#travel router

[60seccyberbrief]

Travel Router

Over the last few weeks, I have made posts about different software I have implemented to make my cyber life more secure, efficient, and personal. This week I will cover the most recent piece of hardware I have added to my arsenal. The Beryl AX is a pocket-sized Wifi-6 travel router. Now why would you need a travel router and what does it do?

The Beryl AX provides multiple functions to keep you secure with high-speed internet on the go. It provides enhanced security on public networks, reliable internet performance, multiple device connections, customization with different internet sources, and most importantly it’s portable. On top of all this, it doesn’t break the bank in terms of cost.

(Picture for size reference)

Focusing on its travel application, it allows you to create a secure connection between your devices and any public network you would like to use. It does this by coming with a personal firewall, VPN services, and its ability to isolate your devices away from the public network and keep them on your private network that Beryl establishes. It also can boost weak Wi-Fi signals from a public Wi-Fi source, such as a hotel or café Wi-Fi. This, with its Wi-Fi 6 technology allows for faster and better-performing signals that would generally be pretty poor. Beryl’s UI is also extremely user-friendly and easy to navigate with many built-in features like adding Tor capabilities and even adding Tailscale (I wrote about Tailscale previously if you don’t know what it is). The GL.iNeT is still updating the Beryl and their other devices with new and improved capabilities. My first big experience with Beryl will be coming up soon when I travel to Bangkok for a vacation.

Source:

[lionheartlr]

Must-Have Travel Tech and Gadgets for the Modern Explorer

In today’s digital age, technology has revolutionized the way we travel, making our adventures more convenient, connected, and enjoyable than ever before. From smartphones to portable chargers, there’s a vast array of travel tech and gadgets designed to enhance every aspect of the travel experience. In this article, we’ll explore some of the must-have tech essentials that savvy travelers…

[geekanoids]

This video still gets to many comments … 

TP-Link AC750 Wireless Travel Router Review TL-WR902AC

[llycaons]

I'm definitely going to rewatch the entire s2 of iwtv. I don't understand a lot of it around armand but so much of it was sooo good to watch. and I want to watch the behind-the -scenes content bc I LOVE that stuff but I was too laser-focused on the episodes to care abt them the first time

[aozorawireless-iriscchen]

🚀 Boost your home or office connectivity with our 5G CPE WiFi Router! Experience lightning-fast speeds, seamless streaming, and crystal-clear video calls. Say goodbye to lag and hello to a smarter, more efficient network. Upgrade today!

[hakyumu74er]

Exploring the Future of Router SIM Cards with EIOTCLUB

The SIM card industry is rapidly evolving, and one brand that stands out is EIOTCLUB. Their router SIM cards are designed to provide seamless connectivity and excellent performance for all your internet needs.

As the demand for reliable internet access grows, EIOTCLUB has positioned itself as a leader by offering high-quality router SIM cards that cater to both personal and business use. Their products ensure that you stay connected, no matter where you are, making them an ideal choice for travelers and remote workers alike.

What sets EIOTCLUB apart is their commitment to customer satisfaction and innovative solutions. With competitive pricing and a wide range of options, they make it easy for consumers to choose the right plan that fits their lifestyle.

In conclusion, the future looks bright for the router SIM card industry, and with brands like EIOTCLUB leading the way, users can expect a more connected and efficient experience.

[shilpaagrawalsblog]

GL.iNet GL-MT1300 (Beryl) VPN Wireless Little Travel Router – Connect to Hotel WiFi & Captive Portal, USB 3.0, 3 Gigabit Ports, Range Extender, Assess Point, Pocket-Sized, MicroSD Slot (Renewed)

[yoowifi]

A WiFi egg, like a pocket WiFi, is a compact, battery-powered device that connects to cellular data networks to provide wireless internet access. It creates a WiFi hotspot that allows multiple devices, such as smartphones, tablets, laptops, or other gadgets, to connect and access the internet on the go. More info: https://yoowifi.com/

[farfallasims]

Rosemary Lynn Singer

Homes come in all shapes and sizes, and for Rosemary, hers was a sailboat named "Singer Island", a 30 meter floating oasis that housed herself, her brother, and adventure seeking parents. Since the age of 8, all she had known was going from sea to sea traveling the world and experiencing the beautiful cultures of the world.

While growing up on "Singer Island" besides spending her time in the water or fishing with her father, Rosemary slowly built an online community whenever her router was working to showcase her life at sea. Eventually, her platform grew and she managed to create a livable income to support herself through online university classes and obtain her Bachelors of Marketing Degree.

But now at 26 years old, Rosemary decided it was time to create her own adventures and navigate life on land in her hometown of Newport, Rhode Island, even if it means running into childhood sweethearts and not so friendly acquaintances.

[thegirlfromblackwater]

If the Van der Linde Gang lived in Modern Times (Modern Au)

Life gives you funny ideas...and I'm going to write them down

Arthur

Would live on a ranch in Montana or Wyoming as a rancher

Offers services like trail rides, lessons, and boarding

Has a herd of cattle

Spends every Sunday watching Rodeos on TV

Watches while sitting in his favorite worn-out armchair

Always has a cold beer and a snack or his dinner while watching

Has a pickup truck that's a bit filthy on the inside. Addresses his car as a "she."

Treats it like a horse: calls it a "good gurl."

Has a mounted Trout and some taxidermy on the walls

The Wifi at the ranch is spotty..doesnt understand why guests need it when they're surrounded by nature

Network Name: MorganRanch Password: Ynnel123

Tried to fix the router once but not exactly tech savvy. Ended up punching it

Texts Albert Mason sometimes

Dutch

Definitely lives in a city either Los Angeles or New York City

Lives in a Snazzy Penthouse in the clouds with a skyline

Works as a motivational speaker

Wears a lot of bling

Has a bar in at his place

Molly always tries to find a way in

Calls Hosea a lot

Has a weird fetish for black, red and white furniture.

Still loves reading books by Evelyn Miller despite that the writer is a nobody living in Idaho

John, Abigail & Jack

They probably live out west on a farm (very much like Beechers Hope)

John works on the ranch and also has side multiple side jobs (thanks to Abigail)

Jack spends his time in the school library

Abigail is obsessed with this one bakery

Molly

Lives in whatever city Dutch lives in

Tries to make herself at home in the penthouse

Famous on social media for her makeup tutorials

The neighbors can usually hear Molly & Dutch fighting

Dutch: "Not now Miss O'shea" Molly: "Pig!"

Bill

Lives somewhere in the Midwest

Works as a truck driver for Walmart

spends a lot of his life on the road

Has a bit of road rage

likes rest stops

when he's not working, he is a part of a biker gang

has a tattoo sleeve and wears a white wife beater

one of those bikers that wears a bandana with the American flag on it

Marybeth

Probably lives in a quaint town on the east coast

Works in a bookstore during the day and is a freelance writer in her free time

Lives in a cute townhouse with a small garden in the front full of flowers.

Her house is cozy

has a seating area with big windows that look out over the street

spends her time writing and reading there

likes to sit at cafes and drink coffee

Lenny

Is a full-time university student by day and bartender by night

Lives in Chicago or Atlanta

Probably double majoring in Business and literature (if that combination even exists)

Lives his single life to the fullest

Mostly an A student who goes full ham on the weekends when partying

Micah

Lives in Las Vegas

Sells illegal drugs

Has no money because he gambled too much

Stays in different hotels

Owns a pawn shop

Everything for sale there was smuggled across the border

Has dealings with the cartels & other shady characters

Hosea

Lives a quiet life out west

Goes to his lake house on the weekends to go fly fishing

Reads a lot of books

Also likes to go hunting

Is a part time English teacher who teaches children to read

Talks to Dutch by phone

Sometimes visits Arthur and stays at his Ranch

Uncle

Lives in a trailer park in Florida where the weather is always warm and the cold won't bother his illness

Sits on a folding chair outside his mobile home

Plays the Banjo

Drinks a beer

Is a complete mess inside

Doesn't own much furniture

Can't work because of the Lumbago

Sweats a lot

Naps and snores too loud

Lives next to a swamp

Javier

Lives in Arizona

Lives in the desert

Grows cactuses

Owns a Music shop

Travels around playing at local bars

Works part time as a music teacher at the local high school

Has a YouTube where he shows off his music

Sadie

Probably lives in a city like Dallas or Denver

Works as a cop

Likes to catch people for speeding and sits on the side of the highway

eats Chick-fil-A while waiting

Watches Dateline

Carries a Taser

Always looks sexy in her uniform

Charles

Definitely lives in a cabin out west

works as a conservationist

Likes National Parks

Goes fishing with Arthur

supports and donates to the Bison Sanctuary (if one even exists)

Likes Camping

Trelawny

Lives a wealthy life in Charleston, South Carolina

Lives in a large southern mansion

Wears a robe to sleep

Has a whole walk-in closet full of clothes and accessories

Has a sauna in the basement where he relaxes

Owns a bunch of fancy cars: He loves his Bentley

Reverend Swanson

Probably lives in Philadelphia

Still works part-time at the church

Mostly spends his time helping people with addictions

Hosts an AA meeting three times a week

Rescues crackheads from the street

Mostly sober

Wrote a memoir on his journey to recovery

Sean

Lives in Boston

Likes the university/young people vibe

works at a pub

Everyone's favorite Bartender

Makes customers laugh

goes back to Ireland once a year

Takes Karen with him sometimes

Karen

Lives in Portland, Oregon

Works at a bar as a bartender and a stripper

Good Pole Dancer

Her large tits are popular amongst the men

Puts on shows in the evening

Talks to Sean a lot

Gets Hammered

Strauss

Works in Finance in New York City

Is a Workaholic

Has no friends

Goes back to Austria every few years

Boring to talk to

Always on a work call

Listens to Classical Music

Tilly

Lives in Nashville, Tennessee

Visits Marybeth a lot

Wants to be a Nurse

Likes taking care of people

Wants to travel around the world

Pearson

Lives somewhere in New England

Owns a restaurant and catering business

The restaurant is interestingly enough called "Pearsons"

Probably has a wife and some kids

Loves Maine Lobster one of those people that wears a bib when eating it because he's messy

Is a good Butcher

Susan Grimshaw

Lives in Florida

Is a housekeeper

Cleans uncles' mobile home once a week

Tries to control Tilly and Marybeth from miles away

disgruntled

[backwardshatnick]

𝖿𝗂𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗇𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝗂𝗍

in which matt is a man with a mission but horrible baiting techniques.

pairing: call centre representative!matt x customer!reader wc: 1.3k notes: matt finally makes an insta story post :> i cringed so hard writing this, it's not even secondhand embarrassment, but a firsthand because i just wanna put my hand first into a tank of piranhas. [divider credits to: @strangergraphics]

Matt has been pacing around the café’s parking lot for 6 minutes straight, launching his phone in the air and catching it— though failing a couple of times, resulting in a few more cracks being formed at the corners. He could be seen mumbling, his mouth moving and lip being chewed a couple of times, as if rehearsing something in his head but never seeming to be satisfied.

You were inside the coffee shop, focused on stacking croissants and red velvet muffins with unnecessary intensity while your best friend was lounging by the espresso machine, meticulously filling it with the new Colombian coffee beans.

“Did you see the last minute e-mail from our TA this morning? He is really testing my pa—”

She got cut off. The bell on the glass door had jingled as a pair of uggs walked up to a counter.

“Hey. Um- hi again,” Matt greeted, all shy. He looked a bit different today and seemed to look a lot more put together. Stubble not found, white hoodie replaced with a light blue striped dress shirt with a white top underneath, but with his carabiner clip around the belt loop of his matching brown trousers.

You looked up from the display case and headed towards the counter, “Oh, Matt, hi. Back for another passionfruit lemonade?”

Damn it, he wasn’t even here the past four days yet you remembered not only his name, but what he had ordered the last time he came. You tried to retain your composure, hoping the tinge of pink on your cheeks only indicated the heat that somehow travelled from the fresh pastries.

“Yeah, well, I had a feeling that the Wi-Fi here would crash again,” Matt replied nonchalantly with a sneer, though he was cringing and mentally hitting his forehead on an imaginary concrete wall, “You know, for the nostalgia.”

Your strawberry blonde best friend snorted in the background while you cleared your throat at his answer.

“I’m afraid you’ll just have the day off, Matt. No tech-related emergencies today at the Coffybara. Just overpriced muffins…” your voice smooth and answer prompt.

You could see that Matt’s teasing smirk had faltered, the sparks of exhilaration that he had kept deep within his electric blue eyes now fizzling away. This was not the reaction that he had expected.

Similarly, he cleared his throat too, “Right. Yeah. Okay, that’s totally cool,” he paused, “You ever called like… customer support? For tech stuff?”

Fuck, this is causing me pain, he thought.

Matt was met with repeated blinks from you, the bafflement obvious when you answered him with a breathy “What?”

“Like, have you ever called those customer call centre hotlines where someone walks you through turning the router off and on?”

“Huh?”

“Oh, right. Totally, pshhh,” he scoffed, hoping that that would somehow make light of the absolute hot water that he was in, “I mean, me neither.”

When he was not met with a response but with yet another quizzical gaze, your head now tilting with eyebrows scrunched, Matt just had to layer more onto the uneasiness when he added, “I do know a guy though. Goes by Bernard. Kind of a legend, not gonna lie.”

“That’s a weird thing to bring up,” you finally spoke, “If we have another Wi-Fi problem and you somehow can’t make it, hopefully this 'Bernard' can come and help.”

Matt was spiralling now, brain working overtime to remember his Communications Psychology module that was two semesters ago, charm and wit on the tip of his tongue as he failed to relay the Bernard's communication skills.

“Yeah, I guess I- you kind of… I don’t know. Maybe sound like someone that he has helped?”

You knew deep down that this guy is baiting, but you were not to give in this easily. Not too early into this stage. Not when his fishing rod is broken and bait nowhere to be found. And so, with immense self-respect you tried defending yourself.

“So what you’re saying is that I sound inept when it comes to fixing my own internet?”

He stunned in silence, “...Maybe?”

That was it. That was the last straw and Matt looked at you as if he not only wanted to run into a concrete wall, but to seal himself in it for eternity. You stared at him for a second longer then turned away, returning to your tray of pastries at the display case.

“You know the muffins are still warm. Care for one?”

He gave you a nod and quickly paid for it once you gave him the red velvet muffin now bagged in a white paper bag. Reaching for a copious amount of serviettes and toothpicks nearby, Matt was still insistent.

Trying for one last time he said, “You really do sound familiar, though. Just saying.”

“Must be the voice of all people who hate slow connection,” you bitterly replied without looking at him as he left the coffee shop, bell on the glass door rattling which signalled his exit.

Thanks to the two-way glass, Matt was invisible, already in his car repeatedly striking his head on the steering wheel until he finally stopped when he had accidentally honked the car horn by mistake which scared a group of exercising elderlies nearby.

He drove away to a different branch of the café, buying yet another passionfruit lemonade to not only wash down the unnecessary sweet pastry, but as a moral and consoling drink to let the embarrassment lingering in his dry throat disappear. Now seated on a bench outside with no one to talk to, he finally reinstalled his Instagram and posted an update.

And that was $12 down the drain, alongside his image and pride.

You and your best friend were now on your way back to the dormitories, which was conveniently just a 7-minute walk. The rustle of leaves accompanied your stroll, both too tired to break the silence after the draining 6-hour shift.

“Okay,” your best friend finally cracked, “do you want to talk about how you just made that guy question his entire identity or are we just going to move on like nothing just happened?”

“I didn’t say anything mean.”

She can’t help it but to let out a loud cackle, “Sure, but your vibe, miss girl, your vibe was totally screaming ‘you-have-the-wrong-person-and-are-also-an-idiot.’ What has he ever done to you?”

“He was being weird,” you quietly answered.

“He was trying to flirt. Desperately. But you just had to do whatever it was that you did this morning.”

You stopped in your tracks, staring into the distance as you thought of your own internal monologue, “I panicked, okay?”

“I could tell,” she answered, “You literally didn’t even blink the moment he mentioned Bernard.”

“I mean, I wanted to blink. My whole soul was blinking,” you continued and quietly followed it up, “I just think that was the Bernard himself.”

“Oh my god—”

You clamped your best friend’s mouth shut by with your palm, now looking like a kidnapping situation, “I swear if you fucking shout again I’m gonna replace your body lotion with mayo.”

She now started whisper-shouting.

“I knew it! You’ve been acting like a cat on heat ever since that tiny man had a meltdown over our Wi-Fi. Were you even telling me everything?”

You threw your arms up in the air, “I was embarrassed, okay? I didn’t even tell you the whole details before the survey text. I sorta flirted back, talking about Mr. Winston and wanting to thank him during our grad speech. Like some tragic rom-com female lead! And now the universe is against me with him just out there trying to confirm if it was me and I just—”

“Decided to gaslight him into thinking it was me instead,” your best friend interrupted and started clapping slowly. “Got it. Iconic shit, honestly.”

“I didn’t mean to. I froze because he was right there! In the flesh! With that smooth Bernard voice and stupid little grin on his stupid cute face… He even remembered the nickname.”

“Einstein?” she blurted out.

You winced and shuddered, not because of the cold, but because of the realisation finally hitting you on just how much you hated yourself for finding it hot when he said it.

“So what now? We continue the Instagram hunt?”

“Absolutely not. I will take this to my grave, all inertia and stagnant.”

She was now side-eyeing you, face painted with doubt and sneered, “You’re so gonna cave in. He’ll stop by again and this so-called inertia that you have will be long gone.”

📤 @mattsgracie @vanillaspacecamp @httpssturns @oopsiedaisydeer @vanteguccir @slvtf0rchr1s

[luis-michael6160]

☕ Afternoon Experiment No. 34 or why you shouldn't mix Tim Drake, coffee and marijuana, EP: 1

[story collection] <-more stories here

next episode

Wayne Manor was a battlefield without explosions, without screams.

Worse.

It was coffee hour number thirty-four. Of the afternoon.

“Has anyone seen the new coffee machine?” Dick asked as he entered the kitchen.

“Tim integrated it into his backpack along with a solar panel and an IV drip,” Jason replied from the floor, surrounded by notes and Post-its. He was wearing sunglasses indoors. Not for fashion. Out of despair.

“Is he still awake?” Damian growled from atop the counter, where he was allegedly meditating but in reality was making sure Tim didn’t start levitating again.

Steph popped her head through the doorframe.

“Confirmed. He officially hit forty-five days without sleep. He wrote it in his ‘Perma-Hyperlucidity Journal’. Says he reached Level Eight of Multidimensional Awareness.”

Dick sighed.

We have to do something. Before he figures out how to time travel with liquid caffeine.

“Are you sure about this?” Dick asked, eyeing the tiny ziplock bag on the table.

“Got a better idea?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “We tried puzzles. We locked him in a room with no Wi-Fi. He blew it up. Literally. The room.”

Damian crossed his arms.

“I oppose this method. Not because I care about Drake, but because marijuana has proven effects on reflex deterioration. What if he gets even dumber? He’s already on the edge of functionality.”

“He’s not going to smoke it,” Steph clarified, arriving with a tray. “Brownies. Just a bit. A microdose. For a normal human.”

“What’s a microdose for someone who hasn’t slept in six weeks and whose blood is basically espresso?” Cass asked from the corner.

Silencio.

"Ups", dijo Steph.

Tim entered like a shadow with eyes opened too far.

“Hi guys! I hacked the NSA and found a mathematical pattern in how dust collects under the couch! I’m going to use it to prevent crime. Also wrote a novel about it. Painted the map.”

“Brownie, bro,” Jason offered, wearing the fakest smile in his arsenal.

Tim looked at it. Sniffed. Ate it.

Five minutes. Ten. Twenty.

“Is it supposed to—?” Damian began.

Then Tim slowly stood up. So slowly they thought he’d gone into hibernation mode.

“Guys... I think I’m seeing the flow of ideas. Like, literally. Threads. Cosmic threads.”

“Oh no,” Dick muttered.

“I’M INSIDE THE CODE!” Tim yelled, ripping off his shirt. “THE UNIVERSE IS A PROGRAMMING LANGUAGE! AND I’M THE DEBUG!”

He jumped out the window.

They were on the third floor.

Nobody moved.

Jason turned to Steph.

“How much did you give him?”

“I... don’t know. I measured it with an ice cream scoop. It had little cartoon faces on it.”

Damian was already calling Alfred.

“We’ve got a ‘Red Dragon Protocol’. Repeat: Red Dragon. Tim’s merged with the metaverse. May now believe he’s a router.”

Cass sighed.

“Next time, we just tranq him.”

Dick nodded, watching Tim climb a tree, screaming at the wind that he was the cloud.

“Yeah. Definitely. Tranquilizer. Or we ship him to a Tibetan monastery. One with zero signal.”

🍫🕸️ Enjoyed this madness?

🔁 Reblogs rewrite the algorithm 💬 Comments prevent existential debugging 🫠 Tips help us afford sedatives for Tim

💸 Support this caffeine-fueled chaos on Ko-fi:s

[jades-typurriter]

Secure Connection

As promised: more Posie!! I wrote this one toward the end of last Spring after a couple of conversations with friends regarding the malleability of digital bodies (as well as still having Many Thoughts about the way code can give them new compulsions, after writing something about Annie and a new taur-shaped chassis for a friend's Patreon). Enjoy reading about her dealing with a corporate-mandated "hardware" update!

CW: Genital TF, this is another one that's As About Sex as it can possibly be without being about sex

Posie sat, sulking—steaming, even—in her office. It was a small side room off of the main floor of IT personnel, system engineers, and other technical employees of her corporation. Much like a central server, it was placed for easy access to the department-wide administrative assistant, and much like a server room, it was snug, windowless, and awash with the calming drone and relaxing warmth of an array of exhaust fans. Though she was free to project herself nearly anywhere on the company’s campus, this was where her consciousness was housed, and where she felt most at home. It was also the only place she could get any damn privacy, a luxury that she was deeply grateful for at present.

A newly-downloaded file weighed on the back of the Renamon’s mind. More literally, it was somewhere in the racks of drives that made up her long-term memory, to and from which mission-critical information was transferred in the course of doing business. Had somebody asked where exactly the file was stored, she would have been able to list the specific drive and the exact directory address, but she had de-prioritized the allocation of her processing resources for the download. Once again, she had received an assignment from her superiors, and once again, she was hesitant. She may even have admitted to being recalcitrant. She resented the orders.

The package of data in question was an update for her own software, a suite of new tools to allow management to offload yet more menial tasks onto her in the name of “efficiency”. Forget that she could diagnose a software issue faster than any of the engineers could even open a remote connection to the malfunctioning device. Instead of allowing her to take the reins, they saw fit to divert more of her attention to the least impressive among talents, and the one she already put to use the most often: transferring data.

This wouldn’t have been much of a problem, ordinarily. After all, Posie resided in the beating heart of the network, the nexus through which the vast majority of information was sent and received. It could be… meditative. Parsing streams of ones and zeroes, overseeing the flow of packets, redirecting traffic to equally spread the load across modems and routers so as to optimize travel time. It could even have been considered relaxing, if a worker of her caliber needed to relax. Instead of offering her a vacation (pah!), however, the update felt more like it heralded a demotion, denying her even the ability to pluck like harpstrings the miles of copper and gold that lined her facility. She was expected to deliver this data on foot.

Management justified this humiliation with practical concerns: some information, much like the old records she was often tasked to dispose of, was so confidential that it could not be sent via wireless transmission. Even hardwired connections were too fallible for the likes of next-generation schematics and financial access keys—a single compromised workstation, or compromised worker, could spell the loss of the company’s upper hand in its market. She wasn’t even going to be afforded the dignity of carrying an external hard drive to the destination. That would require the slow and tedious process of physically moving from one place to the next; this was one of the only times that she regretted the freedom of movement that was so coveted by her flesh-and-blood peers.

With no room to make exceptions for security protocol, she gripped the edge of her desk, brow furrowing, eyes squinted shut in consternation. Eventually, she huffed, rose, and turned her attention to her “physical body”, summoning up the file in much the same way that one would approach a plate of food with a pungent odor. The Renamon steeled herself and began to more closely examine its contents. She read the raw code similarly to how one might read words on a page; however, where the turning gears of the organic mind would, almost unconsciously, conjure up an image as a result of those words, her mind kicked off a series of involuntary, autonomic processes.

Her body carried out the instructions on her behalf. Once she started, she had no control until she finally reached a stopcode; it was the nature of being a program herself that code had as much of an influence on her mind and body as her own thoughts, her own will. In opening the package, she reluctantly consented to the changes that management saw fit to make to her. It was better than the eventual forced-deadline sort of update that software companies were so keen on using nowadays, and at least choosing the time and place allowed her to make herself presentable again before having to face another person.

Having parts of her code—her very body—rewritten by the update was a strange sensation, not unlike having your thoughts dictated to you by an outside force. Stranger still was that she could feel the exact delineation between her previous self and the patches of… well, the patch. She could feel it quite strongly, as a matter of fact: beneath her skirt of simulated sky-blue fur, between her legs, she could feel her mesh being edited. Stretched. Reshaped. The vectors that made up the triangles of her wireframe soul were being rewritten, mathematically transformed. A shape began to protrude from the once-flat span at the bottom of her torso, at first round and indistinct, but quickly increasing in resolution.

The Renamon struggled to process the sensations as a long, slender connector began to take shape. This often happened with changes to her body plan; inputs streamed into her mind from directions, locations, that previously never sent any signals, and the new additions seldom had their sensitivity adjusted downward for her convenience. In this case, it was highly sensitive, delivering reams of data to the base of her skull just from brushing up against her own fur, or the gentle flow of air from the computers in her office. It made sense, given that it was supposed to be a high-capacity transfer tool, but she was too busy buckling at the knees and clutching at the desk behind her so she didn’t fall flat on her rear for the thought to occur to her.

Her processors demanded more cooling, kicking into high gear as they formatted the two new storage devices that accompanied the connector, tailor-made for packing confidential data as tightly as possible. The sound of whirring fans filled the room, stirring her fur and sending shivers up and down her back; she could only hope that the rushing exhaust made enough noise to drown her out, whimpering despite herself. The new drives were larger (and more unwieldy) than the ones that were built into her chest, much to her chagrin. She was forced to adjust her stance and her gait as she found her footing again, spreading her legs wider than she was accustomed in order to give them enough room.

The spinning in her head slowly settling down, she slowly began to compose herself once again, taking stock of the new additions. They were cumbersome, to be sure, and she lamented how they jutted out from her otherwise sleek form and burdened her with less-graceful posture. It didn’t even match her fur! The software engineers that had concocted the code had at least included one small mercy: a compartment for the connector to retract into, nestled in the fur above the storage drives. No such luck for the drives themselves. She supposed she would just have to adjust to walking with delicate hardware in tow. As she went to smooth her fur over her lap again, her paw recoiled away. Some kind of… static discharge was left in the fluff. A memory leak, perhaps? The fact that such a malfunction could be caused just from having the connector brush up against her fur appalled her, deepening her frustration even more. They couldn’t even test the update for bugs before shipping it out to her. She shook out her paw and finished arranging her skirt as best she could before working up the composure to finally leave her office.

Picking up the payload for which all this fanfare had been arranged was at least a quick, easy process. She stopped into the office of the manager that had assigned her the task; she offered a businesslike nod and, knowing that she was always itching to skip niceties in the name of saving time, he offered a straightforward wave at his personal terminal. She held a paw over the computer tower and, in the time it took for electricity to arc to her fingertip with a tinny zzzrt, she had already searched his directory for the relevant test files and copied them to the newly-installed drives. Wireless transfer, yes, but only technically. The engineers had specifically asked a member of another division, whose computer network wasn’t connected to their own; it was as though she had picked a folder up from his desk and walked out with it.

Moving the file was just as uneventful. It was far from the first time that she’d navigated the sprawling corporate property, and even if it were, the maps existed just outside the orbit of her thoughts, ready to be summoned to mind at a simple impulse. What she was not expecting, however, was the technician who was waiting in the server room to which she was asked to deliver the file. While she preferred to work in the isolation of rooms that were set aside specifically for hardware, she was far from unused to being in the presence of the other people responsible for maintaining the company’s systems. That said…

“Can I help you?” The Renamon icily asked.

“Oh, I don’t need anything! I’m just here to take notes on the transfer.” Her tone was cheery; evidently, she wasn’t aware how compromising the new additions were. “The time it takes, any obvious issues. I’ll be the one checking the files against the originals, too,” she concluded, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at a monitor behind her.

“I see,” Posie replied through gritted teeth. “You have clearance to see these files, then?”

“Well, they’re just dummy data, ma’am.” At least she was respectful.

“And the proprietary hardware I’ve been… equipped with?” she forced out, keeping her synthesized voice even.

“Oh, for sure I do. I designed it!”

Oh! she seethed. So she knows pre-cise-ly the position he’s put me in.

“Well. I suppose there’s no point in delaying things, then.”

“Ready when you are!”

With tense shoulders, she turned toward the server rack, eyes darting over it, searching for where exactly she was supposed to connect to the array. After glancing over the contents of each drive, she found the one she was supposed to copy the data into—deposit would be more apt, as it was her understanding that the files would be automatically flushed from her system—and found a port that would allow her to access it. Conveniently, it was around waist height. She wondered, crossly, whether that had been an intentional design decision by this engineer as well. As she looked at it, she felt a twinge from the connector; on its own, like a Bluetooth device automatically searching for signals, it slid itself out from its fuzzy little compartment.

Her skin was abuzz, and her fur stood on end. She couldn’t quite tell if it was coming from the connector itself, or if it was the feeling of the programmer’s eyes on her If she could take a deep breath, she would have then. Without any way to stall further, or to tell the leering young woman to take her test files and store them somewhere indecent, she simply pushed forward with dropping off the damned data.

The instant the connector grazed the metal of the port, lightning shot into it, through her body, and into her head, making it swim with electrical potential. A stuttering, lagging thought made its way to the surface of her mind: they really had overtuned the sensitivity. She stifled a gasp and suppressed the urge to lay into the engineer (electrons were eager to flow out of her even without proper alignment with the contacts in the port, and didn’t she know that discharge like that could damage a piece of hardware?!), willing her body to keep pressing the stupid connector into the socket.

Even as she tried to get it over with already, something in the back of her mind compelled her to draw back a bit. If she had been restraining herself from reprimanding the engineer for risking the hardware, then she should at least do it the service of ensuring she was properly aligned, shouldn’t she? She obliged the impulse, and the motion all at once became much jerkier, less controlled. The friction of the port against her connector was enough to send her tail snapping back and forth, and she could tell that the temperature in her own server’s room had risen by a fair few degrees. Back and forth, wiggling side to side, she continued to readjust and realign herself, driven by unfamiliar code and overwhelmed by the signals pouring into her. She lost herself in the task, forgetting herself, forgetting her surroundings, until finally the technician cleared her throat.

“Ma’am,” she ventured, blushing and wide-eyed. “What, um. What are you doing? You should just need to plug it in.”

“I’m.” Her interruption had snapped the Renamon back to reality. She was mortified, tail sticking straight out and back ramrod straight. Her cheeks burned mercilessly. “I’m calibrating the connection.”

“Calibrating?”

“Did you want your files transferred with or without corrupted and incomplete data?” She snapped, hoping that her authoritative tone would head off any debate. “Assign me experimental hardware and then ask me to be reckless with it, hm? Should I be taking notes to give to our superiors?”

“I—alright, I guess you can’t be too careful,” she stammered, sheepishly pressing her legs together. “That was even something I tried to work into the design, so, c-carry on?”

“Thank you,” Posie blustered, turning back to the server rack. She did so slowly, reluctantly relishing the feeling of sliding around within the socket. She allowed herself one or two more “practice” attempts, hoping that it wouldn’t arouse too much suspicion from the engineer. Ultimately, just like before, there was no use in continuing to stall, and when she was able to bring her body to a stop, the rational part of herself was eager to be done with this entire torrid affair.

With more force, she pressed the connector inward one final time, trembling as the latch began to press against the opening. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she continued, overwhelmed by the volume of electricity surging into her. The latch gave, compressing as it continued to slide inside, until finally it clicked into place, securing her to the array of drives and finalizing the connection.

All at once, a torrent of data poured out of her, an electron tsunami that felt like it threatened to spill out of the socket in which she was hilted. More data was transferred in the span of a few seconds than she was used to consciously processing, having cultivated such skill in delegating and compartmentalizing with background processes. Once again, the world around her was utterly drowned out; the strength fled her legs, and she clung to the steel bar that reinforced the top of the server rack, threatening to topple the entire system. Her self-control abandoned her as well and, forgetting the engineer, she cried out with an airy, wild, distinctly foxlike yelp. She screamed in surprise, gasped at the deluge of information, moaned because there was no room left in her mind for thought to do anything else.

Quickly, the disks of the server rack had finished writing the files she had carried to them, and her own drives were thoroughly purged. In another building, the radiators serving her processors shed heat at their absolute limits, and fans worked overtime to bring her back within her safe operational range. As her overworked circuitry began to chug through the backlog of sensory information, the entire experience caught up with her—including the detail that this entire shameless display had been carried out in front of that underhanded little engineer. She blinked, hard, and whipped her head to face her. For as hot as her own ears felt, the young woman’s face appeared to be glowing even brighter.

“What. Was that.”

“Um—”

“I’m used to new adjustments requiring desensitization, or even adjustment on their gain,” she growled, voice low and eerily even. “But that was a bridge too far to just have been miscalibration. Why did you design it like that?”

“Well, y-you remember how I mentioned, um, having considered an early disconnection?” Posie’s frosty glare didn’t waver, so the tech continued, answering her own rhetorical question. “That was, uh, the safeguard. Against early disconnection. I, figured it’d just be easier to make it so you wouldn’t want to unplug—”

“Do you think you have the au-thor-ity to go making changes to my mind, young lady?!”

“I-I can roll back the update if you want—”

“I think you’ve done QUITE enough!” The Renamon declared, despite herself. Perhaps it was genuine distrust, or perhaps—perhaps she truly couldn’t tell which desires were her own, at the moment. This would require careful study of her own system files.

Another small click broke the silence following her outburst, and the dongle began to retract from the server’s port and back into Posie’s body. Now free to move around, she dusted and fluffed her skirt and leaned down to look the engineer in the eye.

“I trust that you can report to your supervisor that I performed to your expectations,” she hissed. “And that there will be no need for any further discussion of your little project.” The programmer nodded, eyes even wider than before—and cheeks even redder? The Renamon scoffed, sneered, and spun, storming out the door, already allotting time in her schedule for the next time that she would be called upon for such a delivery.

Utterly unsurprisingly, she had been correct in her assessment that her superiors would take every opportunity to save their organic employees’ time at her expense. Confidential deliveries became a regular part of her routine, and though she had great disdain for being reduced to a mere courier for so much of the workday, she insisted upon completing the task to her usual, lofty standards.

Posie was as prompt as she always was, dropping everything to ferry information between privileged parties, striving to reduce latency even in more analogue forms of communication. There was the occasional complaint about how long downloads took once she had finally arrived at her location, but she was quick to remind such impatient recipients that the decision to follow this protocol came from on-high, and that even for someone who worked as quickly as her, great care for the safety of the data was a corner that simply could not be cut in the name of rushing around.

She was as meticulous about ensuring proper alignment with the port, fine-tuning her contact with the wires within, as the first time she had experimented with the new tools, and complaints about noise from the server room were easily dismissed as the usual stress of supporting her formidable computational power. After all, she was often venturing out of the range of her home network, hosting herself entirely on the recipients’ systems; was she at fault when they couldn’t handle the information throughput they asked of her?

Once the deliveries had become more routine, and none of her peers bothered to check in when they felt it was taking too long or getting too noisy, she began to find enjoyment in the solitude of her work, just as with the other, admittedly more tedious, tasks she was expected to carry out. With fewer prying eyes to judge her performance, she could make herself more comfortable while handling transfers. She didn’t have to worry that anybody would walk in on her in the debased state she often found herself in while connected directly to a data center, leaning her full weight on the poor rack, tongue lolling out and chest heaving air to keep her cool. 

Then again, if somebody—especially that little technician who’d saddled her with these “upgrades”—wanted to question her efficacy, that was more than fine by her. Posie was a woman who prided herself in her work, and would seldom turn down a chance to demonstrate her first-rate hardware and unparalleled optimization. She would be more than happy to demonstrate just how quickly she could pump out information, and just how much throughput she was capable of.

Thank you for reading! If you want to see more of my work, you can check it out here and here!

[phightingheadcanons]

i got permission from mod dutchman to post my ship stuff so here you go I'm sorry if you cringe, every dash is for a different ship so you guys can skip certain ones you don't like

- Traffic gives Pwnatious random stuff and souvenirs from his travels. The lord pretends to be hesitant to take them in public but would hold onto them on the deathbed. The two also wear matching necklaces but Pwn hides it under their gear chain thingie

- I kinda hc that Skateboard broke off one of his horns in an accident(fell into a ditch) and is a little insecure about it(one of the horns is a part of his helmet. Which one? Iono actually). Him and Shuriken have full on arguments about which is worse to have: broken horns or ones with a color you don't like/don't look good with. Dispute always ends in apology pizza pockets, some lego building and profused apologies along with a side of cuddles and compliments.

- Do not ask Coil and Steampunk if they're dating or not because they don't know either. Its a very confused bromance that keeps crossing the lines into both territories and they're both shit at distinguishing platonic and romantic.

- Mx Bot has hacked into Graffiti's tech multiple times, and all of it: air conditioner, TV, wifi router, microwave, water heating system they hacked into it to piss off the guy at least once. All done upon Spray Paint's request. On another note, Spray would sometimes forget to take his antidepressants, feel like absolute shit and eat like a handful thinking it'll make everything feel better. That was fortunately stopped via reminders and emotional support from our beloved boxhead.

- Rocket has nightmares about losing his limbs a wee bit often. Sword will comfort him every time no matter what time it is, he'll squeeze in an hour instead of sleep to go over and make his beloved feel better

- Broker can and will leave chocolate for Zuka on his windowsill. At first the gifts weren't accepted because it's Broker who knows what they could be laced with but now Zuka just takes it inside because turns out it's just little silly gifts that aren't laced and he will get like twice as more if the bar gets left outside, the man does not want 150 chocolate bars in his pantry

- Katana and Hyperlaser will sometimes lay on the couch and read books they picked out together. Princess is involved every time, she was scared of the 6'8 tall man his dad keeps bringing at first but learned to like him

- Star wars anon

<3

[fanficfish]

Space Anchor Theory (3.0 HSR spoilers)

reddit post: https://www.reddit.com/r/HonkaiStarRail/comments/1i26c8f/space_anchors_a_full_theory_30_spoilers/

barring the fact that now i can say "I was right!" (Here is my old post- partway in is my space anchor theory summarized: https://www.reddit.com/r/HonkaiStarRail/comments/153ftnd/comment/m2yfxu4/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button )

So how do space anchors work? Let me do my best to explain. A little, anyways.

What is a Space Anchor?

As Dan Heng says, it's a mark of the Trailblaze. Like our abilities to acclimate to harsh climates and stay awake for long periods of time with boundless energy, space anchors are how we "trailblaze', or set up contact points.

These are set at different intervals during our travels., depending on need. They also act as a way to help the Nameless communicate with the Express according to the 3.0 story. See below for more on the WIfi theory.

How is it placed?

In this cutscene, we can see the MC holding out his hand and a space anchor unfolds.

This is assumingly how we canonically place these. If we get near, they also activate. Simple as that. And presuming locals can't change this. I'm guessing they also "burn out" over time like torches.

How does it work and who can use it?

The space anchors are handled by the Nameless, and it's highly likely they need to be placed/activated by a Nameless to work properly.

They probably act like teleport waypoints in Genshin. The Nameless can use them to get around fast and if there's enough power they can use it to "hop" around.

Other people, such as the researchers on the HSS, are most likely able to use it for minor things such as healing or, as I mentioned above and more likely to be the case, as a type of Wi-Fi signal. Potentially, since some of them are Nameless or former Nameless, they may potentially be able to use them to also move around the station. quickly.

It's also likely that if you are a Trailblazer you have to actually encounter the waypoint before being able to use it more freely.

Also this is the most likely way how trailblaze power is gained- new space anchors = land "explored" = express fuel

The wifi theory

I've mentioned these anchors' main function is communication with the Express.

A quest in the HSS has a researcher ask us to activate a space anchor. This is a time when systems on the station are down so activating a space anchor could be a way to help restore some communications. I haven't seen the quest in a while so I probably missed anything else that was mentioned, so let me know if I did.

On Amphoreus, Dan Heng mentions we can use these to communicate with the Express once enough are down and our traincar is gone (rip). Considering our attachments to people like Herta and Asta and the IPC uses the "holes" the Trailblaze pokes through when trailblazing, we can probably assume they can also be used as a type of signal generator. Like portable Wi-Fi.

TLDR: space anchors = portable wifi for all and a way to contact the outside world. Hmm maybe don't tell Aglaea that her people can now text IPC DoorDash.

Conclusion

Space anchors for the Nameless make "power" for the Express and give us a way to get around. Or at least mark where we've been.

Space anchors for everyone else act as giant routers they can't move. Good luck explaining this one, Aglaea and Phainon.

Thank you hoyo writers for finally confirming what I had suspected for a long time. Let me know if I missed something. This was just a quick dive into it anyways I'm off to go grind for Lingsha some more.

[yoowifi]

A WiFi egg, like a pocket WiFi, is a compact, battery-powered device that connects to cellular data networks to provide wireless internet access. It creates a WiFi hotspot that allows multiple devices, such as smartphones, tablets, laptops, or other gadgets, to connect and access the internet on the go. More info: https://yoowifi.com/