#engine control module replacement

[clifford-auto-parts]

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[writeriguess]

Heya! May i have a Mandalorian x fem!reader? She's like his mechanic or something but she's also very attached to Grogu and is very caring towards them both. Maybe they're out somewhere and are attacked and reader gets hurt protecting Grogu and Din realizes how much he cares for her?

author's note: Thank you so much for requesting <3

A Home Among the Stars

The hiss of pressurized air filled the workshop as you carefully adjusted the hydrospanner in your hand. Your fingers danced over the controls, tightening bolts along the Razor Crest’s engine panel. Despite the old ship’s wear and tear, it had a charm that only a mechanic could appreciate—or someone who spent hours trying to keep it in the sky.

And that someone was you.

“Din,” you called out, wiping your grease-covered hands on your pants. You didn’t care about appearances when it came to your work. “When’s the last time you actually replaced the heat shielding? This thing’s held together with spit and hope.”

Din Djarin, the Mandalorian clad in his beskar armor, leaned against the entryway, arms crossed. His helmet tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you could almost feel his sheepishness.

“It works,” he said simply, voice smooth and modulated.

You rolled your eyes, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Yeah, well, it won’t for long if you keep running it into blaster fire and letting Jawas ‘fix’ it with spare parts.”

A soft coo interrupted your lecture, and you glanced to the side to find Grogu perched on a crate, watching you intently. His big eyes sparkled with curiosity as his tiny hands fiddled with a stray bolt you’d left lying around.

“And you,” you said, smiling warmly as you crouched in front of him. “That’s not a toy, little guy.”

Grogu tilted his head, holding the bolt up as if in protest.

“Don’t encourage him,” Din muttered, stepping closer.

Ignoring the bounty hunter, you gently took the bolt from Grogu’s hands, replacing it with a small, smooth rock you kept in your pocket. It was something you’d found on one of your countless scavenging trips—a perfect fit for tiny hands.

“There,” you said softly, brushing your thumb over Grogu’s cheek. “Much better.”

The child made a happy sound, clutching the rock tightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight, your chest warming with a tenderness you hadn’t felt in years.

“You spoil him,” Din said, though his tone lacked any real bite.

You straightened, shooting him a look. “And you don’t?”

Din shrugged. “He’s—”

“Special,” you finished for him. “I know. And he deserves to be treated that way.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, the hum of the ship and Grogu’s contented babbling filling the air.

“You’re good with him,” Din said eventually, his voice quieter than usual.

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected compliment. “He’s easy to love,” you replied, glancing at Grogu. “Both of you are.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, and you immediately busied yourself with your tools, pretending you hadn’t just bared your soul in the middle of an engine repair.

Din didn’t respond right away, and the weight of his gaze felt almost tangible. You wondered what thoughts were running through his mind behind that expressionless helmet.

“Thank you,” he said finally, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

You looked up, surprised. His stance had relaxed slightly, and though you couldn’t see his face, you felt the sincerity in his words.

“Anytime,” you said, giving him a small smile.

The planet was quiet, almost too quiet, as you followed Din through the narrow, winding paths of the market. It was the kind of place that seemed like it had more shadows than people, where eyes lingered too long and conversations hushed when strangers passed. Din walked ahead, his hand resting lightly on the blaster at his hip, while Grogu cooed softly from his floating pod beside you.

“Stick close,” Din said, his voice low but firm. He didn’t turn to look at you, but you could tell from the slight tilt of his helmet that he was checking on you regardless.

“I always do,” you replied, scanning the area. The market stalls were packed with all sorts of strange goods: glowing crystals, exotic fruits, scraps of tech you couldn’t identify. Despite the eerie atmosphere, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of curiosity.

Grogu made a delighted sound as you passed a stall selling shiny trinkets, his little hands reaching out toward the wares.

“No,” Din said immediately, his tone that of a long-suffering parent.

“Oh, come on,” you said, smiling as you reached into your pocket. “It’s just a little shiny thing. Let him have it.”

Din sighed, but he didn’t stop you as you handed over a few credits to the vendor and picked up a small metal orb. You placed it in Grogu’s hands, and his wide eyes sparkled with joy as he turned it over, inspecting it like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re going to spoil him rotten,” Din muttered.

“That’s the goal,” you shot back, grinning.

The Mandalorian shook his head, but you could see the faintest tilt of his helmet that suggested amusement.

The moment of levity didn’t last long. A sharp noise—a blaster bolt cutting through the air—shattered the peace of the market. Din moved before you even processed what was happening, his blaster drawn and his body positioned protectively in front of you and Grogu.

“Get to cover,” he barked, his voice tense.

You didn’t argue. Scooping Grogu’s pod closer to you, you ducked behind a stack of crates, your heart pounding in your chest.

The attackers came into view a moment later—three figures clad in mismatched armor, their weapons raised. You didn’t recognize them, but their intent was clear.

“Hand over the kid,” one of them growled, his voice distorted by a crude helmet.

“Not happening,” Din replied coldly.

Blaster fire erupted, the sound deafening in the confined space. Din moved with precision, returning fire and taking down one of the attackers in seconds. But the others were quick, flanking him and forcing him to retreat closer to your position.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the small blaster Din had insisted you carry. You weren’t a fighter, not like him, but you weren’t about to sit idly by while he and Grogu were in danger.

Grogu whimpered, clutching the shiny orb you’d given him, and your resolve hardened. You shifted to shield his pod with your body, your eyes scanning for an opening.

One of the attackers broke away, heading straight for you.

“Din!” you shouted, but he was too occupied with the other assailant to intervene.

You didn’t think. You didn’t have time to. As the attacker raised his weapon, you lunged forward, firing your blaster. The shot went wide, but it was enough to throw him off. He snarled, swinging his rifle like a club. The impact caught you in the side, and pain exploded through your ribs as you hit the ground hard.

“Stay away from him!” you gasped, struggling to your feet.

The attacker ignored you, his focus locked on Grogu. Adrenaline surged through you, overriding the pain, and you threw yourself between them just as he raised his rifle again. The butt of the weapon struck your shoulder, sending you sprawling.

“Hey!” Din’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious.

Before the attacker could land another blow, Din was there. His blaster fired point-blank, dropping the man instantly.

The last assailant, realizing he was outmatched, fled, leaving the market eerily quiet once more.

Din turned to you, his helmet tilting as he took in your crumpled form.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his voice tight.

“I’m fine,” you lied, wincing as you tried to sit up.

“You’re not fine.” He was already kneeling beside you, his gloved hands hovering uncertainly before settling on your arm. “Why didn’t you stay behind cover?”

You glanced at Grogu, who was peering out of his pod with a worried expression. “I couldn’t let them hurt him,” you said simply.

Din was silent for a moment, his grip on your arm tightening slightly. Then, without a word, he scooped you up, carrying you as if you weighed nothing.

“Din—”

“Quiet,” he interrupted, his voice softer now but still firm. “We’re leaving.”

Grogu’s pod floated along beside him as he carried you back toward the Razor Crest, his stride purposeful.

Back on the ship, Din set you down carefully on the small cot in the corner of the hull. He moved with an efficiency that spoke of experience, pulling out a medkit and sitting beside you.

“Let me see,” he said, gesturing to your side.

“I told you, I’m fine—”

“Let me see,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed, relenting as you pulled up your shirt to reveal the bruises blooming across your ribs. Din’s hands stilled for a moment before he reached out, his touch surprisingly gentle as he examined the injury.

“You’re reckless,” he said quietly, though there was no anger in his voice—only something softer, something you couldn’t quite name.

“You’re one to talk,” you muttered, earning a faint huff of amusement from him.

His gloved fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer than necessary before he pulled away, reaching for a bacta patch. As he applied it, you noticed how careful he was, as if he was afraid of hurting you.

“Why would you do that?” he asked suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, caught off guard by the question. “Do what?”

“Put yourself in danger like that.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I care about him. About both of you.”

Din stilled, his helmet tilted down toward you. You couldn’t see his face, but you felt the intensity of his gaze all the same.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“I did,” you said softly. “I’d do it again if I had to.”

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, slowly, Din reached up and rested his gloved hand on top of yours.

“Thank you,” he said, his voice filled with a depth of emotion you hadn’t heard before.

Later, you sat on the cot in the hull, your back pressed against the cool metal wall, a blanket wrapped loosely around your shoulders. The dull ache in your ribs had subsided slightly thanks to the bacta patch Din applied earlier, but the events of the day lingered like a storm cloud in your mind.

Grogu sat beside you on the cot, cooing softly as he fiddled with the shiny orb you'd given him earlier. Every now and then, he glanced up at you, his wide, soulful eyes filled with concern. You stroked the soft fuzz on his head absentmindedly, letting his quiet presence soothe you.

The sound of heavy footsteps broke your reverie. Din emerged from the cockpit, his armor catching the dim light as he made his way toward you. He stopped a few paces away, his helmet tilted slightly downward, as if he were unsure how to approach.

“You should be resting,” he said, his voice quieter than usual.

“I’m fine,” you replied, though you knew the strain in your voice betrayed you.

“You’re not,” he said, taking another step closer. He gestured to the bruises on your side. “That’s going to take time to heal. You should stay off your feet for a while.”

“And what about you?” you countered, raising an eyebrow. “When’s the last time you rested?”

He didn’t answer, his helmet tilting slightly as if to avoid your gaze.

“Exactly,” you said, shaking your head. “Don’t lecture me about rest when you’re just as bad at it.”

Din sighed, the sound soft but unmistakable. He stepped closer, lowering himself onto the bench across from you. For a moment, the two of you sat in silence, the hum of the ship filling the space between you.

“Why did you do it?” he asked suddenly, breaking the quiet. His voice was steady, but there was something beneath it—something raw.

“Do what?” you asked, though you already knew the answer.

“Put yourself in danger for him. For us.”

You glanced down at Grogu, who was now chewing on the edge of the blanket draped over your lap. “Because I care,” you said simply, your voice barely above a whisper.

Din didn’t respond right away. Instead, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. His helmet was angled toward the floor, but you could feel the weight of his gaze even if you couldn’t see his eyes.

“I’ve seen people do reckless things for credits, for revenge, for power,” he said slowly. “But you… You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t even think about yourself.”

“I thought about Grogu,” you said, your tone firmer now. “And about you. I couldn’t just sit back and let something happen to either of you.”

His shoulders stiffened slightly, and you wondered if you’d said too much. But then he spoke again, his voice softer this time.

“You could’ve been killed.”

“I know.”

“And you’d do it again.”

It wasn’t a question, but you nodded anyway. “I would.”

Din leaned back against the wall, his gloved hands resting on his thighs. He stayed silent for a long moment, the tension in the air thick enough to cut.

“You shouldn’t have to,” he said finally, his voice barely audible.

You frowned, tilting your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my job to protect him,” he said, his tone almost bitter. “And you. I should’ve been faster, better. You shouldn’t have had to step in.”

The guilt in his voice was palpable, and it twisted something in your chest. You leaned forward, reaching out to rest a hand on his arm.

“Din, you can’t be everywhere at once,” you said gently. “You did everything you could. You always do.”

He didn’t pull away from your touch, but his posture remained rigid. “It’s not enough,” he murmured.

“It is,” you insisted. “And even if it wasn’t, we’re a team, aren’t we? You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

He finally turned his helmet toward you, the reflective surface catching the faint light of the hull. “A team,” he repeated, as if testing the word.

“Yes,” you said firmly. “And a team watches out for each other. That’s what I was doing. Watching out for you and Grogu.”

Grogu chose that moment to coo softly, reaching out with his tiny hands to touch Din’s armored knee. The gesture seemed to break through some of the tension, and Din let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“You spoil him,” he said, though his tone lacked any real admonishment.

“Someone has to,” you replied with a grin.

Din fell quiet again, but this time the silence felt different—less heavy, more contemplative. He reached out, gently brushing his gloved fingers over Grogu’s ear, eliciting a delighted squeal from the child.

“He cares about you,” Din said, his voice warm. “More than I’ve seen him care about anyone else.”

You felt a lump form in your throat, and you swallowed hard before answering. “I care about him, too. And you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended. Din’s helmet tilted slightly, as if he were studying you, and your heart raced under his scrutiny.

“I know,” he said finally, his voice quiet but certain.

You blinked, unsure how to respond. Before you could say anything, Din rose to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He reached out, resting a hand on your shoulder—a brief, almost hesitant gesture, but one that sent warmth spreading through you.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice soft. “I’ll take first watch.”

“Din—”

“Please,” he added, cutting you off.

The word caught you off guard. You nodded slowly, leaning back against the cot as Grogu snuggled closer to your side. Din lingered for a moment longer before turning and walking back toward the cockpit, his steps heavy but purposeful.

As the door hissed shut behind him, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Grogu made a soft, contented sound, and you stroked his head absently, your thoughts spinning.

Din’s words echoed in your mind, mingling with the unspoken emotions you’d seen in his actions. There was something there—something deeper than duty, something neither of you were ready to name.

For now, you let it be.

Feel free to request <3

[jorvik-gazette-archive]

Prototype for our “””simulator””” horse controller for PC. Currently playable with pixel studio engine games. Next prototype will use Pi Pico MCU, two feet pedals and two joystick modules. Controller will use USB HID so no drivers needed and there will be a table mount for the controller. Also, string will be replaced with actual reins(or similar feeling strap). We have been toying with a idea of adding stirrups and saddle but those would be maybe possible in somewhere later versions. (Big maybe). Current setup is suboptimal, we’re using “submarine” controller and DDR dance mat. Time to do some CAD modelling.

[hummingjay]

New oc for thee: SKUR "Großer Skua”

Under the cut are numerous doodles and SO MUCH YAP it’s very long so be warned.

SKUR

Schwere-Kommando-Ungeheuer-Replika

Heavy-commando-Behemoth-Replica

Großer Skuas, or Schwere-Kampf-ungeheuer-Replikas, “Great Skuas”, often simply referred to as Skuas, are heavy commandos utilized by the nation in dangerous raids. These units are large and bulky, wearing heavy armor and welding weapons that are usually too heavy not to be on a mount. They operate in small groups, usually one to three, commanded by a KLBR, STAR, LSTR, STCR unit, or with an infantry force.

Skuas use a wide variety of heavy weapons, from machine guns and grenade launchers to flamethrowers and shotguns. Whatever the weapon, they’re always hyper-powered and usually too heavy for most units to even carry, much less use. They can unmount vehicle machine guns and use them in a man-portable fashion. Their armor is strong enough to block shotgun rounds at point blank range. Despite their large, heavy appearance, Skuas are deceptively fast. They carry cargos of ammunition and gear, and can be used as workhorses for transport. 

Skuas are the perfect soldier in a way that an angel is the perfect human. They’ve been stripped from their humanity in a barbaric defiance of the natural order of creation, leaving an abomination whose sole purpose is bringing death in the most destructive manner possible. They feature skinless, fleshless, skull-like-heads, and many of their internal organs have been replaced with mechanics. They have no stomach and run instead on pressurized gasolines, and can create improvised fuels from processing and liquidizing organic matter, allowing them to attain fuel in the field and go without supplies for close to years. They can go without fuel for up to a week, and their fuel-processing systems allow them to live on diets of wood and even flesh. Their internal fuel systems and generators are located where their stomach and other organs used to be. Connected to the fuel system and remaining heart and lungs is a sophisticated engine that emits a low whir or hum. With no lips, their voicebox is located directly in the back of the throat, and sounds more mechanical than a normal replika. Their voice tends to be unsettling, like it’s not real or that it cuts through one’s ears. They will often cough the exhaust from their internal engine systems. 

Skuas do not feel pain, and will instead feel a dull pressure when damaged, only so that they’re aware of their wounds. They must be watched closely as they see no difference between a pinprick and decapitation. They feature air filters in the neck and are immune to toxins, and can breathe even through even the thickest smoke and dust. Advanced cooling and ventilation control systems allow them to survive in both extremely hot or cold environments. Their joints are more mechanical, mixing machine pistons with their pseudo-flesh to strengthen them. Their cranial construction and nervous system are organic and interconnected with their machine structures and systems. They lack conventional eidetic modules and utilize instead camera-like lenses that are more immune to flash-grenades and cannot be blinded by debris. A built-in decibel limit also prevents becoming deaf, temporarily or otherwise. Arteries and veins are seamlessly integrated with the other mechanical systems. Though they possess no stomach, intestines, liver, kidneys, and other artificial internal organs that replikas typically have, they still have their heart, blood, and lungs to pump oxygen into the fuel systems. 

Skuas operate well alone and in groups. One can be sent on a near-suicidal operation or can serve as support for a larger infantry. 

Skuas are generally led by a handler, usually an Elster, Kolibri, Storch, or Starling unit. Each handler type fulfills a different role. Elster units lead Skuas far into unsurveyed enemy territory with little information and even less support. Storch-led Skuas operate raids. Starlings lead Skuas among other infantry, and Kolibris will operate a wider variety of roles in-high-stakes operations. Roles may vary, such as Elster units leading a defense campaign or a Starling leading a raid.

The commanding handler of Skua units must be evaluated for loyalty, as Skuas are easy to manipulate due to their unwavering, unquestioning, and extreme obedience. Commanding officers’ sole role is to manage the commandos, dealing with maintenance and orders. While not higher ranking than other officers, having the deadly and intimidating behemoths under their command affords handlers an uncanny authority. Skuas will develop close bonds with their commander, and are extremely protective of them.

Due to their skinless, faceless nature, Skuas are difficult at best to read. It is hard to gauge their emotions by their voice, which itself is monotone and formal, and their demeanor is similarly difficult to gauge. Their commanding handlers are expected to understand the subtle signs that signify their mental state, such as a clenched jaw in anger, and the activation of ventilation systems located in the neck and spine when flustered. Skuas do not possess tear nor mucus ducts, and will emit sporadic growls and hums instead of crying. Similarly, harder, louder, more aggressive growls can be heard if the Skua is particularly angry. When especially happy or content, they will produce deeper, louder humming sounds akin to purrs. Skuas also lack sweat glands, using their internal cooling and ventilation systems to stay at optimal temperature. Oddly, a byproduct of their unorthodox nerve system is that they enjoy being pet. Handlers discover a ‘sweet spot’, usually located on the torso.

Skua personalities appear dull and empty. They speak in monotone voices and tend to be very passive. In combat, they are aggressive and destructive, yet calm, causing maximum damage in minimal time. They fight in an oppressive fashion, fighting in such a manner that enemy combatants hardly have a chance to fire back. Unlike other combat units, they show no affinity nor fondness for violence, it’s simply a task that must be done. Skuas are wholly and entirely obedient to commanding units, utterly unquestioning of the even most appalling orders. While deep down, a sense of morality can theoretically be found, said ethics are completely ignored when an order contradicts what little there is. They will not go out of the way to cause maximum collateral, but have no qualms about it. For these reasons, Skaus can also function as executors. Their obedience makes them easy to manipulate, and are generally under the command of a replika instead of a gestalt. Upon further interaction, Skuas will reveal a calm and soft personality, akin to MNHR type units. When interacting with other units, they will minimize movement, as they do not know their own strength and can cause injury. They tend to not speak, aware of the intrinsic unsettling quality of their voice.

Skuas are physically terrifying to most units. Faceless, monstrous, destructive, and smelling of exhaust, they’re avoided almost entirely. They serve as omens to mass destruction to the enemy. Skuas themselves have no particular fondness for specific units. If any treats them as more than a demonic tool, they will attempt to befriend the person. Showing affection to the unloved units is an effective and easy way to gain their trust. Underneath their corpse-like and violent exterior, Skuas are gentle souls. They are fascinated by gestalts and their lives, as well as other replikas, and display a childlike curiosity with the world. They stabilize their persona by drawing and sketching. They may tattoo each other’s armor so that others can tell them apart, usually drawing little more than numbers. Often, one can find Skaus hidden just off the area where Eules work, as they listen to their singing and music. They enjoy looking for flowers when off duty, and will decorate each other with them.

Naming conventions are random. They have no preference for names and are generally named by their commanding officer, sometimes others, very rarely themselves. More personalized names stem from commanders. More generic names will come from nearby compatriots. 

While technically female, Skuas are often referred to as “it” by others, not afforded the luxury of humanization. They make no movements to correct the notion. They are seen as unmanned combat vehicles rather than replikas, and they know it.  Handlers are to refer to them more humanely, and are to provide names if a unit doesn’t have one.

The gestalt template for the Skua unit was a gunner in an aircraft crew, chosen for their keen eye, unyielding loyalty, and will of steel. Skuas are to be kept on-ground purely as foot soldiers to minimize resurfacing memories. Degraded Skuas are extremely dysphoric and must never look into a mirror. When degraded, Skuas remain mostly obedient but erratic and confused. They become unsteady on their feet and will attempt to board aircraft. Obedience will not decline, but they will question unfamiliar commanders. Late-stage degradation will reveals mania and violence. Decommission degrading Skuas immediately as soon as degradation is confirmed. They can easily be disposed of by having their handler disarm them, though convincing their handler to do so may be difficult. Use anti-armor rounds for a quick operation.

[lonestarflight]

Cancelled Missions: Skylab Rescue Mission (SL-R)

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-3

Spacecraft: CSM-119

Launch Vehicle: Saturn IB AS-208, later AS-209

Commander: Vance D. Brand

Command Module Pilot: Don L. Lind

Intended launch date: September 1973, (on standby from August 1973 - February 1974)

Skylab rescue mission crewmen Vance Brand (left) and Don Lind.

"Influenced by the stranded Skylab crew portrayed in the book and movie 'Marooned', NASA provided a crew rescue capability for the only time in its history." Prepared for launch during Skylab 3."

"Skylab rescue vehicle phasing - NAR Space Division drawing illustrates phasing of 5-seater Skylab rescue vehicle for a Skylab mission."

Date: April 5, 1971

"A kit was developed to fit out an Apollo command module with a total of five crew couches. In the event a Skylab crew developed trouble with its Apollo CSM return craft, a rescue CSM would be prepared and launched to rendezvous with the station. It would dock with the spare second side docking port of the Skylab docking module."

- information from Astronautix.com: link

"The Apollo Command Module as modified to rescue stranded crews for the Skylab program. Two crew + three rescuees packed like sardines...."

"Skylab 3 astronauts Alan Bean and Jack Lousma helped design the "field modification kit" to use a standard CSM for rescue, and would have flown the CSM for their mission to rescue Skylab 2 if necessary. The standard Skylab Command Module accommodated a crew of three with storage lockers on the aft bulkhead for resupply of experiment film and other equipment, as well as the return of exposed film, data tapes and experiment samples. To convert the standard CSM to a rescue vehicle, the storage lockers were removed and replaced with two crew couches to seat a total of five crewmen."

Posted on Flickr by Mike Acs. NASA ID: 108-KSC-70P-69

"Soon after Skylab 3's launch the crew's CSM developed a problem with Quad B, one of its four reaction control system thrusters. On August 2, 1973, six days later, a snowstorm-like effect outside the station startled the crew during breakfast. What appeared to be 'a real blizzard' was fuel leaking from Quad D, opposite from Quad B. The malfunctions left two available quads, and while the spacecraft could operate with just one, the leaks posed a possible risk to other systems. The fuel for all quads and the main service propulsion system (SPS) engine were from the same batch; if the SPS fuel was contaminated, the CSM might not be able to deorbit.

source

NASA considered bringing the crew home immediately, but because the astronauts were safe on the station with ample supplies and because plans for a rescue flight existed,  the mission continued while the Saturn IB rocket AS-208 with CSM-119 was assembled in the Vehicle Assembly Building at Launch Complex 39 for possible use. It was at one point rolled out to LC-39B.

Illustration of the rescue Apollo spacecraft preparing to dock at Skylab’s lateral port. source

NASA announced on August 4 that Skylab 3 and Skylab 4 backup crewmen Vance Brand and Don Lind would fly any rescue mission; they had immediately begun training for the flight once the second quad had failed on August 2. After engineers found that the leaks would not disable the spacecraft, the two men used simulators to test reentry using two quads. If ground personnel worked 24 hours a day and skipped some tests, the mission could launch on September 10, and would last no more than five days. The astronauts would attempt to prepare Skylab for further use but returning experimental data and diagnosing the cause of the problem were more important, with Lind choosing what would be brought back. Human urine and feces samples and Apollo Telescope Mount and other film were the priorities. Although Skylab had two docking ports the primary one would be used if possible, jettisoning the Skylab crew's CSM if necessary.

Posted on Flickr by Drew Granston: link

While many within NASA believed that the rescue mission would occur, within hours of the failure of the second quad the agency canceled the rescue mission. Beyond NASA's conclusion that the failed quads would not disable the Skylab 3 CSM and the SPS fuel was uncontaminated, Brand and Lind had already shown during their training as backup Skylab crewmen that a reentry with failed quads was safe. They also devised a method to deorbit with the command module's attitude control system. Later joking that they were 'very efficient but perfectly stupid, because we have literally worked ourselves out of the mission', Brand and Lind continued to train for a rescue mission, as well as for their backup roles, but the Skylab 3 crew was able to complete its full 59-day mission on the station and safely return to Earth using the two functional RCS thruster quads,  using the SPS engine once instead of twice as precaution."

- Information from Wikipedia: link

Posted on Flickr by Ed Dempsey: link

Saturn IB SA-208 was used for Skylab 4 and SA-209 was assigned to the standby rescue mission. At one point, CSM-119/SA-209 was slated for the Skylab 5 mission but it was cancelled when SL-4 was extended and completed all of it objectives.

Mission patch for rescue mission for SL-4

Later, CSM-119/SA-209 was the backup launch vehicle for Apollo-Soyuz Test Project mission and standby rescue vehicle. After the Apollo program ended, the surplus rocket and spacecraft were displayed at the Kennedy Space Center, Florida.

NASA ID: 71-H-662, S73-31922

source, source

[katedrakeohd]

Heartstopper (part2)

@kingliamappreciationweek

@tessa-liam @lizzybeth1986 @sazanes

@kingliam2019

King Liam Appreciation Week 2024

Read other chapters

Rating: Mature themes (angst, swearing, alcohol use, car accident, bodily harm, character death, betrayal, all the drama)

Cast: TRR - King Nicholas, Drake Walker, Kate Darling (MC), other characters.

-_-_-����-_-_-

King Nicholas sat at the desk in his bedroom. It had been an hour since he'd seen Kate get slapped by one of his security guards and then get shoved into one of his own royal SUVs. He had sent Drake after her. But he hadn't heard anything from either of them since. He had called Drake several times and gotten no response. A bottle of whiskey sat open on the desk and the glass in his hand had already been refilled many times.

It was his Coronation night, and it should have been a joyous and monumental occasion. So far it hadn't been much of a celebration at all. He was forced by his own family to choose Madeleine Amaranth of Fydelia as his Queen. It was Kate Darling who had won his heart, and her unfortunate violent kidnapping had him feeling totally crushed and betrayed.

The phone on the desk started ringing and he coughed into his fist to clear his throat before picking up the receiver. He licked his lips and then answered, "Hello?"

"Your Majesty, Bastien here. The SUV carrying Kate Darling didn't reach the airport. Conner and Jax were supposed to meet Mark and Derek at the airport to ensure her deportation was successful. The flight to New York already left."

To Nicholas the only name he was familiar with in that explanation was Kate. And it infuriated him that the words 'deportation' and 'Kate' should ever be linked together.

"I see." Was the only response he could put together.

"Drake hasn't returned with the Ambassador's car yet either."

"Please extend my sincerest apologies to the Moroccan Ambassador and his driver. I authorized Drake to engage in risky behavior and I shouldn't have given him so much liberty to do so. If the vehicle comes back damaged in any way I promise to replace it."

"I'll inform you immediately of any new developments as they come to my attention."

"Thank-you, Bastien."

Nicholas hung up the phone and swallowed the remains of his drink in one gulp. It hit his gut with a scorching fire and the resulting cough burned his nostrils. He welcomed the pain of it, because the deep worry over Kate's disappearance had shifted toward one of dread. Where was she? And where was Drake?

..

The large puddles of water on the highway became spraying fountains as the silver Audi slashed through them. Drake was dangerously pushing the limits of its tires to keep traction. The other drivers had slowed down for safety and Drake hastily wove his silver dart around them. Come on people it's just a little rain.

But of all the vehicles he had passed, none seemed to be the black SUV that he was looking for. With a frustrated sigh he was forced to slow down as the vehicles became more erratically placed in his way. Are the other drivers moving at all?

When he took the car in the first place he had left the window open. He enjoyed the reckless freedom of hearing the engine growl as it accelerated. But once the rain began he had to close the window to spare the leather interior. Unfortunately ever since the window had closed he'd been struggling to modulate the car's internal temperature to keep his windows clear. He rarely drove anything other than the fleet vehicles, and driving in the rain at night wasn't helping either. The unfamiliar atmospheric controls and placement of the vents had him turning the fan up higher to compensate for the humidity.

The staccato rhythm of a random car horn forced him to look up at the road. Were they warning him of something? It was then that he smelled the smoke. It was the unmistakable oily smell of a car fire. Sweet Jesus, No.

The flashing hazard lights of the parked cars ahead were the next clue. He crept past them and then looked to his right. In the darkness, the flames and smoke boiling out from under the hood of the crumpled SUV didn't seem real. But the model of it couldn't have been more real to Drake. He quickly swerved to park his vehicle on the shoulder. The tires had barely imbedded themselves in the gravel before he threw his door open to exit the car. He ducked back in to jab at the trunk release. Hopefully there was something in there he could use.

Other drivers were standing by their cars and shouting at him to wait for the emergency crews. Help was on its way.

But Drake couldn't afford to wait. There was someone he cared about in that burning vehicle. As he threw the trunk lid open he felt a measure of relief at the bag of golf clubs that he saw. There was also an emergency tool kit and a first-aid kit. He dumped out the golf clubs and chose a nine iron. He bashed up his knuckles rifling through the emergency kit and found the tiny jack handle/pry bar. These would have to do.

In the garish flash of the hazard lights and the blinding headlamps of the other cars, he saw the path of destruction that the tumbling SUV had torn in the grassy hillside. He cursed the slick soles of his dress shoes as he slid and skidded his way down through the fresh mud. Having miss-matched metal tools in each hand added to the clumsiness of his endeavor; but who ever said playing the hero was pretty. It was still raining and that made everything that much worse. He quickly became soaked to the skin.

As he approached the wreckage he threw down his tools and tried to open the back door of the car first. The rollover had crushed the door frame and the hinges were jammed. Fuck.

The smoke burned at his eyes and nostrils and he covered his nose with his elbow as he assessed the condition of the window glass next. The fleet vehicles had tinted, reinforced window glass, but he hoped it wasn't shatterproof. The windows in the front were not tinted as darkly and he saw the crumpled bloodied remains of the driver and his seat belted passenger. In the dark backseat he couldn't see if Kate was moving.

"Hold on Darling, I'm coming for ya." He shouted as he bent down to get the golf club. He swung the club like a baseball bat and it harmlessly bounced off the glass. No damage to the glass, but it bent the shaft of the club and loosened the head. He swung it against the fender to break it off. Changing his grip on the slippery club he stabbed at the glass like an ice pick. Finally the surface began to chip. He jabbed at the edge of the window by the frame and punched a hole. Working the shaft around in the hole he tried to make it bigger. Smoke leaked out through the hole, but he still wasn't any closer to seeing the inside of the car. Fuck!

He dropped the club and picked up the crowbar. The wet dirty metal slid around greasily in his hands and his skin burned from trying to get a grip. He jammed the crowbar into the crack of the doorframe where the latch would be. He kicked at it as hard as he could, cursing his stupid shoes as the pain shot up into his ankle. He needed boots, heavy boots.

He could hear sirens approaching.

Come ..on! .He kicked harder in desperation and the latch popped. Smoke billowed out from the crack and he could hear coughing. She's still alive. Grabbing the bar in both hands he wrenched at the door and worked enough gap to get his fingers around the top edge of the door frame. He pulled with all his might and yelled out. "Kate?! Kate! Can you hear me?"

He heard her cough again, "Drake?"

"Are you injured? Help is coming. But damn it if I'm not going to try to get you out of there myself." He growled in desperation through clenched teeth as his hands slipped and slid along the edge of the door. His fingers were bleeding, but his pumping adrenaline masked any pain.

He jammed the bar into the top of the doorframe and levered with as much force as his tiring arms could manage. He coughed against the hot smoke that filled his lungs.

A loud voice boomed at him from behind. "Sir! Step away from the vehicle!"

He squinted over his shoulder at the bright flashlights of the approaching firefighters, " 'Bout time you guys showed up. Help me get her out!"

Strong hands pulled him out of the way, and he watched another firefighter jam a large pry bar into the edge of the door and wrench it open wider.

"Wish I'd had one of those.."

He looked down at the tiny bar he held in his hand and then dropped it.

Someone dropped a warm blanket around his shoulders and he held it closed like a robe. They tried to lead him away, but he resisted.

"No, not yet. I need to see if she's ok."

He watched them spray some sort of foamy stuff on the engine compartment and the fire went out. The hot metal sizzled and hissed as the rain pattered down. Two men pulled the backdoor open and then one climbed inside to check on Kate. He could hear the quiet assurances from the firefighter and Kate's sobs of relief and gratitude. Then she was lifted out in his arms.

Drake's heart sank when he saw the state that she was in. Her skin and dress were blackened from smoke. Kate's beautiful face was bloodied and bruised, and her delicate hands and fingers were scraped raw and bleeding. She was missing a shoe, and her shins and ankles were scraped up badly as well. They laid her down carefully on a stretcher and covered her with a blanket. She turned her head and looked at Drake as they carried her past him, and her terrified expression made him want to throw up.

Drake was led back to his car and sat down on the passenger front seat. A paramedic treated the scrapes on his hands while another one offered him an oxygen mask from a portable tank. He accepted the mask and took the deepest breath his sore lungs would allow. He coughed and then brushed the mask aside, shaking his head. His voice was hoarse, "I'll be fine. I was a smoker for years, this is nothing. Go look after her."

A police officer came over to ask him questions.

"Your name, Sir?"

He coughed, "Drake Walker."

"Did you witness the accident?" The officer scribbled on his notepad.

Drake shook his head, "No."

"What prompted you to attempt such a rescue? To risk your own safety instead of calling for help?"

Drake coughed into his fist, "I was ordered to follow them. Her safety is my job."

The officer frowned, "But you didn't see how the accident happened."

Drake shook his head again, turning in his seat to watch Kate being put into the back of an ambulance.

"I was several kilometers behind. I'm her bodyguard, and was giving chase to catch up."

The officer narrowed his eyes and looked him up and down, suspiciously. "You were chasing them? Did they know they were being followed? If you're her bodyguard then why weren't you in the vehicle in the first place?"

Drake pointed at the crumpled SUV angrily, "Because the bastards separated us and then forced her into it. They took her against her will. And if you're implying that I chased them off the road and caused the accident... That's fucking insane."

The officer scribbled details down on his notepad, and then repeated his question, "Why didn't you call for help when you came upon the crash?"

Drake's angry outburst had scraped his throat raw. He coughed painfully and then leaned over to spit black soot on the ground. He wiped his mouth on the blanket. "I am the help. Now if you don't mind I need to follow her to the hospital."

He got out of the car and gave the blanket back to the paramedic, "Thanks for helping me warm up and dry out."

He pushed past the officer, "And Fuck You very much and get the hell out of my way."

He sprinted back around the front of the car to get back in the driver's seat. He reached over and retrieved his phone from the floor and saw all of the missed calls from Nicholas. Untangling his suit jacket, he put it back on and then jabbed at his phone screen to call him back.

He switched the call to speaker and then restarted the car, honking his horn to scatter the people standing in the way. Nicholas's voice was frantic as he picked up the call.

"Drake?! .. what's all the honking for...Drake?"

He pulled out onto the road to follow the ambulance that had already left.

"Sorry, I had to clear the people out of my way."

"Where are you? What's going on?" Nicholas asked.

Drake took a moment to cough, his throat was still raw as he choked out a response. "There's been an accident, and I'm on the way to the hospital."

"You sound terrible, don't tell me you crashed the Ambassador's car."

Drake looked at his raw knuckles as they gripped the steering wheel. "Don't worry about me. No, the SUV was in an accident. Kate's in rough shape."

There was a long pause on the other end and Drake wondered if Nicholas was ok.

"Are you still th-.."

"Did you run them off the road?" Nicholas interrupted.

"Jesus Christ, No! You're the second person in the last five minutes to ask me that. And it's really starting to piss me off."

Drake coughed again, the painful force of it causing him to swerve and then correct his steering. He smacked the steering wheel in frustration, his heart racing. He'd never catch up at this rate. A sense of panic twisted his gut at the thought of Kate slipping further and further away. He suddenly felt overwhelmingly nauseous.

He opened his window and gulped at the fresh air, his skin felt clammy as he wiped the sweat from his face.

"Drake? Are you sure you're ok?"

Forcing the bile back down his throat burned his chest like acid. His eyes watered. No, he was definitely not ok.

"I'm ok," he lied. Sucking in more of the cool night air.

Nicholas' voice wavered with concern, "Can you tell me more about the accident?"

"I don't know how it happened... Just that the driver is going to be leaving the scene in a body bag, and the other guy with him didn't look much better. Dear God, Nicholas..." Drake's voice broke, and he coughed to cover it up. He couldn't stop the tears as they trickled down his face. "I tried so hard to get her out of there, the car was on fire and there was so much smoke. I..I don't know how she survived."

"Drake, maybe you should pull over."

Drake sniffed and then coughed again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. He made a black smear on the grey material. "No, I can't stop. I don't know where they're taking her."

"Probably Capital General. Thank goodness she survived..was she conscious? How bad did she look?"

Drake scrubbed his hand through his wet hair, "From what I saw, her outside injuries seemed to be superficial. But being trapped in the car with all that smoke and heat must have done a number on her lungs. I was outside the car and it fucked me up pretty bad."

"But She.. she's alive..." Nicholas's voice trailed off.

"I didn't really get the chance to talk to her before she was loaded in the ambulance, but yes she was conscious. And very alive."

"Thank-you Drake. If she pulls through you'll definitely be rewarded for your bravery. ..And if she doesn't, well..I.."

Drake shook his head, wiping the tears from his face this time. "I don't want to think about that scenario either."

There was a pause and then Nicholas continued, "Get yourself checked out at the hospital, and try to keep tabs on her the best you can. Don't leave her side if you can help it."

"I won't."

Drake heard Nicholas sigh on the other end of the phone call, he could tell their call was coming to an end. It was as if his sorrow had totally depleted him.

"I'll be in touch to discuss our next steps. Wait for me to contact you. Other than you, I don't know who else I can trust right now."

Drake could hear the nervousness in his voice, and he didn't like it.

"Understood," he replied and hung up.

[flesh-n-wire]

Transition plans to become more like springtrap.

PT; transition plans to become more like springtrap.

Some of these might be a little unrealistic, im gonna go in order of cheapest and easiest to unrealistic and expensive

The ⚙ emoji means something incomplete

the 🔧 emoji means something ive begun doing

The 🔩 means something ive completed

Self care standards

🔧 Im going to grow out my nails into claws, not necessarily a thing i have but scraptrap did and it may prove useful.

⚙ Cut my hair, style it to be fucked up and match with the way I view source me. Maybe dye it brown or even purple

🔧 Shower even though im supposed to smell like im rotting, i dont want to get sick.

⚙ Diet of jerky and other dried foods, and pizza among my normal diet.

Voice and speech

⚙ train myself to talk in a chest voice

Clothes:

🔧 Tattered and worn clothes, maybe with fishnets underneath

🔧 Clothes that are the color of the suit im in, plus some red or purple mixed in depending on how i feel

🔧 Fashion that is more edgy and would fit

🔩 A bowtie, red, black or purple.

🔩 Skeleton gloves

Makeup:

🔧 On my eyes to make them look more sunken in and on the rest of my face to mimic joints, and animatronic animal facial features.

⚙ Acrylic nails to look like claws if the growing them out thing is too difficult.

Other

⚙ Start T for a deeper voice and more masculine features

⚙Legally change my name to William

🔧frequent arcades and places with animatronics more

⚙learn things about engineering or business, even if it doesnt beocme a hobby or job

⚙perfume, it doesnt nessacarily have to smell bad but it can.

Body modification:

⚙ Tattoos that look like robot joints, withering, markings, possibly organs.

⚙ Subdermal implants. Just to get a more robotic or even fucked up feel. Maybe ill get a permanent bowtie on my chest.

Cosplay + Gear

⚙ Purchase animatronic remote controlled bunny ears resembling my own.

🔩 Make a mask of my own face

⚙ Make or commission a full body (non springlock and safe) suit of myself to wear, hopefully with good ventilation so i can stay in it for hours at a rime

⚙ Purple guy hat and badge for shits and giggles

⚙ Voice modulator that only slightly changes my voice to be deeper and more robotic

Final transition plans

I doubt these will actually ever happen but if theres a way i will try if its safe.

⚙Permanent suit, ill still be alive in it safe in sound, but i wear it 24/7 for the rest of my life, i will be able to control its movements and facial expressions through engineering connected to my brain.

⚙If theres ever a way to turn myself into a ai, i shall replace my body with the suit fully and basically possess it

⚙Live with other transspecies animatronics or transspecies folks in general so we can work together and care for eachother.

⚙Live at a arcade or become a local cryptid

⚙Take up the name springtrap fully

[yunharlaquin]

                   A mournfulness surrounds her as she walks through the forest,  deep and uncompromising and devastating.     This never ending well of emotions tears at her gut as she steps ever closer to her father's beloved ship.   A few more dents,  some shiny new plating here and there, all the adventures it had been on since that horrific day leaving their marks.   A mass slams into her diaphragm at the thought.     How many months had it been now?     Pausing at the ramp,  she reaches out instinctively,  searching for any presences aboard.     

                   None.     Good.

                   Each step feels heavier as she continues up the ramp,  a flurry of memories rushing unbidden.     Normally,  she's too busy to note the little things,  to heed the call of the past,  racing up the deck for some mission or accompanied by laughter or serious talk.     

                   Friends.     Family.     Distracted.  

                   But now,  they surround her,  those moments of his bellowing laughter and her delighted giggles as she sat on his lap in the cockpit,  the first time she'd floated a part over to a bemused him,  the man elbows deep in the engine as he explained patiently just how to bypass a broken control module... or replace it.  

                   There's a keening,  gasping,  horrible sound,  and it takes her longer than it should to realize it's not in her memories,  that she's even made it into the lounge at all.     It's her,  her fingers clawing at her ribs as if she could hold back another because it comes so very quickly.     Is it her crying?     Sobbing?     Gasping?     She isn't her mother,  hasn't the same way with words,  not in moments like these,  but she knows one thing.  

                   It is agony.      The noise burns up through her lungs like a repulsor,  spasming her throat as she choked on it.

                   And then,  she's on her knees,  bone protesting its crash into the deck as her legs seemingly give way.     She should fight,  but she's drowning it in,  allowing herself sink deep beneath the waves of grief,  each blink caustic from the saltwater in her eyes.     

                   How does she do this?     How does she go on?     Haven't they all suffered enough?     It's almost rage inducing if not for the mountain pressing hopelessly upon her shoulders,  deadening everything except the sheer scale of loss in her soul.  

                   ❝  Why does this still hurt so much?  ❞     She whispers it into the silence of the powered down Falcon,  she knows she does,  small and desperate as if anything,  anyone will answer.     As if he will answer.     It's been more than a cycle without him,  with him gone.     

                   ( dead,  Murdered,  SKEWERED )  

                   A inhuman, roiling scream rips from her throat,  Jaina bent double as her forehead presses against her knees.     

                   Why?                      WHYWHYWHYWHYWHY?                      He loved you.                      HE LOVED YOU,  BEN.                       He loved us.                      He loved me...

                   Somehow,  she finds her feet again,  leaden boots wandering to the bunkroom.    It's not the same as it once was,  new mattresses, new sheets,  too many cycles since it'd been used by them as a family.     But she climbs onto the full sized bunk all the same,  the one where she'd buried herself into her father's side when the nightmares refused to abate as they searched so desperately for her brother,  and pulled one of those pillows into her chest.     As if that could somehow recreate the sensation of being held so closely against him, the beat of his heart that she can nearly hear, the smell of grease and sweat that never left him,  the sound of his voice tenderly soothing as she did then as she does right now.

                   Sob.   Sob until she can't breathe.  Until she feels numb.  Until she's too exhausted to feel the pain of what can never be repaired.

                   I miss you, Dad.    Happy Name Day.

[clifford-auto-parts]

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[dr-octavio-kalev]

MOTHRA Institution, The Eleven Counselors — 01, Grandpa Lenin. (In short, the SCP's O5 MOTHRA Institution edition)

"This is fucking disgusting."

HIGH PATENT FILE – MOTHRA INSTITUTION

The Eleven Counselors — 0-1 | "Grandpa Lenin"

Name: Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanov

Position: Advisor 0-1 of the MOTHRA Eleven Counselors

Keycard Level: Omni Level

In ████, MOTHRA conducted Operation Daedalus, with the goal of recovering and reactivating the brain of Lenin,. The preserved body of Vladimir Lenin was secretly removed from his mausoleum in Moscow and brought to the MOTHRA Complex via Operation Notorious. Using advanced neurotechnology, MOTHRA scientists reactivated Lenin's brain through electromagnetic pulses and partial replacement of damaged tissue with synthetic neural matrices. The brain was reinserted into his preserved body, now fitted with a biomechanical life support system, with automated control and reinforced armor.

Upon awakening, Lenin was offered a position of influence inside MOTHRA Institution, and accepted it with a chilling smile. As the First Counselor of the Eleven, Lenin acts as the ideological advisor and strategic planner behind many of MOTHRA’s internal policies. Though reanimated, he retains 99% of his historical memories, alongside a sharpened political analysis engine embedded in his cortical net.

Lenin does not sleep. He spends most of his operational cycles reading, speaking to lower-level inmates about ideology, and offering cryptic counsel to the MOTHRA Directors. His "Mechanized Doctrine Speeches" are now distributed internally via encrypted institutional frequencies and analyzed for patterns of dissent or compliance among staff.

Biography: Born in Simbirsk, Russia, Vladimir Ilyich Ulyanovn, later known as Lenin, was a revolutionary theorist, political strategist, and the key architect of the Bolshevik Revolution. Following the fall of the Romanov dynasty, he established the Soviet Union and governed as its Premier until his official death in 1924. His ideologies laid the groundwork for Marxist-Leninist states worldwide and continue to echo in various revolutionary movements across the globe.

Known for his pivotal role in the Russian Revolution and subsequent establishment of the Soviet state. His life was characterized by revolutionary zeal, strategic maneuvering, and a staunch commitment to the principles of Marxism. After his death in January 1924, his body was preserved and placed on display in Moscow's Red Square, becoming a symbol of communist ideology.

Description: Maintained in a stasis-compatible cryo-embalming compound. The organic tissue, though visibly aged, is functionally augmented with biomechanical enhancements. These include an internal circulatory simulacrum, reinforced skeletal supports, and an exoskeletal spinal brace to sustain cranial interface operations.

Lenin is primarily wheelchair-bound, though not fully incapacitated. His custom-engineered wheelchair is equipped with multi-directional treads, electromagnetic stabilizers, and a shock-dampening seat frame designed for institutional navigation. Despite his limited ambulatory capacity, the wheelchair grants full-range movement and limited vertical ascension for elevated platforms or defensive posturing.

Lenin’s facial skin remains preserved, maintained through periodic dermal rehydration injections. His expressions carry a permanent semblance of stoic scrutiny. Optical implants allow for detailed retinal analysis of nearby individuals and environmental stimuli. His eyes, while retaining their historical blue-gray hue, display subtle red glints from the internal data-processing HUD overlays.

Speech is conducted via a vocal modulation apparatus embedded in his throat. The system reconstructs speech from neural impulses, emitting a low, mechanical tone that echoes through synthetic vocal cords. Though it mimics his original Russian inflection, the delivery lacks emotional cadence, resulting in an effect both unnerving and authoritative.

Lenin is never seen without his trusted weapon: a customized Winchester shotgun, dubbed "Red Dawn." The firearm is tactically modified, loaded with silver-cobalt shells and affixed to his wheelchair’s right armrest by a hydraulic auto-holster. The weapon is biometrically locked, but responds to Lenin’s vocal commands or neural trigger sequences, allowing immediate access in high-threat situations. Despite his apparent fragility, his reflexive command over the shotgun makes him lethally efficient in close-range confrontations.

Lenin's cognitive faculties have shown remarkable retention and adaptation to manipulate other technologies in contact. Extensive psychological evaluations indicate an ability to strategize and articulate complex political concepts. The integration of modern data processing capabilities enhances his comprehension of current events and historical contexts.

Final Notes: Recent evaluations indicate mixed results in terms of Lenin’s psychological adaptation. While he retains sharp memory, there are indications of frustration stemming from his pre-existing philosophies not aligning with modern socio-political landscapes. Observations have noted moments of reflective silence wherein he seems to grapple with the implications of his past decisions contrasted with present realities.

Regular psychological evaluations to monitor adaptation. Establish a mentoring program connecting him with burgeoning leaders to foster understanding and respect towards historical nuance.

[astranite]

Static Does Not Mean Still

Scott and Virgil go on a run in a nearby park to burn off some energy after an easy rescue, and the prompt 'Static electricity' is also involved in here somewhere thanks to @gumnut-logic's Unusual Whump List

This is about fluff and joyful brothers getting to run around in the sunshine. And a bit of ADHD Scott and the Hyperactivity. They are having fun and I had fun writing this.

Also thank you to @edutainer2022 for talking about this as a wip, and about Scott getting to put down his burdens and the weight of responsibility for a while to be carefree with his brothers.

---

Any rescues where no one came away bruised, bleeding and/or catastrophically exhausted were always a win in Virgil’s book. This was one of them. 

The engineering foam deployed from Two had stabilised the overpass bridge structure exactly as it was supposed to before further infrastructure damage could be caused, especially to the railway line below, the main concern which had resulted in International Rescue’s call out. 

Virgil had got to put his engineering degree expertise to good use, handover to the local authorities was smooth and professional with plenty of admiration on both sides for how the incident was handled, and no fancy jetpacking was even required to Scott’s disappointment.

It was a great day all in all to be finishing at noon on a Tuesday. The sun was shining, their work for now was done and everyone commuting would be able to get home safely when the rush hour hit in the evening. 

Virgil took off his helmet to put it away with the gear and ran a hand through his somewhat sweaty hair, grinning at Scott as he walked up to him. 

“Hey Scotty.”

“Virge!”

Scott had ditched his helmet as soon as the rescue was over and he got the all clear from Virgil which was a big improvement on protocol following and not taking unnecessary risks. 

In the meantime his hair had fallen into disarray but Scott didn’t seem to mind. He put an arm around Virgil’s shoulders to give him a squeeze before going back to pacing circles on the module floor, gesturing wildly at John’s little hologram as they talked rapid fire. Something, theoretical mathematics, something. Virgil, unlike other members of the family preferred the more concrete and applicable to what was in the world in front of him branches of engineering.

Virgil did also have big brother jittering at his side with pent up energy and a flight home in his green girl that was apparently ‘not nyoooomy enough’ for Scott’s liking to get through without anyone exploding. 

Scott’s hyperactivity wasn’t a bad thing, never had been when it was just how Scott was. Virgil was far happier that Scott was letting it show instead of turning it to inwards frustration and internal stress, but they did have a flight to get through which would be a lot more comfortable for them both without Scott’s frenetic energy vibrating the whole cockpit as he eyed the flight controls like he wanted to tackle them from Virgil’s hands to do aerobatics in a cargo plane. 

Thunderbird One was in for maintenance as Brains and Virgil worked on replacing burnt out engines which meant Scott couldn’t go for the mad loop the looping he favoured to let off steam. Virgil’s ‘bird was a Thunderbird: she was extremely capable and manoeuvrable for her size, but stunt jet she was not designed to be. 

Pulling up a map on his wrist controller, Virgil turned to Scott. “How about we get out for a bit, go for a walk? There’s even a park nearby.”

It’d be a good opportunity to burn off some energy, even if the walk would turn into a run when his brother was involved. Virgil was happy to follow him though.

Scott changed track mid-sentence, charging for the module door as he continued to chatter to an amused John. There was no eye roll from him, only the softest fond smile.

Virgil blinked and Scott was calling back to him. Alright, they were going suited and booted in IR uniforms then. 

“Okay, I’m coming, Scooter!” Virgil had to jog to catch up with those long legs. Predictably.

Scott noticed, of course he did. He was stopped to bump shoulders with Virgil, bouncing on his toes to stay in one spot.

“Short stuff,” he sung out affectionately.

Out under the blue sky, with plenty time to spare and no where to immediately be, Scott was cheerful. John could call them back to Two if they were needed elsewhere but right now they had this. 

Scott spun around laughing his head off when they reached the open park. Virgil couldn’t help but join him, as where else would he want to be but by his brother’s side?

Then Scott set off sprinting down full tilt down the gently sloping grassy area, as Virgil ambled along at a more reasonable pace that gave him the opportunity to look at the native trees in blossom, so different from the ones at home but equally beautiful in his mind. Okay, now he was by his brother’s side metaphorically, even if not physically. 

Still, he began to run too as Scott looped back to return to him, meeting him halfway. Moving his body felt good, even if he wasn’t a compulsive early morning runner.

Scott crashed into him, catching him in a tight hug. Virgil returned it with the same enthusiasm until he lifted Scott’s feet off the ground to spin him around just to show big brother that he had it. The big brother in question cackled with delight.

He leant into Virgil and said quietly, “Thank you. I really needed this.”

Virgil held him close for that moment. “Anytime.”

Then Scott was ready to be off again, or not quite. He bounced from foot to foot, waiting for Virgil to follow as he eyed the empty playground equipment longingly. 

Virgil made a shooing motion. “Go have fun, I’m coming.”

He shook his head fondly as Scott dashed towards the brightly coloured construction. Ever since they were kids, Scott had never been able to resist a climbing frame, or scratch that, any opportunity to climb whether the structure in question was designed for it or not. 

Virgil sent a quick photograph of a joyful Scott mid-flight to John. 

In the seconds it took to do that and read John’s reply of orange hearts, Scott had scaled the towering rope structure, perching himself at the very top, one casual hand wrapped around it to hang on as he waved to Virgil.

John got another photo as Virgil made sure to zoom in far enough to capture Scott’s broad grin.

It would make John’s day; just like him, his space brother treasured every moment of happy Scott. Those photos would find their way into the shared family album sure enough.

Scott’s joy was precious because it was too rare for him to be able to let go of the burdens he carried for long enough to indulge in carefree happiness. That he was simply allowed to, that his brothers and everyone in his life wanted this for him was a novel concept that Virgil watched Scott still struggle to believe in.

As Scott swung his way around the climbing frame, Virgil settled on the swingset, rocking himself slowly as he scuffed out the beginnings of a drawing of One and Two in the dirt with his foot, his hands tapping the notes of an entire orchestra out on the chains. Unlike John, he didn’t try to swing high enough to launch himself into orbit, but Virgil did enjoy it. 

Sharper marks from the edge of his boot formed the action lines streaking away from the wings of a certain rocket plane. The rounder toe was used to sketch out Two’s curved fuselage. He used the tread to add some extra patterning around the Thunderbirds to stand in for blocky clouds streaking by. It was coming along well. 

This was how Virgil wanted to spend his time: making art because he felt like it with Scott close by and having fun where he didn’t have to worry about him.

Or only a little. A sudden yell of, “Ow!” came from the slides. 

From the volume and the high pitch, he judged Scott was surprised, not injured.

Virgil had to check though, but sure enough Scott was rubbing his forehead with a dramatic frown as he glared at a bar near the entrance of the slide. 

“You alright, Scooter?” 

“These are designed for short people,” Scott grumped.

If he was complaining, that meant it really was a minor bump so Scott wasn’t worried about worrying Virgil with it. 

“Anyone’s short next to you,” Virgil teased.

“Hey!” Scott’s indignant cry echoed through the slide tube. 

So did the mutter that followed. “Easy to say for someone who’s not even average height.”

Virgil hummed. He wasn’t going to immediately launch himself off to grab Scott in a headlock. He finished off his drawing, took a photo of it to send to John and so he could keep it, then jumped off the swing carefully to land on clear ground. But they were brothers and he wasn’t going to let the insult to his pride stand uncontested. 

Scott was oblivious, already having turned to climb the tower again to take another turn on the slide, already over his own bump. Virgil followed, clambering up after him, wary of the low bars too ‘cause he wasn’t that short . 

At the top, they met and Virgil grinned at Scott, gesturing for him to go first. Somewhere along the way, probably after getting too hot gambolling about, Scott had rolled down the upper half of his flight suit and tied it around his waist, leaving him in a wrinkled Denver college t-shirt. Virgil’s shirt, but that didn’t matter. The important detail for Virgil’s plot was that his arms were bare and in easy reach. 

Scott disappeared down the slide with a whoop. Virgil went after him, not even pausing to admire the view from the top of the tower over the bright green parklands. He was on a mission. 

Hunching his shoulders in was a precaution as he sat at the beginning of the slide, a just in case as the memory of Gordon’s laughter rung in his ears over the one time Virgl had gotten stuck in a building rubbish chute at demolition turned rescue site trying to slide down it in a ill advised, Scott-like move. Scott probably would’ve pulled it off, he was far too good at insane stunts, but Virgil with his broad shoulders plus his exosuit… hadn’t quite managed it.

“Virge,” Scott called up the slide, laughing, “Do I need to come rescue you this time too?”

Virgil hmphed. By staying right at the bottom, Scott was going to make this very easy for him. Big brother did totally deserve it.

Pushing off, Virgil slid down the slide, leaning into the twists and turns, all the while dragging his gloved hands along the sides. The colours flashed by and he was in all likelihood doing the ‘plotting evil eyebrows’ expression his brothers always caught onto before he could prank them. 

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t have a poker face! But this time it would be far too late for Scott to do anything about it. Never let it be said only John was capable of devious plots when Virgil could plan them out with an engineer’s precision.

Virgil leapt out of the slide, then he innocently tapped Scott on the arm.

Scott jumped a foot in the air and shrieked, “YOU ZAPPED ME VIRGIE!”

The urge to giggle overpowered him as Scott threw his arms around him in what was half-tackle, half-hug. 

“I got you! I got you good! ”

Scott gaped, twisting to look from Virgil to the slide and back again. “You static shocked me.”

“Wouldn’t’ve worked if you were wearing your suit properly, it would’ve dispersed the charge.”

“Oh come on!”

“You called me short.”

“‘Cause it’s true, short stuff. Always has been. And your hair!!” Scott’s smile spread across his face, big and toothy—

Virgil pouted in an attempt not to grin along. “I’ll zap you again.”

—and most importantly happy .

“You’ll have to catch me first!” 

Scott ran off into the sunshine, watching over his shoulder to make sure Virgil was following. Ever the big brother. Ever there for Virgil, now with more care to make sure he wasn’t going too fast to keep up with, not just for their sakes and admittedly shorter legs, but for his own too.

Virgil followed, of course he did. But he did so laughing, not out of fear he’d be too late.

The afternoon was spent chasing joy under blue skies, surrounded by the green earth, until they both flopped down onto the grass together. Even Scott’s frantic energy had completely dispersed. This time, today, it was because of messing about like they were kids again instead of bone-deep exhaustion from hopeless rescues over too long hours in hostile conditions. Virgil treasured it. 

He treasured every second with Scott, from pulling him eagerly back over to the swings to show him the slightly smudgy sketch of their Thunderbirds flying together as Scott adored them, to stopping to get icecream and waffles in lieu of a proper lunch on the walk back to Two on John’s suggestion.

The flight back home to the Island was carefree, with a take away container of icecream in the module freezer for the others and a cheery Scott by his side, both of them humming then along to the upbeat music playing from the speakers. No attempts to squish his staticky hair back into its usual crest had worked in the slightest, but that didn’t matter when Scott’s was just as ridiculous.

Virgil even let himself get convinced into guiding Two through a few loop the loops. And maybe also a couple of dives. Then some barrel rolls. Only because it amused Scott though; Virgil was not going to give him the fuel for future stunts by telling him that just maybe Virgil loved the adrenaline rush of doing aerobatics in his ‘bird like his brother did too.

---

Hope you had fun reading this :D

Now i feel like I need to go find a slide or some swings and some sunshine too!

[clubsheartsspades]

Final Outer Wilds Update:

So first of all the fact that the music changed when I took the warp core out of the Ash Twin Project had my hands shaking. I was flying through Dark Bramble afraid that I would accidentally ignite my engine instead of just slightly shift the ship to one or another side. It felt like it took me the whole 22 minutes to get to the vessel and once I got there I was extremely aware of the fact that I had No Time At All. So I replaced the broken warp core with the new and functioning one, switched on the coordinates module (I probably kind of cheated by taking a picture of the coordinates in my ship log and pulling that up but I don't think that made a difference), and then entered the coordinates wrong and then corrected them XD Yeah yeah, I was really really tense okay!

Anyway, coordinates in and... now what? The module went down and I was just standing there, waiting for something to happen. I moved the crystal back away from the module, and then back to it again to see if it would change anything. It took me a moment to realise I had that other pillar to activate it and then. Boom.

The Eye of the Universe.

A little bit of a fumble later I also figured out how to get on it and... well... I'm pretty sure this part is a bit different for everyone, but I had actually not taken as long for my journey here as I had thought I had, and while I was checking the vessel's controls and the outgoing and incoming messages to see if the reactivation had changed anything there, I saw the supernova happen outside. I did actually have to stop for a moment because those were all the characters I'd met until now and now they were all... gone =((

I'm not going to describe the end here, everyone who's been following along my posts probably already knows, and everyone who doesn't... well I don't think I could do any of it justice by describing what I just played through.

But I don't think a game ending has made me cry like this before while honestly feeling like, yeah. This is right, this is exactly what has to happen. I like tragedies, I've read and played through a lot of them actually, but Outer Wilds is not one. I think that's what I really love about it. It's an end, but it's not tragic when you get to it.

I have never played anything like this in my life, but I would love to play more of it.

No, I have not played the DLC. Yes, I will be playing (and consequently blogging about) it, too.

But before we finish it up here, I want to say one last thing: I love Solanum with all of my heart and I would do anything for her. Having her there, at the campfire, in harmony with the others, the fact that she says "I'm glad you remembered me." means everything to me.

[sngl-led-auto-lights]

Why does one side of my car's headlights always blow out?

Recurring failure of a headlight on only one side of your car typically signals an isolated electrical, environmental, or mechanical issue affecting that specific circuit. Here’s a step-by-step guide to diagnose and fix the problem:

Common Causes & Solutions Vibration Damage (Most Common)

Why: Rough roads or engine vibrations fatigue the filament in halogen bulbs. The side closer to the engine (e.g., driver’s side in LHD cars) often fails first.

Fix:

Install vibration-resistant bulbs (e.g., Philips XtremeVision, SNGL).

Add anti-vibration pads to the headlight assembly. Moisture Intrusion

Why: A cracked lens, bad seal, or missing dust cap lets condensation corrode contacts or cause thermal shock.

Fix:

Inspect for cracks/haze; reseal with butyl tape or replace the housing.

Use silica gel packs inside the headlight to absorb moisture. Poor Ground Connection

Why: Corroded/loose ground wires cause voltage fluctuations, overheating the bulb.

Fix:

Locate the ground point (near headlight or on chassis).

Clean corrosion with a wire brush, apply dielectric grease, and tighten. Voltage Spikes or Drops

Why: A failing alternator, bad voltage regulator, or weak battery sends uneven power.

Test: Use a multimeter to check voltage at the bulb socket (engine running):

Normal: 13.5–14.5V.

Problem: <12V (wiring issue) or >15V (alternator failure). Damaged Socket or Wiring

Why: Melted/burnt sockets or frayed wires restrict current flow, causing overheating.

Fix:

Replace the socket/harness.

Apply dielectric grease to contacts to prevent corrosion. Faulty Relay or Switch

Why: A failing headlight relay can send erratic power to one side.

Test: Swap the left/right relays (if separate) to see if the problem moves.

Diagnostic Checklist Swap the Bulbs

Move the "good" bulb to the problematic side. If it blows, the bulb isn’t at fault. Check Voltage at the Socket

Test with a multimeter while the headlight is on (ideal: 12–14.5V). Inspect for Moisture

Look for condensation, water droplets, or green corrosion on contacts. Examine the Fuse

Some cars have separate fuses per side; replace even if it looks intact.

Prevention Tips Always replace bulbs in pairs to ensure even performance.

Upgrade to LEDs: More vibration/voltage-tolerant (ensure CANBUS compatibility).

Install a relay harness: Bypasses factory wiring for stable power (e.g., Putco 240008).

Avoid touching halogen bulbs: Skin oils create hotspots that shorten lifespan.

When to See a Mechanic If basic fixes fail, suspect: A short circuit in the wiring harness.

Faulty body control module (BCM).

Parasitic drain overloading the circuit.

⚠️ Ignoring this can lead to:

Repeated bulb replacements ($).

Electrical fires from overheated wires.

Failed safety inspections.

Pro Tip: For recurring issues, a $50 professional electrical diagnostic can save hundreds in guesswork. Most problems stem from grounding faults or voltage irregularities—address these first! 🔧🔦

[lonestarflight]

"Launched on July 26, 2005 from the Kennedy Space Center in Florida, STS-114 was classified as Logistics Flight 1. Among the Station-related activities of the mission were the delivery of new supplies and the replacement of one of the orbital outpost's Control Moment Gyroscopes (CMGs). STS-114 also carried the Raffaello Multi-Purpose Logistics Module and the External Stowage Platform-2. A major focus of the mission was the testing and evaluation of new Space Shuttle flight safety, which included new inspection and repair techniques. Upon its approach to the International Space Station (ISS), the Space Shuttle Discovery underwent a photography session in order to assess any damages that may have occurred during its launch and/or journey through Space. Discovery was over Switzerland, about 600 feet from the ISS, when Cosmonaut Sergei K. Kriklev, Expedition 11 Commander, and John L. Phillips, NASA Space Station officer and flight engineer photographed the spacecraft as it performed a back flip to allow photography of its heat shield. Astronaut Eileen M. Collins, STS-114 Commander, guided the shuttle through the flip. The photographs were analyzed by engineers on the ground to evaluate the condition of Discovery’s heat shield. The crew safely returned to Earth on August 9, 2005. The mission historically marked the Return to Flight after nearly a two and one half year delay in flight after the Space Shuttle Columbia tragedy in February 2003."

Date: July 28, 2005

NASA ID: ISS011-E-11260, 0501000, ISS011-E-11258, ISS011-E-11255, 0501006, ISS011-E-11228, ISS011-E-11263, ISS011-E-11269

[narrativeglitch]

PANDORA EDUCATIONAL OUTPOST: STUDENT ORIENTATION BRIEF

BEA Program | Bureau of Education & Astrobiologica Advancement CONFIDENTIAL: Authorized Student Access Only

ARRIVAL & ENTRY ZONE

Landing Pad & Docking Bay

Primary shuttle drop-off and departure point.

Please remain inside designated zones until cleared by a BEA field officer.

Airlock Tunnel + Decontamination Chambers

You will pass through a double-sealed airlock with air filtration to transition from Pandora’s atmosphere.

Standard post-cryosleep medical checks will be conducted here.

Emergency oxygen masks and airlock re-breach protocols are posted at all entry doors.

 BASE LAYOUT OVERVIEW

The BEA Outpost is compact and modular, designed for both safety and immersive study. All areas are connected by the Central Hallway, a reinforced glass corridor that runs through the spine of the facility. You’ll notice local bioluminescent plants growing along the corridor please do not tap the glass.

HOUSING QUARTERS (EAST WING)

Student Dorm Pods

Each student is assigned a private climate controlled pod.

Each unit includes a bed, storage compartment, personal interface terminal, and clear ceiling panels for observing Pandora’s sky.

You are expected to maintain your space. Random inspections occur monthly.

Common Lounge & Cafeteria

Shared zone with seating, holo-screen, vending units, and a communal kitchen.

Please clean up after yourself. remember, this is a long term, small space cohort.

Late night use is permitted but monitored.

Staff Quarters

Located on a separate level. Student entry not permitted unless escorted or cleared.

EDUCATION & RESEARCH WING (SOUTH WING)

Lab Classrooms

You will attend sessions on xeno-biology, botany, exo-ecology, and ethical field research here.

Protective gear is required in sample handling areas.

Tech Bay

For drone deployment, scanning equipment, and technical diagnostics. Handle all devices with care.

Students may sign up for supervised access hours.

Sample Processing Rooms

Clean rooms used for handling flora and biological samples. Entry is limited to cleared students and aides.

Conference Pod

Used for Earth communications, video briefings, and group discussions.

MEDICAL WING (NORTH WING)

Med Bay & Recovery Suite

Two-bed care unit monitored by Dr. Amsel.

Used for cryosleep recovery and minor injuries.

Isolation Unit

Reserved for quarantine or high risk exposure cases.

Medical Storage

Backup suits, oxygen tanks, and emergency kits stored here. Not for student use unless instructed.

OBSERVATION & INTEGRATION WING (WEST WING)

Glass Dome Observation Deck

Open-access deck overlooking the forest canopy. A quiet space for reflection or sketching.

Please avoid leaving food, tools, or shoes in this area.

Cultural Archive Room

Interactive learning center with Na’vi approved media.

Holograms, oral histories, and recorded rituals for approved study only.

Student Aide Alcove (Miles Socorro & Melissa Rivera)

Field notes are logged here. You may be called upon to assist or consult with them regarding etiquette, travel readiness, or interspecies protocol.

UTILITIES & SUPPORT STRUCTURES

Engineering & Mechanics Bay

Staffed by senior engineers. Occasionally used for student support roles.

Home to atmospheric regulation systems and backup generator modules.

Greenhouse Dome

Grows Pandora-compatible and Earth crops. Students may be assigned upkeep tasks.

Water Filtration Hub

Pulls and purifies stream water for base use. Scheduled checks daily.

Air Supply Hub

Check your oxygen canister here every morning before exiting the outpost. Filter replacements are logged.

Security Posts & Satellite Tower

No formal military presence on-site.

Tranquilizer towers are for wildlife deterrent only.

The satellite tower is restricted to senior staff and Earth communication liaisons.

FINAL REMINDERS

No student is permitted to leave the outpost boundaries without authorization, oxygen gear, and a partner.

Always log your movements with the duty officer.

Respect Na’vi territory, customs, and the delicate balance of Eywa’s world.

Curiosity is encouraged. Carelessness is not.

Welcome to Pandora. Let it change you, but don’t try to change it.

(Thinking about doing some OC commentary from the students on this, On a roll. I might do some more )

[almayarelectric]

The Benefits of Using Modular Switchgear Systems

Why Modern Industries Are Choosing Modular Solutions for Electrical Infrastructure

In today’s fast-paced industrial and commercial environments, electrical safety, efficiency, and scalability are more important than ever. That’s where modular switchgear systems come into play. Designed to meet the evolving needs of various sectors — such as manufacturing, commercial buildings, power utilities, and data centers — modular switchgear offers flexibility, safety, and long-term value.

In this article, we’ll explore the key benefits of using modular switchgear systems, and why they are becoming the preferred choice over traditional switchgear configurations.

What Is a Modular Switchgear System?

A modular switchgear system is a type of switchgear that is built from interchangeable modules or sections. Each module contains electrical components such as circuit breakers, busbars, relays, isolators, and fuses. These modules are pre-engineered and can be easily configured, added, or replaced based on the specific requirements of a facility.

Modular switchgear is used for the protection, control, and isolation of electrical equipment. It is typically found in low voltage (LV) and medium voltage (MV) power distribution systems.

Top Benefits of Modular Switchgear Systems

1. Flexibility and Scalability

One of the most significant advantages of modular switchgear is its flexible design. Whether you’re expanding an existing facility or starting from scratch, modular systems allow you to add or remove units without interrupting the entire system.

· Ideal for facilities expecting future expansion

· Easy to customize layout based on project demands

· Supports phased development in infrastructure projects

2. Enhanced Safety and Reliability

Modern modular switchgear systems are designed with advanced safety features. Segregated compartments, arc fault containment, and reliable insulation materials ensure operator safety and system reliability.

· Reduces risk of electrical faults and arc flashes

· Complies with IEC and ANSI safety standards

· Minimizes downtime during maintenance or upgrades

3. Ease of Installation and Maintenance

Thanks to its pre-fabricated modules, modular switchgear is faster and easier to install compared to conventional systems. It also simplifies troubleshooting and routine maintenance.

· Less on-site wiring and civil work required

· Individual modules can be isolated for servicing

· Reduces maintenance costs and system downtime

4. Compact and Space-Saving Design

With limited space in modern industrial setups, compactness is crucial. Modular switchgear systems are designed for space optimization, making them perfect for high-density environments.

· Vertical and horizontal expansion possible

· Reduced footprint compared to traditional gear

· Neat and organized layout improves cable management

5. Future-Proof and Upgrade-Friendly

Industries evolve, and so should your electrical infrastructure. Modular switchgear supports easy integration of new technologies, such as remote monitoring, IoT-enabled control systems, and energy management solutions.

· Supports integration with SCADA and BMS systems

· Accommodates evolving energy needs

· Long lifecycle with upgrade options

6. Cost-Effective Over the Long Term

Though the initial investment may be higher than conventional switchgear, the long-term benefits of modular systems — including reduced downtime, lower maintenance costs, and scalability — make them a cost-effective solution.

· Lower total cost of ownership (TCO)

· Reduced operational expenses

· Optimized energy efficiency

Applications of Modular Switchgear Systems

Modular switchgear is suitable for a wide range of applications, including:

🏢 Commercial buildings

🏭 Industrial plants

⚡ Power generation and distribution

🖥 Data centers

🏥 Hospitals

🏗 Infrastructure projects and smart cities

Conclusion

If you’re looking for a smart, scalable, and reliable solution for your electrical distribution system, modular switchgear systems are a worthy investment. With benefits ranging from safety and efficiency to cost savings and future readiness, they offer a significant upgrade over traditional switchgear models.