#consumption using machine learning

[predicting-energy-consumption]

Smart Solutions: Predictive Models for Optimizing Energy Use in Israel

Introduction

Demand forecasting is essential in the context of Israel in particular, as the country has also shared the concern for effective energy utilization and management. Smart solutions applying the predictive models is the most highlighted approach in the campaign of making smarter energy solutions and predicting energy consumption Israel by applying data analytics in order to forecast and improve energy use in various sectors. 

These insights define power usage in the past, current climate conditions, or any other information that helps experts make accurate predictions on the future energy demand. This will provide an accurate vision of the slopes of demand, allowing organizational leaders to alter strategies of production and distribution of energy in real-time, which will be quite efficient and save a lot of cash in the process.

Energy management in Israel

The meddling of big data analytics – predictive models in particular – into energy management in Israel can pave the way to improving the stability of the grid, lowering the carbon imprint and more effectively integrating renewable energies into the country’s grid. They are also growing in popularity among companies and utilities to optimize operations and manage environmental outcomes efficiently.

A good example here is Diagsense which is a company that prides itself on offering the best leaking detection system. Besides, the technologies address issues that need help in the detection and elimination of energy losses as well as those used in managing overall energy usage due to preventive maintenance and control.

Israeli-based businesses involved in the development of software for leak management are utilizing big data, data mining, and IoT to identify leaks and curb them in real-time. Through the tracking of pressure fluctuations and flow rates of gases in pipelines, these solutions also encourage timely detection of pressure dips and other flares resulting in efficient use of resources and minimal losses through damage.

Diagsense stands out among these innovators, offering state-of-the-art leak detection software trusted for its reliability and effectiveness. Their solutions not only detect leaks promptly but also provide actionable insights for optimizing energy consumption and reducing waste.

Conclusion

In conclusion, it can be said that Israel’s future progress in terms of energy efficiency and reaching key goals in the field of sustainable development will always focus on the need for predicting energy consumption Israel. These innovations do not only improve functionality but also promote environmental conservation efforts hence are some of the vital tools in the energy of the nation.

[smart-manufacturing-solutions]

The Impact of PDM Solutions on Manufacturing Systems

Introduction: 

Product Data Management (PDM) solutions are among the most important tools that have been developed for the manufacturing industry to ensure effective management of the production processes in a dynamic environment. All these tools help bring order into data, improve collaboration, and increase productivity. This introduction discusses the changes that the PDM solutions bring into the manufacturing systems and reveals how the smart manufacturing solutions benefit from them.

Streamlining Data for Efficiency:

It facilitates the easy flow of information in manufacturing. Visualize it as a digital secretary that systems data into tidiness, so that teams can have quick access to the data and work as a team. This is a time-saving measure that minimizes the chances of mistakes and ensures everyone is on the same path, culminating in better efficiency.

Enhancing Collaboration:

It enables the people on the manufacturing team to easily share information and work with the same information. This teamwork aid improves the ability to communicate well as no one misunderstands and everyone contributes to the process of producing better products.

Reducing Errors:

PDM is a superhero for mistakes related to manufacturing. By ensuring that all information about products is accurate and up-to-date, your organization eliminates the possibility of making mistakes with things. This accuracy leads to high-quality products with which the customer can be sure.

Cost-Efficiency in Manufacturing:

A clever saver for manufacturing firms. It enables them to manage the resources effectively, avoid extravagant funding, and run smarter. This financial influx acts as a money-saving partner that ensures the good fortune of the company.

Real-time Monitoring:

It lurks like a watchful sentinel over manufacturing. It offers real-time information on how things are happening, thus, making it easy to correct and resolve any problem immediately. Continuous monitoring ensures that production doesn’t go wrong and problems are solved before they escalate to major ones.

Adapting to Change:

It is like a metformin for manufacturing processes. It adjusts to changes in products or procedural methods quickly enough to ensure that the manufacturing team can shift gears when required. This flexibility is in itself an opportunity for companies to remain adaptable in an environment that is continuously changing.

Ensuring Data Security:

The most reliable guard of manufacturing secrets. It makes sure only the right people have access to and can change confidential data. This guarding ensures that sensitive information is kept away from prying eyes and that companies’ secrets remain just that, secret.

Case Studies:

The success storyteller in the context of manufacturing firms. It highlights various real-world cases that demonstrate how the adoption of PDM improved production. These stories depict the tremendous benefits of PDM, which helps people to apply these solutions to achieve success in manufacturing.

Conclusion:

On the path of manufacturing optimization, PDM becomes an essential partner, making the processes more manageable, and efficient in teamwork, and information security. Examples of its success stories show its positive effects. The inclusion of innovative approaches such as Diagsense only accelerates the move toward the future of smart manufacturing solutions, which transforms industries and enables more efficient and agile production.

[pdm-solutions]

Why Predictive Maintenance Is the Key to Future-Proofing Your Operations

The capacity to foresee and avoid equipment breakdowns is not just a competitive advantage but also a need in today's fast-paced industrial scene. PdM solutions are becoming a vital tactic for businesses looking to ensure their operations are future-proof. Businesses may anticipate equipment failure and take preventative measures to minimize costly downtime, prolong equipment life, and maximize operational efficiency by utilizing cutting-edge technology and data analytics.

The Evolution of Maintenance Strategies

Conventional maintenance approaches have generally been either proactive or reactive. Reactive maintenance, sometimes known as "run-to-failure," is the practice of repairing equipment after it malfunctions, which can result in unplanned downtime and possible safety hazards. Contrarily, preventive maintenance plans routine maintenance activities independent of the equipment's state, which occasionally leads to needless effort and additional expenses.

By utilizing real-time data and sophisticated algorithms to anticipate equipment breakdowns before they occur, predictive maintenance provides a more sophisticated method. This approach optimizes resources and lowers total maintenance costs by preventing downtime and ensuring that maintenance is only done when necessary.

How Predictive Maintenance Works

Big data analytics, machine learning, and the Internet of Things (IoT) are some of the technologies that are essential to predictive maintenance. Large volumes of data, such as temperature, vibration, pressure, and other performance indicators, are gathered by IoT devices from equipment. After that, machine learning algorithms are used to examine this data to find trends and anticipate future problems.

Benefits of Predictive Maintenance:

Decreased Downtime: Reducing unscheduled downtime is one of predictive maintenance's most important benefits. Businesses can minimize operational disturbance by scheduling maintenance during off-peak hours by anticipating when equipment is likely to break.

Cost savings: By lowering the expenses of emergency repairs and equipment replacements, predictive maintenance helps save money. It also cuts labor expenses by avoiding unneeded maintenance operations.

Increased Equipment Life: Businesses may minimize the frequency of replacements and prolong the life of their gear by routinely checking the operation of their equipment and performing maintenance only when necessary.

Increased Safety: By averting major equipment breakdowns that can endanger employees, predictive maintenance can also increase workplace safety.

Optimal Resource Allocation: Businesses may maximize their use of resources, including manpower and spare parts, by concentrating maintenance efforts on machinery that requires them.

Predictive Maintenance's Future

Predictive maintenance is becoming more widely available and reasonably priced for businesses of all sizes as technology develops. Predictive models will be further improved by the combination of artificial intelligence (AI) and machine learning, increasing their accuracy and dependability.

Predictive maintenance will likely become a more autonomous process in the future, with AI-driven systems scheduling and carrying out maintenance chores in addition to predicting faults. Businesses will be able to function with never-before-seen dependability and efficiency because of this degree of automation.

Conclusion:

PdM Solutions has evolved from an abstract concept to a workable solution that is revolutionizing the way companies run their operations. Businesses may future-proof their operations by using predictive maintenance, which will help them stay ahead of any problems, cut expenses, and keep a competitive advantage in the market. Those who embrace predictive maintenance will be well-positioned to prosper in the future as the industrial landscape continues to change.

[derinthescarletpescatarian]

what’s the story about the generative power model and water consumption? /gen

There's this myth going around about generative AI consuming truly ridiculous amount of power and water. You'll see people say shit like "generating one image is like just pouring a whole cup of water out into the Sahara!" and bullshit like that, and it's just... not true. The actual truth is that supercomputers, which do a lot of stuff, use a lot of power, and at one point someone released an estimate of how much power some supercomputers were using and people went "oh, that supercomputer must only do AI! All generative AI uses this much power!" and then just... made shit up re: how making an image sucks up a huge chunk of the power grid or something. Which makes no sense because I'm given to understand that many of these models can run on your home computer. (I don't use them so I don't know the details, but I'm told by users that you can download them and generate images locally.) Using these models uses far less power than, say, online gaming. Or using Tumblr. But nobody ever talks about how evil those things are because of their power generation. I wonder why.

To be clear, I don't like generative AI. I'm sure it's got uses in research and stuff but on the consumer side, every effect I've seen of it is bad. Its implementation in products that I use has always made those products worse. The books it writes and flood the market with are incoherent nonsense at best and dangerous at worst (let's not forget that mushroom foraging guide). It's turned the usability of search engines from "rapidly declining, but still usable if you can get past the ads" into "almost one hundred per cent useless now, actually not worth the effort to de-bullshittify your search results", especially if you're looking for images. It's a tool for doing bullshit that people were already doing much easier and faster, thus massively increasing the amount of bullshit. The only consumer-useful uses I've seen of it as a consumer are niche art projects, usually projects that explore the limits of the tool itself like that one poetry book or the Infinite Art Machine; overall I'd say its impact at the Casual Random Person (me) level has been overwhelmingly negative. Also, the fact that so much AI turns out to be underpaid people in a warehouse in some country with no minimum wage and terrible labour protections is... not great. And the fact that it's often used as an excuse to try to find ways to underpay professionals ("you don't have to write it, just clean up what the AI came up with!") is also not great.

But there are real labour and product quality concerns with generative AI, and there's hysterical bullshit. And the whole "AI is magically destroying the planet via climate change but my four hour twitch streaming sesh isn't" thing is hysterical bullshit. The instant I see somebody make this stupid claim I put them in the same mental bucket as somebody complaining about AI not being "real art" -- a hatemobber hopping on the hype train of a new thing to hate and feel like an enlightened activist about when they haven't bothered to learn a fucking thing about the issue. And I just count my blessings that they fell in with this group instead of becoming a flat earther or something.

[andronicmusicblog]

YouTube's AI Tool for Creators to Use Famous Artists' Voices: A Potential Game-Changer

YouTube is reportedly in talks with record labels to develop an AI tool that would allow creators on the platform to use the voices of famous artists. This could have a major impact on the music industry and on the way that content is created on YouTube.

If the tool is developed, it will allow creators to create new songs, videos, and other content using the voices of their favorite artists. This could open up new creative possibilities and make it easier for creators to produce high-quality content.

However, there are also some potential concerns about the use of AI to create music. One concern is that it could lead to copyright infringement. If creators are able to use the voices of famous artists without their permission, it could violate the artists' intellectual property rights.

Another concern is that it could be used to create deepfakes, which are videos or audio recordings that have been manipulated to make it appear as if someone is saying or doing something that they never actually said or did. Deepfakes can be used for malicious purposes, such as spreading misinformation or damaging someone's reputation.

Here are some additional thoughts on the potential impact of this new tool:

It could democratize music creation. By making it easier for anyone to create music with the voices of famous artists, the tool could open up new opportunities for aspiring musicians and creators.

It could lead to new and innovative forms of music. The tool could be used to create new genres of music that would not be possible without AI. For example, creators could combine the voices of different artists to create unique and unexpected soundscapes.

It could change the way that music is consumed. The tool could make it easier for people to create their own personalized music experiences. For example, people could use the tool to create custom playlists of their favorite songs with their favorite artists singing them.

Overall, the development of this new tool is a significant event that can potentially change the music industry and how content is created on YouTube. It is important to monitor the development of the tool and to ensure that it is used in a responsible and ethical way.

[leak-detection-system-pipelines]

Challenges and Limitations for Leak Detection Software

Technology is continuously changing, and we need to follow the changes to be part of the market. One of these is leak detection software, which companies use for financial gain. While leak detection software provides important advantages and breakthroughs in locating and containing leaks, it is important to be aware of the difficulties and constraints associated with its use. Here are a few typical issues and restrictions with leak detection software:

Let's read it out:

Complexity and Integration

Leak detection software implementation can be difficult and time-consuming on current infrastructure. It could be necessary to have specific knowledge to integrate the program with various sensor technologies, control systems, and data processing platforms.

Costs

The cost of acquiring, implementing, and maintaining high-quality leak detection software can be high. The initial cost may be a major deterrent to adoption for some companies or governments with tight budgets.

Sensor Limitations

The precision and dependability of the sensors have a significant impact on how well the leak detection program works. Different kinds of sensors have certain restrictions, such as their sensitivity to environmental factors or particular kinds of leakage.

False Positives and False Negatives

Systems for finding leaks may produce false alarms (false positives) or not find any leaks at all (false negatives). Unneeded shutdowns and investigations might result from false alarms, while significant damage and safety issues can be brought about by leaks that go unnoticed.

Flexibility in a Variety of Environments

Different sectors and settings have distinctive qualities that might have an impact on how well leak detection software works. The software's capacity to adjust to various conditions and leak scenarios may differ.

Human Expertise and Training

To properly use and comprehend the data produced by leak detection software, operators and maintenance employees must get the necessary training. The system's potential might not be completely realized without adequate training.

Geographical Difficulties

It might be logistically difficult to find leaks in specific areas of large and remote infrastructure networks or pipelines. It may take a long time and be expensive to reach remote places for maintenance and inspection.

Detection Limits and Reaction Time

It's critical to establish proper detection levels to reduce false alarms and guarantee the prompt identification of real breaches. Finding the ideal balance may be difficult.

Compatibility with Legacy Infrastructure

In other instances, outdated infrastructure might not work with cutting-edge leak detection systems, necessitating further improvements or retrofits.

Reliability and System Performance

Software for leak detection must be reliable, especially in crucial applications. Building faith in the system's capabilities requires ensuring that it operates consistently and properly over time.

Conclusion

Although leak detection software significantly improves the ability to locate and stop leaks, it is not without its difficulties and restrictions. When choosing and putting leak detection systems in place, organizations must carefully take these elements into account. The effectiveness of leak detection software may be further enhanced by addressing these issues through continued research, improvements in sensor technology, and increased data analytics capabilities, eventually assisting businesses and municipalities in protecting their assets and the environment.

[bi-writes]

whats wrong with ai?? genuinely curious <3

okay let's break it down. i'm an engineer, so i'm going to come at you from a perspective that may be different than someone else's.

i don't hate ai in every aspect. in theory, there are a lot of instances where, in fact, ai can help us do things a lot better without. here's a few examples:

ai detecting cancer

ai sorting recycling

some practical housekeeping that gemini (google ai) can do

all of the above examples are ways in which ai works with humans to do things in parallel with us. it's not overstepping--it's sorting, using pixels at a micro-level to detect abnormalities that we as humans can not, fixing a list. these are all really small, helpful ways that ai can work with us.

everything else about ai works against us. in general, ai is a huge consumer of natural resources. every prompt that you put into character.ai, chatgpt? this wastes water + energy. it's not free. a machine somewhere in the world has to swallow your prompt, call on a model to feed data into it and process more data, and then has to generate an answer for you all in a relatively short amount of time.

that is crazy expensive. someone is paying for that, and if it isn't you with your own money, it's the strain on the power grid, the water that cools the computers, the A/C that cools the data centers. and you aren't the only person using ai. chatgpt alone gets millions of users every single day, with probably thousands of prompts per second, so multiply your personal consumption by millions, and you can start to see how the picture is becoming overwhelming.

that is energy consumption alone. we haven't even talked about how problematic ai is ethically. there is currently no regulation in the united states about how ai should be developed, deployed, or used.

what does this mean for you?

it means that anything you post online is subject to data mining by an ai model (because why would they need to ask if there's no laws to stop them? wtf does it matter what it means to you to some idiot software engineer in the back room of an office making 3x your salary?). oh, that little fic you posted to wattpad that got a lot of attention? well now it's being used to teach ai how to write. oh, that sketch you made using adobe that you want to sell? adobe didn't tell you that anything you save to the cloud is now subject to being used for their ai models, so now your art is being replicated to generate ai images in photoshop, without crediting you (they have since said they don't do this...but privacy policies were never made to be human-readable, and i can't imagine they are the only company to sneakily try this). oh, your apartment just installed a new system that will use facial recognition to let their residents inside? oh, they didn't train their model with anyone but white people, so now all the black people living in that apartment building can't get into their homes. oh, you want to apply for a new job? the ai model that scans resumes learned from historical data that more men work that role than women (so the model basically thinks men are better than women), so now your resume is getting thrown out because you're a woman.

ai learns from data. and data is flawed. data is human. and as humans, we are racist, homophobic, misogynistic, transphobic, divided. so the ai models we train will learn from this. ai learns from people's creative works--their personal and artistic property. and now it's scrambling them all up to spit out generated images and written works that no one would ever want to read (because it's no longer a labor of love), and they're using that to make money. they're profiting off of people, and there's no one to stop them. they're also using generated images as marketing tools, to trick idiots on facebook, to make it so hard to be media literate that we have to question every single thing we see because now we don't know what's real and what's not.

the problem with ai is that it's doing more harm than good. and we as a society aren't doing our due diligence to understand the unintended consequences of it all. we aren't angry enough. we're too scared of stifling innovation that we're letting it regulate itself (aka letting companies decide), which has never been a good idea. we see it do one cool thing, and somehow that makes up for all the rest of the bullshit?

[electricgg]

Ancient Dreams In A Modern Land

Chapter 2: I Am Not My Body, Not My Mind Or My Brain

Trigger Warnings: Body Dysphoria, Medical Procedures

Heating food is a simple task. Humans have evolved enough through the decades to have invented this precious device called a microwave so that food could heat up faster for consumption. Sure, various studies confirmed that too much radiation on food is not suitable for your health, but people still smoked car batteries while claiming it was good for their anxiety.

Still, Timothy Drake managed to burn his dinner even if Alfred left instructions to leave it for one minute and twenty seconds. 

He could feel the smugness coming from Damian’s spot at the kitchen island, chomping on his food with the refinement of a prince while staring at how Tim scraped his burnt food from the plate into the trash can.

Coffee will do for now. He will not have a meltdown over that diabolical microwave that seems only to burn his food without fail.

“Losing against a machine is beneath you, Drake,” the boy said while glaring at the coffee machine with disgust.

“I'll take it as a divine sign to wait until Alfred comes home. Or I will throw the damn thing out the window.”

Damian scowled. 

‘Leave it to Drake to embarrass the family.’

‘At least it’s on the privacy of the manor. Not like the real embarrassment of the family.’ A cold voice whispered in the back of his mind, making the food in his mouth taste bitter.

It wouldn’t be the first time that she pulled a stunt like that to gather some attention from their father. Damian always kept track of her embarrassing actions (it satisfied him to know that no one could sink lower than the person he supposedly shares blood with), but it would be the first time the police had to be involved. Not even Todd had managed to do that, if we are talking about civilian aspects. 

In his opinion, she needed to stop trying so hard and learn that she would never be on the same level as the rest of them. Too soft. Too weak. Too much of everything and too little of anything. 

There was no way they could be related. Damian refused to be associated with someone who was beneath his intellect, and much less call them his sister. He demanded his father for a blood test after he had lived in the manor for about six months. His father only sighed deeply and denied his request. 

Tt, curse his father’s sensible need to help charity cases.

The chattering from the television transmitted from the room next to the kitchen interrupted his train of thought, chair scraping as he stood up and began washing his dishes.

The main living room of the manor was spacious, a tall ceiling complementing the old-fashioned structure of the dark wallpapered walls and big door windows leading to the backyard field. An L-form black leather couch with a couple of decorative pillows and fluffy blankets folded in the corner was occupied by none other than Cass, who was very focused on the bright screen.

It didn’t take long for Tim to stagger towards the love seat with his cup of steaming black coffee, very proudly showing the ‘#1 Coffee Addict’ engraving on the porcelain. It was a gag gift from Bart, but it was the biggest one he had, so he used it religiously.

Damian stood behind the couch, arms crossed, as the news went on about the recent controversial theme that has been invading every type of communication media. Under any other circumstances, he would have gone down the cave for his late-night training due to not being on patrol. 

But when the item that’s being talked about has been putting even the Justice League on tense negotiations, he’s a bit more inclined to put up with the fake neutral accent from the news reporter just to be more informed.

Mutants.

A bomb that the world is waiting for to blow up.

They’re not old news, but they have been gathering attention in the last few years. Especially in the past three years. 

Mutants have always been a touchy subject. Most of the public confuses them with metahumans due to their similarities, but they couldn’t be any more different. Metas are a recent development compared to mutants. Mutants were born with their ‘gifts’, from physical to mental, while Metas are a result of experimentation or a freak accident that triggered their meta gene. While they share the fact that their powers/mutations manifest under stressful or traumatic situations, mutants have a broad spectrum of possibilities on how their mutation shows up.

Multiple studies have come up with the theory that puberty might be the trigger due to the imbalance of hormones and the unstable emotions that teenagers go through at that age, but it hasn’t been fully backed up because of the high rate of cases of mutations showing up at birth. Too many factors and possibilities exist on how to identify mutants to settle on just one theory.

Which brings the public’s opinion on mutants. 

…People fear. A lot. It’s the basis of survival, the main reason why humans have lived and evolved for centuries. When facing something that qualifies as a threat to themselves, they will respond between their fight or flight instincts. As an evolving species, this has gone from physical needs to a more intellectual field.

Which leads to the public having very violent and strong opinions when it comes to mutants.

So, yeah. A very touchy subject.

“-that brings us to the big question: are mutants able to be controlled, or are we at the mercy of them?” a reporter with way too much blush even for the camera questioned, making Tim snort quietly behind his cup of coffee.

“That’s stupid.”

Damian couldn’t help but agree. And if Cass’s little shuffle was any sign, so did she. It was a very stupid statement.

Can a child with a gun be controlled, or are we at the mercy of them? The news was truly desperate for some pretty faces to get views on their programming.

“With that question in mind, let’s welcome our visitor of the night!” Interrupted a cheery male voice as the screen switched to the other side of the news set. It showed the interview chairs, soft blue chairs occupied by the interviewing reporters on the right side of the screen. On the left side sat the news’ visitor.

He was in a wheelchair, seemingly made of a sturdy material with a thick X formed on the wheels. Blad, thin eyebrows, and a gentle, pleasant expression. Dressed in a brown suit with a dark blue tie. It gave him a very open air, but with a touch of professionalism. He gave a very teacher-like aura. Trustworthy, intelligent, and secure. 

“It is our greatest pleasure to present such an important figure to our interview. We present to you Prof. Charles Francis Xavier. An expert and leading figure in the genetics field, as well as many other scientific fields. It is a great honor to have you here!”

The man chuckled gently at the introduction, dismissively waving his hand over the very flaunting words of the reporter.

“Please, Professor Xavier will suffice. No need for full names here.” His tone was polite and kind, making the atmosphere more soothing after a very bootlicking introduction.

At this point, Damian’s interest was lost. He didn’t need to hear about stuff he already knew about due to all the data and information Drake had engraved into the family’s brain, thanks to Prof. Xavier’s papers on genetics. He could feel Drake’s upcoming debrief on the whole interview during the next meeting, taking notice of how he straightened his back and laser-focused on the TV screen.

As Damian walked away from the living room, the professor’s voice echoed down the halls.

“I’m sure that most people sitting at home are concerned about mutants, but I am here to reassure you that there’s no reason to be so. First, let me explain what the X-Gene is and clarify some assumptions. Shall we?

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

“It worries me, Alfred,” grunted Gordon as he sat down behind his desk. The butler followed the action, sitting on the opposite side with a worried frown on his face.

Gordon was waiting for him at the very entrance of the station, not even letting him go through the ridiculous registration process at the front desk where a very tired secretary sat surrounded by messy papers and four empty cups of coffee at her desk. He didn’t utter a word until they went up the stairs towards his office, dodging sleep-deprived detectives and running cops to do their duties.

“She didn’t seem to even recognize where she was walking or who I was.” Gordon began typing into his computer, sighing once he found the file.

“You mentioned Lady (Y/N) had a head injury,” the butler commented. “How grave is it? Is your doctor competent enough to treat her here?”

The underhanded comment was not missed, but he knew better than to take it personally. Gordon has seen at first hand how Alfred could be a deadly force when it came to the members of the Wayne family. Especially when he prided himself on his medical knowledge.

Even more so when it came to Bruce’s youngest daughter. He remembers very well the day the poor girl’s case came to his desk all those years back.

“Dr. Vidal hasn’t given her report yet, she is still waiting for some blood test results.”

That made Alfred switch his attention.

“I believe I am not familiar with her. What happened to Dr. Ramirez?”

“Old man finally retired two months ago and recommended Vidal for his position.” Gordon snorted.

“She has been here for about two weeks. I was expecting her to quit two days in, but she is quite stubborn. Took hold of the morgue and now only leaves to turn in reports or treat suspects and victims.”

“So nursing background? Perhaps Paramedic training?”

“Worse. Emergency Room back at Gotham General.”

That made Alfred grimace internally. He has way too many horror stories dating back to when Thomas Wayne worked at Gotham’s General Hospital. And ER was hell on Earth, as he recalled the multiple visits due to the young masters’ accidents when they were younger, and he didn’t have the proper resources.

“Try the night shifts. Those were adrenaline-inducing.” A womanly voice caught the older men's attention, making them look back at the office door.

Brown, long hair in a ponytail, and soft brown eyes with a strange glint. Tall and long limbs, her black heels clicking as she walked towards the desk. She wore a white coat, black loose pants, combined with a classy deep emerald green shirt.

But what took Alfred’s attention was her expression as she stared at him directly, even while handing Gordon a cream file with documents.

Her lip’s corner was curled in what could be interpreted as smug. But it didn’t feel like it when her gaze assessed him sharply. When they made eye contact, Alfred felt a freezing sensation at the back of his head and ran all over him.

Like cold nails scraping at his skull, gone the moment she took her eyes off of him.

What an unnerving woman. She fit right in this city without a doubt.

“Test results came back negative, but I wouldn’t discard a bacteria or infection in the following days. Aside from the scraped knees and the head wound, no need for stitches. There were signs of a swollen throat and vocal cords, all from vomiting and choking in the water, but at least the risk of water in her lungs is out of the equation.”  

Gordon nodded, typing the report into his computer. He switched the documents around until he found the one he was looking for.

“And how is she responding? Does she know what happened?”

Dr. Vidal exhaled through her nose, a closed smile indicating there was a lot to unpack there.

“She has motor skills and reacts to questions and answers… but she doesn’t know anything beyond her name and someone named Billy. Claims she has to find him.”

That made Alfred’s stomach twist in a knot. This information wasn’t good at all.

“What exactly ‘she doesn’t know anything’ do you mean by?” the butler snapped in, making Gordon look at him and the doctor pick up the file to hand over to him personally.

“She has basic knowledge and quite a personality. But her mind becomes blank when asked about what her last name is, where she goes to school, what happened before the situation, or where her own house is.”

Gordon hesitates for a few moments, giving Alfred some space before asking in a very slow and careful manner. “Are you implying she has amnesia?”

The Doctor sighed, crossing her arms while sitting on the corner of the cabinet attached to the wall behind the desk and looking between the two men. 

“I believe it’s a bit more than that,” she said in a mindful tone. Alfred felt his heart pounding at his chest, but he didn’t interrupt the woman.

Gordon nodded at her to continue, leaning over to listen to her theory.

“Whatever she hit her head with was with malicious intent. I found a couple of cement residues on her wound, and by the form of the injury, it was thrown at her, or someone took hold of her head and hit her with what I believe could be a brick. Did she fall into the water by accident, or was she pushed in? I don’t know. But I think that someone is out for her, and her mind is blocking it as a trauma response.”

The silence in the office went on for long minutes.

Alfred’s mind ran down with the possibilities. Master Bruce had plenty of enemies, both inside and outside the mask. And it wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to go for one of the children. He even remembered trying to talk his master out of microchipping each one of them while they slept, blaming it on his paranoia taking hold of his common sense.

But what puzzled him was that this was (Y/N). The ‘Embarrassment of The Wayne’.

He hated that title. Loathed it to hell and back.

A girl accidentally falls into a fountain on her very first gala, and the media goes nuts and creates a cruel moniker for a seven-year-old. He curls his fingers tightly around the document file in his hand.

The sobs and calls for her mother still make his nerves boil.

Which leads to why she would be a target.

While it made her feel insecure and the object of many cruel jokes and curious looks, it kept her safe and away from any dirty actions to harm her and Master Bruce.

A cruel price to pay for her safety.

“You mentioned another name.” Gordon’s voice took Alfred’s attention out of his head.

“Billy, wasn’t it?” He repeated the name with a frown. He couldn’t recall anyone with that name.

It took both men off guard at the dark look that came over the doctor, the air turning cold in just a few seconds. But it was gone in the blink of an eye. She cleared her throat and straightened her spine.

“Yeah. It could be someone close to her, maybe even the last person she saw before this happened. There are a lot of possibilities, but her mind latched onto the name like a dog with a bone.” 

He tried to search through all the talks he had had with the young miss in the past few weeks and months.

No one named Billy came up in their conversations. Not a classmate. Not even a friend (She didn’t have any. She always calls them classmates.). All that she does is go to school, practice after school, visit the psych ward, and go back home. That’s it.

Before anyone could say anything else, a knock at the door took their attention. Gordon permitted them to enter. A young officer opened the door, his face filled with hesitation.

“Sir, we have an issue in the showers.”

Gordon mutters under his breath while taking off his glasses and rubbing his tired eyes. “What is it now, Perez?”

“Um, it’s the Wayne girl.”

That got everyone standing up, with Dr. Vidal already running out the door towards the showers at the back of the station. The three men were also going a step after her, with Alfred almost catching up to her.

“What the hell happened?” Gordon questioned the poor, nervous guy.

“She broke all the mirrors, sir…”

“What?!”

➳➳➳➳➳┄┄※┄┄➳➳➳➳➳

Forget riding in a police car with the signal on, taking a hot shower after being in nasty water was the top of best feeling in the world. Fight her on that fact.

The weird doctor was pretty nice. It had been odd at first, being alone with her and the nice police grandpa (he was called Gordon. That’s what she heard the cops call him when they got to the station while he guided her through the halls.). The doctor took care of her head first, putting some stinging spray on the gash to clean any nasty stuff that may have gotten on it. While she continued to check on her body for any other wounds, she asked questions.

Way too many questions. Who knew doctors were this chatty?

When Gordon left to heaven knows where, the doctor seemed to finally relax about the number of questions she threw at her and became quiet.

Which made the ambience awkward.

Which made her start to talk and make it less awkward.

It didn’t work.

Thankfully, the doctor (she grew tired of calling her that so she asked for a name. The woman only looked at her for a bit before saying Rio and go back to write on her file. Such a sociable lady.) didn’t tell her to shut it and just let her talk and talk until she ran out of things to say.

Her skin was vibrating under the still-wet clothes, the uncomfortable sensation making her bounce her legs from her seat on the medical cushioned table. Her fingers were wringing at the white paper beneath her, the crinkling sound breaking goosebumps into her skin.

Then, more personal questions started. But this time, Rio was looking directly at her.

From her full name to where she lived. Even the last thing she remembered before waking up in the nasty pool. It was quite an eye-opening experience, and it left her feeling lost.

Do you know your last name? How old are you? Um, odd. She can’t recall.

What day is your birthday? What does your dad do for a living? …That’s very weird. Birthdays were a funny thing. And her dad was- was a- he was? He was fading, he faded.withthem.he’swiththem.heisgonegonegonegon-

What grade are you in? What is your favorite color?...

Who are your siblings? How many do you have? …justone-

Where is your mother? alivealivealivealivealiVEALIVE-

It was a very tiring experience. Her head was pounding, and she had to close her eyes and lie down for a while. Rio got her some water and pills. Said it was for the headache.

They helped very little. Her fingers continued to tremble around the half-empty plastic cup.

Which was why it was the perfect moment to ask if she could use the showers. Rio blinked at her before rolling her eyes and handing her some sweats and a towel she found in the locker room. 

And that’s how she got her very much needed shower.

As soon as she got inside, she beelined towards the benches and put down the new clothes and stripped out of the nasty, ruined uniform. Then she hauled towards the nearest head shower and stood beneath the hot stream for a while.

Rio told her that while the bandage on her head was waterproof, she would have switch it for a new one after she finished. So she didn’t mind wetting her head.

Throughout the whole thing, her hair hadn’t exactly come to her mind. It wasn’t a priority.

Her fingers got stuck in a few knots that would be hard to get rid of without a brush at hand, so she just tried to get out as much of the moldy smell emitting from her with a bar of soap and a small shampoo bottle that Rio got her. It was a bit hard but not impossible, the scent of pomegranate and rosemary soothing and washing away the nasty gunk of her hair.

She hadn’t realized that she was calm enough to close her eyes and enjoy being clean after all of that fiasco.

A new plan had to be made. Not having a single clue of where she was and only her name and Billy’s was not working in her favor. After this, she had no idea where she could go or turn to. She needed guidance, someone to turn to and tell her what-

This is not her hair.

All of her thoughts came to a full stop. She had looked down to take the strands of hair that got tangled on her fingers. Just a simple action. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But the strands were wrong. It wasn’t her hair.

Black, long strands of hair were going between her fingers. They were forming different shapes and lines on her skin, which led to another thought.

This is not her skin. Those are not her fingers.

The water suddenly felt too heavy on her. She switched it off and ran off, almost slipping on the floor until she reached her towel and wrapped it around her.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These were not her fingers.

She gripped the towel, her gaze still focused on the hair strands on her hands. A ringing sound started to sound around her ears—a very far-off sound.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These are not her fingers.

She lifted the hand closer, looking at the black hairs while a shuddering breath left her lips. The ringing grew closer and louder. Goosebumps broke out on the skin, and her stomach fell down in a very uncomfortable sensation.

This is not her hair. This is not her skin. These are not her fingers.

One strand of hair was rubbed between the fingertips. Tiny water drops dripped down from it, revealing the natural pattern of the hair. Pin straight. The ringing was just by her ear, not registering any other noise. Her chest was heaving rapidly, heart at her throat, and a cold sweat was going down her spine.

Not her hair. Not her skin. Not her fingers.

…What else wasn’t hers?

A mirror. She needed a mirror. Right now.

Her head moved around in circles, the ends of the wet hair wiping against her back and making a sick feeling go through her body. She took a few steps backward, looking for any type of thing that had a reflection on it.

It felt too long. Her hair was never this long. She was sure of it.

‘There! Corner!’ her mind supplied when a glint of light caught her attention by the corner of her eye.

At one moment, she was by the benches, clothes folded or thrown on the floor and forgotten. At the next, she was standing right in front of the mirror, body trembling as she finally made eye contact with her reflection.

Not even the noise of lockers slamming open by a gust of fast wind snapped her out of her trance.

The facial structure was sharp. Cheekbones specifically. A very distinctive mole stood on the left side of her face, just above the start of the cheekbone. Skin looked pale, almost translucent due to the lack of sunlight. She could see the blue lines of the veins underneath her skin thanks to the white lights of the bathroom.

She looked sick. Very sick. Her mouth was suddenly very dry, making her swallow hard and feeling all senses of wrongness in her chest to the ends of her fingertips.

This was wrong. She was all wrong.

She took a few shaky steps closer to the mirror. Close enough to have hands against the cold surface. Fingers trembling, making a tapping motion as her gaze wandered around the reflection. 

Straight black hair, some heavy knots visibly sticking out around it. It reached halfway down her back. Water stopped dripping down the ends since she made her way to the mirror. The bandage gauze was still attached to the side of her head, no signs of blood on sight, but the material looked a bit inflated due to being soaked.

And her eyes… she only saw a glimpse of cold grey before she slammed her lids shut. Scrunching them hardly until the only thing she could see was white spots around the darkness.

The tapping increased. It moved the glass beneath her fingers.

It was all wrong. She wasn’t supposed to look like this. That wasn’t her. It couldn’t be. She is supposed to look like Billy. She doesn’t have black hair. She doesn’t have long hair. She is not this pale. She is not sick.

The mirror trembled under her fingers.

She is not this tall. She is supposed to be shorter. She doesn’t have these awkward limbs.  She looks like-

…Who was she supposed to look like?

Her mind supplies images, but they are all missing something. Like a magazine that has stuff cut out or ripped away. She sees a house, but the people are gone. She sees a front yard, but the neighbors are gone. A Halloween party, but nobody is on the streets. A children's room, but the beds are empty.

The mirror shakes under the pressure.

An empty house office. A dog bowl with no food. A messy kitchen with no kids. A dinner set at the table with nobody to eat it. A garden with gardening tools lying around. A red sky is coming closer and closer.

A framed picture with a family whose faces are scratched out.

She screams as the mirror explodes under her tapping fingers. 

The shards flew around the place, but not a single one touched her. Some landed on other mirrors, the impact making them shatter. 

She jumped back and landed sitting on the floor, head and heart pounding, as officers entered the place with all the commotion. Someone tried to grab at her, but she flinched and scrambled back until she made contact with the cold wall.

Her ears were ringing. Vision blurry. All she could see were blobs moving around, some farther and others closer. The voices were muffled. Her knees were brought up to her chest, hugging them tightly. Waiting for whatever was happening to pass.

Time was weird. Everything moved either too fast or too slow. Was this what a panic attack was, or was this something else entirely? Either way, she hated it. Hopefully, she would never have to go through it again.

It was then that Rio’s face came into view. The first person her mind managed to register.

She didn’t touch her. She was talking, but the ringing was still going on strong. Rio began to talk to the other people around the room. It actually looked like yelling, but it wasn’t at her, so she was not going to say anything about it.

Then a warm touch came to her shoulder.

This time, she didn’t flinch. It was weird. Her body leaned against it before she turned her head to the side to see who it was. And why she felt so safe and calm out of the sudden.

An old man. Dressed sharply, like that butler in the sitcom about a nanny. Gray hair and a concerned expression on his face. A classic mustache that brought some tears to her eyes, along with a warm feeling that spread from deep in her chest.

“(Y/N), can you hear me?” his accented voice registered through the fading ringing.

Before he could say anything else, she dove into his arms, forgetting that she was only covered by a towel. Sobs and tears stained his clothes. But before any apologies could come out, the man wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as he talked to her soothingly. Caressing her head while she continued to cry.

A whisper went on the back of her mind. It was quick and gone in an instant. But she still heard it.

‘Alfred. Safe. Trust him. Only him. Not the family.’

‘Never the family’

“Alfred,” she whispered out loud. The man, Alfred, sighed in relief at hearing her respond.

“It’s alright. You can rest now, my dear. I’ll take care of it.”

She sighed shakily at his words. Eyes slid close. Not to sleep, just calm down for a bit. There was no way she could sleep with all that had transpired in the past few hours.

But I have someone now. I’m not as alone as I thought.

And that was enough for now.

Author's Note: This chapter was a beast to write. It will probably be the only long chapter for a while. I was even thinking of dividing it in two parts but I decided against it. Next chapter we are finally going to see the dynamic with the Wayne, so excited for it because it will be hilarious. Maximoff is about to enter like a tornado through the manor lol. Let me know what you all think, what theories and your favorite part of this chapter you all liked!! Happy early chapter and sending hugs, GG✨

Tag List:  @bat1212 @kneelforloki @1abi @galaxypurplerose @yhin-gg @cxcilla @momentomoribitch @stargirl404 @initial-ari @welpthisisboring @icefox8155 @bunniotomia @alittlelostmoonchild

Bonus Memes:

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 3 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments on the couch

warnings (TW): mdni, contains mature/suggestive content, swearing, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug use

tags: mature/suggestive content (in act iii), fluff, early relationship described, pining, affection

notes: please note that there is heavily implied/suggestive/mature content in act iii of this posting (after the second break)- if you do not wish to interact with this type of content i swear to you you can completely skip it if you like, i attempt to not tie TOO much significance to the written scene- and if you would prefer that the postings stray away from this kind of content i will attempt to better balance it in the future! i am in no shape or form a very “smutty” writer (mainly bc i have never written it), so i hope the scene isnt like… terrible ya know lol (also i don’t consider it much for “smut”- i am def using said word very loosly). annnnyyywayyys hope you enjoy and as always my dms are open for suggestions in the future and general conversation and encouragement! enjoy!

also to note! I believe the story is best read in order- i put certain dependences on certain words and bring descriptions back to really solidify the importance of certain scenes/interactions ! but completely up to you, lol

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked the up to date masterlist for this series- thank you for reading, hope you enjoy!

word count: 4.5k

| masterlist | part iv |

She had caught him sleeping on the couch in the early heat of June. 

They had a late night on the couch, discussing Ford’s margin notes and rewatching The Price is Wrong. Stan had a certain affinity for price matching, and she was more than a little stunned to learn of it the first couple of months they resided in the shack together. 

She just didn’t expect this 30-year-old man to know the price of most common household appliances. 

After his divulgence last month, in which he had confided a little bit of his background in sales, she began to piece together that although Stan considered himself a conman in every way but words, she considered it pure brilliance. 

So she quickly got used to late-night T.V. shows, as they discussed next steps back and forth, with Stan interrupting conversations to yell out extremely accurate prices at the small box T.V. in front of the couch. It had grown on her, actually, and had turned rather… endearing. 

If not also incredibly hilarious, as he was so passionate about his own accuracy he usually forgot his volume, and sometimes took to ranting at her. 

“Hun! Hun! This is a load of malarkey I tell ya! That vacuum price is way too high! It don’t even come with added nozzle attachments!” 

She would laugh, and he would revel in making her do so. 

They had concluded the night in a similar fashion, and she had stumbled up to her bedroom. The first one on the right from the stairs. But he had lingered in the living room, muttering about tidying up some soda cans and taking the trash out quickly. 

She had shrugged it off, giving her goodnight, and made her way up the stairs. She had fallen asleep so quickly, she hadn’t heard the usual meandering steps of Stan as he made for his own room across the hall from her. 

She almost never woke up before him, another thing that surprised her. She figured he was the type to doze in and out in the early morning, but he seemed to be quick to rise and even quicker to make a pot of coffee, usually stumbling down the stairs thirty minutes before she could manage to roll out of bed. 

So she thought it odd to look down the stairs and not see the usual kitchen light on, and the usual grumble of the shitty coffee machine either. 

She found him snoring on his back, the throw blanket she had brought with her half on half off him. It had grown a little muggy in the shack, due to the distinct lack of central air, but Stan’s solution seemed to be very simple. 

Just wear less clothes. 

Something that wouldn’t disturb her in the slightest, if it were not for, well… Stan. 

She was a scientist, a usual logical thinker, and only slightly prude (due to her upbringing), but she was no idiot, and she knew the man she was cohabitating with was attractive. 

I mean, he was also funny- made her laugh more times than she could count. He was oddly sincere for his age and even more oddly protective. He was flippantly affectionate and even more flippantly kind to her. 

And he was also shirtless. 

Something she takes note of instantly, instinctually. Whipping her head to make for the kitchen, and trying to forget the curve of his broad shoulders and the slight swell of his stomach. The smattering of dark hair on his chest all the way down to the crisp edge of the boxers she had folded two days ago. 

Coffee, coffee coffee! 

She didn’t make as good of a cup as he did, she had never had to before. Something he scoffed at, but quickly took to doing himself. He made it every morning, now. Always up before her, with her mug waiting for her by her worn kitchen chair. 

She turned to the stove instead, moving pans and turning on the burner. She’d make breakfast for them instead of her shitty burnt coffee special. Pulling eggs and bacon out of the small fridge she went to work. 

The smell woke him up, and she noted his groggy fumbling to redress himself. Glancing out the archway from kitchen to living room she watched him pass to the stairs, still shirtless. He takes the stairs two at a time, back up to his room to retrieve new clothes she presumed. 

He returns in minutes, in typical fashion it took him not too long to get ready in the morning. 

He walks in, still stretching, with hair muddled from sleep. A pair of work jeans that had seen a lot of love in the past month, and a shirt that was quickly growing too tight around his arms and shoulders. She decided to ignore that sliver of stomach that peaked out when he raised his arms a little too high, otherwise, the bacon would burn. 

He made his way to the coffee machine, beginning the usual morning routine as it spurred to life. Moving to the sink he began washing their shared mugs. 

Breakfast was always a little quiet like they both couldn’t be bothered to open their mouths beyond sating their appetite. They still moved the same, instinctually and without words. Falling into their unassigned assigned seats, Stan moving to grab her feet and drag them across his lap, while she moved the salt and pepper between them both. She always reached across to his plate, grabbing his toast to butter first and then moving to her own. 

She had decided to interrupt their usual silence this morning, looking across to Stan as he fumbled with the morning paper. He always went straight to the comics in the morning, hoping to pick up on a joke to read to her that day, hoping to make her laugh first before anything else in the morning. 

But she had thrown a wrench in his usual plan (that she still hadn’t picked up on yet). 

“Why were you on the couch?” She asked, biting around her toast. 

“It’s cooler down here hun.” 

“I know heat rises Stan, but the sun rises on my side of the house in the morning. It ain’t that hot upstairs yet. Is there something wrong with your bed?” 

When first rearranging rooms he had resolved to take Stanford's old one. He didn’t want her to have to live in the shell his brother had left behind. His more intimate nick-nacks and sticky notes had been scattered around what is now Stan’s room. Along with his random mismatched socks and sweater vests, and his cologne. And he didn’t want to think about having her live around the last remnants of Stanford, because she got this weird look in her eyes already when she retraced his brother's writings and he couldn’t stand it. He had lived with Stanford for eighteen years, and sometimes entering the room was at least therapeutic. 

Except Stanford always had a weird affinity for sleeping on the ground. 

It’s the main reason Stanley even had the top bunk during their preteen years to begin with, because Stanford would find himself stiff on the floor most mornings. His brother had a tendency to doze away on any hard surface he could rest his head on, starting at his desk most nights, moving to his bed, but usually rolling off it in favor of the floor. Stanford was… not one for restful sleep. And his hard ass mattress showed it. 

“Ya.” Stan muttered behind the newspaper. “‘Ford trying to fuck my back up from another dimension.” 

“You can have my bed?” She offered up her own mattress, one she had splurged on with her own money. He still remembers her playing Goldilocks that day at the flash mattress sale she had circled in the classifieds the week before. 

He shook his head at the memory, them both laying side by side on each bed as she had discussed odds and ends. She had argued that she needed approximately 5 minutes on each mattress to sink into each, and that she couldn’t be intrinsically thinking about her comfort when doing so. So she had him lay beside her and talk to her, as she flipped from her back to her side testing out her comfort and considered the gravelness of his voice. Until she had landed on the right bed, the tenth one, declaring it her perfect match as she looked over at him beside her. 

“Nah, I can’t take your perfect match, hun, your one true love.” He joked, folding up the newspaper with the comics up, setting it aside in favor of looking at her. “Besides my bed is fine for now. I just… sometimes I like being close to the door.” 

She hummed. “I can rearrange the living room today? Do you want to move your bed downstairs?” She hadn’t even questioned it, still searching for something to sate his comfort. 

He laughed at this, he would never let her rearrange things without him and she knew it. He had hovered something harsh those first three months, moving around most things for her as she pointed from object to object. 

“No, no.” He shook his head. “I just, I ain’t used to sleeping in a room without a straight way out of it yet.” He admits, munching on his bacon, shrugging like he was discussing the weather. “So sometimes I just, sleep on the couch. No big deal.” 

She sits back in her seat, shock marring her face. He had spent so long hopping from place to place she had forgotten he hadn’t had a place to call home in a decade- besides his car. Something that may have four walls, but had no heart. 

Hotels, to cars, to floors of shelters, he had slept in questionable places for far too long, and in some cases Stanford’s room sometimes felt like a new prison, or at least reminded him of a certain Colombian one. Except this one contained taunting memories and a stupid amount of sweaters. 

It hurt more, to open his door to find hers closed, for some reason. He didn’t like the thought of her trapped either, nestled in a part of the house he couldn’t get to. But he didn’t know how to voice this to her without sounding mad in a way. Or obsessive maybe. 

She digs her toes into the junction of his ribs, grabbing his attention. She’s smiling across from him, and standing before he can ask why. Grabbing his hand, she pulls him up the stairs to their own parallel doors, not even hesitating to walk through the door Stanford used to call his own. 

She’s muttering under her breath as he stands in the doorway, landlocked by witnessing her in this exact space for some reason. She moves to the window, opening it all the way and fumbling with the screen. She gets it off and makes to climb out the window before he can protest. 

“If you want a way out, you got it right here!” She grunts, footing her way through to the shingled roof, his protests falling on deaf ears. 

“Get the fuck back in here!” He leans out, making to grab her. “Ain’t no way this shack's roof is any good!” 

She prances around, slightly mocking him by moving away from his waving arm. “Stan! It’s fine!” She laughs, the sun shining on her figure. Suddenly serious she stops, hands on her hips. “Seriously, if you need a way out, keep the window open, okay?” 

She crawls back through the window a moment later, using Stan’s hand as a weight as she balances back on the wooden floor. 

Still serious, she continues, “Stan if you need to keep the window open, you can keep the door open also if you feel like it.” 

She smiles like she has a brilliant idea, moving across the hall she opens her own room to display her own mess of things. “I can keep mine open also if it helps.” 

How the fuck had she read his mind? He was continually dumbfounded by her unquantifiable amounts of patience she had for him. Like it was a reserve she tapped into, to specifically deal with all his dumb bullshit. He would let it pile in the back of his head, but she’d reach back in and shake him awake, present him with a solution, and he forgets himself in his need to question “why?”. 

He had taken too long to respond, and she stands in the hall, hands wringing her too large t-shirt and looking surprisingly bashful. “Is this okay?” She asks, is this what you need? Vying for his approval as she continues. “Because really I don’t mind you sleeping on the couch, I really don’t, you can keep doing it if you like! Really! I just… I just…” 

Unspoken between them, he already knew. She meant well, she meant the best actually. She wanted him to be comfortable, here, with her. Wanted him to stop moving from place to place in the house because no where felt right because it all felt like a trap. Wanted him to know the four walls they shared could never be a prison, and that she didn’t want him to hop around anymore searching and clawing his way out of it. To not have to Goldilocks around the house, because across the hall from her had to be just right. 

And it was. Because she had read his mind as usual, and he was almost tired of being absolutely astounded by it. 

He nodded, smiling across from her, his confirmation in the squeeze he gave her hand as he reached for her again, and in the ruffling of her hair he gave her as he slipped from the house later. Making his way outside to his work, somehow lighter than usual.

They ended up on the couch most weekends, or at least most Saturday nights. 

She had insisted, against his better nature, that it was not appropriate to drink yourself into a stupor on a weekday. So he had gotten used to the shared moments on the weekend, routinely looking forward to shitty VHS movies and even shittier boxed wine and beer. 

She laughed at fucking everything when she was drunk. He almost wondered if she had ever been high, or if she even needed to be. He might as well be a stand up comedian most weekends, because if he thought he had a great audience Monday through Friday, well he had an even more endearing one on the weekends. 

It was a hot July night, and she had scoffed at his light beer that resided in the back of the fridge. Tisking at him as she danced around the kitchen, pouring sweet red wine into mugs (their only cups), and shooing him back to the couch. Only wine in the summer, only wine when it was this hot.

And it was hot, and humid, unsurprising for Oregon really. So hot in fact, that she had decided pjs were appropriate attire for the night, luckily for him. So he shed his jeans in favor of loose boxers and a well worn shirt. Unluckily for him, she had decided upon much the same wardrobe, which was odd for her and only uncomfortable for sober him. 

But he wasn’t sober anymore, and he had to admit she was rather enchanting hunched over on the couch, laughing at his shitty jokes with one of his old band t-shirts on, shorts that she made no indication of even owning, bagging up around the tops of her thighs. 

He had been intoxicated on numerous amounts of things, nothing, of course, too hard or addictive per say, but it’d be the first time he was this drunk on wine. 

And it was… different. 

He had scoffed at the movie she chose originally tonight. She always chose the second movie, and he chose the first. They had a habit of in depth discussing during films, especially when more intoxicated. 

But he had never been so incredibly invested in a romantic comedy in his entire life, he blamed his company and the alcohol. 

“I can’t believe that he thinks he stands a chance with the likes of her! She’s sacrificed so much! Her jobs on the line here and he won’t even consider marrying her for a green card!” He yelled, just about jumping at the screen. This man in the movie was ridiculous, demanding things from his assistant and throwing her away the next. 

She ran back into the room, mugs full with their next round. She had become the bartender tonight, waiting on him and grabbing snacks when he’d ask in exchange for rubbing her aching shoulders. 

“What did I miss!” She rushed back, handing him his mug and taking her seat back in front of him on the floor, her throw blanket being used as a cushion. 

He takes a sip, setting the mug aside her own on the floor and moving back to place his hands on her tense shoulders. 

“She’s being kicked out of the country right in front of her boss and he ain’t gonna do anything about it! She basically does everything for this man, why doesn’t he see he needs her?” 

She groans below him, her head rocking back as she takes her own drink. “Are we gonna discuss the intricates of them having a relationship though? I love marriage of convenience, don’t get me wrong, but that’s her boss! Isn’t there a weird power dynamic here?” 

“Oh ya!” He agrees, nodding along as his fingers began to dig into her muscles. “We gotta talk about that because if this gets creepy we gotta pick out a different one. He’s already pissing me off!” 

She looks up at him, eyes glowing with an idea. Enchanted, she moves away from him, crawling to the cabinet beside the T.V., and he really swears that he tries to look away. But he also reasons that it’ll be a while before he gets the chance to see her in shorts again. And fuck. 

She turns back, a new VHS in hand. “This!” She exclaims. “Now this is my favorite rom-com!” 

A shitty picture is well worn on the front of the movie sleeve, a VHS he doesn’t recognize from the donation bin sitting in her hands. She must have brought it with her, and she must have had it for a while. 

She crawls forward, movie in hand and a bright, flushed smile on her face. 

“Please, please, please Stanley! This one!” She all but yelled as she leaned up into him. His legs had already been parted to accommodate her sitting in front of him, but now were warm with her torso between them, as she crawled into his lap, movie still in hand and smile still on her face. She leaned up onto his chest, a fake pout on her lips as she looked up at him. 

He forgot himself for a minute, excusing her silently for calling him Stanley in her drunken plee. His hand finding her waist as he answered. 

“Okay, okay!” He snorted. “Better be a better love interest because this guy sucks.” 

He missed her as soon as she left, but his heart still felt something sick when she yelled victoriously on the ground, hand raised in celebration, movie clutched to her chest. Rolling from her current position to the VHS player and popping out the current horrendous movie. All the while she giggled, and he followed in much the same manner. Laughing while running his hand through his hair, trying to soothe himself to forget her warmth. 

She crawled back to him (fuck) settling back into his knees from her position on the ground. The title screen flashed, but he was much too busy watching it illuminate her face. Heart sick again when she leaned her head all the way back, hair across his knees and thighs, she smiles up at him, a thank you on her lips. Clutching his mug in her hands, bringing it to her lips for a sip before passing it up to him too. 

And when he carried her to bed that night he wondered when the tight sickness would leave him. He never closed either of their doors. 

It didn’t happen like this, that night. 

Not from what he could remember anyway, but he felt too groggy to care about accuracy and too intoxicated by the image of her to care much for what was right. 

Her hands had continued up his thighs from her place knelt in front of him, his back hot against the living room couch. She had climbed up on top of him, creeping up to sit on his knees and thighs like she had been there before. Her smile turned sweet into something twisted as she leaned in close to his face, the closest she had ever gotten to it. Whispering something between the heat between the two of them, something lost on him, as he tried to lean closer, tried to bridge the gap between their chests, aching to feel her against the very front of him. 

He knew it was different because she had never worn this in front of him before, at least willingly. He had caught her in the middle of the night, stumbling from her open bedroom door to the bathroom down the hall, panties striped and endearing on her ass. He had seen them in the washer, had seen her fold them and tuck them away. And she was in them, sitting on his fucking lap. 

His hands made for her, reaching behind her and dragging her close, his fingers edging the back of the band of her striped panties. 

She gasps like she does when she’s happy for him, always jumping from her position on the couch cheering along with him when he gets a stupid fucking The Price is Wrong answer right. 

And it’s how he imagined it, fuck, how he was currently dreaming of her noises. In bits and pieces he could remember, his brain scrambling to paint an image of her wanting him.  

Her hands edge along the back of his head, running through his long hair, and tracing to the front along his jaw. Mouth open, her fingers glide along the bottom of his lip, teasing. 

She whispers again, closer now. Her chest heaving against his own, her ass waits precariously positioned above right where he dreamt of her being. Right along the space he places her feet every morning, right where he thought she may kill him.

He catches it this time, between them. Her voice wavering like it had that day in the car when she had apologized for calling him him. He thought of begging for it, allowing her to say his name, but she had read his mind like she always fucking managed to do. 

“Please, Stanley.” 

He had surged forward like his own tidal wave, meeting her in the hot space between them. But he could only imagine a kiss with her, dream of it here. 

He imagined it slow, and building. Imagined her hesitation and the pout of her lip between his fucking teeth, imagined her moan when he eventually came back for more. 

Her hands pulled at his fucking hair, the only time she had placed them there to harm, and he groaned as she pulled him forward, meeting again in the middle of the heat they shared there on the couch. She moaned, her hips rushing to his own, making a new heat between them. 

The friction between them was the same as the kiss, slow and building. Grinding herself in the curve of his lap, right where they both needed each other. Every pass slightly faster, every groan from her more imagined, more unreal. 

The pressure felt real though, and her fingers in his hair felt even more so. His head thrown back on the couch, he looked down his nose at her, a groan leaving his throat as she makes a home in his shoulder, as her hips cause waves against his fucking lap. 

Her breath is hot on his neck, something real, and her echoing noises move up his shoulder to his ear and it makes him hotter than he could imagine. Her groans come to a precipice, getting higher in octave and volume and she thinks to fucking bite him there, right on his shoulder. 

The image she makes shakes him, his hands remembering where they are on her ass and hips, as he makes to work them harder, to somehow bring her closer and harder to the crook of his boxers. Her teeth nestle into him, and it makes him groan more, her hot breath and aching moans reverb off his skin back to him. 

It sends him reeling forward, his own head rushing off the back of the couch, groaning in heat, moving in blind passion. His head rests against the top of her own, his big hands digging into the fat of her behind, finger creeping in through the top of her panties. 

“Fuck.” He groans between them. “Fuck, honey.” His hips canting up, her moans echoing again, her teeth unlaching, like she can’t ground herself to him anymore, because all the movement is him now. He’s fucking using her, the pressure hot, and she peels back to look at him, a heat in her eyes he can’t have imagined. He must have seen it before, marring her face. He had, he swears, seen her with this heat in her eyes before.

He was using her. 

It stops just as abruptly as it began, and he wakes to his discomfort. His room is cool despite the morning sun, the curtains by his windows billowing out with September wind. His door wide open, and his hand curled around something that no longer needed relief. 

His other hand, clutching his hair in a fist. The back of his head tender from the pressure, and his fingers heavy from sleep. 

He got up quicker than usual, his heart still pounding oddly in his chest as he attempted to catch a breath he didn’t remember losing. On his way out of his room, dresssed for the day, he peaks into her parallel room, her door wide open like it was every day now. 

He groans low, she’s wearing the fucking stripes. 

He tries not to think about it the rest of the day, tries not to be disgusted with himself, but his chest aches something odd and his stride is somehow uneven for the rest of the day. His heart carries something sickly when he sees her that day, and she pretends it doesn’t hurt he’s oddly quiet that day, or that he doesn’t read her the morning comics like usual. 

She thinks it has something to do with how flushed he is, when she catches his staring that evening, as they sit beside each other on the couch, T.V. echoing in the background.

[27spoons]

CRUSH | ACT ONE: HOW CAN I MAKE IT OK?

pairing: natalie scatorccio/fem!reader

summary: A frustrating vending machine and a stolen BuzzBall draw you further into Natalie Scatorccio’s chaotic orbit.

wc: 5180

warnings: (TWO) uses of y/n im SORRY IT WONT HAPPEN AGAIN, reader is a bumbling idiot again whoops, petty theft, brief!reader alcohol consumption, slut-shaming(?)

a/n: am i allowed to say that this photo of sophie just does things to me or nah

ao3 / masterlist

PREVIOUS - ACT ONE: CIGARETTE DAYDREAMS

NEXT - ACT ONE: DO I WANNA KNOW?

The following week seems to drag on like any other, and, much to your surprise, your parents didn't question your absence from AP Chem that afternoon you ditched with Natalie. That had you wondering, could you do it again and get away with it? You've spent the majority of your life building us this carefully crafted persona—one that not a single person would guess would ever act out. If you did it again, would anyone raise an eyebrow at you? Would people believe whatever lie you fed them? That you were sick, had a headache, car troubles?

Either way, the thoughts linger. But you don't see Natalie again until the end of the week, loitering near the vending machines between classes, throwing her hands in the air in frustration and kicking one of them. "God fucking—!" She groans and kicks the machine again before turning around and leaning back against it. "Stupid fucking piece of shit vending machine…"

You hesitate, standing a good few feet away from her as she mutters something under her breath and slams her fist against the vending machine's glass. She looks just about ready to rip the machine apart. 

You hesitate, the door to the parking lot just a few steps away. Maybe you should keep walking, let her deal with the vending machine on her own. But then her eyes catch yours, and it’s already too late to slip away unnoticed.

“You just gonna stand there, or are you gonna help me?” she calls out, a teasing edge to her voice. She gestures dramatically to the machine, like it owes her something. Which, in a way, it does.

You step closer to her and the offending vending machine, "What happened?" "What happened?" Natalie scoffs, "What happened is this piece of shit—" She kicks the vending machine again, "vending machine stole my cash and didn't even spit out my fucking M&M's." She glances around, eyes landing on a fire extinguisher, eyes lighting up like she just got an idea.

"Nope!" You say immediately, fishing some loose change from your pocket, "Just… here. How much is it? Two dollars?" You place down a handful of quarters and dimes into her hand. "Just punch in for another one. Please don't break the machine." You glance around as if someone's watching the interaction, but the halls are empty.

Natalie stops and looks down at the change you've given her, back at you, the change, you, the change, then shrugs and slots the coins into the machine. "Fuckin' rich people…" Which seems to be her way of saying, "Thank you for not letting me break the vending machine because the last thing I need is another suspension," but what do you know?

You watch her stuck M&M's fall to the vending area alongside the bag behind it, meeting again at the bottom of the machine. "Fuck yeah." Natalie grins as she sticks her hand in, pulling out two bags of M&Ms. 

Naturally, you assume that Natalie will give you one of the bags.

Naturally, you're proven wrong as she stuffs one of the bags into her pocket, ripping the other open and dumping them right into her mouth. "Mmfanks, princess." She grins as she chews, and for a moment, you wonder if she's ever learned not to talk with her mouth full, but you quickly get your answer when she keeps talking. "Y'should be in class." 

You glance around, and that's when you realise why the halls are so empty. The bell rang a good five minutes ago. "Damn." You murmur, quickly stepping back and glancing toward your next class, when you hear a noise of disapproval coming from behind you.

"Where y'going?" She says, mouth no longer full of M&Ms. "You should just skip the rest of that day. Already running a little late, what's just… not going?" She shrugs.

You make your own noise of disapproval, "No, I… I would be skipping another chemistry class with Mr. Carr." You fidget, glancing between the direction of your class and Natalie.

"Okay…" She drawls, "Did he care last time?" 

"Uhm…" You shift awkwardly, staring at the floor now, "no…"

She hums, popping a single candy into her mouth, "Did your parents?"

You don't answer that—because the answer was also a no. You gave some excuse to your parents about not feeling well that block, and they believed you. And you're pretty sure you could just get the notes from today's class from that guy that sits across from you…

"Exactly." Natalie's voice cuts through the quiet, "You don't have any reason not to! No one gave a fuck. And you're, like, smart." She gestures at you, "I'm sure you can handle missing one class without your GPA dropping or whatever."

You open your mouth to retort, then click your tongue and cross your arms, a pout on your face. Usually, you could probably find some retort to that. But… maybe a part of you has already made your mind up for you.

"I… really shouldn't…" You murmur, trying to convince yourself that you should go to class.

"Yeah, you should." She rolls her eyes, tossing another M&M into her mouth, "Come on. Live a little. You keep letting this…" She gestures to nothing, "Fear control you; you're never actually gonna live!" Natalie laughs to herself, "Dude. Princess. Come on. What's one class? At the end of the day?"

You're about ninety percent sure she used that logic last time.

That being said, you've never been that good at putting your foot down before.

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose, "Dammit." With a resigned shake of your head, you look up at Natalie, who has a smug grin on her face as if she already knew your answer. "Fine."

"Mm, try not to sound so excited, yeah?" She pops another chocolate into her mouth and starts walking to the exit, clearly expecting you to follow. 

"Do you ever wait for people?" You whisper-yell as you walk after her, taking quick strides to catch up. 

"Nope." She pops the p, "If you wanna come, you'll come. If you don't, you won't." She shrugs and actually offers you the bag of M&Ms. "Want one?"

"Oh, uh, sure." You stick your hand out and she dumps a few chocolates into her hand before she throws the doors to the school open and walks out into the open air, taking an exaggerated inhale.

"Ahhh, air. See, this is what you miss when you stay cooped up in school all day, Princess." She grins smugly to herself, tossing the candy wrapper in a garbage can as the two of you walk. "Fresh air and the smell of cigarettes." And, before you can say something about not being able to smell cigarettes, she fishes a pack of smokes out of her pockets, placing one between her teeth and bringing a lighter to the end.

"Do you ever not smoke?" You ask, more to yourself than her, and (affectionately) roll your eyes. "Nope." She pops the p again, "Always got a cancer stick in my mouth." She grins to herself as if she's proud of herself for that fact. 

"But it's a nasty habit." She adds, after a beat of silence, "I don't even remember when I stopped smoking for "fun" and started smoking because I had to." An exhausted sigh leaves her, and she wipes the nonexistent sweat on her brow with her thumb. 

Silence follows after she shares that piece of information—as if it's the first time she's admitted that out loud. An unreadable expression crosses her features, although you're sure you can detect her underlying unease with admitting that.

"Where are we going this time?" You clear your throat, trying to ease the sudden tension that appeared. "Back to the skatepark?" Nat shakes her head as she ashes the cigarette, "Nah. I need a Redbull or something. Got shit I need to do tonight, and I might as well have been hit by a train. Fuckin' exhausted."  You glance at her as she says that, looking for signs of exhaustion, but find nothing visible. Maybe it's the fact she looks like a raccoon, the bravado she carries, or just… her, but she seems fine. Maybe she just hides it well.

"Honoured to, uh, join you on this very meaningful adventure." You say sarcastically, which earns a snort from Natalie.

"God, you're such a dork. It's cute." You find yourself flushing at the compliment despite yourself, finding yourself extra embarrassed for reacting like that, especially considering that she said it sarcastically, but you can't help yourself. "Yeah, whatever." You mumble, which earns a snort from Natalie. 

"An embarrassed dork." She remarks without even looking at you, a low chuckle falling from her lips. "Now that's cute."

Oh, God. Your cheeks feel like they're on fire. Simple compliments shouldn't be getting to you the way they are, and she seems to know and bask in this fact. She lets a shit-eating smirk don her face, but you're lucky enough she chooses not to embarrass you further.

"Hey," Natalie speaks up after the two of you walk in silence for a few blocks, "Y'know, thinking about it, I don't think I ever got your name." She glances at you, "Mind spilling a secret to me?"

"Oh, uh, yeah. It's y/n." "Hmm." Natalie hums, "Right, right. That is… y/n is a name for sure. A good name! But I think I prefer Princess. Therefore, I will keep calling you that." She says, seeming overly pleased with herself.

"Right." You mumble, wondering why you thought there would be any other outcome to this conversation. "Don't take it personally." She muses, taking a drag from her cigarette, "Princess just suits you." A beat, then she blinks a few times and almost bashfully adds: "In a good way. Obviously. Not in a…" She gestures with her free hand to nothing, which she seems to do a lot. "Not in a "you're an uptight bitch" typa way, alright?" A small crack in the facade, genuine bashfulness from the woman you swore was never anything but sure. But, it's gone as quickly as it appeared as she clears her throat. "Whatever. Just… don't take it personally." She waves her hand dismissively. 

"Thanks." You murmur, a small, excited grin on your face as you walk beside her, feeling like some type of schoolgirl interacting with her crush for the first time at the… almost compliment. 

"Yeah. Whatever." She responds, pointedly avoiding your gaze for the rest of the walk.

…which, in all honesty, isn't that long. Maybe another minute before you're walking into a QuickChek.

The store has seen better days, without question. The floors are all scuffed, the air conditioning is making this weird creaking sound that honestly scares you a little bit, and the clerk looks like they couldn't honestly give a single fuck about anything. A tornado could blow through the shop, and they wouldn't care.

Natalie seems to already know where she's going, walking with a purpose to the far left corner of the store. She walks her fingers across the fridges that line the walls, humming an imaginary tune to herself as she does. She stops at a particular door and swings it open, grabbing herself a RedBull before pausing to look at you, "You getting anything?"

"Oh!" You fumble for a moment, grabbing a water bottle that was in your backpack and waving it briefly, "I'm all good." You take a small sip for effect, but it just earns a slightly confused look from her before she shrugs and closes the fridge.

As the two of you wait in line at the register (the old man in front of you has about thirty lottery tickets he wants checked), you let out a gentle laugh when you see a BuzzBall sitting on the counter.

"Y'know, I've always wondered what they taste like." You nod towards the drink, "Does it live up to the hype?" You muse out loud, "Chili Mango?"

The blonde snorts, "Nah. It's blown way out of proportion." She shakes her head as the guy in front of you two complains about not winning anything on another ticket. "I'm easy for coolers. I'll take…" She gestures to nothing, "A Mike's Hard or Smirnoff Ice. Maybe a Four Loko if I'm feeling interesting. But BuzzBalls…" She shrugs and slides her drink towards the clerk as the lottery ticket guy walks off, "I dunno. Overrated."

"Huh." You consider that piece of information as you look at the offending beverage. 

You don't find much time to consider it until you hear a "Dude, what the fuck?" from Natalie. You glance over at her, and she's glaring daggers into the clerk. "I gave you a five. Where's my change?"

"Nope. You gave me two ones." He shrugs, glancing at his phone, "Must have remembered wrong."

"Dude." She makes a fist with one of her hands in frustration, but it doesn't look like she wants to punch him; instead, she seems like she's just trying to restrain herself. "I get that this job probably pays like shit, but what do you get skimming three dollars off a fuckin'... high schooler?" She makes a slightly confused expression at the "high schooler" comment, as she immediately realises that it's a stupid argument, but it's too late to change it now.

"I didn't take anything from you." He rolls his eyes, "Jesus. Calm down. Just, like, check your pockets, or whatever." He rolls his eyes again, clearly not giving a shit. Natalie, on the other hand, looks pissed. But she knows better than to argue about something like this with a clerk who would probably press the panic button if she tried anything. "Fine." She glares at the clerk a moment longer before her eyes flash to the BuzzBall you were looking at previously, smirks, grabs it from the countertop without fuss, and walks out the door. If the clerk notices, he doesn't say anything. So, you simply just skitter out after Natalie.

She's still walking away, jaw clenched, so it takes you a few seconds to catch back up with her. "Dude, what—"

She stops walking, faces you, presses the drink into your hand, and keeps walking. "There. Now you can try a BuzzBall—since you wanted to." 

"Wait, no, I'm just… what happened in there?"

"The asshole stole my change." She mutters as she cracks the RedBull open. "So I was just getting my money's worth." A large swig from the can, "Like, steal from the rich old guy making you scan hundreds of lottery tickets, and not the chick who has almost her entire outfit thrifted from Good-fucking-Will."

She huffs, then shakes her head, "Whatever. Have a drink. Tell me if it was worth it."

You hesitate, looking between her and the beverage, but eventually sigh. "Dammit…" You crack the tab on the lid and take a long sip. When you lower the container back down, you roll the drink around on your tongue a little bit before frowning. "This is just… okay, I guess."

Natalie laughs. Low and genuine and it makes her eyes crinkle. "Well, yeah, I told you that. Glad you're realising it now, though." She shoots you an easy grin and resumes the path she's taking.

You walk alongside her for a few minutes in relative silence, sipping on the drink while she smokes a cigarette and takes the odd swig from her RedBull, seemingly lost in thought.

After a few more sips of the BuzzBall, you let out a soft laugh. “You really just took it and walked out. That’s… kind of insane.”

Natalie snorts, "Relax, Princess. It's just a BuzzBall. Small potatoes. 's not like I boosted a car or anything." She grins to herself, "Unless, of course, this is your first brush with crime?" She muses in a sing-song voice, "I may succeed in corrupting you yet."

You scoff to hide your blush, "Okay. Whatever. I'm just saying…" You shrug and kick a pebble, "What if he, like, called the cops or something?"

"Cops have better things to do than chase down two high schoolers for a single drink." She snorts, "Trust me. I would know." 

You cock an eyebrow at her, "My bad, forgot you were a delinquent. Of course, you have all the information on how cops in this town act." The tone is teasing, and… wow. You've been surprising yourself a lot lately, haven't you? Teasing like this is… new. Very new. You think you like it.

And, for what it's worth, Natalie seems to like it, too.

"Mm, well, someone has to teach the nerd how to live, yeah?" She takes a swig from the can, "Might as well be the delinquent on first-name basis with the entire police population of Wiskayok." You roll your eyes fondly, "Yeah, no one better to teach me, I suppose."

"Exactly. Who better than the adrenaline junkie?"

"Adrenaline junkie?" You parrot, "I suppose that sense. I'm assuming your driving record is worse than your rap sheet?"

That earns you a laugh from the blonde, "Oh, by far. If I ever got caught, anyway. Listen, Princess, if you're gonna go double the speed limit, you gotta learn how to avoid radar. Plus, no one thinks that the forty-year-old Ford Ranger is goin' that fast. It's all about stealth." A wide grin rests on her face, smug and sure. "I got a lot I could teach you, Princess. 'lot I could sell you on."

"Nancy Reagan has taught me to Just Say No to drugs, thank you very much." You muse with a teasing lilt, "You cannot sell me on that."

"That's the first place your mind goes to? Drugs?" She laughs again, throwing her head back. "And Nancy Reagan? Jesus. How old are you?" You notice her eyes crinkle when she laughs, and the dimple on her cheek is more prominent. A careless sort of happiness that almost makes you envious for some reason.

"Old enough to remember the good ol' days before the youth of America were corrupted by these goddamn liberals…" You say in your best "old person" voice.

Natalie keeps laughing, "Oh my God, you are a fucking loser!" And, despite the words sounding harsh, you can tell she doesn't mean them in a cruel way. It's… affectionate, almost. You'd probably be mildly offended if anyone else had said it like that. But, hey. Maybe you're just too whipped to care right now.

When the laughing settles down, you walk alongside her in relative silence, occasionally glancing her way as she alternates between taking sips from her energy drink and drags from her cigarette.

The two of you continue down the street, the quiet moments between conversations seemingly ten times easier than the previous time you were alone. Natalie doesn’t seem like the type to enjoy the silence, but with her focus on finishing her cigarette and you sipping at the nearly empty BuzzBall, it’s easy to forget how quickly time is passing.

"So," You finally ask, "Have a habit of convincing people to skip classes for convenience store runs and abandoned skatepark trips, or am I just special?"

"You tell me, Princess." She grins at you, "You feel special?"

You roll your eyes, "Am I supposed to feel special, Natalie?"

Natalie glances at you, cigarette perched between her fingers. “You know, you don’t have to call me Natalie. Feels weird coming from you.”

"What, you want me to call you "Princess" now, too?"

"Nah." She laughs, low and warm. "Nat's fine. Save my legal name for my mom or the next cop that wants to book me, yeah?" She finishes with a gentle nudge of her shoulder against yours, "Seriously. No one calls me Natalie."

You raise your hands up in defense, "Alright, alright." You return her laugh, "Then let me ask again, Nat, am I supposed to feel special?"

Nat hums as she considers this, moving her head from side to side in mock thought. "You know what? Yes. I think you should feel special, Princess. Not only do you get to spend time with me, but you also get your own nickname. Pretty cool, huh?" An easy grin slides across her face, "So, yes. Honoured, special, privileged, fortunate… whatever SAT words you wanna use for it. But the answer is yes."

"Alright." You say again, "Then I feel special, Nat."

"Nice." She smiles and nods to herself, taking another swig from her can as she does, "Mission accomplished." That smile slowly slips into something goofier, and for another moment, you see the girl behind the bravado. Sure, maybe you're reading too much into it, but… you're starting to get the idea that she isn't this "untouchable hardass criminal" half the school makes her out to be.

"Wait," You glance around, "You… took us back to school? Thought you wanted to ditch?" Nat shakes her head and gestures to an alleyway between two school buildings, leading you between them.

"We are ditching, and we will remain ditching." She puts the butt of her cigarette into her now empty RedBull can, "I got soccer practice after school. So, yeah, I gotta be here even if I'm ditching class."

"Huh." You lean against one of the walls, "You're really into the whole soccer thing, huh?"

Natalie scoffs, "Yeah, shocker, isn't it? The deadbeat actually cares about something other than drugs."

You frown at that, "That wasn't what I meant. I just…" You sigh, "I meant it in a "tell me more" way, not a "I'm making fun of you" type of way."

"Oh." She seems genuinely surprised that you're curious but nods after a moment's hesitation. "Right. Well, uh. I started playing in middle school." The blonde can't seem to meet your eyes as she speaks, and you swear you can see the faintest touch of red on her cheeks. "Kept playing, I guess. Worked my way up to varsity." She holds her arms open to show off her varsity jacket. "Coach thinks we have a good chance of going to states this year, and states is just one step closer to nationals." 

"Damn. So you've been… you must be really good then, yeah? Are you a starter?" You know jack shit about sports—if you're being honest with yourself. You're just throwing around words you think are relevant to the situation.

Nat nods, a sardonic grin on her face. "Yeah. A starter." She shakes her head and lets out a gentle huff, "Varisty starting winger." A beat of confusion on your part, "Means that it's my job to get the ball to the player who takes the shot, Princess. I'm basically the assist hound. Or, well, that's what Coach wants me to play as, anyway. Keeps saying some shit about how I got "good ball-handling skill" and "the ability to weave through tight spaces" or whatever." She shrugs, acting like that isn't great praise to receive from your coach.

"Wow, so you are really good." You give her an encouraging smile, "That's cool."

"Yeah," Nat grunts, "I guess. Beats doin' nothin'."

"I dunno. I think it is pretty cool. It's one thing to play it casually; another to be good enough to make it to varsity in high school, and another to win nationals." 

"Woah, woah," Nat puts her hands up in defense, "Rewind a little, yeah? We haven't even gone to regionals yet, let alone states." She runs her free hand through her messy hair, "But I appreciate the… unwavering support, or whatever." She glances away again and scuffs her shoes on the pavement, looking uncharacteristically timid.

You get the idea this girl isn't used to receiving praise of any sort.

Interesting.

But, like most cracks in the facade, it's gone before you have time to dwell on it. "That mean I can expect to see you cheering me on in the stands when soccer season starts, Princess?" She asks, taking a step towards you, close but not quite in your personal space. 

"Uh, well, uh, actually, uh, I—" She's not even being particularly seductive. If anything, it just looks like… she's stepping closer to hear you better, or so she doesn't have to be so loud. Yeah. Something like that. "Sure, I, uh, I  just don't know when soccer season starts." You mumble while getting the feeling that your face is gonna be red a lot around her. "So, I'll, uh, I guess, need your schedule or something. Or whatever." You shrug—like the flustered bastard you are.

"Right." Natalie scoffs and fishes her phone out of her pocket, unlocks it and hands it to you, "Throw your number in there, yeah? I'll text you the soccer schedule for this season."

Oh, wow.

If you were a flustered bastard before, you might as well be a complete mess now.

You stare at her phone for a solid five, maybe ten, seconds in silence.

"Right." You grab her phone, and with wide eyes, you create a new contact. 

You return the phone to her, and she immediately sends you a text, "There. You get my message?" You grab your own phone out of your pocket and check to see if you have any new messages, and you do. 

"BuzzBall." You read the message back to her, "Yeah, I got it."

"Cool." Nat grins and shoves her phone into her jacket pocket as she rocks back on her heels, seemingly debating on asking a question.

She never gets the chance to.

"Oh, shit! Look who it is!" One of the two guys walking past the alley you and Nat had ducked into chirp, "The resident burnout! Suck any dick, recently?" A cruel laugh leaves his lips as he nudges his taller friend, "Or, hey, maybe you've been sucking on something else?" He looks at you with a grin. "Find a new bitch to fuck?"

"Nah, this one don't look her type." The taller one chimes in, "She only into the bitches she gets in juvie and older guys, yeah?" They both laugh at that, seemingly finding themselves very funny. 

You had heard the rumours. Of course you had. Who hadn't? But it was one thing to hear a rumour and another to see it yelled at in her face from across an alleyway. When you glance over at Nat to see her reaction, you're… almost shocked to see an expression of hurt on her face. 

The hurt doesn't last long, and you quickly find seething anger taking its place. 

You glance back at the guys as one of them speaks up again, "I mean, hey, if you ever want a dick to suck, mine is available!" The taller guy laughs, nudging his friend. "Come on! The seat in my Beamer goes all the way back!" They both laugh again.

"Nat—" You turn back to look at her and see a deep scowl on her face as she reaches behind her, into her waistband. You really aren't sure what she's about to grab, but you really don't want to know, either. "Woah!" You laugh nervously, "O-okay! Haha! Wow!" 

The guys seem to notice the moment of her hand, and although the taller one seems to falter slightly, the other doesn't care in the slightest. "Oh, come on, Scatorccio! Don't wanna get thrown back in juvie for assault, do you?" He laughs, "Or maybe you do! Find yourself a new girlfriend for the winter!"

Natalie's jaw tightens, and her wrist twitches, clearly debating whether this is worth her time.

"Come on, burnout! You packing heat or something? Let us see it! Is it the same gun you used to rob that corner store last year?" He continues laughing, but the taller one is not having it, discreetly tugging on his friends backpack and mumbling something.

"Natalie." You laugh nervously again, this time reaching out to gently grab her wrist as you see her hand move again, "Come on. It's not worth it." You hesitate a moment, and your awkward smile drops, "Please."

She tenses further at your touch, but the next time you look up at the two guys, you see the taller one clearly trying to leave. At least one of them has some sort of self-preservation instincts. Seemingly realising that they're going, her jaw immediately loses its tension. 

A moment of very tense silence passes between you, your hand still on Natalie's wrist, her hand still reaching for something in her waistband. Luckily (or unluckily), she breaks the silence with a loud, annoyed scoff.

"Christ, relax." She pulls away from you, audibly and visibly upset. "It was a fucking knife, Princess." She pulls out a switchblade and waves it once, "You seriously think I would carry a fucking gun or something on me?"

"I didn't know what you were carrying! Gun, knife, machete, fucking… nunchucks, I don't know! I just didn't wanna see you get into a fight!" You run your hands through your hair nervously, "Especially not with two guys double your size!" "First off," The blonde scoffs, putting the knife away again, "I don't need someone looking out for me, alright? If I choose to fucking get into a fight with two douchebags, that's on me. Second off, why do you even care? Huh? You don't even know me! We have hung out twice!"

"Maybe I'm just a decent person who doesn't want to see people get into fights?!" You counter, growing increasingly confused as to why she's getting mad at you now. "It's not that I agree with anything they said, Natalie! I just…" You throw your hands up in frustration. 

You do care about her, as stupid as it sounds. Despite not knowing her that long, you do care about her safety, and you really don't want to see her get hurt right now.

"I just don't want to see you get hurt, okay?" You say, softer this time. "Okay? I know it really isn't my place; I just… don't want you to get hurt, okay?"

Natalie's bravado seems to falter at that, and you see a flicker of guilt cross her face for a moment before it's gone, and she looks away with a scowl. "Yeah, well… whatever."

There are a very tense few moments of silence before Natalie seemingly can't take it, and she shakes her head with a grunt. "Whatever. I gotta get going. Like I said, shit to do tonight." She tosses the empty RedBull into the nearby trash can and makes to leave, but hesitates for a moment.

Turning her head slightly—but not properly facing you—she offers her parting words. "For the record," she starts, her voice soft, "you really aren't that bad, Princess. I'll make a burnout of you yet." Then she's off again, leaving you alone against the side of the school.

You're pretty sure that's a compliment. That being said, you don't really know with her, but you'll take it as a positive for now. What is it with her and leaving with ambiguous comments? 

Ugh.

When did relationships get so complicated?

a/n: ok MAYBE im taking some slight inspiration from the show... sue me. also... i don't think natalie would be the type of person to just rob random stores n shit. i really think she would only do it if she felt it was justified. shes not a bad person shes just rough around the edges ok 😔✊

...I've never had a buzzball and know nothing about soccer btw

[predicting-energy-consumption]

How Machine Learning Makes Predicting Energy Consumption Easier in Renewable Energy

Renewable energy is amazing because it’s clean, green and a big part of our future. However, it’s not always reliable. The sun doesn’t shine all the time and the wind isn’t always blowing. This makes balancing energy supply and demand tricky. That’s where machine learning (ML) steps in, helping us with predicting energy consumption and making renewable energy systems more efficient. In this blog, we will break this down and see how it works.

What Is Energy Consumption Prediction?

Think of energy consumption prediction as guessing how much energy people will use in the future. This isn’t random guessing, though. It’s based on data—lots of it. Things like weather conditions, how people use energy and even time of day play a role.

Why is this important? Well, if we can predict energy usage, we can plan better. For renewable energy, which is not always steady, this is a game-changer.

How Does Machine Learning Help?

Machine learning is like having a super-smart assistant that learns from data. It can look at tons of information, find patterns and help us make accurate predictions. Here’s how it helps with predicting energy consumption in renewable energy systems:

Crunching Big Data: ML looks at data from everywhere—weather apps, energy meters and even solar panels or wind turbines. It takes all this info and makes sense of it.

Better Predictions: ML models get smarter over time. They learn from past data and adjust their predictions as things change, like seasonal weather shifts or new energy trends.

Real-Time Insights: ML doesn’t just work on old data. It can also make predictions in real-time. For example, if energy demand suddenly spikes, ML helps renewable systems adjust quickly.

Spotting Problems: ML can also catch weird energy patterns, like unexpected spikes or drops. This can signal an issue with equipment, so it’s easier to fix things before they get worse.

Real-Life Examples

Let’s make this more relatable:

Solar Energy: ML can predict how much power solar panels will produce based on weather forecasts. If it’s cloudy, the system knows to save energy for later.

Wind Energy: By analyzing wind patterns, ML can estimate how much energy turbines will generate.

Smart Grids: These grids use ML to balance energy supply and demand, making sure the right amount of power goes where it’s needed.

Why Does This Matter?

Machine learning makes renewable energy smarter and more efficient. It Saves Money as Predicting energy use means less waste and lower costs. It’s better for the Planet because Using renewables more effectively reduces our reliance on fossil fuels. It Keeps Things Running smoothly because spotting and fixing problems early avoids big disruptions.

Looking Ahead

As renewable energy becomes more popular, predicting energy consumption will only get more important. Machine learning is here to make it easier. At DiagSense, they’re all about using smart tools to solve real-world problems like this. In the end, it’s simple: machine learning helps us understand energy use better, so we can make the most of renewable energy. The future of energy is green, smart and efficient and ML is leading the way.

[smart-manufacturing-solutions]

How Israel’s Smart Manufacturing Solutions are Shaping the Future of Global Industry in 2024

Introduction:

Israel is rapidly emerging as a leader in smart manufacturing solutions Israel, leveraging advanced technologies to drive efficiency, innovation, and sustainability in production processes. From robotics and IoT integration to AI-driven analytics and cybersecurity, Israeli companies are developing cutting-edge solutions that are transforming industries worldwide. As global manufacturing faces challenges like supply chain resilience, energy efficiency, and labor shortages, Israel’s tech-driven approach provides valuable answers. This blog explores the latest advancements in Israel’s smart manufacturing sector, highlighting how these innovations are setting new standards for industrial excellence and shaping the future of global manufacturing in 2024 and beyond.

IoT-Enabled Smart Factories

Israeli companies are leading the way in IoT integration, where connected devices and sensors enable real-time monitoring of production processes. This smart infrastructure helps manufacturers track machine health, identify bottlenecks, and optimize energy use. Israeli firms like Augury provide IoT-based solutions for predictive maintenance, helping companies prevent equipment failures, reduce downtime, and extend machine lifespan. With IoT-enabled factories, businesses can achieve a higher level of operational efficiency and reduce costs.

AI and Machine Learning for Process Optimization

Artificial intelligence is at the core of Israel’s smart manufacturing innovations. By using machine learning algorithms, manufacturers can analyze vast amounts of data to improve quality control, optimize production speeds, and reduce waste. Companies like Diagsense offer AI-driven platforms that provide real-time insights, allowing manufacturers to adjust operations swiftly. These predictive analytics systems are crucial for industries aiming to minimize waste and maximize productivity, enabling smarter, data-driven decisions.

Advanced Robotics for Precision and Flexibility

Robotics has transformed manufacturing in Israel, with smart robotic solutions that enhance both precision and flexibility on the production line. Israeli robotics firms, such as Roboteam and Elbit Systems, develop robots that assist with high-precision tasks, making production more agile. These robots adapt to varying tasks, which is particularly valuable for industries like electronics and automotive manufacturing, where precision and customization are crucial.

Cybersecurity for Manufacturing

As manufacturing becomes more digital, cybersecurity is a pressing need. Israel, known for its cybersecurity expertise, applies these strengths to secure manufacturing systems against cyber threats. Solutions from companies like Claroty and SCADAfence protect IoT devices and critical infrastructure in factories, ensuring data integrity and operational continuity. This focus on cybersecurity helps manufacturers defend against costly cyberattacks, safeguard intellectual property, and maintain secure operations.

Sustainable and Energy-Efficient Solutions

Sustainability is a growing focus in Israeli smart manufacturing, with innovations designed to reduce resource consumption and emissions. Companies such as ECOncrete are developing environmentally friendly materials and processes, supporting the global push for greener industries. From energy-efficient machinery to sustainable building materials, these innovations align with global efforts to reduce environmental impact, making manufacturing both profitable and responsible.

Conclusion

Israel’s smart manufacturing solutions Israel are redefining the global industrial landscape, setting benchmarks in efficiency, precision, and sustainability. By embracing IoT, AI, robotics, cybersecurity, and eco-friendly practices, Israeli innovators are helping industries worldwide become more resilient and adaptive to changing market demands. These advancements equip manufacturers with the tools they need to operate efficiently while minimizing environmental impact. For organizations looking to integrate these smart technologies, the expertise of partners like Diagsense can provide invaluable insights and tailored solutions, making it easier to navigate the smart manufacturing revolution and ensure long-term success in a competitive global market.

[pdm-solutions]

How PdM Solutions are Revolutionizing the Manufacturing Sector?

In this technological era, businesses are moving towards automation; one of them is PdM solutions. That is why, if you belong to the same industry, you must understand it. Predictive maintenance (PdM) technologies are revolutionizing the industrial industry by providing notable benefits over conventional maintenance methodologies. In this article, we will discuss how PdM solutions are revolutionizing manufacturing.

Let's read it out:

Minimizing Downtime and Production Losses

PdM solutions forecast when equipment is likely to fail by using machine learning algorithms and sensor data.

Manufacturers can minimize production delays by scheduling maintenance during scheduled downtime and diagnosing faults before they lead to failures.

Increasing the Life of Equipment

Proactive maintenance based on the real state of the machinery, as opposed to random scheduling, is made possible by PdM.

PdM solutions help expensive equipment last longer by preventing significant malfunctions and resolving problems early on, which lowers the need for pricey replacements.

Optimizing Maintenance Costs

Higher repair and replacement expenses are frequently the result of traditional reactive maintenance.

By enabling manufacturers to more effectively allocate resources and concentrate on equipment that requires repair, PdM lowers maintenance costs.

Improving the Consistency and Quality of Products

Unexpected equipment breakdowns might result in flaws in manufactured goods.

PdM lowers the possibility of defective manufacturing and makes sure that equipment is running at peak efficiency, which contributes to maintaining consistent quality.

Boosting Overall Operational Efficiency

PdM systems offer insightful data on the functionality and usage trends of equipment.

With the use of this data, manufacturers may streamline their manufacturing procedures, consume less energy, and allocate resources more wisely.

Summary

Maintenance solutions are transforming the manufacturing industry. by offering accurate decreases in downtime, increasing equipment longevity, maximizing maintenance costs, improving product quality, and increasing overall operational efficiency. Embracing PdM gives manufacturers a competitive edge by increasing output, cutting expenses, and releasing better products onto the market. PdM's influence on manufacturing is anticipated to increase with the advancement of technology, resulting in more sustainable and productive operations. If you are looking for PdM Solutions services, you can connect with us here. We have experienced staff to offer you the most comprehensive services. We are committed to making the business journey easy.

[genderqueerdykes]

seems like there's a lot of interest in talking about my experiences being a punk and interacting with our various communities. i've only been interacting with the community for a small handful of years at this point, but i lived at a punk music show house venue and visited them a long time before i lived there. i was also friends with a large circle of punks. ive interacted with a lot of punks online as well

there is a ton of unaddressed ableism in a lot of punk spaces. the 2 scenes i've noticed it the most with are the diy punk scene and the various punk music scenes

diy punks who look down on people who don't create/alter/fix all of their clothing by hand aren't helping anyone. it's great for those that can to do that if they want to, but a lot of people cant do that, or don't want to. it's not an obligation to make and fix things yourself to be punk. it doesn't matter where you purchase things from, there is no ethical consumption under capitalism. punks shouldn't be getting uppity about this. some punks have arthritis. some have injuries. some have shaky hands. some have limited motor skills. some have nerve damage. some don't have hands (or prosthetics) at all. some punks have bad backs and can't spend hours hunched over a sewing machine or thread and needle.

some punks struggle to pick up new skills or follow instructions. learning how to sew and repair things takes a lot of time and money. some people don't have the funds to spare on needles, thread, sewing machines, spikes, pins, fabric boning and so on. it costs money to gather materials to DIY anything. not everyone has scraps of fabric or thread or old clothing they don't wear anymore lying around. some people can't afford to keep repairing the same items and sometimes need to just get new ones. it's not a mark of failure as a punk if you can't make/customize your own clothes, accessories, and other items.

people who associate punk with music and music only tend to have a lot of internalized ableism to work on. i've seen so many ppl say you cant be punk if you don't listen to the music and don't go to shows. (and usually if you do listen to the music, you have to list like 15 underground bands or people scoff at you.) this is so fucked up toward so many punks for a number of reasons.

physically and mentally disabled punks have a hard time going to shows. they're crowded. there's very little to no room for mobility aids. they're loud. there's flashing lights. there's people being pushed around and getting hit. there's drugs and alcohol everywhere. there's smoke everywhere. there's usually people filming. some people are very sensitive to loud noises and can't be in this environments at all. loud sounds can make some people pass out. it's generally very hot and the air gets very thick very fast. it can be dangerous for people with asthma and breathing issues. it can be dangerous for people with heart conditions. it can be dangerous for people with POTS, fibromyalgia, hypermobile EDS, arthritis and a lot of other issues. bathrooms are not always accessible. people who become ill or need to use the restroom may have nowhere to go.

some people have hearing damage from going to these shows. my old roommate had significant hearing damage from years of being in a scene band that played at punk shows. i cannot stress enough that hearing damage can be and is a genuine concern for people attending these shows. i always recommend wearing earplugs. pls get earplugs if you do go to shows. some punks are d/Deaf or HoH and have significant or total hearing loss and may not benefit much from going to the shows, or don't want to risk further hearing loss. some punks have tinnitus. there may be photosensitive people who don't want to risk having a seizure due to flashing lights and camera flash. there may be punks who are autistic, have ADHD, misophonia, or other conditions that may lead them to be very sensitive to sound and/or bright lights

a lot of punks are poor. some can't afford to go to shows or be constantly buying new music. some punks don't have regular internet access. some can't afford to constantly be buying or customizing new clothes to make sure they "look" punk. some punks just literally don't *have* punk shows in their area. some don't have local punk bands. some don't have exposure to an irl punk community. some punks have families and careers they enjoy participating in. some punks spend all of their time volunteering. some punks have other hobbies that consume their time.

some punks are homeless or housing insecure and can't do *any* of these things because they're too busy surviving.

i don't like how a lot of punks default to calling other punks "fakes" or "posers" or "lame" or whatever for being too disabled to participate in these things. of course people who are abled enough don't have to, either, but people seem to care very little for those who are too disabled to do these things. punks can produce a lot of different kinds of art. punks can get together and talk with one another about things other than just music. there's a lot to it and i don't like how people focus so hard on things that correlate directly to one's level of ability. it's very gatekeep-y.