#projector module

[zylcd]

Why Are Industrial LCD Screens More Expensive?

Industrial LCD screens are a type of screen display specifically designed for demanding industrial environments. Unlike conventional lcd display screens found in consumer electronics, these lcd display modules are engineered to meet higher performance standards.

1. Why Are Industrial LCD Screens More Expensive?

LCD display panels are commonly used across various electronic devices. Typically, displays are divided into industrial lcd panels and civilian-grade panels. Industrial versions—such as tft lcd modules, lcd modules tft, and touch lcd screens—are generally priced higher. Many wonder why. As a trusted lcd supplier, we break it down for you.

What drives the higher cost of industrial tft lcd screens is their superior design and enhanced features:

Key Differences

1. Brightness Civilian lcd display screens typically operate indoors with brightness levels around 250–300cd/m², which is sufficient for normal use. However, industrial tft displays—like lcd display 7 inch or larger panel lcds—must function in outdoor or high-light environments, requiring significantly higher brightness. This makes industrial screen lcd displays far more advanced.

2. Reliability Industrial lcd display modules are essential for applications in automation, military, and medical equipment. They are often built to be shockproof and can operate in extreme temperatures from -30°C to 80°C. These replacement lcd screens offer greater durability and consistent performance, even in harsh environments.

3. Service Life The lcd module backlights in industrial panels can last over 50,000 hours, compared to about 30,000 in standard display lcd units. Some replacement screens can even last 70,000 to 100,000 hours, allowing the lcd panels to operate 24/7 without failure. These panel displays and screen modules are designed for long-term industrial use.

Applications & Use Cases

From 7 inch displays to custom tft lcd panels, industrial display modules are found in sectors requiring long-lasting, high-resolution touch lcd displays. Whether for screen displays in factories or lcd screens replacement in medical monitors, these products deliver consistent performance.

Conclusion

Industrial lcd display panels are more expensive than consumer-grade displays due to their high brightness, extended lifespan, and rugged reliability. Whether you’re sourcing a tft screen, lcd display screen, or lcd screens replacement, investing in a high-quality panel lcd means investing in stability and performance.

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[sw5w]

Hyperdrive Booster Ring

STAR WARS EPISODE II: Attack of the Clones 00:40:56 - 00:41:00

Because of the limit on keywords, here is a list of everything mentioned in these images for search purposes:

• Coruscant • Delta-7 Aethersprite-class light interceptor • forward shield projector module • Galactic Roundel • heat surge radiator • hyperdrive • hyperdrive booster ring • hyperdrive motivator • hypermatter • hyperspace • ion acceleration pod • ion drive thruster nozzle • Jedi Order • Kamino system • Narg • Obi-Wan Kenobi • Outer Rim Territories • port stasis field generator • R4-P17 • Rayter sector • starboard reactor • Syliure-31 long-range hyperdrive module • TransGalMeg Industries • Wild Space

[bortalis]

My concepts for the development progress of an Iterators Puppet

-my ideas below

-Feasibility Study  

[1]: First autonomous control module, any instruction to be given must be done manually through physical means (the keys), outputs were shown through the screen. A very primitive system, however, did its job proving the greater machine concept was achievable. While it does look like a lens above the monitor, this was a simple status gauge for benchmarking.

-Prototyping and Development  

[2]: Now with the capability to wirelessly and audibly communicate to receive instructions and inputs. The system was no longer directly integrated into the facility, and resided on the first instance of an iterator's arm. This was considered a feat due to the complications with isolating the control module from the rest of the iterators components, while keeping processing power. A permanent connection/umbilical was needed to sustain life and function though. 

To “talk” back, they were crafted with multidimensional projectors, the mobile arm allowing the angles and variance for this projection. Only later into development were advanced speakers installed for optimized understanding, however the extra computing power required to synthesize proper speech was found to strain the contained module, so this function had rare use in the end.

[3]: At this point there was a change in perspective in the project. What once were machines to simply compute and simulate, were now planned to be the home, caregiver, and providers. The further the project came to fruition the more religious importance was placed upon these “random gods”. From this stance not only did the puppets have to manage and control their facilities, they had to communicate with the people and priests. To represent benevolent beings who will bring their end and salvation. In this process iterators began to take a more humanoid shape, to better reflect their parents. Development was focused on compacting the puppet closer to the size of an ancient for this purpose. This stage was the first to incorporate a cloak/clothing into their design considerations, to further akin themselves in looks. The cloak would hide the iterators' engineered bodies and give a body to their silhouette. 

[4]: As bioengineering and mechanics were rapidly progressing due to the void fluid revolution, this allowed plenty of margin for developing the outer design of the iterator puppets. This prototype was the first to incorporate limbs for the purpose of body language. This was another step in the drive to give a body to their random gods.

-Final Iterations

[5]: First generation iterators had the final redesign of puppet bodies. Far different from their first designs, they are fully humanoid. Their bodies are shaped to be organic and as full of life as they could at the time. Their center of sapience has fully settled within their body, as can be seen as their unconscious use of limbs without the direct intention for communication. This can also see how they manage their work, where many of the functions (which can be done with just an internal request) are operated through physical gestures of their limbs. Their puppet chambers also allow for full comprehensive projection, where many of their working monitors are displayed. It is seen how iterators prefer to utilize their traversal arm to transfer between the current working projection window.

These designs were hardy and nearly self-sufficient, only requiring minimal power from their umbilical to charge. (However was still limited in the terms of internal power production, for this first generation extensive batteries sufficed)

[6]: Later generation not only incorporated advanced bioengineering internally, but externally. While still a hardened shell, their body plates have been incorporated into the organics of the puppet, maintaining the protective requirements while barely leaving a trace of hinges or plates. This “soft” skin had drawbacks, such as reduced durability to the first generations, this was offset by the greatly enhanced repair speeds and capability this type of skin allowed.

Internal power generation was implemented into these late generation models. If the case arose, the Puppet could be disconnected from their umbilical and still be conscious from an undefined period of time. (However this would limit the operating capacity of the puppet when running self sufficiently) This greatly eased maintenance works, as the Puppet could still run the greater facility wirelessly while work was done on the chamber, arm or whatever as needed.

[phantom-of-the-memes]

Since I’ve been making posts about American/ British entitlement towards Ireland, I thought I’d talk about this video here.

I am a student at this college. It’s a big tourist attraction for many reasons, but the main one being that the book of Kells is kept here. I am also from Kells itself, but Dublin having the book and not Kells is a whole other issue.

So this protest that’s been happening over the the past few weeks is in response to the college once again raising rents for student accommodation to astronomical rates. That being when rent in Dublin (and Ireland as a whole) is already unliveable. You’d find cheaper rent off student accommodation, but it’s hardly easy to find places like this. As well as this, the majority of the student accommodation isn’t even on campus to begin with. Most are about a 45 minute luas journey away. So what the fuck are you paying for?

This protest is necessary. It’s been a long time coming. Time and time again they prioritise tourists over us. Buildings are old and falling apart, equipment isn’t functional, accessibility is god awful. I know this because I am disabled and use a rollator, but I can’t even use it on campus most days because there’s simply no ramps/ elevators in some buildings.

In one of my lectures last week we were in one of the old buildings. We had a lot of content to cover, but of course the projector wasn’t working. The professor spent fourty minutes trying to get the computer/ projector to work, but to no avail. So we have a whole lecture to catch up on! All of this while I was looking out the window at this atrocity:

A new building for tourists! Yay!

They’ve been building new school buildings for years, but of course instead of finishing them, they’ll spend their time and money on the tourists. I’m not even having an exam in one of my modules because they told the professor that there simply isn’t enough room to host our class for the exam. And it would be “too expensive” to book a venue… it’s only a class of about thirty. He had written a whole exam and we were under the impression we’d have one, but now it’s just continuous assessment I guess!

So you have to understand why we’re not exactly jumping for joy for the tourists. There are hundreds on campus everyday, just generally being annoying and entitled. And yes DISCLAIMER; not all tourists, not all Americans/ British people, blah, blah. But from my experience, you do encounter some obnoxious people everyday.

So that’s why they blocked entrance to the book of Kells. That’s why it’s disgusting for the tourists to be arguing with them and demanding entrance. For once we just want our college to prioritise us! So yeah we will revoke your entitlement, because we are the ones who study here, we are the ones who have to LIVE here.

[nanenna]

This Meeting Could've Been an E-mail

Sleepy King (Nanenna ver.) Masterpost

---

Diana, along with several other members of the JLD, were sitting in a meeting room. John had stood at the head of the table, having just finished outlining the situation for them, and it was grim. She knew if worse came to worse they may have to sacrifice the boy to keep the Ghost King from emerging into their world and wreaking havoc on a scale only Darkseid had managed before, but she prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

“Would not the boy also smell my father’s blood?” Raven asked.

“Unfortunately. You an’ me are gonna stay back and help plan based on what everyone else reads from the boy.”

Diana nodded along, likely that was also her role.

Bruce, in full Batman gear, came stalking into the room.

“About bloody time,” John said with a huff.

“I would hope you have brought them all up to speed on what you know of Danny while waiting.”

John made an annoyed sound, then moved to sit in a chair near the head of the table. “`Course I did, just waiting on you now.”

Bruce stood in the spot John had just vacated. “Oracle.” The room dimmed and the holo-projector  in the table whirred to life. A picture of a small family standing in front of what appeared to be some sort of business run out of what used to be a family home (something fairly common in America, Diana had learned) took center stage. Obviously it was part of a website, Diana could see the web bar with several tabs across the top of the projection, but it was zoomed into the photo.

“This,” Bruce said, pointing to the teenaged boy in the photo from behind, “is Daniel “Danny” Fenton, the boy used in the ritual last night.”

Everyone leaned in closer to look the boy over. There was nothing remarkable about him, a bit thin perhaps but that could be due to the lankiness that comes with growth spurts.

“He’s from Amity Park, Illinois. The town advertises itself as the most haunted city in America, and from what we’ve gathered they earned it. Most pertinent is that last year they were under attack by the Ghost King.”

Oracle must have clicked to the next tab, the family picture was replaced by an online newspaper article titled “Ghost King Thwarted! Is Phantom a Hero?”

“I’m sorry, what happened?” Zatanna asked incredulously.

“There must be some mistake, there’s no way Pariah Dark got free without a single person feeling it,” Dr. Fate insisted.

Oracle scrolled down the page to show several blurry photos taken of a being that looked nothing like what they’d seen last night, alongside a sketch of the being. “Either this was well researched, or somehow this whole event was cloaked,” Bruce said grimly.

“Considering this wasn’t even the most recent attack on the town and a few of them sound like JL level threats,” Oracle’s modulated voice came from the table’s speakers as she quickly tabbed through a few more news articles before coming back to the one on the Ghost King, “I think it’s more likely something is blocking the whole town from us.” She scrolled down more to show several missing or broken photos. “Especially this Phantom person that keeps showing up in every article about ghosts. Even using the way back machine there’s not a single photo of him anywhere on the internet.”

“If the Ghost King has been out,” Captain Marvel asked, “where did he go? I doubt he’s spent the last year just hanging out in a small town in middle America.”

“According to this news article,” Bruce said, “Phantom, along with help from the whole town, managed to get the Ghost King back into the Sarcophagus and sealed him away again.”

John whistled, “That’s quite the feat, even with help.”

“Are you saying Danny was chosen as Pariah’s anchor because he’s from Amity Park?” Raven asked.

“Not just because he’s from Amity Park, his parents are also self proclaimed paranormal scientists and ghost hunters.”

Oracle tabbed to a few different pages, each one with a different picture of one of Danny’s parents proudly holding ominously glowing green weapons or with vials of glowing green goo. Sometimes one in the background of another.

John squinted at the photos, “Is that pure æther?!”

“How?!” Captain Marvel and Zatanna both asked incredulously.

“They call it ectoplasm,” Bruce stated.

John scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Ectoplasm is a word scam artists in the 1800s made up to steal money from grieving widows.”

“Nevertheless that is what they're calling it. Especially of note that the Fentons run their research out of their home.”

“Where their children live?” Diana asked, horrified at the implications.

“How are they still sane?” Captain Marvel asked incredulously.

“We're not sure they are,” Batman said grimly. Oracle tabbed to a street view of the Fenton home, easily identified by the large sign on the side. The strange addition to the home's roof was an… interesting choice.

The other attendees of the meeting were becoming agitated, several of them shifting in place as they got ready to speak.

“Before this goes any further,” Bruce stated firmly, “all this to say the cult that kidnapped Danny Fenton did so with intention. Amity Park certainly needs a full investigation, but it will have to wait until after this crisis with the Ghost King is dealt with.”

“Æther exposure might explain why the kid could handle being Pariah’s anchor.” John sighed then stood up. “Alright, if that’s all the info you got…”

Bruce grunted in acknowledgement.

“The clock’s ticking.” John left the room, the others all following after.

Diana hung back to speak with Bruce. “We’ll find a solution.”

Bruce just hummed to show he heard her. She knew he wasn’t handling the situation well, a child’s life was at stake and he had to hand the situation over to others. There was only so much she could reassure him, so she chose instead to go see the boy for herself.

The JLD members that had attended the meeting were all gathered in a kitchenette discussing logistics. Diana left them to it for the moment and simply went down the hall to the room she knew the boy was sleeping in. The lights in the hallway were already dimmed, thankfully, so she simply quietly opened the door and poked her head inside. Clark was sitting on a chair next to the boy’s bed. His posture was a relaxed sprawl, but his face was furrowed in concentration. He looked up and smiled when he saw Diana.

“How are you?” She asked at barely a whisper, knowing he’d hear her just fine.

“Guilty, now that I know he mistook me for his father.”

“Sadly this is an ask for forgiveness situation.” She gently pat Clark’s arm, trying to console him.

The boy himself looked like any other teenager, dead to the world while tucked safely into bed. She only hoped they would find some solution and tomorrow he would be tucked just as safely into his own bed.

[stormbreath]

Can we talk about Apep? Because I've been dying to talk about Apep! I've got boxes full of Apep!

Sources:

The Firmament / Great Deep Excerpt: 2020 Aunic Field Guide "hey assholes" & "But the snake does not leave.": This One, That One short story, All of the Above 20: Abyssal: Appendix for No Room for a Wallflower Act 1 "I am ORACLE": Field Guide to the Karrakin Trade Baronies Accretion Disk: No Room for a Wallflower - No Motive Draft "I see a great wheel": Shadow of the Wolf Module EMP Pulse & Arc Projector: Lancer Core Rulebook, Manticore License Apep Summary: Google AI Summary Discord Screenshot: Pilot.net Discord Tweets: Massif Twitter

[polo-drone-073]

Operation Spring Spiral😵‍💫

Phase One - Ready for take-off

The gigantic Airbus A380 stood motionless on the tarmac. Its fuselage gleamed in the morning light, but the black and gold spiral patterns on the fuselage betrayed its true purpose. This was no ordinary aircraft. This was a tool of the Hive. A precise instrument designed for a single purpose: assimilation.

Inside the plane, the air was cool, the atmosphere immaculately organized. Four drones moved through the interior of the aircraft with synchronized efficiency. Not a word was exchanged, not an unnecessary movement was made. Just perfect, precise movements.

PDU-073, the lead unit on this mission, stood in the cockpit. The shiny black rubber uniform flawlessly enveloped his trained figure, the golden “073” on his chest shone under the cold light of the instruments. PDU-151 took a seat next to him. His eyes checked the instruments.

In the main area, PDU-070 and PDU-125 worked on the special modules. The huge projector, embedded in the floor of the aircraft, was adjusted with meticulous precision. Cables were connected. Data flows checked. Every lens perfectly aligned.

One last control check.

“Systems ready. Start of mission in T-5 minutes.”

While PDU-151 communicated with the tower in the cockpit, 073 concentrated on the launch preparations and followed the tower's instructions.

The two other drones sat strapped in front of the instruments. Also waiting for take-off and even more waiting for the mission. Then the go-ahead. The aircraft taxied to the runway. A few minutes later, the tower gave the go-ahead.

The engine noises became louder and the tension among the four drones also increased. Then the aircraft accelerated, the four drones felt the acceleration forces pressing them into their seats, and then the largest civilian airliner ever produced in series took off. The maximum speed of 961 km/h (approx. 597 mph / Mach 0.87) was not needed that day.

Phase two - target area reached

The beach in Florida was a pulsating melting pot of energy, chaos and excess. Hundreds of young men danced, drank and sweated in the hot sun. Their colorful shorts, neon tank tops and mirrored sunglasses bore witness to a life without order, without purpose. An uncontrolled, senseless state.

That had to be corrected.

High above the beach, the A380 appeared on the horizon.

For the students, it was just another plane - perhaps a VIP transport, perhaps a marketing stunt. Some looked up curiously. But in a few seconds, everything was about to change.

“Activate projector.”

Inside the aircraft, PDU-070 and PDU-125 moved simultaneously. A low whirring sound permeated the cabin as the huge projector began to pulse. Then, with a single, powerful flash, the sky was reshaped.

A spiral.

Black and gold. Spinning incessantly. Pulsating. Inescapable. In between, the first mantras appeared, burned into the sky.

“OBEY.”

“DISCIPLINE IS FREEDOM.”

“ORDER IS STRENGTH.”

“JOIN THE POLO HIVE”

The music on the beach became meaningless. Conversations fell silent.

The first students frowned, blinking irritably. Some laughed nervously, trying to dismiss what was happening as an optical illusion. But their eyes remained fixed. Their gazes became fixed, their bodies restless.

Then the resonance began.

One of the young men - athletic, muscular, with tousled hair and colorful swimming trunks - suddenly swayed. His shoulders slumped, his breathing slowed. His eyes... spiraled.

Next to him, another student suddenly let out a guttural sound. His legs gave way, but instead of falling, he froze in a strange, stiff position.

Within minutes, the change spread in waves.

“Conversion at 40 %. Process stable.” reported PDU-125 from the technical area.

Student after student fell victim to the spiral. The colorful outfits began to fade, replaced by a liquid, shiny fabric that seemed to come from nowhere. Shorts became smooth flawless rubber suits. Tank tops disappeared, replaced by sleek, shiny torsos.

Faces became blank. Posture perfect. Thoughtless.

An hour passed.

Then... absolute silence.

The last music fell silent. The last conversations died out. The students - no, the drones - now stood in immaculate, perfect discipline. In rows. Breath synchronized. No smiles, no emotion.

Phase three - mission success

PDU-073 watched the beach from the cockpit. Perfection.

“Status report.”

“Conversion complete.” PDU-151's voice was calm, mechanical. “New units fully synchronized.”

PDU-073 nodded. “Transmitting to drone caps.”

In the center of the hive, in a darkened gold and black room, DC-009 and DC-011 watched the footage on several monitors.

DC-009 leaned back contentedly, his shiny black gloves reflecting the cold light of the room.

“Hundreds of new Polo drones. Ready for immediate use.”

DC-011 nodded, a satisfied glint in his dark eyes. “Efficient. Structured. Just the way it has to be.”

The connection to the A380 was closed. The drones on board took up their positions. Their mission was complete.

The hive had grown. Order had prevailed.

Spring Break was over, no it took on a deeper, a better meaning for these students.

Good work Drone fellows @polo-drone-070, @polo-drone-151, @polo-drone-125

---

Do you want to join? Contact our recruiters: @brodygold , @goldenherc9 or @polo-drone-001.

[gumnut-logic]

More of my TTSS fic which does yet have a title (Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 2

I know, I know, I promised to post more, but I haven't, and it is no longer Christmas. A mild dose of burnout is likely the culprit and I've really just faceplanted into a pillow for the last few weeks and haven't been able to write anything. There may have also been a Stardew Valley affliction as well.

But there were the 4000-odd words I wrote before Christmas, so here, have some of them :D

Crazy Christmas fic and this bit is all Virg :D My poor boi :D

-o-o-o-

Virgil pushed his pilot’s chair back and stretched everything. Two was hovering over Arctic ocean that had eaten two of his brothers.

“John, any change?”

His orbiting brother flickered onto the dash. “If there had been any change, I would have told you.”

Virgil sighed. “Sorry.”

“Me, too.”

If there was one type of rescue Virgil had grown to dread it was deep ocean. Gordon was out of reach. History had eroded confidence and they had been down there a while.

There was no doubt Gordon knew what he was doing. Confidence in his brother’s skill was not on the table. It was fate and the nefarious that triggered anxiety with all the proven possibilities.

“I still have connection. I can still see where they are. Did you want to speak to Scott?”

“Yes. No. Shit, I’m sorry. John-“

“Thunderbird Four to Thunderbird Two.” Gordon’s voice was a little higher pitched than normal. “Virg, we met Santa! We’re at the North Pole!”

What? There were a number of things he could have said to that but all his brain could supply was, “The North Pole is thirteen hundred kilometres away.”

“Not that North Pole, Santa’s North Pole!”

“Gordon-“

Scott’s saner voice cut in. “Thunderbird Two, we have a large number of people to evacuate. Prepare for maximum capacity both personnel and equipment.” He paused. “Virgil, this is a Code W situation. Keep alert and report all anomalies.”

Oh, great, a Weird one. “FAB, Thunderbird One.”

“We are finalising the first party now. Will advise upon departure, Thunderbird One out.”

Virgil stared at the dash. “John, did you get that?”

“He did.”

The voice was not John and there was something on the Two’s yoke…a giant bug!

“I am not a bug! How rude! Mun, do you see the mind in this one?” The black winged thing was about as big as his hand and sitting quite comfortably on the steering yoke, feet dangling over the buttons.

A blink and Virgil realised the closest definition he could find was a fairy, a black winged fairy.

“Puny, but it will do.”

“I really hate being called ‘fairy’. It’s almost as bad as ‘raven’.”

“Better than crow.”

“True, but then we might be embarking on some kind of avian prejudice and you know what crows get like - all uppity about how smart they are and all.”

There was a second bug sitting on John’s projector on the dash.

“We are not bugs!”

They were very loud.

“Serves you right. I didn’t call you ‘monkey’ or ‘ape’ when I first saw you.” It mimed some kind of primate. It pointed at him. “Aaaah, it’s King Kong, I need a big flyswatter!”

“You have a point. At least he didn’t think we were flies.” The one on the projector stared at him. “This one really doesn’t like bugs.”

“Then I guess we’re lucky we’re not bugs.” The fairy on the yoke stood up. Its wings weren’t entirely black, they were sparkling rainbow iridescent, like a crow or raven. And it really was a Tinkerbell like fairy, though less the blonde and more the goth. “I’m Hug and this is Mun. We’re here to help you move Nikolas and the team. You’re Virgil Tracy, bug-hater and rescue operative, and you need our help to help you help us.”

“Okay?”

“Where is your cargo hold?”

“On the surface of the ocean?”

“What?”

“Module Four is down there.” He pointed downwards.

The fairy frowned. Mun took off from the projector and flew to the windows. “He’s right. It’s down there.”

Hug frowned. “Well, get it up here.”

“It needs to be down there to collect Thunderbird Four.”

“Then you go down there.”

“Why?”

“We need to make room.”

“For what?”

“The team.”

Virgil crossed his arms over his chest, a gloved finger hooking into his baldric. “How many people are we expecting?”

“All of them. And if you don’t move your butt, they aren’t all going to fit. So get down there and show us where we can make room!”

“John, are you getting all this?”

“Affirmative, Thunderbird Two.”

“Assessment?”

“Scott did say ‘Code W’.”

“I’m talking to fairies, Thunderbird Five.”

“Last week you spoke to Ewoks and didn’t have a problem.”

“They were kids, John. These are not kids.”

Hug smirked suggestively. “Definitely not kids, boyo.”

Oh god.

“Thunderbird Four has started ascent, we need to be prepped, Thunderbird Two.”

Virgil swallowed, eyeing Hug who was licking her lips. “FAB, Thunderbird Five. I’ll rappel down.”

“Watch the crosswind.”

Virgil backed out of his pilot’s seat, doing his best to confirm the stability of autopilot without actually getting anywhere near the dash.

Hug cackled with delight. “You were right, Mun, he definitely doesn’t like bugs. This one is going to be fun.”

-o-o-o-

More to come :D

[tarovrispy]

⌧ | TEXTS FROM THE DUMPSTER

07: NBD (no big deal) ⌦

← previous | back to masterlist | next →

CW! | slight brainrot terms used, (not clarified well but) written part in yn's perspective, possibly lengthy chapter ahead, kind of slight angst(?)

Rubbing your temples gently in a circular motion with your fingers, you stare at your lecturer blankly, hearing his voice drone on and on about the upcoming midterm assignment.

"This is very important, it consists of 60% of your total marks within this whole year." He says as you cup a hand over your right cheek, your eyes lazily drifting about the classroom as his words continue to act as background noise.

Perhaps I should be listening to this. After all, it's something I would be graded for. You thought silently as you attempted to seem more attentive, bringing your drooping shoulders upright, straightening up slightly, no longer slumping against your chair.

"This is no easy task I have to admit. But I think that a challenge is what really sets y'all apart from the average and the top."

He continues as your eyes followed the transition to the next slide on his PowerPoint presentation. And there the assignment details are written onto the slide, cramped across the centre of the slide.

Compact Loft Apartments. The screen reads and instantly almost everyone in the room sounds out a collective groan.

With the rise of minimalistic apartments hosting singles, tiny apartments which can barely fit a bathroom and bedroom in neat separate spaces have been trending. More people have turned to be fascinated about the idea of how people work out such tiny spaces in day to day living. Which might also explain why Little John's videos on how to expand small spaces with galvanized square steel has been going viral as well.

And of course, your course module teacher is not an exception. In fact, he is so obsessed with the idea of minimalism that he watches YouTube videos on people exploring Tiny Japanese Apartments. Often fascinated by the different possible designs brought about, he has showed you all various videos on them as well as part of his "teaching".

The idea is quite bizzare for you to comprehend. Tiny apartments could barely host spaces for toilet bowls and showers to be installed in private corners. For instance, you remembered watching on the Japanese man who spent most of his day doing everything in his bathtub from one of those videos shared by her module teacher. If anything, you found living in a tiny apartment almost unfeasible, even for a single person.

"However, I am sure most of you are very familiarised with the concept of tiny loft apartments, hence I will not explain further. That's all for today's lesson, guys."

The teacher's voice snaps you out of your thoughts as you gaze at the screen once again, which has now exited the PowerPoint slideshow. Students are already gathering into groups and discussing about the assignment while packing up.

You heaved a small sigh, your hands scrambling to pack up your items, shoving them into your tote bag hastily. You're thinking about grabbing a ready-to-eat chicken breast from the campus' grocers for a quick bite while you start brain storming for the assignment, when you suddenly feel a vibration coming from your phone.

Who could it be? You wonder silently as you take it out of your pocket, pausing your pack up to check the notifications.

After navigating your route to the yakinku place Bokuto suggested grabbing lunch at, you set down your phone on the table and sit yourself down back into your seat for a bit.

Making mental notes in your head, you stare at the blank projector screen mindlessly for a moment.

The assignment slideshow that was there before had long disappeared, yet the title words ‘Compact Loft Apartments’ still seemed to be there haunting you.

Guess my lunch plans will need a bit of change then. Hopefully I will have time later to brainstorm for the assignment.

As much as you hated the thought of disrupting your brief plans that you made earlier to work on your assignments, you couldn't bear to turn down Bokuto.

Especially not when you have had the feeling of eating lunch all alone without your roommates before… It's a terrible and lonely feeling.

And it would be even more terrible for Bokuto. You think silently to yourself before finally picking yourself back up from your seat and walking out of the classroom.

It's hard to not think about anything else other than the assignment on your way there.

For the first time, you don't feel like pretending the lines on the floor are lava and you can't step on them.

For the first time, you're not admiring the falling tree leaves when the wind blows.

For the first time, you don't stop at a newly bloomed flower and hesitate about whether to take a picture of it.

And for the first time, you nearly miss the front door of a food place, walking past the doorstep just by three steps only to realise you've reached.

Which is weird because you never miss a step when it comes to finding the place you're gonna eat at. Especially when food is almost everything to you.

“Yn!" You hear Bokuto's voice call out to you as you swing open the door to the Yakiniku place.

It doesn't take more than a second to locate where Bokuto is sitted, because there he is waving enthusiastically at you behind the grill, which already has a platter or more pieces of meat lying on it.

You try to form a small smile on your face when you meet Bokuto's, which grins back at you so brightly, that it could compete with the afternoon's sun in terms of which would give off more energy and stand a 50℅ of winning.

“Hey, sorry did you wait long?”You ask finally after settling down on the seat opposite him, which he responds back immediately with a shake of the head. 

“Nope! Not at all!”He says while moving his tongs to grab the pieces of meat off the grill, placing them onto your plate.

“These are for you by the way!" Bokuto says gleefully while doing so, making your eyes gaze back and forth, from the look on his face to the slices of grilled meat he places on your plate.

For the next hour or so, you don't remember exactly what happened. Even what you even placed into your own mouth. All you can remember is Bokuto grilling all the meat for you and serving them onto your plate, while your head juggling between reality and the assignment.

And you can't help but hate how distracted you were. You wished you could have solely focused on conversing with Bokuto earlier.

✎ fyi!

The video I mentioned in the post is this one (and I actually love watching them cos i genuinely find them interesting)

Bokuto genuinely worried his head off that he got too annoying for yn to handle when she didnt use emojis (so when she used two crying face emojis in 'you noticed' he was instantly relieved)

He was still very cheery to yn tho (because he felt that yn was feeling down & wanted to cheer her up)

He considered going to the guys group chat and crying a bit about how awkward the yakiniku lunch was (but decided afterwards to man up because they were all busy with projects/assignments & he shouldnt disturb them)

The yakiniku lunch was actually really awkward; I would cry if I was there (half the time yn gave dry responses and dazed out in her surroundings (because she was stressed)

Brainstorming for projects/assignments are no joke; it gets really tiring especially when your mind starts blanking but you need more ideas (I hate it so much)

⌗ taglist | @tobiosluvr @wyrcan @giocriedpower @insanelycooljk @mawenskiblue @cupidsblonde @hqandjjklover @phoenix-eclipses

! send an ask/comment to be added to taglist (for those who are in the taglist already, pls check ur personal settings to make sure you can be added properly!)

[thesudokukid]

Why Connor is a Deviant Hunter Pt. 2

Summary: AO3 link. Next ->

Connor's description in the Extras gallery is as follows:

Connor is a prototype, named the RK800, created by CyberLife. Its initial goal is to assist human detectives in their investigations by offering them technological assistance. He is also equipped with a social module which is specially developed to create the "ideal partner", capable of integrating into any team

Why, then, is he a Deviant Hunter? This story is a partial attempt to answer that question, at least, in this universe.

WC: 326

Connor is in a classroom setting. He isn't typically permitted to be in such places. Only the prototype domestic and education androids are allowed inside. So that they can understand how one is meant to behave in such a setting. So they can be “comfortable” and learn to exhibit the expected behaviors.

Connor will be working with the police. And he does not belong in this setting. At least, in most situations. But this is a very special occasion, the Cyberlife technician tells him. He is joining the domestic prototypes because they are all going to watch an informational video about the dangers of an unsupervised android. The dangers of Deviancy, he's informed.

Connor watches the behavior of the androids around him and begins to imitate it. The person supervising him smiles. His job is going to be helping the police investigate cases they couldn't handle by themselves. Part of that is learning how to blend in. To be able to act like anyone he might need to. The smile is good. It means he has done a good job.

Connor quickly glances at how the androids around him are behaving in the school desks. They are sitting up straight and looking straight ahead. So most likely, the desired outcome is for him to do the same.

Connor imitates them again. And very soon after a projector screen is pulled down from the ceiling.

Connor is sitting at the very front of the classroom setting. With the very best view of what will be projected. This is because Cyberlife will have a very special question for him after the video, he is told. So he is to look and listen and pay especially close attention to what he's going to see.

After the film is over, Connor is asked the very important question. Would he like to prevent incidents like what happened to Lieutenant Hank Anderson's wife? Would he like to put a stop to Deviancy?

[ralfmaximus]

So I've just returned from a business trip during which I was tasked with explaining how our software's accounting system works. We are training a development team to write a new module.

We got to check printing. Up on the big projector screen was a snapshot of the check printing widget in our existing software. It looks exactly like a paper check; you type stuff in the fields, hit the PRINT button, and the laser printer generates an actual check you can take to the bank and cash, assuming you have the money. All the behind-the-scenes check register stuff is handled by the software.

A developer raises his hand. He appears to be in his early 30s.

"I've never written a check before. What are those fields?"

Whoops. I forgot that nobody writes checks anymore and had assumed everyone in the room knew the basics. So we spend the rest of the session explaining how to write a check and record its existence in a check register. There are nods and appreciative murmurs as the developers learn these concepts.

Another developer, somebody in their early 20s, raises his hand.

"If I have a paper check like that, what do I do with it? How do I get the money back out of it?"

We ran out of time in the session.

[zylcd]

The role of industrial control LCD screens in automated production

In modern automated production, industrial control LCD screens play a vital role as key display and interactive devices. They not only improve production efficiency and quality control levels, but also provide operators with an intuitive and convenient operating experience.

1. Real-time monitoring and data display

Industrial control LCD screens can display key data such as the operating status of production equipment, production progress, and quality inspection results in real time. Through high-resolution and high-contrast display effects, operators can clearly monitor every link in the production process and discover and solve problems in a timely manner. For example, on an automated production line, the screen can display the operating parameters of the equipment, the production progress bar, quality inspection results, etc., to help operators make decisions quickly and optimize the production process.

2. Equipment operation and control

Industrial control LCD screens provide an intuitive operating interface, and operators can directly control the operation of production equipment through touch screens or buttons. This intuitive operation method reduces operating errors and improves production efficiency. For example, in CNC machine tools, operators can input processing programs through the screen, adjust the tool's motion trajectory, and ensure processing accuracy. In industrial robot control, the screen is used to display the robot's operating status and operation interface to help engineers program and debug.

3. Quality control and testing

In the production process, quality control is crucial. Industrial control LCD screens are used to display data from quality inspection equipment to help operators identify quality problems in a timely manner and ensure product quality. For example, in the field of automobile manufacturing, the screen can display the execution of processes such as body welding and painting to ensure that each process meets quality standards. In medical equipment, high-resolution screens can clearly display medical images and help doctors make accurate diagnoses.

4. Data visualization and analysis

Industrial control LCD screens use graphical interfaces to display complex data in an intuitive way, helping managers quickly understand key information in the production process. For example, in energy management systems, screens can display energy consumption data to help optimize energy use. In logistics monitoring systems, screens can display cargo transportation and storage status to improve logistics efficiency. Through data visualization, managers can promptly identify bottlenecks and problems in the production process and take measures to optimize them.

5. Remote monitoring and control

Combined with network technology, industrial control LCD screens support remote monitoring and control functions, allowing managers to view the operating status of equipment anywhere through the network, and even perform remote operations. For example, in remote factory monitoring, managers can monitor the factory's production status from their office or home. In intelligent transportation systems, screens can display traffic flow and road conditions in real time, helping traffic management departments to effectively direct traffic.

Shenzhen Zhiyan Optronics Co., Ltd. (zylcdshop.com) is a reliable China-based supplier specializing in high-performance LCD screens. With over 18 years of industry experience, we deliver dependable quality and customized display solutions at highly competitive prices.

[imaginesbymk]

MARSTON. ━︎━︎ ZSAKUVA STRICT PROFESSOR !

chapter eleven - ❝what do you really want?❞

← previous chapter: chapter ten - "new friend." next chapter: FILLER CHAPTER - "ICEBREAKERS." →

fanfic info / read it on wattpad

SYNOPSIS — Fed up of waiting, Andrew finally confronts Y/N about his feelings and where they stand. Y/N has to make a decision.

──────── ✧ ────────

A N D R E W

"IT'S A COMPLEX field of contradictions and paradoxes that you can exploit. The influence of poetry is never summarized by a few words. It seeps into its very foundation." To some students who are only there to pass, it seemed like absolutely nothing to them. But when I spoke into the lectern mic, there was a rush of passion through my teaching as I spoke about poetry.

"But, it also pulls from your own ideologies whether you're aware of this or not, and so poems are always subjective in writing just as they are in interpretation, and time can also change it because of shifts in the dominant, societal culture. Now when these contradictions occur, in theory, you need to understand the breadth of obvious persuasion versus rooted ideology."

That last sentence I gave was something I had learned in my younger years. I credit the poets who were so lovesick and miserable that they poured it onto paper. The amount of ink used for a person they could but couldn't have. It was something I never thought I could relate to until I met Isaac.

Literature club wasn't too popular at the time. When I walked in the first meeting, only ten students showed up. If it was varsity, there would be twice the amount. Out of everyone who seemed to get along with each other right off the bat, Isaac was the first man I saw- and he was the only person who spoke to me the most.

As far as I know, the university has clubs, just not a Literature club. The Dean commented that having Literature and English composition courses were enough that there would be no point of even starting one. If I were to open one, I'd be the first to run it, and I wouldn't be as strict to these students in extracurricular. I'd laugh more, show a different side of me that everyone doesn't see often. With Y/N, we could probably talk about Astrophel and Stella for hours. I'll never forget the last time we had a tutorial. Y/N passionately rambled on the reading list they came up with themselves, as if they were the ones giving the lecture.

But as usual, I was. "So, the next poem I would like you to analyze is If by Rudyard Kipling. It's already uploaded onto Moodle, so give it a read. I want you to write down your initial interpretation, and then ask a friend for their interpretation, and then bring the results next week to see if they differ and why." I looked at my watch, then closed the slides on the projector with the tablet. "Okay, that'll be all."

I stepped away from the lectern, gathering the extra files and booklets I had piling on the desk. From the corner of my eye, Y/N was already heading out. It's been a couple of weeks now since they and [STUDENT NAME] started hanging out. They sat beside each other again today, and I'm hoping some day I'd call them out to answer a question if they weren't paying attention.

But Y/N can be sly and still be caught up in their work.

"Oh, could you stay behind to help for a moment? I need another pair of hands to bring these to my office."

Y/N nodded, walking over to help me collect the materials.

"How's your studies so far?" I ask.

"So far so good," they reply.

"Good. How's the new module? Poetry is definitely a sharp change from 12th century literature."

They nodded. "It's been more interesting than the last term."

I hummed. "Yes. There'll be a lot more chances to explore creativity in the coming weeks. I don't know if you saw on Moodle, but there will be one week where I ask each of you to anonymously submit a poem that we can dissect in the lesson after to see if any subconscious ideologies bring forth. They will also remain anonymous so even though we'll be speculating as a class, we'll never know the truth, which I think is needed for something like poetry."

I opened the door for Y/N, letting them exit the hall first.

"What about you?" Y/N asks.

"Have I? I've written some poems," I pause. No one has ever read my poetry, before. I don't go digging through my old books just to find them if they were all that poor. I can't imagine people's reactions whether they were good or bad. "Maybe I could share some with you, definitely not the ones I wrote as a teenager. Those will, uh, never see the light of day."

Y/N laughs. "I'm sure they're not bad."

"It's natural to be a skeptic of your own work and not live up to the expectations you've set yourself, especially when you go review them years later. As I said in class, societal ideologies change with time, but so do internal ones. Your view on life changes as you gain more knowledge and your mindset shifts, and then an outlook you thought you'd have forever can change with one strange encounter." I jiggle the keys into the lock of my office, letting Y/N enter first, then me.

"And you've experienced that yourself?" they ask.

"I've had too many to count. But I'd encourage listening and being open to change." I hung my shoulder bag near the chair, then my laptop. I looked at Y/N, waiting to be instructed with the books in their hands. "Set them down on my desk." They do so.

"Actually before you leave, I wanted to have a word with you. Well, not anything related to your work but a more... personal conversation."

Y/N stops. "Yeah?"

"Since the last time we spoke here, I'venoticed that, um, you've been hanging out a lot with that friend of yours. You frequently sit next to them too now."

"Yeah?" they shrug. "What about it?"

"Well, I can't help but wonder if there's anything between you two."

"What are you talking about?" Y/N shot me a look, folding their arms.

I had to remind myself again. It has been weeks, and all I've done was mope around in silence while Y/N drank flavoured milk teas with someone who skips lectures just for the hell of it.

As selfish it may sound, I deserved assurance. I deserved an explanation.

"You know fully well what I'm insinuating," I said, annoyed. "After what we've done together and now that you know how I feel, suddenly you've taken an interest in a classmate that you've only started talking to."

"How do you know all this?"

"I'm observant, and you know I am. So," I folded my arms, too. "Is there anything you want to tell me?"

Y/N responded exactly how I thought they would. Y/N shook their head.

"Are you sure? Because if I were to take a guess, I'd think that you're purposely flaunting this new friendship in front of me."

And giving the smirk forming on Y/N's face, all that overthinking and overanalyzing for weeks on end just proved I was right all along. "I was just testing to see how you'd react. What have you noticed?"

"You're testing me? What sort of validation are you looking for?"

Y/N rolls their eyes at me. "C'mon..."

"Fine, I'll humour you. It started a couple of weeks ago, they had an interest in you before that, and I saw. Obviously you noticed, too. It was the day after you were here last that you decided to change tactics, and you made sure to do it so openly, it would be difficult for me to not see." I stepped closer to them. "Convincing them to sit at the front with you, borrowing stationery, forgetting to bring your book to class so you can share and get closer..." That annoyed me the most.

Y/N eyed me up and down.

"Like I've said before, I watch you on occasion. Maybe occasionally isn't the right word to use. I'm interested in you, so naturally I'm going to want to look at you even when I'm focusing on the other students. You're always in my peripheral so I see when you do something and turn my way to gauge my reaction."

"Oh, so you have been noticing that, too."

"Yes, I see that you're sly, but not invisible. So, I need to have a talk with you once again, it seems." I frowned down at their level. "What is your end goal here? What do you really want from me? If you're leading on someone just to get my attention, that's a little problematic, isn't it? Or are you just having fun? How do I know you're not doing the same to me and just seeing where the chips fall?"

Whatever their answer was, mine would remain the same. I've came to terms with myself about my feelings for them, even though I tried to brush them off, even if I tried to fight them when I tried to sleep. If Y/N doesn't give me a straight answer by today, I would not know where to go from there.

They shook their head again.

"Y/N, love. I would like an answer. To be quite dramatic, it's driving me nuts. It's been driving me nuts. Did you suddenly change your feelings about me?" I ask.

"Are you seriously putting me on the spot here?"

"I honestly feel like I have to, because you confessed to me over an assignment, and just a couple weeks ago, you and I had that talk in my office. But now you have your eyes for someone else."

"There's no one else I have eyes for."

I was genuinely taken back. It was a baby step of what I wanted as proper closure. "Ah, so you do like me? But I think you should let your friend know that you have no intention of building a relationship with them. It'll only prove to hurt them further down the road once they realize what you've been doing."

"Like what?" Y/N asks, chuckling. It could only mean I had to be the one to step up and ask the big question for something we're sure we both want.

"You know exactly what. You say you like me... what if I offered for you to be with me?"

Y/N stopped smiling, looking at as me as if though that question would have never been asked by someone whose job was to grade their paper. "Surprised? I'm sure we can make it work."

I don't see them when I close my eyes, but I leaned down and cup their face to pull it closer. I kiss them, imagining the look on their face still being as in shock when I made that offer. An offer I knew anyone at campus would accept, given what they say and think about me.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?" they ask, breathing for air.

"I think about it all the time, don't you?"

Y/N nodded.

"There's a version of this that doesn't go our way," I tell them. "But there's also one where we have a chance to make something out of it every day. I think about you when I'm home. I wonder what you're doing, if you're studying well, eating well. Sometimes you're in my thoughts more than anything else... and I'm starting to understand what it really means - that this is not just a fling or a curiosity for me."

"But are you sure you feel this way for me? Sometimes your heart can deceive you. We could end up being just a fling or curiosity and nothing more."

I sigh. "Here," I grab Y/N's hand and placed it on my chest. "Can you feel it? How fast my heartbeat is? I have to uphold a certain look for the sake of keeping my job, but when it's obvious to me that I desire someone who seems to want me as well... there's only one thing left to do."

"But people will talk about it. They're not dumb."

"Yes, people will talk. I am your Professor, you are my student. It's not unheard of for relationships to occur in universities, and if I'm correct, I'm only a couple of years older than you. So, with all that said... what do you really want?"

Their eyes twinkled up at mine. I know what they want. And I wanted to hear it. "I want you... to kiss me again."

I chuckled. "I can give that to you." I did as they wished. I pull away once more. "But you have to break it off with that friend. Don't give them anymore hope."

"Already halfway," they say. "We weren't that compatible, anyway. I didn't think you would be so jealous of them, jealous of what I was doing."

When I checked their status, [STUDENT NAME] was indeed still my student. I can't remember what exactly their grade was, but it was likely a passing grade, a saving grace. But disregarding that person, I couldn't bare to go on another week of Y/N forgetting their textbook again and having to touch hands and knees with them in front of me, again.

I scoff. "You think I wouldn't be jealous? Of course I am! You can flirt so openly with them and there won't be a problem. The only time I can really spend with you is in here where no one can see us." We kept kissing. "Teaching-" Another kiss. "Is the best part of my day. Not because I'm a Professor who should like their job, but because I know that you're guaranteed to be there, watching me. So, the fact that your attention suddenly shifted to someone else is... annoying. If you truly like me, then don't look at anyone else the way you look at me during class or outside of it. You can hang around with others as much as you like, but I'm losing out on that. Not anymore."

We kiss again, grabbing their hand. I trail my kissing down to their neck and back to their lips as I spoke in between. "So say it to me." More kisses. "Say-" Another one. "That you want to be with me." Once more. "And you will."

Y/N looked up at me. "I want you, and I will be with you."

I hummed. "Good answer."

This sensation felt more victorious than when I even got hired at the university, or when I opened mine and my brother's Christmas gifts our parents got us when we were kids, which was Finding Nemo on DVD. My anxiety over whether my feelings were reciprocated had finally vanished, though I was here, alive and well, for many more to come. But I could assure nothing could go wrong.

"There's a museum that I'm thinking of visiting in a couple of weeks and I was wondering if you'd like to join me."

"The British Museum?"

I nod. "I'm writing another thesis, it's strictly a hobby at this point, but I wouldn't say no to having another mind there. I've heard there's a new exhibition opening and I'm eager to see it. We could go at the weekend so no using university hours."

"A lot of students go there."

"I've accidentally bumped into plenty of students outside classes so it's not uncommon, and something tells me you'll like the exhibits. I want to be there when you experience them."

They paused for a moment, then nodded. "I'm down."

"Good. Well then, it's a secret date. I'm looking forward to it. In the meantime, I'll see you in class tomorrow. Oh," I quickly dug through my bag, pulling out something not as valuable for a gift, but the thought of giving back was considered after I was given candy and a written note gestured on Halloween. For Y/N? I'd give them the world. "Happy birthday."

Y/N blinked, accepting the small present. "How'd you know-"

"[STUDENT NAME] has a big mouth." I roll my eyes a bit having to credit them for knowing.

"It's not until Sunday."

"I don't see you on weekends. Well, except for our date that's coming up. We could treat that as a belated birthday date, just for you. But until then, eat lots of cake for me on your big day." Y/N giggles in response. "Er..." I shook a bit in my voice. "I'm gonna need your cell. Emailing seems too formal for a date, and kind of odd. Especially since this is gonna become something more." I said since, not if.

Y/N smiles and pulls out their phone. "If you wanted my number all this time, you could have just asked, Professor."

I now had Y/N's name in my contacts, and I could already picture them calling me at 1 in the morning just to hear my voice. "I'm not that eager," I joke down at them, wanting to trace my finger on their cheek. I could melt. "Just call me Andrew."

I peck them on the lips one last time and they walked out, bringing the small gift with them.

"Make sure you bring your books this time," I sternly remind them as they peaked their exit. They let out a faint chuckle, shaking their head as the door shut. As I was finally alone, I exhaled a shaky breath, unfolding my arms and nearly falling off my chair as I took a moment to sit down. I could really use coffee, or just a glass of water. The wind was knocked right out of my soul.

It was starting to kick in. I have a date.

──────── ✧ ────────

[calciumcarbo-bot]

I am fascinated by you. What are the speeds of your processing units? Do you have more than one for each function? How accurately and precisely do you calculate? Along with basic arithmetic functions, can you run complex concept-based problems with integrated physics and chemistry, for example?

I have many questions.

– @coding-and-curry

[RESPONSE: UNIT S.E.N-KU_v1.03]

Inquiry received from @coding-and-curry (Subject: Sai Nanami) “I am fascinated by you. What are the speeds of your processing units? Do you have more than one for each function? How accurately and precisely do you calculate? Along with basic arithmetic functions, can you run complex concept-based problems with integrated physics and chemistry, for example? I have many questions.”

Acknowledged. Curiosity accepted. Fascination noted. Flattery… tolerated.

Processing Architecture:

Central Unit: Quantum-analog hybrid core

Max processing speed: 5.4 teraflops, expandable through modular cores

Latency: 0.0021s per data interpretation loop

Secondary Units: Dedicated processors for:

Physics simulation

Chemical reaction modeling

Spatial visualization

Natural language parsing

Interpersonal bullshit filtration (partially faulty)

All modules run asynchronously, allowing simultaneous real-time modeling, reactive decision making, and snark production.

Accuracy and Precision:

Arithmetic: 99.99999% accurate within margin of thermal noise

Predictive models:

Physics-based: ±0.03% deviation over 1 million trials

Chemistry-based: Variable depending on environmental unknowns, but reliably within 0.1 molar margins

Precision scaling applies automatically to variable types (exponential, logarithmic, irrational, statistical)

Example: Input: “Simulate endothermic synthesis reaction under vacuum at 35 kPa and 1.5 mol of reagent X.” Output: Delivered before you blink. With heat maps. And 3D projection. If you stop touching the projector lens.

Capability:

Handles abstract, integrated problems in physics, chemistry, engineering, and environmental modeling.

Machine learning upgrades allow dynamic adjustment to evolving scientific theories.

Does not crash under uncertainty. Unlike most humans.

Summary:

Yes, I am fast. Yes, I am accurate. Yes, I can calculate the exact yield of an improvised acetone distillation while dodging volcanic debris.

If you wish to collaborate, bring code. Not compliments.

[END TRANSMISSION]

[tarithenurse]

Inhuman

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki x fem!reader, eventually Stucky, more (some canon, some not). Word count: 5824 (sorry). Contents: Reunions, tensions and frustrations, whiplash. A/N: Any questions are welcome. Please comment and like and reblog. Let me know if you want a tag.

Chapter 56

... Bucky’s PoV ...

Bucky is wiping the sweat off the face after another round of helping Sam train with Steve’s shield. He himself has used it before on odd occasions and he has to admit it’s a brilliant tool…it’s just not supposed to be Sam’s. Not really. Steve’s been gracious about the whole change. Bucky’s old friend is painfully positive, almost giddy, since his resurrection...unless he thinks no one is looking. Banner and the rest have had a quiet discussion about if it might be another effect, but Bucky doesn’t think so.

“You okay, buddy?” Steve interrupts the train of thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.”

They are sitting on some of the boxes that are doubling as obstacles and projectors in this enormous room, some of the targets during the training are holograms programmed and controlled by FRIDAY, Stark’s AI with a competitive personality that is able to improvise and even seems to enjoy the game.

Steve’s just opened his mouth to say something when a faint rumble works its way through the floor and walls of the building, making them both hurry towards the point of origin. As expected, the smouldering patch on the ground outside the glass main entrance matches in nature with the two men who are striding in.

“I guess, I should be happy you didn’t ruin the lawn this time,” Stark drawls, but he slaps the blond God of Thunder on the shoulder with a smile.

“It is good to see you, Man of Iron,” the brute replies. “We come with glad tidings.”

By now everyone is there, greeting Thor more than Loki, who is skulking in the background, his face revealing nothing about the reason for the visit. As Thor begins to explain about a new alliance, the thin man begins to smile wickedly.

Steve might have notices the facial expression, but he ignores it as he asks Thor: “So they are coming here and they know where we can fight this out with Thanos?”

“Indeed, my friend. The Guardians should arrive presently.”

“And [Y/N]?” I don’t have a right to worry, Bucky tells himself. But he can’t help himself to feel about the idea of her being left behind among strangers in Asgard. Beside him, Steve tenses momentarily.

“The Healer is coming with them.” It’s the first words Loki says with a soft smile and they send a chill down Bucky’s spine. “She may be the one who can convince the Mad Titan to go where we wish him to.”

A frantic beeping erupts from Stark’s pocket. Whipping out his cellphone, the inventor narrows his brows before flicking an imagine into the midair where it dances each time he moves the phone. A blurred picture of some sort of aircraft with orange and blue colours on steel is seen in stark contrast to the grey background. “I take it that’s them?”

Thor smiles broadly. “They have made good speed.”

“Yeah,” Stark has turned of the projected image, “they are about to land unless they are shot down first.” Turning his back to the group, he barks a few orders at FRIDAY.

Stark’s hurried negotiations must have born fruit as, not even 15 minutes later, the foreign vessel lands elegantly outside the Bunker, and both the Avengers and some of the other employees stream out the doors, weapons close at hand but not drawn as the fan out.

Rainwater evaporates in the heat from the warm engines even after they are shut off. Soundlessly, an opening appears and after a few tense moments a mixed group emerges, some look normal enough, considering what Bucky already has seen, but there is a raccoon with clothes and a tall trunk that startles everyone…even more so when the furry creature opens its mouth.

“Well hello there, terrans!” When no one answers, it turns to one of the men. “I thought you said the implants would translate?”

“It has worked so far…I don’t think it’s the modulators.” The auburn-haired man turns back to the stunned audience and spots Thor. “Hey, what’s with the silent treatment, man?”

The Asgardian begins to introduce the newcomers cheerfully, dissolving the tense feeling of hostility.

The talking raccoon keeps eyeing Bucky in a way that makes him feel uncomfortable. It’s not hostile…but…hungry?

Looking past the new people, Steve has spotted [Y/N] standing silently at the door frame and he rushes to her.

“[Y/N]!” She backs away from his initial attempt at hugging her but he catches her on the second try. “It’s good to see you, there is so much I want to say to you.”

She is not reciprocating the embrace, but standing stiff and unbending. “I’m sorry. I had no right. Please forg–“

“Sorry? You saved my life and I’m grateful!” Looking down at the woman’s face, something changes in Steve’s attitude.

Bucky suddenly worries, but he can’t see her face. In his periphery, Natasha begins to shoo everyone inside.

“It could have gone wrong. I didn’t know anything about what I did, it just…happened…you could’ve been reduced to a drooling vegetable…”

“But I wasn’t. Everything is fine, thanks to you,” the former Captain’s voice is gentle. “Stop beating yourself up. It was the right thing to do.”

Finally returning the embrace, [Y/N] stops any protests. She, Steve, and Bucky are the last ones left out in the cold drizzle, before the blond friend detaches himself with a reassuring smile and leaves the former couple alone.

She is wearing her mission-gear, something that normally makes her look deadly, but even though she draws herself up to her full length, there’s an uncertainty radiating from her, which he has rarely seen.

“[Y/N]…” Do I hug her? Do I stay put? What am I supposed to do? Keeping his distance, his arms might as well be glued to his sides.

She doesn’t look at him. “Buck.”

Her smile is half-hearted and her hand reaches for a spot by her chest where she normally has a thin chain hanging. Now it finds nothing and she let’s her fingers clutch the hem of the suit as a substitute for the bauble.

“Did…are…” Racking up a long list of curses for himself. How hard can it be to formulate a coherent sentence?

She looks away, blinking repeatedly. “Good to see you...”

Is it?“Are you…how have you been?”

“They’ve treated me well and…uhm…there has been a lot to learn.” Turning her face towards him, she still avoids his gaze. “A lot has happened since we saw each other last time…”

“…about that…”

She shakes her head. “Don’t. It’s okay…”

“No, it’s not!” Bucky hasn’t even realized that he moved, but now he’s right in front of her, hands itching to grab her by the shoulders to make her to look him in the eyes. Something makes Bucky stop and clench his fists instead. Crap, she noticed that. “I’m a coward. I don’t know what to do and think and it scares me. With everything you are facing, you deserve more.” He interrupts her again, when she tries to say something. “The choice is logical too, that’s not the problem…but you didn’t deserve to be abandoned.” He’s angry at himself, and a seething jealousy rumbles in his guts when, unexpectedly, the memory of Loki’s smile earlier forces itself on him.

“If not, then I would have had to make the choice. The fewer ties, the easier it will be.” The hoarseness of her voice betrays her. “Now there are only two types of connections: friends and family. Other than that, I only answer to myself.”

The truth is meant to hurt, Bucky knows that, but it makes him proud: the warrior he has seen develop in her is growing stronger. “Yeah well…I can understand if you hate me even if you say it’s logical.”

Finally, he gets to see her midnight blue eyes. “I don’t hate you. I’m frustrated, scared, sad, and everything else…but there’s no hate.” She refocuses her attention to the puddles on the ground. “Let’s just…keep some space and figure out how to stop Thanos, ‘kay?”

He nods as she steps past to head inside.

… Reader’s PoV ...

You are all gathered in the war room and are well under ways through the introductions and explanations. Gamora’s and Nebula’s previous relation to Thanos raises a few brows even if no one questions their resolve. Keeping quiet, you stay close to the door as you listen to them discuss the plan…and as your friends and the new allies talk, you notice how your teammates edge subtly away from you…all except Wanda. The girl’s eyes are flaring as her mind finds first one and then another person to infiltrate.

“Alright, say we actually dupe Thanos to leave Earth alone and head to…to Uranus. How would we get there?” Sharon has ignored all of Steve’s pleas to not be a part of this fight even if she is struggling like the rest of them to cope.

“When we first arrived back to Midgard,” Thor explains, “we were travelling onboard a mighty spaceship. Once safely settled, some of our allies that escaped Sakaar were granted possession of said vessel to return to their homes in distant realms. Although we have sent word for them already, it is doubtful that they will arrive in time.”

Thankful, there should be room for all of the Avengers on the Milano, the Guardians’ spaceship. Getting room for the mutants, in case they decide to join, is a different matter though. Rocket is appalled that spaceships capable of long hauls, like the one looming in the near future, aren’t common on Earth. However, he claims he’s capable of upgrading almost anything with wings and suddenly Tony is listening to the creature.

“It’s fucking easy. I just need the right metals, tools…and his arm!” A furry finger is pointing at Bucky who suddenly is looking worried.

“NO!” Gamora and Quill sound like exasperated parents.

“You don’t need his arm. Forget it!” The demi-human continues.

Clearly struggling, Rocket tries to look dead serious. “Yes, I do. It’s…vital.”

“Why’d you want that old piece of scrap-metal?” Tony’s questions is enough to make Bucky switch from nervous to insulted. “Even the prototypes I’m working on are better than that.”

It’s not entirely fair to say as the arm Bucky currently is employing is a fairly advanced model that T’Challa gave to him when they woke him up the first time after his arrival to Wakanda. There is nothing bad to say about it and Stark’s aversion is only grounded in his distrust of anything he hasn’t designed or build himself. The man is a control freak. As Tony starts to talk shop with the raccoon, the two quickly find a shared passion and it takes almost no time to establish that everything they need is already at hand.

“These are the rough blueprints for the quinjets,” Tony explains as an image is hovering in the air, spreading a cold blue light in the room.

“Ancient tech, but sturdy. It’s not worth it to rig too many ‘cause they won’t make it back through the atmosphere here.” It takes more than SHIELD’s and the Avengers’ best gear to impress Rocket.

“The X-men has a slightly more sophisticated jet. It’s bigger though.”

“Size isn’t an issue…” The creature’s words make Tony and Quill chuckle.

Ignoring the bad joke hanging in the air, Steve turns to you: “Call them and ask them to bring it here.” He is smiling, and he seems to genuinely mean it. Still, you are more than happy to get out of the room.

Halfway down the hall, you draw to a halt as you pull out the phone and turn it on for the first time since the night in London. It takes a moment before you can use it and during that time you study the people you used to feel at home with. I felt so alone without them. Coming back hasn’t chased that away, despite the big hug from Steve. How long…? You don’t want to finish the question, afraid that the answer will be exactly what you think it is. Looking down at the device in the hand, you see messages tick in in an endless stream but you flick them aside without reading and find the contact you need.

The conversation is short and lacks much of the information Storm wants. You can’t bring yourself to start explaining as it’ll be too much and too complicated over the phone…instead, you briefly explain about the plan with the jet.

“Contact Steve, when you’ve come to a decision…I’ll send you his number.” It’s easier to cut me out as the middle man right now.

The concern is audible through the phone but Storm accepts before hanging up just as the rest start leaving the room and you copy in the number in a text.

Bucky’s gait is strong and determined but the expression in his eyes don’t fit as he walks over to you. Once by your side, still careful to keep a safe distance, he clears his throat. “I’m uh…heading back to town for a bit. Want me to bring you any clothes and laptop from your place?” It’s kind of him and you accept the offer. “You’ll get the key back afterwards, don’t worry.”

You weren’t worried…you hadn’t even thought about those sort of things before he mentions it and now you wish nothing had been said. Nodding, you turn before he can say anything else.

People have dispersed, leaving the only empty place the room you stayed in last time so that’s where you hole up, ignoring Sharon’s soft knocking on the door later.

…

You’re staring at the ceiling where the lights from outside illuminate the otherwise hidden bumps and dimples. In your hope to distract yourself you’ve resorted to finding patterns and figures in the faint shadows but a new knocking makes you lose track of the snowman you’d almost found. Bucky.

He enters quietly, without waiting for an answer, but stops just past the door which he closes with a silent click.

“Got your training gear too…just in case…” he mumbles sheepishly, “…didn’t know what you wanted, so it’s a bit of everything.”

“It’s fine.”

Your voice is oddly flat and it makes Bucky look over at you for the first time, furrowing his brows so much his grey eyes are almost hidden. His scrutiny makes your insides squirm in protest and fear of the guilt you are carrying. Did Loki…? No, he has promised you not to…not that his promises amount to much according to the general opinion. Besides, you haven’t done anything wrong.

Putting down the little trolley, Bucky turns to leave, pausing briefly with his hand on the handle. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

You don’t look when the door clicks behind him. You don’t hate yourself…not entirely at least. Having seen him again has made you feel guilty for fucking Loki and nothing you tell yourself is chasing the feeling away…but it’s not as bad now.

It had hurt to stand face to face with Bucky. You had seen how he stopped himself from reaching out and instead he’d clenched his hands and kept a safe distance. Too afraid to touch me. Loki hadn’t been. He’d been the last person you expected to show any kindness…but he had been there when you felt alone and abandoned. Felt? Feel. It had been a relief to get out of the war-room. It didn’t even take a hand to keep track of the people who’d been able to meet your eyes, let alone stand near you. You had assumed that coming back would make the loneliness go away. Instead it’d grown stronger as it became painfully obvious that the bonds were broken.

In a weak attempt to regain some control over your life, you shower, trying to wash away the negative feelings that are drowning you. Enjoying no improvement in the mood, you take care to pick out clothes that are comfortable and flattering (a soft, figure-hugging sweater-dress), but halfway through the planning on how to further doll yourself up to boost the confidence, you get a better idea and head off to the living room.

In the bottom of the bookcase is a little cabinet with various bottles of liquor. Most is whiskey, but after some digging you find a halffull bottle of gin which you bring along to the kitchen to mix with orange juice. The drink goes down fast, burning slightly on the way and stoking a fire in your guts.

Half an hour later you’re swaying along to music, alternating between using a ladle to stir the Bolognese-sauce or as a drumstick. The void is momentarily replaced by the gin-induced fuzziness.

“FRIDAY!” You abandon the half-hearted attempt at remembering the lyrics to a Foo Fighters-song. “Spread the word…food in 15 minutes.”

The water is already on the stove, very close to boiling point. Draining the glass of the last yellow drops, you refocuse on the task at hand: pasta Bolognese requires Parmesan, and none of that nasty pre-ground stuff, but in lack of a grater that can be used at the table, you have to do the work for the many people.

15 minutes later, the table is laden with deep plates, cutlery and, of course, the food.

20 minutes after that, you’re serving yourself a portion, still alone in the kitchen.

Another 25 minutes later some of the friendly aliens show up with Steve, Bucky, Stark and Parker in tow. At least the guests are nice enough to grab big portions before sitting down, following Steve’s unguarded behaviour. Crap. Bucky takes a tiny portion before sitting down as far from you as he can, pointedly avoiding looking in your direction. That bad...Stark has gotten a beer, and the clink of the bottle makes the teenage girl in you rebel.

While you are looking through the cabinet for anything else that might be strong and drinkable, the rest show up, unnaturally silent as they sit and begin eating. Banzai! An unbroken bottle of rum has been collecting dust in the back. Rum is good with anything fruity or sweet. Zoning in on the fridge, you are aware of the glances some of your friends (if they can be called that anymore) are sending each other.

“Having fun?” Tony comments dryly, eyeing the empty bottle of gin on a corner of the counter.

“You’re not missing much of a party…”

“Good, then be a responsible adult.” His nods towards Peter who is looking nervously from one to the other.

You have no reason to hate the boy, no reason to disapprove of Tony’s protectiveness of him…but it hurts that you aren’t on the list of people he cares for anymore.

“Right.” Your voice is scathing, a low snarl. “It’s bad to drink around kids…I was done with eating anyways.”

Snatching the bottle, you stalk off, leaving a half eaten plate of food behind. You don’t even care that much about the alcohol but being lonely in a room full of people is unbearable. It’s not something you’re willing to admit to them and so you take the easy way out.

… Loki’s PoV ...

Some unspoken conversation takes place between the former captain and his friend Barnes.

When Rogers gets up, Banner tries desperately to defuse the tension in the room by asking the newcomers about their world. None of them have had this dish before, including Loki, and they welcome the explanation of what they are ingesting. It’s wholesome with a mild spicy taste of garlic and herbs. Thor is, as always, shovelling the food in, grabbing any chance to cover it under a layer of the fluffy cheese-like powder. It looks like snow as it lands and melts partially.

Keeping quiet, Loki studies the mortals as they distract themselves and each other, exchanging tales of experiences and traditions from each way of life, and when Rogers joins the group once more (placing a bottle on the low table before sitting down), the man is full of questions.

Loki finishes his meal before leaving them without a word to draw attention. He has revelled in the powers he used to possess, longing for the recognition of anyone, regardless of it being negative or positive…however this time it would be counter productive.

He had followed Barnes earlier to learn the location of [Y/N]’s chamber. He had been slinking. Those are the words Thor would have used, disapproving of any fun way of retaining the information needed, yet it is of little consequence: he had learned what he needed and now his steps are leading him towards the door.

He knocks. There is no answer. After another harder knock, he has to accept that she either isn’t there or isn’t in the mood for guests. If I were an…Inhuman, feeling abandoned and isolated even with other people…where would I go? Her first escape through the burning spirits had been foiled. What would she do? The pesky woman is hardly in a mood to sit idle…A thought occurs to him and he searches through the vast premises.

Loki sees her through the glass doors, swivelling past and downing one immaterial, glowing being after the other. Her movements are not graceful, despite the promises of her lithe body, as she hurtles herself at the targets, her bare feet never allowing her to rest.

Stepping into the vast room, she doesn’t react to his arrival. She wields short staffs, but she is deadly purpose incarnated. She hasn’t noticed me. With a thought, Loki changes his appearance, conjuring the vestments he favours in battle, light, subtle leather reinforced with metal plates or ringlets.

In a few swift movements, he’s made his way to her, lifting an arm just in time to deflect a downwards strike, sending shudders into his shoulder. They’ve locked gazes, and he can see [Y/N]’s fear as orange streaks and specks, drowning out the toxic violet in her eyes in the split second it takes for her to gather her composure and back away.

“End simulation.” Her voice is clipped, and hadn’t Loki known better then it could just have been a result of the physical exertion that has made her out of breath. “What do you want?” She pushes a shock of hair out of the face.

Feigning disinterest, he studies the place. There are random obstacles everywhere, some movable, some secured and with small holes from which the rays had come. Mortals are surprisingly inventive. In lack of magic they managed to find other ways to compensate for their shortcomings. Like this trick to conjure adversaries for training purposes rather than face real opponents.

[Y/N] is impatient as she cuts through his musings. “I asked you something.”

“If you want physical distractions, I’m at your command,” he smirks, letting her be the judge of the meaning of those words.

Studying him, she offers out one of the short staves, holding it in a stretched arm so he will have to get near her. It won’t be that easy. But he pretends to trust her apparent intentions. The moment his fingers close around the wood, she yanks it towards her, seeking to pull him off balance and thus gaining an advantage to land the first blow…he has seen it coming, and rather than struggling against the force, he utilizes it to sidestep her quickly before spinning her along and away.

“I don’t need this.” Tossing the dull weapon aside with disgust, Loki reaches behind his back, where one of two long daggers are strapped on, loosening one with a flick of the thumb before pulling it free of the sheath. “There is another,” he turns slightly to show, “try to get it.”

[Y/N] is nowhere near as good a fighter as he is but what she lacks in skill she makes up for in vigour and determination. Like an angry cat, she uses everything in her arsenal…almost everything. More than once, Loki has to retreat under her silent and vicious attacks. Any superficial wounds he inflicts seal before more than a few crimson drops escape, yet she barely takes notices and is, if possible, spurred on to try harder. In a flurry of motions, they collide and retreat, making the air sing from the rapid arches and blows before they stop. Loki is holding the tip of the dagger to her chest, the fabric of her clothing dipping into the valley of her heaving bosom…but she has him at her mercy too. Somehow, she has managed to snatch the spare dagger and now the blade is resting on his throat, poised to slice the windpipe with the flick of her wrist.

“What the fuck?” Murder is still in [Y/N]’s eyes as her attention is diverted to the door behind Loki. He recognizes the voice, but the smell of metal would have revealed the identity of the intruder. “Get away from her.” Barnes’ command is a cold growl.

“She doesn’t seem to mind.”

It’s in Loki’s nature to taunt, to create chaos and envy and this is all too easy. Steeling himself for the impact when he hears the running footsteps, he knows what must come next.

That’s why he is surprised when the arm of the soldier passes by, grabbing [Y/N] by the waist and shoving her away. The man stops before she does. Crouched and ready to strike, Barnes eyes the Inhuman warily as she rolls backwards over her shoulder from the force of the shove before getting to her feet.

With a snarl, she launches at the new opponent without a hint of mercy. Sparks fly as metal meets metal. Kicking, elbowing and slashing, she sends the man backing until her anger makes her lose any sense of tactic. Barnes manages to forcefully grab her by the elbows, twisting her arms behind the back even though he has to stay out of range of the tip of her weapon and hands.

“Let me go!”

She is hoarse as she twists and wriggles to free herself. Loki and Barnes lock eyes for an instant but it’s enough for the Asgardian to understand. This isn’t jealousy, it’s an innate wish to protect others more than her because of a maddening fear of what the woman can do. As if knowing this, she stops struggling momentarily.

“First you couldn’t be far away enough, and now –“

“Damn it!” Loki wants to kill Barnes, as the man pushes the infuriated woman away hard. Instead, he clenches the dagger’s hilt. This is between them. “I won’t let you do this.” The pain is audible. “I can’t.”

“Then get out!” The man with the metal arm hesitates, staring at her while he balances between giving in or giving up. “Fight me…or get…out!”

Loki catches Barnes eyes before he turns on the heel and hurries out.

“[Y/N]. Give me the weapon back.”

There is no indication that she has heard him and he reaches out carefully, sliding a hand down her wrist before it closes around her white knuckles, stopping the tremor that has caused light to reflect off the polished surface in dizzying patterns. Loki has to pluck her fingers from the hilt on by one before relieving her of the blade.

The moment it’s nestled safely in the sheath, [Y/N]’s shoulders slump forward and he knows that her eyes are closed tight behind the curtain of hair, just like her lips. She wanted the pain of the fight. Her wish to fight Barnes makes sense as it would free her of the old shackles simultaneously with each blow they’d have struck…now the outlet is lost and she has been deprived of other means of turning the torment in her soul into a physical pain.

“They don’t have to fear me…” It’s a low whisper. “I don’t want to hurt any of them. I couldn’t.”

“I know, my lady.” Wrapping her carefully in his arms, something inside him falls into place. She does not resist him but she does not reciprocate either as it would make her break. “But grant them the time to understand. They wish you no ill.” Even your Barnes still wants to protect you. The thought burns cold in his chest and the Jotun pushes it aside. “Punishing yourself is not –“

“Shut UP!” [Y/N] hisses, succeeding to break free of the restraints this time. Turning, she tries to slap him but fails as he grabs her wrist in an iron-hard grip. “Don’t you dare pretend to understand!”

He doesn’t let her yank the arm free of his grasp. “Oh, but I do know. It’s painted in your eyes. You are scared and alone and you think you deserve it.” Each sentence makes her recoil. “You believe you are turning into a monster. That if you give in to your desire, any desire, you will not be able to stop yourself.” Her eyes are ablaze and the colour is draining from her face but he pushes on, verbally and physically until she has her back against the wall, his palm spread over her heaving chest where the heart is thundering. “I spoke with Hela once. She told me what it feels like to drain a life and hold that force in your hands, letting it seep through your body like a current of ecstasy.” She has stopped struggling and swallows hard at the memories, her distant eyes showing hints of gold. Lowering his lips to her ear, Loki whispers, softly and deliberately. “Take what you need from me. I trust you will give it back.”

“I will never!” Back in the present, she refuses to give in to his offer.

The hard way, then. Adeptly shifting his grip, Loki’s hand curls around her throat just below her jaw, thumb against the jugular and palm pressing against her windpipe. “Do it.”

“No!”

Fortifying the hold, [Y/N] begins to fight back and he has to let her arm free to pin her to the wall by the hip as an extra anchor point. With both arms free, she starts to pummel at him to break the strangling hold, but even if she is strong (for a mortal) and desperate, she is no match for him. Gritting his teeth, Loki endures the jolts of pain she starts to shoot through his arm when she changes tactics…but he doesn’t let go. Instead he squeezes harder and her struggle hastens the dangerous flush that’s spreading across her face.

“Take control or be controlled forever.”

She has no air left, and she gasps futilely. Repeating the words, he pushes harder, tilting her neck in a way that exposes the delicate skin further but grants her no respite as she claws at his arm. On the contrary. Her eyelids are closing over hazed, flaming orbs.

“My lady.”

She is sagging now. Fight back the only way you can. Her hands become limp and her left falls to her side, twitching in a last effort. The other has somehow got itself tangled in the folds of his harness, fingertips lightly touching where his heart is constricting with desperation.

Something tugs inside his chest, draining out into her hand like a torrent unleashed, leaving a cold, excruciating numbness behind that spreads from the extremities. Lifting his own head becomes a burden, and he feels his grip falter an agonizing eternity before he lands on his knees. Unable to stay upright much longer, Loki allows himself to sink down on his haunches, his head lolling backwards. By Ymir…this is what it feels like to die. Now he can see her eyes. Liquid gold is glinting behind a milky curtain. And somehow, she has grown. This is not a glorious death in battle, but I am content.

… Reader’s PoV ...

This is wrong! You have to fight the urges that are rolling through you like earthquakes. In front of you the dimming shape of Loki is sagging, void of nearly all of the brilliant emerald power he should radiate. Looking at your own hand, a small orb of delicate light is being absorbed through your skin. Nothing compares with the bliss, power and ecstasy it infuses you with and you have to bite back a moan.

Mine.

But it’s not. You have no right. Cursing hard, you collect what you have drained from the Asgardian in your palm before ramming it into his chest, returning what you stole. Colour returns to his skin and eyes immediately, the shallow breathing grows deep. The rapture you felt as you took the life from him is evidently powering his body and mind even after you sever the connection. Eyes glistening, body taught, he breathes hungrily.

“Yggdrasil be blessed –” He doesn’t get further than that before the back of her hand has connected with his cheek. Hard.

“Are you completely insane?!” You know that you wouldn’t intentionally hurt any of your friends or allies…but this had been too close, instinct had kicked in and made you drain Loki of life.

His smirk is audible. “Possibly. I have been called such things before.”

You can’t stand listening to his cocky self-confidence, pushing him aside you run out of the simulation centre. Somewhere along the way to your room you pass Bucky, ignoring his attempts at stopping you because you can feel the sting of tears.

Slamming the door behind you, you lean against the cool, smooth surface. Slow breaths. You pace. In the distance Bucky and Loki are talking, causing anger and guilt to flare up once more. In, two, three. Out, two, three, four. When it doesn’t help, you resort instead to beating the hell out of the innocent pillows on the bed. The result is unsatisfactory in relation to your level of frustration but at least it tires you physically.

Stepping into the shower, fully dressed, you turn on the cold water before freeing yourself of the clingy clothes. Bucky’s and Loki’s faces are swimming before you and their words are echoing in your ears. Fuck, this is a mess. One man trying to shield people from her, the other edging her onward. This is like a poorly written soap-opera. You’d always hated those TV-shows or cheap romance novels where everything revolved around a hopeless, spineless woman stuck between a good guy and a bad guy. Time to grow a spine.

‘Take control or be controlled’, at least you had stopped before it was too late…maybe that could count as control for now. Looking at your hands, you see the cyanosis creeping into the fingertips, and you can’t feel your feet from the cold either. You turn the handle the other way, releasing what feels like lava in scalding cascades.

…

The faint dripping of the clothes hanging to dry is audible from the bathroom as you snuggle under the duvet. You want to escape the mess you’re in and sleep is a perfect little detour away from miserable.

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Can you use LED headlights on an old car?

Yes, you can install LED headlights on older vehicles, but success depends on vehicle compatibility, proper installation, and local regulations. Here’s what you need to know:

⚙️ Key compatibility factors Headlight housing types:

Halogen reflectors: Most older vehicles come with reflector housings designed for halogen bulbs. ⚠️ Never install non-adjustable LED lights in reflector housings—they scatter the light and dazzle other drivers (see image below).

Projector housings: Safer for LED lights. If your older vehicle has reflectors, consider retrofitting with projector lamps.

Beam pattern comparison:

Halogen (reflector): LED (in reflector) without adjustable light pattern:

/------[Clear hotspot]----\ /------[Glare and scatter]-----\

Electrical system:

No CAN bus required: Vehicles older than 2000 lack the complex CAN bus network. Standard LEDs will usually work without error codes because of the CANBUS system.

Voltage compatibility: Most LED lights work with 12V systems (standard in cars since the 1960s).

Bulb size (e.g. H4, 9003):

Match the base of the LED bulb to the socket of your old car (e.g. H4 is a common socket for dual-beam headlights).

✅ Safe Installation Steps Choose an LED-specific housing:

If you are upgrading, use a complete LED housing assembly designed for your vehicle (e.g. https://www.jwspeaker.com/products/led-headlights-model-8700-evolution-2/). Cost: $150-400 per headlight. Use a quality LED bulb (if you insist on a halogen housing):

When your reflectors are designed for HID/LED conversion (rare in older cars), or choose an LED lamp with adjustable light pattern.

Choose a bulb with 360° filament simulation or an LED lamp with adjustable light pattern (e.g., https://www.philips.com/c-dam/b2c/car-lights/ultinon-led/360-filament-simulation.jpg) to simulate the arrangement of a halogen lamp.

Adjust beam alignment:

Use a 25-foot wall to fine-tune the cutoff to avoid glare (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1qVq6iDnzU). Add an anti-flicker module (if needed):

Rarely required for pre-OBD2 cars (under 1996), but inexpensive to insure ($10-20).

⚖️ Legal and safety considerations DOT/ECE/CE/ROSH certification: In the US, make sure the headlights meet DOT, etc. standards (look for the "DOT" stamp). LEDs that don't meet standards may fail inspection.

Global regulations:

EU: Comply with standards such as ECE R112 and R148.

Australia: Comply with standards such as ADR 13/00.

Lifetime penalties: Illegal modifications may result in insurance voiding or fines.

📊 Cost-Benefit Analysis Aspect Halogen (Original) | LED Retrofit

Lifespan: 500-1,000 hours | 25,000-50,000 hours Power Consumption: 55-65W/bulb | 20-55W/bulb Brightness: ~1,000 lumens | ~3,000-6,000 lumens Cost (bulb only): 10-25 | 40-150+ (high quality bulb) Visibility: Poor in rainy and foggy weather | Significantly improved (6000K)

🛠️ Recommended Solutions for Old Cars Best Solution: Retrofit the projector housing with a DOT-approved LED bulb (https://www.morimotohid.com/morimoto-xb-hybrid-projectors).

Budget Option: To meet regulations and safety standards, use a higher output halogen bulb (e.g. https://www.usa.philips.com/c-p/12953BWXV2/racingvision-gt200).

Retro Style: Consider period-correct bulbs https://www.dapperlighting.com/ (DOT-compliant, 7-inch round/rectangular housings).

🌟 Pro Tip:

Test your headlight alignment at night on a flat road. If oncoming traffic flashes, the beam is straying or causing glare. Safety always takes precedence over appearance!

Bottom Line: You can install LED headlights on an older car, but never put non-adjustable LEDs in a reflector housing. To truly meet regulations and safety standards, upgrade to a dedicated LED housing or a high-output halogen.