#technical expertise in engineering

[rickybaby]

The Ricciardo factor applies

[withuitservice]

Why Dubai Businesses Need To Partner With a Professional Website Development Company

In the digitally-first world of today, a good website is something that a business can't afford not to have any more. The city of Dubai is known as one of the global innovation hubs and is the home of thousands of businesses competing to receive attention in such a busy market. So, to stand out from the crowd and maintain an effective online presence, there is a need to collaborate with a professional Website Development Company in Dubai. Here are several reasons why the businesses of Dubai should do this.

1. Expertise and Innovation at one's Fingertips

The skilled teams of designers, developers, and digital strategists man the professional website development companies in Dubai. Keeping themselves updated with the latest technologies and best practices prevalent within the industry are all their pursuits. The accessibility of such expertise means having a website which is visually attractive yet functionally adequate, user-friendly as well as technologically state-of-the-art. While digitalizing your presence, one would find all that brought into play by deploying AI-driven chatbots and responsive designs.

2. Custom Websites for Local and International Readers

Dubai companies service diverse audiences, both locally and in other parts of the globe. A professional website development service will therefore understand the characteristics of the Dubai market-place, including cultural sensitiveness, consumer preferences, among others. They can always come up with customized websites responding to your target audience effectively, ensuring a seamless flow of user experience that causes engagement and conversion.

3. UX or better User Experience

User experience determines the success of a website. A website which is not designed well will lead to frustration from visitors, who then leave, causing a higher bounce rate and missed opportunities for sales. Professional developers emphasize intuitive navigation, fast loading pages, and mobile-friendliness of the designs. These together make for a great user journey which keeps visitors engaging and likely to take the desired action such as purchasing or contacting your business.

4. Search Engine Optimization (SEO)

However beautiful your website might look, it is worthless if nobody can find it. Web Development Company in Dubai  always factor in SEO best practice when developing, such as optimization of page speeds and meta tags, ensuring that your website is mobile-friendly and also clean coding. They are constantly improving your search engine ranking. More visibility brings more organic traffic or leads and sales.

5. Cost-Effective in the Long Run

A well-developed website minimizes the risk of technical issues, reduces maintenance costs, and ensures scalability as your business grows. Additionally, a professional website helps generate higher returns by attracting and retaining customers more effectively.

6. Focus on Core Business Activities

When outsourcing Web Development Company in UAE needs, you have more time to focus on core business activities. Professional companies handle everything from the initial design and development stages of a website through maintenance and updates, thus providing one with more time and resources to devote to important matters like customer service, marketing, and business expansion.

7. Support and Maintenance

Websites need to update and maintain themselves regularly. Otherwise, they get outdated and insecure. A professional website development company keeps providing support to solve problems, implement updates, and keep your website running perfectly. This proactive approach may avoid downtime and keep running your website smoothly, with a seamless experience for the users.

8. Competitive Advantage

Competition in the market is at its peak here in Dubai, and therefore, designing a professional website for yourself will keep you miles ahead of the competition. Well-performance of the website lends an impression of your business and brand with respectability and professionalism to your customer who tends to associate them. With this, your position further gets stabilized by strengthening their trust on your self.

Conclusion

In terms of succeeding in the currently trending digital world, a company of Dubai would need to enter partnership with a professional website development agency. Starting from providing solutions tailor-suited according to the client's business needs to improving the customer's experience and providing post-launch support so that you lead the market, these professional website development agencies are quite the backbone of your thriving business. This investment in professional website development will help you have a good standing online but also in generating long-term growth and profits.

[penrosetechnicalsolution]

Expertise in Oil & Gas Engineering: Penrose Technical Solution LLC

Penrose Technical Solution LLC stands as a trusted name in delivering cutting-edge solutions for the energy sector. From facility planning to comprehensive petrochemical plant layouts, our team of North America oil & gas engineers is dedicated to helping businesses achieve operational excellence.

The following describes the expertise of Penrose Technical Solutions LLC in oil and gas engineering, and how it benefits you.

Who We Are

Penrose Technical Solution LLC is a leader in oil and gas engineering, offering specialized services that cater to the unique demands of the energy and petrochemical industries. Our team brings decades of experience to every project, ensuring efficient, cost-effective, and sustainable solutions.

Oil and Gas Facility Planning

Proper facility planning is crucial for maximizing operational efficiency and meeting safety and environmental standards. At Penrose, we provide top-tier oil and gas facility planning services, addressing every aspect from site selection to equipment layout and compliance.

What We Offer

Customized facility designs tailored to client needs.

Strategies for optimizing production workflows.

Adherence to all industry standards and regulations.

Specialists in Petrochemical Plant Layout

Designing a petrochemical plant requires precision and foresight to ensure smooth operations and scalability. Our expertise in petrochemical plant layout focuses on integrating cutting-edge technology with practical engineering principles.

Key Benefits of Our Layout Designs

Streamlined workflows for enhanced productivity.

Flexible designs to accommodate future expansions.

Reduced operational risks through advanced safety features.

Trusted North America Oil & Gas Engineers

Our North America oil & gas engineers are renowned for their technical acumen and commitment to excellence. With extensive knowledge of the local energy landscape, we provide innovative solutions that help businesses stay ahead in a competitive market.

Why Choose Penrose Technical Solution LLC?

Unparalleled Expertise: A proven track record in delivering top-notch engineering solutions.

Comprehensive Services: From facility planning to plant layouts, we cover it all.

Client-Focused Approach: We work closely with clients to deliver customized results.

Conclusion

Penrose Technical Solution LLC is your partner for all oil and gas engineering needs. Whether its expert oil and gas facility planning, efficient petrochemical plant layout designs, or working with experienced North America oil & gas engineers, we are committed to driving success for your business.

Contact Penrose Technical Solution LLC today to learn how we can help transform your energy operations.

[boggedbones]

just autismed out with my father about plane crashes for half an hour #justgirlythings

[lindamarcis-blog]

Mastering SEO: Proven Strategies to Boost Your Google Ranking

keywords strategies to improve your Google ranking: 1. Keyword Research:     Start by identifying relevant keywords for your content.    Utilize tools like Google Keyword Planner or SEMrush to find high-traffic, low-competition keywords.   2. Quality Content:     Create high-quality, informative, and engaging content.     Ensure it’s well-structured with headings, subheadings, and bullet…

[yogeshkhatri]

Identify Your Interest

Many of us are under the impression that digital marketing requires technical skills. Well, there’s so much more to it. Individuals who do well in this field are the ones who are passionate enough to explore it. You might have basic social media skills to enhance to become a digital marketer. Yes, social media is a part of digital marketing, but to have expertise in social media, you are also required to work on your creativity and Facebook ads which are paid. You will be required to manage Facebook (now, Meta) ads which are not similar to using Facebook Messenger or the normal Facebook app. If you are interested in knowing why certain sites appear first, then others on search engines, you can discover search engine optimization (SEO). If you want to get into e-commerce, you can learn both social media and SEO. Ultimately, it all depends on the field that interests you the most.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

That's the Job

Masterlist

Pairing: Bob Floyd x (f) reader.

Tags: friends to lovers, fluff, smut, angst, betrayal, emotions, anxiety, heartbreak, workplace romance, coworkers to lovers, confessions, oral(f receiving), fingering.

Snippet:

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

"And you lied." his voice took a tone of hurt.

☆☆☆☆☆

A week has passed since the nighmarish incident. That day, all staff at Top Gun were informed, as is protocol, of the crash that resulted from a sudden birdstrike during field training, nearly taking the lives of two pilots. Both of whom had been close friends of yours.

Thankfully, both Natasha and Bob survived. Although, they and Coyote were rushed to the hospital for urgent care and testing.

But part of your job description as a rookie R&D Analyst was to assess post-mortems, and when you got your eyes on the images of jet – completely destroyed and burned, your mind flooded with awful hypothetical images.

They were lucky – you realized. Because one minute longer, one detail off, and they could have been gone. He could have been gone. For good.

Images flashed in your mind. Blood and lifeless brown eyes...

Your chest hurt.

Before anyone in the office could notice, you turned away from your computer screen – leaving the images of the destroyed jet on display – and strode out of the room.

☆☆☆☆☆

Engineers — even brilliant ones — didn't go into a job expecting to confront the potential violent death of the people they worked with. It’s not part of their emotional framework. So as a young adult that was new to the field, watching Bob and Phoenix nearly die did something to your brain. Making it scramble for control. And the easiest way it could think to do that was Distance. Detachment. You never wanted to feel that way again.

Prior to the crash, you had been assigned a project; a request to improve the laser nav systems, submitted by Lt. Robert Floyd. You and the WSO had gotten along extremely well, right off the bat. He didn't discard your ideas like many members of your own team did, and you were extremely impressed by his expertise as a Weapons Systems Officer and overall badass.

And he was kind. He often came across as technical and serious, but you found yourself inspired by his dedication to his job.

He was also... distracting.

When you two worked together when you just couldn't help a glance over at him. You tended to linger. On his lips pressing together when he would concentrate. On the movement of his arms – muscular under his uniform, muscular from days of training out in the sun as he disassembled and assembked the machine you were working on. On the gentle hums he would make when you had suggested an idea and the way he would listen with the most intense gaze, afraid to miss a drtail. On the way, his hair was a curly blonde mess falling into his forehead after a long day of training – the only time he could come and assist you with the project.

And what's worse? He was brilliant! He knew his stuff almost too well. Every observation, every test, and every note was detailed to near obsession.

You pointed it out once.

It had been when he had disasembled the laser chamber, displaying each piece on the desk and labeling them to perfect accuracy.

"I didnt know pilots knew so much about the cogs and gears of the weapons systems." You had murmured, not thinking much of it.

"I'm a Weapons Systemd Officer." He leveled you with a smirk.

Your face must have gone red, because his smirk widened into a laugh.

He offered you his hand as if to introduce himself. "Hi im Bob. It’s my job to use the systems in combat. If it fails, I take the hit."

"Sorry! I didn't mean it like that." You had rushed out.

He shook his head. "Dont apologize, I get that a lot. Just know I’m not just here to press buttons and look good in a uniform.” He winked, a rare gesture from him, and it was enough to ease a smile out of you.

Alright, so he was smart, beautiful, snarky, and also a badass. Great.

You always looked forward to interacting with the aviators, but it was different with him. It made you giddy. And you often had to remind yourself to be professional.

Annoyingly, thoughts of him would often cut into your personal life. At the gym, you motivated yourself with memories of him doing push-ups with his fellow flyers on the concrete. Sweaty and tired but still determined, and God damned resilient. With your friends, you'd re-told some of you work stories, which mostly involved him. And when you were by yourself...

That aside, you two had even made great progress on your project to improve the laser systems. In fact, the day of the bird strike, Bob was testing out a new fix you two had come up with.

Now, it had been destroyed along with the rest of the plane. And what's worse, you were pretty sure what you did next was going to hurt him even more

Because that evening, after you dried yor tears in the bathroom and got your breathing under control, you requested to be reassigned from working with Bob on the project.

☆☆☆☆☆

You went through the next days on autopilot, burying yourself in your work. Your new projects were dull, but dull meant safe. Your coworkers helped. They joked, they complained, they distracted you. They left at reasonable hours.

The aviators were all back at the academy, too busy pushing their bodies past the edge of human capability. Their breaks were short, their evenings longer. You barely passed them in the halls, and you were grateful for it.

Occasionally, the uncomfortable conversation you'd had with Bob would replay in your head.

On the day he was discharged from the Military Hospital, it was 18:05 when Bob strode through the metal doors of the hangar. Boots, cargo pants, white shirt — the usual. He carried his tablet under one arm, his dog tags tapping softly against his chest.

“We lost the prototype with the last jet, so we’re back to square one,” he said as he walked up to your table. "We gotta move fast to catch up—"

He paused.

You were perched on the edge of the desk, your work bag at your side. Not unusual in itself — end of the day and all — but you weren’t unpacking, rearranging, or reviewing notes. You were just sitting there. Like you were done.

His expression shifted. "Are you going somewhere?"

You stood, shouldering your bag. Just say it, you told yourself. Be professional. Clean cut.

"Lieutenant," you said, voice steady, "it’s been an honor working with you. But I’m stepping away from the project."

He blinked. "...Can I ask why?"

You hesitated. He was waiting — not with anger or even with disappointment, just that open Bob-ness that made it worse somehow. So trusting.

"I’m just not interested in the project anymore," you said quickly, like ripping off a band-aid.

There was a beat of silence.

"That’s… sudden," he said slowly.

You looked away.

Then, he spoke up softly. "Was it something I did?"

Your stomach twisted. "No," you answered too fast. "Not at all. It’s not you."

"I thought we worked well together," he said, softer now. "Didn’t we?"

"We did." You adjusted the strap on your shoulder. "This isn’t personal. I just… want to try something else."

He nodded, but not like someone who believed you. More like someone who was trying really hard not to push.

"Well," he said, clearing his throat and standing straighter. "Good luck with whatever’s next."

You nodded and offered a tight smile. "You too."

You'd jerk back and shake your head as if trying to force the thought away willingly.

☆☆☆☆☆

You’d stayed late in your cubicle, distracted by some calibration notes. You barely registered the footsteps in the hallway until a shadow fell over your desk.

"Hey."

You looked up.

He stood in the doorway, uniform loose on his frame, dark bags under his eyes, stubble on his chin, his dog tags still. 

Iceman's funeral was mere days ago. It had really hit the aviator's morale. The death of a legend. Someone who'd been a mentor to them.

One hand clutched the strap of his bag like it was the only thing grounding him.

"I’m flying out tomorrow," he said.

You blinked. " …you were picked."

An unsettling feeling began to grow in your stomach. Either anxiety. Or fear for his safety. You weren't sure at the moment.

"Phoenix and I." He nodded. "With Mav."

"Congratulations." Your throat closed. You set your pen down, bracing your hands on the desk to stop their tremble. "Who else?"

"Rooster. Payback. Fanboy."

You nodded slowly.

Then, your voice caught as you said. "Be careful."

He didn't react. Almost as if deliberately. At first, it looked like he was ready to keav, but then his gaze was back on you.

"You know," He took a small step forward. "I asked Phoenix and Hangman about you."

You raised your brow, unsure where he was going with that.

He took another step, coming closer. "Figured maybe you needed space. But… turns out they haven’t heard from you either. None of us have."

You backed up just a little until the edge of the desk pressed into your hip. "You were all busy."

"Oh, we’d have made time." He paused — not hurt, just searching. The rest of his sentence was implied in his furrowwed brow. And you know it.

It was true. Being one of the youngest recruits, you were closer in age with the mission candidates and have grown quite close with all of them through your work. And you've been avoiding them like the plague in hopes you wouldn't have to see any of them possibly die...

"See…" Bob cleared his throat. "I was going crazy, trying to figure out what we did wrong. Thought maybe I’d said something. Maybe come off too strong."

You didn’t allow yourself to speak. How could you explain leaving them in a way that didn't make you sound childish?

"I saw you nearly die and it fucked me up. But since you do this for a living and something... worse could happen, I'm scared of what it would do to me, so the less we interact the better."

Yeah, good luck with that.

His voice softened. "And then I realized. It was that day. Wasn’t it?"

You inhaled sharply, eyes stinging.

He stepped closer. Not enough to crowd you, but enough to make you feel him. "The crash."

You looked down. "You nearly died, Bob."

"But we didn’t."

"But you still could have!" Your voice cracked. "And what if you... don't walk away next time?"

His tone lowered, serious. "That’s the job."

"Well, I don’t do what you do!" You sniffled. "I haven’t had friends die mid-air or disappear off the radar. I'm not used to this. I'm not wired for it. And hearing you drop like that—seeing what was left of the plane... if you were still inside—"

You choked on the next words, eyes blurry now. "I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t know it’d hit me like that."

He took another step. "So you left?"

"Wouldn't you? I mean—wouldn’t anyone?"

You found yourself wondering this to no end for the past says.

"And you lied." his voice was hurt now.

You flinched.

But he didn't fill the silence, waiting for you to speak.

"I didn’t want to tell you because…" you swallowed. "Because if I said it out loud, it’d mean I couldn’t handle it. That I’m not strong enough for this. For any of this.”

That I don't belong here. At the job I've dreamed of since I first picked up a physics textbook back in elementary school.

Silence. A breathless, raw silence that pulsed between you like static.

Deep, beautiful brown eyes searched your face. He was so close bow. "You think I don’t get scared too?"

You swallowed hard. 

His hand brushed your cheek. Barely there. And still, you felt it like lightning.

He leaned in — close enough you could see the pale gold of his lashes that brushed his cheeks.

Then he stopped. Right there. Inches away. His breath uneven.

"I want to," he whispered.

Your breath caught. You looked up at him, eyes glossy. For a second, he leaned in — the moment hanging in the air like a held breath.

Your eyes held his, steady now.

The words were on the tip of your tongue.

If you're going to kiss me... you'd better come back.

He hesitated, then stepped back. A full, aching step. "This isn't right."

Your chest squeezed. He was walking away and taking his warmth with him and what if he wasn't coming back.

Timidly, your hands moved from their place behind you and grasped as his uniform, and you brought your lips to his.

He gasped. The soft intake of hair brushing your lips. Then his arms wrapped around your waste and tightened, pulling you into himself.

He deepened the kiss. Lips possessive over yours, brushing in a slow but powerful movement that barely gave you a chance to take a breath as he took a step forward. Your back was against your desk.

Capable hands brushed over your body, as if memorizing it.

You wondered if he was thinking the same thing you were. What if this was the first and last time?

Sometimes, his timid demeanor made it easy to forget he was an battle-hardened soldier, a fact that was very evident now by the way he lifted you up with ease and held you like you weighed nothing.

He groaned against your mouth, his glasses brushing your nose.

"Its not fair to do this." His tone was quiet but hard.

With a sinking feeling, you nodded, agreeing. But as your harms began to lower from around his neck, he began to kiss down your throat, not as keen on stopping as you thought he was. Each brush of his lips or his tongue on your sensitive neck sent you gasping arching into him.

Thank god you'd stayed late and most people had gone home for the day.

Your fingers curled into his dirty blonde locks, also attempting to memorise the feel of him.

"M-maybe we should stop?" You stammered.

"Yeah," he nodded, though his fingers were undoing the buttons of your long-sleeved shirt, pulling it out of your skirt. "After, we'll stop."

You couldnt help but giggle, then shudder against the cold air hitting your skin all at once. Hed gently pushed you to lay down with your back to the desk.

Most of your shirt was still mostly on, only open at the front. His movement was slow and deliberate, lowering your bra straps and cups like he was disassembling a machine. Then he took your breasts hin his hands and rolled his thumbs over your nipples.

Your breath caught as pleasure shot through your beasts and you moaned before your could stop yourself. He lowered his mouth on yours to remind you to be quiet.

You felt one of his hands traver down from your breast to the hem of your skirt, fingers brushing the inside of your thigh, making you shake. He pulled your panties aside and slid his finger into your heat.

"Oh fuck," he was struggling to keep quiet too.

You could feel how slick you were, how easily he could slide his digit in and around your pussy, spreading your slick around and over your clit.

You looked up at him, as your chest still rose and fell with his stimulation of your left nipple. Bob had his lower lip between his teeth, eyes scanning your face and body, committing them to memory.

Then he lowered to his knees. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you felt his tongue join his fingers. "Bob!"

You were getting very close.

His mouth began to move your your folds. Kissing you, licking, sucking your clit. He added another finger inside you, curving and making you buck your hips.

Your hands grasped the edge of your desk. Everything he was doing was sending waves of pleasure through your body. Palm still over your mouth, you bit your finger to stop the moans slipping out.

Then, as if he sensed you were there, he sped up his mouth and fingers.

Oh god.

You couldnt stop panting loudly as you reached your orgasm. Hips shuddering and bucking against him, you fingers grasped hus hair, needing him closer.

His mouth was on you throughout. Still leaving slow, gentle kisses on your poor, sensitive cunt as you came down from the high.

Standing up, he cupped the nape of your neck and brought you up to taste yourself on his lips.

He kissed you for a long time. You don't know how long.

"I had to." He said against your mouth. "I had to know what you tasted like."

The words made your breath catch. "Promise me you'll come back," your voice broke.

He hid his face in the crook of your neck. "I can’t promise that," his voice barely audible in your ear.

You nodded, even though it cracked something in you.

Bob lingered in the doorway. Just before he turned, he looked back over his shoulder.

"Oh — by the way… the laser nav works perfectly." A faint smile. "We fixed it."

And then he was gone.

☆☆☆☆☆

[little-miss-bioweapon121]

Which other Primarchs do you think would accept a splice baby like Samael as their own child?

I love Samael, he’s a great idea.

OOOOOOOO THIS IS A GOOD QUESTION!!!!

Okay so on the one hand every creative writing class I’ve ever taken has told me one very important rule: The answer is never “no”.

Basically means that nothing is ever impossible for a character there’s just always more steps and obstacles to get to the outcome. (And that makes for a very good story!)

But on the other hand just based off of what little I’ve read, without the characterization I’ve taken on the primarchs I think realistically every primarch would’ve destroyed a splice clone like Samael. Especially given the threat level one would technically represent as a xeno weapon. (Even Sanguinius the way I wrote him was supposed to kill Samael)

But that’s boring.

So here’s a list of every primarch reacting to a splice clone baby (according to my interpretations of what a primarch is!)

Cw: Transhumanism, description of corpses, implied child death, death

Lion El’Jonson: He knew to expect xeno technology, but nothing could have prepared him for this. The battleship had been long abandoned, fuel tank damaged and engines beyond repair as his tech priests had noted, so it was only a small squadron he brought with him to investigate. Dust, rot, and abandoned stations were the only thing to greet their path. With his men occupied on the ships databases Lionel took the liberty to explore the rest of the large space. The technology was different but the uses were obvious, this was an abandoned lab. Tubes of dark murky liquid lined the walls and what little remained of their previous inhabitants floated in disgusting red-green clouds of rotted mass.

Only one tube was free of the rotting green liquid, the crack in the glass and drying green residue on the ground spoke volumes to its fate, and peeking inside Lionel felt his hearts squeeze in sympathy at the tiny emaciated form within. Wait. It still breathed. Lionel wrenched the tube open without hesitation and was immediately greeted by the foul smell of old human waste and the cloying remnants of the mysterious fluid, but beneath that was the faint buttery sweet scent of newborn.

His newborn.

With a level of panic Lionel had never once known he scoops the child, ‘his child’ his mind frantically wails, into his arms and calls for his men. Only later in the safety of his own ship with the baby stabilized by the apothecary would he even begin to question the origins of his child.

II: Took his baby and fled to escape paying Xeno child support.

Fulgrim: He hadn’t actually meant to find a child. Really he hadn’t meant to find anything at all. He and his highest ranking sons had been invited to one of the recently conquered imperial planets for a diplomatic visit. A few days of wining and dining while treaties were signed and supply lines were established. Really this was all Roboutes area of expertise, but Fulgrim was nothing if not an adaptable man so off he went. Truly, genuinely, the snooping was supposed to be superficial. The second night of their seven day stay had seen the nobles a little more eager on the drinks than anticipated so the next mornings activities had been canceled in favor of rest. Fulgrim certainly wasn’t complaining. He took the opportunity instead to admire the architecture of the mansion, a royal palace prior to imperial conquering, and explore some of the areas not used for the dinners.

Discovering the hidden lab had been an accident. Entering the hidden lab, slightly less so. Rows of cages and annotated diagrams filled the space, but what alarmed Fulgrim the most was the crib in the corner of the room. Fulgrim stared into the crib. A tiny purple-eyed baby stared back. He didn’t hesitate to pick up the child as soon as it reached for him, how could he? A million thoughts ran through his mind analyzing the situation and the child itself. But it all came screeching to a halt as soon as the scent hit his nose. Fulgrim hugged the child closer practically burying his nose into their hair as one bone-deep truth resonated through him like the growling of a great beast.

His baby smelled too much like that disgusting ex-king, and not nearly enough like him.

He’d have time later to contemplate when and where a planet like this had gotten their hands on his DNA. But for now he plastered his scent on every inch of his child as he made his way back to the ship.

Perturabo: His troubles started like many of his troubles usually start. Immediately after the conquering of a planet. He’d brought back a veritable mountain of technology from a recently conquered Aeldari planet to analyze and deconstruct. The xeno technology had proven difficult to overcome and he was eager to learn all of its weaknesses. Walking through the maze of crates yet to be unpacked Perturabo noted with flat dissatisfaction that a green liquid had begun to leak from the corner of the smallest one. He’d be sure to scold his astartes on proper handling of packages at a later date, but for now he had a turret to analyze.

In truth, the troubles didn’t start until a few days later. The items in his workshop were counted and placed to perfection, so it was blatantly clear to him that someone had been moving his things around. He was certain it was neither a serf nor a servo-skull as he was familiar with the noises and scents that both left behind, and the scent that was slowly becoming more common in his workspace was far softer than either. Days later, finally fed up with the constant displacement and the maddening scent, Perturabo took it upon himself to track the intruder down.

The search had him tracking whatever it was all through his workshop. Beneath tables, under crates, and through tunnels in supplies he never would have noticed before; every second he spent tracking this thing painted a more vivid image in his mind of what it could be. Small, clumsy, and most definitely human. Finally he finds a fresh trail, the scent soft and familiar in a way the he cannot yet place, and tracks it all the way to a secluded corner where he left a pile of discarded tarps and covers. The head of fuzzy hair and bright curious eyes make it blatantly clear what his intruder was.

A baby.

And with a certainty that came from something instinctual and more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before he knew that this baby was his.

Jaghatai Khan: His men had caught wind of the Drukhari plot long before he had, and with an efficiency that rivaled Jaghatai himself in speed they handled the problem. Or at least, they handled the initial problem. Because the secondary problem that arose was something far more nefarious.

The clone was adorable.

His men could not bring themselves to strike down the tiny infant regardless of its status as a Drukhari made weapon. Upon arrival to their home world the matron serfs had taken one look at the baby, seen its lack of dress in such a cold season, and had promptly taken it from the clueless white scars and swaddled it in the warmest furs they could find. While half of the white scars went to protest the acquisition of their baby the other half made the responsible decision of going to warn Jaghatai of the newest member to the tribe.

And of course this all culminated in every grandmother, mother, aunt, and son cooing over the infant clone of their primarch. Jaghatai had steeled himself to be the voice of reason and logic in this very trying time and approached the group. The child was the outcome of a Drukhari plot after all and they needed to act swiftly.

But, well, the child was very adorable. All rosy cheeks and swaddled to perfection. And oh those big sparkling eyes were just begging for affection. Maybe just a quick cuddle wouldn’t hurt. And, well, while he’s at it he wonders if the baby still has the newborn scent, it is after all very young, just one quick sniff won’t-

Oh warp damn it.

Leman Russ: Leman found the puppy fair and square and he was not giving it back thank you very much! The Eldar biomancer that his sons had dragged out from her hidden laboratory must have been desperate if she was resorting to ‘politely asking for the return of her project’ while in the midst of capture. Leman would have been more offended if he didn’t find her claims utterly hilarious.

The puppy looked like him, smelled like him, and acted like him. Clearly, the puppy belonged to him. Every time he brought that up the Eldar’s face gained another shade of nervous palor. Now Leman was not an idiot, despite what some of his brothers would claim, and he could connect the very clearly drawn lines in the logic here. Somehow, some way, the pup actually was his. A silent side eye had two of his sons breaking off to gather data from the lab while Leman continued to make the captured scientist sweat.

Really it was cruel to play with his prey like this, his wolf mother had taught him better than that, but he couldn’t help it. A little bit of vengeance before justice was never a terrible thing, and besides, the peals of laughter his newest son let out every time the captive squeaked was well worth it.

Rogal Dorn: He knew without a shadow of a doubt that the child was his. Really it was embarrassingly obvious. The siege had been more than successful and going in to pick off the stragglers resulted in the situation at hand. The Drukhari biomancers nervously staring down the barrels of his astartes blasters after being ratted out by the screaming of one of their own creations.

A child, or as was more immediately noticed by Rogals instincts, his child.

Oh they had certainly tried to claim the child was theirs, had certainly put their best pleading act in to it, but more than the simple fact that this was his child there was one driving force behind his stalwart decision to claim the tiny thing.

He’d sooner die than let these filthy xeno’s have one of his own blood.

Cradling the child to his chest Rogal sent a silent signal to his men to continue with their destruction of the facility. The biomancers had finally seen the futility in their pitiful attempts at persuasion and Rogal rightfully rewarded them with death. Allowing his men to continue their efforts he returned to the ship with his newly acquired son, there was much planning and preparation to do for his arrival after all.

Konrad Curze: The Drukhari were idiots if they thought they could keep this hidden from him. Even without his premonitions their plots and movements were painfully obvious. Sitting in the shadows of the pipes and wires that covered the makeshift lab Konrad stared down at the biomancers that scurried and fretted about the space. Anticipation and a rare flicker of joy fluttered in his chest as his eyes locked on the green incubation tube. So close.

Over and over he had seen the dreams. So familiar yet so strikingly different. The dead biomancers and the destroyed lab at the forefront of his mind but more importantly the one figure he was most eager to meet. His baby. At first the dreams had seen the child grow to kill him, a weapon in its own right, but very quickly they had changed. Dead biomancers, destroyed lab, and the baby blinking up at him from his arms all gummy smiles and shining black eyes.

A son, his son, would be born today. And his instincts sang with the rightness of it all. His claws worried grooves in the pipes as he heard the sound of his astartes approaching, no doubt following the trail the Drukhari left from their ship, and he settled further into the shadows with a vicious smile.

Dead biomancers. Destroyed lab. And one very happy baby.

He couldn’t wait to finally meet him.

Sanguinius: Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4

Ferrus Manus: Ferrus would be remiss to say he found the child because quite bluntly the child found him. On their way to aid an ally in a nearby sector their battle ship was rammed into by an Aeldari ship. He hesitated to call it a battle ship as the size of it was so small that the damage of its ramming had been confined to a single training room. No eldar survivors remained in the aftermath so, Commanding his men to continue on course to their allies, Ferrus took the brunt of the work in fixing the damage. Deeming his own hands faster and more well equipped than his men at the time he saw no need for aid.

The eldar ship groaned and screeched with every movement. And as he worked his way into scrapping the ship and sealing the hull he ignored many of the smaller sounds the ship released.

Laying on his front Ferrus felt his way through a narrow opening, gauging the integrity of the section, when he felt something gnawing on his other hand. Well, felt was a strong word, he noticed his hand moving without his input and turned his to head reveal the culprit. A baby, old enough to crawl, was teething on his arm. The child now sensing it had his attention crawled up directly to his face and sniffed at Ferrus curiously. Ferrus, having never dealt with children before, hesitantly sniffed back in response. Oddly enough it smelled like him and something strange in the back of his brain was very pleased by this.

But he…didn’t know how to handle this. So doing what he knew to do best Ferrus gently secured the baby into the groove of his gorget, a problem to be focused on afterwards, and returned to repairing the ship. He’d ask Fulgrim what to do about it later, he was sure to know.

XI: Escaping Child Support 2: The Squeakquel

Angron: For the first time in his life he found something stronger than the Nails. Another conquered planet, another bloody battle, another slaughter by his hands, but this one was different. He stared down into the wrecked incubation capsule with an awe and clarity that had not been afforded to him in quite some time. His instincts had latched onto the scent of the newborn with a viciousness and potency that surprised even himself.

The baby was tiny, smaller than his fist, and so young it could not yet open its eyes but he found the grip it had on his hearts was stronger than any foe he had ever faced. He reached a single hand into the tube with a gentleness he had never before experienced. As the baby’s fist closed around his finger, a strong grip but so weak compared to his blood stained hands, he felt his breath leave his lungs as though by a physical blow.

The screeching of the nails was drowned out by one repeating piece of unquestionable knowledge.

This was his child, his baby, his son.

Roboute Guilliman: This strange encounter felt like it was spiraling out of control very quickly. When he and his sons had received a message from an Aeldari ship the reaction had, rightfully, been intense trepidation. But the vague message of ‘returning that which he had lost’ had prompted Roboute to allow them onboard. An emissary group of three Eldar had boarded, two guards and an important looking woman holding a child, and Roboute had assumed it was all a strange roundabout way of showing they were not a threat.

Until the lady had promptly handed him the child and proclaimed for the entire ship that she was returning what was rightfully his.

The shouts and chaos that came from his men were nothing short of unbecoming, but Roboute himself could certainly not judge. Any coherent thought or denial that came to mind was destroyed because yes this was most definitely his child. The wide blue eyes, the curly blonde hair, and the scent that matched his so closely left no room for doubt. But the problem was that Roboute had no recollection of actually ever creating said child. Sensing the confusion the Lady, Yvraine as she introduced herself, clarified that the child had been saved from a Drukhari lab in the sector. Her group having noticed both the resemblance of the child to Roboute and the movements of his ship in this sector had assumed that he was searching for his missing child.

Evidently not the case.

So after multiple quick explanations, and one incredibly awkward truce later, Roboute Guilliman had officially aquired an infant son.

Mortarion: When his sons had returned from battle he had not expected them to return with an extra passenger. A child, Small and pale and so very like him, had been recovered from the clutches of a Xeno biomancer. And his sons with all the blessings of their fathers geneseed immediately recognized a baby brother.

A small part of Mortarion had hoped the child would be a fluke, a false positive that he could write off or avoid, but the truth of the matter was simply unavoidable. The child was his, and that strange pull at the back of his mind was absolutely letting him know.

The child itself was inexplicably drawn to Mortarion reaching with tiny hands whenever he was near. Even days after it first arrived its fascination with the Primarch was unending. Mortarion himself held back on his affection for the little one because he was worried, afraid even, of what he could do to them. Mortarion himself was so much larger, so much stronger, so much more resilient than them and a hundred concerns crossed his mind in an instant. What if he was not careful enough? What If he squeezed too hard? What If he moved them too fast? What if the toxins he had become accustomed to would hurt-

Oh, there’s a baby in his arms.

The Astartes had apparently tired of the child’s pitiful whines and passed them to Mortarion before promptly leaving.

….

Well the child wasn’t dead, in fact they seemed to be quite content, so Mortarion would simply continue to hold them. Exactly like this. And not move an inch. At. All.

He had this parenting thing down pretty well in his opinion.

Magnus the Red: He knew of his son long before the reports of Drukhari experiments reached his legion. How could he not? The tiny nascent soul, no more defined than the bubbles of a lava lamp, had begun to follow him every time he visited the immaterium with a burbling joy that only a child could produce.

The tiny thing resonated with him, soul of his soul, in a harmony known only to Magnus. A beloved companion in his pursuits through the warp. But as news of the Drukhari plot reached him, as the pieces of the mystery finally fell into place, Magnus finally realized what had been so blatantly presented to him all this time.

A son was being born.

Somewhere there was a child of his blood and Magnus would be damned if he did not find them. Locating his son within the material plane had been laughably easy, such a young soul unburdened by knowledge easily led him back to its mortal form, and finally seeing what his son would be born into caused Magnu’s blood to boil. Cold calculating machinery, the impassive embrace of an incubation tube, and a Drukhari biomancer swearing vengeance on the imperium. Commanding all his sons to join him in battle had certainly brought questions, especially from his father and brothers, but their suspicions were nothing in the eyes of Magnus for there was something far more important currently awaiting his arrival.

Magnus would retrieve his son, and no one would stand in his way.

Horus Lupercal: Horus could not bring himself to strike down the child. His Father had instructed upon him the conquering of a planet; the destruction of another xeno threat. Every last enemy slain and defeated as was His decree. But here he stood and for once he hesitated. Every other mutant and squalling failure had been slain but here was a final perfect specimen. Something like him and the indescribable thing within him knew it.

Blood of his blood, flesh of his flesh, a soul that would no doubt match his own.

A son.

He cradled the small thing with an awe and joy that he had rarely ever felt in his life. His Father was bound to understand. How could he not? He had created him and his brothers much the same way this child had been created. Son of His Son. He was bound to understand. The planet conquered and the threat destroyed Horus returned to his ship to share with his legion this momentous occasion.

Lorgar Aurelian: The child was a sign. A sign of fortune and favor a sign of hope and prosperity. But more than that it was a gift. A child of his blood, of his flesh and soul, was clear proof that his preaching was the will of his Father. The child, born in a lab and through biomancy of human and Drukhari genome, born so like him that the pattern had to be by design and not mere coincidence, had been brought to him by his sons. Each and every one of them could sense the connection the child held to Lorgar, and by extension his Father, and knew without a shadow of a doubt the importance the little one would hold.

The future of the Legion of their people’s faith and salvation all coalesced to one divine sign.

A mind to be molded, a child to be guided, a prized lamb in the flock.

Lorgar would not squander such a wonderful gift.

Vulkan: The Drukhari were looking for something. At least that was the conclusion that Vulkan and his sons had come to. The third strike team in as many months to be destroyed attempting to enter Nocturnes atmosphere. A curious persistence, and one that most certainly had his sons and his people on high alert. As a preemptive measure many of the more remote cities had begun to move their people to the old bunkers used in the time of the Dusk Wraiths. Vulkan, with a day to spare, was helping move one such city. Lost in thought as he watched his people Vulkan startled when something small latched onto his leg.

Looking down he was greeted by the delighted gummy smile of a baby. Vulkan felt his hearts melt at the adorable sight but a more pressing concern nagged at his mind. Who’s child was this? The bright red eyes meant the child was not a baseline, the child of one of his sons then? A rare occurrence but not unheard of. With a great level of concern for the child Vulkan spent the better part of the day looking for its parents.

It was late at night, the child comfortably asleep in his arms, when Vulkan finally came to a discomforting conclusion. The child had no parents. Not a single one of his sons had reported a missing child, no city was missing one that matched the child’s description, and no one had come forth to claim it. Looking down at its peacefully sleeping face Vulkan could only feel tired concern squeeze his hearts.

Well.

If no one would claim the child, then he supposed the child would be his. Something deep and curling in the back of his mind was terribly pleased by this, how curious. Much later, after all was settled, his sons would come to learn that the Drukhari were in fact searching for his newest child. A clone created by their biomancers, their reasons unknown and no doubt nefarious. But it mattered little. Vulkan knew with the certainty and rage of the great salamanders of nocturne that anyone who sought to take his son would meet death at his hands.

Corvus Corax: He knew what he would find, but it did not make the surrealism of the moment any less potent. This particular band of Drukhari had been in a vicious cycle of battle with Corvus and his legion. A seemingly unending back and forth with far too many innocents caught in the crossfire. This planet, its major cities captured and enslaved, would be the final resting place of these filthy xeno’s. And the Drukhari seemed to be of a similar mindset for they too had started to scheme. Corvus knew. He knew of their plot, knew of the traitorous serf that allowed it to progress, knew of what had been created. But it did not prepare him for this moment.

The biomancers walked past him without a second glance. Taking measurements, moving vials, doing their best to understand what had happpened. Their words meant nothing to Corvus drowned out as his world narrowed to a single point. A child. A baby. He knew to expect a clone, knew to expect a weapon, but his mind could not correlate the two. Something deeper and more powerful than the shock of the moment had latched on the scent of the newborn.

It smelled like him.

The baby blinked up at him, squinted really, and reached for him with little coos and burbles. Corvus reached out to the child and could not form a coherent thought distracted by how Its hand was smaller even than his finger.

Too small.

Too slow.

Failure.

The words, the intent, of the biomancers finally broke through the fog of his mind and Corvus felt a blinding rage. They would all perish here and now, this he would make sure of. Corvus stood amidst the aftermath of his rage, the unrecognizable gore of the biomancers and their foul creations, with his infant son cradled to his chest; a soft rare smile as he looked down upon his sleeping face. His sons had received his message, were no doubt already well into their liberation efforts, and would soon report victory.

And when the enemy was finally slain. When all traces of these foul slavers and their perverse creations were eradicated from the planet. Corvus would rejoice with his legion the arrival of their youngest brother.

Alpharius-Omegon: No one actually knows how the child got there. Oh certainly some claim they do: ridiculous ideas like the child being a xeno splice clone or the love child of the Primarch and a warp demon. But no one actually knows how the child got to be there. In fact most people aren’t even quite sure the child belongs to the Primarch at all. But the only thing anyone can seem to agree on is that there is absolutely a child in the Alpha legion base. Could it belong to a serf? Possibly. Do the legionnaires pay far too much attention to the child for that to be the case? Oh absolutely. But the child is there. Sometimes. Maybe? Debatable.

[saywhat-politics]

The joint resignation letter was addressed to White House chief of staff Susie Wiles and uploaded to a webpage called WetheBuilders.org.

Feb. 25, 2025, 12:37 PM MST / Updated Feb. 25, 2025, 1:03 PM MST

By Lora Kolodny, CNBC, Allan Smith and Daniel Arkin

Twenty-one civil service employees resigned en masse from Elon Musk's Department of Government Efficiency, according to a letter posted online and shared with media outlets Tuesday. The letter said they refused to use their technical expertise to "compromise core government systems, jeopardize Americans’ sensitive data, or dismantle critical public services."

"We swore to serve the American people and uphold our oath to the Constitution across presidential administrations," wrote the staffers, who joined when the agency was known as the United States Digital Service (USDS). "However, it has become clear that we can no longer honor those commitments at the United States DOGE Service."

A person familiar with the letter confirmed its authenticity to NBC News.

The staffers behind the joint letter did not sign their names but listed their job titles, including “Engineer,” “Product Manager” and “Designer.” NBC News has not confirmed their identities.

[shadesofmauve]

Alliance Normandy SR2 redesign: Deck 3

The crew deck sits in the middle of the ship, where the hull is widest. This is where design for a larger crew really comes into play.

Sleeping and other bodily functions

The main bathrooms are roughly the same shape and location as in-game, but people walking by no longer have a great view of the showers every time the doors open.

Enlisted racks

24 enlisted racks line the corridor to the main battery, housing the bulk of the rank-and-file. Bunks are stacked two high, with uniform lockers to one side and coffin-lockers under the mattress.Footholds in between sets of bunks let you can reach the top without stepping on the one below.

Junior officers' quarters

I assume a spaceship needs more technical expertise and less grunt work, so the crew is weighted towards officers and highly-trained technical specialists. These specialists fill non-command roles and bunk with the junior officers. Joker (flight lieutenant) and Traynor (comms specialist) berth here. So does Kaidan, because at the point he came aboard the guest stateroom was occupied by Khalisah Al-Jilani, and bunking with marines would muddy command waters because he seriously outranks Vega.

Bunks are two-high with coffin lockers just like the enlisted racks, but officers rate four inches more elbow room and two inches more to stretch out their toesies. They also get a bit more privacy, a little more storage, and access to the lounge overlooking the eezo core*.

*I gave them a lounge because in ME3 you occasionally find officers chatting at a table in the middle of the bunk room, and if anyone did that while I was trying to sleep three feet away I'd commit murder.

Senior officers' country

Miranda's old quarters, which Liara claims in ME3, are large enough to house the entire senior staff in staterooms, with one extra for guests and a shared head. Each room has one permanent bunk (two inches wider and four longer than junior officers; swank) and one fold-out upper-bunk in case of extra passengers.

In Sunset and Evening Star the first thing Shepard does on the Citadel is sign on a first officer**, old navy hand Lieutenant Commander Nguyen. The first thing Nguyen does is fill the missing weapons and ops roles (she heads the navigation department herself, since it's a small ship).

With Shepard in the admiral's quarters on deck 1, First Officer Nguyen gets what would have been the captain's cabin on the crew deck (except while Primarch Victus and his aide were aboard; when she gave up her quarters to the turians). Mukerjee, the head of ops, gets the slightly-larger-than-standard cabin intended for the XO.

Garrus has the 'extra' stateroom, as their liaison with the turians. He keeps the desk folded for space and sleeps crouched in one corner; the bunk is useless to him.

**Shepard delegated something! It's a Mass Effect miracle!

Vital ship functions

Main battery

The main battery looks exactly the same, except Garrus isn't sleeping in the corner or constantly fiddling with the guns. In fact, he's never fiddling with the guns. He and Silva were spending hours re-calibrating the thanix cannon to their own preferences whenever the other person's back was turned, and Nguyen stepped in and banned Garrus from the armory before it moved from passive aggression to murderous-interspecies-diplomatic-catastrophe.

AI core

Access to the AI core is from the battery corridor, not through the medical bay.

Medical bay

The medbay is divided into a front office, the main med bay, and an area for major surgery or isolation. There's also a small private cabin for the two members of the medic corps who assist Chakwas.

Life support

The life support corridor has another four enlisted racks, bringing the total enlisted berths on the crew deck to thirty. Life support itself is basically unchanged, except for some added Important Keep People Alive machines. Like engineering, life support systems are also spread throughout the ship.

Food & leisure

Mess & galley

The mess seats 32. It's also all-watch meetings are held, and occasionally movie screenings. Crew can grab shelf-stable snacks, cereal, or recent leftovers from self-serve areas outside the galley, or collect the meal currently on offer at the counter.

The galley feeds three shifts three times a day each, and one watch's breakfast comes immediately before the previous watch's dinner. About a week out, stores of fresh produce are gone, so a lot of food is frozen, freeze dried, or reconstituted. There's always something to eat; one of the two big pots is almost always full of soup, if not both Bread is made from scratch (flour keeps indefinitely, bread doesn't), and there's a flat-top as well as a six-burner range. The food storage in the galley and nearby walk-in are only what the cooks expect to need for the next two days or so; food actually makes up most of the Normandy's cargo, stored on deck 4.

Observation lounges

The observation lounges, important for crew morale and sanity on longer missions, are differentiated by volume. Starboard is generally used for quieter conversation, reading, solo gaming, or study. The Port lounge is for parties and games. (There is no free wet bar, this is a military ship).

Normandy redesign posts

Intro

Loft

Command

Crew

Engineering

Hangar

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Alpine A110 R Ultime, 2024. A limited edition of 110 cars that combine the best of Alpine's and Alpine Racing's technical expertise including launch control, a 345bhp 2.0 litre engine and a new aerodynamic package for improved downforce

[macmay]

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[astrologydray]

♍️Virgo Mc in the each of the degrees♍️

If you have a Virgo Midheaven (MC), your career and public image are shaped by Virgo’s themes of precision, analysis, service, and mastery. You likely thrive in careers requiring problem-solving, organization, and attention to detail, such as healthcare, science, writing, education, research, or business administration.

• 0° Virgo (Aries Point) – A powerful initiator in service-based or intellectual fields. May gain recognition in medicine, science, or social reform.

• 1° Virgo – A perfectionist with strong critical thinking skills. Could succeed in editing, analytics, or quality control.

• 2° Virgo – A talented communicator; could thrive in writing, journalism, or teaching.

• 3° Virgo – An analytical mind, ideal for investigative work, research, or forensics.

• 4° Virgo – A love for learning and refinement; may excel in academia, law, or technical writing.

• 5° Virgo – A meticulous worker; likely to succeed in finance, administration, or data analysis.

• 6° Virgo – Naturally inclined toward healthcare, therapy, or alternative medicine.

• 7° Virgo – A precise, creative thinker; may find success in graphic design, architecture, or craftsmanship.

• 8° Virgo – Drawn to healing professions, including nutrition, physical therapy, or holistic medicine.

• 9° Virgo – A problem-solver with innovative ideas. Could thrive in technology, engineering, or logistics.

• 10° Virgo – A strong educator; may work in teaching, coaching, or mentoring.

• 11° Virgo – A tech-savvy, analytical mind; may excel in IT, cybersecurity, or programming.

• 12° Virgo – A perfectionist in fashion, music, or fine arts. Success through precise craftsmanship.

• 13° Virgo – A highly responsible worker; may thrive in law enforcement, military, or humanitarian work.

• 14° Virgo – Health-conscious with a sharp mind. Could be drawn to dietetics, fitness, or medical research.

• 15° Virgo – A master of writing, editing, or academic research.

• 16° Virgo – Business-minded; excels in consulting, financial planning, or business strategy.

• 17° Virgo – A detail-oriented expert; could work in surgery, pharmaceuticals, or scientific research.

• 18° Virgo – A deep humanitarian drive; drawn to nonprofits, environmental work, or psychology.

• 19° Virgo – A critical thinker who excels in law, politics, or policy-making.

• 20° Virgo – A master of their craft; recognized for expertise in specialized fields.

• 21° Virgo – Exceptionally intellectual; may thrive in philosophy, academia, or technical writing.

• 22° Virgo – An innovative thinker; could work in product design, systems development, or efficiency consulting.

• 23° Virgo – A strong researcher; may specialize in history, archeology, or science.

• 24° Virgo – An excellent communicator; may succeed in broadcasting, publishing, or public relations.

• 25° Virgo – A sharp and strategic mind; could work in legal fields, investigative journalism, or intelligence.

• 26° Virgo – A healer at heart; may be drawn to nursing, surgery, or psychological counseling.

• 27° Virgo – A gifted analyst; could thrive in economics, data science, or cybersecurity.

• 28° Virgo – A precise and disciplined artist; success in sculpture, architecture, or technical art.

• 29° Virgo (Anaretic Degree) – A master strategist, perfectionist, or critic. Success comes through expertise, refinement, and precision. However, may struggle with overanalyzing or career indecision.

[discommunicator]

is there a progress/technology witch, outside the machine witch?

love all the designs by the by ♥

In Wrongworld, the Coven as a whole is a group that seeks progress and witches are the equivalent of 'scientists' in a broad sense. So you can tell everyone in the Coven is 'progress/technology witch' in some measure.

If you're talking about some futuristic Sci-Fi theme, however, there are two matching member besides the Machine Witch; Fermioné the Sea Witch and Linzi the Blight Witch.

Fermioné is literally an alien technician, engineer and architect of various field who came from a different world, another universe - in pursuit of technical research. Her title of Sea Witch is earned from the mutual exchange of knowledge with the Coven and does not really represent her actual expertise. (When she was deciding her title, what she brought was 'Sea' only because she has settled around the 'oceanic' part of the world. Although later it turned out that the sea in question was not a usual sea that we or she could think of, she went for it anyway.)

In Linzi's case, while her metier is phytopathology, she also has some uncanny sense at modifying and converting existing machines to fit her purpose, making mysteriously functioning automation systems. Her 'technologies' are kind of rough on the surface, yet works wonders and helped the world taking some great steps forward.

[osakanone]

Are you a fan of hard science fiction?

tl;dr:

This is a very complicated question, and it depends on what the author considers technology, science or culture.

long version:

Super, super depends honestly and the deciding factor is usually the author's own self-awareness.

A lot of hard SF spends months perfecting its technical research and then for whatever reason has writing that has done zero research in humanities or social studies and is just someone repeating the bits of world history they like not realizing the irony.

I like hard SF when it uses the machine to tell a story, otherwise its not playing to its strengths. Clarke got this. Morgan less so.

This also depends on how you define it: Do you mean hard SF as in its all technically plausable or Hard SF, where how the technology matters to the story?

These mean very different things!

Likewise, there's also then the question of most hard SF not understanding science well enough to understand what post-science [...]

eg, the idea that science is more than just the sum of research, and that how we do peer-review analysis needs to be seriously changed because of the replication crisis, and how we store and educate science needs to change due to the knowledge and expertise collapse crisis, or the fundamental change of how knowledge and information and abstraction functions with respect to reality itself, etc, etc, none of which hard SF acknowledges at all whatsoever which is the least realistic thing about it

[...]

is or where engineering is going next so they're just repackaging speculative fiction's methodology from 40 years ago without actually doing the leg-work beyond "what the next doohicky is", instead of seriously asking how science itself is going to change.

Its tempting to think that technology is the active human interface with the material world, but I would argue for all intents and purposes there is no material world beyond what humans experience either directly or indirectly and the reason we would want to preserve that non-experience without exploiting it is because some day we'd like to experience it to gain revelations both scientific and cultural.

The idea that science is automatically synonymous with technology is a frankly rediculous one because it refuses to recognize that one does not automatically become the other just as tomes of knowledge do not become useful effectve contexturalized understandings within your mind the moment you exchange money for them.

At for example, is in a way a sort of technology but its a cultural technology yet I never hear of hard SF exploring this angle. Instead, its the fetishization of how you can use tungsten orbs and catching nets to devise the most efficient cooling system possible or how fast your imaginary drive can go because you studied pusher plates and nuclear propulsion on wikipedia once and felt a tingle in your hind brain about it. We're all fundamentally excited children when we see big numbers, but but numbers alone don't make a compelling story I think.

As an example, I genuinely don't think of The Expanse has hard SF and it has nothing to do with its warp drive but instead its total lack of understanding that the fundamental ways in which society functions would drastically change in such a time.

Humans who act like we do today even fifty years in the future are the "guys painted green with deelyboppers" of science fiction of today and nobody outside of study seems to notice this.

If an author can't imagine a fundamentally very different social system but an go on for hours about how optomagnetic holographic storage and nano-vacuum tubes with switching speeds in the terrahertz range are wonderful I think the author just wants to talk about cool things they like indulgantly and not really even do science fiction.

That's particularly difficult for me becuase I'm someone who often does exactly that! I am a VERY self-indulgant writer!

In conclusion I'd say its less I'm either a fan or not a fan of hard SF (I do love using technology to tell a story which is what hard SF does) but the fact "hard" SF is held in higher esteem than "soft" SF speaks to an emotional insecurity in the audience that they should want to forgo the humanities and uninform themselves of the human condition as if they are above it in some way which I frankly find rather ghastly.

I think science fiction's most important lesson is not to do the torture nexus again and I think without the humanities that becomes rather difficult.

Sorry if this is a bit of a funny answer.

I appreciate the question, and thank-you for your time.

[the-ganymedian]

if you feel like doing so, i think a main 4 x aahw defector reader would be neat. bonus points for an atp defector

Four egg yolks hot and ready!

MAIN 4 X EX ATP READER

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Hank:

-It still baffles him to think about. How could somebody who brings him such joy use to be part of one of the many banes of his existence?

-At least that explains some familiar behaviours he's seen in you. Whether it be in how you fight, your technical capacities, or just general habits you've picked up from the AAHW, he's spent too much time being hunted for sport not to notice.

-He'll ask you what yellow blood tastes like. And also ask for a taste. What? He's curious!

-They like to have sparring matches with you. They'd like it regardless of your background, but it's especially interesting now, especially if you know a few weaknesses of his based on what they've seen at the agency, he likes a challenge.

-It's sort of weird to see the man you were attempted-brainwashed into killing be so... calm. He isn't very good at affection, so he hopes their staring, defending you in battle, head pats or decreased grumpiness makes you understand he appreciates you.

-If your old job had somebody specific tourment you in any way, pass him the word. He's always happy to kill, especially if it's more violent than ususal, and especially if it's for you.

Sanford:

-He has... mixed feelings. On one hand, it's good to have some genetically engineered expertise on hand, plus one less AAHW member, but on the other he's always had a vicious hate of anything ATP, both on the field and even with the prototypes back when he was still an agent. Don't take it against you though, his intial aprehension will eventually melt down.

-However, as a lover of chemistry and bomb-making himself, you most likely have more than one opportunity to bond over what you know. It's sweet to see him so passionate about what he does and how he does it.

-He's rather worried about you being an AAHW dissenter. They have a very strong vendetta against thair traitors, and he really hates the idea of you having to face the consequences of a power hungry organization, just because you wanted a more deserved life.

-Sometimes he thinks about the "logistics" of you being an ex agent. He doesn't like to think about how any of those mooks he has killed or tortured in cold blood at best, and with delight most often, could have been you if you were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. It's something that makes him realize these are people he's murdering.

-If you kept any of your gear, he's actually quite curious to try it! For what it is, the stuff ATP units are given can be quite interesting technology, especially the headgear. Not the suits though, those were always too tight for him.

-He's also pretty curious about your organs and such. He's overheard a little about the machines making up ATP bodies, or the differences in metabolism from that yellow blood, but he's never had any sort of testimony on what it actually feels like. Plus, he's a bit of a gym rat, so he likes to hear how differently your body works from his.

-(Bonus: I like to think ATP engineers have more type 1 muscles fibers, while ATP soldats have more type 2.)

Deimos:

-"Yeah, they suck, don't they?" Lots of shit-talking the agency and reminiscing on bad memories between you two.

-He's actually quite curious about you being an ATP. Likes to ask a bunch of questions, like how the upgrade process goes, what was different about the work assigned, if you got paid better than him, etc etc.

-Gives you a bunch of yellow based nicknames. Sometimes it's cute, like 'lemon cake', sometimes it's cuter, like 'jaundice'.

-He likes to take selfies with you and hack them onto the AAHW websites and computers along with one to twenty messages made just to piss them off.

-And he'll invite you to vandalize and mock the AAHW with him! You can help him out in slathering their walls with graffiti or partake in a bit of online trolling!

-"Say, uh, do you still have one of those suits or something?" He'll try to convince you he's just curious to see what you would have looked like back in the agency days, but you can tell why he wants you to wear your old suit again. The dusting of red on his face when he thinks about it is enough to know.

2BDamned:

-He already knew. Even if the circumstances would have made it hard to find out, he could have guessed from the yellowish skintone alone, and that's not counting after he's made and got the documents about you.

-Will most definitely ask you questions about the AAHW. He already knows a lot from being an ex-agent and S.Q info stealing, but you most likely have some extra information he doesn't.

-You definitely notice how some of these questions seem a little more personal though. Like how you were treated, how monitored was your personnal life, if there was anyone in particular you didn't like... Safe to say, he's more worried about you than he lets on.

-He knows how brutal the agency can be towards any dissenter it finds; he's suffered the consequences himself. So he wants to make sure he knows what it did to you. (So he can know how he can take revenge.)

-S.Q doesn't actually have that many ATP members, not as much as redbloods at least, so you might get a liiiitle bit of a higher rank over the others. It's not favouritism, it's strategy!

-He'll also ask if he can taste your blood. Though he's a lot more civil than Hank, as he says it's for science that he spills the blood drawing syringes content into his mouth; hidden from you of course, he's got some discipline and a respectful attitude to uphold. Though you definitely notice how he can start staring for a little too long when he's healing you. Maybe the unliscensed medicine has gotten to his head a little bit...

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