#KEI Wires and Cables

[balajiswitchgears]

To the engineer who always finds solutions to every problem. Happy #National #Engineers Day 2023 to all the engineers! Your innovation and dedication continue to amaze us. Keep building a better world!

www.balajiswitchgears.com

Mail: mktgindia@balajiswitchgears.com

[keiindustries]

Thank you Rannvijay Singha for sharing your views on KEI Wires and Cables! Life is full of trials and tribulations. But they also mold your personality and teach you to face any challenge confidently. That is the story of any successful person. It is the same with KEI Wires & Cables. It also goes through rigorous tests to achieve the quality it offers. Thank you Rannvijay Singha for sharing your views on KEI Wires and Cables! Our World class products & services are loved by so many people around the world, and it means a lot to us! Choose KEI wires & cables- har tension sahe chalti rahe!

[californialanyards]

A Snip Guide to Accessory Items and Stainless Steel Cable Key Rings

Are you tired of fighting cheap key chains that break too quickly or losing your keys? You've come to the right place; the stainless steel cable key ring can be the solution to your issues. In this article, we'll talk about the best key rings for different purposes and how they help you keep your keys secure and organized.

Stainless Steel Cable Key Rings: Their Sturdiness and Dependability

When it comes to key rings, durability is an important factor to take into account. Generally speaking, cheaply constructed key rings often break, change their shape, or even snap suddenly. On the other hand, the stainless steel cable key rings are built to last a very long time. We know that stainless steel is preferred because of its exceptional strength, ability to withstand corrosion, and general longevity. Your keys will be safe and secure because your key ring won't break down over time.

Use a Steel Screw Lock and Wire Cable to Keep Your Keys Secure.

One of the steel screw lock wire cable's unique features is the mechanism that provides an additional layer of security to ensure that your keys are securely fastened to the key ring. The steel screw lock wire cable keeps a tight seal to avoid accidental key removal.

How are the best key rings chosen?

Is that not the big question? The best key rings available in the market today may be found in a multitude of alternatives thanks to online retailers like California Lanyards. You may find excellent options of key rings that can keep your keys secure and organized, whether they are in the form of stainless steel cable key rings or another kind. Key rings are an essential accessory that is readily available online in a number of styles.

[electrocare]

We are electrical industrial equipment Distribution Company and leading provider of Switchgear, circuit protection system, cables, Enclosure The industry of Machinery and manufacturers, contracting and Panel Building are the best associations of Electro care. Global renowned brands such as, Schneider, Lapp, nVent, KEI, Selec, SAFEON, APC By Schneider and Kirloskar Motor.

To know more about Us:

#electrocare #channelpartners#SchneiderElectric#AuthorizedDistributor#electricalequipment#electricaldistributor #apcbyschneiderelectric

#kirloskarmotor#WiresAndCables#kei#lapp#selec#nVent

[gender-euphowrya]

i wish violet paradox pokemon had had more variety than ''normal pokemon But Robot'' like yeah they're from the future but. doesn't mean everything has to be made of metal

[whumpitisthen]

Too Much

alt.: How to Break a Defiant Whumpee 101, cws in tags!

When the lock clicks and the door opens once again, the foreboding light cascades down in the form of a person's shadow onto him and he cannot hold in a moan of distress.

He jerks his hands down against the cold floor in helpless, terrified frustration. His blood trickles from under the thick cable wire tying his wrists tightly together, collecting in a puddle with the rest of his spilled life force on the floor. Those cuts barely had time to close over, now torn open again. It cannot have been more than a couple hours since the last visit; what had he done to incur this unbearable punishment today? Who did he piss off this bad?

He listens to the familiar, heavy footsteps nearing him, hoping desperately that they aren't here for him. Unfortunately, those steel-toed boots enter his vision and do not leave, slowing to a stop right in front of his cell, peeking through the bars curiously. He wishes that just once, they would walk right past him; that he would be ignored and left alone. Alas, today has not been the luckiest.

"Oh, just look at you. Always such a sight for sore eyes."

"F-Fuck off."

Leaning up against the cell door, they trail their eyes along every inch of his skin. Of all his captors, this one might just be the worst, if only for their creepy fucking mannerisms. It's hard to forget about those intense, dark eyes and that impossibly smooth, gross voice that makes his skin crawl and keeps him company even in his nightmares. Among all the other things he was hoping for just a moment ago, not having to see them today was quite high up on his list.

They click their tongue. — "You still have your tongue then. Could've fooled me. You look awful."

Their grin made the insult sound more like a twisted compliment. He forces out another weak reply. — "Wow. Thanks."

They pause, tapping their index finger against one metal bar. They are just standing there, staring at him. Their expression is infuriatingly pleasant.

He fucking hates this. Why couldn't they just leave him alone today? Why does he have to be looking up at this terrifying motherfucker from the coldest, most uncomfortable corner of his cell, already exhausted, beaten halfway to death, and be forced to go through yet another round of pain? This just isn't fair.

They take a deep, content sigh, seemingly done with their sightseeing. — "Right."

They back up to stretch, then fit the key into the cell door, promptly sliding inside once it's open. His foreseeable future has swiftly become his near future, and he is anything but ready for it to become his present.

"W-Wait, wait, don't come in, you can't be ser— "

"How could I not when you look so lonely, cuddled up to the wall all by yourself?" — they sing, watching him struggle to push himself further into the corner he was left in by the one before them. From this close, it's even more apparent how rough he had it lately.

If the numerous black-purple pools of blood under his skin weren't enough, the fresh pool by his hand and the splatter of red across the walls would make it more than obvious. Everywhere they look they find another cut, another bruise, another mark and slash and burn. The ever present rings around his wrists are deeper, and now a new one resides around his throat like a collar. His eyes are dark and crimson, looking at them like he might just burst into tears.

He pushes his back into the wall with a cry. A new desperation has morphed his voice into something truly delicious. — "Just, leave, leave me alone!"

They smile innocently. — "Oh, should I? I'll consider it."

"No, stop, please — !" — his throat rasps and breaks his words, but that is nothing new. What is new, however, is the begging. This one has to be forced to beg usually, and now here he is, already close to sobbing for them to just let him be before they could even set a hand on him.

With something between a groan and a whimper, he twists his body to be hidden, curling up to the side and squeezing his eyes shut as he cowers, shaking, shielding his face with bound hands before they could even reach him. He looks utterly pathetic, and that melts their heart — but then they notice something truly surprising, something deviously intriguing.

"Don't tell me... Baby, are you crying? Already?" — They do not even try to hide the grin in their voice as they kneel in front of him. He only curls up tighter, sniffling. — "Now you're starting to worry me. This is very unlike you. I expect insults and swearing, not weeping."

He doesn't respond with anything but a huff of air. They try to peer behind those twitching fingers — a couple of them are definitely broken — but their curiosity isn't sated. The thought of finally having broken him crosses their mind. — "What happened?"

Their question goes unanswered. This guessing game is already starting to irritate them.

They take a light hold of one of those fractured fingers, leering; only a threat for now. — "You know I prefer screams to silence."

"Don't," — he half-wheezes.

"Talk to me then. What's troubling you, sweetheart?" — they cut him off entirely, cooing like they aren't the very reason he's like this.

"I'm... I'm scared."

"I can tell."

"I just — please, I-I just —"

They say nothing. He swallows dryly.

"I just don't want to be hurt again," — he whispers miserably, — "I can't, again, I can't — "

They still don't say anything. They still hold onto that damn finger. He almost wishes they would just get on with the torture instead of whatever this is.

"What, what do you want from me? Just fucking leave! Please!" — he yells, pleads, loses his mind a little more. — "Are you blind? Do you seriously want me to explain to you why I'm, why I'm having a-, a fucking meltdown?"

"I've barely had a, a single minute to myself today where I didn't have to en-entertain any of you pricks, and when I think it's finally over, when, when I get just a second, a m-, a moment to breathe," — he takes a strained couple inhales, almost hyperventilating before harshly gulping down his anxiety again, fighting sobs, — "y-you fucking show up. Like you always do. And, and now I'm here, yet again, left on the floor tired and, and hurt and bleeding — and you're, you're — it always g—, it never gets better. It never f-fffucking stops."

Nothing more is said for a while. They just watch him cry in his little corner coated in fresh blood, breaking apart in front of them. This is an incredible, rare sight. An important moment. They see a precious opportunity and they simply cannot resist seizing it.

They let go of his hand, gently laying their palm on his head instead. The gasp and the flinch are wonderfully unexpected, yet so beautiful to see. — "How many of us came today?" — they inquire softly, almost genuine.

His fragile throat lets out the most raw, wretched sounds they have ever heard him make. — "Y-You were the only one who hasn't. Eh-everyone and their mother came to visit me. I was really fucking hoping you wouldn't."

Ah. The others all took turns today, huh. They did a fine job at whittling him down. They don't even know how all of them managed to get their round in in such a short period of time.

"All five of us?"

"Yeah," — he mumbles. He's furiously wiping at his eyes, starting to lose all hope of getting any rest now that they are this close, and clearly not leaving any time soon. He hoped this embarrassing outbreak would at least deter them somehow, but none of his hopes today came true. They aren't exactly a bleeding heart who would change their mind about torturing him just because he's a little sad. If anything, he thinks, being this pathetic might have just spurred them on. — "But it doesn't, doesn't matter, does it? You sadistic freaks don't care about anything but, but beating the shit out of me any chance you get. I don't know why I thought that you of all people would understand."

This is perfect.

They lean in close. — "Me of all people? What's that supposed to mean? Am I special?"

"Especially annoying." — Now that's more like him. Retorts and insults flying out of his mouth like bullets. They really wish they could have him confess that he finds them the most intimidating out of everyone, that the ‘annoyance’, as he put it, comes from the fact that his backtalk doesn't have any effect on them, and that they know him on a deeper level than any of the others and that scares him more than anything — but they recognise when the moment allows for a play like that. He's already building up his walls again; they can't let this moment slip through their fingers.

"Mmm. Well, I have a proposal for you." — They dig their fingers under his great mess of locks, not unkind. — "Look at me."

"That's not a proposal."

"I'll tell you once you look at me."

"No."

They sink their hand in deeper, twisting into his hair like the claws of a beast. — "Come on. Don't you want to hear it?"

He only lifts his hands higher to hide behind, now muffling his tone. — "I know that, th-that you only want to see me cry."

They smile. — "Yes. And I know you want to avoid more pain."

This thinly veiled threat does two things: it pisses him off, and it brings back that foolish hope that they will take mercy on him if he behaves as they like.

Just one more push. A soft, light order. — "Look at me, baby."

Ordinarily, this would never work. He might even laugh in their face or spit at them for asking, especially so sweetly. This time, however, he is just a lonely, sad little guy in a cell, desperate for sweetness. They wait patiently. He shudders uncomfortably, snivelling.

Silently, with a deadly glare, he finally looks at them.

His eyes are red, puffy, and so, so tired. His lips are bitten bloody, cracked, pouting. The scar over his right cheek has been reopened, enlarged to run down the side of his neck. A gorgeous purple bruise has nestled under his left eye, running like paint in water across his skin. His tears drew clean streaks along his face, sliding down the length of his neck. It's beautiful, mesmerising. They are mesmerised for a little too long, though.

"I hate you so fucking much, you're so gross," — he hisses, done watching their eyes rake over him like an object while having the most adoring, fond smile doing so. It always sends a shiver down his spine when they do this, and having them be so close just makes it even more unbearable. He can clearly see their eyes refocus and return to make eye contact at his remark and it makes him nauseous.

It's fascinating how little bite his voice holds now, with the tears still flowing freely and his throat closed up. So many thoughts of torment run through their mind, images of taking advantage of this weakened state he is in and breaking him until there is nothing left, until he is like this all the time; crying and pitiful and obedient and lovely. None of that makes it to the surface.

"My proposal is this;" — they say instead, — "we could go on with what I had planned for today. This option includes this high voltage shock collar I brought with me."

As they turn to get the collar he assumes they must be bluffing, but horrifyingly enough, they turn back with a thick, black loop of leather with a box attached to it and a remote in their other hand, grinning excitedly. He remains silent in shock.

"Or," — they say after a pause to let him simmer in anticipation, setting their toy to the side, — "we could forget about that for now, and let you rest instead. How does that sound?"

He can barely believe his ears. They actually care? This is a trick, it must be.

"You're lying." — His splotchy face must have betrayed his bewilderment, because they murmur a chuckle before they respond.

"I am not. I can tell you are in a lot of pain."

They take a gamble as they take his head into their hand gingerly, turning him towards them by one shoulder and one cheek carefully, fully expecting him to struggle. There is resistance, as always, but quieter, just a small weight put behind pulling them forward which might as well just be his tired body refusing to cooperate. He says nothing. His lip wobbles. His expression is less cutting than usual, the edge replaced by worn flesh and agony.

They make an effort to remove all malice from their eyes, looking at him with sympathy and love instead. They give him exactly what he has been craving for the weeks he has been trapped here. Someone who can tell him they know he has been trying his best.

They look right into his eyes empathically, and sadly sigh; — "You're just tired, aren't you?"

Those are the magic words to open the gates to his true anguish. Something about this awfully simple, assuring sentence whispered so knowingly — it breaks something in him, and his eyes fill with fresh tears, and he cannot help the sobs bubbling to the surface. Because it is that simple, isn't it? He is so, so damn tired. All he wants is some rest. The assurance that someone sees him struggling, and understands how badly he hurts, and how little he really asks for. Coming from his torturer, it should not feel so liberating. But he is far past rationalism, his want for a single kind gesture has long become a burning need he would do anything for in this moment.

He may regret it later, but for now he leans into their hand as he lets every sob he ever swallowed down free, letting them see how broken he truly is already. From under all that grit and animosity comes pure childlike, innocent suffering, so potent he doesn't know what to do with it besides letting it envelop him. Just the right opportunity and a couple pokes, and he has crumbled under all this weight.

They lead him closer, pulling him out of his defensive position against the wall slowly to embrace him. He is all but powerless to stop his fragile form from moulding under their touch, gasping wretchedly in their arms. He is shivering like a leaf. It's intoxicating.

There they remain until his sobs weaken, and his exhausted body slumps against them like dead weight. Somewhere along the line they had let themself slide down to the ground, inviting him to lie on something soft for the first time in forever, even if it is only their own body. The floor isn't exactly clean — it's quite disgusting in fact — but it is well worth it to have this ball of resentment tamed for even a small bit, even if they have to lie on filth for it. This one instance of kindness will have lasting effects on their relationship and him as a person, even if he doesn't realise it, or even if he does. He will find it hard to look at them the same way, and will find it difficult to keep up his defiance in front of them when he knows they have seen him truly at his wits end.

He may let them touch him more often without a word. He may find it easier to do as they say without fighting. He may grow more attached to them through this, having a closer connection to them than to any of the others. He may even ask them again, once the time comes, to have mercy on him again, and they will give it to him, letting him fall deeper and deeper. He will have to swallow his pride, and he will only swallow it for them. This small moment will be crucial in the future. Maybe they could capitalise just a little more on this by telling the others they can't see him for a day. They will visit him tomorrow and ease his mind again, let him heal, see how he acts after this humiliating exchange.

The unconscious man in their arms will learn to be theirs with time; he has already made so much progress. This one is theirs, just as soon as it becomes too much to bear again.

...

He didn't even yell at them for calling him baby.

~

Taglist: @morning-star-whump

Masterlist | Ko-Fi

[maskedemerald]

Weaving Webs CH1

It is time for @invisobang ! I wrote a fic and the wonderful @pricklenettle did some fantastic art that you'll see embedded through out the fic!

You can check out the fic here or on AO3!

If you like this consider dropping us both a follow!

Warnings: Body horror, manipulation, Spectra is her own content warning, Burns, Spider - for like 2 chapters then it goes away.

The Fenton parents were there when the accident happened, they saw Danny die in an act of sabotage. Now they’re just trying to go on with the strange ghost that is all that's left of Danny. While their old college friend is wondering where the subjects of his revenge are.

[Next]

Chapter One - The Accident

The metal panel came free with a few plinks of screws onto the floor making Danny cringe. He knew he’d be the one scrounging around on the floor looking for them later. His Dad grinned not at all phased by the extra work he was creating. Danny leaned over to look and was fairly certain on catching sight of the tangled mess of cables that this was his Dad’s work.

“Alright Danno, I need you to get your small hands in there. Diagnostics say some of the wires didn’t get plugged in right,” he explained with a little chuckle at his own mistake, “I’d fix it but now the paneling’s on I don’t fit.”

“Got it, know which ones?” Danny asked, eyeing the mess.

“Nope, some of the red ones? Some of the greens too. Just give them all a little extra push!” His Dad said before bounding off out of the portal frame to work on some other part of it.

Danny sighed and rolled his eyes, typical Dad. He used a finger to pull aside a bunch of wires to see the circuit board behind but the wires pulled others and obscured it. He huffed a little, the visor of his white hazmat suit fogging up a little before it faded. He was going to have to fix the cable management if he was going to make any progress.

As Danny picked his way through the tangled chaos of unlabeled cables he couldn’t help but be reminded of a spider web. Every few moves of his hand he had to untangle himself Just to get another wire out of the tangle and neatly with the others of its colour. He had to hope that the colours had some kind of system. Even if they didn’t at least they’d be able to see the board.

“Jack? Did you change this setting?” he heard from out in the lab.

“Um nope, well maybe,” he could almost hear his Dad’s awkward shrug.

There was the clacking of keys, “that’s a bit odd.”

“Huummm, maybe if we change that bit. That should get it, right?”

A spark darted from the connected wire as he disconnected it from the board and he swiftly pulled back his hands. Even with the hazmat he wasn't going to risk it. It might not be the vibrant colours of his parents’ ones but that didn’t mean it was more professionally made. His Dad made each of them by hand. Said they needed a bit more oomph to deal with ectoplasm. He wasn’t sure how effective it would really be.

“Mom? The powers on!” He called out to them.

It wasn't meant to be. His dad had said it was off. Either he forgot, not impossible. Or something was wrong with the power system. If that was the case they'd have to shut it all down. It would be months more work before they'd be ready. Danny couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed at that thought. He didn’t believe it would really work but he wanted it to. Wanted it for his parents. Wanted it for the hours he'd poured in as a way to learn engineering.

“What? No it’s not,” his Mom replied confused, “none of the systems are reporting that.”

“I unplugged it, I definitely unplugged it. Where’s that cable?” His Dad insisted.

“What the… Danny! Move now!” His Mom yelled.

Danny startled and backed away from the panel. There was a high pitched whine building behind him. He scrambled forward, his heavy bulky hazmat boots catching on themselves and every cable. There was a loud hiss and the safety shield started to descend. The power wasn’t just on, the portal was activating.

“Shit, no, not yet,” his Mom cursed, her hands practically slamming across the keys, “Jack pull the emergency breaker!”

“On it!”

He stumbled trying to crouch enough to pass under the descending shield. His head bounced in the helmet as he hit the floor. He winced and his head spun. It took a moment too long for him to get his bearings and start moving. He crawled as fast as he could, racing against the descending shield. He pulled back his hand just as the shield descended, the tips of his glove caught between reinforced glass and the metal tiled floor. He pulled it free with some effort, the fingers tearing.

“Breaker’s not stopping it Mads!”

Danny pulled himself up leaning against the glass. He flinched back as his Dad slammed the Fenton Anti Creep Stick into the reinforced glass with an echoing bang. His Mom was at the console frantically trying to get control of the machine.

He could feel a tingle as the charge in the air increased, his hair standing on end. An ominous warning that the Hazmat was no longer sealed. Electric sparks darted from metal surface to metal surface. The growing green glow that was building behind him reflected in the safety glass that trapped him there. The air grew a strange hot cold. There was a crackle like lightning and then he was engulfed in burning cold green.

[Next]

[disrealities]

System names + alternatives for system / alter (with tech themes)!! — First attempt at actual themed terms!! How do we feel about this layout? Any advice?

collective names . . . Virtual reality / realities, Newsgroup, [Name].com, Computer isle, Technical difficulties, Short circuits, Wireless connections, Cybersociology, Cybernetic collective, Cybersavvy system, Psuedocode collective, [System name].coll(ective)

— you can add "system" or any other term to these! I personally don't include them ^_^

"system" . . . Series, Forum, Network, Circuit, Faction, Type, Nitrite, Cloud, Molecule (like... a play on polycule), Chat, Circle, Fandom, Site, Organisation, Thread, Lab, Agency, League, Program, Website, Cyber, Technology, Processor, Hardware

"alter" . . . Pages, Threads, URLs, Links, Channels, Posts, Apps, PNGs, Data, Cables, Wires, Cells, Hyperlinks, Hypertext, Antiviruses, Misclicks, Techies, Digies, Memory chips, Cursors, Keys, Categories

[visit-new-york]

The Williamsburg Bridge remains a beloved and functional part of New York City's infrastructure, offering more than just a physical connection between boroughs. It weaves together the social, cultural, and economic fabric of the city while serving as a reminder of the city's enduring spirit and resilience.

Accessibility for Bicyclists: In recent years, the Williamsburg Bridge has become increasingly popular among cyclists. The addition of dedicated bike lanes and paths has made it a key route for those commuting between Brooklyn and Manhattan by bicycle. This has contributed to the city's efforts to promote sustainable transportation options.

Emergency Services: The Williamsburg Bridge, like other major bridges in New York City, is equipped with emergency evacuation plans and protocols. It is considered an essential route for emergency vehicles and personnel during crises or natural disasters.

Cultural Influence: Beyond its practical role, the Williamsburg Bridge has had a profound cultural influence, particularly in the Brooklyn neighborhood it connects to. Williamsburg, with its vibrant arts scene, has become synonymous with the bridge's name, and it has featured prominently in local art, music, and literature.

In Popular Culture: The Williamsburg Bridge has appeared in numerous movies, TV shows, and music videos. Its distinctive architecture and picturesque views have made it a favorite location for filmmakers and artists looking to capture the essence of New York City.

Connecting Diverse Communities: The bridge has played a crucial role in connecting diverse communities in Manhattan and Brooklyn. It has been a conduit for the exchange of cultural influences, economic activity, and social interactions.

Historical Preservation and Restoration: Various organizations and government agencies have been involved in preserving and restoring the bridge to ensure its longevity. Efforts have included repainting the bridge, restoring its architectural features, and maintaining its structural integrity.

Design Features: The Williamsburg Bridge's towers are constructed of steel, and its suspension cables are made of wire rope. The bridge's overall design showcases elements of the Beaux-Arts architectural style, with ornamental details and decorative flourishes.

Maintenance Challenges: Maintaining a bridge of this size and age is an ongoing challenge. The bridge requires regular inspections, repairs, and upgrades to keep up with modern safety standards and the demands of urban transportation.

Future Developments: As New York City continues to evolve, the Williamsburg Bridge remains a vital part of the city's infrastructure. Future developments and improvements may include further enhancements to pedestrian and cyclist facilities, as well as ongoing efforts to reduce environmental impacts.

Centennial Celebrations: The Williamsburg Bridge celebrated its centennial in 2003 with various events and activities to mark its 100th anniversary. This milestone offered an opportunity for New Yorkers to reflect on the bridge's historical importance.

Artistic Expressions: Over the years, the Williamsburg Bridge has been a canvas for artistic expressions. Street art and graffiti have adorned its support structures and pedestrian walkways, contributing to the bridge's cultural identity.

Traffic Congestion and Alternatives: Like many urban bridges, the Williamsburg Bridge experiences traffic congestion during peak hours. This congestion has prompted discussions about transportation alternatives, such as improved public transit options, to ease the burden on the bridge and reduce environmental impacts.

Hurricane Sandy and Resilience: The bridge, like other infrastructure in New York City, faced significant challenges during Hurricane Sandy in 2012. The storm surge resulted in flooding and temporary closures. In response, the city has explored ways to enhance the resilience of critical infrastructure, including the Williamsburg Bridge, to future extreme weather events.

Iconic Landmark: The Williamsburg Bridge is not just a transportation link but also an iconic symbol of New York City's skyline. Its unique silhouette and the way it frames views of the city have made it a subject of admiration for photographers, artists, and tourists alike.

Community Engagement: The Williamsburg Bridge has been the focus of community engagement and activism. Local residents and organizations have advocated for improvements, safety measures, and the preservation of its historical and cultural significance.

Economic Impact: The bridge's role in connecting Manhattan and Brooklyn has had a significant economic impact on both boroughs. It has facilitated the movement of goods and people, supporting businesses and industries on both sides of the East River.

Night Illumination: The Williamsburg Bridge is often illuminated at night, casting a stunning glow over the East River. The changing colors and lighting schemes have been used to mark special occasions and holidays, enhancing the bridge's visual appeal.

Symbol of Progress: Throughout its history, the Williamsburg Bridge has symbolized progress, connectivity, and the spirit of innovation. It reflects the dynamism of New York City as it continues to evolve and adapt to the needs of its residents.

The Williamsburg Bridge stands as a testament to both engineering innovation and the enduring cultural significance of infrastructure in urban life. It has served as a lifeline for generations of New Yorkers, connecting people, neighborhoods, and opportunities across the East River.

<Previous page  - Williamsburg Bridge -  Next page>

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Costume Meta 7x02

We are short on the costumes to look at this week as we continue this multi episode arc, so this meta is going to be a pretty short one! I’ve had a pretty busy weekend, so things have worked out for me and its also the reason why I'm only posting this on a Tuesday evening!!!!

There are a few things to point out before I get to the main costumes - we have more bright pink in play here - on the Mom in the car that got hit by the drunk driver. I still have no idea what its trying to tell us a this point, but I have my eyes peeled for more bright pink to appear in the next couple of episodes and see if I can unravel its use.

On the non costume front, on the ship - its a yellow cable that leads to the bomb that ensures communication cannot be restored to the ship when nit explodes - the fact the communications engineer also dies, just re-emphaises the point. Communication is a key theme in this episode.

Back to costumes an in the same vein as the cable, we see Captain O’s deputy in his yellow rain coat when she gives the abandon ship order, and the yellow wire is prominent on the radio when she tells him to do so. He is now the one responsible for communicating her order to the rest of the ship and getting everyone onto the life boats. This is good and effective communication and we see the results of it as we are shown the ship being evacuated. 

Hen and Karen are the only ones we get in a new costume this week.

Lets start with Karen - its an interesting choice - we have her in this navy blue shirt and trousers combo with a brown belt. the top has blue and green Richelieu (cutwork) design on the sleeves and the trousers are also decorated with Richelieu. There are two things at play with this costume choice - the almost entirely navy outfit places her in the same category as Chim, Buck and Eddie. this is very very intentional - Karen mirroring/paralleling them places her in the same position they hold - Karen is meant to be there to show that Hens thought process is flawed and as an outsider to proceedings thats really important for the audience - we need to see that Hen isn't this flawless captain that we've been shown up to this point. The other thing it's designed to do is maintain Hen as separate from everyone else. This visual device helps the script re-enforce things so that when she is then spurred into trying to get hold of Bobby and Athena we are focused on her because of her 'otherness' visually she stands out and we obviously need her to to help drive the narrative forward.

The other thing with Karens costume is the green and blue Richelieu which creates this visual representation of storm clouds swirling and moving in - a subtle reference, not only to Hen's currently cloudy viewpoint on things, but also to the impending storm brewing out in the ocean around the cruise ship. I really love it when they can drop subtle hints like this in set and costuming!

THen we have Hen!

Putting her into her white tee, jeans, green sneakers and this printed silk jacket, and not showing her changing out of her uniform into said outfit while the rest of the firearm are still in uniform helps to separate her from the ‘three Judases’ its a really loud and obvious visual way of separating her from the not only the three boys, but also from the firehouse as a whole. The way the scene is set up helps with this as well -she is on the same side of the bench and room as Chim, Buck and Eddie, until they question her version of events (Eddie is the one to actually ask the question and he is the one dressed differently to Chim and Buck - this isn't about putting him in opposition to them, more just visually signalling that he's the one to ask the important question that we as viewers should be ready for) and then she moves away from them and becomes visually in opposition to them. Its the perfect example of costume, set and direction working in perfect harmony to tell the story visually - we don't actually need to hear whats been said, we can tell it all from the way its shown to us visually.

Hens jacket is a fascinating choice - it plays into a couple of themes we’ve seen in action over the two episodes we’ve had thus far. I did write a little bit about it when we got the first stills of it (which I now cannot find - stupid tumblr search!) but essentially it is a jacket that has various places around California - the golden gate bridge, the redwood trees in Yosemite, Lake Tahoe, etc. as well as the victorian style rose pattern running along the cuffs and edges of the jacket.

The pink roses are a really lovely touch - and one I picked up on specifically because Hen is not a flowery kind of person, so seeing them on her means they are important. Pink roses are generally considered to signify a strong friendship or family bond - something that is ultimately at the heart of matters - the fire family are just that - a family and they might have argument's etc, but they still love each other as a family and will go all out to be there for each other. Its a low key piece of

then we have all that water - do we even need to talk about its meaning?!! Its a literal visual play on the entire them of this arc - water! We all know that water is a really key theme that 911 uses a lot in its storytelling, whether thats big water based events such at the Tsunami or this cruise ship disaster, or smaller low key water theming such as the rain being present at so many of the disasters we see. I'm interested that we now have it appearing on Hen - because it hasn't really been connected to her in many of her personal story arcs (by this I mean arcs such as her deciding and training to be a doctor, Henren's journey through parenthood, the ambulance crash or even Karens lab blowing up last season) so its interesting that we're now seeing her pulled into the water theming in a visual way like this. It is also a play on the two aspects of this episode - there is the loud water theming of the Cruise ship, but there is also the fact Hen has landed in hot water/ deep water.

Hen is also wearing her 'H' necklace, not her 'K' one. This is important because her necklaces tend to be a visual indicator of what her arc is about - the 'H' is worn when it's about her specifically and not her marriage/ family, which is when we tend to see the 'K' heart pendant being worn.

Thats all from me this week! Thank you as always for reading and I hope you enjoyed the shortness of this post - I doubt many of the others will be this short 😂

Tagged peeps below!

@theladyyavilee @mistmarauder @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mandzuking17 @spotsandsocks @loveyou2thecore @rogerzsteven @wanderingwomanwondering @oneawkwardcookie @leothil @copyninjabuckley @shammers86 @crazyfangirlallert @missmagooglie @katyobsesses @radiation-run @gayandbifiremenofmine @bi-moonlight @crazyaboutotps @princesschez75 @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @sherlocking-out-loud @evanbuckleysarms @satashiiwrites

[stephensmithuk]

Telegrams - not the app

Since these are important for both Letters from Watson and Dracula Daily, as well as a chunk of other late Victorian/Edwardian literature, I thought I would share some useful notes on these.

Telegrams were the Victorian form of a direct message sent over the nascent telegraphic network, which was at this point all wires.

Various undersea cables had been laid by the 1890s, allowing messages to be sent across the Atlantic or even to Australia. However, bandwidth was limited.

These messages were by no means instant - you had to wait for them to be passed between operators and that could take a few hours - but they were much faster than post.

They were not cheap - you were charged by the word and there was a minimum charge. Unless you were a diplomat or military officer, messages were generally kept reasonably short. It would be for things like "I'm coming home on the next steamer" or "buy the thousand nunchucks" or "I'd like three rooms at the Golden Krone in Bistritz."

But you could also send someone birthday messages or wedding greetings. Or indeed petition governments.

You would either go to a post office and dictate the message to an employee, or you could complete a form with your message and a stamp to indicate you had pre-paid (books were available), then get your page boy to take it to the post office. Or put it in any letter box.

The telegrams would be delivered to the person's address or could be collected. For example, if you were staying at a hotel, you could get messages sent there and collect them from reception. You will sometimes see characters in old movies asking the receptionist if they have any messages for precisely this reason.

Many of these networks were operated by governments, especially in Europe. This had implications for privacy of course.

To shorten messages and ensure a degree of confidentiality, various commercial code books were available. Common abbreviations would also be used, like FWD, which still exist today.

STOP, COMMA etc. tended to be used by governments and the military rather than civilians.

While the traditional Morse code single key was still very common, various typewriter and other machines were in use by this time that sped up traffic considerably.

[bouncingbluebeast]

It was something to behold when an interdimensional transport device went wrong - or in this case, went just right. The din of space warping around the ears had faded into a low hum, the gateway looking more reminiscent of something from Stargate than a typical prototype. Perhaps this world's Dr. Henry McCoy would be able to enlighten as to what his inspirations were.

This Hank McCoy's laboratory is familiar, yet foreign in a few key ways. The ceiling barframes have been reinforced, with sections that include hanging seats that swing along a rail track - like a zip line or a jungle vine. A second refrigerator sits on the opposite side from the one used for storing samples, medical pouches, and other materials. A quick perusal of the second fridge reveals it stocked with various snacks and drinks; twinkies (always nice to know that seems a universal constant), fruit slices, berries, cheeses, crackers, pickles, sandwich meats and other low-effort finger foods. The computer terminal setup is largely unchanged, save for a much larger desk chair with wheels. There were...tokens amidst his counterpart's implements of scientific progress. A few empty mugs left out that read cheesy phrases like "World's Bluest Scientist" or "Big PhD Energy". There was a sense that, while clinical, this lab was lived in...and not just by Hank.

Echoing off the walls, a tell-tale voice hummed along to a portable radio to Britney Spears' "Oops! I Did It Again". Following the sound and the partially sung lyrics would lead to a large blue form underneath a table of wires, cable and plating. A round, soft belly rose and fell spread out over thick thighs clad in similar black-and-yellow shorts and a partially opened suit which gave him breathing room. Sparks occasionally came out from underneath the paneling in rhythm with Miss Spears' "Oh, baby baby". Hearing some footfalls approach, but not looking out to see whom, a clawed hand-paw reaches out from underneath and grabs at the open air expectantly. Whether he is provided the tool he needs is up to the charity of a visitor.

"Hello? Just a moment, I'm almost finished this adjustment and...ah! There we are."

The panel closes with a creak and a substantially larger and softer McCoy rolls out from under the panel with his mechanic's dolly. His eyes widen slightly at his counterpart's presence, saying the ever familiar "Oh my stars and garters...well, I suppose I'd neglected to check if the test process had finished."

A grunt as he sat up led to this Hank standing eye-to-eye, adjusting his spectacles and lifting up a welding shield lens he'd affixed. His eyes are bright yellow with dark irises, semi-dilated in fascination and acclimating to the light. He proceeds to examine more closely, asking questions as though to assess injury,

"Any feelings of molecular instability? Lightheadedness? Nausea? Dissociation or partial loss of sense of self? Terribly sorry if you were dragged through unawares, my friend! I'm Hank McC- oh, I suppose you'd know that already. Well, if you're in need of care or answering questions, I'm your man! May I offer you - me? us??- some tea?"

Hank had already moved for a thermos on a nearby table and began pouring out some steaming earl grey. A lot of things change, but some stay the same...

(@positivelybeastly)

[jojomiwbvb6]

Hedonist - Part 2

Author Note: Okay. More than 3 parts, probably.

Part 1

Warnings: marijuana usage, mentions of smut

The only thought ringing through your mind the past two days was Noah. Each brain cell looped his image into your mind over and over. His voice, his hair, his eyes, his tattoos. His smirk, his muscles, his scent… Nonstop, ever since class a few days ago. 

Your 8 AM alarm blared from your phone on your nightstand beside your bed. Light was shining through the curtains in the dark room of your small apartment that you were lucky enough to snatch in the city. You grabbed your phone with dim eyes, blinking while looking at the bright light of your screen. You dismissed the annoying alarm, yawning as you sat up.

Floods of thoughts about Noah come rushing back, and you smile to yourself anxiously and bite your lip.

Today I will get to see Noah in class, you thought to yourself.

You got up from your bed’s comforting embrace, slipping on your slides and walking to the bathroom for your morning routine.

Once you step from the bathroom, you eye your phone again. Noah hadn’t texted you at all, and you never texted him. You were nervous. What would you even say? 

Responses to this question immediately swarmed your mind, most of them with a similar tone. Hey, you’re super fine and we should fuck. Respectfully.

You smacked yourself lightly on the head, shaking the fantasy away from you. Of course, you’d never actually send that. No need to be even more frustrated than you needed to be when you would see him, and you’d just die of embarrassment. 

You pulled on your clothes, comfy and warm for this time of year, and laced up your Docs. You pulled up your hair and added light makeup and a bit of your favorite perfume. You hoped Noah would like the way you looked today.

Before you left the house, you took a hit off of your dab pen and began to pack up your school equipment. You slipped your laptop into your bag, and wrapped up all of your wires, tucking them into a slotted area. You thought you had everything. 

Just to be sure, you took a double-take. Looking in the wires, you noticed you had one missing. Your MIDI cable.

“What the hell?” You said, questioning yourself. You looked in the bag, in all areas. You looked on the ground. You mumbled angrily to yourself, wondering where the hell it went. You tore apart your work station. You crawled on the ground on your hands and knees, searching the floor and bumping your head on the underside of the desk when you tried to stand back up.

You cursed, rubbing your head where you’d hit it. “What the actual fuck? Where the fuck did it go?” You stared blankly at the wall, hitting the pen again. As you exhaled, you remembered.

Noah had it. He hadn’t given it back to you after class. 

Your stomach flipped at the idea that you would have to interact with him again. Looking down at your phone, you opened up Noah’s contact information, pressing the ‘new message’ button. You stared at your phone nervously, butterflies making you feel nearly sick.

You sat down on your bed. You exhaled nervously, typing slowly. 

Hey Noah, it’s Y/N. I forgot that you have my MIDI Cable. Is it okay that I get that back from you in class today?

You exhaled roughly, sighing as your finger hovered over send. The text really wasn’t that big of a deal and you should have sent it. But instead, your stomach flip flopped and you over-thought it. Why text him when it could be something you said in person? Would that be too nerve-wracking as well? After debating it for far too long and hesitating, you pressed backspace until all of the message was erased and you locked your phone. 

Sighing again, you stood up and zipped up your bag. You grabbed your keys, jacket, and bag, locking the door and leaving the house to head to class.

–

Thankfully, you reached your classroom early, saving you from your professor’s reprimands of the last class. You avoided looking to where Noah would be the entire morning, hoping you didn’t look as interested as you were. 

The professor drawled on about his usual morning announcements, but you barely listened as you got your station ready. 

“Now that we know what everyone needs to know, it is time to take attendance.” The professor walked behind his desk, reaching for his planner and attendance sheet. He called out several names, while you eyeballed the hot coffee you purchased on the drive here. 

“Y/N,” the professor called out. 

“Here,” you said drowsily, sipping your coffee and looking back down at your computer. 

“Noah,” he continued, but this time there was a pause. You looked up from your screen to see your professor screw his face into a frown and mark Noah off the page. “Tardy.” 

Sure enough, you looked up finally towards his desk and he wasn’t there. Your heart dropped at the thought of not seeing him. I mean, you only saw him once so far, was he going to come back? He said he was in a band, what if he went on tour? After only seeing him one day? You felt like you could pass out. 

Girl, chill. You’re over-reacting. You thought to yourself. 

Your professor set down his sheet and began his lecture. He cleared his throat. “Okay, people. Today we will be linking MIDI with Pro Tools.” 

As if this day couldn’t get any worse. If we were starting MIDI today, that meant you needed your cable. And Noah… he wasn’t here. You had to text him now. 

You began to disassociate while you silently panicked. You thought about it and thought about it until it didn’t feel like a thought anymore. The professor just continued on with his lecture.

Suddenly, the loud door latch squeaked as it was opened quickly. The professor halted speaking immediately as everyone in the room stared at the door to see who the interruptor was. 

Standing tall in the dimmed light and hair cascading loosely around his hoodie, Noah walked in and shut the door. He handed a note to the professor, speaking to him. “I’m sorry, something came up with band business and the label, I was called away.” 

The professor frowned, but nodded, understanding. He gestured to his seat, beckoning Noah to sit, instructing him of what we were learning today and what he required.

Your eyes sparkled as you saw him turn to go back up to his seat. He looked up at you for the first time this morning, and smiled. Noah gave you a quick acknowledging nod and sat down, getting his notes ready. 

Your stomach did a backflip. You sipped your coffee and tried to pay attention in class. You took your notes and so did Noah. 

“Alright, guys. You know what to do. Get ready to set up and ask for help if you need it.” After this statement, your professor sat back down with a sigh. 

With your MIDI keyboard and extensions and your laptop surrounding you, all you needed now was your MIDI cable to make all of that come to life. It was a simple question really, but you were terrified. You looked up at Noah through your eyelashes, biting your lip. He was setting up his equipment. 

Deciding that you had to use your cable whether you liked it or not, you worked yourself up to go over to him. Slowly, you stood and moved around your chair, walking with zero confidence over to Noah. 

You breathed heavily through your nose out of nervousness, and cleared your throat. Noah noticed your presence almost immediately, like he had some sort of Y/N radar. He turned to you so smoothly, fresh cologne consuming the air, daring to take you out right then and there. Noah shot you another shy smile. “Hello, Y/N. What’s up, angel?” he spoke, his voice like liquid gold. 

“H-hi,” You stuttered out. You mentally cursed yourself. Come on, Y/N. You can’t even speak?

“I was wondering if maybe you had my MIDI cable?” You managed.

He looked at you for a moment, but then realized. “Oh, my god, I’m sorry, angel. I completely forgot I had it.” You melted at his pet name.

“That’s okay,” you said. 

He rummaged in his bag. Pulling out your cable, he handed it to you. Your hands brushed together, and you caught your breath as you took it. “Thank you, Noah,” you say. 

“Thank you for letting me use it, angel.” He gives you a pert smile. As you turn back to your desk, you roll your eyes in the back of your head and bite your lip before you get back to your seat. 

“Angel,” his pet name echoed in your head. Christ. 

You begin your work, focusing. You try not to look at Noah nearly as much as your previous class. 

You’re messing with your keyboard when you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket. You quickly pull it out, expecting it to simply be some stupid spam notification. As your screen lights up and you drag down the notification bar, you squeal when you see the name on your screen. Text Message from: Noah Sebastian.

[californialanyards]

A Brief Guide to Stainless Steel Cable Key Rings and Accessory Items

Are you tired of fighting cheap key chains that break too quickly or losing your keys? You've come to the right place; the stainless steel cable key ring can be the solution to your issues. In this article, we'll talk about the best key rings for different purposes and how they help you keep your keys secure and organized.

Stainless Steel Cable Key Rings: Their Sturdiness and Dependability

When it comes to key rings, durability is an important factor to take into account. Generally speaking, cheaply constructed key rings often break, change their shape, or even snap suddenly. On the other hand, the stainless steel cable key rings are built to last a very long time. We know that stainless steel is preferred because of its exceptional strength, ability to withstand corrosion, and general longevity. Your keys will be safe and secure because your key ring won't break down over time.

Use a Steel Screw Lock and Wire Cable to Keep Your Keys Secure.

One of the steel screw lock wire cable's unique features is the mechanism that provides an additional layer of security to ensure that your keys are securely fastened to the key ring. The steel screw lock wire cable keeps a tight seal to avoid accidental key removal.

How are the best key rings chosen?

Is that not the big question? The best key rings available in the market today may be found in a multitude of alternatives thanks to online retailers like California Lanyards. You may find excellent options of key rings that can keep your keys secure and organized, whether they are in the form of stainless steel cable key rings or another kind. Key rings are an essential accessory that is readily available online in a number of styles.

[sassenach77yle]

She pressed her back against the tunnel wall, hands flat on the rough rock, and thought. That’s where they’d gone, then. It made no difference, but she closed her eyes to improve her concentration and summoned up the pages of the massive binder—presently on the seat of the vanished truck—that contained the structural and engineering details of all the hydroelectric stations under her purview.She’d looked at the diagrams for this one last night and again, hastily, while brushing her teeth this morning. The tunnel led to the dam, and had obviously been used in the construction of the lower levels of that dam. How low? If the tunnel joined at the level of the turbine chamber itself, it would have been walled off. But if it joined at the level of the servicing chamber above—a huge room equipped with the multi-ton ceiling cranes needed to lift the turbines from their nests—then there would still be a door; there would have been no need to seal it off, with no water on the other side.Try as she might, she couldn’t bring the diagrams to mind in sufficient detail to be sure there was an opening into the dam at the far end of the tunnel—but it would be simple enough to find out.

SHE’D SEEN THE TRAIN, in that brief moment before the doors closed; it didn’t take much fumbling round to get into the open cab of the tiny engine. Now, had those clowns taken the key to the engine, too? Ha. There was no key; it worked by a switch on the console. She flipped it, and a red button glowed with sudden triumph as she felt the hum of electricity run through the track beneath.The train couldn’t have been simpler to run. It had a single lever, which you pushed forward or back, depending on which direction you meant to go. She shoved it gently forward, and felt air move past her face as the train moved silently off into the bowels of the earth.She had to go slowly. The tiny red button shed a comforting glow over her hands, but did nothing to pierce the darkness ahead, and she had no idea where or how much the track curved. Neither did she want to hit the end of the track at a high rate of speed and derail the engine. It felt as though she was inching through the dark, but it was much better than walking, feeling her way over a mile of tunnel lined with high-voltage cables.It hit her in the dark.

For a split second, she thought someone had laid a live cable on the track. In the next instant, a sound that wasn’t a sound thrummed through her, plucking every nerve in her body, making her vision go white. And then her hand brushed rock and she realized that she had fallen across the console, was hanging halfway out of the tiny, trundling engine, was about to fall out into darkness.Head spinning, she managed to grab the edge of the console and pull herself back into the cab. Flipped the switch with one shaking hand and half-fell to the floor, where she curled up, gripping her knees, her breath a whimpering in the dark.

“Holy God,” she whispered. “Oh, Blessed Mother. Oh, Jesus.”

She could feel it out there. Still feel it. It didn’t make a sound now, but she felt its nearness and couldn’t stop trembling.She sat still for a long time, head on her knees, until rational thought began to come back.She couldn’t be mistaken. She’d passed through time twice, and knew the feeling. But this hadn’t been nearly so shocking. Her skin still prickled and her nerves jumped and her inner ears rang as though she’d thrust her head into a hive of hornets—but she felt solid. She felt as though a red-hot wire had sliced her in two, but she hadn’t had the horrible sense of being disassembled, turned physically inside out.

A terrible thought sent her surging to her feet, clinging to the console.

Had she jumped? Was she somewhere—somewhen—else?

But the metal console was cool and solid under her hands, the smell of damp rock and cable insulation unchanged.“No,” she whispered, and flicked the power light for reassurance. It came on, and the train, still in gear, gave a sudden lurch. Hastily, she throttled back the speed to less than a crawl.She couldn’t have jumped into the past.

Small objects in direct contact with a traveler’s person seemed to move with them, but an entire train and its track was surely pushing it. “Besides,” she said out loud, “if you’d gone more than twenty-five years or so into the past, the tunnel wouldn’t be here. You’d be inside… solid rock.” Her gorge rose suddenly, and she threw up.The sense of… it… was receding, though. It—whatever it was—was behind her. Well, that settled it, she thought, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. There bloody well had to be a door at the far end, because there was no way she was going back the way she’d come.

There was a door. A plain, ordinary, industrial metal door. And a padlock, unlocked, hanging from an open hasp. She could smell WD-40; someone had oiled the hinges, very recently, and the door swung open easily when she turned the knob. She felt suddenly like Alice, after falling down the White Rabbit’s hole. A really mad Alice.A steep flight of steps lay on the other side of the door, dimly lit—and at the top was another metal door, edged with light. She could hear the rumble and the metallic whine of a ceiling crane in operation.Her breath was coming fast, and not from the effort of climbing the stairs. What would she find on the other side? It was the servicing chamber inside the dam; she knew that much. But would she find Thursday on the other side? The same Thursday she’d had when the tunnel doors had closed behind her?She gritted her teeth and opened the door. Rob Cameron was waiting, lounging back against the wall, lit cigarette in hand. He broke into an enormous grin at sight of her, dropped the butt, and stepped on it.

“Knew ye’d make it, hen,” he said. Across the room, Andy and Craig turned from their work and applauded.“Buy ye a pint after work, then, lass,” Andy called.“Two!” shouted Craig.She could still taste bile at the back of her throat. She gave Rob Cameron the sort of look she’d given Mr. Campbell.

“Don’t,” she said evenly, “call me hen.”

His good-looking face twitched and he tugged at his forelock with mock subservience.“Anything you say, boss,” he said.

Tunnel Tigers ~ An Echo in the Bone

[dollmonster]

I got Berrie Skies' doll the other day and have been researching her for a few days. There's some things others have already pointed out like the Angus Chiang inspiration behind her CD-skirt and the Brain&Beast aux cable belt. Her bracelet is like a DIY project using recycled key caps and wire. I believe her earrings, which look like screw carabiners, are inspired by Gab Bois. They aren't computer-y but they do fall in line with her theme of recycling hardware. Her shoes are from UV-ZHU's NIKE-deconstruction series, again with a recycling theme. I couldn't find anything that exactly matched her circuit top but I do like Steven Rodrig's piece, Supporting Her Data. I also couldn't find an exact match for her glasses, just a lot of results for y2k shield sunglasses.

Her color theme reminds me of the iMac color Bondi blue, I wish she was a little closer to that color. There was also a line of fruit colored iMacs, including a blueberry color.

On her laptop, Berrie is editing HTML and CSS files which are what websites are made of. CSS files usually define the style of webpages but this file is showing info about google cloud API. I'm not sure if that's supposed to go in a CSS file as I only know how to write basic CSS. The HTML file looks like example code for how the "div align" element works. She might be the designer/programmer for RH's site or the Daily Shadow's website?

Regarding her name, I like the comparisons to the Raspberry Pi, so I've been calling her Berrie Pi :)