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sitepathos · 7 months ago

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From Gold to Mold

Chapter 10: The Meeting

As the Megamycete watches as you stomp around your room and vent your frustrations about the last few days, it begins to wonder how the Bats came to remember their little black sheep and why they are so insistent you return to Gotham.

It searches through your memories and experiences all the sadness, fear, anger, hatred, and loneliness you experienced for years, all those emotions still so potent even after your departure from the manor four years ago, having been dredged up by their unwelcome visits. It was clear that, besides the butler, none of them considered you a part of their merry band of misfits, not even bothering to spare you a passing glance.

The exception to this is the youngest one, Damian, who constantly went out of his way to make your life harder by mocking you, hurting you, and releasing his menagerie of pets on you, forcing you to run through the endless halls of the mansion barricade yourself in the closest room you could find.

Now, after four years after your escape and maintaining little contact with the family butler, they show up on your door, one after the other, trying to force you to leave your perfect life for one that brought you nothing but pain and misery.

Why?

Why do they want you so much?

Why do they insist on you returning to a place you clearly hate?

Why do they now wish to give you the love they denied you for so long?

Why—

Wait, they are meeting in their little cave, gathering around the massive computer in the center of the massive cavern.

Its roots have long since surrounded the cave and it is still connected to the main colony back in Gotham, but when it took you as its host, it has had no need to tap into its roots to see the world above when it can see the world through your eyes and experience it through your senses.

Using its roots to see the outside world no longer has the same appeal when your senses are far more vibrant and provide far more detail.

When it proposed you become its host, it must admit, it never thought it would be so mutually beneficial. Of course, it would be able to leave the cavern and finally experience a world firsthand that had been forever just out of reach for over four-hundred years, but you would recover from your injuries and be akin to a god among men with your newfound abilities. You were the one who had more to gain from your joining, but it was willing to trade one prison for another if it meant finally seeing the world above and having someone to talk to.

But you proved it wrong.

When it became a part of you, you treated it like a person, not a thing. You value its input and alter your plans if it desires to see or experience something. You frequently talk to it, telling it things that you haven’t told anyone else and speaking to it like it was a lifelong friend.

It has no further use for that toxic city and its citizens when it has the warm haven of Goodsprings and you to keep it company.

It has come to admire you, even going as far as to see you as a friend and confidant, and wants nothing but the best for you as you so rightfully deserve and to see you suffer teaches it a new definition of rage.

“Running blood tests,” your failure of a father says as he types on the keyboard, causing a machine next to the massive device to make noises.

“If Master Y/N does test positive for the Meta Gene, what do you intend to do, Master Bruce,” the butler, the only one in this crowd it respects, asks.

“If Y/N is a meta, I’ll have to find out what his powers are and how to counter it.”

So that’s what this meeting is about, they managed to put the pieces together that you are no mere human. But how did they manage to get a sample of your blood? Since your joining, you have had no need for doctors as its influence makes you immune against common illnesses and diseases.

“Getting his blood was a simple task,” Damian taunts. “Honestly, this would have been solved already if you sent me, Father.”

Of course. It should have known the little menace gave up too easily.

While you hate Bruce Wayne in every sense of the word, Damian Wayne is right behind him. From the moment you met him, he went up of his way to make your life a living nightmare and was allowed to get away with impunity due to obvious favoritism from Dick Grayson.

The memory of Dick defending Damian after he gave you a scar made the Megamycete furious. No matter his upbringing, he had no right to harm you, and yet, he was allowed to draw his sword on you. It was only pure luck that you managed to move to avoid being critically wounded, only resulting in a scar.

The Megamycete has seen your many fantasies of hurting Damian and making him feel inferior and wants to help you make them a reality.

“Results are in,” Bruce announces, making them all crowd around the computer.

“No Meta Gene,” Tim remarks, staring at the monitor with alarming intensity.

“Yeah, but look,” Jason exclaims, pointing at one of the results. “He’s got something in him that doesn’t belong.”

“For once, Todd is right. The tests show foreign substances in his blood.”

“Wait,” Tim mutters as he leans over and begins typing on the computer, bringing up an extensive menu and going through various files. “That looks so familiar.” An image is pulled up on the monitor. “Here it is! The stuff in his blood matches the stuff found in what remained of Joker.”

Well, this is rather unfortunate. It had hoped that there would be very little of the clown left to examine after his execution by your hand, but as usual, these people cannot resist poking into areas they do not belong.

“If this is substance is in Master Y/N’s blood, does that mean he is responsible for Joker’s death?”

“Bruce, you can’t lock up Y/N after bringing him home,” Dick whines. “You have to admit, your thing with Joker was only going to end one way!”

“We don’t even know if Y/N killed Joker,” Tim interjects. “It’s possible this strain of mold was in both of them and Joker’s was somehow activated, killing him.”

“That’s not exactly comforting, Drake,” Damian responds, glaring at Tim. “That means that Y/N could be in danger. If I had my pick, I would he be responsible for Joker’s death. Knowing he can take down as formidable as the Joker is proof he is a Wayne and my brother.”

If it had eyes, the Megamycete would roll them. This insecure little terror spent years making it clear he saw you as an interloper into his “perfect world” and not as a brother and that you are a disgrace to the Wayne bloodline (although that bloodline was tainted far before you came to be). He has some nerve to call you his brother now.

It still made it angry that he had the nerve to critique your mother (your memories of her painted the woman as a saint) when his mother, the daughter of a millennium-old maniac with delusions of grandeur (yes, you are very aware of his familiar secrets) who drugged Bruce in order to bring him into the world.

“We need to bring him back here, Bruce,” Dick says, defusing a fight between the two. “If he’s in danger, he needs to be back home.”

“I agree,” Bruce responds. “Cass, you and I will go. I’ll distract him and while he’s busy yelling at me, you’ll sneak up behind him and inject him with a tranquilizer.”

The mute nods and the Megamycete wishes it has a mouth so it can scream. Not only is it offensive that they believe you are stupid enough to fall for such an obvious trick, but that they believe they have the right to decide something like this on your behalf.

If they have failed to realize that you want nothing to do with them after you have yelled it at them, perhaps they will understand if it tells so itself.

And it knows the perfect form to take.

He stands up from the chair and makes his way to the armory where they keep the tranquilizers meant for the larger criminals, like Bane and Killer Croc.

He hates the thought of using such methods against you, but you’ve made it clear you aren’t going to come back to Gotham willingly and the discovery of this mysterious mold inside you has forced their hand.

Nevertheless, improvisation is one of their many skills, a requirement in their line of work. Once they have you back home, they’ll be able to conduct more in-depth tests and be able to find out what’s wrong with you and go from there.

As much as he hates the idea of you possibly being in pain and may even be in danger, he can’t deny there’s a small inside him that’s glad this has happened. This discovery accelerates their plans and will have you brought home far sooner.

And, there’s the chance that this mold may explain most of your hatred towards them. Sure, he knows you have every right to despise them, but when he saw the look in your eye when you pushed him down that night of the award ceremony. He could tell you enjoyed inflicting pain on him.

This stuff in you must’ve made your temper more volatile and made you lash out at them.

It’s the only explanation.

“Excuse us,” a familiar voice calls throughout the cave, stoping his dead in his tracks.

That voice… No, it can’t be. There’s no way…

He turns around to see you, standing in the cave, all of them looking right at you. The small smile on your face making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“We believe there are some things we should talk about,” you say as you walk closer to them, making his children back up with each step you take.

“No fucking way,” Jason remarks, his eyes wide as saucers.

“Wait,” Tim says as he rushes over to the computer and rapidly types on the keyboard. “You can’t be Y/N. His phone says he’s still in Goodsprings and we’ve been monitoring his GPS signal, so there’s no way you could’ve come all the way to Gotham from Nevada without us knowing!”

That’s right, they’ve been monitoring your phone ever since Alfred helped them remember you, tracking you every move and committing your searches, social media usage, and all your texts and phone calls. They would’ve done the same to your computers that are linked to your phone, but your cybersecurity is tougher than they anticipated (clearly custom) and they haven’t been able to crack the encryption.

He knew you were skilled at making videos games, but he didn’t know your skills with technology expanded into cybersecurity. Ever since they made that discovery, Tim’s spent nearly all day trying to pierce your firewalls, but hasn’t made any progress. He’s also made it clear he wants to have lengthy conversations on computers and programming with you once you’re back home.

So, you’re still in Goodsprings, so who the hell is this, why the hell would they take your form, and how the hell did they get into the Cave without setting off any of the dozens of alarms or sensors?

“Who are you” Damian hisses, taking a defensive posture. “And what gives you the right to assume the form of my brother?”

“You have some nerve calling him your brother,” the Not-You hisses back, the smile morphing into an all-too familiar snarl. “He is too good for you, for any of you.”

Even though he knows this isn’t you, hearing those words in your voice still hurts him.

“Do you know Master Y/N,” Alfred interjects, trying to bring tensions down, most likely so he can learn more from this person.

“Yes, we do,” Not-You responds, looking at the butler, the snarl morphing into a look of… admiration? “And we know you, Alfred Pennyworth. We know of you and how you helped him during his stay in this wretched mansion. You have our gratitude.”

“Look, whoever you are, stop taking Y/N’s form,” Steph exclaims. “You’re obviously a shapeshifter, so turn back to normal! Or the very least, take a different form!”

“Oh, do you all wish for us to take another form,” the Not-You asks, a ghost of a smirk gracing “your” face.

“Yes,” Bruce says without hesitation.

It’s bad enough to see you look at them with such hatred, he won’t tolerate some imposter doing the same thing.

“Very well.”

Before them all, the Not-You turns into a shifting mass of some type of black organic mass before taking on a humanoid shape once again and Bruce’s heart stops when he takes in the new form.

“Hello, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in a voice he hasn’t heard in years.

Not since that fateful night in Crime Alley.

“Good God,” Alfred says, his eyes wide and his jaw practically on the floor.

In front of them is his mother, every detail exactly how she was that night, still adorned in her favorite pearl necklace and wearing her green dress.

As he stares at her looking at him with those eyes that use to look at him with nothing less than unconditional love, he feels his breathing start to become erratic and eyes begin to mist up.

“What’s wrong, Bruce,” the shapeshifter says in her voice (god, even her voice was exactly how he remembered) as they begin to walk towards him, making him step back. “I thought you would be happy to see me. It has been so long since I was killed.”

“No,” he says, his voice barely louder than a whisper. “You’re not her. You can’t be.”

“But I am. Do you not see? I know everything you have done.” His mother’s face then morphs into a disgusted snarl, making him sick to his stomach. “And I am absolutely disgusted in you! Why did we have to die that night? Why not the disgrace we once called our son!”

He knows this isn’t his mother and she never would’ve called him a disgrace, but hearing those words in a voice he’s longed to hear for so long makes him want to cry.

He’s had dreams of seeing his mother’s in the flesh again and now he has to endure this berating? Is he truly that horrible of a man to deserve this?

“Stop it, you bitch,” Jason exclaims as he steps between Bruce and the shapeshifter. “Take another form or get the fuck outta here!”

“Oh, you want us to another form?” His… the shapeshifter shifts once again and in his mother’s place is…

“Hiya, Dead Hood,” Joker exclaims before exclaiming in that all-too familiar cackle and waving around a crow bar in his hand. “Did you miss me?”

It doesn’t take a detective to notice Jason tense up and his breathing stop; Joker left a mark on Jason that unfortunately will never be erased (another shortcoming that eats away at Bruce everyday) and whenever news of Joker escaping Arkham would bring up all the anger, fear, and sadness that was planted in Jason that night he died.

After Joker was killed, he noticed a weight seemed to be lifted off of Jason’s shoulders. Sure, he made jokes about the clown burning in hell, but Bruce could see he was genuinely happy and was ready to move on form that horrible chapter in his life.

And now, all that trauma is about to be dug back up after four years.

“You have five fucking seconds to take another form before I beat the shit outta you,” Jason says in a tone that says he means business, his eyes flickering into that shade of Lazarus green.

“How about this form,” the shapeshifter says in Joker’s voice before changing into John Grayson, making Dick tense up. “Or this form?” John Grayson then shifts into Janet Drake, making Tim tense up.

“Alright, you made your point,” Barbara shouts. “Just turn back into Y/N.”

And with that, the shapeshifter takes your form again.

“Who are you,” Bruce growls, pissed that his sons have had their trauma jabbed at. “We know you’re not Y/N, but you know him and us.”

You may call us the Megamycete.”

“Megamycete,” Tim asks. “So, you’re not human?”

“No, we are a super colony of mold given sentience via a Lazarus Pit.”

“Of course a fucking pit’s involved,” Jason mutters.

“What’s your tie to Y/N,” Dick interjects.

“Y/N is our host. Before, we were confined to a cavern beneath this city, but when we joined with him, we were freed from our prison.”

“So, you’re using him.”

The Megamycete glares at Bruce for his accusation.

“No, he and us operate on mutual trust and respect. Y/N is a respectable young man.” A smirk appears on “your” face. “A trait he clearly did not inherent from you.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Even though this thing is probably the reason why you feel so much hate towards them, it still pains him to know this is his reality.

“Were you responsible for the Joker’s death,” Steph chimes in. “We found weird strains of mold in his remains and you’re a walking, talking pile of mold.”

“While we are not directly responsible for the Joker’s death, we do not deny we were involved. That night, Y/N took us out to Amusement Mile to celebrate when we learned the Joker was sighted in an arcade. Upon seeing the many deaths left in his wake, our host took matters into his own hands and eliminated the biggest threat this city had ever seen.” It gives Bruce a wide smirk. “In a single night, our host did more to help Gotham than you and your brood have done in years.”

Knowing you were responsible for killing Joker didn’t sit well with him. Sure, he’d accepted that Joker’s games were only going to end with one or both of them being dead a long time ago, but knowing that you, his son, had killed him…

“What about Harley,” Dick asks, breaking Bruce out of his thoughts. “He killed her too?”

“She forced his hand. He had no choice.”

“What do you mean he had no choice,” Dick shouts. “Did you force him?”

“Do not be stupid,” it says, glaring at his first son. “Our host was in complete control of his actions that night. We no more control his actions than you. The woman was a lost cause, without Joker to keep her in line, she would have punished all of Gotham as retribution for the loss of her love. Also, she would have informed you of him, causing you to devote all your resources to finding him. In order to both save Gotham from her wrath and himself from your scrutiny, Harley had to die.”

No, this thing has to be lying. There’s no way you, one of his sons, could ever rationalize killing someone. It had to have forced you to kill them. It had to…

“How did you even find Y/N,” Damian interjects.

Upon being asked that question, it smiles. And not a normal smile, but a smile that says it knows something they don’t know and something tells Bruce he’s not going to like it.

“He was thrown into our cavern after being left for dead.”

Bruce hears the words, but they just don’t process.

You were… left for dead? When? How?

“It was four years ago, while the butler was on his vacation. That day, his boss was forced to retire due to Gotham’s high crime, so he was forced to find another bus stop within Crime Alley as he had no other way of returning here, where he was unfortunately captured by three thugs and takes to a cabin in the nearby forest. They intended to ransome him off for a high price due to his school uniform.”

You were held hostage? Why didn’t you call for them? For him?

He knows you have no reason to think he’d help you with homework, but surely you’d call him if you were ever—

Just then, memories from that time frame kick in.

Random…

Phone call…

Oh… Oh no…

“Since the butler was out of the country, he actually reached out and gave the thugs the phone number for this manor.”

He so desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

“You said all your children were with you and you all laughed and mocked the leader of the thugs.”

He sees all his children tense up at the realization and Alfred looks at him to see if it was true. Based on the butler’s look of shock and disbelief, he knows it’s the truth.

“The one time he reaches out to you for help, you laugh and mock. He needed you and you failed him in the worst way possible.”

He remembers that night. He thought it was so stupid that someone would think he wouldn’t know when one of his kids were missing. He said all his children were with him and meant it.

God, he really is the worst, isn’t he?

“After that phone call, the leader took all his frustrations out on our host, beating him until he could cry out for mercy no longer before shooting him in the head.”

He wants to cry when the image of you being beat up enters his head, and based on the way he flinches, so does Jason, who looks like he wants to cry.

Alfred looks like he’s ready to go nuclear and Bruce doesn’t blame him. Hearing all this years later and he had no idea what happened just proves he was never worthy of being your father.

“He was on the brink of death and had he not accepted our offer to become our host, he would be dead and the world would have been deprived of a brilliant mind.”

The thought of you dying brings a brunch of thoughts to the surface.

How long would it had taken him to notice you were missing?

How would he reacted upon learning you were dead?

Chances are your body would’ve never been found and all there would be to remember you by would be a tombstone with your name in the Wayne Cemetery. Hell, you’ve made it clear you want nothing to do with the Wayne name, so you probably would’ve never agreed to be buried with the rest of the Waynes.

“Our joining restored him to full health and gave him access to many powers, including our records.”

“Records,” Tim asks, clearly interested in this.

“We have existed for four-hundred years, our roots expanding towards every corner of this city. As our roots touched those buried beneath the ground, not only have we watched the goings-on of Gotham, but we absorbed the memories, knowledge, and structure of the deceased. As horrible as the city is, it has attracted many brilliant minds, like artists, scientists, engineers, and many more. He has access to the knowledge of these people, making him one of the smartest humans alive.” It chuckles. “In fact, many of your employees are in our records and he used this knowledge to get revenge on you, selling the secrets of your company to Lex Luthor for a tidy sum.”

You were the one who did that? He’s been racking his brain and reviewing network logs to find any sort of security breach and it was you using the remains of his dead employees.

“Alright, so that solves a lot of mysteries,” Dick interjects. “But that still leaves one: why are you here?”

“We have been by our host’s since that fateful night, peering through his memories and seeing the world through his eyes. Ever since he was forced to move to Gotham, none of you ever made him feel welcome here. For years, he wanted nothing more than to return to his rightful home, where he knew nothing but love. Now, after four years since his departure from this wretched manor, you appear, one after another, trying to bring him back to a place he despises more than anywhere else. We wish to know why.”

“He’s my son,” Bruce answers, not liking what this thing has to say.

“He’s family,” Dick adds. “Of course we’d want him back.”

“But none of you have ever made him feel that way. And if you are honest with yourselves, you never saw him as one of your own. You only want him because you feel guilty about how you treated him, and that guilt is making you believe you are owed a second chance. And you seek to obtain that second chance, no matter how much harm it does to him.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re taking about,” Jason exclaims, clearly getting more and more pissed. “Yeah, we fucked up! But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s a part of this fucked up family!”

“He was never a part of this family. We know for a fact that he wishes he could take out the Wayne DNA and return it.”

“That’s because you’re manipulating him,” Damian interjects. “Nothing will change the fact that he’s my blood brother.”

“It is funny you say that when the last interaction you had with him was a fight.” It lifts hits arm and manifests a gold pen in its hand. “Do you remember this? This is the pen you tried to steal from him and then threw out into the rain when he gave you a much deserved slap upside your head. Do you know the significance of this item to our host?”

Bruce gets the feeling that he’s not going to like why that pen is so important to you and based off Alfred’s expression, that feeling gets even worse.

“This pen once belonged to his mother, made by her father when she set out to become an author. When she was taken from him, this pen was the only thing he had to remember her by. And you, the arrogant beast that you are, felt you had the right to take this, his most treasured possession, from him.” It turns its gaze from Damian to the rest of them. “And the rest of you supported this irreverent mongrel and condemned our host without listening to him before passing judgment.”

It seems like a day can’t go by that Bruce feels like the scum of the earth; ever since he learned of how he neglected you for years and forgot you even existed, his sense of worth has taken hit after hit. He was thinking about that argument you had with Damian and how furious he was when you refused to obey him not too long ago, thinking how stupid it was for you to cause so much trouble over a simple pen. Now to find out that “simple pen” was the only thing you had to remember your mother by…

It just never ends, does it?

He could spend the rest of his life atoning for everything he’s ever done to you, spend his last dollar to make your wildest dreams come true and he’d never come close to earning your forgiveness.

He knows he’s not the best father for his children, but he was never worthy of being your father and he’s certainly not that now.

“Y/N,” he whispers, knowing this isn’t you, but it has your face, your vice, and your memories, so it’s the next best thing. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He knows tears are falling from his eyes, surprising both Alfred and his children. He doesn’t want them to see him like this, but he can’t help it; the last few days have been one emotional turmoil after another and he’s reached his limits.

He failed his baby in every way possible.

“Now you understand,” it responds as it walks closer to him. “You fulfilled your purpose, Mr. Wayne. You brought Y/N into this world and had him brought to Gotham, where he was delivered into our custody. Now please, do not worry for him, we assure you we will provide him with true happiness. Go on, all you have to do is stay in Gotham and out of our host’s business.”

“Father,” Damian exclaims. “You can’t possibly be considering this!”

“Bruce,” Dick adds. “You aren’t going to actually do it, right?”

“Don’t fuck this up, Bruce,” Jason adds.

“We can’t just give up on him,” Tim adds.

“Yeah, he’s your son,” Barbara adds.

“He’s our brother,” Steph adds.

‘Family doesn’t give up on one another,’ Cass signs.

“Master Bruce,” Alfred warns, clearly not pleased at the thought of giving up on you.

He should, though. He knows that he’ll never be worthy of calling himself your father and you’ve made it clear you hate him and your siblings in every sense of the word. You wanted to go back to your childhood home in Goodsprings, a place that made you feel loved, something his home never made you feel. And the last four years were good to you based off your appearance and success. Plus, you had the Megamycete, that apparently has been more of a family to you than them.

If he was a good person, he’d put your needs and wants ahead of yours and agree to leave you alone and tell his children to do the same. Repeatedly harassing you would only make you hate them more and widen the gap between you and them. You don’t need them and clearly learned how to live without them. Over the past few days, he’s gathered every piece of information about you he can find and from what he sees, you love it in Goodsprings and fully intend on living in the house you and your mother lived.

But he’s not a good person, not by a long shot.

The night his parents were gunned down like animals in that disgusting alley, his sadness had turned into a bright inferno of rage; he wanted to inflict on every criminal that he met every ounce of his never ending vengeance and make them so afraid of him that they refuse to step outside whatever hole they call home, so that no one ever has to lose a child, a parent, a friend, or a loved one to some scumbag with a gun. That was his reason for donning the cowl.

After his parents were taken from him, he made it his mission to never lose anything of his ever again and two things that he holds dear more than anything in this world are Gotham and his family. And as long as he’s breathing, he’ll hold onto those two things until the bitter end.

Is it possible that in his mission to protect his city from Arkham’s inmates have made him forget the little details? Of course, Gotham needs Bruce Wayne as much as it needs Batman.

Is it possible that his need to hold onto his children with an iron grip has made him lose them on multiple occasions? Absolutely, he’s constantly remembering that his children are their own people and that even though they may leave him, they’ll always come home.

And that’s what his situation is with you. He knows he fucked up with you and he can never undo the damage he’s done to you, it doesn’t change the fact that you are his blood, his son, his firstborn.

You belonged to him the moment you were born and there’s nothing that can change that. He wishes he could go back in time and accept the gift of your affection that his past self spurred, but he can’t (his time as a Justice League member has taught him that going back in time is more trouble than it’s worth) and his only option is to move forward and make you see that the only place in this world for you is with him and your siblings here in Gotham, a city that has and always will belong to the Waynes.

And right now, this Megamycete is an obstacle standing in his way of completing his family. And if there’s one thing Bruce is very good at over the years, it’s overcoming obstacles.

“No.”

“Pardon,” it says, confusion etched onto its face.

“No,” he says loudly, making it clear he has no intention on letting you go. “Y/N is my son and their brother. He belongs here, with me and his family, not in some backwater town with some sentient mushroom. We’ll find a way to bring him back here and separate the two of you. And when we do, he’ll have all the time in the world to realize this is where he needs to be. Once he realizes that, all of Gotham will celebrate his return.”

He looks around and sees not only does his family seem happy with that statement, but they think the same as him.

The Megamycete looks at him, silent, seemingly shocked at his statement.

Then, it begins to laugh. First, just soft chuckles, then a laugh so loud, it echoes off the walls of the cave.

“Our host was right, you have clearly lost what sanity you had left. You reject him for years and now that you realize your folly, you seek to make amends? Please, spare us your delusions. This has nothing to do with our host and everything to do with your guilt. The moment you feel absolved, you will return to the status quo and forget he exists.” It motions to his children. “You have plenty of children here to drown in your need for forgiveness, surely you can make do with one of them.”

Then, it leans closer towards him, a smug look adorning its face.

“Also, Y/N belongs to us. He has the moment he fell into our cavern and will continue to until the end of time. Attempt to take him from us and you will suffer the same fate as those three thugs who left him for dead.”

It’s then another mystery gets solved: the slaughter at My Alibi. The three men in the back of the dining room who looked like they had gone through a meat grinder. That was your doing and they had been the ones to kidnap you and leave you for dead.

While he never advocates for killing people, he’s more than happy to make an exception for them. If they tried to kill you, they deserved to be slaughtered.

He only wishes they were still alive so he could pay them a visit before being turned over to Red Hood.

“We’ve fought plenty of Metas in the past. Do you really think you’ll be any different?”

“We have the knowledge and wisdom of countless people over the course of four-hundred years, all of them at the disposal of our host. You still think of him as that timid little thing from all those years ago, but he has become so much more since our joining. You believe yourselves superior than the rest of the general population, but you will find our host far surpasses you in every respect. He also possesses one thing your past adversaries never will.”

“And what’s that?”

“Unbridled hatred towards you.”

He wants to laugh at that. This thing must not have watched too carefully if it thinks people like Joker, Penguin, Poison Ivy, and so many in Arkham don’t hate his guts. He’s spent years being cursed at by all of Gotham’s rogues and beating all of the Riddler’s countless murder attempts to know Batman is at the top of many people’s Most Hated lists.

“If you don’t think half of Arkham doesn’t have dart boards with our pictures on them, you’re not as smart as you think you are,” Steph mocks.

“We do not doubt the genuine animosity the inmates hold towards you, but they are too far gone to imagine a life without any of you; you have foiled many of their crimes so many times, it has become one of the few constants in their lives. Every time they are put back in Arkham, they devote their time to coming up with their next attempt to best you until it is the only thing they care about. If any one of them were to ever defeat you, they would eventually realize how empty their lives are without you and their victory would soon sour.

“Joker would be a perfect example of this as he was as obsessed with you as you were of him.”

As much as he hates to admit it, the talking pile of mold is right. The clown made it clear that as much as he hated Batman, he was just as obsessed with him, going as far as to go after any criminal that took up too much of his time, Harley included in that.

And Bruce was just as obsessed with Joker, coming up with countless contingencies to counter any plot his sick and twisted mind could come up with, as well as devising security protocols and measures for Arkham to keep him contained and treatment plans to find a way possible bring his sanity back (assuming he had any to begin with).

“But our host is not like them. He has longed for a life free of you lot and now that he has that, he has no intention of surrendering it. Attempt to force him to return to this wretched manor and he will be more than happy to bring his fantasies of killing you a reality.”

He knows you hate them, but hearing that you hate them enough to fantasize about killing them cuts him deep.

“Please, I tried to kill Tim and Bruce back when I returned to Gotham,” Jason mocks, but Bruce can see Jason’s obviously concerned about hearing you thinking about killing them. “And Damian took a few tries at Tim. Everyone in this fucked up family’s got anger issues, it’s nothing weird.”

“You are kidding yourself if you believe you and that monster can a hold a candle to his fury. Your so-called anger is nothing more than a candle compared to the inferno that is his rage. You will feel the full might of his righteous fury, which will swallow you whole and leave nothing behind. And when you all are dead, you will be denied entry into our records.”

“So you don’t plan to absorb us,” Dick asks.

“Our host is the one who made that decision. To be added to our records is to be a part of us, and to be a part of us is to be a part of our host. He refuses to have you in his life in any way.” A small smile etches across its face. “We agree with his way of thinking. When you are gone, there will be nothing left and the world will forget any of you ever existed. And that is when our host’s revenge will finally be complete.”

It takes everything Bruce has to not flinch.

With this… thing inside you, what are you capable of? Would you really attack them with intent to kill? Would you really murder your own family?

“Make all the threats you want, creature,” Damian boldly states. “Nothing will stop us from bringing Y/N home.”

“Then this concludes our meeting, we suppose. We had hoped that we could convince you the best thing for you and our host would be to leave him alone and let the past rest, but we see now you all are too deep into your delusions to see reason. We look forward to seeing our host tear you apart, bit by bit.”

In the blink of an eye, the Megamycete turns bone white and crumbles like chalk, scattering all over the floor, leaving them all to stare at the remains in silence.

“So,” Alfred says, breaking the silence. “Was anyone ever going to tell me about a call regarding a random?”

The tension becomes so think, Bruce thinks he’ll start to choke on it. He racks his brain to come up with any answer, but doesn’t find any. At lease not one that won’t make Alfred pissed.

Clearly his children came to the same conclusion, because they remained silent as well, looking away or at the floor when he met their gaze.

“I have to say out of all the disgraceful things all of you have done throughout the years, this definitely takes the cake. I know Master Y/N wasn’t a priority for any of you, but I never would’ve dreamed you would allow him to be put in danger like being held hostage by common thugs.” Every word he says is dripping in venom. “I am absolutely disgusted with all of you.”

The words cut him deep and he deserves it. It was thanks to his incompetence that led to you being kidnapped, beaten to a pulp, shot in the head, and tossed into a cavern like trash and left for dead in a place no one would ever find you.

There’s nothing he can do that will ever make up for all that he’s done to you. He can apologize until he loses his voice permanently, spend all his money to buy you apology gifts, and subject himself to whipping by your hand until he’s lost every bit of his skin and he’d never scratch the surface of everything he’s done to you.

You came to him, a scared little child who just lost his mother and was forced to move to a massive city to live with a man he’s never met and all you wanted was for him to tell you that he loved you and that everything was going to be alright, but no, he was too caught up in his work as Batman instead of finding a healthy way of dealing with losing Jason.

But that’s not all he did, was it?

As much as he wants to, he can’t deny that he replaced you with Tim after the boy lost his parents. He suffered the same loss as you, but he gave Tim the help he needed while denying it to you. But that’s his fault, not Tim’s. His inadequacies are his alone to deal with, not any of his children’s (a lesson he keeps forgetting).

And he did the same thing several more times, bringing in more children and giving them all the love and affection you were denied as a child. He can’t help but wonder what went through your mind as you saw him spending time with them, both in groups and individually. And when you watched them hanging out in the dining room when they came home from patrol, enjoying themselves and each other while you were left alone in some room barely the size of a closet.

God, how many times did you wonder when you’d be asked to join before giving up?

When exactly did you give up on them?

And of course, he can’t forget about how he handled you and Damian meeting, another sign he was never fit to be a father. He knew Damian’s LoA upbringing left him unable to interact with others the proper way, but he still allowed him to see you (because he never considered your safety a priority) and allowed the boy to draw a sword on you, give you a scar on your face, and make several threats on you and insult your mother.

And what did he do after that?

Did he do the responsible thing by taking away the sword, scold the boy for his unacceptable behavior, and make it clear you were his brother and that he’s not allowed to hurt you?

No, of course not.

He did nothing but carry Damian off while allowing him to shout even more threats and insults, thinking nothing about the harm you just experienced and thinking Damian would just outgrow of his behavior on his own.

If he had to guess, it was probably that day you realized you didn’t matter to him and that Damian was the only one he considered a biological son.

Y/N, his baby boy.

He’s so sorry.

“This doesn’t change anything,” Bruce finally says, making his family turn their eyes to him. “We still need to bring Y/N home. Meeting this Megamycete just makes it more important we get him back to the manor.”

“And if Master Y/N fights you? Based off what you were able to gather from both crime scenes, this Megamycete appears to make him a formidable opponent.”

“We can find a way to neutralize it,” Tim chimes in, motioning to the crumbled remains. “I’ll analyze the remains to find a weakness.”

“And if that’s not enough, it said it has roots all over Gotham,” Barbara adds. “I can use the Clocktower to locate the closest sample.”

“Say you manage to subdue Master Y/N and rid him of the Megamycete. What then?”

“Then we make it clear he’s a part of our family now. And we’ll keep telling him that until he believes it. And when he does, we’ll give him the love we should have given him.”

Alfred looks at him before glancing at his children, all of them nodding in agreement.

“I shall hold all of you to that promise. We have a second chance to right our wrongs. I highly doubt we’ll be given another. But don’t think for a second this conversation is over.”

And with that, the butler turns on his heel and promptly makes his way out of the cave, clearly still furious at them.

“Alright, everyone,” he says, getting their attention. “We have work to do. Barbara, get to the Clocktower and start searching for the Megamycete’s roots. Tim, start analyzing the remains and see what you can find. And be ready to receive new samples. The rest of you, be ready to go out and retrieve the roots.”

They nod and set out to work, leaving him with his thoughts.

Fuck, after hearing all that, his mother probably sees him as a failure now. He had so many opportunities to make this right, but he being the complete and total fuck up that he is, missed them, leaving you all alone to fall into the hands of low-life thugs and a sentient mushroom.

He balls his fists so tight so tight he draws blood, but not caring at the pain or the drops of crimson falling onto the cave floor.

All he had to do was be there for you, love you, tell you he’d always be there for you, but he couldn’t do that. When he first learned of you, he was shocked to hear that he had actually been stupid enough to not take precautions to prevent getting a woman pregnant and actually thought you were an inconvenience, blaming you for something that wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t asked to be born, you didn’t ask to lose your mother in such a tragic way, and you sure as hell didn’t ask to be given to a man who had no right to be called a father.

He—

No, this line of thinking isn’t doing him any favors.

He takes a deep breath and releases it, throwing all his thoughts and emotions into a dark corner of his mind and locking them behind a massive door (like he always does instead of dealing with them in a healthy way). He’s done the same thing to so many other thoughts and feelings, what’s the harm in doing it now?

What he needs to do now is find a way to deal with a Megamycete and figuring out a method of getting close to you to administer it so they can bring you back home. While that’s already an uphill battle, the true war will be convincing you that they’ve changed and that you need to come back to the manor and live with them.

You’re his son and the brother to his children. And as much as you want to deny it, you have Wayne blood coursing through your veins, tying you to him and Gotham. You belong here, by his side.

And when this is over, he’ll throw the largest gala Gotham’s ever seen to show his love for you.

He’ll do whatever it takes if it means having you back home so h and your siblings can bathe you in their love and affection.

Even if it means taking away your powers and dragging you back here.

Like he said, he’s not a good person.

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#from gold to mold #yandere batfamily #male reader #batfamily #batfamily x male reader #batman #dc x male reader #yandere barbara gordon #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere jason todd #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown #yandere alfred pennyworth

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vaspider · 5 months ago

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So... I got really upset the other day that I can't knit anymore, so we don't have new kippot anymore.

Then I realized that nothing is keeping me from painting fabric and leather kippot, so I've got fabric dye ordered to do some test painting. It's been like 30 years since I painted silk, but I'm gay so like, I'll figure it out.

Then I realized that I've got clay, and if I wanted to, I could use that to make silicone molds and get into pouring resin to make mezuzot with. And then I realized I have a bunch of blank wooden jewelry boxes sitting around & I could create HRT storage boxes and...

So I guess what I'm saying is that 2025 is going to be a year where NK probably has a lot more one of a kind shit.

Oh and also I got samples of these & both will be coming to the store for Pride orders this year:

They're both made from the same stretchy knit as our fan-favorite skater dress, go up to 5X, and have pockets. :]

So yeah, January's quiet has provided some much needed time for my brain to rest and come up with new shit. Watch this space, etc.

#nerdykeppie #lgbtq #queer #trans #clothes #image description in alt

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thoughtportal · 6 months ago

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In eastern Mexico’s underground caverns and streams, a blind fish undergoes a peculiar adolescence: as it approaches maturity, taste buds begin to sprout under its chin and on top of its head, creeping toward its back.

“It’s a pretty wild amplification of the sensory system of taste,” says Josh Gross, an evolutionary geneticist at the University of Cincinnati and a co-author of a recent study on the cave fish in Nature Communications Biology. Gross and his team discovered that the new buds blossom around the time when the fish transition from eating larval crustaceans to gobbling up their adulthood staple: bat guano. Taste buds outside their mouths might be helping the fish detect bat droppings in the utterly dark, “food-starved” caves, Gross says.

Wandering taste buds aren’t unheard of elsewhere, especially in other fish. Some damselfish cultivate taste buds on their fins, and channel catfish have them across their midsections. And as alien as it may seem, many cells throughout the human body can taste, too. They’re just not sharing the flavors with your brain like taste buds do.

Lora Bankova is a Harvard Medical School respiratory biologist who studies tuft cells, a cell type sprinkled within human mucous tissues like those lining your nostrils, throat and gut. These “rapid responder” cells trigger the immune system if they detect an outside threat, and many of them rely on built-in taste receptors (the same kinds found on taste-bud cells) to do so. Bankova notes that many potentially harmful bacteria communicate via signaling chemicals called lactones—which also happen to activate taste receptors attuned to bitter flavors, prompting tuft cells’ immune response. And it turns out that even environmental allergies may be a matter of taste: dust mites and several mold species can also set off a tuft cell’s taste receptors, Bankova says.

“Evolutionarily, taste receptors [have moved around] the body to protect us from the air we inhale and all the attacks we’re getting through the orifices,” Bankova says. “They’re in the inner ear, the urethra, everywhere something can get into your body.”

Such “extra” taste receptors aren’t just bouncers at the door—they taste test for our internal systems, too. Receptors for sweet tastes help to tune insulin production in the pancreas and make sure neurons in the brain have access to enough glucose. Sweet, bitter and umami receptors in the gut modulate digestion.

Gross says it’s still a mystery what taste receptors the bat guano activates in the blind cave fish. “There may be some sugar content if it’s a fruit bat, maybe some protein content if it’s a carnivorous bat,” he says. So far only the cave fish has signed up to sample it.

#article #scientific american #fish #science #biol #evolution #genetics

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techmomma · 3 months ago

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Some more cleaning and mitigation tips, from your friendly front desk at a mitigation company (a part 2 to my first post of general mitigation and cleaning tips):

Anything involving sewage needs to be demolished and taken out. Sorry if you really really love that flooring or you literally just got it put in yesterday. Sewage isn't just YOUR poopwater, it's EVERYONE'S poopwater, it's farm poopwater, it's hospital poopwater, it can harbor MRSA and tuberculosis and staph and parasites and a host of things I don't even wanna THINK about.

That said, if you have a sewage backup or leak, and it's not cleaned up and demolished properly (aka, you have a scumlord owner of the house or someone willfully ignorant), THEY DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR HEALTH. Get the hell out of there. That is dangerous, and at the very least, it will guaranteed be moldy behind any surface.

The above does not count for people who literally cannot afford it, but also understand what is going on if it's not cleaned up properly.

How well something cleans depends entirely on the material. The more porous a material, the worse it will be to clean. For example, if you live in a house that belonged to a smoker for 20 years, how well you will be able to get the smell out will depend on the kind of paint in the walls. Generally, a shiny varnished paint will just need some elbow grease, but a matte paint (more porous) will probably need to just be entirely removed to get the smell out.

Speaking of smoke, smoke from protein-based fires require different cleaning than just regular soot. So, a soot stain from a candle needs to be cleaned differently than if you burned a pot of soup on the stove. The proteins get STICKY. (And yes, proteins come from more things than just meat.)

A lot of cleaning is chemistry. We use specific cleaners for a reason. So for example, going back to nicotine smoke, there's different chemicals that can help get rid of it. But some of those will also eat the paint or could give you ulcers in your lungs. We get trained (to a degree) on how different chemicals will react.

All of which can be further affected by temperature.

Mold on materials like concrete and wood needs to be cleaned, sanded, and then ideally given a coat of some kind of sealant. None of which will necessarily guarantee mold removal because mold is an unknowable and unkillable god, but you can get pretty damn close.

That said, there is always a degree of mold on literally everything. There's just certain molds (and in certain quantities) that our bodies are cool with! And some that they are not. This came with being alive on planet earth.

Smells don't always indicate mold. Nor does water damage. Nor does staining. Sometimes materials just get kind of stinky and discolored after they get wet for a while. (But all of that doesn't mean it's not mold, if you catch what I mean.)

If you suspect mold and want a confirmation/test of what kind of mold it is, you probably want to call a hygienist. Maybe miti companies do mold testing where you live, but here, they gotta be two separate companies (because you gotta take samples and culture them in a sterile environment in a petri dish and use special machines to determine what kinds of molds the sample contains; mitigation companies are basically blue collar cleaners and deconstruction/sometimes reconstruction crews who work in warehouses).

Believe it or not, our guys swear by magic erasers, btw. We don't use that specific brand, but the generic name is melamine foam sponges. You can even use them to get cat hair out of fabric. They're dope as hell for cleaning.

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komishko · 2 months ago

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"Declawing"

The Author is tasked to guide Silver under a series of checks, to ensure her readiness for the dispatchment to the Barrens. But... why?

Made by @komishko & @redlaserpointers

The rapped sounds of a door are unmistakable, as the Author knocks. The room is vacant, save for a desk with the resources he needs, and a chair placed for him. Inside the room is Silver, idly staring at a wall before registering the Author’s presence. He carries an interesting aura, and she can’t help but sample his appearance.

Brown coat to suit the cold weather, and some mitten gloves to suit. A green tinted goggles sits on top of his leather aviator hat, casting a shadow on where his eyes would be. Yellow irises gleam from his eyes, looking into Silver with an unreadable expression. Perhaps what is most intriguing is a clipboard held tightly on his broad chest. The information is concealed, and only intended for his eyes to see. Silver swayed her head, wanting to take a peek of the secrecy, but failed.

“Good evening.” The Author bowed his head, speaking for the first time. His baritone, sultry voice melted its way into Silver’s audio receptors.

[Good evening to you too.] Silver bowed back.

“Are you ready for your checkup appointment?” He smiled.

[Yes.]

Reaching his hand into one of his breast pockets, the Author pulls out a yellow pencil. The clipboard is placed onto the desk, face up but still far away for Silver to immediately read it. Before she could try to raise her head and gleam over the mystifying contents, the Author speaks, jolting her attention as it snapped back towards him.

“Firstly, I will test your motors to see if it is functioning.” The Author tapped the tip of the pencil with his fingertip. “Look into the end of the pencil, please.”

The Author moves his pencil in front of Silver's eyes, to see if she follows it correctly. Her eyes dragged itself left to right like a pendulum, right to left like a swingset.

"...eyes – check. Thank you, Silver." He walks a step towards the desk, noting something on the clipboard. "Now, instead of your eyes, can you move your head towards the pencil?"

[I believe so.] She focuses the motors of her neck, and relaxes her eyes. As the pencil swings round and round, Silver kept her concentration steady, the pencil in the center of her vision.

"Excellent, thank you." The Author repeats the evaluation process, noting on the clipboard.

There is no harm in asking, she realized. [May I ask, what are you noting on the clipboard?] Silver pointed.

“Oh?” The Author shoots a curious glance at Silver. A slight hesitance shackles on his breath, but he draws a straight answer. “It is just… a checklist of examinations. If you cannot complete a task, then I will jot it down and ask the laboratory staff to remedy it.”

[Understood.] She nodded, somewhat satisfied with the answer. However, the note of hesitance was captured by her, and the lingering want to know persists.

"Alright, can you move your right arm a bit forwards?" The pencil is repurposed as a baton, as the Author points towards her arm.

With no response, Silver moves her right arm forwards. It jitters a few times, especially near the hand area, and a hitch formed in her thoughts. She proceeds to move it more in subtle confusion, somewhat perturbed by the mixed signals that crashed upon each other in her circuits. It felt as though another arm is freakishly molded into where her old arm was to be, a terrific amalgamation where two bodies are coalesced together.

"Does it feel off?" asked the Author.

[Yes…] Her voice tried to hide the discomfort.

"Do not worry. Both your arms were replaced, so it might take a bit to get used to. Exercise it a few times and it should feel normal."

[…why were my arms replaced?]

He shook his head, snapping himself from the recollection, before giving a white answer. “...they were obsolete models, to put it short. We wanted to give you a better pair of arms.”

[Okay…]

"Here, you can just fiddle with these tools for now." The Author picked up the clipboard from the table, before pushing it towards Silver’s vicinity. With it is an assortment of fidgeting toys. Some of them were designed by the Author, mainly to keep his hands busy whenever he’s deep in thought or merely bored.

Silver grabbed a stress ball with her right arm, trying to grip it as hard as she could. However, the strength of her new arm is barely enough to condense the ball, no matter how much she exerted her power. Examining her arm further, she realized her fingernails were filed, made much more and barely protruding from her fingers.

The Author proceeded to turn away to note down more things on his clipboard. As she continued experimenting with the limits of her dexterity, he encouraged Silver. "Check the left arm too.

Silver proceeds to grab a screwdriver, spinning it around in her hands. The more she tried out her new arms, the more she felt a sense of uncanny. The exteriors of her arm felt like it was made of rubber, not weak to cause damage to her, not strong enough to cause damage to others. It felt like something was… missing.

He glanced behind for a moment, analyzing Silver’s movements before continuing to jot down his notes, quietly reading his own writing. "No stiff movement, joints rotating right... same drill as the old arms."

Meanwhile, Silver talked to herself as well. [These seem to work fine, it’s just…] Her words trailed off into an unfinished thought. She tried out the other toys whilst observing how her arms react.

After a few seconds, the Author turns back towards her. "Alright... stand up, please."

Silver did as asked, cautiously standing up. She worried that if her legs were changed too, it would fail her, making her trip and fall.

Noticing the worry in her body, he extinguished the doubt, stifling a chuckle. "Your legs are still the same, don't worry."

Duly noted, Silver thought. With a newfound confidence, she adjusted her posture and stood up perfectly upright. Looking down to her torso and legs, there doesn’t seem to be any difference. The lightbulb symbol etched emblematic on her chest glowed a bright red. It always intrigued her, why she was built with this. The Sun seemed to be such an imperative motive, as it hung with its chin high up in the tower.

There’s a sense of… subdued frustration, almost? She cannot pinpoint it, nor would she know why this emotion surfaces, but this body almost feels… old.

The Author stepped back a pair of meters away, before giving the next instruction. “Excellent. Now, try walking around."

Silver proceeds to walk around in circles. The Author kept a safe distance as he ticked down a couple of things on the checklist.

"Good, good. A few sidesteps, please."

All the while, it kept Silver thinking to herself. The more she tried to understand the source of this elusive, diminished frustration, the more she cannot seem to grasp it, the more it seemed to flee like a fleeting memory. This body felt… tight. Very tight, very compressed. It felt like she barely had room to breathe. But now, that feeling is gone, only faints of it. The body is still the same, but the perception has shifted.

"Thank you. Try rolling your heels, please."

But her arms of all parts have been replaced. Has something happened in the past? The more she scavenged her memory folders, the more it doesn’t add up. Halves of memories remembered, the colors of the red floor but not the floor. The sounds of shrilling, but from who? Does she know where she came from? Does she know why she is undergoing this maintenance?

"Alright, and a few stretches, please…"

How many of these checkups has she gone through? It felt like the first, but the first of what? Tens, hundreds? The more she thought, the more her chest felt constricted, her waist too narrow, the memories flooding away. A thousand thoughts whisked away into a single drop.

"Very good. Thank you for complying."

Silver looked at the Author. After the rumination of her identity, she felt an urge to attain validation. [Was my performance satisfactory?]

"Seems fine to me. How about you, though? Do you have any complaints, besides the arms?" He placed the butt of the pencil on his chin, spinning it around.

[No, I don’t.] She shook her head.

"Well! That's all we needed to check, you are ready for your new mission." With a whisk of the wrist, the pencil is pointed over to the door. "The laboratory crew is waiting outside, they will escort you to the transport."

Silver walks forwards, her palm hovering over the doorknob. But… something draws her to not go, quite yet. She stops and looks back at Author. [I have a question.]

The Author looked with intrigue, tilting his head. "What's your question, Silver?"

[Maintenance does not normally concern itself with so many details, and the arm replacements…] Silver exercised her left arm, reaching out to the side as the slight discomfort still shows. [I believe something has happened to me before. May I know what happened?]

The Author looks up at Silver, the shadow lifted from his face revealing a pair of blank eyes, darting between her eyes and the clipboard. A soft sigh blows from his nose. "We can't send you to the Barrens unprepared, you know? A lot of adjustments had to be done."

[I see. Thank you for the time, then. I will… continue my mission.] Silver exits the badly lit maintenance room.

Kip was waiting outside, before her head prepped up at the sight of the robot walking by. She ecstatically walked up to Silver, immediately barraging a whole load of questions. “Hey, Silver! How was the maintenance? Are you doing better?”

Barely acknowledging her, she walks past Kip. The engineer felt the energy that spring up from her leaving immediately. “Ah… farewell, then.”

The Author remained in the room, looking from the door frame and grimacing at how she ignored Kip just like that. Out of anybody, he would understand how it feels to have your creations turn away from you, treating you like a ghost. But… that was to be expected, after all. His eyes darted over to the final check, as his teeth chewed on the yellow pencil.

#Oneshot Game #oneshot author #Oneshot Silver #cw body dysmorphia #ID in ALT text #komishko's arts and crafts

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zonarestorationusa · 7 months ago

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askenvironmental · 1 month ago

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Safeguard Your Property from Fungal Growth

By detecting moisture issues early, our home mold inspection services assist save expensive repairs and guarantee a healthy indoor environment. For professional help, contact us right now!

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iri-2 · 9 months ago

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Then There Will Be

Category: F/F

Fandom: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)

Relationship: Mother Miranda/Mia Winters

Characters: Mother Miranda (Resident Evil) Mia Winters The Four Lords (Resident Evil)

The cold white tiles and harsh lights of The Connections' lab stung Miranda’s eyes. As she was led to the lab by a staff member, she wasn’t really paying attention to his introduction of the organization. Her mind was solely focused on getting to the lab and conducting her research to bring back her true daughter.

The staff led Miranda to the end of the hallway, where she recorded her fingerprint on a scanner by the lab door to unlock it, as instructed. The new lab was several times larger than the basement she had in the village, equipped with dedicated rooms for chemicals, samples, and various precision instruments.

Miranda looked the lab equipment with approval. Then she turned to the staff and asked, "Is there anything else I need to know? Other than the documentation and samples you'll provide me with shortly?"

The staff member found it difficult to understand why this taciturn scientist had such an intense presence. "Yes, we’ve arranged for a researcher to assist you with your experiments."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "Does this researcher understand what my research’s about? I consider it a very... personal matter." She bent down, carefully observing the activity of a mold sample.

"Rest assured, besides our boss, only she and Dr. Droney know the details of your project." The staff member said, glancing toward the door where a figure stood. He then addressed Miranda, "Dr. Miranda, she’s here."

Miranda straightened up and looked at the doorway. A woman stood there, her hair a similar color to Miranda's past self and the present scientist Miranda, perhaps a slightly lighter shade of black, with shoulder-length curls that fell over her chest. She was shorter and slimmer than Miranda, but with her sharp judgment, Miranda could tell that the woman wasn’t as fragile as she appeared.

The researcher walked directly into Miranda's lab and reached out her right hand. "Mia Winters, a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Miranda."

“Greetings, Mia,” said Miranda, just two words. After five seconds, the strange silence in the air finally caught her attention. She realized she should shake the new researcher's hand with her hand. Feeling uncomfortable with the gesture, Miranda quickly pulled her hand back afterward, without really thinking about what she'd done.

Mia hesitated briefly, surprised by Miranda’s odd behavior, but quickly recovered and continued her greeting, "I'll be working with you for a while. I'm not an expert in biochemistry, but I can assist you, and... handle some unnecessary trouble."

"Unnecessary trouble?" Miranda asked, puzzled.

"You know, sometimes test subjects have issues. I'm quite good at preventing those things from happening." Mia hinted.

Miranda's instinct was correct. Mia Winters did indeed have the capability to deal with failed test subjects. Though Miranda herself could easily handle such matters without breaking a sweat, she was not in her village. So, she smiled and said, "Welcome to my lab, Mia."

---

Miranda accepted the coffee Mia handed her. Having another assistant by her side was something she was certainly not used to. She remembered how, fifty or sixty years ago, her student Spencer left Romania because of their ideological differences. Since then, she hadn’t taken on another assistant. Few people truly understood her ultimate goal. Perhaps Alcina did, but she had her three daughters, through whom she found a connection. Miranda, however, never felt the same bond with any of her "children" as she did with Eva. Miranda convinced herself that they were merely vessels, but she couldn’t ignore the glimpses of her own life with her daughter that she saw in the Dimitrescu family. Those fragments pieced together the warmth of the days from nearly a century ago.

"Dr. Miranda? Miranda?" A gentle voice called her back from her memories.

"Hmm?"

"The sample you put in the centrifuge is ready. You can check it now."

"Alright." Miranda tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"You always seem to drift into deep thought." Mia remarked as she watched Miranda walk into the equipment room.

"It's nothing. I just like to think about things while working. It helps me focus." Miranda replied, opening the lid of the centrifuge.

"I feel the same sometimes. When you're doing something you love, your mind tends to wander, doesn’t it?" Mia said, leaning against the doorframe and watching Miranda carefully take out the centrifuge tubes.

"Maybe." Miranda replied. She wasn't sure whether she truly enjoyed these tedious experiments, but they were too meaningful to ignore, demanding a century of her time without pause.

---

Eleven at night, Mia handed Miranda the organized data. Watching Miranda intently review the figure, Mia quietly asked, “Miranda, don’t you need to take a break? Every morning when I arrive, you're already here, and every night when I leave, you're still here. Have you even been home?”

Miranda turned and sat at the lab stool, picking up a pen and scribbling notes on the documents, vaguely responding to Mia’s concern. "Hmm? Home? Of course, I've been home. My Lords and villagers all know I’ll be away for a while."

“Not your village, I mean your apartment here. Wow, the way you talk about your hometown makes it sound like you’re not that close to your neighbors.” Mia remarked, once again finding Miranda rather strange. Perhaps she’d been overworking.

It wasn’t until then that Miranda realized what she had just said. A thin layer of sweat formed on her forehead, but since her back was turned to Mia, she had enough time to calm her rising panic. She followed, “Yes, I’m not particularly close with them.” That much wasn’t a lie. “Mia, it’s late. You should head home. You must have noticed you're spending more and more time in the lab each day.”

“Long enough to realize you never take a proper rest.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Miranda set her pen down and swiveled on the stool to face Mia. “Even though this experiment is important to me, there’s no need for you to stay here so long on my account.”

“I know about Eva,” Mia said softly, lowering her head as she looked sadly at Miranda, whose blue eyes quickly filled with grief. “I’m so sorry, Miranda. I’ve never mentioned it before because I didn’t want to bring up painful memories, but I know you’ve never really moved on. I’ve heard you were absorbed in trying to bring Eva back even before you came to The Connections. And now that you’ve found new hope here, your dedication has only intensified. I can’t imagine how you maintain that drive, I can’t fully understand it, but I urge you to think about yourself for once. Maybe go to your apartment and get some sleep, or return to your village. Even if you’re not close to your neighbors, the mountain air would do you some good. If not, there’s actually a rest area behind the equipment room with a small bed. I guess you’ve forgotten it.”

Mia left the lab. Miranda stood from her stool and walked toward the equipment room. Sure enough, there was a door in the corner. Miranda must have opened it when she first arrived at the lab, but she’d quickly forgotten about it, as its contents hadn’t interested her at the time.

Miranda opened the door for the second time, and inside was indeed a small bed. There wasn’t any dust on it, indicating that Mia often rested there. A small porcelain pot sat on the windowsill, holding a plump lithops plant that was clearly well cared for.

On the nightstand, there were two glasses, one of them labeled “Mia”.

Miranda took off her lab coat and poured herself a cup of water with the other glass. She didn’t need sleep, so she simply lay on the bed, quietly reflecting. Her thoughts went first to Eva. There wasn’t a moment she didn’t think of her daughter. She recalled how earlier that day, she had smiled to herself, thinking of Eva, and wondered if Mia had noticed from the other end of the lab. It was a memory of five-year-old Eva mimicking the sounds of various animals, from chickens to pigs to goats and even crows, each imitation spot-on. Miranda had laughed as she scooped little Eva into her arms and set her on her lap, encouraging her to continue recounting her exciting adventures of the day.

Miranda tried to blur the memories of the Spanish flu outbreak, but it was clear she could never escape those dark days. One by one, her neighbors had died, and then misfortune had struck the only person she held dear. But the misfortune never came for her, nor did fortune, not until the day she buried Eva.

After that, she became the center of power. The faces of the villagers flashed through her mind like a carousel, along with the series of failed vessels. Then there was this white laboratory, and Mia.

Miranda told herself it was merely because Mia didn’t know about her status in the village and viewed her as an ordinary person which Miranda found novel. It wasn’t because Mia held any special significance to her.

---

Miranda told Mia that she planned to return to her hometown for a week of rest. Upon hearing the news, Mia could barely contain her excitement, she nearly hugged Miranda, though she stopped when Miranda stiffened in place.

Miranda changed back into her black robe. She descended to the basement and switched on the lights. The dim laboratory momentarily disoriented her. Ancient books lay scattered across the table, and the Cadou pulsed rhythmically inside its container. Everything on the shelves was arranged just as before, and the photo of her and Eva remained in its place, slowly fading with time.

Miranda pulled out a new photo and placed it on the shelf. It was a group photo with The Connections team, a symbol of her new hope. Strangely, the photo was in black and white, though Miranda didn’t pay attention to that oddity. What she did notice, however, was Mia smiling in the picture.

After filing away the data she had brought from The Connections lab, Miranda didn’t stand at her bench as she usually would. Instead, she sat on her bed and opened her diary.

May 9, 2010

Mia Winters suggested I take some time to rest at home, and I followed her advice. I rarely allow anyone this close to me, but she hasn’t made me uncomfortable. In fact, she’s been a great help with my research.

I hope we can bring Eva back.

Wait, did she just write "we"?

The villagers noticed that Mother Miranda was less strict when conveying the Black God's will in the church. When they shared the current situation in the village with her, she seemed absent-minded.

The Lords picked up on this during their meeting as well. She didn’t admonish Heisenberg when he called her "Miranda" directly without using her title, until Alcina criticized him, causing tensions to escalate between the two. It was only when Angie chimed in with a sharp "fight, fight" that Miranda snapped back to reality, reminded of her current predicament.

---

A week later, Miranda returned to The Connections lab. Mia handed her a cup of coffee, looking cheerful as usual. “Welcome back, Miranda. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Mia.” Miranda said with a smile as she took the cup.

“It’s clear that the week off did you good. You probably won’t accidentally drink the nutrient solution from the beaker as water again.” Mia teased, giving Miranda a playful grin, to which Miranda could only chuckle helplessly.

“Speaking of which, the mold colony report from the week you were gone is ready.” Mia led Miranda to the computer and opened the monitoring system, showing her the recent research on the E-type mold. “Out of two hundred samples, one hundred in the control group without Cadou did not produce any fully formed organisms. They remain in loose colony forms within the culture medium. Five of them exhibited some human traits, like sample 23, which developed humanoid palms, and sample 57, which produced teeth, but with sharp dentalcrowns, resembling a beast rather than a human arc.”

“In the experimental group with Cadou, all one hundred samples were more active than the control group. You can see them pulsing rhythmically, similar to human blood flowing through the colonies. Seventeen of the samples have developed mostly humanoid structures, though they are still covered in thick mold.”

Miranda pointed to one of the samples. “Sample 119 looks more active than the others, the mold is moving across it more quickly.”

“Exactly. It should be the most successful one. I examined its physical structure and found that its limbs are slenderer and its mouth is smaller, with a hyoid bone appearing in the throat.” Mia explained.

Miranda felt a surge of excitement and instinctively placed her hand on Mia’s shoulder. “Do you think sample 119 could be...”

“Are you thinking of sequencing its DNA?” Mia anticipated Miranda's thoughts.

Miranda nodded.

Mia skillfully assisted Miranda in extracting the “blood” sample, placing the processed samples into the expensive instrument.

“We just need to wait a day.” Mia said.

“Thank you, Mia.” Miranda offered Mia a warm smile.

The lab felt particularly warm that day, perhaps summer was approaching. Miranda sat on the bed in the small room, spending the hour before the results were due, contemplating every possibility.

Mia appeared in the doorway, leaning against the frame. “You don’t need to be so nervous. We all saw how successful it was, the compatibility must be high.”

“I know, I know, Mia.” Miranda lowered her hand, which had been anxiously touching her cheeks, and looked up at Mia. “I’m glad everything is progressing positively, I’m just worrying about the future.”

“Worrying about the future? You just said the experiment will go well.” Mia asked, puzzled.

“It’s not about the experiment. I’m worried about life after all this ends,” Miranda sighed. “You know my life has revolved solely around Eva. I rarely pay attention to the trivialities of my life and other matters.”

“You’re worried that after everything succeeds, you won’t be able to adjust to that kind of life?” Mia walked in and sat down beside Miranda.

“Yes, my life has changed so much compared to years ago. I’m concerned I won’t be able to return to a normal routine with Eva. I don’t know what path to choose.”

“Do you want to take her back to your village?” Mia asked gently.

“I don’t know. That would bring about significant changes. Everything in the village would be very... different.” Miranda thought about the order she had worked hard to establish nearly a century ago. Would it all crumble with Eva’s return?

Mia was unaware of Miranda’s true background, she could only assume that the villagers would view a person’s resurrection as a miracle, which would undoubtedly shock them. In fact, it just required advanced scientific technology and relentless effort. “I think they will gradually come to understand everything. Many unusual events happen in our world, but everything calms down over time.” Mia placed her hand gently on Miranda’s back. “Eva’s mother is a powerful woman. I can’t believe she has such strong willpower to face all of this.”

Miranda turned to look into Mia’s eyes and, for the first time, noticed that her eyes weren’t entirely brown, they had a ring of deep green around the edges. “And you’ve been here with me through all of this.”

“You just need someone by your side.” Mia said, sensing the warmth emanating from Miranda, subtle yet noticeable only up close.

“And that someone is you.” Miranda reached out and took her hand, her thumb lightly resting on the back of Mia’s hand.

“Miranda, are you shaking my hand?” Mia suddenly laughed.

“Hmm? No, how come?”

“When we first met, you shook my hand like this. If you hadn’t done it so forcefully and quickly, and hadn’t bent down, I might have thought you were going to kiss my hand like those gentlemen of old.” Mia teased.

A blush crept up Miranda’s pale ears, as she completely forgot those details.

“To save you from this embarrassment, we can check the results now.” Mia said, pulling Miranda to her feet.

“Match compatibility with Eva's DNA reaches 93.87%. Miranda, you did it!” Mia leaned down and hugged Miranda, who was sitting in front of the screen.

Miranda reached out and hugged Mia back. “Yes, we did it.”

#resident evil #mother miranda #mia winters #mother miranda x mia winters #miranmia #resident evil 7 #resident evil biohazard #resident evil 8 #resident evil village #re7 #re8

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andsewingishalfthebattle · 1 year ago

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SiliNOT! Testing and Review

Since I run a lot of casting workshops, I've had several people in the costuming/maker community ask me my opinion on SiliNOT!, a relatively new product advertised as a budget- and eco-friendly moldmaking alternative to silicone, urethane, and other single-use materials.

I finally bought a couple of bottles to play with, so I did a test project. My experience and findings are below! (It's not a recipe blog, but if you want to skip the play-by-play and get to the TL;DR, it's under the big "In Summary" header near the bottom.)

First, if you aren't familiar with this material, SiliNOT! is a remeltable, reusable medium for making molds. Though its exact ingredients are not disclosed, it purports to nontoxic, food-safe, and compostable. It melts in a household microwave or double boiler and solidifies at room temperature (or in a refrigerator/freezer for faster results). The website is https://silinot.com/.

(I am not an affiliate, and have no connection to this company apart from having made one retail purchase from them. I just have a lot of casting experience and like trying out new products.)

The Positive Original

I’m still in the middle of a Vincent Valentine build, so I decided to test the SiliNOT! on his custom buttons. My original is a stack of various nonporous materials: an antique (probably Bakelite) coat button, an epoxy resin dome I cast using a mold I already had in my library, and some engraved Worbla’s Pearly Art for the raised detail. The button shanks won’t be added until the final casting, so the original can be mounted flat for the moldmaking process.

Sample Worbla on the left; completed button stack on the right:

The Mold

I built the mold container the same way I do for silicone pours, with the flat back of the button fixed to a styrene plate and a cylinder (actually a small paper cup with the bottom cut off) surrounding it for the walls. The lip of the cup is sealed all the way around with Monster Clay to prevent leaks.

Heating and Pouring

The SiliNOT! didn’t take long at all to heat up; I did maybe four or five 20-second bursts before it was completely fluid. The bottle does get rather warm, so hand protection isn’t a bad idea. If you have heat-resistant gloves, you can use those; I was working in my kitchen (yay for nontoxic stuff!), so I just grabbed an oven mitt with a silicone grip.

The melted SiliNOT! looks a bit like Luke Skywalker’s blue milk. It’s about the consistency of a yogurt smoothie and likes to pour in a thicker stream compared to silicone. While silicone can be stretched into a thin ribbon for delicate pours or chemically thinned with solvent for really tricky jobs, SiliNOT!'s viscosity is dependent on temperature and never seems to get quite as thin as silicone.

I’d automatically made my mold compact to conserve material (not really a concern with a reusable moldmaking material like SiliNOT!, but after using silicone for more than a decade, I’ve trained myself to be as efficient as possible), so the walls of my mold container were only about half or three quarters of an inch from my object. Because the target was so narrow, I found it difficult to accurately fill from the lowest area of the mold with the SiliNOT! The heavier pour also means more air can get trapped in or under the material.

Bubbles are one of the areas in which SiliNOT! is decidedly inferior to silicone. SiliNOT! has higher viscosity, so bubbles don’t want to rise to the surface without vigorous tapping, which can distort the mold edges or affect leveling depending on your mold container. The bubbles that do make their way to the surface are difficult to pop, even when poked with a sharp implement. Heat gun degassing doesn’t have much effect.

Since the bubble surface cools and skins over quickly, I actually had to use a tool and scoop some large bubbles completely out of the mold to allow the surface to level. Critically, the SiliNOT! is opaque, so you can’t spot bubbles clinging to the surface of your original. (This is why my first mold was a reject, and I had to repour. More on that below.)

Hardening

Once the surface had set, I carefully moved the mold into the refrigerator to cool faster. Here’s another area where some types of silicone can have an advantage: I typically use fast-curing Smooth-On products (because I always have random quantities left to use up after our casting workshops), so I rarely have to wait more than half an hour for a silicone mold to cure, regardless of its size or mass.

The SiliNOT! has to chill completely before handling, though, and discharging that amount of heat requires a fair amount of time even in a cool environment. My mold was pretty small, maybe 2 1/2” wide by 1” deep, and it still took around 40 minutes to cool completely. A larger, deeper mold could hold considerably more energy in the center, and might have to be left in the freezer for a couple of hours before use.

Demolding the Original

When the mold was completely chilled, I removed it from the refrigerator and popped it off the plastic plate I’d used for the base of the mold. The texture was very different from what I’d expected: Unlike other meltable materials (Monster Clay, et al.) that have a firm surface when cool, the SiliNOT! remains tacky, which means it promptly collects any debris that crosses its path. In my case, this meant I had to pick dog hair off the surface throughout the casting process (and I don’t want to think about what would happen if glitter had contaminated the work space).

I’d used a paper cup for my mold walls, which usually works fine with fast-curing silicone. But the SiliNOT! must have a high oil content, because the cup absorbed some of it:

Lesson learned; use only nonporous containers with this stuff.

The SiliNOT!! really wanted to cling to the edges of my original, so I had to go slow at first to avoid tearing the thin flanges of the mold off. However, it did demold nicely from the smooth surfaces, and preserved texture very well. You can see the Worbla pebbling and the engraving channels clearly in the mold (as well as some dust and dog hair, because I made the mistake of setting it down briefly):

Unfortunately, as you can see, a large bubble had stuck to my original and created a pit in the mold, so I decided to do a second mold pour. I figured I’d tear up the failed mold and put the pieces back in the bottle to remelt… and discovered I couldn’t. The mold would stretch and twist, but not tear. It also seemed to return to its original shape relatively faithfully. Here’s a video of me manhandling the mold:

As you can see, the SiliNOT! has much better stretch and recovery than many silicone products (there are silicones that stretch well -- some of the Dragon Skin products come to mind -- but they’re not typically marketed for moldmaking). This means it’s likely well suited to casting objects with moderate undercuts or oddly-shaped bits that need the mold to stretch during demolding.

You can cut the SiliNOT! easily with scissors, which is the recommended method for getting it back in the bottle when you’re ready to remelt.

Take Two

Using what I’d learned from the first pour, I did the second one inside a hard plastic ramekin. This gave me a bit more room to pour into the floor of the mold, reducing the bubble risk, and also eliminated the porous paper cup that had absorbed oil. I still had the issue with bubbles that didn’t want to pop, but there were fewer of them this time.

The ramekin made for a much cleaner mold, buuuuut there was ANOTHER BUBBLE right in the middle of the design. >.<

Take Three

Lather, rinse, repeat. Or in this case, melt, pour, chill.

This time I heated the SiliNOT! as much as I dared and did the absolute slowest, narrowest pour I could manage, giving the air extra time to escape as the mold was filled from the bottom. The risk with stringing out the pour like this is that in a thinner stream, the heat escapes faster, leading to uneven viscosity as the liquid fills the mold. I don’t think that’s a major problem for this particular piece, but it’s something to pay attention to as regards leveling and degassing, especially for larger molds that will take longer to fill.

The result of pour three:

/siiiiigh/ Well, at least the bubbles are smaller, this time. They may not show up enough to matter in the final cast. I’ll give it a try.

Casting

I had leftover workshop resin that was getting on toward the end of its shelf life, so I used Smooth-On Smooth-Cast 300 for my initial resin trial. It’s an opaque white resin with about a 10-minute cure time (the fast turnaround is why we use it for workshops).

Before pouring, I had to do a little mold cleanup where the SiliNOT! had managed to sneak under the edge of the Worbla (I think I’d loosened the corner of the star from prying it out of so many molds), but since the SiliNOT! stretches so well, it was pretty easy to invert it to get little scissors down into the bottom of the depression.

For the first cast, I didn’t use anything but the resin in order to get a baseline. Ideally I’d like to cold cast or dye the resin so I don’t have to worry about paint chipping, but since I’m doing a trial here (and need multiple buttons anyway) I figured some plain white extras wouldn’t hurt.

So, my first cast…

…smacked into a big problem, which I probably should have seen coming: The resin I’m using is a fast cure formula, which means it discharges a fair amount of heat as it's going through that rapid chemical reaction -- enough heat to melt the SiliNOT!, as it turned out. When I tried to demold it (after giving it a few extra minutes beyond label time to be sure it was done), the surface of the mold had melted to the resin and even embedded itself in a few places. It’s difficult to see the resin detail in the photos (my camera went into white balance panic mode with all the shades of white and blue), but you can see how pitted the formerly-smooth mold surface is.

In fairness to the SiliNOT!, the bottle does say that you should put the mold in the freezer for half an hour before casting high-temperature materials. But I assumed high-temperature material was something like candle wax or melted chocolate, rather than ordinary resin. (And the mold had just come out of the refrigerator.)

So, on to pour FOUR of the SiliNOT! mold…

Take Four

NGL, this is getting a little old. >.<

Fourth mold definitely needed some cleanup around the edges, and there are still a couple of tiny bubbles I can’t seem to get rid of, but it’s good enough for a test. (I’m starting to despair of using these for actual production, given how many times I’ve had to redo the molds because of bubbles...)

Deep in the recesses of my basement, I found some transparent epoxy resin with a 24-hour cure time -- much slower and lower-temperature than the Smooth-Cast. Since it cures clear, I went ahead and mixed in some metallic powder pigment on the off chance that I get a usable button out of this one. I had excess resin after mixing, so I poured that into my first mold, which has a bubble in the design but is otherwise fine. Two test pieces are better than one, right?

Results

Here are the results of the slow-curing resin out of mold #4:

Finally, a (mostly) clean cast!

As you can see, the detail reproduction is excellent -- certainly on par with the pulls from the silicone mold I ended up making while waiting on this set to cure (purely for time reasons; I couldn’t afford five days to cast the buttons using slow-curing resin, and with a silicone mold and fast-curing resin I could get them all done within a couple of hours).

However, you can also see a few spots where bits of the SiliNOT! embedded themselves in the final cast. Part of that may be due to design flaw in the original; I didn’t want to glue anything permanently to the antique button, and that resulted in a tiny gap between the button and the resin hemisphere. Silicone has enough strength to resist tearing out in that kind of area, but apparently the SiliNOT! doesn’t. The bits of mold around the outer edge seem to have stuck just to be difficult, as there was no structural reason for those to have become embedded in the resin. This means the mold could be damaged by successive casts, reducing its usable life and accuracy.

Still, the mold definitely produced decent results for a first cast, and a different shape might not have had as much of a problem with tearing off mold parts. The slow-curing resin is a bit of a limitation, but not a unique one (I use this same epoxy resin for any glass-clear casts I do, and only use the Smooth-Cast 300 for opaque items or things I need very quickly). I don’t personally use UV resin, but I’d be curious to learn how it performs with the SiliNOT!

IN SUMMARY:

Here’s the TL;DR on SiliNOT!

Pros

Cost effectiveness. This is the most obvious advantage of SiliNOT! over silicone; it’s (theoretically) infinitely reusable, and even with natural attrition/inevitable contamination from use, you can likely get over a hundred pours out of a bottle. That's a lot cheaper per use than silicone.

Non-toxicity. SiliNOT! is touted as food contact-safe, so you don’t have to panic if you get it on your skin or kitchen counters. While platinum-cure silicone is also relatively harmless (some varieties are labeled for food or life casting), other common moldmaking materials such as tin-cure silicone or urethane are not. (NOTE: Since the company is very hush-hush about what actually makes up the SiliNOT! secret formula, I do not know if it might release any vapors or fumes that would be irritating or harmful to pet birds. In general, I advise not doing any kind of casting around birds.)

Eco-friendliness. This is the biggest draw for me personally: Given the number of casting workshops I run and all the things I sell commercially, I have constant guilt about the amount of waste I generate for creative projects. In most areas of life I’m an aggressive reduce/reuse/recycler and try to use organic materials instead of synthetics whenever possible, so a mold that’s reusable and compostable is very appealing.

Ease of use. It’s honestly pretty hard to mess this up -- just microwave according to the directions and pour. No measuring, no A/B mixture, no concerns about chemical contamination from latex or sulfur, etc.

Shelf life. Unlike silicones, which have a shelf life of anywhere from six months to three years depending on storage conditions, the SiliNOT! purports to be shelf-stable. It's compostable, so don’t bury it in your yard, but otherwise it appears that it could be kept on hand for years.

Cons

Bubbles. Honestly the most irritating thing about this stuff for me. I’m used to being able to see bubbles forming as I pour, tap them to the surface, and remove them. The fact that I poured four molds of the same object and never once got one without bubbles is super irritating.

Stickiness. I’m not a big fan of the tacky surface texture, and while I haven’t done any cold casting yet, I can imagine that it would be very difficult to clean out any pigment or mica powder that got where you didn’t want it. I probably wouldn’t use this for any kind of cold casting that required isolated colored areas or changing colors between casts.

Set time. The SiliNOT! may take longer to cool than a fast silicone would to cure when dealing with larger molds, so it’s not ideal for projects with a really tight turnaround. (But cosplayers would never be casting something the night before a con, right? We always plan ahead and never, ever procrastinate!)

Library life. The SiliNOT! may or may not structurally degrade over time the way urethane, latex, and tin cure silicones do, but I noticed even in my very limited casts that it was prone to having tiny bits of the mold (particularly at edges) stick and pull off. While I keep most of my platinum silicone molds for years and reuse them, I don’t feel that the SiliNOT! molds would hold up to repeated casting, and they’re far more sensitive to ambient temperature, so they’re probably best used for short term only. (I also wonder about the possibility of oil leaching out in long-term storage.)

Comparative Ranking

Ranking it against other mold-making materials, I’d place SiliNOT! below platinum-cure silicone in terms of performance, but maybe somewhere in the neighborhood of urethane and tin-cure silicone. It's definitely superior to latex. (Though to be honest, I'd rank Play-Doh above latex. I hate working with that stuff.)

Factoring in cost and environmental impact, it beats out urethane and tin-cure silicone. I'm still not sure if I'd rank it above platinum-cure silicone, though... Silicone costs much more and isn't eco-friendly, but the performance and lifespan is significantly better, so it still makes more sense for some projects.

Alginate is another type of material entirely, but in some ways SiliNOT! is comparable to it -- both are more cost-effective than silicone, both are biodegradable, both are skin safe, and both have long shelf lives. But SiliNOT! is easier to use for beginners than alginate, which has to be mixed to the right consistency and has an extremely short lifespan once poured.

Overall, I would recommend SiliNOT! for:

People who want accurate, non-shrinking molds but don’t have the budget for platinum-cure silicone

People who are committed to eliminating waste from single-use materials, and are willing to trade off a little performance for a more eco-friendly material

Projects with smooth surfaces and no indentations/sharp edges/undercuts where bubbles might stick (e.g. cabochons; simple geometric forms)

Projects where you need only one or two casts of something, rather than many casts from the same mold

Casting oddly-shaped pieces around which the mold needs to stretch in order to demold

Use with slow-curing resins that do not generate much heat

I would NOT recommend SiliNOT! for:

Extremely complex or detailed pieces, or pieces with a lot of surface texture that bubbles might stick to

Two-part molds

Projects requiring many identical casts out of the same mold

Molds that you intend to add to your library for future or repeat casting

Use with fast-curing resins, melted wax, melted Monster Clay, or any other material that emits heat

Cold casting with precise color application

My Overall Opinion

It's... okay? I will almost certainly keep SiliNOT! in my toolkit for certain specific applications. It's MUCH cheaper over the long term, I love the idea of recycling mold material, and there are some projects for which it will likely perform very well (those listed in the above bullet points). I will also admit that three days of working with it does not constitute a comprehensive familiarity with the product, and it might be the sort of thing that you get better at working with after more practice. (Just learning how to eliminate bubbles would go a long way toward making me adopt this for more projects!)

However, I don't quite buy the "better than silicone" tagline. It's definitely more difficult to get a perfect result, and there are some projects for which platinum-cure silicone is always going to be more reliable (e.g. high-temperature casting, mass production, large-scale life casting).

For those looking for a recommendation of whether or not to buy, I'd say look at your project budget and the applications for which you're going to be making molds, and let those factors guide which mold material you go with. People doing some kinds of projects are likely going to find this a godsend, while those doing different projects would probably hate working with it.

#silinot!#silicone #resin casting #tutorial #product review #smooth-on

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sitepathos · 6 months ago

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Wow, I loved chapter 11! Would be funny if batfam discovered a cure for cancer trying to figure out how to deal with the mold, was just a thought that stuck in my head when I read the description 'benign tumor'. Would also be a good way for batfam to start dealing with the PR nightmare this is turning into. Has Bruce been trying to fuck over Lex? Also was wondering if maybe Gould made any bonds in the four years back home? Is there any jealousy rising in batfam from a brotherly or fatherly bond they discover, or has he mostly been keeping to himself? Either way, I'm excited to see what's coming up with this next confrontation, hope the inspiration narwhal visits you!

Yeah, I can see them using their discoveries to change public opinion about them.

Now, they know the Megamycete is similar to a benign cancer that eradicates native cells and replaces them with unstable mold versions, but since they only have the one sample of your blood (and it’s kinda lost all viability due to the batter of tests its been subjected to), they’re still far from discovering any usable weapon to attack the Megamycete at the cellular level.

While their tests have yielded nothing to combat the mold, their failures have led to the discovery of a treatment that’s highly effective against actual cancers, tumors, and viral infections. Bruce had the data forwarded to Wayne Pharmaceuticals to begin development of new medicines based off their work, leading to several new drugs being developed that promise to either treat several incurable diseases and illnesses or eliminate them altogether.

It definitely makes people see Bruce Wayne more favorable, but not enough to reverse all the bad publicity done to his company. He’s also made several attempts to get back at Lex for his actions at the gala, both as CEO of Wayne Enterprises by showing him up in business and as Batman by exposing his less-than-legal activities.

He’s actually very grateful to you (despite the fact you’re infected by some sentient mushroom) since it’s helped complete many projects the pharmaceutical division has been working on for years, which will help countless people in the long run.

But make no mistake, he fully intends to find a way to purge the Megamycete from your body. He says it’s because it’s dangerous and that it’s making you act out, but it’s because it gives you the power to oppose him and fight back when he tries to bring you back to Gotham. Let’s be honest, Bruce Wayne is a massive control freak and is used to being the one in total control of every situation and the smartest person in the room and he can’t stand it when he doesn’t have something under control.

Thanks to the Megamycete, you’re not only stronger than him, but smarter, too.

This is a huge no-no and he’ll stop at nothing to correct the situation, under the guise of “helping” you and “bring you back home.”

As for the second part of your ask, I’ve had several people ask about the reader dating/marrying people and making friends; I’ve even made a post about Eveline from Resident Evil 7 being your adoptive daughter, but I don’t have any plans on making a canon family and friends for the reader in the series.

Believe me, you want a family and friends. You’d love to find a man who will give you the love you were denied for so long and maybe even adopt a child (although several people asking about kids has made me think you’d be capable of carrying biological children since you can alter your body due to the Megamycete), but after all that you endured at Wayne Manor, you think you have too much emotional baggage to properly care for a family (not to mention the whole Megamycete situation) and you’re just subject your potential family and friends to the same treatment you were given for most of your life.

Right now, you’re working on yourself. You moved back to Goodsprings immediately after graduating and turned your childhood home into a home you’re really proud of and now with the ulcers of Salvage Rights, you’re seeing a small fortune building before your eyes (of course, you still have most of the money you got from Lex for seeking WE secrets).

Of course, Bruce and his children had to show up out of nowhere and reset all the progress you made in the last four years and making people stare at you every time you walk into a room and whisper about you when they think you can’t hear them.

So, any plans you had on making a family and finding friends are on hold for right now. You just have to take care for your little bat problem.

But, let’s say you did have a family and friends. That not long after you moved to Goodsprings, you made a few friends either in town or in the surrounding area, which eventually lead to you finding a boyfriend and after two years of dating, you got married (Alfred attended, he wouldn’t miss it for the world).

Now, he didn’t tell them about the wedding at the time, but after the four year mark of you leaving Gotham, he reminded them that you exist and dropped the bombshell that you’re married.

This leads to every one of them going berserk.

You’re married?! And they weren’t invited to the wedding?!

They immediately dislike your husband, Bruce especially since he has the insane belief that as your father, any man should ask for his blessing to date/marry you (of course he’d turn down any request before it even leaves the man’s mouth).

“There’s no man in this world that’s good enough for you, Y/N. Besides, you only need me and your brothers.”

Damian is in the same boat as he believes very few are worthy enough of joining the Wayne legacy.

“Our bloodline is a sacred one, brother, and we must be selective of who is a part of it. If you insist on finding a mate, I’m sure Father would be capable of finding one for you. But you needn’t worry over that, I’m more than capable of continuing the family in his stead.”

Dick would lose his shit if he hears that you have a husband.

“He just proposes to you? Without asking to meet your family? That’s very suspicious, baby bird! He clearly wants to take you away from us!”

Jason would be silent during the entire ordeal, but he’d stand there, glaring at you poor husband and showing off the gun he has on his hip, filled with real bullets.

Tim’s immediately researching the shit out of this guy, going back to his birth and will use anything and everything he finds to convince you that he’s unfit for you and you should divorce him.

“He got a speeding ticket when he was 16, Y/N! He clearly lives on the edge and doesn’t care about respecting the law! …Why are you staring at me like that for?”

Steph is actually kinda proud of you for causing this kind of chaos in the family. She’s always pulling stunts that cause Bruce’s hair to turn grey and loves messing with everyone, but what you’ve done is nothing short of astounding in her eyes. Of course, she’s just as opposed to the marriage as the others and wants you to divorce your husband and move back home at once.

“Y/N, if you wanted to drive Bruce into an early grave, you could’ve just done what I did and wreck the Batmobile. Hey, we can do that when we get back home!”

Cass actually understands the desire to find love and create a family; thanks to Bruce, she knows what a family is (a lesson you were never taught) and wishes she could find someone to spend her life with. But thanks to her upbringing and her vigilante lifestyle, she knows that’s a pipe dream. Besides, Bruce and her siblings are more than enough.

However, that doesn’t mean she supports the marriage; in fact, she opposes it and believes you must divorce your husband and come home right away. People can’t be trusted and the world is too dangerous. You need to come home where they can protect you.

And god help you if you say your new friends are more like your siblings than them.

As expected, Damian doesn’t take the news well and accuses them of trying to take his place as your true brother (this delusional bastard really believes that after everything, the two of you can really be brothers).

But I think Dick would take the news worse than him; he takes his role as the elder brother of the Wayne children seriously and he doesn’t like the thought of you seeing someone other than him as your big brother. He’d probably cry and beg you to take it back, say you were just lying to hurt him, anything! Just say you don’t see anyone as a big brother!

Lastly, if you have any children, be it through adoption or biological, they immediately stake a claim on them and try to bring them into the family.

That just leaves you, fighting these delusional freaks tooth and nail to keep your friends and family safe. If your husband is a meta, he’ll try to join in, but you insist on dealing with them yourself. You know they’ll use any dirty trick they can find against your husband and you’d rather not put him in any more danger than you have already.

Plus, if anyone has the right to kill them, it’s you. After all they put you through, you’re determined to be the one that finally puts an end to the Bats.

#asks #from gold to mold

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