#battery assembly line

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The Art of Battery Pack Assembly: Creating Power from Modules

The journey of a battery's transformation from a collection of individual cells to a powerful energy source involves several intricate steps. In this article, we focus on the final piece of this puzzle—the battery pack assembly process. In this process, the individual battery cells are ingeniously crafted into modules and eventually form a complete battery pack. Let's dive into the fascinating world of battery pack assembly line and see how this vital step is achieved.

Connecting Battery Cells: The First Step

The initial stage of battery pack assembly begins with the careful connection of battery cells. Each battery cell's surface is meticulously cleaned to ensure a pristine connection. This connection process involves linking battery cells and creating a structured arrangement. The configuration of these cells and the number of modules can vary significantly, depending on the specific application and battery model.

Battery cells are like the building blocks of energy storage. Their ability to store electrical energy makes them the core of the battery assembly process. Connecting them correctly is paramount in achieving the desired electrical performance.

Modularization: A Framework for Battery Pack Assembly

With the individual battery cells connected, the next step is modularization. In this phase, the connected battery cells are securely fastened into a module case. This module case typically comes with an adhesive coating to ensure a robust bond.

To create modules, electrical connections between the connected battery cells must be established. Depending on the specific design and requirements of the battery pack, this can be achieved through either a wiring harness or a busbar. After the electrical connections are made, the module is sealed with a cover, giving it its final structure. The number of modules created during this phase can vary depending on the application and battery model. These modules are like the building blocks of the battery pack, and each module forms an essential part of the larger energy storage system.

Component Assembly: The Key to Completing the Puzzle

The assembly process progresses as multiple modules are brought together to create a complete battery pack. These modules are carefully interconnected, ensuring that the electrical connections are secure, and the modules are correctly aligned. This intricate interconnection creates a cohesive unit, ready to provide power for a wide range of applications.

Each battery pack can be tailored to specific needs by adjusting the number of batteries and modules it contains. This customization is a remarkable aspect of battery pack assembly, as it allows manufacturers to create energy solutions that suit diverse applications, from electric vehicles to renewable energy systems.

The Vital Role of Battery Management Systems (BMS)

Once the battery pack is assembled, a crucial step remains – the application of the Battery Management System (BMS). The BMS plays a pivotal role in monitoring and managing the battery's health and performance. This system provides valuable insights into the battery's charging status and its expected service life.

A key component of the BMS is the Battery Monitoring Unit (CMU), which evaluates and balances the state of the battery cells. This balancing ensures that all cells in the battery pack are operating optimally, safeguarding their longevity and efficiency. The BMS offers real-time data, ensuring the battery remains in the best possible condition.

The application of BMS is a testament to the commitment to safety, performance, and longevity in battery manufacturing. It's a technology that helps optimize the use of energy storage solutions sustainably and efficiently.

Conclusion: Creating Power, One Module at a Time

The battery pack assembly process is a remarkable journey, where individual battery cells evolve into powerful energy solutions. This process highlights the importance of precision, customization, and the integration of cutting-edge technology. Battery packs assembled with care and expertise find applications in electric vehicles, consumer electronics, renewable energy systems, medical devices, and more.

As the world continues to transition towards cleaner, more sustainable energy solutions, the role of battery pack assembly grows in significance. With advancements in technology and research, we can expect battery packs to continue shaping a greener, brighter future for generations to come.

So, the next time you pick up your smartphone, drive an electric vehicle or enjoy the benefits of renewable energy, remember the meticulous craftsmanship that went into the creation of the battery pack, transforming it from individual cells into a powerful source of energy. It's a testament to human innovation and our commitment to a sustainable future.

[godmadeaterribleerror]

Look Behind You

Main Masterlist - Bucky Masterlist

Read on A03!

Tags: Bucky Barnes/Female Reader, smut (p in v, fingering), light angst, fluff, humor, action, no use of y/n, semi-linear story telling, enemies to lovers

Summary: You've made a mistake. You've been reckless and fallen in love with Bucky. There's only one way to deal with this.

Make a list.

Author's Note: This is one of my favorites, I think. Thriving in the semi-linear story telling, feelings, and list making. Gotta love a good list. Enjoy!

Word Count: 11.9k

The pen in your hands feels more like a weapon. The last line of defense against the unthinkable. 

The only thing holding your sanity, dignity, and life by a single thread, set to snap if you’re not careful.

Nobody will bother you in this coffee shop. Not even Bucky will look for you here. You’re in public. You’re somewhere obvious and simple, and that’s the whole point. Sam and Bucky will lose themselves down dark allies and in hidden corners of the city before they think to check an emotionally significant landmark in downtown Manhattan. They won’t believe you’d be that stupid, make it that easy for them. They’ll think that—because you’re dodging calls, because you were gone when Bucky woke up and you didn’t meet with Sam before lunch—you don’t want to be found.

And you don’t.

So they’re not going to find you. 

There’s a lingering fear that a search team might be assembled, and the city may be barricaded in until you’re found, but you don’t think Sam will abuse his power like that.

Bucky might try to convince him to.

You’re about fifty percent sure Sam won’t cave.

It’s a bridge you’ll burn when you reach it. When they do—eventually—find you. When you—hopefully—have your answer, and you have to look Bucky in the eyes and keep finding a way to live with yourself.

If this goes as you hope, that will be quite easy. You’ll lie through your teeth and say you lost your phone—it’s right next to you, the SIM card removed and battery purposefully dead, but they never need to know that—and thought that Sam and Bucky would be able to find you if they needed you. They’ll look embarrassed and make a silent vow to each other that you’ll pretend not to see—swearing that they’ll never tell you how they almost called the coast guard in—and then everything will go back to normal.

If it goes the way you’re afraid of, that will be more complicated. You’re not entertaining that possibility with things like plans or strategies, because you simply won’t allow it to happen. This will work. You have the pen, the paper, and at least eight hours before Sam and Bucky grow a brain cell and figure out where you are.

Deep breath. The coffee in front of you is sweeter than you’d usually want it, almost sickly, but it can be a motivation. The coffee shop is crowded, and the tables are blue. You can smell the decorative roses on the windows. You can hear the music in your earbuds. The pen is heavy in your hands, but all that means is it’s real. And this is going to work.

List of Reasons to Hate Bucky-

You pause, and scratch out Bucky. It’s too intimate. You’re setting yourself up for failure. 

List of Reasons to Hate James Barnes.

You have reason one locked and loaded. You’ve been rehearsing the whole list for a week—since the revelation that can’t be spoken of, because that will make it real—and you know half of your pre-planned reasons will drift into nothing as you go through the list, but at least you’ll have one. 

It’s better than none of them.

You’re a little worried a hundred won’t do the job.

You have to try anyway.

1. He stares.

——————

You don’t know how you got here. Sitting across from Captain America, kicking your feet slightly and humming to yourself as he and his very angry looking sidekick glare at you.

It seems like a contest, trying to figure out who will break and speak first.

It won’t be you.

Captain America is out of his suit, and, logically, you know his wings won’t just spring out of his body. They’re mechanical, not biological. Part of you is still wondering—should you move suddenly and startle him—if he’ll squak and take off like a real bird. 

He won’t, and you don’t think either of these men will find that as funny as you will. The Cap seems intently focused on trying to puff out his chest in his chair—like an odd sort of intimidation ritual or mating dance, done more on instinct than logic—and his sidekick is looking at you as if you’re the most disgusting thing he’s ever seen.

You’ve gotten that look before. It doesn’t shake you on his face any more than it does anyone else, but there is something… different. Most people will glare with that revolted look at what you’ve done, and for what expression, and it won’t sink deeper than your skin, because they don’t understand. They don’t know what the shadows and colder nights feel like, they don’t know how long you’ve been broken and alone, they don’t know that—whatever loathing for you has wormed its way into their heart—they don’t hate you. They hate what you’ve done, and they really don’t fucking understand.

This guy looks like he understands you perfectly, and it’s viler to him than anything in the world. Like he knows exactly who you are, like every marred and twisted organ is visible to his unwavering stare, and it’s the worst thing he’s even seen.

You’d laugh, if it didn’t cause an odd sting in your heart. Because you know who Bucky Barnes is. You know that any blood on your hands is mirrored on his, and if he really knows who you are, he’ll think better than to turn the violent glint behind his eyes into action. 

Especially because you know he won’t hurt you. He can’t, but you don’t think he’ll even try. He’s cured. He’s free. He doesn’t hurt people anymore, and you’re technically a person.

You’re also starting to be incredibly certain that this is some sort of staring competition. There’s no other reason for the silence to be stretching on this pointlessly long. It’s a little amusing, how they seem to have started a game they’ll never win, but it doesn’t change what’s happening. You’re handcuffed to a chair in an unknown location, Captain America and the Ex-Winter Solider are trying to break you with only very angry expressions, and you could escape in a second but you’re bored, and you don’t care about winning, but you want them to lose.

And they do.

Because Captain America breaks first, and smile pulls at your lips that you don’t bother to hide.

“You know why you’re here?”

You shrug, keeping your voice bored and amused. “Should I?”

He blinks at that, looking over his shoulder at Barnes, and letting out a long breath as his companion just keeps glaring at you. “Buck-“

“Don’t say my name, dumbass-“

“She already knows who we are-“

“She hasn’t been in damn public for a decade, we don’t know what she knows-“

“Man, c’mon, Fisk has TVs.” Captain America rolls his eyes, and turns back to you. “You know who we are?”

“I don’t think so?” You look between them with your best, perfectly innocent and confused expression. “Should I?”

Barnes narrows his eyes, scanning over you with an unblinking fury that’s almost scary. Not quite, but almost.

“You know who we are.”

“I don’t think I do-“

Barnes scoffs. “Don’t lie-“

Captain America shakes his head, cutting Barnes off with a firm glare. “I dunno, man, you’re the one who said-“

“I know what I said, but- You’re really falling for that?” Barnes gestures to you with a scowl, and you give him a sweet smile in return. “She’s clearly lying, Sam-“

Sam rolls his eyes. “Who’s sayin’ names now, Bucky-“

You clear your throat, and they both look back to you with almost twin, venomous glowers.

“What.” Sam snaps, and you let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Do I have to stay tied to the chair while you two fight? Or can I go home?”

“Home?” Barnes gives you a pointed look. “You gonna head right back to Fisk, doll?”

You don’t answer, just shrugging and letting your smile widen, even as the thought of willingly running home to fucking Fisk makes bile rise in your throat.

Barnes holds your gaze with a glare. You don’t think you’ve seen him blink once. It might be the main thing keeping you in this chair.

You want to see what they have to say, and you’d really like to see if Barnes can blink, or if it will make his circuits fry and heart go into an arrest.

You get the former first, when Sam runs a hand over his face, leans forward in his chair, and mutters your name. Your real name.

He knows your name. That’s interesting.

“Look, we-“ He glances at Barnes—still glaring at you—and lets out a long breath. “We know who you are.”

“Oh?” You look between them will well-practiced, faux innocence. “Do you?”

“Fisk’s pet.” Barnes grunts, and Sam sighs again. He seems to do that a lot.

“I- Coulda phrased it better, but yeah. You’re his hit… woman.” Sam’s voice drops as he continues, watching you carefully. “Look, we got an opportunity for you. Help us bring down Fisk, you get a full par-“

“Okay.”

Sam frowns. “I wasn’t done-“

“I don’t care.” You shrug. “I’m in. Can you let me out now?”

“Uh-“

“That’s it?” Barnes cuts Sam off with a snap, his tone full of a disgust that’s a little dramatic. “You’re just- You’re gonna flip like that? No questions, no loyalty? Out of fuckin’ self-preservation?”

You snort, not bothering to sit up as you hold his gaze. “Of course it’s out of self-preservation. Would you rather I hold my moral high-ground and keep working for the evil crime lord? Would that be better for you? Cause I can flip back, you just need to say the word and I’ll go tell Fisk that Captain America tried to cut a deal with me-“

“Hey, no.” Sam holds up his hand, letting out a long, slow breath as he glares at Barnes. “C’mon, man, you know we get one shot at this, stop antagonizing her-“

“She’s antagonizing me.” Barnes mutters, and you scoff. 

“You’re not the one cuffed to a chair, dipshit-“

“You-“ Barnes’ jaw clenches, and his hands curl at his side. Maybe he’ll punch you. That feels like it’ll help, somehow. “Sam, this cannot be our only option. She,” he gestures to you, and you wink at him. It doesn’t help. “Is not the only person in the whole damn city that works for Fisk. We’ll find another-“

“I’m the only person he trusts that will flip.” You hum. “Everyone else in his inner circle believes in the cause, or something. They love him, worship the ground he walks on. I’m the Stockholm puppy, they’ll never assume I flipped, and they’ll tell me whatever I ask because they don’t think I’d have this,” you give a vague wave of your hand in Sam and Bucky’s direction. “In me. I’m not just your only option. I’m your best option.”

There’s a long silence as they stare at you— incredibly uncuffed from the chair—and before Barnes can lunge at you with what might have been snarl, Sam stands up, shoves him away, and they exchange low, angry words.

You settle for examining your nails as you wait, and Barnes’ glare pushes right under skin and sticks to it. You don’t know how you know, but there’s a very certain feeling that for the rest of your life you’re going to feel a buzzing, electric heat under your skin that’s entirely made of James Barnes, glaring at you. 

You really don’t think he can blink. 

But you’ll have plenty of time to find out, because when they return it’s with the news that they’ve come to an agreement—more likely Barnes lost an argument, but you don’t really care—that you’re in.

Barnes won’t stop staring at you. And you could leave, if you wanted.

But you’re interested in seeing how this plays out. And Barnes may be rearranging every nerve point and organ in your body with only his attention, but that isn’t nearly as important as getting away from Fisk. 

So you stare right back. 

——————

Reason two is a little harder. You’d had it lined up as well, but it hurts to even think.

You have to. If you’re going to get through this, you have to write down all the reason, even if you’d punch anyone else square in the jaw for saying them.

Bucky doesn’t deserve this. You need to pretend he does.

For your own sanity, you need to pretend he does.

2. He can be an asshole.

You don’t make it three second before something rattles in your body, and you add- 

But so can you.

——————

“You know,” Barnes drawls behind you, and it’s amazing how bad he can be at shutting up. This is supposed to be a stealth mission. He hasn’t stop talking to you since Sam put you two on a team and then fucked off to go fly around the warehouse. “The spider kid’s told us all about you, doll-“

“Parker?” You hum, and Barnes blinks. 

There it is.

“How’d you- No-“

“I know Spider-man’s Peter Parker.” You give Barnes an overly sweet smile, and you’ve been their double agent for a month of back-alley meetings and careful exchanges in noisy rooms, but it hasn’t seemed to stop getting under his skin. “I’ve known for like, five years.”

Barnes shakes his head, as if he doesn’t believe you. Like you just somehow guessed. “But Fisk doesn’t-“

“I didn’t tell Fisk.”

You turn back to the path ahead of you, and you can still feel Barnes’ glower.

“You think you’re fuckin’ smart, kid-“

“Yes, I do.” You throw him another smile over your shoulder, and his glare deepens. “What did Peter tell you about me?”

“That you’re kind of a bitch.” Barnes grunts, and you roll your eyes.

“He’s just still mad I gave him a concussion.” You mutter. “I didn’t mean to-“

“You didn’t mean to give him a fucking concussion-“ 

“I didn’t know how strong he’d be. It was new, I thought I’d just be breaking his nose-“

Barnes grabs your arm, yanking you back without warning and covering your mouth with a gloved hand, muffling your yelp.

“Be more careful.” He grunts in your ear. “Almost walked right into the open, you’ll get yourself shot.”

If you lean a little further back, your skin will touch his. Maybe he’d be stronger than Parker. Maybe you could hit hard enough to knock a new personality into him.

Because for the past week, Barnes has been a fucking dick. You understand not trusting you. It’s a reasonable conclusion to reach. 

But he doesn’t listen. He shoots down all your intel and acts both like you’re a weak little child, and an atomic bomb set to go off any second. You’re neither. You want Fisk dead more than anyone, and you’re in complete control. If you weren’t, you would’ve killed him days ago, and never even fucking blinked.

It’s a testament to that control, that you shove yourself away from him without tapping into Parker’s strength. You could’ve sent him flying out the window, if you wanted. But you’re being diplomatic, and you’re trying to do the goddamn mission, so you don’t. 

“Don’t grab me.” You snap, and Barnes scowls.

“I was helping you-“

“Did I ask you to?”

“No.” He narrows his eyes, taking a firm step forward until you’re almost nose to nose. “But if you die, Sam will yell at me. So be more damn careful.”

The staring contest lasts another minute before Sam’s voice crackles in both your ears, and you have to get back to work. By the time they’re fighting some of Fisk’s men—you’ve been, fucking stupidly, sidelined so as not to blow your cover—Barnes has called you incompetent in ten more ways. You’re too loud. Too smug for someone who’s not doing anything. You’re slowing them down, and he’s stuck babysitting you for your shitty intel—shitty intel that got them here, but he seems to be selectively ignoring that—and you’re too willing to kill people and run into fights with no powers.

He’s used that one a lot, after you’d convinced Fisk to give you a vacation and started to crash with Sam. Barnes has muttered countless times that he can’t believe you’re the woman everyone in New York is afraid of. 

“Who says I have no powers,” you’d snapped after the third low comment, sprawled out on Sam’s couch and watching TV, and Barnes had rolled his eyes.

“Whenever you’re ready to prove you got some, doll, I’m ready.” He’d raised his brows in a silent challenge, holding your glare. “Until then, get off my couch.”

“It’s Sam’s couch. And I’m watching TV.”

“All you fucking do is watch TV, doll, can’t be good for you-“

“Aw,” you’d shot him another sickly-sweet smile. “The old man is worried about my screen time-“

“You’re hogging it.” He’d grunted, ignoring your teasing, and you’d flipped him off.

“Sam doesn’t have any good books, and I’m not allowed to have a phone. What the fuck else am I supposed to do?”

You’d won the argument. Barnes had circled back to you being a waste of space—and you were, but he didn’t know that—and not actually having any powers, so in your eyes, that meant you won.

Because you do have powers. You’ve been saving it for a good moment. Just to prove your point, you’ll use them in a way that blows his stupid fucking mind, and really makes him feel like a dumbass.

That moment comes when one of Fisk’s men is aiming a gun right at his back, he’s turning a little too slow, and Sam is all the way on the other side of the room.

You’re on the ceiling. 

You drop down with the dramatic, fancy landing you’ve been practicing since you got skin-to-skin contact with Parker, and punch the grunt backward into the wall. 

There’s a sickening crack sound from the impact, and it rattles over your ribs and skull. You memorize his face, and add it to your tally. Your graveyard. Another piece of you that will never get to be whole or clean. 

When you turn back to Barnes, he’s staring at you, a look of borderline amusing confusion on his face.

“You-“ He glances up to the ceiling, and shakes his head. “You just fucking killed that guy.”

Your teeth almost snap in your mouth, and you feel a little bit of bile in your throat.

“Obviously.” You mutter, flexing your fist as you let Parker’s powers go dormant once more. “And it saved your life. You’re welcome.”

Barnes narrows his eyes. “I didn’t say thank you-“

“You should work on that, then.” You snap, storming past him as Sam wraps up the last grunt. “It’s rude.”

——————

Your coffee is finally finished, but it’s more bitter than normal on your tongue.

You think you might just miss Bucky, and it’s having a physical effect on your body. 

You need to keep going.

3. He’s bad at using his words.

——————

You jump out of your seat when the book slams down in front of you. 

“What the fuck-“

“Go read.” Barnes grunts, dropping down at your side. “My turn with the TV.”

You gape at him, not bothering to hide the slight amusement in your voice. “Your turn- Are you fucking five-“

“No. Read.”

“I-“

“Read.”

You scowl, and whack him on the arm with the book. “Stop interrupting me, Barnes-“

“Stop calling me Barnes,” he snaps your name in a mocking tone, catching your book before it can land on his arm once more, shoving it fully into your hands. “Go read.”

“I-“ You swallow, watching him wearily, hugging the book to your chest without thought. “What?”

His jaw ticks slightly. “Read-“

“No, why don’t you want me to call you Barnes.”

He’s silent for a long second, staring at the black TV screen with an unreadable expression.

“You call Sam his name.” He finally mutters, something bitter in his voice. “And the spider kid Peter. We’re supposed to be a fucking team. Use my name.”

You narrow your eyes. “You never thanked me for saving your life. Teammates thank each other.”

“That’s your thanks, genius.” He taps the book, still not fully looking at you. “Read it.”

He won that conversation. You don’t have a good response to that, so Bucky won. The asshole.

He buys you five more books in the next two weeks. One for every successful mission. And when you end up with a large gash on your leg, he half shoves you down onto the couch and kneels at your feet, patching it up without a word.

You don’t like the silence. It’s too heavy around your throat.

Only half a second later—like he can hear the stutter in your every breath—Bucky breaks it.

“You didn’t need to jump in front of me.”

“You were going to get shot, dummy.” You snap, crossing your arms and leaning back on the couch. “I did you a favor. Say thank you.”

He doesn’t. He won’t. But you know you’ll get another new book tomorrow, and that’s enough.

“Didn’t know you could get hurt.” He still won’t look up from your leg. “Thought I saw you get shot last week and walk it off.”

“I was ready for that.” You mutter, wincing as Bucky presses the rubbing alcohol to your leg. “This- fuck- I got caught off guard. Won’t happen again.”

He grunts, frowning at your leg. “You’re… selectively invulnerable.”

“If I chose right, yeah.”

That gets him to look at you. There’s the usual confusion clouding his eyes, along with… something else. Something deeper and vaster than the ocean, that’s almost jarring to see. Not frightening. Just different. Strange.

“What the fuck are you?”

His tone isn’t hateful. There’s a strange kind of light in it. Like awe. 

Not awe. 

But like it.

“I’m-“ You swallow, and you haven’t ever really explained it. Once Fisk made you, you just were. Once he figured out what you could do, it was all you did. Nobody asked. They never had to.

Bucky bows his head again, glaring at your leg as he speaks. “You don’t gotta tell me-“

“Shut up. I’m a mimic.”

He looks back up with raised brows, and you take a deep breath before you continue. 

“Fisk created me. Partnered with some crazy scientists, saved me out of a home, and made me into his little pet hero. I can mimic anyone’s DNA, if I touch them skin to skin. It’s just- I only use it on superheroes. Otherwise it’s not really useful.”

Bucky glances down at his gloved hands with a small frown, then back to you. “You stick to the ceiling a lot.”

You nod, and shrug. “I’ve touched Parker, if that’s what you’re asking. That’s how I know who he is. I beat him in a fight, unmasked him, and he was-“ You swallow, a knot tightening and grinding in your stomach, and Bucky finishes for you.

“Just a kid.”

“Just a kid.” You echo. “Couldn’t kill him. Never want to kill any of them. But there’s-“

“Not a choice.” He mutters, and the strange thing in his eyes seems clearer. “Bite down on this.”

You blink at him. “Wha-“

Bucky shoves the glove from his flesh hand into your mouth, and starts the first stitch.

The next day, there’s a phone and a book waiting for you in the kitchen.

——————

It takes too long to come up with the next reason. You get lost in thoughts of how you’ve read that same book a dozen times, and you’d caught Bucky reading your annotations with adorable concentration only a few weeks ago.

He always spends more time reading your thoughts than the actual story.

And it had hit you then, too. You can’t think about that, because it’s making this impossible. You can’t think about how Bucky had fallen asleep reading your annotations and looked adorable, or how the phone he gave you is the same one on the table next you right now. How the case on it is the one you bought as he hung over your shoulder, muttering how phone cases were stupid.

You’d made him show you his phone, after he’d said that. The screen had been cracked and shattered, and it had taken a month to get him to buy another. 

That can be a list point. You’re back on your game.

You almost write stubborn, but you substitute it for something stronger at the last second.

4. He can be controlling

You stare at it for a long moment, because something is off. Bucky can be controlling. He can man-handle you and order you around, his voice low and smooth and the intensity in his eyes a little dizzying-

“Shit.” You mutter under your breath. You messed up again.

Because you’re right.

But, fuck, it turns you on.

——————

“You need to stop fucking doing this,” Bucky mutters your name, his metal arm holding you in place as he pressed another round of rubbing alcohol over your gut. “One day you’re not gonna get lucky.”

You wince, but give him a weak smile. “I got shot, Buck, I wouldn’t call that lucky-“

“You got shot.” He hisses, scowling up at you. “Because you were fucking reckless.”

“I saved you-“

“That is not your job, kid-“

“Then stop almost getting shot!”

“I-“ Bucky lets out a slow breath from between his teeth, shaking his head slowly. “No. That’s my job. You’re not even supposed to be in the field-“

“But I am.” You snap. “And I’m not just going to let you get hurt-“

“You’re not letting me do anything.” He mutters, setting down the bottle as he moves back to the medkit. “You’re done in the field.”

You gape at him, the words too slow to sink it. Bucky said them too casually. He said them like they were his call to make.

“What the fuck are you talking about-“

“You’re not going out there again.” He grunts. His metal hand is still on your leg. “We’re almost done anyway. You’re best for intel.”

“Int-“ You cut yourself off with a scoff, glaring down at him. “You are not my boss, James-“

“No. I’m not.” His jaw ticks slightly. He still won’t meet your eyes. “But if I see you in the field again, I’m handcuffing you to your bed.”

He says that so easily, and a heat you have to ignore pools in your stomach. 

“What the fuck are you talking about.” You hiss, leaning down to try and drag his attention fully to your glare. “I am not going to just sit at home-“

“Yeah.” He grunts, still not looking up. “You are.”

“I told you, you are not in charge of me-“

He snorts. “If I was in charge of you, doll, you’d be on full fucking lockdown.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean-“

“Don’t worry about it-“

“James Barnes. Fucking look at me.”

He tenses, and drag his eyes to yours as if the action pains him. “What.”

“I am going to keep working.” You hiss. “Because it’s my job. And if you’ve got a problem with that-“

He rolls his eyes. “Obviously I have a fucking problem with it. And I’m deadly serious,” he grunts your name, holding your gaze. “You try and go on another mission, you’re getting cuffed.”

“We’re so fucking close, you asshole, you don’t get to bench me now-“

“That exactly why I’m benching you-“

“Because we’re close? What, you worried I’m gonna flee the moment we wrap this up?”

If you were furious with Bucky, you’d be worried he was going to break his jaw. “No.”

“So it’s not because you don’t trust me?” You sneer, and he shoots you of a look practical shock.

“Of course I fucking trust you-“

“Then why Bucky?! You can’t just fucking bench me and not tell me why! This is my fight too, and if you think fucking handcuffs are going hold me-“

“I won’t cuff you if you listen-“

“I won’t listen if you don’t speak fucking clearly-“

“It’s- fuck- It’s because Fisk is going to know it’s you soon!” He roars, and you freeze. You’ve heard him yell before, but not like this. There’s something hot behind it. Something almost pained. “You know what he’ll do when he’s figures out where you went off to?! What you’ve been doing, that you’ve been working with Me and Sam?!”

“I-“

“I’m not gonna be the one they’re aiming at anymore, doll. And they’re gonna be shooting to kill. And what if I’m not fast enough?!” he squeezes your leg, his lips curling as his eyes dart down to the wound ripping open your stomach. “What if they’re shooting you, and you’re not ready, and I’m too fucking slow?!” 

“Bucky-“

“I’ll fucking lose you.” He hisses, and you’re not even sure he knows what he’s saying. “I’m not fucking losing you. I only just goddamn got you, and you are not allowed to bail on me because you’re reckless and stupid.”

He finishes with a long, ragged breath, and you blink at him. Your skin is hot, mouth dry, and it’s as if you’ve been wandering in the desert for a million years. 

You haven’t been, though. 

But nobody’s ever looked at you like that before. With that fervorish awe, and unyielding fury like a tidal wave. Your hands feel clean. For the first time—maybe in years, maybe in your life—you don’t feel any small amounts of blood or grime under your fingernails. It’s that ocean, you think. The one trapped inside of Bucky, that’s slowly been flooding your senses over the past few months. A tide rising with every traded joke and shared book, every mission where he’d trusted you more and more, every story you’d told each other about the heavier, tainted parts of your shadows. 

You move to touch his face without thinking, and his skin is soft. The stubble of his beard is almost grounding—a small, rough reminder that he’s changed since you met him, even if the only obvious part of that is the length of his beard—and he’s looking at you like he’s afraid. Parted lips and blown out eyes as his hand catches your against his face, holding it there as he stares at you with that same fucking awe.

“I’m not losing you.” He repeats the word like they’re a prayer. An oath. “I’m not fucking losing you.”

——————

You need to take a ten-minute break. 

He hadn’t kissed you then. Fucking Sam had interrupted, because you’d been closer to the end than you thought you were. 

Fisk had fallen the next week. He’d never know it was you until he was sitting in a cell, and you spoke to him through the bars.

That had been a… long and confusing day. Bucky had been waiting the entire time. He’d almost killed you the moment you walked out of the cell.

6. He’s bad at reading situations

——————

Your eyes sting.

You don’t know why you’d cried. Fisk had made your life hell. He’d ruined it, and you’d won, and you’d still cried for him.

“You were like a daughter to me,” he’d hummed your name, nothing but sheer fucking disappointment in his eyes. Like you’d failed him. Like he was more hurt for you than angred at your betrayal. “You know, I always loved you for exactly what you were. Nothing more, nothing less.”

You’d only swallowed, any sharp words dying in your throat as Fisk continued.

“Do you think the Winter Soldier will like the reminder? Of who he was before?” Fisk had shaken his head, and sighed as if he’d been mourning you. You’d almost thrown up on the tile floors. “No, not as you are. And you don’t change, my girl. You’re not meant for… soft things. You could’ve ruled the world and now… You’ll be nothing. Alone.”

You’d found the words to cut back, somehow, but you don’t remember them. You only remember the knot in your stomach and bile in your throat. 

You hope you’d held the tears until you were hunched over the toilet. You’d only just managed the vomit.

And you hadn’t reacted, when Bucky had come up behind you. You want to think it was because you were off your game.

It was probably just because it was Bucky.

He’d held your hair from your face. He’d rubbed your back with the metal hand, and it had eased your breathing too fast. And when you’d finally sat up, he’d pulled you into his chest like you were something delicate.

Fisk’s words are too loud in your head. Your voice, when you finally speak, is too soft.

“This is the women’s room, Buck.” You mumble, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “Don’t think you’re supposed to be in here.”

“’S fine.” He shrugs, the movement shifting you slightly against him, settling you more comfortably in his hold. “You’re here. This is where I’ll be until someone moves me.”

You hum, pressing your face to his shoulder, as if you can’t fucking help it. “Miss me that much?”

He grunts, and you could swear you feel him nod. “Needed to talk to you.”

“Now?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a long pause, and when you lean back, he’s staring again. 

You think he’s going to rip you apart. At least then, maybe, he’ll keep some of you in his pocket. A little bit, to always be held like this.

“Bucky-“

“Go on a date with me.”

——————

Number seven is easy. Number seven flows right off of six, because you’d said yes like you were only breathing—even as all the air in the world became too thin, and you almost passed out from the branding focus of Bucky’s gaze—and Bucky had grinned like he’d never seen the sun before, and now it was shining just for him.

It had been cute.

Too many parts of Bucky could be cute.

7. He can be unbelievably sweet at the worst possible times.

——————

You’re going to strangle him. 

The date was perfect. Horribly perfect. Impossibly perfect. Fairy tale, romance movie, only-exists for valentine’s day propaganda perfect.

Bucky bought you flowers. A big bouquet of yellow roses, because he knows how much you both hate red. You went to a fancy restaurant, and walked in the park for five hours just holding hands like idiots, until he was spinning you around and swaying you in his arms, and you were giggling.

You don’t giggle. You didn’t even know you could make that sound. 

But Bucky had guided you through a romantic, smooth dance—his body warm around yours, nothing to see you in the dark but his bright eyes and the slowly clouding night sky—and you’d giggled. He’d smelled like pine aftershave, a deep, slightly spicy cologne, and something earthier that was just Bucky, and you’d giggled.

You’d been vulnerable. In public, in the dark, in the open. But Bucky had been there, and there had been a secure feeling over your skin like the sky could split open with fire and hail, and you’d be alright. Bucky was there, so you’d always be alright.

And you’d giggled.

It was dangerous. It was dangerous when he’d kissed your cheek after handing you the flowers, standing in your doorway as if you didn’t fucking live together. It was dangerous when he held your car door open, and when he helped you into the seat at the restaurant. When he took your hand like touching you was the most natural thing in the world, and started to dance as if that had been what he’d been planning to do the whole time.

Given the small smirk on his lips when the first giggle had escaped you, it might have been. 

But the most dangerous thing had been when it had started to rain, and he’d picked you up. Hauled you into his arms without a grunt and run you into an all-night coffee shop, keeping his body folded over yours as if you’d melt into a puddle if he didn’t shield you from the world.

You’d found a little table, ordered some drinks, and lost track of time.

He was so handsome, with messy, wet hair and eyes bluer than the rain could ever hope to be. He was warmer than the heater of the coffee shop. 

You knew he’d taste better than the small scone he’d bought you, too.

And then again, like he could read your fucking mind, he’d shaken his head.

“We’re not doing that tonight,” he’d drawled your name, grinning at you from across the table, and you’d blinked at him.

“I-“

“We will.” He’d shrugged. “Trust me on that, I’ve- Shit- We will. But not tonight.”

You blinked at him, shaking your head slowly. “Bucky-“

“We’re not fucking, doll.”

And now you were here. About to kill him.

“I never said we were-“

“Didn’t have to.” He shoots you a wink, bumping your knee with his under the table. “Saw it all over your face, baby.”

“You-“ You swallow, and he can’t fucking do that. It’s not fair. He can’t say no sex tonight and then wink and call you baby. That’s not fair. “I- Why?”

Your words are almost a whine, and Bucky’s grin widens. It’s too adorable, too gleeful and affectionate, and his knuckles are brushing against your hand and he smells so good-

“I want that to be its own thing. This is our first date. We’re doing number two because this was fun and we,” he gestures between your bodies, watching you carefully. “Work. Not cause I fuck you until you can’t walk.”

He finishes with a shrug, and even though he’s still grinning—he knows exactly what those last words did you to, the asshole—there’s something firmer in his voice that tells you he’s being serious. 

That’s annoying. And sweet. So fucking sweet.

So you let it go.

“Aw.” You give him a teasing smile, pressing your thighs together to relieve just a little bit of your need from his attention. “You think we work?”

“Yeah. I do.” He’s staring at you again. You might have started something you can’t finish. “Do you?”

You swallow, and lying feels pointless. You’re trapped. He’s handsome and amazing and he’s not going to fuck you, but he promised he would later, and you’re trapped. 

“Yeah.” You whisper, and you don’t know when you started holding his hand again. You don’t really care to let go. “I do.”

——————

This isn’t working anymore.

All you can think about is how that might have been the moment. The one where something sparked and grew and razed through your body, reshaping your organs and tissue to all mold a little better for Bucky. He’d said I do like it was the easiest thing in the world. Less of an answer to a question and more of a statement.

There had been a finality to it. Like that was all he’d ever have to know again. You were all he’d ever have to know.

He’d made promises and kept them. You’d remained warm every time it had stormed, and through the following winter, and it was because that had been the moment and this strategy isn’t fucking working.

Bucky had told you later, and now that later is all you can think about. Bucky is all you can think about, and every single thing you cast to mar the picture of him in your head just makes it stronger. Makes every memory sharper, every thought of Bucky in your head more beautiful.

8. He’s perfect. It’s impossible.

——————

You don’t know exactly how you got here. There were flowers involved, and a dark theatre, and Bucky had whispered something low in your ear that made you gape at him in the dark, and then he’d kept his hand on your thigh the rest of the night, and the whole world had become unbearable hot.

It’s only a haze now. A big, warm haze that’s cooled by one metal hand on your hip as you burn and burn and burn, and Bucky hasn’t even done anything yet. But he’s been teasing you. Keeping you pinned cruelly under his body for what feels like hours, kissing and sucking over your neck and slotting his knee between your thighs, letting you grind against him and pull at his hair until you were whining for more, you need more-

“Think you can take more, baby?” He murmurs against your lips, and you don’t know if he’s doing the anticipating thing again, or just teasing you a little more. “You even know what you want?”

He uses your responding moan to push his tongue down your throat, kissing you heavy and long and deep. 

And Bucky’s kissed you before. A lot. There had been one, world-making kiss that had grown into an addiction, becoming kisses in the corner of every room and against the wall of every hallway, into the cushions of the couch until Sam groaned and walked away—promising to never come over for movie night again—and right up to every edge, but never further.

Bucky seems to be under the impression that he needs to be a gentleman. That there needs to be a right moment to stop pulling away with heavy, shallow breaths, swollen lips, and flushed faces. That he needs written permission to go further.

You’d given him that permission this morning. You’d slid him a small paper over the counter, and when he’d read it, he’d raised his brows at you in amusement.

“This says fuck me.”

“Yep.” You’d hummed, holding his gaze as you’d taken a large bite of your banana.

It had been a warfare strategy. It had seemed to work then—his eyes had darkened, nostrils flaring and fist closing around the paper as he stared at you—but you know it’s worked now.

Because this kiss is different. It’s another, newer tidal wave that’s all thirst. Desire.

Need.

Bucky’s holding himself by a tether. You can feel it when you bite his lower lip, he groans down your throat, and his hips jerk forward. 

“You’re- Shit-“ Bucky grunts as you suck a small, dark mark on his jaw. “You gotta be sure, doll, I can’t-“

“I’m sure.” You whisper, leaning back to hold his gaze. He looks almost nervous, and it makes your brow furrow slightly. “Buck, are you-“

He crashes his mouth back down to yours, his metal hand playing with the hem of your skirt. 

“Don’t ask stupid questions.” He mutters, pulling back to scan over you once more. “I’m- If we’re doing this, I’ve gotta be- I need to-“

“I know.”

He blinks at you. “You do? How- Sam.”

You giggle slightly at Bucky’s violent glower—you’ve been doing that a frightening amount lately—and raise a hand to trace over his jaw.

“He says he- uh- Heard you. Once. Months ago. And it’s okay.”

He shakes his head, still watching you with that caution. “I- It doesn’t have to be, doll, I know that your past isn’t all sunshine and daises and bein’ in control either-“

“I- I’ve had to do most everything for myself. For survival.” You whisper, tracing your thumb over his cheek. “I’ve never had- I trust you. And with what Sam mentioned-“

“Gonna fuckin’ kill him-“

“I don’t think it’s as dramatic as you think.” You finish, ignoring Bucky’s muttered threat.

His jaw ticks slightly, his words suddenly so low you can barely hear them. “If it’s too much, you gotta tell me-“

“I can take it.”

Bucky sighs your name, and you shove his chest. Not hard. Enough to move him. Jolt him. Make him look at you with wide, shocked eyes.

“You-“

“I can take it, Buck.” You grin at him, raising your brows pointedly. “I’ve got you.”

His eyes widen as he understands—you’ve got him, his strength and durability mirrored in your body—and there’s a slight shift in the air. It’s hot. Everything is suddenly so hot under Bucky’s attention, expect for the cold, metal hand, trailing under your skirt and cupping you over right over your aching pussy.

“Fuck, you’re wet, doll.” The awe has creeped from Bucky’s eyes to his voice. You can only grind against his fingers teasing over your slit, and moan when a metal thumb starts to rub firm, rough circles over your clit. “And no panties on? All fuckin’ night, just waitin’ for me?”

“Yes,” you moan, our hips jolting when he pinches your clit lightly, a high whine leaving your throat. “Bucky-“

“That’s my name.” He mutters, resting those two fingers right against your pussy, his eyes never leaving yours. “If you’re already so wet, I wonder what’ll happen when I do this?”

With that last word, Bucky slams the metal fingers into your cunt, and starts to finger fuck you like it’s a mission. It’s so fast. Metal whirring in your ear as the pace becomes impossible and mind-numbing, hitting you so fucking deep, almost massaging and taunting at the sensitive spot, and it’s only just started but you’re already going to explode-

“Bucky-“ You moan out his name, trying to somehow meet every thrust of his fingers with your hips, but only managing to grind your clit against his wrist and sending your brain into a dizzying blur of pleasure. “God, I- Close, Bucky, so close-“

“Hold it.” He grunts, not letting up pace, and you almost whimper at the idea. “Need you to hold it for me, baby, can you do that?”

You can’t. 

You nod anyway, because Bucky’s still here, still holding you and touching you and looking at you, so you have to try. For Bucky, you need to try.

“Good girl.” He mutters, and you clench around him with a squeak. “Oh, you like that? Like me talkin’, tellin’ you how good your doing-“

“Oh- Fuck-“ You gasp, your back arching off the bed as he somehow hits deeper. “Please, I- God-“

He hums, dropping his weight slightly to keep you pinned to the bed. “Say my name, doll.”

“Buck-“

“No.” His voice is slightly softer, and he leans down to hover his lips right over yours. “Other one.”

“I-“ You take shallow breathes, each one rounded with another moan as you search Bucky’s face for the answer, and his fingers never slow their movements. “Please-“

“C’mon, baby, you’ve got it-“

“James!” You half scream it, writhing under him in desperation for release, and start to repeat it like a prayer as his eyes shine in approval, and his cock twitches against your thigh. “James- James please, I- I need it- Need you-“

He swallows your words with another deep kiss, squeezing your hip with his free hand as he mutters against your lips. 

“There you go, babydoll.” He smirks at your whimper, his eyes trained on yours as you give him another, pleading look and whisper of his name. “Cum for me.”

The sound that leaves you is undignified, needy and loud and made of slurred curses and shouts of James. But you can see the stars, and feel them bursting through your body, and it’s all just good.

When you come down, Bucky’s brushing your hair from your eyes, looking down at you with that same wide awe everywhere over his handsome features.

“Was that good?”

You hum, still panting heavily, and he raises his brows. 

“More?”

You nod a little stupidly, and Bucky’s grin splits his face.

“Already so fucked out you can’t speak? Haven’t even pulled out my cock yet-“

You moan into his mouth at just the word. “Bucky, please-“

“Please what?” He pulls back entirely, and chuckles when you slam your hand into his chest with a glare.

“Hey-“

“You gotta tell me what you want, babydoll, and I’ll get it for you. But,” he raises his brows, catching your hand when you try to shove him once more and pinning it over your head. “I’m not a mind reader. Tell me.”

You think that’s a lie. You think he can read your mind, and he’s just being mean.

But God, it’s so fucking hot. His shirt is gone—you don’t know when that happened, but you’re not complaining—and he’s looking at you like you’re art, laid out for him to see and touch and have, so you’ll play along. If it will make him finally fuck you, you’ll do whatever he asks.

“I want your cock.” You whisper, holding his gaze. “Want you to fuck me, and I’m clean and on the pill, so I want you to cum inside of me, then leave it there. Wanna feel you tomorrow, James, please.”,

Bucky’s throat bobs slightly, his voice becomes barely a growl.

“Jesus Christ.”

He seems to be done talking after that.

Your hand stay pinned over your head as he rips off your shirt, then his own boxers. There’s a half-grumble of buying you another bra tomorrow, but it’s all you get before he’s ripping that off as well.

When he lines himself up at your entrance, he pauses, giving you one last chance to shove him away. 

You tangle your hand in his hair and shove his lips to yours without hesitation, moaning his name into his mouth, and it’s enough.

Bucky slams himself into you with one thrust, diving his mouth to suck and lick at your nipples as you gasp, adjusting to the feeling of him inside of you.

It’s perfect. Big and thick and full, you feel so full, and you’re going to fly out of your skin if he keeps flicking his tongue over your nipple like, throbbing inside of you but not moving-

He can definitely read your mind. Before you can even moan a plea, Bucky starts to drill into you without warning, and any noise turn into more of those loud, desperate pleas. 

It rough. Bed creaking and skin slapping, and he keeps tossing you around like no angle is deep enough, flipping you over to fuck you from behind so his balls are slapping against your clit and he’s kissing up your spine, before he’s hauling you up to his chest, wrapping his arm around your stomach to hold you still as he drills up into your cunt,  and biting and marking along your throat and jaw. You throw your head back on his shoulder, and he captures your lips in a long, searing kiss, rolling a nipple between his fingers. 

Then you’re back on your stomach, with his weight completely covering you and his grunts right in your ear, sending shivers up your spine. 

He pauses only for a second there, thrusts slowing as he grabs at your hips, and before you can ask him if he’s okay, if it’s too much or—worse—not enough, you’re moving again.

Bucky rolls over, tossing you up onto his lap so you’re grinding down onto his cock, and this is it. You can see it in his hooded, satisfied expression as he watches you bounce above you, his flesh hand wrapping around your throat the metal moves to your clit, rubbing small, furious circles as he groans your name.

Your nails dig into his shoulders, your every word choked as he pounds up into your fluttering, aching pussy. “I- James-“

He grunts, pressing harder as his dick hits that deep, sensitive spot inside of you. “Come on, babydoll, gotta gimme one more-“

This orgasm washes over you like a wave. Deep, easy pleasure that makes everything glow, lingering in your body long after Bucky gives one last, jagged thrust up into your pussy, cumming with a roar of your name.

You both stare at each other for a long second as Bucky releases your throat, his fingers tracing over the marks left by his grip with a furrowed brow, and you smile at him. 

His release is dripping down your thighs as you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips.  

It’s somehow not enough, and still more than you could ever ask for.

And your smile is a little cock drunk and there’s light bubble up your throat, but you don’t care.

So you giggle. Airy and blissful as Bucky rolls your bodies over so he’s on top once more, and you bury your face in his shoulder. 

He rises over you on his forearm, raising his brows as you smile up at him. “Somethin’ funny?”

You nod, your giggles almost pathetic. You don’t really mind. “Told you I could take it.”

He sighs, but the grin on his face matches yours.

Wide. Stupid.

Happy.

“Yeah.” Bucky mutters, tracing slow fingers only your cheekbone, and the awe seems to be a permanent addition to his voice. “You did.”

——————

When you get back to your table with ice water, people are staring at you. Whispering.

It’s not in your head. You know the difference between paranoia and caution, and this is the latter.

You scan over for an easy target, and land on a skittish looking man with large arms and a gym bag. When you stop at his table, he looks like he’s going to pass out.

“What’s your name.” You keep your voice cool and even, and he swallows.

“Mike.”

“Awesome. Can I please have your phone, Mike?”

He nods, unlocks it before passing it to your hands, and you give him a sweet smile before you scan over his screen, and let out a long sigh.

Sam abused his power. You’ve been declared a missing enhanced. The city hasn’t been barricaded, but everyone in New York knows to be looking for you, and expect Captain America upon response.

You pass Mike his phone back with another grimacing smile, and stalk back to your table and notebook.

9. He can be really fucking dramatic.

——————

You don’t know how Bucky puts up with you. He’s clean. Neat. Does all his dishes and folds his laundry, vacuums the floors and straightens every picture when he fucks you a little too hard against the wall.

You’re… not.

Taking care of yourself has never been important. Never been allowed. Fisk had men who cleaned up after you, because your priority was walk around and be feared. Be the untouchable princess.

Untouchable princesses don’t clean up. Once, at the beginning, you’d tried to help the crew after a particularly messy job.

Fisk had been furious. You’d gotten blood on his favorite toy. 

You’d stopped trying to clean up after that, 

But Bucky never gets angry about it. He’ll wipe your face when you get sauce on your cheek, change your sheets—even though you haven’t slept in your own bed for months—every week, and do your laundry, all while never asking for anything in return. 

This is another night where you don’t understand him. He made your favorite food, even though he had the long day. He’s not meeting your eyes again, but you’ve learned that he only does that when he cares. When there are things inside of him he can’t work out how to say, so he’ll keep his gaze averted like he’s trying to shield himself from being seen.

He isn’t aware he does that. You only know because you know him. Because he sits across from you like this every night, and wakes up next to you every single morning, and presses his brow to yours—keeping his eyes closed, but his hands on your face delicate—every single day. He’s with you all the time, even when he’s across the city, so you know him and you-

“Move in with me.”

You blink at him in the low light of your shitty dining room. It’s all plastic table and fold-out chairs, because neither of you are good at having nice things and keeping them.

He might be the nicest thing you’ve ever had.

You don’t understand what the fuck he’s talking about.

“What?”

“I- We should move in.” He pokes his plate, frowning at it like he can will it to understand, and explain to you properly. “Together. You and me.”

“Buck, we already live together-“

“In a shit apartment Sam found us.” He grumbles. “In two separate bedrooms. With plastic furniture and a dead plant.”

You sigh. “I told you I’m not good at plants when you got it. I wanted a cat, but-“

“Our lease doesn’t allow it.” Bucky shoots you a pointed look, leaning further over the table. “If we moved in together, I’d get you that cat. I’d get you whatever you wanted.”

“Bucky-“

“Fresh start.” He grunts your name, and you swallow. This is a little stronger than the awe gaze. This is borderline hope, and it’s so rare on his handsome face, and he has you folding for him in a second, but he keeps going anyway. “You and me. We’ll get a nicer couch without any blood on it, and eat off plates that aren’t paper, and- We can get the cat, or two cats- fuck, twenty cats-“

A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth. “Twenty is a lot, darling-“

“Then one. One is good.” He has the solemn, focused gaze and tone he uses when he’s planning a mission. He’d stood up and crossed his arms. This is serious. “No more plants. I can- Sam will help me build all he furniture, I’ll get you a desktop, and I can have the smaller one, cause you always get annoyed when I break it-“

“It’s called a laptop.” You offer, keeping your voice softer than you’ve ever been capable of with anyone else. “And I don’t get annoyed-“

“Yes, you do. ’S fine, I deserve it-“

“No, you don’t-“

“That’s not the point, doll-“

“It’s important to me.” You snap, and that gets him to stop. “You’re important to me, and I don’t get annoyed. It’s not your fault your bags are always getting smashed-“

He scowls. “I’m the one who smashes them.”

“Because other people are fucking idiots, and you’re good at your job. You don’t deserve me being annoyed, and I’m not, because you’re-“ You swallow, words you don’t fully understand yet getting caught on the edge of your tongue. “You’re important to me, Buck. You’re a good man. You deserve good things.”

He blinks at you, and the hope is almost a tangible, touchable thing on his face. “Move in with me.”

“You already asked me that-“

“Please.” He mutters, and suddenly he’s on his knees before you, his arms around your waist as he stares up at you. “Wherever you want. It’ll be ours, and I’ll keep it clean if you make it beautiful.”

“Bucky-“

“You- fuck-“ He drops his brow to your lap, and you’re trying to tell him yes, but he seems to be trapped in his own head. All you can do is run your fingers through his hair and let him ride it out. “You make everything so beautiful, you just- You- Please. I’ll never ask ya’ for anything again. Move in with me.”

“Okay.”

He blinks up at you with wide eyes. “I- That’s it? Just like that?”

“Yeah.” You smile at him, and it’s hurting your cheeks, but it’s the best pain you’ve ever felt. “You gonna let me up now?”

He nods slowly, but pauses before he stands, and throws you over his shoulder without warning.

“Bucky-“

“C’mon,” He start to move towards his bedroom, ignoring your squirming. “You’re- Got plans for you, babydoll.”

“We have all night, you dramatic asshole-“

“You love it.” He mutters with a squeeze of your thigh, and you have to stop pounding on his back to moan. “And if it were up to me, we’d never stop doin’ this. Never gonna waste one fucking second with you. Ever.”

——————

He’ll be here soon. Someone will have had the balls to report where you were, Bucky will burst through the doors, and you’ll have to know that this didn’t work. That you probably drove him insane and beat your heart to sinew, only to come out of this knowing that you failed. 

You have your answer, and it’s the one that’s terrifying. The floor could open into a trench, and the sky could catch fire, but that would be easier.

This is new. This is dangerous and frightening and new, and there’s nothing you can do about it, because you failed. There are no paths forward that you know how to follow, no corners of the world you can hide where you wouldn’t find yourself crawling back to Bucky.

And he’d meet you halfway, because he’d be looking for you, and then he’d pull you into his arms you’d be safe.

Safe and cared for and clean, and awfully, greatly in love.

10. You love him, and that’s not fair.

——————

He sleeps peacefully now. At your side, on the memory foam mattress you made him pick out, wrapped around you like he’s trying to pull you into his body. The sheets are tangled and smell a little like sweat and cum, but nobody seems to mind. Even Alpine has settled at the foot of the bed, on Bucky’s side, because she likes him better. 

Of course she likes him better. You picked her because she has the exact same blue eyes as he does, and you feed her, but she likes him more because he’s Bucky.

And this suits him, far more than you think it could ever suit you. 

Because this is what he would’ve been. If Bucky had never fallen off that train, he’d have simply been this. 

Happy. 

Peaceful in the soft, golden-white light of the morning, holding a perfect, faceless woman. She’d clean up after him, and make him food that didn’t taste like ash. He’d never have the nightmares that still sometimes rock him now, but he’d have worse nights—he’d still been a solider, still fought a war—and she’d only give him comfort. Never demand it in return, nights later when she woke up screaming. 

And she’d have less opinions, and never make him worried because she kept getting shot, and she’d giggle all the time. Not just when he pried it out of her with dancing and fucking. 

She would’ve been easy. She wouldn’t have made him read with her, and she would’ve let him get twenty cats. 

You hate her more than anything.

But it would’ve been what Bucky deserves. Has always deserved.

The exact same one you don’t.

You never would’ve been here. Fisk found you in the dirt, and you hadn’t been a lovely, blooming beam of sunlight before he turned you into a weapon. Bucky had earned all his sneers and snarks and scowls.

You’re just like this. 

And you somehow have him, in a way you can’t lose. Won’t lose. You’d do anything for Bucky, you’d kill and maim and scratch and scream and rip yourself to fucking pieces just for him, before stitching yourself back together with your heartstrings, because they’d still be beating in a sound like his name, because you-

No. 

Oh no. 

That can’t be right. You don’t- you’ve never had that. That’s too good. 

You don’t deserve that.

You’ll break it.

——————

You wait outside for him. Bouncing on your feet as people shoot you odd looks in passing. You expect sirens. Being turned over and checked from every angle, because this had been a really stupid thing to do when you were you. A problem. An asset until you flipped. An enemy so easily, and an insufferable ally to have.

Bucky still puts up with you. But you think he knows you’d never flip on him. He trusts that the same instinct that made you run from Fisk is the one that will always send you back to him.

It’s been nine hours, and you miss him like you’re drowning. Like you can see the sun, right above the surface, but you can’t remember how to go up.

You can only drift, and wait for blaring red lights that will carry you home.

They never come. And when you feel a tap on your shoulder you don’t flinch, because you know that tap anywhere. The pressure and shape of the finger, the exact placement near the cartilage, always leaving a slight brand of his touch.

“What’re you doing, baby.” Bucky mutters, and you let out a long breath, turning to give him a weak smile.

He’s staring again.

You love it when he does that.

“Hi,” You whisper, and he drops his brow to yours for a long second, right before pulling you right into his chest without a second of hesitation.

You’d thought he’d be angrier. You’re a little sick of being wrong.

“Why-“ He takes a heavy breath, squeezing you a little tighter. “You wouldn’t pick up the phone.”

“I turned it off.” You mumble. You don’t think you can stand to lie to him like this. You’ve already done enough. “I- Can we go inside, please?”

Bucky leans back with a tight frown, scanning over you once more. “Did something-“

“I’m okay.” You duck your head back into his chest, and you understand why he never meets your eyes in moments like this. It’s far easier. “I promise. I just, this will be easier if we sit down, please.”

You can feel him tense against your body, but he guides you inside regardless. Right back to the table you’d been at before, even if he doesn’t know that.

People might be staring. 

You don’t really care. You don’t have the energy for it. Everything has to go into this. Into telling him before it’s too late, and you either lose him or, worse, he stays. He keeps tolerating you, not knowing that you’d grow a forest on the moon if he asked—just to hide somewhere safe and quiet, together—and turn the sun into something portable for his back pocket, just so he’d never have to fear ice again.

Bucky says your name slowly, glancing around the shop. “Is this where we had our first-“

“Yeah.” You fumble with your bag, your hands already shaking slightly, and Bucky notices.

Of course he does.

Perfect fucking asshole.

“Are you sure you’re okay, cause I can make Sam call 911 again-“

“Don’t make Sam call 911.” The paper is crumpled, and ripped at the corners. It will have to do. “I’m okay. I- I’m going to be okay.”

That last one is mostly for yourself—no matter how fast Bucky leaves, no matter how much your heart screams, you’ll be okay—but he still hears it, and his frown deepens.

He grunts your name, leaning forward in his seat, and you shake your head.

“Just- take this.“ You slide the paper across the table, watching sleek, black fingers rest on the edge, but not tug it further. “Please.”

There’s a moment of hesitation, but he listens. You look up just in time to see him scanning over your words, and the lump in your throat might choke you. 

At least it will be over quicker. 

“What is-“ He cuts himself off, and you can’t look away. It’s worse than a car crash. It’s a missile, hurdled straight for your head as you’re rooted in place, bracing for the impact but knowing it will tear you apart all the same. 

You know the moment he reaches the last point. His eyes widen, and flick up to you in disbelief. 

He reads it three more times before he sets down the paper, and maybe the lump in your throat is your heart. Maybe it’s trying to beat out of your body and run in the gutters, before it can be broken and shattered and-

“You-“ Bucky places the paper flat on the table, and points to that like. “Is that- You mean it?”

You nod weakly, still starting at his finger on the paper—it might be one of the last part of him you get to see, and you’re trying to memorize it—and Bucky clears his throat. 

“Can you look at me?”

It takes a second. Ragged, slow breaths and Bucky’s knee, bumping yours under the table. 

But you do.

And he’s still so beautiful. 

You can see the awe in his eyes. It shouldn’t be there. It doesn’t- not now-

“I love you, too.” He says, and it’s more powerful than the missile. It’s an atomic bomb. “You’re- It’s the only thing I’ve really known, since I got back. You’re the only thing I’ve known-“

The world is starting to sting and blur. Your heart is trying to claw out of your throat. “Bucky-“

He shakes his head, pushing on. “Listen to me, doll, for once in your damn life. I love you. No one but me talking, telling no one but you, I love you. I have been to fucking hell and back, I’d do it all again, every damn time, if there was even a chance it would get me here.”

“That’s- That doesn’t make any sense-“

“Course it does.” He shrugs. “I’m not the me that loves you if I don’t fall off that train and end up in the future.”

“It’s not the future-“

“It’s the future to me-“

“James, we are not having this argument again. It’s not-“

“Is to me.”

There’s that rare, small grin he saves only for you. This is cruel. 

“You- I’m not worth hell.” You whisper, and you’re holding his hand. You don’t know when that happened. You’re not strong enough to pull away.

“Yeah, you are.” 

“Bucky, I’m being-“

“I know you’re being serious, doll. So am I. And I know I’m,” he taps the paper, giving you a pointed look. “Bad at using my words-“

You swallow. “I’m sorry, I-“

"You’re not wrong.” He mutters, still all but trapping his gaze on yours. “But I got words for this, baby. I love you. Hell and back.”

“Bucky, you don’t-“ 

“What, love you?” He raises his brows. “You somehow miss that part of my shitty ass speech-“

“It wasn’t shitty-“

“Kinda shitty. Didn’t seem to get through to you.”

“I-“

“Just- Listen.” He leans forward, still holding your gaze. “Would you do it again?”

“Do-“

“Would you walk through your hell, Fisk and the scientist, Parker and that asshole with the horns that made you blind for a week, Sam and me and all the court trials, if you thought we’d end up back here, at this horrible fucking coffee shop, one more time?”

“Yes.” 

It’s not a question. You’d do everything, every time, the exact same way, if it meant you’d maybe get Bucky one more time.

And that’s mirrored on his face. Smug, quiet satisfaction as he grins at you, and shrugs.

“There it is.”

You return his smile because it’s easy. You keep holding his hand because he’s not letting go, so you’ll never even bother to try. 

You echo his words because he’s right. Maybe the only right thing in the whole universe, right across the table, touching you, and all yours.

“There it is.”

End Note: Love throwing in a bunch of tiny easter eggs for purely my own entertainment. Also love throwing a little plot relevant smut in there, as a treat.

If you like this story, please reblog, share, or leave a comment! <3

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[reasonsforhope]

"Sodium-ion batteries for electric vehicles and energy storage are moving toward the mainstream. Wider use of these batteries could lead to lower costs, less fire risk and less need for lithium, cobalt and nickel.

On Nov. 18, CATL, the world’s largest battery manufacturer, announced its second-generation sodium-ion battery, mass production of which would begin in 2027. The China-based company said the new battery has an energy density of 200 watt-hours per kilogram, which is an increase from 160 watt-hours per kilogram for the previous generation that launched in 2021. Higher energy density in an EV battery translates into more driving range.

On Nov. 21, a consortium of seven U.S. national laboratories announced a new initiative in which they would spend $50 million to foster collaboration to accelerate the development of sodium-ion batteries. The partnership is led by Argonne National Laboratory in the Chicago area.

The two announcements are part of a larger shift as governments, researchers and companies look for alternatives to lithium-ion batteries, the dominant technology for EVs and energy storage.

For now, there are no passenger cars or trucks sold in the United States that use sodium-ion batteries. Some sodium-ion models are available in China and countries that import vehicles from China. 

“The reason we’re pursuing this is very simple,” said Venkat Srinivasan, a battery scientist at Argonne and the director of the new collaboration. “It’s because the huge demand in lithium-ion batteries has meant that we have a supply-chain constraint.

“We have a problem with cobalt. We have a problem with nickel,” he said, naming two of the metals often used in lithium-ion batteries.

Cobalt, nickel and lithium carry a variety of concerns, including the environmental damage of mining. [Note: Which is massive, and so are the human rights issues associated with lithium mining, which involves horrible conditions and is exacerbating conflict and civil wars in the Democratic Republic of Congo.] ...

In contrast, a sodium-ion battery relies on an element—sodium—that you can find in table salt and ocean water...

Also, a sodium-ion battery has much lower risk of fire. When lithium-ion batteries sustain damage, it can lead to “thermal runaway,” which triggers a dangerous and toxic fire.

The process of manufacturing sodium-ion batteries is similar to that of lithium-ion batteries, or at least similar enough that companies can shift existing assembly lines without having to spend heavily on retooling.

But sodium-ion batteries have some disadvantages. The big one is low energy density compared to lithium-ion. As a result, an EV running on a sodium-ion battery will go fewer miles per charge than a lithium-ion battery of the same size...

The national labs’ initiative has a five-year timeline, with a goal of developing sodium-ion batteries with energy densities that match or exceed those of today’s iron phosphate-based lithium-ion batteries. Researchers would do this by finding various efficiencies in design and materials.

The project is happening alongside the labs’ ongoing work to develop and improve other kinds of batteries.

Lithium-ion batteries dominate today’s market...

However, sodium-ion battery production is growing, and is projected to reach 140 gigawatt-hours by 2030, about 13 times its current level, according to Benchmark. Lithium-ion production also is projected to nearly triple by 2030.

“The key market driver for sodium-ion batteries is their potential to be cost competitive with lithium-ion batteries,” said Catherine Peake, an analyst for Benchmark...

Most of the push by battery companies to build sodium-ion systems is happening in China, but some of it is happening in other markets, including a plan by California-based Natron Energy to open its first large plant in Rocky Mount, North Carolina. Natron made its announcement about the $1.4 billion project in August and has not given a timeline for when the plant would be online.

Meanwhile, researchers and companies continue working on other battery technologies.

I asked Srinivasan how sodium-ion batteries fit into this larger picture. He said sodium-ion will likely gain market share over the next few years as an alternative to lithium-ion batteries.

Near the end of the decade, solid-state batteries will begin to become available, which would allow for higher energy densities and longer driving ranges. Solid-state batteries use a solid electrolyte instead of a liquid or gel. The electrolyte is the substance through which ions move as they go from side to side during charging and discharging.

The technologies can coexist in the market, Srinivasan said.

He thinks solid-state batteries will initially be most common in high-end models and popular with people who want the longest possible ranges.

He expects that sodium-ion batteries will be more common in low-cost EVs for people who live in cities or suburbs and don’t place a high premium on driving range.

“It will not be a fringe player,” he said, about sodium-ion. “It will actually be a fast-growing segment.”"

-via Inside Climate News, December 6, 2024

[callsignfeisty]

The Drop Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female Reader

MDNI/18+

Word Count: 800

Synopsis: You experience sub drop after Simon punishes you and goes back to base.

Warnings: d/s themes, mentions of spanking, hurt/comfort, angst.

The door to your shop closed as Simon left to go back to base. You locked the door behind him, not wanting anyone to wander in and see you in your current state. He had come to punish you for teasing him during a meeting with the rest of the task force. He finished spanking you leaving just enough to get back to base before his lunch break ended. You had enjoyed being bent over the counter of your future tattoo studio and feeling his heavy hand turning your cheeks red in the moment. Now you weren't so sure you did. 

The silence around you only reminded you how alone you were. Everytime you moved and the material of your skirt renewed the pain from the spanking you remember him leaving right after he was done. The mess of his cum between your thighs made you feel used as you weren't allowed to get off. It all became overwhelming in your mind as tears lined your eyes. They ran down your cheeks as you curled into yourself. You debated calling Simon but knew he was training recruits. He'd be back to pick you up after work. You tried to assemble some supply shelves but couldn't pull yourself together enough to focus. 

You checked your phone for the fifth time seeing how late he was now and noting your battery was about dead with no charger. After waiting 15 minutes you decided to walk, not caring what Simon would have to say about it. You walked to the closest bus station catching one that took you closer to home. You walked fifteen minutes from the bus stop to home. Soap was waiting on your porch with his phone to his ear as he spotted you. “She just walked up.” He tells Simon, or at least you assume it's Simon. He steps towards you holding his phone out to you, “he wants to talk to you.” You take the phone and press the end call button before handing it back to Soap. “He can talk to me when he gets here.” You say before walking inside and locking the door behind you. 

You climb the steps and walk into the bedroom putting your phone on the charger before grabbing one of Simon's hoodies and walking into the bathroom to clean yourself up. Once you wash away Simon's claim you pull on his hoodie and lay in bed, buried under the blankets. About 15 minutes later you hear the loud rumble of Simon's truck as he pulls into the driveway. You hear the door slam downstairs informing you he's inside now. You hear his heavy footsteps coming up the stairs before stopping in the doorway. You can practically feel the anger rolling off him.

A few moments of silence stretch between you. “You should've waited.” He says, finally breaking the tense quiet. “You left me.” You say barely loud enough for him to hear. “I was on my way. I stopped to pick something up for you.” He says. “YOU LEFT ME! YOU LEFT ME USED AND ALONE,” you shout as fresh tears line your eyes, “I NEEDED YOU AND YOU WEREN'T THERE!” Realization flashes across his features before he rushes to comfort you. He pulls you into his arms, “I'm sorry, dove,” He says repeatedly as he tries to soothe you. You bury your face in his chest, letting the smell of his cologne and gunpowder calm you.

“I shouldn't have punished you without leaving time for aftercare.” He says as he strokes your back. He holds you close, rubbing soothing patterns along your back until your tears stop. He easily picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. He starts running a bath before sitting you on the vanity. He carefully undresses you before undressing himself. Simon pulls a lighter from his pants pocket and lights the various candles around the tub before dimming the overhead light. He puts his lighter back before carrying you into the bath with him. He holds you in his lap while you relax against him. He kisses the top of your head as you lay it on his shoulder. 

“I promise to make this right, and I'll never let it happen again, dove.” He says as his hands gently massage the tension from your muscles. “I'll hold you to it. If it happens again, then I get to punish you.” You say tiredly as everything catches up to you. “Deal.” He says as you try to fight sleep. You snuggle into Simon as sleep overtakes you. “Love you, dove.” Simon whispers as he admires how peaceful you look compared to earlier. He holds you until the water cools before dressing you in one of his shirts and taking you to bed. He tucks you in under the blankets before settling in beside you.

[canmom]

one of the things that frustrates me with actually-existing transhumanism is its lack of vision. suppose the singularitarians are actually right, and we won't logistic out any time soon, but those lines will go up for a few more cranks of the capability/scale/energy intensity/complexity handle. well, we forced the life to be more like machines (battery farms/mechanised agriculture/assembly line work/etc.), but now the machines are becoming more like life, and we are reaching the limits of treating life like machines. we can hope that at some point the understanding and capability will converge at a point where the rate of intentional modification directed back on themselves by the cyborg organisms will kick off an explosion of new forms and minds and ecosystems that will make the Cambrian look like a pitch drop experiment.

a really interesting future must prove all hitherto existing science fiction unimaginative.

[seat-safety-switch]

For most of my life, I have been completely incapable of fabricating a decent part. We've talked about my inadequacies in measurement, marking, prep, operation of power tools, finishing, and assembly before. What you don't know about is that I'm also a huge dick to everyone around me the entire time.

Have you heard of road rage? Of course you have. Statistically, you probably become a righteous avatar of anger itself every time you get behind the wheel, ready to police the inadequate. Guy cut across four lanes? Fuck him and the horse he rode in on. Confusing amount of road signs? These big-government assholes are gonna pay big one day for making this badly-drawn picture of the highway have the wrong number of pretend lines on it. I'm sort of the same way, but only when I'm in the shop.

A lot of psychiatrists have tried to figure it out. Especially after that whole unfortunate episode in the prison machine shop. For whatever reason, probably a deep-seated sense of inadequacy, I'm mad all the time and the process of slowly removing metal from a big chunk of metal is the opposite of relaxing. I'll swear at the tools, cuss at the metal, scream about the low quality of the Dykem markers, and loudly ask what intern putz left all these metal shavings on the floor and the chuck key in the lathe (it was me.)

Of course, at the end of all this process, I do have a finished part. It might not look good, or work very well, or avoid breaking after about four minutes of use. It is, however, finished, and the entire experience has been so emotionally exhausting that there's no way I'm going back in there to fix it. This is why, not-coincidentally, my gear shifter is made up of an artificial hip that's been sloppily welded to the bottom of a beautiful, artisanally-cobbled piece of heat-treat aluminum that snapped in half the first time I went for a 2-3 shift.

Still, there is hope. I believe that simply becoming competent will gradually make me enjoy the experience more instead of stressing out over every hole, burr, and stress fracture on the workpiece. So far this year, I've managed to make a battery hold-down bracket with only one extremely embarrassing rage-filled parking lot screaming fit. And the battery is still in my car! At least on that side. I just didn't have it in me to make two brackets.

[friend-crow]

Hi crow, hope you're doing well. I have a question for you and/or your mutuals reading this.

Im usually too sick and unwell to cast spells anymore, gathering all the ingredients is the biggest problem because i have to walk and thats really painful with my crps. I feel i have the emotional energy for spellcasting but not the physical energy. I have so many spells I'd like to cast but am just stuck in bed too often to do them. Whats a bedridden friendly way to cast spells? I've heard someone in the community mention "energy batteries" but i didn't really look into it. I feel my most useful spell I've done is a wishing necklace, i enchanted the necklace years ago and occasionally make wishes with it that come true, but i don't think i can rely only on that for spellcasting when im not feeling well. Im starting to ramble so I'll end it here. Thanks for any advice.

Hello! I'm sorry to hear you've been struggling. I'm not sure how applicable my advice will be for your situation, especially without knowing what sort of magical framework you're working with, but I'll give it a shot!

Something that's helpful for me is having premade spell vessels for the main sort of categories of needs I might have, which I can recharge and repurpose as needed. There's still a certain amount of set-up involved, but if you can manage to work on them when you're having a relatively good pain day, then you can (ideally) have them on hand for when you're not feeling up to a whole crafting process.

Example: I enjoy planetary magic as a system because you have 7 "planets" (the classical planets include the sun and moon), and they each have their things they can help you with. Between the 7 of them you can basically get your needs met. So I have a book that I made for Jupiter, which has images of the planet, the symbol, seal, kamea square, Orphic hymn, etc. in it, and inside the back cover is a little envelope where I can put petitions for what I currently need. The idea is that it's supposed to function as a sort of combination talisman and portable shrine, so when I want to do something under Jupiter's rulership, I basically just need pen, paper, a candle, and incense to repurpose it.

Side note: I don't know if you're interested in planetary magic, but I plan on making a series of zines that's basically a zine version of what I described above, one for each planet, that people can print out and assemble for free. Eventually. When I'm not drowning in work and other projects.

Along these lines, I recently posted about the fact that I do my job from bed about 60% of the week. I don't have a laptop, so I've had to get creative with my computing setup so that I can use my PC while reclining in bed. It's taken a few years to get my setup dialed in, but something like getting an overbed table can make a huge difference (I think mine was like $70 and worth every penny). Burning candles in bed is iffy, but maybe you can set up an extra bedside table or something for spell work, and really dial in the most basic components you need and can keep within reach. Simple is good! You can really do a lot with just pen and paper.

I also know people who do a lot of spell work during astral travel, which requires no materials or movement. I don't have a ton of experience in this area as I tend to really enjoy working with physical materials, but that might be an avenue to explore.

Alright, that's my thoughts on the matter for the moment. Opening it up to mutuals!

[cipheramnesia]

ASMR elon musk falling down one of the many unsafe stairways in his own factory into the cybertruck assembly line, ASMR elon musk bouncing between cybertruck bumpers like a pinball, ASMR elon musk drunk texting grimes while sobbing alone in his bed, ASMR elon musk forced to read all the tesla safety reports but he can't argue, ASMR elon musk drinks battery acid to show it's safe,

[staticspaces]

The Grass is Always Greener

You can find the accompanying video here!!

And finally, for our last post this week, let's go back in time to 2015, when I spent a significant amount of time documenting the former St Thomas Assembly plant!!

This incredible Italianate home which was built in 1872 was known as the Van Patter Home after the family that lived there for most of the 20th century. The house was named "Rhude" after the family's ancestral home in England and was built for Matthew Gilbert and his family. There is also another very similar house just down the street named "Gilbert Hall" that was built for William Gilbert. This house was a listed heritage property before its recent demolition. The home was a great example of the houses built in the area of Yarmouth during the 1870s and 1880s and reflect the affluence of this period of settlement.

This second house located across the street from the Van Patter Home was built for Lewis Gilbert in 1915. The two-storey red brick Foursquare house had an addition added to the north side of the home. It also featured a more modern single-storey addition to the front of the home and had been almost completely renovated inside.

Both of these homes along with many others in the area were recently demolished to make way for a brand new Volkswagen gigafactory. The plant which will be the size of 210 football fields will manufacture battery cells for the Volkswagen plants in both Tennessee and North Carolina.

In 2011 the St Thomas Assembly plant closed its doors for good, it was a 2.5 million square foot manufacturing plant owned by Ford with more than 1500 employees. It was producing Ford Crown Victorias, Mercury Grand Marquis and even Lincoln Town Cars for a short period before its closure. The last car on the line was a Crown Vic that was sent to Saudi Arabia. After the plant's demolition the site was purchased by Amazon to build a fulfillment centre. It may not be as large but maybe this new 2 million square foot gigafactory can bring manufacturing jobs back to a struggling small town.

[edutainer2022]

It's WIP Wednesday, so I'm gonna use some of my battery on a little thing, set after Jeff's return, I've been working on. There IS more to it I wanted to finish yesterday and today, but over 12 hour blackouts had a different plan.

***

Some days were worse than others. Some days the heady rush of pure JOY and BLISS of being back with his beloved boys, his Ma, in his own home, back on his own PLANET, beneath the blue skies, breathing unprocessed air... were not enough to tide him over the bone deep weariness. Days, when the bustling world around was suddenly too much effort. Too much, period.

That morning he woke up, gruff and bleary, feeling every ounce of gravity amplified weight down to his marrow. He didn't remember sleeping a wink, but he knew he was late. The corner of the blanket peeled away, catching on his stubble, revealed a silhouette perched on the side of his bed. Scott. Already dressed to the nines in a suit that looked like it was shipped straight from the Milan runway. It probably had been. His son's aftershave was fancier and more expensive than he could ever afford or had any clue to choose at that same age. Predawn light was casting a grey hue over Scott's features, gleaming in silver highlights, making him look older. Tired. His eldest looked hauntingly like Jeff felt, sagging under the crashing weight, stretched thin, even put together all sharp like that, bright and early. The sudden heartache of that thought came out as a hoarse groan.

They were supposed to meet several executives first thing in the morning to get Jeff up to speed a bit more. To get the company brass reacquainted with the Tracy Patriarch too. There were many new promotions and appointments over the past eight years. But Jeff could barely keep his eyes open. The thought of getting up and moving gave him a shiver, which, in turn, deepened the worried frown on Scott's face. The taut lines in the corners of his son's eyes and mouth became prominent. Much as the pallor and dark circles, belying a sleepless night. Scott took a call out in One, right off the roof of Tracy Tower. It was the fastest and most expedient option, regardless of Virgil's protests. That's how Jeff remembered most of his sleep being drained by nightmares - One screeching off and him spending eight endless years calculating and hoping (praying) the rocket plane made it out of the Zero-X launch blast radius in time, taking his son to safely far enough. He winced at the memory and squinted against a nauseating headache. Scott's worry was obviously reaching the red zone.

A firm hand landed on his shoulder, then moved to press for the pulse. His boy's fingers were uncharacteristically cold, but maybe Jeff was just catching space chills.

"Dad, are you alright? I will cancel the morning! I'll get you to the hospital right now, then Virgil will fly Grandma in!"

The on the go plan was all IR Commander, but blue eyes blown up twice the usual size in panic was Scotty at any given time Dad was about to disappear. Again. He hated the treacherous frailty that got his unwavering boy so scared. As much as he hated the very idea of hospitals, enthusiastically shared by all his children.

"It's okay, Bluejay! No need to worry! Just one of those days. I'll sleep it off. You go ahead with the meeting and I'll rise and shine to have brunch with you, deal?"

Between the Zero-XL assembly under wraps, the possibly one-way mission to the middle of the galactic nowhere, and Jeff's subsequent laborious rehabilitation, the Tracy Industries senior executives really needed some quality face time with the Tracy-in-charge. So they would have it. Jeff was under no illusion he was in any shape to be that, anymore. Scott was, still. But that would have to change maybe sooner, than they both wished, if mornings like that became a recurrent thing.

Scott didn't appear entirely convinced and there was definitely a ping being sent up to Five to monitor Jeff's space-addled sleeping hunk extra closely. However, the anxious scowl softened into warm mirth as Scott smiled down at Dad's rugged face. Cool fingers moved from the pulse point to brush away the matted grey curls from Jeff's forehead. The gesture was definitely well practiced on any and all of the younger brothers, but in that moment all Jeff could see in the slight tilt of the head and a special, radiant fondness in the blue gaze, was the boys' mother.

He nearly choked on a sob and covered his eyes, feigning a fit of cough. Scott moved immediately to give him a glass of water from the bedside table. Once done blinking away the stinging moisture, Jeff caught the tail end of a hastily covered wince in the boy's features. If he were operating at full capacity, he would have probably dug to the bottom of it with proper insistence. As it were, Jeff settled for a squeeze of the premium wool clad bicep:

"How're you holding up, son? Tough night?"

"I'm okay, Dad! You don't need to worry! A couple of bruises here and there. Mostly my ego, as I landed in a heap when the jetpack gave out. I'll never hear the end of it!"

The edges of Scott's "cheeky flyboy" smile were tighter than Jeff should have been placated with. But gravity was already pulling his lids down.

TBC

[wachinyeya]

The technology involves assembling heat-absorbing bricks in an insulated container, where they can store heat generated by solar or wind power for later use at the temperatures required for industrial processes. The heat can then be released when needed by passing air through channels in the stacks of "firebricks," thus allowing cement, steel, glass, and paper factories to run on renewable energy even when wind and sunshine are unavailable.

These systems, which several companies have recently begun to commercialize for industrial heat storage, are a form of thermal energy storage. The bricks are made from the same materials as the insulating bricks that lined primitive kilns and iron-making furnaces thousands of years ago. To optimize for heat storage instead of insulation, the materials are combined in different amounts.

Batteries can store electricity from renewable sources and provide electricity to generate heat on demand. "The difference between firebrick storage and battery storage is that the firebricks store heat rather than electricity and are one-tenth the cost of batteries," said lead study author Mark Z. Jacobson, a professor of civil and environmental engineering in the Stanford Doerr School of Sustainability and School of Engineering. "The materials are much simpler too. They are basically just the components of dirt."

[semcoinfratechworld]

Understanding the CCD Polarity Tester Machine: Working, Mechanism, and Importance in the Battery Industry

In battery manufacturing, ensuring correct polarity is critical for safety, efficiency, and product reliability. The CCD Polarity Tester Machine is an advanced vision-based system designed to verify the polarity of battery cells, modules, or packs before they proceed to the next stage of production.

By using Charge-Coupled Device (CCD) cameras and image processing technology, this machine detects incorrect battery orientations, preventing assembly errors that could lead to electrical failures, reduced efficiency, or hazardous situations.

This article explores the working mechanism and significance of CCD Polarity Tester Machines in the battery industry, particularly in EV battery manufacturing, consumer electronics, and energy storage systems.

How a CCD Polarity Tester Machine Works?

1. Battery Placement

The battery cell or module is positioned in the testing station.

This can be done manually or through an automated conveyor system for high-speed manufacturing lines.

2. Image Capture Using CCD Camera

A high-resolution CCD camera captures detailed images of the battery’s terminals.

The camera is positioned to get a clear view of polarity indicators, such as symbols, colors, or terminal shapes.

3. Polarity Verification Process

The captured image is processed using machine vision algorithms.

The system compares the terminal orientation with predefined polarity templates stored in its database.

If the polarity matches the expected orientation, the battery is marked as passed.

If the polarity is incorrect, the system flags the battery as rejected.

4. Sorting and Classification

Pass Batteries: Batteries with the correct polarity move forward in the production process.

Reject Batteries: Batteries with incorrect polarity are flagged for correction or removal.

Some systems integrate robotic handling to automatically sort out non-compliant batteries.

Mechanism Behind CCD Polarity Testing

1. Charge-Coupled Device (CCD) Camera Technology

The CCD camera captures high-resolution images of battery terminals.

It offers superior light sensitivity, ensuring clear image detection in varying lighting conditions.

2. Image Processing Software

The system processes images in real time using pattern recognition and AI-based algorithms.

It identifies terminal markings, color codes, or shapes to verify polarity.

3. High-Speed Automated Feedback System

The system immediately classifies the battery as correct or incorrect.

Feedback is sent to the production control system, triggering sorting mechanisms or alerts.

4. Temperature and Lighting Adjustments

Some advanced systems adjust for ambient lighting conditions to improve accuracy.

Temperature variations that might affect image clarity are also compensated for.

Importance of CCD Polarity Testing in the Battery Industry

1. Prevents Assembly Errors

Batteries assembled with the wrong polarity can cause short circuits, device malfunctions, or permanent damage.

Ensuring correct polarity at the early production stage eliminates costly assembly line rework.

2. Enhances Safety

Misoriented batteries can lead to fire hazards, explosions, or system failures.

Particularly crucial for high-energy applications like EVs, medical devices, and energy storage solutions.

3. Improves Production Efficiency

Automated CCD testers reduce manual inspection time, improving throughput.

Early error detection minimizes waste and rework costs.

4. Ensures Compliance with Industry Standards

Battery manufacturers must adhere to safety and quality regulations such as ISO, IEC, and UL standards.

Automated polarity testing ensures compliance without human error.

5. Reduces Costs and Defective Product Returns

Incorrectly oriented batteries reaching the market can lead to warranty claims, recalls, and reputational damage.

CCD polarity testers prevent such failures, saving millions in potential losses.

 

Applications of CCD Polarity Tester Machines

1. Electric Vehicle (EV) Battery Production

Ensures correct orientation of high-voltage battery cells and modules before pack assembly.

Reduces the risk of electrical failure in EV power systems.

2. Consumer Electronics Manufacturing

Used in battery production for smartphones, laptops, and wearable devices.

Prevents polarity-related malfunctions in sensitive electronic devices.

3. Energy Storage Systems (ESS)

Large-scale battery storage requires precisely matched cells.

CCD testers ensure proper polarity before battery module integration.

4. Aerospace and Défense Batteries

In critical applications, such as satellites and military equipment, battery failures are unacceptable.

CCD testers provide high-precision verification for safety-critical batteries.

Choosing the Right CCD Polarity Tester for Your Needs

When selecting a CCD Polarity Tester, manufacturers should consider:

1. Accuracy and Resolution

High millivolt precision ensures reliable results.

Look for CCD cameras with high pixel resolution for better image clarity.

2. Speed and Automation Level

Automated testers are essential for high-volume battery production.

Look for systems with integrated robotic handling for increased efficiency.

3. Software Integration and AI Capabilities

Advanced systems use AI-powered image recognition to improve accuracy.

Machines that integrate with manufacturing execution systems (MES) enable real-time monitoring.

4. Compatibility with Different Battery Types

The machine should support cylindrical, prismatic, and pouch cells.

Should be adaptable to multiple battery chemistries, including Li-ion, NiMH, and LFP.

5. Temperature and Environmental Adaptability

Choose a tester with adjustable lighting and temperature compensation for reliable readings in different factory environments.

Conclusion

A CCD Polarity Tester Machine is a critical tool in battery manufacturing, ensuring that battery terminals are correctly oriented before further processing. By using high-precision imaging, automation, and AI-based vision systems, these machines eliminate polarity errors, enhance product reliability, and improve overall manufacturing efficiency.

In industries such as EVs, energy storage, and consumer electronics, CCD polarity testing plays a key role in ensuring safety, compliance, and product longevity. As battery technology advances, the demand for high-speed, accurate, and automated polarity testing solutions will continue to grow.

[almightyrayzilla]

I don't mean to drop any drama, and I know this is kind of futile, seeing as how this is already funded...but yesterday, this showed up in a kaiju collectibles Facebook group.

If you know me, my response was practically involuntary - "You lost me with the AI image." Actually, if I'm honest, the premise of this didn't sell me either. I could have sworn there was already a movie with this exact same plot, only this one has the killer demon toy be a dinosaur...but I digress.

They then proceeded to say that this was not made with AI, it was hand-drawn by Max Cave; they've worked with them for 5+ years, and I shouldn't smear their name. I proceed to look through Max's stuff - I'm an artist myself, I don't just make my own art, I like seeing other artists' works - and no, there is no goddamn way this was drawn by hand. Maybe at one time Max drew stuff by hand, but some of their latest stuff, Max is definitely using AI. And yes, some of it does look as if it were touched up...but it's still AI slop. It's got that weird, uncanny "smoothness". Not to mention this composition just looks so unintuitive, with the Funko Pop-esque T. rex pasted on top.

But yeah, I tell them again that this is definitely AI, that Max's portfolio is full of it, and that they might be getting bamboozled by this shmuck. They then proceed to double down, "tHerE'S nO sUcH tHinG aS aN AI dEteCtiNg eXpeRt", and that Max sketched it out, yadda yadda. It basically told me that they know that it's AI. Besides, I didn't claim to be an expert, I just know AI when I see it.

Apologies, I would post screencaps, but before I could get them, either these goons blocked me, or the post was removed. Or both. Either way, I FUCKING HATE AI.

Aside from being an insult to skilled artists who have spent years to get where they are (especially seeing how I tend to do a lot of traditional media), AI is theft. Not just scraping art to train the generator, but it's also wage theft. It is simply a means of a company not having to pay someone and divvy up profits. Much like how assembly lines use robots instead of people, or self-checkout lanes at Walmart. Y'know, our predatory capitalist society doing what it does best, making the number go up, but never down.

The silver lining to it though, companies are not seeing the returns they were promised because not enough people want this dreck.

Okay, I'll get off my soapbox now.

[tobiasdrake]

Digimon Adventure 01x05 - Lightning! Kabuterimon! / Kabuterimon's Electro Shocker

Previously on Digimon: We found drinking water, ate birdseed, and poured gasoline on a fire until it caused an integer overflow error and rolled over into zero. Also discovered that the true birdseed was the friends we made along the way. It was a good day.

But now it's time to leave the Pyocomon behind and get back on the road to... whatever might help us go home. File Island is no fun.

We join our cast at the end of a long hike. The younger kids are too exhausted to keep going, so we need to stop and take a break. We don't see Koushiro in this shot at all but he's resting with Mimi and Takeru in the next so we can probably assume which side he's on.

The dub adds context that we're going in circles, which is why everyone's so tired. In the original, they've just been walking for a long time.

Koushiro takes this as an opportunity to once again get his laptop up and running, but no dice. None of his electronics work on File Island. Taichi tries to help, but has a particular approach to IT... and about as much respect for other people's things as Haruhi Suzumiya.

Naturally, this gets him yelled at not only by Koushiro, but Sora also joins in to chew him out.

(Not okay, Taichi. What if you broke something? Where are we supposed to get replacement parts out here, the internet!?

...don't answer that.)

Suddenly, Taichi notices smoke on the horizon. Explaining nothing beyond the words "What's that?" Taichi suddenly runs off. The others shrug it off and decide he went to the bathroom or something.

Dub Tai is much more explicit in his communication. He explains that he sees smoke and is going to investigate. They still blow him off, with Joe claiming he has "the attention span of a gnat".

Unexpectedly, Koushiro's computer turns on. This is unexpected for two reasons; First, because there's no clear indication of why it suddenly works now. Second, as Koushiro quickly discovers, the battery is completely drained. There's no power to turn it on, and yet it runs.

The meaning of the blinking dead battery symbol is changed in the dub. The original plays this as eerie; The laptop has no battery so how is it running? The dub plays this as disappointing; The laptop has low battery so Izzy won't be able to use it. This sets Izzy on a quest to power on his laptop.

Before he has time to think about that, Taichi finds what he's looking for and calls them over.

Those smoke pillars meant exactly what he thought they did: A sprawling factory is laid out before them. Naturally, the kids descend into the factory to explore.

They find no people, but an assembly line of machines constructing... something. Jou, however, insists there must be people here somewhere; A factory like this can't be completely unmanned so we need to keep looking.

Like usual, Jou's determination to find other humans on File Island doesn't make it into the dub. Instead, Joe wants to find a cafeteria in the factory to get food from.

The kids split up; Taichi, Sora, and Jou head off one way while Yamato stays with Takeru, Koushiro, and Mimi and go another. As Taichi's group searches for human presence, they suddenly hear something.

They aren't sure where it's coming from but somebody's here. They can hear some kind of mechanical whirr and some sort of deep, echoing vocal noise. Taichi wonders aloud if that might be a person!

The dub flubs this just a bit; To fill dialogue space used for Jou insisting there must be people here, Biyomon instead calls out to the others, "Don't go any further in this direction!" That indicates that she knows the presence is over that way, making it odd when they all start looking around for it - and Biyomon specifically checks back the way they came.

We also don't hear the echoing voice in the dub; Instead, we hear metal clattering against metal. Tai announces with alarm, "Doesn't sound good!" Once again the dub team are quicker on the uptake and recognize the peril they're in, while the original kids are still holding out hope.

Meanwhile, Yamato's group finds the power supply room and discovers what's running this factory.

It's a super-sized battery plugged into the factory as if it were a TV remote or video game controller.

(It would be hell to change those out. Can you even imagine?)

While Koushiro's surprised to see that the factory runs on this weird system, Dub Izzy is more interested in using it for himself. He wonders aloud if there's a way he can hook it up to his laptop.

Still investigating, Tai's group comes upon this 'mon caught up in the gears of the factory. Gomamon ID's him as Andromon, and informs the others that he's highly evolved. Taichi asks if he's more evolved than Greymon, to which Gomamon answers yes, without a doubt.

(He's right, too. Andromon is a Perfect-stage Digimon, the stage beyond Adult. The kids aren't anywhere near that yet.)

Jou's disappointed that Andromon isn't human, but the kids still agree to help him anyway.

The dub cuts the discussion around Andromon being evolved beyond Adult-stage, though Agumon does say he's "very much advanced" which is open to interpretation. The rest of the conversation is spent agreeing that they should pull Andromon out of the gears.

They also, of course, cut Jou's disappointment about this being another Digimon; Joe complains, "My mom really doesn't want me moving any heavy objects; I've got bad knees," so Sora volunteers herself and Tai to do it without him.

Brief cut to Koushiro, who tells Yamato, Mimi, and Takeru to go on without him; He wants to stay here and investigate the battery further.

Meanwhile, Dub Izzy is still thinking about plugging his computer into the battery; He explains that if he can get it up and running, they can use his computer to call for help.

Meanwhile, Taichi's group begins pulling Andromon out.

(What happened to those bad knees, Dub Joe?)

Taichi loses his grip and falls back against that lever behind him, activating the machines he's stuck in. Unbeknownst to anyone, the machines insert one of those Black Gears from last episode into Andromon's fleshy cyborg leg, just before he comes loose.

Taichi attempts to apply some percussive maintenance, like he did for Koushiro's laptop, but Jou and Sora grab and restrain him. Taking cues from Taichi, Agumon smacks Andromon's head to bring him online.

It does not go well.

The narrator cuts in here to formally introduce Andromon. He's a Perfect-stage Data-type Cyborg Digimon, said to be the strongest among Digimon.

(I assume "on File Island" is a qualifier there because there are absolutely Digimon way more powerful than Andromon.)

Piyomon hits Andromon with Magical Fire to make him release Sora. He shrugs off her attack, then he lobs Sora into Taichi and Agumon, who catch her.

Taichi notices a bunch of metal beams being stored on the ceiling for some reason and has Agumon cut them down with a Baby Flame.

(I want to feel bad for him but he brought this OSHA violation on himself. If he stored his beams properly, this wouldn't have happened to him. Slacking off on safety protocols is how you end up caught in gears.)

Taichi's group takes this opportunity to run for it.

Back with Yamato's group, they've left Koushiro to investigate the power supply room and gone on without him, as requested. Mimi offers some wild speculation as to what the devices being assembled actually do.

Dub Mimi's similarly confused, but offers no speculation. Instead, she complains that there should be a tour guide to explain this stuff. "Ooh, maybe in a plaid outfit with a bullhorn!"

Meanwhile, Koushiro continues investigating the battery. He finds something most unexpected: A door? Why would a battery have a door? Dub Izzy is less confused by this, assertively calling it an "access panel to the interior operations!"

Opening it up, he enters and... it's wild.

Koushiro identifies the writing on these walls as computer code. He doesn't offer any particular programming language, just that it is one he recognizes. He runs his hand along one of the symbols, wiping away part of a letter as if it were fresh paint.

Instantly, the machines throughout the factory shut down in response to Koushiro disrupting their code.

Unfortunately, Taichi's group is still fleeing from Andromon when the lights suddenly go out. Taichi speculates that Andromon might not be able to find them in the dark if they creep away quietly. He's wrong; Andromon finds them immediately and we see from his perspective that he can see fine.

Andromon's signature move, Spiral Sword, spins his hand so fast it turns into a drill before slashing suddenly and creating a blade of pressured air. The dub calls this Lightning Blade.

While the kids narrowly avoid being cut apart by Andromon's Spiral Sword, we cut back to Koushiro and Tentomon. Koushiro laments that he broke the wrong part of the code. At Tentomon's suggestion, he takes out a sharpie and repairs the code, bringing the power back online.

As the machines come back online, Dub Mimi speculates that the factory didn't pay its power bill. XD Valid theory from her perspective.

Koushiro lays out for Tentomon why this is so bothersome. This is not how batteries work. The programming inside the battery is itself what's supplying power to the factory. Koushiro breaks out his laptop to further analyze the program.

(It's like a Sim City power plant. It looks like a power plant. It satisfies the electricity needs of the other programmed structures you lay down. But it's not a real power plant. It's just coded to look like one and to satisfy the coded electricity needs of the coded world. Koushiro and Tentomon are inside the code of this "battery" right now and seeing the true nature of its artifice.)

Meanwhile, dub Izzy is looking for a way out of the factory. "If I can decode this particular program, then I can trace its base functions and figure a way out of here!" This is peculiar because they aren't trapped here to begin with, but it's the beginning of what will be a plot point throughout this episode.

We cut briefly back to Taichi's group still dodging Spiral Swords from Andromon, and then return to Koushiro. Tentomon asks him about how happy he looks doing this; He's more motivated than he's been since Tentomon met him, in fact. Koushiro confirms that he's having a blast.

Tentomon doesn't get it. He asks what Koushiro gets out of this, and Koushiro explains that he gets knowledge. He wants to understand the secrets of this place and what the Digimon are. Tentomon isn't swayed by that; He doesn't really care about who or what he is, and he turns it around on Koushiro: Is he trying to solve the mystery of who he is?

Tentomon doesn't realize it, but that question triggers Koushiro. He flashes back on something he doesn't want to remember.

Though it's not explicitly stated, the subtext of this conversation he overhears from his parents is fairly obvious. Koushiro is adopted, and his parents haven't found the courage to break it to him yet. His parents agree to put it off a little longer; It'd be too much of a shock for him now. They don't know that they've already revealed it. And it is.

Dub Tentomon captures the spirit of the conversation, but with a lot more passive-aggression. He peppers Izzy in sassy backhanded remarks like "I admire the way you keep working while your friends are out having fun!" and "So you would rather spend your time with puzzles than with people?"

He also suggests that they're "trapped in a small room with no exit". I don't know where he got that idea from; There's a door. They came through the door. We occasionally see the door and it's still open like they left it. We're in here by choice 'cause Koushiro/Izzy wants to learn. But aside from that one line, this all works really well. Even the adoption conversation is adapted perfectly.

Back in the present, Tentomon snaps Koushiro out of his disassociation to let him know that some weird shit is happening to his computer screen.

The lines of code he'd been analyzed begin freely floating around the screen, and the light on his Digivice begins to blink.

Here, Dub Tentomon goes off-script to start ranting at Izzy that he's being irresponsible, playing around on his computer while his friends are in danger. This is not a thing they know, but Tentomon insists he can "feel it in [my] bones".

While Koushiro is learning, Mimi lets out an angry shriek from another part of the factory as she finally discovers what the place does with those machines it's assembling.

It sends them to conveyor belt which disassembles them for parts. Nobody offers any commentary beyond Mimi's angry shriek but honestly that's valid commentary in and of itself.

(The assembly and disassembly lines are my favorite part of this episode. It was not meant to be but it's such a scathing metaphor for the military-industrial complex when you think about it. We give hundreds of billions of dollars to defense contractors each year to do exactly this, and that makes me want to angry shriek when I think about it too.)

Back inside the battery's source code, the data moving around on Koushiro's screen begins to form into what appears to be a map of File Island. Dub Izzy's so excited, he officially abandons his alien theory.

However, before it can fully process, Tentomon begins overheating, crying out in pain. Koushiro checks his Digivice and sees that the little bar that rises and falls on it is filled to capacity and blinking.

He's forced to shut down the laptop for the sake of Tentomon's wellbeing. Once the laptop turns off, Tentomon stops glowing and burning, and his Digivice's meter returns to empty.

Meanwhile, Taichi's group escapes Andromon once again after Taichi makes an unbelievably brave leap from a scaffolding suspended dozens of feet in the air to a crane, and hooks Andromon with it.

Of note, Dub Andromon keeps demanding vengeance, presumably for Agumon banging on his head. This is not in the original, where he's a mostly-silent stalker except when he's firing his Spiral Sword or analyzing the kids. His Gear-corrupted systems label them intruders when we see things from his perspective, so he's trying to kill them based on that.

Dubs back in the day would often add dialogue just to fill space, on the assumption that kids would get bored if they go too long without hearing spoken words. So instead of a silent Terminator type marching through halls, we get cries of "ANDROMON WILL HAVE HIS VENGEANCE" whenever the camera's not on his face so you don't notice his lips aren't moving.

Up on the roof, Yamato, Mimi, and Takeru discuss what they've learned. Yamato lays it all out: The factory is a perpetual machine, disassembling the thing whatever it is for parts it can use to assemble the thing which it then disassembles for parts. Nothing is actually produced. This entire complex exists to make nothing.

The dub kids get the gist of this, though Matt's less confident than Yamato in his assessment. They also again suggest that they're trapped here which... is based on nothing? T.K. nervously says, "I hope there's a door," but Matt firmly states that there's no door because nothing ever leaves this place.

(Matt. My guy. There's a door. It's the one you came in through. We are not trapped in the factory; We're voluntarily poking around at stuff to learn what's what. Nobody is in any peril that they know of except Taichi's group.)

While Koushiro rejoins Yamato's group, we get a brief cut of Andromon cutting himself loose with a Spiral Sword air blade, curved around to hit the crane wire holding him.

Koushiro explains his findings: The factory is powered by a computer program; It's coded to have energy so it does. Extrapolating outwards, this means we presently exist in a world where data and programs become real, tangible things.

In the dub, we've already been calling this Digi-World since episode 1 so Izzy ratchets up the revelation: "In Digi-World, basic data and simple information are a living, viable substance; IT'S ALIVE!!!"

Before Koushiro can explain what he means, Taichi's group arrives and screams warnings to everyone. They're too late, though; Andromon erupts through the floor, turning on Yamato's group.

He wastes absolutely no time firing up his other signature attack to kill them with: Gatling Missiles. Yeah, Perfect-stage Digimon get two. That's not fair. This is Baby-stage Bubbles at Kuwagamon all over again.

As the group scatters, Yamato miserably fails his Big Brother check and leaves Takeru behind, frozen in terror. He realizes his mistake too late, but Gabumon evolves to Garurumon to shield Takeru from the blast. As he's evolving, the camera calls special attention to Koushiro noticing the data being output by Yamato's Digivice.

Garurumon swipes the Missiles away, destroying one of them. But the other recovers in the air and comes back for Taichi's group, revealing what exactly makes these Gatling Missiles.

With another shot of Koushiro noticing Taichi's Digivice glowing, Agumon evolves to Greymon to defend them from the gatling bullets. He smashes the missile with his tail. Their victory is short-lived, however, as Andromon proceeds to demonstrate the difference between Adult- and Perfect-stage Digimon.

This is not a winnable fight. They are all fucked beyond measure.

(Even if the whole team could evolve, this would still be a very hard fight. Remember that time the entire team of Child-stage Digimon tried to fight Kuwagamon and lost? Yeah. You really gotta party up if you want to take on a higher-stage Digimon.)

The kids watch in horror as Andromon easily takes Greymon and Garurumon apart. Yamato and Sora both chime in, acknowledging that they get what the whole "evolved at a stage beyond Greymon" thing from earlier means. He's so much stronger and faster than their guys; This fight is hopeless.

The dub didn't have that conversation earlier, so Sora has to offer this up as speculation. Dub Sora pegs his strength to being all-machine but adds, "It's almost like he's Digivolved far beyond the other Digimon!" Yeah. Almost like.

Out of desperation, Tentomon asks Koushiro to fire up that program he was looking at earlier. Koushiro acquiesces, firing it up and filling Tentomon with a surge of energy just like last time. But this time they let it go and don't resist it.

Tentomon SHINKAAAAAA!!!

Tentomon evolves into Kabuterimon, named for kabutomushi, the rhinoceros beetle. His arrival does little to change the tide of battle. Perfect-stage gonna Perfect, y'all.

Jou frantically wonders aloud if Andromon has any weaknesses, which gets Koushiro thinking. Scrutinizing Andromon carefully, he notices energy sparking out of his organic right leg and yells at Kabuterimon to focus fire on that.

The dub seems a little confused on this note; Izzy yells at Kabuterimon to "Cut his power! Demobilize his right leg and we'll interrupt his energy source!" which is making a lot of (wrong) assumptions about why we're shooting at his leg. Koushiro just says to shoot the leg and doesn't explain why.

Kabuterimon opens fire with his signature move, Mega Blaster. The dub calls this Electro Shocker.

Kabuterimon's shot hits home. It does jack shit to Andromon but it obliterates the Black Gear inside his leg, which forcibly emerges and flies into the air to explode like with Meramon. Instead of bursting into a cloud of smoke, however, we get to watch it disintegrate like a Final Fantasy monster.

With Andromon now liberated from the Black Gear, he unpacks what happened. He found the Gear stuck in the machinery of the factory and was trying to get it out when he got trapped like that. He doesn't actually know what it is or what happened any more than the kids do.

He's apologetic for what he did under its corruption and wishes he had more information for them, but he doesn't. He does, however, have a suggestion for how they should leave the factory, which may be where the dub got the idea that they're trapped here. He advises them to go through the sewers.

Dub Andromon skips the explanation and goes straight to apologizing. Though he still says he has little information for them and suggests using the "underground waterway" to "escape" from here. He also calls it a "labyrinth", which the original does not.

Andromon wishes them luck in returning to their world, which is now officially what we're calling it. Dub Tai promises to never forget Andromon. Then the kids make their way into the sewers.

As they're walking, Takeru strikes up conversation with Koushiro. He wants to know if the program Koushiro used to evolve Tentomon would work for Patamon as well. Dub T.K. has the same question but refers to evolving as "becoming a superhero".

Koushiro agrees to give it a try, but as he's typing, his laptop suddenly loses power. Taichi and Agumon both want to hit it, forcing Koushiro to comically protect his laptop from these two lunkheads.

As Taichi and Agumon comically hit each other, we close the episode on the group laughing at them. The narrator chimes in to foreshadow that Koushiro's laptop will be the key to solving the secrets of the world.

The dub's been having the characters narrate instead, but they don't even bother with this line. They just cut it outright. That's fair; It's kind of unnecessary.

Assessment: As a character-focus episode, this one works really well for Koushiro. The emphasis of the episode is on learning and information-gathering. We found something interesting so we start poking around to figure out what we can about File Island.

So far, each episode has focused on a particular trait of a character that's going to become important later down the road. For Koushiro, it's his intelligence and curiosity that not only drives his discoveries but fuels his Digimon's evolution.

This is a big episode for discovering the lore and understanding the mechanics of the Digital World, as befits a Koushiro episode. I particularly like the choice of a Perfect-stage Digimon for their adversary, forcing them into a situation where Koushiro has to solve the puzzle rather than defeat the bad guy.

The dub quality here is... serviceable. There's some lateral changes that just come across as different presentation choices, such as having Tai announce himself to the others more directly when he leaves the group. Also, some of the tension-relieving jokes they added got me, especially Mimi's "didn't pay the power bill" crack.

But there's definitely some changes I wouldn't have made. Cutting out the explanation that Andromon's evolved beyond the levels of Greymon and Garurumon confuses the matter of why they can't beat him. As a kid, I remember legitimately thinking that metal Digimon are just automatically the strongest because of this episode.

Also, they're still erasing Jou's character direction: To find humans so they can take us in and get us home. This leaves him with little to do but provide comic relief.

Nonetheless, the main character arc between Izzy and Tentomon mostly lands, even if they go a little too hard on Tentomon's disagreement with Izzy's way of life.

The dub version is a little lesser for the choices that they made, but not by too much, I think. It still hits most of the important beats and delivers the story it needed to tell, and that's what matters most.

[your-local-shapeshifter]

[ Indigo's apartment was littered with half-assembled weapons and equipment, as if she'd left in a rush. Weapons she never used were gone, and in the centre of the kitchen counter lay the SOS button K ensured she wore. Next to it, was a folded note. If opened, it's contents can be read, addressed to a few people.]

I hope I'm not shouldn't be gone that long, but considering the standing invite... Well, just in case.

I'm gonna be out of contact for a lil while. I... Can't give ya an exact time, but it's pretty unlikely you'll be able to reach me. If I'm lucky, it'll be short enough that none of you even see this. Better safe than sorry, though.

@jacynkaplanbrake sorry for leavin' without warnin'. remember that call I took the other day? time's up, 'n I've gotta work. you still need a place to stay, you've got it. i left a list of those other safehouses in that little compartment i showed ya the other day, cause I never found my notebook. stay safe. contact me if y'need. I'll answer as soon as i can.

@danny-fenton-in-gotham sorry 'm goin' awol at such a turbulent time. i hope you're taking some time to yourself. i stand by what i said: you didn't deserve that. I'll fistfight astaroth myself if I've gotta ... when i get back. feel free to raid the cupboards of sweet stuff. still got some dog treats for cujo, too. stay safe and look after yourself, please. cross lines if you need to. you come first.

@wren-beowulf honestly if you're somehow seeing this, colour me worried. get outta gotham. get pizza with danny or somethin'. stay safe. 've put the supplies for spa night on the shopping list. hope ya like cucumber face masks dude. ...hope ice clasher's still treatin' ya well. you've got people lookin' out for ya. if y'need them, reach out for them.

@bluejaime we are NEVER getting our battery acid at this rate. honestly. swear I'm gonna lose my mind. consider it out on the calendar the SECOND I'm back. stay safe. don't get kidnapped again, please, and jus' cause khaji insists he can heal something doesn't mean he actually can. there's cotton candy grapes in the fridge. have 'em.

@gothamite-detective ...heyyyy pretty boy. sorry for the short notice? i swear we'll talk properly when i get back... I'll try not to show up blood covered in ya window again? haha. ...please stay safe. i think i might lose it if you wind up in a dangerous situation as well. especially when I'm outta reach... we've still got a movie marathon to do, yeah? gotta introduce me to marvel, or whatever you called it. keeping your hoodies. they smell like you. uh. anyway. stay safe. ...love ya pretty boy.

...i think that's everyone. if anyone else is here 'n knows they shouldn't be (cough, sirius, cough) I'll know. don't try and take the dogs back. ms o'connors agreed to look after them for a few days. she should be by the mornin' after I'm writin' this, 'n if you try t' cross her she'll be burying ya before you're even cold.

ugh. someones totally gonna be kidnapped or dead by the time I'm back... just. try stayin' alive.

see ya soon,

xoxo indigo

[seat-safety-switch]

Sometimes, when I look up from my studies (gearbox re-assembly) I like to stare out the window. There, on the power lines outside my house, are a whole bunch of black-billed magpies. I'm told by the ever-present voice in my skull that I am in fact looking at a Parliament of magpies, but this is no doubt a holdover from the era when Parliament existed. It might even be from when the monarchy existed.

Birds have it really easy. They fly around a lot, play their songs whenever they want, and maybe threaten the local hot dog cart owner into surrendering some merchandise. Their lives have a downside too, though: dangerous predators like house-cats and hawks, and the existence of motorized vehicle traffic. Plus, they have to try and get food in the winter, and that's exactly what those magpies were doing this one weekend in January.

When all the goodies are covered in snow, or worse, frozen by one of the howling ice storms that periodically blow through this area and knock out civilization for a week or two, the birds can't get at their vittles. Once, years ago, a nice lady down the street would put out peanuts for them, and they would sup greedily. Perhaps these magpies are simply a much later generation, raised on the legends of their ancestors as this being A Good Place where Sometimes You Get Peanuts. No such luck now: she pulled up stakes and left for somewhere she didn't have to live next to a guy who tried to Prius-swap a Celica with a natural-gas-fired jet turbine on the roof for batteries. Boring.

Still, I decided that I would also do my part to make life easier for these wild scavengers. That night, when I backed out of my driveway, I made sure to rip the handbrake a little early, knocking my next-door neighbour's compost bin over, where it immediately disgorged its contents of spoiled theatre popcorn and government-issued Nature Valley® Extreme Environment Survival Bars onto the road. The birds would eat well tonight, they wouldn't expect another handout from what was clearly a miracle, and I would enjoy some karma in having made another living thing's life better, if only momentarily.