#Low-performance devices

[industrydesignservices]

Teksun's IoT Security Solutions help equip network availability, data encryption, or device authentication and boost low-performance devices. To know more about browse: https://teksun.com/ Contact us ID: marketing@teksun.com

[ms-demeanor]

So You Need To Buy A Computer But You Don't Know What Specs Are Good These Days

Hi.

This is literally my job.

Lots of people are buying computers for school right now or are replacing computers as their five-year-old college laptop craps out so here's the standard specs you should be looking for in a (windows) computer purchase in August 2023.

PROCESSOR

Intel i5 (no older than 10th Gen)

Ryzen 7

You can get away with a Ryzen 5 but an intel i3 should be an absolute last resort. You want at least an intel i5 or a Ryzen 7 processor. The current generation of intel processors is 13, but anything 10 or newer is perfectly fine. DO NOT get a higher performance line with an older generation; a 13th gen i5 is better than an 8th gen i7. (Unfortunately I don't know enough about ryzens to tell you which generation is the earliest you should get, but staying within 3 generations is a good rule of thumb)

RAM

8GB absolute minimum

If you don't have at least 8GB RAM on a modern computer it's going to be very, very slow. Ideally you want a computer with at least 16GB, and it's a good idea to get a computer that will let you add or swap RAM down the line (nearly all desktops will let you do this, for laptops you need to check the specs for Memory and see how many slots there are and how many slots are available; laptops with soldered RAM cannot have the memory upgraded - this is common in very slim laptops)

STORAGE

256GB SSD

Computers mostly come with SSDs these days; SSDs are faster than HDDs but typically have lower storage for the same price. That being said: SSDs are coming down in price and if you're installing your own drive you can easily upgrade the size for a low cost. Unfortunately that doesn't do anything for you for the initial purchase.

A lot of cheaper laptops will have a 128GB SSD and, because a lot of stuff is stored in the cloud these days, that can be functional. I still recommend getting a bit more storage than that because it's nice if you can store your music and documents and photos on your device instead of on the cloud. You want to be able to access your files even if you don't have internet access.

But don't get a computer with a big HDD instead of getting a computer with a small SSD. The difference in speed is noticeable.

SCREEN (laptop specific)

Personally I find that touchscreens have a negative impact on battery life and are easier to fuck up than standard screens. They are also harder to replace if they get broken. I do not recommend getting a touch screen unless you absolutely have to.

A lot of college students especially tend to look for the biggest laptop screen possible; don't do that. It's a pain in the ass to carry a 17" laptop around campus and with the way that everything is so thin these days it's easier to damage a 17" screen than a 14" screen.

On the other end of that: laptops with 13" screens tend to be very slim devices that are glued shut and impossible to work on or upgrade.

Your best bet (for both functionality and price) is either a 14" or a 15.6" screen. If you absolutely positively need to have a 10-key keyboard on your laptop, get the 15.6". If you need something portable more than you need 10-key, get a 14"

FORM FACTOR (desktop specific)

If you purchase an all-in-one desktop computer I will begin manifesting in your house physically. All-in-ones take away every advantage desktops have in terms of upgradeability and maintenance; they are expensive and difficult to repair and usually not worth the cost of disassembling to upgrade.

There are about four standard sizes of desktop PC: All-in-One (the size of a monitor with no other footprint), Tower (Big! probably at least two feet long in two directions), Small Form Factor Tower (Very moderate - about the size of a large shoebox), and Mini/Micro/Tiny (Small! about the size of a small hardcover book).

If you are concerned about space you are much better off getting a MicroPC and a bracket to put it on your monitor than you are getting an all-in-one. This will be about a million percent easier to work on than an all-in-one and this way if your monitor dies your computer is still functional.

Small form factor towers and towers are the easiest to work on and upgrade; if you need a burly graphics card you need to get a full size tower, but for everything else a small form factor tower will be fine. Most of our business sales are SFF towers and MicroPCs, the only time we get something larger is if we have to put a $700 graphics card in it. SFF towers will accept small graphics cards and can handle upgrades to the power supply; MicroPCs can only have the RAM and SSD upgraded and don't have room for any other components or their own internal power supply.

WARRANTY

Most desktops come with either a 1 or 3 year warranty; either of these is fine and if you want to upgrade a 1 year to a 3 year that is also fine. I've generally found that if something is going to do a warranty failure on desktop it's going to do it the first year, so you don't get a hell of a lot of added mileage out of an extended warranty but it doesn't hurt and sometimes pays off to do a 3-year.

Laptops are a different story. Laptops mostly come with a 1-year warranty and what I recommend everyone does for every laptop that will allow it is to upgrade that to the longest warranty you can get with added drop/damage protection. The most common question our customers have about laptops is if we can replace a screen and the answer is usually "yes, but it's going to be expensive." If you're purchasing a low-end laptop, the parts and labor for replacing a screen can easily cost more than half the price of a new laptop. HOWEVER, the way that most screens get broken is by getting dropped. So if you have a warranty with drop protection, you just send that sucker back to the factory and they fix it for you.

So, if it is at all possible, check if the manufacturer of a laptop you're looking at has a warranty option with drop protection. Then, within 30 days (though ideally on the first day you get it) of owning your laptop, go to the manufacturer site, register your serial number, and upgrade the warranty. If you can't afford a 3-year upgrade at once set a reminder for yourself to annually renew. But get that drop protection, especially if you are a college student or if you've got kids.

And never, ever put pens or pencils on your laptop keyboard. I've seen people ruin thousand dollar, brand-new laptops that they can't afford to fix because they closed the screen on a ten cent pencil. Keep liquids away from them too.

LIFESPAN

There's a reasonable chance that any computer you buy today will still be able to turn on and run a program or two in ten years. That does not mean that it is "functional."

At my office we estimate that the functional lifespan of desktops is 5-7 years and the functional lifespan of laptops is 3-5 years. Laptops get more wear and tear than desktops and desktops are easier to upgrade to keep them running. At 5 years for desktops and 3 years for laptops you should look at upgrading the RAM in the device and possibly consider replacing the SSD with a new (possibly larger) model, because SSDs and HDDs don't last forever.

COST

This means that you should think of your computers as an annual investment rather than as a one-time purchase. It is more worthwhile to pay $700 for a laptop that will work well for five years than it is to pay $300 for a laptop that will be outdated and slow in one year (which is what will happen if you get an 8th gen i3 with 8GB RAM). If you are going to get a $300 laptop try to get specs as close as possible to the minimums I've laid out here.

If you have to compromise on these specs, the one that is least fixable is the processor. If you get a laptop with an i3 processor you aren't going to be able to upgrade it even if you can add more RAM or a bigger SSD. If you have to get lower specs in order to afford the device put your money into the processor and make sure that the computer has available slots for upgrade and that neither the RAM nor the SSD is soldered to the motherboard. (one easy way to check this is to search "[computer model] RAM upgrade" on youtube and see if anyone has made a video showing what the inside of the laptop looks like and how much effort it takes to replace parts)

Computers are expensive right now. This is frustrating, because historically consumer computer prices have been on a downward trend but since 2020 that trend has been all over the place. Desktop computers are quite expensive at the moment (August 2023) and decent laptops are extremely variably priced.

If you are looking for a decent, upgradeable laptop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

14" Lenovo - $670 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 512GB SSD

15.6" HP - $540 - 11th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

14" Dell - $710 - 12th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, and 256GB SSD

If you are looking for a decent, affordable desktop that will last you a few years, here are a couple of options that you can purchase in August 2023 that have good prices for their specs:

SFF HP - $620 - 10th-gen i5, 16GB RAM, 1TB SSD

SFF Lenovo - $560 - Ryzen 7 5000 series, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

Dell Tower - $800 - 10th-gen i7, 16GB RAM, 512GB SSD

If I were going to buy any of these I'd probably get the HP laptop or the Dell Tower. The HP Laptop is actually a really good price for what it is.

Anyway happy computering.

[nasa]

Athletes Go for the Gold with NASA Spinoffs

NASA technology tends to find its way into the sporting world more often than you’d expect. Fitness is important to the space program because astronauts must undergo the extreme g-forces of getting into space and endure the long-term effects of weightlessness on the human body. The agency’s engineering expertise also means that items like shoes and swimsuits can be improved with NASA know-how.

As the 2024 Olympics are in full swing in Paris, here are some of the many NASA-derived technologies that have helped competitive athletes train for the games and made sure they’re properly equipped to win.

The LZR Racer reduces skin friction drag by covering more skin than traditional swimsuits. Multiple pieces of the water-resistant and extremely lightweight LZR Pulse fabric connect at ultrasonically welded seams and incorporate extremely low-profile zippers to keep viscous drag to a minimum.

Swimsuits That Don’t Drag

When the swimsuit manufacturer Speedo wanted its LZR Racer suit to have as little drag as possible, the company turned to the experts at Langley Research Center to test its materials and design. The end result was that the new suit reduced drag by 24 percent compared to the prior generation of Speedo racing suit and broke 13 world records in 2008. While the original LZR Racer is no longer used in competition due to the advantage it gave wearers, its legacy lives on in derivatives still produced to this day.

Trilion Quality Systems worked with NASA’s Glenn Research Center to adapt existing stereo photogrammetry software to work with high-speed cameras. Now the company sells the package widely, and it is used to analyze stress and strain in everything from knee implants to running shoes and more.

High-Speed Cameras for High-Speed Shoes

After space shuttle Columbia, investigators needed to see how materials reacted during recreation tests with high-speed cameras, which involved working with industry to create a system that could analyze footage filmed at 30,000 frames per second. Engineers at Adidas used this system to analyze the behavior of Olympic marathoners' feet as they hit the ground and adjusted the design of the company’s high-performance footwear based on these observations.

Martial artist Barry French holds an Impax Body Shield while former European middle-weight kickboxing champion Daryl Tyler delivers an explosive jump side kick; the force of the impact is registered precisely and shown on the display panel of the electronic box French is wearing on his belt.

One-Thousandth-of-an-Inch Punch

In the 1980s, Olympic martial artists needed a way to measure the impact of their strikes to improve training for competition. Impulse Technology reached out to Glenn Research Center to create the Impax sensor, an ultra-thin film sensor which creates a small amount of voltage when struck. The more force applied, the more voltage it generates, enabling a computerized display to show how powerful a punch or kick was.

Astronaut Sunita Williams poses while using the Interim Resistive Exercise Device on the ISS. The cylinders at the base of each side house the SpiraFlex FlexPacks that inventor Paul Francis honed under NASA contracts. They would go on to power the Bowflex Revolution and other commercial exercise equipment.

Weight Training Without the Weight

Astronauts spending long periods of time in space needed a way to maintain muscle mass without the effect of gravity, but lifting free weights doesn’t work when you’re practically weightless. An exercise machine that uses elastic resistance to provide the same benefits as weightlifting went to the space station in the year 2000. That resistance technology was commercialized into the Bowflex Revolution home exercise equipment shortly afterwards.

Want to learn more about technologies made for space and used on Earth? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[flowersforbucky]

acquainted

bucky barnes x reader (undercover stripper reader x undercover bodyguard bucky)

warnings/tags: SMUT, oral (male and female receiving), vaginal penetration, language, strip club setting, creepy dude being a piece of shit, violence and a brief mention of blood, protective/possessive bucky, reader is afab, no use of y/n, touch her and die trope, Bucky might have a slight lingerie kink... 18+ only!

word count: 3.3k

author's note: wow okay this kind of got away from me. this is probably the filthiest thing i've ever written. felt my heartbeat in my pussy while writing this. hope you enjoy!

The pulsating fuschia and lime green strobe lights illuminating the club had been making your eyes throb for the last three hours. EDM plays so loudly that you're surprised blood doesn't trickle down from your ears. Not to mention the suffocating combination of cheap perfume, body odor, cigars, and booze that permeates the air makes your empty stomach churn.

If you never step foot into another nightclub when this is all over, you'll consider yourself lucky. Not just any nightclub - one of New Orleans’ scummiest strip clubs.

Five goddamn nights of this operation and not a lick of progress.

Your objective was simple - obtain proof that the owner was operating a sex trafficking ring out of the club, and then call for the back-up squad parked a block away. So far, you had not been able to acquire any kind of definitive proof. No hints of anything shady going on behind the scenes, and you had yet to even see the owner make an appearance at any point since the mission began.

Everything seems as above board as a strip club can be.

One last night, you compromised with Fury. One last night and if it went as the last few have, you were done, and he owes you a few days of paid leave for putting you through this.

“If you don't stop picking at your garter belt, it's not going to have any sequins left.” Bucky's low voice murmurs through the communication device placed discreetly in your left ear.

“If you don't stop watching my every movement, you’re not going to have any unbroken toes left,” you threaten lightly, taking a sip of your drink - just a Shirley Temple, to keep up appearances. “Shoes like this could do a lot of damage.” You glance down at the pointy heels of the black velvet stilettos.

“Is that not my job?” he counters. You don't have to look over at where he's standing in the corner of the room to know he's smirking. “To not take my eyes off of you?”

“Then do your job. Watch me. You don't have to make comments on my sequins to do that.”

“Alright, alright,” he concedes. “I'll be over here, admiring your sequins from afar. You won't even know I'm here.” The com line clicks off before you can retort.

Except you absolutely would know that he's here. Just as you have the previous four nights of this mission - painfully aware that he's here, tracking your every movement in the skimpiest outfits you've worn in your life, doing the most provocative dances imaginable, and flirting with men that you wouldn't touch with ten foot long poles in real life, all while he keeps to the sidelines in case something were to go wrong.

Keeps to the sidelines and just watches you. Even when one of the dancers approached him to ask if he'd be interested in a private dance once he's off the clock on the first night on the job.

Even when there's gorgeous, topless women crawling on the stage and all but humping the pole in his direct line of sight.

He isn't here to look out for them, of course. He is here solely to keep you safe if things were to go sideways. But you had assumed you would have caught him sneaking glances at the dozen other women at least once by now.

It's almost your turn to go up on stage. You've performed a solo set every night so far, and you still feel every bit as nervous as you did the first time.

You enjoy dancing, actually. In the comfort of your own room, when listening to music alone. When you go out with friends, occasionally. When you took ballet lessons as a child. This, however, was leagues out of your comfort zone.

“The creep from a couple nights ago is back,” Bucky's voice is a strained whisper in your ear.

“Gonna have to narrow it down a bit for me, Barnes. You could be referring to at least half of the men in here right now.”

“Sitting in front of the stage, to the left,” he mumbles back. “He's wearing a red wife-beater–”

“See him,” you interrupt, your eyes zeroing in on the short, stout, beady-eyed fuck who had been thrown out of the club night before last. One of the other security guards on duty chucked him out when he repeatedly got too handsy with one of the girls who had been giving him a lap dance.

“Fantastic,” you huff under your breath, as you finish touching up your lipgloss and reapplying the iridescent baby pink body glitter across your chest. “Just in time for my dance.”

You get up from your seat at the bar and adjust your lace bustier and thong as the announcer calls your stage name.

“He won't lay a finger on you,” Bucky assures you as you're walking up the steps of the platform.

There's a weak round of applause and a few whistles as you take your place on the center of the small stage. You give a vague nod in the direction of the DJ’s booth to indicate you're ready for your song to begin.

An upbeat but sensuous synth-pop song pours out of the speakers throughout the room and you begin to sway your hips.

You're hyper-aware of the fact that you can see Bucky making his way closer to you, away from his position in the back of the room. He settles when he's just a few tables behind the man in the red wife-beater.

There's an eruption of butterflies in the pit of your belly at how close he is. Each night prior to this, he has kept to lingering around the exits and the far wall towards the back of the club. Now, he's close enough that you can actually see his eyes following every languid movement that your body makes around the pole.

“Take your fucking top off!” a grating voice bellows from the audience. “We want to see your tits.”

You don't have to look to know who the voice belongs to. You decide to ignore him, hoping he would stop if you didn't give him any attention. You go to wrap your thighs around the pole again, preparing to spin–

“Did you not fucking hear me?” he shouts even louder this time, audible to everyone over the roaring music. “I said take your fucking–”

A flash of movement in your peripheral vision causes you to freeze around the pole. You turn your full attention to the ruckus, just in time to see Bucky fisting the man's greasy, shoulder length hair and pulling his head back. The music comes to an abrupt pause.

“You don't fucking talk to her like that,” Bucky snarls. “In fact, you don't talk to her at all, you don't look at her, you don't even breathe the same fucking air as her.”

The man is thrashing around, trying and failing miserably to get out of Bucky's grasp.

“Let me go you fucking–”

He doesn't get to finish his sentence before Bucky snaps the man's head forward, sending his face crashing into the granite tabletop.

The instantaneous pool of blood that contrasts so starkly against the white stone snaps you out of your fear-stricken trance.

Bucky pulls his head back up, forcing the man to look up at him.

“It's not my fault she refuses to show off those perfect–”

You all but jump off the stage - miraculously not breaking an ankle in the six inch heels - and rush over to where Bucky still has the man's hair yanked into his fist.

Just as Bucky is beginning to shove the man's head downwards again, you place both of your hands on his chest, gently but effectively shoving him backwards. He immediately releases his grip on the man as the other few security guards on duty arrive to detain the pervert.

“Hey, hey,” you place your hands on his biceps, trying to turn his attention to you and away from the man who he's still glaring after, as he's hauled off by security. “I'm fine, yeah? Everything is fine,” you try to assure him, though you're not sure your shaky voice sounds very convincing. “He's just a creepy, entitled asshole.”

Noticing that Bucky is shaking beneath your touch, you rub your hands up and down his arms in hopes of calming him down.

He finally meets your gaze. He doesn't say anything for a moment, just stares at you as he takes a few deep breaths.

“Go get dressed,” he orders you calmly after a moment. “I’m getting you the fuck out of here.” You want to leave too badly to even think about objecting.

You make a beeline for the changing room, where you throw on a sweater and force your pants over your heels, not even bothering to change out of the lingerie and stilettos.

Bucky's waiting for you right outside the door as you sling your duffel bag across your shoulder.

“How mad do you think Fury will be that we are abandoning our positions?” you ask in a hushed tone as Bucky ushers you through the club, his metal arm wrapped around your waist.

“Not as mad as I am that he's had you doing this bullshit for no reason for almost a week now.”

You and Bucky exit the club as quickly as possible, ignoring the curious and confused stares of the other dancers and security guards. He guides you down the block, then through an alleyway where his motorcycle is parked in a heavy silence - other than the obnoxious clanking of your heels against the pavement.

Bucky straddles one leg over the seat of the bike, taking his place in the driver's position and then hands you the helmet.

“Wait,” you pause before putting it over your head. “I'm starving.” Your stomach growls, as if on cue. “Can we stop and get some take-out?”

He looks at you incredulously. “I just shattered that guy's nose and likely severely concussed him and then just dipped. Our cover is essentially blown, don't you think we should get back to the motel room and lay low until the morning?”

“There's a Chinese place open late just a few blocks from the motel–”

“If I say yes will you put on the helmet and get on the bike?”

Taking that as a win, you slide the helmet over your head and hop on behind him. You wrap your arms securely around his midsection in a tight hug and he takes off down Bourbon Street.

You spend the drive trying to ignore the thought that of all the times you've ridden on the back of Bucky’s motorcycle, you don't remember him ever feeling so tense beneath your touch.

Half an hour later, you're lounging on the rickety motel bed, stuffing your face full of sweet and sour chicken and vegetable fried rice while Bucky fills Sam in on what happened over the phone.

He sits in one of the small chairs at the singular table in the corner of the room, his posture rigid. He answers all of Sam's questions with clipped, one-word responses as he massages his temple between his thumb and forefinger.

He hangs up the phone, refusing to meet your gaze. Instead, he pretends to be interested in the episode of Family Guy playing on the old motel TV.

“Your egg rolls are going to get soggy,” you tell him, pushing the to-go box across the mattress towards him.

“I don't have an appetite right now,” he says, picking up the box of food as he stands. You grab his bicep in your hand as he begins to walk past where you're sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hey,” you say, stopping him. “Everything's okay. Really. Don't let that guy get to you–”

“A little late for that, don't you think?” He snaps, pulling his arm from your grasp. You sit back, too stunned by his reaction to know how to respond. You just stare after him as he crams his take-out box into the motel room's mini fridge.

“I shouldn't have reacted so harshly,” he says after a moment, still facing away from you. “I couldn't stop myself. He spoke to you that way, and I could have killed him and not thought twice about it. Probably would have if you hadn't intervened.”

He turns back to you. You're frozen in place.

“Do you know what that's like?” He asks, taking a step closer to you. “To feel like you aren't in control of your own body? To be so irrationally protective of someone that you'd kill for them without a second thought?”

You feel like all air has been stripped from your lungs. He's just inches away, staring down at you from where you sit on the edge of the mattress. The way he's looking at you makes your skin feel like it's on fire.

“Because that's what you do to me. That's how you make me feel.”

Heat pools between your legs.

“Come here,” you say - it sounds more like a question than a command.

He closes what little distance is left between the two of you, and pulls you up from the mattress by the tops of your arms so that your body is flush against his.

His mouth hovers over yours - not quite making contact, though you can feel his breath fan across your skin.

He takes his flesh hand and cups the side of your face with it, his thumb trailing across your bottom lip. His metal hand wanders down your back until it reaches the curve of your ass - grasping your cheek in a firm hold and squeezing until his touch borders between pleasure and pain.

“This is what I wanted to do to you every time I saw a man so much as glance in your direction in that club,” he whispers against your mouth. “I thought about bending you over the stage and making them watch me take you right then and there, but they didn't deserve to see that.”

“They aren't here to see us now,” you murmur as you bring your hand to cup the noticeable bulge of his jeans, eliciting a hiss from him. “So what are you going to do now?”

There's a dark grin spread across his face. He pushes you, softly but effectively, back down on the bed. You scout back a few inches on the mattress, and then bring one of your feet up to remove the stiletto heels that you'd completely forgotten to take off upon returning to the motel with your haul of Chinese food.

“Oh, no,” Bucky laughs lowly. “I want you to keep those on. I've grown to like those quite a bit.”

Your cheeks warm in both arousal and bashfulness. You begin to push your pants down your thighs as Bucky kneels on the ground and helps you maneuver the fabric around your shoes. The sweater that you threw over your bustier goes next.

You're left in the lingerie set that you wore at the club.

“Call me jealous,” Bucky sighs as he begins trailing sloppy kisses up the insides of your thighs. “Call me possessive, call me crazy..”

You lay back down against the scratchy comforter as Bucky gets closer and closer to where you're aching to have him the most.

“But I don't want anyone seeing you like this but me.”

He pulls the already soaked lace material of your thong to the side, exposing your cunt.

He licks up your center torturously slow, causing you to let out a sharp exhale. He repeats the motion, and then locks his lips around your clit. Your hands shoot to his hair, fisting your fingers through the short brunet strands.

He eats you until you're a mewling and squirming mess beneath him.

You come hard, clenching your thighs around his head and riding his face through your orgasm.

“Stand up,” you instruct him as soon as you can think semi-clearly.

He obeys without any hesitation. The warm glow of the singular lamp in the motel room highlights the way your slick coats the lower half of his face.

You get up on your hands and knees before him and he lets out an audible groan at the sight in front of him. He bends down enough to kiss you - cupping your face in both of his hands and tipping your head up to give him a better angle to slip his tongue into your mouth. You moan into the kiss - the ache between your thighs reappearing already.

He removes his hands from your face, unbuttoning his pants while still kissing you.

You pull away to help free his cock from the confines of his boxers. Your mouth waters at what's directly in front of you. He's impressively long and girthy, with a thick vein running up the side.

You pump him a few times in your hand, swirling your tongue around the pre-cum dripping from his slit. He's already putty in your hands - groaning above you and placing his metal hand around the back of your neck to keep you where he wants you.

After you've run your tongue up and down his length a few times, you spit on the tip of his cock and massage it over the entirety of his shaft before taking him as far into your mouth as you can in the first go. He throws his head back, moaning your name.

You feel him hit the back of your throat and you gag before pulling back.

He curses under his breath, nudging himself slowly back towards your throat again.

“Such a good fuckin’ girl,” he praises and you moan around his dick. He gradually increases the speed at which he pumps himself into your mouth, obscene noises echoing off of the thin motel room walls.

When he pulls out, you feel drool running down your neck and mascara-tinted tears leaking from your eyes.

“You're so gorgeous like this for me,” he tells you, and despite knowing that you look thoroughly fucked out, you believe him. “Will you turn around?”

You do as he asks, turning around on your hands and knees. You lower your chest down to the bed so that your ass is angled upwards.

“Jesus Christ,” he grunts under his breath. He grips your hips with both of his hands, yanking you to him. His erection juts against the cloth of your underwear.

He tugs them aside once more, giving him access to tease your slit with the head of his cock. You rock backwards, grinding against him. He brings his flesh hand around your stomach and reaches down to rub your clit as he begins to slowly fill you from behind.

He pauses for a moment once he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust to the fullness of him before he starts fucking into you.

The combination of him slamming into you at such an intense angle and massaging you so perfectly has your climax building shamefully fast.

You grunt his name, bouncing your ass to meet his thrusts. “I'm gonna come,” you mewl, knowing he's on the verge of doing the same as his movements become uneven.

One, two, three more pumps and you can feel your pussy clenching around him as you come together.

You pull off of him, collapsing onto the bed and rolling onto your back. He crawls over you, propping himself up on his arms above you.

“You know,” he stares down at you, his eyes trailing to your breasts that are now spilling out of the black lace bustier. “As much as I hated every second of that mission, I do hope I might get to see you in some of these outfits again.”

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist!!!

[zvaigzdelasas]

Instead of burning fossil fuels to reach the temperatures needed to smelt steel and cook cement, scientists in Switzerland want to use heat from the sun. The proof-of-concept study uses synthetic quartz to trap solar energy at temperatures over 1,000°C (1,832°F), demonstrating the method’s potential role in providing clean energy for carbon-intensive industries. A paper on the research was published on May 15 in the journal Device.[...]

Glass, steel, cement, and ceramics are at the very heart of modern civilization, essential for building everything from car engines to skyscrapers. However, manufacturing these materials demands temperatures over 1,000°C and relies heavily on burning fossil fuels for heat. These industries account for about 25% of global energy consumption. Researchers have explored a clean-energy alternative using solar receivers, which concentrate and build heat with thousands of sun-tracking mirrors. However, this technology has difficulties transferring solar energy efficiently above 1,000°C.

To boost the efficiency of solar receivers, Casati turned to semitransparent materials such as quartz, which can trap sunlight—a phenomenon called the thermal-trap effect. The team crafted a thermal-trapping device by attaching a synthetic quartz rod to an opaque silicon disk as an energy absorber. When they exposed the device to an energy flux equivalent to the light coming from 136 suns, the absorber plate reached 1,050°C (1,922°F), whereas the other end of the quartz rod remained at 600°C (1,112°F).

“Previous research has only managed to demonstrate the thermal-trap effect up to 170°C (338°F),” says Casati. “Our research showed that solar thermal trapping works not just at low temperatures, but well above 1,000°C. This is crucial to show its potential for real-world industrial applications.”

Using a heat transfer model, the team also simulated the quartz’s thermal-trapping efficiency under different conditions. The model showed that thermal trapping achieves the target temperature at lower concentrations with the same performance, or at higher thermal efficiency for equal concentration. For example, a state-of-the-art (unshielded) receiver has an efficiency of 40% at 1,200°C, with a concentration of 500 suns. The receiver shielded with 300 mm of quartz achieves 70% efficiency at the same temperature and concentration. The unshielded receiver requires at least 1,000 suns of concentration for comparable performance.

17 May 24

[sturnioz]

fratboy! chris wanting to have phone sex on ft when him and shy!reader both go home for holiday break 🤭

"uh-huh. yeah, a'ight," chris murmurs, his voice a low hum as he leans back against the familiar backdrop of his childhood bedroom, listening to you animatedly babble over facetime.

you're filling him in on everything you've been doing since arriving home for the holiday break; diving into long explanations about cosy family dinners, catching up with old high-school friends, and even the plans that have been made for the upcoming days, wanting to share every detail possible.

but then chris shifts slightly, propping himself against the pillows as he interrupts your flow. "so, what are you uh.. what are you wearin'?"

your words come to an abrupt halt at his unexpected question, your eyebrows pinching together as you glance down at yourself, "my sweatpants and an old shirt.. i actually got this from—"

"i'm not talking about that, kid. fuckin'—" chris sighs, rubbing at his forehead in frustration and you frown at him, trying to decipher his expression on the screen as he raises his head back up. "i'm talkin' about your underwear, kid. like what you wearin' beneath all that?"

"oh..." you murmur, cheeks feeling a little hot as you mindlessly pull at the hem of your shirt. "just my panties."

"yeah?" chris hums, his tongue wetting his bottom lip as he folds one arm behind his head. "wanna uh... wanna show me?"

you're nervous and hesitant to follow through with his request, but you hold your phone up above you, awkwardly lifting your hips to pull down your sweatpants just a bit to reveal the waistband your cotton panties.

chris sucks in a deep breath, and the arm that he put behind his head a few moments prior was moved out of frame. you watch as he shifts again, the sound of his bedsheets rustling as he moves.

"take them off."

"take... take them off?" you repeat. you were making sure that you heard him correctly, despite his words being clear as day through the slight raspy tone he used. when he hums in response, you swallow thickly, eyes darting towards your bedroom door to ensure it's locked before propping your phone against the lamp on your bedside table.

you don't exactly put on an attractive performance as you clumsily and awkwardly tug off your sweatpants, which makes you want to hang up the call and not talk or see him again until you've recovered from embarrassment, but chris seems to be enjoying the show as he watches you, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, his camera shaky as he takes you in.

"go reaaaaal slow for me, 'kay? wanna see you, bun." chris' voice rasps into the speakers, and the heat crawls up your neck as your fingers hook beneath the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs just like he asked. "good girl... jus' like that."

you place your panties to the side, pressing your thighs together to cover yourself up, feeling way too exposed like this.

"chris—"

"nah, open up f'me. told you that i wanna see you, yeah?" chris reminds you, and you nod your head slowly, parting your legs to bare yourself to him and he grunts, rolling his head back against the pillow, his camera more shakier. "fuckin' crazy what you do t'me when y'not even here... look, bun."

you lean in close to your phone, your eyes widening and lips parting with a light gasp as he moves his camera down, showing you his hand fisting around his cock. you can hear his grunts through the speakers, and you rush to grab the device and turn the volume down when he curses loudly, not wanting anyone in the house to hear what's going on behind the four walls of your bedroom.

"get your earphones or somethin', kid," chris tells you, bringing his camera back up to his face. "get them 'n put them on, yeah? 'cos m'gonna be sayin' some shit and m'gonna make you cum. hurry up."

[zhejiangleihaoelectric]

Lightning surge test and lightning surge protection device

 

Lightning surge test is to evaluate the performance of power supply port, signal and control port of electronic and electrical equipment when subjected to surge (impact) interference. Its purpose is to evaluate the performance of the product when the equipment is subjected to high energy surge (impact) disturbance from power lines and interconnection lines.

 

There are two types of lightning surge tests: common mode and differential mode. Therefore, the use of surge absorbing devices should take into account the corresponding conditions with the test. In order to ensure the use effect, the surge absorbing device shall be used at the inlet of the incoming line. Due to the large di/dt in the surge absorption process, no signal line and power line can pass near the device to prevent electromagnetic coupling from introducing interference into the signal and power lines.

 

In addition, the pin of the surge absorbing device should be short; The absorption capacity of the absorption device shall match the test level of the surge voltage and current.

 

The biggest feature of lightning surge test is that the energy is particularly large. Therefore, the scheme of using ordinary filter and ferrite core to filter and absorb is basically invalid; Gas discharge tubes, varistors, silicon transient voltage absorbing diodes, semiconductor discharge tubes and other special surge protection devices must be used. A common characteristic of surge suppression devices is that the impedance is different with and without surge voltage. Under normal voltage, its impedance is very high, which has no effect on the operation of the circuit; When a very high surge voltage is applied to it, its impedance becomes very low, bypassing the surge energy. This kind of device is used in parallel between the line and the reference ground. When the surge voltage occurs, it will conduct quickly to limit the voltage amplitude to a certain value. Varistors, transient suppression diodes and gas discharge tubes have different volt ampere characteristics, so the changes when surges pass through them are not recognized.

The surge protection expert Zhejiang leihao Electric Co., Ltd. Laboratory provides free sites and equipment for customers to conduct lightning surges. Professional FAE engineers are nearby to provide technical guidance and help with the selection of surge protection devices. To learn more about lightning surge protection schemes and devices, please go directly to the Leihao electronic website to consult online customer service.

[renthony]

On Cosplay, Fast Fashion, & Waste

Fast fashion and disposable outfits in cosplay community spaces give me anxiety. Seeing people openly talk about throwing their "trashed" cosplay away after a single con makes me sad. Some costumes are crafted with such low durability that they fall apart beyond repair if you look at them the wrong way. I've met a ton of other cosplayers whose idea of "cosplay repair" ends with a stapler and some hot glue.

I never ever ever ever want to shame people for not knowing something. Crafting is hard. Making a low-quality costume isn't a sin or a crime. If you're new and still learning and don't really know what you're doing yet, that's fine! No harm, no foul, no bruise.

The cosplayers who do make me grouchy, however, are the ones who are unwilling to try. The ones who are flippant about throwing away a cosplay without trying to mend it, repurpose it, reuse it, or pass it along. The ones who intentionally make a costume just durable enough to last a single day, then toss it in the trash with zero thought.

My sewing and costuming experience started when I joined the ren faire, and I had to make my costumes sturdy enough to survive multiple weeks of heavy use, with the durability and freedom of movement to allow sword fighting on the living chessboard. I was taught how to shop for inexpensive fabrics and materials, but use high-quality, long-lasting techniques so that my costumes didn't disintegrate after a single day of performing. I have made extremely durable, cost-effective costumes out of bedsheets and thrift store fabric, as have many of my friends.

That experience has carried over into my cosplay. I am not happy with a costume unless it can go through three consecutive days of stage combat and high-intensity walking around outside in the heat, go through the washer and dryer, and come out completely unscathed.

Again, I never want to needlessly shit on other people's cosplay. Cosplay gatekeeping sucks and is no fun for anyone. At the same time, fast fashion is just as rampant in cosplay as it is everywhere else, and it sucks to see how wasteful it is.

You can make things durable even with cheap materials. Stop making flimsy costumes that you're just going to toss. Stop making piles and piles of waste. Please stop buying fabric just to slap a costume together with glue and throw it in the trash. If you are going to invest time and money into making something by hand, make it durable and comfy and worth the effort.

Even if you only want to personally wear it once, you can sell it, give it away, trade it, do something other than toss it in the trash. Show some love to your costumes, show some love to the planet, pick one action you can take to make your cosplay a little less wasteful. Being obsessed with the myth of a "personal carbon footprint" isn't helpful, but we as cosplayers should try to at least make things that'll last longer than 24 hours.

I understand that sewing can be incredibly intimidating, but basic stitching really isn't that complicated if you have a guide and the right tools. I personally need assistive devices for sewing thanks to my hand tremors and tendonitis, but those tools do exist, and can make things easier for both disabled and newbie sewists. I use rotary cutters instead of scissors, I keep a supply of needle threaders on hand, I have multiple little gadgets that help me sew in a straight line so my shaking hands don't screw everything up. There are tons of tools available, tons of tutorials online, and if you're interested in learning, there's a whole world out there to explore.

If you don't want to do all the crafting yourself, that's totally fine, but if you are going to hand-make your costume, you should try and make it durable. It's better for the planet and it's way less stressful to go to an event when you know your costume won't fall apart on the con floor.

If you have zero idea where to start, here are some books with crafting techniques I've found very useful, both in cosplay and regular household sewing I do for my family:

Make, Sew and Mend: Traditional Techniques to Sustainably Maintain and Refashion Your Clothes, by Bernadette Banner (who also has an incredible YouTube channel)

Cosplay Fabric FX: Painting, Dyeing & Weathering Costumes Like a Pro, by Julianna Franchini

Creative Cosplay: Selecting & Sewing Costumes Way Beyond Basic, by Amanda Haas

Level Up! Creative Cosplay: Costume Design & Creation, SFX Makeup, LED Basics & More, by Amanda Haas

[silvergyus]

polaroid

pairing: yeonjun x fem!reader

summary: you buy your boyfriend a film camera for his birthday, only for him to find his passion for taking pictures of your, ahem, intimate moments together

warnings: yeonjun & y/n (consensually) photograph each other naked/performing sexual acts, reader has a vulva, hickeys, oral (y/n receiving, yj receiving), penetrative sex (y/n receiving), use of “baby/ pretty/ my baby” for reader

word count: 900+

author’s note: written as part of @majestyjun's #24 days with jjunie !! event. check out the rest of the works here.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊

Your boyfriend blows the candles out on the birthday cake you baked for him, his face illuminated by the warm glow. There’s a mechanical click and sudden flash as you capture the moment. Yeonjun seems startled for a moment, and you giggle at his surprised expression.

“It’s your present!” you smile, holding up a vintage Polaroid camera. “I hope you don’t mind that I didn’t get to wrap it.” You handed him the black device, the photo slowly being deposited from within. You kissed him on the cheek and scooted your chair closer to his. “It just arrived this morning and between baking the cake and everything…”

“It’s great; I love it.” He smiled and kissed you.

You wanted to get Yeonjun something that he could explore his burgeoning love of photography with. Something that would drive his fans crazy when he shared it on Instagram. Yes, even though Yeonjun was your boyfriend, you loved every opportunity for a “boyfriend photo.”

And Yeonjun did like the camera.

----

He never posts them of course, the pictures he takes of you. They’re just for him; special, secret photos that only the two of you will ever see. They start out innocently enough: pictures of you smiling at his birthday party, pictures of your fingers intertwined with his. But from there…

They’re faceless at first, the pictures of you in his bed. Your hair splayed out messily across the pillow, your neck and chest covered in dark hickeys. Your nipples, puffy and swollen after he tugged them into his mouth. The hazy quality of the film camera in the low light of his bedroom makes everything seem like it was taken in a dream.

The photos print instantly from the camera, a mechanical whirr as the paper releases and the wait as the image slowly, slowly comes into view. He saves each one in a photo album he keeps hidden away in a drawer.

At first, you’re shy around the camera, not used to a camera being out during intimate moments. But soon enough, Yeonjun’s habit of snapping a pic becomes comfortable and routine. It’s cute, the way he dates them in sharpie at the bottom of the film. Little hearts around your name on his favorite images.

You start to take pictures of him too. His pretty lips spread as he sucks on your fingers, his face snuggled against your bare chest. His mischievous eyes as he flicks at your nipple with his tongue.

The more comfortable the both of you become around the camera, the more involved it becomes.

Side by side in the photo album hide a set of matching photos. In the first, Yeonjun looks up into the camera, his eyes hazy with lust as he laps at your pussy. In the second, you’re on your knees with his cock in your mouth, his hand holding your hair back as the other snaps the picture.

He keeps the picture of you, ropes of his cum staining your face as you smile, eyes closed, behind the case of his phone. Behind yours you hide the one of him, your juices running down his chin as he smiles a dopey grin.

There are fuzzy Polaroids of his fingers buried inside you, taken with his left hand while he continued to pump into you with his right. Blurry and still images of his length buried inside your pussy. One where he was moving and one where he had the forethought to pause his hips while taking the picture.

He always, always asks before the camera comes out. He wants you to feel comfortable enough to have these moments preserved forever.

“Baby, you look so cute,” he says, pressing a wet kiss to your throat as he slowly pumps his hips, “wanna take a picture.”

You moan out a quiet “yes” as consent before whining at the loss of physical contact when he moves away to grab the camera from his bedside table. He moves quickly, not wanting to be away from you for long. Soon enough, the device is in-hand, loaded with film and ready to capture the moment.

Yeonjun gently places his tip at your entrance and pushes in just a little. You let out a soft moan at the feeling of him. He smirks, loving the effect he has on you with even this little contact. He leans back to get as much of you in the frame as he can, wanting to include the point where the two of you connect.

Your hands fly to your face, shyly covering it from the gaze of the camera. You hear the click and whirr as the image is captured and printed. As it develops in the light, Yeonjun thrusts the rest of the way in, drawing a long moan from you as you readjust to his length. He kisses along your jaw muttering sweet nothings. “So pretty, my pretty baby.”

The photo finishes developing and he smiles, showing it to you. You kiss him in response; you love the way he sees you, how his eye finds no flaws.

----

One picture from the camera does make its way onto his Instagram. The last slide of a photodump is a picture of a fuzzy Polaroid laying on his comforter. The tiny picture is two sets of sneakers touching toes on the sand of a beach. Fans debate who the other set of shoes belong to. They don’t know that the sneakers were Yeonjun’s birthday gift to you.

author's note: this is a work of fiction not meant to accurately represent the idol. please do not repost.

[glorysiren444]

♰ . 𝒹opamine detox & why it’s important

⠀⠀

─── first of all what is the role of dopamine .ᐣ

dopamine acts on areas of the brain to give you feelings of pleasure, satisfaction & motivation. dopamine also has a role to play in controlling memory, mood, sleep, learning, concentration, movement & other body functions.

⠀⠀

─── what is a dopamine detox (fasting) .ᐣ

dopamine detox is a form of fasting from any activities or pleasures that produce dopamine so that drive for quick rewards decreases.

⠀⠀

─── what are the benefits of doing dopamine detox .ᐣ

𝟭 . regulates your dopamine response, so your brain can function at it’s best. when dopamine level is to high it can lead to addiction, impaired decision making & mental health problem,

𝟮 . makes you feel calmer & less anxious,

𝟯 . reduce the risk of depression that social media produces by addiction & comparing your life to other people,

𝟰 . boost your sleep quality & academic performance,

remember: benefits will always depending on the person, so do NOT compare to each other ♥︎

⠀⠀

─── what to avoid during dopamine detox .ᐣ

social media: spending endless time scrolling, liking, & commenting on social media platforms can really mess with our brains because of these little dopamine hits what keep us addicted,

gaming: especially avoid the super stimulating ones. they send our dopamine levels through the roof & make it hard to pay attention to real-life stuff,

eating junk food: high-sugar & high-fat food destroy your eating habits & body, including brain,

caffeine: it gives us that kick, but it also stimulates dopamine, which is why we gotta be mindful of our caffeine intake during a detox,

nicotine, alcohol & drugs: do i really have to explain?

watching shows: binge-watching your favorite tv shows it’s amazing way to spend time & flood your brain with too much dopamine,

⠀⠀

─── how to create a detox-friendly environment .ᐣ

𝟭 . designing a digital detox space

set up an environment that minimizes digital distractions. you can do this by creating a dedicated workspace or relaxation area where you limit or eliminate access to digital devices,

𝟮 . mindful nutrition

it’s important to choose foods that help maintain balanced dopamine levels. this might involve consuming foods rich in precursors like tyrosine (found in lean proteins), clean food & nutrients like antioxidants (found in fruits and vegetables) to support overall brain health and function,

𝟯 . engaging in low-stimulus activities

low-stimulus or low-dopamine activities are those that don't trigger excessive dopamine release. examples include meditation, gentle exercise, reading, or spending time in nature. engaging in these activities during your detox helps maintain a calmer & more focused state of mind, making it easier to resist the allure of high-dopamine behaviors & substances.

creating a detox-friendly environment is crucial to supports your efforts to reduce the impact of overstimulation on your brain's reward system. it sets the stage for a healthier lifestyle and a more balanced relationship with activities that can lead to excessive dopamine release.

─── with 𝑙ove, 𝓋ittoria ♥︎

[nasa]

For the Benefit of All: Assistive Tech Developed from NASA Tech

What do modern cochlear implants and robotic gloves have in common? They were derived from NASA technology. We’ve made it easier to find and use our patented inventions that could help create products that enhance life for people with disabilities.

October is National Disability Employment Awareness Month, which highlights the contributions of American workers with disabilities – many of whom use assistive technology on the job. Take a look at these assistive technologies that are NASA spinoffs.

Low-Vision Headsets

The Joint Optical Reflective Display (JORDY) device is a headset that uses NASA image processing and head-mounted display technology to enable people with low vision to read and write. JORDY enhances individuals’ remaining sight by magnifying objects up to 50 times and allowing them to change contrast, brightness, and display modes. JORDY's name was inspired by Geordi La Forge, a blind character from “Star Trek: The Next Generation” whose futuristic visor enabled him to see.

Cochlear Implants

Work that led to the modern cochlear implant was patented by a NASA engineer in the 1970s. Following three failed corrective surgeries, Adam Kissiah combined his NASA electronics know-how with research in the Kennedy Space Center technical library to build his own solution for people with severe-to-profound hearing loss who receive little or no benefit from hearing aids. Several companies now make the devices, which have been implanted in hundreds of thousands of people around the world.

Robotic Gloves

Ironhand, from Swedish company Bioservo Technologies, is the world’s first industrial-strength robotic glove for factory workers and others who perform repetitive manual tasks. It helps prevent stress injuries but has been especially warmly received by workers with preexisting hand injuries and conditions. The glove is based on a suite of patents for the technology developed by NASA and General Motors to build the hands of the Robonaut 2 humanoid robotic astronaut.

Smart Glasses

Neurofeedback technology NASA originally developed to improve pilots’ attention has been the basis for products aimed at helping people manage attention disorders without medication. The devices measure brainwave output to gauge attention levels according to the “engagement index” a NASA engineer created. Then, they show the results to users, helping them learn to voluntarily control their degree of concentration. One such device is a pair of smart glasses from Narbis, whose lenses darken as attention wanes.

Anti-Gravity Treadmills

A NASA scientist who developed ways to use air pressure to simulate gravity for astronauts exercising in space had the idea to apply the concept for the opposite effect on Earth. After licensing his technology, Alter-G Inc. developed its anti-gravity G-Trainer treadmill, which lets users offload some or all of their weight while exercising. The treadmills can help people recover from athletic or brain injuries, and they allow a safe exercise regimen for others with long-term conditions such as arthritis.

Wireless Muscle Sensors

Some of the most exciting assistive technologies to spin off may be yet to come. Delsys Inc. developed electromyographic technology to help NASA understand the effects of long-term weightlessness on astronauts’ muscles and movements. Electromyography detects and analyzes electrical signals emitted when motor nerves trigger movement. Among the company’s customers are physical therapists developing exercise routines to help patients recover from injuries. But some researchers are using the technology to attempt recoveries that once seemed impossible, such as helping paralyzed patients regain movement, letting laryngectomy patients speak, and outfitting amputees with artificial limbs that work like the real thing.  

To further enhance the lives of people with disabilities, NASA has identified a selection of patented technologies created for space missions that could spur the next generation of assistive technology here on Earth.

Want to learn more about assistive technologies already in action? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[airprime7]

The opening to William Shakespeare's Homestuck

Narrator: Welcome one and all to this good story, Of which we do entitle, Homestuck, so. Joinst thee on this journey, he our hero, This young man who doth in his bedroom stand. It just so happens that this day, which one Shall learn is April's Ides; thirteenth this month, Of Jesus' years ist nine and doubly thousand; Is the date o' birth that this man has. Lo, His age is young; twas but thirteen years, ere He wert given such life, as he has now Yet only on this day dost he receive The name he shall be known by for e'er more! Hark! Doth one in thine ranks, o' audience, Wish to provide the name for this young man? Anon, please give us forth this name, posthaste! Audience member: I doth this name give: Zoosmell Pooplord Narrator: What? Sayst "Zoosmell Pooplord"? "Zoosmell Pooplord", such? Dost mine ears myself deceive or wert thy  Speak unto this boy the name, thy request Be Zoosmell Pooplord? Audience member: 'Deed. Narrator: Prithee, Recall once more that this be not one such Our author, Shakespeare's, much fame'd Comedies. Tis a tale of Tragedy and sorrow! One the likes of thou has ne'er previous seen Such dost once more I call upon this crowd. What be the name of this young man standst hence? A different audience member: Wherefore he not take the name of kings? So, Name'd John, and of fam'ly Egbert. Narrator: such, John Egbert his name shall truly be, e'ermore. Shall now we move on t'ward narrative fair That's hence to be presented? We'll start, now With where we lay our scene. Stands John in room, His date of birth upon us, and scatter'd There 'round, pastries fine and plenty. Display'd Upon his walls, in'trests such so as these. Performance by the Rose (there hence, poor); The op'rating devices future, low In success; ghouls, their lore and stories so; Further, tricks of conjurers o' stage; and Lastly dost John employ in'trest in games.

[ms-demeanor]

Since some people might want a Mac, I'll offer a Mac equivalent of your laptop guide from the perspective of a Mac/Linux person.

Even the cheapest Macs cost more than Windows laptops, but part of that is Apple not making anything for the low end of the tech spectrum. There is no equivalent Mac to an Intel i3 with 4 gigabytes of RAM. This makes it a lot easier to find the laptop you need.

That said, it is possible to buy the wrong Mac for you, and the wrong Mac for you is the 13-inch MacBook Pro with the Touch Bar. Get literally anything else. If it has an M2 chip in it, it's the most recent model and will serve you well for several years. Any new MacBook Air is a good pick.

(You could wait for new Macs with M3, but I wouldn't bother. If you are reading these guides the M3 isn't going to do anything you need done that a M2 couldn't.)

Macs now have integrated storage and memory, so you should be aware that whatever internal storage and RAM you get, you'll be stuck with. But if you would be willing to get a 256 gig SSD in a Windows laptop, the Mac laptop with 256 gigs of storage will be just as good, and if you'd be willing to get 8 gigs of RAM in a Windows laptop the Mac will perform slightly better with the same amount of memory.

Buy a small external hard drive and hook it up so Time Machine can make daily backups of your laptop. Turn on iCloud Drive so your documents are available anywhere you can use a web browser. And get AppleCare because it will almost certainly be a waste of money but wooooooow will you be glad it's there if you need it.

I get that you are trying to help and I am not trying to be mean to you specifically, but people shouldn't buy apple computers. That's why I didn't provide specs for them. Apple is a company that is absolutely terrible to its customers and its customers deserve better than what apple is willing to offer.

Apple charges $800 to upgrade the onboard storage from a 256GB SSD to a 2TB SSD.

A 2TB SSD costs between $75-100.

I maintain that any company that would charge you more than half the cost of a new device to install a $100 part on day one is a company making the wrong computer for you.

The point of being willing to tolerate a 256GB SSD or 8GB RAM in a Windows laptop is that you're deferring some of the cost to save money at the time of purchase so that you can spend a little bit in three years instead of having to replace the entire computer. Because, you see, many people cannot afford to pay $1000 for a computer and need to buy a computer that costs $650 and will add $200 worth of hardware at a later date.

My minimum specs recommendations for a mac would be to configure one with the max possible RAM and SSD, look at the cost, and choose to go buy three i7 windows laptops with the same storage and RAM for less than the sticker price of the macs.

So let's say you want to get a 14" Macbook pro with the lowest-level processor. That's $2000. Now let's bump that from 16GB RAM and a 512GB SSD to 32GB and 2TB. That gets you to $3000. (The SSD is $200 less than on the lower model, and they'll let you put in an 8TB SSD for $1800 on this model; that's not available on the 13" because apple's product development team is entirely staffed by assholes who think you deserve a shitty computer if you can't afford to pay the cost of two 1991 Jeep Cherokee Laredos for a single laptop).

For $3000 you can get 3 Lenovo Workstation laptops with i7 processors, 32GB RAM, and a 2TB SSD.

And look, for just $200 more I could go up to 48GB RAM and get a 4TB SSD - it costs $600 to upgrade the 14" mac from a 2TB SSD to a 4TB SSD so you could still get three laptops with more ram and the same amount of storage for the cost of one macbook.

I get that some people need to use Final Cut and Logic Pro, but hoo boy they sure are charging you through the nose to use products that have become industry standard. The words "capture" and "monopoly" come to mind even though they don't quite apply here.

"Hostile" does, though, especially since Mac users end up locked into the ecosystem through software and cloud services and become uncertain how to leave it behind if they ever decide that a computer should cost less than a month's rent on a shitty studio apartment in LA.

There's a very good reason I didn't give mac advice and that's because my mac advice is "DON'T."

[winxanity-ii]

⌜I Love, Robot | Chapter 04 Chapter 04 | Locked In⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

Silence filled the hauler, broken only by the rhythmic beeping of the system monitors. Rain and Kay, left to their own devices, sat quietly; Navarro remained focused on manning the controls, her fingers gliding over the panel with expert precision.

Your eyes, however, were glued to the monitor displaying the live feed from Tyler's headset. Every pixel flickered with tension as you watched the three figures standing in the narrow chamber that connected the hauler to the derelict space station.

Tyler and Bjorn, both clad in bulky space jumpsuits with oxygen masks and gloves, were preparing for the transition. The suits clung to their bodies, designed to protect them from the frigid vacuum outside.

Only Andy, with his synthetic skin, stood without such gear, his face expressionless as always, though you could sense an undercurrent of anticipation in his movements.

Tyler extended a pair of thermal gloves toward Bjorn. "Put this on," he instructed, his voice calm but firm.

Bjorn, examining the gloves with a mixture of disdain and necessity, quips, "Why? Planning to freeze my nuts off?"

"So your nuts don't freeze," Tyler retorts with a slight smirk, trying to lighten the mood despite the gravity of their situation.

Bjorn chuckled, his voice crackling through the feed, a low, mocking sound. "You think too much about my dates, Tyler," his eyes twinkling with mischief behind the mask.

"Just shut up and put the damn gloves on," Tyler muttered, turning to hand another set to Andy. "Andy, here," he added, more gently this time.

Andy took the gloves, his movements deliberate but slightly awkward as he struggled to fit them over his synthetic hands. The fabric was tight, designed for human fingers, not his more refined construction. You could see the effort it took for him to maneuver his fingers into place.

Bjorn glanced over, his lips curling into a sneer. "Hey, stop fiddling and put that shit on already," he barked, impatience lacing his tone. His words cut through the air, harsh and dismissive.

Tyler shot Bjorn a warning look. "Now, leave him alone. Andy, don't worry about him. He's an idiot," he reassured, his tone softer, almost paternal. "Hatch ahead. I'll connect," he continued, shifting focus back to the task at hand.

Bjorn, still grumbling, adjusted his mask. "It's cold as fuck in there," he muttered, rubbing his gloved hands together. "What is it?"

"A temp scanner," Tyler replied, checking a handheld device clipped to his suit. "It'll lead us to the capsules. The compression is tolerable, but there's too little oxygen to breathe."

Bjorn nodded, his eyes narrowing as he glanced around the chamber. "Andy, you're up. Show us what you're good at."

With the hatch to the station just before them, Andy stepped forward to the control panel by the door. His synthetic finger found its way to the scanner integrated into the panel. He stuck it inside, interfacing seamlessly with the station's security protocols.

The light on the scanner flickered from red to green, accompanied by the soft click of locks disengaging. The door hissed as it began to slide open, granting them entry to the station.

Tyler gave Andy an encouraging nod. "That's right, Andy. Well done."

Bjorn, couldn't help but snort, rolling his eyes. "Congrats, you're not a virgin anymore," he jeered, a sly grin tugging at his lips. "Come on."

Andy, unfazed by the comment, moved forward with calculated precision, ready to perform his duties. You watched him closely, feeling a mixture of pride and apprehension.

Despite the tension and the biting remarks from Bjorn, Andy remained focused, his synthetic composure unshaken.

As the three of them boarded the derelict Romulus, the air felt heavy with anticipation and the faint hum of dormant machinery.

The station was dimly lit, its narrow corridors stretching into darkness. The flickering emergency lights cast an eerie glow, and the low hum of the station's failing systems filled the silence.

Every step echoed hollowly, a reminder of how empty and abandoned this place truly was.

They moved cautiously, navigating the winding halls. Suddenly, the artificial gravity gave out, sending them all into a momentary weightlessness.

The station's interior was now chaotic mix of floating debris—tools, chairs, crates, and other loose objects drifted aimlessly in the zero-gravity environment, casting long, eerie shadows under the dim emergency lights.

The air felt thick with disuse, each breath carrying the metallic tang of stale, recycled air.

Tyler braced himself against the wall, his grip tight and focused. Around him, wrenches and screwdrivers, once confined to toolkits, now spun lazily in mid-air, bouncing off the walls and each other in slow motion. An old chair drifted past, its legs barely brushing against Tyler's shoulder as he maneuvered to avoid it.

Bjorn, however, wasn't as lucky. He reached out to grab hold of a support beam but missed, his fingers slipping on its cold metal surface. His body drifted upward, twisting awkwardly as he collided with a floating crate. "Fuck..." he muttered, a grimace forming on his face as he felt his stomach churn from the sudden lack of gravity. "There is no gravity here. I can feel it in my stomach."

Tyler glanced over his shoulder, his brow furrowed. "What was that?"

Andy's voice came through clearly, unbothered by the disorienting conditions. "The gravity generators. The control starts at intervals. So the whole place doesn't explode."

Tyler nodded, absorbing the information while carefully avoiding a drifting toolbox that floated between them. "We continue straight ahead, then," he directed, gesturing towards the corridor that lay ahead, partially obscured by more floating debris.

Tyler turned his head slightly toward Andy, his expression softening with concern. "Andy, are you okay?"

"Yes," Andy replied, his tone unwavering. "I have located the capsules." Andy's gaze remained fixed on the scanner in his hand, his synthetic eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. "According to the scanner, the capsules should be in there," he announced, pointing toward a heavy metal door at the end of the corridor, past a cluster of slowly spinning wrenches and bolts.

Just as they continued through the corridor, the artificial gravity suddenly kicked back on with a heavy jolt. Everything that had been floating in mid-air—tools, chairs, crates—plummeted to the ground with a series of loud crashes.

Bjorn fell hard, landing awkwardly on his back with a sharp thud; the breath knocked out of him. A metal wrench narrowly missed his head, clattering noisily next to him.

"Damn it!" Bjorn cursed, pain evident in his voice as he lay sprawled on the cold, hard floor. "I think I've leathered the arsehole," he groaned, wincing as he tried to sit up. "Shit, those control launches are no joke."

Tyler, still gripping a rail tightly to keep his balance, glanced over at Bjorn with a mix of frustration and concern. "You alright?" he called out, trying to maintain focus despite the chaos around them.

Bjorn grunted in response, rubbing his lower back. "Yeah, yeah, just peachy," he muttered sarcastically, clearly irritated by the sudden drop.

Andy, who had managed to brace himself against the wall just in time, turned his attention to Bjorn. "Bjorn, are you okay?" he asked, his voice calm but with a hint of synthetic concern.

Bjorn waved him off, though the annoyance was clear in his tone. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Just keep doing what you're doing. I'll manage."

Tyler moved quickly to check the status of the station's systems. "SYSTEM STARTUP MOTHER 9000," he read aloud from the flickering console nearby, which was partially covered in debris from the gravity shift. "Thank God there is still current in the old story," he added, his tone both relieved and cautious.

Andy moved to the control panel, his fingers deftly navigating the interface, bringing the systems back online. "Watch out," he warned, his voice steady amidst the chaos. "Here comes one more purge." He gave them a moment to prepare before the gravity purged again.

They all braced themselves, grabbing onto fixtures and railings as the station's gravity generators fluctuated once more. The objects around them, previously scattered on the floor, began floating in the air once more.

Andy flipped a switch, and a low hum filled the room as the station's systems came fully back to life. Once again, all the floating objects clattered to the floor, the gravity stabilized.

"Good job, Andy," Tyler said, his voice filled with gratitude. "Let's get to those capsules and get the hell out of here."

Bjorn, still rubbing his sore back, muttered under his breath but nodded in agreement. With a determined look, they pressed onward, deeper into the station, knowing the mission was far from over.

Shortly after, the three of them reached the cryo-chamber room. The metal doors groaned open, revealing a series of pods lined up against the wall, illuminated by the dim emergency lights.

Tyler immediately moved to the control panel, his fingers flying over the keys as he checked the status of each chamber.

Bjorn stepped forward, his eyes narrowing as he took in the sight. "Damn it! Well, let's see here," he muttered, clearly agitated.

Tyler squinted at the screen, frowning. "YEARS: 3.20," he read aloud, his tone flat.

Bjorn's head whipped around, confusion turning quickly to frustration. "Shit. What's wrong?"

Tyler's face was grim as he explained, "The capsules do not have enough fuel. There is enough for three years of hibernation."

Andy, standing close by, quickly calculated the implications. "It takes appoximately nine years to reach Yvaga," he pointed out in his usual calm, matter-of-fact tone.

Bjorn, his face twisted in irritation, threw his hands up in exasperation. "I know that. Fuck! I knew it. I fucking knew it. This shit was for nothing!"

Tyler turned to him sharply, his expression determined. "No, we're not giving up now. Yvaga is the closest system. What do you want us to do? Now shut the hell up."

Andy, still focused on the scanner in his hand, spoke up. "There seems to be a cryo-depot somewhere. There must be fuel."

Tyler nodded, his mind racing. "Navarro, I'm disconnecting the EEV. You can pick it up while we get cryo-fuel. Held," he spoke into his intercom, his voice steady despite the tension.

Navarro's voice crackled through the intercom, calm and composed, "Heard."

As the Corbelan maneuvered to pick up the ejected cryo-chambers, back on the ship, Kay suddenly rushed to the toilet, her face pale. Rain quickly moved to help her, guiding her into a nearby bunk as Kay began to retch. The noise caught your attention, but you remained at a distance, watching quietly.

In the bunk, Rain leaned closer to Kay, her voice soft and concerned. "...You're pregnant?" you overheard her whisper, her tone a mix of surprise and concern.

Kay nodded, a wide smile spreading across her face. "Yeah," she replied softly, a hint of excitement in her voice. Rain's face lit up with a supportive smile, and the two exchanged a quiet laugh.

From where you stood, you caught Kay's eye for a moment. Her smile faltered slightly, an awkward tension settling in the air between you. You returned a small nod, trying to convey understanding, but Kay quickly looked away, turning her focus back to Rain with a nervous giggle.

Out of everyone in Rain's old friend group, Kay had always been the most distant with you, a fact that had always puzzled you. You never quite understood why, but it had always left a lingering discomfort in your interactions with her.

Deciding to give them space, you turned your attention back to the three men on the station, tuning into their ongoing conversation through the intercom.

Bjorn's gruff voice came through first, laced with skepticism. "What is all that military piss for?" he asked, glaring at Tyler.

"It's effective."

Bjorn snorted derisively, unconvinced. "Is it?"

Tyler's lips twitched into a half-smile. "And cool."

Bjorn rolled his eyes, unimpressed. "You sound dumb," he shot back, his tone dripping with disdain.

As they continued walking, Bjorn, distracted by his annoyance, nearly missed a deep hole in the floor. He stumbled, teetering dangerously on the edge.

Without hesitation, Andy reached out and grabbed Bjorn's arm, pulling him back just in time.

Despite being saved from a potentially deadly fall, Bjorn's anger flared even hotter. He stormed up to Andy, getting uncomfortably close to his face, his eyes burning with a mix of rage and frustration. He jabbed a finger into Andy's chest, his voice low and menacing. "What's your fucking problem, clown?" he snarled, glaring at Andy with open hostility.

Andy, ever calm, replied, "Sorry," his voice soft, almost apologetic despite the aggressive confrontation.

Tyler quickly intervened. "Relax, guys," he said, trying to keep the peace.

But Bjorn wasn't done. He shoved Andy harder, his anger barely contained. "Next time I'll smash you in," he threatened, his voice dripping with contempt. He then turned to Tyler, his expression dark and demanding. "Keep that fucking piece of Synth-trash away from me."

Tyler nodded slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face as he glanced between the two of them. He knew they needed to keep moving, but the tension was clearly getting to everyone. "Let's just focus on finding that fuel," he said, trying to steer the conversation back to the mission at hand. "Navarro, airlock 5-B is our exit once we find the cryogenic fuel."

Your teeth gritted in your mouth as you listened to everything unfolding over the hauler's intercom. The hostility in Bjorn's voice, the constant antagonism—it made your skin crawl.

You tried to focus on the task at hand, tinkering with the Reboot Key, but it was hard to ignore the rising tension.

Navarro took a moment to walk over to you, leaning against the console with a curious glance at your tinkering. "What are you working on there?" she asked, her voice carrying a casual interest.

You shrugged slightly, trying to keep your focus on the task at hand. "Just making sure I'm ready for anything," you replied, not wanting to delve too deeply into the details.

Navarro nodded, her eyes trailing back to the screen momentarily. "It's good to be prepared," she said thoughtfully. After a pause, she added, "Hey, I'm sorry about Bjorn's actions earlier. He can be... intense, but he's got his reasons."

Overhearing this, Rain snorted. "Yeah, right," she muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "I'll bite. What's his deal with Andy? Why is he so angry with him?" she asked, her gaze shifting between Navarro and the monitor displaying the men's location.

Navarro glanced over at Rain, her expression tight with a mix of sympathy and understanding. "Because of the thing with his mother a cycle ago," she said softly.

Rain furrowed her brows, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Kay, still pale but feeling a bit better, spoke up softly from her spot in the back. "There was a gas leak in the mines. The synthetic supervisor overhead the entire operation gave the order to close them while Bjorn's mother was down there."

"But... Synthetics—they cannot harm people," Rain countered, her voice wavering slightly as she tried to make sense of the story.

"Well, it sacrificed three miners to save half a dozen."

Rain's face twisted in a grimace. "How gruesome," she muttered under her breath. She saw Kay get up suddenly and rush to the back, clearly feeling unwell again.

Rain stood to follow, concern etched across her features, while you stayed seated, still fidgeting with the tiny components in your hands, counting down the minutes until this whole ordeal could be over.

A chill ran down your spine as you listened to Kay's explanation, triggering a long-buried memory from one of your past hacking jobs.

You recalled retrieving files that exposed a chilling directive: in moments of crisis, Weyland's synthetics were programmed to prioritize the company's assets over human lives, all under the guise of logical probability.

Even back then, the discovery had left you feeling sick, a stark reminder of the company's cold, calculating nature.

While you could understand why Bjorn harbored such deep hatred for synthetics, knowing this didn't change your opinion of him. He was still an asshole, his anger misdirected at those who were just following their programming—much like the workers following orders.

If anything, you thought, his anger should be aimed at the Weyland officials who made those ruthless directives, not at every synthetic he came across. His blind rage only perpetuated the cycle of resentment and pain, when the true culprits remained hidden in their ivory towers, untouched by the consequences of their decisions.

You tightened your grip on the Reboot Key, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. The sooner they found that cryo-fuel and got out of there, the better.

"Welcome to the space station Renaissance. Weyland-Yutani's Center for Research and Development whose efforts are to improve the human role in space."

Bjorn's response to the artificial voice crackled through the intercom, his tone tinged with discomfort. "This place gives me goosebumps," he muttered, a shiver running through his voice.

Andy, ever the peacemaker, tried to inject some humor into the situation. "Have you heard the one about the bowler who only has one ball? It always takes cones. Did you get it?" he offered, hoping to lighten the mood.

"Please turn yourself off," Bjorn snapped back, irritation clear in his voice.

"You said you were nervous, so I tried—"

"You know what? I'm looking forward to getting into a capsule and never seeing your ass again," Bjorn interrupted sharply, his voice harsh and cutting.

"See you at Yvaga then."

"You are not going to Yvaga." You were taken aback by Bjorn's revelation.

Tyler's voice intervened, a note of warning in his tone. "Bjorn, stop."

But Bjorn was relentless. Turning to face Andy with a manic grin, he sneered, "Didn't Rain tell you? The system is anti-Weyland-Yutani, so fake people are prohibited."

Andy's reply was measured, his voice steady despite the insult. "I prefer the term 'artificial person.'"

You felt a surge of confusion and concern, unable to believe Bjorn's claim that Andy wouldn't be allowed into Yvaga. It didn't make sense; why would they exclude Andy?

As you processed Bjorn's words, your thoughts were abruptly pulled back to just a few hours earlier, which now seemed to carry even more weight given the current tension.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

The next half an hour in the room felt like a slow crawl through tension, thick enough to cut with a knife. You stood by the door with Andy at your side, ready to leave at any moment. Across the room, Rain and Tyler spoke in hushed tones, their conversation drowned out by the hum of the machinery around you.

Every now and then, Rain would glance your way, her expression a mixture of uncertainty and determination.

You straightened up as Rain finally pulled away from Tyler and started walking toward you. For a brief moment, you felt a flicker of hope—maybe she’d seen the flaws in this whole plan, the danger and the reckless gamble it represented. But instead of heading for the door, she stopped in front of you, her eyes searching yours.

"Can I talk to you privately?" she asked softly. Her tone wasn't commanding but pleading, and despite the frustration and worry bubbling inside you, you gave in.

With a small nod, you followed her down to the transport area, Andy trailing just a step behind. The enclosed space below was quieter, the hum of the engines muted but still present—a constant reminder of the colony around you.

"I'm not sure about any of this, Rain," you started, the words tumbling out in a rush, but she cut you off gently.

"I know," she said, her voice soft but steady. "But what if they're right? What if we can actually get out of here?" Her question hung in the air between you—a heavy, unspoken challenge.

You fell silent, unable to meet her gaze for a moment. Because deep down, you knew she was right. There was no telling if what Tyler and his group had found would actually be the escape they all needed.

But what if it was?

What if this was the chance to finally leave this hellhole behind, to find freedom and a future that wasn’t dictated by Weyland-Yutani's greed?

You looked into Rain's hopeful eyes, and your mind spun with images of a possible future if you walked away now—Rain wasting away, trapped here like so many others you had cared for.

You couldn't subject her to that. Not when there was a chance, however slim, to change it.

A loud, harsh sigh escaped your lips as you turned, rubbing a hand down your face. The weight of your decision pressed down on you, but there wasn’t much choice, not really. "Fine. Fine... fine."

Rain let out a small, happy shriek, throwing herself into your arms. She wrapped you up in her lithe embrace, her joy so palpable it was almost infectious. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," she repeated, her voice a breathless rush of gratitude.

You couldn't help but smile, hugging her back, though the smile quickly faded into a serious line as you pulled away. "Okay, but how exactly is this supposed to go down?"

Rain's excitement didn't falter as she launched into an explanation, her words tumbling over one another in her eagerness. "Tyler and Navarro think there are at least half a dozen, maybe even ten, cryo-pods on board the ship, judging by the size of the aircraft. The plan is simple: Andy helps us gain access to the ship, then he, Tyler, and Bjorn find the pods, release them, and Navarro grabs them with the hauler. Then, bam! The six of us float peacefully away in cryo-sleep for the next nine years until we reach Yvaga."

You listened, taking it all in. Sure, it sounded simple enough on the surface. But your mind couldn’t help conjuring up all the setbacks and issues that could arise—the things that could make the entire mission fall apart.

But instead of voicing your doubts, you decided to give it a chance. Rain's hope was too bright, too desperate to extinguish with your own pessimism.

Still, one concern gnawed at you—something that hadn't been addressed. "What about Andy?"

Rain blinked, taken aback for a moment by your question. But then she answered, her voice steady, "Since Andy is synthetic, he won't need to be placed in a cryo-pod. He'll oversee everything; make sure we don't run into any issues during the journey."

You nodded slowly, her reasoning making sense.

Andy didn't need sleep; he didn't need to worry about the passage of time in the same way you all did.

And if there was anyone you trusted to watch over things, it was him.

Looking over Rain's shoulder, your eyes met Andy's. He stood there, his synthetic gaze soft, head tilted slightly as if saying without words, 'What's best for Rain.'

A small smile crept onto your lips at the sight of him. Without a second thought, you reached out a hand, and he immediately came over, his grip firm yet gentle.

You pulled him into a small hug, and together, you and Andy surrounded Rain, her small frame nestled between the two of you. You held on tight, feeling the warmth of Rain’s body against yours and the steady, reassuring presence of Andy beside you.

Yes, you thought, holding them both close, What's best for Rain.

Snapping back to the present, you shook your head slightly, memory burning away like charred earth now that you knew the truth.

Feeling a mix of anger and urgency, you rushed over to the monitor, your hands trembling slightly as you watched Bjorn continue his verbal assault. His words cut through the tense air, exacerbating the frustration building up inside you.

Bjorn's voice was harsh, filled with disdain as he continued to antagonize Andy. "Andy, listen. Rain can go to jail if she takes you. And if you stay at Jackson, you will be eventually scrapped by the company. Are you in? I need you on board to protect the capsules. To protect Y/N's capsule, remember? She's coming too..."

Andy, his voice steady yet tinged with uncertainty, replied, "But when we get there..."

Bjorn interrupted with a cold sneer, "Scrap. Farewell and bon voyage."

Tyler, looking exasperated and visibly stressed, rubbed his face. "Are you done?" he interjected, his tone weary.

Bjorn shrugged with a cackle, "I'm just saying it like it is."

Andy's response came softly, reflecting his unwavering loyalty, "It's okay. If it's what's best for Rain, it's what's best for me."

As Bjorn clapped Andy hard on the shoulder, walking past him with a patronizing air, he said, "You're a nice guy, Andy. We will miss you. And don't worry, I'll look out for Y/N, for you, yeah?"

You stood there, watching the scene unfold on the monitor, your emotions a whirlwind of frustration and concern.

Unable to contain the growing sense of betrayal, you turned to stare at Rain. Your steps toward her were tentative, each one heavier than the last as you noticed her pale face, her eyes watering slightly as her mouth opened and closed without forming words.

"Rain..." you could only whisper softly, the disappointment heavy in your voice.

"Y/N... I... I-I can explain, please let me explain—"

"No," you cut her off sharply, turning away and rubbing your eyes with your finger to hide the tears welling up in them. "I don't want to hear it, please just stop. I-I—" You had to take a shuddering breath, stopping just a foot before her, "Just... it doesn't matter. Not right now."

With that, you turned your back to her completely, your heart breaking further as you caught the devastated look on Andy's face from the corner of your eye. He seemed clueless, as if unsure what Bjorn’s words truly meant.

Navarro's voice cut through the tense air, disbelief evident in her tone as she asked Rain, "Y/N didn't know??"

Your head snapped back, eyes blazing with anger and hurt. "Me?" you spat bitterly, "Forget about me knowing; why didn't Andy know?"

Your question was directed sharply at Rain, demanding an answer.

Rain ran a hand through her hair, her hands trembling. "He... I didn't bother to tell him," she finally said, looking off to the side, her voice filled with guilt.

Before you could respond to Rain's admission, Kay stood up with a nasty snarl curling her lips. "Rain doesn't have to feel bad about anything. Why should she risk her life for Andy? He's not even alive! It's not gonna matter to him whether he's kept here rotting on this floating rock or scrapped for spare pieces! He. Is. Not. Real!" Her voice escalated with each word, breathing coming out in sharp pants as she finished her long-winded spat.

The hauler was plunged into complete silence following her outburst.

You turned to look at Rain, hoping she would say something—anything—to defend the situation or at least to soften the harshness of Kay's words. But Rain just looked off to the side, her expression unreadable, her silence more telling than any words could have been.

You watched as all three women—Rain, Kay, and Navarro—stood next to one another, their proximity seeming to wordlessly state their solidarity on the issue.

Inside, you could feel the seething anger and fury burning, but you knew lashing out wouldn't help. "Fine," you said curtly, your voice calm but ice-cold. "Andy and I will finish helping you all with this mission, but after it's complete, you don't have to worry yourselves with figuring out what to do with him..."

Rain's face crumbled in heartbreak, her eyes widening as she already knew where you were going with this. "Y/N, please don't. I need—"

"Because he and I will be returning to Jackson Star," you interrupted, turning your back on the group, done with the entire conversation.

As you walked back towards the monitor, Kay let out a sharp, scornful laugh. "I'm not sure what Bjorn sees in you when you're clearly a synth-lover. Rather stay behind and die on this dying planet with a machine instead of heading into a new beginning with your remaining family."

You only spared the girl an uncaring, bored look over your shoulder. "I don't care. He's family, and you don't leave family behind."

With that, you walked back into the captain’s bridge, plopping yourself back next to the monitor, shutting out the bitter words and focusing on what truly mattered—completing the mission and safeguarding Andy.

A/N: heheh hopes you guys enjoyed the update. if a few lines don't match from the movie, know i changed a few things up to fit the fic. other than that: THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH FOR SUPPORTING THIS! The engagement i've been recieveing is so amazing, still cant get over that people want/like to read the trash my mind spit out😩 yall make me wanna write everyday frfr ❤️❤️ see you next update...

Tag List: @dreamsarenicer sadslasher13 ravenswife

[justpoliteconversations]

Comfort [Mer!Warriors + Reader]

All it takes is a single moment for everything you think you know to flip on its head.

I originally had different plans for this AU continuation, but I came across a post of someone asking for a comfort fic and thought I'd try.

Masterlist

Part: 1 / 2

TW: Maybe? Hard to tell sometimes.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

It had been a long day. Between back breaking work and the weariness of too long spent fighting to maintain your composure, the weight of all your hardships seemed to have finally caught up to you. You were just so tired, but even the promise of escape sleep offered seemed impossible to achieve.

Not with this overly spoiled creature screeching (elegantly, somehow. God damned elegantly. like a fully accompanied angel's choir) for your attention. As though this was something you two routinely did (for the record, it wasn't. you didn't know what his damned problem was). And ignoring him wasn't working, as it was going on the second hour now and he had somehow only gotten louder.

You honestly just wanted to cry. You just wanted to sleep.

You just wanted a break that didn't make you feel guilty. Guilty for not wanting to live up to everyone's expectations for once. For just wanting to sit down, eat something horrendously unhealthy, and then maybe nap for a few hours before dinner. And then go right back to sleep without everyone expecting you to fix every damned problem that blew their way.

The perfect day (but it wouldn't be. not really. because you couldn't even imagine closing your eyes when there was still so much to do). And it was being thoroughly destroyed (it was never something that existed anyway) by the unceasing, unholy (ethereal) screeching of the Center's resident golden boy.

How the mer knew just when to start acting up when no one but you was around, you'd probably never know. But it was damned concerning, and annoying. Especially when he decided to be difficult. Like now (oh God. why'd it have to be now when you were at your lowest).

You'd give in eventually, you knew. It was inevitable, and both him and you knew this. You couldn't afford to leave him to his own devices for too long, especially when he had a habit of taking out his frustration on your co-workers when ignored (and not even in an obvious way either. but underhandedly. like 'accidently' splashing water on their phones and equipment during his more enthusiastic performances).

You heard his screech again, but this time you could hear the low edge that entered his cry. Like the threat of a blade gliding delicately under a silk cloth, smooth and lilting and deadly in its sharpness. A dark, foreboding promise all wrapped up in a beautiful symphony of sweet nothings.

"I'm coming! Just give me a moment!" You finally called out, wincing at the way your voice nearly wobbled. Frustration and exhaustion mixing together into a singular moment of weakness.

It was silent then, and a form of primeval dread filled your stomach at the sudden stillness in the air. Because there was no way he hadn't heard the shake of your voice, nor the emotions that caused it. There was absolutely no way he didn't realize how vulnerable you were at the moment.

Numb. Suddenly, you were numb all over. From your ears to your toes, you could feel the cold pinprick of tingling nothingness itching just below your skin. But through it all, even as your feet took you to the bottom of War's tank ladder, you felt oddly detached from your body.

Ah. You were afraid. As tired and as emotionally drained as you were, you still somehow managed to drudge up enough self-preservation to be afraid of Wars. And you weren't sure how to feel about that. You hadn't really thought about it in a long time. Just how much power he now had over you, after that fateful day you'd come to his tank and cut him a deal.

You still didn't want to think about it. You just wanted to get this over with and go to sleep. You didn't even care that you'd regret this later, when you could finally think past the numbness that had settled over your limbs.

And there he was, from one step on the ladder to the next. Quiet, still as death and submerged up to his eeriely shining, dilated eyes in the dark water of his sleeping tank. The inky blackness of the night around him fading the long, billowing ends of his fins into a smoky wisp of shimmering starlight.

You'd forgotten how beautiful he was at night, when the faint luminescence of his fins and scales ran golden fireflies across the darkened navy of his elegant blue fins. How his enchanting, predatory eyes caught even the faintest hints of starlight and built entire galaxies along the darks of them. How he smiled so prettily when he rose from the water, even if you knew it was a lie (fake. dangerous).

The smile was different this time though. There was something sharper about it, so similar yet so different from the charming upturn of plush lips he so often used to entice the unwary into his clutches.

It was enough to unnerve you, this unknown expression that had settled so distinctly upon his pretty face. Enough even to pull you from your exhausted haze and into something almost approaching alertness. Your nerves firing with renewed unease, even several meters above the water and (allegedly, though you didn't believe that for a second) out of War's reach.

And then he lifted a single, elegant hand. Raised a single, elegant finger. And beckoned you to him in a gesture so human it nearly drew a blush to your cheeks (much to your shame).

If you ever discovered who taught him that gesture, you'd skin them yourself. You swore it. But that was for later, because right then you were frozen in shock. Not even because of the connotations behind such a gesture while an attractive male such as him was behind it.

No. It was the meaning behind the gesture.

"No." You said, so pumped full of adrenaline you didn't even feel the exhaustion that'd been weighing down your bones just moments before. "I'm not that far gone, Wars. No matter what you think you heard."

His eyes narrowed just the slightest bit, condescending and frustrated both. Flickering. Dilating. Contracting.

It would be almost funny, to see a mer as smug and put together as Wars showing anything other than slight annoyance (and honestly, it usually is). But right now, with the darkness closing in from all sides and the weight of everything haunting your every step, it was a reminder. A reminder that for all you had managed to keep your composure around this predator, you were still afraid.

You were afraid. And you always had been. From the moment you set eyes on him and knew (just knew, when no one else could see it) that this creature was hunting you and everyone else around him. Even bloodied and mangled and trapped as he was, he had never stopped hunting. That he watching you, just as you were watching him. Always.

He gestured again, tilting his head slightly. Another gesture that sent warning signals straight into your brain, causing your breathing to pick up and a light sheen of cold sweat to start forming on your shoulders, back and forehead. His eyes had fully dilated by now as well, adding an even more alien quality to his unnaturally beautiful features.

You swallowed, trapped between your self-preservation instincts screaming at you to turn tail and run, and the logic of your mind quietly reminding you that this predator would have killed you already had he wanted (that he could kill someone else too, if he felt the need to call your bluff). Because he would. You knew that. Accidents happened all the time. What was one more? (He'd probably fake tears too. the bastard.)

You glanced off to the side, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end under his unnatural stare. "Wars I- You know that's not how this works."

You were met with silence. You were too shaken (too compromised) to even think of meeting his gaze. The sharp, unfaltering, stunningly inhuman gaze.

The faint rippling of water. A slight swoosh. And then.

A great, echoing splash. The catwalk under you shaking and nearly tilting as a great weight was suddenly upon it. The flash of shimmering gold across a sea of dark blue. And suddenly he was in your face, so close you could see the ring of blue, blue, blue encircling the dark pools of his eyes.

You couldn't move. You couldn't scream. You couldn't even breathe. Not when he leaned further into your space (so close now you could see the glitter of scales under his eyes. like gold dust). Not when a clawed, webbed hand came up to your fear stricken face. Not when your skin touched for the first time (warm. soft. supple. nothing like your mind had always imagined it).

Not when his powerful (deadly. predator's. killer's) arms gently (so gently. almost tenderly. but that can't be it because he's him and you're you) pulled you into his chest. Not when he pulled you both down until he was laying along the catwalk with you laying flush on top of him. And not when he buried his face (his mouth. his lips. his teeth. teeth. teeth.) into your hair and just...breathed.

In. Out. In. Out. Steady. Even. Inevitable. His large, warm hands on your back, claws delicately kneading into your clothes. His chest rumbling, so faint you'd have missed it entirely had you not been tucked up under his chin (had he not been pressing you into the place in his chest the vibrations were strongest).

Slowly, your breath returned to you. You began to calm. Your mind begun to clear. And you realized, with sudden clarity, what it was that was happening. What this behavior was.

The gentle nipping at your hair. The tender kneading of his (sharp) claws into the thick ruffles of your clothes. The way he had cradled your significantly smaller body into his larger form and curled his silky (thick, powerful) tail fins around you as best he could with so little space.

The way his whole chest seemed to vibrate. The sound so low it was nearly nonexistent. An action you hadn't known Wars was even capable of, let alone willing to utilize. For a human of all things.

You swallowed, not daring to take your eyes off the gleam of his collarbone (shimmering, even in the dark). "Are you trying to comfort me?"

He pushed you harder into his chest, under his chin. His face nuzzling deeper into your hair, until his mouth was pressed softly against the shell of your ear. His hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin.

"Mine." He cooed (disjointed and raw, unnatural but hauntingly beautiful), one hand having found its way up into the fine hairs at your nape. Just holding them between gentle fingers, thumb caressing your exposed neck. "Strong. Brave." He hummed.

He nosed at the delicate lining of your ear. Nuzzling you. "Beautiful." He purred, pulling away just enough to force you to meet his eyes. His gaze so black you saw yourself reflected in them. "Always mine. Give me. Everything bad."

Looking into his liquid night, blue-mooned eyes. Feeling his hands cradling you protectively, possessively, trying to separate you from the world beyond. You finally understood. Everything.

Wars was territorial after all. Of his space. Of his food. Of his resources. Of anything, everything that was his. That he'd claimed.

Knowing that, how could you have forgotten the most important resource a mer can ever possess? When it had been staring you in the face this whole time?

Warmth began to build behind your eyes, and try as you might, you felt the gates you had held so tightly closed for so long beginning to slip from your grasp. And you just couldn't believe it. That this was really about to happen.

In front of Wars of all creatures. The one predator that had everyone fooled.

But that was the thing, wasn't it. From the very beginning, for all his smiles and sweet nothings, never had he truly tried to hide his fangs from you. Never you. Even as he kept the rest of the world at an arms length away.

He had let you in (had reeled you in). He had let you see (had forced you to see) the dark shaded colors of his heart. His truest self.

Honesty, completely and utterly, from a creature that thrives off deception. How could you have been so blinded by your fear you'd not noticed.

The first few tears finally escaped down the curve of your cheek, and when a gentle, tender, loving thumb came to wipe them away. You broke, and it all came pouring out. In the arms of the predator you still feared so much, but knew, without question, would never allow harm to befall you.

Because he is a territorial mer. And there is nothing a mer covets more than their pod. Their family. Their reason for everything else that follows after.

And Wars, the mer who never wanted to leave. Who, after all was said and done, was still a mer like any other. Had no one but you. Only you. By choice. By fate.

By design.

You'd been hunted. And you'd been caught. And now he would never let you go. And he would protect you from everything.

For as long as he lived.

---

Back to the shadows.

[teaboot]

You know what guys I don't make the rules but just personally I feel like every good group MUST have the following:

A technically skilled science/tech dweeb everyone underestimates who would actually do very well in prison; secret freak. LGBTQ rep. Hyperfixates. Voted #1 most likely to violate the Geneva conventions. Voted #1 most likely to still consider their childhood rival their sworn enemy well into adulthood.

Highly neurotic yet low-key super competent weirdo who wears cargo pants and just wants everything to be normal for five goddammit minutes but is still somehow in the front row when the shit hits the fan. Will hold your beer and watch you eat concrete trying to perform an impromptu backflip at a house party. Will drive you to the hospital afterwards. Probably won't yell at you if you puke in their car.

High-society classy ho who obviously outshines everyone else in fancy social settings. Dresses well, speaks well, holds themselves well, fits right in with the snooty upper class bastards. Their deep dark secret? The heart and soul of a dirty peasant. Nobody can know that oysters and caviar make them wanna hurl. Secret pleasures include doritos, ugly pajamas, and bad daytime TV. Their parents suck.

Conventionally attractive and charismatic "leader" figure who outwardly appears calm, cool, and collected until the pressure is off and the anxiety disorder comes out. Has an organized sock drawer. Does meal prep once a week. Goes to the gym regularly. Seems like they have all their shit together until you get a phone call at 4 in the afternoon because their hand is glued to a barstool and they can't explain how it happened

Awkward and uncharasmatic "leader" figure who has more street smarts than book smarts and doesn't seem to take anything seriously until all the cards are down. Edgy backstory. Is visibly disappointed when they find out you don't know an important life skill. Somehow the most competent person of the group when left to their own devices. But can they learn to trust... the power of friendship?

An inanimate thing which is so beloved that it might as well have a personality at this point. Bonus points if it's obviously kinda dumpy and busted.