#advanced insulation

[zomb13s]

The Evolution of Tactical Gear and the Integration of Smart Technology: A Comprehensive Analysis

[andthebubbles]

every winter i hate that

it takes over a minute for the kitchen tap to get hot water

the bathroom sink has the cold water tap separate to the hot water tap, and these taps are like 45ish cm apart, which means in winter you WILL wash your hands with freezing cold water

[mohitbisresearch]

The SiC-on-insulator (SiCOI) film market is evaluated at a valuation of $39.2 million in 2024 and is projected to expand at a CAGR of 72.11% to reach $8,947.2 million by 2034.

[auroveflask]

Stay Hydrated with Advanced Insulation Bottles from Aurove Flask

Discover the power of advanced insulation bottles at Aurove Flask. Our cutting-edge technology ensures your beverages stay hot or cold for hours, making them perfect for any adventure or daily routine. Crafted for durability and designed for convenience, these bottles are the ultimate choice for anyone seeking efficiency and style. Explore the full range of advanced insulation bottles at Aurove Flask today, and enjoy your drinks at the perfect temperature all day long!

[techdriveplay]

2024 Isuzu D-MAX LS-U+ – TDP Review

[thebloguae]

Advanced Insight Insulations LLC : Waterproofing Solutions & Insulation in Dubai

Advanced Insight Insulations LLC stands as a pillar of excellence in the waterproofing and insulation industry, not just in Dubai but across the entire United Arab Emirates. As a subsidiary of the esteemed Alsindbad Group, founded in 1990, this company has carved a niche for itself by delivering unparalleled solutions for some of the region's most prestigious and luxurious projects.

A Legacy of Trust and Reliability

With a strong focus on quality and reliability, Advanced Insight Insulations LLC has earned multiple ISO certifications, a testament to its unwavering commitment to adhering to the highest industry standards. Moreover, their products undergo rigorous testing and certification from respected authorities like the Dubai Central Laboratories, ensuring that only the best solutions reach their clients.

Waterproofing Solutions for Every Need

Advanced Insight Insulations LLC expertise in waterproofing is unparalleled. Whether it's residential buildings, commercial complexes, or iconic architectural marvels, their team of skilled professionals has the knowledge and experience to tackle waterproofing challenges of any scale or complexity. From cutting-edge membrane systems to advanced sealants and innovative techniques, they leave no stone unturned in their quest to provide long-lasting protection against water ingress.

Insulation Excellence for Energy Efficiency

Complementing their waterproofing prowess, Advanced Insight Insulations LLC also excels in delivering top-notch insulation solutions. With a deep understanding of the Dubai's climate and the importance of energy efficiency, they offer a comprehensive range of insulation products and installation methods. By creating a synergistic barrier against moisture, heat, and energy loss, they ensure that buildings remain comfortable and energy-efficient year-round.

Going Beyond Compliance

What sets Advanced Insight Insulations LLC apart is their commitment to not just meeting but exceeding statutory and regulatory requirements. They consistently strive to raise the bar, pushing the boundaries of what is possible in the waterproofing and insulation industry. This unwavering dedication to excellence has earned them a stellar reputation among clients, architects, and contractors alike, solidifying their position as a trusted partner in the region's construction landscape.

Conclusion:

In conclusion, if you're seeking waterproofing contractors in Dubai that combine expertise, innovation, and a customer-centric approach, look no further than Advanced Insight Insulations LLC. With their proven track record and commitment to excellence, they are the go-to choice for waterproofing and insulation solutions that stand the test of time.

[jcmarchi]

Researchers develop a detector for continuously monitoring toxic gases

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/researchers-develop-a-detector-for-continuously-monitoring-toxic-gases/

Researchers develop a detector for continuously monitoring toxic gases

Most systems used to detect toxic gases in industrial or domestic settings can be used only once, or at best a few times. Now, researchers at MIT have developed a detector that could provide continuous monitoring for the presence of these gases, at low cost.

The new system combines two existing technologies, bringing them together in a way that preserves the advantages of each while avoiding their limitations. The team used a material called a metal-organic framework, or MOF, which is highly sensitive to tiny traces of gas but whose performance quickly degrades, and combined it with a polymer material that is highly durable and easier to process, but much less sensitive.

The results are reported today in the journal Advanced Materials, in a paper by MIT professors Aristide Gumyusenge, Mircea Dinca, Heather Kulik, and Jesus del Alamo, graduate student Heejung Roh, and postdocs Dong-Ha Kim, Yeongsu Cho, and Young-Moo Jo.

Highly porous and with large surface areas, MOFs come in a variety of compositions. Some can be insulators, but the ones used for this work are highly electrically conductive. With their sponge-like form, they are effective at capturing molecules of various gases, and the sizes of their pores can be tailored to make them selective for particular kinds of gases. “If you are using them as a sensor, you can recognize if the gas is there if it has an effect on the resistivity of the MOF,” says Gumyusenge, the paper’s senior author and the Merton C. Flemings Career Development Assistant Professor of Materials Science and Engineering.

The drawback for these materials’ use as detectors for gases is that they readily become saturated, and then can no longer detect and quantify new inputs. “That’s not what you want. You want to be able to detect and reuse,” Gumyusenge says. “So, we decided to use a polymer composite to achieve this reversibility.”

The team used a class of conductive polymers that Gumyusenge and his co-workers had previously shown can respond to gases without permanently binding to them. “The polymer, even though it doesn’t have the high surface area that the MOFs do, will at least provide this recognize-and-release type of phenomenon,” he says.

The team combined the polymers in a liquid solution along with the MOF material in powdered form, and deposited the mixture on a substrate, where they dry into a uniform, thin coating. By combining the polymer, with its quick detection capability, and the more sensitive MOFs, in a one-to-one ratio, he says, “suddenly we get a sensor that has both the high sensitivity we get from the MOF and the reversibility that is enabled by the presence of the polymer.”

The material changes its electrical resistance when molecules of the gas are temporarily trapped in the material. These changes in resistance can be continuously monitored by simply attaching an ohmmeter to track the resistance over time. Gumyusenge and his students demonstrated the composite material’s ability to detect nitrogen dioxide, a toxic gas produced by many kinds of combustion, in a small lab-scale device. After 100 cycles of detection, the material was still maintaining its baseline performance within a margin of about 5 to 10 percent, demonstrating its long-term use potential.

In addition, this material has far greater sensitivity than most presently used detectors for nitrogen dioxide, the team reports. This gas is often detected after the use of stove ovens. And, with this gas recently linked to many asthma cases in the U.S., reliable detection in low concentrations is important. The team demonstrated that this new composite could detect, reversibly, the gas at concentrations as low as 2 parts per million.

While their demonstration was specifically aimed at nitrogen dioxide, Gumyusenge says, “we can definitely tailor the chemistry to target other volatile molecules,” as long as they are small polar analytes, “which tend to be most of the toxic gases.”

Besides being compatible with a simple hand-held detector or a smoke-alarm type of device, one advantage of the material is that the polymer allows it to be deposited as an extremely thin uniform film, unlike regular MOFs, which are generally in an inefficient powder form. Because the films are so thin, there is little material needed and production material costs could be low; the processing methods could be typical of those used for industrial coating processes. “So, maybe the limiting factor will be scaling up the synthesis of the polymers, which we’ve been synthesizing in small amounts,” Gumyusenge says.

“The next steps will be to evaluate these in real-life settings,” he says. For example, the material could be applied as a coating on chimneys or exhaust pipes to continuously monitor gases through readings from an attached resistance monitoring device. In such settings, he says, “we need tests to check if we truly differentiate it from other potential contaminants that we might have overlooked in the lab setting. Let’s put the sensors out in real-world scenarios and see how they do.”

The work was supported by the MIT Climate and Sustainability Consortium (MCSC), the Abdul Latif Jameel Water and Food Systems Lab (J-WAFS) at MIT, and the U.S. Department of Energy.

[mosharrafdha]

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[be4chywritez]

hold my hand | quinn hughes

quinn hughes x fem!reader

you’re cold Quinn is warm, boom problem solved.

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

The line is barely moving.

You cross your arms, trying to conserve warmth, exhaling a slow breath that fogs up in the cold air. It had seemed like a good idea at the time—going to this new food truck Quinn had been talking about all week, the one with the ridiculous wait times because they only did pop-ups every couple of months.

It wasn’t supposed to be this cold, though. You swear the weather app had said mild temperatures. Instead, it feels like winter has personally declared war on your hands.

You pull your sleeves down further, but it doesn’t help. The cold lingers, clinging to your fingertips no matter how many times you try to rub warmth back into them.

Quinn, standing beside you with his hands shoved into his pockets, notices.

“You cold?”

“No,” you lie, rubbing your hands together for emphasis. “I’m thriving.”

Quinn tilts his head, unimpressed. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s fine.” You wave him off, but the movement just reminds you of how stiff your fingers feel. “Once we get food, I’ll be warm. We’re, like—” You glance at the line ahead of you. Still way too many people. You sigh. “—almost there.”

Quinn doesn’t argue. Doesn’t call you out. He just exhales through his nose, and before you can react, he reaches for your hands.

His fingers wrap around yours, warm even through the chill. You blink at him, startled, but Quinn doesn’t hesitate—just starts rubbing slow, steady circles into your skin, like this is a perfectly normal thing to do.

“You’re actually frozen,” he mutters, more to himself than to you.

“I’m fine.” You try to sound normal, like your brain isn’t currently short-circuiting.

Quinn does not believe you. He huffs, like you’re making this harder than it needs to be, then tugs you closer. And before you can fully process it, both of your hands are being pulled into the pocket of his jacket, along with his own.

It’s so warm.

The fabric is soft and thick, insulated in a way your sweater isn’t, and Quinn’s grip is firm, unwavering. His hand is still wrapped around yours, fingertips pressing lightly against your wrist, his thumb brushing against your knuckles. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Your heart does something stupid.

You glance up at him. “Do you do this for all your friends, or…?”

Quinn scoffs, a quiet laugh under his breath. “Just you.”

And maybe you’re imagining it, but you swear he squeezes your hand just a little tighter.

You should say something.

Anything. A joke, a deflection—something to make this feel normal. But your brain has completely short-circuited, because Quinn’s hand is still wrapped around yours in the pocket of his jacket, warm and steady, like this is just a thing he does.

You blink up at him. “You know, I could’ve just stuck my hands under my arms.”

Quinn doesn’t let go. Doesn’t even move. He just raises an eyebrow. “That’s gross.”

“Okay, dramatic.”

“You think I’m gonna let you stand there looking miserable when I have a jacket?” His tone is casual, so casual, but his fingers tighten slightly over yours, his thumb brushing absently against your knuckles. “It’s basic problem-solving.”

You huff, trying to ignore the way your chest is doing things. “Pretty sure this is, like, advanced-level boyfriend behavior.”

Quinn does not react. At least, not in a way that’s immediately obvious. But his jaw shifts—just slightly. His ears, already pink from the cold, flush a little darker.

Your lips twitch. Oh.

You tilt your head, leaning in slightly. “Quinn, are you blushing?”

“No.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

“You totally are.”

Quinn exhales through his nose, deep, measured, like he’s regretting every life decision that led to this moment. But he still doesn’t let go of your hand.

The line finally moves forward, and the two of you step up automatically. Quinn sighs. “I should’ve just brought you gloves.”

“But then you wouldn’t get to be my personal space heater.” You grin. “See? I’m actually the one problem-solving.”

He gives you a look. “Yeah, okay.”

You nudge him lightly. “I’m just saying, if you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked.”

This time, Quinn definitely blushes.

Quinn doesn’t let go. Hasn’t let go.

Which means your hands are still tucked inside his jacket pocket, wrapped up in his, while you inch closer and closer to the front of the line.

You know you should let it go—should stop teasing him before he actually gets embarrassed and pulls away. But his ears are still pink, and his grip is just a little tighter than necessary, and honestly? It’s fun.

“So,” you hum, shifting slightly, feeling his fingers flex against yours, “was this your plan all along?”

Quinn, who had been so sure of himself five minutes ago, blinks. “What?”

“This.” You gesture vaguely to the situation, but it’s useless because your hands are still in his jacket. “Taking me to stand in a ridiculously long line in the freezing cold just so you could hold my hand.”

Quinn’s brows pull together. “You were the one who said yes.”

“Because you bribed me with food.”

“I didn’t bribe you.”

“Quinn.” You tilt your head. “You looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘If we go now, I’ll buy you two desserts.’”

His jaw shifts, barely. “That’s not a bribe.”

“What is it, then?”

Quinn pauses. And, for the first time since this started, you watch him actually think about it. Like he’s trying to come up with something else—anything else—and coming up short.

You grin. “Exactly.”

He exhales, deep, slow. “You are so annoying.”

“And yet you’re still holding my hand.”

That shuts him up.

His grip doesn’t loosen, not even a little. But he does look away, gaze flicking off to the side, like avoiding eye contact will save him from this conversation. It does not.

You lean in slightly, just enough to make him sweat. “Quinn.”

No response.

“Quinn.”

Still nothing.

You bump your shoulder against his. “Quinn, are you ignoring me?”

“I don’t know.” He shifts slightly. “Are we at the front of the line yet?”

You glance ahead. One person left. You roll your eyes. “You got lucky.”

Quinn hums, a little smug now, and you narrow your eyes, shifting again—this time on purpose.

His fingers twitch.

“You’re holding on pretty tight,” you muse, “for someone who—”

The cashier calls you forward.

Quinn immediately lets go of your hand, smoothly, effortlessly, like it never happened. Steps up to the counter, all business.

And—okay. Maybe you should’ve expected that. But you don’t have time to overthink it because the cashier is waiting, and Quinn, the traitor, is already placing his order like nothing happened.

You sigh, ordering yours before turning back to him, squinting. “You dropped my hand so fast.”

Quinn raises an eyebrow. “Did you want me to hold it while I paid?”

“Yes.”

That surprises him. His lips part slightly, like he wasn’t expecting you to double down.

Before he can recover, you hold your hand out. “Fix it.”

Quinn stares at you.

You stare back.

Then—after a long pause he exhales through his nose, grabs your hand again, and doesn’t let go.

[requiemofthewinds]

SENSITIVE | BOOTHILL , ANAXA , SUNDAY X M!READER

⊹ 𓂃 1.0k words : top.dom!reader + bot.sub!characters

thank you all for 100 followers! it truly means a lot to me, i didn’t really think this little project to get back into writing was gonna go anywhere. but here we are i guess, fucking fictional characters because we can. i also apologize in advance, this isn't my best writing as i'm still getting out of the flow of school, and i'm still not the best at smut... anyways enjoy making hot men moaning in writing, and we'll be back to tooth rotting fluff soon enough <3

on today's roster we have:

- boothill wireplay

- anaxa’s chest hole thingy

- sunday’s wings

BOOTHILL | WIRES

Boothill doesn’t let anyone touch his wires. But maybe you’re the exception. He doesn’t keep any of them physically visible, but he occasionally has to let you open the port on his lower back for maintenance. He always gets really squirrelly whenever you’re poking around in there– and you thought it was because he was worried you’d mess something up, but he always says he trusts you with everything. So why…?

aAAh–mmmgh–! D-darlin’, don’t touch that.

Oh. That’s why. 

That’s a place you’ve never touched, apparently. But you like how he reacted. Really like it. It wouldn’t hurt if you just… did it again? You reach back into the port, the small grooves of your fingertips brushing against the wires again. 

What, like this? 

Fuck, fuck-! Ah! 

His whole body lurches forward, trying to get away from your touch, the sensations overwhelming his circuit board. You grab a bunch of the wires and pull back, forcing him back towards you. In hindsight, it wasn’t safe in the slightest to pull at his wires like that, but that’s a problem for you in the future. His mechanical limbs creak to a stop before flying back towards you, and your arm snakes around the front of his waist, holding him in place. You hold one wire in your hand, and fidget with it, your fingers brushing up and down the insulation.

What’s wrong, cowboy? Something wrong?

Plea––mhf, hnngh- s-sensitive-!

Hm. You seem like you’re enjoying it though, no? You look so pretty like this.

His whole body goes lax at the praise, and his head drops back onto your shoulder as his eyes roll back into his head, his mouth hung open in a silent scream as you tug at the wire again.

Maybe he won’t dread maintenance day anymore.

ANAXA | VOID 

You’ve always been fascinated with your professor. Honestly, there’s a lot of parts to it, but there’s one thing that always keeps you distracted during class, keeps you up at night, hands working tirelessly under the covers. That void.

That damn fucking void.

You have no clue as to what it is, but all you know is you want to touch it. That’s probably not how you should be thinking about your professor, but it is. Anaxagoras does things to you that will (hopefully) never leave the confines of your mind, but he has a way of just knowing. He always knows. 

Excuse me, sir. But class is over, which usually entails that the students are not still here. 

Oh. Uh, shit. Sorry, professor. Just… lost in thought. 

Hm. Credit for your thoughts?

No sir.

Pardon?

It’s… not really appropriate.

As is any growing pupil’s mind.

Ah. Um, what is it? Your… um…

You stare directly at the void, almost hypnotized by its seemingly never-ending expanse inside of his chest. And what scares you is that you can swear that it stares back. What does it feel like? Is it soft? Liquidy? Would it suck you in? Spit you out? Fuck, is he getting closer? Your hand hovers over the opening, but what surprises you is that he doesn’t stop you. He doesn’t step back, doesn’t grab your wrist, doesn’t push your hand away, doesn’t even say anything. So, you reach. Your pointer finger dips into the abyss, and your gaze juts towards him as he braces himself on the edge of your desk. His head droops like a willow, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate. His breathing grows more rigid, and out of pure ecstasy, he does grab your wrist. Except, he pushes it deeper. It’s wet. Soft, pliable, shifts around and rearranges the stars around your fingers. You curl your finger, and he all but moans, his head dropping back into the air.

Oh, Aeons. Ahhh, sshit. S-sensitive.

And thus, your curiosity has been fulfilled. Although, there’s so much more you could put in there…

SUNDAY | FEATHERS

Nngh– dove, please–!

Please what, birdie?

You slide in and out of him, his folds sucking you into him as you rearrange his insides. 

Please, please, I n-need more. Dove, p-please. 

His wings tremble around him, the feathers quivering around his face, trying to hide his eyes. You pull his wings away, gentle but firm. He whimpers and tilts his head back as his back arches up for his stomach to meet yours. He surrenders, bending and tucking them back behind his ears. You rarely ever touch his wings, but you’re the only one he lets even brush against them. They’re sensitive normally, but when he’s in heat, oh fuck does he go wild when you touch them. 

Don’t hide, birdie. Let me see you. 

Please, ‘s so much, please touch them more.

Your wish is my command.

As he asked, your hands make contact with as much of his feathers as you possibly can, and his body lights up like wildfire. He cries out, and his whole body screams with him as he squirts around you. His wings quiver around his body, and it’s like a jolt of delight shoots up his spine, sending his body up towards you. He practically jumps into your arms, and his legs; already wrapped around your waist, constricts around your body like a vice. Your arms wrap around his back, and you slowly rub his back. 

Breathe birdie, breathe. ‘M right here. Take a rest.

Y-you didn’t cum though…

It doesn’t matter. I’m happy you felt good. 

I love you, dove.

I love you too, birdie.

© | all works are property of 「 REQUIEMOFTHEWINDS 」 𝄃 𝄂 𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄂𝄂 𝄃  2025 𓂃 written by sen : do not steal, translate, repost, or plagiarize my work on any platform. all works belong to me.

[translunaryanimus]

A Nhâchchech [Naak'kek] hunter shows off typical daywear. The Nhâchchech (weaver) culture is the most prominent culture of the northern polar regions. The Nhâchchech are also sometimes called the Eshtchchonh [Eshtk'kon], or 'pattern folk/pattern people' due to their brightly patterned outfits. Ssereâch [Sareaat], a hunter, displays typical daywear for teens and adults. Garb is conveniently labeled for our sake. More in depth description under the cut.

Ssereâch is wearing a Ghelâmach, a Nhêdchchonh, a pair of Mhshêchchonh, Dhlesfa and Dhlepach, and a Ssamhnhâl. She also wears Ffâpecha and a few Bhearpaf as accessories. A Ghelâmach [Gelaamat] is the skinned, tanned pelt of one or several polar Ghelâ turned into a warm, insulating cloak. Perfect for colder environemnts. Traditionally Ghelâmach are handmade and use real fur, but faux fur dupes can be found in tourist heavy polar cities. Ssereâch's Ghelâmach is split into two parts, with a more typical overcape 'mach' and a separate waist wrapped section sometimes referred to as a Shochghelâ [Shotgelaa], Ghelâ skirt, when worn apart from the mach. Together though, the two piece ensemble is collectively called a Ghelâmach. A Nhêdchchonh [needk'kon], literally 'pattern shirt', is common upper wear following the same vein as Mhshêchchonh. The patterns of a Nhêdchchonh are typically reserved for the collar, sleeves, and bottom border as opposed to trailing up the entire side of the fabric as is common for Mhshêchchonh. The bright blue color of the body fabric is due to the dye of an aquatic plant rather morbidly called Fôlachemhêsh [Fulatemeesh], "Blood Root". This name comes from the plant's tendency to 'bleed' a vibrant blue sap that heavily resembles Chenesht blood when wet, and when dry, can be boiled down to make a liquid pigment.

Mhshêchchonh [msheek'kon], literally 'pattern pants', are common legwear for polar cultures. Their patterned bands traditionally contain information about the individual wearing them such as name, job, and family but can also contain folk stories, poems, or legends, though purely decorative patterns have come into style among younger generations. Ssereâch's Mhshêchchonha have purely decorative patterns.

The patterned borders of Nhêdchchonha and Mhshêchchonha are woven either through the loom weaving method or the more typical card weaving method and made of dyed sinews, braided plant fibers, or spun fur. They can take months to years to complete depending on the complexity of the pattern. Dhle [Dle] is the common word for any sort of hand or foot covering, typically translated as either 'boot' or 'glove' depending on the context for its use. The Dle being worn here are Dhlesfa [Open Dle] on the forelimbs and Dhlepach [Closed Dle] on the hindlimbs. Dhle were near exclusively worn by the Nhâchchech culture prior to the Three Beasts War and the subsequent cultural merger that led to global leaps in technological advancement. Their once niche use as protective coverings from harsh elements became common use as comfortable footwear for walking along the artificial sidewalk pavements and streets of most modern cities.

Ssamhnhâl [Samnal] literally translates to 'bone glasses' [ssamh - glass, nhâl - bone]. Ssamhnhâl are carved from bone and serve as eye protectant from winter storms or harsh light gleaming off of the snow. The primary eyes look through horizontal slits in the bone, while the secondary eyes are shielded by a carved in 'flap' that they can look under or over. Ssereâch's Ssamhnhâl is carved with decorative patterns as well.

Ffâpecha [Faapeta], or 'twin rings', are a common decorative accessory among teens used to show their devotion to one another. Each ring is made of carved bone and sealed together by animal sinews mashed into glue once they've been linked, and typically have the first name or family name of their beloved carved into one, and their own name into the other. Ffâpecha have long been a source of drama and contention among especially young teens, and broken or cracked sets can often be found littered around the grounds of majority teen camps. Bhearpaf [bearpaf/bearpaw] is the general term for any good luck charm taken from an animal and worn on the hunter's person. Bhearpaf literally translates to 'blessing' or 'lucky charm', but is quite often misinterpreted as the english term 'bear paw' when speaking to humans. Shortening the word to Bhear (gift) has not helped the jokes, and has instead spawned a new tradition of gifting carvings, drawings, or anything with images or patterns of earth bears to your chenesht friends during birthdays or other gift-giving holidays.

[hvacfucker]

Random Hector hcs before Date Everything goes live! Includes spoilers from his hate ending.

★ My ask box is open to any Hector simps out there ∠( ᐛ ���∠)＿

⚠️ nsfw >>>> mdni ⚠️

Hector's so funny because he talks mad game from the vent. But when he reveals himself face-to-face, his voice is octaves higher and his posture uneven. Seeing him like that, it becomes apparent he's emboldened by the layer of anonymity separating us from him, left exposed without it. Basically, he's super shy and yearns from the shadows, a hopelessly romantic little freak.

So I've imagined him as the type of lover who's crazy good at sexting. Like really, really good. (He's had plenty of time to fantasize and refine what all it is he'd like to do to his crush.) And don't even mention how steamy those phone-sex calls get. Hector can fully channel his thoughts and desires behind the safety of a screen as there's no direct attention or pressure on him to deliver.

Get him away from all that though? He's a goddamn mess. Like, wdym he has to do those things he said he would?? Him doing that, and them touching him how? He laughs nervously, unable to meet his lover's gaze as he fiddles with his thumbs. Did he really say all that? And if his lover holds him accountable to those lewd promises, all that confidence falls out from underneath him. Not that he isn't willing, but he needs some reassurance to get there.

I mean it makes sense. After all, an HVAC system is best made when we don't even know it's even there. Hector's insecurities regarding his appearance are direct translation from his design founded in function, not aesthetics. No one likes to see duct-work, insulation tubes, or panels of metal marring their home's cozy vibe. So the news his lover wants to enjoy him physically? It's completely startling. Terrifying, even.

As a result, he's solely focused on how to best pleasure his lover, refusing any one-sided advances aimed at him.

Can we talk about how good he'd be with his hands? Now I know his emoting via hand gestures is visual shorthand for facial expressions we can't see. But I'd like to think he's pretty comfortable about his hands, and let me dream he has big ones for my own selfish reasons, alright? (lowkey though I suspect he's a short king.)

And if you thought he was good with his hands, then brace yourself for his head-game. He loves being told what feels best when he's going down on his partner, his tongue working them in the exact way they instruct, and he responds well to this structure. It gives Hector a baseline to build himself from and a safe space to test out having them at his whim, despite how it might seem they're in control.

Every breathy sigh and twist of their hands in his hair? He's doing that to them. He's curating the back-arching, toe-curling pleasure that's wracking their body, maestro to those euphonious moans of his name. It's the gratification he needs after years spent pining for his lover. He drinks them up like it's for survival, continuing to stimulate them long after release, not only because he relishes the teasing, but because he doesn't want it to be over yet.

Now, if they wanted to turn the tables and express their gratitude? He's so polite, insisting they really don't have to, that he doesn't want them to feel obliged— His head rolls back, clumsy disclaimers cut short when heat envelopes that wanting part of him. He seethes an unintelligible sibilance. Never in his wildest reveries did he think they'd be doing this for him. Hector's speechless and falls apart under his partner's care.

When he's finally able to collect himself and look down at them, his heart stops. He can't take the way their lips wrap round his length, their depravity, such lust-glazed eyes hypnotizing him, glimmering with a wicked desire he thought only he was capable of. To think they wanted him this badly? He's feeling small all over again.

I feel like he'd be so emotional afterwards too. Like he's the king of post-coital cuddles and aftercare. He's content to lay there with his lover in his arms, enjoying the sound of their breathing and the warmth of their heartbeat. All he's ever wanted is to stroke their head as they relax into his chest, just like he'd daydream about.

Ugh, I can't wait for this game to drop so I can write more for our favorite freaky ass vent! And who knows, maybe these hcs are way off base. I wouldn't complain about Hector pleasantly surprising us with a bit more confidence, or with some other quality we haven't had a chance to see yet.

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #14

April 12-19 2024

The Department of Commerce announced a deal with Samsung to help bring advanced semiconductor manufacturing and research and development to Texas. The deal will bring 45 billion dollars of investment to Texas to help build a research center in Taylor Texas and expand Samsung's Austin, Texas, semiconductor facility. The Biden Administration estimates this will create 21,000 new jobs. Since 1990 America has fallen from making nearly 40% of the world's semiconductor to just over 10% in 2020.

The Department of Energy announced it granted New York State $158 million to help support people making their homes more energy efficient. This is the first payment out of a $8.8 billion dollar program with 11 other states having already applied. The program will rebate Americans for improvements on their homes to lower energy usage. Americans could get as much as $8,000 off for installing a heat pump, as well as for improvements in insulation, wiring, and electrical panel. The program is expected to help save Americans $1 billion in electoral costs, and help create 50,000 new jobs.

The Department of Education began the formal process to make President Biden's new Student Loan Debt relief plan a reality. The Department published the first set of draft rules for the program. The rules will face 30 days of public comment before a second draft can be released. The Administration hopes the process can be finished by the Fall to bring debt relief to 30 million Americans, and totally eliminate the debt of 4 million former students. The Administration has already wiped out the debt of 4.3 million borrowers so far.

The Department of Agriculture announced a $1 billion dollar collaboration with USAID to buy American grown foods combat global hunger. Most of the money will go to traditional shelf stable goods distributed by USAID, like wheat, rice, sorghum, lentils, chickpeas, dry peas, vegetable oil, cornmeal, navy beans, pinto beans and kidney beans, while $50 million will go to a pilot program to see if USAID can expand what it normally gives to new products. The food aid will help feed people in Bangladesh, Burkina Faso, Burundi, Chad, Democratic Republic of the Congo, Djibouti, Ethiopia, Haiti, Kenya, Madagascar, Mali, Nigeria, Rwanda, South Sudan, Sudan, Tanzania, Uganda, and Yemen.

The Department of the Interior announced it's expanding four national wildlife refuges to protect 1.13 million wildlife habitat. The refuges are in New Mexico, North Carolina, and two in Texas. The Department also signed an order protecting parts of the Placitas area. The land is considered sacred by the Pueblos peoples of the area who have long lobbied for his protection. Security Deb Haaland the first Native American to serve as Interior Secretary and a Pueblo herself signed the order in her native New Mexico.

The Department of Labor announced new work place safety regulations about the safe amount of silica dust mine workers can be exposed to. The dust is known to cause scaring in the lungs often called black lung. It's estimated that the new regulations will save over 1,000 lives a year. The United Mine Workers have long fought for these changes and applauded the Biden Administration's actions.

The Biden Administration announced its progress in closing the racial wealth gap in America. Under President Biden the level of Black Unemployment is the lowest its ever been since it started being tracked in the 1970s, and the gap between white and black unemployment is the smallest its ever been as well. Black wealth is up 60% over where it was in 2019. The share of black owned businesses doubled between 2019 and 2022. New black businesses are being created at the fastest rate in 30 years. The Administration in 2021 Interagency Task Force to combat unfair house appraisals. Black homeowners regularly have their homes undervalued compared to whites who own comparable property. Since the Taskforce started the likelihood of such a gap has dropped by 40% and even disappeared in some states. 2023 represented a record breaking $76.2 billion in federal contracts going to small business owned by members of minority communities. This was 12% of federal contracts and the President aims to make it 15% for 2025.

The EPA announced (just now as I write this) that it plans to add PFAS, known as forever chemicals, to the Superfund law. This would require manufacturers to pay to clean up two PFAS, perfluorooctanoic acid and perfluorooctanesulfonic acid. This move to force manufacturers to cover the costs of PFAS clean up comes after last week's new rule on drinking water which will remove PFAS from the nation's drinking water.

Bonus:

President Biden met a Senior named Bob in Pennsylvania who is personally benefiting from The President's capping the price of insulin for Seniors at $35, and Biden let Bob know about a cap on prosecution drug payments for seniors that will cut Bob's drug bills by more than half.

[mohitbisresearch]

The electrical wire and cable insulation materials market was valued at $12.90 billion in 2024, is anticipated to grow at a CAGR of 5.36%, reaching $21.75 billion by 2034.

[c1qfxugcgy0]

I will never complain about a toolbox being too far from the jobsite again.

(previous post in this series)

Large Aircraft Manufacturer (LAM) has announced, to the surprise of nobody with a brain, that certification of our latest aircraft, Advanced Widebody Carbon Wing (AWCW), has been delayed to March 2026.

This firmly sets management on the horns of a dilemma. They have something like five thousand expensively trained employees on the AWCW production line who will not have much to do for the next year. You can continue production and clutter up the hardstand with precertification aircraft. But the process of certifying the aircraft against severe weather, bird strikes, lightning strikes, etc etc, will inevitably require serious changes to the beta aircraft. LAM must then modify every one of their backlog aircraft, ripping out the interior, replacing bond wires and ground straps, then reinstalling all those parts. Doing structural work inside a complete aircraft naturally takes much more time than doing it from scratch in the production jigs designed to accommodate such work.

(And if you don't believe me, just watch This Old House.)

Naturally, LAM tracks every minute of worker time on each aircraft. Enough rework can wipe out LAM's entire profit margin on a bird, especially given the large discounts it offers to early buyers of new model aircraft.

This is not idle supposition. LAM was hauled through an identical hall of thorns when Advanced Midbody Carbon Aircraft (AMCA) was delayed in certification a decade ago. Fifty aircraft required expensive rework, putting the entire program in the red for years afterward. The scars are fresh, and LAM is not eager to repeat the experience. Thus, AWCW production rate has been cut to zero point zero.

But what to do with the workers?

Airplane factories are always attached to an airport. [citation needed]

Everything outside the factory is the flightline. Flightline is where all the problems with an aircraft catch up with it, and occasion screaming matches between facility managers (who are desperate to clear their patch of concrete and get the plane in the sky) and production managers (who will have the rare pleasure of seeing their face on the nightly news when that plane kills three hundred people).

Airplanes require a really incredible amount of maintenance. If production delays mean the plane doesn't get delivered to the customer on time, scheduled maintenance can happen while the airplane is being made. These are not problems that happen when you build cars, I can tell you. This is the shop I, along with 20 of my coworkers, have been loaned out to.

There are lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of moving parts on an airliner. Every LAM aircraft has a design life of 30 years. They cost hundreds of millions of dollars each. Because they are so damn expensive, our customers want to fly them as close to 24 hours a day as possible, in rain, snow, sleet, from Kabul to Kathmandu, from sea level to eight miles above ground. Sealed bearings, so beloved by the automotive industry, are simply not an option across aerospace's range of temperature, pressure, salt spray, and total joint lifespan requirements.

As a result, every single metal on metal joint on the airplane has a grease fitting, and a prescribed grease type for each fitting. In just the photo above there are seven fittings visible. The document that lists every fitting on the plane is eight hundred pages long.

But greasing the points is, honestly, not that hard. You've got eight hours to finish any given IP, and in a storage IP the greasing will take, at most, 30 minutes. Greasing is not the problem. The problem is the fucking skin panels.

The exterior surface of a wing is, uh, important. It carries the weight of the aircraft, it has to be aerodynamically smooth to a frankly annoying degree, each carbon fiber wing skin panel has to be as light as absolutely possible, the insulative carbon fiber composite must be coated with an outer antistatic conductive layer to bleed off static charge, but at the same time the inner layer needs a more conductive aluminum foil layer to conduct the powerfully destructive lightning strike energies each plane will experience, oh, about thirty times over its rated lifespan.

On that list of priorities, "making it easy for ground personnel to take a panel off" is low on the list of the priorities. Very low. Real damn low. Put on your SCUBA gear and investigate the pelagic depths kinda low.

You take off the panels. Maybe ten percent of the screws will strip when you apply force, which means you get to carefully, slowly drill out the titanium fasteners while standing at the top of a scissor lift in the rain.

(There is an art to drilling out a Phillips head titanium screw. Ordinarily, you want to use carbide tooling, which is sharp, but brittle. But even after stripping the hell out of a screw there will still be some remnants of the head, which the cutting edge of the carbide drill will catch on and break. So when your crew is assigned to a new plane, the first thing you do right away is rush to the tool room to get drill bits before your oafish coworkers clean them out, and get both HSS and carbide bits-- tough and ductile steel to knock down the remnants of the screw head and then carbide to do the bulk of the drilling. And once you're into the bulk of the screw, you do peck drilling-- three or four seconds of drilling, then pull the bit out and apply lube. This isn't for the benefit of the drill-- it can handle high temps just fine. What you absolutely, must not do, is let the screw get too hot. Because when titanium gets hot and then cools down, it hardens, and you just turned a ten minute job into a four hour one. Because after you finish drilling the hole you follow it with a steel screw extractor, and there's no extractor on Earth that's going to bite into hardened titanium.)

You apply Aeroshell 33 to the bushings on the slats torque tube and carefully brush on Cor-Ban 27L to the specified exposed metal surfaces. You call QA out, who bitches and moans the entire time for being rousted out of their crew shelter to get rained on to witness that you greased the things that needed to be greased.

Now it's time to put the panel back on. First, you throw away all the used fasteners and order new ones from Logistics. Any screw that touches a flight component is used once, and only once. Try not to think about the dollar value of the two pounds or so of aerospace titanium screws you just shitcanned. Be careful when reordering, though-- across the five or six panels you're pulling off you'll have two different types of screws of differing surface finishes, (structural screws vs. antistatic electrical bonding screws) different diameters and different screw lengths. Why? Because fuck you, you stupid mechanic. You deserve to suffer. Your life should be only pain.

(If you screw up on this step and can't button up a panel before end of shift you need to "short stamp" the IP saying what you did and did not do, check the panel into the WIP cage (remember to label it with the part number, IP number, and your employee number!) and then "maintain closure" by covering the empty spot with a sheet of plastic taped down along its entire perimeter with 3M 8979 duct tape. It is, of course, still raining while you're doing all this, because some fucking idiot decided to build an aircraft factory in the Pacific Northwet. Does duct tape stick particularly well to sodden wing panels? No, it does not.)

The one advantage of going to work at 5 am is that you never miss a sunrise

Assume you have all the screws you need and you haven't dropped any of the panels and damaged them while bumbling around. Apply Braycote 248 to the threads and start banging them home with a torque-limited screwgun.

Once installed, there are those two important electrical bonds mentioned above. LAM does not take your word that you've correctly installed the panel, of course, they want you to measure it. Getting the antistatic value is easy enough-- one probe on the head of the fastener, the other to the surface of the panel, value in the hundreds of kiloohms. Impossible to screw up.

What's harder is the lightning conduction path bond. That's measured in single digit milliohms, and it's from the foil lining of the panel to the structure of the wing. The foil is hard to access, since it's on the other side of the goddamn panel you just expensively installed.

Well, in some cases, you can just reach from an adjacent open panel. (The IP notes which panel does not require a lightning bond reading, and you are supposed to infer that this is the last panel to install.) But LAM defines "adjacent" somewhat loosely. By the time you are on the final panel, you are measuring bonds by duct taping one probe of the M1 meter to the end of a broomstick, crawling up the asshole of the plane, and jamming it against the back of a panel six feet away. This is as stupid as it sounds, and it takes several tries and quite a lot of fumbling around to get a good reading. If you don't get a good reading, then you will have the experience of taking the panel off, cleaning it real good, and then trying again, while your team lead breathes down your neck.

But if the readings are good, you unthread yourself from the guts of the wing, pound in the last panel, plug in your scissor lift, dump your cleaning materials contaminated with various exotic aerospace greases and weirdo solvents into the hazmat bin, return your tools to the tool room, and clock the fuck out. You've got a different airplane to grease tomorrow!

[lullabyes22-blog]

Snippet - Off the Hook - Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Soul-bonds aren't all they're cracked up to be...

tw: body horror, mentions of convalescence

Forward but Never Forget/XOXO

Snippet:

It wasn't something she could confide in anyone. Not to Singed, who was there every evening, with his icky potions and ickier smiles. To him, she was J17: a collection of warm, pliable parts with a fascinating gooey center. His eyes, always looking for a place to cut the incision and dig in.

And not even Silco's implacable hand, clamping his bony shoulder, could pry Singed's hungry stare off her.

She was a science-fair, waiting to happen.

It wasn't something she could confide in Viktor, either. Even though he was there nearly as often as Singed. Always looking at her too. But so sweet, so solicitous, and so, so scared because of what they'd done—what he'd done—that Jinx couldn't stand it.

They'd had so much fun working together—two gears in a perfectly synchronized machine. But after the Change, the synchronicity was soul-deep. Infusion, exfusion; blood, bone; bile, brains. He felt everything Jinx felt. Hurt everywhere Jinx hurt. He knew her insides better than anyone in Zaun.

And he couldn't stand it.

Not because of Jinx's big-eyed, freckle-faced youth—though Jinx knew it was a huge factor—but because Viktor couldn't stand himself. His shame was a sub rosa scent, and it soured even the smallest joys, like Jinx showing off her gnarly stitches or sticking little paper hats on her finger stubs or doing a wickedly accurate impression of Singed when he brandished the catheter—"Tsk, tsk, it only hurts a teeny bit."

Viktor had a thing for guilt, the way Jinx had a thing for guns. And though the Change had knitted them closer—fused them into the same spiritual superstructure—the truth was they had a better dynamic apart.

He had his machines and his monomania to take him away from it all. Jinx had her monstrosity, and the madness of knowing what it meant. 

And though he'd sit for hours and hold her mangled hand—even kiss it, if she pouted extra pitifully—he was too careful, like she was made of cracked porcelain. His guilt insulated their connection. And though he was attuned to her pain, it was a reminder of those parts of himself he'd rather leave behind.

The Change had altered him too. Made him a different man from the Viktor of yesteryear.

He sought the very perfection Jinx dreaded.

A final destination; a final breath.

A be-all and end-all.

It was something else Jinx couldn't mention. So she let him off the hook in simpler ways. Most evenings, she'd let him make himself useful.

It was a cinch. Viktor had a thing for atonement too. He'd bend over backwards to remedy what he'd ruined. He made so many small improvements to Jinx's room. A bedside monitor, a gooseneck reading lamp, an ergonomic pillow, a massaging mattress topper, a heating pad, a white-noise machine, an aromatherapy diffuser, an extra-foamy skin lotion, an extra-frothy bidet.

(That's a thingamajig that washes your nethers, for the yobs.)

He also designed a pair of cybernetic prosthetics for her missing fingers. They were aces: composed of ultra-durable alloy that was 99.9% waterproof and 99.99% airtight, with an extra layer of ultra-fine nanomesh for maximum flexibility. It even had an integrated shock absorber for extra comfort.

Each digit had an advanced microcontroller. At a touch, they processed pressure, temperature, and humidity, so she could adjust the grip strength of her prosthetics on the fly. And to top it off, he added a nifty laser targeting system similar to his own robotic arm. The laser was controlled through an intuitive haptic interface, allowing Jinx to literally shoot finger-guns at her enemies.

A one-of-a-kind masterpiece. The perfect booby-trap for the ultimate prankster.

He even painted them her favorite colors. Pink and blue, in candy-cane stripes.

The prosthetics looked amazing. They also felt... weird. Viktor had added an extra layer of neural networking to the digits. They never spazzed, or shortcircuited or stopped mid-task. But the fusion between metal and meat wasn't a straight line. It was a spiral staircase, going down, down, down.

It gave Jinx vertigo. It gave her the chills.

Perfect symbiosis wasn't the same as the real deal. Flesh that was warm. Nails that cracked. Skin that bled. Her brain liked those fingers. They were grubby, grimy, grabby. But they were part of the whole.

Part of Jinx.

She couldn't tell Viktor that, either.  For a Tinman, Viktor was unbearably sensitive.  And Jinx, in her new state of hyperempathy, sensed how the act of soothing her physical ills soothed Viktor's psychic ones.

So she'd lay in bed and languish in agony—"They hurt they hurt they HURT!"—and let him fidget and fixate and fuss. His own augmented joints moved faster than ever, zipping everywhere with unsettling smoothness.  He'd teach her how to flex the digits using his own Hex-claw: a show of stealthy shadow-puppetry and high-swooping panache. Whenever Jinx got it right, he'd crack his one and only smile: a reflexive curl of lips that never quite crossed into mirth, but was unrecognizable as anything else. He'd work out the rest of her too, if she asked: moving her, turning her, positioning her.  If she needed her legs massaged, her neck cricked, her spine realigned, he did so with alacrity. Ditto if she needed her nails trimmed, her skin exfoliated, her eyebrows tweezed.

He'd even brushed her teeth once, which had been weird but also weirdly... erotic? He was so methodical. He worked the brush in a repetitive, almost hypnotic rhythm: back and forth, up and down. Twenty-five even strokes on the upper and lower teeth, fifteen strokes on the inside, and another ten to get all that gunk between her gums.

The sensation made Jinx's lips tingle and her tongue buzz. Her giggles throughout the operation were pure helium for his ego. He had no idea that by letting him help her, she was helping him help himself.

He had a lot of pain, too. And a lifetime's practice at denying it.

But Viktor could not deny her.

After the Change, he'd left off his stilted silences and terse civility. He'd stopped being curt. Stopped talking to her, too, like she was an unhinged brat with too many explosives and too little common sense.

Slowly, inexorably, he let slip the natural reserve that kept the world out—and kept his real self locked in.

His best self.

He showed it to Jinx in slices. He had a lovely reading voice.  Jinx was a rotten reader—she had too many thoughts to follow any plot. But she could listen, if she concentrated really, really hard. Viktor was good at keeping her engaged. He had a soft, deep voice that was easy on the earholes.  Its rhythm reminded Jinx of the sanding wheel in Silco's steelmill: slow, steady, precise. The Drekkengate accent had a lovely, lulling quality that put her right to sleep the way Mommy's lullabies used to.

And he could be funny. He had a wit that would've been dry as desert sand, except it was so painfully sincere you'd think he'd bled himself out to harvest every ounce. He'd tell her stories from his past. About the Academy. About Heimerdinger. About Talis.

They weren't always happy stories.  But there was an honesty to them that Jinx—the trickster—couldn't help but covet as her own.

 He told her about Sky.

Jinx listened, though the Change made his pain her pain. Made his guilt her guilt. Made her want to crawl out of her skin and set the rest of herself on fire.

Because she'd given him her pain, too. Like a present wrapped in pink foil, the edges of her psyche peeled off for his perusal. And he, Vik the Voracious, had eaten it raw. Everything—her childhood hurts, Mylo, Claggor and Vi, the Cannery, Vander in the burning alley, and most agonizing of all: Silco—Viktor had swallowed, and never spat out.

He kept the hurt. He held it for her. Same way Jinx held his own. They were a perfect circle: a circle of suffering. The snake eating its tail.

And the only way they'd ever find completion was to cut the circle in two.

Jinx couldn’t say that, either. So, on the nights when the circle closed too tight, a feedback loop of ow-ow-OW, Jinx would fake cataleptic fatigue, and send Viktor packing. It hurt her. It hurt him too. But the short nights apart, away from her spooks and his shadows, kept the circle from strangling them both.

Gave them each space to breathe.

Anyway, Viktor was Zaun's premier Machinist. He always had somewhere to be. A higher plane to ascend. One foot in the workshop; the other, in eternity.

Jinx knew he was busy with the post-disaster salvage effort. He was rebuilding the collapsed mining rig in the Deadlands; rebuilding the jellified bodies of the victims.

Rebuilding Zaun, one screw at a time.

And he was rebuilding himself along the way: reworking every foible; excising every flaw. 

He'd finish it, too. Even if it killed him.

He was already a third gone: one arm, half a leg, a lung, three vertebrae's worth of spine. The augmentations were subtle; only someone as savvy as Jinx could spot the difference. But every replacement cost a pound of flesh.  His body wasn't metamorphosing. It was nosediving, and Viktor had his hands all over the mothership's controls. Pulling levers. Pushing buttons. Steering the ship towards its final destination.

Not perfection.

Death.

Whereas Jinx was everywhere and nowhere at once.  Trapped, as only perfection can trap.