#real-time clock

[speculatrix]

Zolatron: RTC, SRAM and SD board

After my fun with real-time clock chips (here and here) I figured it was time to add one to the Zolatron 64. But there was a catch. The previous experiments had involved microcontrollers with built-in SPI capabilities. That was something the Zolatron sadly lacked. Luckily, someone else has already come up with a solution. The 65SPI project by Daryl Rictor is a very easy way to add an SPI…

[tomsonelectronics-blog]

Buy RTC Module DS1302 Online

Get the RTC Module DS1302 online for precise timekeeping in projects. Easy to integrate, low power consumption, and ideal for microcontroller applications.

[theellipelli]

panel redraw of falst and dainix from @comicaurora because they make me sick. sick with thousands of diseases. theyve caused irreparable damage to my psyche

[merrigel]

I want it back = I drag its dead weight forward

[octylish]

who's this freak

[starcurtain]

I know I've talked a lot about Alhaitham actually being one of the funniest characters in Genshin Impact, but every time I think about him, I find something new to laugh at.

Alhaitham's character stories and personal criticisms of Kaveh largely hinge on one specific point: That Kaveh's genius intellect and artistic abilities are incongruous with his idealism. Kaveh possesses more talent than a selfless person should reasonably have, leaving him vulnerable to constantly being taken advantage of.

However, Alhaitham states these complaints about Kaveh's personality while having the exact same problem himself.

Alhaitham is literally the definition of "personality and talents do not match." Sir, you are the pot calling the kettle black.

It's a given: Alhaitham is exceedingly competent. He is intelligent, rational, and capable of being impartial when needed. Despite being a slacker as the Akademiya's scribe, during his stint as the Acting Grand Sage, the game goes out of its way to note--in several places--that Alhaitham was actually going above and beyond what was expected of him, taking the position very seriously, uncovering and fixing major issues in the Akademiya, and demonstrating a deep care for the sanctity and future of the Akademiya as a whole when Sumeru's people's will to research and learn declined after the collapse of the Akasha.

By all accounts, Alhaitham is (was) a fantastic Grand Sage. Compared to Azar, who is shown as inherently self-aggrandizing and unconcerned with Sumeru's well-being, Alhaitham genuinely did his best during his brief time as Sumeru's leader, protecting students' research, concerning himself with how to address the people's problems, and even diving in to solve mysteries that normally would have been left for the matra. As Acting Grand Sage, we're told his behavior and judgments were fair, and he addressed problems immediately and with his full effort.

In short, there is literally no one else more qualified to be Grand Sage than Alhaitham.

And yet, despite possessing every talent needed to be the leader of a nation, Alhaitham doesn't have the personality for it. He has every single trait a good leader requires... And yet he refuses to be a leader. His own talent vastly exceeds the slow-paced life his personality leads him to seek, making his particular abilities more incongruous with his values than Kaveh's--by a mile. People keep trying to promote him into positions of leadership because his talents are so obvious, and yet he does everything in his power to deny his own abilities and instead fly under the radar--and under the level of his full potential too.

Awful hypocritical for you to claim Kaveh's talents don't match his personality when yours match even less, Alhaitham...

[fuzzandfeathers]

I'm so sleepy and I had a severe need to see a bit of these two being fluffy and cute

[tofusfortbhk]

The best part about being an artist is that you can make sure your fav’s face card NEVER declines.

Minamoto Teru is gorgeous and he knows it.

Side note, I really enjoy Akane’s color scheme. More so than Teru’s tbh. The rust color with the teal never fails to scratch my brain in the best way possible.

They’re the boyfriends of all time.

[blueblurseptember]

FELLAS, I AM ACTUALLY LOSING IT. LYCAHUGO OFFICIAL. CANON AS FUCK. DIVORCED PARENTS GETTING BACK TOGETHER ARC. THIS IS NOT A DRILL.

[recent-rose]

yk initially i was with everybody picketing about hikaru's confession not being translated as 'i'm crazy for you'

but after reviewing the episode i actually don't mind it at all. the direction was perfect. it honestly reframed the scene for me in a way that i... for some reason, didn't pick up on while reading or even re-reading the manga.

the way yoshiki rushes to get out "do you like me?", like he has to spit it out before he gets too scared to ask. it's basically his litmus test. he already knows 'hikaru' isn't hikaru, but this will really cement it for him. because the real hikaru would never take that question seriously. he would never answer it sincerely, not the way yoshiki wants him to. he would never even pretend to reciprocate.

and of course, 'hikaru' takes it seriously. he's known yoshiki for 6 months at this point. the feelings he has towards yoshiki aren't just based on how the real hikaru felt about his best friend anymore. so he tells him honestly. and that's basically how yoshiki knows. he's crying because he knows hikaru would never say that, and he's mourning that loss in this moment, and when he says "never leave me again", he's not talking to an imitation of his best friend - he's talking to 'hikaru', the thing that came down the mountain.

this is The Scene. this is where yoshiki stops superimposing hikaru over 'hikaru' in his mind. from this point forward 'hikaru' is fully and truly his own person in yoshiki's mind.

[factual-flittermouse]

Autistic people are often portrayed as being really genuine and kind and brilliant, but I would like to clarify that some of us are idiots who don’t understand people and just want to vibe with our 53 unfinished projects and maybe a cat

[harbingersglory]

Hello, could I have transfem Signora x fem!reader smut? Any scenario is fine, just need dom Signora railing me 😩

{☆} characters la signora {☆} notes drabble, fem reader, sub reader, dom la signora, transfem la signora {☆} warnings 18+ content, restraints, temperature play, face fucking, degradation, pet play

There's a moment of silence that lingers for far too long, the cold nipping at your exposed skin until you feel shivers wrack your body. You squirm instinctively, seeking out the fading warmth of the thick furs laid out beneath you, yet finding nothing but the cold that chills you to your bones. You can't even see, your eyes covered by black fabric, silk tying your arms together behind your back.

It's almost torturous waiting like this. Your knees sink further into the fur as you lean your weight forward slightly, exhaling a shaky breath. You begin to wonder if Signora left you there– maybe you'd annoyed her earlier and she was punishing you. You hoped not. She wasn't known for being lenient when it came to punishments.

But the brush of her fingers along your jawline squashed that fear, your breath hitching as her thumb glided over your throat, the heat of her skin making you shudder. The contrast of the cold room, of your freezing body, to the unnatural heat that simmers beneath her skin is immense– your knees would have definitely buckled if you hadn't been kneeling already.

"Did you think I'd left you here all alone? You're shaking like a dog." The soft, biting lilt was nothing more than a murmur, but for you it was impossible not to hear the pleased tone beneath the roughness of her voice. Your heart leaps into your throat when her fingers trace back up along your jawline, lifting your head and tilting it back just enough to be uncomfortable.

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are silenced by her thumb slipping past your lips instead– you don't fight back, even though the sudden intrusion catches you off guard enough you almost bite her finger instead. You almost consider doing it anyway, but she's so rarely in a good mood it feels rude to spoil it.

"Pets don't speak until they're told," She chides, pressing down on your tongue slightly and laughing at the way you almost choke in surprise. "And I don't remember giving you permission."

You can only manage a garbled whine in response, your face burning in embarrassment– but it's quickly silenced by the click of her tongue and the creak of the old chair you know sits by the fireplace, her thumb sliding out between your lips to drag you closer. Close enough to feel the rush of heat across your skin as your cheek is pressed against her thigh, her hands resting on the back of your head. You can't see it, but you sure can imagine the smug smile that must be tugging at her lips right about now.

"Let's see about fixing your little disobedient streak, darling." She murmurs, digging her nails into your scalp and tugging you even closer, the furs beneath you doing little to prevent the ache in your knees from kneeling. But you don't complain– you know what she wants, and you want it too. "Open."

Like the dog she seems so fond of treating you as, you listen– you're not as surprised this time when her fingers fill your mouth, forcing it open even further until you can feel the saliva collecting and dribbling down your chin. She doesn't seem to mind, even laughing at how pitiful you probably look, drooling all over her fingers.

But Signora is a hard woman to satisfy, and this will hardly do anything other then work her up enough to really break you in. You can just barely hear the rustle of fabric over your heartbeat, gloved hands tugging you closer and forcing you to press right up against the edge of the chair. It's almost uncomfortable, the way the chair presses against your chest, but she always has you teetering on that fine edge.

"Perhaps you can be trained after all." Signora's voice is like a balm, the heat of her body driving away the cold and urging you impossibly closer, until you feel her hand guide you down just as her fingers slip out of your mouth again– right up until you feel her cock against your cheek. "Show me that you can be obedient, mutt, and maybe I'll let you sit on my lap."

You know she's just dangling a treat just out of reach, but you can't help but reach for it anyway.

Your tongue drags across the underside of her cock, so slow you can hear the hiss that rattles in her chest halfway between pleasure and impatience. You take your time anyway, lingering until you reach the tip and press a kiss against it. You almost wish you could see her face, but she's never been fond of expressing anything outwardly when you can see it– just the idea of her brows furrowed, of her face flush and her lip caught between her teeth..it's enough.

It's not hard to imagine it anyway when the heat grows hotter, nearly turning the room into an oven before she catches herself. You aren't stupid enough to mention it, but your smile must be enough, because a low growl makes you shiver– so you drag your tongue from the base to the tip again, revel in the way it throbs beneath your tongue. For a moment you almost have something like control, your saliva dripping down her aching cock as you lap at it like a mutt.

But you're both growing impatient– the sharp click of her nails against the chairs arms makes you shudder, urging you to lift yourself up just enough to wrap your lips around the head with a muffled groan. You consider dragging it out just a moment longer, just to see if you can get her to whine, but she knows you better then you do– before you can even blink, her hand shoves you down. You, predictably, gag. Your throat burns from the stretch, but it's not unpleasant, eased by the pleasured hiss that tumbles from her lips. Signora at least has the mercy to let you get used to it for a moment before she drags you back up, the emptiness in your throat making you whine before she's shoving her cock back down your throat. Your eyes sting with unshed tears, your own sounds of pleasure muffled and garbled as she does it again– and again.

"Finally quiet, mutt?" She laughs, but it's strained– her voice quivers slightly as she fucks your throat like your nothing but a toy to her, drool dribbling down your chin and tears staining the blindfold. "If I knew it was this easy to shut you up, I'd have done it a long time ago."

You so badly want to do something, but with your hands tied behind your back and her fucking your face so rough, so fast, you can barely even think..there's not much you can do but let her, your cunt clenching around nothing. You really hope she wasn't lying about that reward, for once. You're practically dripping on her floor while she uses you, just barely able to squeeze your thighs together for a fraction of friction.

It only serves to make you more desperate, though.

"Fuck– or maybe you're too stupid to know better. You'd just let any pretty woman with a cock use you," Her breathing was getting heavier, more strained, but her grip on your hair didn't relent. Neither did the harsh thrust of her hips, her cock constantly hammering into your throat until you felt dizzy. "You're lucky I'm even willing to train a mutt like you."

Your mind starts to feel fuzzy, the words blending together until she digs her nails into your scalp and forces you down again– and keeps you there. You nearly gag again when you feel her shudder, her cock throbbing in your mouth as her cum spills down your throat, your hands straining against the silk binding them together. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, nostrils flaring and your body tensing– you don't even realize you'd briefly lost consciousness until your find yourself on her lap, rather then on your knees, her hands brushing the strands of hair stuck to your face with sweat out of your eyes.

It's the most gentle she's been all night– and likely as gently as she will be tonight. You lean into her touch anyway, groaning softly and shuddering at the taste of her on your tongue mixed with her cock throbbing against your thigh.

"I'm not done yet, darling. Did you think I'd let you get away with a little light training?" She laughs, cupping your jaw and pressing a kiss that's far too gentle to your cheek, the warmth of her body almost suffocating– but you welcome it, like you always do.

So you nod, smiling drowsily and spreading your legs like a good pet should.

[spookythesillyfella]

therez another hour and a bit before itz officially the 8th but idgaf im posting thiz meow

★ original meme under cut :

[shootingstarrfish]

DOES MY FAVORITE 33 YEAR OLD BOBBY GRILL (gender neutral) HAVE A JOB???????

yeah his job is being cute <3

[crow-aeris]

Part 1 is here!

More content from my brainworms 🤭

=====

Jason sneaks out in the dead of night with the pendant in his right hand, three fives in his hoodie pocket that he’d picked from Willis, and determination in his chest. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do this, but he’ll manage.

He walks to the nearest bus station, hyper-aware of all the people around him, some of which he recognizes as his future goons, and others as the people who've been pushed to the brink and resorted to working with the rougher rogues to survive and make ends meet. Jason wants to desperately help- to talk to them and warn them about their future- but it wouldn't do anything. As he was currently- a kid- he wouldn't be able to get anything done. No one would listen to him.

Jason sits down on the bus's perpetually sticky seats, trying not to grimace as he waited for the stop.

He mentally plans the route he'll be taking.

He could've gone for Dick first, but Jason doesn't think it would've worked. It's been a few days already, and if Dickface had retained his memory, then he would have already came knocking on Jason's door. Tim too, knowing that little genius stalker brain of his, nothing could've stopped him from accomplishing anything he set his mind to. Damian probably could too, but the brat’s barely concieved, and Jason doubts the league would let a literal infant out of their sight.

So, that’s why he was on his way to Timmy’s manor. Not only is Tim most definitely alone, he’s the easiest to reach.

As the bus halts at the stop closest to Bristol, Jason ignores the driver’s suspicious gaze and rushes off. He brushes his hand against his pocket knife (He’s not stupid, even in Bristol, Gotham was Gotham and the chance of death will never be less than 20%) and he begins walking.

He’s almost forgotten how- peaceful wasn’t quite the word- less terrible Gotham was earlier on in Bruce’s tenure as the Bat. Not only can he make out a few constellations, the sounds police sirens didn’t constantly fill the night… It moght’ve been after his death when everything started to go to shit.

Jason takes a deep breath, marveling at the cleanliness of the air. Sure, it wasn’t as clean as the country, but compare to Gotham when Damian became Robin, the atmosphere might as well be pure oxygen!

Halfway to the Drake Manor, Jason feels his legs grow sore and cramped. God, now more than ever he wished for his Robin training and post-death stamina. Was he ever this… weak?

Distantly, Jason hears the sound of the Batmobile rushing through the streets and shakes his head.

He was almost there. Tim’s bedroom lights were on and a shape was moving around.

Jason groans and breaks into a sprint despite his legs aching in complaint. Tim was, as he said, a creepy little stalker, and even at the ripe old age of six, he was already stalking the bats. Which, props to him, but Jason would rather not follow that weaselly little bastard through the roofs of Gotham.

“SHIT!” Jason curses, misjudging his momentum and slamming into the Drakes’ front door.

God, it hurt so fucking much, and- shit, his nose was bleeding…

But, silver lining and all that, because the door swings open to reveal a harried and panicked-looking Timothy Jackson Drake dressed head-to-toe black, with his hundred-dollar camera hanging around his neck.

God, Jason hates rich people.

“Are you okay?!” the six year old squeaks, lurching forward to stare uncertainly at him.

Well, that proves Jason’s theory. If Tim had all his memories, he would’ve pointed and laughed at him for being an idiot, and Jason would’ve tackled him, dick would get involved, they’d break a few things, and the cass would work with alfred to get them back in line…

(God, Jason wished they’d never gone on that stupid trip.)

“Do you think i’m fine?” Jason huffed, guilt filling his chest as he watched Tim’s face fall. God, sometimes he forgets that then younger Tim was still so… bright. He hadn’t grown into all his sass yet. “I didn’t mean that, kid-”

But it was in the small moments where he’s reminded of his little brother’s spirit.

Tim puffs up in offense, almost like a little cat of sorts, and narrows his eyes, “I’m not a kid! I’m six, and you’re not that old either!”

“Sure, buddy,” Jason rolls his eyes before reaching up with a bloodied hand and pinching his nose, careful to stick the pendant in his pocket where Tim couldn’t see it. “Can I get a little help now?”

“Oh!” just like that, the Tim Jason was used to dissipates, and the kid was back to his shy little self, “Right, sorry. Come in! I’ll go grab you some napkins- are you hungry? It’s really late, and- oh, we have some juice too! We have passion fruit, dragonfruit, starfruit, strawberry-”

“I’ll take passionfruit,” Jason interrupted with an amused smile, “if you have the time, add a dash of lemon juice, ice, and honey.”

He watches as the kid freezes before nodding. Passionfruit with lemon and honey… that was one of Tim’s favorite drinks as an adult, and he’d constantly bugged Jason to make him some. Honestly, rich people shit.

“Okay! Uhm, do you want to shower first? You- you’re covered in blood, and i don’t think that’s too comfortable…”

“Yeah, sure,” he shrugs, “Lead the way, Timbo.”

“Timbo?” the kid faltered and blinks in confusion, but continued to lead Jason toward the bathroom before handing him a change of clothes.

When he was alone, the sound of running water filling the room, Jason took out the pendant and stared at it… The urge to bash the stupid thing against the wall was near overpowering, but he didn’t know what would happen if he did, and Jason would rather not try his luck.

He quickly washes, scrubbing himself down and reveling with how the warm water soothed his aching muscles. While he was at it, Jason scrubs at his scalp and washes his hair with tim’s fancy-ass shampoo snd conditioner. God, he misses the good shit.

When he finished, jason picked dried himself and shoved the pendant into one of the pant pockets (batman themed. why wasn’t he surprised? wonder woman would be leagues better than bruce. Nightwing too, he’s kinda surprised- oh. yeah. shit, he forgot…)

He stretches, humming at how his back popped pleasantly before sauntering down the steps. Sometime during the shower, his nose had stopped bleeding. Thank god for that.

“Tim!” Jason called, yawning briefly as he saw the kid staring into the humming microwave. The kid startled before smiling, “Did you have a good shower?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jason nodded, “What are you making?”

“Food,” the kid replied easily, “they’re leftovers, do you want some?”

“Yeah sure, why not.”

As they ate, Jason wondered how the hell he was going to get the kid to remember. He hummed, feeling exhaustion pulling at his eyes as he finished with his portion of leftover spaghetti.

Tim looks over at him, “Are you tired?”

“Yeah,” Jasonsighs, “it’s been… a long couple of days.”

“Alright! We have a spare guestroom you can use, is that okay?”

Jason nodded. It’ll at least give him the time to think over how he’ll continue with his plan, “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. Lead the way, Tim.”

A few hours later, Jason was awaken by a shape pressing a knife to his throat.

He froze. His mind running through hundreds of different scenarios before he recognized the shape hovering over him.

“…Tim? What- what is this? Put the knife down, and we can-”

“How,” the kid interrupts with narrowed and blazing eyes, “do you know my name? I never told you who I am, and only the people who’ve worked with my parents know that I exist. Did someone send you to kidnap me?”

Jason blinked, running over the last few hours in his mind before realizing that yeah, oh shit, Tim was right. He never did tell Jason his name, did he?

“Okay, kid. I’m…” and then he sees a hint of golden scales peeking from the collar of the kid’s robin-themed sleep shirt, “My name is Jason Todd. You are Timothy Jackson Drake, the third Robin. I’m the second Robin, and… I come from the furture.”

Tim jolts away, taken aback by Jason’s words before becoming instantly suspicious, “You know my name, and you know I like Robin. Prove to me you’re from the future, and maybe i’ll trust you.”

Jason smiles despite the situation, because this was Tim. Tim wasn’t some scared and timid kid, he was an independent little narcoleptic gremlin who drank too much Monster, somehow caught the eye of Ra’s Al Ghul, lost his spleen, and could lie to Batman and get away with it.

“Here,” Jason said, gesturing for Tim to shuffle back before grabbing the pendant and tugging off his shirt. When Tim laid his eyes on the skeletal bird resting above Jason’s heart, his hand automatically drifts to the marking Jason was sure he had, “can i see your…”

Tim gave him an uncertain look, but Jason wasn’t too surprised. If some random creepy guy told him to take lf his shirt. Jason would’ve stabbed him and ran off.

“You have a knife, kid. If i tried doing anything, you could always stab me.”

“…Fine,” Tim bit out before shrugging off his shirt.

A golden snake stretched from the inside of Tim’s elbow, beautiful scales woven from gold coiled along the span of Tim’s arm before resting it’s head atop tim’s coller bone. Honestly? It was breathtaking, beautiful in a way that Jason envied, but it summarized Tim’s entire character pretty well.

The pendant in Jason’s hand glows as it nears Tim’s golden snake.

“I want to test something,” Jason says, “i’m gonna touch this to the head of thr snake, and we’ll see what happens.”

Tim narrows his eyes, his grip on the knife tightening before he nods.

The pendant presses agasinst Tim’s collar for a brief second, and then everything begins to glow.

Tim’s eyes, the snake’s outline, the fucking pendant- literally everything was fucking glowing.

Jason clenched his jaws, forcing himself to remain still as his brother gasps in pain. Tim’s hans twitched and jerked, but, it was as if some- some force was holding him still.

Eventually, after a few agonizing seconds, the gold fades and Jason hurriedly yanks it away. He surges forward, pulling the knife out of tim’s hand before tossing it to the side, off of the bed and out of the way.

“Jay…”

“Yeah, timmy?” Jason leaned back, pulling his brother up before carding a hand through his hair.

Tim was quiet for a few moments before finally speaking, “We need to get Dick, and then Damian.”

“So,” Jason allows the amusement to fill his tone, “are you gonna hold a knife to their throat, too?”

“I will grab that knife and actually stab you,” Tim huffed, “leave you with a scar that matched Red Hood’s.”

Jason scoffed, but he couldn’t help the smile rising onto his lips, “Language, kid. Who taught you to say these things, baby bird?”

“Fuck off,” Tim hissed, “i’m tired, and I miss the big bird…”

“Yeah,” he sighs, “i do too… It’s whatever though. Go to sleep, Tim. We’ll try and grab him tomorrow.”

“Okay… Goodnight, Jay.”

“Night, Tim.”

And sure, it may be lonely with the rest of his siblings at his side, but at least he no longer had to spend this new (old?) life all by himself.

-----

part 1, 3, 4

and the directory

[acediaedeus]

I like it when ppl write Ichigo kissing/touching Grimmjow’s mask, bc that’s such an undeniably Hollow part of him, it’s sharp and dangerous, even scary to some, but Ichigo still loves and cherishes it, for him it’s comforting to touch the jawbone, trace the teeth, bc it means Grimmjow is there, right under his fingertips.

and it’d be comforting for Grimmjow too, bc if he ever doubts that Ichigo really wants this, if any thought of Ichigo closing his eyes and pretending that he’s just another shinigami/human and not a soul-devouring monster creeps into his mind, it is all destroyed with gentle hands, light fingertips and soft lips, bc Ichigo loves Grimmjow, all of him, for who he is, not despite.