#Size of USB Drives

[ipromo01]

Choosing the Right Size of USB Drives for Efficient Data Storage and Branding

Understanding the size of USB drives is key to selecting the perfect storage solution for your promotional needs. This blog dives into capacity options, use cases, and how choosing the right size can maximize value in corporate gifting and branded tech giveaways.

[yeetle-beetle]

random headcanon go

i like to imagine that in-universe, the uncategorized microgames you can only play through shuffle mode are part of some "practice" thing for people getting into mindwave. like i'm imagining there's some small device you can plug into the neural port (whatever that is) that pits you against those microgames instead of connecting you to another person's mind and they're made for the sake of letting like, people who have never played mindwave ever in their life get a feel for how it feels to play it, with a bit less of the weird mental stuff involved than when playing against someone else. and then once they practice enough they move onto playing actual matches

[twotriickhoofbea2t]

Hate when tech companies find a way to make computer devices take up less space and they make the whole device smaller instead of putting more in it.

[mothbaaalls]

hmm so with regards to my win10 eos problem, i've been thinking about making a linux mint live boot usb with persistent storage for a long time... i wonder if it's possible to transfer files between the live boot stick and the pc it's plugged into? because then i can just keep my computer the way it is to use for gaming and using csp, while just throwing firefox and the other linux-compatible stuff i already have over onto the live boot stick...

[nerdygirlramblings]

more Ren

previous

When you get back to your room, you pull the jersey off and get ready for bed. You toss it onto your bed, intent on washing it at the end of the week and returning it to the barracks. You know you need a solid night's sleep as Price said you're starting field training in the morning. Their field work is what sets special forces like the 141 off from traditional squad and battalion structures, so you knew whatever came would be entirely new. When you were qualifying, Gaz had you run simulations verbally, but this is different.

The next morning, Price has you meet them at the barracks. You're dressed as he told you: standard issue cargos and t-shirt, both black, and your boots. You notice the others are in compression shirts over which they then pull regulation Henleys and windcheaters. A frown twists your lips. Price hadn't said anything about top layers.

He must sense your displeasure despite the scent blockers that keep the tinge of overripe fruit from their noses because he glances over at you. "Forgot to tell you about the Henley and windcheater, Ren, sorry. Had Adam grab these for ya." He tosses a black windcheater and grey Henley at you, and you snatch them out of the air before they whap you in the face.

Soap snickers, and you resist rolling your eyes at him. Instead you turn to Price and say, "Thank you, Captain." You pull them on and notice the faint scent of woodsmoke clinging to both. They're big on you, long at the arms and torso. Ghost stares at you, unblinking, and you pat yourself down, worrying there's something on the windcheater. When you assure yourself there's nothing there, you look back at the leftenant, furrow between your brows.

Before you can ask him what's wrong, he grunts and turns away. Trying to adjust the windcheater, you wonder if these are standard issue or if Adam orders them special for the 141. Maybe you need to have him order one in your size. You're about to ask when Price starts walking towards a pair of golf buggies on the side of the barracks you hadn't noticed before.

He turns to you, climbing behind the wheel of the first buggy, and motions for you to join him. You climb hesitantly in beside him, and he tells you, "There's a facility, about two acres large, where we do our field training."

"Er, sir, why don't we walk?"

You hear a bright chuckle behind you. You hadn't noticed Gaz getting in the back of the buggy. "There's two ways to get there: the road or the woods," he says. "Once we got our gear on, yer not gunna wanna walk over there."

Price starts up the buggy and pulls away from the barracks. "We'll meet the others there. They'll get the rest 'a the things we need." You have no idea what else you need or what equipment Gaz might be referencing.

Price heads across base and after several minutes you see several large airplane hangers next to a field strewn with city-scape detritus. There's no telling what's in the hangers, but given the what the 141 does, you're sure the debris is for practicing entrance and egress in active combat zones. Despite all the work you've been doing with the 141, the gravity of your new role doesn't hit home until Price cuts the motor of the buggy.

You climb out with Gaz and Price behind you. Price parked between a hanger and the debris, but you don't know what you'll be doing today. As you're looking at both, Price calls your name. "We're in here today," he says, opening the hangar door.

Stepping in, you feel the temperature drop, and suddenly the top layers make more sense. Without central heating or cooling, the hanger is several degrees colder than the outside. Overhead lights illuminate a three-story building. The facade is plain, but there aren't any windows to see into.

Price claps a hand on your shoulder and points at the building. "We're gunna be working on asset retrieval today," he says. He motions to a table off to the side you'd missed. On it are various innocuous objects: a file folder, a USB drive, a photo, a keyring. "Each item is the kind of thing we might be sent to retrieve. We'll run a few scenarios where you'll have to find one of these items, or something similar. I'm not gunna tell ya what it is in advance or where to find it."

Ghost and Soap come in carrying tactical gear and various weapons as Price tells you you'll run this training in pairs. "I want to see how you work with each of the boys." Coming into a previously organized task force it makes sense, but knowing you'll be paired with each man causes a chill down your spine. You can't let them down.

For hours Price sends you in with Gaz or Soap or Ghost, having you find a set of lab keys, proof of embezzlement, a picture of someone that can be used against a target. You learn not to take any item for granted. As the day wears on, Ghost gives you pointers about how to scan a room for information. Soap reminds you to watch for traps. Gaz teaches you how to pick small locks, like those on file cabinets and desk drawers.

You're more mentally worn out when Price calls an end to the work than you were any other day in the last few weeks. "Ya did a good job today, Ren. Solid work for your first time," Price praises. "Need to work on your reaction times, but that'll come as we do more training. An' we didn't run this wi' any resistance, which is unlikely in our job, so eventually you'll be up against foes in training."

You don't miss the glint in Soap's eye or the sharpness of Gaz's smile at this, and you guess the team becomes both hunter and hunted in those simulations. Your pulse races at the thought.

By the time you're back at the barracks, you're exhausted. Gaz invited you in for supper and footie. You beg off, planning to snag something quick from the mess and head straight to bed. The team waves you off as you head back to your quarters.

As they pile into their barracks, Gaz and Soap immediately begin talking over one another.

"-watch 'er put it on-"

"-was swimming-"

"-looked cozy-"

Price's voice cut through the verbal melee. "Olright. So now she's got Gaz's jersey and my top layers. We'll work on getting something of Soap's and Ghost's in 'er hands this week. Then we see wha' she does."

next

series masterlist | main masterlist

~~

taglist: @sirbonesly @z-wantstowrite @thriving-n-jiving @cecelia97 @theycallmevalen @boogeysmoth @cryingpages @riley13 @luxylucylou

[wesstars]

ducked out

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: sam doesn't like what she's hearing. wc: 401 tags: suggestive language a/n: for the wonderful @evilwednesday.

masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s kind of small?”

Sam stopped in her tracks right in front of Tara’s door, feeling the shock of pure terror shoot through her spine. That was Tara’s voice, and while Sam didn’t want to jump to conclusions, things weren’t looking good for her sister right about now.

“No, this is an average size.” Your voice came through the door, snappy. In all honesty, you were the only one of Tara’s girlfriends that Sam had actually liked—she was desperately clinging to this thought as her mind went to the worst.

“It’s a weird design, though…”

“I like this design, Tara.”

“How much does it fit?”

Sam couldn’t make out your hushed words from behind the door, but dread began to ball in her stomach, heavy and sickening, as she couldn’t bring herself to just move. She desperately wanted to, of course, but it was like being frozen from fear.

“Wow, that’s a lot… oh—”

Closing her eyes in pain, Sam felt indignation began to take over. Of course, you and Tara were adults. It—it—was normal, perfectly so, but being faced with its reality… that was something Sam couldn’t handle.

“Just put it in!”

“No, it’s not going in.” Your voice floated alongside Tara’s. What the fuck?

“Try flipping it around.”

“I did, it’s not working!”

Truly, the world was ending for Sam. An apocalypse, natural disaster, global famine, couldn’t have topped this.

“Flip it back, just put it in—” Tara said insistently.

“Okay—”

“FUCK!” Yours and Tara’s voices sounded in unison as the door slammed against the wall. Sam stood in the entrance, panting with bright red cheeks.

“Sam! You almost broke the door down!” Tara was rightfully indignant, you thought. What the hell was Sam doing anyway, barging in and being impossibly loud?

You turned back, giving it one last shove. “Tara, I got it!” Sam dropped to the floor, face in her hands, as Tara faced you with a grin.

“God, you’re the best,” Tara said as she leaned in and gave you a kiss. “I was worried I’d have to go and get one myself.”

You reached out and rubbed Tara’s arm. “You can always trust me, babe.” A USB stood proudly in Tara’s PC, complete with a pattern of uniquely dressed ducks, of Robson...

A flash drive had ended Sam Carpenter’s world, and neither you nor her sister had a care in the world.

--

a/n cont’d: pranked… haha… happy fish of april 🦆

[captain-clandestiny]

Take and Leave

Smooth, steel digits unfurled around her own- easily, and entirely eclipsed under the shadow they cast. Massive artificial joints flexed and retracted with an ease rivaling even that of human capacity. The familiar whirring of pistons underneath armored plates was now near impossible to discern from the cacophony of gunshots and voices echoing off what was left of the west wing rooftops. In her once empty palm rested a small USB stick that almost looked older than she was. Scratches of blue and orange on the long side obscured a logo that had once been printed on there, and a ball chain strand had been woven through a hole on the opposite end of the applicator. No label, no logo, but she had a hint to what it contained. 

“L-Lanning, I…” her voice was hoarse, a couple decibels shy of a wheeze. “...is this…?” 

She kept the hand extended in front of her, neither accepting nor rejecting the responsibility he was preparing to assign her. The chain tied through the device swayed in air that smelled of smoke and death, bursts of gunfire echoing off what was left of the rooftops.

“Listen.” A shudder ran through the floor under her feet, rivaling that of her own shivering as the mech dropped a knee to the ground, setting its single, rounded lens in her direction. He leaned in closer, the glass hovering inches away from her arm before the body completely stilled. But she didn’t waver, not even flinch.

“This is it, didn’t you say? Remember you told me?? There’s–! You’re–! They destroyed everything else!! There’s nothing left! There’s no coming back if you– you–”

On the smooth camera surface, the reflection of the woman standing amidst what was left of the third floor medical studio was not a forgiving one. An ugly frown creased the flesh of her cheeks around a quivering lower lip, filtering her words into a pathetic stutter. Streaks of blood painted her face and uniform. Some patches old, flaky and dry, some fresh, sticky, still wet. 

“I’m not letting you do this. There’s people that need you, Lan… I…”

“No,” his artificial voice overpowered any resistance, leaving silence in its wake.

With a single finger, he pushed the hand holding the drive to her chest before she had the chance to throw it away. He knew just this gesture would be sufficient to express his command, but he still lingered there for a second more. Underneath the angled fingertip, kinetic sensors mapped a signature. Only until he felt bruised, bloodied fingers closing around the drive did he let up.

“Listen,” he repeated. “Not another living soul touches this. Not crew, not your mother, not the leader of the free world.”

“Just give me the fucking nuclear codes at this point! Anything but this!”

In her grip, the USB felt foreign. Flat corners dug into the heel of her palm, but the weathered edges inflicted no pain. She almost wished she’d been tasked to the Nautilean unit instead so she could crush it rather than submit to this decision she had no choice in.

“Please,” she pleaded, a sob hitched in her throat. “We’ve had our disagreements, and you’ve always been right. You’re always right, b-but just once just listen to me!”

It was almost poetic. A stubborn force against a static object. Back and forth until you couldn’t hear the screams any more. But as the booms of artillery intensified, it was clear who the victor would be. She took one second to breathe, struggling to gather her thoughts and hear her own voice with explosions dotting the sky every other second. And one second too much, as that was all it took for the robot to decide she’d lingered long enough. 

“This is not a debate, this is an order. Go. Now.” Ignoring a handful of whitecoats that had paused along their escape route to take in the spectacle, he pinched the length of her tie that had been fluttering freely from the uniform jacket. The artificial voice, amplified by the size of its vessel easily commanded her attention, as well as that of the passing survivors. 

Careful not to rip it straight off her neck, or drag her over the third floor edge, he tugged it closer as he quietly added,”and tuck this stupid thing in before you lose it.” In the vicinity of interested ears, it was unsure whether he was referring directly to the tie, or the USB of interest looped under her collar.

“As far as my detections yield, you are the last ones,” he announced to everyone now, raising his visor as if to affirm it with a final scan. “Endeavour has already departed. Supervisor Evans, I’ve rerouted you to the Pacer.”

Evans made himself known at the far end of the hallways as he fumbled with the tablet in his breast pocket. It bathed his face in a ghostly blue light, undoubtedly the site navigation UI that pretty much every staff had to reference daily. From the angle he held it in the crook of his arm, the path clearly outlined in red, blinking dashes affirmed the directions were received. Satisfied, the mech straightened its posture again, taking a step back to rise to its full height.

“They will not wait long. Run, there is nothing more to be salvaged here.”

HIIII yes im aware of the visual discrepancies between the images... lets just say this took a good week or two to actually finish. "finish." i dont like how it came out, but im glad i could finish it because WOW this has been a scene lingering in my head for a long time. better to draw than do nothing at all right. i could spend all day nitpicking everything i rendered wrong that i don't yet have the skillset to fix, but instead i am going to sleep before 2 am :)

wait!! before i go!! this is not lannings final design btw!!!! please!!!!!! bear with me!!!!!!!!! im still designing the body though i got his head together lolol

[halfbaked00q]

in love w @cicerfics's "give Bond a government(Q)-assigned therapy dog - I mean obv you are providing the dog with therapy not the other way around-" so I decided to look up some common breeds of bomb dogs in the UK cuz all I know is GSD but I wanted options, and one of the results is a springer spaniel. and yea okay, okay, I can get behind this!

Excellent dog and I love that it's, like. a smaller-ish medium size dog, like smaller than a GSD. like yes the idea of Bond walking w a GSD or malinois or sth along those lines would be in line with the bad boy macho superspy image. But! Imagine him instead walking around with a lil dude like this!!!! lol:

What extra sold me on this is was an excellent example I found in Buster, who was a Royal Air Force Police Arms and Explosives Search Dog & said to have served more tours than any other military dog. Here are pics of him:

What an excellent lil dude.

And also!! Plus !!!! look what ALSO came up when I searched springer spaniel!!! :

Wiltshire Police 'Digi-dogs' trained to sniff out technology

They're trained to sniff out hard drives, USB sticks, and SIM cards, are they? 👀 well well well sounds very topical

Maybe this can be the Tasks that Bond decides to take on w his retired buddy to like, give 'em further enrichment.

Actually wait, no this should be something Q brings up to Bond. Maybe Bond is grumbling like couldn't Q haven't gotten him a more dignified breed like a GSD or malinois or something, and Q is like nonsense, English springer spaniels make excellent sniffer dogs, they've even been trained up to sniff out tech, there was this article on it on the BBC etc. and Bond is like hm,. well if he's gonna be stuck w this Creature then he might as well put 'em to work and see if he can, in fact, teach an old dog new tricks - simultaneously giving 'em a new lease on life and also fulfilling some of that Drive to Work need that working dogs, even retired ones have, but in a way where the dog can get more Tasks in everyday life.

(Q did in fact do this on purpose to seed the idea in Bond's head but make him think it was his own idea - so that he would be more receptive to it and also so he would throw himself into this task with his fiendish laser-focused determination).

Anyway lol. Here's how my "Q telling Bond 'I'm so proud of the progress he - I mean the dog - is making'" idea which yes I am In Love With and determined to make Happen, can still win--

[ambroziadelphine]

Forgotten (Bucky Barnes x Reader) Part 5

Marvel Masterlist Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

"First rule of going on the run is don't run, walk." Nat said as we strolled through the mall, Bubs was out of his bright vest, his plain black coat making him look more common, helpful he wasn't full grown yet considering his breed size so he's less obvious. Steve was looking around as he had a ballcap and glasses on, Nat's hood was up as I had my hair all tucked in a beanie, damn my hair be an uncommon color.

"If I run in these shoes, they're going to fall off." Steve said making me crack a smile. We headed up to the apple store, Nat using a laptop to decrypt the USB.

"The drive has a Level Six homing program, so as soon as we boot up S.H.I.E.L.D will know exactly where we are." She said as Steve looked around, Bubs sitting at my feet beside him.

"How much time will we have?" He asked.

"About nine minutes from.." she paused, putting the USB in. "Now." She said and I ever so slightly slowed time for everything but us. It was only enough to delay about 10 seconds per minute, giving Nat a little extra time for this.

"Fury was right about that ship. Somebody's trying to hide something." Nat said, her brows furrowing as she worked on it. "This drive is protected by some sort of AI. It keeps rewriting itself to counter my commands." She said, Steve leaning against the table slightly as he looked at her.

"Can you override it?" He asked and she pursed her lips.

"The person who developed this is slightly smarter than me. Slightly." She said, glancing at Steve and I as she said the last word, a chuckle coming from me.

"I'm gonna try running a tracer. This is a program S.H.I.E.L.D developed to track hostile malware, so, if we cant read the file, maybe we can find out where it came from." She said, working before a sales person came up to us and I winced, reluctantly bringing his slowed down ass into the time speed so they wouldn't notice the difference.

"Can I help you guys with anything?" He asked and I just kept my head down, pretending to look at another laptop vaguely beside them, Nat putting on her charm as she smiled and put a hand on Steve's shoulder.

"Oh, no. My fiancé was just helping me with some honeymoon destinations." She lied, Steve smiling sheepishly to play along.

"Right. We're getting married." He said dumbly making my stifle a laugh, shaking my head slightly as Nat turned back to the computer.

"Congratulations. Where are you guys thinking about going?" The sales guy asked, Steve glancing at te computer as he looked back at the guy.

"New Jersey." He said, I facepalmed at his bad acting skills and thanked god this guy looked like a bit of an idiot.

"Oh." He said before he got a look on his face and I could tell Steve tensed, thinking he recognized him before pointing to him and squinting. "I have the exact same glasses." He said, a small snort coming from me making Nat smirk.

"Wow, you two are practically twins." She mused making the sales guy chuckle.

"Yea, I wish." He said, doing this weird hand gesture to Steve's body. "Specimen." He said with small laugh.

"If you guys need anything, I've been Aaron." He said, holding up his name tag as they said their thanks and he wandered off and exited the time speed.

"You said nine minutes. Come on." Steve said, checking his watch as I sighed, slowing time to 20 seconds a minute.

"Relax." Natasha said before she smirked a moment later. "Got it." She said and Steve looked at it closely.

"Know it?" Nat asked, Steve furrowing his brows.

"I used to. Let's go" He said as we left with the USB in hand, getting out of there as soon as possible. "Standard tac team. Two behind, two across, two coming straight at us." He said as he grabbed Bub's collar, letting my shrink myself as we passed a corner as I laid in Bub's fur.

"If they make us, I'll engage, you hit the south escalator to the metro with Bub." He said, trying to take control of the situation but Nat wasn't having it.

"Shut up and put your arm around me. Laugh at something I said." She said without missing a beat.

"What?" Steve asked, confused.

"Do it." She said, putting his arm around her as he did as she said, all of us walking blissfully passed the two tac team members, Steve giving a glance behind them when they were fully behind us. We got on an escalator and I put a hand on Bub, rubbing his head as I leaned close to his ear.

"Head down." I said, Bub's doing as said as he lowered himself further from view, Nat getting Steve to kiss her as Rumlow passed us on the escalator when we went down. "Good boy." I whispered to him, giving him small scratches as his tag wagged, a grin on my face before we were off with Steve holding his leash again.

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

It didn't take us long to ditch Natasha's car and take a truck which Steve hotwired, headed to New Jersey as Bub ate in the back with me from a bowl after we picked up some food. We had been on the move so quickly we couldn't take time to stop and find Agent Hill, so he was with us for the time being. Something I think Steve is a little grateful for so he didn't feel as worried about me. Nat had her feet up on the dash, arms crossed as Steve drove.

"Where did Captain America learn how to steal a car?" She asked him, a small smile coming to my face at that, not something I had actually considered asking.

"Nazi Germany." He said, Nat humming before Steve turned to her. "And we're borrowing. Take your feet off the dash." He said as I chuckled, petting Bub's head before he pawed at his now empty bowl, nudging the water bottle held in my hand as I smiled, pouring some out for him which he happily gulped up.

"Alright, I have a question for you, which you do not have to answer." She said, before furrowing her brows a little. "I feel like, if you don't answer it though, you're kind of answering it, you know." She rattled on, Steve rolling his eyes.

"What?" He asked, a sneaky smile on Nat's face as she turned to him.

"Was that your first kiss since 1945?" She asked making me laugh.

"That bad, huh?" He asked jokingly as she laughed a little.

"I didn't say that." She defended ass Steve nodded.

"We, it kind of sounds like that's what you're saying." He said, I just shook my head at this because it was kinda true in what it sounded like.

"No, I didn't." She said her voice cracking in her amusement. "I just wondered how much practice you've had." She said making me snort, covering my mouth.

"You don't need practice." Steve scoffed, Nat shrugging with a smirk.

"Everyone needs practice." She said, Steve getting obviously flustered.

"It was not my first kiss since 1945. I'm 95, I'm not dead." He said, Nat looking away for a moment before turning to him with a half smile.

"Nobody special, though?" She asked and I smiled sadly, Steve giving a scoff.

"Believe it or not, it's hard to find someone with shared life experience." He said, Nat waving him off.

"Well, that's all right. You just make something up." She said making me chuckle.

"What happens when they find out?" I asked her, she gave me a playful glare.

"What, like you?" He asked her, she shrugged and looked at him.

"I don't know. The truth is a matter of circumstance." She mused, shaking her head as she looked forward. "It's not all things to all people, all the time. Neither am I." She said, Steve giving her a long look.

"That's a tough way to live." He said.

"It's a good way not to die, thought." She hummed, a moment of silence settling over the car before Steve turned to her again.

"You know, its kind of hard to trust someone, when you don't know who that someone really is." Steve said, a sigh coming from me as I thought of that. I didn't know Winter, but I still trusted him. He still made me feel safe and I wanted to protect him, so I guess Steve's words are true only depending on the situation.

"Yeah." Nat said softly, looking away before looking back. "Who do you want me to do?" She asked, Steve giving her a tiny smile.

"How about a friend?" He asked, a small chuckle and smile coming from her.

"Well, there's a chance you might be in the wrong business, Rogers." She said, silence settling over the car we finally arrived to our stop. We all got out and looked around, an old army base here as we approached the fence.

"This it?" Steve asked as Nat pocketed her detection thingy. I didn't know what the hell it was.

"The file came from these coordinates." She said as we all stopped by the gates.

"So did I." Steve said, my eyes turning to the land before me in realization that this was where he had trained and served in the military.

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

Walking around as we looked for something was tough, but Steve had directed me to stay behind a bit, meaning I was mainly just playing with Bub's, having a ball I'd throw a few feet, just enough to keep him in sight as he'd then race back to me with it, his long legs pushing him quickly as he'd skid to a stop on the ground. I wasn't listening as they talked, just keeping an ear out incase they called me over, which happened a few moments after I threw the ball again for Bub.

"Did you find it?" I asked as I ran closer, Bub's not far behind with the ball in his mouth. Steve and Nat were in front of this big building obviously sheltered underground.

"We think so." He said before looking around and sighing, coming up and putting his hands on my shoulders. "I want you to stay out here and stay low. I don't want to risk you and Bub getting hurt if this is a trap." He said as I sighed and nodded, gathering Bub's as I walked to a nearby building, sitting down in it's shaded spot where Steve could clearly see me from the building door. I waved to them as they entered, hoping thing went okay as Bub laid his head in my lap, pushing his ball to me as I smiled and kept throwing it for him, getting bored quite quickly as I pulled at the grass.

They were only in there for about 15 minutes before I heard something strange, Bub's ears back as he started pulling on my sleeve, urging me to move away and I frowned. I got up, letting him pull my a few more feet away before I screamed as the loudest bang I've ever heard sounded from behind me, a force knocking me to the ground as I felt the ground shake a little. I flipped around on my back, breathing heavily with wide eyes, panic running through me as I struggled to get up, running to what used to be the building Nat and Steve had gone in. I felt my heart beating in my ears as Bub's ran to me, my eyes still wide in shock as I checked him over in my dazed state, seeing he was thankfully alright. I turned back to the rubble and felt my dazed state fade, fear and panic for my friends flooding in as I felt tears welling me my eyes.

"Steve?! Natasha!" I called, supersizing myself as I began hurriedly moving rubble, my body feeling like ice as I yelled for them, Bub helping as he sniffed them out. I saw something move and saw Steve's shield as I rushed over, pulling rubble from around them as they both had taken cover in a small hole they found. Natasha was unconscious and I quickly helped him pick her up, both of us rushing with Bub hot on our tails to hide as Helicarriers flew overhead.

[mimiteyy]

they answered my question! now the file is exportinggg

gotta make a DCP file of my film and follow specific naming conventions but I need more info on something so I can’t do anything until I get an email back from someone

[adz]

KIT’S MEDIOCRE EDC/LOOT DROP

my bag is an orbitgear M500 "swift" with a modzip-3g ballistic bullet sleeve. on the bullet sleeve's clip i've also got a matador 18L transit tote; it's a packable waterproof bag for things like groceries.

most of the time when i leave the house, i bring this bag. there are two big sections in the bag.

in the front i keep stuff that i want to be sanitary - spork, wet wipes, spare mask, hankerchief, tampon, makeup wipe, benadryl (misplaced lol), a hair tie, and a compact (which i’ll probably remove since i never use it).

in the bigger section, which has two waterproof zip pockets, i keep medication (including ibuprofen, acetaminophen, benadryl, lactaid, pepto bismol, and a day’s worth of my everyday meds), as well as spare earplugs, more hair ties, chapstick, and currently a fruit roll-up, although i prefer a white chocolate macadamia nut clif bar (gf & vegan, good carbs, stores well).

on the far left, i've also got a sharge carbonmag 10,000 mAh powerbank and a lever gear keychain lightning cable with usb-c adaptor + SIM tool. the powerbank allows wireless charging, which is convenient for my phone and earbuds (below). the keychain cable is extremely compact and bends back on itself, so the powerbank can lie flat against your phone if you put it in your pocket.

in the bullet pouch i keep a pen, flash drive, my own ear plugs, a can opener, and a spare battery for my pentax 6x7. also a lighter & hairpin (where permitted by law).

these things sometimes go in the bag but are in my pockets if not. secrid wallet (the only wallet i ever want to own for the rest of my life), rovyvon aurora flashlight, and the pissbuds. the wallet holds 8 cards + a little cash and a flat multitool, and it has a spring arm that fans out the cards in the main metal protector - it’s convenient, looks nice, and fits in my front pocket. it’s the first real wallet i’ve ever owned after a decade of mightywallet-ing.

my brother gave me the flashlight, which is extremely bright, glows in the dark, has a UV & a low light option, and charges via micro-usb… an issue cuz i need to get another cable lol. if i ever upgrade my phone, I’ll probably get a newer usb-c version of this.

the pissbuds are nothing ear (1) buds. i got them for cheap. they’re great. they have noise cancelling, and the battery lasts a long time. they sound decent and charge wirelessly. i was given a much nicer set of earbuds (sony wf-1000xm3) by a dear friend, but i use them less often because the case is bulkier, the buds are heavier & less comfortable, and the controls are less responsive & intuitive to me.

i have an iphone SE-2. it’s old and cracked and slow. i like the size and i can’t afford anything better. in general, i’m happy with it.

the last thing that i carry is a carabiner with my house key (not pictured) and two keychain multi tool things. i never use either of these but you can supposedly smoke weed out of the silver one, which is cool. the carabiner was like $8 from home depot and i fucking hate it. it’s heavy and not highly strength-rated. I got it because I thought the circular loop would make it more convenient, but the carabiner itself is far too thick to put anything useful (like a key) on the loop. I often look at nicer carabiners online and think about replacing this one.

thanks for tuning in, hit the inbox with any questions, i love you

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere

Pairing(s): Lucien X Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader

Part 1 Summary: Reader is pulled into Prythian by an unknown force and comes face to face with members of the Night Court. However, the welcome is less than warm.

Word Count: 3.9K

Warning(s): Minor violence, minor self-harm, mentions of body issues/past self-harm.

A/N: This is my first ACOTAR fic and first story I've even considered posting since 2013, so please be gentle. The story is fully outlined, but due to the fact that I work full time and really weird hours updates will be once a month. Use of cisfemale descriptors used. Key: (Y/N )-Your Name, (e/c)-eye color, (h/c)-hair color.

You gathered your belongings as you did everyday before heading into work. ‘Phone, wallet, keys, charger, make-up…’ the list in your head prattled on as you secured each item in the black backpack. Once satisfied that you had everything you needed you swung the leaden object over your left shoulder. Pausing before the near full-length mirror at your door you tucked a strand of (h/c) hair behind you ear. Your (e/c) orbs roamed over for anything that could be out of place. It took a considerable amount of effort not to let your gaze pause on the parts of yourself that you hated. You pulled the dark red sweater down, covering your large and sagging lower belly and too wide hips. You debated on going back to put shapewear on so your muffin top didn’t hang over your dark black skinny jeans too much, but you were already running late. You quickly slipped your dress flats on to your feet as you whispered a small affirmation to yourself. ‘Everything happens for a reason.’

You were not looking forward to today. The laundry list of to-do tasks was miles long. Hours of work meetings, followed by even more hours of research and writing for your thesis. You were always writing. You paused again to double check that you had the required USB drive that held your many months’ worth of research. A quick glance reassured it was safely tucked away on the hook in your pack, and you stiffly grasped the handle of the front door. No sooner than pulling the door open, your feet tripped over the lip of the frame, and you plummeted down through the threshold.

Bracing for a faceplant against concrete, you were surprised to find soft grass under your fingertips. The grass was a deep rich shade of green and still held the wetness of early morning-dew. Slowly lifting your head, you glanced around the spot where you fell. You immediately noticed that you were no longer at the threshold of your duplex if the wide expanse of grass was to be trusted. Slower still, you raised yourself up on your knees. The sky you looked at was now clear of the pale grey clouds you spied out of your bedroom window only minutes before. The bright yellow-white sun was high enough above to indicate that it was midday. A chilled and briny breeze floated across your shoulders and caused strands of your hair to blow away from your face. You pushed your glasses a little further up the bridge of your nose as you took in the distant buildings to your left. Not a single one of the simple brick and mortar buildings appeared to be more than 3 to 4 floors in height. Further down you could make out some shops and an open square. It reminded you more of a smaller European town than of a bustling city suburb. Yet the buzz in the air told you that there was much more than what met your eyes. You could only make out a few figures as they darted through a bustling crowd. Despite the feeling that there were a large number of inhabitants in the city beyond, there wasn’t a single sound of a motorized vehicle. Your head tilted up to examine the vast blueness above you, looking for any sign of the planes that constantly passed over your home, but the sky was also empty. You held your breath, willing for the sound of a jet engine to be heard in the distance. All was silent, except for the brush of the wind and bubbling of water. You turned toward your right an observed a large house that sat just along the river’s edge. Your eyes followed the winding path of the turquoise water as it stretched into a decent sized bay, complete with docks and what appeared to be old wooden sailing ships. You felt like you had stepped back in time.

Panic began to seep into your bones. You could clearly tell that you were no longer in your own city, but where you were…that was wholly unknown to you. Was this even real? Maybe you hit your head when you tripped and this is all just some dream. Yeah, that had to be it. You reached for the backpack that had landed at your side when a shadow flew over you. A heavy thud was heard to your right and your head whipped up to look at the dark silhouette that now towered over head. You initially thought there had been the shape of wings along the figure’s outline, but after blinking away the shards of sunlight that your hand didn’t block, you determined that it must have been your imagination.

“Well hello there,” a velvety smooth tenor reached your ears, “You’re not an associate of Ms. Quinlan’s, are you?”

                “W-What?” Your voice trembled, a strong metallic scent radiated from the man as he knelt down. Your breath caught in your throat. He was absolutely stunning. You mentally slapped yourself after feeling your jaw literally drop. You could have sworn his eyes held flecks of starlight in them. However, his humorless chuckle sent a shiver down your spine.

                “Do you know Bryce?” He surveyed you this time.

                “I don’t…I don’t know any Bryce,” You couldn’t help the rise of your flight response start to kick in, “Where am I?” A part of you didn’t dare look away, but you had to gage your possible exits out of the periphery of your vision.  The man continued to stare and evaluate you. You swallowed thickly in an attempt to clear the non-existent obstruction that was your unease and opened your mouth to ask another question. Before you could speak the man cut you off, placing his hands in his pockets.

                “If you’re not here for or because of Bryce,” Something about his darkened expression filled your bones with fear, “then, unfortunately, I’m not in a position to readily trust you. I must protect my people. I hope you understand that my actions are nothing personal.” Confusion laced your features at his words and you clutched your bag tightly against your chest.

Without warning your entire body froze as what felt like ice cold claws scratched against the surface of your skull. Fear gripped you tightly, the need to run or fight back utterly demolished as you locked eyes with the man. He truly didn’t appear to be bothered in the slightest over how terrified you were.

‘Mother above…he’s going to kill me.’ Your mind reeled and you were certain that you would have emptied your bladder had you not done so before exiting your home. You couldn’t get your voice to cooperate, to beg for mercy as the claws gripped your skull harder. You couldn’t even scream as you felt the flesh tear near your right temple. Your heart beat erratically, hoping it would give out before you could feel any of the pain that was sure to accompany your death. It took all of your mental strength to dampen the fear down and whisper the prayer you incorporated into your own practice so long ago.

“Mother hold me, let me pass through the gates into that immortal land of milk and honey. Let me fear no evil, feel no pain, and let me enter eternity.” Eyes still locked with the man you saw a glimmer of…you honestly had no clue what emotion it was that passed over his expression. But as soon as it passed the feeling of the claws were gone and air rushed back into your lungs. The man stood to his full height and continue to stare at your gasping form. A rush of nausea swept over you and you heaved. The stomach acid burned your throat more than normal after not eating anything for well over 24 hours.

You spit the remaining mucus onto the grass and you were suddenly hauled up to your feet. His grip on your forearm was so tight you could already feel the bruises forming. While the man’s features appeared calm and unbothered, his eyes simmered with caution. However, he remained silent as darkness converged on you both. Your stomach rolled and plummeted with the sensation of your body in free fall, but the man’s grip never lessened. Suddenly your feet impacted against solid stone. Your vision blurred and your other arm reached out towards anything to purchase itself to keep you up right. Your throat burned again but the stomach acid never reached your mouth. Your outstretched hand finally found a wall and you clung onto it for dear life.

The surface was cool and rough to the touch. You chanced a glance around and found yourself in a small dimly lit room. The walls and floor appeared to have been carved directly out of the stone. The dampness to the air clued you in that you were not inside a building, but some structure more akin to a cave. The room held no furniture, unless you counted the metal sconce that held the only source of light. You did a double take as the light itself was strange, appearing to be condensed to the size of a lightbulb, but it was quickly obvious that there was no material encasing its source. Was there even a- your thoughts were interrupted by the screeching of metal hinges as a single wooden door swung open.

A second man appeared in the entry way and ducked down to avoid hitting his head on the top of the frame. Once he was fully inside the room you couldn’t believe your eyes. You blinked several times yet the insanely large bat like wings never disappeared. You attempted to take in his dark appearance, but shadows seemed to swirl around him. He wore a scaly leather outfit that appeared to be some type of armor. You couldn’t tell if it was multiple pieces or a single body suit in the dim silver light, but that didn’t matter as soon as you saw the first of the seven blue stones intermingled into his outfit. Your eyes widened. The first man handed the newcomer your bag, allowing you to get a good look at his winged back. You immediately noticed there were no straps that held the wings in place. Nor were they attached to the clothing he wore, but rather connected to and protruding from the skin underneath. With this realization the room spun as their soft voices drifted over towards you, but you couldn’t make out what was said as your knees gave out and everything went dark.

When you finally awoke the room was cold, dark, and damp; which sadly reminded you that recent events weren’t just a dream. You found that you were now alone, but weren’t sure if that was a good sign. There was no telling if either of the men-no males- would come back. A part of you hoped that someone would at least give you answers, even if just to tell you that you would rot away in this cell. If that was the case, why didn’t the first male just follow through with killing you? What caused him to stop and bring you to this place you now found yourself? Unsure of what to expect you backed yourself up into a corner on the opposite side from the door. A dim light filtered through the wood panels and space between the door and ground. You could hardly call what you sat upon a floor given all the dirt and rocks. Unfortunately, it did little to comfort you while the room was largely in shadow. Despite your best efforts and desire to make yourself as small as possible, your round and plump frame wouldn’t allow you to curl your knees towards your chest. So, you opted instead to sit with your legs stretched out in front of you, ankles crossed. A false picture of being unperturbed with your current circumstances. The longer you sat there in the silence, the more your anxiety seeped into your muscles. You shook your foot trying to expel the nervous energy. Your ears strained for any semblance for sounds of life beyond the door. Surely there had to be other prisoners or guards. Unless you really were just left for dead. You fought back the tears that welled up in your eyes.

                “This is fucked,” You mumbled, “I’m fucked. What the hell is happening?” You could feel the panic rise up your throat. Your heartbeat increased and your breath became shallow. You ran your fingers through your hair, pulling at the roots. Tiny pin pricks of pain blossomed as the blonde strands became taut. You felt pain, or rather discomfort. You’ve felt that in your extremely vivid dreams before, but it gave you an idea. Moving on to your hands and knees you began to feel around for any rocks or other items you could use. If you could find something and make it sharp enough, maybe you could wake yourself. The door looked the same, but maybe it was different. Maybe you were in a different REM cycle, meaning a different dream that just piggy backed off the first. After all, there was no way to determine if the male that took you was going to come back. ‘This has to be a nightmare.’

“Please, please let there be something,” You crawled through the darkness, eyes straining to make out any shapes. Your hands finally found a smooth stone about the size of your palm. In the darkness you couldn’t tell if it was granite or something else, so you went ahead and bashed the side against the stone of your cell wall. The side of the object splintered off as if the stone was made of glass.

“Obsidian…” You smiled to yourself. The obsidian shard would be sharp enough to draw blood wherever you managed to drag it along your skin.

“Where to cut, where to cut…” You felt along your body, the scars on your covered legs sang with expectation. Were you willing to risk taking off your pants in this place though? Were you willing to take off any of your clothing? Finally deciding against the removal of your clothes you crawled over to the door and lowered your hands to the soft light that filtered through. Pressing the shard against the palm of your left hand you hoped that there would be no feeling as you dragged it against the skin. Oh, how wrong you were.

“Fuck!” A searing pain erupted over your hand as the makeshift blade tore at the skin. You sucked in a breath through your teeth as blood pooled at the seams of the cut. The obsidian hit the ground.

“Why did you do that?” A deep tenor filled the space near the back of your cell and you screamed. The sconce on the wall lit up. Your head whipped around to the opposite corner from where you had been sitting. Your eyes took in the retreating shadows as they revealed the male that you really didn’t want to see. The cobalt stones again caught your eye as your gazed wondered over his form. The wings were still there. You cradled your bleeding hand and you backed away from the known male that stared you down. You figured that you were about to pass out again as the shadows behind him seemed to writhe and undulate around his frame.

“Don’t come any closer,” You tried to keep your voice steady, but you wanted to kick yourself for how pathetic you sounded. The male rolled his eyes and walked towards you before crouching down. His wings stretched out and angled themselves so as to not drag along the stone beneath. The sight of their movement took your breath away. They were real. All of this was real. He grabbed your hand and began to exam it. Your attempts to pull it back failed as his grip was tight. Clicking his tongue against his teeth he locked eyes with you, hazel orbs boring into your own. Despite yourself you noted just how attractive he was as he continued to scrutinize you. He continued to look at you expectantly and you realized that he must have asked you a second question. He sighed and gave you back your hand.

“I’ll be right back,” He stood and left. As soon as the door shut you scrambled to your feet and retreated back to your corner. Had he been in the room with you the entire time? If so, why was the light off? And…you felt pain in your hand. You glanced down at the jagged cut, the blood had yet to start to congeal and clot, but it was superficial at best. Honestly nothing to worry about. You’ve done worse to yourself before. But…you felt pain. Real pain, not just a semblance of a memory of pain as you’ve dreamt of before. This was no dream. Everything pointed to this being a very real place. And you were in very real trouble. Especially if you ended up in-

A soft knock on the door brought you out of your thoughts. Whomever was there didn’t wait for you to respond as they entered. A man-no again male- with long red hair and almost equally red-brown eyes walked into the room. He wore a simple off-white billowy linen shirt that appeared as if it was from the Renaissance or possibly the Victorian era. Honestly, you were really sure. The history of the fashion industry wasn’t your area of expertise.  He also wore a simple pair of dark brown pants. He was definitely different compared to your captor and the winged male. He appeared…warmer. Maybe it was the soft smile that graced his lips. However, his eyes-which you now saw that the left had a long scar that ran down towards his jaw- held a certain sense of sadness to them. Pity.

“Hello,” He held out his hand towards you as he cautiously approached, “Can I take a look at your hand?” He seemed friendly enough, but you still pulled your hand closer toward your chest. You shook your head and backed away, not trusting your voice. The red head looked back at the door, where you saw the winged male patiently waiting.

“She does understand our language correct?” He turned back towards you after receiving an affirming nod from his companion. He took a tentative step closer. You felt like you were being treated like a wild animal.

“Stop!” You hissed, “I’m perfectly fine. You can leave.” The male just stood, his gaze trailing to the blood that dripped down your forearm.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” He stated, “I need to heal your hand. Will you let me do that?” You paused.

“What do you care if it heals?” You squeezed your hand into a protective fist causing blood to gush out faster, “Isn’t it easier to just let me be?”

“Honestly I don’t care,” His demeanor changed like the flick of a switch, “If you don’t want help then that is your choice. My question then is why cut yourself in the first place?” You held his stare. You didn’t want to answer, knowing that it wouldn’t make any sense to the stranger.

“This is going no where Lucien,” the winged male finally re-entered the room, “Just heal her hand so I can begin my questioning.” Lucien scoffed, but did as requested. Grabbing your wrist, he tugged you away from the corner you backed yourself into. You held your breath as he pried your fingers open so he could get a look at the cut. You honestly tried to pull your hand free, but he was clearly much stronger than you. Almost unnaturally so. You were left with nothing to do but to watch. You heard a faint whirring sound, before he hovered his free hand over the injury. A warmth enveloped your open palm and was accompanied by a slight metallic scent to the air. Within seconds your skin had stitched itself back together. All that remained was the trail of drying blood. You stared at the healed skin, mind racing with jumbled thoughts. It didn’t make sense. Nothing in the world could do that. It was like…magic. Your breath caught in your throat. Just where the hell were you. You flicked your gaze back to Lucien standing before you, only this time you noted the golden mechanical eye and the arch of his ears. The pointed arch of his ears. The jumbled thoughts became cloudy and you felt darkness start to descend.

“There,” Lucien let go of her hand, which was something that he would immediately regret. It took less than 30 seconds for her wide (e/c) eyes to flutter shut. He watched as her knees gave out as she crashed towards the ground. His reflexes were fast enough to allow him to catch her before her head hit the hard stone. Azriel was immediately crouching next to him.

“That’s the second time she’s fainted,” He whispered, cursing under his breath. He removed her outer sweater and placed it under her head before standing up to speak to the male beside him. 

“How long has she been down here?” Lucien questioned also rising to his feet. This didn’t sit well with him. The woman was clearly frightened, and there was no absolutely no trace of any lingering magic emanating from her. So why was she being kept beneath the throne room in the Hewn City?

“A few hours,” Azriel explained, “Rhys found her this morning. According to him, she literally just appeared. Much in the same way Bryce did. Fell flat on her face outside their home on the Sidra’s edge.” Her face was pale, honestly, too pale for Lucien’s liking. He knelt down beside her, straightening out her legs so they weren’t tucked under at an odd angle.

“Does Feyre know?” The Shadowsinger remained quiet. Lucien looked up at the male. Azriel couldn’t meet his eyes. That wasn’t a good sign. There was no way that Feyre would be comfortable with having a defenseless and harmless human female locked away. It was unusual for Rhysand to keep things from his mate, not without there being a definitive threat.

“This human has no magic. Absolutely none. She’s completely powerless,” He spat out, “There are no traces of any spells surrounding her either. Whatever brought her here, she had no control over. Its likely she had no knowledge of what was happening either.”

“That’s what I need to find out,” Azriel stated simply. If he was irritated with Lucien’s outburst he didn’t let on. “So now that she’s healed and you’ve completed your assessment, you can leave.” This really didn’t sit well with him. Bryce had been brought right into their family home when she arrived. So, what was it about this human that set the High Lord on such edge that she’d been banished from what would probably be the safest place for a human in Prythian? Lucien really didn’t like what was happening, but knew better than to argue with the Spymaster. If anyone did get answers out of the woman it was going to be him. However, he wouldn’t let this injustice go to the way side. So, without so much as a word to the Shadowsinger, Lucien left the cell. He was determined to have a very stern word with the High Lord.

Part 2

[koko2unite]

Mom and dad bought a "2TB" flash drive for $50. I told them it's fake, it's clearly fake, you can't tell me theres a $50 two fuck terabyte flash drive on some random electronic shop, they just got scammed. But then minutes later they come to me again with the same flash drive and ask me to fill it with mp3s for their car and see what I can do with it. Obviously it doesn't work, so I pulled h2test and waste several hours for a long test to show them what the real size is, and only then, they believed me

I hate that our relationship is like that, I've told them something, they don't believe it, until somebody else told the exact same thing, then they believed me...

Anyway, I think the test and this stupid fucking flashdrive fried my front usb port or whatever... I still have the back ones, but fuck, I can't believe the shit that happens to me, sometimes

[ohtoseni]

filling the void

two

zemo x oc

zemo lost his wife and son. celeste never had a loving family. they fill each other’s void.

tags/warnings: ddlg, slow romance, psychological obsession, dom/sub, daddy kink, smut + fluff, mutual pining, pet names, domestic discipline, tpe

“Why do you have a piano in your office?” Sam asked, pulling up the extra chair next to Celeste.

Her office was nearly the size of a slightly luxurious broom closet, enough to fit her monitors, two office chairs, her desk, and her piano keyboard. The desk and keyboard were flush against the three walls, cocooning her into a U-shaped hole. Celeste didn’t mind the claustrophobic setup; everything she needed was within reach. 

“…To play piano?” She answered slowly as if the answer was that obvious. “Why else would I have a keyboard in here?”

Sam shrugged. “I didn't know you played.”

Celeste didn’t respond, instead turning on her computer and watching her monitors light up the room. Besides the hallway light from the cracked door, the artificial blue light of the screens was the only light source in the room, not including the RGB accents of her setup. 

While Celeste liked working field missions, she liked being at her home base so much more. Working from a laptop provided fewer workarounds than her high-powered PC. Plus, she liked hiding out in her closet of an office, away from people who annoyed her with pointless requests. 

“So,” Sam clasped his hands together with a smile, trying to get back on track. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

She didn’t respond initially, still working on booting up her latest work. Sam watched her with a raised eyebrow as she seemingly ignored him, typing away and connecting USB drives instead of talking. 

“You call me all the way down here, and now you’re ghosting me? Got it.”

Celeste huffed through her nose, not entirely a laugh, but close to it. “I’m not ghosting you. I’m loading up a brute force decryption sequence. It isn’t exactly instantaneous.”

A beat passed. The hum of the HVAC kicked on, filling the silence as red and green lines of code flickered across the main monitor. Sam’s gaze fell back to the black and white keys of the keyboard, reaching out a finger to lightly play a note. 

“F4.”

“What?”

“Middle F. Fa. About… 350 Hertz?” Celeste rattled off, still focused on bringing up the requested files. Sam looked at her as if she’d grown a second head. 

“Am I supposed to understand that?”

Shaking her head, Celeste finally leaned back in her chair after all of the files downloaded properly. The server fans quietly died down as they finished their work. She shot Sam an expectant look- a subtle tilt of her head and a raised brow that silently said focus, please.

Sam clocked it instantly and chuckled. “Alright, alright. Business first, music class later.”

He wheeled his chair a little closer to her desk, peering at the walls of text populating her screen. “What am I looking at?”

Celeste rotated the monitor slightly in his direction. “These are the internal communication logs from the facility in Bulgaria. Someone triggered a silent alert just two minutes before the cameras cut out. I isolated the spike.”

As he looked closer at the screen, Sam frowned. “That’s not our team’s signature.”

“Nope,” Celeste said, slightly popping the ‘p.’ “And it’s not Hydra’s usual encryption either. It’s something newer. Sloppier. Someone outside the old system is piggybacking off old tech. And using a shitty Vigenere cipher, you know, like an amateur.”

Leaning forward, Sam braced his elbows on his knees as he stared at the screen. “So someone wanted us blind.”

Celeste nodded. “Or distracted. Either way, they weren’t trying to hide very well. That kind of encryption screams ego, like they wanted someone to find it eventually. Just not in time.”

A beat of silence filled the room as Sam took in the information. They were wrong to assume the bunker had been abandoned. Someone had been watching them, planning. 

“Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “We walked right into it, didn’t we?”

Celeste said nothing. The tension in her shoulders, tight and coiled, spoke for her. She waited for the angered blame that never came. Her eyes stayed fixed on the blinking data feed like it would offer up an apology. 

Sam didn’t accuse her, though. He simply leaned back and sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. 

“Can you trace where the alert was routed to?” He asked finally. 

“I’m trying to,” she replied with a nod. “Whoever coded it masked the signal behind a string of false IPs- some in Egypt, some in South Korea; one even bounced off a NASA satellite.” She squinted at the screen. “But one of the relays hiccuped; it looks like. I can work backwards from there, if I'm careful.”

Sam smiled faintly, impressed. “Smart.”

Despite the praise making her internally flustered, Celeste only gave a casual shrug. “Sloppy programmers make my job easier.”

As she moved to upload data to the shared server, footsteps echoed just outside the room. The rhythmic, measured cadence gave away the visitor before they even fully stepped into the room. 

Zemo appeared, gloved hands behind his back, gaze flickering between the two of them with thinly veiled curiosity. He stepped inside and inspected the cramped room as if it personally offended him. 

“Why must every room in this place operate under the idea that modern ventilation is optional?”

Sam rolled his eyes, already over Zemo’s presence. “Anything you need, Z?”

Zemo’s gaze settled on the central monitor. “Only to observe. Miss Celeste has an admirable knack for uncovering what others often overlook.”

Celeste blinked at the unexpected compliment. She stared at the monitor, refusing to let him see the way her shoulders tightened at his words. Her heart thumped deep within her chest, blood pulsing loud in her ears. It wasn’t very often that all attention and praise were on her, and the positive reinforcement always made her flustered and a bit anxious. 

Zemo seemed to sense it, though he made no comment. He simply stepped further into the room with his usual calm and predatory grace, eyes scanning the lines of code cascading across her screen. 

Sam huffed and stood from his seat. “Well, if you’re gonna just hang around breathing everyone’s air, I’m gonna grab a coffee before Bucky drinks it all.”

Celeste gave a small, polite nod as Sam squeezed past Zemo and out the door. The space somehow felt smaller with just the two of them. She shifted her position in her chair, trapping her legs between her chest and desk in an upright fetal position. 

For a moment, Zemo said nothing, allowing the room to fill with the sounds of Celeste’s typing and the whir of computer fans. Then, in a voice too casual for such a heavy topic:

“You became tense when complimented. May I ask why?”

She stiffened further. “No, I didn’t. I just don’t hear it often. I don’t know.”

“You underestimate yourself.”

“Maybe,” she muttered to herself, but Zemo heard it clear as day. “Or maybe I'm just realistic.”

He hummed quietly, fingers tapping on the black plastic of the piano. “It is not realism that makes you flinch; it is doubt. Instilled by others, yes, but still yours to carry.”

Her hands paused over the keyboard, hovering slightly above the keypad. She let out an uncomfortable laugh. “I didn’t realize this would be a therapy session.”

Zemo took that as permission to stay. He moved to stand behind her left shoulder, eyes on the piano keyboard as if mentally composing a song. Celeste continued to decrypt communication logs with shaking fingers. 

“Not therapy,” he said. “Merely conversation. You intrigue me, liebes Madchën.”

Celeste swallowed thickly at the German term- little girl- spoken with such disarming gentleness and a slow Sokovian lilt. She didn’t know how to respond, so she didn’t. 

Instead, she pushed the final decrypted file into the shared directory and clicked save, dislodging the small USB drive. “There. The files are up. Sam and Bucky can view them remotely now.”

“Good girl,” Zemo said softly as if the words were second nature. “You’re more essential than you let yourself believe.”

She tensed up at the praise again, heat rising up her neck as she tried to escape the conversation. Zemo stood between her and the door, however, making her physical escape near impossible.

Her mouth opened as she floundered for what to say, eyes rapidly looking about her desk as if it would provide her a conversation topic. A simple, clear C major chord chimed through her speakers- Zemo’s fingers rested precariously on her keyboard. 

“… Do you play?” Celeste asked softly. She tried to reroute whatever weird emotional current sparked through her. “The piano?”

Zemo’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes shifted. “Once,” he said, then paused. “A long time ago.” His gaze lingered on the keys beneath his gloved fingertips, pressing down on an ivory key with barely any pressure. A low, aching A2 note hummed to life in the speakers. 

Unsure of what to say, Celeste watched as his hand hovered over the keyboard. He didn’t play another note. 

“You could play mine, if you’d like,” Celeste offered, her voice small yet sincere. She quickly added, “The door is always unlocked when I’m in here, but you can use it any time. The code is 2807.”

“The 28th of July,” Zemo remarked offhandedly, his eyes flickering to the keypad. “Your birthdate?”

She shook her head. “No. My niece’s.”

His brow lifted slightly, intrigued by the unexpected answer. But he said nothing more. Her answer revealed enough about her that no words needed to be spoken. 

Celeste turned back to her screen, pretending not to notice the way his gaze lingered on her. She minimized open windows, her fingers moving slowly as she became more self-aware. 

Behind her, Zemo silently watched her as she fumbled around, looking for something to look preoccupied with. The silence was uncomfortably thick with unsaid words. 

Her desk was a mess of clutter that only she could navigate- cables, notes, spare drives, a half-drunk energy drink, and a small hardcover journal tucked near the far corner. Its edges were worn from frequent use, drawing Zemo in more and more. 

One’s journal acted as an unbiased look into someone’s inner thoughts- their dreams, their turmoil, and their nightmares. Celeste intrigued Zemo, but he knew she was tightly guarded. For years, she built walls around her scars, hiding what made her tick. Zemo wanted to find out more about her. 

He moved lightly as Celeste adjusted the neckline of her sweater. Fingers brushed over the piano in a silent farewell as he passed by. In the same motion, he lifted the journal from her desk. 

She didn’t notice a thing. 

At the doorway, Zemo paused just long enough to safely tuck the journal into his coat pocket. Then, with a glance back at her hunched form in the glow of the monitors, he spoke. 

“You leave yourself far too exposed for your own good, liebes Mädchen.”

His voice was calm and low, equal parts warning and something softer, edging the line of protectiveness. Without waiting for a response, he slipped out of the door. Zemo knew it was all a façade- Celeste projected a fake image for the team as someone braver and different than her inner self. And Zemo wanted to see and know the true Celeste.

[wonnieaura]

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. College essentials

Are you moving to a college dorm for the first time and don’t know what to bring? Don’t worry I got you. Here are a few things you can get yourself ready for a new chapter 🫶🏻💗🎀🌱

COLLEGE ESSENTIALS

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ʚɞ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Bedding and Comfort

• Twin XL sheets (common dorm bed size)

• Comforter or duvet

• Pillows and pillowcases

• Mattress topper (memory foam for extra comfort)

• Throw blankets

• Decorative pillows

Storage and Organization

• Under-bed storage bins

• Closet organizers

• Hangers

• Desk organizers (for pens, notebooks, etc.)

• Drawer dividers

• Shoe rack

• Storage ottoman (can double as seating)

Kitchen and Dining

• Mini fridge

• Microwave

• Electric kettle

• Coffee maker

• Reusable water bottle

• Plates, bowls, and utensils

• Mugs and glasses

• Tupperware (for leftovers and snacks)

• Snack stash

Bathroom Essentials

• Shower caddy (for transporting toiletries)

• Shower shoes/flip-flops

• Bath towels and washcloths

• Toiletries (shampoo, conditioner, soap, toothpaste, etc.)

• Robe

• Toilet paper

• Laundry basket and detergent

• Bath mat

• Mirror

Study and Technology

• Desk lamp with adjustable brightness

• Laptop and charger

• Power strip with surge protection

• Extension cords

• USB flash drive or external hard drive

• Noise-canceling headphones

• Desk chair cushion (for added comfort)

• Notebooks, pens, and planners

Décor and Personal Touches

• Wall art or posters

• String lights or LED lights

• Rug (to make the room cozier)

• Plants (real or fake)

• Photo frames or a corkboard (to display memories)

• Command hooks (for hanging items without damaging walls)

• Curtains (if the dorm allows)

Health and Wellness

• First-aid kit

• Reusable face masks

• Hand sanitizer

• Disinfecting wipes

• Vitamin supplements

• Water filter pitcher

Miscellaneous

• Fan or space heater (depending on climate)

• Tool kit (for small repairs)

• Umbrella

• Bicycle lock (if biking to campus)

• Reusable shopping bags

• Sewing kit

[slippinninque]

🏃🏾‍♀️Nosey🔎

You end up in some business that's not exactly yours...

Jatemme Manning x blackfem reader

Warnings: cursing, mentions of violence and some torture (not to reader) soft!dark!Jatemme, long fic

-----

There were times where the job could get messy.

Vision blurring at the edges and pain shooting down your side, you continued through the alleys. The siren’s call and rushing cars filled the air, you could hear the gunshots as your tails met each other.

Lungs burning and legs screaming, you hoped the worst for both of them.

You went next to the double dumpster of a vegan spot and slid into sitting down. Your head swam with the growing pain, you knew you had to keep moving but you couldn’t keep bleeding.

‘Love's is gonna kill me.’ You couldn't help the little laugh that slipped, knowing the man was going to go nuclear.

Right now, all you could was try to fix your shoulder.

You ripped off your bloody shirt and tore a strip around the slash in your side. The other, you wrapped as best as possible around the left shoulder where there could be a bullet still lodged in there.

Groaning and re-shouldering the pack, you zipped up your hoodie all the way and tossed up the hood. After a moment to guess where you were beyond Funky Fresh Vegan Bistro, you pushed towards the mouth of the ally.

In the backpack were a handful of USB drives that held some pretty compelling information about a few families in the underground and high-crust.

All of it set to be given to the police in the the work of a mole. Multiple moles, a syndicate across turfs. Proof and promises for smaller sentences, complacent public figures, receipts for cleaned money, audio files—oh, they had it all.

Now you had it. Though not much time came with it now that half the city was looking for you. Still, it was well worth the nasty fall you took in getting the hell out of dodge.

You just had to get to your turf. A neutral space, either one of the bars or pawnshops owned by your cousins maybe?

A bullet ricocheted from the metal post of the fence, startling you and causing you to bolt.

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

Four men naked and taped to their chairs. Every sound uttered that wasn't information cost a tooth. With that sort of currency, Jatemme had to get creative after a while.

They were pleading and leaking from all over but Jatemme wouldn’t let any of them die until one of them finally told him what he needed to hear.

Asthma knew this special mood was from a very specific source. Namely one the exact size of a foxy little smooth talker that's been missing for nearly 24 hours.

Jatemme didn’t look at Asthma as he rounded to this table of tools, picking up a potato peeler as he spoke.

“Did you find her?”

“She ran into one of our laundromats. Eddy and Chris was there to meet her after a tip about her running from the Opps spread through Southwest. They said they're taking her to see Doc.”

Jatemme stood slowly and fixed a dark gaze onto his captives,

“Was she hurt?”

“Banged up good but heard Doc say she had worse.” Asthma didn’t come closer, didn’t move away from the door. Whoever those men were--they probably didn't have long left.

“She had something with her you might want to see, though. Eddy came through to drop it off."

When Jatemme looked over at him, Asthma wordlessly held up a well-worn Crown Royal bag.

….

You felt like you were ran over by a pack of trucks. Or suplexed by a Silverback gorilla—but you were also satisfied.

You stole enough leverage to keep the skies clear for years.

“I have to say, you’ve been doing pretty good. There was a time I’d see you every week.” Doc returned with fresh bandages. You began sitting up and he hurried to get you to lay back down.

“With the way you used to chew my ass out, I've been taking my chances with the lil' sewing kit at home.”

“Explains all these wobbly-ass scars then.”

You snorted, pain jolting with your amusement, “Yo, not too much on me! I learned from watching you, old man!”

It was Doc’s turn to laugh as he peeled away the stained bandage on on side. The puncture was pretty deep and the healing was going to be a bitch, but you were lucky enough it didn't reach anything vital.

“I won’t recommend falling onto a fence head, it’s not as quirky as the TV makes it seem.”

"Girl, what the hell are you watchin'?"

You rambled on and tried to ignore the way the pain killers churned in your empty stomach as you wated for them to kick in. While you knew Doc was being as careful as he could, you still winced.

It's actually been a while since the last time you had stitches.

“Little more and then you can sleep it off, champ.” Doc grunted as he emptied a syringe into you, “Rusty metals are a bitch after all."

“And how…”

Your eyes closed. Took deep breaths and soon enough, the room stopped spinning and Doc was putting a fresh bandage onto the worst of it. He's been stitching you up since you got into the streets, you've slept on his cot more nights than you can count.

Wasn't long before the absence of adrenaline invited the presence of reality.

Jamal finding out you went snooping without permission--that you could sort of handle. Jamal would be more than appeased by the blackmail and leverage you dug up.

If Jatemme saw how badly you fucked yourself up over a ‘side quest’, then that...would be worse.

“Say, Doc, when can I—uh--get on out of here?”

Doc looked at you as if you spoke to him in Klingon, “Leave? Girl, give the good shit time to kick in, at least! 'Sides, you’re going to be here at least until morning. That ankle of yours alone—woah, wait!”

You were already dizzy from the sudden movement of you sitting up, but you had to get home. You didn't want Jatemme to see you as you were, it was too bad--too soon.

If you could make it home, you could buy some more time for the worst of it to go away. You stood from the bed with a yelp, unsteady but trying to move away Doc’s worried hands.

“Suddenly, Doc, I feel a while ‘lot better. So much, so much better. Think I’m gonna finish healing up at home, y’know?”

“Is this about Manning? Sorry kid, but the cat’s out the bag—he knows.”

"Aw shit," You groaned, arms going around your stomach as it thundered. The pain rocketed down your side, Doc hissed something as he reached out to steady you.

“I-I still wanna go home. I'll be more comfortable there..."

"C'mon now, kid--

"Shouldn't you be invested in the quality of my healing? I'd be waaay more comfortable there, old man..."

“Hear me out, let me get you as patched up as a can to last—yeah?”

"I'm fine...”

“I think you should listen to doctor’s orders.”

You went still. Doc made a relived noise prodded you towards the cot, you went stiffly. He helped to lay you and you gave a great, big sigh as you finally faced the figure blocking the doorway.

“Heeey there, Love...”

Jatemme came and took Doc’s seat when he stood at the sight of him in the doorway. Jatemme unpinned his stare from you and looked to the older man.

“Tell me what we’re looking at, Doc.”

You swallowed as the list was rattled off in alphabetical order. Bruising, gunshot wound to the left shoulder, multiple lacerations, and a rolled ankle.

Jatemme stared at him, eyes endless and still. You picked at the loose thread of the cot's scratchy blanket when Jatemme finally dismissed Doc to turn his eyes on you.

The silence was thick enough for you to eventually wince beneath it. Jatemme sighed, deep and heavy as he stood. You looked up at him in time for him to catch your chin as he came to sit closer to you on the cot.

Jatemme pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, then another. You felt like your could implode, or maybe pass out.

He pulled back enough for your noses to touch, “I heard you almost got killed..."

Your giggle was a bit intense, nervous and excited as always when he was near. Jatemme’s smile was small as he pointed his finger directly in the center of your forehead.

“Do you know what I'd do? If I missed you?"

Not for the first time--you wondered just how far Jatemme would be willing to go.

“Hm...probably want to give me one of these?" You darted forward a stole a kiss, “Or maybe one of these...?”

You tried to get another kiss but Jatemme moved back at the last moment, catching your head between his palms. All traces of humor gone in his face as your ears struggled to pick up is next words.

"Tell me what happened. Now."

So you did. You didn't work for Jatemme, you didn't work for anyone, but you were meddling in his shit. The least you could do is tell the truth.

Jatemme had relaxed his hold on you by the end of the story. His hands went from your head to one resting on your thigh and the other in his pocket.

“I told you to leave it be. I was gonna press Gavin to see who the connect was.”

“Wasn't no 'leave it be', I'm telling you. Gavin was gonna go tonight, as soon as he left from here with his tail.”

You put your hand over his, thumbing over all of his knuckles.

“If I would have left it there? I swear we would have been booked by noon tomorrow, Love. "

Jatemme stared. While he took in whatever he needed, you took in the pleasure of his handsomeness and the slow numbness that was taking over from whatever the hell Doc gave you.

“Don’t be a danger to yourself.” Jatemme said quietly after a while, “I will put you up somewhere if something like this happens again."

"All I hear is that you liiike me, you wanna kiiisss me..."

"You playin' too much. Don't think I won't, brat.”

You didn’t doubt it. Jatemme could make a lot of things happen, you've seen it firsthand. The only problem is that it didnt' scare you. It caused quite the opposite effect.

If Jatemme wanted to hoard you all to himself--it was in the public best interest to let him do as he wanted, right?

"I know, Love, I know."

Jatemme leaned in slow and you were eager to meet him. He kissed slow and soft, pinching your cheek before pulling away. Jatemme stood to ease you back into the pillows, grabbing the throw blanket that Doc kept.

“Chill here for now. I’m going to make a call and then we're going to head out.”

You nodded and suddenly felt so tired. The worst of it was over now, even if Jatemme was plotting on a lesson when you were in better shape. It was a good save, no one could take that from you.

With that thought, you dropped off into a mildly-comfortable doze as you waited for the pain meds to take over.

Jatemme lingered until you fell asleep. The bunching in your brow smoothed out and your breaths were deeper, not as if you sucked on pain every inhale.

Your hair was a mess of braids and he saw a the bandage above your brow was already stained red. You slept like you didn't fall a few stories onto a iron fence and weren't the source of Jatemme's headache.

He heard what Doc said about your ankle and thought about the talk he still had to have with Jamal. It was too late in the evening to even consider the bodies still in his workshop.

‘Gave us plenty of work, didn't you?' He thought, looking at the blood beneath your nails. Pulling out his phone and then your bag of snatched evidence, he texted his brother.

Then sent a follow up asking for him to bring a bottle.

-------

✨ending notes✨: this one was rattling around my brain for the longest and have definitely been taking up space in my drafts! I think this is a bit different for me 🤔 I'm looking to make a more chaotic reader and I think she may do well with Jatemme! 🤣Thank you so much for reading! Tell me what you think! 💜✨💕

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