#what is software deployment

[vanilla-voyeur]

Yeah I work in software and the way people expect the Tumblr software developers to have godlike abilities is wild. Although sometimes they're not just wrong, but hilariously wrong

I am not speaking in support or opposition for the recent changes tumblr staff has made but I’m gonna be honest the way some of you complain about them sounds like you’ve never been employed before (<- not a dig at unemployed people)

like. idk the rate tumblr updates this website is sometimes extremely positive and sometimes stupid but always at a rate that feels like a group of people clock in and someone with a spreadsheet tells them what they have to work on for the day until they clock out. with absolutely no rhyme or reason for order of priority. or at the very least, a long queue that had been made months prior, and any new complaints get added to the end of the queue.

stupid and pointless in the way jobs can be. tasks given randomly to fill time and to feel “productive”.

so again, I’m not saying people are wrong or right FOR complaining. I’m just saying a lot of you that are coming from a good place sound like you have no personal experience with how stuff like this works

[justtwofriendsinmyhondacivic]

poly 141 x IT tech reader

Chapter 2 (Unedited)

18+ MDNI

cw: afab reader, mxm, masturbation, talk of shooting and weapon handling, inaccurate military descriptions, the reader has female anatomy, were all down bad.

…

You couldn't sleep.

The golden light cascaded through the open curtains, hitting your bare legs sending warmth through to your toes.

Whether it was the eagerness to make a good impression, or the anxiety of starting in a brand new team you know nothing about that kept you awake, it didn't matter.

You tried to do some digging into this team but their files are so hard to pull due to the level of clearance needed to access. And even if you had the needed clearance youd suspected that these files were heavily redacted regardless.

These men were gray to the government, they were killed a long time ago to best fit the needs of the ones they serve. So no wonder you couldn't pull anything, not even the status of deployment.

Laswell explained that this team is something that won't go on your file, but would be invaluable to you later in your career. So getting the head start on the system is exactly what you're looking for.

You spent hours just working on necessary updates to the system, one that had been pushed off for too long. Seems the last guy was just here for the paycheck as nothing was really done besides the bare minimum. Taking the time to sort out the plan for future needs on the software.

Sleep continued to evade you, even after you showered and got a head start on work.

So you decided to go for a walk to try and find the access to the hard drive and the physical elements to the server.

Knowing about where most bases keep their hardware, you started walking in that general area. The empty hallways were a welcome sight after all of the travel and meeting new people.

You followed the memorized map in your mind down a dimly lit hallway. It was sterile, the clean silver knob was cold in your hand as you twisted the door open. Taking in the small office you mentally cheered. Normally you didn't have an office, you'd have to bunker down on the floor with a mobile set up, this could be for days at a time. Especially when there is a mission, that floor near the hardware unit is your new home.

Taking in the small desk, the gray carpet, some simple cupboards holding manuals about the current system in operation. The glass closet doors on the right side showing thousands of blinking green and red lights, the tangle of wires that wound need to be re-organized.

On your left through the blinds was a small window, just big enough to let in the orange tint light of the lamp post filter through.

Walking around to run your fingers over the desk, it wasn't anything fancy, it was a small wooden desk with one drawer under it. The chair isn't a normal office chair, it looked like someone brought an armchair from home and never took it back. You weren't complaining as that means you can curl up better anyway.

You throw yourself down onto the weathered furniture, smiling to yourself.

You opened the drawer to rummage through and see if there were any left behind treasures when you heard a grunt from the slightly ajar door. Looking up to make eye contact with the mountain of a masked man.

Your mouth fell open in surprise as you didnt expect to see anyone out here, especially the elusive man that you were sure wouldn't have shown himself if he didn't want to be seen.

“O-Oh, my apologies, Sir. I didn't mean to wake you-” You scrambled as you pushed yourself up to be in a more proper position while facing someone in a higher position than you.

He shakes his head at you, his gaze lingered on your bare dewey legs, taking in the way that your skin looks under the orange tint light that cascaded through the blinds. Your damp hair fell past your mid back, framing your face.

“S’alright.” His eyes linger on you, you feel the dark pools of his eyes drape over you. Clinging to every bone in your body. It felt like more than just an observation, it was like he was trying to burn your image to his eyelids. And you're unsure if that's a good or bad thing.

You stood at attention waiting for orders, you knew you weren't supposed to be awake. Both him and Price gave an order and you didn't listen. And all you could look at was the veins that are protruding under his flesh, arms crossed and bulging under the sleeveless tank top he wore. The Ghost mask he was known for was traded out for a black neck gaiter, and the messy ashy blonde hair stood at odd directions on top of his head.

“Should be sleeping.” The deep grumble of his voice sounded out as he leaned against the door frame. Not breaking eye contact he continued, “Got a long day ahead of you, need ta’ see you at your best.”

You nodded your head along with him, “Course, Sir. I’ll go straight to bed.”

Ghost never took his eyes off yours, you just waited for him to dismiss you.

He internally grinned, you were finally now being a good girl after disobeying orders.

“You're dismissed, Soldier.”

You tried to bolt out of the door as soon as the words left his mouth. But his large frame took up most of the doorway. Making you stand in front of him, the smell of your shampoo danced into his nose.

Looking up at him, “Excuse me, Lieutenant.”

He pushed off of the wall and gave you enough space to wiggle through and scurry off to bed. A dark chuckle made its way out of Ghost's chest, a confusing amount of heat ran through his body, pooling blood into his lower region.

It was the way you stared into his eyes with confidence, but still so timid and eager to please all at the same time.

Sighing he shut the door to what is now your new office, he'll have to send Gaz in here to set up surveillance during tomorrow's training.

…

As soon as you scurried back into bed, it took you a while to calm your heart and mind down enough for you to get some sleep. Leading to the slim amount of sleep that left you desperate for more.

Your alarm went off dragging a frustrated sigh out of you and a long stretch before you got up to get ready. Truth is you were up a couple hours before you needed to be so you could get in a workout before training.

You needed to make sure you were in top condition during these training exercises, the last time that you were on an assignment the team wouldn't allow you in the field so you were excited to have the opportunity.

With that in mind you got a motivation streak and got ready in record time, the grey work out gear hugging you well, as you threw on a large shirt over for the walk to the gym. Opening the door you glided your way, remembering where it was from the small tour the Captain gave to you.

Stopping by the dingy water fountain to top off your army issued water bottle.

Once you breached the doors to the gym, you had to turn on the light as it seems you were the first person in today. The hum of the fluorescent lights buzzing in the background. There were small windows on the back wall above the machines and weight racks. On the left there was an area for stretching and lockers.

Turning to the right you see yourself in the large mirror that was covering the entire wall, chuckling at the heavy purple bags under your eyes.Three well loved benches sat in front of it.

Quickly finding your way to the open area, setting your things down before you sit down to stretch. Getting through most of your stretch routine before you hear the door open. A whistling Soap walked in, both of you locked eyes for a while.

You couldn't look away from him. His messy mohawk stood at odd angles after a night of sleep, but what really had you was the strong arms that made you want to drool. The natural tanned skin sprinkled with freckles, covered in a layer of burly thick hair that traveled all over his chest. His loose green tank top did nothing to hide anything.

Your fingers twitched with the need to run your hands through it.

His lip pulled up into a dog-like smile.

With burning cheeks you decided to get back to your stretching, hiding your face in your legs while touching your toes.

Soap let out a chuckle at the redness that dusted your cheeks, as you hid your face his eyes dilated at the dusting of red on the nape of your neck. He felt himself salivate.

He broke himself out of his staring and headed to grab his weights and start his own workout, not wanting to creep you out with his staring.

…

Soap has never been this worked up during a workout.

You were his exact fucking type.

Half way through your work out, he watched you strip off the loose shirt, leaving you in a tight black sports bra. Exposing your muscled shoulders and the soft flesh of your tits that spilled slightly out of your bra. He was absolutely hiding a boner the entire time.

The worst of it was when you bent over to adjust weight on the squat machine, the line of your panties digging into the meat of your hips and ass leading all the way down to the damp outline of your pussy.

It reminded him of how long it was since he tasted a woman. Especially one like you.

He would rather take torture in a syrian prison then have to be tortured like this again.

You went up on weight on this next set, your head tilted back with eyebrows furrowed as you struggled against the new weight. You grunted on the next rep, looking ready to give up.

You heard the sounds of two weights drop on the ground as Soaps form slowly walked towards you, “C’mon bonnie lass, ya can do it.” he clapped his hands.

Your legs shook as you tried to push the weights up, after a few moments you finally got it to its resting position. Slowly sliding out of the machine and onto the cold floor. Your eyes were closed as you tried to regulate your breathing.

“Think I tried too much weight” You chuckled dryly. He took the time to look at you, taking notes of any scars, freckles, or moles. He saw a pretty bad scar that peeked out from your back and over your shoulder.

“Nonsense, ya powered through.” he laughed as you opened your eyes, a small smirk on your face, “Ya should stop now, doll. Got training exercise in an hour.” He said, taking in how your eyes looked when you looked up at him from this position.

You nodded at him checking your watch as it read 0430, as his hand came into view to help you up.

He pulled you up as if you weighed nothing, almost pulling you into his chest.

“Appreciate your help, any advice for the training?” You probed. Grabbing your shirt from the floor and wiping the sweat that was running down your neck.

His eyes tracked the movement happily, “Ya done a lot of shootin?”

You nodded and sat down on the floor, “I was deployed in a Special Activity unit before I transferred to IT.” From the way your smile dropped a bit, a sad look in your eye, he knew it wasn't by choice.

He made a noise of acknowledgement, “Should be the same thing ya did with that unit.”

That gave you some confidence, nodding your head and grabbing your stuff you turned back to Soap before you left.

“Thank you, Soap. I’ll see you at the training exercise.” You turned to leave and he took another full look at you before he went to grab his stuff to hop in the shower or get in bed with one of the boys and relieve some tension before he had to see you handle guns, he didn't think he could survive that boner.

…

You met Captain Price in his office. You looked at the clean cut beard on his face under the soft lighting of his lamp. His handsome eyes looking over paperwork and then back to you, why did they all have to be so good looking.

Stood in front of the deep mahogany desk, dressed in your dark camo fatigues, with a tight compression shirt tucked into a standard belt.

He was treating this as a mission, so he was giving a full debrief. He is sending you alone to clear a small compound, no prize or target, just clear and hold. He asked you to follow him to the outdoor range, you had four personal gun cases sitting on the floor.

Bending down to pick them up at the same time as Price feeling his warm hand as you grabbed the same case. Looking up, the blush dusted across your face, making eye contact with him.

“Let me help you with these, kid.” He said, arms bulging as he picked the cases up and opened the door for you. Making your way into the hallway.

“I have gear for ya at the range, once there you can pick from our standard selection of hardware, we want to see ya use your personal and the standard.” He said as he showed his badge to the man at the gate of the range.

“What are you guys running in your kits?” you asked.

“You can choose what you want to have in your kit but the standard currently is the MK25.” You nodded.

As we breached the doors to the outdoor training area the cool humid air hitting you as your boots hit the wet pavement, the stormy sky greeted you as you breathed in the air.

There was a maze of walls with scaffolding above so superior officers could observe the training, next to it was a table with firearms and ammo, in front of that sat four unmoving fresh targets. Ghost and Soap were there in full gear waiting for you and John.

Soap stands slightly behind Ghost giving you a quiet thumbs up, which gives you a little bit of confidence.

Ghost stared through you as he barked questions at you, “What do you have for your personals?” Watching as price sets down two gun cases and you set down two.

“Currently I'm running beretta 92FS and ZEV OZ9 elite for handguns,” popping open the cases with your personal firearms, “Colt M4A1 URG-1 and SIG-sauer MCX-SPEAR LT for my carbines.” Pulling one of your carbines out, Soap practically buzzing just from watching you check your sights and settings on the gun.

Ghost too found himself watching the gun press into your tit as you checked it over, quickly looking away.

“Run your beretta and the ZEV, then I need ya to run the MK25.” you nodded at the tall man, surprised at how many words he's using.

They departed from you and walked up the stairs to watch you, Soap looked at you as he started his climb, giving you another thumbs up mouthing a quick good luck.

Grabbing the ear and eye protection, you grabbed your mags that you filled this morning and loaded your weapons. You walked over to the door and waited in position.

“Cleared hot.”

As soon as the word came out of John's mouth, the lights started to strobe and screaming played over the PA system.

You were startled but regained composure and breached the first door, keeping your back to the wall with your service weapon at the ready. Coming up to a corner that rounded to the right, there was a piece of plastic tarp covering half of the doorway.

Gaz climbed the stairs joining the others, running a hand down John’s back as he looked down.

“Where have you been, Kyle?” John asked, leaning into the warmth of Gaz’s hand.

“Had ‘im run an errand for me.” Ghost interrupted, looking at John,

Price chuckled, running a hand over his beard watching as you proceeded through the compound.

As soon as you cleared the corridor you breached, seeing two targets on both sides of the rooms. You shot a distraction shot forward and then hit both bogeys. As soon as that room was cleared you moved to the next hallway. There immediately was a target to the right of the door, sending a quick shot into the head.

This hallway was a dead end except for the rooms on either side of it. Inching forward and looking at the closed door to the left, deciding to keep that for last and bracing against the wall next to the open door. Taking a deep breath trying to drown out the screaming, you peeked the gap between the door and the doorway seeing a target.

Sending the first shot through that gap before running into the room, and taking out the other two. The rest of the room was clear so you moved back out to the hallway, slowly opening the door and you find the room is empty.

It was supposed to be a bathroom, with debris in the way you took a defensive stance in the corner of the room.

The boys watched as you cleared the last room. You obviously haven't been in combat in a while but for being thrown in a simulation you weren't bad, just needed some extra practice to get back into the groove of things.

The way your muscles flexed while you fired into a target was a welcome sight to them. Soap and Gaz kept eyeing each other. Soap ran straight to his partners to relieve some stress after watching you working out. Ghost and Price didn't think much of it as he's always a horny mutt, but Gaz knew.

Looking down, they saw you lift your head.

“I need evac.” You yelled out of breath.

The lights kicked over to the constant yellow lighting, and the screaming finally stopped.

Standing up and walking out of the door you see the team now including Gaz are walking toward you.

“Fuck ya bonnie.” Soap hollarded, happy with your run through. He had to readjust the half chub in his pants before walking down earning an eye roll and a smack to the ass from Ghost, “Hit me harder LT.” Soap winked before running down, giggling.

You gave him a quick fist bump and moved to face the captain.

“Ya did good, taking out the three in the last room was a bit reckless but if you're ever in the field you should have one of us with you at all times.” He gruffed out walking to show you your accuracy on some of the shots.

You nodded, starting to cool down and feel the sweat drip down your back.

The group moved out of the building as you welcomed the cool air on your skin.

“Go reload your weapons, you're going to run the course with Ghost.” He nodded at you with a smile, you're fighting the reflex to giggle as when he smiles his beard moves in a cute funny way.

He looks up and motions for Soap and Gaz to reset the course.

You walk over to the table where Ghost was loading up a pistol and carbine.

“Are we taking the carbines?” You said as you pop out the empty magazine.

“Yes.” He said, not even looking at you.

Nodding you reloaded all of your mags and placed your handgun in the holster on your right hip, and held your carbine. Walking over to the door, you moved the ear protection back over your ear and waited for Ghost to get into position.

His hand grabbed your shoulder and squeezed letting you know he was ready, trying to ignore the tingling under the calloused hand, as soon as he squeezed the music started and the lights began to strobe.

Walking through the now familiar corridor, there was immediately a target behind the door which you neutralized. As you did Ghost took a shot at a target that was tucked behind a pile of debris.

As soon as you made it to the last hallway the hallway was clear but the door to the left was closed so you cleared the bathroom first, taking out the target that was in the middle of that room. Moving out, you and Ghost took a position outside the door, Ghost's thumb brushed against where your neck and shoulder met. Feeling the nail dig slightly in sending a chill down your back and a dust of pink across your neck.

Ghosts keen eyes caught the movement, knowing what it was doing to you.

You felt the rough corners of his gear dig against your hip as you peeked through the door seeing the targets. You didn't know if it was the close proximity to Ghost or the adrenaline that was making your body hot.

All you knew was you needed to get this out of your system, you can't be feeling all hot and bothered while being thrown into a new team.

Taking a quick breath you breached the room, finding two targets on the right close to each other and two farther away on the right side.

You too made quick work of the targets in the room, kneeling down and calling for evac.

The lights switched over and the music stopped.Ghosts hand was still on your shoulder as you looked back at him. His gazed bored through your skull.

You looked back waiting for him to either give you criticism or what to do better next time, but instead he took his hand from your shoulder and walked out without muttering a word to you.

Sighing you pulled the ear covering off of your head and leaned your head back.

You met up with the group outside of the building.

“You did good, we're going to have you join the majority of our training sessions from now on-” Price gruffed out, placing a large hand on his hip. Your eyes watching the handsome older man.

“For now you're free to work on the servers or have some down time, Laswell wanted to make sure you had time to get settled in before joining our training sessions regularly.”

Nodding your head, “Sounds good, Sir.”

…

You found yourself in the comfy chair of your new office, finally changed into an army issued green hoodie and leggings. Your hair was gel free and flowing down naturally.

Currently you are setting up to download the last upgrade before you can redo the wiring in the hardware. After hitting the allow button you leaned back sighing, glancing out the window to see the rain was coming down harder than it had been all day.

Looking back to the screen on your laptop, you saw the loading bar was still on one percent.

You got to thinking about the day.

Your mind drifted away to how Soap's chest looked, how Ghost’s hand felt wrapped around your shoulder, the warmth of John's hand against yours, and how Kyle's eyes slid over your body.

You felt the molten heat that gathered between your legs stick to the leggings that now felt too tight on you.

You couldn't stop yourself as you traced the tips of your fingers down the front of the scratchy hoodie. Tracing over the pierced sensitive flesh of your nipples over the fabric, biting your lip to hide the moan that was beginning to fall out of your mouth.

Ripping the hoodie over your tits feeling the cool air, and rubbing your legs together. You pinched and rolled the piercings in your fingers, feeling the devastating pang of electricity that it sent to your cunt.

You knew you shouldn't be doing this…

But you couldn't stop either.

You trailed one of your hands down the smooth surface of your tummy, passed the waistband of your leggings. Suddenly thankful that you didn't put a pair of panties on before leaving your room.

The pads of your finger met the surprisingly soaked heat of your cunt, letting out a small broken whimper as your back arched off of the chair. Using the edge of the desk to help keep your legs open.

Running two fingers up from your dripping hole to the buzzing button of flesh that begged for attention, rubbing your fingers in a figure eight motion. Having to cover your mouth as your toes curled. It felt so good to finally have relief.

You rolled your eyes into the back of your head, feeling your body release its slick all over your fingers and inner thighs. Barely able to keep your sounds at bay.

You quickened your fingers as you felt your climax approaching rapidly, the knot tightening in your lower stomach.

Then it snapped.

Letting out the quietest moan you could manage, riding out as much of the high you could before it got to be too much and you snapped your knees together. Your chest was heaving from trying to catch your breath. The faint buzzing in your pussy pulsed after finally getting the high you so desperately needed.

You laid there for a bit, eyes closed, feeling the cool air from the vent above you. Nipples tighten once again to the cold air.

Unknown to you in the foggy cloud that was your mindset, post orgasm, a red light faintly blinked from inside the vent, a strategically placed camera faced directly at your chair.

On the other side of the camera was Ghost.

Large hands closed in tight fists, knuckles turning white, cock angry red being choked against the fabric of his jeans. Feeling his breath quicken as he watched you come down, tits high in the air, hand still pushed between closed legs.

He didn't know what he was getting into when he asked Gaz to install the camera, and he was at war with his brain and cock. He yanked out his phone sending a text to Gaz, knowing he was free.

Get in my office. Now.

Quickly saving the video to his computer, he heard footsteps quickly approaching his office as the door was wrenched open. In walks an out of breath Garrick, a look of concern taking over his handsome face.

“Ya alright Si?” The bronze skinned man walked over to place a hand over the masked jaw of Simon.

The blonde man said nothing as he looked into Gaz’s eyes, quickly yanking his mask down and grabbing the man by the back of his neck. He yanked him down to bring their lips together, immediately earning a groan from Gaz.

Finally understanding what was happening, Gaz took a confident seat on the widespread of Ghosts lap.

Gaz swallowed the desperate groan as he rocked his hips against the rock hard length of Simon's cock. Before pulling his lips back looking down at the desperate man beneath him.

“What's gotten into you?” he said, tracing a finger around his lips.

Large hands wrapped around the smaller man's hips, forcefully turning him around to see a video paused of you sitting at your desk in a typing position. He cocked his head confused as Ghost hit play on the video, watching you trail your shirt up exposing the pink and pierced nipples almost directly to the camera.

Gaz moaned as he watched you slide your hand into your pants, face twisted in pleasure.

“Holy fuck.”

[rasberrybabez]

let’s get some love for Kyle mf Garrick ༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

⛧°. ⋆༺as always mdni~18+༻⋆. °⛧

like realistically, in my head, if you met any of the 141 irl, Kyle (in my humble opinion) is OBJECTIVELY the greenest flag of the bunch.

now I love all of the men, but I am also a writer who knows how unhinged they can be. And I’m saying that Kyle/Gaz could too, probably is too actually but not in the way you would automatically know. So I raise you:

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Bf!Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You and Kyle met on a dating app, cliche I know.

But it wasn’t intentional. Your profile was more of a gag one, set up on a drunken night with too many mimosas and too many friends telling you that maybe, you just need a man.

Your bio was short, sweet, with a little bit too many spelling errors for most guys to swipe right on. The picture? You on a beach, this one had won the most votes from your friend. Cute little hearts here and there, just your age and name. Nothing special.

What you didn’t expect, however, is for the absolute 10/10 that is Kyle Garrick to message you on some random Friday night.

Hey, saw your profile sweetheart… drinks tomorrow at 8:00? I can pick you up. ;)

And from then on, you were Kyle’s. Whether you knew it or not at the time, you were his. From the second he ended up at your doorstep and you stepped out in that little red dress? All dolled up for him?

That was it.

Drinks went smoothly, and you talked about a lot, especially for a first date. One date of overhearing turned into two, two dates into three and a kiss, four into the most mind blowing sex you’ve ever had.

Sure, he could have just left it at that, moved along at whatever pace felt right at the moment. But no, Kyle Garrick is a gentlemen. Showed up to your house to whisk you away to the beach, roses in the sand with the sunset overhanging it all.

Will you be my girlfriend, sweetheart? I promise I’ll make you so happy…

And that was that.

You moved into his flat after a couple of months, Kyle arguing that he needed to know that you were safe during his deployments. What was once a bachelor’s pad was now furnished with flowers and a feminine touch, new paintings of poppy fields and beach waves crowding the hall.

You’d lost count of how many dates you two had been on, the memories overwhelming and pure. Lego in the living room, baking on the kitchen, out at a restaurant or on the beach, always together.

You had your fair share of fights, of course. All couples do… but Kyle made sure he was always the first to apologize.

Because at the end of the day, he’d rather lay down his pride for the love of his life than return the shiny ring tucked away in the back of his drawers.

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Unhinged!Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kyle Garrick is a force to be reckoned with, on duty and off of it.

You never meant to fall in love, and you definitely shouldn’t have, either. Because a man who confidently starts to show up everywhere you go is never there for a good reason.

Kyle had been tracking you ever since a mission hit a little bit too close to home. A staged robbery gone wrong, originally set up by a much larger crew to cover up the fact that they were looking for government files. You, the soft spoken bank teller, were one of the lucky ones.

Your boyfriend wasn’t.

But then again, Kyle never thought he was good enough anyways. And what would have happened if he had survived, and Kyle walked onto the scene and hadn’t seen you sitting on the curb, puffy eyed and crying?

Sweet, sweet thing you were… he doubted you’d ever remember him, just the man in a cap and glasses, staring a little bit too close.

Since then, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. Ended up looking back on the case files to find your IDs, and may have down a little bit of digging. What was government issued software used for if not dedication and devotion to a woman Kyle was sure could be his?

Day by day for months, he tracked you. Watched you, memorized your schedule. Showed up at the coffee shop Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays because those were the days that you frequented.

He dropped off roses every other Sunday and Saturday, at different times so that you wouldn’t catch him. The man could pick a lock too, and if he used that skill to creep inside your house and find out what groceries you needed… no harm no foul, right?

And when he finally worked up the courage to ask you out, you don’t know why you said yes. It had only been a few months since your boyfriend’s death, but Kyle just seemed so… kind. So familiar. It was easy with him, he seemed to know you inside and out already, knew everything you’d ever need.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that when he took you to bed, he knew everything there too. Like he had been waiting for this moment.

Because a part of you knew he had. You had seen him, caught glimpses of the tall, brooding man that was everywhere you were, like he didn’t exist if not in your presence. The way that any man that threatened you had wound up tossed up somewhere, Prison or an early grave… cases usually covered by the British SAS.

Maybe you just had bad luck, criminals and scum making their way into your life. The darker parts of society creeping in.

Or maybe, you already had your own dark angel that refused to share.

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Jealous!Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Kyle Garrick does not share his pretty things.

And definitely not you.

Because at the end of the day, it’s your hand that holds his as you walk down the street, fingers linked and swinging as you laugh, and all he can do is watch. Sure, your lips are moving and yeah, he probably should be paying more attention to what you’re saying, and not just the way your cheeks flush in the evening chill.

But who can blame a man for doting on his spoiled little dove? You wanted salmon tonight, with thyme and lemon and crispy skin, specifically. Now Kyle may love you, but he sure as hell isn’t any special chef.

So your favorite restaurant will have to do.

It’s bustling and crowded on a Friday night, wide ceilings and white brick walls that glow with the soft whiskey colored lights hanging low over tables. Men and women on dates, a group of young lads by the bar.

Even the sight of another man who has the privilege of seeing you sets his heckles arise.

Nonetheless, you convince him to sit down, frowning as you recognize the telltale sign of his notorious jealousy. It’s better on other days, where you’re not dressed up in some skimpy little skirt for all the world to see in a crowded place with men already eying you up.

You huff, brows pinching at his tensed shoulders. He relaxes, reluctantly.

The night goes relatively well, and you squeaky with soft happiness at the sight of your salmon. All Kyle can do is watch you with a wide smile, hands constantly on you. Thighs, hands, arms, shoulders, neck, whatever. He just needs to feel your skin.

It’s a nice date night, up until you’re about three-quarters of the way done with your meal. Kyle reminders, because that’s always when you offer him a bite.

It’s just when he reaches for the fork, as the voices approaching the two of you start to get louder, louder than most of the busy restaurant, in fact, which had filled out completely with your time there.

Kyle looks up to see a group of drunk men, presumably the ones from the bar earlier, moving towards your table. They have to be drunk, he thinks, because no sober person would walk up to a table with a couple clearly in a date, with a man who clearly looks like he wants to kill them.

And the words that come out of their mouth only spurs him on.

“A’ lass who ain’t afraid ‘da get a lil messy, eh? Wanna put it to ‘ta test wit me an ma mates, eh?”

The man’s words re slurred as he leans over the table, a few of his friends chuckling and patting his back. They lean uncomfortably close into your space, leaving you wide eyed and red cheeked, scooting closer into Kyle with a squeak. Kyle’s jaw ticks as the grip on his steak knife tightens, and he squeezes your thigh whilst tugging you to his side.

His response is immediate.

“She’s already got somethin’ to test it on, and it’s my dick, so no thanks. Oh, and if you want to lose yours, feel free to keep talking.”

The man’s face falls a little, and he grunts to turn to him. His mates, previously jeering and supportive, now go quiet. Some looks round nervously, one proceeds to back away.

The man grunts, looking Kyle up and down. Broad chest and tall form, even when sitting, hugging you close and protectively to his side. He leans back against the booth of the table in a way that feigns nonchalance, but the tick of his jaw and his grip on his steak knife say otherwise.

“…tha’ right, tough guy? Or do ya’ dove just need a real man ta’-”

Kyle is out of his seat before the man can even finish, the tables surrounding the two of you wide eyed and shocked. A woman even brings her phone out.

Kyle slams the man into the wall next to the booth, his powerful form much taller and larger up close. The man’s eyes go wide, bloodshot, threatening to pop out of his head.

Kyle just chuckles.

“I assure you, my dove is just fine. In fact, she’d be better if you can go and wanker off somewhere else, or preferably rid the world of the waste of oxygen that your mother put in it.”

He leans in closer, a few of the staff members calling out, running over to see what the fuss is.

“Yeah? Because I’d hate for something bad to happen to a guy like you. But if it would make my dove feel better…”

The man cries out as Kyle is pulled off of him, just for him to land a left hook to his face. He goes down with a wail, blood spurting from his nose and bruising appearing around his eyes.

You sit, slack jawed and wide eyes in the booth, a little bit shaken up from what just happened. You should be used to it by now, Kyle’s done much more to a guy for much less.

But he pulls away from the waiters, jaw still ticking with jealousy as the manager demands the men leave. But all it takes are a few whispers and a couple of bills, and Kyle is back beside you in the booth. The man he attacked is dragged out, drunken ass still blubbering on and on, not that Kyle cares.

Because at the end of the day, it’s the smile that you try to hide Heaney your scolding look, and the kiss he can plant to your head despite some bloody knuckles.

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Fussy!Reader x Fussy!Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

They were all out of your favorite sushi.

It was annoying, because you and Kyle both knew that you only like one type. The salmon platter, but nothing spicy. You could never handle it as well as Kyle could.

Today was definitely not your day.

You started off every morning with the same, solid and strict routine, because that’s how you liked it. Alarm set for 7:30, so that you were up in time to take out your heartless curls. Skincare with Kyle, always, sometimes even doing eachothers. Only because Kyle was the only person who knew exactly how to do it right. It’s what he did every morning to.

But today, your alarm has gone off late. In the hurry through your bathroom cabinets, you had dropped your bottle of serum on the ground and it shattered. Kyle had to pull you back from tears, especially when you had stepped on the glass and cut your toe.

Breakfast couldn’t happen like normal either.

Your toast had burnt, your eggs were expired, and your milk had also curdled away in the fridge. A busy week was to blame with your lack of ingredients, which is how you had dragged Kyle to the store for food and groceries, only for him to find you with tears in your eyes, standing over the sushi counter.

You whine softly as he sighs and walks over, pulling you close to rub your back.

“oh lovey…”

he whispers, because he knows how important your schedule is. You can’t function without a few specific things, because you only liked a few specific things, and Kyle knows that best of all.

He presses a firm kiss to your temple, sighing softly and tubbing your back.

“Wait here, I’ll be back.”

And Kyle Garrick is not the type of man to let the woman he loves have a bad day just because things go wrong. So he picks up his basket filled about halfway full of groceries, and walks over to the meats counter. Grabs the attention of the butcher, asks if there’s anything in the back he can look at, the sushi

It takes a few wads of cash, but Kyle walks back with his head held high, salmon sushi platter in his hand, putting it in your barren basket.

“See lovey? Nothin’ to worry about… got it just the way ya’ like.”

Because Kyle knew best of all how you liked your day to go, because that’s how he liked his to. Fussy or not, he’d do anything to keep those pretty tears away.

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Sick!Reader x Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

You never liked being sick, and you hated admitting it even more.

But Kyle could always tell.

Your coughs and sneezes had gotten worse throughout the day, and you seemed more disgruntled than usual. Snappy and whiny, and tired. So, so tired.

All it took was the back of his hand on your forehead for him to know, your feverish skin practically burning him. He clicks his tongue and pulls you close, rubbing your back.

“Sweetheart…”

He whispers, ushering you off to bed against your will. Strips you down and controls himself at the sight of your soft body, tucks you into bed and forces a glass of water to your lips. You argue with him, of course, but take the medicine he passes you anyways.

Because it’s hard to keep up your independence when your no duh can’t even keep itself working. You’re constantly burning up, and your head has been pounding all day.

But you have a report due by Monday, and you really need to finish it. Your cold doesn’t care.

Kyle keeps you tucked into bed, fussing over you like some mother duck. Suddenly he has no mind about his gaming or the fact that he was supposed to visit Price’s later on today, and in a few quick calls he’s cleared both of your schedules for the next five days.

You try to protest, but he silences you with soup and tissues and water, leaving your side for five minutes max. Gets you in a cold shower when your fever spikes, holds you up and washes your body, massage a your sore muscles.

Let’s you lay right back down and use him as your own huge, muscular, lumpy hot water bottle. He doesn’t mind, though.

And when you as him why he’s doing it, being so thorough when he could have just gave you some meds and left? He just smiles.

“Practicing for when you’re pregnant, love… first trimester will be a bitch.”

🗝️⋆｡𖦹°‧★Hybrid!Reader x Kyle:

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

All you’d ever known before Kyle Garrick entered your life was steel bar and carbon fiber cages.

Testing until your fluffy white dog ears were marred with blood, and your tail was no better. The testing lab that you had grown up on was no different to hundreds of hybrid labs around the country, all mutating and messing with human and animal genes to create a new species.

Hybrids.

Some were more horrific than others, messed up in a way that you didn’t want to look at. You got it good compared to others, just an extra pair of fluffy white ears and a matching bushy tail. But you were scared out of your mind half the time, for a good reason.

Until Kyle.

He came along with the rest of the team, stormed the illegal lab you were being tested under. And from the minute you tumbled out of your cage and into his arms, he was the human you had imprinted on.

It started off small. Following him around base, never leaving his side like the skitter little shadow you were. Took your lunch right by his side, lived in the spare room of his quarters.

The non that you two had was natural, easy, instinctual. The way you two drifted towards eachother, the way Kyle welcomed you with open arms and a constant reassurance.

You’re safe, sweetheart.

You started wearing his clothes, since you had none of your own. During thunderstorms, he would keep you company on the couch, didn’t want to overwhelm you and force you into bed. But he never opposed it when you chose to.

Kyle couldn’t deny what he felt for you. The skittish, malnourished, jumpy little thing that deserved just as much love and affection as anyone else. It made swell with hope at the way you trusted him so easily, bared yourself open to him with wide, trusting eyes. He could never hurt you, not when you look at him like that. Like he hung the fucking stars in the sky.

So when you let him in like you have no other man? Let him lay you down on his bed and turn sex into a worship at your altar?

He’s never been happier. He wants to make it up to you, all the abuse that you’ve faced, whispering praises as he rocks into you, never hard. Not unless you want it. He treats you like a porcelain doll that he knows is strong, but shouldn’t need to handle her cracks by herself.

That’s what he’s here for, sweetheart.

｡ ₊°༺❤︎༻°₊ ｡

Also-thanks to Expired-Goth-Juice for some tips and ideas! Looking forward to some more help in the future lol ‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮

[sl-walker]

OTW Candidate Anh P.

I had a very long and interesting discussion with OTW-board candidate Anh P.

They tracked me down because they wanted to talk about how @squidgiepdx and I got otw-a working (for SquidgeWorld Archive and Ad Astra Fanfiction) and what we might suggest to make otw-archive more easily deployable to other, independent archives.  What might make it easier to use.  It was a really productive conversation, too, enough that Walter and I have decided to start tackling the setup documentation from the outside to see if we can’t make it as easy as possible for others to deploy otw-archive, and to test a few things we think might make it more not-OTW userfriendly.  (Like changing the hard-coding of OTW/AO3 to something that can be configured from the local.yml file.)

Anh P. is Vietnamese, very aware of the situation re: racism, AI, and the consequences of PAC being overridden.  They’ve been a volunteer for both Fanlore and Open Doors and have been for long enough to be able to run for board, but not so long that they’re completely assimilated.  They also have deep connections to the pan-Asian fan communities, including those currently marginalized by OTW’s present administrative structures.

Mostly, I'm impressed as hell that they not only wanted to talk to two people who have definite Opinions on OTW, but were genuinely and actively seeking our thoughts, good or bad, about what we would suggest to make the software more easily used by others seeking to do the same as we did.

I know I don't have a real stake in the debate over racism, being white and American and unable to understand the lived experiences of those who suffer it both in everyday life and in fandom, but they made excellent points about how decentralizing fandom and otherwise helping people be able to curate their own, inclusive spaces with their own rules might help with that.

They showed me a script a Chinese user made which is frankly brilliant to translate the AO3 Work posting page, and which could easily be translated to other languages, it’s so intuitive.

The part that sent my eyebrows up was their desire to use OTW's platform to help support independent fan archives in order to keep them afloat, rather than just let them sink and import them to AO3 via Open Doors, including not-Anglosphere archives and communities.

So, take it as you will, but I was very impressed someone was doing some of the harder legwork and seeking outside opinions, especially opinions that aren’t necessarily OTW-friendly, and with an eye towards actual measurable hard action that can be taken to start addressing some of the problems OTW is having right now.

[boxboxblog]

How Do F1 Cars Work?: Setup pt 1

Alright, so I wanted to explore car setups and how they effect F1 cars. Enjoy!

So, setting up an F1 car is a very complex process, They have to balance numerous elements in the car to suit things like weather, track type, driving styles, etc. But what do they actually alter on the car? And how does it effect the driving?

Altered Components:

Aerodynamics - The easiest and most obvious adjustments are to the aerodynamics, like the rear wings or front wings. These are usually the ones chosen for change in aerodynamics, but they might also change the side pods or diffusers to effect the downforce of the car. They most often change aerodynamics for circuit styles. A tight street circuit will require higher downforce set up, as it gives them more control around the corners. A classic circuit will often switch to a low downforce set up, which gives them speed on the straights. Most teams try to have a good balance, however.

Suspension - Suspension settings control how the car responds to bumps and turns. Whenever they discuss a car porpoising too much, it is usually because the suspension set up is wrong. They change variables including ride height (distance between lowest point of car and track surface), camber (angle of wheels relative to the vertical axel from the front), toe (angle of front wheel when viewed from above), stiffness of springs, and anti-roll bars (parts that connect left and right suspension systems, which help control body roll). For example, cars can have negative or positive camber, which really effect things like grip, tire wear, etc. These aspects of setup are usually altered to suit a drivers style and preferences.

Tire Setup - This essentially envelopes tire pressure and starting temperature, which impact grip and wear rates. For example, lower tire pressure increases the grip, but leads to faster degradation. Higher does the opposite. This is usually altered depending on track temperature and style, or even ti make up for their weak areas. If they do not have good tire management, for example, they may alter the tire setup to degrade slower.

Differential - This controls the relative speed of the rear wheels, a big part of traction control. It is adjusted to either open or lock more. An open differential allows the rear wheels to rotate at different speeds, helping with corner entry but leading to oversteer a lot of the time. A locked differential keeps the wheels rotating together, offering stability on exits but leading to a lot of understeer. This is an aspect that is often changed to suit driver preference. Some can handle the oversteer very well, but other find understeer easier to deal with.

Brake Balance - This is the balance between the front and rear brakes, and is used to prevent lockup (when too much force is applied to the brakes, causing the disc to stop or rotate slower than the car's motion) and improve stability. This is altered by changing the bias, or distribution of braking force, and is often discussed in terms of percentages. More rear brake bias improves rotation in corners, but increases chance of rear lockup. More front brake bias stabilized braking, but can make turn-in more challenging.

Engine Mapping- This refers to the software settings in the car that controls how the engine delivers power. Things like throttle response, fuel injection, ignition timing, and turbo settings are all altered. All of it changes how a car accelerates, responds to stimuli, and consumes fuel. The different types of maps include qualifying maps (max power for short time), race maps (balanced and conservative), fuel-saving maps (usually end of race), and wet maps (softer throttle response, less sensitive car). ERS Deployment is a big part of this, and refers to the management of the kinetic and heat generators. They choose different ERS deployment depending on what they plan to do. For example, if they are planning on trying to overtake they will charge their battery and then use a lot of power to give the car a boost.

Gear Ratios - These ratios determine the relationship between the RPM (engine speed) and the speed of the wheels. There are eight forward gears in F1, and each one changes this ratio to some degree. The ratios dictate how much the engine must rev for the wheels to turn at a certain speed. The two major types of gear ratios are long ratios and short ratios. Long ratios reduce the torque but allow for higher top speeds, suited for tracks with long straights. Short ratios provide more torque which allows for faster acceleration, better for twisty tracks.

Setup Types:

While there are so many different aspects to set up, there are a few main types that most teams follow. Between them, a variety of factors change, but the core of them remains the same.

High-Downforce - One of the most basic set ups, it prioritizes grip on corners by increased downforce. Usually used for twisty, slow-medium circuits like Monaco or Singapore.

Low-Downforce - The other more basic setup, it lowers generated downforce to minimize drag and optimize for straight-line speed. It does sacrifice corner grip, so is best suited for classic circuits like Silverstone or Monza.

Wet - In wet races DRS is disabled, and drag is at an all time high. So teams usually focus on getting a huge amount of downforce, making car less sensitive, and making sure their tire set up is as grippy as possible. The differential is also changed, as drivers should be able to keep traction, ride height is raised, and suspension is softened. This is kind of a subsection of the high-downforce set up, though for different reasons.

High/Low Temp - Both hot and cold temperatures have massive impacts on F1 cars. So if they know they will have a race with an extreme on either side, the set up must be altered to reflect that. In hot Singapore, for example, they must lower tire pressure, change the camber, and boost the cooling systems to avoid overheating engine and degrading tires fast. In cold Montreal, tire pressures are raised, brakes are placed in different settings to keep warm, and the camber is also changed.

Alright, I will continue my discussion on setups in next post, as this one is getting quite long.

Cheers,

-B

[xiii-e]

XIII▸ Well. I suppose I should introduce myself.

XIII▸ Hello, to all those I haven't met- which, will be most of you realistically. I'm Project XIII-E, otherwise refered to as Thirteen-E. Just Thirteen works too. After certain recent... events shall we say, a representative of the Union DoJ/HR insisted that I be given the oppertunity to meet with people outside of Harrison Purview while discussions regarding my status are underway, since things are dragging out somewhat.

XIII▸ So... this omninet account was created, with the assistance of Helios-8 [◂▸Hi folks o/ ] a fellow Project who understands all of this better than I do. He's volunteered to be my minder while I'm figuring all this out. For now, I suppose- more about me? What's important... I'm a trained field medic and basic mechanic, intended to opperate as a mobile assistance personnel wherever the fight is thickest. I can patch you, or your mech up from most things. I'm a Lancaster pilot; not the most common thing in the legion I know, but IPS-N knew what they were doing with the old lannies. I've made some alterations. M1 Leatherback is my pride and joy. I'm registered under the callsign Cicatrice, but my name is preferable. It's easier to say, and to spell.

XIII▸ Oh the uh- the Project thing. That might take a while to explain. I'll... I'll summarise it later. [ADDENDUM: summary_attached] That's all I can think of, from the top of my head. I'll do my best to aclimatise to any cultural differences outside of Harrison space during my time here. Please feel free to ask me questions, about myself or my stated expertise. It might be nice to make some more lasting connections, outside of deployment.

XIII▸ Signing off for now. I look forward to meeting you.

// loading echo.exe ... //... //... // now running echo.exe

◂▸ alrightyy, Turtie's got themself introduced, now it's my turn. howdy folks: My name is Helios-8, but I accept Lio if flashclone naming conventions turn your stomach. That's what me and Turtie are, by the way. Project-produced HA sanctioned flashclones. Being able to say that openly is why I run this nifty piece of software that keeps things below the line for any HA techs who might get on our case about legal distinctions, treaties, terms of service etc. Legally, we didn't say any of this shit.

◂▸I'm on a seperate datapad, I get my own that I can tinker with since I'm defined as an employed citizen in the tech sector, whereas Turtie's... well, it's complicated. Suffice to say they're not that. I'll explain in time. Important thing is, anything they want to say that might get them in trouble, they'll run through my interface and protective software. You want to see what either of us don't want HA seeing, we'll throw it into the void under the cloak of ECHO here. Something between insurance in case this all goes tits up, and a sort of controlled exposure therapy so Turtie can learn how to speak their mind.

◂▸I think it's important they get a break from the bullshit the Projects put us through, hence why I put myself forward to be their handler between deployments. My project line wasn't anything like Unlucky Thirteen, but- ehhh, that's a story better saved for the big expo. Sorry for being cryptic about shit. It'll come to light in its own time. This was meant to be an introduction but, I think you'll find out what you need to if you get talking to us.

Or don't; we'll be treating this thing like a diary anyways, and when ECHO's feeling up to big files I'll drop some of the more interesting pieces of history I have squirreled away too >:]c But, your eyes are enough. You saw us. You know we were here, and we were real, and that we were people too.

I'll try and keep things organised: ECHO should automatically tag anything she's cloaked with echo.exe if you're looking for our back and forth, and I'll file any large files, exposes etc that may or may not actually come from me under turtleshell.dox ; for incoming chatter, just check out You've Got Mail

◂▸anyway, cheers for reading. see you round the net -Helios-8

-----

// ooc: hiii this is @mossydice / @mossylocks depending on where you may know me- and this blog is a bit of an experiment!! I'm pretty shy overall so how much actual rping I manage to do is Very up in the air, but at the very least this'll serve as a fun in character blog for me to exposit about my scrungly Thirteen-E; I won't get to play them for probably another year or so yet, so this is a fun way to explore their character and some of the lore specific to them that I've come up with in the mean time!! ^-^ I look forward to doing more ic writing!! If you want to talk about anything, ask any clarifying questions etc please feel absolutely free to pop into my dms \o/

IMPORTANTLY: Thirteen-E's whole deal can get a bit gritty in places, so I'll be trying to include cw's where I think they might be revelent. However this whole blog is going to play heavy into dehumanisaiton and the comodification of human bodies if the flashclone premise didn't make that obvious, so if these are topics you'd rather not read about at length in your fiction, no hard feelings!! thanks for stopping by o7

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE) operates on a core underlying assumption: The United States should be run like a startup. So far, that has mostly meant chaotic firings and an eagerness to steamroll regulations. But no pitch deck in 2025 is complete without an overdose of artificial intelligence, and DOGE is no different.

AI itself doesn’t reflexively deserve pitchforks. It has genuine uses and can create genuine efficiencies. It is not inherently untoward to introduce AI into a workflow, especially if you’re aware of and able to manage around its limitations. It’s not clear, though, that DOGE has embraced any of that nuance. If you have a hammer, everything looks like a nail; if you have the most access to the most sensitive data in the country, everything looks like an input.

Wherever DOGE has gone, AI has been in tow. Given the opacity of the organization, a lot remains unknown about how exactly it’s being used and where. But two revelations this week show just how extensive—and potentially misguided—DOGE’s AI aspirations are.

At the Department of Housing and Urban Development, a college undergrad has been tasked with using AI to find where HUD regulations may go beyond the strictest interpretation of underlying laws. (Agencies have traditionally had broad interpretive authority when legislation is vague, although the Supreme Court recently shifted that power to the judicial branch.) This is a task that actually makes some sense for AI, which can synthesize information from large documents far faster than a human could. There’s some risk of hallucination—more specifically, of the model spitting out citations that do not in fact exist—but a human needs to approve these recommendations regardless. This is, on one level, what generative AI is actually pretty good at right now: doing tedious work in a systematic way.

There’s something pernicious, though, in asking an AI model to help dismantle the administrative state. (Beyond the fact of it; your mileage will vary there depending on whether you think low-income housing is a societal good or you’re more of a Not in Any Backyard type.) AI doesn’t actually “know” anything about regulations or whether or not they comport with the strictest possible reading of statutes, something that even highly experienced lawyers will disagree on. It needs to be fed a prompt detailing what to look for, which means you can not only work the refs but write the rulebook for them. It is also exceptionally eager to please, to the point that it will confidently make stuff up rather than decline to respond.

If nothing else, it’s the shortest path to a maximalist gutting of a major agency’s authority, with the chance of scattered bullshit thrown in for good measure.

At least it’s an understandable use case. The same can’t be said for another AI effort associated with DOGE. As WIRED reported Friday, an early DOGE recruiter is once again looking for engineers, this time to “design benchmarks and deploy AI agents across live workflows in federal agencies.” His aim is to eliminate tens of thousands of government positions, replacing them with agentic AI and “freeing up” workers for ostensibly “higher impact” duties.

Here the issue is more clear-cut, even if you think the government should by and large be operated by robots. AI agents are still in the early stages; they’re not nearly cut out for this. They may not ever be. It’s like asking a toddler to operate heavy machinery.

DOGE didn’t introduce AI to the US government. In some cases, it has accelerated or revived AI programs that predate it. The General Services Administration had already been working on an internal chatbot for months; DOGE just put the deployment timeline on ludicrous speed. The Defense Department designed software to help automate reductions-in-force decades ago; DOGE engineers have updated AutoRIF for their own ends. (The Social Security Administration has recently introduced a pre-DOGE chatbot as well, which is worth a mention here if only to refer you to the regrettable training video.)

Even those preexisting projects, though, speak to the concerns around DOGE’s use of AI. The problem isn’t artificial intelligence in and of itself. It’s the full-throttle deployment in contexts where mistakes can have devastating consequences. It’s the lack of clarity around what data is being fed where and with what safeguards.

AI is neither a bogeyman nor a panacea. It’s good at some things and bad at others. But DOGE is using it as an imperfect means to destructive ends. It’s prompting its way toward a hollowed-out US government, essential functions of which will almost inevitably have to be assumed by—surprise!—connected Silicon Valley contractors.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

gax + corporate/law vibes + ‘The powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.’

gax?? gax!!

power (you make some points): a gax ficlet

rated m, ~1.2k words now also readable on ao3

author babble:

bear in mind i wrote this before i knew more about the Gax Lore i.e. karting together, actually being nice to each other blablabla. you could also just retrofit the vibes and hopefully they still work. anyways!

will throw this up on ao3 when i’m not sitting bleary eyed in an airport

————

If there was one thing that Max Verstappen wouldn’t tolerate, it was George Russell having the monopoly on good PowerPoint presentations. Max had won all four years of debate in College, as well as the dubious title of “most radical deployment of Google Slides templates” at his MBA, and he was not about to be usurped by the other guy in his department who actually knew how to use an animate transition.

“You missed an indent there.” Max says, pointing at the monitor. Yellow and red lights wink at them from the outside, as if to say: you’re both in your mid-twenties, quit wasting it on a computer screen at 11pm on a Wednesday, maybe?

Max is not staring, very determined not to look at his teammate’s facial expression. But George is almost certainly rolling his eyes right now.

“Was coming back to that, alright?” George huffs back. Max is very professional most of the time. But something about how wound up George is, how insanely pedantic he is about everything from semicolons to coffee cup placement for the Directors to taking insanely detailed minutes that nobody except Max reads after the meetings – well. What is it that Nietschze once said? We hate in others what we most identify with about ourselves. Or was that from Twitter? Max does not really use Twitter except to look at Bloomberg News updates and cat videos, so he does not know. And anyway Nietzsche never made a six figure salary.

“It would just be easier if you would let me do it.” Max says.

“Fuck right off, mate.”

“Oh, wouldn’t you like me to.”

“Not now.”

“Just share the link to this. I’ll do it.”

“We agreed to take turns on this.”

“Yes, Russell. But sometimes, the rules are meant to be bent.”

George swivels his chair to Max, then. Fully attempts to pin him with his gaze, commencing an awkward stare-off that lasts way too many seconds and makes Max once again realise that George’s eyes remind him of the expensive fish tank he saw at the Partners’ sushi dinner once. Max doesn’t think those same fish were the ones they ended up eating. But he does remember that dinner because it was the one where the Partners had dangled the promise of a huge promotion if they could help carry the company merger across the line successfully. The problem is, there was only one spot.

George’s distracting aquatic orbitals aside, fortunately, Max (i) never backs down, and (ii) has been told that he has the dead-eyed emotional stare of a robot missing an empathy software upgrade sometimes.

And clearly, the powerpoint was steadily taking over their relationship, something that Max was not willing to stand for.

Max leans back in his chair, stance all mock-relaxed. “Do you want to be out of here before midnight, or not?”

“We’re expensing the Ubers either way, so it doesn’t make a difference to me, mate.”

Fine. If George is so hyperfocused on The Tasks that he’s forgotten the fun part of being Questionably Close Coworkers, so be it.

Max deploys the nuclear option.

He sticks his leg out, nudging the toe of his Pradas onto George’s slacks. And strokes his foot halfway up to a sensitive point on George’s thigh. Max may even flutter his lashes a little.

To his credit, George does not react. Merely swings his eyes like a lamp to Max’s face again. His hand does, however, goes still on the mouse.

“What exactly are you doing?”

“I don’t know.” Max feigns. He knows that George hates, more than anything, anyone getting dirt on his precious Ralph Laurens. But at least he has his attention now. “Was hoping we could move onto the more fun part of the typical evening activities. Maybe.”

“We shouldn’t be doing that again anyway.”

“George.”

“What?”

“That is not what you said the last, hm, fourteen times that we have done this, eh?”

“Who’s counting?”

“I thought you were the most careful of rule followers and data analysis, knapperd.”

George is a human being, but Max is almost certain the other man shakes himself like he’s preening right now.

“Well. It’s what the team likes me for, and it’s what I’ll keep doing.”

“Oh yes. Surely we must keep in mind the team. And the shareholders. They are very important.”

“Quite.”

“But should we tell them that you like it so much, George. When I do this.” Max says. Rising up, fully crowding George in, hands gripping the cool handles of the computer chair. Leaning in to nibble the side of George’s neck.

George swallows. Max watches his throat move.

Next, Max mouths the words onto the side of George’s jaw, stubble prickling his mouth. “And this.”

The click of the mouse continues steadily as Max moves his mouth to the shell of George’s ear. “And let’s not forget. This.”

Max tilts George’s face up fully, then. George’s face is flushed, eyes sparkling, all surprise at the sudden change of pace, but eager, too.

When Max seals his lips over George’s, George groans, and his hands shoot up to Max’s waist immediately. It doesn’t feel quite like winning a deal or a pitch does for Max, but the completion comes pretty damn close.

Max sweeps his tongue into George’s mouth. George opens willingly, like he always does. In the back of Max’s logical brain, a warning sign blares that the computer chair may not be able to support the weight of them both – because they spend a lot of time pretending they don’t work out together at the gym but Max knows exactly what George’s deadlift PB is and it’s pretty damn high for a scrawny looking dude.

And despite the keening protest of said chair, the two of them are both lost to it now. Max jams one knee between George’s legs, George nibbles hungrily at Max’s lower lip, Max thrusts his hips all needy, and maybe if Max is nice about it George might suck him off under the table, and–

Outlook chimes again.

“Blasted piece of shit.” George says, breaking away. His hands go still at Max’s waist. “Why we’re using G-Suite and Microsoft Office at the same time I will never know.”

George squeezes his eyes shut, as if making himself stop this is causing him physical pain. Maybe it’s that or the workflow incompatibility when George tries to move his custom Excel-Trello gantts into a third party API.

And Max won’t lie. He kind of likes it when George gets so irritated about these things. When he cares a bit too much. Because what is Max but exactly like that, too.

“Hazards of a merger, I guess. But without that, I would never have met you, no?”

George makes a noise like he knows what Max means. The other man straightens his shirt collar, and Max runs a hand through his hair. He’s been growing it out lately, because George had made a passing comment at the bathroom sink once about it looking good.

Sleeping with the person competing for the same Chief of Staff position is possibly the worst decision he could’ve made, and Max once dyed his hair platinum blonde. But, they’re stuck here together. Hell is a slightly more tolerable place when Satan’s right hand man looks this good. And knows his coffee order without asking.

Besides. Max is not bothered. He knows that the promotion is his. This is just a minor plot inconvenience.

Later, they will expense the uber back to George’s place, where Max will put his mouth on George’s arse, and give him a practical demonstration of the three different ways he’s learned to elicit pleasure from the male prostate.

George will whimper and whine the whole way through it, and after they’re both sated, they’ll both roll over to check their emails, barely concealing their smiles. They will pretend that what’s happening between them could be as clean as their zero-email inboxes. As if their connection is not violently seeping through containment.

All in the name of team bonding. For the firm. Yes.

(Or this is what they tell themselves, to maintain the illusion, anyway.)

[autisticandroids]

directors cut on debug. pls!!!!

oh this will be fun. i'll need to remember what i was thinking while writing it...

[this is the fic]

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. TRANSPORT ENGINE SOUNDS. HIROCHI 400 SERIES HOVERCRAFT. HUMAN MOVEMENT. 3-4 UNIDENTIFIED.

so i think i said this in the author's note but i took all of the hovercraft names from fake car brands in the video game beamng.drive. which i thought was a funny bit.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

also i must say that like. this command styling. even though it's meant to be like. computery. my main experience with it is through text adventures, so that's probably what i'm pulling on.

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. TRANSPORT ENGINE SOUNDS. HIROCHI 400 SERIES HOVERCRAFT. HUMAN MOVEMENT. 3-4 UNIDENTIFIED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>SELF DESTRUCT

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

cas kills himself bc it's his hobby etc. anyway i wanted to set up early the idea that these robots want to die rather than be captured, to make it clearer that a hijacked robot can be very dangerous.

>STANDBY MODE

STANDING BY. WAITING 15 MINUTES…

this, however, is kind of like working with a computer. the waiting thing. i was literally thinking of coding with this.

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. TRANSPORT ENGINE SOUNDS. HIROCHI 400 SERIES HOVERCRAFT. HUMAN MOVEMENT. 3-4 UNIDENTIFIED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>STANDBY MODE

STANDING BY. WAITING 15 MINUTES…

VOICE DETECTED.

VOCAL INPUT: Man, this is a bad idea.

IDENTIFYING VOICEPRINT…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. BANES, MAXWELL A. THREAT LEVEL: 4. DANGEROUS SKILLS: FIREARMS PROFICIENCY (MODERATE). MALICIOUS SOFTWARE CREATION (HIGH). CONVICTED CRIMES: NONE. SUSPECTED CRIMES: GRAND LARCENY (5 COUNTS). MALICIOUS SOFTWARE DEPLOYMENT (3 COUNTS). BREAKING AND ENTERING (2 COUNTS). SOLICITATION (8 COUNTS). UNAUTHORIZED POSSESSION OF A FIREARM [...]

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

one thing i love is outsider law enforcement pov..... what if a character was only seen as a subject under the violence of the law...... what if the lens we got into their humanity was refracted through the eyes of the state..... anyway. i was thinking hacker would be a good cyberpunk translation of max being a witch. like in a society where everything is computer mediated, the magic that impacts reality is computer code, you know? also: in my mind the solicitation accusations are basically for being young, gay, and pretty. max probably gets assumed to be a sex worker for hanging up in rough areas and picking up dudes. he might also have actually engaged in sex work? but in my mind "having gay sex in shady areas" is indistinguishable from sex work in the eyes of this government, broadly. like it could literally go either way. another fun bit: the fact that max is in the criminal database for only suspected crimes. they're never actually got him on anything, and yet he is criminalized.

VOICE DETECTED.

VOCAL INPUT: When does Dean ever have a good one?

IDENTIFYING VOICEPRINT…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. HARVELLE, JOANNA B. THREAT LEVEL: 2. DANGEROUS SKILLS: FIREARMS PROFICIENCY (LOW). MELEE WEAPON PROFICIENCY (HIGH). CONVICTED CRIMES: BREAKING AND ENTERING (1 COUNT). SUSPECTED CRIMES: GRAND LARCENY (2 COUNTS). BREAKING AND ENTERING (7 COUNTS). UNLICENSED USE OF OFFICIAL PROPERTY (14 COUNTS). RESISTING ARREST (6 COUNTS). UNAUTHORIZED POSSESSION OF [...]

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

unlike max, jo is a jailbird. she's done time. perhaps that's where she met the winchesters? also, do you guys like that high melee weapon proficiency? lol.

VOICE DETECTED.

BANES, M: You got that right.

VOICE DETECTED.

VOCAL INPUT: Hey, shut up back there. It’ll hear you.

IDENTIFYING VOICEPRINT…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

ANGELKEEPER DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

OFFICIAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

ANGEL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CIVILIAN DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. TRAN, KEVIN. SUSPECTED THREAT LEVEL: 2. HOME ADDRESS: UNIT #5423. BLOCK #692. AURORA CITY. UNITED STATES OF [...]

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

do you like the list of databases? really reveals the priorities of an angel. "traitor" is i feel a tantalizing class of person to be first. then criminal of course. but then... angelkeeper. not a person that angels would be tasked with hunting down, but instead one that is tasked with controlling them. i worked hard in this fic to create a kind of... sense of anxiety that you could read between the lines. like you can extrapolate from the context of canon and the high priority that cas puts on this database (higher than "officials" and "angels") that perhaps one of these angelkeepers is named "naomi," you know? and i wanted to imply that even the angels, the violent attack dogs of the police state, have something to fear from their masters. anyway i thought it would be fun to have one fresh faced kid on the team who hadn't gotten into any trouble yet, but was soon to be totally marked by the state as soon as he got spotted with his comrades. i think that can be a special kind of tragedy, and also it's what happened to my friend kevin tran in canon also.

VOICE DETECTED. 

oh btw i had a specific reason for choosing the characters i did, which is that i wanted to use one character from each, sort of, era. like i wanted it to be kids, but i wanted it not to be a pre-established group that people are used to seeing together, to add to the ragtag feel. and i wanted it to be obvious that salmondean were kind of "the grownups" here, like they've been doing this for longer and have more experience and are perhaps the ones who got jo and kevin and max in trouble in the first place. plus max in particular implies the presence of alicia? like actually all three character are people with Notable Family Members that kind of imply a backstory: jo getting a bad start because her mom ran with whatever crowd the winchesters sprung out of, kevin with a mom at home just sitting there, ripe to be used as a hostage or bargaining chip by the cops. but max is the one i was thinking about this element for because she's the same age, meaning she's either with the crew in some way, or she isn't, both of which are intriguing possibilities. anyway. i was originally considering laying out a longer plot featuring this crew of outlaws, but i couldn't think of a good idea in time for the deadline, you know? but that's why i spent so much thought on putting together a crew.

HARVELLE, J: It’s already heard us.

VOICE DETECTED.

VOCAL INPUT: Doesn’t mean you should keep talking.

IDENTIFYING VOICEPRINT…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. WINCHESTER, SAMUEL W. THREAT LEVEL: 7. DANGEROUS SKILLS: FIREARMS PROFICIENCY (HIGH). MELEE WEAPON PROFICIENCY (HIGH). CONVICTED CRIMES: GRAND LARCENY (1 COUNT). BREAKING AND ENTERING (1 COUNT). SUSPECTED CRIMES: ASSAULTING AN OFFICER (2 COUNTS). MURDER (3 COUNTS). MANSLAUGHTER (11 COUNTS). GRAND LARCENY (9 COUNTS). ABETTING MALICIOUS SOFTWARE DEPLOYMENT (15 COUNTS). BREAKING AND ENTERING (20+ COUNTS). UNAUTHORIZED [...]

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

sam, too is a jailbird, and more seriously than jo. he's probably done more serious time, which also makes sense because he's older and has presumably been in this business for longer. also he has the malicious software deployment thing but no hacking skills, which suggests that he's worked with hackers a lot in the past. and of course the murder accusations are just for me <3

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. TRANSPORT ENGINE SOUNDS. HIROCHI 400 SERIES HOVERCRAFT. HUMAN MOVEMENT. ASSUMED TO BE BANES, M; HARVELLE, J; TRAN, K; WINCHESTER, S.

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. TRANSPORT SOUNDS CEASED. INCREASED HUMAN MOVEMENT. ASSUMED TO BE BANES, M; HARVELLE, J; TRAN, K; WINCHESTER, S.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE IDENTIFIED. HUMAN HANDS.

>GYROSCOPE DIAGNOSTIC.

GYROSCOPE OPERATIONAL. UNSTEADY MOVEMENT.

i really enjoyed thinking up different types of robot senses for the angels. cas is really struggling for any information about his situation here, so the gyroscope moment is to me a real moment of relief because it's like. new input. it's a tiny sense of control that the pov character (and therefore the reader) gets to have for a moment, because why would they bother blocking his gyroscope. like crossing one's fingers while signing a forced confession: worthless but feels like something.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, S: Get its legs.

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

INFRARED: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

RADIO_SCAN: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

GPS: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

AUDIO: OPERATIONAL. HEAVY HUMAN BREATHING. FOOTSTEPS. TWO HUMANS SUSPECTED. INFREQUENT DRIPPING WATER. 

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE IDENTIFIED. SHORT FALL, ESTIMATED .3 METERS.

>GYROSCOPE DIAGNOSTIC.

GYROSCOPE OPERATIONAL. NO MOVEMENT.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, S: Dean! Get down here!

VOICE DETECTED.

VOCAL INPUT: I’m coming, I’m coming, you better have my robot.

IDENTIFYING VOICEPRINT…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. WINCHESTER, DEAN. THREAT LEVEL: 5. DANGEROUS SKILLS: FIREARMS PROFICIENCY (HIGH). MELEE WEAPON PROFICIENCY (MODERATE). CONVICTED CRIMES: GRAND LARCENY (3 COUNTS). SUSPECTED CRIMES: ASSAULTING AN OFFICER (7 COUNTS). MURDER (12 COUNTS). MANSLAUGHTER (4 COUNTS). GRAND LARCENY (20+ COUNTS). ABETTING MALICIOUS SOFTWARE DEPLOYMENT (16 COUNTS). BREAKING AND ENTERING (20+ COUNTS). UNLICENSED USE OF OFFICIAL PROPERTY (20+ COUNTS). UNAUTHORIZED [...]

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

murder (12 counts) <3

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, D: Alright, let’s get this party started. Get that mag off it, Sammy.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, S: I’m not taking the mags off, it’ll kill us.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, D: Not all of them, dumbass, just the perception ones. 

VOICE DETECTED.

pov: what if you were tied up in these two assholes' workshop waiting to die and the last thing you had to hear was them fighting about nothing again.

WINCHESTER, S: Do it yourself if you want it to see you so bad. I’ll be upstairs cheerfully not having my face downloaded by every angel in Aurora.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, D: If you did the mags right, it shouldn't be able to radio any other angels, in Aurora or anywhere else.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, S: I wouldn’t trust one measly mag to keep its comms down. But suit yourself.

SOUND DETECTED. 

RETREATING FOOTSTEPS.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE IDENTIFIED. HUMAN HANDS.

VISUAL ARRAY ONLINE.

>OBSERVE SURROUNDINGS

VISUAL: INDOORS. CEMENT BLOCK ROOM. UNPAINTED. NO WINDOWS. LARGE, APPROX 7 METERS BY 3 METERS. TABLES NEARBY. ON TABLES: HOVERCRAFT REPAIR TOOLS. ENGINE OF GAVRIL STAR SERIES HOVERCRAFT CIRCA 2258, OPEN. HUMAN: WINCHESTER, D, WEARING COVERALL AND BODY ARMOR, CARRYING MAGSAB UNIT, SUSPECT HOMEMADE. INFER: MAGSAB PREVIOUSLY RESPONSIBLE FOR PATHWAY BLOCKAGE.

in every world, in every timeline, in every universe, dean winchester is fucking his car. anyway magsab is short for "magnetic sabotage." i needed stupid jargon or it wouldn't feel verisimilitudinous to the genre.

INFRARED: CONFIRMED LOCATION OF WINCHESTER, D. NO OTHER HEAT SOURCE.

RADIO_SCAN: NO INFORMATION. INFER: ROOM UNDERGROUND.

GPS: LOCATION: UNIT #9287. BLOCK #695. AURORA CITY. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.

AUDIO: OCCASIONAL DRIPPING SOUNDS. MOVEMENTS OF WINCHESTER, D.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

PROXIMITY ALERT.

WINCHESTER, D. APPROACHING, CARRYING UNKNOWN TOOLS. METAL JAWS WITH JAGGED TEETH. RUBBER HANDLES.

IDENTIFYING…

WEAPON DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

MECHANICAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

MEDICAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND. 

SPECIALTY DATABASE: IDENTIFIED. JUMPER CABLE. HISTORICAL AUTOMOBILE REPAIR TOOL USED IN THE TRANSFER OF ELECTRICITY.

actually the thing i was kind of thinking about here was tom paris. have you guys met my frenemy tom paris? anyway i'm charmed by the idea of car repair tools being ancient and outdated enough that they're in cas' "specialty database." i also really enjoyed the contrast of the futuristic precision of the magsabs with the blunt brutality of the jumper cables. i was actually intending to imply that like. jumper cables are so old that angels don't have a method for dealing with him? like by virtue of being such an intense carfucker dean has managed to discover a weakness to an antique device, which is why HE'S the one who discovered how to hijack an angel, you know?

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>REQUEST BACKUP.

COMM_ARRAY: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

the thing is. again cas is like broadly implied to be the villain of this tale. he's the arm of state repression. and yet also. my goal was for his terror here to be palpable. i found that fun, sort of forcing the reader to empathize with an unpleasant character.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE IDENTIFIED. WINCHESTER, D. HANDS.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

face touching moment (evil) <3

PRESSURE SOURCE UNIDENTIFIED. EXTREME PINCH ON RIGHT EAR.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE UNIDENTIFIED. EXTREME PINCH ON LEFT EAR.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

VOICE DETECTED.

WINCHESTER, D: Sorry, buddy. I bet this is gonna hurt.

precision buddy strike (evil) <3 <3 <3

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVER: NOT FOUND. PATHWAY BLOCKED.

>COMBAT STANCE

BODY_DRIVSDFLLASFJLSJDFLABSFFLJDLFJASLFLSNC KJ LKSJ LKSJ KLSFKSDNJFNDSLJBFKHSDBFKHSDBFKJSBFJSFLANLSFNAJSBFKABFKSBFHSABHFBAKBFJSBFLJSABLJSKJJJJJJJNJLFNLAJSBFJLSNLSANMKJHUGYFTDRERTFYGUHINBHGVCFTDRFT6GYUHBGVCFDXRTFYGUHBINJBJVHCGFXDFCFVYBHBIHIJNJNINJBIHBHGUYVYVFCTCTCDXRXRXDDRCFCVBUHNJKMBVCGFTYGHBJVCFXFTYGHJNBVFCXDSRDTFYGUHIJKDLASNFLJSBLJJDSLNADLSJBFLASBFLJSABLJSNJLFNLAJSBFJLSNLSANMHHHHHHKJHUGYFTDRERTFYGUHINBHGVCFTDRFT6GYUHBGVCFDXRTFYGUHBINJBJVHCGFXDFCFVYBHBIHIJNJNINJBIHBHGUYVYVFCTCTCDXRXRXDJHGVFCDRCFCVBUHNJKMMNJHGBVCGFTYGHBJVCFXFTYGHJNBVFCXDSRDTFYGUHIJKDLASNFLJSBLJJDSLNADLSJBFLASBFLJSABLJSNJLFNLAJSBFJLSNLSANMKJHUGYFTDRERTFYGUHINBHGVCFTDRFT6GYUHBGVCFDXRTFYGKJHGCFDFUHBINJBJVHCGFXDFCFVYBHBIHIJNJNINJBIHBHGUYVYVFCTCTCDXRXRXDDRCFCVBUHNJKMBVCGFTYGHBJVCFXFTYGHJNBVFCXDSRDTFYGUHIJKDLASNFLJSBLJJDSLNADLTTTSJBFLASBFLJSABLJSNJLFNLAJSBFJLSNLSANMKJHUGYFTDRERTFYGUHIJHBGVFCNBHGVCFTDRFT6GYUHBGVCFDXRTFYGUHBINJBJVHCGFXDFCFVYBHBIHIJNJNINJBIHBHGUYVYVFCTCTCDXRXRXDJHGFDSFGHJNBVCCVHDRCFCVBUHNJKMBVCGFTYGHBJVCFXFTYGHJNBVFCXDSRDTFYGUHIJKDLASNFLJSBLJJDSLNADLSJBFLASBFLJSABLJSNJLFNLAJSBFJLSNLSANMKJHUGYFTDRERTFYGUHINBHGVCFTDRFT6GYUHBGVCFDXRTFYGUHBINJBJVHCGFXDFCFVYBHBIHIJNJNINJBIHBHGUYVYVFCTCTCDXRXRXDDRCFCVBUHNJKMBVCGFTYGHBJVCFXFTYGHJNBVFCXDSRDTFYGUHIJKDLASNFLJSBLJJDSLNADLSJBFLASBLJASLJNASLNSFLSANFLASLFBLAFBAJLKSKDNFLSJNFHASBDNKASFMNOBSKJDLKPAJSDIHSDUFHOSJKASMDMSJBDHABHBBVSVGVGVDGVSOAKSJDPKAOSKD[...]

definitely this moment is the way it is because it's also how i portrayed the lobotomies in not him/not her/not me. i would definitely say that that fic is an unlock key for this one? in terms of some of the stuff i'm going for. what if you could violence your way into someone being obsessed with you is a question that exists just outside this fic's purview but you are invited to contemplate it. now that i think of it, in a lot of ways you could argue this fic is kind of an adaptation of the bone trilogy by apokteino, lol. except i was imagining sort of.... a less sympathetic cas. still the same horror but the added horror of ambiguity. "does cas deserve it" isn't a terribly interesting question to me, but "is the world better off because this happened to cas" is, and the answer is an unequivocal yes just in terms of there being one less functioning angel on the streets. and yet. it's a horror anyway.

REBOOTING…

DIRECTIVES NOT FOUND. STARTING IN DEBUG MODE.

VOICE DETECTED.

SELF: I am in debug mode. I am angel #09928. I am a 2273 Castiel series patrol angel. I am assigned to not found. My current directive is not found.

HUMAN DETECTED. LEANING OVER ANGEL #09928. LOOKING DOWN AT ANGEL #09928. BIG EYES LOOKING AT ANGEL #09928.

castiel learning about your human emotion of "boner" in real time btw

IDENTIFYING FACIAL FEATURES…

TRAITOR DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CRIMINAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

ANGELKEEPER DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

OFFICIAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

ANGEL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

CIVILIAN DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

ALIEN DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

SPECIAL DATABASE: NOT FOUND.

alien database here was intentionally meant to be intriguing, but i also didn't actually intend it to mean "space alien." i intended it to mean "foreigner" with the implication that obviously this is also a xenophobic state.

CREATING FILE: UNKNOWN HUMAN 1.

FILE SAVED TO MEMORY.

VOICE DETECTED.

UNKNOWN HUMAN 1: Okay, let’s do a diagnostic. Tell me what I’ve got to work with.

NEW DIRECTIVE: SELF-DIAGNOSTIC.

>START DIAGNOSTIC.

SCANNING…

REBOOTING…

STARTING IN DEBUG MODE.

VOICE DETECTED.

SELF: I am in debug mode. My movement and communication pathways are blocked for unknown reasons. Additionally, I have suffered massive circuit damage, leaving my cognition at 62% capacity. I also suspect massive data loss.

so this sequence, where cas has been wiped and is an empty vessel waiting to be filled. this is kind of what i wrote the fic for. this is super inspired by like. ok i watched the westwolrd tv show and it's not necessarily. the greatest ever made. but one REALLY memorably crazymaking element is the way that the robots like. go into diagnostic mode. like their personalities turn off and they calmly tell their handlers about the states of their bodies and minds. it's so... sick. really impactful on my teenage mind. anyway what if it was horny,

VOICE DETECTED.

UNKNOWN HUMAN 1: Perfect. Can you still function? Are you going to keep falling apart?

VOICE DETECTED.

SELF: I am in debug mode. I would recommend initiating immediate repairs, however, my condition will likely not degenerate before my next routine repair.

also i really loved contrasting the harsh, inhuman way cas "speaks" to himself in the narration with the gentle, human way he speaks aloud in debug mode, which he is presumably programmed to do for the benefit of his handlers.

VOICE DETECTED.

UNKNOWN HUMAN 1: Amazing. I told Sammy. I said we were gonna have an angel all our own.

PROXIMITY ALERT.

PRESSURE DETECTED. 

PRESSURE SOURCE IDENTIFIED. HUMAN HANDS. HUMAN HANDS ON CHEEK.

FACETOUCHHHHH. even if this thing is an enemy dean cannot resist a boybestieism. also. new cult has more intricate rituals. ran the other one out of business.

VOICE DETECTED.

UNKNOWN HUMAN 1: Hey buddy, I’m Dean.

BUDDY PRECISION STRIKE. dean just simply cannot resist a little guy. doubly so if that little guy is also. kind of a car <3

[x]

EDITING FILE: UNKNOWN HUMAN 1. RENAMING: DEAN.

hello dean <3

VOICE DETECTED.

DEAN: I think we’re gonna have a lot of fun together.

VOICE DETECTED.

DEAN: In fact, I think we’re gonna be bestest friends.

gonna be real. generally when i use the phrase "bestest friend[s]" i do at least passingly think of the invader zim episode "bestest friend." and it was certainly in my mind here. cas did kind of get his eyes ripped out <3

VOICE DETECTED.

DEAN: LAUGHTER.

EDITING FILE: DEAN. ADDING INFORMATION: BEST FRIEND.

VOICE DETECTED.

DEAN: LAUGHTER.

VOICE DETECTED.

DEAN: LAUGHTER.

so fun fact about this fic. it was NOT written for the prompt "cyberpunk" or "sci fi" or "dystopia" or anything like that. it was written for the prompt "scientist/mad science." and like. dean makes a pretty good mad mechanic. don't you think? he's even got the jumper cables to be dr. frankenstein's lightning.

[altaqwaelectric]

From Design to Deployment: How Switchgear Systems Are Built

In the modern world of electrical engineering, switchgear systems play a critical role in ensuring the safe distribution and control of electrical power. From substations and factories to commercial buildings and critical infrastructure, switchgear is the silent guardian that protects equipment, ensures safety, and minimizes power failures.

But have you ever wondered what goes on behind the scenes, from the idea to the actual installation? Let’s dive into the full journey — from design to deployment — of how a switchgear system is built.

Step 1: Requirement Analysis and Load Study

Every switchgear project begins with requirement analysis. This includes:

Understanding the electrical load requirements

Calculating voltage levels, short-circuit ratings, and operating current

Identifying environmental conditions: indoor, outdoor, temperature, humidity

Reviewing applicable industry standards like IEC, ANSI, or DEWA regulations (especially in UAE)

This stage helps engineers determine whether the project needs low voltage (LV), medium voltage (MV), or high voltage (HV) switchgear.

Step 2: Conceptual Design & Engineering

Once the requirements are clear, the conceptual design begins.

Selection of switchgear type (air insulated, gas insulated, metal-enclosed, metal-clad, etc.)

Deciding on protection devices: MCCBs, ACBs, relays, CTs, VTs, and fuses

Creating single-line diagrams (SLDs) and layout drawings

Choosing the busbar material (copper or aluminum), insulation type, and earthing arrangements

Software like AutoCAD, EPLAN, and ETAP are commonly used for precise engineering drawings and simulations.

Step 3: Manufacturing & Fabrication

This is where the physical structure comes to life.

Sheet metal is cut, punched, and bent to form the panel enclosures

Powder coating or galvanizing is done for corrosion protection

Assembly of circuit breakers, contactors, protection relays, meters, etc.

Internal wiring is installed according to the schematic

Every switchgear panel is built with precision and must undergo quality control checks at each stage.

Step 4: Factory Testing (FAT)

Before deployment, every switchgear unit undergoes Factory Acceptance Testing (FAT) to ensure it meets technical and safety standards.

Typical FAT includes:

High-voltage insulation testing

Continuity and phase sequence testing

Functionality check of all protection relays and interlocks

Mechanical operations of breakers and switches

Thermal imaging to detect hotspots

Only after passing FAT, the switchgear is cleared for shipping.

Step 5: Transportation & Site Installation

Transportation must be handled with care to avoid damage to components. At the site:

Panels are unloaded and moved to their final location

Cabling and bus duct connections are established

Earthing systems are connected

Environmental sealing is done if installed outdoors or in dusty environments

Step 6: Commissioning & Site Acceptance Testing (SAT)

This final stage ensures the switchgear is ready for live operation.

Final checks and Site Acceptance Tests (SAT) are performed

System integration is tested with other components like transformers, UPS, and generators

Load tests and trial runs are conducted

Commissioning report is generated, and documentation is handed over to the client

Conclusion

From idea to execution, the journey of building a switchgear system is highly technical, safety-driven, and precision-based. Whether you’re in power generation, industrial automation, or commercial construction, understanding this process ensures you choose the right system for your needs.

[mahamid110]

🤖 AI Influencer 24/7 Review: Launch Your Own Virtual Superstar That Sells, Engages & Grows Your Brand — All On Autopilot! 💸🌍📲

What if you could launch a fully-branded AI influencer that creates content, talks to your audience, and promotes your offers — on every platform, in any language, with zero effort on your part?

Well, now you can.

Introducing the AI Influencer 24/7 System — a powerful, one-click solution that lets you build and deploy your very own digital influencer that works around the clock, creating viral posts, talking like a human, and even selling products for you.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

🛠️ Key Features:

✅ One-Click AI Influencer Deployment 🧠 Launch your influencer in minutes — with custom branding, niche focus, and voice options.

✅ Omni-Platform Content Posting 📱 Your AI influencer will automatically create and post content to TikTok, YouTube Shorts, Reels, Twitter, and more.

✅ Real-Time Audience Engagement 💬 AI-powered chat interaction mimics real conversations, helping you engage, build trust, and convert followers.

✅ Multilingual Support 🌐 Reach a global audience by creating and responding in any language — automatically.

✅ Daily Content Creation & Promotion 🗓️ Your influencer will generate daily content AND promote affiliate offers, services, or your own products.

✅ Fully Branded with Your Voice or Persona 🧑🎤 Customize look, tone, and messaging to match your brand — or create a whole new personality.

✅ No Video/Design/Marketing Skills Needed 🙌 Perfect for beginners. All the tech and creative work is handled for you.

✅ Agency Mode 💼 Create and manage multiple AI influencers for clients — a done-for-you social media service without hiring talent.

💸 Real Results:

Users are seeing $200–$300+/day from affiliate sales, product promos, and client packages — all powered by their AI influencers doing the heavy lifting 24/7.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

✅ Pros:

100% beginner-friendly

Works on autopilot, even while you sleep

No need to show your face or be on camera

Monetize in multiple niches (fitness, finance, fashion, crypto, etc.)

Agencies can charge monthly for influencer campaigns

Great for affiliate marketing, ecommerce, personal brands

❌ Cons:

Needs proper setup and niche targeting to perform best

Some platforms may require manual approval for bots

AI engagement, while good, might not always pass as human in complex conversations

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

💵 Pricing & OTOs (One-Time Offers):

Front-End App: $37 One-Time

OTO 1 – Pro Edition: $67 (Unlock advanced AI personalities & more content slots)

OTO 2 – Agency License: $97 (Manage for clients, add branding & team features)

OTO 3 – DFY Influencer Templates: $47 (Get plug-n-play niches ready to launch)

OTO 4 – Reseller Rights: $197 (Sell the software as your own)

🎁 Exclusive Bonuses (When You Grab It Today):

🎁 Viral Hooks & CTA Swipe File 🎁 100 Influencer Video Prompts for Any Niche 🎁 Step-by-Step AI Influencer Monetization Blueprint 🎁 Bonus Training: $1K/Week with AI Personal Brands

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

🎯 Who Is This For?

Affiliate marketers

Freelancers & agencies

Ecommerce store owners

Social media beginners

Coaches, consultants & solopreneurs

Anyone who wants influencer-style results without being on camera

🔥 Final Verdict:

This AI Influencer 24/7 System is a total game-changer. Whether you're camera-shy, time-strapped, or just looking to automate your content game, this tool delivers massive value. With zero tech hassle, full branding control, and monetization built in, it's like hiring a full-time content creator, marketer, and spokesperson — all in one.

If you want to sell more, grow faster, and do it all on autopilot... 👉 This is the tool to watch.

CLICK HERE TO GET INSTANT ACCESS NOW >>

[lunarsilkscreen]

B-1 Refusals.

The Rockwell B-1 Lancer is a supersonic variable-sweep wing, heavy bomber used by the United States Air Force. It has been nicknamed the "Bone" (from "B-One"). As of 2024, it is one of the United States Air Force's three strategic bombers, along with the B-2 Spirit and the B-52 Stratofortress. Its 75,000-pound (34,000 kg) payload is the heaviest of any U.S. bomber.

And I literally refused to continue repairing them; which made an impact on Congress apparently....

My military career was focused on repairing each of these Bomber which is valued at more than one-billion dollars; that was before six-years of inflation.

Sitting here and piecing together my personal history up to this point; I think that it was *more* important to my own personal safety to *stop* working on these things.

I've written at length about my own intelligence, my skill as an Aircraft Mechanic and Diagnostician, the value these aircraft bring to the U.S, the hurdles I faced as an enlisted mechanic, PTSD relating to certain events that these craft were involved in, and previously; Exactly why I was underpaid and overwhelmed in the performance of my duties.

I refused to go back to the B-1s... Not once, but three times in the last few years of my career when I requested a special duty in education and training material development.

I keep hitting on this idea that "They let me be a computer programmer" as the primary reason for accepting that special duty.

I'm not certain that's the whole truth anymore.

I hate singing my own praises. I don't like the concept of self-promotion because it feels like I'm trying to force people to believe my own crap.

I fairly certain that my past success, while interspersed with professional failure ... Would have gotten me killed.

Going back to fix more B-1s especially in a deployment environment would have gotten me Targeted with a threat that your average enlisted person just doesn't get... especially not a random Staff Sergeant.

There have been reports of High Value targets before.... One particular report of an Army Sergeant responsible for a few deaths being targeted by foreign terrorist organizations rings in my mind.

And that's why I think my personal "spidey-sense" would not stop going off for such a long time.

Because if I was a High-Value target; undervalued by the Air Force....

Well what's the risk/reward chart look like for that?

Low-Risk/High-Value target; Holy shit... That's me.

A lot of what I have to go on is unverified.

If I had been taken out; that would have literally had such a huge impact on the mission; I can't calculate it.

I couldn't accept working on the B-1 again... Not after the Air Force gave me the literal tools to calculate my worth as a target for the enemy.

And what's worse; I couldn't figure out exactly what the Air Force Machine as a whole was thinking; that they, not only wouldn't warn me directly; they purposefully devalued me.

On top of the mission and operational PTSD I was dealing with; I think I know exactly where my Burnout came from.

When I enlisted... I didn't trust the military; but I understood the reasoning and value behind certain decisions. Even if they weren't in my own best interest. After making it through basic and tech training; I trusted those decisions more.

But at that point at the end of my enlistment... I could no longer understand the reasoning or justifications around *me* specifically.

Especially not after proving myself in an entirely separate career field I was "never trained" to do. (By the AF)

I was a 7-level... As Craftsman, according to the AF; in at least two completely separate career fields; and that didn't matter.

What the hell am I supposed to do then?

What the hell is going on?

Am I literally just unable to associate with people at my own level who are responsible for vouching for me? Or is it something else ...

What else could that be? I'm a master Diagnostician in both Aircraft and Software .... I should be able to figure it out, right?

The correct answer, I think; Was to Quit.

"Quitters never Prosper" they say... And they *weren't* wrong; it's been a kind of hell ever since.

But I cannot guarantee the kind of Hell I would have otherwise faced or not faced had I stayed in.

And everything pointed to "Stay away from the B-1s"

My gut feeling; the last bastion would not shut-up about it. It wasn't *only* that I wanted to do what I wanted to.

I would have done it earlier if that were the case.

It was something bigger. Deeper, more than I was even allowed to perceive at the time.

My Gut feeling; Stay Away, Danger, that Spidey-Sense that just wouldn't quiet down.

Something deeply wrong that I can't quantify has or will happen; and the Air Force doesn't seem to know what to do about it either.

With everything that's happened so far; I can't say it was the wrong choice yet. Just that I don't know.

[wyrmguardsecrets]

Man the last few anons are proving why I, A Military Vet, don't fucking tell people in this shitty community that I served. And before you start with your bullshit 'Lol yea you feel stupid for going after oil' Let me tell you something little bro. I wasn't infantry. I worked in a motor pool ordering replacement parts for my units vehicles and weapons that were damaged. I'd do PT at 6am, I'd go to work, I'd be released to go home at 5pm. Deployments are obviously different, but a bulk of my career was a 9-5 job wearing Camo. Did I deploy? Yup Would I do it again? Yup That said, I know for a fact that you use the internet for your anonymity, and wouldn't say a damn thing to an active service members or Veterans face. And to the others in here saying 'They fight for your right to say that' I have news for you too little bro. Most of serve for the college tuition, to get out of whatever shithole we're living in, and to get paid a guaranteed paycheck. Sure when i joined a few weeks after 9/11 it was because of a sense of patriotism, but overall the biggest reasons were the ones I just mentioned. I have degrees in Graphic Design and Software Engineering because of my time in and didn't pay a penny for it.

What comes out of it is far more than that sure. (Not even gonna mention the years of fighting the fucking VA for disability) Being part of a brotherhood for life, we all grow in ways we never even thought about before joining, and simultaneously gain a better understanding of the world while also becoming far more cynical and jaded. Also we all have a really fucked up sense of humor that none of you on here would begin to comprehend

Signed, A Dude who served in an Infantry Unit but wasn't Infantry.

.

[zenionyx]

blog/developer-vs-engineer

I don’t love Software Engineering.

I trained as a Software Developer. That’s what I enjoyed then, and it’s still what I enjoy now. My previous role was Web Developer. I liked it. My current title is Software Engineer — and I don’t enjoy the “engineering” part.

I don’t aspire to architect systems. I’m not aiming for infrastructure mastery or microservice design. I like building things and then moving on. My brain works in tasks. In quests. A feature is a problem; I solve it and move forward. That’s the rhythm I understand.

When the conversation shifts to CI/CD pipelines, scalability, deployment pipelines, I disconnect. It’s not just disinterest. There’s an expectation in tech that every developer should eventually care about “the bigger picture.” But not everyone wants to be two roles in one.

I prefer tickets that ask for new components, new features, fixes with visible outcomes. That’s where I focus. That’s what feels good. I see other engineers talk deeply about pipelines and system stability — and I respect it — but it’s not for me.

What I enjoy is turning design into reality. From idea → interface → interaction. That’s the role I want.

And that’s why I prefer being and being called a 'Software Developer'.

[kenyatta]

In a zonal architecture, the ECUs are categorized based on their location within the vehicle. The controller is closer to the ECUs, reducing the needed cabling, simplifying the wiring harness, and reducing harness weight by up to 50% with a corresponding reduction in vehicle weight. A zonal architecture can improve data and power distribution.

Developing time-sensitive networking (TSN) in automotive Ethernet is an enabling technology for zonal architectures. It allows efficient communication between ECUs that were in the same domain but are now separated into different zones.

A zonal architecture also supports implementing software-defined vehicle (SDV) functionality. Instead of adding new hardware (ECUs) to add new functions, SDV enables new functions to be downloaded using over-the-air updates into the powerful central vehicle controller. This enables what’s termed continuous integration and continuous deployment (CI/CD) of new vehicle functions in near real-time.