#MX Labs

[faultfalha]

In the future, the world will be a different place. The Estonia of today is unrecognizable from the Estonia of 10 years ago, and in 10 years, it will be even more different. But in the future, there will be startups in Estonia that you should keep an eye on. These startups will be the ones that change the world. They will be the ones that make the Estonia of the future the Estonia of the present.

[ultralowoxygen]

Novembre tra le vigne by Michele Nicoletti Via Flickr: Analogica eseguita con Pentax MX obiettivo Pentax SMC 135 mm f 3.5. Pellicola kodak gold 200 sviluppata con kit Bellini c41 , scansionata con Canon EOS 60D e obiettivo canon ef-s 60mm macro. Elaborazione ed inversione del RAW con "negative lab pro".

[akaanuar]

MUTEK.MX 2024 Edición XX: 20 años de mutación, innovación y creatividad digital en México.

Este 2024 el Festival Internacional de Creatividad Digital MUTEK.MX, celebró su tan esperada Edición de 20 Aniversario con lo mejor de el arte digital, realidad virtual, inteligencia artificial y música electrónica de vanguardia. Una celebración especial que se extendió este año a dos semanas del 7 al 20 de octubre con un intenso despliegue de experiencias de arte y creatividad digital con…

[hatahataneko]

film1459 2019/5/1

[the-haunted-office]

Thursday can't help but redden a little bit at the slight admonishment for being told she's asked too many questions at once, even though Kanae's tone came across as playful. There's some part of Thursday that she hasn't been able to quite understand that feels nervous about things, like things are her fault, even when she has a feeling they shouldn't be. Asking too many questions shouldn't be a bad thing, right? Especially in a bizarre situation like this? She can't help it. It feels normal to be asking a lot of questions, so for someone to hint that she's asking too many makes her feel stupid.

She can't help but back off from the questions in a hurry, feeling suddenly more insecure, although she tries not to let it show too much, because everything about this situation makes her feel insecure. There isn't a moment she's felt secure since she gained consciousness.

"Oh," is all she can think to say for a moment, because she wants to ask more questions and she's wondering when she might be allowed to ask without it being considered too many. She supposes she'll wait for some kind of cue or prompt - assuming she'll recognize it - and watches as Kanae and the other one exchange some more of that language she doesn't understand, once again feeling like there's something important she's not understanding, and just- waits for her turn to be addressed.

Looking down at her leg, she scratches at it again. Why does it heal fast like that? She has no idea. It just always has. Any of her injuries and ailments have. She looks back up at Kanae and shrugs, once again brimming with questions herself.

"I- don't- I mean, I guess I didn't realize it was healing fast. I've always healed like that," she answers, pressing her lips together like she thinks she's done something wrong. "But- Eh, I'm sorry, I'm not really understanding, I don't mean to be- to not be understanding. I've never eaten a person before. I've only ever eaten mushrooms and flowers and things. Never a person. I mean, I've never tried to... Seeker did this to me." She points at the healing bite marks on her leg. "And, yeah, I guess you could say I taste good to them? They keep doing it, so- Yeah. I mean, it's either that or they just- they just don't... they really don't like the taste of mushrooms and flowers by comparison, haha."

Her nervous attempt at humor lands flat as a bad tire, even to her, and it didn't even help her anxiety over this whole mystery like she was subconsciously hoping it would.

"Sorry. I'm sorry, I know you said I was asking too many questions, but I can't help it. If I'm healing too quickly for a human, then why am I not eating like a ghoul? Or have I just misunderstood something? Or, was Seeker not feeding me properly? I mean, they weren't that bad to me, they really weren't, I swear they weren't, I just didn't want to be stuck with them anymore, I didn't ask for any of this-"

Thursday cuts herself off abruptly, suddenly feeling really bad for speaking so poorly of Seeker. She's terrified of them, but at the same time, part of her really cares about them. And she hates herself for feeling both of those things.

Kanae listens carefully and attentively to Thursday.

She likes the sense of having power. She is getting information her father wants, and she's better at getting it than he would ever be. And all because of traits, because of a suite of tools that often come with an amorphous thing called femininity, that he looks down on as weak and vapid. Giving Thursday comforts is power too.

So is neglecting to tell Thursday that they're surrounded by humans who can probably help her, if she's human after all. That definitely feels important.

"That's too many questions all at once!" she laughs. It sounds playful on the surface, but on some level, she means it. She needs to figure out just the right way to have this conversation if she wants to keep that sense of power she's decided she likes. It will go badly if Thursday runs away or if Mr. von Rosewald butts in and takes over.

"The world out here is... well, it's a lot different than the woods," Kanae says, trying to sort her thoughts. She should answer the question without really answering it, she thinks. And change the subject quickly, to something more useful to her. Like how Thursday's wounds can heal like that.

"The outside world is... beautiful, but also terrible..."

Mr. von Rosewald pauses his phone conversation to give Kanae a quick, blunt reminder in that unknown language: Kanae should ask Thursday how her wounds can heal like that.

Kanae turns to him with a look of incredulous hurt. Does he perceive her as rambling about a world that can be beautiful and terrible, with no direction or plan? She wants so badly for him to respect her, or even just try to understand her. Her concept of his concept of her, in this moment, is wounding. She's twenty-one, and he probably has a mindset like he's walking next to a child.

(Later, she will remember that her parents made an agreement a long time ago that they shouldn't hunt together for the sake of their marriage. Her father refuses to assume competence behind her mother's actions, her mother claims. They don't work as a team. They trip over each other, take everything personally, and risk being caught or losing their prey. Remembering that later will offer Kanae a little cold comfort. Remembering who she's dealing with. Mr. von Rosewald does not dole out respect lightly, and his criteria for what deserves respect can lack a certain winnable quality.)

"He wants to know why your leg is healing fast like that," Kanae tells Thursday, trying to keep a neutral tone. Her dad doesn't think she's smart, and she is being so brave about it. "If you don't already know, all people are either humans or ghouls. Humans eat plants and animals, and it takes them a long time to heal from injuries. Ghouls only eat humans, and they heal quickly if they get hurt. We're trying to figure out what you are. You seem like a human, but only a ghoul would heal like that, so we don't know. Is Seeker a ghoul? Like, do they eat pieces of you? Do you taste good to them, do you think? Ghouls can eat other ghouls too, but humans are better."

[a-door-to-somewhere]

Old art dump ft. Thranto

Id and other stuff under the cut :D (click to see the whole image)

Image 1: Thrawn, chest up. in a plain black tank top brushing his long, straight dark hair over his shoulder. His head is tilted and he looks disgruntled

Image 2: more long haired thrawns on the same page. An uncolored line art of Thrawn from the back, his hair tied in a sleek ponytail. There are little sparkles around him. Another drawing of Thrawn’s head featuring a messy ponytail and lots of flyaways. He’s frowning. Labeled mornings. Another drawing of Thrawn and Eli from the chest up- Eli is holding a pen in one hand. Over his other shoulder, Thrawn leans over him, pointing at Eli’s work (not shown.) Thrawn’s long hair is untied and falling over Eli’s shoulder. Eli is blushing and eyeing the hair strand on his shoulder.

Image 3: monochrome doodles from my teacher!Thranto AU, featuring Eli. The largest drawing is of Eli sitting cross legged in slacks and a button up shirt, grinning and fiddling with a pen in one hand. Another doodle shows Eli, chest up, looking over his shoulder, gesturing and speaking expressively about the equation y=mx+b. A full body doodle of Eli in slacks and a button up shirt, a pen tucked in his breast pocket. He has one hand on his hip and the other is gesturing as if he is making a point. His face is smiling and open. Another doodle of just Eli’s head shows him blushing slightly and averting his eyes as he talks. An arrow points to him reading “is he infodumping about math or telling a story a story about thrawn’s shenanigans?”

Image 4: messy colored doodles of my SCP AU. On the left, A full body of Thrawn. He’s wearing an orange d-class jumpsuit from the Scp universe and brown socks. He has long chest length black hair his usual blue skin. He’s wearing a big brown cuff on both hands with the Scp logo on it. He looks pissed and is rolling his eyes. On the right, waist up colored doodles of Thrawn and Eli. Eli is in front, wearing a white coat over a blue shirt. He’s holding out his arm as if to protect thrawn. His face is guarded, threatened. Thrawn stands a little behind him, also wearing a white lab coat. He is scribbling on a clipboard. His hair is short and slicked back. He is wearing glasses and he looks focused and unconcerned.

[justgivemethephd]

09.12.2024

Good morning everyone! I completely missed the Friday update, but I ended up going to Winter Wonderland with some coworkers in the evening and then my parents visited over the weekend, so I was quite busy.

This is my last full week of studying before I go skiing and I literally cannot wait for a break. Everything has been so physically and mentally draining over the last few weeks, it'll be so nice to go away for a bit and get my mind off things. But this does mean I have a lot I want to get done before I go.

Primary goals this week will be analysing the FACS data I collected last week and finishing the results section of my upgrade report, after which I will start the first round of editing. I have 3 experiments planned this week, 3 workshops and a progress meeting with my supervisor. Since today will be my least lab-heavy day, I'm going to focus on analysis and writing, and hopefully I can get that out of the way by a reasonable time.

It's odd, but I feel completely different about my work and my project than I did even a couple of weeks ago. Writing my upgrade report has brought me joy, and been a good reminder that not only do I love what I study, but I love any opportunity to talk about it. I am passionate about science, I am passionate about my experiments, I want things to work, and I'm motivated to make it happen. I know the end of the year is a stressful and often sad time for a lot of people, but I hope that you can keep alive the love of your craft. The fire that keeps you studying even when things are tough.

_____

🎧 - Mx. Sinister by IDKHOW

🎮 - Animal Crossing

📖 - Different Seasons by Stephen King (I'm on the 2nd short story)

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 1- Race Against the Clock

This is my very first time participating in Whumptober so I'm super excited!

“Hero!” Villain called, “Hero!”

Hero turned against the howling wind. They had staggered out of the lab on foot, trudging through the heavy snow that their powers had created. They squinted, just making out Villain’s form.

“Villain!?”

“Hero!”

Villain ran up and embraced them. Hero hugged them back. They were so cold… how long had Villain been out looking for them? The criminal quickly pulled out their comms and sent a heads-up to the others. They had found Hero.

“When we saw the blizzard on the scanners, I knew you were in trouble. We didn’t know where the lab they were keeping you in was ,but I couldn’t just not look for you. And now that I’ve found you…”

Villain trailed off. Hero noted how they were shivering. Hero quickly used their powers and started creating a dome of ice.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing?” Villain asked, teeth beginning to chatter.

“Ever heard of an igloo?” Hero asked.

“Wha- no, we need to get back to Base,” Villain said.

“If we stay out in this weather, you’ll become hypothermic,” Hero said, “do you have matches or anything?”

Villain sat down in the dome, pulling out a lighter. Hero tore off a piece of their suit, letting Villain light it. A little fire soon sprang up, and the cold outside kept the shelter from melting.

Hero swayed in place, kneeling by the fire. Villain sighed in relief, then looked up, eyes going wide in realization.

“No! Idiot! What are you doing!?”

They kicked snow over the little fire, putting it out.

“You’ll overheat!” Villain added.

“That’s the least of my worries,” Hero laughed weakly, starting to set up the fire again.

Villain’s brow furrowed.

“What do you mean?”

Hero’s swaying became more pronounced. They collapsed on their side, then pulled up their suit top. Angry red welts littered their torso. There were some bubbling blisters, along with nearly blackened skin.

“Hero…”

“They uh, they didn’t like that I wasn’t cooperating,” Hero said dazedly.

Villain’s eyes went wide. They kicked a hole in the ice dome, then pulled Hero out into the blizzard. Their cryogenic makeup thrived in environments that were too cold for normal people, and Villain hoped the snow would soothe the burns.

“Get back in the igloo,” Hero protested weakly.

“No way, I can’t imagine how much pain you must be in, I’m not leaving you.”

“It’s no good if you freeze to death.”

“Help is coming,” Villain shivered, “it won’t be long.”

…

“It won’t be long now,” Villain whispered weakly.

Hero had since fallen asleep in the snow. The little fire was starting to die. Villain felt too warm to go near it. Somewhere in the back of their fuzzy mind, they knew that was bad, but the rest of them was so tired…

…

“Vigilante to Team,” a voice echoed, “I’ve found them. Everyone meet back at Base.”

…

Villain blinked slowly, squinting against the fluorescent lights beaming down on them. They sat up and looked around. They were in the med bay at the hero base, but where was Hero?

“Cocoa, Mx. Villain?” a voice asked.

Villain jolted upright.

“Hi-Yah!”

Villain smacked the innocent cup of cocoa out of Assistant’s hands. They blinked, looking at the warm liquid spilling along the floor, then up at Assistant, who seemed quite unfazed.

“Oh, oh gosh, I’m sorry, I thought you were-”

“Supervillain?” Assistant guessed, “I’m afraid I don’t get paid enough to have a criminal enterprise.”

They grabbed another cup of cocoa from the bedside table. They handed it to Villain. It was steaming hot and the ceramic mug felt good in their hands.

“Where’s Hero?” Villain asked after taking a sip.

“Hero is currently having what I’m told is a very soothing ice bath. Their injuries have been treated, and they’ll join you in a minute.”

“Thank you,” Villain said quietly.

Assistant set to work cleaning up the hot chocolate mess on the floor, while Hero came in, followed by Vigilante and the rest of the hero group.

“Villain,” Vigilante nodded.

“Vigilante!” Villain said eagerly, “how’d you find us?”

“Tracker,” Teammate 1 said, “Vigilante is addicted to planting them everywhere.”

“We’ve apprehended Supervillain, so there’s no need to worry about the blizzard anymore,” Superhero said, “It should die down in a matter of hours.”

“Are you okay, Villain?” Hero asked, eyes wide with concern.

“’Course I am,” Villain said, “it takes more than a blizzard to get rid of me!”

Hero laughed a little.

“Mx. Hero,” Assistant said, “we need to redress those bandages. I won’t have you getting an infection.”

“But-”

“No buts. On the table if you please.”

Hero sighed, smiling all the same. They sat up on the med bay table and let Assistant treat their injuries. Outside the base, the blizzard had slowed into the peaceful, gentle falling of snow.

Patreon

Ko-Fi

Redbubble

Tags:

@mythixmagic @infinityshadows @fishtale88 @thelazywitchphotographer @the-beasts-have-arrived @princessofonwardsworld @surplus-of-sarcasm @memepsychowhowantsuperpower-blog

@electrons2006

[teenandbeyond]

I've noticed your predator/alien franchise doesn't have anything for xenomorph. Let's change that lol. Could I get something that has a similar storyline like the one that says dark reader on it the one where the reader is obsessed with aliens.. It's made me curious tbh

Xenomorph x Dark. Reader

Mx. Anonymous, you read my mind! I was wondering when someone would request this! And you don't need to apologize, since it's fanfiction, we're just gonna say eff reality for a moment (even though the whole thing is fictional...but you get it).

Want more from me, my Infinites (I'm trying out a follower name thing lol. I'll probably shuffle through random ass names until one works)? 𝙈𝘼𝙎𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

👽Discoveries👽 (Aliens)

Warning(s): Dark Fic (dunno if it came out as dark as I wanted), Non-con details, unprotected, triggering(?), size difference, I don't know where I went with this (this is what happens when I write parts at different times, I guess)

Sometimes experimentation leads to temptation...

✨✨✨✨✨✨

"You're crazy, [Last Name]!"

You tapped the end of your pen against your lip in thought before smiling, "Maybe, but crazy gets better results than normal. Ask any of the greatest geniuses, they'll tell you."

You were labeled as the crazy scientist because you suggested cross breeding. Between Xenomorph—or Aliens, the term used for common folk—and humans.

'It's impossible!'

'It's wrong! Don't you have any morals?' they cried.

'You want to talk to me about morals? Ha! Who are the ones who take creatures as they please and experiment to their heart's content, past what's necessary, simply for nosiness and fear of not knowing everything?'

You always shut them up any time they felt a need to comment on you.

"Sometimes the most impossible things can be made possible," you muttered as you scribbled something in your many notebooks dedicated to this theory.

You could admit you were pretty obsessed with Xenomorphs, you found them fascinating. You studied them with a passion.

You wanted one...and the opportunity came when a group of scientists arrived with a captured Xenomorph.

They were studying it to come up with a defense against them, you, among a few other scientists decided to spectate.

And all hell broke loose.

Turns out, someone from the group had gotten infected. You had to figure that out when a man's stomach burst open.

There was panic as the other scientists fell victim, until the newest creature was contained.

The two aliens were to be stored away since the team leading the experiment was now dead, until someone else decided to take it over.

That was your opening.

You took the fully grown one to your private lab, where everything was already set up.

The huge cylinder it was in was a little heavy, but you made it work. You pushed a button that would release an anesthetic-type liquid into the fluid the creature was summered in.

Once it was confirmed to be unconscious, you released it and properly restrained it, tail and all. You loved risks, but not when the result could stop your experimenting from proceeding...you can't test things if you're dead.

"Now...let's get your vitals connected to my database..." you tapped away at your screen until the patches and machinery you'd connected to it did their job, "There you are...and you are a very healthy Xenomorph."

You went through a few experiments of merging DNA samples, but something was missing. You couldn't figure out what it was.

You were disturbed from your deep thoughts by a pathetic escape attempt behind you.

"Oh, you're awake. I should introduce myself," you approached the alien carefully, "I'm your caretaker. And you're all mine for the time being."

It continued to struggle, hissing at you as you calmly took off your lab coat and put on gloves.

"Now, for a physical examination..."

Your hand slowly trailed down the alien's head and jaw, raising a brow as its struggle turned hesitant.

You heard a rumbling sound from its throat, the mouth covering muffling it.

"So...you aren't completely adverse to touch, hm?"

Then you explored its shoulders and arms, you trailed lower to its sides.

"Everything seems to be in order so far...You really are a beautiful specimen..." you sighed in fascination.

You were mesmerized and edging towards getting aroused.

And the alien could smell it, it was reacting.

Visibly reacting.

You smirked, "Oh...well, look at that. I've made the discovery of a lifetime."

So much research had been done, but never have sexual organs been found on an alien. But you supposed it wasn't common for someone to show arousal in their presence.

"Standing at attention just for me...What should I do with you?"

You were absolutely breathless.

But who could blame you, you were stretched to your limits. And there were still quite a few inches of it that didn't fit inside.

There was some defiance at the beginning, but this alien would just be the next being to know you always got what you wanted in the end.

And the hotter you got and the louder you got, ashamed defiance turned into lustful acceptance.

You balanced on your hands best you could, your feet also supporting you, but they were beginning to become less reliant the more they curled.

Its skin felt cool and smooth, a stark contrast to your heat and muscle. It made you shiver in the best ways as you slowly slid up and down.

"I think I might—keep you."

You were becoming more obsessed by the minute, perhaps your rationality was being manipulated by the smell of sex and sweat.

Or maybe because the alien tried and failed to keep itself quiet, sensitive to your every move.

A cute little virgin it was.

All yours to use as you've wanted. You could possibly get a sample once you were done, see if it gave different results.

Everything was in your control, until it wasn't.

The alien decided it'd had enough of your slow pace.

It thrusted up in quick strokes, making your body move so quickly it looked like it was shaking.

With a groan, your nails dug into its arms, then you gasp as it breaks out of its restraints.

For a moment, you think it'll attack, and it does.

It flips you under and bullies itself back into you, forcing in every inch.

A brutal attack that leaves you trying to catch your breath.

With a growl behind its mask, it pummels into you.

With fascination, you feel the bulge it creates and swear you can see it, but you're a little disoriented right now.

Your vision flashes from the pleasure and pain, your body is tingling.

"You—You're my discovery to keep," you grin.

[definesanity]

Raining Tigers and Dogs

Ad lib: My friend, who gave me this idea after a vague description of them was given to them by me. (Thanks bud 👍)

For @anonymocha c:

Kaalaa Baunaa was, in the most simple terms, tired.

It was only natural, in hindsight; she, an astrologer, and all the pros and cons that came with it. Such was the fate of her work, and the death of 8 hours of sleep. Heck, she was lucky to get five, at least.

So, she was there, sitting down on a chair, leaning on her desk. She was breathing slowly, focusing on trying to remain awake just that little bit more, so she can observe the stars... just one more, right?

Unfortunately, that wouldn't come to pass, due to the sound of a familiar chuckle.

"Heya, Kaalaa." Medicine Pocket's teasing voice spoke out, and Kaalaa could faintly see the outline of that equally familiar (infamous, even, perhaps?) white lab coat.

Kaalaa Baunaa could barely give out a reply, just humming.

"Soooooooo, I have a question!" they cheerfully continued. "Let's say I asked you to test something. Would you?"

The astrologer blinked up at MedPoc, with the menace's teeth gleaming.

"...Let's say I did--?"

"Sign here!" and in front of her was a sheet of paper.

From Medicine Pocket's perspective, she merely gave it a once over, ticked the boxes, and signed her signature.

They swiftly took it back, and started to walk away. "G'night, test buddy~!"

Kaalaa watched as they left. And then, gave a small chuckle.

-------------------

The door slammed open.

"RIIIIIIISE AND SHIIIIINE, SLEEPYHEAD!"

Kaalaa rubbed her eyes, looking at the researcher who entered her room holding the document. Sitting in her bed, looking at them... it was oddly comedic.

"...Hm?" Kaalaa Baunaa tilted her head.

"Don't give me that, my dear friend! After all, don't you remember last night?" they looked smug. Very smug.

Let's fix that, with a controlled shock.

"...Did you see the boxes I ticked, perchance?"

Medicine Pocket blinked. "Eh? The fuck you mean--?"

They read through, and just above their name,

'The co-operative (Ms. Kaalaa Baunaa) agrees to help the individual who gave them this document (Mx. Medicine Pocket) in any situation, regardless of health, illness, location, weather, environmental happenings, ect.'

That was meant to be the trump card, and why they looked so happy when giving them it.

And it was unticked. Making it void.

"...Piss." they muttered, and spun on their heels--

"Wait." the woman spoke out, and the 'doctor' paused in their walk. "What was it meant to be? I never agreed to physically help you, yes... but, does that mean I cannot help you in simply discussing it?"

Medicine Pocket looked at her. And then, sighed. "Yeah, sure, whatever..."

They closed the door and walked on in, and sat down on the edge of her bed. "It was meant to help with drowsiness."

Kaalaa gave them a nod to continue, and they rolled their eyes.

"Now, yeah, sure, Sotheby already made that 'Hangover Over Potion' because of Lilya's alcohol addiction problem, but it apparently has some side effects, mostly the usual, like diarrhoea, vomiting, migraines, the words, basically.

"Now, this one I'm making won't have any of that, barring the headache. But that'll be there to see if it works. If it feels like a numbing sensation, excellent, should be over soon. If not? Tough shit, buddy, I guess!"

Kaalaa Baunaa could not help the laugh that left her. "You have an... interesting mind, Medicine Pocket."

They sighed again, putting their head in their hands. "Oh, just--! Call me MedPoc! Jesus, woman!"

"Then by all means, call me KB."

A groan, a laugh, and a silence, before the discussions started anew.

It was not a perfect relationship. But, really, what was?

[yaolukash]

my part for the #superheromcyt_collab !! mx Mogswamp themselves, or, if I should say the superhero Matamis

more about them under the cut~

ꙮ it is rumored that Matamis linked their life with bees and honey in honor of their first beloved bee, Sweet Pea

ꙮ Matamis' wings and antennae appeared as a result of their experiments on themselves, so these parts of the body almost do not function and Matamis themselves spend most of their time in labs

ꙮ they was able to invent mechanisms that work on honey, which are periodically used by the heroes with whom Matamis works. these mechanisms became the basis of the «Beeselpunk»

(also, bc Mog has a Philippine origin, «Matamis» was chosen as a superhero name bc it means «sweet» in Tagalog)

[sapphoagapova]

―Falling under ℞☤💊🥼

Original Characters! X Canon

#CONTAINS: mentioned of drugs and drug withdrawals. My original character, Robyn Levine. @glam0urgh0ull's character, Zachary Phelps. Mentioned of Jeffrey Woods. Go mention anything I've missed!

#SYNOPSIS: Zachary struggles with his addiction as he anxiously awaits an intern, Mx. Levine, who seeks advice on treating a patient with withdrawal symptoms.

#AUTHORSNOTE: I am not a nurse! There could be inaccuracies! And this is my first time posting an actual fiction of Original characters:3

His hand trembled as he gently traced the letters on the file; his name is all Zachary could read over and over; it frustrated him. His neck irritably itched, the words blurred out, and he craved. Craved for addiction; craved for the pills he had in his bag. He couldn't quiet the tension, but perhaps the pills could work their magic. Maybe just one; nobody is here. Just one, he promised. His hand twitched, anticipating to just grab his bag, twist that bottle open, and perhaps get a second pill too—or three, four, or five—

"—Dr. Phelps?" A voice made him flinched back to his reality. "What?" he stammered firmly. He cleared his throat with a sharp, raspy sound, the brief noise hanging in the air after he spoke. He turned to his side to see a younger feminine individual; they wore casual clothing under their lab coat, with a headband to push back their dreads, though a few covered their forehead. It was somebody he didn't recognise, or maybe he has when he would stroll down the hallway; either way, he didn't know them personally. He tried again. "Sorry, what do you want?"

"I… Uhm, wanted to ask some enquiries, but it seems like you're busy or not in the mood; I can come back later." Their voice was quiet and timid; they were quite young, like a lamb, perhaps new in the establishment. Zachary shook his head.

"No, no! Don't worry about me. Go ahead, ask away." Before they could continue at all, he asked an inquiry of his own: "I haven't gotten your name, Miss…?"

"Mx." They corrected "Levine, sir."

"Levine." He nodded. "Are you new?"

"I'm Doctor Trelawney's intern, but she said I should come to you for the questions I'll be asking. I wanted to ask…" Their voice drifted off, tuned out of his mind as his neck itched again. Thoughts swirled in his mind like a tornado, none of them staying long enough to form anything coherent. He couldn’t focus and couldn’t calm the frenetic buzz in his head. He shifted in his seat, his legs bouncing up and down as if he couldn’t stay still for even a second. His hands fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve, then the buttons on his jacket—anything to keep them moving. There was a jitteriness in his chest, a restless itch that no amount of pacing or distraction could scratch. Every passing moment felt like an eternity. and Mx. Levine continued rambling… and rambling.

What was their question again? He couldn't catch it. He itched for his pills. Their voice has gotten loud, drumming in his head like a migraine—maybe it is, but he wanted it to stop. And there was another voice, of doubt, and another, taunting him, and they overlapped each other, and He was in his mind again. The one who started this irritation; Woods. And he was even louder than Levine. "Will you shut up, please?!" He snapped before he could realise what he had done, but when he did, he already regretted it.

Levine, the lamb, looked timider than ever; their lips stammered but no words came out. Shit, he thought. "Mx. Levine, I…"

"S-Sorry," they forced out, "I must have been rambling… I didn't mean to—"

"Please don't apologise; it was my fault." He raised his hand to stop them. "I've been… tense lately. From work," he reluctantly confessed. "I didn't mean to raise my voice at you. Whatever you need, just go ahead."

Levine seemed to hesitate at first; they inhaled deeply, raising their chest before relaxing down. "I wanted to ask… I have a patient who used to be an addict? And he has tremors and couldn't seem to hold the bar properly? I want some advice to take care of somebody with withdrawals."

"What field are you?" asked He.

"Physical Medicine and Rehabilitation, Sir."

"Well… You have to ensure safety first:"

Robyn kept Zachary close to them, making him lean against their body. He felt sick; he was terribly sick, smelling like nausea. Trembling as ever while Robyn struggled to lift him up to the cabin. When they did, they made him lean against the couch, comforting him with some pillows and a blanket.

"Fuck… off," He threatened. Robyn didn't listen.

"Perhaps provide some pain management."

With gentle hands, they lifted the compress lightly, feeling its chillness against their fingertips. The cold seemed to seep through the fabric, and as they approached him slowly, they were mindful of his comfort, careful not to startle him. Each step was deliberate, the room quiet except for the soft shuffle of their feet against the floor. As they placed the cloth on his aching muscles, they could feel the immediate coolness against their skin—the sensation soothing but distant.

Zachary was uncharacteristically silent, his usual energy absent, his gaze unfocused. His hands, however, still trembled slightly, his fingers twitching with nervous, jittery energy. Robyn pressed the cloth lightly against his skin, watching his body tense before slowly lifting it back up, their fingers grazing over the tension in his muscles. They could feel the discomfort in his body, but it was more than that—there was an unspoken strain in the air, a heaviness that neither of them wanted to address but both knew was present.

"Then monitor his vital signs."

Their fingers traced down to his wrists, pressing firmly to feel his weak pulse. A frown tugged at their lips as they glanced at his vacant expression. He didn’t even bother to meet their gaze, lost in his own thoughts.

Worrying over a killer shouldn't have been Robyn's concern, but it was. As a medical student, it felt like a natural instinct to care for any patient in need. Despite knowing this wasn't their field—wasn't their responsibility—they couldn't ignore the unease they felt. It wasn't just about the medical care; something deeper tugged at them.

Zachary felt suffocated, despite the warmth of the blanket wrapped around him. It wasn’t enough. Even with the covers, he felt cold, like something was gnawing at him from the inside. Rest was impossible. His body jerked as he tugged his arm away from Robyn’s gentle hold, scratching at his neck, desperate for some relief. Sleep seemed out of reach, no matter how badly he craved it. The nagging voice of Robyn always lingered in his mind—lecturing him, telling him to eat, to take care of himself. They were always there, always pushing him, and he hated that feeling of being cornered.

"Offer some psychosocial support."

Kneeled down on the floor, they stared up at him. They attempted to calm his tremors by holding his hand between theirs. It didn't work, as Zachary scoffed. How pathetic they are, caring so much, wasting their energy. "You're shaking again… Look, I know you don't want to hear it, but maybe you should slow down and actually deal with this— "

"Oh, fuck off, Robyn." He scoffed. "Don’t try and start your hero act this fuckin’ early.”

"It's the evening, and you just woke up." They gently corrected—which he didn't seem to appreciate by his furrowed glare. They sighed, letting go of his hand. "You've been pacing around, sweating in low temperatures; I want to help. Why won't you admit you're struggling—?"

"Help?!" He suddenly stood up too fast, his hands balled into fists at his sides, knuckles whitening, as he stood tall, towering over the room. "The best thing you could ever do is to shut the fuck up! If I was looking for someone to bitch to me about what I do with my time, I'd take myself back to rehab!" He clenched his jaw, glaring down at Robyn.

Their pupils shook, staring up at him before blinking rapidly to calm down. "I want to help you, Zach—" "If you want to help, you can shut the fuck up." He paced around, itching his neck terribly. His mind was in all directions, without clarity or focus. The room felt too small, too tight, as if the walls were closing in with every breath he took. His body was awake, alive, but in a way that felt wrong—jittery and electric, charged with a strange, uncomfortable energy. His thoughts flickered like broken light bulbs. One minute he was thinking about how to make it through the next few hours; the next, his mind was fixed on the thing he craved—the thing that had always been there to smooth away the edges of discomfort. The thing that he needed now, more than ever. It wasn’t just a craving—it was a pull, a magnetic force he couldn’t fight. The thought of it filled her with both a burning desire and a profound sense of shame.

"Zachary, you need to breathe," Robyn said softly, trying to mask the tremor in their own voice. They didn’t want him to hear how frightened they were—how lost they felt in this moment. His eyes flicked to them, the confusion in him only deepening before realising what they were doing. "Don't tell me to breathe!" He barked. His gaze dropped to his hands, now trembling violently, and then back to her. "Just… just let me… let me have another."

Robyn slowly shook their head. "No… Come on, you can't…" they murmured. "I can, and I will, okay?! Just… Fuck off!" He pushed them out of his way before storming out of the cabin. Robyn stayed silent, frowning at the sight. No matter how many times Robyn thought back…

"What if it doesn't work?"

Robyn muttered to Dr. Phelps, worried over the what-ifs and negative outcomes.

"It'll work. And if it doesn't…" He took a moment of silence. "You have to push forward. Giving up isn't an option for people like us."

[sleepyfan-blog]

Imposter

Summary: Nadesir comes home to find an Imposter talking to his human.  Next

Warnings: none

Tagged: @kit-williams

Nadesir adjusted the carcass of the large quadrupedal animal that he had been hunting for days in the forest that surrounded his bonded's home, pleased with his kill. Despite the animal's size, it had been quicker than he'd been expecting, and the pointed antlers it had used in a desperate charging in defense of it's life had somewhat dented his armor. Per the request of his human bonded, he had left a note on their "Communication Board" as she had called it saying that he was out for a hunt, and would be back in a few days. Ancient Terra was a far cry from the endless towers and thin, pollution-choked skies of what The Fools believed to be Holy Terra... But if divinity did exist - beyond Chaos being utter Bastards - Nadesir privately thought that it was in the natural beauty of this and worlds like it.

In the stillness of forests, In the thrill of the hunt.

... In the unexpected pull he had felt, years ago, to a small but fiery human woman who had growled at a half-dozen Salamanders who had found Nadesir half-dead and bleeding on the edge of small town that she served as one of the primary human medical professionals of. He had later learned that they were part of the Bonded Astartes who protected the humans from the predations of Feral Space Marines as apparently there were Human Killers. They had assumed that he was once such human killer, having been left behind due to being unable to keep up with the feral warband.

Nadesir, having been thrown through the warp from a truly shitty situation seconds ago, had not a single fucking clue what was going on. He'd been caught by some of the Red Corsairs who had been trying to soften him up for when their leader deigned to ask if he would join their warband. His precious bonded had shooed off the Salamanders and had spoken to him with more gentleness than he'd ever been given. Of course he'd been immediately smitten, and he had lived as long as he had by following his instincts - which had told him to follow this baseline human. She'd brought him to the small hospital and had the Apothecaries patch him up.

And not a single one of them had been thrilled to do it. Between the passive aggressive Ultramarine Apothecaries and the barely hidden hostilities of the Salamanders, the two loyalist chapter members had likely hoped that he would limp off to lick his wounds and leave them alone.

The joke had been on all of them, as Nadesir's bond with his human had only deepened over the weeks he'd spent in the hospital as she checked up on him at least once a day. There had been no question in his mind as to what he was going to do, when he was finally released. He had asked her, having done his very best to learn her language, if he could stay with her. He had phrased it as a debt that he owed her, for saving his life - knowing that at least one of the Ultramarines was listening and wanted to keep the... The softness, the yearning pull he felt for her from being known about and used against him. Her agreement had settled a nervous part of his soul that Nadesir hadn't known still existed.

That had been six years ago. The rest of the bonded Astartes had long since figured out that the two of them were bonded, and Nadesir had graciously agreed to patrolling the outskirts of the small town and pass along any intel about wandering war-bands that he was able to discover. 

His bonded's voice broke him from his musing on the past, her warm, lovely voice soothing the part of him that always worried about her when he wasn't at her side "-at's when Doctor Jacobsen ordered another round of tests, like I had suggested weeks ago. Hopefully the lab facilities in the big city nearby will be able to help Mx. Sherdan. What do you think, Vanya?"

An astartes deep voice rumbled back, in an approximation of his voice. Utter confusion and dread filled Nadesir - Vanya was the name that his bonded had gifted him, and one he held close to his heart. As far as he knew, there was no one else named Vanya living near here, so why...? He didn't even notice that the elk he'd killed had dropped to the ground with a graceless thud as he broke into his fastest sprint, wings flaring a little in panic as his legs shortened the distance between himself and his beloved bonded. He could see several sets of Astartes sized footprints in the snow around her home - but the tread wasn't one he recognized... And besides, none of the other bonded astartes would dare go so close to his nest without sending him a vox message beforehand.

He slammed through the back door of their nest, the solid oak door having no chance against his enhanced bulk. He called out in Nostraman (he had been teaching her his first tongue), trying to keep his voice from trembling from the emotions roaring through him "Precious? Where are you?" He knocked down the doors between himself and from where he could hear the heart-beat of his bonded, staring at the imposter who dared take his form and voice. 

His bonded blinked in confusion, looking at himself and the imposter several times, slowly starting to stand up from where she had been sitting on the couch, next to the imposter "I... What's... How?"

The imposter froze, staring at him for several seconds before blurting out "He's an imposter! I'll deal with him, stay here."

"LIAR! You are the imposter! I am the real Vanya! You dare sneak into my nest, try and charm my bonded while I am hunting for her?" None of the local astartes would dare, even if they had the capabilities. Which meant -

Fuck, he had been warned about this by the Salamander Captain who was the Defacto leader of the bonded astartes in this area. Nadesir sent a high priority vox message to Captain Urar [Alpha legionnaire invaded my nest. More likely close by.]

The Alpha legionnaire disguised as himself shrank back a little, but was still staying put "I am -" He started, only to be cut off by Nadesir's incredible, wonderful bonded.

"That's enough. I have no idea what the fuck is happening, but I do know of a couple of ways to figure out which of you is my Vanya. I am going to have one of you outside of my home, and the other inside - I am well aware of how sharp your hearing is, so I will have the one outside my house standing against the wind so as to not hear the questions I will ask. The real Vanya will answer correctly. Whichever of you is the imposter will be revealed and I want to know why you did this. Then you can seek shelter as yourself at the Astartes base in town."

"As you wish. Which of us is going outside?" Nadesir asked, crossing his arms over his chest. He really hoped that she would kick out the imposter, as the desire to rip and tear into this threat to his bonded, to his place was high, but he knew that his beloved disliked violence, and was just barely restraining himself. Still, as the imposter looked him in the eyes, he began to growl, bearing his teeth under his helmet, claws unsheathing on instinct.

Before his human could respond, several of the Teal Fuckers in their true colors came sprinting in through the back door, calling out in Gothic "Captain! We need to go! The salamanders are out in force and... If you're going to... Take the human... Ooooh fuck. She really does have a Night Lord."

Nadesir hissed loudly, scooping up his bonded before the serpentine bastards could attempt to kidnap his human, holding her firmly, careful to keep his claws from slicing through her clothes or worse, hurting her, spreading his wings and howling loudly (but not enough to deafen or injure his human. Ancient terrans were so delicate) "LEAVE! LEAVE NOW OR I WILL DISEMBOWEL EACH OF YOU AND MOUNT YOUR HEADS ON MY FENCE! I WILL WEAR YOUR SKIN AS CLOAKS AND USE YOUR SHITTY BONES AS DECORATION ON MY ARMOR!"

And, like the cowards they were, the alpha legionaries scrambled out the door, scurrying away like the filthy vermin they were. From the startled yelps and cursing, directly into the Salamander patrol that Urar sent. 

Excellent response time, captain. Nadesir held his human tightly, removing his helmet and hiding his face in her neck, trembling. "I am your Vanya. My birth name is Nadesir, but you gifted me the name Vanya the third time we met in the hospital, before we could communicate with each other. Your favorite meal is venison steak with a foraged mushroom and green salad, with homemade bread. During our third year together you gave me this." He pulled out from beneath his armor a small, hand-carved wooden talisman that she'd given him. "You like to knit in the evenings after work, in order to destress. You hum in excitement when you're reading when you find a particularly thrilling passage. You-"

His human pressed two of her small and delicate fingers to his scarred lips, giving him a gentle kiss on the cheek "I can definitely tell you're my Vanya. I didn't know that space marines could shapeshift. Do you know who those marines were? I thought the one posing as you was a little off, but I thought that the fake you'd been sulking after an unsuccessful hunt."

"I do not sulk! Besides, when have I ever failed to provide for you?" Nadesir huffed, a small scowl appearing on his face.  He was not pouting, no matter what his bonded would claim otherwise. "As for the shapeshifters... Those were Alpha Legionnaires. Spies, thieves. Snakes in the grass who are capable of changing their colorings in order to try and trick others. I don't know why some would come here. This town is small. They like intrigue and causing havoc at a large scale."

"I see... I'm glad that you're home." His human murmured, hugging him tighter. "Stay with me?"

"Always." He promised, dark eyes warm as his grip on her tightened a little. They stayed curled around one another for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the astartes-sized couch.

[entities-of-posts]

Hello, Mx. Archivist

Apologies for the lack of communication recently- there has been a big issue with mail from the Agency getting intercepted and never properly delivered. That, and I am currently looking for a new phone.

…Again.

So, basically, no access to the weird group chat or a way to message you privately.

Anyways, a couple months ago, the Agency got a new employee by the name of Luna. For the most part she works in our diagnostic labs, but she dabbles in field work on occasion. Before Luna got hired, I found her in an alleyway off a back road in Denver- why I was there in the first place is a whole different story.

According to Luna, her girlfriend and everyone around her had suddenly disappeared and she had been wandering aimlessly around a blank world for an unknown amount of time. Neither her nor I know how or why she returned from this place, hence my message to you.

My coworker is under the impression The Lonely or some semblance of The Dull had a part to play in Luna’s experience, but I wanted to ask a professional like you.

What do you think, Archivist?

Sorry again for the lack of recent contact,

Juniper Yhonce

This seems like a classic example of the Lonely; the Fog doesn’t always manifest exactly as such, the skies may be perfectly clear, and still the prey has crossed over into the Forsaken realm.

It would be very interesting if the Dull was starting to emerge enough to bleed into the edges of that place… some signs that this young lady was not solely prey to the Lonely would be a warping of her surrounding into increasingly repetitive and bland architecture, the disappearance of signs of nature such as greenery and clouds, and a sense of eternity. The Stopped Clock remains, for now, a theory, with no confirmed manifestation yet - but I believe it would start in such a way, by gradually claiming what for now belongs to other Fears. When it comes to metaphysical planes, the Lonely’s domain would most likely be the easiest for it to start conquering. They share a taste for emptiness, and silence.

Has there been any possibility to contact her loved ones now that she has returned, or do they remain missing? It could indicate that something entirely different is at play here.

[berrypass-de-murdler]

89. The Post-Production Process

So like I have said my only outside-of-family human interaction comes from my Discord server, so I would very much love if anyone else was willing to join :3 It's a safe space for any (SAFE) discussion and any fandoms/art projects and stuff... only for people I know though bc I hate public servers.

so if you'd be willing to join lmk, I need frens ;w; <3

Mx. Tangerine is FINALLY FINALLY HERE (you think they'd be here a bit sooner for how often they show up), they are Champagne's American cousin and also, for no apparent reason, a mechanic! I LOVVEEE how they turned out ToT

That leaves only one more character left for book 1 that doesn't have a design... and if you can name them you get idfk rip

DON'T READ THE EPISODES UNTIL YOU'VE FINISHED THE FIRST BOOK!!

MIDNIGHT: Welp. The movie is done. LOGICO: OH, THANK GOODNESS. [flops] I am so done with this. MIDNIGHT: I was being lame. The movie isn’t done. The shooting is. You have so much more work to do. LOGICO: LIKE WHAT?!? I DIDN’T EVEN DO ANYTHING IN THE MOVIE!! MIDNIGHT: We have to edit, score, sound mix, colour correct, and you need to solve the murder of the assistant editor. LOGICO: Seriously

The assistant editor was human. Obviously they were doomed to die. Maybe by the hands of Lavender?? Or Pearl, or Dusty, the actual film people. Or that other idiot.

ABALONE: A-LIST ABALONEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!!!

You know, the clam woman. 

Anywho. Dusty is stomping around at the post-production lab.

DUSTY: DAMN IT TO HECK! I WANTED TO BE IN THIS FUCKIN’ MOVIE! I DID! ME!!

And Lord Lavender is… ironically… driving a golf cart around, making little vroom-vroom noises.

LOGICO: [ahem] Well. LAVENDER: [violent scream] WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE??? LOGICO: Now who’s a rough-and-tumble guard tower militant? LAVENDER: AAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUU! 

He tries to run Logico over, and doesn’t manage. Logi dives and rolls. He waddles to some bench and looks at the stars and… 

LOGICO: What is… happening? What… what is my life? Why are things like this? I just nearly got steamrolled by a llama in a golf cart, I… [hhhhhh]

His hands shake, and he picks up the phone again. Despite his efforts, there is no answer, and a tear falls from his single eye as the recording plays.

“I’m sorry. I’m currently away from the phone right now. If this is Deductive Logico, then the marot says that a film strip was in the water tower.”

Logi takes a deep breath and tries to recover from his sudden breakdown. Turns out Logi wasn’t the only person flattened by Lavender’s new toy.

LAVENDER: You can’t jail a lord! It’s against the law! LOGICO: I’m too lazy to check your kill count but truly, everyone does this, just… be quiet and get over it. 

Logico watches him be dragged away, very unsatisfied. His stomach clenches and his eye warbles. Something is wrong.

ABALONE: I WAS GOING TO REVENGE MY FATHER!!! LOGICO: ‘Avenge’. ‘AVENGE’ your father. [facepalm]

She’s probably not the only thing bothering him, right?

The end!

I lov you!

The power of Goat Lord compels you!

See you next time murdlers!

[welcome-to-green-hills]

Okay okay okay, that cool thing that you did with Sonic’s handwriting, could you do it with Eggman? He’s got a canon handwriting too!

OhthankgodIcanansweryourask…..

Hey Hon❤️✨

I 100% appreciate your ask. I do. It’s incredibly sweet that I get asks like this. But I must warn you. As I’ve shared in my previous post exploring this topic, I would advise you to seek either a forensic anthropologist, a graphologist, a linguistic anthropologist, or a psychologist that specializes in learning development to answer this question. My background in anthropology (besides the broad topic) is focused more in archaeological studies. Meaning I can only go so far with my analysis. If you’re interested in exploring this topic further, I can check my personal library in my lab and share some book titles here. Just some food for thought, no pressure!

Now onto your ask… Dr. Eggman (game version) is right-handed.

I’ve shared in my original post that we look for specific traits when it comes to identifying a dominant hand. These traits include how specific letters are written (I.E., an “O” or an “E.”), smudging, diagonal lines, and curvature in lettering.

The first thing to note is the way that Dr. Eggman writes his “G’s.” The loop for the lower part of the G has a harsh blot to it, whereas someone who is left-handed might have a blot from their line towards the top. The word “might” is stressed in my statement. The stroke could’ve been formed due to how the name is positioned on the photograph. The photo wasn’t aligned properly with his person in order to write in a straight line. This leads me to believe that the photo was either out of his reach, or that he didn’t necessarily put much effort into writing his name. The blotting is a result of him trying to angle his writing instrument properly at an angle. Knowing Dr. Eggman, I’m sure that he didn’t think much of it since he’s got other important things to do. The entire name is hastily scribbled with a hybrid writing style. This means that the mad Doctor swaps between writing in both block letters and cursive. This also leads me to believe that the hybrid writing style is his way of writing something quickly, but making his name legible to read.

If anything, I’m willing to argue that the best supporting evidence of him being right-handed is how he write his “E’s.” We can see in the way that each stroke is formed where the line is meant to start. The starting point for each line forms from right to left. This differs from when I talked about Game!Sonic’s line formations in the “H” for “Hedgehog.” His lines move from left to right. This is a trait for those who are left-handed.

Fun fact, American writing encourage the first letter of each title to be capitalized. So for abbreviations like “Mr., Mrs., Ms., Dr., and Mx.” will always have a capital letter. In the photograph, “Dr.” is written as “DR.” This isn’t an error in spelling whatsoever, this is personality. This indicates that he takes his title of “doctor” seriously and does not want you to forget it. It’s etiquette that Eggman wants you to adapt when you’re around him.

I hope that this answers your question, my dear! Let me know if you want me to do some more!