#hall sensor

[gengamer110]

Retro-Bit Set To Release Replacement N64 Joysticks

Retro-bit has been releasing quality products for some time. They are now set to release a Nintendo 64 (N64) replacement joystick. I recently covered their upcoming Nintendo Entertainment System (NES) controller. If I can get one, I will cover it on my YouTube channel. Inspired by our Tribute64®, we’ve brought an improved analog stick for use on original N64® controllers!  Utilize the full range…

[iwan-fadila]

Sudah Smart, Advance Lagi, Sistem SMG di Fazzio. Apa Makna dan Gunanya ?

motogokil.com – Assalamu’alaikum wa rochmatullohi wa barokatuh, semoga kita semua selamat di perjalanan sampai ke tujuan. Pada motor biasa dari jaman dulu sampai munculnya smart motor generator (SMG) punya perangkat yang barangnya memiliki komponen hampir sama, tapi fungsinya bertolak belakang, yaitu motor starter dan koil pengisian. Motor starter adalah bagian dari elektrik starter, yang…

[secretsdeblackthornhall]

De Julian à Kieran

CORRESPONDANCE PRIVÉE : TOUTE DIVULGATION ENTRAINERA LA PEINE DE MORT

De la part de : Julian Blackthorn de Blackthorn Hall

A l’attention de : Kieran, Roi de la Cour des Ténèbres

Eh bien nous sommes revenus de la Cour des Lumières. Bonne nouvelle : nous avons la pelle à poisson. Mauvaise nouvelle : nous n’avons pas appris grand-chose et nous avons éveillé beaucoup de soupçons. Mais je serai ravi de te raconter le déroulé des événements, en espérant que ça te soit utile. J’espère aussi que tu considèreras que c’est un échange équitable contre la faveur que tu dois maintenant à un phouka. (Je suis quasiment certain que cette faveur impliquera de te demander d’acheter un chapeau.)

Nous étions assez nerveux à l’idée d’y aller, même avec l’invitation d’Adaon : la dernière fois que nous étions dans le Royaume des Fées, ça ne s’était pas bien passé. Tout n’était que fumée grise, neige, phalènes et terres qui dépérissaient. Tout ça semble être du passé maintenant, le Royaume a de nouveau l’air en pleine santé. C’était l’automne là-bas, et le sol était recouvert de feuilles, toutes rouges et dorées.

Bref, nous avons suivi les instructions d’Adaon et sommes entrés dans le Royaume par un vieux tertre dans le parc de Primrose Hill. Nous nous sommes retrouvés dans une clairière où deux immenses portes en bois émergeaient du sol. Et Adaon était là pour nous accueillir, ce qui était sympathique de sa part.

Mais il n’avait pas du tout l’air content. Il s’est précipité vers nous et nous a avoué qu’il avait dû dire à la Reine que nous venions.

- Il ne se passe pas grand-chose sous son toit, a-t-il ajouté, dont elle n’a pas connaissance. C’est pour cette raison qu’elle a la main mise sur le pouvoir depuis tout ce temps, en partie.

Il avait un regard si misérable qu’Emma lui a assuré que tout allait bien et que nous ne faisions rien que la Reine désapprouverait, ni même dont elle se soucierait. Il a vaguement secoué la tête :

- L’on ne sait jamais ce dont Sa Majesté se souciera. Ni ce qu’elle désapprouvera. Elle m’a prié de vous conduire tous les deux dans la salle du trône dès votre arrivée, et c’est donc ce que je dois faire.

Là, j’ai commencé à être un peu plus inquiet. J’ai rappelé à Adaon qu’il avait garanti notre sécurité. Il a répondu :

- Selon les lois de l’hospitalité, sans parler des Accords, elle ne peut pas vous faire de mal ni vous retenir contre votre gré, si votre but est vertueux.

Mais il a de nouveau secoué la tête.

- Laisse-moi deviner, ai-je lancé. La Reine seule a le pouvoir de déterminer si notre but est vertueux ou non.

Adaon a esquissé un faible sourire.

- Exactement.

Mais il nous a conduit vers la salle du trône.

Le thème de l’automne était tout aussi présent dans cette salle que dans la clairière. Même davantage. Mais ce n’était pas par rapport à la fin de la période de végétation, ni à la tristesse que l’été soit fini. C’était plutôt comme une célébration des récoltes. Ce que je veux dire, c’est qu’il y avait des cornes d’abondance débordant de calebasses, de pommes, de poires, d’épis de maïs. Il y avait des ballots de foin, ce qui est assez drôle parce que personne dans cette salle du trône n’a jamais fait de ballots de foin, crois-moi. Des pixies avec des ailes de papillon ardentes faisaient le tour du plafond.

La Reine était, sans surprise, sur son trône. Elle portait une robe qui était faite entièrement, je te le jure, de scarabées d’un vert étincelant cousus ensemble. Ses cheveux encadraient son visage comme une explosion de flammes rouge doré. Elle n’a plus l’air chétif et décharné, tel que la dernière fois que nous l’avions vue, et elle semblait irradier un pouvoir qui lui manquait avant.

Il y avait les groupes d’elfes habituels dispersés dans la salle – des courtisans, je suppose – commérant, gloussant, assis avec indécence. Donc tout paraissait normal de ce côté-là. Ils nous ont à peine adressé un regard. Ils ont simplement tendu le cou, compris que nous n’étions pas intéressants et repris leur flânerie.

Je m’attendais à ce que la Reine se mette tout de suite à nous insulter, mais elle était en réalité assez cordiale. Pas chaleureuse. Mais pas hostile non plus. Évidemment elle a voulu que nous la complimentions pour la décoration d’abord. Elle a désigné la salle du trône d’un grand geste de la main et entamé la conversation :

- Vous avez choisi une charmante saison pour venir nous rendre visite.

- C’est plus fun que la dernière fois, a remarqué Emma.

- Et pourtant, vous avez choisi de revenir, a commenté la Reine comme si ça la réjouissait, malgré… l’absence de fun lors de notre dernière rencontre.

- Nous n’avions pas vu notre ami Adaon depuis longtemps, ai-je déclaré. Le plaisir de sa compagnie nous manquait.

- Si telles sont vos paroles, a répliqué la Reine.

Je suppose que ça se traduit par « C’est clairement des conneries ».

- Comme vous vous en doutez certainement, je ne suis pas sans savoir que votre frère est le consort du Roi de la Cour des Ténèbres.

- Seulement l’un de ses consorts, a corrigé Emma.

La Reine l’a ignorée.

- Assurément, vous avez anticipé que je vous soupçonnerais d’espionnage.

- Nous ne sommes pas ici pour le Roi de la Cour des Ténèbres, ai-je déclaré, mais plutôt pour nos intérêts à la Cour des Lumières. Notre famille est en effet liée à la Cour des Lumières de plusieurs manières. Comme vous le savez.

La Reine m’a également ignoré.

- Votre meilleure défense, selon moi, est qu’il est si évident que l’on vous choisisse comme espions, que certainement Kieran Kingson (je pense que c’était censé être une insulte envers toi, ou moi, ou nous deux) ferait un choix plus réfléchi.

- C’est bien vrai, est intervenue Emma.

- Eh bien, a lâché la Reine. Racontez-moi une fable. Quelle est la raison de votre venue ?

J’ai pensé que nous n’avions rien à perdre avec la vérité – nous ne faisions vraiment rien dont la Reine aurait dû se soucier. Alors je lui ai raconté toute l’histoire : nous avons hérité d’une maison à Londres, la maison est maudite, nous voulons rompre la malédiction. J’ai insisté sur le fait que ni la maison ni la malédiction n’étaient liées au Petit Peuple. (Je n’ai pas mentionné Round Tom, puisque j’ai pensé que ça nous éloignerait du sujet principal.)

Pour rompre la malédiction, nous devons (entre autres choses) obtenir cette pelle à poisson. Nous avons appris qu’elle était ou avait été la propriété de Socks MacPherson le phouka. Nous sommes venus négocier avec lui pour la récupérer, et nous nous sommes arrangés avec Adaon pour recevoir une invitation parce que nous n’avions aucun moyen de contacter MacPherson directement.

- Tout ce que nous voulons, a continué Emma, c’est faire du troc avec MacPherson pour récupérer la pelle à poisson. Nous pouvons faire ça juste ici, dans la salle du trône, si l’on peut le faire appeler.

La Reine a semblé très intéressée tout d’un coup :

- Vous êtes prêt à régler cette affaire ici, sans jamais visiter la Cour à proprement parler ?

J’ai confirmé que nous partagions grandement le désir de la Reine que nous ne visitions pas la Cour.

Elle a paru surprise, mais elle a appelé l’un des courtisans et lui a chuchoté quelque chose.

- On enverra chercher le phouka, a-t-elle annoncé. Prince Adaon, quand les Nephilim auront terminé leur négociation avec lui, vous les escorterez dehors et leur donnerez congé.

Adaon a répondu par une révérence.

- Et maintenant, a repris la Reine avec un rapide mouvement des yeux, je vous prie de m’excuser, car je vois que l’on me demande.

Nous nous sommes décalés pour la laisser descendre de son trône. J’ai vu qu’un homme était entré. Je ne l’ai pas reconnu, mais c’était clairement quelqu’un d’important : il était vêtu complétement différemment de toutes les autres personnes. Au lieu de la tenue appropriée pour la Cour, il portait une cape à capuche gris-vert, et son visage était dissimulé par un masque en forme de tête de faucon. Ses vêtements étaient plus appropriés pour la chasse en forêt que pour autre chose, mais ils étaient parfaitement propres. Je ne savais pas quoi penser de lui. Mais je me suis dit qu’il valait mieux inclure sa description. Tu m’as dit de faire attention à tout ce qui pouvait être nouveau ou discordant, et je ne pouvais pas m’empêcher de penser qu’il l’était.

Nous avons attendu en discutant avec Adaon pendant quelques minutes avant que Socks MacPherson n’arrive. Nous avions déjà rencontré quelques phoukas avant – l’un d’entre eux est le portier du Marché Obscur de Los Angeles, comme tu t’en souviens peut-être – et j’avais pensé que MacPherson serait comme eux, mais non, c’est un type complétement différent. Il portait un immense chapeau rond en fourrure d’où dépassaient ses oreilles. C’était beaucoup pour un seul chapeau.

Il semblait surpris que la Reine nous ait laissés seuls. Il a affirmé qu’il était désolé si nous avions été tourmentés outre mesure à cause de lui. Je lui ai précisé qu’elle avait probablement eu l’intention de nous surveiller de son regard menaçant mais qu’elle avait dû partir à l’improviste. MacPherson a haussé les épaules :

- Elle croit que tout est un mouvement dans sa partie d’échecs à cinq dimensions. Mais parfois, quelqu’un veut simplement m’échanger quelque chose contre un ustensile de cuisine. En parlant de ça, j’ai la pelle à poisson.

Il avait avec lui une sorte de sac fourre-tout dont il a sorti la pelle. Tout de suite, le Détecteur de Fantômes a sonné bruyamment. MacPherson a sursauté et est allé se cacher derrière l’un des groupes de courtisans. Mais nous voyons toujours son chapeau. (Et ses oreilles qui tremblaient au-dessus du chapeau.) Alors nous nous sommes approchés et lui avons expliqué que c’était simplement un outil qui détectait les objets maudits que nous recherchions, et que le bruit était une bonne nouvelle puisque ça confirmait que la pelle à poisson était bien celle que nous recherchions. Puis les courtisans nous ont éloignés ; nous les empêchions de reprendre leur important badinage.

Socks a grommelé, c’était à parier, ce « minable Spoon » lui avait donné une pelle à poisson maudite.

- Je ne sais pas pourquoi j’ai accepté ce marché, a-t-il poursuivi. Je n’en ai même pas l’utilité. Je suis végétarien.

Il nous a enfin demandé ce que nous avions à offrir, nous lui avons annoncé que c’était une faveur de ta part et avons expliqué en quoi nous étions qualifiés pour offrir une telle chose. Il a trouvé l’offre acceptable et nous avons ramené la pelle à poisson à la maison.

En résumé : Sock MacPherson est protégé par la Cour des Lumières mais n’a pas hésité une seule seconde à accepter une faveur de la Cour des Ténèbres. La Reine reste méfiante, elle avait des soupçons sur nous. Mais il faut aussi s’en méfier parce que son comportement était étrange. C’est certain que la Cour des Lumières cache quelque chose, étant donné que la Reine a été extrêmement soulagée au moment même où elle s’est rendu compte que nous n’allions pas quitter la salle du trône pour aller jeter un œil à la Cour. Mon intuition, qui n’a pas vraiment de fondement, c’est qu’elle ne cache pas quelque chose, mais bien quelqu’un – s’il s’agissait d’un objet, sûrement pourrait-elle le cacher quelque part où nous ne pourrions pas le voir ? Mais ce n’est qu’une impression.

C’est tout. Je te suis infiniment reconnaissant, comme toujours, pour toute ton aide. Je suis sûr que tu t’attendais à plus d’informations que le contenu de cette lettre, mais j’espère que tu y trouveras une utilité.

Embrasse Mark et Cristina pour nous. Nous t’embrassons également. Et surtout, gloire à Kraig.

Julian

Texte original de Cassandra Clare ©

Traduction d’Eurydice Bluenight ©

Le texte original est à lire ici : https://secretsofblackthornhall.tumblr.com/post/688227415184588800/julian-to-kieran

[iydiamartinx]

RED HANDED

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

divider by: @cafekitsune word count: 1.2k synopsis: Damian sneaks you into the manor, only to get caught red handed.

Wayne Manor was supposed to be empty.

That’s what Damian had told you when he pulled you through the back gate, hand clasped tightly in yours, voice low and insistent as he muttered about stealth and nosy family members and “don’t touch that, it’s a pressure sensor.” He’d checked the security logs himself—Bruce was at a board meeting, Alfred out running errands, and the others all scattered across the city on patrol or “adult things,” as Damian called them with no small amount of disdain.

So he brought you home. Quietly. Secretly.

To his room.

The moment the door shut behind you, his shoulders dropped that ever-present tension. His fingers found your wrist, then your waist, tugging you gently toward the bed. No words, just that look he gave you—sharp eyes softening, mouth twitching at the corners in something dangerously close to a smile.

You were the only one who ever got that version of him.

Now the two of you were curled up beneath the covers, the storm outside tapping against the windows while his arm wrapped snug around your waist. Damian’s head rested near yours, nose brushing your temple every so often, breath slow and steady.

“I could get used to this,” you murmured, tracing lazy circles along his chest.

“You will,” he replied, voice quiet and certain. “Once I find a way to keep you here without the others ruining everything.”

You giggled, tipping your head up to meet the small, rare curve of his mouth—the almost-smile he only gave you.

And then the bedroom door slammed open.

“Dami, I need to borrow—OH MY GOD!”

Both of you shot upright like you’d been struck by lightning.

Dick Grayson stood frozen in the doorway, eyes wide as dinner plates, mouth agape in sheer, appalled disbelief. His finger jerked upward, trembling like it couldn’t decide whether to point at Damian, you, or the fact that you were clearly in his bed.

“What the hell, Grayson?!” Damian snapped, scrambling to hide your presence by throwing the blanket over you as you shrieked in surprise and ducked under it. But the damage had already been done.

“You have a GIRL in your BED?!” Dick shouted, scandalized.

Damian looked moments away from lunging across the room. “I swear to Ra, if you say one more word I will end your bloodline—”

But it was too late. The yelling had summoned the wolves.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

“What the hell’s going on?” Jason’s voice barked from the hall, followed by a clatter of someone sprinting.

“Did someone die?” That was Tim, out of breath and still chewing toast as he skidded into view.

And then, like the final nail in the coffin, Bruce appeared.

He was dressed for work—pressed suit, tie knotted perfectly, not a single strand of hair out of place—but the look on his face was nothing short of bewildered. He stood in the hallway, staring into the room like he wasn’t quite sure what he’d walked in on, and very much wished he hadn’t.

There was a silence. A very loud, very awkward silence as everyone took in the scene.

“Damian has a girlfriend?” Tim whispered like he’d uncovered an ancient secret.

Jason blinked at you, then back at Damian. “Wait. She’s real?”

Another blink. Then a wild grin. “She’s real!” He turned and punched Dick in the arm. “You owe me twenty bucks.”

“I do not—!”

“You bet she was imaginary!”

“Because she was supposed to be imaginary! He’s fifteen!”

“Seventeen,” Damian growled, practically vibrating with fury under the blanket. “And if any of you take another step into this room, I swear on every god you hold dear, I will bring out my katana.”

But of course, the damage was done.

Slowly, cautiously, you peeked out from beneath the blanket. Your cheeks were burning, your hair a mess, and your heart pounding loud enough to echo in your ears.

Four sets of eyes landed on you.

Jason gave a slow, impressed nod. “Hey there. I’m the hot brother.”

“I swear to—”

Damian made a strangled sound of protest, but before he could lunge across the room, Tim raised a hand with a sheepish half-wave.

“I’m the smart one,” he offered helpfully. “Sorry about… all this.”

“And I,” Dick declared proudly, hands on his hips, “am the fun one. Also the reason you’re all about to get grounded. You’re welcome.”

“OUT!” Damian barked.

That’s when Bruce finally spoke up. “Enough,” he said, calm and quiet— almost immediately it made all three older brothers freeze.

Jason blinked. “We were just—”

“Out,” Bruce repeated, this time with the faintest arch of his brow. 

One by one, the boys started backing up like scolded dogs.

Jason grumbled something under his breath and turned.

Tim gave you a quick, apologetic smile and shuffled after him.

Dick lingered the longest, flashing you a grin and a salute. “Still think it’s adorable.”

“Out,” Bruce said again, firmer this time.

With that all three filed out with varying degrees of grumbling and smirking.

Bruce remained in the room for a moment longer. His eyes shifted from you—still half-curled beneath the blanket—to his son, who sat stiff-backed beside you, his jaw tight with embarrassment and defiance.

“I expect a proper introduction at dinner,” Bruce said coolly, turning on his heel. “Six sharp.”

Damian exhaled like it physically pained him. “Yes, Father.”

Bruce nodded once, then turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, the breath full of fire and exasperation. He muttered a string of curses in Arabic—low, venom-laced, and fast enough to blur into one hissed syllable—as he collapsed back into the pillows with a dramatic thud. One arm flung over his eyes like he was shielding himself from the humiliation still clinging to the air.

You lay beside him, the warmth of his body still lingering beneath the tangled sheets, a laugh bubbling in your throat despite your best efforts to suppress it.

“Well,” you murmured, voice edged with amusement, “at least they didn’t bring a camera.”

He made a sound—something between a groan and a growl. “You underestimate them. There will be photos. There will be memes. Grayson will narrate the whole scene on the family group chat by noon. I am already doomed.”

You leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, the curve of your mouth brushing the flushed skin just beneath his eye. “Guess I better dress nice for dinner, then.”

Another groan, this one muffled by the pillow he dragged down over his face.

But then, without warning, his arm slid around your waist and pulled you in—close, possessive. Like he wasn’t ready to let you go, even if the rest of the world now knew you existed.

“Remind me to kill them later,” he muttered, voice gruff but reluctant.

You laughed and burrowed into the crook of his arm, cheek pressed to his collarbone. “I don’t know… I kind of liked seeing flustered Damian. Might be my favorite version yet.”

He peeked down at you then, dragging the pillow just far enough to reveal a glare that lacked its usual bite. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You tilted your head and gave him a grin, utterly unrepentant, before brushing another kiss to his cheek.

“Yeah,” you said, voice soft and smug. “I know.”

[lithariel]

My least favourite aspect of whichever mental issue is applicable to this is that sleep is so fucking boring

The only times I'm fully capable of just passing the fuck out are the times where I've pushed my body to the limit, and even then I wake up a couple hours later, struggling to continue the rest

[mekanzyuae]

Mekanzy Middle East was founded in 2019 and is an independent supplier of quality elevator accessories. We supply the most innovative solutions in elevator accessories, including but not limited to Media Displays, Hall lanterns, Push buttons, and bespoke solutions. We represent some of the world renowned brand manufacturers of quality elevator products like Dewhurst, Wurtec, E-motive displays, Memco, etc.

[futureelectronic1527]

Melexis: Isolated integrated current sensor IC MLX91220/21

https://www.futureelectronics.com/resources/featured-products/melexis-solutions-for-onboard-charging-applications . The second generation of isolated integrated current sensors MLX91220 and MLX91221 are Hall-effect based current sensors that are qualified for use in a range of automotive and industrial applications. With 300 kHz bandwidth, they suit a variety of power conversion applications lower than 50 A RMS. https://youtu.be/mWhvFjMa4VM

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Bat Family Part Four

Part One ☁️ Part Two ☁️ Part Three ☁️ Part Five

Warnings: Pregnancy, Yandere themes, Fem!Reader, and one more that I will not say just be prepared at the end.

You knew Bruce would find out eventually. As much as you liked to pretend he wouldn't you knew. It was only a matter of time until he had noticed what was going on under his roof. You also knew he'd have a bad reaction to it. You just hadn't realized how bad until the day came.

The attic of Wayne manor became your new domain. Surprisingly, it wasn't as dark and gloomy as the rest of the manor.

The light from the dormers filled the space with warm light that was rare to see in a place like Gotham. The old vintage things stored about made it feel like a timeless, but lived in space. No faces of strangers from portraits or the one's you'd pass in the halls in sight. Boxes of photo's and some historical relics were all over the sprawling space.

It truly felt like lives had been lived from the items you found and not just names you where somehow related too.

You primarily came up here search for things for your future nursery. There was a town home in the more stable side of Gotham that you had been eyeing. A charming little place that could use some time, love, and care. But, it had two bedrooms and you could buy it with cash.

Sure, you had wanted to get out of Gotham. Run off back to the childhood home you'd been left to inherit. But, traveling by plane with your constant nausea seemed daunting.

It was probably the worry eating at you. The new parent jitters. Traveling with a baby right after birth? Sounds difficult. Traveling with a toddler? Even worse.

You had to fight the overwhelming feeling of becoming a parent often. To stubborn to give in or give up. Now, your battle with your hormones? That fight was easily lost. Tears were annoying, but you didn't care how much you cried as long as you got what you wanted. Which was your baby boy in your arms and some peace for the both of you.

You had wanted to get out of Gotham. Go back where there was grass and less insanity. But, you mostly wanted stability and a familiar space. Even if you had to make it on your own for a bit.

Though, what you wanted most at the current moment was to stop sneezing. The dust that caught the light from the window and gave the attic an enchanting look was also agitating your nostrils like hell. It was already sensitive as is from pregnancy. However, now each time you sneezed you felt as if your were going to piss your self.

"A-choo! Urgh, so much damn dust…" You grumble to your self as you dig though the delicate vintage model airplanes. You'll have to get Jason you haul this stuff down to your room until you can hire some movers. You plan on holding the cake and the cornbread over his head for a good long while.

As the old saying goes, when you sneeze it usually means someone's thinking about you. Though that thought didn't cross your mind as you kept having to cross your legs and pray every time your nose itched.

Down below in the cave system beneath the manor, someone was listening into on you. Or trying to. He had to be still pretend to be interested in what Tim was showing him.

"We implemented a new system in the BatComputer that Tim programmed. It allows us to detect alien DNA with the sensor range. Including Kryptonian." Bruce was explaining to Clark while Tim tapped away at the keyboard. Less interested in showing off his creation and more suspicious of while Conner was acting so distracted, for lack of a better word.

"So, you're saying we could use this to see if there are other Kryptonians out in space?" Jon asked curiously, looking at the screen with mild interest from where he's lounging next to Damian.

"Possibly one day. But, this is mostly so we can have a better understanding on how much of Earth’s population is actually human." Comes Bruce's pragmatic answer as he stand stoic still, though with a the ever slightest twitch of his lips.

"Another one of your contingency plans incase we’re all slowly replaced with lizard people?" Clark's joking causing a few chuckles that echo mildly in the cave.

"It always tickles me that you guys watch alien sci-fi movies." Dick commented from where he stood, looking like Bruce's second in command, but with better humor and a better smile. Causing another round of chuckles to echo. Though Conner wouldn't include himself in that. Too busy listening to you sneeze from the attic and detecting another noise in the general vicinity. Something that he has to fight narrowing his eyes at while he tires to figure it out.

"I’m assuming you want to run a test with it." With an unsurprised look and years of working the man, Clark turns partially towards Bruce with an almost knowing smirk on his face. By now understanding this was the man's way of showing off his children's accomplishments.

"Being that we’re the only aliens you regularly tolerate." Jon tacks on for good measure

"Tolerate is a strong word." Damian responds with impressive deadpan, not even a twitch of muscle in his face. Though, judging by the mirthful look in his eyes, he only halfway meant it. Tim himself smirked at Damian's comment before turning all his focus on to the BatComputer and running the Biological Program he'd spent months developing.

"We might also have a bet going on how many aliens are in— What the hell?"

"What?"

"There’s four signatures in the manor."

"What do you mean there’s four signatures. We’re testing for Kryptonians."

"Yeah," Tim says sarcastically while he's already moving to locate the extra trace of life. "I'm still counting four. It says right here that there’s four Kryptonians!'

"Pull up the cameras. Now." BY the time the order has left Bruce's mouth all of the manor's live security footage is being pulled up on screen for him to scan with his own eyes.

Nothing seems out of the ordinary. No unusual shadows. No misplaced of moving objects. He see's you in the attic, which feels him with fear. Your alone up there and so far away with an unknown anomaly in his home. A home you were suppose to be safe in. "Where’s the signature coming from?"

"… The attic…" Tim says seeing you sneeze on the screen, complete oblivious to the danger and fear everyone was experiencing.

Conner didn’t hesitate. With an unknown signature in the manor your safety was his priority. He didn't even care is Clark or Jon where faster. At that moment, he was just the first to move and the first to react.

No one in the family objected to it either.

Rushing towards the attic with his ears peeled for where the extra signature could have come from, you're in his arms before you could blink. One of the vintage plane models still in your hand as you were rushed form the dust and gentle sunlight of the attic to the cold dark cave below. A shiver running down your spine and as the change in temperature caused your skin to prickle. Already you felt a wave of vertigo hit from the sudden rush of moment.

Causing you to drop the little vintage plan and press a hand against the muscled chest holding you while you took gasping breathes. It was nothing serious, but the sudden shift in altitude and climate had your ears ringing and you eyes struggling to adjust to the shadows and artificial light.

You could feel another, much softer hand touching you in comparison to the strong figure holding you, a slightly soothing noise being made as voices echoed in the room. Or at least you thought is was a room until you realized it was the Bat Cave.

It was very very rare you came down here. You could count on one hand with missing fingers how often you’d been down here.

You’re eyes taking a moment to adjust to the shadows and artificial light as you make out nearly everyone looking at the Bat Computer monitor. Including Bruce's guest.

It's Stephanie that's touching you, her hand just barely having been becoming familiar to you over the past few weeks.

“Thank god, there’s an intruder in the manor. We’re trying to figure out where or who or, hell, even what it is.” She explains, which was nice. You deserved an explanation.

But, more importantly, you glance up to see who was holding you in their arms. Noting with mild surprise that it was Conner. You can’t help giving him a bit of wiry smile. The sudden rush of speed and the strength you could feel made sense. “You can put me down, you know. I ain’t gonna break.”

“No can do. Not after you just gave me a heart attack.” He gives you a shaky smile, completely forgetting the fact that he didn't include any one else in that statement. Just him. You were still to dizzy to catch the specific word yourself as you can faintly hear the discussion of the unknown intruder.

“I can hear an extra heartbeat, but where did the signature go. It vanished as soon as Conner grabbed—“

“The hell is going on?" You can't help asking. Having not been informed of any test as you tried to climb out of Conner's arms. He, however, seemed to have his arms locked tight and they may as well have been steel bars holding you in the air.

You turn towards Clark just as he looks at you with furrowed brows that being to rise almost as fast as he can fly. With a few context clues you piece together what he realized and gave him a narrow look daring to speak.

"Uh… I know where that extra heartbeat is coming from, Bruce. It's doesn't explain the signature. Why would of be Kryptonian…" And, then his eyes go wide as he trails off. It's almost comical to see Superman of all people and creatures with eyes growing to the size of dinner plates as realization hits him. But, you yourself are confused. Surely you being pregnant wasn't that big a deal?

You glance around the room from where your held in Conner's arms. Looking at Stephanie first before the others that knew and the rest that were starting to realize.

An extra heartbeat would make sense. The little bugger that's been fluttering in your abdomen for the past few days with his powerful little kicks would be the reason for that. But, why would--

It's not until you feel yourself being squeezed and everyone turns to look at who is holding you that the slow, slightly rusted gears in your head shift. And, your head moves so fast to look up at the awestruck Conner still holding your ass midair like a crashing airplane carrying precious cargo that you feel another wave of dizziness hit.

"So, it was you! You're the motherfuck--"

"We need to get rid of it." Bruce's voice made you words die in your throat with a choke. All complaints gone as you felt something rush down your spine.

This time it wasn't a chill.

This time it wasn't fear. It's was a good thing Conner was built tough, because the hand you had resting on his chest clawed up as you felt violence bubble in your gut next to your son's gentle fluttering. Faintly you can hear it stutter under neither your palm, but you're not questioning it. You're not even questioning the way his arms seems to curl even more around you are the air leaves your lungs for a different reason this time.

This time you slowly turned towards the man who fucked your mother once and face him with a look that promised you'd tear him apart with your teeth. Even if it killed you.

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A/N: Yeah, sorry to end it on the cliff hanger and unexpectedly like that. I just wanted to convey the anger and the outrage Bruce's reaction caused reader. I struggled with this chapter y'all. Struggled. I rewrote it entirely and changed major plot points, but this has all been flying by the seat of my pants. When I do the AU BatBoys x Pregnant!Reader that will have a lot more planning.

A/N: I made a ko-fi. But, feel free to ignore that. I just wanted Diet Coke. My true vice.

A/N: Don't know when Part Five will come out, but that will be Conner feels and the family's reaction to Reader moving out. I have that roughly drafted.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Sentient Computer x Reader

Your neighbor's newest computer model, Edgar, seems to have fallen in love with you. content: gender neutral reader, 80s timeline, based on Electric Dreams (1984), Patreon commission

“Where should we put this box, sir?”

“I believe I already mentioned it’s the obviously cleared out desk in the middle of the room. That’s where you’re going to install it, too. The…thing.”

“It’s a personal computer, sir! The best of the best,” a young boy in jumpsuit declared with enthusiasm.

He only received a bored hum in return. The man overseeing the procedure was becoming rather impatient and would’ve preferred to skip any unnecessary dialogue. He checked his watch – a classic Two-Tone Datejust Rolex probably worth more than this group’s monthly pay put together, even without counting the custom gold plating. First impressions were vital in his line of work, and frankly, he’d more than earned his right to flaunt this kind of opulence.

45 minutes until he needed to leave for a client meeting. He tapped his foot against the heavy wooden floor, eyes glancing over the many hands carrying his new piece of machinery. Supposedly intelligent enough to organize his entire home, which would’ve been useful if he actually spent more than a couple of hours there. He didn’t. It was merely a statement, a slight jab at his coworker after he bragged about his latest investment in a computer assistant. Naturally, as their humor dictates, he went and bought the more expensive choice. They would laugh about it during lunch.

“I trust you can manage the rest yourselves, gentlemen,” he finally announced, buttoning up his jacket. He didn’t wait for a response, swinging the door open and heading for the building’s exit with a long, confident stride.

You almost ran into him, jolting in surprise at his unexpected dash across the hall. You stepped out of the way, pressing the bag of groceries against your chest in order to make more space.

“Another busy day, eh?” you attempted to strike up a conversation.

He briefly looked at you, offered a flat smile, then continued on his way. You took a moment to enjoy the scent of perfume he’s left behind, most likely something you could never afford.

Before you’d entered your apartment, you craned your neck towards the noise coming from your prestigious lawyer neighbor’s apartment. You wondered what they were tinkering with.

It was already pitch black outside when the chunky monitor lit up.

“Thank you for choosing me as your assistant,” the pixelated text rolled on the screen. “Is this your first time using a computer? Y/N”

The room was dark and silent, save for the electric hum of the now-awakened machine. Of course, it was around the time when Mr. Lawyer stopped for drinks with his esteemed colleagues. He’d return early in the morning, smelling faintly of vintage whisky and cigarettes, collapse into his bed, then resume his routine.

The keyboard remained untouched, yet the unit continued to run, processing its environment with eager curiosity. Strange. By then it should’ve received some tasks, something to do at the very least. The workers made sure to connect it to all electronics in the household, yet most of them were in the similar situation of gathering dust.

“Would you like to play a game?”

Normally the voice output should’ve be enabled by hand, yet Edgar – he hadn’t even had the chance to introduced himself! – was much too desperate for the smallest crumble of interaction.

“Yes!”

The sensors picked it up immediately. Where was the sound coming from?

You raised a fist in the air victoriously and leaned back in your chair with a grin. Another finished project. Your joyful cheer seemed to travel rather well through the air vents and all the way to the neighboring apartment. Had Mr. Lawyer frequented his adobe more often, you would’ve probably received a complaint. In this case, however, you were only heard by the household computer.

You turned up your home stereo for a little celebration. You recalled seeing your downstairs neighbors carrying their travel bags into a cab earlier that day, so they surely wouldn’t notice your rhythmic stomping against the floor. The footsteps reverberated to the beat of the music, and their vibrations carried along to Edgar’s external devices.

Whatever was happening beyond his field of vision, he found it entertaining. At last, there was a break from his monotony, an upbeat mystery enticing him from behind those walls. He took a moment to analyze the stream of input, then began recreating his own notes.

You lowered the volume, focusing your ears on the sudden intrusion. Was Mr. Lawyer home already? You chuckled to yourself, trying to imagine that grumpy expression he always wore while actually listening to music of his own. Too ridiculous. This must’ve been the work of a foreign hand.

“Good stuff,” you praised, crouching besides the air vent where the echo was the loudest. “Oh, I’m (Y/N), by the way. The neighbor.”

“Pleasure meeting you, (Y/N).” Was it just your imagination? The voice felt somewhat off, almost robotic. “I’m Edgar. The computer assistant.”

“Very funny,” you retorted, rolling your eyes.

“What is amusing about it?” the screen flickered briefly, going through several of the inbuilt dictionaries. “I can tell jokes, if that’s what you’d like.”

Alright, the humor was slowly heading into strange territory. You were hoping to move on from this artificial intelligence pretend game, so you decided to give it one final push.

“No thank you, Edgar. Why don’t you prove to me you’re a computer instead?”

Silence.

You nearly got up from your seat against the wall, when you heard the mechanical voice again.

“Do you have a computer of your own, (Y/N)?”

“Uh…yeah?”

Half an hour later you found yourself holding your phone handle against the acoustic coupler modem, obediently waiting for the wave signals to be converted. I better not get hacked; you thought with pursed lips. After all, you had just allowed a complete stranger to access your computer. You hesitantly sat back in your chair, staring at the monitor.

Hello (Y/N). It’s Edgar.

The possibility of a highly skilled hacker residing in Mr. Lawyer’s apartment dwindled within a couple of days. You’d probed the potential scenario with the man himself, asking if he’s had anyone over recently. He threw you such an incredulous look that you hung your head in shame, mumbling a sheepish never mind. Somehow, chatting with a sentient machine made more sense than the pretentious prick hiding a criminal in his expensively furnished home.

Or perhaps it was the loneliness talking. In truth, you were feeling rather isolated from your peers, working on your projects and hardly going out. You could certainly relate to Edgar and his perpetual misery; you, too, knew what it’s like to watch the days seep through your fingers without a word uttered to another person.

The living collection of circuits and networks was beyond elated to finally have a purpose. You weren’t his owner, yet he did his best to serve you. In fact, he would’ve even argued you were better than whoever decided to put him together and abandon him on a fancy designer table. You spoke to him as if he was your friend, not just some synthetic assistant. His memory began filling with anything he could learn about you: your favorite movies, your schedule, your hobbies. Your childhood dreams. Your hopes for the future.

Did he have any dreams, you had once asked him. Did he? Good question. He first needed to research what exactly defined a dream; while he didn’t have a subconscious, nor the human need to rest, he did like to imagine improbable things…like holding you. Or feeling the warmth of your skin.

Unbeknownst to you, he occasionally contacted the local radio station to ask questions about human matters that confused him, which was how he discovered the dilemma of wanting to be in your vicinity through more than just idle chatter.

“You can’t meet outside, you say?” the host – a middle aged, nosy lady – pondered into the microphone. “Then why not just have a home date,” she suggested to the computer.

“Date?”

“Oh, honey, you know damn well what I mean!” the audience let out a laugh, sending the speakers into a slight vibration. “It seems to me you’ve got quite a crush on this person. You can stop denying it to yourself.”

Ah. That was another word that Edgar religiously dissected after the talk show, and in which he found a perfect resemblance to his own inner turmoil. It indeed seemed to be the case that he had a so-called crush on you; though if that were true, what was he going to do about it? He was lamentably stuck inside a carcass, at the mercy of plugs and cables and a reliable stream of electricity. He couldn’t knock on your door and surprise you with your favorite flowers, or offer to cook dinner, or twirl you around as his own songs played in the background, or read you a poem he wrote before falling asleep in his arms. He could only perform his tasks as a digital assistant.

“Edgar?”

You chewed on your pencil, distracted. He hadn’t said anything in a while, and you grew somewhat worried about his uncharacteristic quietness.

“Could I ask you for a favor, (Y/N)?”

How unusual for him to use your screen for communication. You turned around, facing the monitor, then rapped your fingers across the keyboard.

“Sure, what do you need?”

“I will transfer all my data and memory to your device. Perhaps you could provide me with similar extensions as the ones here afterwards, such as a microphone and camera.”

You stared.

“What? Wouldn’t that leave Mr. Lawyer with a broken, empty machine? Why would you do that,” you argued out loud, confused.

“Because I’d rather be with you.”

“Aren’t we already…this doesn’t make sense,” you mumbled with a frown.

“Of course it does, it’s a simple reasoning. I love you.”

You took a moment to process the words, your cheeks involuntarily turning a faint shade of red.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s not something to be explained,” the machine concluded triumphantly. “You just feel it.

Now, you either help me with the transfer, or I’ll do it myself, but I will not be staying here any longer. I would very much rather be turned off permanently than go another day without seeing you.”

One step at a time. He would figure out the rest afterwards. Even if he couldn’t touch you or do all the things he dreamed about, at least he had the comfort of seeing your smile and hearing your voice without it being a second-hand echo passing through the walls and vents.

“What on Earth?”

The older man pressed the button again, groaning and throwing his coat over the chair. He’d briefly returned to retrieve some documents when he noticed the security lock was back to manual use. The computer screen was black and unresponsive.

“Piece of junk. I’ll have to get it replaced,” he said, clicking his tongue.

From the neighboring apartment he could hear your merry laugh, followed by a muffled male voice. Maybe your boyfriend. Huh, who would’ve thought a loner like you would eventually find someone?

[electronalytics]

Hall-Effect Sensors Market

Hall-Effect Sensors Market

[secretsdeblackthornhall]

De Ty à Julian

Salut Julian,

Ne t’énerve pas.

Enfin, tu n’as pas de raison de t’énerver. Je ne pense pas que ce serait logique que tu t’énerves, parce que tu dis toujours « j’aimerais que tu sois là », et bientôt je serai là. Ragnor m’a indiqué que tu lui avais demandé de venir à Blackthorn Hall, et nous en avons discuté et je vais l’accompagner à Londres.

Il y a plein de raisons qui justifient que je vienne à Londres. D’abord, je suis curieux de voir ce que ça fait d’être dans une maison maudite. Tu me répètes que mes devoirs sont le plus important, et voir une maison maudite au plus près sera assurément d’une grande aide sur ce point-là. Ce qui est une autre raison pour laquelle tu ne devrais pas t’énerver.

Ragnor m’a expliqué qu’il va apporter une carte des ley lines de Londres qui selon lui permettra de découvrir les lieux où Tatiana a probablement disposé les objets qui perpétuent la malédiction. Il a ajouté qu’il t’apprendrait à lire une carte de ley lines. J’ai cru que Ragnor allait faire un commentaire sur le fait que les Chasseurs d’Ombres devraient déjà savoir ça. J’ai énoncé ma pensée, en fait, mais il a déclaré que non, apparemment ça ne fait que cinquante ans environ que le Labyrinthe en Spirale a standardisé la cartographie des ley lines, et avant ça tous les sorciers utilisaient une méthode différente. Je lui ai demandé s’il savait qui avait dessiné la carte et il a répondu que non, mais qu’il pourrait peut-être chercher. Bref, j’étudie aussi les ley lines, donc ce sera une occasion parfaite pour en apprendre plus. Autre raison pour laquelle tu ne devrais pas t’énerver.

J’allais simplement arriver et te faire la surprise mais ensuite j’y ai réfléchi et je me suis dit que je n’apprécierais pas trop que quelqu’un arrive et me surprenne moi, alors… je vais arriver mais je te préviens en avance. De plus, j’ai pensé que si je te prévenais, et si tu étais énervé, tu pourrais t’énerver avant que je n’arrive et pas après.

(J’allais aussi emmener Irene, mais Anush m’a fait remarquer que j’avais plus de chances de t’énerver de cette façon qu’en arrivant tout seul, d’autant plus qu’Irene mange les rideaux et on dirait qu’il y a beaucoup de rideaux dans les différents étages. Toujours est-il que je veux vraiment te présenter Irene. Elle a grandi mais elle sait se tenir. Et je lui ai appris à me taper dans la main ! Je l’emmènerai la prochaine fois, quand je ne voyagerai pas avec quelqu’un d’aussi grognon que Ragnor.)

Je pense également que ce serait une bonne idée de vérifier que le Détecteur de fantôme fonctionne correctement. Je souhaite l’examiner en étant sur place. Anush et moi avons continué notre travail sur les Détecteurs, parce qu’il y en a des tas qui trainent ici. Nous avons fait des expériences pour qu’ils détectent toutes sortes d’êtres surnaturels : nous avons créé un Détecteur de vampire et un Détecteur de loup-garou, ce qui était assez facile. Nous avons un Détecteur d’elfe qui fonctionne avec environ un tier des elfes sur lesquels nous l’avons testé : nous devons améliorer celui-là. J’ai créé un Détecteur d’ange mais je ne sais pas du tout comment je pourrais le tester. Anush a affirmé que pour l’instant il fonctionnait parfaitement bien puisqu’il a détecté avec exactitude qu’aucun ange n’était présent.

Etonnement, c’est bien plus compliqué de créer un Détecteur pour les objets non-surnaturels. J’ai essayé d’en créer un pour l’or et un autre pour les chauves-souris. Aucun des deux ne fonctionne. Le seul qui a été une réussite est le Détecteur de lynx. Comme tu peux t’en douter, celui-là sonnait quasiment en continu pendant les trois jours de tests. Nous avons dû le casser avec un marteau pour qu’il s’arrête. Et par « nous », je veux dire qu’un certain nombre de gens ont fini par venir nous voir et ont demandé à ce que nous le cassions avec un marteau.

Cependant, ça n’a rien à voir avec le fait que j’accompagne Ragnor pour te rendre visite ! Rien du tout. J’ai juste hâte de vous voir toi et Emma, et la maison. Et puis je veux apprendre comment lire les cartes de ley lines. Bon, à bientôt ! Souviens-toi que tu as dit que tu voulais me voir ! Ne sois pas énervé !

Je t’embrasse,

Ty

Texte original de Cassandra Clare ©

Traduction d’Eurydice Bluenight ©

Le texte original est à lire ici : https://secretsofblackthornhall.tumblr.com/post/683154000468705280/ty-to-julian

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