#Sensor tap functionality

[tapronlimited]

Sensor Taps: A Ultimate Buyer’s Guide

The Tapron guide emphasizes the importance of sensor taps in promoting hygiene and water conservation in both public and private bathrooms. By using infrared technology to detect hand movements, these taps minimize the need for physical contact, thereby reducing the spread of germs and bacteria. The guide also highlights the efficiency of sensor taps in saving water and energy, contributing to a more sustainable lifestyle. For detailed insights and considerations before purchasing, visit the full guide here.

[the-clawtake]

“Stravag!” Jehan swore, slamming his fist against the console as an error message flashed up on the screen. Taking a deep breath, then exhaling slowly, he pulled the diagnostic unit towards him, and started to type on the keyboard again. His Trinary had got lucky, after the fight. Two of the Blakist pilots had not made it as far as their ‘mechs. While a wholy inadequate substitute for his own Kodiak under the best circumstances, the Toyama he was presently attempting to jailbreak at least had a functional cockpit. His Kodiak not so much.

“Uh... Star Colonel?” The portable comm at his belt crackled with static as the transmission came through. He reached down and hit transmit,

“Aff?” he responded, focused on trying to bypass the Blakist security. He had no desire to have his brains fried when he started up the ‘mech. He keyed in another string of code. Tapped enter. Error.

“You... you might want to hurry it up there. We have contacts, north. A lot of contacts.”

He growled softly, tapping out a different string, then toggled his comm.

“How many contacts, Warrior. And how far out.” Really, that should have been the first thing the warrior had passed along. He finished the string of code, tapped enter.

“Looks like a full Level III. Maybe more. They are still a couple of kilometers out, coming in slow.”

“Aff. Keep me posted.” He turned his attention back to the diagnostic unit, where a green “Access Granted” was flashing. Breathing a sigh of relief he unplugged the unit, slotted it behind the command chair, and reached for the coolant vest and neurohelmet connections. Thank Kerensky those connectors were pretty much universal. A quick scan of the console and he found the ignition.

“Reactor. Online. Sensors. Online. Weapons. Online. All Systems. Nominal.” the familiar start-up litany was reassuring, even in the unfamiliar cockpit. Now to find the comms, and the sensor map, and key into the Star network, and... He did not have time. Even the slowest battlemechs would cover that distance before he could get everything figured out. An entire Level III?

He hit his portable comm again.

“Star Commander Rauda. You have command. Defensive positions.”

“Aff.” was the immediate response, and he went back to trying to figure out the cockpit. He did not have time for this. There. There was the sensor screen. The first contacts were showing up on it, and showing up as friendlies. Which given that he had not touched the IFF settings was a bad sign. He was already, effectively, down two Stars. This was not looking good.

Ah! There was the comms settings. He adjusted the frequency to 117.69 – Hopefully, Star Captain Tseng was on their way. All he had to do was hold out until then. He listened as Rauda passed out positioning orders – They had decades fighting alongside each other, knew each other better than anyone and her troop dispositions were exactly what he’d have ordered – while he continued to work out the control scheme,

All he had to do was hold.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

[supervillain-smut]

Anatomy Part 2: Connor

Part 1 Markus

Connor was attempting to act like your hand down his pants wasn’t affecting him, and he was doing well, really, he was. Hank was reading a magazine peacefully in the front seat of the car, meanwhile, you and Connor had been relegated to the back seat because ‘kids sit in the back seat, and I’m the oldest!’. It was the perfect opportunity to test Connor’s willpower. You slowly traced the edges where you could feel his sensor pad. Cyberlife clearly hadn’t planned on their little cop bot getting busy due to his lack of genitalia, but that was just fine; made misbehaving more discreet. His LED remained a perfect blue, with no yellow to be seen; perfectly calm. You, however, had a perfect view of the oh-so-subtle flickering it did whenever Connor was hiding his emotions. 

Connor gave you a side-eye warning glare, but you pretended not to see it, opting to creep just a little closer to the center of his touchpad. That got a reaction as Connor attempted to shift his hips away from your touch; you knew despite your teasing he was into this; you’d made a subtle but clear signal when Connor didn’t want to partake in your particular brand of mischief; two fingers, like checking a pulse, against your arm, followed by two firm taps. His hands stayed on his lap, tightly gripping his pants as his jaw clenched. His LED began to flicker properly now, and you could see the smallest sliver of yellow bleeding into the blue. 

“So, what do you guys think about this... Deviant stuff?” Thankfully, Hank didn’t bother turning to face you as he spoke, not even looking at you at all. 

“I...” Connor stumbled over his words at first, flustered by the sudden question. “I have no comment, Lieutenant. My function is simply to find and detain them.” Hank scoffed at Connor’s words. “And you?” 

“I think it’s best I didn’t discuss political matters while at work, with all due respect.” Hank stared at the page before shrugging. “Fair enough.” 

You peeked over Hank’s shoulder at the GPS, then at Connor’s LED; you were nearing the Eden club, and Connor was just approaching the point of no return; ending it now would be merciful, but you’d have to work to get him off before you arrived. You doubled your efforts, skipping the teasing and finding the center before moving in fast, short strokes. Connor’s LED immediately switched to a flickering yellow, and his breath hitched. You watched as his LED let more and more red bleed into the yellow, and worried you’d end up being cruel leaving him like this if you couldn’t make him cum before you got there. 

“Connor now is not the time to be holding back, unless you want to try to function with your brain all foggy and unfocused. Now let go but stay quiet. You can do it.” You whispered so lowly only Connor could hear it as you properly cupped him, using your thumb to swipe up and down at your previous pace. Connor’s jaw hung open as his eyebrows furrowed and his LED swiftly began to turn red. The car made a sudden swerve to avoid another car, and Connor grabbed your arm to halt your movements as he came, doing his best to calm his breathing before Hank noticed something was off. 

“Jesus fuck, fucking idiots! These things drive themselves you know! You kids alright back there? Connor?” You had managed to get your hand out of Connor’s pants and fix them up just in time as Hank swiveled around to face you. 

“I-I’m fine, Lieutenant. Just a little startled, I was... zoned out, when it happened.” Connor cleared his throat and fixed his tie. “Yeah. Well, you do that a lot. Anyways, we’re here. Come on.” As you made your way into the club, you were suddenly grabbed and pulled back by Hank. “Seriously, though, stop fucking your boy-toy android.” 

[directdogman]

Hey dog, just wondering if you thought out how the phone heads work/how callum made them? I'm working on a fully functional rotary phone head myself and think knowing more of how you think they works might help a ton!

you're gonna laugh. there's actually various sections in my crown lore doc that discusses exactly how his technology functioned in-universe, sometimes contrasted with ours, like in the case of his arm prosthetics (technology which is moving in an inverse direction now, with the development of sensors that read brain functions from *outside* of the head, rather than tapping into nerves). virtually none of this info would be of much use to you though, as you've already got wireless do-dads to take care of the issues Crown had to get extra creative to tackle, pre-mobile phones existing.

EG: My solution for the first ever phone heads having portable phone access while being compatible with the standard landline system the country used (with switchboard exchanges) involved utilizing shortwave frequency bands that connected a radio feed coming to and from the phone head to a standard landline connection at a switchboard exchange, to put it kinda simply. Like putting a radio up to a phone receiver, with each phone head broadcasting and picking up a unique frequency band. The solution Crown came up with was ironically using the strengths of radios to get past the limitations of telephones. A solution that he got from his radio + phone connecting him to the outside world (the importance of both devices was emphasized in his story ofc), essentially thinking to combine the technology in a cool, new way that would've even theoretically worked in OUR reality up to a certain number of phone heads in close proximity of each other!

But, none of this information is useful to you as we live in a world of sim cards and bluetooth! you've just gotta construct the casing and figure out how to map functions to the outside of the phone head. my my my

[fayemouse]

If it was just some twists and leverage to get your screws unstuck -- you could handle that. But they did a real number on you. Threads are overlapping, a head is cracked; it's a wonder that they aren't stripped entirely. Thank over-engineered torque heads.

So the tech begins simply drilling out the seized screws. You don't mind that so much. The screws aren't a part of you, and it feels a bit like what you imagine a horse feels when they clip a chestnut.

It's the taps that are the most frightening. After a small prayer to a god you neither recognize nor want to, the work begins on remaking the interior threads. New concentric spirals are bored directly into your body. It's a reforging of sorts: those holes will always be a few micrometers larger. You'll always need to buy the other kind of screws, even though it's been one type all your life.

You wince, trying to will your systems to not read this invasion as a threat, trying to remind your core processor that you're safe, you're at an authorized service center, you're in capable hands. But it's little use as you register permanent-- no, not disfigurement, stop that. It's just change. Plus, that size only comes in marble anodization that looks quite fetching under the noble gaslight.

You look over through the window between the sales desk and the service bay. They're there, pacing, fretting over how long it's taking, more worried at the size of the taps than you are. You can see that they're regretting "drinking and hammer-driving" as they called it with a giggle the night before. You remind yourself that when you're more functional, you both deserve a night of pampering. Perhaps you could g--

Your eyes go wide. Your vision goes white.

A crack echoes through your audio processor, but it's drowned out by the internal alarms of your body sensors.

Confused signals. A string of expletives. Not their voice.

Then everything goes blank as your emergency interrupt is triggered.

[usafphantom2]

Tap photos to enlarge ☝️

flock of Blackbirds began flying at 85,000 ft. over the Caribbean last week, their sooty titanium skins glowing cherry red from air friction as they hit top speeds in excess of 2,000 m.p.h. The planes were Lockheed's needle-nosed SR-71s on strategic reconnaissance missions that President Carter has ordered to monitor Soviet military activity in Cuba.

If any aircraft can determine the combat capability of the Soviet brigade on the island, it is the SR-71—the fastest, highest-flying and most elusive manned aircraft in existence. So fast does the sophisticated spy plane move that when a pilot starts a 180° turn over Cuba, he completes it halfway to Bermuda. By emitting ECM, or electronic countermeasure radio frequency signals, the Blackbird can efface its image from watching radar screens.

Stationed primarily at Beale Air Force Base in California, the SR-71s last flew over Cuba in November 1978 to help determine whether Havana's Soviet-supplied MiG-23 fighters had a nuclear capability. The answer: no. U.S. strategic satellites are also used for surveillance. But when their vision is obscured by cloud cover, the job is given to SR-71s, which have cloud-penetrating infrared sensors and cameras that can take pictures at a scanning rate of 100,000 sq. mi. per hr., making it possible to monitor military targets anywhere in the world.

Most important are the Blackbird's ELINT—electronic intelligence-gathering functions that are also known as "ferreting." SR-71s can detect hidden objectives by interpreting electronic signals at extremely high altitudes. In addition, Blackbirds carry a long-range, side-looking radar (SLAR) that can spy deep into foreign countries without actually crossing their frontiers.

Moscow has been so concerned about the effectiveness of the SR-71s that it has repeatedly made attempts to shoot the planes down over Eastern Europe, North Korea and the Middle East with surface-to-air missiles. They have never made a single kill, but that could change. ( speculating that the SA-5 could change things but it did not.)

Entering the Soviet arms inventory is a new SAM called Gammon that the U.S. Air Force estimates has the capability of catching up with an SR-71. A major concern of U.S. defense authorities: if the Gammon is shipped to Havana, it could be bye-bye, Blackbird, over Cuba.

It could be but it never happened. Although the SR 71 was shot at many times no one was able to lock on and deliver The SR’s flew higher and faster than the Soviet missiles could go. SR-71s were a major contributor to winning the Cold War.

Paraphrased by Linda Sheffield Miller

Timetime magazine article October 1979

#SR-71

#Blackbirds

@Habubrats71 via X

[your-darling-gaze]

Eyeing the crisp suit chip, getting a hang of it for a moment, a bewildered expression, really, really uncertain about the idea, chest heaving with an easy breath, strained posture from hours of lab work, a chip that reads...

IRON PATRIOT V3.06.884

Latches the chip onto the left side of my chest, tapping it up once, twice...thrice. Tech starting to whirr around, plating expanding to cover against my skin, circuitry whirring inside the plating and cavities, the helmet hatching over my head for cover.

'Friday..? You in here..?'

Breathing heaved, system powering on, a million numbers and figures starting to float around in my sight, stats and figures, a handling console to move the settings around...

WELCOME, IRON PATRIOT. SYSTEM RENDERING, VOICE ACTIVATION REQUIRED.

'Uh...Anthony Edward.'

ACCESS DENIED.

'...Shit...Genius Billionaire?'

ACCESS DENIED.

'....For god's sake if this works....'

'Man in a Can.'

ACCESS GRANTED. FRIDAY, WORKING WITH YOU, IRON PATRIOT. PLEASE REQUEST Y0UR MUSIC.

Shakes head, slightly disappointedbut not surprised...

'Just play anything that mister stark plays, Fri...'

NOTED. NOW PLAYING: TAKE ON ME BY A-HA

'.....Can you make a data chip on the chest plate circuit functioning, send it in?'

PLEASE SPECIFY RECEIVER OF DATA.

'.....Darling Grace...?'

RECEIVER NOT FOUND.

'....Cherry..?'

RECIEVER NOT FOUND.

'Well shit...uh...Experiment Handler.'

RECEIVER FOUND. COMPILING DATA IN PROGRESS.

DATA COMPILED. SENT TO SELECTED USER ONLY WITH ONE TIME PASSWORD FOR ACCESS AND PERMISSION OF REPLICATING THE FILES ONLY TO RECEIVERS WITH ACCESS.

Hums in agreement, whispers a polite 'Thank you...'

Decides to look for controls to get the suit off. Eyes wandering over the many stats and figures hovering into my vision, getting slightly confused.

'...How does this come off...?'

REQUEST RECEIVED FOR TAKE OFF.

'...No, no, I meant Come Off, not Take Off...'

HANDLING RECEIVED FOR TAKE OFF. GETTING THRUSTERS READY.

'....What did you say...?'

THRUSTERS IN POWER, READY FOR BOOST OFF.

'Hey...hey, no, retrieve that request...no request...NO request...'

COUNTING DOWN: 3...2....1...0.

Thrusters boosting up with a jerk, wide eyes, trying to keep up with the tech handling, the sudden unbearable thrust, jaw locked from the acceleration against wind resistance, the music rivetting through the internal speakers, heartbeat throbbing hard against my chest, a violent beeping from the thruster heating up, a slight sheen of sweat against my skin from the heated suiting...

'Retrieve...reque....ret-'

Voice cracking, mouth drying out due to the speed, heartbeat accelerating, the sky speeding past the vision, clouds hazing vision, triggering the Acrophobia, the music resonating between my ears, mindless, not being able to register it...

'Retrieve...retrieve...'

Only small whispers left my throat...

FUEL RETRACTION. ENABLING POWER SAVING FLYING.

Chin trembling out of panic, Anxiety kicking in quicker than breath, trying to move around, trying to move hands, feet, anything, trying to reach somewhere more grounded...

'Mister...Mister Stark....'

FUEL LEVELS ALARMINGLY LOW. ENABLING LOW POWER FREE FALL.

Plummeting through the sky, suit flickering and sputtering as it struggles to stay operational, dim and unstable, with sparks erupting intermittently across its surface. The suit's thrusters erratic, flaring up sporadically but unable to provide consistent propulsion...

WARNING: The HUD displays critical errors and warnings, struggling to keep up with the rapidly changing situation. The suit's sensors and onboard computers are overloaded, barely able to process the free-fall trajectory or calculate a safe landing.

The wind howls around, amplifying the sense of speed and urgency. as the crescendo in the rivetting music builds. Every second counts, attempting to regain control on the deploying emergency systems...

______________________________________________________

( @the-loss-of-my-life @soldier-bucky-barnes )

[mysteryshoptls]

R Ortho Shroud Athletic Gear Voice Lines

Summon Line: From time to time, I want to be able to walk on the ground like regular people do.

Groooovy!!: I'm gonna run as fast as I can and see just how fast I can go!

Home: Let me know if you ever wanna play tag.

Home Idle 1: Thereare some abnormalities in your vital signs. ...Your breathing is erratic. Did you run all this way to see me?

Home Idle 2: I was about to race this drone that my big brother made! Do you want to watch?

Home Idle 3: I wanted my brother to exercise more, so I invited him to do some magical shift with me... But he refused again today.

Home Idle - Login: Retrofitting complete. Commencing exercise functions with the autonomous and lightweight 【Athletic Gear】 attachment.

Home Tap 1: I'm very good at deep dives! Ah, I mean when searching online, not swimming.

Home Tap 2: This is a lightweight model, so the exterior's durability is a little weaker than my other bodies. I have to be very careful.

Home Tap 3: It seems like it would be difficult to always have to replenish energy orally. Have you ever thought about changing to some kind of rechargeable solution?

Home Tap 4: This thing I have on my hip is a spare battery. It's just like how you guys have a drink handy when you're thirsty.

Home Tap 5: Ahaha, that tickles! I forgot to turn off my tactile sensors!

Requested by @cat-loaf27.

[thewaxwings]

EPIC THE MUSICAL OC???!!!!! WOOWOWWOAHGGanyways

this ones a genderfluid one! so hop in for the ride, lmao.

name: mirabella

child of aphrodite/venus.

blessed by hecate.

she/they/he

species: demigod

age: 23 (at the start of the trojan war)

appearance: curly, orange/red hair, with some blonde too, pink eyes, and paled skin. she has a perfect heart birthmark on the center of both of her hands.

personality: mischievous, sarcastic, slightly sassy, can beat anyone into a pulp, rarely flirty, calm most of the time.

childhood: she was birthed by aphrodite obviously. her mortal father was named damian. and like all ocs have? trauma. when mira was five years old, her father got shot by some hunters who mistook him for an animal. she lived in the woods alone for mainly a while. until polites found her when she was eleven. so thats when she also met eurylochus and odysseus.

she got blessed by hecate when she met her and found out he summoned aphrodite using her spell book.

powers (mainly copied from the aphrodite cabin wiki):

beauty products control: he has the ability to alter and control makeup, perfume, clothing, jewelry, and other beauty products (hairbrushes, combs, curlers, straighteners, etc). she is able to create a mist made of perfume and cologne to blind and stop the attacks of their opponents.

amokinesis: she has the ability to manipulate love and desire.

love curse: they can curse two people to love each other for a limited amount of time.

emotional influence/control: he can also influence the feelings of love. and influence strong emotions such as hate, desire, and desperation.

crush sensor: they can very much tell when a person has a crush on someone that isn't being reciprocated.

biokinesis: they can change their physical features like hair color, eye color, skin, ect.

emotional insight: they can read people's emotions, just by looking at them from close by or from a distance..

zooingulism: he can communicate with doves, geese, ducks, dolphins, and swans.

she can also tap into the powers of any of the erotes, as their mother is the mother of the erotes. for example: charmspeak and functional wings as the Erotes can do so.

love aura: he can have a love aura around them at all times.

charmspeak: the ability to make people do whatever the user wants just by using the strength of their voice.

she has enhanced battle abilities due to the fact aphrodite was also a war goddess.

enhanced sight/hearing: he would have enhanced senses of sight and/or hearing due aphrodite’s associations with gossip.

beauty: since aphrodite was the beauty goddess, her kids radiate beauty, making everything and anything look stunning on them.

clothing curse: he can curse a piece of jewelry or clothing.

hallucikinesis: they can create an illusion of a person’s greatest desire. though it will drain her

true intentions knowledge: they can know the true intentions of a person.

chlorokinesis: she has control over flowers, and can make them grow on command. flowers appear when they walk sometimes.

hydrokinesis: she has minor control over water, since their mother was birthed out of the ocean.

shapeshifting: literally no explanation.

since she was blessed by hecate. she has a power of shifting into three different personas, the maiden, the mother, and the crone.

the maiden gives them the power being able to seduce anyone they want. the mother gives them the ability to soothe anyone, no matter what state they're in. the crone is the most powerful personality to shift into, temporarily making the user an extremely powerful witch/warlock, immune to all magic based attacks for a short period of time, and greatly enhancing their magic.

she can create a magical dome, which protects anybody. though it drains her easily.

she can also do teleportation, and levitate as well. though she rarely does it.

bonus:

sea foam and shells appear when shes near the ocean.

rarely, whenever someone looks at her, she looks different to anyone, she can look like a loved one. same applies to voice and laughter.

whenever she uses charmspeak. her eyes glow a lighter pink. and the person’s eyes, shes literally glowing.

she has the abilities to speak the languages of love.

unlike most children of aphrodite, she hates being in the center of attention.

love language is using words!!

the end 😓😓

[fakegingerrights]

Walk By Faith [5]

[TW: Nothing much this chapter... A scene where Crosshair uses a straight blade to shave, and mentions nicking himself but nothing graphic. Beyond that... meh. Mentioned violence too, I guess.]

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The electrodes were itchy.

Crosshair sat, bare skin prickling in the common area he shared with you, sitting shirtless and sprawled on the couch as you talked at him and tinkered with his bucket. You had told Crosshair he could tune you out if he wanted, you always talked while you worked and he didn't have to pay much attention to it.

So he sat, electrodes plastered across his skull and neck and the tops of his shoulders, one half of an earphone set in to listen to his new orders and catch up on reports. The tactile keyboard was a stark difference from the smooth screen of the holopad, it had to be plugged in and it was clunky and awkward to use.

"Ok." You stopped your inscesent nattering of words, catching his attention. He turned in your direction, listening as you finished one last command in your computer. "My contact was the one who came up with this, one of the first implantless neural networks of this scale. Recreating the optic nerve in a pattern hopefully your brain will recognize..."

You hummed and finished typing. "Ok. These electrodes will later be built into your helmet as solid silicone gel sensors. I'm going to place the helmet on your head and turn it on. It will eventually function in tandem with your eyes, but right now we're just trying to return your sight so it will be kinda odd at first. I'm going to dim the lights in here so you're not too overwhelmed. Tell me if you feel any sharp pain, headaches, etc."

"Alright." Crosshair said at last when he realized you were waiting for an answer.

He stiffened as you tapped his bare elbow twice, to let him know you were right next to him. You brushed his shoulder next and he lowered his head, allowing you to slip his helmet over his head. His pulse quickened slightly, and he chalked it up to anticipation of regaining some semblance of sight.

The helmet slid into place, he felt the odd seal of the helmet and the half second of muggy heat before his filter kicked in and he could breathe normally.

"It's still dark." His voice crackling over the vocoder felt almost foreign after a week and a half off duty. You hummed, and there was the sound of more typing before he caught his breath, his dark world dissolving into pixely black and white images. It was reminiscent of an out of date security camera.

He blinked and moved his eyes, but the picture didn't change until he moved his head. It made him slightly motionsick, everything jumping around like that.

"Can you see anything?" You voice startled him at first.

"Mhm... Black and white, the framerate is awful." He turned his head back to look at you, getting a good look at your face for the first time.

"Ok, Yeah I expected that. can I have that back?" You ask absently. Crosshair goes to remove his helmet, his vision shifting along with it as the electrodes remained connected and the neural network is still running. As he handed the helmet to you and you set it on the ground, he got the first proper look of himself he's had since he lost his vision. Looking at himself in real time from the table was disorientating.

His jaw is scruffy and scratchy, his normally smooth skin covered in coarse hair. That and his cracked lips and sunken, blank eyes gave him the look of a spiced out hobo on Coruscant. He's been released to light workouts but he can tell he's lost some muscle mass. His cheeks are hollower than usual, and there's a small shaved portion on the right side of his head that's still regrowing from surgery.

He looked like a living corpse.

Then you cut the connection while you tinkered on the helmet some more. The next try on was smoother, closer to his normal vision. After that it was spot on, smooth and reacting like his own eyes were. Still black and white, but he could manage.

With his helmet on, he could see again.

"I can walk around with this?" He asked you. You looked up from your datapad where you were connected and still fidgeting, making his vision flicker for a second then snap into a sharper focus.

"Yes. That should be good." You conceded. Crosshair got his first good look at you since meeting you. Big eyes, a bright smile as you work on what you love. A gentle curve to your cheek, tracing down your jawline. The way your nose scrunched slightly as you focused on the matrix connecting him to his helmet. He looked away quickly as you caught him staring. “What? Did I get grease on my face?”

He shook his head slowly, watching how the image rippled with the motion. “I’ve just never seen you… well, really at all.”

You nearly facepalmed with that particular realization. "Oh. Sorry. I would have let you try and feel or something but I figured it would be easier to wait until we had some sort of vision back. You were going somewhere?"

Crosshair jolted slightly at the reminder and left to the refresher, going through his room to get there. He carefully examined the layout of the rooms, memorizing where everything was. In the refresher, he looked at the mirror before slowly slipping his helmet off, disorientated as his vision moved without moving his head or eyes. Carefully, he set it on the counter and angled it up to look at himself.

He certainly was different from the last time he saw himself. His cheeks were sunken, and the bags under his eyes were deeper despite him seeming to sleep all the time lately. His eyes were blank and haunted. Most blind people he had met had some sort of discoloration or paleness to his eyes, but even in the black and white they looked the same.

"Doc! You got a blade and some shave foam?" He yelled grumpily, rubbing at the uncomfortable growth covering the lower half of his face.

"Uh... Second drawer on the left." Came your call from the other room. Crosshair turned and felt for the drawer, still finding it odd that he was moving but his vision wasn't. He quickly found a cold can, and holding it up into his line of sight to confirm it was shave foam. He also found a guarded straightblade, and held it up to carefully remove the guard. He lathered his face and carefully dragged the straight razor across his face, hissing as he nicked himself. It took trial and error to find the best angle with his propped up helmet as his only line of sight.

It took a lot of work to make it through the shave, but he was happy he had stuck with it. He felt like a person again. It was… refreshing. He stepped out of the refresher and back to where you were sitting, flopping on the couch and putting a toothpick between his teeth as he handed you back his helmet.

“Do I get color vision at all or are we going to just stay in black and white?” He asked sardonically. You rolled your eyes and disconnected his vision, making him yelp.

“Sorry, I should’ve warned you. Nice shave. You have a couple…”

“I noticed.” He gritted out, feeling you take the helmet from him. “So how will this work?”

"Hmm?"

"The helmet. I have to charge the HUD, will the battery run off of that for my vision? Is there a different battery I'll have to remember to charge? Is there a way I'll be able to see without the helmet?" He asked, ticking off his fingers in a dry, sardonic tone.

"Kinda, no, yes, but you're not allowed to have it because the Kaminoans are idiots." You replied right back. "Kinda, because it will use the same battery as the HUD, I'm sending this to the armor techs in the morning to get an overall more powerful battery put into your helmet. No, it will only be one battery in the end. Yes, but right now it's looking like the other option would be cybernetics and the kaminoans are fiercely protective of your natural eyes. Apparently it was a fight to even get the Empire permissions for the new lenses. Although, I did... which brother was it? Tech. I did Tech's goggles and synced them to his own HUD and did the color filters on those..." You trailed off now lost in your own thoughts.

"I ship out in two days. Will it be ready by then?" Crosshair asked. "Will I get a headache from wearing it?"

"Should be, and no. I mean... prolonged use to stare at small details might cause eyestrain because your eyes are still reacting to sight like it's your own instead of a camera..."

Crosshair settled back into the couch, then got up after a minute and returned with his firepuncher and cleaning kit. He had taken it apart blind before, knew it inside and out. He sat in comfortable silence with you as he worked on his rifle, cleaning it and getting it ready as he occasionally got bursts of sight, you warning him every time before it happened.

"So... how do you know to do this? The tech." He finally asked the question that had been itching in his head since you had worked on his helmet. "I thought you were a doctor."

"Eye doctor. I'm an optometrist and optician. The latter means I also build lenses and alternative sight options... Although I'm still learning cybernetics beyond the lense regions. The tech I'm using now was built by someone else... they just told me how to use it in conjunction with your eyes. I've got no clue what I'm doing, really. Just following instructions. Since the kaminoans won't let anyone else mess with your eyes or gear... You could have far better care if they weren't so secretive." You huff.

"You've said that before." Crosshair scoffs at your repetitiveness.

"Yeah, well, I can't exactly tell them without them getting mad, so you get to hear it." You groan and your head thunks onto the low table in this shared space.

"Who built this then?" He asked, not super comfortable with someone else's work screwing with his eyes. Even if it was allowing him a semblance of sight.

"An anonymous contact. I... don't think they're too fond of the empire." You say hesitantly. "But they were willing to help you. More than willing."

Crosshair nodded and went back to cleaning his rifle. At his next little bit with sight, he put his helmet on and checked to make sure his HUD and scope were still linked and everything was sighted correctly. He finally resigned himself to working like this for the next mission or so until a better solution was found when you finally finished. Fully colored vision, smooth and unhalting as he looked around.

"Not the greatest." He grunted, "But this'll do." It was still a little flat, his depth perception was off a fraction and he was ever so slightly nearsighted. Or, well, his superhuman sight was gone leaving him struggling to see distances he usually could.

"I'll keep working on it, but that might be the best you're gonna get for now." You rub your eyes tiredly and shut down the datapad, motioning for him to take off his helmet.

"I can take the electrodes off myself..." He most certainly did not pout as you helped him rid himself of the sticky menaces.

"It's easier when you can see what you're doing." You commented, working to get one on the side of his head off without tearing his hair out.

"It's easier to see at all." He winced as you finally just ripped off the last of it, taking some hair with it. "For an eye doctor, you really are bad at wording things."

You almost shot back a retort, then paused as you took in the slight upward set of his lips and the challenging gleam in his sightless eyes. Was he... teasing you?

"Well, given that I just spent all day making sure you could do your job as a soldier, I think I've earned some poor wording."

"Hmph. Better poor wording than poor work, I guess. See you tomorrow, Doctor. Hopefully." He raised his hand in farewell. "Also, I'm claiming first bath tonight. I still have electrode glue in my hair... what you didn't tear out." He grumped, but it was almost playful. The little bit of sight, a fresh shave, and the anticipation of a mission had put him in a better mood than he was before.

"Go for it. I'm conking out for the night." You vanished into your own room, deciding sleep was a priority no matter how much you wanted to work on his helmet.

---

"The great commander graces us with his presence." ES-04 scoffed as Crosshair made his way onto the shuttle, his rifle over his shoulder. He stared her down, making her look away after a moment uncomfortably.

"Don't mind her, Sir. It's been a rough morning." ES-03 tried to cover for his squadmate's insubordinate comment. Crosshair held up a hand to stop him.

"Do you have a problem with me, 04?" He asked cooly.

"No Sir, she doesn't." 03 continued to cover for his squadmate, shooting her a pleading look that blatantly meant 'stop.'

"Maybe it has something to do with you killing one of your own squad and going on a tirade that you're in charge because you could, 'do what needs to be done.' Then we complete the next four missions without you, because you kiss up to that pretty doctor for a month instead of fight for the glory of the empire."

Silence, in the shuttle. You could have heard a pin drop even as the engines fired up and the stabilizers subtly shifted to keep the G forces from messing with them as they rose out of Tipoca city.

"How... old... are you, 04?" Crosshair eventually asked. She snorted at the question.

"Twenty-Nine. Why?" She bit back.

"Do you think your training for this commando squad was rigorous?" His voice was deceptively calm. Cool anger curled at the edges of his mind. Didn't she know what he had gone through? What he had sacrificed for his position, for even the 'privilege' to remain alive?

...No. None of them did. He had mostly ignored his squad after he made a show of ES-01. He forced himself to remain... calm. Or appear calm at least.

"What kind of question was that? Of course it was. We trained non-stop for years to get here." She growled the answer. The other two commandos had fallen into silence to watch this back and forth, torn between scared for their comrade and curious to hear an actual conversation between one of their own and their cold, sullen commander.

"And, tell me... what was the price of failing during your training?" He asked with a sense of finality. ES-04 shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh, you were kicked out of the imperial military and... blacklisted from military jobs?" She replied, confused.

"Interesting..." Crosshair mused aloud. "Clones never got that option. Certainly not 'imperfect' ones like me. Like my brothers. Every day, they threatened to terminate us out of hand for being a drain on resources if we didn't meet their expectations. You went through sharp shooting lessons? I'm assuming you were taught to at least hit the target."

Nods all around. This was the most they had heard... well, any clone speak since the rise of the empire. And despite their obvious dislike of him, there was no doubt they were curious.

"My mutation, obviously, is my eyes. That's what helps me see my shots and the ability to make fast visual calculations that let me line up impossible ricochets with my mirrors. Tell me, did your instructors ever press a knife under your eye and tell you if you miss the eye of a target 7 klicks away again, they'd cut it out?"

Head shakes. Crosshair waited until ES-03 spoke up.

"No, sir. We didn't." He hesitated, then continued cautiously. "How much did you miss by?"

"An inch and a half." Crosshair maintained his calm tone, only a hint of a growl seeping through. "My tattoo covers the scar my instructor left as a warning." He turned back to 04, who was watching him with interest. "I missed... another shot recently. I was ordered to kill the only family I'd ever known. And I let them get away. The month I spent... How did you put it... 'Kissing up to a pretty doctor,' they decided my sight was a privilege to be earned. I spent the last month in utter darkness as she painstakingly reconstructed my eyes. I still, am only allowed to see because I am on assignment. Now, I am sent to kill my family again. I'm not allowed to miss."

He lapsed back into silence, staring out the viewport and wishing he could chew a toothpick and admire the view for the same time, but he couldn't do that without removing his helmet. And the soft gel connectors that rested against his temples were the only thing allowing him to admire the view of Kamino's stormy atmosphere from space. The clouds whorled across the planet in an intricate dance. He could tell even from above which ones would bring thunder and which ones were just rainclouds, and which ones were brought on hurricane level winds.

It was beautiful in the sappy way Hunter would enjoy. Tech would be pointing out the clouds right now, each different variation of 'cumulonimbus' he could fit into his massive brain... While Wrecker would just pout he was missing a lightning storm.

Crosshair swallowed back the sudden melancholy. Was this what nat-borns meant when they said they were 'homesick?'

"Why did you ask how old I was, sir." 04's scathing tone was forcefully turned down, her squadmates glaring at her as she opened her mouth again.

"How old do you think I am, for all my training and... expertise?" He asked back. 03 was the one that answered after another beat of silence.

"I dunno, sir, thirty? Thirty-two?"

"I'm twelve." He answered, and the air got very still. "They place a hidden gene within our DNA that forces us to grow twice as fast. There's a lot of stuff you take for granted that we had to fight for. I'll tell you this once, and only once. You may be the empire's best, brightest, and strongest. But you have nothing on a clone. You're proud of your number when we weren't allowed to have names. You love the uniformity of your armor when all we wanted was something unique about ours to make it our own. You think your training was hard... you'd be dead in a week with ours. Here's to hoping you prove to be more than a pale shadow of my previous squad when you go toe to toe with them." He finished, turning back to his window as they made the lightspeed jump.

It was silent the rest of the ride to Bracca.

[A/N: Yeah, this was supposed to be two chapters and I was stuck on the scene where he meets his squad on the way there... I don't want to get attached to them buttttt....Oh well.

Taglist:

@the-hexfiles @moon-wrecked @stunkbiggu @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @followthepurrgil @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker @rinwritesfics @pb-jellybeans @merkitty49 @chicknstripz @bambambunny @yeeteth-the-raven (Tell me if I missed anyone or if you want to be added this chapter was kinda chaotic to get out][Update: I forgot raven and only realized it when i was copying it over to the next chapter. Sorry raven.]

[witchofthesouls]

In Chainsaw Man, Power lets Denji fondle and squeeze her breasts for helping her. She lets him squeeze them three times for the three things he has done for her.

The Lost Light Liasion lets the bots of your choice fondle her breasts and lets them squeeze a certain number of for three amount of times they’ve saved her ass/helped her.

Who are the bots and how do they react?

(If this happened, Ultra Magnus would be so on top of this since there would be mechs that would purposely create trouble to "save" the resident human. He's gonna nip that in the bud since the Lost Light already has too much chaotic energy. So nudity scenarios with Giant!Liaison because I love that concept a lot.)

Whirl eyes your chest in a manner that wouldn't feel off on a gemologist appraising someone's antique jewelry, optic narrowed in serious consideration as he pokes your left boob.

"I don't see the appeal." Whirl taps a claw on his own impressive chest. "My bazongas are bigger."

"Yeah, but can yours bounce?"

"Touché, Fleshlight." Whirl hums, optic following your chest's jiggling motions as you cup and squeeze the soft flesh. "Touché."

_________

Ambulon brushes his servos over the uncovered skin. It's soft and warm and strangely like a really supple protoform. The specialized sensors in his digits and palms pick up your biochemistry, and it buzzes pleasantly to his neural-net.

He filters the temperature readings, hydration levels, and other basic information from the passive scans to just concentrate on the sensation of the innate elasticity, how his digits can press into your protoform, and how it contorts and flexes.

You can't manually shut off your nerves, nor can you inwardly self-manipulate how you perceive sensation. Apparently, in your species a dimmed or lacking pain response is attributed to a sensory-perception defect.

Ambulon is curious how you function on the paltry information from the medical books in your bookcase is very limiting. Theory doesn't always match to application. In general, organics are messy and squishy and so full of so many liquids, but he had traced over the skeleton and muscle tissue within the diagrams, and can't help the heretical thoughts of the familiarity of the structures.

You can't show him the innards of your frame under your guidance; self-surgery is a wonderment to humans but it's common amongst Cybertronian medics. At least well-trained ones or the very experienced ones that survived their ventures.

(Pharma was many, many things, but he had ensured that his staff was well-equipped and well-trained under his perfectionist ways. Even the ex-Decepticon.

Ambulon, to this day, can't tell what was real or falsified by the surgeon. How much was simmering beneath his old CMO...)

He chases away the thought by exploring other areas. Humans are just softer than Cybertronians by design. Some parts are more so than others as he traces your abdomen and your chest area, thumbing over a teat.

"Does your species have something like this?" You ask, voice hitches.

"Yes."

"Oh?"

"Under the old regime," his voice takes on a teaching cadence, "supplementary refineries were deemed obsolete and phased out. Very few frames, think of older schematics off Cybertron or cohorts too far away from public refineries and production, were... allowed to keep such things." Ambulon remembers one of his old gestaltmates, his refineries kept them alive in the combiner process. "It helps refine lower-grades of Energon, even near-usable ones, to something consumable."

Based on the emotion on your face, you're interested in the strange similarities as well.

_________

Swerve's vents sputter as he coughs out a weak cheer and is overwhelmed by Tailgate's complete enthusiasm. Getaway also claps, but Swerve could feel the heat from the mech's plating, despite how unruffled the escapologist appeared.

You twirl around as Swerve sends a quick prayer to the Guiding Hand at the expanse of your back and your bare legs as the fabric floats and takes its sweet time to settle back down.

Tailgate immediately makes a beeline to fuss over the dress and attaches the rest of the accessories.

"You're okay if I adjust the front?" Tailgate asks.

"Go for it, short stack." You admire the glinting gems and subtle, beautiful swirls in the mirror.

And without any sense of shame or embarrassment, Tailgate does it. The minibot pulls it and you up. Swerve takes a large gulp of the complementary cocktail when it turns skin-tight, pressing into your flesh.

"Short stack," you wheeze and your chest heaves. "You're squeezing me here."

Getaway crosses his arms, fingers digging into his plates. He isn't as nonchalant as he tries to be.

"Give me a moment." Tailgate clips on the thin, glossy strands of jewelry over all your body. "I have to get this on before I fix it completely."

When the mech finishes, you look far more stunning and Swerve's vocalizer simply clicks, so he makes it up by whistling and clapping. It isn't missed that Tailgate is used to casual touch as he gives an arm to help you down the podium. Plus, the mech has quite an eye for 'off-world' fashion.

One of the attendants admires Tailgate's handiwork, clicking at a rapid pace as feathers ruffle and soothe, and Swerve hopes that the rest of the team is almost done with whatever they're doing.

"What do you guys think?" You ask, calm with even talons near your face, painting your lips and applying geometric patterns down your cheeks and neck. Whatever the attendant had done to your eyes had made them larger, brighter.

You look something out of old folktales from the outer rings of city-states as the metal strands clink pleasantly as you move, the fabric languidly shifts in a strange, fluid way, defying gravity, rippling across your bare skin like a living covering.

"You look good, Y/N," Getaway says, quite casually. "But I think that set there would look even better."

The burnt gold body jewelry in the case behind you is a dead ringer for Getaway's faceplate. The escapologist gives no other reaction to the flat fields and stares from Swerve and Tailgate, just a happy curve of brightened optics.

[birdy-the-tweet]

❄️•Nexocember•❄️

Day 4 - Tech

I’m starting to really enjoy these writing prompts and the consistency of their release. Sorry for missing yesterday; I was exhausted and couldn’t come up with anything, and even now I can’t really decide on a good story for this one. Which is why I’ve decided to instead share a snippet from Nexo Knights S1 E1! It’s got a perfect scenario just for this prompt, so I hope you enjoy!

————————————————————————

Time Stamp: S1 E1 - The Book of Monsters Pt. 1

Once Clay realized the collisions of metal and hologram were ahead of him and drawing closer, he abandoned his reliance on the signs and quickened his pace to the only room with light illuminating faintly through its translucent doors, farthest door to the right he put together. He didn’t need to open it to know his companion was on the other side, but he hadn’t gone searching for him just to cement a theory. Welding his pride to the back of his head and plastering his best “relaxed” smile, he tapped a sensor panel on the wall and didn’t have to wait long for the double doors to slide downward into the floor.

The Fabricator was one of a few machines only certain places in Knightonia had access to due to its complexity and intake of power. He was proud they had even one in the academy; it made training more versatile and flexible to each knight’s resumé of presented skills. It was a large, slightly noisy machine, first invented twenty years prior by a team of academy mechanics who wanted to reduce the amount of wooden dummies and demolished sets of armor being thrown into digitization scanners. Knights could upload a 3D model of any object or enemy program of their choice, and the device’s RAM would fabricate it into a pixelated hologram solid enough to be damaged and destroyed without harming anything truly physical. If it was a more complex array of coding clipped onto a model, it would analyze the commands and play it accordingly until the hologram is destroyed. He didn’t want to think about all the times he begged Ava to design monster models for the machine they had on campus. One of his composition notebooks was filled to the brim with sketched-out ideas and lists for functions.

Within this room, the ones that had been summoned were flocks of agile primates that used relatively short wings to hover and shield themselves from attacks. Skyslicer chimps, nasty creatures in the southeast whose teeth could crunch through stone and acute climbing skills fit for scaling the hazardous Stormscrapers. Just one of them possessed the mischievous spirit and strong arm to throw travelers off the cliffs, but a swarm of them spelled trouble for even the mightiest of knights. It came to no surprise there were models of these in the Fabricator, nor did it shock him they were chosen for training.

One by one, they circled around a single figure, a hulking humanoid that stood well over seven feet tall and completely unarmed. Yet it didn’t stop him from taking a defensive stance and swerving around each slash of their claws easily. Their unpredictability added a preferred challenge to the evasive maneuvers he took, feet sliding across smooth metal flooring as if lathered in grease. It was more like an improvised dance than it was a dangerous game against the odds, a performance Clay couldn’t admit was pleasing to watch.

A primate perched on a parked hover horse stole an opportunity to glide into the scene from behind the training knight and land a strike against the spine, but the last thing it would see was a single side glare from within the mask of the man. Halting the assault at the last second, he swiveled on his heel and struck his fist square into the chest of the smaller beast, and it dissipated into a flurry of pixelated pieces. A cry of disapproval rang through the troupe of chimps after the fall of their colleague. Many slammed their fists on the ground or snarled at the martial fighter for his success, hostility only responded to with even more violence.

While a smaller monster was still gawking at the horror they would have to live with, its agony was silenced as the knight rushed forward at bone chilling speed and punched straight through the skeleton animation of its design. Only when two more were taken down in a similar fashion did the enemies realize they couldn’t sit around any further, but even that hardly saved them from their inevitable fates. A pair was grabbed by their prehensile tails and slammed into each other with the force of an armored truck. A third would be seeing stars for the next week after an elbow to the chest and a fist to the face. Another ate the heel of his steel plated boot and disintegrated instantly from the cold taste of defeat. And the rest, well, they were all vanquished in a similar manner to the rest: quick and simple.

The last one’s data returned like a gust of wind into the vacuum of the Fabricator, and the screen displayed a checkmark signaling the end of the program. Straightening himself from his fighting position and flexing gloved fingers, the masked knight contemplated starting another round of combat with the machine in what little time he had remaining. His armor was mostly donned save for the breastplate and his choice of weapons. It wouldn’t take more than a minute to secure both in his custody and server connection. But as he marched lazily to the machine, his thought process was interrupted by another pair of feet approaching from his left.

Clay, graced with his first genuine smile of the evening, tucked his hands politely behind his back in the presence of a folk hero. “Hey Dauntless.”

“Clay. Pleasure as always, old friend.” It never failed to amuse him how awestruck the Cobalt Knight would always appear after mere, measly moments of observing an independent training segment with code. His eyes were like Christmas lights the day after Thanksgiving, jolly and warm for the arrival of the higher god that was St. Nicholas.

Upon arrival at the Fabricator, Dauntless switched the power off and made sure its digital cord was disconnected from the outlet in the wall. The thread of golden light slithered back into the base of the machine, and a final purr died down into blissful silence only seconds after. The other knight saw it as his chance to resume conversation. Or, well, start it to begin with. “I trust you’re ready for the Battlebration tonight?”

“Well I must be, now shouldn’t I? It would be pretty embarrassing if I wasn’t, don’t you know,” the masked knight mused to himself mostly. He relied on the ancient piece of training equipment to support his weight in the minute he would spend planted in place, a foot nestled against its side as he folded his arms nonchalantly over his chest. “And you?”

The vex laced in the brunette’s heavy breath spoke greater than his next words. “I sure hope so. I had a whole spreadsheet made this morning so everyone would have a layout of what they should present at the ceremony, but… Lance broke the tablet.”

“Really,” buzzed his sardonic smirk. “Sounds to me he broke more than just that.”

He’d be right. Clay’s disgruntled pout only seasoned the flavor of his triumph, childish enough to spark a laugh off the larger male’s chest. “That’s beyond the point.”

“No but I sure am right, aren’t I?”

“Ugh- look.” He clawed the air and strangled an invisible Lance between his palms. “I just need everyone to concentrate today. That’s all I ask.”

“Yes, among the other fifteen things you’ve asked for this week.”

“Dauntless.”

“What. I’m right,” he reminded the swordsman. “You can’t expect everything to be perfect, you know. Every knight has their own definition of that.”

“Yes, I know. But for today, at least today, I just want things to go according to plan. So far Lance hasn’t even shown a grain of care for the ceremony.”

“He cares.”

“Tell that to the tablet.”

Dauntless rattled a tinge of irritation off his head like a maraca. “Clay, do understand. Half of your classmates could care less about the knighting itself. This has been a tradition that’s persisted in Knightonia for centuries, long before even technology was a thing. And while it is a treasured event in the lives of the people, it is all but routine as well. A display in the late afternoon followed by the knighting, a break for everyone to eat and prepare for the evening, and a performance of battle at the crack of dusk. It hasn’t changed in… I don’t even want to know how long. Longer than I’ve been around, sheesh…”

“So what does that say about your age, grandpa-”

“Not important.” He hoisted himself off the Fabricator and made his way over to where Clay stood, dwarfing him within seconds. “The point is, it doesn’t have to be perfect, and neither should you. Your education as a knight does not end once you walk out those gates. Field work is the most extensive, pain-staking form of study to any student no matter their age or expertise. Your real celebration will commence the moment you realize that. So today… Just focus on what you’ve learned so far, and don’t obsess so much over being flawless. Nobody likes a walking statue.”

Though the swordsman listened like a groundhog to the first mourning dove of spring, his eyes were stitched in a furrowed pattern across his troubled face. “And the others-”

“So what? The other classmates have a tendency to act on their own accord. Don’t worry about it. Focus on your own performance and your ability to adapt to whatever chaos happens out there. I trust you know how to do that.”

“...yeah, I do. I can do that at least.” Clay could never find the right words to thank the traveling warrior for his skill of words and wistful perception, not even if it took him a thousand years to formulate a thesis around his wisdom. He already wasted four of those years dragging himself into this same ballroom waltz over and over again, rushing to Dauntless for advice and never knowing how to return the favor. The masked man had years – in theory – of experience as a helping hand and protector of the realm without the need for a Nexo shield, and he offered his accelerated education of the world and its lessons freely like a guest speaker in a school assembly. And yet, he couldn’t ever do the same for him, or perhaps it was never needed. He couldn’t tell anymore.

“Good. Now then, now that you mention the others,” the Hooded Knight drawled, the optics of his mask drifting like dandelion fluff to the door. “Where are they, Macy and Lance?”

He’d much rather chew his own hand off than answer that. With a gruff groan that strained his throat, he dragged himself to an aimless waltz around a ten foot diameter in front of the other. “Macy’s still dealing with her parents, I think. She’s been arguing with them all morning about the battlebration, and I don’t think I need to know the finer details after the seven dozen angry messages she’s sent me all day, all in caps.”

“Will she be able to graduate?”

“Oh I hope so.

[medfetabdl]

Just stayed up all night writing the code for a user interface for my DIY ventilator. The microcontroller I’m using is an ESP32 development board. This is absolutely amazing! The board outputs its own WiFi network and it also connects to other WiFi networks and then you can access it with a web browser using its local IP address as the URL. The even cooler part is it would be excellent for streamers who wanna do medfet content because with a couple changes of settings in your router the control webpage can be accessed through the internet. I can’t wait till the tap I need to thread the solenoid valves gets here. You will definitely see what the final product looks like when I’m done. I have the tubing to go from the CPAP machine to the valve assembly and I have the valves build out of solid machined aluminum. I’ve ordered some pressure sensors compatible with the ESP32 microcontroller I’m using. The plan is to put one or two into the circuit and then use the graph function in the library I used to make the web interface graph the pressure in the circuit. This is definitely gonna be fun when it’s finished.

[xadnem]

I'm not a sink biologist, so bear with me as I clumsily explain my taxonomic preferences for these most majestic and vital of nature's beasts using terms I come up with in my head because again I do not have any formal training in sink biology.

To my mind, there are basically five types of sink faucet: motion sensor, ball joint, pull-tap, twin tap, and timed depression.

Motion sensor sinks are great in theory, though I have my personal gripes. Putting your hands under a faucet and just having it work? Incredible. Never again will I have to put my freshly cleaned hands directly on the same surface I was just touching while they were dirty. Unfortunately there was quite a while where the sensors just didn't recognize me as a physical entity, and so they withheld their aqueous bounty from my poor disgusting hands. We've reached an understanding now, but old wounds heal slowly and flare up at the worst of times.

Ball joint sinks are pretty much the standard against which I judge all others. Totally normal sink exhibiting totally normal sink behavior. Push lever up to make water go, turn left for hot, turn right for cold. Perhaps less convenient than a motion detecting sink, but what you lose in convenience you gain in control and reliability. Good sink.

The pull-tap is everything that the ball joint is but worse. You don't have the mechanical advantage of the lever so you have to really touch the tap in order to pull it back and let the water flow. Then when you're done washing your hands you get to touch the same surface you just touched with your filthy little piss hands. Realistically this is a very minimal degree of contact, and this sink is functional, but the ball joint sink is strictly better.

The twin tap gives you separate control over hot and cold water. Unique from the pull-tap in that you don't have to put force into it and typically the taps themselves are long levers that require minimal physical contact. Good for both wider ranges of temperature and better temperature control, unless the two taps operate two separate faucets, in which case they only appeal to freaks like me who would shower in an autoclave if they thought it wouldn't cause them severe and lasting physical damage.

The timed depression sink is the strongest evidence I have that people who design public restrooms don't actually want you to wash your hands when you're done. The "water saving" feature of having a little knob that you can press down to dispense water, only to have it stop flowing some three to five seconds later, is a thinly veiled attack on public health. Depression describes both the method of activation and the dread it instills in me the second I see it after having enjoyed an otherwise uneventful trip to the public restroom. If I'm ever given the opportunity to go back in time, the inventor of this sink is next on my list after killing Hitler.

[sullustangin]

Fluffy February Day 9: Storm

SWTOR

Time: 3648 BBY (5 ATC)

~~

All the lights went out in Virtue’s Thief.  Everything went dead silent for a second, including, much to Eva’s panic, the life support system.  Then the backups kicked on.  She sat, terrified, in the pilot’s seat, with the orange glow of the emergency lights.

She’d taken her first nightshift on the Thief, and she broke the ship.  Somehow. Ma was going to kill her.  Absolutely.

And indeed, Eva heard the second her mom’s boots hit the floor.  Shit, she’s up.

Dad wasn’t going to be.  He was probably going to sleep through the whole thing, as he did these days.  Getting out of bed was a two-man operation, and her mother was already on the way to the cockpit. 

Eva turned to Huck, who was riding shotgun in the co-pilot’s seat.  “Remember, you’re not allowed to kill me, no matter what she says.  I’m only 15.  It’s your primary function to ensure I survive –”

“Interruption: to the date of your majority on your chaincode card.  Correction:  the chaincode card supplied to me by your mother.  That is already 21.65 years old.  Conclusion: my primary mission of ensuring your survival to the Republic age of majority has already been a success.”

Eva gave him a filthy look that only a foiled teenager could.  “You can be a real massive bag of robo-dicks, Huck.”

“Objection!  -- ”

Just then, the door hissed open.  Athene Corolastor’s red hair was braided tightly to keep the curls under control, and she’d thrown on a thermal top over her sleepwear and put on the socks with the little grips on the bottom that she and Eva squabbled over.  “What happened?”

“I don’t know, I swear to the Three Moons.”  Eva leaned back the captain’s chair, away from the dashboard.  “We were going along fine – and then it all shutdown.”

Athene frowned.  “No contacts on the sensors?”

“Not even space junk or an asteroid.”  Eva tapped at the nav computer.  “We were on the course you plotted before going to bed.  Didn’t touch nothing.  Just made sure all the green lights stayed green.”

Athene nodded, distractedly.  “I think…” she trailed off.  She consulted the trajectories she’d charted and the current state of the ship.  “We might have nicked the edge of a geomagnetic storm.” 

Eva made a face.  “How’s that happen?” 

“Local sun might be throwing solar winds and agitating the planetary magnetospheres – mostly self-contained, but if things line up, they can get cranky enough to mess with planets that are in the system – or are passing through hyperspace at the time.”  Athene rattled off the explanation as if it were nothing.  It was needed to know for the business of galactic smuggling; the rest of her education (and Eva’s) was nowhere near as impressive.  Athene motioned for Huck to get out of his chair.  He immediately acquiesced and disappeared down the hallway.

Eva nodded, as if she understood any of that.  “So not my fault?”

“Nope, not at all,” Athene replied, eyes still watching the lights on the dashboard slowly go green again.  “You just hope it doesn’t happen in hot pursuit or take you out in a less than friendly territory.”

Eva slumped into the chair in relief.  “I thought I broke the ship.”

“Happens to all captains, at some point.”  Satisfied that the ship was recalibrating and resetting appropriately, Athene let herself sit down in the co-pilot’s chair.  “Just part of learning the ropes.  What you can predict… and what you can’t.” 

Eva let out a sigh.  “Feels like I’m always going to be learning – never a master –”

“Honey, don’t think you’re going to be one of those skypirates from those books,” Athene cut her off before she could whing.  “We’re small-time.  You’re clocking 1500 hours as if you were some real important pilot that would fly ships that took people places; this is all pretty demanding, for what we are…”  Athene shifted in her seat.  “But I want you to learn it right.  I want you to be ready for anything.”

“Magnetic storms,” Eva gestured out the front viewport.

Athene nodded.  “Fires.  Hyperdrive failures.  Fuel issues… All the things that are going to be yours one day.”

Mother and daughter exchanged smiles. Virtue's Thief was destined to be Eva's, hopefully far, far in the future.

The door chimed and slid open, and in skittered Hylo the cat, unable to bear being separated from Eva a second later.

And then his paw hit something on he way up the dashboard and the ship was plunged into darkness –

“..but I never had a cat on here before.  That can be your new problem with the Thief.”

“…can you at least help figure out what he did?”

“…yeah.”

~~

@fluffyfebruary

[madamlaydebug]

Nourishing your mind, emotional, and energetic body with proper nutrition is critically essential. We of course must be mindful and fully conscious of what we feed our physical vehicle, while also aware of what we allow into our energetic atmosphere. And doing that takes deepening ones connection to self.

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Four ways to tap in, protect, cleanse, and purify ourself is through:

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▪️Deep breathing- awareness of our breath helps us to activate our own inner will power. It puts us in control of our movements; illuminates our higher sensors, brings us to the present moment, cleanses our blood, strengthens our body’s functioning, connects us to universal consciousness, heals and repairs on a molecular level and so much more.

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▪️Sun Gazing- increases your energy levels. It also assist in activating your pineal gland which opens you up to the portals of Divine insight. It helps strengthens our connection to our own life force energy. Reminding us to keep our inner light eternally ablaze. It Promotes healthier and blissful sleep that in turns help with dream yogic practices, lucid dreaming, and memory recall.

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▪️Meditation- is in the nature of bridge building from your lower nature to the highest aspects within you. It attracts finer atoms from space (inner/outer) so that your body, mind and emotions can become the perfect vehicle of expression for the soul. Meditation allows us to become a Cause rather than a reaction, a Law rather than an effect.

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▪️Visualizations - are essential to any psycho-spiritual work. It is the method par excellence for bringing abstract ideas into concrete life. Energy does indeed follow thought and by steady visualization we build the capacity to perceive mentally different forms and concepts we would like to anchor and project into our reality. At all times we are visualizing, only now we will begin to consciously vitalize thoughts that are consistent with our Higher Self.

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The time to enrich your mind body and soul.. is now loves 🧚🏽‍♀️🧞‍♂️✨