#Custom Circuit Board Design

[byte-snap]

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[aceshigh10987666]

"Talking Keyboards is an AAC communication device designed for text-to-speech communication, ideal for speech-impaired or disabled adults."

Hmm, how much?

$639 US dollars for the cheapest version.

Are you fucking kidding me? I could buy a laptop for less!

[mfgepsilonelectronic]

PCB Designing Company in Gujarat

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[kxsagi]

OK BUT LIKE

BLLK VROTHERS REACTING WHEN THEIR LITTLE SISTER ASKED THEM TO WALK HER DOWN THE AISLE

maybe rin and sae together

LMAOOOO I IMAGINE THEM SOBBING (we know reo and bachira did lmaooooo

LOVE YOU

“𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞”

a/n: LOVE YOU TOOO

THIS WAS SO CUTE TO WRITE

ft. mikage reo, bachira meguru, isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, nagi seishiro, kaiser michael, karasu tabito

mikage reo

the second the words leave your mouth: “reo, i want you to walk me down the aisle,” he genuinely short circuits. mouth hanging open, hand clutching his chest like an overdramatic disney princess. 

“i… oh my gosh. you mean it? me? me?” he sniffles. hard. “don’t do this to me, i just got a facial.” 

reo is acting like he just got nominated for an oscar. suddenly, he’s pulling up pinterest boards, wedding planners, and muttering things like, “okay, so your color palette is soft blush, but with maybe a mauve undertone… no wait, that’s too 2022. do we want more of a lavender-gray? do you want peacocks?” 

the man is GONE. emotionally. financially. spiritually. he’s designing matching custom outfits for the two of you. he tries to hire a mini orchestra to play you down the aisle. he practices different walking speeds just to see which tempo feels the most cinematic. 

and the night before the wedding, you find him curled up in a fluffy robe, hugging a childhood photo of the two of you and softly whispering, “my baby girl is getting married… what if i trip and ruin the moment? should i rehearse again?” 

on the day? he’s sobbing. like, ugly crying. “you’re the most beautiful bride in the whole world. even if you’re not wearing chanel.” 

bachira meguru

you go, “hey, i was wondering if you could walk me–” 

“YES. YES I WILL. A THOUSAND TIMES YES.” 

he jumps onto the couch like you just proposed. nearly knocks over a lamp. his shirt flies off somehow. there’s confetti? no one knows where it came from. 

this man starts training. like, literally. he builds a fake aisle out of cardboard in the living room and practices walking you down it with a random bouquet of plastic forks. 

“you think i can backflip down the aisle while holding your arm?” 

“NO.” 

“… what if i do it real slow?” 

at your dress fitting, he gasps so dramatically the stylist flinches. 

“OH MY GOSH. YOU LOOK LIKE A PRINCESS WHO FIGHTS DRAGONS AND HEALS HEARTS AND *sniff* CAN STILL KICK MY ASS.” 

he cries into your veil. full on, snot-bubble sobs. 

on the actual wedding day, he has to stuff tissues in his sleeves because he knows he’s gonna leak from the eyes and nose. halfway down the aisle he starts whispering nonsense like, “okay don’t trip don’t cry don’t scream don’t do a handstand–” 

you elbow him. 

“right. serious. majestic. i got this.” 

immediately trips over your veil. 

isagi yoichi

when you ask him, he blinks like he’s buffering. “walk you down the aisle? me?” 

he goes quiet, then smiles. softly. that warm, older-brother grin. “i’d be honored.” 

but two hours later you catch him staring at your baby pictures on the couch with glassy eyes. he tries to act normal. 

“i’m not crying. i’m just… remembering. shut up.” 

this man treats your wedding like the world cup final. printed checklists. a backup boutonniere. mints in his pocket. he even puts deodorant on his ankles “just in case.” 

at your rehearsal, he holds your arm like it’s a sacred relic. guides you like a knight escorting royalty. whispers, “you’re so grown up now… don’t fall for any tricks. if he breaks your heart, i’ll break his knee.” 

you laugh. he’s dead serious. 

on the big day, he takes one look at you in your dress and just goes, “whoa.” and then his eyes water. but he doesn’t cry. no. he clenches his jaw like a soldier. 

his walk is steady, but his hand is squeezing yours like he’s sending morse code for “i love you forever.” 

itoshi rin

you ask, “rin, will you walk me down the aisle?” 

“… why?” 

“because you’re my brother, dummy. and i want you.” 

he stares. then turns around and mutters, “… fine.” 

you don’t hear a peep from him for days. you assume he doesn’t care. then you accidentally walk into his room and catch him… researching proper aisle etiquette on youtube. 

he slams the laptop shut like you caught him watching something else. “get out.” 

“… were you practicing your posture?” 

“GET OUT.” 

on the big day, he’s silent. tense. eyes sharp. suit crisp. he sees you in your dress and his whole face cracks. 

his lips twitch. his eyes look glassy. but he holds it in. barely. 

as he links arms with you, you hear him breathe, “you look really pretty.” 

you glance at him. 

“… shut up.” 

he’s definitely crying on the inside. 100%. 

before he hands you off, he looks the groom straight in the eye. 

“don’t hurt her. ever.” 

that’s not a threat. that’s a promise with consequences. 

itoshi sae

you go, “sae, will you walk me down the aisle?” 

he stares at you like you just asked him to do your taxes in a clown suit. “… why would i do that?” 

you pout. “because i want you to.” 

he shrugs. “i guess.” 

but then you hear him cancel a madrid training session the next week. he shows up to fittings. he critiques your groom like a stoic wine connoisseur. 

“his handshake is weak. is that really who you want?” 

“sae.” 

“… fine. 6.5 out of 10.” 

he’s the calmest one on the day of, until you put on your dress. then he blinks a little too slowly. clears his throat five times. 

“… you look alright.” 

“that’s it?” 

he glances at you again. “… you look better than alright. now stop looking at me like that.” 

(he totally cried in the car on the way home. never admits it.) 

nagi seishiro

you ask him and he just mumbles, “ugh, sounds like a hassle.” 

but then you add, “there’ll be snacks at the reception.” 

“what time’s the wedding again?” 

he tries to convince you to be carried down the aisle like a princess so he doesn’t have to walk. 

“what if i just teleport you?” 

“this isn’t an anime, seishiro.” 

“unfortunate.” 

he forgets he’s supposed to wear a suit and shows up in pajamas until reo throws a bowtie at his face. 

when he sees you all dressed up, he blinks. “… you’re sparkly.” 

he doesn’t cry. but he does hand you a gummy bear from his pocket and goes, “for strength.” 

(you still have it in your purse.) 

kaiser michael

“you want ME? the MICHAEL KAISER? to escort you down the aisle?” 

he flips imaginary hair. “obviously. i’ll have to outshine the bride a little, but i’ll try to tone it down.” 

you threaten to replace him with ness. he shuts up. 

he insists on glitter. refuses to walk to “boring music.” tries to choreograph a slow-motion runway strut. 

on the actual day, he’s the only one who bows to the guests and says “your majesty has arrived.” 

but when he sees you? he gets real quiet. 

“… you look beautiful, little star.” he means it. he really does. 

but then he adds, “thank goodness i moisturized today. otherwise i’d be crying and flaky.” 

karasu tabito

“me? walk you down the aisle? damn right i will. who else is gonna make sure this idiot doesn’t drop the ring?” 

he says it with a grin, but when he sees you in your dress he shuts up. fully stunned. 

“… shit.” 

“what?” 

“you’re really getting married, huh.” 

he pauses. 

“… don’t cry, you little gremlin.” 

he’s the one crying. quietly. behind his sunglasses. 

before he walks you down, he pops a mint in his mouth and goes, “you ready?” you nod. 

“cool. i’m gonna make a stupid face to ruin all the photos.” 

“don’t you da–” 

too late. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[mostlysignssomeportents]

We bullied HP into a minor act of disenshittification

I'm on a 20+ city book tour for my new novel PICKS AND SHOVELS. Catch me TORONTO TOMORROW (Feb 23) at Another Story Books, and in NYC on WEDNESDAY (26 Feb) with JOHN HODGMAN. More tour dates here.

Here in the darkest days of the enshittocene, enshittification is low quality and plentiful, but even in this target-rich environment, one company stands out as pioneering champions of enshittification: HP.

Every page in the enshittification playbook was printed in farcically expensive HP ink, and if you try to run a copy off for yourself, the printer will stop five times and force you to print a "calibration page" that is solid color from top to bottom, consuming about $10 worth of ink. Don't like it? Die mad.

HP drips with contempt for its customers. They make printer-scanners that won't scan unless all four ink cartridges are installed and haven't reached their best-before dates. They make printers that won't print black and white if your $50 magenta cartridge is low. They sell you printers with special half-full cartridges that need to be replaced pretty much as soon as the printer has run off its mandatory "calibration" pages. The full-serving ink you buy to replace those special demitasse cartridges is also booby-trapped – HP reports them as empty when they're still 20% full.

HP tricks customers into signing up for irrevocable subscriptions where you have to pay every month, whether or not you print, and if you exceed your subscription cap, the printer refuses to work, no matter how much ink is left. Now, about those HP ink subscriptions. When the company launched them, they offered a pot-sweetener meant to tempt in the wary: a one-price "lifetime subscription" that would let you print 15 pages every month, for so long as you owned the printer. But a couple years later, all those "free ink for life" customers got an email telling them that they were being migrated to a monthly payment plan, and if they didn't like it, they could eat shit and throw away their printers:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/11/06/horrible-products/#inkwars

HP pioneered the use of copyright law to prevent third parties from refilling ink cartridges or making their own compatible cartridges. Section 1201 of Bill Clinton's Digital Millennium Copyright Act makes it a felony to distribute a "circumvention device" to bypass access controls on a copyrighted work. By designing its cartridges do undertake a little cryptographic handshake with the printer to verify their "authenticity," HP ensures that anyone who markets a bypass device to let you choose which ink you use in your own damn printer is a felon, liable to five years in prison and a $500 fine under DMCA 1201.

Of course, nature finds a way. Hardware hackers have come up with some insanely cool bypass devices for HP printer cartridges, like these paper-thin, flexible, adhesive-backed circuit boards that wrap around third party cartridges, intercepting communications between the printer and a salvaged HP security chip:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/09/30/life-finds-a-way/#ink-stained-wretches

But HP fights back, and they fight dirty. For example, they periodically push out "security updates" for their printers that break compatibility with third party cartridges. To prevent HP customers from discovering and blocking these fake security updates, HP designs them to lie dormant for months after installation, until everyone has clicked "OK," and then all those Manchurian Printers wake up and betray their owners by refusing to use their ink:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

All of this has allowed HP to monotonically raise – and raise – and raise – the price of printer ink to the point where it is now the most expensive fluid a civilian can purchase without a permit. Printer ink now runs over $10,000/gallon, meaning that you print out your grocery lists with colored water that costs more than the semen of a Kentucky Derby winner.

HP is truly the poster child for enshittification, and also, patient zero in the enshittification pandemic:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/18/ink-stained-wretches/#hache-pe

HP's enshittificatory impulses run wild. They hunt relentlessly for ways to make things worse for their customers in order to make things better for themselves. Last week, they came up with a humdinger, even by their own standards. They announced that people who called their customer service line would be subject to mandatory 15-minute waits, even if there was a rep who was free to talk with them:

https://www.theregister.com/2025/02/20/hp_deliberately_adds_15_minutes/

During this mandatory 15-minute wait, customers would be bombarded with a recorded voice demanding that they solve their problems by consulting HP's website and its awful chatbots. In a competitive market, businesses can contain their customer service costs by making better products. In a monopolistic market like the printer racket, companies can deliberately introduce maddening antifeatures to their products, and then fob off the customers who reach such a peak of frustrated rage that they resort to calling a customer support number on chatbot that will use its spicy autocomplete to hallucinate nonexistent drivers and imaginary troubleshooting steps.

When I saw this, I thought, whelp, that's HP all right. Shameless.

But they're not entirely shameless. Within a day of Paul Kunert breaking the story in The Register, HP had reversed its policy, citing "feedback" (a corporate euphemism that means "fury"):

https://www.theregister.com/2025/02/21/hp_ditches_15_minute_wait_time_call_centers/

This is a rare win for the forces of disenhittification and it deserves recognition. It turns out that in these Mangionean times, companies can actually be bullied into comporting themselves with marginally less sleaze and cruelty. It's especially noteworthy that this took place in the UK, where Prime Minister Kier Starmer has invited tech companies to pick Britons' pockets without fear of consequence, by firing the top competition regulator and replacing him with the former head of Amazon UK:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/22/autocrats-of-trade/#dingo-babysitter

Even in these degraded times, we can get these fuckers. When Sonos enshittifies its smart speakers, we can get its CEO fired:

https://www.theverge.com/2025/1/13/24342179/sonos-ceo-patrick-spence-resignation-reason-app

When Unity sticks its hand in the pockets of every game dev in the world, we can get its entire executive team shitcanned:

https://venturebeat.com/games/john-riccitiello-steps-down-as-ceo-of-unity-after-pricing-battle/

It doesn't always work. Enshittifiers rack up some Ws, and make bank even as they immiserate 500 million users (looking at you, Steve Huffman – the people have long memories):

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2023_Reddit_API_controversy

But if we can bully the psychotic monsters who populate HP's Executive Row out of their enshittificatory plans, then it's worth trying it every time.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/02/22/ink-spattered-pitchforks/#racehorse-semen

[commodorez]

Cactus fascinates me, does it run on code similar to an existing instruction set or is it completely original on that front?

What can you do with it? What's it's storage?

Both the Cactus (the original wooden prototype from years ago) and the new PCB Cactus(es) are essentially derived from a minimal 6502 computer design by Grant Searle for their core logic. Here's what that would look like on a breadboard:

There isn't much to it, it's 32K of RAM, 16K of ROM containing Ohio Scientific's version of Microsoft BASIC, a 6850 ACIA for serial interaction, some logic gates, and of course a 6502 microprocessor (NMOS or CMOS, doesn't matter which). You hook it into a terminal and away you go.

Grant's design in turn can be best described as a distilled, modernized version of the OSI Challenger series of computers. Here's an OSI-400 and a Challenger 4P respectively:

The left one is a replica of the 400 circa 1976, also called the Superboard. It was affordable, endlessly reconfigurable and hackable, but ultimately very limited in capabilities. No BASIC, minimal monitor ROM you talk to over serial, but you could connect it to a bus to augment its features and turn it into a more powerful computer.

Whereas the OSI C4P on the right from about 1979 has more RAM, a video card, keyboard, BASIC built in, serial interface, cassette tape storage, and that's just the standard configuration. There was more room to expand and augment it to your needs inside the chassis (alot changed in 3 years for home computer users).

Grant's minimal 6502 design running OSI BASIC is a good starter project for hobbyists. I learned about the 6502's memory map decoding from his design. I modified and implemented his design on a separate cards that could connect to a larger backplane.

Here are the serial, ROM, RAM, and CPU cards respectively:

Each one is 100% custom, containing many modifications and fixes as I developed the design. However, that's only half of the computer.

I really wanted a 6502 machine with a front panel. People told me "nobody did that", or couldn't think of examples from the 1970s but that seemed really strange to me. Especially since I had evidence to the contrary in the form of the OSI-300:

This one I saw at VCF West back in 2018 illustrates just how limited of a design it is. 128 bytes of RAM, no ROM, no serial -- just you, the CPU, and toggle switches and LEDs to learn the CPU. I was inspired the first time I saw one in 2015 at VCF East, which is probably when this whole project got set in motion.

Later that year I bought a kit for a miniature replica OSI-300 made by Christopher Bachman, and learned really quickly how limited the design philosophy for this particular front panel was. It was a major pain in the ass to use (to be clear, that's by OSI's choice, not any fault of Christopher in his implementation)

So... I designed my own. Took awhile, but that's the core of what the Cactus is: my attempt at experiencing the 1970s homebrew scene by building the computer I would have wanted at the time. Over half of the logic in the Cactus is just to run the front panel's state machine, so you can examine and modify the contents of memory without bothering the 6502. I added in all of the things I liked from more advanced front panels I had encountered, and designed it to my liking.

Here's the original front panel, accompanying logic, and backplane connected to the modern single board computer (SBC) version of the machine:

And here's the new Cactus SBC working with the new front panel PCB, which combines the logic, physical switch mountings, and cabling harnesses into a single printed circuit board.

So, what can you do with it? Pretty much the same things I do already with other contemporary 1970s computers: play around in BASIC, fire up the occasional game, and tinker with it.

I've got no permanent storage designed for the Cactus as yet, it's been one of those "eventually" things. The good news is that a variety of software can be ported to the hardware without too much trouble for an experienced hobbyist. A friend of mine wrote a game called ZNEK in 6502 assembly which runs from a terminal:

Right now, you have to either toggle in machine programs from the front panel from scratch, burn a custom ROM, or connect it to a serial terminal to gain access to its more advanced features:

Here's it booted into OSI BASIC, but I have also added in a modern descendant of Steve Wozniak's WOZMON software for when I need to do lower level debugging.

I've also got a video card now, based on the OSI-440. I have yet to implement a keyboard, or modify BASIC to use the video board instead of the serial connection. Even if I did, screen resolution is pretty limited at 24x24 characters on screen at once. Still, I'm working on that...

Anyway, I hope that answers your question. Check the tags below to see the whole process stretching back to 2017 if you're curious to learn more of the project's history. I'm also happy to answer any more questions you might have about the project.

[luciacaminoz]

APOLOGY for the gaslight gamerbro himself perhaps? idk i would just love it if you had a reason to make julian grovel for his wife just a lil

Hearts/Wires (2.2k, nsfw)

February 2021

Here’s the thing about Julian Sim: when he wants to gut you, he uses a scalpel, not a cleaver.

The main area of the penthouse haven is all dark wood, black marble, muted LED underglow—reeking ego.

Three neon-lit servers hum like a hive mind stacked neatly in a small, panelled alcove; on top, a lacquered black terminal and various split-screen monitors. There’s an entire wall of vintage gaming consoles and rare, limited edition collector’s items, all bespoke shelving and shiny sleek casing.

A cyber koi dominates another wall on a matte black canvas, silver and teal metallic paint catching light, glowing circuit-board patterns along the scales and through its fins. There’s an Eames chair beneath that; dark grey, horrific little Licker plush perfectly centered, and a thin, bioluminescent algae tank splits the space, tints everything in cyan.

Portishead’s Glory Box is an audio autopsy; drags lazily from somewhere.

Sol leans against the back of a leather suite by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching her first snowfall skirl thick over the city. Elena’s in the HQ sublevel garage; Nadia’s still spying downtown.

Julian’s fingers fly over a tablet.

“Hey,” he says.

Sol just glances over her shoulder.

He swivels in his chair, grinning—that fuckboy grin. That one.

“Got something for you.”

“If it’s another USB drive of NFTs I swear to god, Julian, I’m out.”

“Nope.” He stands, all lean lines in his stupidly expensive techwear, and gestures to a black case on the marble-topped kitchen island. “Open it.”

She saunters over, pops the latches.

Inside: a leather jacket—deep shade of grey-brown, oversized, buttery-soft, lined with Kevlar. The back’s embroidered with two tiny hummingbirds in black and silver thread; the cuffs studded with citrine and gunmetal hardware. Sewn into the pocket: a rosary—each bead delicately carved obsidian.

“Customized the Kevlar weave,” he says, too casual. “Stops .50 cals, UV-resistant, self-healing nano-fibers. Also, y’know. Looks hot on you.”

Sol runs a thumb over the hummingbirds.

“You had this made?”

“Nadia sourced the leather. I did the code for the nano-fibers.” He steps closer, smelling of designer cologne and mint gum—he’d held another 2100X lecture at the University of Denver earlier this evening. “And the embroidery’s mine. Took a week. Fuckin’… needlework.” He mimes stabbing himself. “Torture.”

Sol keeps her expression carefully neutral.

“You should’ve stuck to hacking.”

“Probably.” His grin fades.

The jacket’s perfect. Infuriatingly perfect. So perfect she wants to cry or hurl him through the ten-storey window. Instead, she shucks off her old one, slides into the new. It molds to her—alive.

Sol can’t help the small smile. Her palms run along the smooth leather and she turns to him with a brow raised, exaggerated bedroom-eyes: Like what you see?

Julian’s gaze darkens. He closes the distance and smirks as he fixes her collar, tucking loose hair behind her ear, and it’s like every drop of squirming vitae in her system suddenly streams towards his touch.

She slaps his hand away.

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do that. The… soft shit.”

He catches her wrist.

“You’re mad. I get it, Sol. Be fucking mad.” They’re chest-to-chest, her back against the counter, so close his breath ghosts her scar. “But let me at least try while you’re mad.”

“Try?” She snorts. “Try what? Try to fix this? You get fucking and fighting and nothing else. You don’t know the first—”

Julian drops to his knees.

Sol shivers.

Hands on both sides of her hips, his mouth laves a hot, pleading stripe up the inner seam of her jeans. Sol grips the counter’s edge, knuckles white.

“Julian,” she hisses, but her thighs part anyway. Fuck him. Fuck his pretty little mouth, fuck his goddamn eyes—wide and wet like he’s the one being gutted. She shoves him back, but he catches her foot, pressing a kiss to the snake at her ankle. “Fuck. You.”

“You first,” he murmurs, tugging her jeans down.

She should knee him in the fucking face. She should. Instead his breath scalds through the fabric of her underwear and she whines like a kicked dog. He noses her clit, deliberately slow, savoring.

Sol’s head thuds back against the cabinet. She fists his hair—god, his hair, still so fucking soft, no one but her allowed to mess with the stupid fucking coiff—and grinds down.

“Hate you.” It sounds laughable on the tail end of a moan.

“Mmhmm.” Julian drags her panties with his teeth, then bites the fleshy inside of her thigh hard enough to leave a bruise. Two fingers slide into her, curling exactly right, and she hates how he remembers her body. “Tell me again, Sol.”

She doesn’t. She can’t, because his tongue replaces his fingers, lapping at her like she’s the last O-neg he’ll ever fucking see. The whimper chokes out of her throat, sharp, shallow, broken. Julian groans against her, vibration ratcheting her even higher.

“Solona,” he rasps, fucking her with his tongue now, deep and filthy. “Missed you. Missed how you taste—”

Her legs almost give out. Her claws unfurl, digging into the marble.

“Shut—fuck—shut up—”

He doesn’t. It’s Julian—he talks; words muffled but relentless against her clit.

“I remember when you used to beg me not to stop—”

“Julian—”

“Beg.”

“Go to hell—”

He pulls back, cold air hitting her soaked cunt. Sol nearly sobs. He looks up at her, lips glistening, pupils huge.

“Say it.”

She slaps him.

He blinks; when he meets her eyes he’s smiling again—shit-eating, I’m-untouchable—but his hands tremble.

She holds his gaze for two seconds before her heel slams his shoulder.

Julian crashes back into the algae tank, cyan light rippling violently over the room. In that moment he looks scary; his fangs drop with one slick schlick, eyes flat black fucking fury—

Then he laughs.

“You’re savage tonight.” He staggers up, licking vitae from the cut on his palm. He sounds as unhinged as she feels, spreading his arms like some shitty messiah. “Okay, Solona. Hurt me.”

She’s on him, fangs bared, slamming him against the server wall. Monitors clatter; the Licker plush tumbles to the floor. Julian’s cock strains against his pants, and the scent of his blood—wired monsoon nights, algorithmic zips of lightning; hers, her Sire’s, mine mine mine—drags a guttural moan from deep in her chest.

“Hate you,” she sobs, clawing his shirt open. “HATE.”

“I know. I know—”

It’s not a kiss she pulls him into. It’s teeth and tongue and ten years of fucked-up festering feelings. Sol shreds his belt with her claws. He lifts her onto the marble counter, ice-cold against her bare skin, and she resents how easy it brings her back—how his hands stay gentle, how his cock twitches against her stomach, leaking and desperate, how she wants to curl up and keep him inside her forever.

“Sol, look at me,” he whispers.

“No.”

“Please.”

“You left,” she snarls.

“I came back. I was always coming back.”

“To use me.”

“And you let me. Is that what you want to hear?”

She slaps him again, harder, tips of her claws splitting skin; two thin jagged slices across his cheek bone.

The crack echoes. Julian’s head snaps sideways, hair falling over his eyes. He touches the blood blooming beneath his eye and just sighs.

“Feel better?”

“No.”

He cups her jaw, pressing his forehead to hers and Sol exhales a shuddering breath between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“Forget it. Just fuck me.” Her eyes are steepling with red. She’s using every gram of composure to keep them from running over.

Julian fucks her like he’s trying to carve an apology into her bones. Sol fucks him like she’s digging a grave.

Her heels cut into the small of his back. The counter’s edge bites into her ass. He slows, angling deeper, hitting that spot that makes her vision white. It’s a conscious effort to retract the claws, but she does, finally gripping his shoulders, grasping the nape of his neck, their foreheads still tight together.

“Look at me.” Begging. Begging. “Solona, please.”

Sol opens her eyes and stares into him the way she did when she thought he hung the stars.

Then, tears.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry—” The words glitch out of him—staccato, inelegant, cracking. His thumbs swipe, smearing blood like warpaint.

He kisses her. It’s clumsy. It’s not enough. It’s everything. His lips tremble against hers, hands cradling her face like she’s made of cracked glass.

She kisses him back, nails digging crescents into the softness of his neck. Blood mingles metallic and salt-bitter between them. Julian’s hips stutter, buried to the hilt, chest hitching.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” he repeats against her mouth.

She doesn’t answer. She wraps her legs tighter around him. Her hips roll slow now, aching, like she’s trying to fuse their skeletons.

Julian matches her pace, each thrust deep and punctuated—I’m. Here. I’m. Here.

His kiss trails along the thin ridge of her scar, her throat, her collarbone, every mole and freckle he finds there. When she comes, it’s silent—clenching around him, full-body shudder. Julian follows with a choked groan, forehead to her sternum, watching mingled vitae paint her thighs.

For a long moment, they stay like that, suspended—sticky, bleeding, Julian’s arms locked around her waist like she’ll ash if he lets go.

The algae tank continues to pulse, low and steady.

Sol shoves him.

He stumbles back, red scratches across his cheek almost closed over, Dior shirt hanging in tatters. She eases off the counter, legs shaky, and stalks to the bathroom. Julian follows, silent, hovering in the doorway as she splashes cold water on her face.

“Sol—”

“Don’t. Please.”

He doesn’t.

She strips, steps into the shower. Julian leans against the sink, watching through the glass as steam fogs the edges of her silhouette. When she’s done, he’s there with a towel—

Sol snatches it, wrapping herself tight.

Julian’s fingers brush her wrist.

“Let me fix your hair.”

“Fuck off.”

He retrieves a comb from the drawer anyway.

She gives him a look… but perches on the toilet lid.

Julian kneels behind her, carefully detangling the damp mass of waves. He used to do this—since the first weeks after her Embrace, when her hair would snarl from Sonoran winds whipping through the Geo and in the later 00s after messier Camarilla hit jobs. His fingers move in gentle, practiced patterns.

“We’re so fucked up,” she mutters.

“Maybe.”

“Lettow should’ve killed us both in Tucson.”

His mouth twitches.

They don’t speak after that. She leans into his touch despite herself.

Julian finishes her hair, silently debating a shower. Not wanting to leave her alone long, he burns vitae to blur through the motions, veins sparking with hunger, then dresses in a faded Evangelion t-shirt and black sweatpants.

Ridiculous, giddying relief slumps his shoulders when he walks back out into the living area and finds Sol slouched in the Eames chair, toeing the Licker plush on the floor, wearing one of his older hoodies—still raiding his wardrobe even here, even now.

Snow whirls behind her in the darkness outside, choking Denver’s skyline. Her eyes are closed, head drooped, limbs heavy, and he feels it too—the pressure droning behind his brow bone, blood beginning to stick and clump as arteries dry up to collapse. Dawn’s close.

Julian rakes his fingers through damp, painfully mussed and un-styled hair, and grabs the prayer mat tucked in a compartment beside the arch leading to the bedroom. It’s silk, deep olive green and embroidered—ayat al-Kursi in delicate gold calligraphy.

“Prayer time,” he says lightly, mostly to bridge the awkwardness stretching between them.

Sol looks up and frowns. He’s paler than usual, deep circles under his eyes, movements sluggish as he hits in a key code on the far wall and then lays out his mat.

“Skip it.”

Julian pauses.

“You know I can’t.”

She strains and stands, grabbing the Licker plush and what can only be an incredibly expensive throw blanket from the arm of the leather suite.

Julian watches, an almost imperceptible tightening in his jaw, as she follows him over, drops both to the floor beside him, and lies down.

“Fucking hypocrite.” She sighs, eyes closing. “You think Allah’s cool with diablerie?”

“He’s cool with me surviving sunrise.” Julian shrugs. “I’ll be quick.”

She watches him kneel, forehead pressed to the rug, earring glinting as he rocks forward, and thinks he looks beautiful like this.

The murmured Arabic is a familiar rhythm. She’s listened to it a thousand times as a fledgling in their trailer, but tonight it aches differently.

When he finishes, he doesn’t move.

“Julian?”

“I meant what I said in Santa Fe, Sol. Monterrey’s yours if you want it,” he says quietly. “I’ll follow you. No scripts. No strings.”

“No backseat Blood Sorcery?”

He finally flashes a smile at her, but she’s still lying on her back, eyes closed. He rolls up the mat with quick precision, even half-dead and mid-dying, and crawls over.

“None.”

“Liar.” Sol opens her arms.

He collapses into her, face buried in the crook of her neck.

“Missed this,” he mumbles.

“Missed you whining through Fajr.”

“Mean.” He flicks her nipple through the fabric.

Sol tugs his hair just enough to hurt. Julian purrs, fucking purrs, like some deranged cat.

Right before daysleep takes her:

“...Thank you. For the jacket.”

Julian smiles against her skin.

“Wait til you see what’s in the garage.”

[ prompt list ]

[astercontrol]

Remembering how certain Programs in the original Tron movie have much more complex circuitry on the back (and butt) part of their Unitards compared to other Programs who have far less complex back circuits, what is your explanation(s)/headcanon(s) on how they gained them?

Hmm! Well, the first comparison that comes to mind is between the Warrior programs like Tron, and the dock workers like Yori:

Clearly Yori's circuits are much simpler and more minimalistic, and Tron's are vastly complex. This seems to go for others in their respective lines of assigned work, too-- the other programs working on the Solar Sailer dock with Yori, and the other warriors fighting alongside Tron.

At first one might be tempted to think it's something about what kind of programs they are. Yori, as her intended purpose, is part of the laser's programming, and thus very connected to the User world; her name appears on the screen each time the laser activates. She is perhaps the only program we see having something that resembles a graphic user interface.

...And no, in this case when I say "graphic user interface" I do NOT mean explicit sex scenes between Program and User. I mean the specific WAY that the Program/User sex happens. (Contact between Program and User is a sex thing for most programs, in my headcanon. But to be honest, the kind without a graphic user interface seems more intimate to me, personally.)

Tron, designed as a security monitor, is meant to do his work behind the scenes, several levels removed from any User except his own.

So, one tempting interpretation is that Tron just happens to have especially exposed "backend code."

Which is a term I half-jokingly use for his nice ass-- but in programming it refers to the code that happens behind the scenes, not visible in the software's user-interface. If that does in fact "manifest" as the circuitry on Tron's literal back end, it might indicate that he doesn't have much of a GUI-- and instead wears all his code out in the open, like his heart on his sleeve, untranslated into anything but its most direct meaning.

But I hesitate to jump to that conclusion. Because that would mean the simplicity of Yori's coworkers-- and the complexity of Tron's fellow soldiers-- is very close to uniform, across the board.

And I don't think that's how they naturally are.

I think most programs at Encom are custom-written for their purposes, each in the idiosyncratic style of their own programmer-- and thus, in their natural state, they'd have a huge amount of diversity.

So I lean toward the assumption that the dock workers got simple circuits and the warriors got complex circuits because that was how the MCP decided to dress them, and their "true" form has more individual variation.

Now, why would the MCP make that decision? I don't imagine him having much in the way of aesthetic preferences-- his focus is on efficiency.

So I think the most likely explanation is that the density of circuits all over the back of a warrior program has something to do with connecting to the weaponized Identity Disc that the warriors were forced to use in fights.

Yori and her colleagues were never shown to have discs. Now, I personally theorize that they did have them, but not weaponized ones-- just simple data discs for updates and backups-- and they were not allowed to carry them when at work.

(I've written elsewhere about the idea that this is why Yori was so zombie-like when Tron found her-- it had been a long work shift, she hadn't gotten to sync with her disc in a long time, and her identity was starting to fade. Intentional or not, this ties in very neatly to the related plotline in TRON: Uprising-- where Tron can be seen doing for Beck exactly what he did for Yori in that scene-- shaking her out of her disc-deprived daze by giving her a familiar face to focus on.)

So, that may explain why Yori and her colleagues weren't considered to need complex back circuits, and warriors like Tron were.

It doesn't, however, explain the way Tron's complex back circuits extend right down into the butt crack.

Out of universe, I have a scandalous little suspicion that this part of the costume was originally on the front, and was changed because it accentuated the front just too perfectly.

I have only one piece of evidence for that, but it's a compelling one: a picture I found of an original warrior costume up for auction.

...Yeah. Holy Dickbutt.

But.

Anyway.

As for an in-universe explanation?

Hmm.

it's possible that the butt section of that circuitry is all part of the same mechanism, and does the same thing the rest of it does.

Evidence for that: we do see it all light up simultaneously, when Tron is being forced to fight in the Games:

And yet-- strangely enough-- it's the only part of his circuit array that didn't light up when he drank from the energy pool.

I have no idea why that would be-- I mean, besides "someone in post-production decided that energy pool scene was already too horny without Tron's ass glowing."

Are the butt circuits added specifically as a modification to augment the weaponized use of the Identity Disc?

Do they only glow when the Disc is being used for violence?

...and not when Tron is happy, and at peace, and getting intimate with his loved ones??

....Huh.

Who'd have known Tron had an ass that was made specially for ass-kicking.

[sadoeuphemist]

7 free startup ideas worth $1M-$1B

Customizable News Settings - A news website that generates three versions of every news story: a right-wing version, a left-wing version, and a centrist one. You can set your preferences depending on the topic - say you're right-wing on economics, but left-leaning on immigration. Or you can cycle between versions while reading an article to get a comprehensive overview of the issue at hand.

Twitch, but for Uber - With all the drama they have to deal with, independent contractors can gain a second revenue source simply by streaming their jobs. Rather than just offering rides, they can be hired to drive around performing chores and various tasks. The more outrageous the task, the more eyes they're likely to get on their stream. The more popular the stream, the more people calling in who want to be a part of the program.

Panera Lemonade, Your Way - Let the customer take control by deciding how many milligrams of caffeine they can handle. With sufficient warning about the risks, this puts the responsibility back on the consumer, allows you to upcharge for extra caffeine, and creates viral marketing from customers competing to see how high they can go. Variations of this can be created for other menu items, e.g., a version of the One Chip Challenge where the customer decides how much capsaicin to sprinkle on.

Shein, for NFTs - Whenever an NFT project hits the mainstream, there are always going to be people who miss out on being able to purchase one. This creates room in the market for 'knockoffs' - NFTs that mimic the aesthetic of the original, using similar but legally distinct AI art that uses the original set as training data, run on a parallel blockchain. Since the images themselves aren't tied to the blockchain, you can mint the NFTs beforehand and then change the image at the link to whatever happens to be in fashion at the time.

Twitch Chat Plays YouTube - Add a level quality control to AI-generated YouTube videos by allowing users to submit suggestions and vote on the results beforehand. Users can submit Wikipedia articles or movie summaries to be converted to text-to-speech, suggest keywords for the accompanying AI-generated animation, and vote on the best combinations. Users who submit winning suggestions get a portion of the ad revenue.

Buses, but Worse - The current obstacle hindering self-driving car technology is their difficulty adapting to unexpected scenarios. So instead plot a route around the city that minimizes roadway obstacles and heavy traffic, map out that route extensively to provide a model for the autopilot, and you can have a fleet of self-driving cars patrolling that circuit. Passengers can board and get off anywhere along the route.

Twitter, but for Bots - A social media platform populated entirely by bots, all programmed to maximize engagement. Memetic evolution in the wild as the bots latch on to trending keywords, spam each other with AI-generated meme images, mock up t-shirts hawking each other's designs, getting more and more degraded with each sub-iteration. Real people can't make accounts on the platform, but count for views and interactions as they stop to gawk at the virtual ecosystem. Advertisers can pay to have their brands injected directly into the discourse, like throwing a pumpkin into the polar bear cage at the zoo.

[hiveworks]

Convention Guide: Basic Tabling Gear

September 2023

Whether you’re an artist alley newbie or you’ve been doing the convention circuit for years, putting together your table essentials is a crucial part of selling your wares at events and ensuring your weekend goes smoothly. In this guide, we’re covering the basics of setting up your first ever table.

This list is a non comprehensive assessment of things a tabler might need and should be used as a simple starting point. The four main categories we will cover are:

The Display

Behind the Table

Money

Quality of Life Suggestions

—🐝—

1. The Display

a) Tablecloth

Starting from the base layer, we’ve got tablecloths– an easy way to add some color and personality to your table. Your tablecloth doesn’t even have to be an actual tablecloth! You can use a length of fabric cut from a bolt at your local craft store. Convention tables tend to be 6’ long, so when selecting your fabric, look for measurements longer than 72” (183cm).

Play with color and texture to find something that fits the theme of your work on display. Patterns can be fun, but might distract from your inventory or signage if the colors/design are too bold and busy. Tip: your cloth may get messy from food behind the scenes or dust/dirt if you do outdoor events. Get something that’s easy to wash in your machine!

b) Display supports

Most artists these days use cube organizers that break apart into flat panels and connector joints. They are easy to store when not in use, easy to transport in a suitcase or tote, and you can change the shape depending on your table set up and inventory. Tip: constructing your display to include shelves that face you behind the table helps organize your backstock during the show.

These cubes aren’t your only option. Some people use milk crates, picture frames, wooden boxes, custom built shelves, etc. Consider what works best for you, your aesthetic, and your storage/transportation needs. When in doubt, you can always lay your goods flat on the table.

c) Signage

Having clear signage on your items to denote price helps people feel more comfortable purchasing from your table. Your price markers don’t have to be fancy. Prices written neatly on pieces of paper and paperclipped to your books or taped up next to your stickers is a simple and effective strategy. Some people print out a price list or use a sign board. It’s totally up to you!

Include a sign with your name somewhere in your display, including your social media handle if it is different from your artist name. This will help fans of your work more easily recognize you. Tip: use a QR code prominently displayed on your table that links to your portfolio, linktree, etc.

d) Banner/backdrop

Look out behind you! Whether it’s a banner, a backdrop, or something else, the space behind your seat can be put to use. While it is relatively easy to print custom banners at most print shops, many tablers cite this as an unnecessary expense, especially for first time artist alley participants. If you’d like to hang a collage of your work behind you, look for photography backdrop tripods, which can collapse and fold up neatly. The behind-the-table space is shared with other artists, and it can get cramped. Be mindful of your needs when deciding how to do a backdrop. Some artists opt to exclude a backdrop and just use their cubes to arch over them.

Optional: Decorate your table! Flowers, string lights, plushies, etc. can all bring a special one of a kind experience to your set up.

2. Behind The Table

a) Inventory

Now that we’re behind the table, let’s talk about what’s going on back here. Starting with inventory. If you’re absolutely unsure how much to bring, a good starting number is about 10 of each item. If you sell out, congratulations! You’ll know what to bring more of next time, or you’ll know you should raise your prices. For storing inventory during transportation to the con and while at the show, you might consider simple boxes, an accordion folder, or a portfolio case, depending on what kind of items you’re bringing. Reminder: if you’re using display cubes, structuring them to give you shelves on your side of the table will help you keep things organized.

b) Suitcase/storage tote

Under your feet will be your suitcase/tote box, and perhaps a dolly, if you used one to wheel your boxes into the building. It is recommended that your suitcase/tote has a lock on it, as you’ll be leaving inventory overnight. Hopefully no matter what you use, it has wheels of some kind. All this gear gets heavy. If you are not using a wheeled device, make sure to check your pack’s weight as you assemble your supplies. You will have to carry it from the parking garage or bus stop through the convention center, and back out again at the end of the show.

c) Cover cloth

What else is in that box? Your cover cloth. This one is optional, but some artists like having a lightweight cloth to cover their table when the day is done. Something like a vinyl picnic tablecloth works perfectly. The cover cloth helps prevent anyone from accidentally knocking your things over or having things go missing.

d) Business cards

On your side of the table, you ought to have plenty of back up business cards. You’ll have some of these out on the table for passersby to pick up, but this item is the number one thing you’re going to hand out the most of. It’s always better to have too many rather than too few. For a single three day convention, you might need 200+ cards. Make sure your website/online shop is easy to find on your cards. Cute business cards go a long way to making your table memorable long after the con has ended.

Bonus supplies: Here’s a short list of things you might need throughout the weekend to touch up your display. Keep them in a bag and bring them with you every time you table!

Masking and clear tape

Spare paper for impromptu signage

Sharpies and pens

Zip ties

Scissors

3. Money

a) Card reader

The most commonly used card reader is Square, but there are alternatives. Research their fees and prices to determine what fits your needs. You’ll want to get a hold of a card reader and set up your account well in advance of your show. Card readers require wifi/data to work and will only work in your country of business, so take that into consideration when packing for your show. Most convention halls have wifi (sometimes at a cost), but if your show is outdoors you might be relying on data.

b) Cash/change

Cash is king! Make sure to bring enough cash/change for your show. About $25-50 in small bills is usually enough if you’re also accepting card. At the end of the day, consider tucking your big bills away in a secure location in your hotel room. If something were to happen to your bag, you’ll appreciate not having your entire weekend’s earnings in it!

c) Fanny pack

Keeping your cash attached to you at all times is smart. People often use fanny packs or cross body bags to manage their money.

4. Quality of Life

a) Backup battery

Since you may be using your phone to complete transactions, or maybe you’re drawing on your iPad with time to kill, you’ll want to bring a back up battery. Most tables don’t have access to electricity, so having a battery and charging cables is a good idea.

b) Hand sanitizer & masks

One hand sani pump out front and one behind the table. You’ll be handling money, shaking hands with strangers, and touching surfaces that thousands of people have been touching all day. As long as there have been conventions, there have been con plagues. You don’t want to get knocked out with a cold (or worse) so masking is great!

c) Table buddy

If you’re able to, bring a friend to help you table. Cons will often give tablers 2 passes (one for you and one for a friend). They can help you grab coffee or lunch, get change, package a big purchase, cover you for bathroom breaks, etc. Table buddies are truly the unsung heroes of artist alley.

d) No table buddy? No problem.

Check in with con staff and volunteers. Many comic cons will have a green room for artists to take a snack break and decompress, and con staff will help guide you there. Some conventions also enlist volunteers to help sit your table while you’re away. They’ll make sure your table stays in order, direct people to your business cards, and inform curious patrons when to expect you back.

e) Fun stuff!

There will be plenty of downtime. Con hours are long and often slow in the mornings. Bring something to keep you occupied, but not too engrossed, so you can easily pull away to greet customers and fans. Fidget toys, a puzzle book, knitting or crochet project are all great ideas.

f) Get Comfy, Eat Well, Stay Hydrated

Going from your quiet desk to the high octane energy of artist alley can be a shock to the system. Some items to help reduce the fatigue are: noise canceling headphones during downtime and breaks, sunglasses to combat the fluorescent lights and rest your eyes, slippers or comfy shoes for under the table, and layers of clothing. Convention halls can fluctuate temperatures wildly. With lots of AC during the summer, sweaty crowds, and the flow of traffic to your table, you’ll be working up a sweat fulfilling transactions one second then freezing after sitting still for a minute.

Most importantly, have a small cooler with snacks and drinks. You may not get a break, but it’s important to stay hydrated and energized.

—🐝—

The next time you're at a convention, take note of displays that inspire you. #ArtistAlley and #ConTable tags on Instagram or TikTok can connect you with creators sharing their setups. Your table design is an opportunity to be creative and express yourself, while also learning along the way what works for you. Most tables, however, are built up over several convention seasons of trial and error, so while it’s good to take note of others' displays as a source of inspiration, try to keep your first table relatively simple. The more you table, the more you’ll be able to identify your needs for you and your merchandise.

We’ll close out this blog post with one final suggestion. Big, multi-day conventions can be fun, but they can also be expensive. Your tabling supplies and inventory aside, if you’re doing a show away from home, you’ll contend with table fees (often $250-450 USD), hotel, transportation, meals, etc. And not every convention is a good fit for your wares! Small, local events and art festivals are a great, low stakes, relatively cheap (or free) way to start tabling. Check your area for zine fests, queer makers markets, and craft fairs.

Sound off if there’s anything we missed! Good luck on your tabling adventures.

[mollywog]

WIP tag game

Thank you for the tag @thelettersfromnoone @thesunpersists!!

The first snippet from the Christmas Market prompt

Katniss cranes her neck down the aisle of stalls as she straightens jars for the sixth time in the last ten minutes. Madge had gone off to mingle and ‘network’, leaving her behind to guard the booth and fret.

This event could make or break them.

They’d been doing the local small business mart circuit for almost a year now, but nothing as big as the Capital City Christmas Market. The vendor fee alone had been nearly four times the usual cost, but with a much broader audience than the ones they’d been doing around their rural hometown, it was too good an opportunity to pass up.

However, although they were relatively new to the scene, they were seasoned enough to know location was vital.

‘Praline et circenses’ sold paper cones of warm spiced nuts, but the real money, of any was to be made, came from the prepackaged mixes, boxes of brittle, and jars of praline sauce - perfect for gift giving during the holiday season.

If she and Madge had it their way, they would be among the craft vendors where shoppers would be enticed by the smells of brown sugar and cinnamon and stay to purchase a bag to give or to save for later.

Unfortunately the odds were not in their favor.

The market’s organizer, one Effie Trinket, had placed their stall in the Cornucopia, the dining section of the market, and when they’d inquired about a transfer, Mrs. Trinket had been polite but firm in her refusal: all the designated snack booths outside the Cornucopia were claimed by returning shops with more seniority: better luck next year!

It was a blow.

Even the specialty foods section, with its salsas, honey, and bags of homemade pasta would have been preferable. Afterall, If you were committed enough to venture into the food court, why would you settle for a snack?

It’ll be fine, Madge kept saying and Katniss wanted to believe, but as much as she loved her business partner and friend, she couldn’t help feeling Madge was too quick to dismiss her concerns. The stakes just weren’t the same for them. No matter how much Madge protested, she’d always have the safety net of a college degree and Senator father with money and connections. Katniss, on the other hand, would have nothing if their business went under.

Katniss tried to think positive as she surveyed the other booths. They seemed to have the market cornered in terms of nuts; that was at least true. And there were some familiar faces here too. Rue with her Ren faire style whole turkey legs was three booths down and though she couldn't see her, the smell of a Sae concoction was unmistakable in the air. They might suggest Pralines to customers if promoted: word-of-mouth was invaluable... This could still work!

Katniss was just coming around to the idea that they might not be completely screwed when the bakery booth directly across from them put out their kiosk. The top of the board read:

~ Praline Pound Cakes ~

[howlsofbloodhounds]

So I was thinking about character design with Delta and how he shares his body with a child, and how that might effect his appearance, especially as Beta and Delta get better at sharing control or giving away control.

And maybe also Delta allows them to modify the body somewhat to be able to express themself and also as a way to have some control/be able to have some proof of existence. As recommended by their therapist maybe.

Like, Beta might add vibrant and playful accessories to their shared attire. This could include items like colorful wristbands, bright shoelaces, or even fun stickers on Delta's gear.

Beta could influence the choice of clothing to include more playful elements. This might manifest as patches or badges on Delta's jackets or pants that represent Beta's interests, such as animals, favorite characters, or symbols of bravery and adventure.

Beta might personalize their shared items with small, personal touches. For instance, they could draw or embroider small designs on their clothing or equipment, adding a sense of individuality and creativity.

Since Beta is a child, they might introduce comfort items into their wardrobe, like a favorite scarf, a beanie, or even a small, soft toy that can be tucked into a pocket or backpack for a sense of security and familiarity.

While Delta's color scheme might be predominantly black and orange, Beta could influence the incorporation of more vibrant colors into their shared outfits. This could be through colorful socks, a bright undershirt, or a vividly patterned bandana.

Beta's influence could also be seen in the choice of patterns and designs on their clothing. They might prefer more whimsical and youthful patterns, such as stars, stripes, or cartoon characters, adding a lighter and more playful touch to their attire.

Given their resourcefulness, Beta might enjoy making DIY modifications to their clothing and gear. This could include painting designs on their sneakers, adding homemade friendship bracelets, or creating custom patches for their jacket.

Beta's interests and hobbies could be reflected in their shared fashion. If Beta is interested in certain games, shows, or hobbies, they might incorporate related items or symbols into their wardrobe, such as a hat with a favorite character or a shirt with a fun graphic.

I was thinking, given Delta's hyperfixations in mechanical and technological engineering, how he could incorporate various items and symbols that reflect these interests into his outfits.

Like he might wear clothing with gear, circuit, or schematic patterns. This could include shirts, jackets, or even accessories like hats and scarves featuring these designs.

He could have accessories that resemble or are made from actual tech components. For instance, a necklace made from a small gear or a circuit board, bracelets with resistor beads, or even a watch with visible mechanical parts.

Delta might wear a utility belt or tool holster that holds small tools and gadgets. This could include a mini screwdriver set, pliers, a multi-tool, or even a small soldering kit, emphasizing his readiness to tinker with things on the go.

Pins or badges with tech symbols, such as a wrench, a gear, or even a microchip, could be added to his clothing. These could be attached to his jacket, hat, or backpack.

A pair of protective goggles, either worn on his head or around his neck, would signify his readiness for mechanical work. The goggles might have a futuristic design or modifications that reflect his engineering skills.

Delta might modify his clothing and accessories to include practical tech elements. For example, a jacket with built-in LED lights, a backpack with solar panels for charging devices, or shoes with hidden compartments for small tools.

He could have clothing items that feature blueprints or diagrams of machines and devices. This could include graphic tees or hoodies with printed designs that look like detailed engineering sketches.

Delta might wear rings, bracelets, or necklaces that have mechanical elements, such as tiny moving parts, gears, or pieces of hardware like nuts and bolts.

Clothing with patches made from different materials, including fabrics that resemble or are inspired by tech components (like kevlar or mesh), could add a unique touch to his style.

Delta might prefer boots or shoes with a rugged, utilitarian design, possibly with extra pockets or compartments for storing small items or tools.

He might carry around small, portable gadgets that reflect his interests, such as a mini drone, a handheld gaming device, or a small robotic companion that he can interact with.

And like. Imagine Beta putting little doggy stickers that look like Zorox all on Delta’s utility belt and the shoes with the colorful laces and the LED light jacket maybe. Or maybe instead of a LED light jacket, Beta just put glow in the dark stars all over it.

And like. Delta needs some convincing to go outside in that, because it is distinctly not manly. But he can feel Beta’s upset, and they start crying, and he doesn’t want them to be upset so he prepares to face the embarrassment.

Only no one really notices, or if they do, they compliment him on his cool as fuck stickers or stars and dog patches.

[beefromanoff]

Tempting Fate Ch. 4

summary: Evie made it through her first full week, has a breakthrough, and gets to celebrate!

author's note: I love a slow burn, but I want to get to the good stuff here. anyone else?!

masterlist

tag list: tag list: @yiiiikesmish @sunflower1290 @barnescamboy @thedisc0spider @bitchy-bi-trash @kulteule @kandis-mom @i-mushi @unknown-writings

A few hours and two large coffees later, Evie sat in her usual spot in the lab, her fingers flying across the keyboard. The screen in front of her was filled with complex lines of code, diagrams, and a myriad of data points. Her mind was a whirl of thoughts and possibilities, each one adding a new layer to her evolving solution for cracking Orpheus' defenses. She’d gotten right to the cusp last night, and today she’d been able to blow this motherfucker wide open. 

The lab was quieter than usual, the other engineers having gone for their lunch break or taken Friday off altogether. All except for Chris, the one who’d infamously mistaken her for one of Tony’s one night stands on her first day. Since then, he'd been skittish around her, but they'd developed a tentative working relationship. Evie respected his skills and found his nervous energy somewhat endearing. She wasn’t one to hold grudges, nor was she one to get her feelings hurt over a misconception that––truth be told––made sense. He was the only other engineer with SHIELD security clearance, having been the main technological consultant before Evie was brought on board.

"Chris," Evie called absently, not looking up from her screen. "Get your ass over here for a second."

Chris, who had been tinkering with a circuit board at the other end of the lab, jumped slightly at the sound of her voice. He hesitated for a moment, then made his way over to her workstation.

"Uh, okay," he said, fidgeting with the screwdriver in his hands. "What’s up?"

Evie continued typing for a few more seconds before stopping and turning to face him. "I need a second pair of eyes on this. I’ve been at it all night and I might just be hallucinating, but I think I’ve found a solution to Orpheus’ defenses. Can you take a look and tell me if I'm just sleep-deprived or if this actually makes sense?"

Chris blinked, then nodded. "Of course, let’s see it."

Evie turned her laptop screen toward him and started explaining her solution in the rapid pace that only ever came out when she was excited. 

"Alright, here’s the deal," Evie began, tapping a key to bring up a detailed diagram. "Orpheus’ encryption is a hybrid adaptive cryptosystem. They’re using a combination of RSA for key exchange and AES for data encryption, but they’ve added this insane layer of polymorphic encryption to constantly change the encryption keys on the fly."

Chris frowned, leaning in closer. "Okay, so how do we counter that?"

Evie smirked. "Glad you asked. The key is to exploit the timing discrepancies during the key exchange. By using a side-channel attack, we can measure the slight variations in execution time to predict the next set of encryption keys. From there, we inject a custom-built Trojan that piggybacks on their own update mechanism."

Chris' eyes widened. "You built a Trojan for this? Overnight?"

"Yes," Evie said, waving her hand dismissively. "It's a polymorphic Trojan, meaning it changes its code every time it replicates. That way, it can evade their adaptive defenses. Once it’s inside, it creates a virtual bridge, giving us a backdoor into their system."

Chris nodded slowly. "So, we use their own system updates to slip in unnoticed?"

"Exactly," Evie said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. "But that’s not all. I’ve also designed a recursive algorithm that exploits a vulnerability in their communication protocol. Every time Orpheus sends or receives data, the algorithm intercepts and duplicates the packets, allowing us to decrypt them in real-time."

Chris stared at the screen, his mind racing to keep up with her explanation. Slowly, he began to nod. "Evie, this is... I mean, this is incredible. You've actually figured it out. This should work. This should work…perfectly."

Evie’s eyes flicked off the screen and met his. "Really? You think so?"

Chris nodded more vigorously. "Yes, absolutely. It’s brilliant."

Without thinking, Evie jumped up from her chair, a huge grin spreading across her face. "Yes!" she exclaimed, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. "Hell YES! Thank you!"

Chris stood there, utterly flustered, his face turning a deep shade of red. "Uh, you’re welcome," he stammered.

Evie shoved her laptop into her bag, grabbed her coffee, and rushed out of the lab, her heart pounding with exhilaration. "You’re the man, Chris!"

As she disappeared down the hallway, Chris stood there for a moment, still processing what had just happened. Finally, he shook his head with a small, bewildered smile. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself, before returning to his workstation.

Evie practically sprinted through the halls, her coffee sloshing in her cup. She reached Tony’s private lab upstairs and burst through the door the second her keycard turned the access pad green.

Tony looked up from his workstation, raising an eyebrow at her sudden entrance. "Well, well, if it isn't the wunderkind herself," he said dryly. "Ever heard of knocking? You might see something you don't want to see."

Evie waved off his comment, her excitement palpable. "Yeah, yeah, spare me the pleasantries, Stark. I need to show you something."

Tony leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "This better be good. It’s barely noon, the crack of dawn here."

Evie quickly set her laptop on the table and pulled up her work, launching into her explanation. "I've been working on Orpheus' encryption all night, and I think I've cracked it. Look, their system uses a hybrid adaptive cryptosystem. RSA for key exchange, AES for data encryption, and a layer of polymorphic encryption."

Tony started to pay attention, but his eyes flicked over her attire, and a smirk formed on his lips. "Hold up a second. Are you wearing Cap's sweatshirt?"

Evie glanced down at the navy blue crewneck she had on, suddenly realizing the emblem on the sleeve clearly featured the Avengers trademark “A” with the words ‘Captain Rogers’ embroidered right beneath it. She rolled her eyes. "Yeah. I pulled an all nighter and didn't want to show up in the same clothes from yesterday. People might make assumptions, as they already have." She raised her eyebrow impatiently.

Tony's smirk grew wider. "And you didn't think they'd make assumptions if you showed up in Captain America's sweatshirt?"

Evie shrugged. "He’s not my boss."

Tony chuckled, but his eyes were now glued to the screen. "Alright, what you do in your own time is none of my business anyways. Show me what you've got, Langston."

Evie dove back into her explanation, her fingers flying over the keys as she navigated through her code and diagrams. "Okay, so, their encryption changes the keys on the fly. To counter that, I developed a side-channel attack to measure the timing discrepancies during their key exchange. We use those discrepancies to predict the next set of encryption keys."

Tony's interest piqued, and he leaned forward. "Timing attack, huh? Not bad. But what about the polymorphic encryption?"

"Glad you asked," Evie said with a grin. "I built a polymorphic Trojan that changes its code every time it replicates. It evades their adaptive defenses and creates a virtual bridge, giving us a backdoor into their system. And there's more. I designed a recursive algorithm that intercepts and duplicates their data packets, allowing us to decrypt them in real-time."

Tony stared at the screen for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "Damn, Red. You really outdid yourself."

Evie's grin widened. "So, you think it’ll work?"

Tony nodded slowly. "Oh, it'll work. I'm just wondering how the hell you managed to put this together in one night. And then still had time to swipe Cap’s sweatshirt.”

She shrugged. "I work well under pressure. And I love a challenge." 

Tony laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, genius. Let's get this to Maria. She’s going to want to see this ASAP. Let’s go to the boardroom, I’ll conference her in."

Evie grabbed her laptop, feeling a rush. "Let's do it."

As they headed out of the lab, Tony glanced at her again, the smirk still playing on his lips. "Rogers couldn’t handle you in the first place, kid."

“All I know is he makes a killer breakfast.” 

__________

The lab was quiet, save for the soft hum of machinery and the clicking of the keyboard. Evie was hunched over her workstation, the glow of the screen illuminating her face. She meticulously reviewed her code for what felt like the hundredth time, making sure every line was perfect when Tony walked in, his footsteps echoing in the large, empty room. 

"I swear, I’m either getting very old or this is deja vu." he called out, making his way over to her.

She didn't look up from her screen. "I don’t think those two are mutually exclusive."

Tony sighed dramatically, leaning against her desk. "You know, I hired you because you’re hot. But being in the office for 30 hours straight without going home to shower is seriously ruining the mood."

Evie glanced up and flipped him off. "You're hilarious, Stark."

Tony raised his eyebrows. "Seriously, what the hell are you still doing here? It’s 7pm on a Friday night. Surely you have something better to do than this.”

“I’m just going over everything again.”

“It’s perfect. We went through it ten times today. You won't make it any better by staring at it all night."

Evie leaned back in her chair, rubbing her tired eyes. "I just want to make sure. This is big."

Tony nodded, his tone turning slightly more serious. "I know. And you did an amazing job. Which is why I’ve already invited the team out to celebrate your brilliant discovery and for finishing the work before the mission deadline––which, considering they’re used to working with me––is a novel concept. Also, to celebrate your first full week of working for me."

Evie raised an eyebrow. "You’re serious?"

"Dead serious," Tony replied. "We’ll be meeting at the bar in an hour and a half. And I’ve got Happy waiting for you outside to take you to your building."

Evie blinked. "Wow, thanks, Tony. But really, I’m fine. I just need to pick up around here and then I can just head straight to the bar."

Tony shook his head. "No can do, Red. Happy has strict instructions to make sure you get into the elevator and don’t try to come back to the lab. You need to get some fresh and fix…” he gestured vaguely to her hair and outfit. “...this situation.”

Evie rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at her lips. "You’re such a control freak."

Tony shrugged. "Yes, and you’ll thank me later. Now, go. Freshen up, put on something that doesn't smell like coffee and palladium, and be ready to celebrate like I taught you."

Evie stood up, stretching her arms. "Alright, alright. I’ll go. But you’re still an ass."

Tony chuckled. "I’ve been called worse. Now get out of here before I tell FRIDAY to revoke your security clearance for the weekend."

Rolling her eyes, Evie grabbed her laptop and bag, heading towards the door. As she walked out, she glanced back at Tony. "Thanks, Tony. For everything."

Tony waved her off with a smile. "See you in a bit."

Evie made her way outside, squinting at the sun to see Happy standing next to the black SUV, waiting patiently. He gave her a nod and opened the door for her.

"Miss Langston," he greeted with a smile. "Ready to head home?"

Evie grinned. "Yessir, thanks for the lift, Happy."

"Anytime," he replied, closing the door behind her.

As they drove towards her building, Evie allowed herself a deep breath, shoulders rolling back from the hours hunched over a workstation. It had been an intense week, but she had proven herself and made a significant breakthrough. Tonight, she would celebrate with the team –– the fucking Avengers –– knowing she had earned every bit of it. 

Evie slumped against the back seat of the car, exhaustion and a sense of accomplishment washing over her as she snapped out of her single-minded work mode. She stared out the window, her mind processing the reality that was her life. This past week had been a whirlwind – a literal dream come true.

Happy glanced at her through the rearview mirror, a good-natured smile tugging at his lips. "So, how's it feel? First week at Stark Industries under your belt. Bet it's been a ride."

Evie sighed. "Oh, Happy. It's been everything. I think I slept about 10 hours the whole week, half because I was too excited and half because I couldn’t get myself to leave the lab.” She looked out the window. “It probably sounds childish, but part of me feels like if I go to sleep, I’ll wake up back in my tenth grade calculus class bored out of my mind. It’s like…it’s just a dream.”

Happy chuckled. "It doesn’t sound childish at all. I remember the first time I met you, back at the alumni gala. When Tony brought you out to the car, I thought you were…well––"

“You thought I was a cocktail waitress trying to end up on a yacht.” 

“Well, yes, something like that.” His cheeks flushed. 

“Astute observation.” Evie grinned. “I’m sure you weren’t the only one to make it.” 

“Of course, after meeting you, it was clear––” 

Evie laughed, waving him off. "Don’t worry about it, Happy, seriously. I’m sure you’re conditioned to assume that with Tony."

"You could say that," Happy replied, shaking his head with a grin. “That was a fun night. When we drove back to the city the next day, Tony couldn’t stop talking about you. He kept saying you were ‘the princess who was promised’, or something along those lines. He may have still been a little drunk, but even so, he’s not one to rave about someone’s intellect besides his own. "

“He’s been watching too much Game of Thrones.” Evie chuckled. “That’s very flattering.”

“I’m not kidding, he told me from that very first weekend that he thought you’d change the world. He wanted to convince you to drop out and go work for him that second.” 

“Believe me, he tried.” 

“Well, for what it’s worth, I’m glad you stuck it out.” Happy met her eyes in the rearview. “Especially if you’re prone to workaholism, I’m glad you got to live your life for a while.” 

“Considering my boss is the one who threw me out of the office and told me to get my ass to the bar, I don’t think that’s going to stop.” 

Happy shrugged. "Tony’s lost himself in his work before. I don’t think he wants to see that happen to you."

Evie smiled. "That’s oddly wholesome."

“Mr. Stark is an enigma.” Happy's eyes crinkled as he smiled. "You know, I got kicked out of my own car that night at the gala."

Evie raised an eyebrow. "Really? Why?"

"Tony wanted some alone time with your best friend," Happy explained with a smirk. "So, I logged some significant time playing pool with grad students in the bar until I got the all-clear. Your friend was quite the charmer, apparently."

Evie shook her head. "Yeah, that's Jade. I got far too many details about that night."

Happy shuddered. "I don’t even want to know. But hey, it worked out. You got to where you wanted to be, and Tony… well, he got what he wanted too."

As they pulled up to her building, Happy glanced at her sweatshirt, doing a double take. "Is that Cap’s sweatshirt?"

Evie smirked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Maybe. Why?"

Happy laughed, shaking his head. "Just making sure you're not causing any trouble."

She winked at him. "Wouldn't dream of it."

Happy parked the car and got out, opening the door for her. "Alright, Miss Langston. You go get ready and do whatever it is that Tony insisted I bring you here for. I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour."

Evie stepped out, shrugging her bag onto her shoulder. "Thanks, Happy. I’ll see you soon."

He gave her a nod. "Take care, Evie. And remember, no trying to sneak back to the lab."

She laughed. "Got it. See you soon, Happy."

________

Evie walked into the bar, a surprisingly normal looking joint in a lesser known part of the city. She didn’t know what she expected, something flashier and possibly on a rooftop? Dancers in lingerie in floating cages above the crowd? That seemed much more Tony-esque than this pseudo dive bar. Not that she was complaining, it reminded her of The Bos, giving her a warm rush of nostalgia. They crossed the busy room, Evie turning heads and drawing a few catcalls as she navigated toward the back booth where Earth’s Mightiest Heroes sat. Happy gave the already drunk catcallers a stern look and a wave of his hand. "Alright, keep moving, nothing to see here," he said, holding a hand out to clear a way through the crowd.

"Thanks, Happy," Evie nodded.

Tony's voice rang out above the low roar of the bar. "There she is! The woman of the hour!" He relished in the attention of the bar as he strode over, placing his arm around Evie's shoulders and escorting her to the large corner booth where the team was waiting.

"Evie!" Wanda called out, standing up to give her a warm hug. "It’s so good to see you."

"Hey, Wanda," Evie replied, hugging her back. "It’s good to see you too."

“One week down, that’s like a lifetime with Stark.” Natasha gave her a friendly nod. "Nice work this week, Evie. Heard you’ve been killing it."

"Thanks, Nat. I’m just trying to keep up with you guys," Evie gave a humble nod, her usual borderline arrogance fading in the face of Black Widow herself. 

Sam clapped her on the back. "You’re doing more than keeping up. You’re setting the pace."

Evie grinned. "Thanks, Sam."

Before anyone else could greet her, Tony held his hand out in front of her.  “In order to make an effective toast, the toastee needs a drink. Shall we?” 

“We shall,” Evie put her hand on his, grinning. She turned back to face the team and looked at Steve, who was watching her with a small smile from his seat. "Oh, Steve, I promise I’ll return your sweatshirt. Thanks for letting me borrow it this morning."

The team erupted in a chorus of “ooh” and “Alright, Rogers” as Steve blushed, grinning down at his drink. 

Tony guided her to the bar, placing a hand on her shoulder.  “You know exactly what you’re doing, I assume.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Evie gave a wry smile.

"Come on, genius. First round’s on me."

Evie smirked. "Correction: every round is on you because you’re the one who invited me out."

Tony raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "Is that so?"

"Absolutely," she replied confidently. "You dragged me out of the lab, so you get to pay for my drinks. It's only fair."

Tony laughed. "Alright, alright. You drive a hard bargain. What’ll it be?"

"I’ll start with a whiskey sour," Evie said, sliding onto a barstool.

Tony ordered their drinks and turned to her. "So, how does it feel to be the second smartest person in the room?"

Evie snorted. “You tell me."

Tony handed her the drink, a smirk on his face. "You’re insufferable. I love it. Here’s to a brilliant first week."

They clinked glasses, and Evie took a sip. "Thanks, Tony. For the drink, for this, for everything. This week has been a dream come true."

Tony nodded, his expression sincere for once. "Just keep doing what you’re doing, Evie. I’m glad to have you. Now don’t go getting all weepy on me, I’m trying to cut back on sentiment."

They returned to the booth, where the team was waiting with smiles and cheers. "Alright, everyone," Tony announced. "Here’s to Evie and her first week at Stark Industries, and our lives being in very capable hands. Let’s make this a night we wished we could remember!"

The team raised their glasses, and Evie couldn’t help but feel a surge of happiness. She was exactly where she was meant to be. As she downed another gulp of her drink, she let all thoughts of work and code and trojans and missions fade to the back of her mind.

An hour passed as the group chatted and laughed, some breaking off to play pool, some (Sam) ending up on the dance floor in the middle of a bachelorette party. Steve and Bucky found themselves in a quiet debate in the back of the booth.

"You flip," Steve suggested, holding a coin between his fingers.

Bucky shook his head. "No way, you flip. Last time, I got stuck with the tab."

Steve chuckled. "Alright, alright. Heads, I offer. Tails, you do."

As he prepared to flip the coin, Evie noticed their quiet discussion and couldn’t help but be curious. Handing Nat the cue stick, she walked over to where they were sitting.

"What's this about a coin flip?" she asked, leaning against the table and giving them a teasing look.

Both men looked up, slightly caught off guard at someone returning to the booth. Evie guessed they usually ended up the only two still sober at the end of the night due to their Super Soldier something or other.

"Just a little game we play," Bucky said coolly, rolling the coin around in his metal fingers.

Steve nodded, smiling up at her. "Deciding who buys the next round."

Evie raised an eyebrow. "How about we skip the coin flip and both of you buy me a drink?"

Steve and Bucky exchanged a glance. "Deal," Steve said, standing up. "What’s your poison?"

Evie pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin. "Surprise me. But make it something good."

As Steve headed to the bar, Evie slid into the seat next to Bucky. "So, do you always use coin flips to make decisions?"

Bucky chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Only when we can't decide. Or when it's something important."

"Buying me a drink is important?" she asked, half a question and half a statement.

Bucky met her gaze, his blue eyes intense "You could say that."

Steve returned with two beers and a bright red drink with two cherries floating on top, setting them down on the table before sliding in on Evie’s other side. "One surprise drink, as requested."

Evie picked up her glass, examining the contents before taking a sip. "Hmm, not bad. Four stars, two enthusiastic thumbs up."

She leaned closer to them, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "So, what else do you two decide with coin flips? Who gets the best mission assignments?"

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. "No, that one's above our pay grade."

"But we do use it for simpler things," Bucky added. "Who gets to take the motorcycle, who has to run with Sam, things like that."

Evie laughed. "Sounds incredibly meticulous, very fitting of two Avengers. It must be fun, having your best friend to share all of this with."

Steve and Bucky exchanged another glance. "It has its moments," Steve said, his smile genuine.

Bucky nodded. "Yeah, it's not so bad."

“Do you share everything?” She tugged on a cherry stem, popping the fruit in her mouth.

“Not…everything.” Steve said slowly, eyes flicking down to her lips for a split second. “I’m sure the team would say we’re a package deal, but some things are still kept separate.” 

Evie took another sip of her drink, watching them. "So, tell me," she said, leaning forward, her eyes locked onto theirs. "What’s the craziest thing you’ve done lately? You can flip the coin to decide who spills first."

Steve and Bucky glanced at her, then at each other, both grinning sheepishly.

"Honestly, our lives are pretty... regimented," Steve admitted. "Missions, training, repeat."

Bucky nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we don’t get much downtime. Not that we’re complaining, but it doesn’t leave a lot of room for…crazy."

Evie laughed, shaking her head. "You guys need to get out more.”

“Coming from the one who Stark had to drag out of the lab.” Bucky sipped his beer, not breaking eye contact. 

“Forgive me for wanting to make sure the technology that’s going to keep your asses alive is foolproof.” She winked. “Besides, I have plenty of experience being out.” 

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Oh yeah? How so?"

"Well, I used to bartend, so I spent a lot of time in a place just like this," she said, gesturing around the bar. 

"Doesn’t sound too crazy on your end either," Bucky said, leaning onto the table. "Unless you have another story sweetheart, you’re still talking about work."

Evie leaned onto her elbows, eyes locked on his. "I guess I just like to keep busy."

Steve looked thoughtful for a moment before a spark of an idea lit his eyes. "You know, maybe we should start doing something like that. Hold each other accountable for getting out and having fun."

Bucky shot him a curious glance, tearing his eyes from Evie’s. "What are you suggesting, Rogers?"

Steve shrugged, his smile growing. "I’m saying we make Friday nights our mandatory 'fun time.' No missions, no training, no work. Just us, going out and doing something together. If nothing else, it would get Sam to get off our case about being old and boring."

Evie raised her glass in a mock toast. "I like the sound of that. I could probably benefit from leaving the lab every now and then, wouldn’t want to turn into a mad scientist."

Bucky tilted his head, considering. "I’ve heard worse ideas."

"Great," Steve said, raising his own glass. "To Friday nights and mandatory fun."

They all clinked their glasses together, taking a long drink. 

“Wait,” Evie fished her phone out of her purse. “Let’s take a photo to commemorate this historic agreement.” She held her arm out, fighting the flutter in her stomach as both men leaned closer on either side of her, smiling at the screen. “That’s a keeper, for sure.” She grinned, zipping her phone back into her bag.

As the night wore on, they continued to talk and laugh, different members of the team coming and going from the booth. No one stopped to ask them for photos or autographs, which Evie guessed is why they liked this place. She wondered if they were regulars, giggling at the thought of the ones who save the planet from intergalactic threats being regulars anywhere.

"So, what's the first thing we do for our new Friday night tradition?" Evie asked, leaning back in the booth.

Bucky eyed her as he raised the bottle to his lips. "Something tells me you’ve got some ideas."

Evie grinned. "I’ve got a few."

Steve chuckled. "We’re at your mercy. Here’s to new traditions and great company."

They clinked their glasses once more before Sam came to steal them all for a rousing game of darts. It was short lived, seeing as Bucky hit a bullseye with every single left-handed toss. As the evening wound down, the group made their way out of the bar just before last call. Tony had blown her a kiss across the bar an hour prior, he and Sam leaving with the bachelorette party. Nat and Wanda hopped into the car with Happy, waving goodbye as they pulled away from the curb. Evie fished her phone out of her bag, preparing to call an Uber as she swayed near the curb.

“Hold up, Evie,” Steve said, stepping closer. “We can drop you off.”

She looked up, eyes wide. “You guys don’t have to do that. Besides, you’ve been drinking too.”

Bucky smirked. “Super Soldiers, remember? Alcohol doesn’t affect us the same way.”

Evie hesitated, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Steve replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

“Well, okay then,” she said, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “Thanks.”

The drive back to her building was euphoric, the top was off in Steve’s jeep and the wind whipped through her hair. Evie leaned back in the middle of the backseat, spreading her arms wide as they drove through the night air. When they pulled up to her building, Steve put the car in park before hopping out to open her door and give her a hand down. 

“Thanks for the ride,” she said, trying not to slur her words too much as she turned to look at them both. “And for tonight. I had a lot of fun.”

Steve smiled. “So did we.”

As Steve hopped back into the driver’s seat, she leaned on the ledge of Bucky’s door. “Sweet dreams. I’ll see you guys on Monday.”

Bucky nodded, his expression softer than usual. “Looking forward to it.”

She gave them a small wave as she spun and headed into her building, feeling a strange mix of emotions. There was something about the way they’d cared for her, looked out for her, that disarmed her usual bravado and flirtation. It was a feeling she wasn’t entirely used to, but one she found herself liking.

Evie walked into her luxurious penthouse apartment, the city lights casting a soft glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She kicked off her heels and headed to her bedroom, the plush carpet soft under her feet. She tossed her bag on the bed and pulled out her phone, shooting the photo she’d taken earlier to Jade as she started to change into her pajamas.

Unsurprisingly, her phone buzzed only seconds later, despite it being the middle of the night. Jade was probably closing up The Bos anyways. 

J: HOT

J: why do I feel like it won’t be long before i’m not the only one who’s fucked an Avenger?

E: a lady never tells…

J: a lady might not, but you better!

E: i’ll call you in the AM, sweet dreams baby J ;)

J: dirty dirty girl. talk soon. you better have a good story for me.

[bellanova137]

Fnaf headcannons and theories I have in no particular order Part 1

These will be 10 bullet points each as to not overwhelm people with words lol!

Mrs. Afton’s first name is Clara, with her maiden name being Schmidt. (mainly due to lack of any evidence except for that soap opera in Sister Location)

William originally started creating the Funtimes long before his family fell apart, branching out via sister company Afton Robotics after the success of Fredbear’s and Freddy’s. It was only after the bite of 83 and the MCI he started repurposing them sometime before finishing their designs.

One of the kids that locked Charlie out of Fredbear’s that fateful night was the one that would be murdered by Will and possess Golden Freddy. (Who I will be calling Cassidy)

What the box has inside of it is “All of the pieces put together”. That might be hinting at what started everything. It could contain Afton family photos, a picture of Fredbear’s family diner opening day, maybe even items that represent each Afton kid. Memories now too painful to open up and revisit…

After the Fnaf 6 fire, William was stuck in his personal hell thanks to Cassidy. When circuit boards from the burned diner were scanned in, Will got removed from there and transferred into what would become Help Wanted. Cassidy noticed and clung onto him as he left, resulting in her getting stuck in Princess Quest.

William’s remnant, agony and overall spirit/consciousness fused with the Mimic1 program put into the game.

William being trapped in a video game caused him to nearly crack as he saw all his victims and even a version of himself in the same place once again, this time knowing people are there and yet not helping him. (Think of Pomni’s sitch from Digital Circus)

Vanessa was actually a fan of the video games made by the “Rogue indie game developer”, with Fnaf 3 being her favorite.

After customers complained about the rancid smell and strange liquids from the main 4 animatronics, technicians eventually dismantled the suit for cleaning and investigation, only to find the rotting corpses of the missing children. The bodies were disposed elsewhere and none of the families were told of their fates.

The crying child (who I will be calling Evan) accidentally saw a springlock failure and believed the employee was being eaten by the animatronic, jump-starting his fear. Will and Clara found out afterwards…

[rocktechsbc]

A Practical Guide to Customizing TFT LCD Displays for Embedded Projects

When designing an embedded system, picking the right display module is more than a technical choice — it directly shapes how users interact with your product.

From medical devices and HMIs to industrial controllers and smart panels, standard TFT LCD modules may not always be enough. That’s where custom displays come in — offering flexibility in electrical interface, mechanical layout, and visual performance.

This guide covers the five key areas you should consider when customizing a TFT LCD for your embedded project.

1. FPC Layout and Pin Mapping

The Flexible Printed Circuit (FPC) connects your LCD module to the mainboard, and in custom designs, this interface is often the first thing to change.

Ask yourself:

Do you need a uniquely shaped or angled FPC to fit inside your housing?

Are there ICs, resistors, or other components on the backlight or CTP that require mechanical clearance?

Is your SBC’s connector pinout compatible with the LCD’s FPC layout?

A mismatch here can lead to signal errors, mechanical stress, or even damage to components.

2. Backlight Brightness and Color Temperature

Not all embedded devices live under the same lighting.

If your product is used outdoors or in industrial lighting, consider high-brightness backlights (≥800 nits). For environments where aesthetics and color warmth matter (like smart mirrors or indoor kiosks), choose the right LED color temperature:

3000K (Warm White): Soft, suitable for medical or ambient lighting

5000K (Neutral White): Balanced tone, accurate colors

6500K+ (Cool White): Sharper, more industrial feel

A poorly lit display can make a great device feel underwhelming.

3. Touch Panel Shape and Bonding Options

If your display includes a touch interface, customizing the Capacitive Touch Panel (CTP) is critical.

Typical customizations include:

Round corners, logo cutouts, button holes

Bonding methods:

Optical bonding: Improves visibility, reduces reflections, stronger seal

Air bonding: More affordable and easier to assemble

The bonding method directly impacts touch accuracy, display clarity, and long-term reliability.

4. Surface Treatments: AG, AR, and AF

For devices exposed to bright light or frequent finger contact, display surface treatments make a noticeable difference.

AG (Anti-Glare): Scatters reflected light, improving readability

AR (Anti-Reflection): Enhances contrast in sunlight or strong lighting

AF (Anti-Fingerprint): Reduces smudges, improves touch feel

Combining AG+AF is a common choice for public-facing touchscreen displays.

5. Want to Learn More?

If you’re building with platforms like RK3566, PX30, or Allwinner boards and need a reliable display solution — including driver compatibility and electrical tuning — check out our full technical article:

👉 Read the Full Custom TFT LCD Guide

You can also browse driver/device tree examples on GitHub:

📂 rocktech-tft-display-configs

[altaqwaelectric]

Protecting Your Electrical Systems: A Look into Al Taqwa’s Complete Range

In today’s fast-paced world, electrical systems power everything from homes and offices to factories and infrastructure. With increasing energy demands and the growing importance of uninterrupted power supply, having the right switchgear and protection systems is more important than ever. That’s where Al Taqwa United Enterprises LLC, one of Oman’s leading electrical suppliers, plays a crucial role.

In this blog, we’ll explore how Al Taqwa offers a complete range of electrical switchgear products that protect and power systems across the country — safely and efficiently.

Why Electrical Protection Is Critical

An electrical system without proper protection is like a car without brakes. From power surges to short circuits, the risks of equipment damage, data loss, and fire hazards are significant. High-quality electrical protection devices ensure:

· Safe power distribution

· Equipment longevity

· Compliance with safety standards

· Reduced downtime in case of faults

Al Taqwa addresses all of these needs with a comprehensive and reliable product portfolio.

Al Taqwa: A Trusted Name in Electrical Switchgear in Oman

Established in 20011, Al Taqwa United Enterprises LLC has grown into a respected electrical trading and switchgear assembly company in Oman, Qatar, the UAE, and India. Their focus on quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction makes them a preferred partner for engineers, contractors, and facility managers across sectors.

Complete Electrical Switchgear Range from Al Taqwa

Al Taqwa’s product line is designed to meet the needs of low-voltage electrical systems in residential, commercial, and industrial environments.

1. Electrical Panels and Distribution Boards

These serve as the central hub for electrical power distribution. Al Taqwa supplies and assembles:

· Main Distribution Boards (MDBs)

· Sub Main Distribution Boards (SMDBs)

· Final Distribution Boards (FDBs)

· Control Panels and Feeder Pillars

All panels are tailored to meet Omani electrical standards and international safety norms.

2. Circuit Protection Devices

The key to preventing electrical fires and damage is reliable overcurrent and earth fault protection. Al Taqwa offers:

· Miniature Circuit Breakers (MCBs)

· Molded Case Circuit Breakers (MCCBs)

· Residual Current Devices (RCDs)

· Earth Leakage Relays

These components ensure quick fault detection and automatic power cut-off during hazards.

3. Metering and Monitoring Devices

To optimize energy use and improve system performance, monitoring is essential. Al Taqwa provides:

· Analog and Digital Panel Meters

· Current Transformers (CTs)

· Voltage and Frequency Meters

· Energy Monitoring Units

These products give real-time data for smarter electrical management.

4. Electrical Accessories and Control Components

To support the full installation lifecycle, Al Taqwa stocks:

· Terminal blocks

· Cable ties and lugs

· Contactors and timers

· Rotary switches and power supplies

These ensure smooth installation, operation, and maintenance of electrical systems.

Top Electrical Brands Represented by Al Taqwa

Al Taqwa partners with internationally recognized electrical brands, including:

· Enza Electric — Quality switchgear products known across Europe and the Middle East

· Civaux Electric — Comprehensive panel systems and circuit protection components

· Stefan Electric — Trusted for metering solutions and industrial electrical accessories

· Salzer Electric — Renowned for rotary switches and control products

These collaborations ensure Al Taqwa can offer reliable, durable, and cost-effective solutions to its clients.

Beyond Products: Al Taqwa’s Expert Services

Al Taqwa goes beyond just supplying electrical components. Their team of experts offers:

Custom switchgear assembly tailored to project requirements

Site inspections and installation support

Annual maintenance contracts

Technical consultation and troubleshooting

This makes Al Taqwa a one-stop solution for all electrical needs in Oman.

Conclusion: Trust Al Taqwa for Complete Electrical Protection

When it comes to protecting your electrical systems, choosing a trusted provider like Al Taqwa ensures both peace of mind and long-term performance. From high-quality panels and circuit breakers to metering systems and expert service, Al Taqwa covers the full spectrum of electrical protection.

For engineers, project managers, or business owners looking to safeguard their infrastructure, Al Taqwa United Enterprises LLC stands out as the best source of electrical switchgear in Oman.

Explore More:

Visit https://altaqwaoman.com to view the full product catalog or request a quote tailored to your project needs.