#Can Bus Decoder

[commodorez]

Cactus fascinates me, does it run on code similar to an existing instruction set or is it completely original on that front?

What can you do with it? What's it's storage?

Both the Cactus (the original wooden prototype from years ago) and the new PCB Cactus(es) are essentially derived from a minimal 6502 computer design by Grant Searle for their core logic. Here's what that would look like on a breadboard:

There isn't much to it, it's 32K of RAM, 16K of ROM containing Ohio Scientific's version of Microsoft BASIC, a 6850 ACIA for serial interaction, some logic gates, and of course a 6502 microprocessor (NMOS or CMOS, doesn't matter which). You hook it into a terminal and away you go.

Grant's design in turn can be best described as a distilled, modernized version of the OSI Challenger series of computers. Here's an OSI-400 and a Challenger 4P respectively:

The left one is a replica of the 400 circa 1976, also called the Superboard. It was affordable, endlessly reconfigurable and hackable, but ultimately very limited in capabilities. No BASIC, minimal monitor ROM you talk to over serial, but you could connect it to a bus to augment its features and turn it into a more powerful computer.

Whereas the OSI C4P on the right from about 1979 has more RAM, a video card, keyboard, BASIC built in, serial interface, cassette tape storage, and that's just the standard configuration. There was more room to expand and augment it to your needs inside the chassis (alot changed in 3 years for home computer users).

Grant's minimal 6502 design running OSI BASIC is a good starter project for hobbyists. I learned about the 6502's memory map decoding from his design. I modified and implemented his design on a separate cards that could connect to a larger backplane.

Here are the serial, ROM, RAM, and CPU cards respectively:

Each one is 100% custom, containing many modifications and fixes as I developed the design. However, that's only half of the computer.

I really wanted a 6502 machine with a front panel. People told me "nobody did that", or couldn't think of examples from the 1970s but that seemed really strange to me. Especially since I had evidence to the contrary in the form of the OSI-300:

This one I saw at VCF West back in 2018 illustrates just how limited of a design it is. 128 bytes of RAM, no ROM, no serial -- just you, the CPU, and toggle switches and LEDs to learn the CPU. I was inspired the first time I saw one in 2015 at VCF East, which is probably when this whole project got set in motion.

Later that year I bought a kit for a miniature replica OSI-300 made by Christopher Bachman, and learned really quickly how limited the design philosophy for this particular front panel was. It was a major pain in the ass to use (to be clear, that's by OSI's choice, not any fault of Christopher in his implementation)

So... I designed my own. Took awhile, but that's the core of what the Cactus is: my attempt at experiencing the 1970s homebrew scene by building the computer I would have wanted at the time. Over half of the logic in the Cactus is just to run the front panel's state machine, so you can examine and modify the contents of memory without bothering the 6502. I added in all of the things I liked from more advanced front panels I had encountered, and designed it to my liking.

Here's the original front panel, accompanying logic, and backplane connected to the modern single board computer (SBC) version of the machine:

And here's the new Cactus SBC working with the new front panel PCB, which combines the logic, physical switch mountings, and cabling harnesses into a single printed circuit board.

So, what can you do with it? Pretty much the same things I do already with other contemporary 1970s computers: play around in BASIC, fire up the occasional game, and tinker with it.

I've got no permanent storage designed for the Cactus as yet, it's been one of those "eventually" things. The good news is that a variety of software can be ported to the hardware without too much trouble for an experienced hobbyist. A friend of mine wrote a game called ZNEK in 6502 assembly which runs from a terminal:

Right now, you have to either toggle in machine programs from the front panel from scratch, burn a custom ROM, or connect it to a serial terminal to gain access to its more advanced features:

Here's it booted into OSI BASIC, but I have also added in a modern descendant of Steve Wozniak's WOZMON software for when I need to do lower level debugging.

I've also got a video card now, based on the OSI-440. I have yet to implement a keyboard, or modify BASIC to use the video board instead of the serial connection. Even if I did, screen resolution is pretty limited at 24x24 characters on screen at once. Still, I'm working on that...

Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Check the tags below to see the whole process stretching back to 2017 if you're curious to learn more of the project's history. I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have about the project.

[gators-aid]

decode (pt. 1) - toji f. x reader

masterlist | part two.

previously titled: leave us

you and toji fushiguro have been in an on-again-off-again relationship all throughout high school. over the summer break after graduation, you find out you're pregnant. too bad toji has already skipped town after your last breakup.

tags: fem!reader, childbirth (not explicit), cheating, gun violence, mention of domestic abuse (not between toji & reader), teen pregnancy (reader and toji are both 18-19 range), mentions of abortion, mentioned that toji sold drugs, americanized setting, non sorcerer universe, 00's setting, reader is megumi's mom, toji initially denies megumi is his, i aged up gojo, geto, and shoko so you can have some frens, exes to lovers (eventually), their relationship is toxic rn, not beta read we die like toji :(

wc: 2.3k

You knew your chances of making it out of this town were slim, but in the back of your mind you had always hoped that you would be one of the lucky few. Finally, you had made it to high school graduation without dropping out or being shot, but you did not make it out unscathed. 

Pregnant.

You didn’t find out until the summer after graduation, when you were still working out financial aid and payment plans with the money you had saved up working at a local diner for the past three years. Toji had already skipped town by then. It stung a little. Learning from his older brother that he had packed up in the middle of the night and left without so much as a goodbye was almost worse. Even though you broke up weeks before graduation, of course he had to throw in one more wrench in your life while he could.

It didn’t truly sink in until you told your mother. Your mother, who was so excited for you to get out of this town since she couldn’t. Who vowed to help you out with tuition payments to get you through school. It wasn’t until you saw her disappointed face that you became angry. Not only at Toji, but at yourself.

She had always warned you about Toji. How he was good for nothing, bad news, just a bomb waiting to go off. You, maybe too young, maybe blinded by love, brushed off her concerns. When he had to go to juvie for a couple months for an assault charge, you stuck by him until he got out. Filling his commissary account with the measly tips you earned from work when his family wouldn’t. Visiting him at every possible opportunity, even though the bus ride to the detention center was a three hour round trip. When he was shot in the shoulder and came to your window bleeding in the middle of the night, and you had awoken her, terrified to death that your boyfriend would bleed out in your bed. He refused to go to a hospital, meaning you and your mom had to stitch him up with rudimentary sewing skills. When he left a couple days later, you had sobbed into the bloody sheets your mom was helping you throw out. When you and Toji broke up for the first of many times, you had cried into her shirt for days on end. You ignored it all, and came crawling back to him every time. 

The first time was because he had cheated on you with a girl in the class above you two. She was older, more confident, more experienced. You had to find out through word of mouth when a friend of a friend had seen them making out at a party you had to ditch for work. At that point, you two had only been together for a couple of months. Probably a bad omen and a warning for how the rest of this relationship would go. You cheated on him with one of his (now ex) best friends to get back at him. You were both young and were each other’s first everything. You had no idea how to navigate a relationship’s complexities, especially one as serious and tumultuous as the one you two had. It only took a bouquet of roses and an apology to get you to come back (in addition to that one dude getting his ass beat).

There was another time when you two had gotten into an argument over his attitude that escalated into a breakup. It was triggered when he had smart mouthed you about a simple comment you made, to which you threw his cheating in his face and you two began to insult each other for the rest of the night. When you arrived home two hours after curfew that night, your mother just held you until you stopped crying.

Your final breakup, the one before graduation, was simply because you were terrified for him. He was selling drugs, and you could see him looking over his shoulder every time you two went out in public. You gave him an ultimatum, and clearly he hadn’t chosen you. He was in too deep, and you didn’t want to have him showing up shot at your house again. Or worse. 

You should have listened to your mother. It was all too much for high school kids. He could bring out the worst in you, but you figured that's just how it was here. You couldn’t count how many of your best friends had abusive boyfriends, abusive parents, lost loved ones to gun violence or something worse. Toji had never laid a hand on you, had never even threatened too, so at the time you thought you had it pretty good. 

But Toji wasn’t all bad. He had his flaws, had done some fucked up shit, but you had never felt more safe in your life than when you were with Toji. He wasn’t affectionate in public, but in private, his favorite thing in the world to do was caress your hair until you both fell asleep. He loved to sneak into your bedroom window after your mom went to sleep just to hold you until you drifted off. When you’d pull doubles almost every weekend at the diner, Toji would bring you food from your favorite restaurant, and you two would eat in his beat up pickup truck until you had to get back to work. When you would visit him in jail for those couple of months, he always had a drawing or an art project made as a gift for you to leave with. For your first christmas together, Toji bought you a beautiful gold necklace that you hadn’t taken off a single time until graduation. 

He put you head and shoulders above every other person in his life. He didn’t like to talk about his parents, but you knew they had given him the permanent scar on his lip in his youth. His brother was grade A asshole #1, and the uncle that he was placed with after a lengthy CPS investigation when he was twelve treated him more like a burden than a person. Toji clung to you. When it all got to be too much, and he was scared you would hurt him too, he would lash out. 

And now there was Megumi. Years ago, when graduation was far away and you and Toji were in a good phase, you two had a conversation about what you would name your kids. 

“Mmm.. I think I’d like to name her Megumi," he had stated. You two were in your room, whispering to each other as he had snuck in that night. 

“And if this hypothetical child were a boy?”

He paused for a second and thought. You giggled at his face as he took longer to ponder. “Probably still Megumi.” He had finally said. 

“Can I ask why that is?” You traced the lines of his bare abs under the covers.

He chuckled and leaned to hover above you on the bed. “Because if we have a child together, it’s a blessing for me either way, mama.”

He sure didn’t act like it. 

It was a cold day in December when you gave birth to Megumi. He came almost a month early, nearly a week before Toji’s birthday. You had wondered, when your mind wasn’t clouded with pain, what Toji was doing as you laid there in the worst pain you had ever felt in your life. Maybe he was out somewhere celebrating his birthday early. Maybe he was dead on the side of some road. You didn’t know, but you couldn’t afford to think about it too much. 

But when Megumi was born, you couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but love him more than anything in the entire world. 

When you found out you were pregnant, you would have aborted if you weren’t three months along. If you hadn’t had your friends at that time, you don’t know where you’d be today. Gojo, Geto, and Shoko had all grown closer to you after that summer. Some people you never expected to see after graduation became your lifelines. You guys had been friends in school, sure. Shoko was even the one to tell you about Toji’s cheating. You guys had never been close until the three of them saw you at work and started cooing over your baby bump. 

While your mom was the only one in the room during Megumi’s birth, those three waited outside for hours until they could meet your son. 

The moment Megumi was placed on your chest, and you had let go of your mother’s hand for the first time in hours, you knew that Megumi was the absolute love of your life. You would do anything for him. 

Over the course of your pregnancy, you hadn’t tried once to reach out to Toji. You were too hurt and angry to want anything to do with him. After Megumi was born, and you found yourself in your childhood bedroom with a crib in the corner, you decided you didn’t want Megumi to grow up without knowing his father, even if said father was a piece of shit. 

So you had called Toji. It was one in the morning. You had just put Megumi down for the third time that night and stepped outside onto the porch to dial Toji’s number. It had been almost a year since you had last heard from him. You didn’t fully expect him to pick up.  

“Hello?” you heard.

For a second, you couldn’t say anything. Frozen over hearing his deep voice for the first time in forever. Realizing just how much you had missed him. His voice was cold, but it was still his voice. You almost didn’t notice when you began to sob. 

“Y/N?” he asked, a bit frantic at the sound of you crying. “What’s going on? Are you ok?” For a moment you couldn’t catch your breath, almost gasping for air. “Answer me mama, what’s going on?” It took you a couple more minutes before you could compose yourself.

“Yes.. I’m sorry. I’m okay. I’m just..” 

It was silent from a moment. 

“Why are you calling me?” His panic from earlier completely dissipated, he was back to a monotone pattern of speech. You paused. Leaning up against the door to your mother’s house. Contemplating how to tell this man, who, if you’re honest, is probably the love of your life, that he has a son. 

“I, um, I have something to tell you.” You kicked a pebble off the porch and watched a car drive by. Toji said nothing, willing you to go on. 

“I… I gave birth last month..” you said. You could feel your nervous energy manifesting in the finger nail you began to chew on. “You have a son..”  It was cold outside, you gripped your sweater, one of Toji’s old ones, tightly around you and sat on the porch steps. You could see every bated breath in the frigid air.

For a moment there was nothing. It felt like forever, waiting for him to respond. Then he laughed. A cold, distant laugh. “How in the hell am I supposed to know if your kid is mine? I haven’t seen you in a year, I don’t know what the fuck you got goin’ on.” 

He was pushing you away, probably scared. You knew that. But you weren’t mature enough to call it out. You were emotional, vulnerable, and now you were angry. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” You whispered into the phone. “Do you realize you ruined my whole life? Left me here without a word, all alone? Now you wanna… what.. Try to claim I was cheating on you or some shit?” As you spoke, your voice pitched higher and higher, rage building. 

“Who said anything about cheating?” He laughed. “You could’ve made your way around after you broke up with me. That’s your business.” You could hear people’s voices in the background, a woman said something to him on the other side, to which you could hear him distantly tell her to lay off. 

There were the tears again but this time they were of rage. “So you get to go out clubbing, leave this town, leave me, and when I call you to tell you about your own… your son, you wanna call me a liar?”

“Left you?” This was the first emotion other than indifference or arrogance you could hear in his voice. Anger. “You left me. Don’t push that shit on me. I don’t owe your ass nothin’.”

“I left you because you were selling fucking drugs, Toji. After I had asked you, I begged you to stop. You chose that over me. You. left. Me. Seems like I made the right fucking decision because I’m not having my fucking baby around that shit. Around you.” By this point, you were practically yelling. You moved from your position on the steps to a corner of the porch closer to your house, pacing as you argued.

He laughed, “That’s perfectly fine with me, I don’t wanna be around some other dude’s baby, not my responsibility.” 

Your teeth grinded back with every word. “I’m glad you think that way, Toji, because he won’t ever be around you. It’s fucking-” your voice cracked. “better that way.” 

“What you fucking call me cryin’, trying to push some random fucking baby on me but I’m the fucking bad guy? Fuck off. Dates don’t match.” 

“I’m not explaining myself to you, fucking asshole. Have a nice fucking life. I’m done with you.” You hung up before he could respond. 

For a second you just stood there, watching your cold breath linger into the night. Then, you leaned against the side of the house and slid down to the ground. 

No more crying over Toji Fushiguro. You won’t let yourself. You won’t give him another thought. You and Megumi will be just fine. 

please let me know how you felt about this story! i plan to post the next part super soon! send me prompts and asks if you want too!! this is my first fic in this fandom and also the first time i've written in years, so forgive the clunkiness!

also let me know if i missed any tags!

thank you <3

[lyralit]

closure prompts as lyrics

"I can finally breathe" (there it goes, maisie peters)

"I'm fine with my spite" (closure, taylor swift)

"I guess people just change // you got good, I got better" (lunar years, maisie peters)

"like waiting for a bus that never shows // you just start walking on" (hits different, taylor swift)

"I won't give in // now that I'm clean, I'm never going to risk it" (clean, taylor swift)

"it's just getting old // there's nothing left here to decode" (decode, sabrina carpenter)

"but it gets old being forever twenty" (wendy, maisie peters)

"all the jokers dressing up as kings // they fade to nothing" (call it what you want, taylor swift)

"I think that I was right // back when I knew to draw the line" (for real this time, gracie abrams)

"gain the weight of you, then lose it // believe me, I could do it" (tolerate it, taylor swift)

"still miss you, but I know now it'll pass" (the good witch, maisie peters)

"you were all I wanted // but not like this" (all you had to do was stay, taylor swift)

"I'll raise a glass to myself in your name" (champagne, lia marie johnson)

[inesbaby21]

Hello how do you feel about writing fluffy headcannons about Ashlynn Shade.

I literally love Ashlynn! soooo 1000% (i also have a picture of her framed on my dresser but ntm ..)

ASHLYNN SHADE FLUFFY HCS !!

Sweetest Gf ever I swear!

Always offering to carry things for you/Buy you lunch/dinner whenever you two go out!

Her end goal is to make sure you feel loved, and she does that with gift giving, lotsssss of quality time, study dates etc

Ashlynn and Photographer!Reader is sending my head in spiralssss

Social Media manger! Gf who has the best pregame/Post game pictures of Ashlynn and the girls!

She's giving me big spoon vibes- with the exception of a bad game, and she just needs a little extra love 💕

Like actually the most photogenic couple EVER.

Definitely having to teach her tiktok dances tho .. baby has nooo rhythm.

I'm also seeing Photographer!Reader with a thickkk southern accent ! Idk Ashlynn just looks like she could decode the accent well :)

Definitely meeting Ashlynn's Family/ and she's wayyyy more nervous than you

She's so clingyyyy- but not in an annoying way she just wants to live in your skin! and honestly it's vise versa!!

Definitely had to convince you that country music was actually goooood .. but thats bae so you can see it through !

Loves, Loves, Loves when you do her makeup! Even if it's something simple she loves it!!

Shes so sun-kissed I can't get over that- definitely going on morning runs/ workouts together bc she wants to share something she loves with you

Shared playlist/sharing airpods on team bus rides to away games

Definitely gets the other option you were stuck on food wise- so you two can try both (she always ends up liking what you got more)

Most smiley couple EVER. Now you two definitely do argue- but neither of you ever walk away/ let the other go to bed angry

Very cry baby couple during arguments- she says something a little off, so now you're crying and now she's crying because she feels super bad :(

Definitely matching outfits on game days/ just in general baby lovessss to match

A/N okok guysss this was VERY short- and on the spot .. buttt im getting some more requests out asap!! i love you guysss- and im spending allll weekend catching up writing wise bc band camp has been literally kicking my ass in 20 different directions.. and i use writing to get through thattt so please DO expect some more work in the upcoming hours/days :)

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of the Heart, Chapter 8 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: aftermath of domestic violence, jealousy, domestic abuse

AN: Bonus chapter to celebrate the new welcome post and cleaning up my masterlists <3

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Hurry up,” Laurence snapped, his voice little more than a harsh hiss as he leaned into your side. His hand rested on your waist, fingers flexing one at a time, digging into you in a rhythm you knew well. 

“I’m trying.” Whimpering, you hoped he didn’t take your words as back talking. You didn’t want to move slowly, it’s just he didn’t let you take anymore aspirin before leaving for lunch and your muscles ached.

It was a near weekly standing lunch date between you two, a trip to a cafe or a bistro. It was important to be seen, and these weekly lunches served that purpose, just like the trips to the cinema. There was rarely any care for your enjoyment of the dates in it. 

Calling it lunch today was a big generous. Laurence didn’t allow you to order anything more than biscotti and coffee. After spending the morning washing laundry and hanging it out to dry, you were starving, but that would have to wait. 

You stumbled, tripping over your feet as Laurence pushed you to shuffle faster. Whispered warnings dripping with venom were dropped into your ear as Laurence helped straighten you with a kind smile on his handsome face. You pulled your lips into a smile to match. A picture perfect couple as you made your way slowly to the car. 

Laurence slammed the door to the car once you were nestled inside. The sound made you flinch as the force of it rocked the car. You’d messed up again. You’d done something wrong. It was your fault he was in a bad mood and you’d pay for it later. If only you knew what you could have done better, so you could be a better wife to him. 

Maybe it would get you out of going to the cinema.

“I don’t have time to drop you off at the house,” Laurence slammed his door after settling into the driver’s seat. “You’re just going to have to come with me. Be on your best behavior and do not embarrass me.” 

“I’m sorry,” you looked at him pleadingly. “I can walk or take the bus if you’d rather.” 

Laurence struck you with the back of his hand, slamming your head back against the seat. It wasn’t as strong of a blow as he was capable of, even in the confined and awkward space of the car and you were thankful for that. Pain flared, but it was manageable, more of a sting. 

“Just shut up.” 

You nodded, tears gathering in your eyes. You grabbed the handkerchief from your bag, not your good one, but the one stained with splotches of blood, and dabbed at your lip. It was bleeding again, not having had a chance to heal. While the car roared to life, you held pressure on the reopened wound to your lip, trying to decode what you had done wrong. 

Scott, the marketing manager, paced the hallway between offices. Alastor’s annoyance rose with each of the man’s passes by his office door. His unsightly haircut bobbed past the window and drew his attention, distracting him from working on the scripts for that evening.

There were murders he needed to focus on the reporting of. He had to get it just so, report all the details without saying anything he shouldn’t know about them. 

Alastor groaned in frustration as he pushed back from the desk. If willing the man to stop would not work, Alastor may as well take a break from watching his head pass by the window in his door again and again. 

“Oh!” Scott nearly walked into Alastor as he stepped out of his office. “Sorry Alastor, must have been stuck in my head.”

“What troubles you, ol friend?” Alastor asked, not really caring. 

“I vouched for this marketing firm,” Scotty started, following Alastor down the hall and even further, trailing behind him as he descended the stairs. “They were supposed to expand our market. The guy’s been putting off delivering the marketing materials for weeks and then when he did, they were rubbish. Total rubbish.” 

“Oh dear,” Alastor hoped walking out of the building would end the conversation, but Scott followed him still. 

“Right?” The man threw his hands up as Alastor walked down the sidewalk, thinking more of how to get under Laurence’s skin than Scott’s ranting. 

What colors would you like? Alastor pondered the question as Scott went on and on about the meeting and how much he dreaded having to end the contract. Purple? Purple sounded nice. Alastor picked a few purple flowers from the beds lining the sidewalk. Yellow too, he decided. 

“What you cutting flowers for? Gotta lady to impress?” Alastor resisted the urge to roll his eyes. 

“An associate and his wife had me over for dinner. It is only proper to present the lady of the house with a token of my gratitude.” Alastor stopped in front of the rose bushes at the side of the building. 

“I suppose,” Scott’s voice trailed off as Alastor pulled a larger than expected knife in a leather sheath from his pocket. “A bit excessive, no?”

“I was working on some things before heading in,” Alastor shrugged, slipping the leather from the blade as he looked at the different deep red roses. They were almost an unnatural shade of Burgundy and would contrast nicely with the brighter flowers. 

Adjusting his grip on the antler handle, he reached out and pulled forward the first rose. The blade cut through the woody stem as if it was nothing. The blade was honed to a razor edge. Alastor selected three more roses, just in the early stages of their blooms, and cut them free as well. It wasn’t a large bouquet, but it was thoughtfully put together. 

“Well, good luck with the meeting. Pacing the hall likely won’t help you much, however,” Alastor excused himself with a nod.

“Mr. Latimer should be here soon anyway,” Scott grumbled to himself. 

Alastor froze, turning on his heel to face Scott again. “Who now?” 

Alastor leaned against the railing on the second floor, overlooking the station lobby. He should be finishing his script, but this was a once in a lifetime chance to get under Laurence’s skin and save himself a trip as well. Efficiency was a virtue his mother had instilled in him, and he wouldn’t let that slip now. 

Alastor had wrapped the bunch of flowers in some old newspaper, folding the corners down to expose the blooms once he had gotten back to his office. He tied it all together with some hemp twine, wrapping it around the stems until it was nearly as wide as his hand before tying it off in a clumsy bow.

It didn’t look half bad, if he said so himself. 

Now all he had to do was wait. There was a solid chance you wouldn’t be with Laurence when he got there. It was not common for men to bring their wives to business meetings, but there was a chance. On the off chance that you did grace the station with your presence, he wanted to be ready to strike. 

Alastor didn’t have to wait long at all. In less than ten minutes, the front door opened and Laurence shuffled his meek little wife inside, much to Alastor’s delight. He watched as Laurence directed you to the chairs and you sat in a heap. 

From his place high above you, Alastor watched as you looked around. There were no magazines or newspapers anywhere within reach for you to read. Your bag was small today. Clearly you didn’t come here prepared to pass the time. 

Alastor watched as Scott lead Laurence away. After counting down from ten, Alastor pushed himself back from the railing and made his way toward the stairs. Just as he intended, he met Scott and Laurence in the hall. 

“Oh,” Scotty paused, “Here we have our leading host at the moment, Alastor. Alastor, this is Mr. Latimer of Latimer Marketing Solutions.”

“We’ve met,” Laurence said harshly. 

Alastor’s smile only grew wider. “We share a mutual acquaintance. I’ll let you get into your business. I was just stretching my legs for a moment.” 

Alastor’s grin split his face as he walked down the empty hall and toward the stairs. It would be a frightening sight, such a ghastly smile if anyone had been around to see it. 

Oh, this would be fun. What a delightful way to have some pre-broadcast fun. As he came into view, Alastor pulled his smile in. It wouldn’t do to be grinning like a fool as he came into view. 

Alastor took you in as he crossed the lobby. Your eyes were trained on your lap, doing nothing but counting the stitches on your dress as you waited. Did you know your shoulders were slumped, or that you had begun to curl in on yourself?

“Well, hello darling!” Alastor called out, a peaceful smile on his face. 

You startled at the sound of his voice, head shooting up. Wide eyes met his as you jerked your shoulders up and into place. He was impressed to see your spine straighten. You didn’t hold the position long until it slowly slipped again, the weight of something dragging your shoulders down. 

“Hello again,” your voice was soft as you glanced around, looking for Laurence. You know the building was for broadcasting but you hadn’t realized it was for radio or that Alastor would be here. Perhaps this was where Alastor and your husband had become acquainted. 

“I had thought I spotted Laurence earlier, I hadn’t expected him to leave his darling wife just wasting away in the lobby,” Alastor chuckled to himself, holding his hand out for you. “I was just stretching my legs before I sit down for the show later. Why don’t I give you a tour?”

“Oh,” you held your hand up in protest only to have Alastor snag it in his as if you had offered it, “I really couldn’t, it wouldn’t be proper.”

“Nonsense,” Alastor pulled you to your feet where you stumbled, “What wouldn’t be proper would be letting you waste away in the lobby. Besides, I’ve got something for you I had planned to drop by after the show. No time better than the present!” 

With a guiding hand placed just below the middle of your back, Alastor left little room for protest. What would Laurence want you to do? He wouldn’t want you anywhere near Alastor but he also wouldn’t want you to make a scene and Alastor was right. It wasn’t improper for him to give you a tour. 

Your heels clicked against the polished wood floors, old, rich and warm in a way you liked but knew Laurence would loath. It was just a matter of time before the similarly rich floors in your own home would be ripped out and replaced with something more to his taste. 

At least if Alastor was right and money was tighter than believed, it could be a few more years before you’re parted from your home’s rich floors. Eventually, Laurence would ruin them, though. 

Alastor’s charming voice was the background music to your thoughts, allowing you to simply nod and listen as you walked alongside him. His large hand was ever present on your back, sometimes sliding lower as he showed you an award or framed newspaper clipping before he seemed to catch himself and pull it higher again. 

Though his hand constantly drove you forward, he never rushed you, unlike Laurence. The pace the two of you walked was peaceful, meandering, and relaxed. It allowed your pained shuffle to feel almost normal. 

“And here,” he said, wide smile pulling in to become something far more charming that made your heart pound, “Is my office.” 

You were not sure what to say as the ever present hand on your back guided you inside the dimly lit room. The blinds were pulled closed, filtering out most of the harsh sunlight. Dust glittered as it floated through the air, lit up by the few rays of light that fought through the slats. 

The hand was gone suddenly as Alastor moved deeper into the room, effortlessly navigating the dark space with ease that told of countless late nights spent in the room. He switched on the lamp on his desk, bathing the room in a soft warm light.

“This isn’t proper,” your voice came out closer to a whisper than you intended. 

“Nonsense,” Alastor laughed as he picked up a bundle of something wrapped in newspaper. “The light’s on. The door’s open. Nothing to be worried about.” 

You hated how your heart beat harshly in your chest. Why did this man, his soft eyes and charming smile, make you feel like taking risks? Why did he make you feel this way? Why did he make you feel anything at all?

“I don’t-”

“These are for you, my dear,” Alastor presented the bundle, a bouquet of fresh flowers wrapped in newspaper, to you with the soft smile you were catching yourself thinking about more and more. 

“I couldn’t possibly-”

“A perfection appropriate expression of gratitude from a dinner guest to his hostess,” Alastor assured you as he placed the flowers in your hands.

“They’re lovely,” you settled for saying instead of protesting anymore. “You shouldn’t have spent the money on them,”

“I didn’t,” Alastor’s smile spread wider as he watched you examine his offering, pleased with the soft smile that had taken up residence on your face. Had he ever seen you smile, truly? He didn’t think so. It looked good on you. “I picked them earlier.” 

A slam of a fist against the door frame scared you out of your skin. “There you are!” 

“Laurence!” Startled, you clutched the flowers to your chest and turned to your husband. He was read faced but clearly composing himself. “Alastor was just giving me a tour-”

“Of his private office?” Laurence bit out, clearly in a terrible mood. 

Alastor laughed, fearlessly walking up to your husband and patting his shoulder, “Hardly at all, my dear fellow. I simply had some flowers for your dear wife, a token of my thanks for the lovely dinner she prepared. Since she was here, sitting all alone in the lobby, I figured why not eliminate the trip and give them to her now?”

Scott had said the meeting went poorly. Laurence didn’t take the news well and threatened legal action to challenge the canceling of the contract. There was nothing the station needed to fear. The promised services had not been delivered and what was delivered wasn’t near the quality promised. It was a shame. Thethe Latimer name was well known for marketing success through the changing times. 

Such a spectacular failure by a well-known company would be the talk of the town. Even if they tried to keep things private, word would get out. Their reputation would take a hit. Alastor shook his head, performing the required show of dismay for Scott as he made his way back into his office. 

As Alastor opened the blinds in his office, he was already thinking about the ways he could drop little nuggets of the recent failings around town. It wouldn’t do to run his mouth about their shared business, but this business failing had nothing at all to do with him. 

Alastor stood at the window and watched the scene unfolding below, eyebrow cocked and smile tight. He was witnessing left his hands curled into fists, knuckles white. Cold rage he knew well rolled through him. It was the very same rage that sent him hunting in the deep darkness of night. 

What he saw was far beyond the reaction he had expected. Laurence had his hand wrapped tightly around your arm, your sleeve bunching on either side of his hand. Even from a distance, Alastor could see how you stumbled over your feet, dragged along behind Laurence, who seemed uncaring of how close you came to falling. 

Alastor had every intention of provoking a reaction in Laurence, but what he was witnessing was excessive. For someone so concerned with appearances, he was causing a scene. His rage and jealousy made him sloppy. 

Laurence shoved you toward his car. He threw the door open with so much force that the whole car rocked enough for Alastor to see it at a distance. Alastor watched as your husband threw you into the car, clutching the flowers Alastor had spent time picking, trimming, and wrapping for you to your chest. 

Liquid iron rolled in the pit of Alastor’s stomach as he watched the car door slam shut, catching the edge of your shawl. No longer could he see you as the sunlight reflected off the window. Laurence stomped around the car and dumped himself into the driver’s seat. There was nothing for Alastor to do as the car pulled away from the radio station. 

Next? Masterlist

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers!

[techav]

Sharing a Computer with More Friends

A few months ago I built an I/O expansion board for my homebrew 68030 project with a 4-port serial card to go with it, and got BASIC running for four simultaneous users. It worked, but not as well as I had hoped. I wanted to be able to run two of those serial cards to support 8 total users, but it had proven unstable enough that with just the one card I had to slow down the whole system to 8MHz.

So I designed a new serial card.

I had previously been running this computer without any issues at 32MHz with a mezzanine card with FPU & IDE as well as a video card. The main board by itself can clear 56MHz. Having to go all the way down to 8MHz just didn't sit well with me. I want this machine to run as fast as possible for its 8 users.

I put extra time into reviewing worst-case timing for all components and graphing out how signals would propagate. The 16C554 quad UARTs I'm designing around are modern parts that can handle pretty fast bus speeds themselves — easily up to 50MHz with no wait states on the 68030 bus — assuming all the glue logic can get out of the way fast enough.

Signal propagation delays add up quickly.

My first draft schematic used discrete 74-series logic for chip selection, signal decoding, timing, etc. At slower bus speeds this wouldn't have been a problem. But I want this thing to run as fast as possible. By the time critical signals had made it through all those logic gates, I was looking at already being well into one wait state by the time the UART would see a 50MHz bus cycle begin.

I needed something faster. I was also running low on space on the board for all the components I needed. The obvious answer was programmable logic. I settled on the ATF22V10 as a good compromise of speed, size, availability, and programmability. It's available in DIP with gate delays down to 7ns. Where discrete gates were necessary, I selected the fastest parts I could. The final design I came up with showed a worst case timing that would only need one wait state at 50MHz and none for anything slower.

It ended up being a tight fit, but I was able to make it work on a 4-layer board within the same footprint of my main board, putting some components on the back side. (It may look like a bunch of empty space, but there's actually a lot going on running full RS232 with handshaking for 8 ports).

New problem. I had blown my budget for the project. As much as I love those stacked DE9 connectors, they're expensive. And there's no getting around the $10 pricetag for each of those quad UARTs. Even using parts on-hand where possible, I was looking at a hefty Mouser order.

[jbevren] suggested using ganged RJ45 connectors with the Cisco pinout instead of stacked DE9, to save space & cut costs. [Chartreuse] suggested buffering the TTL serial TX/RX signals to drive the LEDs that are frequently included on PCB-mount RJ45 connectors. Both great ideas. I was able to cut 20% off my parts order and add some nice diagnostic lights to the design.

Two weeks later, I received five new PCBs straight from China. I of course wasted no time setting into starting to assemble one.

I really set myself up for a challenge on this one. I learned to solder some 25 years ago and have done countless projects in that time. But I think this might be the most compact, most heavily populated, most surface mount board I've ever assembled myself. (There are 56 size 0805 (that's 2x1.2mm) capacitors alone!)

After a few hours soldering, I had enough assembled to test the first serial port. If the first port worked then the other three on that chip should work too, and there's a great chance the other chip would work as well.

And it did work! After some poking around with the oscilloscope to make sure nothing was amiss, I started up the computer and it ran just fine at 8MHz.

And at 16MHz.

And at 25MHz.

And at 32MHz.

And at 40MHz.

And almost at 50MHz!

Remember what I said about my timing graphs showing one wait state for 50MHz? The computer actually booted up and ran just fine at 50MHz. The problem was when I tried typing in a BASIC program certain letters were getting switched around, and try as I might, BASIC just refused to 'RQN' my program. It was pretty consistently losing bit 3, likely from that signal having to travel just a tiny bit farther than the others. A problem that will probably be resolved with an extra wait state.

Good enough for a first test! A few hours more and I finished assembling the card.

I did have some problems with cleaning up flux off the board, and I had to touch up a few weak solder joints, but so far everything seems to be working. I've updated my little multi-user kernel to run all 8 users from this new card and it's running stable at 40MHz.

I need to update my logic on the 22V10 to fix a bug in the wait state generator. I would love to see this thing actually running at 50MHz — a 25% overclock for the 40MHz CPU I am currently running. I also want to expand my little kernel program to add some new features like the ability to configure the console serial ports and maybe even load programs from disk.

I hope to bring this machine with a collection of terminals and modems this June to VCF Southwest 2025 for an interactive exhibit that can be dialed into from other exhibits at the show.

[atlaskrr]

[The Eye] Link Click Yingdu OP Analysis

In the first scene we can see lu guang being seperated in two, his past which is in color and he himself who is in grey. This is mainly a visual thing but can also symbolize the change in his soul after all the dives, especially his blood tainted hand which is likely left from cheng xiaoshis blood when he held him (though lu guang playing a role in one of his death is possible.

in this opening scene we also see this butterfly which could be refrencing the butterfly effect

• Black and white butterflies symbolize balance and harmony

• They often represent transformation and new beginnings

• Seeing a black and white butterfly might be a sign of spiritual growth

• These butterflies can remind us to embrace both light and dark aspects of life

butterflies alo have many other symbolisms such as: love, luck, dreams, yin and yang, new beginnings, transformation, cn medicine, etc

heres my more in depth analysis

as it also appeared in the s2 op draft

its also shiguang colors lol which also ties to yin and yang.

another visual element we see a lot of is these white feathers

common symbolisms for them are

love (cn)

protection (celtic, indegenous)

spirtual

the divine

innocence, new beginnings and hope etctetc (ties to butterflies)

guidance (christianity)

good luck and fortune in china

soulmates

most connotations are positive but in WW1 it was used as a symbol of cowardice to get men to serve in the military.

one i find especially interesting is the egyptian myth tied to feathers. In ancient Egypt, the white feather represented truth and judgment. It was believed that, when a person died, they faced tests to gain entry into the afterlife. One test involved weighing the person’s heart against the white feather of the goddess Ma’at. If the heart weighed more than the feather, the person was found to be unworthy, and they would be sent into darkness. If the person was virtuous, the scales would be balanced, and the god Osiris would welcome them to the afterlife. In this context, the white feather symbolizes truth and divine justice. Tying to a lot of the divine symbolism we've gotten in the villain chara pvs such as liu xiaos.

Could this be about lu guang facing judgement?

the sign on the passing bus says "look carefully" as well as "afternoon tea". low and behold when we see tea

the only characters with gloved hands are vein and xia fei and based on the style this is probably vein.

thats relevant because of this. this is a pigpen code with a ceaser cipher. dark_decay and roshieberry on the lc discord server decoded it to this

```

IN THE HEART OF THE FOREST A SUDDEN

PANIC SPREAD AMONG THE ANIMALS [...] FOX

[...] RECTING [...] ELEPHANT TO DOUSE THE FLAMES

SWIFTLY SPREADING MESSAGES OF URGENCY

HOWEVER THEY ONLY CARED ABOUT FLEEING FOR SAFETY

THE FOREST SUCCUMBED TO THE FIRES WRATH

DETERMINED TO PREVENT SUCH TRAGEDIES THE ANIMALS

HIRED A DETECTIVE TO UNCOVER THE CULPRIT WHAT THEY

DISCOVERED WAS BEYOND THEIR WILDEST

IMAGINATIONS

HE BELIEVED THAT THE KEY TO SOLVING THE PROBLEM WAS

TO ELIMINATE ALL POTENTIAL SPARKS THAT COULD

IGNITE TROUBLE

```

the fox could refer to the twins or perhaps vein or xiafei since we dont know their animals yet. this feels like it could explain how these powers even came to be, a way to prevent tragedy? to investigate as shiguang does? the last paragraph seems to be right up liu xiaos alley of thinking.

these bells and clock actually corelate as 3 bells is 9 30 in a ships bell, the time on the clock. the lyrics in the scene befire the bells appears also refrences the ringing of bells and 9pm (which would be two bells) im not exactly sure on this significance but ig we'll see.

---

now thats it for the hidden things. there are skme more obvious concerns such as

yk. vein pointing a gun at lu guang. now while this could be the case i actually think this is refrencing one of cheng xiaoshis deaths, by veins hand. this is because all the other scenes seem to point through lu guang shifting through different timelines in a montage such as the ones in the mvs.

this ties to why hes crying later on in the basketball court in this montage (not like he doesnt have a million reasons to cry already) also, one of the scenes flashing here seem to tie back to that divinity them with the lighting

these all contain actual scenes from the show so the following montage is of the past from lgs prespective.

here we see the photograoh transforming into a bubble, confirming this

one of them is this which someone pointed out cxs possibly has an elbow brace from an injury

additional details i ran out of images to show is lu guang coming into color when held by cheng xiaoshi, the shakespheres sonnets making a return and vein watching everyone, as well as the woman from the newspaper in the poster making an apperance. also lg and vein in the same room but its still grey lg. are they connected??

theres also the notebook at the end which appears to contain something but its very blurry and i suck at reading cursive so if anyone figures it out please do tell. also let me know if i missed anything i love everyones analysises

[13thpythagoras]

Humans vs Superhumans | When Monsters Were Real and We Almost Went Extinct

rethinking, re-imagining, revisiting our conceptions of ancient hominids

...Tolkien was less of a fiction writer than you might think, a great writer indeed but so much of it is actually based on stories mirrored by recent scientific discoveries...

and yet also the skin coloration critique remains like, why is it that when we thought neanderthals were like, these gentle giants we depicted them as whiteys, now that we realize neanderthals were just brutal savage destroyers of human lives and hunted humans we’re going to let AI depict neanderthals as dark skinned now? blind spot alert ... 

like fully decoding the fact that neanderthals were pale skinned beasts, quite aggressive compared to humans... does this explain a lot of why honky caucasians seem to be more aggressive generally?... 

I have heard of the “Dravidian Albino” explanation hypothesis for white people, bu problem is, even if you have two Dravidian albinos making babies, three out of four of those babies are going to be dark skinned. It’s a really recessive trait. 

I can definitely say I have the “Neanderthal bump,” or aka the occipital pad, the back-of-head knob that allows my weirdly huge part-neanderthal-mostly-human brain to sit on top of my otherwise-normal human shaped and sized body... I mean I definitely have a larger head than most people. I’m a freak and I’ve had to live with it lol I look like an alien... but still had also my cousin do a DNA test and sure enough we’re a few percent Neanderthal. So while some humans do have the occipital pad, all Neanderthals did, and I’m one human with an occipital pad / neanderthal bump with also the verified neanderthal DNA... does eating meat really drive you crazy like this, into a violent mad being? 

[crsssie]

shoujo moments in my life with the robins

word count: 870

summary: anything is romanticizeable if you're delusional enough /j

𓅫. your crush cooking for you when you're sick - Jason Todd

Your head is splitting apart, and you think you're going to die. Sure, this happens every year thanks to your shitty immune system, but it's also NOT a fun experience. You might lose your life at this rate (you're being dramatic. you know.) but it does feel terrible. The door to your room creaks open slightly, and you manage to groan as a greeting. "You good? Heard you were sick." Jason speaks up, blinking at you owlishly. "Feel terrible." You mumble back. "Want anything?" "Sleep." You knock out immediately after. Jason, sweetheart Jason, sweet 11-year-old Jason, walks down the stairs at Wayne Manor and heads to the kitchen, asking Alfred for some fruit and tomatoes, cuts them up for you, sprinkling sugar on the tomatoes for you. Alfred looks, eyes fond as Jason takes the plate upstairs. You hear the door open again, voice scratchy as it comes out of your throat. "Who is it?" "I brought you fruit." "Leave it on the table, please." You mumble. "Thank you." "Of course." When you feel better a couple hours later, you bring it downstairs to share with Jason, a smile on your face, flush on your cheeks, warm with appreciation for the boy, all while Jason checks your temperature to make sure you're fine.

𓅫. a summer fling with a boy you'll never see again - Tim Drake

The summer sun burns into your skin while the breeze sends chills down your spine as you walk down from your cabin to the main tent. Your roommate reminds you of which team the two of you are on, and it's really unassuming. The camp is normal until it's not. It's normal until your fingers are brushing Tim's as your cramming to get the stupid car working, and it's normal until Tim has his hand on your shoulder, anxiety all over his face at the thought of not winning. It's normal until Tim steps next to you every chance he gets, his bias for you showing clearly in your group. You barely know him. Until a day ago, he was just some stranger to you. Then, he's one of the closest to you in the group. He's cheering for you when you're dying on the climb up, and he's next to you on the bus ride back. He's next to you when you're decoding a puzzle, and he's next to you at every chance he gets. But you'll never see him again. Even when the two of you are talking about the rest of summer's plans, you know you'll never see him again. He's too far away. But you cherish the last moments with him, tilting your head to bully him for not learning your name, knowing well that Tim does know your name. He called you on the second day, eyes digging into yours, something spiking through your chest. a mutual i like you hangs in the air, but that's the end of your story. You never get his number.

𓅫. getting your shoelaces tied by a boy in your class - Dick Grayson

You're young, eyes big and frustrated, and you've just made the change to actual laces instead of velcro. You're part of the cool kids club now— except you aren't. You have no idea how to tie your shoelaces. You step out of the girls bathroom, looking around for your bathroom buddy, noticing your laces have come untied. Dick tilts his head at you as you wince at your untied laces, and he drops down to reach for your laces. "What are you doing?!" "Tying your laces." Dick smiles up at you. "You can just teach me..." You trail off, frowning. "Yes, but we're in the middle of an activity in class right now, so we're in a hurry. Have madame send me with you next time and I can teach you." He smiles at you as he stands up. "Come on." True to his word, the next time the two of you leave for the bathroom, he sits you on one of the benches only the older kids were allowed to sit on and shows you how to tie your laces, grinning at you, missing a front tooth, waiting as you tie your laces over and over again, all the way until you could do it without questioning your ability. "thank... you." You mumble, cheeks red with embarrassment. "Of course." He grins.

𓅫. an ex-crush who liked you the most amongst the class - Damian Wayne

You're at a class reunion— or, something along the lines of that. You were called by a friend to take a photo together as a group, and you dragged another friend along, another old classmate of the same class, and the two of you wait in the lobby of the cafeteria. You hope you don't need to talk to Damian, your middle school crush on him was embarrassing enough on its own. Then, your friend arrives, and you rush over, missing the way Damian steps through the glass doors too. Your other friend follows behind you as you greet him, and in that moment, Damian walks past you, green eyes digging into yours, before he steps next to you, speaking to your friend too, light conversation before he turns his attention to you, tilting his head. "Heard you're going to the same college as me." "A-ah? yeah." You smile awkwardly, feeling the nerves from middle school crawl up your back again. You curse yourself for never getting the closure you needed. "What's your major?" You tilt your head. "Didn't I tell you?" "Did you? I must've forgot." He hums. "my apologies." Your major slips past your lips, and his does too, and your friend on the side perks up, mentioning that she was studying the same major as him. You tilt your head to look back a her before Damian ignores what she's said, going back to you— and your heart races, being favored so obviously in front of everyone else. and before you leave, he catches you, smile on his face, away from the rest of the class. "I'll see you in college?" "Y-yeah!" You smile. "See you then."

𓅫. putting on makeup for you - Steph Brown

"Stay still." Steph mumbles, hand on your face, tilting it so that she could get a better angle. You hold your breath as she does, closing your eyes as she brushes the eyeliner on. Your heart races in your chest as she pulls back, staring at both of your eyes, puffing out her cheeks. "Steph? You good?" "You look good. Too good. I need to jump you good." You bark out a laugh, throwing your head back as you laugh. "Alright. Lipstick next." Steph grins. "pucker up babes." "You want a kiss while we're at it?" You wiggle your brows. "Oh? I sure do." Steph winks, pressing the lipstick to your lips as she does, and she pulls back when she finishes. "There. Now your prom look is finished." "Do I look like I could pull?" "I'd fuck you right now." "I'M BEING VIOLATEDDDD!!!" You fake a shriek. Steph tilts her head as she looks at you, and she grins. You look really good.

i ran out of brain juice in the end sorry lol

[crguang]

was r always insecure about themselves even before the moving away situation?

yes! OKAY MORE VIOLINIST AU LORE DROP (i should make a proper post explaining the au atp) it’s one of the things that make me wanna scream because r has compared their skills to kafka’s while they were learning under the same instructor (can yall guess who it is hehe. starts with E) because said instructor very obviously favoured kafka. he was more interested in shaping her, in developing her potential for greatness and believed r was a stepping stone that kafka would eventually surpass to succeed. very much living through her and molding her into the musician he wishes he had been. k was unaware of it of course, but there were days when he’d tell r that they’re not needed for the next practice because he’s trying out something new with k, or that they’re the accompaniment so they should at least be able to keep up with her, things like that. it played a huge role into r believing that k doesn’t need them and that they suck, and that insecurity has grown now that they both went their own way and k became super successful. r never told k that because k openly adores him. he taught her almost everything she knows, the base of what has made her who she is today and she’s very grateful to him. the type to mention him in interviews and such.

r doesn’t want to ruin her image of him but now that they’re adults they realize just how fucked up his treatment of k was, so manipulative. it’s worse when they eventually learn how destructive k was after they left; practicing until her fingers bleed, until exhaustion, isolating herself from her closest friends to spend time in the practice room, etc like for a moment playing became more of an obsession to prove that she’s great on her own and her instructor definitely took advantage of that. telling her how he admires her drive. how at this rate, she’ll be the best in the country in no time. he was the devil on her shoulder and it makes r feel so many things— guilty for leaving her with him, angry at him for taking advantage of a vulnerable teen, anxious about telling her the truth, all the feels. she’s known that guy longer than she’s known r and he’s her mentor, why would she believe and/or choose r over him? they’re so silly. kafka gets mad and they’re about to cry over it but she’s just sooo pissed they’d even think she’d let that shit slide, that she’d stand by as r got belittled by a grown man just so she’d be propelled farther. ughhhh it’s a mess of feelings for her as well because she did idolize that man for taking her under his wing, especially at a time where she felt so alone. it’s great!

i like this little inner conflict a lot because 16 year old kfr thought they knew everything about each other. kafka especially, she thought she knew r like the back of her hand and that she was the best at decoding all that they didn’t say, since r was very reserved as a kid. during that last bus ride home, she kind of realizes that it’s not true. but she really understands that when they start hanging out again and she’s learning all these things about them that she had no idea they were going through, and it’s just great that they’re healing from all that stuff now, together. they’re the blorbos of all time

[bisexual-engineer-guy]

Looking to get into HAM radio and I like to consult human beings about things because experience is more valuable than anything a google search could bring so I'm sending this ask to ask: What is the best way for a total noob with zero experience or knowledge to get into HAM radio? How did you start out?

So, the way that I got into ham radio was that I learned a bit of morse code and really really really really liked it. I basically just wanted to talk to people in morse code because I thought it was so cool. That's what got me into the hobby!

I started out using the AF7KB "Fast Track to your Ham Radio License" book series. I liked to listen to the audiobook version while I was on the bus to and from college, since the bus rides were usually 4-5 hours. This is the slow way, and he adds a lot of extra information you probably don't need; but this is perfect if you want to be able to start out with more than the knowledge of what questions are answer "A" or "B."

There's also the fast way, which is to go to hamstudy.org or download the app and just study the question bank. If you have a good local club--and you might have to check around to a few of them to find one that you like--then this could be the way for you. I didn't have one when I started out, so I couldn't ask people questions. I wanted to be able to get a radio and start using it on my own, and for that, the long way was perfect because I was actually prepared to do that.

I still prefer the long route, but everyone's different and has different goals. I would also recommend finding a good local club no matter what. Like I said, you might need to look around a bit for one, because some of them are kind of dead or old or inactive.

Also, you might have some fun looking at the ham frequencies on a WebSDR (a website with the feed of some radio, I like this one websdr.ewi.utwente.nl:8901) or screwing around with an RTL-SDR (a $30-$40 USB stick with a little antenna kit that lets you decode and listen to radio signals).

Also also, you can go to events and stuff run by clubs. The next big big one will be the ARRL Field Day. A lot of clubs will have a "Get on the Air" station specifically for people who aren't licensed or people who are newly licensed, where they'll have someone there to supervise you and help you make a contact under the club callsign!

[kop1vie]

— VERNON AS YOUR SUITOR ♡

Note: Just random thoughts. 549 words only. Photo not mine!

[ follow me on x, wattpad, and tiktok. ]

I took a deep breath as I started to walk towards the person who had been waiting for me since afternoon. Our class was dismissed earlier than usual, but I never dared to meet him before.

I've been ignoring him since last Saturday, and he messaged me earlier that he would wait at our meeting place until I was ready because he wanted to talk to me.

When I got to where we were going to meet, Vernon slowly raised his eyes and met mine with a smile. But I can’t seem to understand his emotions. His gazes were blank, empty as the sky. I can’t decode what is running in his head. Is he mad at me? I don’t know.

As soon as I approached him, Vernon tapped the space in his side, gesturing me to sit beside him. 

“What’s our problem?” He softly asked right away, looking at nowhere. His voice was full of worry.

I sighed, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Uhm…”

“Hmm?” 

“Lately, I’ve been losing my interest…” I pause to look at him. “...in you.”

vernon looked at me, hurting. The pain was visible in his eyes. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Did I make you feel uncomfortable? Tell me, Astra.” 

My heart skipped a beat upon seeing him cry.

I shook my head. “I just realize that It’s not worth it anymore.”

He holds my hand, still crying. “Tell me, please? Tell me what’s wrong so I can make it right. Tell me how can I make it worthy? Please, Astra?”

“I felt like, I am the only one who’s interested in us. I felt like I was only hoping for something that was not going to happen. You only initiate a convo if you want to. You can’t even ask what happened to me or if I’m just doing fine. You were supposed to gain my trust, Vernon, because you’re courting me, right? You even told me, you love me.” 

I looked at him. His head hangs low.

“Now tell me, Vernon, do you really love me?”

He quickly nods his head. “I love you, Astra. I’m sure of that.” He looked at me, still holding my hands. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know the possible effect of my actions. I’m sorry, I treated you that way. I’m sorry, Astra, please give me a chance.”

I looked away, but he held my cheeks and made me face him. He’s not crying anymore, but his face is still wet from the tears. 

“Please, Astra?” He asked, using his puppy eyes.

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. Only if–”

“I’ll do better this time, hm?” He kissed my forehead before hugging me. “Thank you for telling me.” He softly said.

When he pulled himself from the hug, he got a tissue from his bag and wiped his face. Then, he stood up and carried my bag. “Let’s go.”

Holding my hand, he pulled me gently to make me stand. “Where are we going?” I asked.

“It’s 6 pm. So, I’ll take you home. I don’t want your father to get mad at me.” He smiled sweetly as we started to walk slowly towards the bus terminal.

That was when I realized, I hadn't lost interest in him, and my feelings grew without me, noticing.

[sasha199]

Gale/ Wyll drama pt. 5

Y’all…this game hits different when your Tav is a stand in for yourself.

My sister and I are playing a multiplayer as ourselves, as sisters. I was romancing/flirting with both Gale and Wyll. I made a move on Lae’zel too but THAT ended in tears. Sister is pulling both Astarion and Shadowheart.

(I’m Sasha, sister is Marlie.)

"Are your lips swollen?"

"Huh?"

"You heard me, what have you been doing?"

I look around, there's no one nearby but I lower my voice anyway, "Making out with Gale."

"WHAT? With Gale!?"

"Shhhhhhh!" 

Marlie looks genuinely shocked, but she does lower her voice, "I thought you and daddy’s boy were a thing now?"

"Well, we were...for a moment. But then Gale KISSED me. Like really kissed me, put his whole groin into it kissed me, and I've changed my mind."

"Ew. That's all it takes for you to switch sides?"

I roll my eyes at my sister, "Don't you judge me Miss Been-Getting-Laid-This-Whole-Time. Some of us have been on the struggle bus for a minute. Plus, it's not just about sex."

"Really, what's it about then?"

"Nothing, forget it." I'm already over this whole conversation and it's not making anything I know I need to do easier. Wyll had called me his sun just a couple hours ago and I was going to have to break his heart. 

"Calm down then, I know what it's about. Just cuz you can't say it. I know you're in LOVE with the magic man."

"Stop it."

"Well, you are. Aren't you?"

I say nothing. 

I've been thinking it for so long, but I have been so determined to never let those words cross my lips when it comes to Gale. I feel kind of frozen. I'm still a bit blindsided by the kiss, the intensity of it. When I remember the way Gale's hands felt on my body, they way our mouths moved in sync...I feel heat gathering in...places. 

"Incoming." Marlie whispers suddenly.

"Well met."

I snap my head around, "Oh, hey Wyll. Marlie and I were just-" but she's gone. I sigh, rouge shit. 

"If she was here I believe you, that's just her way. Have you given further thought to our plan of attack for Moonrise? If my father is there, he'll be held in the lower dungeons, perhaps away from the Tiefling prisoners. Did Minthara giver her consent to stay in camp?"

"Wha- Minthara? Oh, I haven't asked her yet. Regardless we'll probably go back to Last Light first. Re-stock and all that, um and Marlie wants to bring Astarion for some mysterious reason." I knew why she wanted to bring him, but it wasn't my place to tell anyone about his scars or the person who could potentially decode them for us. 

Wyll let out a chuckle, "Rouges. Those two are enigmas to me, but they do seem to make each other happy."

"Yeah." They're relationship was complicated, it had taken me a while to warm up to Astarion, but a recent conversation about his siblings, and the realities of what they must be facing with him missing had done a lot in regards to my empathy for him. "Anyway, I think I'm going to take Minthara to Last Light, she needs to get properly geared up but I can come back for you before we head to Moonrise."

"Very well." He takes my hand in his, he squeezes it tenderly, "Whatever you think is best."

"We'll get your father back."

"We will." He smiles at me and leans in to kiss my cheek. I let him and squeeze his hand back before he walks away from me. 

"I am literally the worst person, ever." I mutter to myself. 

Minthara is meditating at her tent as I approach. It was my decision to leave her alive at the goblin camp, and likewise I helmed the rescue mission for her. I wasn't the smoothest talker but Marlie definitely did not trust the drow woman, which I understood, so she left the responsibility of Minthara to me. It had never felt right leaving her in the Absolute's clutches, even though I knew that if roles were reversed Minthara wouldn't waste time or resources to rescue us. But she'd thanked me for saving her and seemed determined to do her part to win against Ketheric Thorm, which was enough for me.  She opens her eyes as I approach, they're bright red, almost the same color as Astarion's. "You wish to consult me?" she says matter of factly. 

"Yeah, Minthara hey. We're going to Last Light to get some gear. You need a sword and armor and stuff."

She quirks a white eyebrow at me, " 'And stuff,' by that I hope you mean a useful weapon to bring down the Cult of the Absolute."

"I do."

"Very well then."

I hesitate before turning away, "Hey, you have pretty good insight right? Can I ask you about your thoughts on our companions?" 

She considers for a moment, "A disparate collection of vagabonds and strays." Her tone is direct and no-nonsense. "Anyone particular in mind?" 

"Um...have you spent much time with, uh, Gale?" Wow her gaze is intense, maybe it's the red eyes or that unyeilding stare but I'm having a hard time maintaining prolonged direct eye contact with her. 

"The wizard? No."

There's a silence that stretches after. 

"Don't you like wizards?" Why does my voice sound so small and high pitched?

"They're mastery of the Weave is commendable, but they are awful conversationalists."

"Really? Spoken with a lot of wizards, have you."

"No."

More silence, then I think she picks up the hint that I'm expecting her to elaborate so she continues, "In my experience, they do not usually live long enough to make the effort of befriending them worth-while."

I close my mouth, how long has it been open?

"Either the enemy recognizes they are a threat, and kills them swiftly, or their curiosity leads them to combust while experimenting with the limits of magic." 

I begin to say something, think better of it and shrug. Where's the lie?

"Our wizard is already in a state of suspended combustion thanks to that orb between his ribs."

I raise my eyes to the sky, to the shadows that hover there blocking out the sun. 

Fuck that fucking orb. Fuck Mystra, and Elminster, and Gale. Sweet, depressing, romantic Gale. Who's kisses make my toes curl, who's smile melts my heart, who begged me so sweetly to choose him.  

I look back to Minthara, there's a small look of concern around her eyes. "You're more right than you know." I say.

"I suspect it's only a matter of time before he goes up in smoke."

I sigh. "Not while I'm around." I'm impressed at how confident I sound. 

"In any case," she adds "I will reserve my social graces for those who might live long enough to appreciate them."

"Like me." I give her a sarcastic smile. 

"That remains to be seen," she slings what gear she has over her shoulder, "but I owe you my life and my freedom. Without you I would still be a slave to the Absolute. I know your sister had no such qualms about leaving me to my fate."

"Yeah, she thinks I'm too nice." I walk with her towards the camp exit.

"I would have called it weakness, or written you off as pathetic."

"Minthara..."

"But as I said I am here because of you, so much remains to be seen."

I look at her out of the corner of my eye as we make our way to Last Light, I like this woman. People could say what they wanted about how soft I was, but sometimes I was right. 

Marlie and Astarion rise up from the shadows and fall to either side of us. 

Rouge shit. 

[justforbooks]

Letters by Oliver Sacks

The kaleidoscopic world and polymathic interests of a great neurologist brought to life in his correspondence

In 1960, Oliver Sacks, a 27-year-old University of Oxford graduate, arrived in San Francisco by Greyhound bus. Born in Cricklewood, London, Sacks spent the better part of his 20s training to be a doctor, but came to feel that English academic medicine was stifling and stratified. A “tight and tedious” professional ladder, he thought, was the only one available to aspiring neurologists like him.

A young queer man with a growing interest in motorcycle leather, Sacks had other reasons to leave. The revelation of his sexuality had caused a family rift: his mother felt it made him an “abomination”. And so he looked for escape across the Atlantic. America, for him, was the wide open west of Ansel Adams photographs; California was Steinbeck’s Cannery Row. The new world promised “space, freedom, interstices in which I could live and work”. This is how we meet Oliver Sacks in Letters: as an immigrant undertaking an internship at Mount Zion hospital, the first step in a career on US soil that would span another five decades.

Sacks’s San Francisco years also marked the beginning of his life as a writer. The city wasn’t an arbitrary choice. As he eagerly confessed to a one-time lover, Jenö Vincze, his true motivation for travelling to California was to force a meeting with an artistic idol, the British-turned-Haight Ashbury poet, Thom Gunn. Gunn’s The Sense of Movement (1957) spoke to and stirred Sacks’s predilection for motorbikes. Moreover, it performed on Sacks the kind of private miracle only poetry can: it helped decode “the babble” of his emotional life. “There is a queer, colossally big London Jew called Wolf,” Gunn wrote to his partner in 1961, after first meeting Sacks (who used his middle name, Wolf, as a nom de guerre when frequenting the city’s gay bars, wise to its lycanthropic resonances). “[He] came out to be a doctor here because I live here.” Sacks shared his writing with Gunn, whom he found a ruthless but tender critic, later crediting the poet with first impressing on him that he had real literary talent; a pivotal moment for a man who would go on to publish a dozen books.

“I am not a good correspondent,” Sacks wrote to his parents in 1961, “because I speak and write at people rather than to them.” This is an apt summation of Letters: 52 years of outgoing mail sent (or left unsent) to family, friends, scientists, writers and later, fans and celebrities, a panoply of addressees as diverse as the subjects Sacks writes “at” them about. Unleashed in a self-described “volcanic logorrhoea” that typifies his writing style, these letters variously consider botany, etymology, entomology, geology, neurology, and literature; the tussle between xenophobia and xeniality in Star Trek; the “phantasmagoric-comic unconscious” of actor Robin Williams. Edited by Kate Edgar, who worked as Sacks’s editorial assistant for over 20 years, Letters represents a mere fraction of the total in his archives, which runs to more than 200,000 pages.

Many of the included letters are incomplete, with ellipses denoting gaps whose editorial logic we must take on faith, even when they occasionally appear to interrupt tantalising trains of thought. In a 1984 letter to Lawrence Weschler, for instance, Sacks’s conflicted reflections on strike action in hospitals that might put vulnerable patients at risk feel prematurely curtailed. Despite these excisions, Letters leaves one with the overwhelming impression of a brilliant and vivid mind, a man whose intellectual appetite was vast, and whose professional and creative passions – far from being the self-absorbed obsessions of a pedant – were first and foremost an act of reaching out, the means through which he sought to communicate with others, a “love affair with the world”.

Sacks is an endearing and entertaining prose stylist – inquisitive, often funny, never obtuse – and the organisation of Letters, separated into broadly thematic, chronological chapters with concise editorial introductions, provides narrative momentum. The resulting book is far more engaging than the unwieldy reference text for Sacks specialists it could have been. It might, in fact, serve as a more affecting autobiography than his On the Move (2015), which occasionally slides into sentimentality. Letters is crammed with off-the-cuff profundities, moments of elevated perception that briefly unriddle the more inscrutable aspects of human nature. Here he is on grief, after the passing of his mother in 1972, an emotive state he deems “so unlike depression: it is so filling and real and expanding and uniting and – (it sounds an almost blasphemous word) – nourishing”.

Letters also draws an illuminating line from Sacks’s neurological career to his unlikely emergence as a bestselling author. In the late 60s, having relocated to New York, Sacks treated a group of patients suffering from encephalitis lethargica, also known as “sleeping sickness”, with an experimental drug, L-dopa. This experience informed his second book, Awakenings (1973), which married scientific research with storytelling through case studies of his patients’ lives and their responses to the treatment – a hybrid genre that irritated his colleagues just as it struck a chord with general readers. The literary attention Awakenings received set Sacks on a course to public renown.

“Brevity has never been a quality of mine,” he wrote to Mrs Miller, a physical therapist who helped him regain mobility after a leg injury in 1974. Indeed superabundance – the instinct toward excess – is everywhere in these letters. As a man of 30, dallying with powerlifting, Sacks routinely bragged to his parents about his weight, how much he could lift, the amount he ate – “I love to shake the pavement as I walk, to part crowds like the prow of a ship.” At Mount Zion, special scrubs had to be made to accommodate his bulk, and he found himself in disfavour with his superiors for stealing patients’ food.

But his overconsumption wasn’t always dietary. During the following 10 years or so, Sacks took a prodigious amount of amphetamines and psychotropics – “every dose an overdose” – with one trip producing visions of the “neurological heavens” so intense it inspired him to write his first book, Migraine (1970). By the 80s, following Awakenings and an appearance on The Dick Cavett Show that boosted his profile, pumping iron and popping pills had been replaced by correspondence. “I receive at least fifty or sixty letters and phone-calls a day,” he told his father with the same pride he formerly felt after squatting 575lb, “and, if anything, this number is increasing!”

What was Sacks trying to satiate? His substance abuse, the workaholism that eventually displaced it, speaks of the addict’s need to fill or stuff a void, an effort to forestall the unbearable loneliness that might accompany a moment’s rest. And loneliness certainly runs through these pages. Sacks once felt that his very existence was only made tolerable by rejecting intimacy and becoming “impersonal or supra-personal”; relationships, he said, were a forbidden area for him.

Late in life, he cited internalised homophobia as the driving force behind this isolation, a heart-rending admission, given that he temporarily felt liberated from this oppressive “social matrix” during that short-lived 1965 love affair with Jenö. It wasn’t until 2008, after 30-odd years’ celibacy, that an epistolary meet-cute with the writer Bill Hayes precipitated a loving, intimate companionship, one that would last the remainder of Sacks’s life. It’s a touching if bittersweet moment that arrives towards the end of Letters, the coda to this portrait of a man who, half a century earlier, had travelled across the world hoping to meet a poet who might truly understand him.

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[saraloveslove]

It's not about the stunt, which is temu Holivia at its finest, it's about.... Betrayal.

Louis raised us, thaught us to listen what wasn't been told rather than what was told, thaught us to look behind what they wanted us to see, thaught us to decode the coding, gave us lessons about queer history and closeting in the industry.

Louis made us and now he calls us crazy, delusional, conspiracy and disrespectful because we do exactly what he thaught and encouraged us to do for about 12 years more or less.

Louis plasmated us exactly like that and now he targets us, encourages mass hate online towards us and throws us under the bus everytime he can.

The lines between Louis and Louis TM are blurred than ever.

It's about betrayal and it's one of the most vile thing a person could do. This fandom is at its last straw and there will need more than a bluegreen t-shirt to rebuild the trust between him and us. If he wants to rebuild that, which I am particularly sceptic about.

It's a very sad realization for me. I have loved and fought for this man for years, and the masochistic part of me still loves him, but I deserve respect.

[verilog-official]

oh I'm an idiot

I've spent all this time contemplating how I can do address decoding and stuff and bus logic and all this shit

when it would be so much easier, so much more extensible, so much more powerful, more reliable, and possibly even cheaper to just use an FPGA. that way, I don't have to deal with propitiation delays as much (as most FPGAs are built to run at like 40mhz, my computer is only 1mhz lol)

the logic is extremely basic so I don't need any fancy FPGA either