s go to Erwin’s office. He needs to hear this now!” She turned, already half-running toward the headquarters, her lab coat flapping like a flag.

Selena clapped her hands, rallying the squad. “Alright, amateurs, training’s done for today. Let’s move before Hange drags us by our cloaks.” The squad groaned, their bodies protesting, but they fell into step, their exhaustion outweighed by curiosity. 

Inside headquarters, the corridors were dim, the stone walls cool against the fading warmth of the day. Commander’s office was a bastion of order, its desk piled with maps and reports, a single lantern casting a warm glow. Erwin stood behind the desk, his tall frame imposing, his blue eyes sharp as he reviewed a dispatch from the Garrison. He looked up as Hange burst in, followed by Levi, Selena, and the squad, his brow arching at the sudden invasion. “Hange,” he said, his voice calm but curious. “This better be worth interrupting my evening.”

“Oh, it’s worth it!” Hange exclaimed, her hands flailing as she launched into her explanation. “Erwin, we’ve cracked a piece of the serum—the one Marley used on Levi. It’s not just mind control. It shuts off pain receptors, boosts strength and reflexes. Levi was a beast under it because he couldn’t feel pain. If we can isolate that effect, remove the control aspect, we could give our soldiers a massive edge. Imagine fighters who can push through injuries, fight at peak capacity, no matter what!”

Erwin’s eyes gleamed, a rare spark of excitement breaking through his composed facade. He leaned forward, his hands braced on the desk, his mind already turning over the possibilities. “Pain suppression,” he murmured, his voice low but intense. “That’s… revolutionary. Soldiers who can fight without the body’s natural limits—it could turn the tide against Marley.” He glanced at Hange, his expression sharpening. “What’s the drawback? There’s always a catch.”

Hange nodded, her enthusiasm tempered by pragmatism. “It’s not perfect. Without pain, soldiers might not know when they’re critically injured, push their bodies too far. Levi’s recovery was rough because the serum overtaxed his system. And we don’t have the remote, so we can’t fully replicate the effect yet. But with more research, we could dose it safely, make it a controlled boost.”

Selena’s voice cut through, her tone cautious but intrigued. “It’s a double-edged blade, Erwin. Powerful, but risky. If we use it, we’d need strict limits—medics on standby, clear withdrawal protocols. And we can’t let it fall into Marley’s hands again.” Her hand brushed Levi’s, a silent anchor, her assassin’s instincts wary of unintended consequences.

Levi’s gaze was hard, his voice clipped. “If we do this, it’s on our terms. No one becomes a lab rat. And we make damn sure it’s not used to control anyone.” His words carried the weight of his experience, the memory of his serum-induced betrayal still raw.

Erwin nodded, his expression resolute. “Agreed. This stays under our control.” He turned to Hange, his voice commanding. “Start trials immediately. Small-scale, voluntary, with full medical oversight. Levi, I want your input on the training protocols—your experience with the serum’s effects will be critical.” He paused, his eyes sweeping the room, a rare intensity in his gaze. “We’re going to Marley. We end this war on their soil, and with this serum, we just might have the edge to do it.”

The squad’s reactions varied—Eren’s eyes blazed with determination, his fists clenching at the thought of striking Marley; Mikasa’s expression remained stoic, but her hand tightened on her gear, ready for the fight; Armin’s mind raced, already strategizing; Jean’s skepticism softened into cautious optimism; Connie grinned, his energy infectious; and Sasha’s stomach growled, her voice sheepish. “Can we eat before we invade Marley? I’m starving.”

Selena laughed, the sound breaking the tension, her hand squeezing Levi’s. “Priorities, Sasha,” she teased, but her eyes met Erwin’s, her resolve matching his. “If we’re going to Marley, we’ll need every trick in the book. The Black Cat’s ready to dance.”

Levi’s smirk was faint, his voice low. “Tch. Just don’t expect me to carry your gear, stray cat.” His hand brushed hers again, a silent promise of their shared fight.

Erwin’s lips twitched, a rare hint of amusement. “We move fast,” he said, his voice steady. “Hange, get those trials underway. Levi, Selena, prepare the squad for advanced training. We’ll need them at their peak.” He glanced at the squad, his gaze softening. “You’re the heart of this operation. Rest tonight—you’ve earned it. Tomorrow, we begin.”

The group dispersed, the squad’s chatter filling the corridor as they headed to the mess hall, their exhaustion mingling with a renewed sense of purpose. Eren’s voice echoed, speculating about the serum’s potential, while Jean muttered about the risks, Connie and Sasha trailing behind, debating dinner options. Mikasa and Armin walked in quiet sync, their minds already on the war ahead.

Selena and Levi lingered, their steps slow as they left the office, the weight of Erwin’s plan settling over them. The sunset had faded, the sky now a deep indigo, stars beginning to pierce the darkness. Selena’s hand found Levi’s, her fingers lacing with his, her voice soft. “Marley’s not going to know what hit them,” she said, her tone fierce but warm. “We’ll finally end this, Capitán.”

Levi’s eyes met hers, his gaze steady despite the ache in his wound.. The war loomed, but with Selena by his side and the squad at their back, Levi felt a quiet certainty. They’d face Marley’s wrath, the serum’s dangers, and Calvi’s madness, and they’d come out stronger. 

~

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