#reverse engineering solutions

[ynrenggcluster]

Unveiling the Power of Reverse Engineering Testing Services

In the dynamic landscape of software development, staying ahead of the curve is crucial. One key strategy gaining traction is the utilization of Reverse Engineering Testing Services. This innovative approach involves dissecting and understanding existing software systems to enhance their functionality, security, and overall performance.

Reverse engineering testing services are not just about breaking down code; they're a strategic tool to uncover the intricacies of complex applications. By deconstructing software, developers gain insights into its structure, enabling them to identify vulnerabilities, enhance functionality, and streamline performance.

One primary advantage of reverse engineering testing is its ability to unveil hidden features or diagnose issues that may not be apparent through conventional testing methods. This process helps developers create more robust and resilient software by understanding the underlying architecture.

Moreover, reverse engineering testing services play a pivotal role in ensuring compliance with industry standards and regulations. By dissecting software components, organizations can identify potential security loopholes and rectify them before they become exploitable vulnerabilities.

In a nutshell, the power of reverse engineering testing services lies in their ability to unravel the mysteries of existing software, paving the way for innovation, security, and improved performance. As the software development landscape evolves, embracing this approach becomes increasingly essential for organizations aiming to stay competitive and resilient in the digital realm.

[chthonicrose]

I saw a post about working for a haunted house and for some reason it reminded me of when I used to work for an escape room place, and then because I only have one thought anymore, now I am thinking about crowley and aziraphale doing an escape room and how extremely bad they would be at it

crowley squinting at the fireplace like 'this is fake. it definitely comes open. I'm gonna pull on it.' and aziraphale like 'my dear boy they told us nothing in the room required brute strength' but he tried to use the wrong key on the gun safe and broke it off in the lock and had to discreetly miracle it back together. also he's professionally offended at how little the book safe looks like a real book.

[hamable]

IVE FIGURED OUT ALL THE PIECES OF THE CORE MYSTERY OF THE STORY IVE BEEN COOKING FOR TWO YEARS AND CAN NOW CONFIDENTLY START TRULY WRITING IT

LFG CHAT

[reasonsforhope]

"Canadian scientists have developed a blood test and portable device that can determine the onset of sepsis faster and more accurately than existing methods.

Published today [May 27, 2025] in Nature Communications, the test is more than 90 per cent accurate at identifying those at high risk of developing sepsis and represents a major milestone in the way doctors will evaluate and treat sepsis.

“Sepsis accounts for roughly 20 per cent of all global deaths,” said lead author Dr. Claudia dos Santos, a critical care physician and scientist at St. Michael’s Hospital. “Our test could be a powerful game changer, allowing physicians to quickly identify and treat patients before they begin to rapidly deteriorate.”

Sepsis is the body’s extreme reaction to an infection, causing the immune system to start attacking one’s own organs and tissues. It can lead to organ failure and death if not treated quickly. Predicting sepsis is difficult: early symptoms are non-specific, and current tests can take up to 18 hours and require specialized labs. This delay before treatment increases the chance of death by nearly eight per cent per hour.

[Note: The up to 18 hour testing window for sepsis is a huge cause of sepsis-related mortality, because septic shock can kill in as little as 12 hours, long before the tests are even done.]

[Analytical] AI helps predict sepsis

Examining blood samples from more than 3,000 hospital patients with suspected sepsis, researchers from UBC and Sepset, a UBC spin-off biotechnology company, used machine learning to identify a six-gene expression signature “Sepset” that predicted sepsis nine times out of 10, and well before a formal diagnosis. With 248 additional blood samples using RT-PCR, (Reverse Transcription Polymerase Chain Reaction), a common hospital laboratory technique, the test was 94 per cent accurate in detecting early-stage sepsis in patients whose condition was about to worsen.

“This demonstrates the immense value of AI in analyzing extremely complex data to identify the important genes for predicting sepsis and writing an algorithm that predicts sepsis risk with high accuracy,” said co-author Dr. Bob Hancock, UBC professor of microbiology and immunology and CEO of Sepset.

Bringing the test to point of care

To bring the test closer to the bedside, the National Research Council of Canada (NRC) developed a portable device they called PowerBlade that uses a drop of blood and an automated sequence of steps to efficiently detect sepsis. Tested with 30 patients, the device was 92 per cent accurate in identifying patients at high risk of sepsis and 89 per cent accurate in ruling out those not at risk.

“PowerBlade delivered results in under three hours. Such a device can make treatment possible wherever a patient may be, including in the emergency room or remote health care units,” said Dr. Hancock.

“By combining cutting-edge microfluidic research with interdisciplinary collaboration across engineering, biology, and medicine, the Centre for Research and Applications in Fluidic Technologies (CRAFT) enables rapid, portable, and accessible testing solutions,” said co-author Dr. Teodor Veres, of the NRC’s Medical Devices Research Centre and CRAFT co-director. CRAFT, a joint venture between the University of Toronto, Unity Health Toronto and the NRC, accelerates the development of innovative devices that can bring high-quality diagnostics to the point of care.

Dr. Hancock’s team, including UBC research associate and co-author Dr. Evan Haney, has also started commercial development of the Sepset signature. “These tests detect the early warnings of sepsis, allowing physicians to act quickly to treat the patient, rather than waiting until the damage is done,” said Dr. Haney."

-via University of British Columbia, May 27, 2025

[fatuismooches]

cor meum, manus tuas.

synopsis: After your illness strikes again, Dottore decides to gift you a failed experi-, a new companion in order to soothe your injured heart.

includes: dottore w/ gn! reader

notes: A cute fluff fic where Dottie gives you Foxttore and the pufflings as a pet (the blue monster creature from Nahida's fairy tale.) He loves you a lot. Really just pure fluff and Foxttore getting on Dottore's nerves. Enjoy!

For as long as Il Dottore had known you, you had always been one to suggest things that he had no interest in. It was a habit of yours, and sometimes he’s not sure if you’re being genuine about it or if you simply want to rile him up, as you usually do.

One such example was back in the Akademiya when the two of you finally successfully reversed-engineered one of those machines after a painstaking amount of work. It was arduous and tiring, but immensely rewarding. Oh, he had so many ideas and things to do now, but you- you had other plans.

“So, now that we’ve got it under our control, I think we should program it to have some new tricks.” Zandik had paused at your words, as for once that was a good idea. He wondered what the limit of such a killing machine could possibly be.

“Go on.”

“Alright, imagine this, it’s about to swoop in and land the finishing blow, but instead, a whole bunch of confetti pops out and-”

“No.”

“You can’t even pick up a sword properly. You know nothing about fighting like I do! Just hear me out, it’ll be a great distraction because they’d never be expecting that, and boom, that’s where the real attack comes in.”

“No.” (Later on, he found out that you’d programmed the thing to have a single flower shoot out, just for him. He swiftly removed it after you were done laughing.) 

Or when you had begged and pleaded with him to let you teach him how to cook, just once. It was no secret you were always the one on cooking duty during the Akademiya, for he had a severe lack of skill for it. Furthermore, Zandik had no interest in it, not having the time or patience for something just meant as sustenance. You, however, were insistent on at least teaching him the basics, for it was no way for a student to live (according to you.)

The slicing and dicing went well enough, but the moment you turned your back for a few moments, he had somehow set the smoke detector off, and the Akademiya’s dorm director gave you two a good scolding. You learned your lesson after this particular incident, but from your giggles, he knew you didn’t feel an ounce of regret.

Your antics were truly something he wouldn’t get used to. And now, over four hundred years later, your teasing nature had remained the same, only that it became more verbal as you didn’t have the strength to pull off your elaborate plans anymore.

Which is why lately you had been clinging to him with pleading eyes and a jutted lip, vehemently asking for a pet despite his numerous rejections, going so far as to try and recruit other segments (who, unfortunately for you, did not join your cause.)

“Please honey, my darling, my beloved, my-”

“My answer is not going to change, [Name]. I will not tolerate anything running around and causing a mess.”

“Aww, but come on. I know you love cats. I know you secretly pet them when no one’s looking. I know that-”

“That’s enough from you. Now, will you sit or should I strap you down instead?”

That line of conversation persisted for a while until you mostly gave up, only throwing the idea in from time to time with a hmph. But now, he was uncharacteristically wondering if there could be a solution to this problem. 

Lately, you had been confined to your bed and room, too physically weak to move around much. He and the segments had done their best, as they always do, to take care of you, but one did not need to be a genius to know that you were feeling down. Not only because of the aches your body gave you, but also because you were lonely for most of the day, seeing as his other selves were usually too busy to spend an adequate amount of time with you. Once again, despite his lack of care for the emotions and feelings of others, he could see straight through your feigned expressions of nonchalance.

Dottore hated it when you pretended around him.

He could raise the topic but it would probably make matters worse. Instead, it was much more logical to work toward a solution for the issue - the solution being a companion to keep a smile on your face, and your mind at ease. Now, an actual pet probably would be a hassle to maintain in the lab, knowing the kind of activities that were… well, unsafe to say the least, so he put that possible solution to the side for now.

Initially, he sought to create something mechanical, having seen the mechanical animals from Fontaine. Of course, his creation would be far superior, and it would be quite helpful with your condition and all. But upon further thinking, knowing your tastes… you’d probably prefer something softer, considering how much you liked to cuddle him and your plushies. 

It was a conundrum the scholar found himself in, making his darling lover happy was not something that could be so easily scientifically concocted like the rest of the conclusions he reached. It required much more than simply following the lines of reason. Perhaps that’s why Dottore often struggled with it. 

Yet he did not have the luxury of time to continue pondering, for he did not want to leave you by yourself for much longer. And so he continued to sit at his desk, his hands automatically filling out paperwork while his mind was focused elsewhere, still thinking about what he could possibly gift you. Something warm and cuddly with the ability to communicate with you to some extent…

That was when he remembered something he created long, long ago.

The memories of that creation came back to him rather quickly once he remembered. Dottore remembered every experiment he’d done, but some were just not very special or successful and lingered very little in his mind. This was one of those unnoteworthy results. It was no secret that he was known to… play around with the concept of life, ignoring the rules that guarded it so strictly… and it was this idea that led to the birth of a creature, one that certainly did not belong to this world.

It was a monstrous, furry black thing that hid its true self with some kind of suit, its lone eye bright and red. It hadn’t been the first time his experiments led him to the unknown, but this… was just something he didn’t care about at all. After a few tests on the creature, he lost interest rather quickly. It was the farthest thing away from the life Dottore wanted to toy with. In fact, he had planned to dispose of the thing, but the creature seemed to understand his words more than he anticipated. It quickly scurried away, creating chaos and knocking down almost everything it could, skillfully making its escape.

Dottore had contemplated searching for his odd creation but decided that it wasn’t worth the time or energy. Judging from the distaste it held for him, it probably wouldn’t come around anyway. So, it could exist in the far depths of the lab for all he cared. It wasn’t like this was the first time he threw things into the back and forgot about them. Now, he was rather pleased that he didn’t get rid of his experiment. He had known you for long enough that he was sure you’d find such a thing cute, for some reason. It checked the fluffy and easily holdable boxes too. His only question was whether it could be alive after all these years… well, it was certainly worth a shot, seeing as his solutions were limited.

The answer to Dottore’s question was a yes. It had unfortunately taken much longer than he’d liked to search the dusty rooms (although admittedly, he had gotten a bit distracted with reviewing the old things he dumped) but at long last, he had found the round creature peacefully dozing without a care in… some kind of bed it had crafted with a bunch of papers and black fur. It looked perfectly content… in all honesty, Dottore was a bit interested in what it had been up to all this time. Maybe it held more scientific value than he thought… 

Regardless, in one swift motion, Dottore grabbed the creature by the scruff of its neck and it immediately awoke, attempting to scramble away. Once its single eye laid on the man who so rudely interrupted its sleep, it blinked, before multiplying its strength to escape, even trying to scratch him, but to no avail. The Harbinger’s grip was far too strong, of course. Meanwhile, Dottore had already lost a bit of patience from the creature’s incessant movements.

“Stop that,” he demanded sharply, and the critter instantly went still as its eye continued to stare at him completely widened. Dottore smiled, which felt rather eerie and frightening to the oversized creature.

“What, did you think I came all the way here to finish the job? Oh no, if I wanted to, I would have done so already a long time ago. Instead, I have another use for you. Something that will benefit both of us. I’m sure you’ll agree,” he hummed as he turned to leave the room. But as he took a single step, he found himself stepping on something soft. Curiously lifting his foot, he looked down to see a small, black, round ball of fluff staring at him with a red eye identical to the creature he held in his hand. And then another came into view.

… And another. Soon at least over a dozen had popped out of the shadows, all watching at him with anticipating eyes. He had forgotten these balls of black fur were also a byproduct of creating the creature. Now quite a few had surrounded his feet and were hopping up and down, attempting to climb his pants, which he quickly shook off with a scowl. Well, it looked like these things were going to follow him regardless of what he said…

“If you all are going to follow me, be prepared to make yourself useful,” he sighed in exasperation before finally leaving, stepping on a few more in the process. (The usefulness in question, was making sure you’d be left with a smile.) Based on the odd squeaking noises the smaller creatures made, they seemed to be on board with the idea. 

—

When your husband suddenly presented you with a gift contained in a rather large box, you were a bit surprised. Not because you were receiving a gift, but because of the size of it. Normally, he would give you small trinkets and such, things he’d thought you’d like (that had no real purpose to him, retrieved solely for you. Yes, he was very cute unintentionally. You had a little shelf for his stuff.) But you had no clue what he could have possibly gotten for you that warranted the need for such a big container…

You had long discarded your book in favor of new entertainment (you were reading the same sentences over and over anyway), your hands gliding over the rough material. Dottore was looking at you expectantly, having barely said anything besides shoving the thing on your bed, with a simple “for you.” You couldn’t help but chuckle, your chest getting a bit lighter from the previously stuffy atmosphere dissipating.

“Are you going to explain yourself or leave me guessing as to what I’ve done to receive such a thing?”

“You have been lonely and tired, and I seek to alleviate your pain. Yet there are certain things I cannot always do, which is why I found a solution,” he stated simply, pushing the box closer to you as if it was no big deal. Your eyes widened as your jaw hung, speechless, before you sent a small, teasing smile to your husband.

“I… well, who knew you could be such a considerate man? Keep that up and you’ll make me blush.” You couldn’t help but heat up a bit from his concern, although he didn’t say it outright. And you didn’t really have it in you to deny his words too, he was right after all, you have been lonely and tired from being cooped up in your room all day.

“Still, I want a hint! Ah, it’s too heavy for me to even lift up…” You couldn’t guess what could be in here. “Could it be the latest new novels from Inazuma?”

“No, but those are on the way. It’s something more-” At that moment, the box slightly shifted and you blinked in surprise.

“Oh, oh! Are these new models of Beta’s miniature Ruin Machines? Did he finally make the Ruin Sentinels series?” In truth, initially, the segment wasn’t interested in creating such pointless machines, but after you oh so innocently challenged him to make them movable and fit in the palm of your hand, he took the bait and presented them to you smugly. Needless to say, you very much liked your little collection of action figures, and you were hoping he had finally made ones that could fly.

“No, it’s-” Once again, he was interrupted by even more dramatic shuffling, thumping echoing loudly from inside the box which made you scoot back a bit.

“Dottore, you sure whatever’s in here isn’t going to attack me…?” Your voice was more lighthearted than worried, but now you were squinting at him a bit suspiciously. Dottore’s expression remained unaffected, but inside he was the slightest bit annoyed. He had told those damn things not to move around. Thankfully, a sharp slap to the cover of the box caused the movements to cease, and he only smiled at you once again.

“As I was saying, it’s something you have been asking about for a long time.” He watched as your face turned thoughtful, fingers drumming when suddenly it became very obvious as to what it was. 

“Is it… is it what I think it is?” He found your expression rather amusing as he witnessed your eyes becoming sparkly with joy.

“Go ahead,” Dottore motioned and you wasted no time pulling the cover off the box, your eyes meeting a furry, blue creature whose lone eye gazed up at you curiously. You blinked at it, and it blinked back at you, but you had no time to say anything before some other unknown creatures began pouring out the box and spilling onto your bed, some crawling on your lap. This was certainly not the average pet you had expected… but you were not complaining. These things were the cutest - not to mention the little strand of hair on the top.

“Dottore,” you giggled at the fluff tickling your skin, “what exactly are these- oh!” Your words were interrupted when the larger creature suddenly jumped out of the box and launched itself into you, pawing your chest. You reciprocated the attention in delight, giving it numerous head pats and taking a closer look at it. Most of its soft fur seemed to be blue, although its head was black, and its beak was harder than the rest of its body. Regardless, it was completely adorable, and it seemed to like you very much.

“It is something I created in my lab during one of my experiments. I figured it would be something you’d enjoy.” You lit up, and the scholar couldn’t help but appreciate how you seemed to glow.

“You made these little guys for me? Oh, I always knew you could be such a romantic! I have my husband, my son, and now a cute pet. Isn’t it nice to see our family grow, Zandik?” He remained silent at your hastily made conclusion, deciding that the little white lie wouldn’t hurt, especially not when you looked this happy. After all, he imagined your response to him keeping this creature in the backrooms of his laboratory for ages wouldn’t be very well received, considering how attached you were to it already. Thankfully, you didn’t notice the glare the creature sent him either.

“Do they have names yet?” Dottore thought back to the string of numbers and letters attached to this experiment and opted not to disclose that, shaking his head. You hummed, trying to think of what name to bestow upon your new pets until you quickly came up with something good.

“Foxttore,” you stated firmly.

“Foxttore?” He repeated a few seconds after you, rather unimpressed.

“Yes! Because he looks like a fox, and he also kind of looks like you!” You playfully squished the creature’s cheeks.

“I bear no resemblance to that creature,” he frowned, immediately refuting your statement.

“Don’t look like that,” you teased. “It’s a compliment. You’re both cuties that are the same shade of blue,” you leaned in to kiss him gently, a simple way to silence him despite his vexation. “Now as for these little ones…” you thought once more as the black puff balls clung to your arm, Dottorelings… no, that’s too long… how about pufflings? Yes, that will do nicely!” Seemingly understanding your words, the pufflings began jumping up and down in glee. You then moved closer to the man and enveloped him in a hug.

“Thank you for this, Zandik. I am very happy,” you whispered quietly as you snuggled into his neck. It was the truth - you really were happy to have some company constantly around. Your husband returned the hug and you loved how his strong arms felt around you.

“Of course. But if they happen to cause you any… trouble,” he sent a look to the thing now called “Foxttore”, “be sure to tell me.”

“Aww, don’t say that. Foxttore is a good boy! Right?” You smiled brightly at your new pet, who was kneading the blanket, watching the two of you. The contrast between its creator’s less-than-pleasant face and your wide grin was stark and rather easy to choose from. It then hopped up and practically wedged itself in between the two of you, looking up to you with a pleading eye, desperate for attention. You squealed with delight and pressed the creature to your cheek, nuzzling against it.

When Dottore noticed the cheeky look his creation sent him, he wondered if this was actually a good idea.

—

Foxttore and the pufflings were the best and cutest companions you could ever ask for.

The pufflings were always scattered about your room, resting in different locations. You honestly had no clue how many there were, nor could you tell them apart, but you swore they squeezed through the bottom of your door somehow because sometimes they’d return with random items. They seemed pretty starved for attention… they even liked it when you squished them like a stress ball.

Foxttore was equally as cuddly, but also rather intelligent. He would fetch you items so you didn’t need to get up, and he could even turn a doorknob… you were fascinated. One of your favorite things to do was give him a note for him to deliver to a segment, and he would actually deliver it. (Said note usually contained you begging a segment to visit you, otherwise you’d die without their attention.)

After a lot of cuddling and rubbing, you found out that Foxttore was just a severely oversized puffling with four legs instead. That blue fur of his wasn’t even his, just a suit he wore. It was quite funny to see him without it on. It seemed rather shy without its fox fur, but with enough kisses, hugs, and reassurance, it had no problem lounging around without it.

You read them stories, showed them everything your room had to offer, placed some of Beta’s cute pink bows on them, bathed with them - you were starting to look forward to the day much more now that you could wake up to them.

—

While Dottore knew that you would get attached to the little monstrosities he gifted you, perhaps he didn’t anticipate it to reach this degree. Even after you had gotten well enough to stroll around the lab again, the blasted things were attached to your hip the whole time.

Visiting the segments? They would come up to you, caressing and teasing you with their deliciously infuriating small touches and kisses, and then all of a sudden a small crash would sound throughout the room, the culprit being Foxttore.

Visiting him? He’d have you on his lap, about to pin you to his desk, when he noticed the pufflings watching him from all corners of the room. It was maddening trying to chase them away, but then you’d get pouty about how the creatures didn’t like to be alone. (The only segment that the creature seemed to like was Zandy, although it had taken a while - a bit of scolding from you, and many offerings of food from the child to Foxttore had done the trick.)

As much as Dottore was glad your mood had improved greatly, admittedly, it would please him if he could just chuck his creations out into the Snezhnayan snow, just to finally get some alone time with you. But you loved them too much, so he resolved to resort to other means… eventually.

Over time, your pets gradually began to not hog your attention the whole time, but you were very insistent on helping Dottore and them become friends. It wasn’t very easy, however, they seemed to have some tension between them. You weren’t really sure why, but you still loved having them together.

—

“Dottore! Oh Dottore, you have to watch this,” you puffed out your chest proudly as Foxttore trotted behind you. Your husband looked at you questioningly before you spread your arms out, directing them toward the creature.

“I taught Foxttore tricks! Watch this! Foxttore, sit!” Your pet obediently sat down, his tail wagging (although you had no clue how that worked since it was just a suit…)

“Foxttore, spin around!”

“Foxttore, roll over!”

“Now high-five me!” Dottore watched in amusement as the blue creature followed your commands with ease. Perhaps it really was smarter than he thought. Regardless, all he cared about was that you were occupied with something, rather than being by yourself.

“Okay, now fetch Dottore’s secret stash of sweets!” At that, Foxttore began making its way over to one of the numerous bookshelves in Dottore’s office before the Harbinger quickly realized what you said, and stopped the creature in its tracks.

“I knew there were too many pieces missing,” he stared at you humorlessly, while you sweated nervously.

“W-What? You said I was allowed to take some!”

“I said you, not this… thing,” the man then picked up Foxttore by its strands of blue hair, which the creature fought at, and dropped it in your arms like it was some pest. “I’m moving it.” 

“Please don’t! I won’t do it again!”

—

The continued pampering of Foxttore had, unfortunately for your lovers, become a norm to see around the lab. He was a spoiled lil shit, in other words, who could do no wrong in your eyes… which is why every new thing you did had little to no effect on them anymore besides an eye twitch of annoyance and a promise to bully the creature later. The current situation was one such time. Dottore had come into your room only to see many abnormally small clothes scattered on your bed, with you in the center of it all.

“Oh Dottie, you’re just in time! Look at what I got!” You then held up Foxttore in all his glory, his new hoodie substantially thinner with different patterns, a great big smile on your face.

… It was only you who had the privilege of using his time like this.

“Now before you ask how I got these, I had them custom-made! See, I wanted to sew the clothes myself, but my hands have been too shaky lately and then you’d get all grumpy if I hurt myself with the needle, so I just asked Columbina to find someone for me and she did! She’s a great friend!” You continued to ramble on. 

“See, the poor thing gets too hot sometimes, especially when he starts running on our walks,” you said sadly, while he wondered how exactly you walked this monstrosity, “that’s why I got him different clothes! And they’re stylish too! Look, he’s even got pajamas! Don’t you think it’s cute?” You looked at him, your eyes sparkling and glittering with light that dazzled him.

In all honesty, Dottore didn’t really care about the little abomination of a creature. In fact, he probably leaned more into disdain for it. But what he did care about was you, and what made you happy, what put a smile on your face since he hated for it to be missing.

“I believe your definition of cute is rather unusual.”

“Huh? How could you not think Foxttore is the cutest thing ever? Oh… I see your game. You think I’m the cutest thing ever, don’t you?” You boldly teased him which didn’t phase him, only making a confident smirk grow on his face.

“I suppose that would be accurate, yes. Nothing else comes to mind that could be compared to your beauty,” he said smoothly, plucking the creature from your hands and dropping it elsewhere, which it clearly disliked, but he was more interested in your reaction. Your mouth slightly ajar, heat creeping up your face with a flustered expression, breathing speeding up a bit.

“A-As long as you’re aware,” you mumbled shyly, turning your face away, although your slight smile was apparent.

Needless to say, Zandik was always aware of his beloved.

—

You always loved it when you were able to leave the lab. Sometimes they were frequent outings, sometimes they were very rare. It all depended on how well you had been feeling lately. Today, you had finally been able to go out for a short walk with Dottore after so long. The cold air and snow had you shivering, but feeling the wind hit your cheeks was worth it. (And being able to cling to your husband was a definite plus in your books.) But you were still happy to come back home.

… Especially when you were greeted by your little friend.

As soon as you walked through the door, you noticed that Foxttore was impatiently waiting by the entrance. The moment he saw you, he sped toward you at light speed and pawed at your legs for pets, hopping up and down. You couldn’t help but laugh as you bent down to give him some attention which he happily reciprocated, but then he pulled away and started wildly running around the two of you.

“Aww, Foxttore is having zoomies!”

“… Pardon?”

“He’s having zoomies!” You smiled at your husband before crouching down, and your pet immediately ran into your arms and settled himself there as you picked him up. “Aww, you must have missed us so much, didn’t you?” You cooed as you rubbed his tummy, while Dottore merely stared at you blankly. The man then noticed the creature’s eye had narrowed into a half circle directed toward him as if to mock him. 

If there was a point system between the two of them as to who was able to steal your attention more, Dottore would sorely be losing.

—

It was one of the few nights where you were able to spend a night like most couples do at the end of the day - resting in the same bed with your lover. You weren’t even sure how you managed to do it this time. You thought it was probably due to your persistence but also that he was genuinely tired. (Well, he had been genuinely tired for ages now, but you were able to get him on a weak day, perhaps.)

You had always loved it when Dottore held you, even if it was slack or just one arm, you always felt safe. Protected. Warm. Happy. The feelings only amplified when both his arms caged you into his chest, which was the perfect place for you to snuggle. (Still, he’d never admit to being the little spoon from when he was a student.)

“Hey, Zandik?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for everything you’ve done lately, by the way.”

“Of course,” his answer was as simple as could be. He stroked your hair languidly, always one to brush off your thank yous.

“I mean it,” you wiggled out of his grip to look him in the eye, lip jutting out slightly.

“I already know you do. You do not need to keep saying it every time.” You pouted at his response. How else were you supposed to show your appreciation? You then grabbed his arm, which was surprisingly pliable, and placed his hand over your heart.

“Then let me know if you need anything from me. Anything at all. I have to pay you back eventually, you know.” Dottore looked as if he was enjoying himself.

“What do you propose? I’ll listen to your suggestions.”

“Well… I have kisses and cuddles as my expertise. I can cook and bake for you sometimes too… oh, but I can also try doing some of your paperwork! …What? You’re not impressed? I guess I can try to do some more… unsavory tasks as well. The Fatui agents listen to what I have to say quite easily,” you continued to chatter as Dottore’s fingers made their way from your cheek to your neck and then your collarbone, making you stammer at the sensation. “Hey, you’re not even taking me seriously, are you?” Your husband only chuckled at your furrowed eyebrows and grumbling.

If anything, he would want you to repay him by letting him see the faces you’ll make once you’re finally free of your illness.

“Anyway…” you squeezed his hand with yours that still rested on your chest, “You probably know this already, with that ever-calculating mind of yours, but you hold my heart in your hands. I’ll always be here with you.” It was a funny thing to think about, giving your heart to someone like him, in both a physical and intangible sense. Trusting him with your frail body, trusting him with your love, knowing he could squeeze it to a pulp if he wanted to. But he wouldn’t.

He would treat your heart with the utmost care and precaution, not daring to risk even the slightest harm to it.

Dottore stared at you for a few moments while you held his gaze, resolute on making your point known. Wordlessly, he began to move closer to your soft lips, intent on making his response to your statement physical. He was so close, his nose brushing against yours, and your warm breath on his. He was about to finally satiate his desire when-

Something was scratching at the door. Loudly, too. The sudden noise made you jump back and turn your gaze to the door. The Harbinger had a bad feeling about this.

“Did you hear that?”

“No.”

“You’re just lying now!” With a huff, you pushed the blankets off, much to his displeasure, and made your way to the door, opening it. There was Foxttore, making strange noises that he tried his best to mask as cries.

The bliss Dottore felt a few moments ago had turned to immense annoyance immediately.

“Oh, you poor baby! Did you have a nightmare or something?” You exclaimed before quickly scooping Foxttore into your arms and bringing him onto the bed. “It’s okay, you’re with us now…” You softly murmured, stroking it gently as you let it settle on your chest. Where Dottore’s hands should be right now, cupping your soft skin instead of that damned creature.

Dottore swore he was going to throw that thing out once you were asleep.

[toxicrivalries]

To our most dearest most beloved elle @gayferrari ✨

Happy birth-week from carp @antspaul and myself. Please enjoy this wonderful and silly gift from the pair of us ❤️. We're so glad to have you in both our lives, and hope this brings you joy.

(also here on ao3)

Image ID under the cut.

[a series of 10 images describing Charles Leclerc’s journey into becoming a mouse during the 2025 Formula 1 season. 

IMAGE 1: 

A screenshot from Autosport’s website. 

‘Leclerc made mouse in new Ferrari strategy’ followed by a banner of two images showing Leclerc in his human form and also as a striped field mouse. 

The text reads:

‘Charles Leclerc has turned into a mouse ahead of 2025 season testing, as reported by official channels earlier today. 

Leclerc’s transformation occurred as an experimental effort by Ferrari to maximize their drivers’ physical reflexes. Other teams have already logged formal complaints. The FIA have yet to make their official decision, but an insider source insists that “there is nothing in the rulebook that dictates mice cannot compete in Formula 1”. 

Ferrari boss Frederick Vasseur seemed quite pleased with the outcomes. When asked if the Monegasque driver could communicate over team radio while in mouse form, Vasseur responded that his team are presently working through solutions. He reassured Autosport that Ferrari’s mouseification process is ‘entirely reversible’, though it seems the subject of the transformation must be willing to undergo the process again - a task far more difficult to achieve with a vocabulary limited to squeaks.’

IMAGE 2: 

Charles Leclerc in mouse form, standing near the cockpit of his F1 car. He is a striped field mouse wearing a ferrari cap.

IMAGE 3: 

Charles Leclerc in mouse form, standing on the head of his golden Dachshund Leo. Leo is running towards the viewer with a red chew toy in his mouth. 

IMAGE 4: 

Screenshot of Leclerc’s radio message during a race. The radio reads: ‘Squeak Squeak ****** Squeak’

IMAGE 5: 

An advertisement of Parmesan cheese being sold by Charles’ ice cream company. Charles in his mouse form is posing by a wheel of parmesan. The word LEC in brand font is above his head. 

IMAGE 6: 

A screenshot from the GPDA’s instagram profile. It shows the GDPA’s statement on Charles’ mouse transformation. 

The text reads: 

“‘GPDA Statement regarding “Mouseification’

As athletes, we wholeheartedly understand and support technological developments in revolutionising our sport. As such, we commend the efforts of the scientific and engineering minds behind Ferrari’s “mouseification” process. However, as the representative body of Formula 1 drivers, the GPDA must voice its concerns.

First, we must state that the Grand Prix Drivers Association does not exclude non-human members. Indeed, our purpose is to represent all drivers, including drivers who are mice. Should the FIA, stewards, or any other members of the governing bodies of our Sport single out our rodent co-competitors, it is within the duties of the GPDA to intervene.

Further, the GPDA would like to express concern for the ethics of turning drivers at the pinnacle of motorsport into common household animals. While the engineers of this technique have made assurances that it is reversible, we want to be 100% certain this is the case. Additionally, we want full confirmation that no driver should have to undergo a similar transformation without his or her express permission and consent, regardless of any competitive benefits it may provide.

Lastly, we would like to state on record that GPDA members who have been transformed into animals are willingly participating in the Sport, and that it is not considered animal cruelty. However, should a team force a driver to compete in animal form against their will, the parties involved will be liable for animal cruelty.

The GPDA wishes to be as collaborative and as forthcoming as possible with the stakeholders, teams, individuals, and governing bodies involved in these changes to the sport that we all hold dear.

Best regards, 

The Directors and Chairman of the GPDA on behalf of the Grand Prix Drivers.

#RacingUnited for our Safety, our Sport, our Fans.”

IMAGE 7: 

A screenshot of Charles’ interview with the Athletic. The title reads: “Man or Mouse? Leclerc opens up about mouseification, cheese sponsorship, and 2025 WDC hopes”

It is followed by a graphic banner. The banner displays the Ferrari badge, Charles in his human form, and Charles in his mouse form. His mouse form is wearing a Ferrari cap, and is on a red circle background. 

IMAGE 8: 

A screenshot of Charles’ interview with the Athletic, containing an excerpt of it.

The text reads: 

“Man or Mouse? Leclerc opens up about mouseification, cheese sponsorship, and 2025 WDC hopes”

Indeed, Leclerc has gone from success to success since the opening of the 2025 season. Within a week of claiming the top step in Melbourne, the Monegasque driver announced a new personal sponsorship and collaboration with none other than Parmigiano Reggiano — a match made in heaven, since Leclerc’s momentary mouse metamorphosis. 

“It’s changed my outlook on racing,” he squeaked to his interpreter, four-time world champion Sebastian Vettel, at whose farm Leclerc has been rumoured to reside since his mouseification. “Being a mouse, it gives me more courage in the car to try things I wouldn’t be trying in previous seasons.” 

This new perspective can be seen in how Leclerc carries himself, though he is only ten centimeters tall. When asked about his target for this season, he answered without hesitation: “To be world champion. This hasn’t changed. I am more certain than ever that this year it is possible.” The current points standings would not disagree. “No mouse has ever been world champion. It would mean a lot to the greater rodent community. It would mean a lot to me.”’

IMAGE 9: 

A breaking news announcement from the official F1 channels. It is framed in Ferrari red. It shows Charles’ in mouse form on his car. 

The text in the image reads: 

‘BREAKING 

Ferrari left with ‘no way to reverse’ Leclerc mouseification. 

IMAGE 10: 

A photo of Sebastian Vettel at the paddock. Charles Leclerc in mouse form is sitting on his shoulder, wearing a little bucket hat. 

END ID]

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Brother makes a demon-haunted printer

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me in RICHMOND TOMORROW (Mar 5) and in AUSTIN> on Mar 10. More tour dates here. Mail-order signed copies from LA's Diesel Books.

You guys, I don't want to bum you out or anything, but I think there's a good chance than some self-described capitalists aren't really into capitalism.

Sorry.

Take incentives: Charlie Munger, capitalism's quippiest pitchman, famously said, "Show me the incentive and I’ll show you the outcome." And here's some mindblowing horseshoe theory for ya: Munger agrees with the noted Communist agitator Adam Smith, whose anti-rentier, pro-government-regulation jeremiad "The Wealth of Nations" contains this notorious passage:

It is not from the benevolence of the butcher, the brewer, or the baker that we expect our dinner, but from their regard to their own self-interest. We address ourselves not to their humanity but to their self-love, and never talk to them of our own necessities, but of their advantages.

Incentives matter – if you design a system that permits abuse, you should expect abuse. Now, I'm not 100% on board with this: every one of us has ways to undetectably cheat the system and enrich ourselves, but most of the time, most of us play by the rules.

But it's different for corporations: the myth of "shareholder supremacy" has reached pandemic levels among the artificial lifeforms we call corporate persons, and it's impossible to rise through the corporate ranks without repeating and believing the catechism that there is a law that requires executives to lie, cheat and steal if it results in an extra dollar for the investors, in the name of "fiduciary duty":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/18/falsifiability/#figleaves-not-rubrics

And this attitude has leaked out into politics and everyday life, so that many of our neighbors have been brainwashed into thinking that a successful cheat is a success in life, that pulling a fast one "makes you smart":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/12/04/its-not-a-lie/#its-a-premature-truth

In a world dominated by a belief in the moral virtue and legal necessity of ripping off anyone you can get away with cheating, then, sure, any system that permits cheating is a system in which cheating will occur.

This shouldn't be controversial, but if so, how are we to explain the whole concept of the Internet of Things? Installing networked computers into our appliances, office equipment, vehicles and homes is an invitation of mischief: the software in those computers can be remotely altered after you purchase them, taking away the features you paid for and then selling them back to you.

Now, an advocate for market-based solutions has a ready-made response to this: if a company downgrades a device you own, this merely invites another company to step in with a disenshittifying plug-in that makes things better. If the company that made your garage-door opener pushes an over-the-air update that blocks you from using an ad-free, well-designed app and forces you to use an enshittified app that forces you to look at ads before you can open the garage, well, that's an opportunity for a rival company to sell you a better software update for your garage-door opener, one that restores the lost functionality:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/09/lead-me-not-into-temptation/#chamberlain

I'm no hayekpilled market truefan, but I'm pretty sure that would work.

However.

The problem is that since 1998, that kind of reverse-engineering has been a felony under Section 1201 of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, which bans bypassing "an effective access control"

https://locusmag.com/2020/09/cory-doctorow-ip/

There's a pretty obvious incentive at play when companies have the ability to unilaterally alter how their products work after you buy them and you are legally prohibited to change how the product works after you buy them. This is the first lesson of the Darth Vader MBA: "I am altering the deal. Pray I don't alter it any further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

I've been banging this drum for decades now – like when I got into a public (friendly) spat with the editor of Wired magazine over their reviews of DRM-based media devices. I argued that it was irresponsible to review a device that could be unilaterally downgraded by the manufacturer at any time, without – at a minimum – noting that the feature you're buying the gadget for might disappear without warning after you've shelled out your hard-earned money:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/03/painful-burning-dribble/#law-of-intended-consequences

Of course, companies that get a reputation for these kinds of shenanigans might lose market share to better competitors. Sure, if the company that made your phone or your thermostat or your insulin pump reached into it across the internet and made it worse, you're shit out of luck when it comes to that device. But you can buy your next device from a better company, right?

Well, sure – in a competitive market, that's a plausible theory of "market discipline." Companies that fear losing business to rivals might behave themselves better.

In theory.

But in practice, the world's "advanced economies" have spent the past 40 years running an uncontrolled experiment in what happens if you don't enforce competition law, and instead allow companies to buy all their competitors. The result is across-the-board industrial oligopolies, cartels, duopolies and monopolies in nearly every category of good and service:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Now, even a duopoly has some competition. If you don't like Coke, there's always Pepsi. But again, in practice, companies in concentrated industries find it easy to "tacitly collude" to adopt one another's worst habits – the differences between the outrageous payment processing charged by Apple's App Store and the junk fees charged by Google Play are about as meaningful as the differences between Coke and Pepsi.

Which brings me to printers.

I know.

Ugh.

Printers are the worst and HP is the worst of the worst. For years, HP has been abusing its market dominance – and its customers' wallets – by inflating the price of ink and rolling out countermeasures to prevent you from refilling your old cartridges or buying third-party ink. Worse, HP have mastered the Darth Vader MBA, bushing updates to its printers that sneakily downgrade them after you've bought them and taken them home.

Here's a sneaky trick HP came up with: they send a "security update" to your printer. After you click "OK," a little progress bar zips across the screen and the printer reboots itself, and then…nothing. The printer declares itself to be "up to date" and works exactly like it did before you installed the update. But inside the printer, a countdown timer has kicked off, and then, months later, the "security update" activates itself, like a software Manchurian Candidate.

Because that "security update" protects the security of HP, against HP customers. It is designed to detect and reject the very latest third-party ink cartridges, which means that if you've just bought a year's worth of ink at Costco, you might wake up the next day and discover that your printer will no longer accept them – because of an update you ran six months before.

Why does HP put such a long fuse on its logic bomb? For the same reason that viruses like covid evolve to be contagious before you show symptoms. If the update immediately broke compatibility with third party ink, word would spread, and some HP customers would turn off their printers' wifi before the "security update" could be applied to them.

By asymptomatically incubating the infection over a long, patient timescale, HP maximizes the spread of the contagion, guaranteeing a global pandemic of enshittiification:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

HP has done this – and worse – over and over, and every time I write about it, people pop up to recommend their Brother printers as the enshittification-free alternative. I own a Brother, an HL3170-CDW laser printer that's basically indestructible, cheerfully accepts third-party toner, and costs almost nothing to run.

But I still don't connect it to my wifi. The idea that Brother is a better company than HP – that is possesses some intrinsic antienshittificatory virtue – has always struck me as a foolish belief. Brother has means, motive and opportunity to push over-the-air downgrades to block third-party ink as HP.

Which is exactly what they've done.

Yesterday, Louis Rossman, hero of the Right to Repair movement, revealed that Brother had just pushed a mandatory over-the-air update that locks out third-party ink:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bpHX_9fHNqE

Rossman has a thorough technical breakdown of the heist, but it boils down to this. Brother is just as shit as HP. Look from the men to the pigs and the pigs to the men all you want – you will never spot the difference. Take the Pepsi Challenge – bet you won't be able to guess which is which:

https://wiki.rossmanngroup.com/wiki/Brother_ink_lockout_%26_quality_sabotage

This was the absolutely predictable outcome of the regulatory incentives our corporate overlords created, the enormous, far-reaching power we handed to these corporations. With that great power came no responsibility:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/26/ursula-franklin/#franklinite

Filling our devices with computers that run programs that can be changed in secret, that we're not allowed to inspect or alter? It's a recipe for a demon-haunted world, where the devices we entrust with our livelihood, our privacy and our wellbeing are possessed by hellions who escape from the digital Tartarus and are unleashed upon humanity.

Demons have possessed the Internet of Things. It's in Teslas:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/07/28/edison-not-tesla/#demon-haunted-world

and in every other car, too:

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

Our devices – phones, pacemakers, appliances and home security systems – are designed to prevent us to find out what they're doing. That means that when malicious software infects them, then – by design – these devices prevent us from knowing about it or doing anything about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/18/descartes-delenda-est/#self-destruct-sequence-initiated

This should not come as a surprise to anyone. Show me the incentive and I'll show you the outcome.

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

https://pluralistic.net/2025/03/05/printers-devil/#show-me-the-incentives-i-will-show-you-the-outcome

[internetskiff]

The most powerful ability exclusive to humanity in the Half Life/Portal shared universe is our ability to just throw bullshit at the wall and see what sticks. Aperture "OSHA are the devil" Science have managed to create completely safe interconnected points in space. The same company that turns people's blood into gasoline and shoves lions and humans into the same enclosed space for the vague concept of "Science". Meanwhile Black Mesa still has to use Xen as a crossing and their teleportation device requires an entire reactor with a village's worth of staff constantly maintaining it, just to end up having most of said staff abducted by onion-headed aliens. Even the resistance hasn't managed to create completely stable teleporters with a compressed Xen relay, meanwhile Aperture just went "oh dude let's shove a black hole into a non-waterproof gun" and have just created a teleportation method that just removes Xen from the equation entirely. Doesn't change the fact they bullshat so bad they basically got themselves gassed to death, but still.

The Resistance are a good example of this too. The Combine seem to have a complete set-in-stone thought process and understanding of science which meant they didn't even begin to explore local teleportation via Xen, meanwhile a group of random human mechanics and scientists have managed to cobble together at least two semi-functional local teleporters out of scrap metal and stolen Combine tech, to the point the All-Consuming Interdimensional Empire had to straight up copy their homework. And that isn't even the only time they seem to be taking human shit to just copy the blueprints.

They 100% just yoinked the entire damn car out of that garage just to take a crack at reverse-engineering the Tau Cannon attached to it. Even Resistance weaponry somehow manages to rival or at least stand equal to Combine tech - and we're talking improvised crossbows that shoot superheated rods of rebar at the target compared to high-tech rifles that can discharge orbs of pure dark energy. The collapse of the entire Citadel is basically set into motion as a result of a cobbled together Rebel device placed into extremely capable hands.

The events of the Portal games are a case of extremely elaborate machinelike planning versus pure human improvisation, with Chell's entire escape in the first game involving her simply weaseling her way through small cracks that GLaDOS missed while setting up her ambushes, eventually turning her own rocket turret against her to destroy her.

I suppose you could argue this falls flat in Portal 2 with Wheatley, but it's important to remember he's designed to be an utter idiot, so it's safe to say he wouldn't obsess over the larger picture like GLaDOS to the point where he fails to see the cracks. Yes, he's the one that breaks Chell out of the test chambers again, and yes, he's the one that came up with the sabotage plot - but it's important to note while he knows what to target in the sabotage, when we actually get there he doesn't quite know how to sabotage it, leaving Chell to figure it out on her own. She botches the Turret Quality Control Line with some minor guidance, but it's basically completely up to her to figure out how to cut off the Neurotoxin Supply. It's through her improvisation that Wheatley even manages to get into GLaDOS' chamber, tumbling through her neurotoxin vent and shattering the glass cage she trapped Chell inside of. It's through Chell's improvisation that the Core Transfer even occurs in the first place.

The script is flipped specifically when Wheatley takes charge, because oops - turns out a mind capable of focusing on the bigger picture might be pretty important when it comes to running an entire facility powered by it's own Reactor. Wheatley just completely zeroes in on his own personal pleasure, hacking up test chambers and the objects within them to try and figure out the easiest way to get his solution euphoria as quick as possible.

Still, something that's pretty interesting is that only Wheatley has ever managed to create a trap that's impossible to foresee and avoid, something GLaDOS has repeatedly failed to do to the point she ends up commending him. I believe this is because his way of thinking is a lot closer to Chell's compared to GLaDOS'. He puts up way more of a fight as the two run through the facility trying to get to him, seemingly improvising on the spot just like Chell has been over the course of the two games. Even his lair would be impossible to survive if it weren't for a single Conversion Gel pipe he somehow failed to notice and remove.

Whether in a laboratory deep beneath the soil or an alien tower tall enough to split the clouds, the ingenuity of even a single person is enough to topple a tower or destroy a supercomputer 3 times over.

Marc Laidlaw put what I'm trying to say into a single sentence when writing for the BreenGrub twitter account:

"The superstructure is riddled with cracks."

[thewertsearch]

Ah, the Sylladex. Across the entirety of my long, long journey through this comic, you've remained my oldest and dearest friend.

I honestly thought you'd run out of ways to surprise me - but as usual, I underestimated just how far you can really go with punch-card alchemy.

You flip the card over and look at the back. The thing about this modus you think is really cool is that instead of showing a completely useless wobbly garbled code on the back, it itemizes the components which could be used to create it!

The comic has just given us a way to reverse-engineer item recipes, which was one of the only missing pieces left to slot into the alchemy system. Back in Act 4, John was convinced that this was impossible, but Sollux solved it off-panel, and now we know how he did it.

This is pretty crazy, isn't it? We can deconstruct items now, allowing us to disassemble any object, and take a peek at the concepts that it's synthesized from. The potential utility here is insane. If this modus works on ghost images, we could tear apart a Kernelsprite, and see what makes it tick. Hell, we could tear apart a Genesis Frog.

...we could tear apart Skaia.

Just another wonderful innovation by your favorite company. It releases many products of an experimental nature, often with applicability to other kinds of technology and products which haven't hit the market yet.

But, of course, this wonderful innovation comes with some serious strings attached. I'm sure it was given to Jane for a reason, and she'll undoubtedly end up using it in a way that causes problems for us, and solutions for Lord English.

Ayy, it's the Matriorb!

Granted, this doesn't really help Kanaya recreate the thing. The orb's code was never that hard to obtain - just draw it on Jade's Pictionary modus, or something. No, the real issue is that the Matriorb is virtually inimitable, and as a result, its Grist cost is astronomical. Plus, it requires a type of Grist that we've never even seen before.

Edit: Wait, hang on. That's not the cost of the Matriorb, that's how much it would cost to use the Matriorb to make the hat. Strange, that the same item can have multiple Grist costs - but nonetheless, my point still stands. The Matriorb is probably too expensive to alchemize casually.

I suppose there's nothing stopping us from editing the Matriorb's code to try and make it cheaper. Like, perhaps we could scale down the recipe somehow, and try to just synthesize a single troll's genome, rather than the genetic base of an entire race. That would be a lot more affordable, and still useful.

You captchalogue your FAVORITE HAT, which is also your ONLY HAT. You spent basically your ENTIRE CHILDHOOD in this hat, pretending to be hard boiled detectives and whatnot.

I guess it sort of makes sense that the Matriorb can be used to make Dad's hat. The orb represents Alternian parenthood, and the book of prophecies it was merged with could represent the future. Combine those two concepts, and you get the future of parenthood, from the perspective of Alternia - in other words, the parenthood of humanity. So, the merger yields an item representing a human parent: Dad Egbert's hat.

Don't ask me about the potted plant, though. I haven't the foggiest.

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Edward Cullen (5/8)

*TW for threat of external SA, not love interest

WC: 2k

R assumed that Edward would be hot on her tail, but as she reversed out of the lot, she made brief eye contact with him from the open doorway. His bright red eyes shone, even in the shadow of the setting sun.

R high-tailed it to Forks and then right through it. She was uncertain of how to deal with the situation - nobody would ever believe her if she told, and then her head would be ripped off. She doubted she could run or hide for long, but that seemed to be the only option. God knows where she would go, even just to rest a night, but she had to get away to think of some sort of temporary solution.

At some point as she took winding backroads through dense, dark forest, she slowed. She cast her wary gaze to the various mirrors and windows, hardly spotting anything abnormal. R let out a shaky sigh, blinking away the blurriness. She noticed the blinking red fuel icon. R gulped. She wasn’t too familiar of where she was or how far she had driven, but it worried her. With a flip of her phone she could assess the lack of cell service, and couldn’t even turn around because she had been on a winding backroad through the mountain for far longer than she had gas to spare. Her only option was to keep to the road and hope for a miracle.

R wished she had cleared her mind sooner to truly identify a route that didn’t lead to a thin dirt and gravel road. It felt like a dead end right toward her demise. She felt trapped and powerless.

A few miles further, and then the car slowly rolled to a stop. R was so angry. She slammed her hands onto the horn, releasing a deafening, prolonged hike. Steaming tears rolled down her face and she let out a shriek.

She was a fraud, but she was pissed. R had been so calculated when considering a new town, a new college, a new community. But she was damned to hell anyways because control was never her’s - it was some possessive beast’s. 

After the anger as the engine shut down and she was shrouded in darkness, the moon or stars hardly making a peak, the sadness and despair returned. It was like some fucked up baby trap except worse - no law could prevent that monster from controlling her. Whether he was mad enough to murder her or lovestruck enough to keep her contained, both options sounded hellish.

She almost wished he had followed. R was beginning to question if he had, or if he had known she would strand herself out in the middle of nowhere to rot. Even from the firmly shut windows and doors, the sounds of cicadas rang out from the wilderness. R felt less alone with the bugs at least. But she couldn’t see beyond her meager cell screen, revealing an inch or two out the window.

R sat and contemplated not only the various fates to come, but also what she could have done better. Keeping an extra gas canister and flashlight should have been a must. She was so focused on making Forks a secure home for herself she did not consider reinforcing the way to escape it. R felt like an idiot.

On one end, a car could happen to roll by and assist or murder her. Or Edward would. Or in the morning she would have to hoof it to any signal and either die of dehydration or get mauled by a bear. None sounded like a painless demise.

R’s body was exhausted, but her mind was racing and alert, aware of every gust of wind and every silence.Every shadow that appeared darker than the rest. Her mind raced, and as much as she wanted to spew her thoughts out loud, her throat was dry.

The one goddamn time it wasn’t raining in Washington was the one time she needed it.

~~~

“Ma’am?”

A muffled voice suddenly awoke her from her slumber. She was immediately electrified from her cramping neck, but it shot up to meet a roughen middle-aged man with a blaring, beat up red pickup truck. It had been coming in from the opposite direction, but a spark of hope reared in the woman.

“Ma’am! Are you alright?” He had a southern accent, something somewhat foreign in the area. “Gee, I thought ya was dead.”

“Sir…!” R exclaimed, brushing the hair out of her face. “My car ran out of gas - I lost direction of where I was and there’s no signal - can you help me?”

A flash of recognition crossed his face. “I know you.”

R gulped, pulling her key out of the ignition. “From… from what?”

His smile, hardly visible from under his thick beard, pulled into a knowing sneer. “Ya’re quite a treat to find all the way out here. What luck. I guess a scummy whore like ya wouldn’t remember a chap like me, huh?”

R stayed silent, withdrawing from her position in the front seat, sliding further away from the man.

“Ya know, it’s your reason my fuckin’ wife left me,” the man cackled me. “I lost everything ‘cause of ya. My farm down south, my assets, friends ’n family. All ‘cause a minx like ya drained my wallet and my wife found the receipts. That ain’t worth it when I didn’t even get to see your tits.”

Sorrow filled her eyes. Silence was the best option - she knew a man on the edge wouldn’t listen to pleas, reason, or retaliation. 

“Ya stay right there for a moment, ya little slut,” the man cackled. He muttered on his way back to the truck,” God, what a lucky day. The Lord must be smiling down on me.”

R knew a man of his degree of redneck carried a shotgun in the passenger seat. She reached over to the passenger seat and threw the door open, clawing right out. As her body hit the gravel, a shot barely passed where her head just was. 

“Fuck,” the man cursed, filling the barrel. “Ya know, I’m gonna collect what I paid for - it’s your choice whether it’s dead or alive.”

R knew enough about guns that she had mere seconds. Her ankles weighed with fear as she shot into the dark wilderness in front of her. A bullet skimmed right past her ear, deafening and leaving a wet cut. She began weaving and dodging through the wilderness. As much as she tried to quiet herself in the silent woods, distance was priority. Especially the moment a bright beam cut through the wilderness, lighting her path.

The wilderness was becoming denser and thicker, but she was still faster than the man who had to manhandle a gun, flashlight, and potbelly while keeping up. Branches tore at her sweater, and the early spiring air nipped at her skin.The temperature was far colder than it had been in the insulated vehicle, and her sweat froze on her forehead.

The brush and trees were growing so dense throughout the missed gunshots that it was slowing her down - she had to squeeze between snapping branches and pull her feet from deep puddles of snow turned to slush. Granted, the man wasn’t doing any better, but he had a long range weapon.

Another gunshot rang - and despite it brushing past her arm, it was the final undoing for the thin and dying pine tree, crushing R as it fell.

A rang and dark spots clouded her head and vision. Her breath sputtered as the neck collided onto a small yet flat rock, doing less damage than it could have. The needles stuck into her clothing and tickled her skin.

R screamed and flailed and cried, trying to push the surprisingly heavy tree off her. She could feel the damage to her spine as it was. Her throat cracked and she lay, defeated. She wished Edward had torn her to shreds. Even a monster like him would never leave her to such a cruel fate. She was about to be raped and murdered and abandoned in the woods to never be found. Her life was over.

A cold piece of metal prodded at her head. “Damn, you’re feisty for a whore. Ain’t your job to please the paying customer?”

R remained silent, squeezing tears out. “Please…”

The man guffawed. “Maybe I’ll leave ya alive if ya please me enough. But I’m a hard customer to please, girly. Especially when you made yourself ugly with so much… grime, heh. Now, don’t go anywhere or you’re dead.”

R felt the tree lift off of her. As a last minute hope for death, she sat up and made a motion to escape. 

A gunshot escaped and R clamped her eyes shut.

For the longest time, she stayed there in the darkness, awaiting any sensation of pain. Or perhaps death had been immediate. R lost track of time of how long she stayed frozen and sat, feeling the sensation of needles and pine cones and mud under her finger tips, and the sudden sensation of rain. But all was silent.

As tears mixed with the rain, she slowly opened her eyes. All was silent around her, even the cicadas. R gulped. Slowly, she adjusted herself. She spotted a glint of silver lodged in the ground beside her. 

As she turned, she was taken aback. Red was everywhere. On her sweater, on the ground, on the corpse, and on his dislodged head. More importantly, his eyes were brilliant red as Edward towered in the darkness, holding the head. Silent as a mouse, the creature lodged his mouth into the dripping faucet from the man’s tear. Edward did not seem human in that moment, but that was much preferred from what she had just experienced.

She sat there and watched him indulge , scampering anomalistically toward every orifice and puddle, draining the body until it was empty. R observed. The flashlight, long abandoned, was hardly as bright as his bloodthirsty eyes. Edward acted as if a starving man, although this was the first real meal he’d had in decades.

Edward’s brain was muffled as he worked through the frenzy. So many emotions and so many voices. Most dominantly, Carlisle’s, having warned him after Alice’s vision to leave R be - that if he went down a route of darkness and possession, he was no longer welcome as a Cullen. Alice had seen, and Edward had denied it. Every step brought him closer to her, and surely, protecting R would be worth risking it all.

He had not killed in a century. But the rush hardly compared to what he felt with her. Edward did not know how he could have done things differently, because deep down, he was a selfish creature from hell.

“Edward…”

His eyes shot up, and R flinched, worried he would rush at her, too. But her fear made his heart soften and his frenzy end. As delicious as her blood smelled, it could he hardly compare to the instinctual possession he felt of her, his twisted notion of loneliness and love combined.

“I’m sorry I was not here sooner, my love.”

R slouched, feeling all of her bones creek and all her wounds bleed. A chance at life presented itself through death, but one she felt so numb to that all she wanted was a warm shower and bed.

“I… I want to go home. Please.”

Edward straightened himself out before crouching in front of the woman, wiping her dirty tears away. His hands trailed down and he was still so angry and appalled at himself. If he had been more assertive, a wound would never had appeared as she wouldn’t have even escaped the house.

“Of course…”

Without struggle, his arms dipped beneath her and lifted her as though she were a paper. R’s head hit the stone cold chest, but she was so pumped with exhaustive adrenaline that the cold had numbed her skin. Edward draped his jacket over her and the world flashed around her. Hardly a branch touched her body as the forest raced past her. 

R felt a deep sleep encumber her at the sound of his slowly beating heart.

[deancashorrorfest]

We're Baaack... And Bigger than Ever

Come one, come all to the third year of Dean🔪Cas Horrorfest! We've got ghouls and gore, gays and theys! Cannibalism as far as the eye can see! Truly a feast for the senses.

This year I tasked these horrific creatures with a reverse round and they really ate the competition. Below the cut, you'll find things beyond any human comprehension.. Viewer beware, you're in for a scare.

Any Way That You Want Me | M | 10,455 It should have been a cake walk. Get in, investigate the haunted house, and figure out where to dig, salt and burn. But when Cas somehow gets cursed - trapped inside the house's mirrors - Dean finds himself in a race against time. Each day Cas' strength is fading. It's up to Dean to find a solution by digging through the house and the belongings of the former owner.

What he uncovers in the house may change everything. Link to Fic | Link to Art Wicked Muse | E | 15,673 Castiel Novak is a solitary creature. Corporate engineer by day, serial killer by night, and always by himself. Just the way he likes it. Until a new coworker's long, bowed legs, green eyes, and crooked smile catch his eye. He's certain he'll have to kill Dean, at first. He can't afford distractions, living the double life that he does. When the time comes, though, he just can't bring himself to do it. Artistic inspiration, long dormant in Castiel's life, replaces murderous intent.  As his obsession grows, so too does a newfound wish that he could share the deepest, darkest depths of himself with Dean. That Dean would understand, would accept, would even celebrate Castiel's bloody inclinations. But that's absurd. Unthinkable. Dean isn't like that. Is he? Link to Fic | Link to Art Herbicidal | T | 8,249 Dean is settled. His relationship with Cas is going strong, he has a place to call home, and his biggest problems are run-of-the-mill cases and unruly teenagers who think they know everything there is to hunting. Hell, he even plays with the thought of retiring. But then something starts killing people left and right in Lebanon, and Dean and Cas are faced with a case and a foe they have no idea what to do about. Link to Fic | Link to Art Oubliettes of Stone and Sky | T | 9,214 Dean is trying to sacrifice himself for his country like any good king would, and Cas has been sent to stop him. Cas has to keep Dean hostage while journeying through a dust storm and a castle with a mummy inside. Dean is waiting for the chance to escape--and Cas is ready to capture him again. Link to Fic | Link to Art Angel in the Ivory Castle | G | 20,074

Castiel's family is royalty in another world that has lived in peace for many years until recently a darkness has started to spread which has slowly overtaken the beautiful green fields they'd once walk through. Creatures have become corrupted, twisted and turned into something grotesque. Castiel was sent to the other world to find the being he is bonded to in which it's been rumored to save their world but in reality they know what's left doesn't look worth the risk. Link to Fic | Link to Art

Dean and Castiel vs. Evil | E | 31,451

Castiel is trying to survive a camping trip in the Appalachians with his annoying fraternity brothers. At a nearby cabin, Dean is trying to clean up the remains of his and Sam’s recent vamp hunt. Both Dean and Castiel wouldn’t mind exploring their mutual attraction.

But there’s a problem: due to a series of misunderstandings, Castiel’s friends are convinced that Dean and Sam are serial killers. The fact that Castiel's friends keep dying in increasingly grisly ways doesn't help matters. Is there really a killer on the loose? And will Dean and Cas ever manage to score some alone time? Link to Fic | Link to Art

Vacation Interrupted | M | 9,158 Dean can’t remember the last time he took a vacation. Fighting monsters is basically all he’s ever known. They’ve defeated Chuck and Dean finally grew a pair and confessed his feelings and Cas reciprocated. The two of them, along with Sam and Eileen, decide to dip their toes in the sand and take a vacation since the world is relatively monster free. Or at least they thought it was until a Kraken decided to ruin their vacation and start killing people, almost taking Dean for its next victim if Castiel didn’t rescue him in time. So much for a relaxing vacation. Link to Fic | Link to Art Communion | E | 53,639

Few areas in the world are subject to the polar night phenomenon, a period where the sun never rises above the horizon.

When Castiel Novak reaches out to the Winchesters for help, convinced that vampires are about to descend upon one such town during the upcoming polar night, the boys head up to Point Hollow, Alaska to clear the nest before night falls.

What was meant to be a three-day stay devolves into sixty-five days of bloodshed and darkness as resources dwindle and bodies start dropping. Overwhelmed by the calculated organization of the creatures and the size of their nest, it quickly becomes clear that there’s more to the ‘vampires’ than initially seemed.

They’re cunning, they’re ancient, and they’re powerful—and they’ll stop at nothing to be satisfied. But between the starving people and starving creatures, Dean manages to find solace in Castiel—who just might be holding a secret himself. A secret that is key to destroying the creatures and their master, once and for all. Link to Fic | Link to Art Romancing the Exit Sign | E | 125,370

A teenage boy is left to die in a shallow grave and something slithers into his bones. Devotees of an ancient god work to bring Her into the world, as with equivalent fanaticism, a man on a mission picks them off one by one. A lonesome drifter crosses paths with a mysterious stranger and finds himself inexorably drawn into the middle of it all.

Dean Winchester is adrift. All he has is his car, the next hunt, and a conversation he doesn’t want to have waiting for him in California. Then a case involving mangled bodies washing up on shore in an idyllic lakeside community puts him on the trail of a man calling himself Castiel, and the dangerous web he’s entangled in. Dean is used to living in a world of monsters, but the End of Days is a little out of his wheelhouse. Especially when his only ally is determined to keep his secrets behind his teeth, even as they draw closer together. Still, he intends to see things through, no matter how dark the path ahead gets.

It’s either that, or call his brother. Link to Fic | Link to Art Survivalism | E | 14,067

Genetic engineers Castiel Novak and Dean Winchester are on the verge of a breakthrough in cancer treatment and possibly even a cure, using genetic manipulation and incredibly, shark DNA.

Following a devastating diagnosis of brain cancer, and amid growing pressure from his boss, Dick Roman, for results, Castiel is pushed to an act of desperation. He tests the cure on himself with disastrous and violent results.

He has never been so hungry. Link to Fic | Link to Art

These Hallways Echo | M | 10,290 Loneliness. Previously, Dean Winchester had thought he knew the definition of the word, the way it felt to be isolated. That was wishful thinking. It’s here and now, in these never-ending corridors of winding walls and this damn carpet with the nauseating pattern, where Dean discovers the true meaning of being alone. Solitary. Detached. The man hears ghosts, echoes of conversations long since over, but there’s nobody for him to speak to. Dean sees the phantoms of late vacationers stepping through doorways or occupying beds but he can never get anybody’s attention. No one stops to hear him. Not a single soul has looked him in the eye or acknowledged that he, too, is trapped here. Caught in this unending hallway where time means nothing and waiting for tomorrow is fruitless. Link to Fic | Link to Art Ground Control to Major Tom | E | 21,506 Dean Winchester dreamed of being a mechanic all his life, but he never thought he would end up working as a mechanic for NASA and going into space. He is thrust into his first ever space mission after a strange lunar body, dubbed Luna-b I, mysteriously appears in Earth’s sky. Teams of astronauts scramble up to the permanent lunar base and begin analysis to determine if the blue orb is any threat to mankind. Most of the first team is sent home after a few months, nearly all of them having fallen ill with devastating cases of space sickness. As time goes on, it becomes clear that something altogether unnatural is going on here. Dean feels like he’s losing his mind as he and his crewmates also begin to succumb to sickness. He races to figure out what could possibly be the root cause. Is Luna-b I really just some weird, deep space rock that got caught in the Moon’s orbit by chance? Or is it something much more sinister, watching and waiting for the opportune moment? Link to Fic | Link to Art The Forgotten Halls | T | 9,337 A long time from now — maybe decades, maybe centuries — there are only the Halls, and the Entity, and the Angel. They exist in harmony, mostly. When an outsider changes their routine, a routine so long-standing that the Angel remembers nothing that had come before it, the disturbance will threaten the fabric of their entire universe. Link to Fic | Link to Art It's Got A Death Curse | E | 19,101 Dean and his friends have been coming to Camp Garrison for years, first as campers, then as counselors. Their last summer together kicks off with a bang when a figure from their dark past reappears and buried secrets from a near-forgotten tragedy threaten to resurface. It only gets worse when a storm rolls in, and the night becomes a gory fight for survival. The camp may not have electricity, but it's got a death curse. Link to Fic | Link to Art ghost, zero, suitcase & the moon | M | 19,433

Dean has always known it was ending. The world, that is. He knew it when he was three, awake and screaming in the middle of the night with the image of fire leaving an afterburn behind his eyelids. He knew it while he learned to ride a bike, while he went to his first school dance, had his first kiss, tipped back his first beer with his dad. He knew it when dad left, too. When Sammy died. When it all began to crumble.

He has always known it was ending. Now he's alone in a cabin somewhere so far north and so far west that he thinks half the continent never knew it existed in the first place, and he's got the same damn nightmares, the same burn behind his eyes, and the sense that ending is a verb that goes on and on into eternity and outside of time. Link to Fic | Link to Art Rosewood | T | 5,099

Dean believes a lot of things.

He believes the manner of his death was decided by his father the very night that yellow-eyed demon ripped his mom away from him.

He believes he’ll die, broken and bloody and alone on a hunt, and anything Cas does only delays the inevitable.

He believes he doesn’t deserve to be saved.

Dean knows Cas will do it anyway.

Months after Mrs. Butters leaves the bunker, intent on finding a home of her own, a peaceful section of pines set deep into the American heartland becomes anything but. Haunted by Purgatory at every turn, and forced to confront the consequences of decades of torture and abandonment at the hands of his predecessors, Dean and Cas set off to solve a string of disappearances in the forest where they stumble across a familiar face -- and an all-too-familiar feeling. Link to Fic | Link to Art MAW | M | 8,575

The world is full of sorrow, of sadness, of pain. The people within it deserve better than what Castiel's father gave them. They deserve peace and contentment, security and love. They deserve a New World.

And there is no safer place than inside Castiel. Link to Fic | Link to Art hold my hand until it bleeds | E | TBD The five years that Alistair did nothing but beat him. The feeling of no longer having skin. The feeling of no longer having flesh. The feeling of being nothing but bone and blood. Link to Fic | Link to Art The Possession of Jimmy Novak | E | 16,952

Dean Winchester was surprised to learn that when his father died, he left behind a beautiful house in the suburbs of Illinois, complete with neighbors who welcomed the newly arrived Dean with casseroles and invitations to join them at church.

It all seemed so very normal.

But there was something about Jimmy Novak that Dean couldn’t put his finger on, something not normal, and when Dean became an unwitting accomplice to Jimmy’s crime he discovered the horrifying truth:

That wasn't Jimmy Novak. Link to Fic | Link to Art It Will Come Back | E | 13,164

Senior Special Agent Castiel Novak and Special Agent Dean Winchester are partners within the FBI's Criminal Investigation Division. For the past several months, they've been investigating a string of murders, all resulting in cold-cases from what they believe to be the same killer. Despite being one of the best minds in his division, Castiel can't find a link between cases, and it's driving him to his wits' end.

As the cases begin to pile up, Castiel's confidence plummets, the chances of catching the killer are growing smaller, and other members of the division are beginning to contribute to Castiel's decreasing faith in his detective skills. As time goes on, Dean is there to help Castiel, but a final case relating to a horror film might be the start of Castiel's unraveling. Link to Fic | Link to Art Someone to Punish Me | E | TBD

Dean's chasing another lead for his old man, this time ending up in Maine, searching for the town of Silent Hill. Residents of nearby Cushing tell him to stop looking, but he can't help it. He's got a job to do, after all. After a resident finally points him in the right direction, Dean finds his way up the mountain to Silent Hill. But there's so much more to the town than John let on. And so much more that Dean needs to learn about himself. Link to Fic (TBD) | Link to Art 1 | Link to Art 2 Night Shift | E | 67, 758

As far as job opportunities go, replacing the previous night guard of fifty years at the Nebraska Museum of Natural History wasn't Dean's first choice, but a job was a job. Especially considering he got fired from his last job and was in need of the money. However, said job proves to be more difficult than described.

Faced with strange events revolving around one of the exhibits he was tasked with guarding, an angel statue that was more than what it seemed to be, he must unravel the mysteries that arise as a result. Why did the angel statue come to life each night? Why did an unknown number keep messaging him the same sequence of numbers? It was a race against the clock and Dean's dwindling sanity to find answers to these mysteries. Link to Fic | Link to Art A Word in the Mists | M | 23,968

Mist as far as the eye can see. A gloomy ocean that seems to swallow up the sunlight like broken dreams. An old, rusty ship that creaks with every inch of movement. And a crew that could compete in an award for grumpiest people alive.

Dean really hates pretty much everything about this case, and would love nothing more than to call it quits and turn this ship around... if there wasn't the little issue of the disappearance of thousands of people across ten different ships on the open sea.

Saving lives is what he does. But he has to question if he isn't doing more harm than good when the disappearances begin on his own ship—and he still hasn't even figured out what kind of monster they're dealing with. Link to Fic | Link to Art Terror As Sharp As Pain | M | 10,815 After Jack brings Cas back from the Empty, everything almost returns to normal. Cas moves into The Bunker, they go back to hunting, and they do not talk about his confession. With the number of hunts dwindling, Team Free Will takes up a case in Derry, Maine, a town terrorized every 27 years by disappearances and violent deaths. Even though the cycle isn't due to repeat for another 19 years, they will have to face fear itself to free the town. Link to Fic | Link to Art no spill blood. | M | 7,217

A witch hunt becomes far more than that when Dean rescues an unassuming, innocent, harmless stranger. But Castiel is more than he seems, and as the lines of their unlikely connection blur, so does the truth. Revenge, plain and simple. Surviving to see it through, not so simple. Link to Fic | Link to Art You can find the complete collection over on Ao3! Happy Haunting, folks! See you next Halloween 👻🎃🤡

[ynrenggcluster]

Once the unit system and part dimensions are determined during the reverse engineering services process, the next step is to plan out the design for 3D metal printing. Complex-shaped products require a complete understanding of the object, especially if it is part of an assembly. Critical areas of the part application must be checked to ensure that the functionality of the part does not disrupt the interrelationship between the various parts.

[amissamidstthemist]

Currently thinking about how Piltover's man of progress, a symbol within the city, the scientist on the spotlight, can't reverse engineer zaunite technology. Viktor has to be the one to take apart Jinx's bomb, because Jayce is unable to do it himself. Dude couldn't even complete the theory behind hextech on his own, he needed Viktor to get to the solution.

Meanwhile Jinx is perfectly capable of altering Piltover's tech to serve her purposes. Sure, she stole the notes on the stabilized hexgem, but when it came to messing with the Kiramman ventilation system she had no documentation, zero guidance.

It says something about the comfort of privilege, about how true innovation can only come from the oppressed.

[zhalfirin-binds]

Square antiprism box

Part I

(many thanks @queercus-books for finding out what that shape is called XD)

Over a year ago I saw this particular kind of box on the bookbinders fair in Leiden (NL). After having been recently reminded of them, I decided to give it a go and try to reverse engineer them from the pictures I found here (check out her other boxes, they are gorgeous!).

After staring at the original boxes for a bit, it was obvious they were not covered on the inside after gathering them. The pattern was visible in one consecutive pattern. It told me that a) the board was laminate with the patterned paper while still flat and b) the box was made from one piece, not single pieces glued together. For that the corners and edges needed to be scratched, but not cut through.

What stumped me in the beginning was what angle to pick for the walls. Naturally the base of each triangle had to be as long as the sides of the squares it connected to, but a too pointy angle at the tip resulted in long boxes that looked rather twisted than having that bulbous look I was looking for.

The solution (after some more staring and a few more paper models) was 'right angles'! Any square piece of board can be made into this box by marking out the center square and have the walls point away in right angles.

Next I cut away the parts that won't be needed (to make sure I don't cut one of the side walls off, I crossed them out). The net of polyhedrons for this box could look different than this and still give me this shape, but with the way the paper pattern is was not visibly interrupted I'm confident this is the net the Dutch bookbinder has used. (It also wastes the least material)

Now it was scratching the other lines just enough so they would bend nicely, but not get too weak to hold the structure and test assemble. Shallow cuts and test bending every now and then helps to get there (also a metal ruler to keep carving the same line)

Cutting the board half way through ended me up with those gaps though. I''m not sure how much they would show if I dressed them just like that, but I decided to not take the risk and reinforced them with a white paper just in case.

The white paper is really just a white strip of paper long enough to go all around the box and a bit wider than one of the triangles is high so I could have an overlap and reinforcement to the bottom too. Part of why I did this was also to see if covering the body would work as I thought it would. With the angled planes the strip of paper bends up and and down, but in the end it's still one straight strip of paper.

I let it dry a bit before adding another layer, this time with the patterned paper and turn in's on top and bottom. In hindsight I could have cut the turn ins to the inside at an wider angle to avoid them reaching onto the better visible part, but then. this is the first time I made this box so I take that as a lesson learned.

Now all it needs is a base and a lid and I'm done.

[royalinkblot]

Wings of Home – Chapter Five: Echoes of Afterburners

Tom Kazansky rarely let himself drift into memory. But some days—when the ocean mist smelled like jet fuel and Maverick was humming in the kitchen—he let himself go back.

It was 1986, and the sky had just started to feel wide enough for something more than rivalry. One night, after a sparring match on the beach turned into a kiss behind the hangar, Maverick had sat him down, cheeks flushed and voice cracking.

“There’s something you need to know,” he’d said, fingers trembling against Tom’s wrist. “It’s not common... but I can carry. It’s rare. But it’s real.”

Tom remembered blinking, stunned. “You mean... you could have kids?”

“I mean I could have kids,” Maverick had said, with a shaky grin. “As in... get pregnant.”

The thought hadn’t frightened Tom. What had terrified him came later.

Years later, in their early and mid forties, after decades of hiding, running, and flying at the edge of death, Maverick had held up a pregnancy test like it was a missile warning.

“I’m pregnant.”

Tom had gone pale. “Mav... you’re almost fifty.”

“Don’t remind me.”

They’d rushed through tests, experts, specialists. The word high-risk was thrown around like flares in a dogfight. But then came the second bombshell:

“Twins,” the doctor said, smiling.

Tom laughed, full and loud and shaking. “Of course. Because one Mitchell isn’t chaotic enough.”

They’d retired not long after, the Navy closing its chapter on two of its brightest legends. They didn’t leave in shame—they left as icons.

Maverick and Goose poured themselves into their new business, Need for Speed Solutions, which quickly became the Mecca for fighter jet restoration and tech innovation. Goose handled logistics and engineering, Maverick handled flight tests and instinct. Together, they built something that kept them flying—just closer to home.

And then came the wedding

When Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell finally died in the early 2000s, Maverick didn’t waste a second. They married on the same airfield where they first met. Every surviving pilot from TOPGUN came. Rooster was best man. Goose walked Maverick down the aisle until Viper intercepted halfway.

“You’re the son I always wanted, Pete,” Viper had said, voice full of emotion. “And I’m proud of you. As proud as Duke Mitchell would’ve been.”

Maverick’s voice had caught in his throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“No more 'sir,'" Viper said with a grin. “Today, just family.”

Tom had waited at the altar, hands steady, heart wild. When Maverick reached him, the wind kicked up across the runway, a salute from the sky.

Now, with Ace and Nikola turning six, those memories lived in every corner of the house.

The twins sat side by side at the kitchen island, mapping out their party with colored pencils and a whiteboard.

“Okay,” Nikola said, tapping her stylus like a commander. “We need enough cupcakes for 60. Invite list is currently at 48, but we’ll probably have overflow from school.”

“We should get the drone obstacle course from last year,” Ace said. “But bigger. With lasers.”

“No real lasers,” Nikola added.

“Fine. Projected lasers.”

They turned to their dads, who were watching from the doorway with proud, tired eyes.

“Can we invite Professor Eddings from quantum lab?” Nikola asked.

“And my friend Jun from flight sim club?” Ace added. “He called me ‘aerodynamically reckless,’ which means we’re best friends now.”

Tom stepped forward, brushing Nikola’s hair back. “You can invite whoever you want. But just remember—your birthday’s not about how many people come.”

“It’s about family,” Maverick finished, ruffling Ace’s hair. “And being grateful.”

Nikola looked at her brother. “I’m grateful for you. Even when you reverse-engineer my robot.”

“I only did it because I wanted to improve its handshake grip,” Ace mumbled.

She smiled. “I know.”

They bumped shoulders.

Tom and Maverick stood back and watched them—their twins. Born of impossible odds. Raised in sunlight, science, and fierce love. Not just brilliant minds, but brilliant hearts. Protective. Loyal. The best parts of them both.

And as the Pacific sun began to sink over their two houses—joined by more than sand and sea—Tom leaned into Maverick.

“You know,” he said quietly, “if you’d told me in ‘86 that we’d be standing here…”

Maverick smiled. “You wouldn’t have believed me.”

“I would’ve flown faster to get here.”

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter six

[destiny-smasher]

Nemona x Penny teamup art for my fic 'Operation Comet Punch!'

These were drawn by @yxorul as an comm and they did such a great job with it, including helping me finalize designs for the gauntlet/'mon!

Utilizing technologies and special stones from Paldea (SV), Ferrum (Pokken), and Pasio (PokeMas), Penny has been aspiring to achieve her dream of being able to inhabit the form of a Pokemon when desired, even if as an avatar.

Her solution? Reverse engineering Porygon and reconfiguring things to create a brand new, digitized 'mon manifested in physical form via Terastal Crystals. She dubs it: Veeveeon. It can switch Type loadouts, changing its 'collar'/colors and movesets by manipulating Tera energy.

Nemona, meanwhile, has spent a few years studying martial arts under Gym Leader Bea from Galar and fitness guru Dendra of Paldea. While her stamina can still be an issue, she's become so strong she doesn't need her arm brace, and has even learned to use Tera energy on herself.

Harnessing Terastal energy from a Tera Orb, she can make her spiritual Tera Type -- Steel -- become physical, applying crystal-made, metallic armor pieces to her form and boosting her abilities in Pokemon-like ways. This skill comes with various caveats and she's still ironing it out.