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paltoosstore · 1 year ago

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Guardians of Electronics: Unveiling the Power of PCB Conformal Coating Spray

In the ever-evolving landscape of electronics, the need to protect printed circuit boards (PCBs) from environmental stressors is paramount. Whether it's moisture, dust, chemicals, or extreme temperatures, these factors can jeopardize the performance and longevity of electronic components. One effective solution to fortify PCBs against these challenges is the application of PCB Conformal Coating Spray.

Understanding Conformal Coating

Conformal coatings are thin protective layers applied to PCBs to shield them from a range of environmental threats. These coatings come in various formulations, including acrylics, urethanes, silicones, and epoxies, each offering unique properties to suit diverse applications.

Why Conformal Coating?

1. Moisture Resistance:

Conformal coatings act as a barrier against moisture, preventing it from seeping into the PCB and causing corrosion. This is especially crucial in applications where exposure to humidity is common.

2. Dust and Contaminant Protection:

The spray forms a protective shield, safeguarding the delicate electronic components from dust, dirt, and other contaminants. This is particularly beneficial in environments with high levels of airborne particles.

3. Chemical Defence:

PCBs in industrial settings often encounter a variety of chemicals. Conformal coatings provide a chemical-resistant layer that shields the components, preventing degradation and malfunction.

4. Temperature Extremes:

Electronic devices can experience temperature fluctuations. Conformal coatings offer thermal protection, ensuring that the PCB operates reliably even in extreme temperature conditions.

Application Process

1. Preparation:

Before applying the PCB conformal coating spray, ensure that the PCB is clean and free of contaminants. Mask off areas that should not be coated, such as connectors or sensitive components.

2. Material Selection:

Choose the right conformal coating material based on the specific requirements of your application. Consider factors such as flexibility, ease of rework, and compatibility with other materials.

3. Ventilation and Safety:

Work in a well-ventilated area, or use appropriate ventilation equipment, as the fumes from the spray can be harmful. Wear protective gear, including gloves and safety goggles.

4. Application Technique:

Hold the spray can at a consistent distance from the PCB and apply a thin, even coat. Ensure uniform coverage across the entire board.

5. Drying and Inspection:

Allow the conformal coating to dry thoroughly according to the manufacturer's recommendations. After drying, inspect the PCB for defects and ensure complete coverage.

Additional Considerations

Temperature and Humidity:

Consider the environmental conditions during application, as they can impact the coating's curing time and performance.

Curing Processes:

Some coatings may require additional curing steps, such as exposure to UV light or heat. Follow the manufacturer's guidelines for the specific coating used.

Re-Work and Repair:

Familiarize yourself with the removal and re-application procedures for the chosen conformal coating, especially if rework or repair becomes necessary.

Conclusion

In the realm of electronics, reliability is non-negotiable. PCB conformal coating spray emerges as a frontline defence, fortifying electronic components against the challenges posed by the environment. By understanding the application process and considering key factors, engineers and hobbyists alike can enhance the durability and performance of their electronic creations, ensuring they stand the test of time.

reference url: https://blogsubmissionsite.com/blog/details/guardians-of-electronics-unveiling-the-power-of-pcb-conformal-coating-spray

#pcb conformal coating spray #parts washing machines #contact cleaner spray #electronic contact cleaner spray #industrial component cleaning machines #industrial parts washing machines

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andypantsx3 · 6 months ago

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LOADS OF FUN : TODOROKI x READER

SUMMARY: After moving into your first apartment together, Shouto seems more amorous than ever. You're not sure why—but when he comes home to you doing a load of laundry, more than your clothes are about to get tumbled. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft (18+ only, minors please dni!), pro hero au, gn + afab reader, established relationship, fluff, emotional sex, table sex, cunnilingus, the shouto domesticity kink agenda goes absolutely crazy in this one lol (2.8k) NOTES: This piece is part of my pretty boy summer Shouto x Reader collab! Please go check out the other incredible fics people have written over the course of the summer; you will absolutely die over how good they are. This fic was also made possible through donations to the Fics for Gaza project. I cannot thank everyone who donated to one of the charities enough, as well as those who organized, reblogged, discussed, and got the word out. Lastly, I am so grateful for your immeasurable patience with me as I take time between fics to manage my workload, I hope I'm not too out of practice here lol. In summary: thank you, thank you, a million times thank you.

The sound of the door opening was hidden in the thump and glug of the washing machine starting its spin cycle.

Halfway across the house, you were oblivious—you had the clean laundry spread out on the kitchen table, hunting through the pile trying to match one of Shouto’s socks to another that seemed to have vanished into that mysterious void which opens somewhere between the laundry basket and the dryer. One of his shirts was half-folded over your shoulder, abandoned in favor of the sock search.

The rest of your things were still mostly tangled together on the table, warm and fresh and cottony, the few shirts you’d already folded sagging off the kitchen chairs.

It still gave you a little thrill—even several weeks after you’d moved in together—to see Shouto’s things twined up with yours—his enormous socks dwarfing yours, your sweaters clinging to the occasional piece of his hero suit that hadn’t seen enough action to need his agency’s industrial cleaners.

It all added to your sense of satisfaction with your afternoon—a frosty weekend day you’d spent cozy indoors, moving slowly and leisurely through some chores. A pot of soup simmered on the stove, and your favorite playlist worked itself through in lazy loops. Shouto was due off his rotation soon, and you hummed contentedly to yourself, entertaining pleased little fantasies of curling up with him for the rest of the weekend.

Which of course is when something moved in the corner of your eye. Your hum sawed up into a strangled screech, and you whipped around, flailing. Shouto’s sock launched itself full force at the intruder before you even registered you’d thrown it. In your shock, your leg caught against the table and you went stumbling—

—right into a pair of warm hands that caught you about the waist.

Your hands were on the man’s shoulders to push him off before you realized you recognized the touch—and that you’d caught sight of a distinct mop of scarlet and white hair as you’d whipped around.

“Shouto! Again?” you scolded reflexively, even as your heartbeat stuttered out of its wild kick into high gear. You tipped your head back to stare your boyfriend in the face, shoulders slumping in relief, letting him take some of your weight.

Shouto peered down at you, that tiny scrunch between his brows that indicated concern. “Are you alright, love?”

Your heartbeat pounded thunderously in your chest. “I’m—fine. But my god we need to get you a bell. I almost peed.”

Shouto’s mouth shifted minutely into something that might not have registered in anyone else’s face but was most definitely a regretful downturn on his. He looked even more unfairly beautiful than when he’d left you this morning—a little flushed and windswept from the unseasonable cold, that full mouth pink and pretty.

Your mind flicked momentarily off and back on like a circuit breaker, the way it always did when you had to process Shouto.

You’d understood he was once-in-a-generation levels of beautiful before you’d even met him, his face staring up at you from the glossy pages of various tabloids over the years. But in person, even after years of knowing him and several more dating him, Shouto’s appearance still managed to cross all the wires in a person’s brain. His features were an incomprehensible blend of aloof and elegant, sensual and warm—like a cold masterpiece of a marble sculpture had suddenly found himself with a consciousness and human desires and miles of warm skin.

“I did not mean to startle you,” he said, his voice low and warm. He sounded sincerely regretful.

You knew he hadn’t meant to��you’d long suspected his silent tread was habitually ingrained in him from years of hero work. And, in your most private and ungenerous thoughts, you suspected from years of making himself unobtrusive in his father’s home. The thought sat sour in your mouth, like a slice of pickled lemon.

You resisted making an equally sour face, shoving the thought away to make space for the reflexive flush of pleasure seeing Shouto always brought you.

“Welcome home, Sho,” you said instead, smiling up at him. Shouto’s hands moved on your waist, sliding gently beneath the hem of your tee-shirt to rest on the skin there.

He was still in his hero uniform, and as usual you felt a little goofy in comparison, in nothing but a tee and a well-loved pair of fraying sweatpants, which were this afternoon decorated with little flecks of soup from a brush with the pot.

But Shouto’s eyes were warm where they rested on you, and that perfect mouth crept back into a contented set. His long fingers smoothed over your skin as he watched you, thumb brushing your hip. He did not look like he found you at all goofy.

In fact, as his eyes dropped down to your ankles, slowly dragging back up to your face, you rather thought he looked a little appreciative. He even took a rather ungentlemanly step back, still holding you, to better take in the whole picture. His eyes wandered over the swell of your hip, the lines of the shirt against your chest, before darting to his own shirt, still folded over your shoulder.

His fingers flexed tellingly on your waist, and those heterochromatic eyes were both a little bit darker as they flicked back to yours.

His obvious regard made you feel warm. You shifted on your feet, shuffling.

“I was just—doing laundry,” you said for something to say, your mouth feeling kind of dry. Something about him always made you feel sort of shy and light-headed, even after all this time together. “And I made soup. I was thinking we could eat on the couch and watch one of those horrendous old All Might films?”

Shouto’s eyes darted to the stove, then beside you to the pile of your laundry, lingering for a long minute. His long lashes dipped, almost fluttering as his gaze traced over the tangle of your things together. His eyes flicked back to you. He was still for just a moment, watching you assessingly.

And then all of a sudden the world spun in front of your eyes. The hands at your waist lifted you clean off your feet, and you let out a startled “oof!” as you found yourself laid out in the pile of laundry on the table, sheets and sweaters bunching beneath you.

Shouto moved over you, stepping between your spread thighs, right at the edge of the table.

“You have no idea,” he intoned in a deep, delicious tone that went right down your spine, “what it is to come home to you like this.”

You wondered at that, feeling a strange combination of confusion and flattery, when Shouto’s mouth descended onto yours. His mouth was soft and sweet and insistent and absolutely perfect. The table groaned as he laid some of his weight out over you, pinning you into the laundry as he kissed you.

Your fingers clutched at him immediately, curling in his silky-soft hair, cupping his face to yours. One of Shouto’s own hands shifted to your thigh, holding you against him as he pressed himself harder into you.

You heard yourself making little gasps of appreciation as Shouto’s mouth moved down to your neck, laving hot kisses down your throat. You reveled in the feeling of him over you, broad and strong, his shoulders blocking the glow of the overhead light, casting shadows over you.

He’d been a lot like this lately, ever since you’d moved in together. He’d been adequately amorous before, of course, and blessed with a pro hero’s strength and unflagging stamina. But a few weeks after you’d moved in together you’d actually decided you needed to reactivate your gym membership given the amount of incredibly athletic sex you were suddenly having over almost every surface in the house.

One of the only spots yet to be touched was the table though, which Shouto seemed determined to rectify at this very moment.

He pulled back from you, his mouth flush from your kisses, looking a little entranced as he stepped out from between your thighs. You made a little noise at the loss of weight and heat over you, but Shouto caught the fabric of your sweatpants, gently but determinedly tugging them off of you. Your underwear was tossed right over one broad shoulder as Shouto went to his knees, and then his mouth was right back on you.

A wave of wild heat licked up your stomach at the noise of appreciation he made before sealing his mouth over you, strong fingers clutching your thighs to keep them apart.

“Oh my god!” you said, pleasure zinging right up your spine with the first lave of his tongue over you. “Shouto!”

Shouto let out a deep, pleased hum, two long fingers sinking into you embarrassingly easily as he worked your clit with his mouth. Your back arched and you could feel your clothing shift with you, Shouto’s shirt balling up under your shoulder blade, still half-draped over your shoulder.

“Oh, oh!” you heard yourself saying as your fingers twisted in the clothing, shuddering with every lick and suck of Shouto’s perfect, amazing, talented mouth.

He worked you with the expertise of long, dedicated practice—everything about him calculated to drive you insane. One moment he was excruciatingly soft, mouth slack and the touch of his tongue as fleeting and light as the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Then the next he was sucking relentlessly, teasing firmly with the tip of his tongue as his fingers played with you.

Your first climax hit you mortifyingly quickly, and Shouto seemed to know it before you did. His grip tightened on you, holding you down as you bucked against his mouth. Shouto looked more than a little smug as he got to his feet again, unbelting himself and laying back out over you.

He kissed you some more, the taste of yourself always a sort of shock to your system. But Shouto never seemed to mind, and if anything only seemed hungrier for you, mouth pulling at yours like he meant to devour you.

You felt the touch of his hand between your thighs as he lined himself up, then sank into you easily, groaning appreciatively like he’d just sunk into a hot bath. He bit carefully at your neck, one large hand pressing your stomach down to keep you pinned against the edge of the table where he wanted you.

“I always want to come home to you like this,” he intoned into the skin of your neck, his mouth sucking dizzying patterns into your skin. “Always.”

You could barely think past the slide of him inside you, thick and full and blissfully exquisite. He really was the most perfect man on earth, and he always felt like it too.

You barely managed to blink your eyes open to watch him, trying to catch his meaning in his face. Shouto watched you back, those blue and grey pinned on you like he couldn’t bear to look away from you as he moved inside you.

“You—” you panted out, trying to cling to the thoughts threatening to wiggle out of your grip. “What do you—? Of course you’ll always come home to me.”

Shouto bucked into you harder, the slap of his hip against the bottom of your thigh echoing loudly over the burble of soup on the stove. His eyelashes fluttered, mouth softening, and a realization struck you almost dizzy.

Oh, he really liked that.

You suppressed a wave of giddiness, charmed and helplessly pleased that he seemed to like the idea so much. Was that why he’d been so especially ardent this past month? Was it really because you’d moved in together?

Shouto’s arm hooked under one of your legs, drawing it up firmly over his shoulder so he could press even further inside of you. He looked so good like that that you nearly lost the thread of your thoughts, especially when his next thrust felt like that. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head.

“Ah!” escaped you. “Fuck, Shouto. Like that, please!”

Shouto’s thumb pressed down on your still-sensitive clit and he had to dig the fingers of his other hand into the flesh of your leg to keep you from bucking him right out of you with the way you squirmed. Sweet fucking gods he was unreal.

Shouto fucked you harder, the sound of your skin slapping together obscene in the quiet of the kitchen.

You tried again, struggling to watch his reaction with the way you wanted to throw your head back and babble nonsense instead.

“You’ll always come home to me,” you repeated, gratified when Shouto’s grip on you tightened, a soft sound escaping him. “You want me right here for you?”

“Ah—yes, love,” Shouto panted, staring down at you again. He looked like he knew what you were doing but didn’t care. “Yes,” he hissed.

“Just like this?” you prompted, trying not to slur the edges of your speech when he gave another particularly mind-bending thrust of his hips. His chest rose and fell heavily and he looked a little wild-eyed, gazing down at you.

“Like this, for me,” he said. “In my home, in our home—”

You could hear the table squeal and groan with the force of his next thrust, and then you had to grip the sides of it to steady yourself as he fucked you, looking blissful. Your nails scrabbled at the edges of the table, caught in between a million sensations—the glorious fullness of Shouto inside you, the gentle grind of his thumb against your clit, the way he looked all flushed and beautiful and panting and wanting—

You squeezed your eyes shut, too overcome with the sight of him to look at him anymore, but it was no use. Your entire body trembled as you came, and Shouto let out a low swear at the way you clenched up around him, hunching over you and pressing himself so impossibly hard against you as he came too.

He slumped down against you, weighing you into the soft-smelling cotton of the laundry you were now definitely going to have to rewash. You could feel his chest rise and fall as he panted, his breath tickling the skin under your ear. He left an unbearably soft, sweet kiss just under the lobe, at odds with the near-wild way he’d just been fucking you.

You warmed, petting through his hair with a helpless affection.

“Well now I know what time I should always do our laundry,” you said.

Shouto huffed into your neck, but you could feel a tiny smile curve his mouth.

“It is not just that,” he said, but did not elaborate for some minutes until you elbowed him gently. He peeled himself off of you just enough to look down into your face. “It is the thought of our life together. Our clothes piled together. You in the home we chose and we made…” he said, trailing off.

But you thought you got the sentiment. It was about how easy it was, how uncomplicated. A safe place to come home to, no expectations, just soup and a pile of sweet-smelling laundry and someone happy to see you. It was something far away from what he'd grown up thinking a home was, possibly something he’d thought he’d never have—something you were determined to make him realize now that he always would.

You let your fingers pull through his hair again, smiling up at him. “I am going to have to do our laundry again, though,” you teased. “In case that interests you.”

And despite what he’d just said, Shouto did in fact look a little too interested. You watched his mismatched gaze trail over to the closet that opened onto the washer and dryer. A contemplative look snuck across his handsome face, carefully curling the corner of that plush mouth.

“There is another place we have not yet broken in,” he said slowly, voice dipping low. He looked down at you with an earnest expression completely in contrast to what he was suggesting.

You couldn’t help but laugh, and that was all the permission he needed to pull you up, gathering you up in his arms and layering a fat handful of laundry on top of you. His belt buckle rattled loosely beneath you where he'd barely done it up in his haste, and you laughed harder when he turned off the stove as you passed it.

Though it turned out to be a needed precaution—as neither of you found yourselves free to sit down to dinner for several hours yet.

#todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto x reader #shoto x you #todoroki x you #todoroki x y/n #shouto x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader

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theastrohub · 6 months ago

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what city you should live in based on your moon sign ⏾

astrology can help you make an informed decision for something as significant as where one will live. and especially if you are a more hedonistic person like myself, choosing a place to live with a focus on personal satisfaction is a guaranteed upgrade in quality of life. it also helps you narrow down what your true emotional needs are and live a life more in alignment with your truest self.

choosing what city to live in based on your moon sign helps an individual with emotional fulfillment, being able to create a sense of belonging, stress reduction, enhanced creativity and productivity, better romantic and platonic relationships, and so much more.

here are my thoughts on your ideal city based on your moon sign:

一

⏾ virgo moon 一

kobe, japan + washington, D.C. (USA) + zurich, switzerland

you likely prefer a clean, walkable city that is health-conscious. ideal cities have paved roads, a lack of industrial machines or well-regulated factories, and a structured, straightforward urban planning model. a city safe enough to raise babies and young children is your benchmark. you value a city that emphasizes logical aspects of life. air pollution and trash management are crucial, so you'd thrive in cities with high air quality indexes, like those mentioned above.

一

⏾ libra moon 一

florence, italy + brooklyn, new york + capetown, south africa + amsterdam, netherlands + paris, france

as one of my favorite moon signs, you truly appreciate beauty, harmony, and aesthetics in where and how you live. you love cultured cities with plenty of artistic experiences. perhaps you're an artist yourself, seeking communities where you can express that creativity. a city that offers a balance of cityscape, mountainscape, and access to bodies of water appeals to your sense of harmony. you’re drawn to colorful, multicultural environments where you can accumulate luxury goods.

一

⏾ scorpio moon 一

new orleans, louisiana + mumbai, india + providence, rhode island

this one is tricky because scorpio Moons are known for being extremely intense and private, which doesn't always translate to a livable city (think Bermuda Triangle). however, you likely value transformative experiences and a form of social power. you want to be in a city that matches your intensity—a place that might be politically involved, spiritually inclined, or even part of some controversy. communities where you can explore taboo subjects or rise within social hierarchies are ideal for you.

一

⏾ sagittarius moon 一

toronto, canada + prage, czech republic + krabi, thailand + dubai, UAE

as one of the more hedonistic moon signs, you crave freedom—to be, to do, to have, etc. you prefer cities with a lot of versatility for living, offering options like big homes, sprawling lofts, small cozy one-bedrooms, and everything in between. cultured and religious cities appeal to your belief system, which is crucial to you. You need a place where you can live your philosophies freely and have fun. a city with many opportunities for adventure and easy access to other exciting places is essential. think road trips, bungee jumping, scuba diving.

一

⏾ capricorn moon 一

london, england + manhattan, new york + melbourne, australia

one word: old-fashioned. capricorns are often seen as traditional, and there's a reason for that. as a capricorn moon, you value cities that operate like institutions—places that have stood the test of time without much change to their foundation. ambition and hard work are of utmost importance, so cities with a professional or hustle culture appeal to you. you are drawn to cities in countries with a strong identity or culture that gratify your sense of tradition. cities where you can network, accumulate wealth, and indulge in luxuries are your ideal.

一

⏾ aquarius moon 一

san francisco, california + rome, italy + new orleans, louisiana + portland, oregon

with pluto in aquarius, I anticipate more moves for aquarius moons, which is great because this is the most community-centered sign in my opinion. aquarius moons value living in cities where they can positively contribute, socialize, and build relationships based on shared interests. you are drawn to innovative, creative cities that are always ahead of trends. you also appreciate cities that are civically mindful and contribute to humanitarian efforts on both local and grand scales.

一

⏾ pisces moon 一

bali, indonesia + bora bora, french polynesia + rome, italy + paris, france

pisces moons are one of the moon signs that truly need to feel "drawn" to a place before visiting or residing there. emotional fulfillment, romance, and creativity are non-negotiable for pisces moons. because of this, beautiful, artistic cities with many opportunities to be near bodies of water are ideal. beach cities and honeymoon destinations are perfect for pisces Moons' empathic and sensitive nature. A city with a calm undercurrent is essential to satisfy your need for rest and peace.

一

⏾ aries moon 一

rome, italy + los angeles, california + tokyo, japan + cairo, egypt + mumbai, india

similar to capricorn moon, its cardinal sibling, aries moons need the opportunity to keep on the go wherever they live. For this reason, you're best suited to "cities that never sleep"—places where you can stay active, compete in major global industries, and reach newer heights. you're drawn to cities with fiery traditions and those that excel in national rankings. you also appreciate cities that are vocal about their value systems and embrace trends.

一

⏾ taurus moon 一

honolulu, hawaii + havana, cuba + las vegas, nevada + ibiza, spain + tokyo, japan

much like libra moons, venus-ruled moons love venus-ruled cities. taurus moons enjoy cities that are comfortable in every sense—materially, socially, politically, and aesthetically. you appreciate cities that are openly hedonistic—notorious vacation spots are actually great places for you to establish yourself. cities with strong tourism markets are good for your desire for material success as they are epicenters of culture and attract people from all walks of life.

一

⏾ gemini moon 一

chicago, illinois + boston, massachusetts + cairo, egypt + lisbon, portugal

as a gemini moon, cities that are versatile, education-centered, and logical are appealing to you. you thrive in places where "everyone knows everyone" and socializing is a priority. cities known for their educational institutions and vibrant social life satisfy your need for variety and communication. cities with a strong tourist presence are also appealing, as you enjoy the ability to feel like a tourist in your own city at any time.

一

⏾ cancer moon 一

sydney, australia + niagara falls , new york + instanbul, turkey + berne, switzerland + mogadishu, somalia

cancer moons love domestic cities that are more feminine in nature. Like their sister sign capricorn, they strongly value traditions, both cultural and social, but in a softer manner. they prefer cities with a strong influence by women and things traditionally associated with women, like fashion, beauty, and the arts. cities with beaches and a strong luminary presence are essential, as they are the water-bearers of the zodiac. cities with a balance between domesticity and capitalism appeal to their need for material security and a good home. a city with a strong real estate market and that is ideal for newlyweds and families is also preferred.

一

⏾ leo moon 一

los angeles, california + miami, florida + mexico city, mexico + marrakesh, morocco + ibiza, spain

much like aquarius moons, the need to be around people is prominent with leo moons. leo moons value being in cities that honor appearance and aesthetics. being seen, being talked about, romance, and play are priority for a leo moon when moving. a city where they can explore artistic pursuits and new cultures. cities that promote health and wellness and image. cities with social hierarchies and strong social networks. cities that are "popular" with the whole world. also cities that are known for night-life and social life. cities where you can regularly rub elbows with important people and indulge in the grandiosities of life.

⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎⁎

the moon in astrology is a gateway to a deeper understanding of one's desires, needs, and motivations which can help in making better-informed decisions on where to move or establish a life. I highly suggest you take this into consideration on your next trip or relocation.

thank you for reading 💋

@astrobaeza

for more: [ paidservices ₊ masterlist ₊ tips ]

#astrobae #astro community #astrology tumblr #astrology #astro notes #astro observations #astrobaeza #astrology community #astrology notes #astrology observations #moon signs #fire moon #air moon #earth moon #water moon

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mspopstar · 5 months ago

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Hey Meta Knight! Always wanted to know this: Do you get your cape dry-cleaned or is it machine-washable?

"Oh! Oh! Since Sir Meta Knight is busy, I have been asked to answer in his stead. I take care of it! Washing Captain Meta Knight's cape is a great honor so I'd be happy to share.

Captain Meta Knight has several different capes, he has a cape made out of wool for the colder months and he has a cape made for special events that's pure silk. He does have a cape that's for every day wear that's a canvas cotton. Other than the wool one, all of his capes have a gold trim and a collar that's attached through a clasp. The capes are worn above his dimensional cape!

I hand wash his silk and and wool cape! Those are tedious to take care of, but I don't mind it. For the silk and wool capes, I use a gentle no rinse detergent, soak them for a few minutes, swish them around in the basin. For the silk I hang it to dry and for the wool I lay flat on an ironing board to dry as well. Captain Meta Knight's every day cape is made with a cotton and canvas blend so I can toss it in the washing machine and dryer so long as it's cold water. As for the capes inner lining, otherwise known as his dimensional cape by others... It was a trial and error to figure out how to take care of that! I spray it with an industrial strength cleaner to sanitize and go as far to toss in some aromatics to help with the off-putting bloody and metallic smell the cleaner doesn't rid of. Lavender and rosemary works best! Of course, now I can go the extra mile and wear a harness so I can deep dive and clear out old things Sir Meta Knight doesn't need like candy wrappers or litter he picks up on his patrols and forgets to trash. All I have to do is make sure that my harness is locked, I don't stare directly into the cape and I don't speak something called "ancient" around it. The harness is the most important part!

Ahahah, wouldn't want that to happen again! There's no air in there."

-Sailor Waddle Dee of the Battleship Halberd

#mspopstar #kirby askblog #meta knight #sailor waddle dee

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erika-xero · 8 months ago

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Thoughts on ai and Art

What has Ai really changed for me is the perception of my own art. Years back, I was extremely concerned of my work being imperfect: everything had to look "right", the anatomy had to be flawless, the lines - clean and refined. The pipe-line had to be flawless too: minimal amount of layers, one - for lines, one - for colors, and a few for lighting/shading.

Meanwhile I was yearning for chaos and the standard pipe-line felt too strict, too limiting. I finished the drawing and cried over the imperfections, but I could not let myself create a new layer and just paint it all over as I wanted to - that would "mess up my perfect psd". This was even harder because I started as a traditional artist and traditional art is basically the same as drawing on one layer or stacking the layers on top of each other whenever you wish to change anything. I was so obsessed with the anatomy/perspective looking right that my works started looking boring and stiff. If I was not sure that I would be able to draw a certain body part at a certain angle ANATOMICALLY PERFECT - I just refused to draw it at all. Drawing back then was HARD. I forced too much limitations upon myself, I was so scared of making any mistakes and thus did everything I could to avoid the risk to fail. It felts like an entire world would see me failing and everyone - literally everyone - will disapprove. And don't get me wrong - the art community in my country has always been astonishingly toxic. We had, like, a group of 20 THOUSANDS individuals hunting down children online and bullying them into oblivion for drawing anime and furry characters in their school textbooks. And pretty much everyone except a small group of people (which I was a part of) thought that it's absolutely fine and this is how the things should be. Even the industry professionals were absolutely sure that young artists have to suffer and be ashamed of everything they do unless it is absolutely flawless at an any aspect. I was ashamed of everything I did back then. I was ashamed of drawing and posting sketches because I felt like they are not good enough to be shown to anyone. And then the Ai-boom started. And I had mixed feelings because I was not THAT scared, but I was somewhat disappointed of people? General public praised the generated slop ignoring the mistakes far worse than what real artists got bullied for for DECADES. The synthetic artworks are shiny. They are overrendered. They are liveless, boring, they lack fundamentals and yet somehow people viewed them as some kind of a miracle. I decided to learn how does those little machines generated their slop out of morbid curiosity, just to make sure that I got it right and it is spitting out cadavers created from mutilated, dismembered works of real artists. Used by people who did not care enough to pick up a bloody pencils. And I thought: why would I care enough to look at something that no one bothered to create? And then I started seeing everything I do completely different. I suddenly stopped caring of being perfect. Every piece I have ever done, every work I was crying over for it being ugly, every messy sketch and unfinished doodle suddenly started to matter a lot. Not that I stopped caring of doing my best, no. I stopped wishing to disown my own mistakes. They are my own. I cared enough to try and fail and to try again, and fail so badly that I wanted to cry, scream and throw up. And I repeated the cycle for long enough that I started to enjoy my silly doodles and started loving every tiny imperfection because this is what made my art so human. I still suck at drawing hands and feet. My line-art is messy and I started doing it right on top of my colored sketch. My pipe-line is in chaos and my PSDs look like a total mess of three hundreds of layers. I draw sketches with huge-ass round brush only adding the details that really matters. My works are better than they could ever be because they feel alive and chaotic as we human had always been. This is a love letter to my art and write it while flipping off my middle finger to the cadavers generated by the machine. I will not be stopped by glorified autocomplete and I refuse to be outdone by people who confuse googling an image with the act of creation.

My worst drawing is better than any of the generative imagery out there, because I cared drawing it.

#ai art is not art #anti ai #love letter to myself #i love art #artist on tumblr

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mostlysignssomeportents · 18 days ago

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Petard (Part II)

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/31/the-blood-speech/#dudeface-from-chiapas

Biden's FCC unanimously passed a rules banning landlords from accepting kickbacks to force all their tenants to use one ISP as a rental condition. Last week, Trump's FCC boss Brendan Carr (who voted for the rule just last year) killed it, saying that he was sticking up for tenants, who would somehow save money from this sleazy arrangement:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2025/01/fcc-chair-nixes-plan-to-boost-broadband-competition-in-apartment-buildings/

In some ways, this is to be expected. The Trump agenda is about trussing and plating working people so rich sociopaths can conveniently devour them whole. On the other hand, this move lays bare the long-run historical phenomena that led to this moment. Case in point: back in 2013, I wrote a sf story about this very subject, Petard, which was published in MIT Tech Review's 2014 anthology Twelve Tomorrows, edited by Bruce Sterling:

https://mitpress.mit.edu/9780262535595/twelve-tomorrows-2014/

I love that story, and upon re-reading it, I realized that it was extremely timely. So timely, in fact, that I decided to serialize it over four days on my newsletter. If you're feeling impatient, you can tune into a four-part podcast version from 2014 and 2018:

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_278

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_292

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_293

https://archive.org/details/Cory_Doctorow_Podcast_294_-_Petard_04

Here's part one of the story:

https://pluralistic.net/2025/01/30/landlord-telco-industrial-complex/#part-one

And now, onto part two!

My advisor is named Andronicus Andronicus Niyazov, and her parents had a sense of humor, clearly. She founded the Networks That Change lab three years ago after she fled Kazakhstan one step ahead of Gulnara's death-squad, but they say that she still provides material aid to the army of babushkas that underwent forced sterilization under old man Karimov's brutal regime. Her husband, Arzu, lost an eye in Gezi. They're kind of a twitter uprising power-couple.

I'm the only undergrad in the lab, and the grad students were slathering at the thought of having a bottle-washing dogsbody in residence. Someone to clean out the spam filters, lexically normalize the grant proposals, deworm the Internet of Things, get the limescale out of the espresso machine, and defragment the lab's prodigious store of detritus, kipple and moop.

Two days after telling them all where they could stick it, I got a meeting in AA's cube.

"Sit down, Lukasz," she said. My birth certificate read "Lucas," but I relished the extra consonants. I perched on a tensegrity chair that had been someone grad student's laser-cutter thesis project. It creaked like a haunted attic and its white acrylic struts were grubby as a snowbank a day after the salting trucks. AA's chair was patched with steeltape, huge black cocoony gobs of it. And it still creaked.

I waited patiently. My drop was in my overalls' marsupial pouch, and I stuffed my hands in there, curling my fingers around it and kneading it. It comforted me. AA closed the door.

"Do you know why my lab doesn't have any undergrads?" she asked.

I gave it another moment to test for rhetoricalness, timed out, then gave it a shot. "You don't want to screw around with getting someone up to speed. You want to get the wo rk done."

"Don't be stupid. Grad students need as much hand-holding as undergrads. No, it's because undergrads are full of the dramas. And the dramas are not good for getting the work done."

"Andronicus," I said, "I'm not the one you should be talking to –" I felt a flush creeping up my neck — "they –"

She fixed me with a look that froze my tongue and dried the spit in my mouth. "I spent four years in Dolinka prison in Kazakhstan. Three of my cellmates committed suicide. One of them bled out on me from the top bunk while I slept. I woke covered in her blood.." She looked at her screen, snagged her attention on it, ignored me for a minute while she typed furiously. Turned back. "What did your labmates do, Lukasz, that you would like to talk to me about?"

"Nothing," I mumbled. I hated being dismissed like this. Of course she could trump anything I was inclined to complain about. But it was so… invalidating.

"Never forget that there is blood in the world's veins, Lukasz. You've done something clever with your years on this planet. You're here to see if you can figure out how to do something important, now. We want to systematize the struggle here, figure out how to automate it, but eventually there will always be blood. You need to learn to be dispassionate about the interpersonal conflicts, to save your anger for the people who deserve it, and to channel that anger into a theory of action that leads to change. Otherwise, you will be an undergraduate who worries about being picked on."

"I know –" I said. "I know. Sorry."

She held out a hand to stop me fleeing. "Lukasz, there is change to be had out there. It waits for us to discover its fulcrums. That's the research project here. But the reason for the research is the change. It's to be the bag of blood in the streets or the board-room or the prison. That's what you're learning to do here."

I didn't say anything. She turned back to her screen. Her fingers beat the keyboard. I left.

I pretended not to notice three of AA's grad students hastily switching off their infrared laser-pointers as I opened her glass door and walked back out to the lab. Everyone, including AA, knew that they'd been listening in, but the formal characteristics of our academic kabuki required us all to pretend that I'd just had a private conversation.

I pulled my laptop out of my bag and uncrumpled its bent corners. I'd only made it a week before and I didn't have time or energy to fold up another one. It was getting pretty battered in my bag, though, the waxed cardboard shell getting more worn and creased in less time than ever before. Not even my most extreme couch-surfing voyages had been this hard on my essential equipment. The worst part was that the keyboard surface had gotten really smashed — I think I'd closed up the box with a sharpie trapped inside it — so the camera that watched my fingers as they typed on the letters printed on the cardboard sheet was having a hard time getting the registration right. I'd mashed the spot where the backspace was drawn so many times that I'd worn the ink off and had to redraw it (more sharpie — a cardboard laptop owner's best friend).

Now the screen was starting to go, the little short-throw projector attached to the pinhead-sized computer taped inside the back of the box was misreading the geometry of the mirror it bounced the screen image off of, which keystoned and painted the image on the rice-paper scrim set into the laptop's top half. The image was only off by about 10 degrees, but it was enough to screw up the touchscreen registration and give me a mild headache after only a couple hours of staring at it. I'd noticed that a lot of the MIT kids carried big plastic and metal and glass laptops, which had seemed like some kind of weird retro affectation. But campus life was more of an off-road experience than I'd suspected.

But I'd never go glass-and-plastic. AA thought that the way to win a war was to shed your blood. I have a limited supply of blood. There's a lot more cardboard out there. Why fight with meat and blood when you can use free infrastructure and good code to organize a resistance. You'll never win a war of atoms against the Powers That Be. They'll always have more lethal atoms. When they're hitting you with a baton, your glass-and-plastic number will crumple just as surely as a cardboard laptop. The best way to beat a policeman's baton was to be somewhere else when he was swinging it.

I spent fifteen minutes unfolding the laser-cut cardboard and smoothing out the creases, re-sticking everything with fiber-tape from an office-supply table in the middle of the lab, and then running through the registration and diagnostics built into the OS until the computer was in a usable state again. The whole time, I was hotly conscious of the grad students' sneaky gaze on me, the weird clacking noise of their fingers on real mechanical keyboards — seriously, who used a keyboard that was made of pieces anymore? Was I really going to have to do that? — as their chatted about me.

Yes, about me. It's not (just) ego: I could tell. I can prove it. I was barely back up and running and answering all my social telephones when some dudeface from Chiapas sat down conspicuously next to me and said, "It's Lukasz, right?" He held out his hand.

I looked at it for a moment, just to make the point, then shook. "Yeah. You're Juanca, right?" Of course he was Juanca. He'd been burned in effigy by Zetas every year for four years, and his entire family, all the way to third cousins, were either stateside or in Guatemala or El Salvador, hiding out from narcoterrorists who were still pissed about Juanca's anonymizer, a mixmaster that was the number one go-to source of convictable evidence against Zeta members whose cases went to trial. If it wasn't for the fact that Juanca's network had also busted an assload of corrupt cops, prosecutors, judges, government ministers, regional governors and one Secretary of State, they'd have given him a ministerial posting and a medal. As it was, he was in exile. Famous. Loved. It helped that he was rakishly handsome — which I am not, for the record — and that he had a bounty on his head and had been unsuccessfully kidnapped on the T, getting away through some badass parkour that got captured in CCTV jittercam that made him look like he was moving in a series of short teleports.

"Yeah. You got the blood speech, huh?"

I nodded.

"It's a good one," he said. I didn't think so. I thought it was bullshit. I didn't say so.

We stared at each other. "Welp," he said. "Take it easy."

#pluralistic #aaronsw #science fiction #big cable #telecoms #isps #net neutrality #boston #mit #fcc #National Multifamily Housing Council #NMHC #National Apartment Association #NAA #Real Estate Technology and Transformation Center #petard

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probablyasocialecologist · 6 months ago

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Living machines are essentially intensive, indoor artificial wetlands. Technical names for living machines include "advanced ecologically engineered systems" and "fixed-film ecology wastewater treatment systems." What they entail is mimicking natural processes of biological decomposition in a constructed aquatic environment. Simply put: dirty water goes in, passes through a series of self-contained aquatic ecosystems, and clean water comes out. The water is, in fact, so clean that it can be safely discharged into sensitive aquatic environments, like natural wetlands. And it does all of this without any of the usual chemical treatments or high-energy inputs of conventional wastewater treatment. Living machines produce such safe effluent because they achieve what is known as "tertiary treatment," meaning they successfully abate pollutants. How does a biological system do this? Simple: it uses them as inputs. Let me explain. The most common such pollutants are nitrogen and phosphorous. These happen to be the two nutrients whose out-of-whack flows have pushed us past a key planetary boundary. The biggest reason for this is industrial agriculture: it relies on synthetic nitrogen and mined phosphorous to exceed the carrying capacity of the ecosystems in which it operates. One of the big problems with industrial agriculture is that a great deal of the nitrogen and phosphorous applied isn't actually utilized by the food being produced: most of it runs off into waterways. This leads to far-reaching, ecologically catastrophic events ("eutrophication"). By constructing a complete food chain within the living machine, each step creates the food for the next step. Excess nutrients, like nitrogen and phosphorous, feed microorganisms which are then consumed by larger creatures and so on up the food chain, until we are left with harmless components and a great deal of life. The living machine converts pollution into biodiversity and clean water, instead of run-off and eutrophication. It's a prime example of true "regeneration."

#ecology #pollution #solarpunk #wastewater #water

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ecocleanindia · 9 months ago

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#Ultrasonic Cleaning #Industry #Cleaning #Cleaning Services #Manufacturing #ultrasonic cleaning machine #technical cleanliness #degreasing machine #industrial parts cleaning machine #millipore test #solvent cleaning system #component cleaning machine #durr ecoclean #ultrasonic cleaning machine manufacturers in india #manufacturer #business

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balkanradfem · 1 month ago

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M*n who insist on grooming female children and teenagers are pathetic in such extreme way because you know it's about a power fantasy. You know they just want an inexperienced person they can control to the point of teaching them how to think and how to feel about themselves, something teenage girls are subceptible to. And the thing is, they already have so much power and advantages over women of every age!

Just think about it. He's already prioritized by his parents, likely given more resources and more inheritance than any female sibling; he's already being tolerated for more noise, violence and disruption trough his entire schooling and upbringing. On top of that, he's going to have an easier time finding a job, and finding a better paying job; companies have a bias of both hiring, promoting and paying males first. He's more likely to be given attention and support on every level; the government is promoting his interests, the laws are being made to give him control over women's bodies should they become pregnant, his health issues are being researched and the medicine developed for even something as inconsequent as a lack of erection. Cars and machines are built with his safety in mind, cities are built with his preferred methods of movement in mind, marriages are organized so that he would feel confident asking a woman to be his free servant and housekeeper, his point of view is always prioritized in court, his hobbies, interests, indulgences and fun are being funded and developed to the point they become huge industries, at the cost of women and children. He's more likely to have free time to spend with his friends, more lenience to act irresponsibly and disruptively, more compassion when he does anything wrong, more likely to be chosen as the voice of reason when he talks over any woman, regardless of how emotional and derisive he is.

Meanwhile, for every woman in the world, she had to deal with being an afterthought in the matters of inheritence, attention, freedom and bodily autonomy, she was shut down for mere talking, more likely to be interrupted and talked over until she loses faith in the importance and value of her words. She will have a harder time both getting a job, and almost no chance of progressing as fast in getting a higher salary. She will be pressured relentlessly both by her family and peers to attach herself to a male, mind his house, give him children, do his share of the housework, cook and clean for him, to the point when he demands it, her defense will feel weak and feeble, because she knows it's her word against the society. Her health issues are more likely to be deemed frivolous and imaginary even when she is in serious pain or actively dying; the interests of the government are to control her rather than to keep her healthy and well. If she gets pregnant, she will have to struggle with getting hatred and harassment if she manages to get an abortion, and if she doesn't, burdened with pregnancy and childbirth at the cost of her own well being. He won't even get bothered by this. Her interests, hobbies and indulgences will be seen as silly and incosequential, widely mocked by the male part of the population.

Meanwhile the industry that exploits her body will try to recruit her, even bring her to utmost desperation so she'd give in, and if she's underprivileged, poor, orphaned, troubled, addicted, mentally ill or inside of an oppressive system, she'll be more likely to get trafficked and sold. He won't be bothered by this. She will be watching her own kind be called slurs, their bodies be emaciated and pinned up for entertainment, she'll know her own kind is sexually violated on screens endlessly, for amusement, as a game, as a power play, and she'll have to pretend this is fine and normal, she'll be pressured to say she likes that and sees nothing wrong with it, lest she offend the male half of the population with her discomfort of it. She's unlikely to have as much free time, having had to do chores all her life and often having picked up slack for her male family members, friends, collegues, bosses. Her most calm and reasonable voice will be mocked if she speaks up, she will have trouble finding any place she is seen and valued. Her emotions will be discarded as either manipulation or hysteria. She will be gaslit to the point where she will only be able to see herself from a male perspective; disposable, too self indulgent regardless of what she does, too selfish, too emotional, too sensitive, too opinionated, too self important, too stupid to realize her true place.

All that. They already have all those privileges and power over every woman. And still. It's not enough. They also need the woman to be underage or as young and inexperienced as possible so they could get inside of her mind and tell her exactly how they want her to think and act. They have all this power to abuse her and they still want her to be more defenseless, more vulnerable, more dependant and more subceptible to becoming whatever they want. Shameful, pathetic and disgusting. They should be too ashamed to even look at a woman.

#misogyny #power imbalance #male predators #systematic abuse of women #feminism #radical feminism

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deathworlders-of-e24 · 5 months ago

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Thomas, Engineer

Part 1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Watching Tranquility Base drift away as the Noah launched on its maiden voyage from Earth’s moon left Thomas Hibbs with an odd feeling of deja vu. He’d worked on dozens of ships, but always in the engineering decks where the only windows were peering into the mechanical arrays. Peering out into the void of space was…actually pretty damn cool in Thomas’s opinion.

I wonder if this thing has a VR Grid, he thought.

In the 50 years since humanity had joined the GAIL, it hadn’t been all space hoppers and life saving medical breakthroughs, the entertainment industry had made huge jumps in realism and simulated realities. One species in particular, the machine people known as the Padrino, had such a realistic virtual reality environment code that practically every other species in the assembly paid top dollar for a copy of it. Thought most used it for information storage and practical exploits, Humans were the first to turn it into a hyper advanced game simulation. The Padrino weren’t exactly pleased to learn the code they used to store their memories and experiences was being used to fight monsters with supernatural powers at weekend game tournaments on Earth, but they didn’t complain that much. Thomas had the idea to upload a compatible version of an old game called PAC-MAN where you’re your own avatar running the mazes into the ships computers. He couldn’t wait to get that high score again.

The engineering deck was right below the science labs, and Thomas saw one of the 3 other humans on board with him. He thought her name was Liz or something, but didn’t stop to say hi. She looked preoccupied with something, and talking to people was hard. Machines were good listeners. Thomas could talk for hours to machines while he worked, even if they weren’t the kind that could talk back, thought this ship did have those. Maybe here he could meet some people who get him.

The engineering deck was all catwalks and overhead piping, service lights and ventilation ducts. Computer terminals threw blue light against the opposite wall as Thomas made his way to the Engineer ‘locker’ room. Thomas figured that’s what it was, given the cubbies for the crew’s personal items and racks and shelves of tools and equipment for the ‘fixers’ to use.

There were about two dozen people moving around the room, none of them human, several of which were non biological as well. 2 Padrino were there, speaking their machine language while they sorted tools across a long workbench against the far wall. There were several other species as well that Thomas didn’t recognize, lots of different shapes and sizes. He felt a little insecure, being just the basic human he was.

Thomas found his name on the cubby wall and stuff his own tool bag in there, as well as a change of clothes and safety gear. Then he very carefully hid a hand held game pad under his spare jumpsuit, for emergencies. He’d been stuck in an air duct once before for hours twiddling his thumbs. Never again.

Just as he finished stuffing away his gear, something small bumped against his boot. He looked down, and saw a small robot waiting patiently for him to lift his foot. Apparently he’d been trailing confetti from the launch ceremony around the ship the whole time because these droids weren’t supposed to be down here in engineering. It had probably been following him since he’d walked in. The little guy had a cylinder torso, no real neck but his head looked like it turned in circles with two tiny exhaust pipes sticking out the top. Two ‘eyes’, or sensors with aesthetics, were all that made up the face. His little feet reminded Thomas of a chicken’s, and he had two little arms with tiny hands on each.

“Oh my god you’re so cute I love you,” Thomas half squealed as he picked the little robot up like a baby. “Have you been following me this whole time? Doing such a good job, keeping the ship clean. Did you get lost? Do you need help?”

The little machine just looked at him and wiggled its legs, probably the gyroscope trying to compensate for the sudden shift in balance.

One of the other engineers laughed.

“It’s just a service drone, it can’t actually understand you. It probably just followed your trail of waste and its sensors can’t get it back to the upper decks anymore.”

Thomas looked up from the tiny robot to see a fair number of his co workers looking at him, some trying to hide smiles, some not bothering being so polite. He felt his face begin to burn as a blush came to his cheeks and surged down his neck.

Oh my god I can’t believe I did that but it’s so freaking cute how can I not how can they not love it maybe there’s more on the ship this cute, his brain might implode at the rate it was going. The service drone continued to wiggle in his grip. To Thomas it was almost the size of a toy, maybe a solid 4 inches tall. It stopped squirming and looked up at his face, its tiny head whirring and clicking as gears shifted inside its chassis. It reached out one of its tiny hands and poked his thumb.

“Beep.”

Thomas’s mouth dropped. How could a machine with no higher functioning AI be this adorable?

“I’m gonna call you Roomba.”

“That’s just its service alarm. It’s processing an inability to perform its tasks so it thinks it’s stuck somewhere, ergo it’s alerting other drones to come assist it. It probably thinks you’re rectifying the obstacle.”

There were some snickers, a few openly laughed, but Thomas couldn’t care about them right now. The little droid was so adorable in Thomas’s eyes it was like looking at puppies.

He did, however, notice the 2 Padrino staring at him, motionless. For a moment he worried he’d maybe offended them by gushing over the little toy like robot. One of them approached. The Padrino had a clearly mechanical body with chrome plating encasing its joints and limbs. Its torso was thin but solid, whirring quietly as it walked over. Its head had a single antenna with a tinted face plate, which Thomas figured just was it’s ‘face’.

“It has been observed that Humans form an emotional bond to many different species and objects. Is this what is occurring, Human Thomas?”

Gauging the inflections of their voice was difficult, they didn’t have any kind of body language and the voice itself was entirely synthesized, adding layers of difficulty. Thomas thought for a moment, then just shrugged.

“I didn’t mean to cause a scene in here, I just got excited. It’s small and kinda cute so I just lost control for a moment.”

“Apologizing is unnecessary. We’d simply like to understand how Humans function to better improve the efficiency of this division.”

“Beep.”

The service drone wiggled in his hand again.

“It appears the small droid is out of range of its directive. It is asking for assistance with a new objective to replace its task queue.”

“Wait, you can understand it?”

“Yes, the alert sound is not a language. It’s sending out a very short range signal burst with information embedded in it, which I can receive with internal sensors. It’s AI is crude and simple, but it does have the basic functionality to form an artificial language. You’ve replaced its designation D7 with the name Roomba.”

Thomas looked from the Padrino to the little droid and back again.

“Does it like the name?”

“Beep.”

“It says it is a sufficient new designation and is awaiting a new task queue.”

“Oh good, I’m not good at naming stuff so I was worried-”

“Since the ship has launched, the service drones have gone inactive due to safety features. Since this one, new designation Roomba, was here on the engineering deck, it was outside the proximity of the ship’s AI core transmissions. It has exhausted its task queue and requests a new one.”

“Beep.”

“It is repeating the request.”

“Yeah, yes, got that, thank you. Okay, and I can just give it something to do?”

“That is correct.”

“Beep.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Roomba, can you hand me another bolt please?”

“Beep.”

[Primary task in the queue has not been completed: obtain high score]

“I know buddy, but you can pause it with that little button on the side there. I need that bolt real quick.”

Roomba looked where Thomas was pointing on the game pad. The pad itself was bigger than the drone, by a good half inch, so it was like Roomba was standing on a flat screen built into the floor, or playing one of those retro dance machine games from way back.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged]

The Padrino had been kind enough to give Thomas’s ear piece translator an quick upgrade, so now he was able to receive Roomba’s signal burst data and understand what he was ‘saying’. They’d even given Roomba’s AI a little tune up so he could understand more complex tasks and ideas. Roomba had disconnected from the ship’s core code when he’d gone to the engineering deck so Thomas figured it’d be fine, the little guy could hang out with him now.

It took Roomba’s whole hand to get the game pad to register the pressed button and pause PAC-MAN, which was cute. And what was even cuter was the bolt Thomas needed was half the little robots size so it struggled just a little to bring it over the few feet to him.

“Good job buddy, thank you,” Thomas said, grinning.

“Beep.”

[Acknowledged. Returning to primary task]

“You do that. Good luck Roomba.”

At the time, the only thing the Padrino had asked for in return for their help and upgrades was the chance to observe biological lifeforms and their tendencies to ‘bond’ with others. The Padrino were a sort of hive mind it seemed, each unit being just an interface with the main AI back on their home planet. When units were out of range of communication with the home office, the main AI base code was copied into the machines and split off to collect information. When they got home, they dumped the data into the main computers and integrated back into the main AI core.

Thomas thought they were the coolest people he’d ever met. He’d said ‘sure, observe all you want, I just wanna thank you guys for your help.’

The game pad trilled, a little tune to congratulate moving up a level.

“Beep.”

[Update: progress has been made. Continuing primary task: obtain high score]

“Good work Roomba. You keep at it buddy, you’ll get there.”

From down the hall the 2 Padrino watched the strange little robot ‘playing video games’ next to the human doing an actually productive task.

“More data must be collected. The human, a deathworlder, has bonded to the drone.”

“We will continue to observe.”

“Agreed.”

#deathworlders of e24 #humans are space oddities #humans are space orcs #humans are deathworlders #humans are space australians #humans are strange #humans are weird

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ha-rinrin · 4 months ago

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Dare to Disrupt

soo, where is a little peak of how the piltover x reader fic is going

i had to make it all over again cause I wast satisfied with the original idea, thats why is taking so long

masterlist

In Piltover, life runs like a well-crafted machine. The sun rises on time, the gears of industry turn, and the people march to the rhythm of progress. It’s a city built on order and precision—where every street, every invention, every person seems to have their place.

Including you.

You wake up to the soft chime of your alarm, a reminder of the day ahead. Your apartment is neat, compact, perched high in one of Piltover’s quieter districts. The shelves are lined with polished tools, inventions stacked neatly in the corners, waiting for their turn in the spotlight. Everything here has its place, just like in the city below.

Breakfast is the same as always—tea, a pastry from the bakery down the street. There’s something reassuring about the routine, the predictability of it all. You follow the same path every morning: workbench, breakfast, streets buzzing with life. You’ve built a steady career here in Piltover, rising through the ranks as an inventor. Your gadgets are useful, respected, admired by your peers.

And yet, even as you go through the motions, there’s this quiet voice in the back of your mind that never quite goes away—a small whisper that says you don’t completely belong.

Piltover is orderly. You’re not sure if you are.

Your work is precise, just like the city demands. Today, you’re refining the design of a tool for the enforcers—something sleek and efficient, like everything in Piltover. It’s good work, and you’ve always been proud of your ability to meet the city’s high standards. But sometimes, it feels like you’re just building things to fit into a world that’s already decided what it wants from you.

The hours pass quickly, your hands moving automatically as you adjust gears and wires, tightening bolts until everything snaps perfectly into place. There’s a strange comfort in it, the way everything fits together so seamlessly. But even as you work, a sense of detachment lingers. It’s like you’re on autopilot, going through the same steps you take every day, without really thinking.

Out the window, Piltover hums with its usual precision. The streets below are busy, but never chaotic. People move with purpose—engineers, merchants, enforcers, all playing their part in the city’s grand design. You watch them for a moment, feeling both a part of and apart from it all.

You’ve never really felt like you belong here. It’s not that you don’t fit in—on the surface, you do. You’re good at what you do, and you’ve earned respect in the circles that matter. But there’s always been something about Piltover’s endless order that makes you feel like you’re living in someone else’s world, following someone else’s rules.

Everything is so clean, so perfect, so planned. There’s no room for mistakes, no space for chaos or uncertainty. And while you can play the part, sometimes it feels like you’re just going through the motions—fitting into a mold that was made for someone else.

As the day wears on, you find yourself walking the same streets, greeting the same faces, moving through a life that feels too smooth, too scripted. You’ve spent years here, building a career, making a name for yourself. But it’s hard to ignore that small, nagging feeling that you’re not quite… yourself. Like you’re following the script Piltover handed you, but there’s something more just out of reach.

By the time you leave the workshop and head home, the sky has turned a soft orange, the city bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. You walk the same path you always do, passing the same shops, the same people. It’s all so familiar, yet it never quite feels right.

When you reach your apartment, you sit by the window, gazing out at the city. The towers of Piltover rise up, gleaming and pristine, a testament to progress and perfection. But your eyes drift past them, to the shadowy edge of Zaun, just visible in the distance. It’s a place you’ve only ever heard about—a world of smoke, steel, and chaos. A world that doesn’t follow the same rules.

You’ve never been to Zaun, never even thought about it seriously. But sometimes, in moments like this, you wonder what it would be like to live in a place where everything isn’t so perfectly ordered. Where things don’t have to fit neatly into a plan. Where people aren’t shaped by the city’s rigid expectations.

The thought fades as quickly as it came, replaced by the familiar weight of routine. You’ve built a life here in Piltover—a good one. You’ve worked hard to get where you are. But there’s a part of you that can’t help but wonder if you’re playing a role, rather than living a life that’s truly your own.

Another day, another invention, another step forward. Piltover’s clockwork continues to tick, and you’re just one more piece in its perfect mechanism.

But somewhere, deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that you were meant for something a little messier. Something a little less perfect.

You hear the explosion long before you see it.

It rips through the quiet of the evening, a deep, echoing boom that sends a shudder through the floor of your apartment. For a moment, everything is still, like the city itself is holding its breath. Then, the chaos begins. Alarms sound, people shout, and somewhere in the distance, you hear the heavy boots of enforcers rushing toward the disturbance.

You stand by the window, staring out at the skyline. From your vantage point, you can see the plume of smoke rising from one of Piltover’s lower districts. It’s not the first time something like this has happened—a malfunction, an accident, maybe even sabotage. But something about this one feels different. The blast was… bigger. Closer.

Suddenly, there’s a loud crash at your door, rattling the frame. You jump, heart racing. It’s not the typical noise of someone knocking. This is more like a kick. You instinctively move toward the door, hesitating for just a moment before throwing it open.

And there she is.

A wild figure bursts into your apartment, practically tumbling over the threshold. Her blue hair is a chaotic halo around her head, and her mismatched clothing is covered in soot and dirt. She’s grinning, a mixture of exhilaration and mischief in her eyes, but there’s something else there too—urgency.

"Let’s go, let’s go!" she shouts, grabbing your arm and pulling you inside. “I’m not sticking around to meet the welcoming committee!”

“Wait—who are you?” you manage to stammer, trying to catch up with the whirlwind that just entered your life.

“Name’s Jinx!” she exclaims, still tugging you further into your own apartment. “And I really hope you have a place to hide. Like, right now!”

You hear the thundering footsteps of enforcers echoing down the hallway, and it hits you—she must have come from the explosion you just witnessed. Your heart races as she pushes you further into your living room and slams the door behind her, locking it just as the sound of shouting grows louder outside.

“Are you insane?” you blurt out, struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “You can’t just barge in here!”

“Oh, but I can!” she replies, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “And I just did! Besides, what’s a little chaos between friends, right?”

You blink at her, caught off guard. Friends? You’re still grappling with the fact that a notorious troublemaker has just invaded your home, and she’s treating it like an everyday occurrence.

“What are you even running from?” you ask, trying to gather your thoughts as she flops down onto your couch, kicking her feet up onto your coffee table, clearly at ease.

“Enforcers! Boring, uptight, law-abiding enforcers!” she scoffs. “You’d think they’d have better things to do than chase me. I mean, can’t a girl blow up a building in peace?”

“Blow up a—” You can’t even finish your sentence, the chaos of the situation’s still overwhelming you. “That was you?!”

“Maybe,” she says, a smirk dancing across her lips. “But let’s not dwell on the details! You’re not going to turn me in, are you? I mean, what kind of monster would do that to a girl who just wants a little fun?”

Her tone is light, but there’s an underlying tension as she leans closer, her mismatched eyes searching yours. The thought flickers through your mind—what if you did? The enforcers would love a tip-off from a good little Pilty like you. You could snag a reward, maybe even some recognition for doing your civic duty.

“Why would I do that?” you blurt out, trying to sound indignant, but your heart races with the weight of the dilemma. Jinx’s eyes narrow slightly, a playful grin never leaving her face.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because it’s the right thing to do?” she replies with mock seriousness. “Or maybe you’re just itching for a pat on the back from the enforcers. You’re a smart cookie, right? They’d love to hear about the lunatic that just crashed into your life!”

She leans back on the couch, putting her hands behind her head, clearly reveling in your discomfort. “But hey, why do that when you could be the exciting one for a change? Live a little!”

You shake your head, feeling a mix of annoyance and intrigue. “I’m not a criminal, Jinx! I just—”

“Just what?” she cuts in, her voice teasing. “Want to sit around in your tidy little apartment and twiddle your thumbs? Come on! You have a chance to be a part of something thrilling. What’s the worst that could happen?”

You glance around your apartment, taking in the cluttered workbench and the half-finished projects. The thought of turning her in tempts you like a whisper in the dark. But there’s something about her reckless enthusiasm that draws you in, a spark of excitement in the mundane.

“What if I wanted to keep my hands clean?” you ask, your tone more challenging than defensive.

“Then you’ll just be another boring Pilty!” she counters, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Look, I get it. You’re scared. You don’t want to be tied up in my mess. But you’ve got a choice here! You can be the hero who turns me in, or you can be the legend who helps me stick it to the enforcers!”

You open your mouth to protest, but Jinx jumps to her feet, bouncing on her heels as if charged with energy. “And speaking of being legendary, let’s check out what you’ve got here!”

Without waiting for your response, she starts rummaging through your things, her wild energy radiating through the room. “Ooh! What’s this?” she exclaims, holding up a small device that looks like a cross between a gadget and a toy. “Looks like it could do some serious damage! Are you planning on selling this to the enforcers?”

“It’s just a utility tool!” you protest, feeling your cheeks flush. “I use it for small projects. Nothing too special.”

“Nothing too special?” she scoffs, glancing around at the scattered tools. “You’ve got a whole setup here! This place is just screaming ‘Pilty!’ Seriously, where’s the chaos? Where’s the fun?”

Her enthusiasm is infectious, but you can’t shake the unease creeping in the back of your mind. “This isn’t really the time for—”

“Oh, but it is!” she interrupts, her eyes sparkling. “Just think! You’ve got the perfect hideout for a crazy girl like me. And let’s be real, if you were going to turn me in, wouldn’t you have done it by now?” She flashes you a conspiratorial grin.

“I—” You hesitate, wrestling with the conflicting feelings of intrigue and fear. “I just don’t want to get caught up in this mess.”

“Caught up? Please!” Jinx waves her hand dismissively, her tone breezy. “You’ve already got me here, and I’m not going anywhere. So why not embrace the madness? Besides, it’s not like anyone would believe you. ‘Oh, I saw Jinx in my apartment!’ They’d think you’re insane!”

The idea of living a little more dangerously starts to sound appealing, but the nagging voice of caution remains. What if the enforcers do find out? What if they come looking for her?

But as you glance around your cluttered apartment, the weight of your monotonous life presses down on you. This is your chance—your chance to break free from the predictable routine that has left you feeling so hollow. You can feel the thrill of adventure bubbling just beneath the surface, and it tempts you like a whispered promise.

“Maybe I could just… help her,” you think, your pulse quickening. Jinx is a wild card, yes, but perhaps there’s a spark of excitement to be found in her chaos. The thought of being part of something bigger, something more vibrant, sends a rush through you. Maybe you don’t want to turn her in. Maybe you want to be part of her story.

“Okay, let’s say I don’t turn you in,” you find yourself saying, your voice steadier than you expected. “What then? What do you have in mind?”

Jinx’s grin widens, her excitement palpable. “Now you’re talking! We could make some noise, shake things up a bit! I’ve got plans, but I need someone smart to help me execute them. And who better than someone with all these fancy gadgets?”

You feel a mix of exhilaration and dread. This is what you’ve been craving—an escape from the mundane, a break from the predictable. But the idea of getting involved in something so reckless also terrifies you.

“What kind of plans?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper, half hoping she’ll backtrack.

“Oh, just a little something to remind the enforcers who’s really in charge around here!” she replies with a wicked twinkle in her eye. “Nothing too crazy. Just a bit of mischief, maybe a few fireworks. You in?”

You take a deep breath, wrestling with the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. The thrill of possibility dances on the edge of your consciousness, but so does the fear of the consequences.

“Do you really think we can get away with it?” you ask, trying to gauge just how reckless this girl is willing to be.

“Of course we can!” she exclaims, as if the answer is obvious.

Her infectious energy begins to chip away at your reservations. The idea of becoming a part of something thrilling and rebellious is undeniably appealing. The enforcers would never suspect someone like you to get mixed up in something so wild.

“Just think,” she continues, leaning in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You could finally fill that empty spot in your life. Stop being just another face in the crowd”

“Stop being just another face in the crowd”

You feel a surge of adrenaline at her words, and suddenly the thought of joining her seems like a thrilling escape from the suffocating routine of your life. The dull ache of monotony that has lingered for so long begins to fade, replaced by a flicker of excitement.

“But what if we get caught?” you ask, your voice trembling slightly. “What if they find out I helped you?”

Jinx laughs, a sound that dances through the tension in the air. “Caught? Please! What do you think is going to happen? The enforcers are too busy chasing after me to worry about some nobody in a boring apartment! You’ll be fine. Besides, a little risk is what makes life worth living, right?”

She leans forward, her mismatched eyes alight with fervor. “Just imagine it! No more boring days. No more blending in with the walls”

A part of you craves that thrill—the idea of finally breaking free from the shackles of your ordinary life. The monotony of your routine suddenly feels like a cage, and Jinx is the key, offering an escape you never knew you wanted.

“What do you have in mind?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as curiosity tugs at you.

“Alright!” she exclaims, a gleam of mischief dancing in her eyes. “I’ve been working on something big, and it’s going to be spectacular! All we need is a little ingenuity and a touch of chaos. First, we’ll need to grab some supplies from my stash—explosives, smoke bombs, maybe a few gadgets for distractions.”

“Explosives?” Your heart races, a mixture of fear and exhilaration flooding your veins. “How big are we talking?”

“Not too big! Just enough to make a statement,” she assures you, her grin widening. “Trust me, it’ll be a blast—literally!”

You watch her bounce around the room, rifling through your tools with a wild enthusiasm. Your heart beats faster with every passing moment, a whirlwind of emotions swirling within you. This is madness. But it’s also a chance to feel alive.

As she holds up a particularly colorful contraption, Jinx’s eyes shine with excitement. “What do you say, partner? Ready to dive headfirst into the chaos?”

You hesitate for a moment, weighing the thrill of adventure against the safety of your ordinary life. But the allure of the unknown, the intoxicating possibility of breaking free, pulls you in.

“Okay,” you say finally, a mixture of resolve and trepidation in your voice. “Let’s do this. But we have to be smart about it.”

Jinx’s laughter rings out, bright and infectious. “Smart? Who knew you had a wild side hidden beneath that boring exterior! Don’t worry; I’ve got a plan. We’ll be out in a flash and back before anyone even notices we’re gone.”

As she starts plotting out the details, you feel a rush of excitement coursing through you. The enforcers may come after Jinx, but for now, you’re ready to embrace the chaos. You’re ready to step into the unknown and shake off the monotony that has weighed you down for far too long.

Together, you’re about to step into a world where the stakes are high and the adrenaline is real, and for the first time in a long while, you feel truly alive.

With her by your side, you can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this is exactly what you’ve been waiting for.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx/you #arcane jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx league of legends #jinx posting

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paltoosstore · 1 year ago

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Unveiling the Wonders of PCB Conformal Coating Spray: A Shield for Electronics

In the intricate world of electronics, where precision and reliability are paramount, the role of PCB (Printed Circuit Board) conformal coating spray cannot be overstated. This unassuming yet powerful solution acts as a shield, protecting electronic components from a myriad of environmental threats. In this blog, we'll explore the significance of PCB conformal coating spray, its applications, and the benefits it brings to the realm of electronic devices.

Understanding PCB Conformal Coating:

What is PCB Conformal Coating?

PCB conformal coating is a thin protective layer applied to the surface of printed circuit boards. This coating is formulated to cover and protect electronic components, solder joints, and the overall PCB from environmental factors such as moisture, dust, chemicals, and temperature extremes. The primary goal is to enhance the reliability and longevity of electronic devices.

The Applications:

1. Moisture Protection:

Moisture is a common nemesis for electronic components. PCB conformal coating spray forms a barrier that prevents water and humidity from infiltrating the circuitry, reducing the risk of short circuits and corrosion.

2. Chemical Resistance:

In industrial settings, electronic devices often encounter harsh chemicals. Conformal coating provides a shield against corrosive substances, ensuring that the functionality of the PCB remains intact.

3. Dust and Debris Repellent:

Dust and debris can compromise the performance of electronic devices. Conformal coating acts as a barrier, preventing these particles from settling on the PCB and causing malfunctions.

4. Temperature Stability:

Electronic components are sensitive to temperature fluctuations. PCB Conformal coating spray helps in maintaining stable operating temperatures by acting as a thermal insulator.

5. Vibration and Mechanical Stress Protection:

In applications where electronic devices are subject to vibration or mechanical stress, conformal coating provides a protective layer that reduces the risk of damage to solder joints and other sensitive components.

Types of Conformal Coating:

1. Acrylic:

Known for its versatility and ease of application, acrylic conformal coatings offer good protection against moisture and chemical exposure.

2. Silicone:

Silicone coatings provide excellent flexibility and high-temperature resistance, making them suitable for applications with extreme conditions.

3. Urethane:

Urethane conformal coatings offer a balance of chemical resistance and flexibility, making them suitable for a wide range of applications.

4. Praline:

Praline coating is a unique, ultra-thin, and transparent coating that provides comprehensive protection without adding bulk to the PCB.

The Benefits:

1. Enhanced Reliability:

By protecting against environmental threats, conformal coating contributes to the overall reliability of electronic devices, reducing the likelihood of premature failures.

2. Extended Lifespan:

The protective layer provided by conformal coating helps extend the lifespan of electronic components, making it an essential element in the design of durable devices.

3. Increased Durability:

Electronic devices in demanding environments, such as automotive and aerospace applications, benefit from the increased durability imparted by conformal coatings.

4. Cost Savings:

Investing in conformal coating can result in long-term cost savings by reducing the need for repairs and replacements due to environmental damage.

Conclusion:

In the ever-evolving landscape of electronics, where miniaturization and performance are key, the role of PCB conformal coating spray is nothing short of indispensable. As we continue to push the boundaries of technological innovation, the reliability and longevity of electronic devices become critical, and conformal coating stands as a silent guardian, ensuring that our electronic creations withstand the tests of time and environmental challenges.

reference url: https://pal-tools-stores.blogspot.com/2023/10/unveiling-wonders-of-pcb-conformal.html

#pcb conformal coating spray #parts washing machines #industrial component cleaning machine #electronic contact cleaner spray #contact cleaner spray #industrial parts washing machines

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