#navigation lcd

[zylcd]

Industrial LCD touch screen: the intelligent engine of production line control system

In today's rapidly developing Industrial 4.0 era, production line control systems, as core components for optimizing production efficiency and improving product quality, are undergoing unprecedented changes. Among them, industrial touch screens have become an indispensable part of production line control systems with their high efficiency, convenience, and intelligence.

1. Industrial touch screens: a model of intelligent interfaces

Industrial touch screens, as an intelligent interface that closely connects people and machines through touch-type industrial displays, have completely overturned the operation mode of traditional control buttons and indicator lights. It can not only be used to set parameters, display data, and monitor equipment status, but also vividly depict the automation control process in the form of curves, animations, etc., making the operation more intuitive and convenient.

The industrial touch screen uses advanced touch screen technology, and users can directly click and slide on the screen, which greatly improves the operation efficiency and convenience. At the same time, it has the characteristics of high stability, high reliability, and high durability. It can operate stably in harsh industrial environments to ensure the continuity and stability of the production line.

2. Production line control system: a guarantee of efficient production

The production line control system is a complex system that contains multiple subsystems, each of which has its own unique functions and roles. Among them, the motion control system, visual system, data acquisition system, and control algorithm are the core components.

‌Motion control system‌: By controlling servo motors, solenoid valves and other equipment, precise control of workpiece position, speed, acceleration and stop can be achieved.

‌Vision system‌: Use high-precision cameras for image acquisition, image processors for image recognition and analysis, and detect product size, shape, color and other parameters.

‌Data acquisition system‌: Through sensors installed on machines and controllers, real-time acquisition of temperature, humidity, current, voltage and other parameters, and real-time analysis and processing.

‌Control algorithm‌: As the core of the production line control system, adaptive control algorithms such as PID algorithm, Fuzzy algorithm, neural network, etc. are used to monitor various parameters in real time and adjust the production line operation parameters to achieve optimal production efficiency.

As the intelligent engine of the production line control system, industrial touch screens are leading industrial production to a more efficient and intelligent direction. It not only improves the operating efficiency and product quality of the production line, but also reduces maintenance costs, injecting new vitality into the sustainable development of enterprises.

Need dependable LCD screens for your business? Shenzhen Zhiyan Optronics Co., Ltd. offers a full range—from LCD panels to touch displays—with quick turnaround times and factory-direct pricing to support your success.

[cina-full-moon-xanadium]

it really is the most Pokémon thing ever that they made a route full of rapid water that if you're lucky you might navigate in just the right spot to find an area you can dive, and you follow that along and find a cave where everything is written in Braille - like, the language made for the visually-impaired which can only be read by touching it, which you obviously cannot do through an LCD screen - which if you somehow manage to read it you find out you need to A) use Dig, which if you do happen to have on you you then need B) a fucking Wailord and Relicanth, two late-game kinda hard to get Pokémon I guarantee extremely few people would ever have used one of on their team never mind both water-types at the same time for some reason, and if you DO manage to do all of that it unlocks three caves across the region which it doesn't even tell you where they are and you have to solve more braille puzzles and your prize is 3 pokemon that just arent even good

[vijayakumar1004]

How to Automate Ultra Cleaning Your Home and Office with Narwal Robot Vacuum and Mop Comb

Imagine a smarter way to keep your home and office clean effortlessly. Experience a cutting-edge robotic machine, offering time-saving precision and accessibility. This technology integrates effortlessly into your life, ensuring pristine environments. Its versatile cleaning and design make it essential for a clutter-free. Absence of manual intervention showcases its advanced navigation and…

[lcdrepair-machine-official]

Hi guys, Allow our beautiful colleagues to show you a corner of our production workshop

[stillmonsterz]

10th Street

pairing: jake sim x reader, jay park x reader kind of (one-sided genre: raw sex with jake :/ summary: you go on a date with jay and it's looking bleak, but the bartender comes around to save the day. warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, drug mentions, crypto mentions, jay is annoying and rich, oral sex.... word count: 5.4k and unproofread.

            “What really gets me about these rug pulls,” Jay says, steepling his fingers and placing them under his clean-shaven chin, “is that they’re so damn predictable. Any asshole with an ounce of intelligence could immediately spot that an anonymous crypto project is obviously going to rug. I mean, it’s fucking ridiculous, right?”

            “Right,” you say. Your eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. You wonder if the sex will be worth this, but the cursory glances you’ve taken at his trousers have told you that it probably won’t.

            Your date is Jay Park, this entrepreneur who has made a name for himself in your area’s tech scene. When he had initially met you in a bookstore, skulking out of the philosophy section to not so much as introduce himself as to remind you of his name and status, you had assumed that he would have taken you someplace nicer. Instead, he drove you in his McLaren just outside of 10th Street. He had paid for 4 hours parking and had jostled you down the cluttered sidewalk, his Ferragamos clattering. Jay had gripped your elbow as he navigated you past drunkards, children wandering the streets without parents, and women with glassy eyes.

            Your voice was joking but belied some of your concern. “Where are you taking me, a traphouse?”

            “That’s date number two,” Jay had replied jovially, looking back at you in the light of the setting sun, “if I decide that you’re worth the effort.”

            You had bitten back a groan and continued following him down the street. Finally, he had stopped you outside of a seedy dive bar, with a hole in the glass boarded up with cheap planks. The planks themselves had been tagged with obscene phrases written in spray paint and Sharpie. Jay had pointed to one word and smiled at you with childish glee. “I wrote that one,” he had said proudly. “

            “You have awful writing,” you had said flatly, crossing your arms. “And this place looks like a crack den.”

            “That’s exactly why we’re here,” Jay replied in a wheedling tone, his grip on your elbow sliding down to your hand. He had interlaced your fingers together. “Come on, don’t you wish to shed the trappings of the social strata? Doesn’t this excite you?”

            A protest had begun to rise in your throat, but Jay had already pushed the door open, pulling you along. The bar was dimly lit, the lightbulbs flickering in the grimy lamps. Stains cover the cheap plywood flooring, and as Jay led you to a table the planks made harsh squeaking noises. Industrial metal was playing from a tinny radio, and the one LCD TV mounted in the corner was displaying grainy footage of a football game. The patrons crowding around the bar and littering the pool table are what you would expect. Loud, raucous, with hunched backs, jerky movements, and thinning hair. The glances that some of the men situated by the pool table gave you were reason enough to flee, but Jay’s grip is as tight as a viper.

            “Don’t mind them,” Jay had whispered, his face nothing short of elated. His head had surveyed the room, and a slow smirk settled onto his lips. His well-coiffed hair, youthful face, and understated yet expensive clothes had set him apart, something that greatly pleased him. He had turned back to you. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman they’ve seen in months.”

            “That’s not hard,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. Your seat was sticky and the table separating you and Jay was riddled with dents and chips.

            “Oh, come on,” Jay had whined, spreading his arms widely. “Don’t be such a little princess. Isn’t this nice? This stripping of artifice, this beautiful and vulgar display of Americana? It’s exciting, isn’t it? Gets you kind of…turned on, right?”

            You had raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

            “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sporting a half-chub, yeah.”

            You had groaned. “You’re disgusting, Jay.”

            “Stop,” he had muttered, holding up his hand. “I might go full mast….” Jay had stood up hurriedly. “I’m going to get us drinks before I inelegantly bust all over the table. What do you want, like a Cosmopolitan or some shit?”

            “No…I kind of wanted a vodka cranberry?”

            Jay had scoffed, opening his wallet in a way that showed you his black card. “What, are you someone’s fucking grandmother? Christ.” He had stalked towards the bar, and you had sat there, trying not to make eye contact with any of the barflies. Finally, your gaze had fallen upon Jay talking to the bartender, at whom he was wildly gesticulating. The bartender was nodding patiently, taking a slow swig of a clear liquid in a tumbler. His apron was stained, his plain black V-neck exposed his thin arms and chest, and his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness one wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this.

            As you had watched the two of them, the bartender’s eyes had briefly slid towards you. His eyes had widened, then narrowed playfully before he went to prepare the drinks. Your chest had felt warm, but you stifled your smile as Jay had stalked back towards your table.

            “I feel bad for that poor bastard,” he had said, sidling into his chair and slinging his arm on the back of it. “Imagine being shackled to this shithole.”

            “I thought you liked this shithole.”

            “Yeah, as a brief recourse from the ardors of being really fucking rich,” Jay had retorted. “Not for the rest of my life. I mean, goddamn. Look at that prick.”

            Jay didn’t have to tell you twice. You took in his messy brown hair, his wide smile, his deft fingers. Then he had walked away from the counter, holding your vodka cranberry and an old-fashioned for Jay. His stride was sure, and he was only looking at you.

            “Here you are,” the bartender had said lowly. “Here’s your old-fashioned-“ he had set the drink in front of Jay with little fanfare- “and here’s your vodka cranberry.” He had slid the drink towards you, making brief eye contact with you. He had been so close to you, you could finally make out his name tag – Jake, written in careful capital letters- and you could smell the moonshine on his breath.

            “Yeah, thanks,” Jay had muttered.

            “Thank you,” you had added softly.

            Jake leaned away slowly, his eyes still lingering on you, before politely nodding. “Let me know if you need anything,” he had drawled before walking away.

            Jay had taken a long swig of his old-fashioned and takes a look at the retreating figure of Jake before groaning. “He should have made it even more obvious that he wanted you. He should have just shoved his cock into your old-lady drink and swirled it around so we really got the picture. Fuck me, I guess.”

            You had sipped your vodka cranberry and laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re reading too much into it.”

            “I’m not,” Jay had insisted, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. “He was checking you out in this lascivious manner. It was disgusting. He was looking at you like you were some piece of ass.” He had taken another long drink of his old-fashioned, barely wincing at the burn.

            “As opposed to you,” you had said sarcastically, “who only has pure intentions for me, right?”

            Jay had laughed. “Hey, it’s different when I objectify you. It’s kind of like when a homeless guy calls you sexy on the sidewalk compared to when an apex predator like me calls you sexy. The point is, that bartender wants you, and it’s revolting.”

            You had dared another glance at the bartender, who was blatantly staring at you while sipping his moonshine. “Relax. I’m probably just the first woman with a full set of teeth he’s seen in a while.”

            Jay had snickered again. “That’s probably true.” Only a few moments of silence had passed before his voice took on a mischievous, almost playful lilt. “You know, you could probably get something from him…”

            You had wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumbs. “What do you mean?”

            “You know,” Jay had said with a shrug, “you could get some free drinks out of him if you flirted a little, take advantage of him. You could probably get him to bequeath his life savings, which could maybe buy you a used microwave or a footlong.”

            Your mouth had gaped open. “Are you openly encouraging me to flirt with him?”

            “Yeah?”

            “Are you a cuck or something?”

            Jay had laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, you slay me.” He had reached over and pinched your cheek, an action that made you want to bite his fingers off. “Come on, just shove your cute little ass in his face and flirt. It’ll be funny to make him think that he has a chance with you.”

            “I’ll pass,” you had replied. “I mean, it’s not really my thing to just play around with other peoples’ emotions.”

            He had sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? You’re so goddamn innocent. You’re saying that you’ll feel some modicum of guilt if you fuck around with him?”

            “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

            Jay had downed the rest of his old-fashioned. “Recalcitrance is for bitches and pussies.”

            You had rolled her eyes. “Fine, so I’m a pussy.”

            Once again, that finger had found its way into your line of sight. “You know who’s really a pussy? This asshole who had invested in this obvious pump and dump…”

            As Jay rambles about crypto, you can’t help but look at the bartender. He’s behind the counter, cleaning a cloudy glass with a rag. When he notices that you’re looking at him, he smiles at you warmly before he looks at Jay and returns his attention to the glass.

            Jay corrals you into having another drink, and you listen to his sophomoric opinions on modern society, the current film industry, his tech predictions, and his opinions on right-wing pundits. The only thing stymying your boredom from overtaking you are your furtive glances at the bartender- Jake, you remind yourself. Jake.

            Finally, the two of you leave the shady bar, and Jay makes out with you as he presses you against his car. You close your eyes and think about Jake as his tongue probes inside of your mouth with little grace.

            “Listen,” you murmur, pulling away from his lips, “I have a presentation early in the morning to give, so I’m going to have to cut this date short…”

            “Oh, bullshit,” Jay says, groping your ass on the sidewalk, “you just don’t want to fuck me, is that it? Can you say that for me? Say that you don’t want to fuck me.”

            You sigh. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

            His hands comes off of your ass and he pulls away from you, shaking his head. “That’s all you had to say. I don’t get women. They’re always like, ‘Men never listen to us!’ Then they don’t explicitly tell us anything, we have to parse through their shit...” As Jay talks, he opens the passenger door. “Get in. Please.”

            You slide inside of his car and he closes the door, even buckling your seatbelt for you. Then he walks over to the driver’s seat and drives to your place. He calls you a cock-tease and a winsome harlot and some other choice terms you can barely hear.

            When he finally arrives at your place, he begs you for one last kiss. You oblige, he bemoans that he’ll never get to pound that tight strange, and he drives off, presumably to coerce someone into his bed for the night.

            Against your better judgement, you take an Uber and walk into that bar on 10th Street alone. This time, the lustful eyes of the barflies are less disgusting than they are frightening. Thankfully, the bar area has been just about cleared out, and you take a seat on a stool with a peeled cover.

            Jake is busy cleaning up a spill on the far end of the counter, but when he looks up and sees you his face brightens. He drops the cloth on the table and walks towards you with a goofy smile.

            “Hey, babydoll,” he says lowly, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t bother masking the fact that he’s openly checking you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts before meeting your own stare again. “Was your date that boring?”

            “He was…nice,” you reply, resting your head on your hand.

            Jake laughs. “Yeah, nice, sure.” He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe his good fortune. “You want something to drink, babe?”

            “Yeah, could you make me something nice and sweet? Nothing too alcoholic.”

            Jake points at you, cocking his head. “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He busies himself behind the bar, pouring this and that into a shaker. As he does, he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Every time he does, he smiles and bites his lip before looking away. Finally, he pours a light-yellow drink into a cocktail glass, carefully affixing a lemon wedge to the side before gently sliding it to you. “It’s a lemon drop,” he explains in his slow drawl.

            “Thank you.” You pull your wallet out of your purse. “How much is this?”

            Jake shakes his head. “Nah, for a pretty girl like you, it’s on the house.”

            A smile spreads across your face, and that warmth in your chest spreads. “Are you sure?”

            “Surer than anything, babe.” He gestures for you to try it, pushing his mop of hair back.

            You take a sip, and your eyes widen. “This is great.” You hold the glass by the stem as you drink it.

            “Thank you,” Jake says almost shyly. “Glad that I picked up something useful from bartending this shithole.”

            “How long have you been here?”

            “Been working here for…ten years? Owned it for three.” Jake takes a long sip of his moonshine, resting his elbows on the counter. “Not my first choice of job, but when you’re an addict and you need money, you’ll take anything.”

            Your mouth opens, but Jake quickly answers your question. “I’m clean now. Been clean for five years. My only vice is this.” He holds up his tumbler and shakes it before taking another sip.

            “Do you make that yourself?”

            Jake nods. “I make it myself, in the back,” he says, a tinge of pride in his voice. “This must be about…80% pure alcohol, I figure.”

            “Can I try some?” you ask tentatively.

            Jake laughs, his face contorting in disbelief. “Are you sure, babydoll? This could knock a grown man on his feet.”

            “Oh, I’m sure,” you say. You hate to back down from a challenge.

            With another laugh, he walks over to you, coming around the counter. He holds his glass out to you, and as you wrap your hand around the tumbler he tilts the liquid into your mouth. Jake’s eyes are fixed on your lips, awaiting your reaction.

            At first, it does little to you, and you’re about to say something snarky. Then the burning starts, flames licking at your throat, and you double over coughing. Your eyes are screwed up, filled with tears, and your hands clutch the edge of the counter.

            You can feel a hand rubbing your back, the other hand gently stroking your arm. “Aw, damn. You took that like a champ.”

            Through hacking coughs, you eke out, “I don’t feel like a champ.”

            Jake continues rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’ve seen men collapse to their feet from a shot of moonshine. You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”          ��

            “Thanks,” you mutter, turning to look at him through watery eyes.

            “No problem. You want some water, babydoll?”

            You nod, and Jake reluctantly lets go of you to retrieve some water for you. He returns to your side with a glass, holding it up to your lips. The water is like a soothing balm for your throat, and after a long drink you sigh. “Damn.”

            Jake sets the glass down and picks up his own tumbler of moonshine, taking a long swig. “That’s moonshine for you.”

            Your eyes widen. “How are you drinking that so…so…”

            “Like it’s water?” Jake smiles at you cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you so that his elbows are on the edge and he’s facing you. “First of all, I’ve put shit up my nose that burned more than this. Second of all, I’m used to it. When you’re dealing with this day in and day out-“ he gestures widely at the bar- “you need something good and strong to get through it.”

            “Your liver must be strong as hell.”

            Jake laughs, setting his tumbler down. “It must be pickled at this point.”

            You can’t help but laugh, and he playfully pokes your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my liver. It’s the only reason why I’m still standing.” Then he stills, appraising you with a careful gaze. “I never got your name, babydoll.”

            You tell him your name, holding your hand out.

            He takes it and shakes it firmly. “Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. My name’s Jake. Jake Sim.”

            He’s still holding your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

            “Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmurs. Jake holds your hand to his lips and kisses it, traces of moonshine wetting your hand. He flattens your hand and idly starts tracing your palm, his other hand circling your wrist. “You’ve got nice hands. Real nice.”

            “Thank you,” you reply softly. “Yours are very rough.”

            Jake laughs somewhat self-consciously. He stops drawing on your palm with his index finger. “Yeah, well, you don’t work at a place like this for damn near a decade without getting a few calluses and cuts.”

            Your voice comes out as a whisper. “I like it.” You reach out and gently squeeze the tip of his finger, feeling the callus for yourself, before dropping it.

            Jake smiles, but his eyes take on a dangerous glint. His finger trails from the palm of your hand to your wrist, his fingertips gliding over your veins. “Yeah?”

            “Yeah.”

            For a moment, both of you continued smiling at each other. Then Jake licks his lips, and he lets go of your wrist. His other hand now strokes your forearm. “Why’d you come back here, baby? Coming to this shithole once is one thing, but twice in the same night…”

            You don’t see a point in playing games. “I wanted to see you.”

            The smile drops off of Jake’s face, and he leans in towards you. “Yeah? No bullshit?”

            “No bullshit.”

            His other hand moves to rest on your knee, and his thumb strokes it through your jeans. “Your date didn’t do it for you?”

            You shrug, picking up your lemon drop again and sipping it. “He was okay, I guess. He was weird.”

            Jake’s voice is becoming low, his eyes serious. His eyes flicker over your body, settling on your thighs. This time, he doesn’t bother looking back up at you. “You don’t like weird?”

            “Not that kind of weird,” you reply, your voice catching.

            “You don’t like rich prick typa weird?” His voice is amused, and his hand creeps up your knee. “You prefer broke bartender at a shit bar typa weird?”

            You lean in, your eyes locked onto his full, plush lips. The smell of moonshine has become less of a deterrent and more intoxicating. “Is that a problem?”

            “The opposite,” Jake replies in a husky voice. His lips brush your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous lady like you has interest in me.” His right hand is now caressing your thigh slowly, intentionally. The other touches your face with his thumb.

            “I’m surprised you’re flattered,” you reply, leaning into his touch slightly. “Women here must love you.”

            “They love me to get free drinks out of me,” he says dismissively. “Besides…most women who come here aren’t a fraction as pretty as you are. You’re like a gem in a pigsty, you know that?” When you don’t say anything, Jake continues, running his finger along your jaw. “Your date must’ve been as stupid as hell to let you go.” He pulls away from your ear so he can look you in your eyes.

            “He couldn’t do anything about it. I just didn’t want him the way-“

            Jake’s eyes narrow, and he comes impossibly closer. “The way what?”

            “The way I want you.”

            There’s a pause, and Jake’s face is unreadable. When he does talk, his voice is strained, “Tell me you aren’t fucking with me. Tell me you’re serious. Say the word, and I’ll shut this place down and kick all these junkies out.”

            You swallow, need and desire building up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m serious.”

            Jake pulls away from you and walks over to the barflies, telling them to get their drunk asses out. They complain and groan, but they leave without much of a fight. Once they’re all gone, Jake locks the door. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you with his finger.

            You walk towards him as if in a trance, and when you’re close he spins you around by the waist and kisses you. You readily kiss him back, your hands resting on his chest. His mouth tastes like moonshine, and you can even taste a hint of his sharp aftershave. Jake presses you up against the door, placing his knee in between your legs to trap you. The kiss starts off playful, but it grows hungry, and Jake seems as though he would swallow you if he could.

            When he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva in between your mouths, his eyes dart all over your face. Then he nods slightly, as if he’s come to some grand conclusion.

            “What?” you ask, your hands snaking up to his cheek. “What is it?”

            Jake pecks your lips gently and smiles. “I just realized…I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” Before you can say anything, he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you behind the counter to a wooden door that looks liable to give one splinters.

            When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol is almost staggering, and Jake’s grip tightens on your waist as if he had anticipated that reaction. Bottles of alcohol are stacked in crates on wooden shelves on the far wall. To the right rests three DIY pot stills, all using dented kegs. To the left, there’s a small faux-leather couch with chunks of it peeling off. You think back to Jay’s words about the artifice or whatever the fuck, and suddenly you wish there was at least a bit of pretense. But when you turn to Jake, he’s smiling at you like you had hung the moon in the sky yourself. “I know it’s no Hilton,” he begins sheepishly, but you shut him up by kissing him squarely on the mouth.

            “It works for me,” you say, biting your lips.

            Jake’s grin widens. “Shit, okay.”

            You tumble together on the couch with Jake, your mouths connecting sloppily and wetly. You suck his tongue into your mouth hungrily, causing you to choke slightly. This only spurs Jake on further, and he grinds his crotch into you. Your hips rise to meet his, and you hump each other desperately and almost painfully. His hand crawls up your stomach, and he gropes at your breasts. Finally, he pushes himself off of you, settling into a kneeling position. Through the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you can see that Jake’s lips are swollen, his hair messy, and his eyes wild.

            “Take it off,” he grunts. “Everything. Now.”

            Your hands fumble with the zipper of your jeans, excitement clogging throat. As you tug your jeans down, Jake unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side. You kick your shoes off, shimmy your jeans off, and toss your shirt away, leaving you in only your bra and panties. When you’re suitably undressed, you look up at Jake.

            Jake’s shirt is off, revealing a dark mass of skin you recognize as tattoos. One of his hands has slipped into his boxers, and he’s staring at you. A moan escapes his lips as his eyes wander your body. “So fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as he plays with his cock. “So goddamn beautiful. Play with yourself for me, baby.”

            You tentatively tug your underwear down, collecting your arousal to coat your clit before stroking it with two fingers. You’re so sensitive that just the first touches cause you to whine in pleasure.

            “Spread your legs,” Jake hisses. “Nice and wide…”

            You oblige, widening your legs so that Jake gets a full view of your pearly pussy. He moans again, his mouth watering at the sight of it, at the hot, sweet smell. “Let me taste it. Let me taste it,” he begs, dipping his head down.

            As his wide tongue touches your clit, you cry out in pleasure. Jake laps at your clit with fervor, his hands pushing your legs apart as he licks wide stripes. His mouth makes obscene smacking noises, and when he briefly pulls away to catch his breath, his entire lower face is slick with your arousal. “So good,” he mutters before diving back in. You squirm, knowing that you’ll cum quickly if he doesn’t stop, but Jake’s nails dig into your fleshy thighs, holding you in place.

            “Oh, Jake, Jake,” you pant out, head leaning back. “Jake, I’m so close, Jake…”

            Seemingly encouraged by your words, Jake continues attacking your clit, and two of his bony fingers slip into your vaginal walls, spreading you open. They pump themselves in and out, in and out, like the undulations of the ocean. Like that, he rips an orgasm from you, continuing to lick the arousal spilling from you as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

            You lean your head back on the armrest of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jake gently caresses your thigh as you come down from your high, peppering your neck with kisses. “Tasted amazing,” he says, voice ragged. “Tasted like paradise.”

            Your brain is so fuzzy you can hardly piece together a coherent sentence. “That was so good, Jake.”

            Jake smiles at you and gives you a kiss on the mouth, slow and gentle. You greedily lick your own juices off of his lips, even sucking it off of his tongue. As you kiss, you can feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance. “Sorry,” Jake says blithely, “but I need to fuck you right now.” 

            You nod. “Please.”

            To his credit, he takes his time. He fucks into you slowly and carefully, wanting you to adjust. He’s not long, but he’s girthy and fills you well. He feeds you his cock inch by inch, moving in and out as so not to hurt you. Once you seem at ease, he pushes your thighs up so that your knees touch your breasts and fucks you at a faster pace. After a minute or so of that position, he seemingly gets tired of it, opting to place your legs over his shoulder. This allows him to hit a sweet angle, one that has you moaning.

            He’s fucking you so quickly that your breasts begin to hurt, so you cover them with your hands. Jake swats your fingers with his free hand, the other wrapped around your legs. “Stop that,” he huffs out. “Let your tits bounce.” You let go of your breasts, and he licks his finger to swirl it around your nipples, marveling at their stiffness. He kneads your breasts as he pounds into you with grunts of effort.

            Jake pulls out of you, and the loss causes you to cry out. He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you around so that your head is lolling over the edge of the armrest. He hovers over you, one hand prying your mouth open. “Need to fuck this mouth of yours. Will you let me, babydoll?”

            You pant out your assent, and he slides his wet cock into your mouth. First you kitten-lick the head, tasting your own hot arousal, then he presses his cock further down, treating your mouth like a pussy. As you gag around his dick, you play with his balls, fondling them with one hand. With the other, you play with your engorged, reddened clit. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “You’re amazing,” Jake pants out. “Playing with yourself while you get facefucked.”

            You tap his stomach, and he pulls his cock out, stroking your cheek gently. “All good?” he asks tentatively.

You nod and spit somewhere on his floor before taking him back into your mouth. “So good to me,” Jake praises. “So, so good.” Once he’s done fucking your mouth, he pulls out and his cock on your cheek, almost playfully. Then he pulls you over so that you’re flat on your stomach, your head still hanging over the edge of the couch. He spanks your ass once, twice, then slips his wet, stiff cock into your folds, moaning as he does.

This time, his pace isn’t furious, but moderate. He pulls you up so that your back rests on his chest. He’s on his knees, fucking his cock into you upright. Your hips meet Jake’s, so that you’re bouncing on his dick. He kneads your breast with one hand, the other hand holding your waist. Your lips meet in a sloppy, rushed kiss before he pushes you down and grips your hips. He pounds into you with strangled moans, sounding more animalistic than anything else.

“You like this?” he asks, the question sounding less like dirty talk and more like a desperate need for assurance.

“I like it!” Your voice is tremulous, shaking as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

“That rich prick you were with couldn’t fuck you like this, right?” He punctuates his sentence by pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside with a groan.

You moan loudly, trying to clutch the armrest for support. “No, he couldn’t. He’s nothing like you.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, closing his eyes. “He couldn’t. He couldn’t make you purr like I do.” His thrusts become sloppier and faster, and you slip your hand down so you can rub your clit to chase your own orgasm.

Peals of moans spill from your lips. “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Jake.”

“I thought so.” Jake flips you over so he can enter you from the front, pushing one of your legs to the side. He slides in and out of you with ease, your juices having pooled on the couch. “You need to be fucked like this, don’t you?”

“I need it,” you choke out, your stomach desperately burning. “I need it, Jake.”

As he comes close to orgasm, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, a girl like you just begs to be treated like this.”

“That’s right,” you babble.

Jake doesn’t talk anymore, instead letting out low grunts as he comes close. Your second orgasm hits you first, and you scream out his name. The tightening of your vaginal walls is enough to bring him to climax, and with a final grunt and a low, “Fuck!” he spills into you. He pulls out of you and weakly rubs his cock to spill his last few spurts of hot cum on your stomach. Then he wearily collapses, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

Both of you recover from the heated session, and you gasp for air. After a while, you feel Jake’s hand on yours, and he pulls you onto him. He strokes your hair and kisses both of your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his chest.

“I can’t just let you go,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m going to need you again soon.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Again? Soon?”

Jake laughs, his playfulness returning. “We’re going to rest up for a little, and then I’m going to take you again. We need two more rounds, at minimum. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” you reply, any snark momentarily eviscerated by the residual pleasure spreading in your body.

“You like it.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Jake kisses the top of your head. “You’re cute.”

You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you revel in his embrace, taking in Jake’s scent and comfort.

[sonic-wildfire]

10 Artists in Rotation - Team Silver!

List of artists and corresponding genres for each character below the cut!

Navigation: [Team Sonic] | [Team Dark] | [Team Rose] | [Team Chaotix] | [Team Silver] (you are here!) | [Babylon Rogues] | [Team Eggman] | [Infinite & Mephiles]

Silver:

Starset (alternative rock, alternative metal, symphonic rock, hard rock)

Silverchair (grunge, alternative rock, art rock, symphonic rock, baroque pop)

Depeche Mode (synthpop, alternative rock, darkwave, new wave, alternative dance, electro-industrial)

LCD Soundsystem (dance-punk, dance-punk revival, indietronica, alternative dance, new wave, synthpop)

Chevelle (alternative metal, alternative rock)

Silverstein (post-hardcore, mall screamo, emo-pop, pop punk, Midwest emo)

Underoath (post-hardcore, metalcore, mall screamo)

Eiffel 65 (Eurodance, Europop)

The Avalanches (plunderphonics, neo-psychedelia, nu disco)

Thursday (post-hardcore, emo, alternative rock)

Blaze:

Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan (qawwali, ghazal, Sufi music, Hindustani classical music)

Arushi Jain (progressive electronic, drone, ambient)

Ghazal (ghazal, Hindustani classical music, Persian classical music)

Babes in Toyland (grunge, punk rock, alternative rock)

Frank Sinatra (vocal jazz, swing, baroque pop)

Electric Light Orchestra (symphonic rock, progressive pop, art rock, progressive rock, synthpop)

Scott Joplin (ragtime)

Shakti (Indo-jazz, jazz fusion, Hindustani classical music, konnakol)

Monsoon (Indian pop, psychedelic pop, progressive pop, raga rock)

L7 (grunge, punk rock, alternative rock)

Marine:

Men at Work (new wave, pop rock, reggae rock, pop reggae)

Radio Birdman (punk rock, garage rock, surf punk)

Midnight Oil (alternative rock, big music, post-punk, new wave)

Powderfinger (alternative rock, grunge, post-grunge, hard rock, pop rock)

AC/DC (hard rock, blues rock)

Savage Garden (adult contemporary, dance pop, pop rock, synthpop)

The Birthday Party (post-punk, noise rock, punk blues, experimental rock)

Paul Kelly (singer-songwriter, pop rock, folk rock, contemporary folk, jangle pop)

The Wiggles (children's music, pop rock, sunshine pop)

Crowded House (pop rock, soft rock, alternative rock)

[sunoostripletriple]

the start k.s (smau)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

synopsis - >Y/N, on a whim, decides to prank text a random number. Little does she know, that fate has other plans. Instead of a stranger, her message lands in the inbox of Kim Sunoo, her favorite idol. What follows a whirlwind of unexpected conversations, shared interests, and perhaps the beginning of something beyond her wildest dreams. As their connections deepen, y/n finds herself drawn into Sunoo's world in ways she never imagined, navigating the complexities of fame, friendship, and maybe even love.

warning!!: lots of swearing, mdni, a bit of angst, mentions of abuse a/n: uhm this is awkward saur guys where do i start ehet. my phone broke again but this time its my lcd that broke and not my outer screen, so if some of the social media parts look a bit off it could mostly be because ill be using my laptop for now to write the smau parts. some pfp might change since I don't have some of their pictures saved on my laptop and its all in my phone. I'm not sure when I'm getting them fixed since I'm still a bit busy with work but do not fret I have my other chapters written in my notebook as my rough draft and ill be typing them down soon with a bit of help with my friend to see if there's any editing needed. on the other note of this smau let me know what you guys think of this smau at the moment and don't be afraid to comment down below.

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

Previous | Masterlist | Next

24. How to fight someone spiritually

a/n: i wonder who this unknown person is🤔 comment down who this person might be im curious what you guys think;P ehet

taglist: {open sesame}

@velvetkisscs @yoizhrs @random-potat @rairaiblog @francinethings23 @thenastone @erenmyman @ayablogsblog @lilifiedeans @heeseungismymanz @betda @sunooslover @letwiiparkjay @nelsoncanbemyneumann

[tunastime]

Love in the Time of Calculation

as promised: the first chapter of the ranchers SEN fic! this fic takes place inside the au I created for Stretching Endless Night. I'm hoping posting this first chapter will actually get me to. write the rest of it. since I've got so much of it written. jazz hands!! enjoy!

In order to continue supplying food for a growing station, Commander Tango Tek, second to the head of engineering on the space station Prometheus, takes a six month study with the Empire-2 station at the behest of his admiral. There, he meets their botanist and horticulturist, Jimmy, a man he's only communicated with in communiques, voice memos, and documents. When they meet for the first time face-to-face, Tango realizes they both have something very interesting in common. In the face of all odds, two androids fall deeply, horribly in love. (6711 words)

Tango flips a switch on his navigation panel.

“It would be funny,” he says, slowly, enunciating as the recorder picks him up. “If I were to start these with some outlandish startdate. I would find it hilarious, I think, but I don’t know how many other people would. So…

Stardate 2105.47: I’ve just made brief contact with the Ring-style Space Station known as the Empire-dash-2. After discussion of docking procedure, I was forwarded the…passkey for the docking sequence and I should be arriving within two hours of my current time. That time is…in hour format…8:07pm. Lookin’ forward to meeting them, as much as they’re probably lookin’ forward to meeting me. I’ve never spoken to them in person—it’s all been electronic. So…it’ll be interesting, to say the least!” He nods, feeling some inclination to sigh—despite there being no way to. Motions he’d learned and copied from his peers. 

“Thus begins my month-long stay with E-dash-2. I can only hope some work with hydroponics actually gets me somewhere. They tell me the guy’s a genius, so I’m inclined to believe them.”

Tango jabs his finger against the stop recording button. After a beat, the small, LCD screen flashes SENT in dark, bold letters. Leaning back in his chair, Tango folds his arms over his chest, and sets his boots on his console. The ship around him hums faintly, enough to be heard if he pays attention to it. As he leans back, he surveys the inside of his ship, the LTS-111, the small craft that he called home. In comparison to other ships on the Prometheus, it’s smaller, built for short term travel between locations, a cool, dark grey inside. There’s two swivel chairs at the helm, a large front, port window, overlain with his control panel, above and below his chair. Behind him, a door opens to a short hallway—mess hall and his room, just a plain, grey-white with one bunk. There’s a crate with his belongings, of which there are few, a plant on the windowsill to keep him sane. The mess is devoid of food and drink. It’s a luxury he doesn’t need. It’s nice when he can, but it’s nothing but an experience for him. Nothing to be gained from poorly made HASA meals full of crude protein. The edge of his boot catches the lip of the console, pulling at the rubber. He’s tucked his flight suit into his boots. His eyes follow the bright red and gold stripe down the side—division colors. Commander, engineering and technology. On his sleeve there would be the same designation, as was on all of his uniforms. Even the plain black, well fit shirt underneath, even his boots. HASA; Commander. Luckily his boots didn’t have a commander or engineering tag. If he felt so inclined to sand off the small rubber HASA branding he could.

His eyes follow a line across the ceiling, to the small strip of light that brightens the room. He runs his fingers over the seam in his sleeve—habit, again, but he’s not sure from whom. 

The hour passes slowly. Tango spins simulations in his mind, projects from the ship's computer the schematics of E-2. He can see the docking station there on the map and traces out the line from there to the botanical garden. He spends time memorizing that path, and out to other locations, and rolling the names of his new compatriots around in his language acquisition program. None of these things are foreign to him—he’s built for new experiences, new learning opportunities. He can feel where known things end and new begins, and craves to fill the space, often and continuously. When that hour ends, there’s a tinny beep from his communications panel. He looks over the message displayed.

LTS-111 prepare docking sequence.

Tango dials the coordinates into his navigation system, overriding the current charting program to pilot into the docking bay. As he does, a crackling voice jumps to life.

“LTS-111, this is Fwhip, Commander of E-2. Do you copy?”

“E-2, this is Commander Tek of Prometheus. I copy. The Rift is ready for docking procedure.”

“Commander!” The voice—Fwhip—laughs. “It’s good to have you. Glad to hear you made it safely.”

Tango nods to himself.

“Myself as well. Looking forward to meeting you all.”

The line clicks out. Tango resettles in his chair, sitting up straight, taking in the sound of Fwhip’s voice, the designation, the information. He files that away.

The curve of E-2 comes into view, stark white and grey, glittering gold where the paneling reflects light. He watches as the shining craft sits suspended amidst stars, its own field of gravity and oxygen and life shining a faint blue in the light of the nearby sun. He feels that warmth through the front viewscreen, despite the gold foil and shade to block it. It’s nice. In the closest approximation to nice he could get. He pulls the seat’s harness over his chest, snaps it in place as he begins standard docking procedure—slowing to a noticeable crawl, flipping on his communications panels, and switching to reserve thrusters. The Rift was made with older tech, anything he could salvage and amass from ships being decommissioned. It functioned—better than the standard HASA ships and was fully compliant—well beyond what he’d ever expected. Though he wasn’t quite human enough to have real expectations.

The ship settles into a launch port on the far side of E-2. Tango takes his time collecting his belongings. He wanders into his room as the ship powers down, settling into a dull hum. He repacks his bag, giving a quick once-over of the bunk before he lifts the trunk into his arms, the weight negligible. He settles the plant in the corner of his bag, making sure it’s settled before he slings the bag over one shoulder and sets the crate on one hip. His startup keycard sits in his front shirt pocket, and his credentials badge in his back pocket. 

The first thing he notices as he enters the launchpad for E-2 is how clean and bright it is. The launchpad is devoid of anyone working, and there are certainly no other docking ships. The two other ships Tango can see are relatively new and clean, parked closely together. He glances around the space, looking for any sign of movement. His footsteps echo quietly around the empty chamber. To his right, beyond a stabilizing membrane is the winking stars of space. There’s a planet in the far distance, but it’s much too far to see anything notable. 

The bay door to his ship closes as he steps toward the winding steps up to the lofted second floor. He starts up the steps, lifting the crate into his arms. 

“Commander Tek!”

Tango startles. Looking up to the second floor, he sees someone lean over the railing, waving enthusiastically. Tango squints at him, surrounded by the white facade of the walls around him. 

“Commander Fwhip?” Tango says, cocking his head to the side. He sees Fwhip nod again.

Tango smiles a little, eyebrows furrowing despite it. Fwhip. The intonation matches what he heard crackling over the communicator of his ship, though, of course, without the static. He’s wearing stark black, with a large diagonal line cut in red across his chest, up to his collar, and over his shoulders. Tango realizes for a moment that his jumpsuit may not have been the prime choice for meeting a commanding officer—no matter the rank or office. Especially considering that he was supposed to be both a liaison and a researcher. 

But as Fwhip meets Tango on the landing, he shakes his hand firmly. There’s a spark, somewhere, in his eye, his heart rate elevated as Tango greets him. He’s winded, too, like he ran all the way here. Tango feels a piece of information in his mind click unexpectedly into place.

“Commander Fwhip,” he says, copying the smile Fwhip is giving him more fully. “It’s a pleasure.”

“Oh, please,” Fwhip laughs. “Commander, the pleasure is ours. Congratulations on your most recent publication.”

Tango nods. Somewhere, something kicks in his chest, just the faintest flicker of painful phantom sensation. It took him two years to publish that paper—and it was a damn shame he had to die to get it published in full, despite Doc and Etho’s help.

Fwhip’s hand is warm in his, enough to notice the change in sensation between them. He can feel Fwhip’s heartbeat in his palm and the way his breathing stutters for a second when Tango and him shake hands. Fwhip looks down at his hand. Tango lets go first, the noticeable white lines on his skin pulsating in and out. His hand feels stiff as he stretches it, feeling metal extend and retract.

“You’re…” Fwhip starts. Tango sees him frown, just the smallest change between his eyebrows. 

“An android?” Tango finishes. He watches color rise to Fwhip’s face as Tango tilts his head, expression neutral, amused, even. Fwhip laughs, even if it’s born from a touch of embarrassment. Tango hums something low, a version of a laugh he can manage to sound normal. 

“It’s not strange, if that’s what you think I think,” Fwhip says, leading Tango toward the stairs. “Unexpected maybe, but—to be fair, they didn’t tell you anything about me, either.”

“That is very true,” Tango says. He feels that itch, then, that want to know, to delve deeper. He shifts the box in his arms as they round the stairs, reaching the upper platform. “I think most people are surprised to find that I’m an android.” 

“That’s a shame—you’re brilliant for more reasons than just being an android,” Fwhip says, and the click comes back again, like he’s cracking a combination lock one number at a time. 

“I appreciate that,” Tango says, inclining his head. If there were anything in his face to indicate blush, he would be bright red. He hums instead, tilting his head back and forth in a dismissive sort of shake. Fwhip backsteps to walk by his side, raising his eyebrows over his glasses.

“So,” he starts, motioning to the door. “Did you have any questions about the ship as you settle in?”

Tango looks down at his shoes for a second, letting the thought spin in his head. He nods, just once.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d love to hear more about the botany division—I got a real short mission briefing with Admiral Xisuma before I left. I know we were in a hurry to find the sweet spot of travel.”

“Of course,” Fwhip says. “Lining up that parallel can be real difficult if you don’t time it right.”

“The Admiral’s got an eye for interesting navigation patterns.”

Fwhip laughs, nodding his head. 

“Glad to hear you’re in good hands,” he says, opening the door for them. Tango follows him into a brightly lit hallway, lined in white and cream and bright floor lights. Along the edges are colored lines, intersecting and dividing—red, blue, green—to locations Tango can’t see. He follows Fwhip down a corridor, further from the launch platform. Tango knows this layout—further down the hall is a passenger elevator meant for the science team. They’ll take it down four flights to the belly of the ship, where many of the labs rest, tucked away. The ship's rings orbit each other, so he’ll be in this ring for as long as he’s doing research. They’re relatively straight forward, broken into divided sections inside. He traces the pattern out in his mind as Fwhip begins to speak.

“Well, to give you a station briefing, our main team fluctuates, but I’d say we have about 15 to 20 of us at any given time on command, and then a hundred of personnel and staff besides ourselves. I work closely with Lieutenants Scott and Pix, and both of them know our botanist pretty well,” he turns to Tango as he calls for the elevator, pressing his keycard to the small panel next to it. The numbers above the sliding doors illuminate in orange, bright and blocky. Tango raises his eyebrows. 

“His name is Jimmy,” Fwhip continues. “He’s a Lieutenant Junior Grade, but he’s incredibly good at what he does. I’ll let you two get acquainted when we get down there.” The elevator doors slide open. Fwhip gestures Tango inside before he himself steps in, pressing the button for their floor. Tango sets his trunk at his feet, toeing it off to the side and out of the way. “He spends most of his time down there, so you may not see him much at all besides when you’re working.”

Tango hums. He screws up his face into an approximation of thinking, running the words over in his head. A junior lieutenant. A higher officer, for certain, but for him to be teaching Tango—there feels like there should be a catch. Tango pulls at the seams of the phrasing, the intonation. His eyebrows furrow.

Fwhip answers his question before it leaves his mouth.

“He basically revitalized the hydroponics system overnight—nothing’s changed in the watering or feeding system, but the plants grow like crazy now,” Fwhip folds his arms, glancing over at Tango as Tango folds his hands behind his back. “I think it was his specification for a while, so as soon as he got here, he requested the transfer, and his work brought him up the grade.”

“That’s impressive,” Tango says, a touch quiet. The only other person he knew who’d ever done something like that had been Mumbo, and most of his ideas were feats of engineering so large they required a three-room modified lab space and a blast chamber. Meridian supplied that—though Prometheus—himself included—was sad to lose him to their sister station, especially after how long he worked with Tango. 

“He’s written a paper on it—it’s in the works of being reviewed now,” Fwhip says. “I don’t know how likely it is to go through, though.”

Tango hums again. 

“Why’s that?”

Fwhip shrugs. “He’s just not a nice guy to work with,” he says. “And I don’t mean that to be rude, either.”

The elevator doors open. They spill out into a lackluster hallway, still the same bleach white as the floors above. Taking a sharp right, they follow the curved edge of the ship down the green line, toward a series of crew cabins. Fwhip gestures toward a room closer to the middle of their row. As they stand there for a moment, he offers Tango a keycard.

“We got you a room—well before we knew that you…probably wouldn’t need the bedspace,” he says, shaking his head apologetically. Tango waves his hand. “You’re welcome to it, though.”

“Oh, I’ll absolutely take it,” Tango says, trying that smile again. Fwhip smiles back this time, one that touches his eyes, and makes Tango smile harder.���I like having my own space. Normally I have an office, so this’ll do just fine, I think.”

He presses the keycard to the door as Fwhip lifts his crate into his arms, struggling under the weight for a moment. The door slides open. Inside, as the soft yellow lights raise to bright, is a sparsely furnished room. Fwhip carries his crate into the room, setting it at the foot of the double bed. The room is small, clean, tidy. He turns in a small circle as Fwhip sets the crate down, nodding his head.

“This is great,” Tango says, dipping his head. “Thank you.”

Fwhip nods, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Absolutely,” he says. Moving past him, he gestures back to the hallway. “I’ll be forwarding you the ship changelog, so you know who’s on shift at a given time, and when meals are, if you have any interest.”

“That sounds great,” Tango says, moving with him to the hall. He follows Fwhip back down the hall, back towards the elevator. They diverge at a second hallway and down a third, following the winding corridor through the ship’s interiors. The walls shift from opaque to translucent as they follow the path down, with more and more people shuffling about. Fwhip moves through the hall easily—Tango navigates with a bit more difficulty, skirting past doors sliding open and bright lights and the new rush of people. As they weave through, Fwhip says:

“Figured I’d show you down to the lab,” he checks his wrist, a brief flash of numbers and notifications that Tango doesn’t quite catch fully. “I’ve got a bit before I have to be back at the bridge.”

Tango hums.

“Great—I’ll…hopefully be able to find, uh, Jimmy?”

Fwhip nods. 

“Mhm—” he says. They pause at a lab closer to the end of the corridor. Through the high ceiling and tinted glass, Tango can see the warm yellow and purple light that floods the space. The lab stretches further down the hallway and out of sight. Fwhip tilts his head toward the lab. 

“This is it?” Tango asks. 

“This is the one,” Fwhip says. He steps back from the door, letting Tango tap his card, the door sliding open for him. It stays open for a moment as Tango steps in. Fwhip checks his wrist again.

“I’ll let you find him,” he says. “Hopefully you’ll get a briefing before you leave to unpack.”

Tango nods, smiling again. The warmth of the room starts to roll over him as he stands still—cooling kicks on to adjust, like a sigh out of his chest.

“Thank you, Commander,” he says. Fwhip nods, dismissing him, before the door shuts between them, and Tango stands, alone, in a room full of plants.

He picks his way around the lab for a long while. The quiet is nice, the sound of air circulating and the soft hum of lights and electronics. He hadn’t run this particular section over in his schematics—something about it almost felt invasive. He wanted to learn it for himself, standing in the center of the room, hands braced on the work table. The equipment portion of the lab is its own self-contained room at the front of the lab—big enough for a table, several workstations, shelves of equipment. He rounds the table as he spots a secondary sliding door, obscured by the semi-translucent, white glass. 

Tango presses his loaned keycard to the scanner, watching the door slide open. Stepping inside, he stands amongst a huge lab filled with rows of vegetables, aquatic plants, and small trees. He can see potatoes, carrots, beets, neat and lined in suspended troughs of water and sitting in cups on the floor. Along the walls are digging and planting tools organized haphazardly, strewn about in small piles. The air is warm and humid as he walks his way around a series of rows—it almost feels like its own planet, like the atmosphere alone were thick enough to taste. 

Tango walks along a row, watching the plants with a careful consideration, as if they would move, or reach out to him, or something. But they’re just plants—unmoving beside the slight wave in the airflow. He reaches out after a moment, brushing one of the leaves, feeling it between his fingers. It’s rhubarb. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen rhubarb before. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen this many plants before.

Moving around the hydroponics, Tango wanders around the other side of the lab, watching as it stretches out and further back, rows of plants in tight lines, purple lighting and tubes for irrigation running across the ceiling. He turns into a slow circle, moving back through the rows as he does. The rows loop around back to the supply stations, where Tango walks backward, trying to see the end of the lab, where else it could lead, where else he could explore.

His foot catches under him, sliding out as his knees buckle and he lurches sideways.

He yelps loudly, flailing as he falls, losing his balance and smacking into the shelf behind him. A handful of ceramic plants pots and glass beakers fall with him, smashing to the ground as the shelf comes loose. Tango scrambles up, slipping again as he lands on his hands and knees, fumbling as he tries to scoop the glass into a reasonable, unnoticeable pile, to fix the shovels that must’ve fallen with him, the stacks of gardening gloves under his right boot. He mutters to himself as he does, babbling as his mind whirs with simulations. They were always there—right? That’s fine! He tries to stack a pair of gloves back on the shelf, watching them slide directly off. 

Shoot. Shoot! Damn it!

“Shit—” he mumbles.

“Hello?”

A voice calls out from the other side of the room. Tango hears a door shut. He pushes the broken shards of a pot near his knee together, like he could even try and fix the shattered pot. He searches wildly for the voice as he does.

“Hi—” he manages, voice warbling unexpectedly. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to.”

“What?” the voice comes again. “Who…”

Tango follows a shape through the row of plants as a man in grey steps around toward him. He blinks, owlish and confused, as he stares at Tango. Tango can see the name stitched into his quarter-zip.

Jimmy.

“I’m so sorry—” Tango starts again, but the man—Jimmy—is already halfway to kneeling in front of him, taking the broken pot from him, scooping the rest of the shards into his hands. Tango realizes, all at once, that he’s still sitting on the ground, surrounded by the carnage of him falling unceremoniously over into the stand. He starts gathering the tools around him into his arms.

“It’s…it’s alright—” he sighs, a trickle of confusion, of agitation, leaking into his voice. “Walk me through it, what happened?”

“I walked into it—” Tango says, feeling foolish all of a sudden. It’s not a tangible feeling. He just knows something is churning and curling in him and he can’t place what. “One minute I was turnin’ around lookin’ at this place and the next—wack.”

Jimmy hums under his breath, something amused. Tango blinks at him as he rights the shelf and replace the items from the floor. 

“Wack?” he says, starting to laugh. “I…yeah. Sorry, I don’t organize things very well, it seems like.”

“I don’t either, I’ll be honest…” Tango says, shaking his head. “You’re Jimmy, then?”

Tango scrambles up with glass still in his hands and Jimmy turns back to him as he looks around for somewhere to put it. Jimmy nods his head over to a waste bin, dropping the shards of clay pot into it. 

“Mm,” Jimmy nods. “You’re…?”

Tango makes a half-sound as he turns back to him, waving his hands.

“Commander Tek,” he says, sticking out his hand, smiling a bit lopsided. It feels lopsided at least. He’s trying to copy what he knows, and he thinks he’s failing. “Er, Tango. You don’t have to call me Commander.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows. 

“Ah—Fwhip told me you were coming,” he says, tilting his head a little, something like a smile coming to his face. “You’re sure just Tango?”

Tango nods.

“Too fancy with the whole thing. I prefer just Tango, anyway.”

Jimmy smiles in full. The action alone splits his face in half, stretching up to his eyes. Tango copies him, after a beat, something that falters just a little bit as he does.

Jimmy takes Tango’s hand. As he does, a buzz of electricity spikes up Tango’s arm and to his elbow, pooling there, zinging cool and bright. Tango startles, jolting back, making a small, sharp sound that gets lost as Jimmy audibly yelps. It didn’t hurt, but it felt new. Tango likes new.

He feels something wash over him, even as he jolts—memory, knowledge, understanding, like an imprint of knowing the man before him before he even did. Jimmy blinks, a furrow coming between his eyebrows. Tango, for a split second, wonders if the feeling is mutual.

“Sorry,” he blurts. The static shock dissipates as he shakes out his hand. “Sorry, I might still have glass….”

Tango looks over his hands, prodding at the silicon for any shards left there. There aren’t any, though—he even brushes them together, trying to feel for anything. Tango glances back at Jimmy. He’s looking him over, that curious, owlish expression on his face again. His mouth quirks up a little, the sides of his mouth lifting.

“You’re an android,” he says.

Tango’s eyes flick over his face for a moment. It’s completely symmetrical, brown eyes clear and bright, hair neatly parted. His movements are smooth as he steps back and adjusts his sleeves and reaches to gently brush something from Tango’s jumpsuit.

“So are you,” Tango finally says, mouth quirking up. His mouth tastes like static electricity.

“Huh,” Jimmy says, soft, thoughtful. The edges of his mouth fully curl up in a way so human and so foreign. Tango catalogs it immediately. “That’s so interesting.”

Tango huffs out an approximation of a laugh—which causes Jimmy to laugh in earnest. The tension dissolves as he laughs, and Tango feels his shoulders drop. That tingling feeling still hasn’t left Tango’s hand. He wonders for a moment if it ever will, or if every time they brush together it’ll light up like static, or if maybe they just happened to be carrying just enough electrical discharge to shock each other. Tango hopes it doesn’t happen again. He’d like to be friendly without risking a shock.

“So,” Tango starts as they stand together in the hydroponic farm. “Is there a reason ESA lets you use terracotta and glass in space?”

Jimmy shrugs. 

“They want it to feel more like Earth,” he hums, amused, turning away from Tango. He wanders a bit before Tango startles to catch up, following him through to the lab room. Jimmy pushes up the sleeves of his ESA sweatshirt. “Not that I would know what that feels like…though I do like it.”

They step through to the lab with the door hissing shut behind them. The humidity and heat follow them in, clinging to Tango’s jumpsuit. He can hear Jimmy mumbling to himself under his breath as he circles the large lab table in search of something. Tango tracks him with his eyes, pausing in the space where Jimmy once was, folding his arms. Jimmy fumbles around for a moment, digging through his cabinets, with Tango watching over his shoulder.

“That’s nice,” Tango says, eyes following him. Jimmy hums, nodding in response. “I can’t say I’ve ever seen Earth myself, either.”

“Oh yeah?” Jimmy says. When he turns back, he’s holding a data pad, a thumb drive and a blank badge. He lines them all up on the table, sitting next to each other. “Have you ever been planetside?”

Tango nods. 

“A few times with my old crew,” he starts, waving his hands back and forth. “Some dry and dusty ones for sure. Not too exciting.”

Jimmy tilts his head a bit. He’s still smiling, and Tango, for a moment, can’t take his eyes off it. He isn’t sure anyone’s ever smiled at him for that long, or maybe he’s misreading it—emotions were a fickle, strange thing. Maybe Jimmy was simply happy. 

Tango leans against the table, back pressing to the side of it, glancing down at the data pad and keycard for a moment. Jimmy looks away as Tango catches his eye. Tango thinks he sees him flush as he turns back around to the computer.

“They haven’t really briefed me on why you’re here,” Jimmy says. “Why’d they send you?”

“To E-1? We’re uh…our science director was looking for a secondary project to help bolster our food supplies—stretch it out a little longer?” He folds his arms over his chest. “Our admiral’s been in contact with Fwhip a few times conversationally, but we normally reach out to the Meridian, a station in our system, for help, but they weren’t having any hydroponics success. So…here I am.”

Jimmy nods absently as he continues typing.

“Hopefully I can give you something useful to take back,” he says, glancing up to Tango. Tango nods, raising his eyebrows.

“I mean, they say you’re the best,” he offers. It’s true—everything Pearl had told him seemed to point directly to whoever was running the botanical experimentation lab on E-2. And here he was, an android, standing in front of Tango.

“Do they?” Jimmy asks.

“Mhm!”

“That’s very nice of them…I uh, I’ve got a badge for you,” Jimmy says, sliding the piece of plastic toward him. Tango picks it up, turning it in his fingers as he listens. It has a small symbol on it, like an overlapping square and a green stripe all the way around it. When he looks back to Jimmy’s face for a moment, he notices that same green stripe around his upper arm. Green. Science. It was fitting. He fits that bit of information right next to what he knows Prometheus’ color to be: nearly the same shade.

“It’ll get you into this lab and ones like it, um, all the way down this hall,” Jimmy unlocks the data pad, pushing it toward him. “And you can record anything you’d like on this pad.”

“Oh, thank you, that’s great, actually” Tango says. He tucks the card into his pocket, where it rests against his chest. The data pad is blank, no notes, no sketches, and no documents. Just the time and date. From what he can recognize, he’s been aboard for about two hours. “Is, uh, is there somewhere we can share notes, or should I be handing this off to you periodically?”

“Whatever you write there will also be stored on the lab computer,” Jimmy says, gesturing back to the screens behind him. “Either of us can access it at any time. It should recognize you as having access to the console, so there shouldn’t be too many problems with that.”

Jimmy studies him for a brief moment before he picks up the thumb drive, twisting it in his fingers. Tango watches the movement, eyes flicking between it, and the pad, and the screen.

“So,” Jimmy starts again. “I can’t say I was expecting an android, but that does make this whole process a lot easier.”

He holds out the thumb drive—Tango holds out his hand. The small bit of plastic that falls into Tango’s palm is lightweight and bright white. He holds it between his thumb and forefinger, frowning just a little.

“What’s this for?” he asks, setting the data pad on the table again. His hands feel an itch to turn the drive around in them, nervous ticks surfacing as he receives data and writes to disk. The humidity, Jimmy’s expression, the curious glint in his eye, the buzz of excitement he can nearly feel in the air. For an android, Jimmy was certainly animated, certainly running high on emotion. Tango could reach out and grab it, if he knew he would catch something.

Jimmy nods a few times, leaning on the table in front of him.

“That right there,” he says, pointing at the drive. “Is all of my research. That way you can just—” he mimes a plugging motion, patting the back of his neck. If Tango’s chest could cave, it would have, as he feels some gear shudder and start again. “Get it all.”

Tango blinks. His vision stutters for a moment, fading out on the edge as he tries to process Jimmy’s comment, his voice. He feels that tug at his eyebrows as they furrow, a copy of a motion he’d seen so many times on so many faces. Jimmy’s research rests in the palm of his hand, still cold, despite the heat leaching from Tango’s synthetic skin.

“I think—” Tango says. What a stupid turn of phrase. He knows—he’s not thinking this time. He knows. “I can’t do that.”

Jimmy hums, face morphing into concern for a moment. Tango sees how his posture stiffens, almost a gut reaction to the change in Tango’s voice. Write to disk. Catalog. He softens his stance as Jimmy pipes up.

“What d’y’mean?”

“I think I’d rather just learn it from you,” Tango says, closing his fist around the thumb drive. “I’ll keep this, but I would like to learn from you, if that’s alright.”

Jimmy raises his eyebrows high on his forehead, nodding a few times. His dark eyes go wide, too. They flick across Tango’s face, looking for something, before they land on the table in front of him as Jimmy raps his fingers against the plastic top. Tango tucks the data drive into his pocket, where it rests with the keycard, sticking his hands in his pockets to give them something to do.

“Oh—I mean—I, sure. Sure, we can do that,” Jimmy stutters, shaking his head. “Yeah, that should be fine, you should be able to learn that way.”

“I hope so,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy nods with him, that color briefly back in his cheeks. “I’d at least like to try. It’s what I’m known for, honestly.”

“Mm,” Jimmy says, face settling on that half-pleased, half-curious look. “Sure. That would be nice, I think. I don’t know how much I have to teach, but I can try.”

“I’m sure you’ve got plenty, Mr. Plant Guy,” Tango quips, patting him on the shoulder as he rounds around him. Jimmy laughs. The tingling sensation of touch before has gone now, and the new touch offers nothing but the sensation of soft sweater fabric, of coolness from Jimmy, and a brief flicker of information that he doesn’t quite catch. It feels like energy he can’t process. A line of code that doesn’t slot itself into place. He gives his shoulder a quick squeeze before he pulls away, gesturing to the door.

“Do you think you might be able to walk me back to my cabin?” his shoulders shrink a fraction. He tries to quickly run the simulation in his mind, etching out the turns of the hallways in the belly of the science department. All he can remember are faces, half-recognizable from research and names partially unobscured by association. “I lost track of how many turns Commander Fwhip made.”

Jimmy shrugs, nods, patting the table as he pulls away.

“Sure,” he says, fishing his keycard from around his neck. “My cabin is close to that area, so I know the way back pretty well—-”

“You have a room?”

The door slides open in front of Tango, the cool air of the hallway flooding into the room. He steps through, into the empty, well lit space, with its green stripe and green carpeting. The white-yellow lighting smooths out the edges of the walls around them, dotted with windows of the station’s central core as they slowly rotated around it. Jimmy pauses for a moment to watch as Tango does, before he nudges him with his elbow. Tango turns to follow.

“I like the bed,” Jimmy says, making a pleasant, almost chirping sound. “And the sleep cycle. And a space for my things that isn’t the lab.”

Tango nods.

“Our secondary engineering lead gets onto me when I don’t rest, but I prefer to not have to,” he says, shrugging his shoulders, waving one hand about. That gesture was from Doc, who loved to make things more nonchalant than they had to be, gesturing with his part-plastic, part-metal arm. “It wastes time.”

“You’re a busy man, Tango,” Jimmy says. He pauses just as he’s about to say Tango, like he had meant to say Commander, but had skipped the instinct. It stutters as he speaks. Tango feels a little bit of a twist, somewhere in the gears of his chest. Maybe everyone should just call him Tango. It felt a lot better, somehow. It felt earned.

“I try to be,” Tango says, waving his hand again. “I’m built for continuous learning—neuroplasticity. It’s what I’m meant to do…kind of.”

“Interesting…” Jimmy hooks a right at a fork. Tango notes it. “I don’t think I’ve met an android without a base program. And it was HASA who decided that?”

Tango nods.

“That was the plan, anyway. So far, it’s worked out alright. I have no issues, our technicians make sure I’m running smoothly, I can run my own diagnostics as far as I’m aware. And…I get to take back knowledge to our ship,” he sticks his free hand back in his pocket. They take a left, following the curving wall. “That’s a win to me.”

“That does sound nice,” Jimmy says, frowning a little, mostly in his voice than on his face.  As the wall evens out, Jimmy slows to a stop. Before them, on the leftmost side, are a row of doors, which Tango recognizes. He marks down their exact location, how the wall hugs the left, looping back around on the far side. Jimmy splays his arm out, gesturing to the doors. Tango manages a smile.

“Thank you,” Tango says, nodding. Jimmy hums.

“Of course, glad I could help,” he says. He looks pleased, now, none of the nervous flit that he had when they’d first met. Tango, too. He feels settled, somehow, like he was already beginning to understand the space around him, already acclimated to new gravity and new routine. Jimmy’s easy smile and tone of voice made that all the easier to do.

As Tango steps away, toward his door, he turns back to Jimmy, who’s folded his arms over his chest. Something’s there, in Tango’s chest, maybe just a trick of mechanics, something he can’t really place. It smooths out any bumps in logic programming. It makes things even, whatever the thing in his chest is. Jimmy makes a noise, and Tango’s eyes flick up to his face.

“Y’know—not to jump ahead or anything, since I know we’ve just met. But if you wanted to, my cabin is a bit closer to the lab. If you ever feel like you want a roommate, you’re more than welcome to stay there,” Jimmy starts, clasping his hands together. The small smile on his face hasn’t really faded, and his voice is even with curiosity. “There’s—there’s only one bed, but you said you don’t sleep. So it should be fine.”

Jimmy continues to babble, now, eyes flicking down to the patches at Tango’s knees. 

“I can always request you to the room next to it—I think that one’s unoccupied, too. If you ever want to sleep, that is. But you can let me know. Figured it might be nice to have a roommate so you’re not lonely,” he finishes, shrugging a little. Then he startles, blinks, and waves his hands. “Unless you like being alone.”

Tango tries to make a sound to dissuade him from that idea, but it gets caught in his programming and his vocal filter and it kind of sounds like a wheeze, or maybe a laugh, but he shakes his head several times, copying Jimmy’s easy smile from before.

“No, no…” he assures. “That sounds really nice, actually. I’ll…I’ll let Fwhip know that I’d like to do that.”

Jimmy visibly relaxes, and the smile comes back to his face, and he laughs a little, an actual, natural laugh.

“Sure thing…” Jimmy scrunches his nose. “Roomie.”

Tango feels something flip-flop over as he jumps, shaking his head again.

“Don’t call me that—” he manages, before Jimmy waves his hands again and says:

“I’m just joking, Tango!” and reaches out to clasp his shoulder. That rush of static only prickles for a moment, leaving a warm sensation in its wake. Tango feels it trickle down his elbow and to his wrist as Jimmy steps away from him. “Have a good night, alright? I’ll see you at 0700.”

Tango nods, realizing he’s still smiling just a bit, even as he steps into his room and the door slides shut behind him. He stands at the threshold, with his back to the wall, for a long moment, letting the memories play in his head as he does. The quiet hum of his room and the orange-yellow lighting soothes his otherwise spinning mind to a controlled simulation. Even still, Tango’s hand and arm prickle faintly with sensation he can’t place, and a warmth in his chest he’s not sure he fully understands.

Pulling away from the door and into his room, Tango furrows his eyebrows and starts an internal diagnostic.

[bridenore]

Recs masterlist part two : ongoing fests

I’ve been doing drarry recs posts every week for a while and it’s getting harder and harder to navigate through all theses posts. So here is a masterlist of all the posts I made so far.

Note : the masterlist is now split into three parts. I have apparently reached the maximum number of links you can include in a single post. Part one is here Favorites, authors, themes and length and part three is here Past fests.

Last updated : March 31st 2025 (Added since last update)

Previous update : September 30th 2024

Ongoing Fests (the last edition was held in 2024 or later)

25 days of Harry and Draco : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2015, 2014

Draco tops Harry : 2024, 2023, 2021, 2020, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011

Drarry mini bang : 2024

HD Erised : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013

HD Fanfair : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2010, 2009

HD Hurt-Comfort Fest : 2024

HD Kidfic fest : 2024

HD Mpreg : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013, 2012, 2011

HD Owlpost : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019

HD Wireless : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019, 2018, 2017

HP Drizzle : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2020, 2019

HP Horrible Goose Fest : 2024

HP Unleashed : 2024, 2023

LCD Drarry : 2024, 2023, 2022, 2021, 2020, 2019

[antiques-for-geeks]

Game Review: Gauntlet

Handheld Game, Tiger, 1988

The 3D Gauntlet you've all been waiting for.

Tiger handhelds were not a significant feature of my childhood. Despite this fact, many people seem to have a love / hate relationship with them. There’s a preponderance of ‘angry gamer’ reaction videos on one hand, a recent physical re-release of a selection of units on the other. They're certainly a part of the modern retro nostalgia factory, and remembered as a gateway to video gaming for a certain generation.

One of the particularly noteworthy things about Tiger and their range of LCD games was their willingness to license the hell out of almost anything (and I mean ANYTHING) that might help shift some units. Sonic the Hedgehog, Afterburner, Outrun, Golden Axe, Street Fighter 2. Double Dragon…. M.C. Hammer?

My outsiders opinion on many of these handhelds is that they seem pretty poor even within the arena of LCD games. I can’t imagine how an attempt at a 1-on-1 or scrolling fighting game could be expected to work on such primitive electronics, and attaching the name of some hot new arcade license to these is just inviting disappointment from anyone familiar with the original game.

Despite this poor reputation, I do own a single Tiger LCD game - a licensed version of Gauntlet, the super popular 1985 Atari arcade game.

The first thing I need to state is that, obviously, this isn’t anything like playing Gauntlet in the arcade. In Tiger’s version of the game you can choose between 2 of the 4 arcade characters, the barbarian or the valkyrie. There’s a cosmetic difference to the choice, with some small LCD elements changed between each character (actually pretty clever!) and a slightly less aggressive bleeping noise when moving and firing as the valkyrie. Less superficially the barbarian starts with more health, but his attack is slower.

Upon pressing the start button you head off into a maze, which unlike the arcade is shown from a fixed perspective behind and slightly above your chosen character. Fairly simple lines are shown to represent the maze walls, and you can move in any of the 4 compass directions, as long as it doesn’t take you through a wall. The maze is populated with two different types of monster, a lizard man and some sort of hooded troll thing. These enemies move around the maze, and you can hit them once they’re next to you using the fire button. Too slow off the mark and they’ll score a hit on you, taking off a larger chunk of your health score, which is displayed as a number in the top right corner of the screen.

Just like real Gauntlet, your health continuously ticks down, and you use a little bit up every time you swing your weapon, which is a gameplay element I flat out dislike.

To aid you in your quest there items scattered throughout the maze:

Keys allow you to walk though one of the walls.

Potions (which the makers have labelled ‘bombs’ here because they didn’t trouble themselves with actually playing Gauntlet) kill all the monsters visible on the screen.

Health restoring flasks which ..restore health.. and look like potions with keys inside them because that's the best they could do with the fixed elements of the LCD screen. 

The adventure is split into a series of distinct levels, and you appear to progress between them by walking a certain distance through the maze in any direction, rather than navigating to a specific point.

There are 4 areas you progress though, with a few levels set in each:

The Castle

The basic maze with no twists. You’ll only encounter lizard men here.

Dark Forest

The elements of the maze itself are unchanged from the castle, but now you face both lizard men and hooded trolls.

The Lost Caverns

The maze walls start moving about, making everything confusing and chaotic.

The Unseen

The maze walls are now invisible, making things an exercise in pure frustration as you helplessly try to find a path.

The last level in every location contains only health flasks, and you can dash about trying to refill as much as possible before moving to the next. Once you’ve completed the last level of The Unseen you simply loop back to The Castle.

History

Somebody told me one of the other kids at school had a Gauntlet handheld game. Since I’d never seen such a thing in the shops I assumed it was bullshit. When I found out as an adult that there actually was a Gauntlet LCD game I was intrigued enough to try and get one. There are various other handhelds that have a maze theme, and Tiger themselves have an earlier game ‘Mouse Maze’ that uses the same basic perspective. They also produced a Robin Hood game, released in the same year as Gauntlet, but that appears to be exactly the same game with altered graphical elements.

Liked

I’ve seen various modern opinions that this game is laughable rubbish, but to my eyes it’s a really impressive effort ...if you’re being objective about the limitations of the format. This game has very clever use of screen elements in order to create a 3D maze populated with different creatures. It has multiple different locations. You can play as multiple characters, and the choice affects the graphics, gameplay and sound. I’m pretty sure I’d have loved this if I’d played it in the 80’s.

Disliked

The physical feel of the controls, at least in my copy of this game, is really cheap and horrible to use. That may be partly down to its age - I don’t have another Tiger handheld to compare it to. Even though I just admitted to finding this quite an impressive effort, it was released only a year before the Gameboy was first introduced in Japan, and you’d be crazy to play Tiger Gauntlet if you had the choice of playing Super Mario Land.

🙉

Annoying sound. As ever.

[tamapalace]

DIGIMON CON 2024 Announcements Include Digimon Adventure Digivice 25th Color Evolution & Digimon X As Maria Editions

DIGIMON CON 2024 was jam packed with fun and announcements, and we were really excited to see som new virtual pets announced! That’s right, first Bandai announced the Digivice 25th Color Evolution after teasing earlier last week. The newest Digivice is described as the ultimate evolved Digivice, where you can set off a new adventure with a full color LCD screen and enhanced productions.

A color LCD screen, 4 color LED lights built into the shell, a vibration motor, and USB-C charging port that will recharge the lithium ion battery. Relive the story of Digimon Adventure, choose your chosen child and partner pair and set out of an adventure! Walk to conquer new areas based on the story of the anime. Boss Digimon that follow the story will also make appearances.

You’ll also experience background music and voices on the device and listen to newly recorded partner Digimon audio with a button. See the movie ending with your own eyes!

Digivice 25th Color Evolution features 1 on 1 battles, with 3 battle actions of hit, shake, and press the button. Your bond level from battle will unlock evolutions.

The Digivice also includes a new card game promo card “Possibilities for the Future!” Containing art from an upcoming collaboration cafe. You can stroll through File Island and Server Continent, go camping and cooperate with friends, battle and use evolution fight enemies you encounter!

What really caught our eye is that the Digivice 25th Color Evolution can communicate with the Digimon Color and Pendulum Color!

Lots of the gameplay is not entirely published, which makes it even more exciting. The device itself will have screen navigation elements that are almost entirely English, which will make it super import friendly.

They’ll be sold in three shell colors, white, translucent orange, and translucent blue. Available in deluxe  sets which include a crest and tag set, and an art book showing off all the art assets fro the new Digivice. Lastly, the deluxe sets also feature a few special items for in-game camping. The Digivice 25th Color Evolution is priced at ¥11,00, and deluxe sets are priced at ¥16,500, preorders are now open until April 22nd, 2024!

Next is another set of exclusive Diigmon X shells for DIGIMON CON 2024! These new V-Pets, called the Version WarGreymon X & Version MetalGarurumon X, are designed by As’Maria. As’Maria is a Japanese illustrator, designer and manga artist. As’Maria made new art that is a mix of his style, cyberpunk, and digital music

The design was made so that it move between all 6 sizes as one piece of art. UV printing was used to cure the art onto the plastic shells. The background on the screen has the DIGIMON CON logo as we have seen in last years shells.

The Version WarGreymon X & Version MetalGarurumon X use the programming from the American Digimon X This includes everything being in English on the device.

Preorders are now open until April 5th, 2024 and they will be shipping August, 2024 priced at ¥5,500.

Lots of awesome announcement from DIGIMON CON 2024! Be sure to also watch back the live stream on the Digimon Official YouTube channel!

[whiteoaklincoln]

TOP 5 MUST-HAVE LINCOLN ACCESSORIES FOR CANADIAN DRIVERS

Owning a Lincoln means embracing sophisticated design, comfort, and performance. But to truly tailor your luxury driving experience, the right accessories make all the difference. Whether you're navigating snowy winters or enhancing everyday convenience, these top 5 must-have Lincoln accessories will elevate your vehicle to meet the demands of Canadian roads and lifestyles.

Explore our guide to the best Lincoln accessories in Canada, and find out how to get them through your local Lincoln dealership near you.

All-Weather Floor Liners

Canadian weather is anything but predictable, which makes all-weather floor liners essential for protecting your Lincoln’s interior. Designed to trap snow, slush, mud, and spills, these custom-fit mats keep your floors clean and pristine, regardless of the season.

Why do you need them?

Protects against salt, moisture, and debris

Easy to clean and custom-moulded to your model

Increases long-term resale value

Available for popular models like the Lincoln Nautilus, Aviator, and Corsair.

Lincoln Remote Start System

Starting your vehicle from the comfort of your home is more than a luxury—it’s a necessity in Canadian winters. The Lincoln Remote Start System integrates seamlessly with your vehicle, letting you warm up (or cool down) your car before you step outside.

Why it’s a must-have:

Preconditions the cabin temperature year-round

Works with most Lincoln models

Can be operated via key fob or Lincoln Way™ App

A highly recommended accessory for year-round comfort across Canada.

Roof Racks & Cargo Carriers

Need extra space for skis, bikes, or road trip gear? Lincoln roof racks and cargo carriers offer stylish and practical storage without sacrificing your vehicle's sleek design. Ideal for families and weekend adventurers alike.

What they offer:

Increases cargo capacity for outdoor gear

Designed specifically for Lincoln vehicles

Maintains aerodynamic efficiency

Pair with your Lincoln SUV for maximum versatility on Canadian getaways.

Rear Seat Entertainment Systems

Turn every road trip into a relaxing retreat with Lincoln rear seat entertainment systems. These factory-grade accessories offer high-definition screens, wireless headphones, and streaming capabilities—perfect for long drives across Ontario or family travel to the Rockies.

Features include:

Dual LCDs

USB and HDMI input compatibility

Premium wireless headphones

Ideal for keeping kids entertained and adults relaxed during extended travel.

Lincoln Dash Cam (Front and Rear)

Protect your investment with a genuine Lincoln dash cam system that records your drive from both the front and rear. In case of an accident, footage provides valuable documentation and peace of mind.

Benefits:

Records HD video while driving or parked

Seamless integration with your Lincoln

Some models include motion detection and GPS

One of the most practical Lincoln car accessories for urban and rural Canadian driving.

Why Choose Genuine Lincoln Accessories?

When it comes to quality, fit, and warranty protection, genuine Lincoln accessories are always the best choice. Unlike aftermarket alternatives, they’re engineered to match your vehicle’s luxury standards and won’t compromise safety or performance.

Looking for the best Lincoln accessories in Canada? Your local Lincoln dealership near you offers expert advice, certified installation, and a full catalogue of official accessories tailored to

your model.

Visit a Lincoln Dealership Near You

Whether you're driving a Lincoln Navigator or Corsair, your nearest Lincoln dealership in Canada can help you select, install, and service every accessory on this list. Ready to enhance your Lincoln experience? Contact WhiteOak Lincoln to get any of these accessories.

[forgottenfuturist]

We Don't Need a New Thing Every Year

Remember Steve Jobs' big product announcements? It seemed like every year he was on stage announcing some big new product you just had to have. But lately, Apple's product announcements have just been slightly-new iterations of existing things and an occasional weird, wild swing like the Vision Pro, a $3000 wearable face computer that's so dorky-looking it makes Google Glass look like high fashion. So what's wrong?

Nothing, actually.

Ok, the whole Apple Intelligence thing is definitely a dumpster fire. The last time Apple made a demo video for an entirely fictional product, it was that Knowledge Navigator thing back in 1987 and it was understood not to be real. They 100% deserve all the derision and criticism they've gotten for doing a fake demo for a product that didn't exist.

And like many people, I much prefer the live onstage announcements/demos to the current overproduced "events" that are so robotic they look like they were generated with AI. (Not Apple AI, I mean something that's actually advanced.)

But I'm not talking about either of those things. I'm talking about the expectation that Apple will introduce some big new game-changing device or technology at every annual event, or else it's a big failure, and if only Steve Jobs was here we'd have iPhones that could soothe all your worries and teleport you to Mars. This reasoning is wrong and silly, for reasons I will now explain.

Steve Jobs' second tenure at Apple overlapped with a period of rapid technological change in the industry. He first returned to the company in 1997. At the end of the 1990s, the Internet entered the mainstream. And during the first decade of the 2000s, advances in microprocessor, wireless communication, and capacitive touch technology (along with steep drops in the price of LCD displays) made devices like the iPod, the modern smartphone, the tablet, and the modern laptop computer possible.

Sadly, Steve died in 2011. But even if he'd lived, it wouldn't have changed the fact that most of the advancement we've seen in the tech industry since then has mainly been about making those existing devices better, smaller, and less-expensive. The only sorta-new device we've gotten is the smart watch, which a lot of people deride as a "phone bracelet" that mainly exists because the smartphone makers need something else to sell now that everybody has a smartphone.

Some people imagine that Apple's blunders (the "trash can" Mac Pro, Touch Bar MacBooks with bad keyboards, no ports, and thermal issues, etc) wouldn't have happened with Steve in charge. But his tenure wasn't problem-free, either. He oversaw some flops, like the Power Mac G4 Cube and MobileMe. The iMac G3 line became hopelessly convoluted and confusing before the G4 arrived. And there was the whole "antennagate" issue with the iPhone 4 where he publicly insisted that the device was only dropping calls because everyone but him was holding it wrong.

Yes, Apple is a much bigger and unwieldy company than they were 15 years ago. They're starting to fall into the trap that Steve talked about in an interview during his NeXT days in the 1990s, where the company is taken over by marketing and finance people who focus on short-term quarterly gains at the expense of making good products.

BUT . . .

When their overproduced, slick, soulless, and robotic annual commercial starts about an hour-and-a-half from the time I'm writing this, it will not be a failure if the biggest announcement is a new skin and naming scheme for their OSes. Sometimes it's better to announce a slight improvement of an existing thing rather than try to push out a brand new thing that isn't ready yet. Because that's how you get stuff like the Newton, or the Humane AI Pin.

Or Apple Intelligence.

[elizabethquinn3815]

Experience Culinary Perfection: The TOSHIBA Rice Cooker

When it comes to achieving perfect rice every time, the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker stands out as a top choice for both individuals and families. This versatile kitchen appliance offers a range of features designed to make cooking not only easier but also more enjoyable.

Why Choose the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker?

The TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is not just any ordinary rice cooker. It is equipped with Fuzzy Logic Technology that automatically adjusts the cooking parameters to ensure perfect results every time. Whether you are cooking white rice, brown rice, or mixed grains, this rice cooker has got you covered.

Key Features of the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker

LCD Display: The intuitive LCD display makes it easy to select your desired cooking function.

8 Cooking Functions: Enjoy a variety of cooking options including White Rice, Quick Cook, Brown Rice, Mixed Grain, Slow Cook, Porridge, Cake, and Egg.

Fuzzy Logic Technology: Adjusts cooking time and temperature for optimal results.

24-Hour Delay Timer: Set your cooking time up to 24 hours in advance.

Auto Keep Warm: Keeps your rice warm until you are ready to serve.

Non-Stick Inner Pot: Easy to clean and prevents rice from sticking.

"The TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is designed for individuals or families seeking a versatile cooking solution. It features 8 cooking functions including White Rice, Quick Cook, Brown Rice, Mixed Grain, Slow Cook, Porridge, Cake, and Egg, making it more than just a rice cooker." - Toshiba Brand Introduction

Perfect for Small Families and Individuals

The TOSHIBA Small Rice Cooker is ideal for small families or individuals. With a capacity for 3 cups of uncooked rice, it is perfect for preparing meals without any wastage. The compact design also makes it easy to store in your kitchen.

Product Specifications

Capacity: 3 cups of uncooked rice

Dimensions: Compact and space-saving

Weight: Lightweight for easy handling

Power: Energy-efficient

Additional Benefits

One of the standout features of the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is its versatility. Not only can you cook a variety of rice types, but you can also prepare other dishes such as porridge, cakes, and even eggs. The slow cook function allows you to make stews and soups, making this appliance a true multi-tasker in the kitchen.

Easy to Use and Clean

The TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is designed with user convenience in mind. The LCD display is straightforward and easy to navigate, allowing you to select your desired cooking function with ease. The non-stick inner pot ensures that cleaning up is a breeze, saving you time and effort.

Safety Features

Safety is a top priority with the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker. It comes with a detachable power cord and an automatic shut-off feature to prevent overheating. These safety measures provide peace of mind, especially for busy households.

Customer Reviews

Customers who have purchased the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker have praised its performance and versatility. Many have highlighted the convenience of the 24-hour delay timer and the auto keep warm function, which ensures that their rice is always ready when they are.

Conclusion

In conclusion, the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is a must-have kitchen appliance for anyone who loves cooking and enjoys perfectly cooked rice. Its advanced features, ease of use, and versatility make it a valuable addition to any kitchen. Whether you are a cooking enthusiast or just looking for a reliable rice cooker, the TOSHIBA Rice Cooker is an excellent choice.

Related Products

TOSHIBA Small Rice Cooker 3 Cup Uncooked – LCD Display with 8 Cooking Functions, Fuzzy Logic Technology, 24-Hr Delay Timer and Auto Keep Warm, Non-Stick Inner Pot, White

Product Images

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Bucky O'Hare is a handheld game released by Tiger Electronics in the early 1990s, based on the popular animated series and comic book of the same name. Like other Tiger handhelds, it features simple LCD gameplay designed for portability and accessibility. Players take control of Bucky, the green rabbit captain of the spaceship Righteous Indignation, as he battles the villainous Toad Empire.

The gameplay revolves around navigating preset challenges, dodging projectiles, defeating enemies, and advancing through levels to save the day. Players use basic directional inputs and action buttons to control Bucky, focusing on timing and precision to avoid hazards and shoot at toad enemies. The static LCD screen provides a backdrop for Bucky’s adventures, with lit-up animations representing his movements and actions.

The device itself is adorned with colorful artwork of Bucky O'Hare and his crew, appealing to fans of the franchise. Despite its simplicity, the game captures the spirit of the Bucky O'Hare universe, offering an engaging, albeit limited, experience for fans of the era.

As with most Tiger Electronics games, Bucky O'Hare relies on straightforward mechanics and repetitive gameplay. The game alternates between two stages with increasing difficulty, culminating in a final boss battle during the third stage, which is a more challenging reprise of the first. Though its design is limited, the handheld embodies the charm of a bygone era, serving as an affordable way for fans to connect with the franchise during the 1990s handheld gaming boom. It stands as a nostalgic reminder of simpler gaming times, cementing its place in the era’s history.