#workstation programming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gold-onthe-inside · 1 month ago

Text

pair programming

A software development technique in which two programmers work together at one workstation. One, the driver, writes code while the other, the observer or navigator, reviews each line of code as it is typed in.

part one: driver

who? spencer reid (s1) x analyst!reader what? prequel to greylist; you invite yourself onto a case to help penelope after an unsub runs a blackhat operation onto her set-up, getting to know your best friend's team in the process. word count: 3.9k (sort of turned into a case-fic) content warnings: elle's shooting is mentioned, reference to SA a/n: this got seriously long, i'm so sorry, i hope you all like it, and part two will be coming - based on when penelope gets shot

“What kind of MIT graduate is a technophobe?” you asked, even as you were plugged in next to Penelope's workstation. Your eyes are glued to the screen, parsing through each line of code as Penelope wrote it. It was rare for you to get this attached to someone, but Penelope's hard not to let in with her funky earrings and sparkly glasses and chunky bracelets.

"The kind with three PhDs, apparently," she replied, before cursing softly as she notices you correct her code.

"Ugh, that sounds insufferable," you mutter, curling your upper lip, rubbing the small ache that was growing in the back of your neck. You've been at this for hours, helping Penelope develop software that can identify the tiniest detail from CCTV footage, invasion of privacy damned. You knew it's an ethical line you have to blur in counterintelligence. But you've found your groove and if you lose track now, who knows when you'll both get a chance to sit and write again?

"He's not that bad, actually," Penelope said, blue eyes watching her screen intently, manicured nails clacking over her keyboard, chewing the same gum she had popped in when you'd both started. "He's not exactly a looker, not like my darling Morgan. Did I tell you he called me baby girl?"

"How romantic," you said dryly, reaching for the packet of Twizzlers you were both sharing. "He didn't know your name."

"You haven't seen him," Penelope said, her voice dreamy. "He's beautiful, the Adonis to my Aphrodite--"

"You know Adonis died, right?" you asked her, raising a brow and she tossed a Malteser at you.

"Stop ruining my fantasies!" she cried and you snickered under your breath.

"I'm not picking that up. Anyway, more importantly, what's Agent Greenaway like?"

And so it goes for another hour, until you both swap roles, and you're complete focus and drive and determination as you get these codes out, and Spencer Reid is nothing more than a name picked up in conversation.

You're good at your job; clean, organised, a hard worker with an eye for detail and little else in your social life, and so when Penelope's picked for the BAU, you're working your way up in counterintelligence, surrounded by more testosterone than Penelope. She's unorthodox, hasn't come up the way you have; you were astonished when you found out that she taught herself to code, dropping out of CalTech a year after she joined. It's why you offered to be her navigator, and you only really stay at your desk if you're working with privileged information. Otherwise, you're spending off-time with her, writing programs and algorithms, helping her multi-task when there's an overwhelming amount of information to track.

"My co-workers never get me flowers," you said, walking in with your laptop under your arm, a hand going to the yellow flowers arranged in a bouquet by her station and she spun in her chair, grinning giddily.

"They're from Gideon," she gushed and you raise a brow as you smell the daffodils.

“You know I don’t judge age gaps, but isn’t he starting to bald?” you asked and Penelope was already rolling her eyes as you picked up the card to read it.

“It’s not like that,” she insisted, watching you frown at the neat printed writing. “What is it?”

“Agent Gideon doesn’t write like this,” you said, wrinkling your brow, showing her the handwriting and Penelope shrugged.

“Maybe he wanted it to look nice.”

"I know I can be challenging, but your work is appreciated. J. Gideon?” you read out skeptically. “A) he’s not self-aware enough to call himself challenging, and B) he doesn’t sign off on messages like that. I’ve seen your Christmas present from last year.”

“You don’t know that,” Penelope retorted and you cock your head at her. “He-He was apologising for last week, when he was on crutches and—”

“Was being a total pain in your ass?” you asked with a chuckle, sitting down and opening your laptop. “What’s the going rate for daffodils these days? 10, 20 dollars?”

“What are you doing?” Penelope asked, then looking horrified as you’d already hacked your way into peeking at Gideon’s recent debit and credit purchases.

“No florists here,” you declared, showing her. “Although, he goes to the Smithsonian a lot.”

“He likes the bird exhibits, what are you guys doing?” came a confused voice from behind the both of you, and your eyes fall on a gangly, tall man, with a very unflattering yellow shirt with beige lines that matched his tie and trousers, brown hair tucked tightly behind his ears.

Penelope quickly slammed your laptop shut with a quick “Nothing!” and he furrowed his brow, spindly fingers fidgeting in front of him. You glanced at Penelope, trying to follow her cue.

“Yeah, what’s it to you?” you asked, the kind of tone you’d use with your own co-workers who linger around your desk, trying to copy your programs.

“Considering Gideon’s my boss, I’d like to know why you’re investigating his finances,” Spencer said, doing his best to exude confidence, but he didn’t quite manage it, his hands going to his pockets, and your cool stare makes him swallow. Oh, he’s going to be fun to play with.

“We’re just evaluating whether Gideon’s gonna ask Penelope here on a date,” you said, just to mess with him and keeping a straight face even as she shoved your shoulder, and he choked, his neck flushing red. “Oh, maybe he’ll take you to his cabin,” you add, looking at Penelope excitedly. “A couple glasses of wine, a nice dinner, light some candles—”

“I’m gonna shove this keyboard so far down your throat, all that’s going to come out are bit strings!” she cried, trying to clap a hand over your mouth as you laugh and by the time you look back at the door, he’s gone. “I think you’ve scarred him for life,” Penelope sighed, exasperated, smacking your shoulder hard and making you wince.

“Ow, no sense of humour, any of you,” you grumbled, rubbing your shoulder, and actually getting down to do the work you’re supposed to be doing. You like Penelope’s company, more than the kind of guys you’re surrounded by in counterintelligence.

You’re supposed to be parsing through online communication on a website potentially linked to a terrorist organisation in Somalia, waiting for your decryption program to finish running it, walking into Penelope’s den to find her pulling her apart her CPU, muttering to herself. “All work and no play?” she demanded at her array of screens, “All work and no play, huh? You just wait till I’m through with you!”

“Um… you good?” You asked, leaning against her doorway. You haven’t seen Penelope this angry since she’d been called into work the night they had tickets to the Pixies’ reunion tour.

“Someone had the nerve to run a blackhat op into my computers!” she cried, looking at you, red streaks in her crinkle-cut hair. “They hacked me, okay? But you can bet your sweet ass, I will find them. I've got honey pot farms hidden behind UML kernel data packets and a first generation honeynet I personally programmed. My snort logs list every visitor, every server request, every keystroke on this entire network. If I have to back-hack his I.P. all the way to the frickin'stone age, I will find this son of a bitch, okay?” As angry as she sounded, her blue eyes were welling up and Somalia was forgotten as you pulled your own chair up.

“What can I do?” you asked and her phone rang, Penelope groaning as she stood up, jamming the answer button with the back of her screwdriver.

“What?” she demanded irritably.

“I need a rundown on a guy,” Morgan said and you frowned — as far as you knew, the rest of the team was on vacation, what with him telling everyone on the floor, including yours, about all fun he was gonna have at some Jamaican resort in Montego Bay.

“No,” Penelope said, shortly.

“No?” he asked and your hand came up to Penelope’s elbow.

“I can take care of this,” you offer and it seemed to take some steam off of your best friend. “Talk to me, Morgan,” you said, rolling your chair over and setting up on your own laptop. “What do you need?”

“Run a Frank Giles for me, would you, sweet thing?” Morgan asked and you huff, pulling up your deep background check program to run his name.

“Call me sweet thing again and I’ll feed your fingers to Clooney,” you replied, hearing him chuckle over the landline.

“My bad,” he said. “What do you have for me?”

“Hey, I’m working on a CPU half my usual size, gimme a minute, will you?” you replied.

“You’re a hard woman to please.”

“No fun in making it easy, is it?” you quip back as your results get back to you. “Frank Giles left Jamaica last night on the red eye. He flew to Florida, then got onto another flight to Virginia,” you relay to him.

“He’s from Virginia?” Morgan asked, confused.

“He’s got an address in Arlington,” you continued. “Long criminal record too; murder, robbery, sexual assault.”

“A guy was murdered in the resort here, head was cut off,” Morgan explained to you. “What are the chances you can find him for me?”

“Please, this stuff is child’s play,” you retorted, glancing down at Penelope on the floor. “This is what you do all day? Look people up?”

Penelope looked up from the floor at you. “Hey, I’m in a very vulnerable position right now!” You suppress a snort, working on ID’ing the victim.

“The room’s rented to a man named—”

“Marty Harris,” you said. “Also classic bad guy, fetish burglar and registered child sex offender. TSA flagged him, he was travelling with Giles.” You flex your fingers, cracking your knuckles, your blood not quite up.

“Alright, thanks, mama,” he said before hanging up and you scrunch your nose at being called that. Derek liked to flirt, and despite your best efforts, he’s not averse to being threatened. You spend the rest of the day backhacking the guy, Frank Giles on the back of you mind.

“How’d he get in, anyway?” you asked, frowning at your laptop. It’s not as well-kitted as your cubicle downstairs, but you can’t leave Penelope in the lurch like this.

“I don’t know,” Penelope cried, “all I know is I was in Camelot with Sir Kneighf again—”

“At work?” you asked, looking up instantly and the colour leeched from Penelope’s face. “Pen, no!”

“It was my personal laptop, I didn’t think—”

“Your laptop doesn’t have the same security, Pen, Christ!”

“I know that!” she yelled, her face fierce. “God, you don’t think I feel horrible enough already, and I can already see Hotch’s face when he finds out—”

“Hey, no, I’m sorry, listen,” you say automatically, scooting forward to comfort her. “Listen, it’s gonna be okay, alright? Whoever this guy is, he took advantage of you, alright? That’s what these guys do. They wait around until they find the weak link and strike.”

“I’m the weak link!” Penelope cried and you tutted, putting your laptop away and hugging her.

“Hey, no, you’re not,” you insisted, taking her glasses off so they wouldn’t get in the way. “You know how many cases these guys have solved because of you? How many lives they could’ve lost if you hadn’t found the right guy or the right address in time? Don’t beat yourself up over one mistake.”

And that’s exactly how clear you make yourself when you hear Gideon call her stupid — standing right by her side when she tells the entire team the truth. You’re not part of the team, Gideon’s not your supervisor, and it’s the first time you’ve met most of them face to face really, which makes it easier to stand your ground.

“You’d all be lost without Garcia’s technical skills, and you know it,” you said, defending your friend. “So, yeah, she made a mistake and the hacker got into your personnel files. It doesn’t explain how he knows all the other details of your life. It doesn’t explain how he knew about Morgan and Greenaway going to Jamaica, or your appreciation of the Chicago White Sox , who, by the way, haven’t won a championship since 1959 until last year.” There’s a moment of silence where Gideon just blinks at you, Elle suddenly very interested in her fist as her brow raised, and Aaron’s gaze bored into you. Spencer didn’t know whether to look at you or Gideon; you with your firm gaze and fingers curled around Penelope’s, or Gideon with his worn out expression.

“So, how did he find all this out?” Aaron said eventually, and the heat passes as they all move on. You glanced at Penelope, nodding subtly as she mouthed a ‘thank you’. Elle caught your gaze as you started to leave the profilers to their work, dimples forming on her sleepy face as she tried not to smile.

You have your own work pending, writing up a program to feed the decrypted communication through that would flag recurring keywords, in Penelope’s den still. This close to evening, your supervisor wouldn’t care anyway. The hours you put in excuse you from actually having to sit in your cubicle. With the only two seats in the den occupied, Spencer was pacing behind Penelope who was busy backhacking Sir Kneighf.

“The card we got of Nellie Fox was from 1963,” he was saying to noone in particular, and you had the feeling he just didn’t want to be in that conference room alone, but his pacing was starting to get on your nerves. “But the team that Gideon’s fond of is actually the 1959 team.” You shared a glance at Penelope, slipping into telepathy.

“Can’t we get rid of him?”

“Not without making a mess,” she said with her face and you repressed a sigh as he kept going.

“So the code has to be from a book from 1963,” he said, twisting on his heel to face Penelope. “Is there a database that lists all the books published in a given year?”

“Individual publishers have lists, I don't think there's anything like a master one,” Penelope answered him. “Plus it would depend upon the year, because the further back you go, the less likely there'll be any database at all.

“And definitely not for 1963,” you piped up, Penelope nodding along and Spencer looked at you with a furrowed brow, then back to Penelope, leaning over her shoulder.

“Could you do me a favor? Type something into a search engine for me?” Spencer asked and Penelope scowled at him.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” she replied and as if you could tell the work would be shifted onto you, you attempted to surreptitiously leave, but Penelope’s hand latched around your wrist. “Weren’t you just wishing you had something to do?”

“No,” you tried in vain, “No, my program’ll be done in a couple of—” Neither of them were falling for it and Spencer was starting to pull out this puppy-faced look and you groaned. How did you keep getting in these situations? “Fine, put your face away,” you said irritably, sitting back down. “What am I Yahoo-ing?”

"Never would it be night, but always clear day to any man's sight,” Spencer recited, watching you type rapidly.

“It’s from ‘The Parliament of—”

“Fowls!” Spencer exclaimed, “I knew I’d heard it somewhere.” It was too late in the day for you to handle his excitement with any kind of grace, sharing a look with Penelope who simply shrugged, like he was always like this. “Yeah, yeah, Chaucer, my… My mom used to read it to me,” he said, not quite meeting anyone’s gaze… like he was ashamed of something. “It’s widely considered the world’s first Valentine’s poem.”

“Your mom read you Valentine's poems? Hello, therapy,” Penelope muttered under her breath and you smacked her arm playfully, Spencer too deep in thought to see it.

“The poem’s not long enough for it to be the book,” he said, still looking puzzled. “The code we got referred to it having at least 283 pages—”

“And it’s not from 1963, either,” you added dryly.

“Something published in 1963. A butterfly indigenous to Great Britain, so something from Great Britain,” he said to himself and you furrow your brow.

“Fowles,” you said, and it was like everything made sense. “With an e, Fowles. He wrote a book, The Collector, in the 60s,” you kept going, Penelope looking at you with an impressed gaze, Spencer hanging onto your every word. “It kind of matches your case. This lonely young man kidnaps a young art student and holds her in his cellar at his farmhouse, keeps her there for years, and she assumes he’s going to torture her or sexually assault her, but he’s waiting for her to fall in love with him, and he’s convinced she will, and by the end, she falls ill and dies. When he finds her, he wants to commit suicide, but he reads her diary and realises she never loved him so he buries her and the book ends with him thinking about abducting another girl.”

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, looking horrified.

“Yeah, it wasn’t great,” you replied, frowning and scrunching your nose. “The whole thing was in first person. It was weird to read.”

“Right, that’s the icky part,” Penelope said, dryly.

“We need to check it with the code, and it has to be the exact edition he has,” Spencer interrupted before either of you got side-tracked and you rolled your eyes, going into your bag to pull out your e-reader, connecting it to your laptop. Spencer hovered right above your shoulder, so close you could hear his breathing, feeling warmth flutter against your cheek, and you cleared your throat.

“Ever heard of personal space?” you asked irritably, turning to look at him and he looked back down at you, barely an inch between you two, and then he stammered out an apology as he stepped back, all while Penelope smirked at the two of you. While the book transferred, you worked on quickly creating an algorithm that would search and flag the given word on a given line, on a given page, and despite yourself, you’re a little impressed when Spencer recites each number from the code that the unsub had sent Haley.

“Show off,” you muttered under your breath as he quickly wrote the resulting poem onto a legal pad in chicken scratch writing.

The path to the end began at his start. To find her, first calm her long broken heart. She sits in a window, with secrets from her knight.

“Well, that isn’t medieval,” you said and Spencer frowned at it, scanning it over and over again. Without another word, he darted out of the office, leaving both of you bewildered. “You were right, he is an odd duck,” you murmured, staring at the open door.

“Should we follow him?” Penelope asked, looking at you.

“I’ve put off my own work long enough,” you said, shaking her head and Penelope nodded, understanding.

“Thanks. For sticking around,” she said softly and you smiled at her faintly.

“Always.”

You should go home. Shower. Sleep. But Elle’s been shot and you can’t leave, not in good conscience. You hate yourself for being this sentimental, this soft but that’s what Penelope does to you. She softens you, makes you kinder, makes you laugh. If it had been you who had lost a teammate, Penelope would have been glued to your side.

So you stick around, blinking sleep out of your eyes, settled in the BAU’s kitchen with a cup of coffee and a bagel, both stale, looking for coded messages. Not for the first time, you think about where you could be. Coding for Apple, or Microsoft. Developing software in Silicon Valley. They don’t have stale bagels in Silicon Valley.

You stretched uncomfortably in your chair, gaze flitting up to the conference room, the bullpen stretched out between you and the BAU. You’re not a people person, or you weren’t before you met Penelope. You preferred the solitude of your cubicle, or you thought you had. The very virtue of your profession had left you without other female friends, and the ones you had before this job had drifted away. Counter-intelligence was by its very nature an isolating field, and Penelope was one of the few who didn’t mind your secrets. But seeing this team rally, even if Gideon had yelled at her, seeing them work together, as irritating as it had felt in the moment, filled you with a sense of loneliness. All you had was Penelope, but you weren’t the only one she had. Far from it.

That’s what prompts you to approach the older woman sitting alone in the conference room with her journal. Sitting by the window. “Hi,” you said meekly, stepping into the room, clocking the visitor’s badge on the woman’s sweater. She’s wearing a pale flowery dress, her bag sandwiched between her side and elbow. Her hair was short, like a boy’s, and blonde, and yet, something about her painfully reminds you of Spencer. Something around the eyes and the shape of her face.

“Is it lunch time yet?” she asked without looking up and you frowned, looking out the window to see the sprawl of Quantico blanketed in the dark blue of the night.

“Uh, no, not yet,” you said, sounding lame even to yourself. God, this was such a mistake.

“I'm lecturing everyone in Tristan and Iseult. They're all gathering in my room after lunch.” the woman said, looking up at you, and you offered a smile.

“Which version?” you asked, pulling up a chair as the woman gave you an impressed look.

“Malory’s. Beroul’s seemed too long to assign. You’ve read it?” she asked and you shook your head.

“Not in its entirety,” you replied somberly. “Not a lot of downtime with my job. But I know the gist of it.”

“Shame,” the woman said, letting out a sigh. “I always say, the best way to read a book is to listen to someone read it.”

That’s when Reid rushes in, relaxed until he sees you sitting in front of his mother, his temple creasing, and you raised your hand, waving it at him with a sheepish smile. “We uh, we found Rebecca,” he said, looking between you and his mom, two worlds colliding sooner than he would’ve liked. “You saved her life, Mom,” he said softly.

“Who’s Rebecca?” she asked and his smile evaporated, glancing at you for explanation but you shake you head.

“She’s not lucid,” you murmured, watching him swallow, his cheer dissipating.

“Oh,” he said quietly, blinking as he processed it, looking at Diana as she continued to write, and you stood up to leave. “Thanks,” he murmured to you as you walked off.

“I didn’t do anything,” you said, brow creasing and he looked at you with a boyishness that stops your breath.

“Thanks anyway,” he insisted and you nodded curtly.

“Elle okay?” you asked.

“She will be.” So you pat his arm and leave him with his mom, shaking off the fondness you’d started to feel for him.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x analyst!reader #analyst!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #my fics

319 notes · View notes

totesnothere04 · 8 months ago

Text

The Silence Didn't End, Until It Did

Tonowari x Deaf!Avatar!Reader x Ronal

Disclaimer: I don't own any fanart, screenshots, or gifs.

Warnings: Uh Idfk imagine going from hearing absolutely nothing your entire life to hearing everything.

Masterlist

As soon as you're pulled out of your cryo-pod, you're greeted by a nurse signing to you.

"We're here." He signs and you sigh.

"Thank you." You sign back and he helps you out of your pod and you float over to your locker. You sadly set a hand on Tommy's locker since it was right next to yours, and you open your locker grabbing your things. Your eyes are caught by someone coming over and opening Tommy's locker and you have to do a double-take. He looked exactly like Tommy, but his legs had no muscle mass. This must be Jake. You sigh again, close your locker, and push off to get where you need to go.

Later after your shuttle landed you sit there watching what the interpreter is saying from the Colonel. You were bored, but you knew that this place wasn't a cakewalk. You were invaders so you knew the indigenous wouldn't be particularly accepting of humans.

But you were one of the lucky few who didn't have to be stationed at Hell's Gate. You were lucky enough to be stationed further away in the forest close to the ocean. You were a marine zoologist, and you couldn't pass up the opportunity to beable to come here and be out there.

The moment the interpreter signed to you that the safety briefing was over your bag was in your hand and you were out of the mess hall. Basically jogging over to the link room to meet THE Grace Augustine. A man greeted you when you entered the link room.

"Hello, I'm Max. I'll be helping you connect to your avatar tomorrow, and then you'll be sent to your station afterwards." Max signs to you and you smile excitedly.

"I'm so excited, I'm sure you understand just how excited I am." You sign to him and based off of the exhale of breathing and the movement of his shoulders he chuckled.

"I get it. I really do, but as beautiful as this planet can be it can be very dangerous. Just keep that in mind." Max signs and leads you over to a link pod. "Any minute now, Grace Augustine is going to be coming out of this pod. But I'll have you standing with us in the center of the room so that you don't crowd her when she first comes out." You nod along and move with him over to the center of the room and look at all of their monitors in awe. After a moment her link pod opens and she walks over to meet two men. Both of which you know will be joining the avatar program. Norm takes notice of you and waves.

"Hey (Y/n). I didn't see you in the mess hall." Norm signs and wave off his words.

"I sat in the back with my interpreter. I'm just ready to be at my station." You sign to him and he smiles and nods. Grace looks at you and smiles.

"You must be (Y/n). I'm excited to beable to read your reports. From your grades and your simulation hours, I can tell that you will be an amazing addition to the avatar program." Grace signs and you smile bashfully.

"I'm just ready to be at my workstation and learn everything I can about the marine life here." You sign to her and she smiles.

"Be here bright and early and be ready, because this is going to be an experience." Grace signs to you and you give her two excited thumbs up and grab your bag to go to your temporary bunk. As you pass the lab the blue glow catches your eye and you go inside. The first avatar is Tommy's, the next is Norm's avatar... Then yours. You smile wide and go over to yours and watch her twitch occasionally.

The teal blue of her skin contrasts with Norm and Tommy's avatars, and her hair is a different consistency. Longer, thicker, and softer looking and you already start thinking of the different ways you could style her hair so it doesn't get in your eyes. Her wide limbs were there to make gliding through the water much easier, and her thicker tail for better propulsion. You leave the lab feeling way too excited for tomorrow.

The next morning you were up early and dressed ready to go. You leave your temporary bunk to go grab breakfast and after you finish eating you're in the link room.

Max greets you and leads you over to a link pod. You calibrate it and take a deep breath as you sit down in it and lie down. Max puts everything in place and you reach up and pull down the lid. A moment later your eyes close and you wake up slowly, but something is off.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Your brows furrow in confusion and suddenly they're above you shining a bright light in your eyes.

"Pupilary reflex is good." The woman says and your eyes blow wide. The man notices and snaps in your ears and you flinch at the noise.

"(Y/n) can you hear us?" The man asks and through your shock, you start reading their lips to associate words with the way they sound, you manage to nod.

"I can hear..." You sign to them and they both smile widely. Approximately 5 minutes later you're sat up on the bed when Norm's avatar stirs and your ears perk toward the noise of his shuffling. When he sits up he looks over at you and smiles.

"This is awesome." Norm signs and you nod.

"I can hear." You sign to him and his face drops in shock.

"Really?" Norm asks outloud and you nod.

"Now I just need to learn to speak." You sign to him and he waves a hand.

"You're smart. It's easy to talk, you'll get it in no time." Norm says and you giggle, but your eyes widened after you did.

"That's what my laugh sounds like?" You sign and Norm nods.

"Yeah. Tommy and I always thought it was cute." Norm says with a chuckle. Your conversation ended abruptly when To-Jake started to stir and you watched with curiosity. After only being linked to his avatar body for a few moments he starts to get up and your eyes go wide as you watch him detach all the IV's and monitoring equipment and run out of the airlock. Norm follows behind Jake, but you remain seated with a raised brow.

The two scientists close the airlock when they return from trying to keep up with Jake and they return to you.

"Alright (Y/n). Let's get you up and ready." The woman says and the man takes that as his cue to leave. She pushes a cart over to you and you gladly get dressed and ready to go and soon enough you're out of the airlock too. You're met by an older ocean avatar and he smiles at you.

"(Y/n), I'm so excited to get to know you." He signs happily.

"I'm excited too! But I wanted to let you know I can hear you... I can hear everything." You sign to him and his eyes go wide and he smiles.

"Even better. I'll teach you to speak Na'vi first." He says with a laugh. "Come on let's get you used to these legs." He says as he leads you off to an obstacle course.

The next day you step off the Samson with your mentor and you look around you in awe. The ocean a few miles away was a beautiful blue, the sand a pure light tan nearly white, and the grass around you was green. You smile brightly at the scene around you, but your admiring is cut short by a hand waving in your face.

"Sorry... Forgot you were in your human body and not your avatar." Your mentor signed and he had a sheepish look on his face.

"I'm sorry I wasn't paying attention... It so much more beautiful than I thought it would be." You sign to him and he smiles and nods.

"And to think.... At one point Earth looked like this." Your mentor signed as he looked out over the scenery sadly. "Anyway... Let's get you set up." He signs as he leads you into the mobile units. Three small portable buildings clustered together and when you walked in there was only one other scientist there. She jumped up quickly and waved excitedly.

"Hello! I'm Kira a marine biologist." Kira signs excitedly.

"Hello, Kira. I'm (Y/n) and I can't wait to get started." You sign to her and she nods.

"You'll love it here, trust me. I never want to leave." Kira signs and as quickly as she appeared to you she disappears into the buildings.

As you settled into your new surroundings and got used to the schedule for studying, Kira and your mentor, Steve, taught you to speak Na'vi. You picked up on it so fast that soon enough you were having full conversations with them fluently.

Currently, however, you are enjoying some free time. The sounds of the waves crashing on the shore and the animals in the nearby forest were relaxing. You took a deep breath and got up from your seated position on the sand. You waded into the water and dove in being careful of the possible dangers within.

Even under the water, you could hear everything. The chitter of the animals under the water, the flowing of the water, and the sound of rocks shifting with the tides. Everyday you became more enraptured with the world around you, and you started to dread when your 6 years were up. You couldn't stand the thought of leaving such a beautiful lively planet to return to one filled with so much ugly. The tall buildings you once thought were beautiful and strong, now seemed disgusting in your memories compared to what you were seeing everyday now.

In your deep state of thinking you didn't notice a Tsurak, or Skimwings, as humans call them, swimming toward you. You turned startled slightly when you felt something nudge your back. You came face-to-face with the Tsurak and you felt your blood run cold. When claimed by a rider they don't attack Na'vi unless prompted to, but this one didn't have a saddle. You freeze in place waiting for it to make its move, but it never moves to attack you. It only nuzzles the end of its nose into your stomach, so you bring your hands up to pet its muzzle. It starts pushing you back to shore and you have to suppress the giggles since it was tickling you. You finally stood up when you reached an area where you were still in the ocean up to your waist.

"(Y/n)!" Steve calls out as he comes out of the mobile unit. You turn to look at him and your new Tsurak friend floats up to the surface of the water.

"Yes, Steve?" You ask him in Na'vi and he freezes after taking a step when he sees the Tsurak.

"(Y/n)... very slowly walk out of the water." Steve says and you chuckle and shake your head.

"Steve this is my new friend." You tell Steve with a smile and pet the Tsurak's head.

"Okay..." Steve says slowly. "I got a status update from Max... They're attacking the Omatikaya Hometree today." Steve says sadly and your expression drops as well. You go to open your mouth to speak when something wet and slightly slippery smacks you in the face. Confused and slightly annoyed you look down to see that the Tsurak has its tswin sticking out of the water expectantly. Steve becomes amazed, moves a little closer, and crouches.

"Oh my god..." Steve says quietly as he watches the two infront of him. You slowly reach behind you and pull your tswin forward, and bring it to meet the Tsurak's. When the small pink nerve endings meet they bind together and suddenly everything feels different. You got the sudden urge to hang on for dear life and did so. Which proved to be a good idea since the Tsurak took off swimming quickly in what felt like a familiar direction to it. When your lungs start to burn in protest for air the Tsurak changes its direction to go for the surface. When it breaks the surface its wings spread and it flies above the water. You take a deep breath letting the scent of the ocean air flow into your lungs and you laugh happily as you watch the ocean fly by.

Hours later the Tsurak dives into the water for probably the 15th time when you get close to an island, but after a minute it pops back up above the water. When you get to the shallows he stops and you slide off of him and disconnect your tswins. He swims off quickly and you sigh, unsure of where you are or why he brought you here. You turn to go inland to try to find somewhere to safely stash your avatar, but quickly put your hands up in surrender. Behind you are several clan members with their weapons drawn and pointed at you. The tallest Na'vi man you had ever seen walks through the crowd shortly followed by a shorter female Na'vi.

"Why have you come to us, tawtute?" The female asks and you nervously gulp.

"I didn't mean to... The Tsurak approached me while I was swimming, offered to bond with me, and brought me here." You say honestly and she slowly walks around you. She picks up your arm and lets it fall to your side. Then she tugs on your tail and hums quietly. Then she picks up your tswin, twirls it in her hand once, then drops it. She returns to the man's side and the two have a silent conversation. Occasionally their eyes would wander back to you and they almost seemed... Intrigued?

"Come." The woman says and comes back over to you wrapping an arm around your back, guiding you.

"Everyone, return to your duties." The man says and follows behind the two of you. They lead you to a shelter and tell you what each thing inside is for.

"Why... are you treating me nicely?" You ask confused. "I'm human, my race hasn't exactly been good to yours."

"Just as not all Na'vi are bad, not all humans can be." The man says.

"There is a reason your Tsurak approached you. A gifted one that was given to us by the Great Mother." The woman says and you suddenly remember what Steve told you before you were whisked away, so to speak.

"Wait... I need to go help Max." You say hurriedly and the two seem confused. "Right before I bonded with my Tsurak, my mentor, Steve, told me that the RDA was about to attack the Omatikaya Hometree. I need to go help stop it."

"What?" The woman asks angrily.

"The people that brought me here to Pandora, they were about to attack the Omatikaya People's Hometree." You say hurriedly and she shakes her head.

"I sense that you are not a fighter. There is not much that you would beable to do to help." The woman says and you sigh sadly and your ears droop. You know what she's saying is true, you're not a fighter, you study things you learn about them. In no way had you ever been taught to fight or even shoot a gun.

"Here, you are safe and you do not have to fight." The man says and you shake your head.

"Maybe my avatar is, but my human body is still back in the mainland." You tell them, they look at eachother and sigh.

"We will start training you tomorrow." The man says and the woman agrees.

"Wait... what are your names?" You ask them.

"I am Tonowari, Olo'eyktan of the Metkayina." 'Tonowari' introduces himself.

"And I am Ronal, Tsahík." 'Ronal' introduces herself as well.

"I'm (Y/n)." You introduce yourself to them. Ronal and Tonowari share a small smile and they leave you alone in the hut they took you to.

A few days later you link with your avatar with a heavy heart. Knowing you will most likely be sent back to Earth with some of the other scientists and humans. When you link you got up and stretched then made your way to find Tonowari or Ronal or both. It really depended on who you would find first. When you spot them they are in deep conversation, speaking quietly to one another.

"Good morning Tonowari, good morning Ronal." You greet them and they immediately cease their conversation and look up to you.

"(Y/n), good morning. Come join us for breakfast." Tonowari says and you take a seat across from them and Ronal hands you a leaf with breakfast in it.

"We were just discussing if we wanted to have you train with Ronal today or if I would continue training you to hunt." Tonowari says and you sigh sadly.

"I'm sorry, but I'm most likely going to be sent back to Earth soon." You say sadly.

"Why?" Ronal asks her voice angry.

"The humans have waged war against the Omatikaya... The last I heard anything was earlier when one of the scientists at the main base told us that the military leader was preparing for an attack on the Tree of Souls." You tell them with a frown. Tonowari immediately stands and shakes his head.

"No... You are Metkayina. You stay on Eywa'eveng." Tonowari says and you shake your head.

"I won't have a choice." You tell him quietly, but he doesn't respond. He simply grabs his spear and walks out of his marui, a few of his best warriors falling to his side as he walks away. You look at Ronal in confusion and she just gives you a reassuring smile.

"Then it is decided... You will train with me today. I'm going to start with the easy part of healing, making bandages." Ronal says with a smile and after you both finish breakfast, she leads you to the healer's marui.

Hours later you're learning to make a salve to help calm down the effects of Stinging Coral when you feel your consciousness being pulled back to your human body. You have enough time to feel your body start to collapse, but you're back in your human body before you make contact with the ground.

You sigh sadly and get out of the linkpod. Nothing. That's all you could hear, it's all you could feel. Suddenly a hand is shoved in your face and waved to catch your attention. You look up with an angry expression, hating it when people get your attention that way.

"(Y/n), you and Kira are leaving." Steve signs and you feel your spirits fall once more. "Tonowari and a few of his warriors are here to take you with them." Steve sign quickly when he realizes you thought you were being sent back to Earth.

"Kira is going too?" You ask him and he nods.

"One of the warriors took a liking to her so she's going too." Steve explains and you nod. You feel a smile creep across your lips and you quickly go over, grab an oxygen mask, and take off running out of the airlock. Kira is already outside talking to Tonowari and the others when you get out there. Kira sees you and quickly turns and says something to Tonowari and his men. When you get close enough Tonowari turns to Kira and says something to her.

"Tonowari says that he couldn't stand the thought of you being forced to go back, when he feels that you belong with him and his people." Kira says and you smile wide and look at Tonowari.

"I will admit I have not been with them for long but I feel like Awa'atlu is where I belong." You tell Kira and she turns and talks to Tonowari. He offers you his hand and leads you to the water where their Tsuraks are all waiting. And soon enough you're riding off in the direction of Awa'atlu... Your home.

15 Years Later

The horns blared signaling visitors to Awa'atlu and Ronal looked at you worriedly. Ever since it was confirmed you were pregnant both she and Tonowari had been overprotective.

"You should stay here." Ronal says as she gets up but you roll your eyes and standup as well.

"It will be alright Ronal. I can protect myself and both you and Tonowari will be there." You say and move to leave the healers marui.

"Yawne, this is your first child with us. I want you to be safe." Ronal argues softly.

"As I said I will be safe. You and Tonowari will be here." You say in return again and nearly bounce your way down the walkways, Ronal begrudgingly following behind you.

When you get to where your clan is gathered around 5 ikrans. Your ears perk forward as the crowd splits for you and Ronal. Your head cocks to the side as you recognize Jake.

"Jake Sully." You say in surprise and you approach him, Ronal quietly protesting.

"(Y/n)?" Jake asks in surprise. "What- How-" Jake stammers and you shrug.

"We both chose our people." You say casually and you feel a large muscular arm wrap around your shoulders. You turn to find Tonowari and a smile comes across your features at seeing your other mate.

"Jake Sully. I take it you already know of my second mate?" Tonowari questions and Jake's jaw nearly falls off him.

"I met her once a long time ago, but I didn't know she was your second mate." Jake admits.

"I was there the first time he connected to his avatar." You tell Tonowari and snicker at Jake's embarrassed expression.

"Why have you come to us?" Ronal finally asks, obviously done with dancing around the subject.

"We've come seeking uturu." Jake says and you feel Tonowari's muscles in his back tighten.

"Uturu?" Ronal says astonished by the request.

#avatar #avatar 2009 #tonowari x reader #avatar twow #tonowari x reader x ronal #ronal x reader #james cameron avatar

535 notes · View notes

princesssmars · 6 months ago

Text

victoria with lab tech reader…nsfw.

when you were approached at your basic post-grad biomedical science research program with the opportunity to "study and develop a potentially groundbreaking medication", you immediately, but politely, called bullshit. but your boss and coworkers encouraged you once they heard the pay, so you accepted.

it was…challenging to say the least.

the lab and the workers were shady as hell, not telling you any details about the company you were working for, if you were even working for a company, what exactly this medication was for, etc etc. but the pay really was good, enough to help you splurge on yourself while also saving and paying off your student loans, so you couldn’t really complain.

after about two months of great work and progress on your tasks, the leads of your team told you that one of the head donors would like to “talk about utilizing your full potential”. you were expecting further praise for your work and maybe a pay boost, not to walk into an office with the super attractive congresswoman you’d seen on tv sitting at the desk.

she has just as much mysterious charisma as she had then, keeping eye contact as she pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before she places herself on top of the desk, pantsuit-covered leg only a few inches from yours. she gives you a mini rundown of why she personally picked you out from your university and she's been keeping a close eye on your personal progress to develop a cure for an unknown but deadly disease you had been keeping track of.

"so that's why im here? we're working on a disease?"

"yeah, you could say that."

her smile unnerves you but you don't mention it. nor do you bring up how weird it feels that a congresswoman would be following your manic studies over a disease that only ten thousand people in the world had. you do have to reel in your ego slightly, figuring this meant that your theories were legitimate.

things are weird after that. now that you have some more hints about what you are actually doing your work starts to move along slowly, even impressing your lead with the progress you started to make.

ok, maybe a tiny little part of it was so that when victoria came in on her weekly walk-throughs she'd observe your work and give you that pretty smile of hers, maybe even a 'great job, hun' if you were lucky.

as the weeks went by and the medication came along her affection only grew in intensity, from leaving coffee at your workstation to inviting you to take lunch breaks with her. it was odd and completely unprofessional, but when those slender fingers would move one of your stray hairs back in place while telling a story you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

but then it happens - that dreaded period in any medical science where just one stupid little thing stumps you for a week. you should be used to it at this point, having been through this process since you bought your first microscope in middle school. it doesn't make it any easier to power through though, especially when you know everyone on your team is depending on you to finish up your labs.

so now you've resorted to this, three red bulls and a heap of paperwork around you while you frantically rework the math on some of the work you need to turn in. you're a few minutes away from slumping over when a loud door slam forces you upright, looking to the entryway to make eye contact with victoria.

you dont know how it happens but you go from hunched over in your chair to lying on the comfy couch in her office, a short blanket draped over your body as you drowsily explain your conundrum to the older woman. she nods along the entire time, a soft hand rubbing up and down the bare expanse of your arm while she listens to your rambling.

'what on earth are you doing?' your brain asks yourself when you shift closer to her body that's sitting next to you, head delicately resting in her lap. 'are you really going to jeopardize your career like this?' when your eyes flutter when she runs her hand over your cheek and down your neck. she leans her head down ever so slowly until her lips are just barely pressing into yours, corners pulling up when she sees you arch your back in wait for her neck action.

"but you'll figure it out for me, won't you smart girl?"

you solved the problem the next morning.

i dont even wanna write for her GIVE HER BACK TO ME

#this was gonna be a lot h0rnier but I'm really tired so #the boys #gen v #the boys x reader #gen v x reader #victoria #victoria neuman #victoria x reader #victoria neuman x reader #victoria neuman fluff

232 notes · View notes

bloggerspam · 1 month ago

Text

Only Fools Rush In

A sudden Parkner oneshot that @finemeal cajoled into existence.

This is my first marvel fic, please be kind---I'm trying my best using knowledge from watching the movies once or twice in my lifetime, and reading copious amounts of parkner fics years ago......

"Mr. Stark!" Pete's voice calls out from somewhere on the other side of the lab.

Tony sits up straight, tipping up the welding helmet. Peter sounds frantic— "Mr. Stark!!!"

"Pete!" Tony rips everything off, yelling at Friday to shut everything down as he weaves his way through the lab. "Peter, I'm here!"

When Tony emerges from his mess of a lab, Peter is pacing back and forth and looking like the world is about to crash down upon him. Tony braces himself.

"What's wrong?" Ironman's voice bleeds out, mirthless and already lifting a hand for his suit. "Is it May? Spider thing?"

Peter jerks to a stop when he spots Tony, bee-lining for him within a blink. His arms are grabbed, and Tony finds himself shaking back and forth as Peter exerts some of that spider-strength in his panic.

"Mr. Stark!!!" Tony lifts his hands, grabbing onto his boy's to try and calm him down when—"Why didn't you tell me your friend came to visit??"

"Fr-ie-nnd?" Tony stutters out, still attempting to stop the shaking but utterly failing. Thankfully, Peter gets the hint and does it for him.

"Your hot southern friend!!!!" Peter practically screeches, "I made a fool of myself, Mr. Stark, a fool!!!"

"…Hot what now?" Tony grabs his hand to stop the room from spinning. Just like his task before, he fails. "Fool??"

"Hot Southern Friend, Mr. Stark," Peter starts gripping at his hair to resume pacing, "And yes, a fool!"

"Who even uses fool anymore?" Tony mutters, "You're too young to use the word fool."

"And you're too old to be making such young, hot friends." Peter points out, going so far as to stop mid pace and literally pointing at Tony accusatorily. "You don't even call me your friend. That's rude."

"I'm your mentor," Tony shrugs, still confused as all hell. "You're my kid."

Peter softens, but still crosses his arms to give him a slanted look. "Rude."

"Look, kid." Tony tries again, which Peter rolls his eyes at. "I seriously don't know who you're talking about. You know all my friends."

"You told me the Avengers are coworkers at best," Peter pops a hip in judgment, which isn't fair to be honest, "And major annoyances at worst."

"And minor annoyances all around." Tony primly continues, mirroring Peter's pose and raising an eyebrow.

"You clearly have other friends." Peter insists. "Young ones. Hot ones."

"Pepper is my only friend." Tony sniffs, flapping a hand and heading back to his workstation as he calls over his shoulder. "This is badgering the witness, your honor!"

"Abstained." Friday deadpans. Who taught her that? Tony definitely didn't program that in.

"Traitor." Tony grumbles. He hears the noises of Peter clamoring after him, wonders if it was Peter. Probably.

"You really can't think of anyone else?" Peter badgers him, "Other than Pepper and May? Which is super sad by the way."

"Happy goes everywhere with me." Tony plops the welding helmet back on, tosses a spare at the kid who puts it on even as he continues to talk.

"Happy is paid to take you everywhere." Somehow, even with the mask on, Tony can tell Peter is rolling his eyes. His whole body moves with it, reminding Tony that the kid expresses himself primarily with his body when he's out and about in New York.

Tony's never needed to, never been on the ground like the kid has, isn't an everyday hero—just a big one.

It makes Tony's heart grow a little bigger in pride, maybe about 2cm in diameter. He huffs a laugh, before getting back to work.

"Friday's my friend." Hot sparks of melted flux fill his vision "Rhodey, too."

"Boss, I don't think that's what they mean when they say make new friends." Friday pipes in, "And Colonel Rhodey denounced your friendship last Tuesday."

Tony pauses. "Wait. Really?"

"You beat him at poker, Boss." Friday explains, even showing a clip. "Cleaned him out."

Peter can't even breathe through his laughter, but he still manages a honking aren't you a billionaire?!?!

"My point still stands." Tony huffs, lifting his mask once more to look directly at his wayward intern. "You know all my friends, acquaintances, coworkers and annoyances minor or major."

Pete has been rolling around the floor laughing, but he's stopped now, sitting up to (presumably) stare at Tony in disbelief.

"I barely leave New York," Tony continues, shrugging a shoulder and twirling the welding gun. "When would I have met anybody in the Bible Belt?"

"Well now," A somewhat familiar voice echoes through the lab. Peter jolts up, dusting himself off and fixing his hair as the newcomer joins them in their little clearing in the absolute mess of his lab. "That's a might disappointing."

Tony blinks. Is that…? "Harley?"

"And here I thought we were friends." Harley Keener smirks, all at once familiar and strange. "I'm hurt, really."

He's grown up, he knew this but it's one thing to hear it happen over the phone and an entirely other thing to actually see it.

Kid's taller than Tony, a lot more filled out than when he was a kid. He's got his hair long, to his chin, with an ill-fitting shirt and a pair of pants that look like they're strangling him.

Tony slants a look at Pete, who is subtly adjusting his clothes as he tosses his mask off.

Ah. Young, Hot, Southern Friend indeed.

"Sorry, Petey boy." Harley makes a moue of apology, "I know you said you'd get him for me, but I was a little impatient."

"No worries!" Pete reassures the older boy. "But uh…how long have you..?"

Harley tilts his head in confusion. "When Tony mentioned the Bible Belt."

Peter sighs a relieved sigh. Tony plays back the previous conversation in his head—Right.

He idly wonders if May ever gave Peter the Talk.

No, no—May is a nurse. Surely she has.

…But did she ever give Pete the Gay Talk?

…Not Tony's problem.

Tony's problem is that he isn't hugging the life out of his (not so) little friend of a lifetime ago.

"When did you get here?" Tony strips off the equipment once more, opening his arms to rectify his problem immediately.

"In New York?" Harley chuckles, patting Tony on the back before they separate. "Last night."

"He got to SI about an hour ago," Peter cuts in, shyly smiling back when Harley flashes his pearly whites. "Happy saw him come in, brought him to me."

"And you didn't think to tell me?" Tony squints at him. "You know I could have flown you in. Private jet and everything."

"I know," Harley grins, "But I wanted to surprise ya. 'Sides, Pepper got it handled."

"Pep knows but I didn't??" Tony can't keep the offended tone out of his words, which makes Harley laugh.

In the background, Peter fidgets, blushing at the noise. Great Gods.

"Pepper found out the second I got my admittance letter, Tony." Harley grins a roguish smile, and Tony swears Pete swoons. "Had my tickets all sorted out before I could even say yee haw."

"You're not that kind of Southern," Tony admonishes, even through his wide smile. "But congrats, Kid. I knew you would get accepted!"

"Congrats!" Peter chimes quietly, clearly unsure of whether he should leave them to their reunion.

"Thanks, 'means a lot." Harley says to Peter, solidly ignoring Tony. Which—rude. All his kids are so very rude.

"If you're here, that means Pep told you where you'd be staying." Tony guides the two of them out the lab, towards where Harley will be staying.

"Thanks for putting me up." Harley puts his hands in his back pockets, grin a little shy. "Couldn't afford it otherwise, and I wasn't gonna refuse your generosity."

"You mean you're too scared of Pepper." Tony grins back, reaching up (and up, damn) to tussle up his hair.

"I don't blame you." Peter laughs, waving hello to the other workers they pass as they make their way to the elevators. He completely misses the admiring look Harley has on his ass, the way Pete has been walking in front of them.

Blegh. Nope. Nopenopenope. Tony presses down on Harley's head, shakes him a little like an errant dog.

Harley's grin is unrepentant and wolfish.

Tony doesn't like it one bit, and shows it as he squints up at the kid.

"So Peter," Harley's tone seems innocent, shy and hesitant.

Tony's never known Harley to be hesitant about anything.

"Yeah?" Peter blinks up at Harley, and Tony really doesn't want to be here, but Friday has trapped them all together. Fuck.

"I was thinkin', what with bein' new 'round here…" Harley exaggerates his accent, leans down a little, endlessly charming as he plays the part of a dudezel in distress. "Would be mighty grateful if I had someone like you with the know-how to figure my way around."

"Oh!" Pete blushes, totally falling for it like the sweet, hapless little fool he is.

Fuck, Tony's too young to be using words like fool, but Pete's got him started.

"Of course, I'd be happy to!" Pete beams up at Harley as Tony desperately wishes for the elevator to go faster. "I can show you all the good places to eat, and where MJ and Ned and me hang out."

"Those your friends?" Harley steps a little closer, all up in Peter's space. Tony tugs him forcefully two steps away.

Peter blinks, but continues guilelessly. "Yeah, Ned and me go way back—MJ's been busy with her girlfriend lately but we've been best friends since high school. They'll love you, promise—they're really nice."

"Sounds like a treat." The elevator finally dings open, Tony escaping as fast as he can from teenage love. "How's Saturday sound?"

Still, he's not fast enough to escape. He should have thought this through: Harley has longer legs than he does, Pete's got spidey speed, and Tony's the only one who knows where Harley is staying.

He hates it here, honestly.

"Saturday I'm free all day!" Peter eagerly chirps, "You can have Friday call me and I'll swing by."

Tony snorts, confusing Harley and making Peter give him a look. Still, just as they arrive to Harley's room, Harley gives another roguish grin. "It's a date, darlin'."

Peter trips, but Harley catches him, much to Peter's mortification.

"Fell for me again, sweetheart?" Harley chuckles, making Peter go as red as his suit.

Ah. This must be a reference to the aforementioned made of a fool of myself moment.

"That's enough of that!" Tony grabs Peter by the collar to drag him away. "Do not lay your hands on my interns!"

He doesn't really mean it, clearly Peter and Harley deserve each other, but still! Some decorum!

"Tony," Harley scoffs, with that mischievous glint in his eye that Tony hates. "As your one and only Young, Hot, Southern Friend—"

Pete squeaks, slapping his hands over his face as Tony walks away with him in tow.

"I'm disappointed you didn't tell me about your Young, Hot, New York Intern!!!!" Harley yells out.

Tony really hates it here, has he mentioned that lately?

"You've mentioned it twice just today, Boss." Right. He must have said that last part out loud.

Tony ignores his traitorous AI assistant and gets them back into the elevator.

Silence blissfully falls over them for a moment, Peter still disgustingly shy and smitten, embarrassed and flattered all at once.

"Mr. Stark." And then of course, Peter starts to panic again. "Oh my God. Oh my THOR! Mr. Stark!!!"

"What!" Tony yells, pushing Peter away in the somehow cramped up elevator—did Strange shrink this thing?? "What is it now? Have you not done enough???"

"Mr. Stark!!!" Peter screeches, shaking him once again. "What am I going to wear?!"

#i made them silly and theres nothing nobody can do to stop me #Peter did in fact trip and fall into Harley's arms upon meeting him #MJ makes fun of Peter for ages and ages #marvel #spiderman #peter parker #harley keener #parkner #harley keener/peter parker #one shot #my writing #tony stark #irondad

92 notes · View notes

smallmariofindings · 4 months ago

Text

The Conkdor Canyon theme from Super Mario 3D World uses a preset drum loop found in the Logic Pro digital audio workstation, called "Turkish Morning Drum 01". The audio first features the loop as heard in the program before playing the beginning of the Mario track.

Main Blog | Twitter | Patreon | Small Findings | Source: Renefoetsie

81 notes · View notes

gravedwe11er · 23 days ago

Text

Here's the second part of my Mecha AU coswave! First part is here, third and final chapter coming soon. Inspired by @cosmique-oddity and the Mecha AU by @keferon

On Earth, a bitter war against the quintesson invaders rages on. Alone on a slap-dash little shoebox of a space station, Cosmos keeps watch from above. As it turns out, he's not the only one.

“You haven’t actually told me why you’re here yet,” Cosmos asks the next morning between quick bites of his breakfast, excitement thrumming in his veins. Chicken sandwich today- one of the nicer options available here. He generally tries to save them for special occasions, but he’d say he deserves to treat himself, considering the hectic events of the day prior.

After he’d shaken off the worst of his shock, he’d only had time to ask a few things- what the mech/satellite was (a sapient, living machine), whether he was an alien (yes) and what his affiliation to the quints was (their kinds were enemies, at war, just like humanity was) before his alert systems started screeching again, this time not stopping for hours.

As it turned out, a whole quintesson force had managed to hide itself on the Moon somehow, choosing that moment to reveal itself and heading straight for Earth. Which- yeah, that was kind of a disaster, seeing as it gave them basically no advance warning. Cosmos spent the next eight hours hurriedly relaying enemy positions and watching with bated breath as the combat began down on the surface. Eventually, their mecha had managed to kill most of the invaders, but the casualty counts had been higher than usual.

Needless to say, Cosmos hadn’t had much energy to keep questioning his new acquaintance after that. The last thing he did before falling asleep was look up the ‘satellite’ Soundwave was, ah, impersonating? He’d quickly found out that yes, Soundwave was indeed a perfect replica of a Galileo satellite, even logged in the systems as a functional member of the constellation, which- that was incredible, actually. Definitely explained why nobody noticed him.

Cosmos had wanted to ask how he’d managed that, and, for that matter, what happened to the real satellite which used to be there, but sleep had taken him before he could unstrap himself from his bed and ask.

And if his curiosity led him to postpone his morning exercise regime and go interrogate an alien robot instead? Well, it’s not like anyone’s here to tell on him.

[Primary purpose: information gathering. Secondary purpose: curiosity.] Appears in the corner of one screen, shaking Cosmos out of his thoughts.

“Gathering information? On what, humans? Earth?”

[Affirmative.]

Cosmos huffs, amused, crumpling up the wrapper from his breakfast and floating over to the garbage disposal with it. “Could you please elaborate on that?” he asks, tossing the packaging in before turning back. When he returns to his workstation, and answer is already waiting for him there.

[Motives: multiple. Soundwave: became aware of quintesson attacks led on another planet, tracked communications to approximate location. Cybertronian ship Lost Light: recovered organic-piloted mech, claiming Earth origin. Soundwave: noted-]

Wait. “Wait a moment,” Cosmos says hurriedly, thoughts racing. “Organic piloted mech from Earth? Do you know their name?” Because if it’s who he thinks it is, then-

[Human designation: Jazz]

-it would be answering some very big questions.

Anybody who keeps up with the news around the pilot program knows that name. People on Earth have been bashing their collective heads against the wall, trying to figure out how a whole mech could just disappear like that, only for Cosmos to find out that, what? The poor man just- ended up in deep space somehow? It’s wonderful to hear he’s alive, but- wow.

[Cosmos: knows Jazz?]

“Know of him, more like. I’ve only spoken to him once, when he was leaving low orbit on his test flight. Most people know of him, though,” Cosmos answers, running a hand through his red curls. “The whole thing’s been a big mystery, ended up in the news and all. Actually, I should probably inform mission control about this. I’m sure they’d want to-”

A new message flashes on the screen immediately, in bigger letters than usual. [Request: refrain from sharing information with other humans.]

Cosmos freezes, his hands halfway to the keyboard, a frisson of unease sneaking up his spine. “Why not?”

[Soundwave: wishes humans to remain unaware of Soundwave’s presence.]

Which, alright, he supposes that makes sense. Soundwave was quite obviously planning to remain undetected, seeing as he spent an entire month pretending to be an ordinary satellite. Still, though- “Again, why? I don’t want to pry, but what’s the main issue here? A lot of people have been worrying about Jazz, and I think they’d appreciate knowing he’s alive.”

There’s a significant pause, just enough for Cosmos to start getting anxious, before the next message appears. [Humans: fearful, unpredictable, dangerous. Soundwave: alone, vulnerable. Request: refrain from sharing information with other humans temporarily.]

Right. That’s- fair, actually. Cosmos supposes Soundwave is probably not wrong, in this regard. Humans already do some… morally dubious things to their own people, so it’s not too far-fetched to worry that they’d try to, what? Dissect the alien mech, perhaps? Or something equally as cruel. And even though Soundwave is a very capable fighter, most likely strong enough to keep himself out of their hands, they’d definitely be able to make his stay here difficult. Maybe even enough to leave.

And- Cosmos is surprised to realize how much he doesn’t want that. He’s only just met the mech, and there’s so much more he’d like to ask. For god’s sake, he’s an actual, real alien! How amazing is that? Not to mention, Soundwave is inherently fascinating, not only as an otherworldly being but as a person too, and Cosmos feels like he’d regret it for the rest of his life if he drove him away.

However, he does have a duty to his superiors, and humanity itself. He’s obligated to report on any anomalies, which this most certainly falls under, but- would it really be so bad if, just this once, he didn’t? If he kept this one thing to himself, at least for a little bit longer?

“…You said temporarily?” Cosmos asks eventually, the slight change in the mech’s wording finally catching up to him and bringing him out of his warring thoughts.

The screen remains blank for almost half a minute, and the silence feels weighty. Important, somehow.

Cosmos waits. Then, a new row of text finally begins unfurling in front of his eyes.

[Additional information: Lost Light en-route to Earth, intending peaceful alliance with humans. Jazz: on board. Soundwave: transmitted location of Earth three earth weeks prior.]

[Strong request: refrain from sharing information with other humans until arrival.]

Cosmos exhales, trying to process it all. It’s obvious from his hesitation that Soundwave hasn’t really planned on telling him any of this, and he recognizes the gesture for what it is- a show of trust. And all he’s asking in return is that Cosmos do the same.

If Soundwave isn’t lying, then this ship of theirs is coming to Earth, bringing Jazz back home. Along with an unknown number of very combat-capable alien robots. And sure, Soundwave hasn’t seemed hostile so far, towards him or humans as a whole, but- Cosmos has known him for a day. He could be wrong about the mech, and soon enough, an alien attack force would be coming along to finish off what the quints started.

Or, Soundwave might be telling the truth. Jazz really could be alive and well on the- Lost Light, was it? The incoming aliens might turn out to be much-needed allies, a crucial step to humanity finally gaining the upper hand over the quints.

Either way, he has no way to know. Which leads him back to the matter of trust.

Is this a gamble he’s willing to make?

“…Alright. I- I’ll keep it to myself, for now. But please tell me once they’re almost here, alright?”

There.

He’s not sure why, but he does trust Soundwave. Or, at least trusts him enough to believe he means no harm. Stupid? Maybe. But his decision is made, and his intuition is telling him to go with it.

The screen in front of his face lights up with another message. [Terms: accepted.]

Well, and that’s that.

Despite having just met an entirely new species of alien, the following two weeks are surprisingly uneventful for Cosmos.

Aside from periodically questioning Soundwave about anything and everything he could think of, his usual routine remans pretty much the same. Exercise, stare at his screens, force down a few tasteless meals, repeat. The mecha teams on earth mopped up the last of the quints’ latest attack within two days, leaving him with not much to do aside from stewing in his own thoughts.

His thoughts haven’t been very kind to him lately.

In the absence of work, his mind never fails to remind him of just how alone he is. His fingers prickle with a chill no sweaters or blankets can chase away and a persistent, aching itch makes itself at home beneath his skin. No amount of calls with his ma or texts from his colleagues can banish it entirely, only lessening the feeling for a few scant moments before it’s back with a vengeance.

Not even his conversations with Soundwave help as much as he hoped- the cybertronian is so fascinating, not to mention an absolute delight to talk to once you get past his odd speech pattern, but the topics they discuss usually aren’t anything close to intimate. Cosmos would very much like to change that, learn more about the mech as a person but, well. He’s never quite sure how to broach the subject.

So he stays silent, keeping their talks to professional curiosity, while the chill in his soul grows day by day.

Sighing for the fifth time in as many minutes, Cosmos finally gives up on the book he was trying (and failing) to read, putting the tablet aside. He’d picked some highly reviewed romance novel, hoping it would help him feel- if not better, then feel something, at least. But to no avail. It’s not that the story is bad, or the characters boring, but watching the main leads hold each other close and whisper sweet nothings into their lover’s ear only succeeds in making him more miserable.

Today marks his third complete month on this mission, with three more still to go. Three months since he’s felt the warmth of another living being, since he’s seen another person face to face. It’s making his mind stray to some unfortunate places.

More and more, he finds himself reminiscing on his mum’s hugs, his old college roommate who’d huddle next to him on their tiny couch while they studied, and even the one crappy ex he’d had years ago. Horrible; yes, he knows, but sue him, he’s lonely. The man might have turned out pretty awful in the end, but he had been the perfect size for cuddles. Cosmos catches himself imagining the weight of him in his arms, dad’s arm around his shoulder or giant metal hands, holding him ever so gently in their palms- wait.

No, wait, what?

Cosmos blinks, rapidly shaking his head with a grimace because seriously, what even? That is- well, preposterous, really. Soundwave is a perfectly nice…alien, sure, but still, come on! Although, now that he thinks about it, he does imagine the mech would be quite warm, despite the metal of his plating, and- gah.

He really must be going mad up here.

Rubbing his hands over his face, he tries to force the beginnings of a flush away from his cheeks, only to flinch when the chime of an incoming message startles him from his embarrassing thoughts. And speak of the devil, here Soundwave is, and Cosmos wishes he was on Earth just so the ground could swallow him whole.

[Query: Cosmos status report?]

“Are you- asking about my data, or how I’m doing?” he says into the headset, puzzled. This is the first time Soundwave has contacted him unprompted, and he’s pretty sure he’d have no reason to be asking after Cosmos’ information. As far as he’s aware from their conversations, the mech is something of a master spy amongst their people, so why-

[Clarification: requesting report on Cosmos’ wellbeing.]

“Me? Oh, uh, I’m alright?” he says, still somewhat confused but also…a little pleased, perhaps. “Why do you ask?”

[Cosmos: displaying unusual behavior, showing signs of unease. Query: status report]

“Showing signs of- wait, you can see me?”

[Affirmative. Statement: camera present in monitor room accessible to Soundwave.]

…Today really isn’t his day, huh.

On one hand, it makes sense. Soundwave seems to have his eyes and ears everywhere, so why not on him as well? And it’s not a bad feeling, to know he cared enough to ask after his wellbeing.

On the other, if death from sheer mortification is at all possible, then Cosmos is a goner.

He knows the camera’s there, of course. Usually, he doesn’t even mind it; the knowledge that either some random worker, or more likely just an automated monitoring system, is keeping an eye on him doesn’t bother him at all. But knowing that Soundwave is watching? That Soundwave saw him, what? Moping for days on end, getting misty-eyed about cat videos and sci-fi novels, and blushing over the thought of getting the giant robot version of a hug?

God, somebody come put him out of his misery.

The console pings again, somehow louder than before, and Cosmos pulls his hands off of his tomato-red face to look. Another request for a status report stares back at him.

Shaking his embarrassment off to the best of his ability, Cosmos takes some time to consider his answer. He’s not sure just how much of his inner turmoil he wants to share with the mech. Then again, isn’t this what he’s been waiting for? A chance to get closer? And here Soundwave is, reaching out of his own volition, serving him this opportunity up on a silver platter.

“I- When you’re away from your people like this, is there someone you miss? Someone who’s waiting for you back home?”

A momentary pause. Then, [Query: reason for question?]

Cosmos sighs. “It’s just- right, so. Humans, we’re a very social species, yes? We form very close relationships, both platonic and romantic.”

[Soundwave: aware.]

“Alright, good. The thing is, we don’t do very well when we’re alone,” which, understatement of the century, especially in his case. “Back in the day, an astronaut being sent to space alone would have been unimaginable. It would be against all sorts of protocol. However, we don’t really have any resources to spare nowadays, so here I am. And I’ve been… struggling a bit.”

No response is forthcoming, and the silence only drives Cosmos to ramble even faster. “it’s just- and it’s not even just me being alone up here. I can still interact with other people, but who can I really talk to? I mean. I haven’t kept in contact with old friends much, god forbid I ever speak to my ex again and the other watchmen… they’re alright, I guess? But we haven’t really clicked,” he says miserably, running both hands through his hair.

“Which just leaves my parents, really. And they’re wonderful, don’t get me wrong, they’ve always been supportive of me, but-“ he chuckles a little, “they have a corn farm, in Iowa. They love me, and I love them, but they don’t really get it. So…yeah. I guess you could say I’m feeling a little lonely.”

Still no response. Just when Cosmos is starting to regret ever opening his stupid mouth, an odd, metallic voice crackles through his headset.

“Their designations: Rumble and Frenzy, Ravage, Laserbeak - Symbionts. Megatron - oldest friend.”

Cosmos stares, eyes wide. Soundwave talks? Because- well, he honestly thought that maybe their kind, the Cybertronians, just, didn’t. Or couldn’t. Guess he was wrong there. But, also-

“Symbionts?” he asks. He knows what the word means, of course, at least in an Earth context, but has no idea what to imagine when it comes to giant shapeshifting mecha.

“True meaning; difficult to describe in English. Closest approximation: dependents. Family.”

Family. Alien robots have family.

“And are they- alright?”

“Affirmative. Megatron- powerful, capable. Symbionts: on assignment, alive, in relative safety. However, they are-“ here, his headphones crackle slightly. It makes Cosmos think of a sigh. “-missed.”

And Cosmos’ heart melts. Because even in that somewhat flat, mechanical voice, he can hear the longing. The same longing which haunts him on lonely nights, turning his skin to ice. Soundwave understands.

Soundwave is alone out here too. Just like Cosmos.

“That’s,” he stumbles on his words, swallowing, “it’s good they’re alright. But… it still aches being away from them, doesn’t it?” he chuckles awkwardly. “At least, it does for me.”

Another crackly sigh. “Cosmos: correct. Cybertronians; Highly social species. Isolation…unpleasant.”

Cosmos sighs too, because- what else is there to add? For a few moments, they sit there in silence, some sort of solidarity stretching between them. Two lone souls, connected only by a mutual understanding and a microns-thin radio frequency. Then, Soundwave speaks.

“Cosmos: good conversation partner.” He says, before his voice suddenly changes. “Your company is appreciated.”

And oh, that sounded different. With most of the stiffness now gone out of the sound entirely, Soundwave’s voice is a smooth, deep baritone, only a faint metallic echo still audible when he speaks. That means something, right? It leaves Cosmos a little choked up, even as a small smile grows on his face.

“I’m glad,” he says softly, looking up at where he knows the camera is. “And, for what it’s worth- I enjoy our talks as well. I- well, it helps me too. A lot. So, thanks.”

“No thanks necessary,” comes from his headphones, still in that new voice. Soundwave’s real voice, he thinks. And- though he still misses his family, misses touch and people like an amputated limb, his heart feels warm for the first time in days.

#tf mecha universe #tf mecha au #transformers #tf soundwave #tf cosmos #coswave #lastwrites

44 notes · View notes

ralfmaximus · 11 months ago

Text

Want to keep using Windows 10 after 2025?

It'll cost you $61 the first year. Per machine.

And $122 in year two and $244 in year three, doubling every year after that until by 2038 it hits $499,712 bucks.

Just kidding. But not about that first part. Seriously, they really do plan to double the annual fee for the first few years. Yikes.

Assuming you want security updates. Honestly, I wouldn't mind a break from Windows Update doing secret shit to my workstation without asking.

It remains unclear what happens to Windows 10 users who opt out of the Extended Security Updates program. Nag screens? Windows goes into a throttled Limp Home mode?

I doubt they'd brick your machine, but based on Microsoft's recent disdain for its own customers anything is possible.

Honestly, if you avoid clicking on suspicious links and email phishing scams you're pretty safe even if you never update Windows. I've still got perfectly fine XP and Windows 7 machines in my network that have never been compromised by evildoers or malware.

All of this is engineered fear from Microsoft trying to move people off Windows 10.

#windows #microsoft #security #paranoia

251 notes · View notes

witchpassing · 4 months ago

Text

The technician’s workstation washes the windowless room in sleep-deprived blue. On one monitor, an editing program grinds through the encoding process; on the other, a gaming stream, the volume turned down low. A bright cartoon figure undulates in the corner of the screen, jellyfish-like.

In the center of the basement is a plastic sheet. A camcorder here, two-thirds of a lighting setup there, a set of tools laid out on tarp. Pliers, drill, nailgun. Hammer, sledgehammer, bat. A clothing rack is pushed against the wall, mass-produced bodies hung in vacuum sacs, pale toes grazing the concrete. Somewhere in the dark, a server tower blinks and hums.

“Did good today,” the technician says. The back of her beat-up swivel chair creaks as she puts her weight on it. “The begging. I mean. People like that stuff. Could, y’know. Get you something? For playing nice?”

Something moves between the body rack and the servers, a silhouette folded into a dog crate, contours of a body traced through the bars in barcode-pattern light. A trailing mess of cables twists between the slats of the crate and into the back of a human-enough neck, shifting, dragging as the head rises. Two glass eyes catch the square highlight of the technician’s workstation.

The android opens its mouth. No sound comes out.

“Oh. Right.” The tech digs an universal remote from among the cans on her desk, a wedge of cheap grey plastic with the buttons taped over, and angles it into the cage. The doll’s vocal speaker flicks on with a muted little vbt.

“Don’t understand,” it says.

“Y’know,” the encoding process throws an error. The woman hisses to herself, fuck, and the doll presses itself into the back wall of its cage, as if the fetal curve of its spine can possibly get smaller, more placatory. Clicks. Keystrokes. The jellyfish pulses, swishing physics-simulated tendrils of ribbon and hair, diaphanous about a fuckable bell.

“A reward,” the technician says, once she’s coaxed the process back into line.

“Oh.” The android is silent for a moment. “Could I have. A pillow? Please. Or, or. A blanket.”

“But you’re not cold. That body doesn’t even, like. Have temperature sensors.”

“Sorry. S-sorry. It’s fine, I don’t want anything, I’m sorry–”

“Fuckin’, sure, whatever. I’ll find you some bedding.” The technician shunts her chair back, yawns, rubs at salt-crusted eyes. Her glasses settle crooked. “Be a really good girl for the next shoot, and I’ll… I don’t know. I’ll get you a stuffie or something.”

“You mean it?”

The technician glances over, finds the android staring back at her, lawn-deer eyes big and wide.

“Sure. I mean it.”

#this one's writing #it's been way too long. bluh

68 notes · View notes

wavetapper · 5 months ago

Text

#i get to play blender again soon YAY (im on holiday(

83 notes · View notes

kingshovelbug · 1 year ago

Text

im sorry but i need to geek out somewhere and screaming into the void on tumblr is less likely to get me flayed than on twitter, especially if i get terms wrong. plus i can do a read more and yall can click into the tech talk if you want to verse it bombarding your twitter timelines

so idk if i only liked it or if i actually put it in my queue but i saw a post that talked about a few pieces of tech that focus on user repairs and being sustainable (fairphone and frameworks laptop) and after doing some more research into what they have to offer i actually really excited that these products are finely hitting the us market and that people are moving away from the belief that super smooth streamlined glassy = the future. being able to reliably repair and keep what you have alive verse throwing the whole thing away when maybe all you needed to do is add more ram to your current laptop (something that i would do with my laptop to keep using it for a few more years if it wasnt glued shut and i was at risk of cracking the screen) or swap out a fuse.

i know big corporations dont like it but i truly do believe with how much tech we use on a daily basis that the way that we are going to be more environmentally friendly is to move back to tech that we can hang onto for as long as we can and to recycle and then reuse what we cant. like with the frameworks laptop. i saw that they just partnered with coolermaster to create a case specifically so that you can reuse you motherboard, cpu, etc and make a portable workstation. you could dual wield with the laptop you just upgraded if you want to dedicate specific tasks to one or the other. they also specifically mentioned that you could screw it into the back of a monitor and create your own all in one. guys thats cool as shit??? if you had a 3d printer and some time you could even create that yourself

on top of the actual hardware part moving to open source programs when your able. when i update my desktop i plan on running linux. it might have a learning curve compared to windows but in terms of performance??? ive heard that it runs smoother even on older machines, that its more efficient because isnt running stuff in the background that tracks your data and shit. now i understand that not everyone can do that because there are some programs that dont play nice with linux but for my needs at least it does everything i would need it to. and maybe a couple years down the road we do figure out how to run these programs on certain flavors of linux since its open source and people fiddle with it so much. (still looking for alternatives to like word and excel though, i use google docs since its free but i want to move away from them as much as i can too since they laid of their youtube music team (i believe?? it might of been a different branch) for trying to unionize)

if anyone knows of any other smaller companies that actually focus on sustainability and user repairability please let me know. theres certain pieces of tech that i think are now unfortunately behind a software repair paywall, things that used to be just machines and are gaining more bells and whistles like cars and refrigerators if that makes sense. but the more we push for these things to be repairable by us the consumers id hope that would change, or there would at least be options that dont need specific companies to repair them or else they blow up

#personal

159 notes · View notes

sagharmax · 2 years ago

Photo

Clean Code Rules: 30. Get used to refactoring It can be a scary word for some developers. It sounds like you’re changing code, which can be dangerous, right? Wrong. Refactoring makes your code better and is essential for writing clean code. When you have some experience developing C# code, you notice that you can do things better. The problem is that changing existing code is more complex than writing new code. Luckily, refactoring is a skill you can learn. Very quickly. #software_development #programming #dotnet #csharp #dotnetdevelopment #webdevelopment #coding #workstation #workdesk #clean_code #uncle_bob #robert_c_martin #sagharmax (at Urmia) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cp5T08so3Vh/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#software_development #programming #dotnet #csharp #dotnetdevelopment #webdevelopment #coding #workstation #workdesk #clean_code #uncle_bob #robert_c_martin #sagharmax

0 notes

barbatusart · 2 years ago

Text

PEOPLE INTERESTED IN MUSIC LISTEN UP: go to reaper.fm right now & get yourself a trial copy of Reaper, the trial period is indefinite & functions like winrar where once it’s up it just pings you on startup to suggest purchasing & then let’s you continue using it in full. Reaper is a DAW (digital audio workstation) which is a type of program that lets you manipulate sound the same way that sai CSP & photoshop are programs to manipulate images. Audacity is technically a DAW but an extremely basic one, you want something powerful to really get in there ie you want Reaper. also if you eventually wanna purchase it & support the guys behind it it’s extremely reasonably priced, it’s like $60 bucks or something

SECOND you need VSTs (virtual studio technology), these are the audio equivalent of your brushes, or more like they’re both your guitar and your guitar pedals. there are some for pay but infinitely more excellent ones that are free & make all sorts of wacky noises, check out labs.spitfire.audio for the LABS virtual instruments, some completely gorgeous stuff there. you can tweak the shape of the sound in each & chain VSTs on top of each other to infinity to mangle your sound to your liking & you’re really only limited by your computer’s ability to handle it lol. also check out what’s going on at freakshowindustries.com cus they’re doing demented stuff, their VSTs are pay but all give you the option to “steal” them ie get the license for them in full for completely free

im planning on eventually doing a stream getting more in-depth on the little i know about Reaper functionality, so i highly recommend you familiarize yourself with the super basics! the learning curve is a bit rough compared to other DAWs but once you have the AHAH! moment it gets significantly easy to handle

#music

883 notes · View notes

oldguydoesstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Bare CPU Printed Circuit Board for the Alpha NT XL366 workstation I designed back in 1995 or so. This was an obscure model of an obscure product line, made by a company (Digital Equipment Corp.) that is now itself obscure. To be honest I don't even remember much about this machine now.

What I do remember is the HUUUUGE fight I got into with our Signal Integrity team while I was designing this, over decoupling capacitors.

Decoupling caps are small components that hold a charge to help even out power when a circuit is active. This board featured hundreds of them, smaller than a grain of rice (see photo comparison of mounting pads vs rice grain below).

Our Signal Integrity team was tasked with making sure everything was electrically stable, so they required many hundreds of these to be added to the board, based on power simulations they did. Trouble was, they wanted so many, we couldn't even build the board.

My job as the Systems Engineer here was to meet the requirements from the SI team, but also from manufacturing, and the requirement that my PCB layout techs don't go insane trying to place and route the board. SI really only cared about signal quality, so they would not relent, and I ended up getting shouted at at one point by a junior SI engineer who was also under a lot of stress, when I said "There are different schools of thought on this.." and he screamed THERE ARE NOT DIFFERENT SCHOOLS OF THOUGHT ON THIS!!

It got to the point where the product was not going to get built, because we just couldn't fit like a thousand of these tiny caps on the board, we needed to ditch at least 25% of them to have a hope. The models were the models though, and you couldn't argue against them.

But then my boss got a genius idea. What if we could prove the simulation models were too conservative? We came up with an experiment where we would remove caps from an older system and measure the power supply noise, to see how many caps could be taken off before the system became unstable.

Me and the junior SI engineer were tasked with doing this experiment (later deemed The Decapitation Project), so we grabbed a Tektronix scope and Metcal soldering station and headed over to this abandoned lab we had in our old Maynard headquarters, a now creepy attic space on the 6th floor of an old mill building. Here were a few older Alphastation 3000 workstations we built years earlier, working but waiting to be recycled.

We had this special program that would thrash the CPU within an inch of its life, to put a big demand on the power supply system. While this was running, the SI engineer measured the power quality, while I proceeded to (very carefully to avoid short-circuiting the system) actually desolder caps from the board while the workstation was running.

We managed to get about 1/3 of them off before there was any noticeable effect, and we found one specific type of cap was not doing much of anything at all. We took the data back to the head of the SI team, and he finally relented and let us remove several hundred capacitors. (He also buried the report and data I had, because he didn't want the bad publicity - I remember being mad about that)

The system got built after that, and worked just fine. We did try to enact a small bit of petty revenge on the SI team manager though - there was a recognition event for people involved on the project, and me and our PCB procurement guy decided to give the SI team manager a special "Faraday Award" for achievement in capacitance (Farads are a measure of capacitance - geeky eng joke). We took an old bowling trophy with a giant, beer-can sized electrolytic capacitor strapped to the top of it as the award. He was a no-show so we didn't get to present it. Those SI guys never did have much of a sense of humor.

Anyway, long story sorry. Just thinking of it recently because I was helping someone at work with an analog simulation and I remembered this..

#digitalequipmentcorp #hardware #engineering #digital electronics

497 notes · View notes

homeofthelonelywriter · 11 months ago

Text

Drawn to you | Pt. 4

(A/N) This one's a bit shorter, but I hope you like it! Also, thank you so much for 2500 Followers!!! Aaaahhhh I love all of you so much!

Pairing: Alastor x bunny demon!Reader (no Y/N)

Warnings: flashback to life on earth, sexism

Synopsis: Your life back on Earth.

Earth - 1920

“You’re late.”

You raised your head to look into the glaring eyes of your boss. The fat, old man regarded you with a scowl before turning around and stomping towards his office.

“I-I’m sorry Sir. The bus was full, so I had to wait for the next one, and-”

He turned to face you again, his face red with anger.

“I don’t care! You are paid to be here on time! The next time you’re late, I’ll cut it from your paycheck, understood?”

You frantically nodded while holding your breath. Pointing out that you were actually twenty minutes early and just ten minutes late from your usual thirty minutes early, would just enrage the man even more.

With another huff, the man walked into his office and slammed the door, making you jump at the sudden, loud noise. You sighed and quietly made your way to your workstation, where you sat up for the day. You smiled at your colleagues that passed and led pleasant small talk with the ones that stopped for a chat. But the whole day went by without you seeing your favorite person even once.

Not that he had to stop by or anything, but he sometimes did and those were always the best moments of the day. He held such a passion for this job, it always infected you, made you hold on to the dream of one day being a host yourself.

But in your heart, you knew that that dream was foolish. A woman? A radio host? That would never happen. If you were lucky, maybe you could become the secretary, but your voice would never be aired live. At least not in this century.

With a sigh, you got to work. You quickly wrote up the weather report for the day, before handing it over to your boss, who would give the final go. After that you filed through letters and parcels, delivering them to where they needed to go.

You were basically done with your day’s work and it wasn’t even time for lunch. So, you decided to work on your dream some more. Whenever you had free time, you’d type out what you would do if you were the host. Corny jokes and funny advertisements. You’d make a list of the songs you’d play and what you’d be talking about.

Your shoulders slumped as you finished your dream program, the realization that that would never happen, catching up to you. Sometimes you wondered if playing into the dream made reality harder to bear. You still continued your wishful thinking, lost in a dream where you were calling the shots and where you would yell at fat, old men.

Two hands suddenly covering your eyes pulled you back to reality and a grin took over your lips.

“Guess who?”

You chuckled, trying to think of a witty response.

“Oh, Samantha, is that you?”

The laugh that escaped the man behind you made your heart race and butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Would you prefer it being Samantha?”

You shook your head with a smile and the hands lowered until they rested on your shoulders. With a wide grin, you spun in your chair, to come face to face with your favorite person.

“Now, how is my favorite lady doing?”

You rolled your eyes as he guided your right hand to his lips, before pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles.

“Ah, you know, same old, same old. Got my work done within two hours, wrote down my concept for the day and it’s not even lunchtime, got yelled at by boss-man once again,-”

The usually smiling host’s expression hardened when you mentioned the fat, old man. He glared in the direction of his office. If looks could kill, that man would be dead.

“Someone ought to take care of that bastard.”

With wide eyes, you raised your hands against the man’s mouth to shush him.

“You can’t just say stuff like that. You’ll get fired.”

He turned back to you with his signature smile.

“If I were to get fired for protecting you, it would be worth it.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at his words and quickly lowered your head, a coy smile playing on your lips. Your reaction caused the man to chuckle, before carefully ruffling through your hair. A complaint crossed your lips at his action and he stopped with a playful laugh, before helping you to fix your hair.

“So, what’s on your agenda today?”

You grabbed the pieces of paper and went through the different points you had written up, ending on the big story you’d talk about, were you in any kind of position to.

“Congress is supposed to vote on the 19th amendment in a few days. I really hope it gets signed.”

The man nodded thoughtfully, taking notes in his head. He was about to say something when his name was called from the other end of the office space.

“Gotta run, will you tune in tonight?”

He was already walking away, still facing you.

“I always do.”

He grinned, before turning around and running to where he was being summoned, leaving you with a soft smile and a racing heart.

By the time you had to clock out, you were sure you were dying of boredom. It was bad enough that you had considered asking for more work, but thankfully you made it through the day without. You quickly put on your gloves and hat, before you left the radio station and made your way home.

As soon as you entered your apartment, you hurried to the old radio in your kitchen and turned it on, just in time to hear him introducing himself.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the evening show. I’m your host, as usual, Alastor!”

Hell - now

“Why don’t you remember me?”

@impulsivethoughtsat2am @dasimp777 @fanficwriter5 @wonderlandangelsposts

Please consider reblogging and following me! It helps a lot!

Hazbin Hotel - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #alastor fanfiction #alastor fanfic #alastor love

108 notes · View notes