#LED Display Screen Market

[aarunresearcher]

The United States smart TV market size is projected to exhibit a growth rate (CAGR) of 2.00% during 2024-2032. The growing popularity of streaming services, the widespread adoption of smart TV in the educational sector, and the continuous evolution of technology led manufacturers to innovate, improve screen quality, enhance connectivity options, and incorporate voice recognition features into their products represent some of the key factors driving the market.

[sffgtrhyjhmnzdt]

Can’t Miss US: Revolutionizing Political Outdoor Digital Advertising

In the fast-paced world of politics, capturing attention is crucial. Can’t Miss US has established itself as a game-changer in the political advertising arena, leveraging cutting-edge outdoor digital advertising solutions to ensure campaigns leave a lasting impact.

A Dynamic Approach to Political Advertising

Gone are the days when static billboards and traditional media were the go-to for political campaigns. Today, the need for versatile, impactful, and engaging strategies has led to a surge in political outdoor LED screen advertising. Can’t Miss US specializes in providing high-quality LED display boards tailored to deliver messages that resonate with audiences in real-time.

Why Choose LED Display Boards for Political Campaigns?

LED technology offers unmatched flexibility. Campaigns can instantly adapt to changing events, incorporating live updates, countdowns to election day, or even displaying real-time poll results. These political advertising LED display boards in Wisconsin are not just about visibility they are about making a statement.

Key benefits include:

High Visibility: Bright, eye-catching displays that stand out in any environment.

Real-Time Updates: Dynamic content scheduling allows messages to evolve with the campaign.

Cost-Effective Reach: Maximize exposure with impactful visuals while staying within budget.

Can’t Miss US: Your Partner in Political Outdoor Digital Advertising

From bustling city centers to high-traffic suburban areas, Can’t Miss US ensures your message reaches voters where it matters most. Their state-of-the-art political outdoor LED screen advertising in Wisconsin solutions provide campaigns with the tools needed to dominate the conversation.

Whether you're promoting a candidate, advocating for a policy, or driving voter turnout, Can’t Miss US is your trusted partner for impactful digital advertising. With their expertise, you can transform any campaign into an unforgettable experience.

Get Ready to Stand Out

As election seasons grow more competitive, investing in LED display boards for political advertising is no longer optional; it's essential. Contact Can’t Miss US today to explore how their innovative solutions can elevate your campaign’s presence and influence.

Your message deserves to be seen. Let Can’t Miss US help you shine.

[techdriveplay]

What Is the Difference Between OLED and LED Displays?

In today’s tech-driven world, display technology plays a crucial role in enhancing our digital experiences. From smartphones to televisions and even laptops, the screen quality significantly impacts how we perceive content. With so many display options on the market, one common question arises: What is the difference between OLED and LED displays? Both technologies offer unique advantages, but…

[clintblandy]

Unlock a world of possibilities with Interactive LED Walls! Imagine the creativity and energy you can bring to any space – from office lobbies and conference rooms to sensory rooms, retail spaces and beyond. With their unlimited potential for dynamic visuals, interactive LED walls engage users in vibrant displays of color, message, or video and stellar sound quality, that captivate even the most tech-savvy audiences.

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Hyundai E3W & E4W Micro Mobility concepts, 2025. A collaboration with India’s TVS Motor Company could revolutionise Indian's huge rickshaw market. The electric micro mobility concepts feature LED headlights and a small screen for displaying messages or destinations, heat reducing roof coatings and waterproof interiors. The basic structure can be easily adapted to purposes beyond passenger carrying and the vehicle's diminutive width makes it possible to access narrow alleys and crowded markets. The 4-wheeled version could be sold internationally

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (2/20)

SURPRISE!!!

A little of expectations for you.

Enjoy it <3

MINORS DO NOT MUST INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio X Fem Reader

Summary: When you hand over the Rio blouse, you discover something that maybe fate has different plans from yours.

Attraction

The sound of the keyboard was the only thing breaking the silence in the small apartment. You were hunched over your laptop, your eyes glued to the screen as you frantically searched.

"How to remove coffee stains from white cotton."

It was the tenth time you tried a different combination of words, and the results weren’t very helpful.

Glancing at the impeccably white shirt that Rio had lent you, you let out a nervous sigh. The light brown stain on the fabric seemed to mock you. Rio probably had dozens of other shirts, but you needed to return this one in perfect condition. It was as if your dignity depended on it.

After following the instructions from a dubious blog, you rushed to the nearest market and bought the most expensive liquid detergent you could find, along with a fabric softener whose advertisement promised to make any fabric as soft as a hug. It cost nearly all the money you had left, but it was worth it.

Hours later, the shirt was clean and smelling of lavender with a sophisticated floral touch. Perfect. Now, you just needed to deliver it.

The address on the card led you to one of the most upscale areas of Los Angeles, where the streets were wide, the buildings gleamed in the sun, and every storefront seemed to belong to another world.

You stopped in front of the art gallery bearing Rio’s name on an elegant sign. The large windows revealed a sophisticated and well-lit interior, where only a few people moved silently, contemplating the works on display.

Upon entering, the air was fresh and imbued with a faint scent of paint and polished wood. The first thing that caught your attention was the monumental pieces scattered throughout the space.

Some sculptures were abstract and imposing, others were paintings that seemed to overflow with emotion. There was a raw, hypnotic energy in those works – some wild, others so deeply personal that you felt a knot form in your throat as you looked at them.

You were so absorbed in the paintings that you almost didn’t notice the woman behind the marble counter, typing on her computer. Her neatly tied hair and thin glasses gave her a professional and serious appearance, and the sound of the keys was the only thing breaking the elegant silence of the environment.

“May I help you?” the receptionist asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

You gripped the paper bag tighter. “I…I need to speak with Rio Vidal.”

This time, she looked up, appraising you for a moment with a neutral expression. “Do you have an appointment?”

You hesitated. “No. But I just need to deliver this”—you lifted the bag slightly in your hand. The woman’s haughty expression made it clear she really didn’t care. “—to her, so… It’s important.”

The woman sighed lightly, picked up the phone, and dialed a number. “Mrs. Vidal, there’s a young woman here to see you. She says she needs to deliver something.”

There was a pause, and then the woman nodded, hanging up shortly after. “She said you should come upstairs.” The bored tone made it clear that this wasn’t exactly what one imagined doing with their life—or was working for Rio really that difficult?

“And don’t touch anything!” Your heart leaped, as if you’d been caught doing something wrong. You hadn’t even noticed that you were staring at the surrounding artworks with an almost childlike fascination.

Nervousness settled in your stomach as you pressed your lips together and proceeded.

Following the instructions, you walked to the second floor of the gallery, where a corridor with glass doors led to the private offices. When you reached the last door, you hesitated for a moment before lightly knocking and pushing it open.

The space was a spacious studio bathed in natural light coming from the huge windows. The smell of paint was stronger there, mixed with a woody hint. Rio was standing with her back turned, working on an unfinished canvas, and even without seeing her face, her presence dominated the room. When she turned around, her sharp gaze met yours, and a small, amused smile played on her lips.

“Oh. Look who came to grace us. Butterfingers.”

Your face immediately heated up. “I–I came to bring your blouse.” You carefully extended the paper bag, the fabric neatly folded and still perfumed with the expensive softener. “And again, I’m sorry.”

Rio got up with the ease of someone completely in control. She walked over to you, taking the bag with an almost lazy gesture, yet her eyes remained fixed on yours. When she pulled the shirt from inside the bag, one eyebrow arched, noticing the subtle scent that permeated the fabric.

“Lavender?” Her tone carried something indecipherable, a touch of provocation mixed with discreet interest.

You nodded, unsure of what to say. Rio held the shirt between her fingers, examining it for a moment before carefully folding it over the back of a chair.

She took the bag slowly, her eyes still fixed on you. Her smile seemed to analyze, to calculate. “You are so thoughtful, aren’t you?”

You felt your cheeks warm, too shy to admit that it felt like a ritual of personal redemption.

She let out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Thank you, my dear.”

Then, she set the bag aside as if she had no hurry to take it, and took a step toward you.

“You did a good job.” The proximity between you had grown closer now. “And since you’re here…” Her eyes sparkled with a hint of amusement. “What did you think of my works?”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question. You were still trying to catch your breath after walking through the gallery. Each piece seemed to have a life of its own, drawing you into a world of intense shapes, striking textures, and meticulously planned chaos.

Some works were monumental, dominating the room with an overwhelming presence. Others, smaller paintings, carried an emotional depth that you didn’t know how to process.

“They’re… impressive,” you answered hesitantly.

Rio tilted her head slightly, a playful smile on her lips. “Impressive? Is that all?”

You bit your lower lip, feeling her gaze burn into your skin. “I… I really liked that one over there.” You pointed to a painting with dark tones, where violent brushstrokes mixed with almost delicate details.

It was a canvas loaded with shadows and contrasts. A blend of obscurity and a desire hidden somewhere in the depths of the subconscious. Violent brushstrokes clashed in disorder, yet amidst the chaos, there was something almost delicate—subtleties concealed in the details, like secrets buried beneath layers of paint.

Green and brown intertwined as if linking past and present, life and decay, rebirth and oblivion. The green of persistence, of hope, suffocated by the earthy, solid, and inevitable brown. A silent struggle between promise and ruin.

Rio walked up to the painting, fingers gliding along the frame. "Curious. This piece is about desire." Her voice dropped slightly, as if confessing a secret. "The line between control and surrender."

Your stomach twisted at the way she said that, her gaze locking onto yours with calculated interest.

"And this one?" Rio gestured toward a nearby sculpture—a woman with an expression of pain, her form entangled in shapes that grasped and pulled her downward, tense, as if trapped in an eternal dilemma.

You hesitated. "The woman looks... restless."

"Exactly." Rio smirked slightly, as if satisfied with your response. "It’s about the moment before surrender. The hesitation before the inevitable." She stepped closer to you, her eyes fixed on your face. "I like that phase. When everything is just... anticipation."

Your breath hitched. There was something in the way Rio spoke—not just about art, but about you, about the situation unfolding between you two. The tension was almost palpable. Your fingers brushed lightly as you tried to look away, but she didn’t pull back.

And then, the gallery door opened. The sound of heels echoed through the space, a floral perfume mixing with the scent of paint and varnish.

"What a charming scene."

The voice came from behind you, husky and laced with irony. You turned around only to find a woman standing at the entrance, dressed in a flawless dark overcoat, her gaze sharp enough to be impossible to ignore.

Agatha Harkness.

Her eyes slowly swept over you before settling on Rio, a subtle smile playing on her lips.

"I hope I’m not interrupting anything... intimate."

You instinctively turned back, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest as you recognized her. "P–Professor Harkness?" you stammered, your voice almost failing from the shock.

Agatha Harkness, with her dark hair impeccably styled and wrapped in a perfectly tailored purple suit, seemed even more imposing outside the classroom. Her eyes—blue and gleaming like ice under the sun—moved from you to Rio, lingering just a second too long on your hands, still close. There was something in that gaze, something that felt like much more than mere curiosity.

"Yes… and what exactly are you doing here with my wife?" The tone was sharp, but carried a veiled amusement, as if Agatha found the scene before her quite entertaining.

The word echoed in your mind like a distant chime, and your stomach dropped. Suddenly, the closeness between you and Rio, the way she looked at you, the condescending way she laughed at your reactions... everything took on a new meaning.

The tension in the room became tangible. It was as if the two women were engaged in a silent conversation, their gazes exchanging meanings far beyond your understanding.

You watched, shrinking into yourself, feeling like an intruder in a moment that seemed private—yet you couldn’t look away. The magnetism between them was undeniable, almost hypnotizing. They are the most beautiful couple I’ve ever seen, you thought, unable to stop yourself.

Rio was the first to break the silence that hung like a storm about to break. Her expression was serious, but there was a glint in her brown eyes that betrayed her usual control. "She just came to return my shirt, my love." Her tone was careless, almost lazy, as if deliberately ignoring the rising tension.

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her smile slightly sarcastic. "Ah, so you..." She tilted her head slightly, glancing sideways at Rio before fixing her gaze on you once more. "Are the one responsible for the coffee stain that ruined her favorite shirt? What a... twist."

You opened your mouth to explain, but Rio interrupted you with an irritatingly superior calm. "It was an accident. It's already taken care of." Her tone was indulgent, as if she were defending a childish mistake. As if you were exactly what she loved making you feel—small, fragile.

Agatha's eyes gleamed with something unreadable, and a soft clicking sound escaped when she pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Interesting."

And in that silent exchange between them, everything became clear: Agatha was not just the feared mentor of your course. She was Rio’s wife. And in that moment, the world seemed to shrink around you.

You realized you had stepped right into the center of something much bigger—something you weren’t sure you could even begin to comprehend.

As silence settled once more, Agatha took a step forward, leaning slightly toward you. "Well, gem, I do hope your disastrous talents are compensated for later, huh? After all, you’re supposed to impress me today, aren’t you?"

You swallowed hard, feeling heat rise through your body. Between the magnetism of Rio’s presence and the overwhelming allure of Agatha, you were completely trapped. And the worst—or best—part was that deep down, you didn’t want to escape.

You cleared your throat, trying to recover some semblance of dignity. "I—I should go. My shift starts in just a few minutes. Sorry again for the shirt, Mrs. Vidal." Your voice trembled, but you tried to sound firm, giving a nearly mechanical nod before hurrying out of the room, feeling Rio and Agatha’s gazes burning into your back. "And see you later, Professor Harkness."

Your heart was still pounding wildly as you left the art gallery, nearly stumbling onto the sidewalk. You tried not to think about the magnetism of those two women—the way their gazes seemed to pierce through you, the tension that pulsed between them.

But it was impossible.

Arriving at work, the chaos was evident before you even crossed the door. The sound of cups clinking, the endless hum of conversations, and the coffee machine steaming away created an uncomfortably familiar backdrop. Behind the counter, America stared at you with a look that mixed irritation and relief.

"Finally!" she muttered, throwing her hands up. "It's hell in here, and we haven't even made it past the first hour. And just so you know, the boss is watching. Better not screw things up again today."

You simply nodded, feeling the weight of her words like a brick on your chest. Since the coffee incident, you had been relegated to the counter, away from the customers. Making drinks was the most you could do now.

Trying to ignore her judging gaze, you adjusted your apron and began working. Cappuccino, latte, black coffee – it was almost automatic. Everything seemed reasonably under control until America came back, her face contorted with even more irritation.

"Hey," she said, pulling you by the arm. "That woman is here again. And guess what? She specifically asked for you to serve her."

You froze. "Rio?"

"The one and only. Soon, the boss is going to overcharge for these famous people," America crossed her arms, lowering her voice. "Does she always seem so grumpy? Seriously, the kind of person you look at and already feel like you've done something wrong."

You followed her gaze to a discreet corner of the room. There she was. Rio Vidal.

The immaculate blazer, dark hair falling over her shoulders with calculated carelessness, and that gaze... the kind of look that seemed to observe and judge everything at once, as if the world around her was just a minor detail. Even sitting down, there was something about her that exuded a commanding presence, something that made the room subtly bow to her will.

Rio Vidal was not just an artist – she was an icon. Critics called her "an eccentric genius," "an untamable mind," "a storm in the shape of a woman." Her exhibitions were exclusive events, her paintings fought over by collectors who paid fortunes for a single piece.

Her temperament, however, was almost as famous as her art. There were stories... so many stories. Assistants who quit in the first month, gallery owners who avoided direct contact, journalists who preferred to interview Agatha rather than deal with Rio's unpredictable mood.

And now, that same woman was here. Waiting for you.

America snapped her fingers in front of your face. "Earth to you. You're not going to make that panic face when you get over there, are you?"

You took a deep breath, trying to ignore the nervousness. "I'm not panicking."

She raised an eyebrow.

You exhaled slowly.

"Maybe a little."

Reaching the table, you tried to keep your posture, even though your heart was racing. "Good afternoon, Mrs. Vidal. It's a pleasure to see you here again. How can I assist you today?"

Rio lifted her eyes from the menu, the same penetrating gaze from before locking onto you. "I thought it would be fair to give you a chance at redemption," she said, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You owe me a coffee, after all."

You swallowed hard, trying not to show how disarmed her words made you. "Of course, Mrs. Vidal. What would you like?"

She tilted her head slightly, as if studying you. "Surprise me."

Just like that. Without even looking at the menu, without giving any hints. Just the order hanging in the air, a challenge disguised as indifference.

Back at the counter, you focused on the drink, choosing the ingredients as if they were brushstrokes on a canvas. Caramel cappuccino. Sweet, but with a robust undertone, balanced. Like her? No, of course not. But... maybe.

As you prepared the cup with more care than ever, you felt her gaze burning into your back. Rio was watching, silent, her presence as heavy as spilled paint on a blank canvas.

When you returned to the table with the carefully prepared coffee, Rio took the cup but, instead of drinking immediately, spoke in a casual tone:

"Did you know my wife is curious about you?"

The words hit you like lightning. "Professor Harkness?" you asked, almost without thinking.

Rio smiled, but there was something calculated in her expression. "Yes. She mentioned you have... potential. Both in film and in causing trouble."

You didn’t know if it was a compliment or a provocation, but before you could answer, Rio finally took the cup to her lips. After a sip, she nodded, approving.

"How did you know caramel cappuccino was mine?" she asked, sipping a bit more of the sweet drink.

"Excuse me?" you asked, confused.

"Yesterday. I ordered caramel cappuccino and black coffee for Agatha. And today, you bring me a sweet drink. How did you know it was for me?" she asked, intrigued.

You blinked, feeling your heart tighten. You hadn't thought too much about it; you just followed your intuition when preparing the caramel cappuccino, as if you somehow knew it suited her. But now, under Rio's sharp gaze, the question seemed much more laden with meaning.

"I... I don’t know," you replied honestly, your voice low. "I just thought it suited you."

Rio raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile playing at the corners of her lips. "It suits me, does it?"

You immediately blushed, the words slipping out before you could control them. "I mean, uh... the cappuccino is... refined, but sweet. I just thought maybe it was something you’d like."

She tilted her head, her eyes dancing between amusement and curiosity. "Interesting."

The silence that followed was heavy, but somehow comfortable. You felt like Rio was watching you in a different way, as if she were trying to decipher something you didn’t even understand. Finally, she placed the cup on the table, crossing her arms over the wooden surface.

"You are really... rare, aren't you, little gem?" she said, leaning her body toward you, suddenly very interested in occupying the same air as you.

The nickname fell from Rio's mouth like a drop of poisoned honey, soft but loaded with something more. Your stomach twisted, and you felt the heat rise in your cheeks, bursting into a blush you couldn’t hide.

The words echoed, hitting you hard. Not just for the sound, but for the implication – the way she leaned her body, as if she wanted to wrap you in an invisible web.

"It’s an interesting nickname, but I really don’t understand," you said, your voice faltering slightly, gripping the cleaning cloth tightly, trying to keep your hands busy. "Professor Harkness calls me exactly that."

"Oh, I know," Rio replied, her eyes shining with something that seemed dangerous, but fascinating. "A rare, rough gem that needs to be shaped. Sounds exactly like you."

The air between you seemed heavier with each passing second. The silence wasn’t empty—it was filled with something you couldn’t define, but it made your breath feel too loud. You knew you shouldn’t feel this way; you were sure that Rio wasn’t trying to do anything malicious.

But then, why were her eyes so intense? Why did it seem like she wanted to tear away each of your secrets?

Before you could respond, the unmistakable sound of your boss’s voice sliced through the moment like a dull blade. “Ah, Ms. Vidal. Is she bothering you? I’ve told this girl not to get into trouble again...”

The coldness in your spine was immediate, but it didn’t last long. Rio’s sharp laugh pierced the air. Low, almost indulgent, but full of pure disdain. She straightened in her chair, lazily resting an arm over the backrest, like a queen on her throne watching a foolish subject.

“Tell me, do you always speak to your employees this way, or do you save that condescending tone just for women?” Her voice was sharp velvet, and the look she shot the man was enough to make him hesitate.

“I was just... commenting on yesterday’s incident,” he tried to fix, discomfort showing in his fake smile. “You know, with the coffee...”

“Ah, yes.” Rio interrupted, standing with rehearsed calm, her presence dominating the space as if she had always belonged there. “An incident that has already been resolved. And if I remember correctly, I was very clear: this girl,” she gestured vaguely toward you, “should not suffer any kind of reprisal.”

The air grew heavy. Your boss opened and closed his mouth but couldn’t find the words that could save him from Rio’s predator-like stare.

“C-Certainly, Ms. Vidal,” he conceded, averting his eyes like a cornered dog. “I just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

“It is now,” Rio declared, already bored with his existence. She slid her wallet out of her coat pocket, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, and placed it on the counter without even looking at it. Folded with precision, as if every detail were part of a game only she knew.

“For her.” The command came soft, but undeniable.

And then, as if the man no longer existed, Rio turned her gaze back to you. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink until it fit inside the brown of her eyes.

“See you later, little gem,” she murmured, her voice slow, delicious, soaked in that almost lazy tone that made your skin tingle.

Before you could even catch your breath, Rio walked out of the cafe with the same lethal calm as always. The woody scent of her perfume lingered in the air, just like the shiver that ran down your spine—and the unsettling feeling that the game was only just beginning.

[...]

As you crossed the building’s doors, the opulence of the environment seemed to swallow any remnants of confidence you had brought with you. The façade reflected more than your image—it projected your insecurity before the magnitude of the world you had just entered.

This wasn’t just Agatha Harkness’s territory; it was her domain, a space that vibrated with her invisible but overwhelming authority. You were a misplaced piece here, and every step you took seemed to echo that reminder.

The interior was even more intimidating. The wide corridors, lined with black-and-white photos of legendary cinematic moments, and the glass doors revealing immaculate offices, exuded professionalism.

However, it was the dense silence, interrupted only by hurried whispers, that made it impossible to ignore the weight of Agatha’s influence. Her subordinates moved like gears in a perfectly adjusted machine, but every furtive glance they cast toward her office door revealed something else: fear.

When you entered the production room, the tension was almost tangible. The environment buzzed with the energy of busy professionals, but for a brief moment, everything seemed to freeze.

Subtle glances were raised only to assess your presence—there was no curiosity, only a cold, impersonal evaluation, as if they were deciding right then and there whether you belonged in that space.

“This is our new intern,” one of the subordinates announced, his voice carefully neutral. But the hesitation, though minimal, betrayed his discomfort.

Agatha didn’t need to raise her eyes for her presence to dominate the room. Sitting behind the desk, she seemed part of the very scenery—motionless, but in a way that suggested she could take control of everything at any moment. The space around her was too small for the grandeur she exuded.

Her long fingers held a script, which she leafed through with a genuine-seeming interest, though you knew it was just a game. Every gesture was calculated, a veiled display of power. Her silence was a warning.

Then, almost as a whim, Agatha raised her eyes.

The impact was immediate. Her gaze didn’t linger, but in an instant, it pierced you like a cold blade. There was no apparent emotion, only a meticulous examination—impersonal, surgical. You knew you were being analyzed, but you didn’t know what she was looking for. Just enough to understand that she had already made a decision.

And then, without a word, she turned her gaze away.

The ice in your chest spread as Agatha returned to her reading, dismissing your presence as if it were irrelevant. There was no need for orders or threats. Her indifference was the message.

The others returned to work as if nothing had happened. But, from time to time, someone would glance in your direction, almost as a silent reminder: don’t expect anything from her.

Your heart raced, and a feeling of discomfort enveloped you. Feeling invisible in front of her was harder than you’d imagined. Every subordinate who came to explain the procedures seemed to try their best to be as polite as possible, but the furtive glances they exchanged told everything: don’t mess with her, don’t question her, she doesn’t like that.

The tension in the air was suffocating, but also magnetic. Even being ignored, you couldn’t escape her presence. It was as if Agatha was in every corner of the room, shaping everyone’s behavior without needing a single word. Her silence was as eloquent as a direct order, and you realized that, even without looking at you, she was fully aware of your presence.

Suddenly, her voice cut through the silence, low but full of authority.

“I expect excellence. And I have no patience for those who don’t measure up.” Her voice was like a steel thread, elegant but sharp.

“This script should not have made it to my desk in this state.” She raised her eyes again, but not to you—as if you weren’t worthy of that privilege. “Correct it by tomorrow. And please, spare me any more wasted time.”

The room fell into complete silence, the air heavy with tension. Everyone seemed used to this type of order, but the pressure was palpable. Each person quickly returned to work, and you, almost breathless, tried to settle in and understand what was happening.

Agatha was a woman who didn’t waste time, and her team knew that.

It was as if, despite being there, you weren’t really noticed. Agatha, the woman who had made you so nervous during your first meeting, was now completely ignoring your existence. Which left you with a strange feeling. Was she mad about what happened with Rio earlier? Or was this just her way of working?

Throughout the rest of the day, you followed the instructions, trying to focus on the work and the small responsibilities given to you, but your mind couldn’t stop returning to Agatha.

How could she be so distant and, at the same time, so fascinating? The way she kept control, how her presence filled the room effortlessly, was something you had only seen in movies.

You approached, introduced almost automatically, like just another piece in the puzzle. Agatha didn’t deign to look at you more than once, not even when her subordinate introduced you. Her eyes were fixed on papers, uninterested in what you had to offer.

You, in turn, stood there, trying to absorb every bit of information, but the feeling of invisibility was almost suffocating.

You felt humiliation wash over you, but what bothered you the most was how Agatha seemed to put so much effort into ignoring you. As if your presence was an inconvenience, something she simply didn’t want to deal with.

Your body tensed, but you held your posture, forcing your mind to focus on the task at hand. But the question lingered: Why was she treating you this way?

You worked alongside Yelena, helping build the script. The clock ticked slowly, but for her, time seemed to move differently — without hurry, without hesitation, as if she already knew exactly what needed to be done.

Yelena was young like you, but that was where the similarities ended. She had a firm, secure posture that exuded a kind of confidence you didn’t know how to reach. Where you hesitated, she acted. Where you doubted, she asserted. It wasn’t arrogance, it was conviction.

And Agatha saw her.

The director never needed to ask Yelena for anything twice. She didn’t even need to ask. It was as if there was silent communication between them, a tacit understanding that made everything easier. While you tried to prove your worth with every task, Yelena was already an essential piece in that machine.

You wanted to be seen that way.

"Hey, you still here?" Yelena’s voice cut through your thoughts.

You blinked, realizing you had been staring at the woman in a constant daydream.

"Sorry," you murmured, returning to your work.

She chuckled softly, not cruelly, but with a familiarity that made your chest tighten. "Relax. I know what it’s like to want her approval."

You froze for a second.

Yelena sighed, leaning against the table. "Everyone wants to be seen by her. But she doesn’t see just anyone."

The words stayed with you long after work was over.

When you finally said goodbye to the team, the sense of relief was immediate. It was already getting dark, and you walked to the bus stop, trying to process everything you had experienced that day.

But as you passed by the street, something made you stop. The sound of a powerful engine made your body tense automatically. A black Audi A5 parked next to the bus stop. You felt a wave of tension pass through your body, your heart beating faster.

The car window rolled down, revealing Agatha, who was there, as if she had appeared out of nowhere. The way her blue eyes fixed on you was as if she were watching every inch of your soul, as if she were trying to understand what made you different.

"You’re going to wait for the bus here until when, dear?" Agatha asked with the same coldness, but there was something in her tone that made you hesitate. She didn’t seem like she wanted to leave anytime soon.

You looked at her, surprised. The woman of undeniable power was inviting you to something that didn’t seem like just politeness. "I... I’m waiting for the bus, but..."

Before you could finish the sentence, Agatha interrupted with an impatient gesture, her expression still calculated. "Don’t tell me the obvious. Don’t make me repeat myself. Get in the car."

You hesitated for a second, but the invitation was direct, and, as strange as it was, something in the way she spoke made you give in. You got into the car, and the silence between you two stretched until the vehicle started moving.

The smell of leather and the elegant environment of the car enveloped you in an uncomfortably intimidating way. The luxurious interior of the Audi seemed designed to constantly remind you that you didn’t belong there, but at the same time, there was something hypnotizing in Agatha’s presence.

She was so close, but at the same time, so distant, like an unrelenting observer, examining each of your movements. The car’s engine moved smoothly through the streets, but the tension growing between you two made time seem denser, slower.

"Then guide me..." Agatha said, her voice soft, but with an authority that left no room for contestation.

You swallowed hard, the nervousness taking over your body as you recited your address, trying to maintain composure. "You shouldn’t be doing this... You’ll get home late," you said with hesitant concern, as if you were somehow looking out for her.

She scoffed, clearly amused by your audacity, but not letting it show. As much as your posture screamed submission, you couldn’t hide the nervous tremor in your voice, as if simply speaking to her was a challenge to your own sanity.

"And who do you think you are to tell me what I should or shouldn’t do?" Agatha’s tone was low but full of authority that made you shrink.

Her blue eyes, so clear and imposing, gleamed dangerously as they fixed on you.

You choked on your words, but insisted, trying to keep some thread of reasoning. "I-I didn’t mean that... I— I’m just worried about your safety. And Mrs. Vidal... won’t like you getting home so late." You pointed out, as if it were obvious, as if you had found a way to justify your questioning.

Agatha leaned slightly forward, a playful expression dancing on her lips. "Oh. So this is about my wife, little gem?" She whispered, as if she had caught a child eating dessert before dinner. The movement of her body closer to you made your stomach tighten, and the feeling of heat in your belly intensified.

"N-no! That’s not..." You tried to correct, but were interrupted by her response.

And then, for the first time, you heard Agatha laugh. It wasn’t just any laugh; it was a rich, deep laugh, full of a somber strength, but at the same time, wonderfully captivating. It was almost as if she knew exactly the effect she had on you, as if she were laughing at a game you still didn’t fully understand.

"Don’t worry. Rio is organizing a charity event for the gallery. I’ll be alone for the next few hours," she said, her voice softer now, but the tension between you two continued to grow with every word.

The heat in your body didn't subside. You could feel the way the car moved through the streets, but all you could perceive was Agatha. She was in control, not just of the car but of everything around her—and worse, it seemed like she was in control of you too, though you didn’t understand why.

You gripped the leather beneath you, trying to focus, but you couldn’t escape the intensity radiating from her. It was as if, somehow, she knew what was happening inside you, and at the same time, had the power to make you crave more.

The car slowed smoothly as Agatha parked in front of the building where you lived. The engine’s roar ceased, leaving only the distant sound of the city in the background.

You fidgeted nervously with your hands, unsure whether to thank her, leave, or say something to break the silence, which seemed heavier than ever.

Before you could take any action, Agatha leaned slightly against the steering wheel, her eyes fixed on the plain, unremarkable entrance of the building. “Do you and your boyfriend live here?”

The question came in a casual tone, but her gaze, intense as always, was far from indifferent. Your body reacted immediately, a strange heat rising to your face.

It was impossible to tell if she was genuinely curious or just testing you in some way you didn’t yet understand.

“I don’t like them. Men, I mean,” you replied without thinking, trying to sound indifferent, but the almost imperceptible tremor in your voice betrayed you.

Agatha turned her face toward you slowly and deliberately, as if savoring every word she'd just heard. Her blue eyes shone with an intensity that made you feel as though the air inside the car had become thinner.

“Ah,” she murmured, almost as if processing the information, but the way the word escaped her lips suggested something more. She didn’t seem surprised or judgmental—just dangerously intrigued. “I see.”

The silence that followed was overwhelming. You could feel the weight of her gaze on you, as if she could see through your skin, through your soul. You tried to look away, but her proximity, the scent of her perfume mingling with the leather of the car, all conspired to make you even more nervous.

“So, what do you like, then?” Agatha finally asked, her voice softer now, almost a whisper, but laden with a curiosity that didn’t seem rhetorical.

Your heart raced, and your throat felt dry. “I... I like women who are...” The words escaped before you could fully form them, and the way she looked at you, that half-smile on her lips, didn’t help.

“Women who are...?” she prompted, raising an eyebrow. There was something in her tone that made it sound more like a tease than a question.

“Powerful,” you completed, almost choking on the word, feeling your face burn. It was true, but it felt like a pathetically ridiculous answer at that moment.

Agatha tilted her head slightly, her lips curving into an enigmatic smile. “Power. How interesting.” Her tone was almost mocking, yet still soft, as if she were playing with something only she understood.

You knew you should leave, end the conversation, but something about her kept you there. It was the gaze, the way she seemed to control the environment effortlessly, as if she was fully aware of what she was doing to you.

“I…” You began hesitantly, and cursed yourself for starting. “—did I impress you today?” And then you let it slip, completely trapped by the atmosphere.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, her smile widening, but without losing that air of mystery. “Impress?” She repeated, as if savoring the word. “Maybe you should try a little harder, little gem.”

The nickname came like a sharp knife, slicing through the air and leaving you breathless. You felt the heat rise to your neck, but couldn’t look away. There was something in the way she spoke, something that held you, that made you want to prove you could impress her, that you could be worthy of her attention.

“I will,” you replied, your voice firmer than you expected, but still laced with a vulnerability you couldn’t hide.

Agatha didn’t hesitate. “Good girl,” she said, her voice soft, yet filled with approval. There was something in that compliment that made you feel small and, at the same time, powerful, as if she had placed a key in your hands but hadn’t yet told you which door to open.

She leaned in a little closer, and you could smell her—jasmine and something deeper, something that made you feel dizzy. Her blue eyes seemed to pierce your soul, as if reading every thought, every desire you could barely articulate.

“You have potential,” she continued, her voice low, almost a whisper. “But potential is nothing without direction. Without... control.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine, but you couldn’t move. Agatha was so close now that you could feel the heat of her body, and it only made the confusion of emotions inside you grow stronger.

“And what do you want me to do?” you asked, your voice trembling, but full of a courage you didn’t know you had.

Agatha smiled, her lips curving into an expression that was both gentle and perverse, as if she knew a truth but wouldn’t share it. “You’d better get inside before it gets too late. I don’t want to be responsible for... unwanted events tomorrow.”

There was an unspoken weight in her choice of words, something that sent a chill down your spine. You swallowed hard, muttering a hasty thank you before opening the car door.

As you stepped out, you could still feel her eyes on you. When you closed the door and began walking toward the building, the sound of the Audi’s engine roared to life again. But instead of speeding off, the car stayed there for a few more seconds, as if she was making sure you got inside safely—or maybe something more.

As you crossed the building’s door, the tension still weighed on your shoulders, but now there was something else, something you couldn’t name, but you knew it wouldn’t leave you alone anytime soon.

You sighed heavily once you locked the door behind you. Lucky came up to greet you with a sleepy meow, rubbing against your legs as if it knew exactly what kind of day you’d had.

“Hey, my baby,” you murmured, bending down to pet its head. “Today was... intense.” You shook your head, took off your shoes, and went straight to the sofa. “And by intense, I mean absolutely exhausting and confusing.”

Lucky meowed in response, jumping up beside you as you let out a short laugh. "You're the only one in my life who doesn't complicate things. You know that, don't you?" He purred in reply, and you sighed again before getting up and heading to the bedroom.

After changing and turning off the lights, you lay down in bed, trying to finally relax. But as soon as you closed your eyes, your mind began to wander, as it always did.

First came Rio's subtle gaze, the way she watched you, as if trying to unravel every layer of you. The deep timbre of her voice echoed in your head, and you found yourself imagining what it would be like if those words were closer, more intimate.

And then... Agatha. The memory of her behind the wheel, her hands with their prominent blue veins gripping the steering wheel, the way her eyes seemed to pierce your soul effortlessly.

Her scent invaded your memory. You turned over in bed, trying to push these thoughts away, but they only seemed to grow, spreading like an uncontrollable fire. The heat in your belly built unbearably. The pressure was almost palpable, and you knew you wouldn't be able to sleep like this.

Your breathing grew faster, uneven, as your mind flooded with images of Rio and Agatha. They were there, so vivid in your memory that you could almost smell their perfumes—Rio's sweet warmth and Agatha's hypnotic sophistication.

The thought of them being older, experienced, old enough to be your mothers, made your stomach twist in a mix of nervousness and desire.

There was something wrong about this kind of fascination, something that should have repelled you. But instead, it only made everything even more magnetic, more forbidden. The age difference, the contrast between their lives and the power they exuded, made the heat in your belly intensify.

"Fuck me!" you exclaimed, moaning desperately as your hands slid under the blanket. Your fingers found the wet heat between your legs, and you didn't hesitate.

The initial touch was light, just the tips of your fingers sliding over your clit, already swollen and sensitive. You arched your back, a low moan escaping your lips.

Now the movements were frantic, almost torturous, as you explored the growing sensation. Your body reacted on its own, your thighs instinctively tightening as you gave in to the desire burning inside you.

Your mind alternated between the two: Rio, with that provocative smile and piercing gaze, and Agatha, with her low, cutting voice, so full of authority. Both were women who could easily teach you everything you didn't yet know, and that excited you more than it should.

As your mind grew hazy with the approach of orgasm, your subconscious took over, setting your body ablaze with immoral thoughts.

But now it was too late.

You were already falling.

They were no longer just the most important women in Hollywood—they were archetypes. Figures carved from a need you didn’t dare name. Agatha, with her ever-sarcastic laugh and cold eyes, was the mother who set boundaries, who said “no” with a razor-sharp smile. Rio, with her tattoos and raspy laugh, was the mother who spoiled you, who let you eat dessert before dinner just to see you smile. Together, they filled every gap life had carved into you.

A slip of fingers over your skin, trying to mimic the touch you imagined Agatha would have—firm, calculated, intentional. But soon your mind betrayed you, replacing her with Rio, whose hands were warm and impatient, as if they knew exactly where you needed it most. Your body responded before reason could intervene, a moan escaping your lips as your hips pressed into the mattress, seeking relief.

“Little gem,” Agatha’s voice echoed in your mind, as if she were there in the dark, watching. “Do you think this is enough?”

You bit your lip, your fingers moving faster, trying to prove that it was. But it was useless. The image of Rio appeared then, laughing softly, as she always did when you tried to be too strong.

"Mommies..."

Your clit was swollen, sensitive, begging for more, and it pulsed even harder at the word with M. Your hands moved faster, the motions growing more intense, until everything culminated in a moment of pure release.

"Let me help, sweetie," her voice whispered, and you imagined her fingers replacing yours—wider, rougher, better.

It was a dangerous game. The more you tried to focus on one, the more the other intruded. Agatha pulling your hair back, ordering you to "behave," while Rio whispered that "making a mess" was allowed too. Your hand was now drenched, the movements so fast they hurt, but you didn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop.

"Mama will take care of you," Rio murmured in your imaginary ear, and you let out a whine, your legs shaking.

"Naugthy girl," Agatha reprimanded, but there was pride in her voice, as if she were happy you were letting yourself go.

"This is getting out of control," you whispered, your voice low and shaky. But even as the satisfaction still pulsed through your body, the desire for those women—so different and so powerful—continued to echo in your mind, impossible to ignore.

You're not good for me

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

Rio and Agatha. Two women so different, yet somehow they had pulled you into their orbit. It was as if both had drawn you into the eye of a storm, leaving you ungrounded.

Rio, with her magnetic charisma, had a warmth that was almost unbearably enveloping. Agatha, on the other hand, was the opposite—cold, cutting, but equally irresistible. And both were unattainable, older, married... so far removed from anything you could even imagine for yourself.

You're not good for me

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

You turned over in bed, hugging the pillow as if it could bring you some sense of comfort. But even that didn't help. The memory of their gazes continued to haunt you.

Rio's playful eyes seemed to fix on you with an intensity that made your stomach churn. And Agatha, always analyzing, always a step ahead, made you feel small and, at the same time, desperate to be seen.

"Why is this happening to me?" you murmured to yourself, squeezing your eyes shut.

Then you understood: it wasn’t just pleasure. It was a ritual.

Every touch was a way of rewriting history—Agatha teaching you how to be loved with discipline, Rio showing you how to be loved with excess. And you, caught in between, were the child who never knew what that meant, now intoxicated by both.

But even in that liberation, there was pain. Because deep down, you knew they weren’t really there. They never would be. They were just projections of a mind that, even at your age, still hoped someone would finally say, “I see you.”

You're not good for me

You're not good for me

But baby, I want you

I want you

~*~

Mommies will teach you...

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[gyeomsweetgyeom]

[8:12 pm]

“Smile!” You heard a voice call out.

You turned to face the camera with a wide smile with your arms wrapped around Johnny’s waist and your face pressed to his chest.

“I think that’s enough pictures for tonight Mom,” Johnny chuckled. Every few displays, she would stop you both to take a picture of the both of you. A bright flash of light would go off and then she’d look down at her phone screen with a fond smile and continue walking until she got to the next spot where she wanted a picture.

“Nonsense! It’s your first time seeing the Christmas lights together, you’ll want to remember this,” she smiled warmly before taking her husband’s hand and walking down further from both you and Johnny.

“I’m sorry about her,”Johnny murmured after his mom was a good few feet away.

You smiled, “don’t apologize! She’s cute, I love her.”

He smiled warmly, taking your hand in his and led you down the walkway to look at more of the extravagant light displays.

This was your first Chicago Christmas. In previous years you and Johnny would either spend the time apart or spend it together in Korea, this year you had decided you wanted to spend it with his family. He had told you he loved going to the Christmas markets, going shopping, and all the food that his parents made during the holiday season. It was enough to sell you so here you were.

Despite it being nearly freezing outside, you never had it in you to tell Johnny’s parents no- even when the house had been so warm and cozy, especially under the fuzzy blanket Johnny’s mom had thrown over you with a Christmas movie playing in the background. The ground was wet from the rain earlier in the day and it was coldest it had been all day with the sun now fully set, but the lights from the Christmas light lane were gorgeous to look at. A lot of the houses had gone all out, lights that strobed with music, various inflatables, and different animals made from strings of lights. Johnny had told you that this had been one of his favorite traditions to do with his parents in the holiday season. He went every year he was in Chicago for the holiday season and never skipped even when he got to the age where he thought it was too lame.

He was happy that you were now included, years into your relationship, his parents loved you, he loved you, and you were finally joining in on exclusive family traditions. His parents had been very welcoming, including you in every detail of their usual traditions and daily routine like it was second nature to them. You woke up every morning with a cup of coffee made just the way you liked, a blanket draped over you while you laid on the couch, and even your usual shampoo in the shower when you got there. They were so excited to have you stay with them for the holidays, that they had even asked Johnny to share some of your usual traditions over the holidays so they could make you feel more at home. They made you love Johnny even more than you already did.

You had been so excited to leave that you failed to grab your gloves off the dresser in your room. Your pockets weren’t going enough to keep your hands warm out in the cold. You brought your hands up to your mouth and breathed hot air onto them before rubbing them together quickly and shoving them into your pockets to preserve the heat.

“There’s a little stand coming up that has some great hot chocolate,” Johnny smiled at you fondly.

You nodded, your ear muffs sliding forward until Johnny fixed them, “I feel like my fingers are going to freeze and fall off.”

He laughed loudly and pulled you into his side while you walked to the hot chocolate stand. The line was unfortunately long, a lot of people clearly having the same idea as the two of you, but you joined the line anyway.

You wrapped your arms around Johnny’s waist, burying your face into his back while you joined the back of the long line. He grabbed your hands and pulled them up under his jacket to rest right over the first layer of his T-shirt. “Baby! I can feel how cold your hands are,” he laughed while his body flinched, feeling the cold from your hands seeping through the cotton of his shirt.

“I told you! Maybe if you didn’t rush me I’d have remembered my gloves,” you pout, poking your fingers into his sides.

He squirms as you tickle him but let’s your warm your hands under his layers but keeping his hands over yours. You move up the line as one, shuffling forward without disconnecting your bodies.

“Smile!” You hear again. You turn, with your cheek pressed to Johnny’s back and hands buried under his jacket to keep your hands warm, with a bright smile.

“Gorgeous,” she smiles warmly. Finally, it’s yours and Johnny’s turn to order and you reluctantly remove yourself from his warmth. This is thankfully soon replaced by a hot cup of hot chocolate in one hand and Johnny’s free hand in the other.

You all stand huddled in a close group, taking sips of the hot chocolate while you discuss your favorite displays and plans for the rest of your stay. “We’re so glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Johnny’s dad smiles at your brightly.

You smile in return, “everything we’ve done so far has been so amazing. Thank you for including me.”

They wave you off, telling you you’re an official member of the Suh family before Johnny’s mom starts going on about Johnny proposing before they get too old.

With a deep sigh, Johnny follows his parents back to the car with your hand placed on his waist under his warm layers. He wraps his own arm around your shoulders, his head resting on top of yours, “I love you.”

“I love you too, John.”

“More than my parents?”

Your silence is enough of an answer for him, unfortunately.

[perfectlychaoticcupcake]

Chapter 1 of Frostheim Gossip Girl AU

Please don't have high expectations. This is the first time in about five to six years that I have actually managed to write.

I feel like I mellowed Kaito out. He seems to be OOC. Please let me know of any changes I can make as I'm working on chapters two and three. I tried my best to make MC as generic as possible, so I apologize if I made her in my own image too much.

My feet hurt. They’ve been scrunched in these cheap, black kitten heels for eight hours. I shouldn’t complain, though. The job market is… bleak… for lack of a better word, so I can suffer through the pain brought on by my uniform. I can’t deny the fact that my feet do hurt.

Accompanying these suede torture devices are nylon black tights that bunch at my waist, underneath my forest green flower-patterned knee-length dress. A heart-shaped diamond necklace is the only piece of jewelry I’m wearing. My hair is tied up into a half-up with a black bow and my ends curled. My makeup looks natural, and my nails are soft pink.

I’m currently walking to my destination a few blocks away from my job. I’m meeting up with someone, a man, this morning. I quickly pull out my phone to check the time. The lock screen reads a little after six and I pick up my pace to be on time.

I’ve only met this man a few times, mainly at social events a mutual friend host. Said mutual approached me two days ago, asking if I would like to join this man for breakfast. From what I’ve seen and heard, he seems to be decent, so I figured one date couldn’t hurt.

I never really cared enough to date before. Finding a partner, experiencing love, settling with someone were never interesting prospects to me. Growing up, no one was ever interested in me, either. I turned twenty-three recently and I wished for new opportunities and experiences when I blew out my candles, so I’m taking the chance. I reasoned to myself, asking: What’s the harm of sharing breakfast with someone new? I couldn’t answer myself properly.

Strangely enough, I’m not nervous. My heart is beating at its normal pace. The symptoms of nervousness such as clammy hands, sweaty pits, and butterflies are not present. I feel perfectly alright today. ‘This is a good sign’, I tell myself.

The town is starting to wake up. Vehicles are cruising past me heading to work, school, home. Flickering streetlights show me a clear sidewalk, keeping me mostly safe from the others. The wind is blowing towards me, tousling my curls. A car honking from a few feet behind me startled me, causing me to turn back suddenly. I don’t see anything happening, except for the sky beginning to turn blue.

Getting closer, the harsh lights of the ‘50s style diner illuminate the few cars parked outside. A strip of electric blue LEDs spans the crevices where the roof meets the outside walls, continuing around the building. A generic Amazon ‘Open’ sign hangs in the window to the right of the entrance door. On the outside, it is painted a boring cream color and there’s cracks in the concrete foundation. The yellow lines and handicap markings are faded, leaving behind residue. The big, circular sign displaying ‘Mystery Diner’ is missing a few lightbulbs, probably blown out by the recent storms.

My phone chiming from inside my black Juicy Couture shoulder bag breaks me from my stupor. I had to stop and dig it out since it somehow made its way to the bottom. Feeling it between my wallet and some other junk, I see it light up with a message notification.

‘I’m out front’, the screen reads. I squinted my eyes a little to find my reason for being out early. Once I catch sight of him, I step forward.

Standing to the side of the entrance, casting a shadow on the sidewalk, is my date. Ruffled blond hair guides my eyes to meet green ones. Freckles dot his cheeks, emphasizing a bashful smile. An attractive smile housing perfectly straight white teeth.

He has his right arm raised to wave me down and I see he’s wearing a comfortable outfit. A silver weather breaker is layered over a white hoodie with an unfamiliar blue logo. Black slacks and green tennis shoes cover his lower half. Small silver hoops and a ring on his left thumb completes his look.

“Hi, I’m MC”, I greet with a small smile once I reach him. “Hey, I’m Kaito”, he greeted back. “Let’s head inside.” Like a gentleman, he opened the door for me to enter first. “Thank you.”

“Just you two?” asked the man behind the counter. “Yes.”

“Great. Follow me.” The waiter who seemed close in age to me led us to a booth in front of the windows. He had messy brown hair and a resting bitch face, but I would to if I had to wear that blue and white striped top.

“How’s right here?” he sighed exasperatedly.

“Perfect thank you.”

“What would you like to drink?”

“Just water please.”

“Same here.”

“Okay.” He walked away quickly.

It was silent at our table for a few seconds before Kaito broke it.

“Sheesh what’s up with him.” He started flipping through the menu.

“Woke up on the wrong side of the bed I’m guessing.” I responded while also browsing.

“You didn’t wait long, did you?” I’d feel awful if I made him wait.

“No, no. I arrived a few minutes before you did. Did you walk far?” He asked me in concern as well.

“No, my work’s just down the street.” I pointed in that general direction.

“Yeah, you work at that new hotel, right? Frosthiem?”

“Yeah… how’d you know?” My eyebrows scrunched slightly together.

He went to answer when Ren, the waiter, set down our drinks.

“Know what you want?” He pulled a notepad and pen from his red apron.

We quickly chose something from the menu.

“I’ll have the veggie omelet please.” I shut my menu and set it down in front of Ren.

“Okay. And you?”

“I’ll have the pancake platter with bacon.”

“That’ll be out shortly.” Ren took the menus and shuffled away.

Another awkward silence ensued as we stared at each other.

“So…” I trailed off as I racked my brain for a conversation topic.

“So…” Kaito followed my lead. “Oh,” he perked up, “you asked me a question.”

“Yeah, I did.” I totally forgot.

“Anna mentioned it when she was telling me about you.” He started fiddling with the straw wrappers.

 “Anna talked about me?” I asked in slight surprise. “What did she say?” I sat up straighter.

“Just the basics, you know, name, age, and job. Why? Did you not want her to?”

“Oh, no. It’s just… she doesn’t like me that much.”

“Huh, that’s weird. She overheard Luca and I talking and joined in. You sure you two aren’t friends? She talked highly of you.”

“We’re just acquaintances.” I took a sip of my water.

Anna is the cousin of our mutual friend Luca, the one who set us up. I tried my best to connect with her since I was new and wanted some girlfriends, but she remained distant. She’s five foot seven with chestnut brown hair and complimentary brown eyes. She has beautiful pale, unscarred skin that puts me to shame. She’s more reserved than Luca, but from what I was told, she’s always been that way.

“Don’t worry, she’s not friends with me either.” He took a sip of his water, and I followed.

“She’s not? I figured she’d be since you’ve known them for a while.”

He shook his head. “No. I met Luca a couple months before you did actually.”

“Really?”

“Uh huh.” He nodded his head. “I was supposed to apply for your job, too.”

That took me by surprise. “Sorry for taking your job, I guess.” I scratched behind my head awkwardly.

He huffed a bit. “Nah, I didn’t want it.”

“Oh, okay. I won’t feel as bad then.” I trailed off.

“What else should we talk about?”

“Nice weather we’re having.” Ah, the age-old classic.

“A nice break from the thunderstorms. Although that wind is still harsh.”

“Did you get any damage? There were a bunch of shingles in my apartment’s parking lot after the big one on Tuesday.”

I shook my head. “Nah, just some branches and twigs that blew in. I honestly didn’t think the wind was that strong, but I was the images of that casino.”

“A couple of the lobby windows were blown out right? I don’t think it was the wind.”

“Why do you say that?” My glass is half empty at this point.

He leaned forward a bit and lowered his voice. “The owners of that casino are shady as hell. I hear they get up to all sorts of trouble, but they have a lawyer on payroll, so they get away with shit.”

I leaned closer as well. “Really? I’ve never been there.”

“I wouldn’t go near that place if I were you.”

“Have you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Have you been there before?”

“What? No! I don’t like those kinds of places at all.” My left eyebrow raised at his sudden high pitch.

“Look food’s here.”

Ren walked out carrying a red tray holding two white plates.

“Egg omelet?”

“Here.” I slightly raised my dominant hand.

Sitting in front of me was a standard dinner plate embellished with a classic omelet stuffed to the brim with cherry tomatoes, spinach and mushrooms. On the side were two pieces of toast.

“Pancake platter.”

Kaito’s plate had a couple of stacked pancakes, two bacon strips and two fried eggs. A syrup bottle was sat next to his plate as well.

“Enjoy...” Ren huffed and walked back to his spot behind his counter.

“Let’s eat.” Kaito and I picked up our forks and dug in.

I cut out a piece from one end of my omelet, gathering a perfect blend of egg and vegetables on my fork. Strings of melted cheese followed my fork into my awaiting mouth. Chewing carefully, I suddenly tasted some spices.

“This has a kick to it.” I said after I swallowed.

“Really?” Kaito had a slice of pancake on his fork.

“Hmm.” I nodded my head in response since I already had another mouth full. “You should try it.” I pushed my plate closer to him.

He quickly cut off another piece as I grabbed a piece of toast and some jam from the condiments rack by the windowsill.

“Wow.” He coughed a bit. “That is spicy. Good, but spicy.” He pushed his plate towards the middle of the table. “Wanna try mine?”

I never actually ate here before, so I shrugged my shoulders and cut a piece of pancake. Pure sugar interacted with my tastebuds causing me to drink some water. “That is sweet.”

He nodded his head in agreement.

Not much else happened during our meal. We ended up sharing, splitting our food equally between us. I much preferred the fried eggs over my omelet since it was cooked with a little bit of salt and pepper. The bacon wasn’t bad, just greasy like usual. The toast was a little burnt, but it softened after sitting with jam on it.

Kaito paid and tried to cheer Ren up with a joke, but it didn’t land. He just stared at us, so we hurried out of there. He didn’t have access to a car, but he was kind enough to walk me back to my apartment. To my surprise, he lives a couple blocks away from me, so we exchanged schedules to hang out sometime. I told him that I’m a homebody, so he can come over anytime.

I fell asleep that night with a smile on my face. I had a good time with Kaito and would like to go out again soon. Maybe I can have a relationship.

[materialsscienceandengineering]

Transparent stretchable substrate without image distortion shows potential for next-generation displays

Stretchable display materials, which are gaining traction in the next-generation display market, have the advantage of being able to stretch and bend freely, but the limitations of existing materials have resulted in distorted screens and poor fit. General elastomeric substrates are prone to screen distortion due to the "Poisson's ratio" phenomenon, in which stretching in one direction causes the screen to shrink in the vertical direction. In particular, electronics that are in close contact with the skin, such as wearable devices, are at risk of wrinkling or pulling on the skin during stretching and shrinking, resulting in poor fit and performance. A research team led by Dr. Jeong Gon Son of the Korea Institute of Science and Technology (KIST) and Professor Yongtaek Hong of Seoul National University have developed a nanostructure-aligned stretchable substrate that dramatically lowers the Poisson's ratio. The work is published in the journal Advanced Materials.

Read more.

[treethymes]

With the exceptions of North Korea and Cuba, the communist world has merged onto the capitalist highway in a couple different ways during the twenty-first century. As you’ve read, free-trade imperialism and its cheap agricultural imports pushed farmers into the cities and into factory work, lowering the global price of manufacturing labor and glutting the world market with stuff. Forward-thinking states such as China and Vietnam invested in high-value-added production capacity and managed labor organizing, luring links from the global electronics supply chain and jump-starting capital investment. Combined with capital’s hesitancy to invest in North Atlantic production facilities, as well as a disinclination toward state-led investment in the region, Asian top-down planning erased much of the West’s technological edge. If two workers can do a single job, and one worker costs less, both in wages and state support, why pick the expensive one? Foxconn’s 2017 plan to build a U.S. taxpayer–subsidized $10 billion flat-panel display factory in Wisconsin was trumpeted by the president, but it was a fiasco that produced zero screens. The future cost of labor looks to be capped somewhere below the wage levels many people have enjoyed, and not just in the West.

The left-wing economist Joan Robinson used to tell a joke about poverty and investment, something to the effect of: The only thing worse than being exploited by capitalists is not being exploited by capitalists. It’s a cruel truism about the unipolar world, but shouldn’t second place count for something? When the Soviet project came to an end, in the early 1990s, the country had completed world history’s biggest, fastest modernization project, and that didn’t just disappear. Recall that Cisco was hyped to announce its buyout of the Evil Empire’s supercomputer team. Why wasn’t capitalist Russia able to, well, capitalize? You’re already familiar with one of the reasons: The United States absorbed a lot of human capital originally financed by the Soviet people. American immigration policy was based on draining technical talent in particular from the Second World. Sergey Brin is the best-known person in the Moscow-to-Palo-Alto pipeline, but he’s not the only one.

Look at the economic composition of China and Russia in the wake of Soviet dissolution: Both were headed toward capitalist social relations, but they took two different routes. The Russian transition happened rapidly. The state sold off public assets right away, and the natural monopolies such as telecommunications and energy were divided among a small number of skilled and connected businessmen, a category of guys lacking in a country that frowned on such characters but that grew in Gorbachev’s liberalizing perestroika era. Within five years, the country sold off an incredible 35 percent of its national wealth. Russia’s richest ended the century with a full counterrevolutionary reversal of their fortunes, propelling their income share above what it was before the Bolsheviks took over. To accomplish this, the country’s new capitalists fleeced the most vulnerable half of their society. “Over the 1989–2016 period, the top 1 percent captured more than two-thirds of the total growth in Russia,” found an international group of scholars, “while the bottom 50 percent actually saw a decline in its income.” Increases in energy prices encouraged the growth of an extractionist petro-centered economy. Blood-covered, teary, and writhing, infant Russian capital crowded into the gas and oil sectors. The small circle of oligarchs privatized unemployed KGB-trained killers to run “security,” and gangsters dominated politics at the local and national levels. They installed a not particularly well-known functionary—a former head of the new intelligence service FSB who also worked on the privatization of government assets—as president in a surprise move on the first day of the year 2000. He became the gangster in chief.

Vladimir Putin’s first term coincided with the energy boom, and billionaires gobbled up a ludicrous share of growth. If any individual oligarch got too big for his britches, Putin was not beyond imposing serious consequences. He reinserted the state into the natural monopolies, this time in collaboration with loyal capitalists, and his stranglehold on power remains tight for now, despite the outstandingly uneven distribution of growth. Between 1980 and 2015, the Russian top 1 percent grew its income an impressive 6.2 percent per year, but the top .001 percent has maintained a growth rate of 17 percent over the same period. To invest these profits, the Russian billionaires parked their money in real estate, bidding up housing prices, and stashed a large amount of their wealth offshore. Reinvestment in Russian production was not a priority—why go through the hassle when there were easier ways to keep getting richer?

While Russia grew billionaires instead of output, China saw a path to have both. As in the case of Terry Gou, the Chinese Communist Party tempered its transition by incorporating steadily increasing amounts of foreign direct investment through Hong Kong and Taiwan, picking partners and expanding outward from the special economic zones. State support for education and infrastructure combined with low wages to make the mainland too attractive to resist. (Russia’s population is stagnant, while China’s has grown quickly.) China’s entry into the World Trade Organization, in 2001, gave investors more confidence. Meanwhile, strong capital controls kept the country out of the offshore trap, and state development priorities took precedence over extraction and get-rich-quick schemes. Chinese private wealth was rechanneled into domestic financial assets—equity and bonds or other loan instruments—at a much higher rate than it was in Russia. The result has been a sustained high level of annual output growth compared to the rest of the world, the type that involves putting up an iPhone City in a matter of months. As it has everywhere else, that growth has been skewed: only an average of 4.5 percent for the bottom half of earners in the 1978–2015 period compared to more than 10 percent for the top .001 percent. But this ratio of just over 2–1 is incomparable to Russia’s 17–.5 ration during the same period.

Since the beginning of the twenty-first century, certain trends have been more or less unavoidable. The rich have gotten richer relative to the poor and working class—in Russia, in China, in the United States, and pretty much anywhere else you want to look. Capital has piled into property markets, driving up the cost of housing everywhere people want to live, especially in higher-wage cities and especially in the world’s financial centers. Capitalist and communist countries alike have disgorged public assets into private pockets. But by maintaining a level of control over the process and slowing its tendencies, the People’s Republic of China has built a massive and expanding postindustrial manufacturing base.

It’s important to understand both of these patterns as part of the same global system rather than as two opposed regimes. One might imagine, based on what I’ve written so far, that the Chinese model is useful, albeit perhaps threatening, in the long term for American tech companies while the Russian model is irrelevant. Some commentators have phrased this as the dilemma of middle-wage countries on the global market: Wages in China are going to be higher than wages in Russia because wages in Russia used to be higher than wages in China. But Russia’s counterrevolutionary hyper-bifurcation has been useful for Silicon Valley as well; they are two sides of the same coin. Think about it this way: If you’re a Russian billionaire in the first decades of the twenty-first century looking to invest a bunch of money you pulled out of the ground, where’s the best place you could put it? The answer is Palo Alto.

Malcolm Harris, Palo Alto

[e-carlease]

And amazing options like the new Renault 5 EV will be high on the agenda. This “hot-hatch” has taken the UK’s BEV market by storm and is aiming to not only become a top-seller but to win an array of awards … already awarded the “car of the year” in 2025 the R5VOLUTION is poised to do much more.                      

Customers can head to Renault to choose between 3 essential options including:

Evolution - from £22,995 this will include 18” black alloys, 10” openR media screen, air conditioning, handsfree key card, LED lights, heat pump, wireless smartphone replication, 11kW AC charging and V2L Bidirectional charging ready, vehicle sound, cruise control, rear parking sensors, emergency brake assist and heat pump; 

Techno - from £24,995 this will add 10” digital driver display, Google built-in, adaptive cruise control, shark antenna, rear-view camera, central armrest, electric mirrors, V2L adaptor an “5” charging indicator on the bonnet; and

Iconic Five - from £26,995 this adds 18” chrono alloys, heated steering wheel, driver lumbar adjustment, active driver assist, blind spot warning and heated front seats.

But how does the new R5 perform? 

52 kWh 150ps - (this has a usable battery of 52 kWh which offers 110 kW (148hp), top speeds of 93 mph and 0-62 times of 8.0 seconds. Real-world ranges suggest a combined 165 miles in colder weather with warmer temperatures to allow for 230 miles (on a full charge) - combined overall at 200 miles. The 11kW AC allows for 0-100% charging times of 5 hour and 45 minutes with the 100 kW DC enabling 10-80% in 33 minutes. It has a 156 mpg equivalent, 326L cargo volume and offers towing capacities of 500kg (Braked and Unbraked). There is a heat pump on this EV. This model has Bidirectional Charging with the V2L (via an exterior 3.7kW outlet), V2H and V2G all confirmed.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

TH Characters and Crochet

TH Masterlist

This concept was prompted by my new hobby and led to some very interesting (and, in my opinion, good) plot points. Henceforth, I might turn some of these wee ideas into full-fledged one-shots. For now, though, enjoy!

Tag List: @potter-solomons @buttercupsandboys @zablife @mollybegger-blog @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual @rose-like-the-phoenix @babaohhhriley @solomons-finest-rum @hoodeddreams13 @moral-terpitude @onlydeadcells @hecatemoon87 @wandawiccan60 @dreamlandcreations

Tommy Conlon

The art of crochet is an absolute mystery to him. Nevertheless, though he won’t admit it plainly since he’s been raised and trained to keep his emotions in check, he absolutely loves and adores the husky you made him.

It had been another fretful night, one that leaves you alone in the bed and him either wandering about the beach nearby or leads to a night of training at the boxing school. Either way, Tommy shut you out yet again, refusing to show you even a glimpse of the chaos he carries with him.

Later that day, the short night was followed by an equally as plagued nap. It's that he woke up before it was too late, but otherwise he'd have fallen off of the sofa and face planted into the soft carpet (which you had bought after the one time that actually did happen). Now, it’s his snuggle buddy and you’ve noticed it’s helped with the nightmares caused by his PTSD. So nowadays the silence when you come home after work is laced by soft snoring, an oddly comforting sound that stems from the most heartwarming sight.

Tommy, tightly holding on to his husky as he snuggles it. His ear phones are connected to his laptop, an ASMR video with rain sounds displayed on the screen.

Perfectly content.

At rest.

Alfie Solomons

You were already magical in his eyes, but the fact you can create stuff out of yarn makes you even more so. He still thinks your hooks look uncannily like embalming tools, but he adores the scarf you made him. He wears it whenever he can, loving the texture as well as your scent.

Alfie proudly promotes your stuff wherever he goes and helps you set up at markets. He’d like for you to do only markets in Margate and Camden so he can keep a close eye on you. However, should it be anywhere else, rest assured he’ll hang around the area and make sure you eat and drink properly. He’ll literally pop by a Prêt-A-Manger to buy lunch and deliver it to you or, as is more often the case, pull you away from your stall so you two can sit down in a coffee shop or restaurant together.

He loves it whenever you text him to provide him with photos of a new project you completed. Lastly, Alfie also always asks what you’re working on.

Forrest Bondurant

He’s actually the one who taught you how to crochet (and secretly adored how shyly you asked him to teach you). He’s a stern teacher, but a good one. Forrest is a man of many hidden talents (like baking, he makes a mean apple pie). Then again, so is his brother Howard, who is great at knitting. Jack, on the other hand, has skipped out on the creative gene though he’s been trying to teach himself how to sew.

Forrest and you do markets together. However, he mostly does the general set-up while you busy yourself with the customers. Because even though he’s very business savvy, the quiet force behind Little Moonshiners (specialized in the cutest handmade stuffies) is in fact a social disaster.

He does like talking to you, though.

(And has made you a custom wolf stuffie, which has become your all-time favourite)

Eddie Brock

Eddie and Venom alike love the stuffies you make, but V thinks his host sometimes takes his support of your hobby a bit too far. Recently, he’s asked you to teach him and ever since you’ve been trying to figure it out together. Eddie seems to finally have the basic stitches down while Venom is bordering on giving up. Not even reading the body language of his host makes him understand crochet. So he’s now your ultimate yarn spinner.

Eddie, on the other hand, has become a little competitive. Though he tries to be inconspicuous, you occasionally catch him glancing your way in an attempt to estimate whether your way of crocheting a certain project is more efficient and neater than his. To this extent, he proposes to try a new pattern together (and compare the results).

He does admit, without a second’s doubt, you’re the queen of plushies.

Eddie loves the journaling aspect of it too. He keeps a neat and very minimalist journal. Well, he tries to be minimalist and objective (as his work has taught him to be), but often finds himself writing about you, pondering your opinion on his works.

And Venom loves to tease him about said entries by mentioning them to you.

Farrier

He’s loath to admit it, but he can’t help but think of his Nan whenever he sees you crochet. The confession almost slipped out when you gave him a cream coloured crocheted turtleneck sweater for Christmas, the reason you puzzled him with taking measurements three months earlier. And it’s this turtleneck he wears quite often and takes with him whenever he’s sent abroad.

Because your scent lingers in it, mixed with his.

Because it’s a piece of home.

It’s you when you aren’t there.

And it’s the only thing that’ll prevent him from crying when he's so far from home it feels like his heart is torn apart at the seams.

Reggie Kray

Reggie loves to watch you work. He doesn’t need to understand it, finding perfect contentment in seeing you absolutely absorbed in your projects. He’s simply happy to plop you in his lap and rest his head on your shoulder, though that does little to help you focus on the pattern or the tutorial you’re watching.

He gives the best hand massages too! Whether you asked for one or not, Reggie will give you one regardless after you’ve put the hook down for the time being. Sometimes he even stops you after a certain period of time, knowing how your tight grip can cause your hand to cramp after carefully observing you for a while.

Although he does not say it whenever the topic comes up, he will blatantly admit when riled up enough that part of the reason he wants out of the gangster life is to permanently give you the peace and quiet that surrounds you whenever you crochet.

And stills his inner storm.

Also, have a wee treasure I accidentally found😉

[indoormessageboard]

Warehouse Buzzer System

How Electronic Message Boards Assist In Updating

Electronic message boards are fairly prevalent today, and their usage seems to be proliferating. Message boards in electronic kind properly interact swiftly upgraded company memoranda, final timetable modifications, and marketing, three fairly various applications providing one an idea of the breadth that this medium has gotten to. Herein we explore the phenomenon both generally and in regards to the power released when incorporated with an integrated clock system.

Electronic message boards derive from a lengthy background of open-air communication making use of indicators, billboards, marquees, and so on. Trick attributes were the layouts utilized and the feedback time for updating info. The most usual style entailed drawing on comprehensive personality collections, containing letters, numbers, and spelling, to create words, hanging them from hooks or resting them on wooden slats.

Posts were changed by hand, and updates were thus irregular. In time, updating was improved and somewhat automated using electronic control, such as seen with old baseball park scoreboards.

However, there was still the danger of lacking specific characters and being rendered unable to display all words in your message. This problem was addressed when the dot matrix selection was created, which stood for any type of character (in any type of typeface)-- also graphics-- with a rectangular pattern of on-or-off dots. These could be published on paper, yet a lot more effective was to present them in grids of light bulbs or on a screen.

Mapping formulas converted text into ranges of dots virtually instantaneously, and while drivers entered on a console, messages scrolled across the screen in essentially live. This system still required manual work, however the display screen tool was much easier to read, new, and updatable in a matter of moments. Whence the birth of electronic message boards that utilized light bulbs as the dots, or pixels.

Early light bulbs were incandescent, and were really the only choice; nonetheless, they had brief life-spans and prone to failing from shock. By the millenium, light producing diodes (LED) were a fully grown innovation and available in several shades, including white. Additionally, they outlived incandescent light bulbs by approximately 50 times, were not so breakable, and rapidly came to be the recommended part for message boards.

In time developers got extra creative with the tool and wanted to have more than one "on" shade to deal with. LEDs can fulfill this desire with their 3-in-1 mix of the 3 primary colors to synthesize white light; by choosing different sub-combinations you can obtain 7 various shades.

At some point, upgrading had to transition out of its humble manual origins. Now, textual info can be gotten in real time or gotten from data sources, and software is utilized to map the information right into matrices of (color-coded) dots that get buffered and presented quickly, effortlessly, and effortlessly. Graphics can be incorporated if they are mapped in advance.

Therefore, the modern digital boards are essentially automated, though there are provisions for bypassing scheduled programs with brand-new content in emergencies. Synchronous timekeeping systems manage everything.

An intriguing advancement is the integration of sound signals with the visual information being displayed on a sign in either textual or visual kind. It is popular that a close coordination of both kinds of sensuous stimulations has a tendency to get the message throughout many successfully. It's not a combination of both elements into tune, yet rather the use of sounds (bells, tones, whistles) as focus grabbers to change emphasis of the target market to what the board is showing, whether it be information or other timely information. synchronized clocks for hospitals

The world has actually expanded tired with fixed messaging in regards to both web content and style. Things need to be vibrant to sign up, and this needs constant educational updates. With this article we have seen exactly how electronic message boards promote updating.

[buymobilebd]

Lenovo Idea Tab Pro

​The Lenovo Idea Tab Pro, unveiled in March 2025, is a versatile 12.7-inch tablet designed to cater to both students and everyday users. It combines robust performance with user-friendly features, making it a compelling choice in the tablet market.​

Design and Display

The Idea Tab Pro boasts a sleek and lightweight design, measuring 291.8 x 189.1 x 6.9 mm and weighing approximately 620 grams. Its 12.7-inch IPS LCD screen offers a resolution of 2944 x 1840 pixels, delivering crisp and vibrant visuals. The display supports a 144Hz refresh rate and HDR10, enhancing the viewing experience with smoother transitions and richer colors. An optional anti-reflection coating is available to reduce glare, improving usability in various lighting conditions. ​

Performance

At its core, the Idea Tab Pro is powered by the MediaTek Dimensity 8300 chipset, featuring an octa-core CPU configuration: one Cortex-A715 core at 3.35 GHz, three Cortex-A715 cores at 3.2 GHz, and four Cortex-A510 cores at 2.2 GHz. This setup ensures efficient multitasking and smooth performance across applications. The tablet comes equipped with 8GB of LPDDR5X RAM and offers storage options of 128GB (UFS 3.1) or 256GB (UFS 4.0), providing ample space for apps, media, and documents. ​

Camera Capabilities

For photography and video calls, the Idea Tab Pro features a 13 MP rear camera with autofocus and LED flash, capable of recording 1080p videos. The front-facing 8 MP camera is suitable for selfies and virtual meetings, also supporting 1080p video recording. ​

Audio and Multimedia

Audio quality is a highlight, with the tablet housing four JBL stereo speakers that support 24-bit/192kHz Hi-Res audio. This setup ensures an immersive sound experience, whether you're watching movies, listening to music, or participating in video conferences. ​

Battery Life and Charging

The device is equipped with a substantial 10,200 mAh Li-Po battery, supporting 45W wired charging. This large battery capacity ensures extended usage, making it reliable for all-day activities without frequent recharging. ​

Operating System and AI Features

Running on Android 14, the Idea Tab Pro integrates advanced AI capabilities through Google Gemini and features like Circle to Search with Google. These tools enhance user interaction, providing intuitive and efficient ways to access information and perform tasks. ​

Connectivity and Additional Features

Connectivity options include Wi-Fi 802.11 a/b/g/n/ac/6e, Bluetooth 5.3, and USB Type-C 3.2 with DisplayPort support. The tablet also features a side-mounted fingerprint sensor integrated into the power button for secure and convenient access. Stylus support is available, catering to users interested in drawing or note-taking. ​

Pricing and Availability

The Lenovo Idea Tab Pro is available in various configurations:​

8GB RAM with 128GB storage, including a pen, priced at

8GB RAM with 256GB storage, including a pen, priced at

12GB RAM with 256GB storage, without accessories, priced at

Additional bundles with accessories like a folio case are available at varying price points. Prospective buyers should verify the included accessories with retailers to ensure clarity. ​

Conclusion

The Lenovo Idea Tab Pro stands out as a well-rounded tablet, offering a blend of performance, display quality, and user-centric features. Its integration of AI capabilities and support for accessories like a stylus and keyboard pack make it a versatile tool for both educational and everyday use.​

[redsnowdrop]

Porsche Panamera

The presentation of the first generation (code name 970), which took place in April 2009 in China, revealed only part of the model range (3 versions), later expanded to 9 (including a diesel and a hybrid). Furthermore, there is a version with a 15cm longer wheelbase, called Executive.

In April 2013, a restyling was presented which, in addition to modifications to the headlights and bumpers, introduced some new engine features.

The 400 HP 4.8 V8 was replaced by the more powerful and high-performance 420 HP 3.0 V6 biturbo for the S version.

Car body

edit

The Panamera is a 4-door coupé approximately 5 meters long, with top speeds ranging between 259 km/h for the Diesel version and 310 km/h for the Turbo S version. The four seats consist of single seats; the external style deliberately recalls that of the Porsche 911, especially at the front, so as to make the Panamera immediately recognizable as a Porsche.

Production takes place in the Leipzig plant, the same one where the Porsche Cayenne is assembled, demonstrating the presence of many points in common between the two models (starting from the engines and the integral transmission on the 4S and Turbo models).

The markets for which the model is intended are, in addition to Europe and the USA, above all the emerging markets (Russia, China, Middle East): for this reason the presentation took place at the Chinese show in Shanghai.

In April 2013, the restyled version of the Panamera was announced, which then made its debut at the Shanghai Auto Show. The plug-in hybrid version, called Panamera S E-Hybrid, was introduced on the US market in November 2013.

The second generation Panamera was unveiled on 28 June 2016 at an event held in Berlin. The code name is Type 971; the car, built on the VW Group's new Porsche MSB (Modular Standard Drive) platform, is 35 millimeters longer and 5 mm wider than the first generation, with 30 millimeters more wheelbase. The interior features a redesigned dashboard, with center console instrumentation made up of touch-sensitive surfaces replacing the previous generation with physical buttons. The tachometer, the only analogue instrument, is mounted centrally on the instrument panel and recalls that of the 1955 Porsche 356 A. The new car is equipped with two seven-inch displays instead of the classic pointer dials in the dashboard, with another screen 12.3-inch touchscreen that also acts as a satellite navigator with Apple CarPlay integration present in the center console. The new instrumentation is called Advanced Cockpit. Under the bonnet is a new range of engines, with only the Panamera 4S, 4S Diesel and Turbo versions available at launch.

In March 2017 Porsche presented the Panamera Turbo S E-Hybrid, a plug-in hybrid car. The Turbo S E-Hybrid features the 4.0-liter V8 engine from the Panamera Turbo, but it comes paired with an electric motor. The total system output is 680 hp, making it the second most powerful production Porsche ever built, after the 918 Spyder.

In this new model the torque of the overall system rises to 850 Nm, reaching the torque level of the Diesel version. Performance also increases, 0-100 is covered in 3.4 and 0-200 in 8.2 seconds.

The new Panamera aesthetically no longer features the rounded tailgate that had divided automotive critics of the previous series, but now the tail with a more tapered and squared style recalls that of the 991 through the headlights and the longitudinal rear LED strip. This improvement in design helped clarify the model's identity as a touring-oriented sports car.

In March 2017 at the Geneva Motor Show, a shooting brake version of the Panamera II series built on the same base, called Panamera Sport Turismo, was presented.

The restyling of the second generation Panamera was presented on August 26, 2020.