#Compressive Strength of Concrete

[heicodynamics]

An important first step in ensuring the materials can handle the loads and meet all design requirements is to test their compressive strength. Preparing the specimen, running the test, and interpreting the results are the steps involved in determining the compressive strength test. For accurate data on concrete resistance before field evaluation, compressive strength testing is the way to go.

[vincivilworld]

Understanding the Concrete Compressive Strength Formula

The  concrete compressive strength formula is fundamental. It calculates how well concrete can resist axial loads without failing. Concrete compressive strength formula is crucial for determining the strength of concrete structures. It also ensures the durability of buildings, bridges, and roads. The formula for concrete compressive strength is expressed as fc = P/A. Here, P is the applied load.…

[nnctales]

The Strength and Innovation of Prestressed Concrete

Introduction Prestressed concrete is a remarkable construction material that has revolutionized the way we build structures, offering exceptional strength and durability. This article will delve into the world of prestressed concrete, exploring its history, the science behind its strength, applications, advantages, and future prospects. Fig 1: Prestressed Concrete Courtesy: Civil Query  What is…

[qwordavoider]

I needed to write about the clip of Buck sobbing in the trailer for next week so here we go. MCD and spoilers for this week’s episode and from the leaks a while ago. This took on a life of it’s own so it’s angsty and dark and all from Buck’s pov.

He was dying.

That was the only explanation for the feeling in his chest. Like someone was scraping his soul out with a halligan.

Bobby’s face was flashing in his mind. His eyes wide open and lifeless. Bobby had been fine. It didn’t make sense he was fine.

He had been so worried about the others that he hadn’t even thought about Bobby. He. Had. Been. Fine.

But he wasn’t.

They walked into the lab with the cure, administered it and got both of their injured teammates transported for medical attention. They saved them. Got them out.

Then Bobby was swaying, collapsing. He had rushed to his side and tried to wake him. Bobby hadn’t stirred. Why hadn’t he stirred? He had screamed out his name. He should’ve woken up.

He hadn’t found a pulse. He couldn’t… there wasn’t a pulse. So he got him on his back, right? He was trained to get everyone on their back before starting compression. So he must’ve done that. He remembers pounding on his chest. Had he felt a rib crack? Had he hurt Bobby? No, he did his job.

Well, no. He hadn’t.

He hadn’t done his job because his job is to save people and he couldn’t save Bobby. He’s trained his whole career to save people.

So why hadn’t he saved Bobby?

Bobby was gone. He was gone.

That thought was his undoing. He felt his shoulder hit the wall hard as he went down. His back slid down the side of the hall and he sobbed. He let out everything he had held back since he had felt that hand on his shoulder. The hand of Bobby’s wife. The hand that had told him the one thing he had dreaded since his coma dream.

Bobby was dead.

He had run. He wasn’t proud of it, but he had desperately needed to escape. So he had fled to the hall. Where the concrete walls that lined it were a reflection of his soul. Bare and cold and gray.

He still sobbed as he slid all the way to the ground, losing control of his limbs. The sobs wracked through his body, to the point where he started hiccuping in an attempt to catch his breathe. His heart was turning in on itself. Slowly shriveling away.

His cheek pressed against the cool ground and it was a blip of light amongst the darkness threatening to swallow him whole.

Then the cold was replaced by warmth. It was a goddamn hand.

But it was not Bobby’s wife’s. No. This hand was large and rough with callouses. And it was cupping his face gently.

He used the last of his strength to open his eyes and he opened them to worried blue eyes and lips pressed tightly together looking down at him.

That’s not right. That’s not what his face is supposed to look like. His face is supposed to be covered in a smile that brings out the crinkles along his eyes and mouth. And the eyes should be brighter. Lit by that dry humor he loved. Sky blue instead of stormy gray.

That was his face. Not this personification of grief that deepened the lines of exhaustion he had seen hints of earlier. Before.

“Sweetheart,” the voice belonging to the face said.

It was filled with so much love. But that couldn’t be right. He didn’t deserve love. He had let his father die.

Not his father.

His father was probably sitting in a chair by a window reading the newspaper. All the way in Pennsylvania. Blissfully unaware.

He had lost his dad.

The man who had tied his tie for his first real date with a woman. Who sat by his side praying when he was in his coma after being struck by lightning. The man who taught him what it means to live in this world.

What was he supposed to do without him?

Another sob. This time there’s no sound. No tears. He’s got nothing left.

Except the calloused hand.

The hand that’s now duplicated and pressed persistently into both sides of his face.

“Evan. Can you hear me?” the crinkly face asked.

He tried to move his head to nod but he felt heavy. He must’ve moved enough, though, because the hand moved to his shoulder and sat him up right against the wall.

“Good. That’s good, Evan. Can you feel my hand on your face?”

Another nod.

“Good that’s great, sweetheart. Can you take a deep breath for me?”

It was shaky but he managed it. He thought he heard a sigh and then those lips were on his forehead. And gone again too soon.

“What do you need? What can I do?”

That voice. It was so familiar. And then it clicked. The helicopter, the hurricane, the basketball game, the cemetery.

“Tommy,” Buck choked out.

“Yeah, I’m here baby. Whatever you need. I’m here.”

Buck let himself be folded into Tommy’s arms. Focusing on the stubble that scratched against his jaw, the broad shoulder he was pressing his face into. He focused on those things because they were the only way to keep the other thoughts at bay.

The unthinkable pain.

“Stay.”

[pellucid-constellations]

angstober (4)

Prompt: "Just Breathe"

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

A/n: More angst!! I appreciate all the support for these little drabbles sooooo much!!

angstober masterlist here ♡

~~~

“Come on. Come on!” 

Bucky was panicking. 

How had you fallen so fast? So suddenly? 

One moment you were beside him, the next you were mixed between cracked concrete and metal pipes—falling, falling, falling. Who knew bridges were so unreliable?

“Wake up, sweetheart. Come on, please,” he pleaded. Begged. His hands kept moving, kept pushing life into your chest as tears mixed with the saltwater on his cheeks. “You don’t get to leave me.” 

Steve was somewhere near the shore, fighting off whatever creature had blown up the bridge. And thank god for Steve, because Bucky would sooner let the creature from space eat him before he left you. Before he let you die. 

In some cynical, self-hating part of his brain, Bucky registered that you were already dead. 

He pumped his arms more steadily, applying more pressure, willing your heart to start beating. You weren’t dead. You weren’t. Because if you were gone… well, Bucky felt the repercussions of such a thing as he stared down at your waning, wet skin. Your lips were turning an unnatural shade and Bucky felt the reality, this reality, sink into his very bones. 

Sand bit into his knees where the torn material of his pants failed him, but Bucky felt it like lidocaine had been injected right to the site. A sob wracked his chest, almost crippling him as he gave his breath to you, and Bucky decided right then and there that nothing in his life had compared to this. 

The way your body moved was making him sick. You only budged when he forced the motion into your limbs, your neck only turned when he tilted it up to try and save you. 

This was awful, unimaginable. 

“I love you,” he whispered, shaking hands coming to brush the hair from your forehead. You hated when it fell into your eyes. “I love you, honey. Please.” 

His words broke, so Bucky kissed your skin instead. Your cheek, your neck, your shoulder—he kissed you to quell the unevenness of his own breath, and then he restarted compressions. 

“You can’t—” he struggled. “—you can’t let a little water take you out. I love you so much, it doesn’t work like that.” 

But, in real life, it did work like that. 

There was nothing supernatural pumping in your veins. You were human, breakable, and while Bucky was used to this truth, he had never felt it as strongly as he did in this moment. 

Somewhere, Steve called his name. 

Bucky was only listening for one sound, and it wasn’t Steve. 

Grief invaded the deepest parts of him, and it was slowing him down. Bucky never felt slow. Bucky was a machine. He could fix things and make them right. He had strength and invincibility and power.

Bucky could fix you, too. He could make you right. 

Couldn’t he? 

His crying had turned unintelligible, just small words lost between tears and gasping breaths. You’d cried like this one time. Right now, Bucky couldn’t remember why, but he’d held you and told you he’d never leave you. He’d run gentle fingers across your temple and stayed awake when you fell into a fitful sleep. 

Bucky was alone as he cried. 

“I can’t do this without you. I can’t.”

You coughed. It started small and then grew into a hacking, choking sound. Bucky startled, took a split second to watch the way your chest moved on its own, and then he pulled you forward with vigor. Your chin slotted over his shoulder and his hand made an imprint in the wet material at your back. 

“Hey, hey,” he breathed, shaky and softer than he had ever spoken. “Just breathe. You’re okay. Breathe, I got you.” 

Your fingers curled into his shirt, ripping at velcro and kevlar as you fought for air. Bucky held you through it, pressed his nose to the warming skin of your head and rocked the two of you without realizing it. Grief was still pounding in his bones. He wasn’t sure if that would go away anytime soon. If the weight of you being dead was ever going to leave him, even as you sat in his arms and choked out breaths. 

“Bucky,” you eventually wheezed out, pulling back from his grasp. “I—” 

“Shhh,” he hushed. Because as much as he wanted to hear you speak, hear proof that you were lucid and knew him and loved him, you were struggling. “Don’t try to talk. You’re okay. You’re okay, right?”

It sounded like a question no one could answer. 

But you nodded, and Bucky pulled you back into his chest. “Just breathe, baby. You’re okay.”

[fungi-and-a-funguy]

Daily Fungi Fact 126: Mycelium is a thin, threadlike structure, it is usually the main part of a fungi, sometimes forming mushrooms as fruiting bodies. Mycelium has many commercial uses, it can be used to produce a replacement of plastic packaging that is grown in agricultural waste, but its main use is to make vegan leather. Mycelium could also be used as a construction material, it is lightweight, biodegradable, and can be grown from waste. Although it has a relatively low compressive strength of 0.1-0.2 MPa(concrete has a compressive strength of 17-28MPa), and will die if it does not receive enough air and moisture, mycelium is still a good option for building materials, because it insulates very well, and it takes the shape of any mold it is grown in.

[skeletwinsauaskbox]

welp, i'm finally getting to make PART 3 OF THE FONTSS!! (part 1) (part 2)

---------------------------------

Slab types: Rockwell This slab type is a half-serif, making it a relative to Serif types, but not fully, due to them not being as elegant, and instead of being taller and more majestic, they are much shorter, almost shorter than even a Comic Sans, standing at 4'6, and half an inch, making them only half a inch taller than 'Lento' These slab types are known for their sharp, slightly curved hands, allowing them to cut into thick, concrete or rock walls. This allows them to climb mountains easily, but, for the exchange that their magic is slightly weaker. It's around 3/4th of a normal monster's magic, also making them grumpier. Clarendon Arguably the most excited and DETERMINED of the skeletons. But, this is not the DETERMINATION found in a human's soul, it is their own will to strive to better themselves. When a task faces them that they find challenging, they will face it head-on, just like a Papyrus font. But, they will not stop, not even for a second, not even thinking of it. They will only think of the goal beyond their obstacle and constantly strive to go there, but sometimes this can also lead to its downfall. Sometimes, it can get stuck on a obstacle it truly cannot beat, and will spend months, maybe even years trying and trying to bring it down, and the longer it takes, the less DETERMINED they will get, and when they give up, they simply isolate themselves, and don't speak to anyone until their DETERMINATION is replenished. Serifa This font-type is extremely legible and robust, allowing it to learn any talent in less than week. Serifa fonts have been reported to be able to learn how to expertly draw a other skeleton perfectly in under a week, and they are also one of the only skeletons that can actually change their font for over a week, but, no Serifa is willing to do that. These fonts are also masters at impressions due to that ability, capable of mimicking anyone flawlessly in a matter of seconds, rivaling 'Lento' himself, which is a feat not easily reached. But, the capability of learning any talent within a week or under has its downsides, as the stress levels of this font are more easily reached, and it is much more anxious and stressed than normal skeletons most of the time.

---------------------------------

Impact types: Razorface This impact font usually goes into either bodyguarding, or the kitchen. Their stature is large and wide, standing at 6'5, and having large, bulky bones. The edge of their bones have been compressed and thinned out over generations, and are now razor sharp, literally. They use their arms to be able to cut through solid concrete, and are capable of cutting very quickly with enough practice. Due to this incredible cutting prowess, that is the reason why they get accepted into bodyguarding in priority. But, if they wanted, they could also go to a job as butcher or cook, being able to fillet and prepare dishes just as well as any other skeleton, making it a interesting spectrum of what jobs they persue, or what lifestyle. House This impact font is not particularly strong, or looks buff, but their bones are incredibly dense, allowing for high impact resistance, just like a house. This allows them to be more proficient in taking blows for others, and also in the construction site. These impact fonts usually persue a life of construction, as their font's nature is usually more interested in constructing things, as their temperament is very curious to building things. But, when in a life of bodyguarding, it is a sad life, as they usually get used as a meatshield for magic bullets, rocks, etcetera. They do not get damaged a lot by bullets nor rocks, but they do still feel the pain. Penultimate Unusual for their font, this Impact font is not bulky, nor dense, making their physique the same as every other skeleton. Their morals and emotional stability is where all the strength lies, as this font is arguably the most stoic of all fonts. Their morals are almost unbreakable, and they cannot be manipulated. They usually follow a life of poetry, or philosophy by asking themselves questions with their stoicism. For example, one of the quotes by a Penultimate font is: "The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.", it is quite a famous quote, as when viewed by a survey, around 1/3 skeletons knew the font from somewhere.

---------------------------------

ALRIGHT THATS ALL FOR PART 2!! Next part, i'll talk about the Moderns and the Scripts!!

(I can tell you're really enjoying this! Haha! And yeah, the brothers had a Rockwell cousin! It's the same for the original Skeletwins too!)

[leepace]

Safe In Your Skin ☆ Keeseob

☆ 18+ mdni

☆ keeho x jongseob

☆ wc: 2.2k

warnings: major character death, slight dubcon, depiction of violence, guns, knives, anal sex, hate sex, angst

a/n: this is in collaboration with bff @strawberry-seob ! from a rough draft on frantic fanfic i spruced this fic up to what it is today, while they've got their own posted! <3

There was a lot that came with Keeho’s profession. He could deal with the bulk of it, like the constant late night calls or the weekly dry cleaners run to get the stains off his clothes. There had been a handful of times though where his walls would crumble around him and he could no longer keep on the external coldness he wore. He’d sleep in his bloodied clothes, and there wouldn't be anything he could do to control the hot tears that would fill his eyes whenever he blinked. His shaking exhales displaying the emotions he desperately tried to bury.

This was not one of those times.

Wind blew his hair back in tuffs as he sat on a building’s rooftop that accommodated in his line of fire. Suppressing down the last of his humanity, there wasn't anything distracting Keeho when he pulled the trigger back, his mind free of any previous compassion. With the shot connecting, there wasn't anything else keeping him there as the brisk wind bit at his cheeks. His victim wouldn't wake up tomorrow, but he was free to go home and rest. His job was done.

His breath got caught in his throat when he fell back onto the concrete from an excessive force. Body weight pressed down on him, not allowing him to move from his position on the ground. There was a sudden sharp pain in his side that pierced through his skin. His reaction was delayed enough for the assailant to knock his gun out of his hands, leaving Keeho defenseless.

That didn't stop him from fighting back. Instincts taking over, Keeho used his shoulder to push off his attacker, which was in no way hard to do. He was a lightweight, and no match to his upper body strength. Managing to get back onto his feet, Keeho was able to see who had just stuck a knife into his side.

“Jongseob?” Keeho furrowed his brows. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

Jongseob snickered, showing off his tooth that jutted out from his smile. “Why do you think?”

Keeho felt his pulse quicken, taking over his senses from the dull pain in his hip. Not giving him the luxury to respond, Jongseob swiped his feet out to kick Keeho onto the concrete rooftop. Jongseob’s knife was still sticking out from his side, contorting with his every move. Keeho fell onto his back, allowing Jongseob to get back on top of him.

Throwing most of his weight onto Keeho’s chest, Jongseob sat there with his hand reaching

back to grip the handle of his knife. “I need this back.”

A new pain enveloped his torso as Jongseob removed the knife, blood beginning to soak the skin and clothing surrounding the wound. They both knew he could bleed out like that. Despite this, Keeho was still able to overpower him, using his legs to flip Jongseob off, reversing the roles so that he was now above him. The sound of Jongseob’s knife clanked onto the concrete as it slipped out of his grip, loud and soon forgotten. Lifting himself up and keeping his legs on either side of Jongseob’s hips, Keeho threw his first punch, square in the blonde's jaw.

He wound up his other balled fist to send another punch on the opposite side, hitting Jongseob’s cheek. His smile had faded, but it wasn't completely gone until Keeho’s elbow collided with his throat, knocking the wind out of him.

Gasping for air, Jongseob began to claw at Keeho’s placed arm, begging for another breath. He only let up his hold when his cheeks changed from a bright red to a deep purple, making Jongseob sputter out a cough as his chest rose and fell rapidly. Keeho took it as an opportunity to grab a fistful of Jongseob's shirt, some type of black compression tee that clung to his small frame.

Jongseob’s eyes were wide now, fear creeping into his once smug expression. “What are you going to do? Kill me first? You could never do that,” He spat, blood and saliva landing on Keeho’s face.

Flashes of his past played in Keeho’s head, his knuckles turning white as he stared down Jongseob. He remembered when they were both younger, how baby faced Jongseob once was and the brightness in his eyes. He had shed away all of his childlike features like a butterfly does with its chrysalis, emerging as a man Keeho didn't recognize.

Keeho’s grip tightened. “I won't have to,” He pulled Jongseob closer, their faces mere inches from each other. “You’ll end up doing it yourself.”

Jongseob tried to wiggle free, but Keeho’s grip was too strong. His hold was steady as his eyes settled on the bruise that was forming on Jongseob’s cheekbone. It looked like one of his rings had swiped against the skin, leaving a cut that was slowly oozing blood.

“You’ve become complacent,” Jongseob said, voice thick with disdain. “You’re stuck, doing the same dirty work while I’ve been climbing the ladder. This is the last thing I needed to do to push myself past you.”

Did Keeho even remember the feeling of his lips on Jongseob's? Was there ever a time where he didn't loathe the younger, his once delicate touch becoming vicious and cruel. There wasn't anything stopping him now from ending the boy's misery. Keeho pushed himself away with force, creating a new space between the two of them.

“You were a mistake,” Keeho’s body had become tense once getting back onto his feet. His pain was turning numb. “Always been too fucking greedy.”

Jongseob lunged at him, but Keeho was faster. He sidestepped, sending Jongseob back onto the ground head first. He picked himself up on his hands and knees quickly but not without a groan, blood dripping from his now scuffed face. Keeho didn't give him time to recover by kicking him square in the stomach.

Getting thrown onto his back, Jongseob coughed, followed by a delayed deep breath. Keeho took a step towards him, fists clenched, ready to end this. Staring down at Jongseob’s heaving chest made his vision blur, hesitation settling in his gut. He looked away.

“Do it. I dare you,” Jongseob spat hoarsely.

Keeho could feel blood begin to dry on his chin, not knowing if it was his or Jongseob's. His words rattled in his brain, not having the same power as they once had. The defiance in Jongseob was something Keeho no longer flinched at.

The rooftop felt colder now, the wind biting through to Keeho’s wound, the pain settling deeper into his subconscious. He placed the heel of his foot on top on Jongseob’s chest, keeping him in place.

“You came here in hopes that I killed you,” Keeho ended his sentence with a snicker. “You’re so cute.”

Jongseob had grabbed ahold of Keeho's ankle, trying his best to shove his foot off of him. He was now vulnerable, weakened by the blow to his stomach, and Keeho pressing more and more of his body weight into his chest. There was a moment where he swore he would break through his rib cage, sinking down to squish his organs into a paste. And then it was gone.

Keeho removed his foot to replace his touch with his hands, reaching to turn Jongseob so that he was now on his stomach. Even in his docile state, there was still something dangerous about Jongseob, looking like a cornered snake– ready to strike with whatever venom he had left.

Keeho got down to straddle the back of Jongseob’s thighs. They were both just wearing athletic gear, black joggers that were easy to slip down. Keeho hooked his thumbs around the waistband of his pants and slide them off, taking his briefs along with them.

He didn't waste any time doing the same to Jongseob. Pulling them down as far as he could, Keeho revealed just enough to show off his ass. Meager and pale, Keeho’s palms could cup almost the entirety of each cheek, his hands immediately going to knead at the tender flesh.

“Steph,” Jongseob breathed out. It wasn't a protest or a plea, but maybe something in between. The nickname made Keeho freeze, more flashes of his past running through his head.

It only stalled him for a second, not stopping Keeho from wrapping his hand around his growing cock, dragging it slowly against the shaft. He thrusted his hips forward and down, guiding the head of his cock to the soft cleft of Jongseob’s ass cheeks.

“You’re gonna let me fuck you before killing me, right?” Keeho had begun to burrow himself in between Jongseob’s ass, the wet leakage coming from the tip of his cock acting as lubricant as he began to slide back and forth. He was only rutting against him, using his hands to press the fat of Jongseob’s ass closer together to try and envelope his cock even further.

“Answer me. I know you remember the rules,” Keeho barked, his shallow thrusts refusing to pause.

It was like the venom that had previously been coursing through Jongseob had been drained, leaving him meek, almost gentle underneath Keeho. “Yes.”

“Yes what?” Keeho paused his hips. He left the tip of his cock resting against Jongseob’s hole.

“Fuck me, you annoying piece of shit,” Jongseob bit back, the fire inside of him clearly not completely stomped out.

“You ask so nicely,” Keeho teased, before abruptly sinking his cock inside of the tight heat he was beginning to forget.

“Ah– Go slower, you maniac,” Jongseob winced, reaching back to place the palm of his hand against Keeho’s thigh, as if that would dampen his sudden movement at all.

Keeho wasn't listening. “I know you like it this way. Not too wet, just enough so that I can stick it in. You like feeling me drag inside of you,” he was rolling his hips back only to ram his cock forward at a punishing speed. “Can't have it any other way. You’ll always love being my little sex doll.”

He had Jongseob pinned below him, legs together, his ass spread out by one of Keeho’s hands. Out in the open like this, the sky glaring down at them, Keeho could feel how goosebumps had begun to form on Jongseob’s skin. They were paired with breathy moans escaping his mouth, not being able to hide behind his rough exterior any longer.

Keeho's orgasm pooled in the pit of his stomach when Jongseob finally turned his head, revealing how his bangs had stuck to his forehead from sweat, and how red his cheeks had gotten. His eyes were closed, showing off his long lashes, something Keeho never wanted to admit jealousy over. It made him drive his cock faster, deeper, the sound of slapping skin following his every move.

“Will you just cum in me already?” Jongseob snarkily ordered.

It warranted a laugh from Keeho. “Don't tell me you came already. You’re all sensitive now, is that right?”

“No–, hey, wait!” Jongseob screeched, right before Keeho pulled out, flipping him onto his back.

The new position gave Keeho the ability to see how Jongseob had cum stanned on the front of his black quarter zip and a deflated dick that sat limply at his pelvis. There was no fighting now, with Jongseob only trying to hide his red face with raised forearms.

“Fine,” Keeho started, taking his cock into his hand to guide it back into Jongseob. “I’ll fill you up until you’re full.”

He began his animalistic pace again, this time hitching one of Jongseob’s legs over his shoulder. Keeho’s task was clear, and yet the push he needed to get over the edge seemed far off in the distance. His eyes squeezed shut, he did his best to try and get lost in the feeling of Jongseob around him.

It was different this time. Keeho remembered how they used to fight, but it was never serious, and it always led them to moments like this. There wasn't the same spark of animosity that was once lighthearted, instead becoming much more malicious.

Choking out a cry, Keeho shakily stilled as he came. It was drawn out and messy, completely draining himself inside of Jongseob. White noise filled his ears until it didn't.

When he was dry and spent, Keeho dropped Jongseob's leg, the ecstasy of his cock cocooned inside of him turning into something more… painful?

It was dull at first, like his body had to adjust to the new found feeling. It then grew, starting from his neck, reaching up to his face and down to his chest. There was now a dampness at the collar of his shirt.

Keeho opened his closed eyes to see how he was now staring up at the ceiling. He was on his back, gasping for air that never seemed to fill his lungs. His vision began to blur into hazy static. He could hear Jongseob talking, but he couldn't register any of the words.

Then it was pitch black.

[mobiusdoublereadaround]

Death of the Author

warning in advance: this one might be a rambler? watch it, I'm ramblin here One of the things about discussing and reading Homestuck is that unlike a normal work, where in the act of reading you may come to understand something about the author, Hussie had an active involvement with his fanbase for a majority of Problem Sleuth, and Homestuck after that, so a lot of what we know about Hussie as a person comes from the comic and those interactions. Homestuck was full of commitment to bits that would have flown over the head of anyone who had not followed the previous works of Hussie, and of anyone who didn't read the author notes below each post. So much of his work was self-referential that it was something like a highly compressed jpeg ouroboros, eating its own artifact ass. Everything was always in service of a bit, or at least veiled behind the context of one.

And while we would learn quite a lot about Hussie's sense of humor as well as his artistic sensibilities, learning about Hussie himself has always been sort of a non starter. Having taken a pretty big step back after a while, for example, it's only through listening to and reading the works of others on the topic that I've learned Hussie has identified as any/all, though when this was something that they (I will be using he and they throughout most likely when referring to Hussie, although I reserve the right to use others) discovered I couldn't say. The exact method of delivery for this information was something of a Homestuck fan flashbang: Fashion Juggalo Hussie. I could not tell you if Juggalo Hussie is sincere or not; I trust that the any/all pronouns is. Being that Homestuck is, on a few levels, a story about identity as well as having the courage and strength to assert yourself against the horror of the world, it makes a lot of sense that the creator would end up on this side of the fence regarding gender identity. It also brings me to one of the more... divisive (I guess is the word?) decisions added in to the Homestuck canon; June, TGirl Vriska, and the fucking Toblerones.

All of these are things I avoid discussing when possible because a lot of people have very strong feelings about them, so read on with the knowledge that folk react to fictional characters and changes to them differently.

For those who aren't aware, around the time of the end of the original run of Homestuck, several chocolate bars of the Toblerone brand were signed by Andrew and hidden in caves, I believe in the USA, in reference to this image:

The people who found them were allowed to 'wish' anything they wanted into canon. And the first few people to do so used them to make existing characters trans; Specifically, John would become June Egbert, and Vriska would be retconned into having been assigned male at birth (or hatching), discovering her identity on forums/through her dancestor (as of the visual novels that have come out in the last few years I believe, I haven't read them but I have been told about them in some detail). Hussie clapped his hands together and said 'it will be done' --- then promptly handed it off to Viz.

To quote a man: "This has made a lot of people very angry and been widely regarded as a bad move."

On one hand this feels like inclusion on par with that of gay Dumbledore. Added after the fact, never elaborated upon within the fiction by said author, and changes nothing important about their actions within the established fiction. It doesn't provide context for behaviors we couldn't understand before or reveal something about them within the existing work. John becoming June feels odd; my own ability to scan out trans characters isn't perfect but it's curious to me that they'd choose the person who seems to have the most concrete idea within his own head of what masculinity is. A big part of what has led me to my own gender identity was the root of 'what exactly is a man or a woman? objectively and beyond biology, what are the things that define this?' John has never seemed to struggle with this part of his identity, and while that doesn't make it impossible (I passed and fooled myself for like 29 years) it does mean it would have to somehow account for John's pride in becoming a man his father would recognize as such.

I was talking in the largely trans server that started this blog in the first place, when I brought this up with a friend who's a first time reader, and this is what she had to say:

John really do be the worlds dumbest, most nicest man. Vriska in particular is strange because it changes nothing about her except for how a person might perceive her. It's the most retroactive kind of continuity change, and it only makes the idea of the trolls being echoes of their ancestors muddier for me.

Past that, we can look at how long it's taken to implement either of these within the canon. The change from John to June seems to never be destined to happen beyond that of the odd calendar image here or there of John's nails being painted by Rose. Even if it does come about it's happening in the dubious territory of Beyond Canon. If it's not even Hussie writing this, some people simply won't accept it as canon.

I bring all of this up because it's necessary for getting a picture of what Hussie the human is like, especially in regards to fan interaction.

So with all of that in mind, the reason I'm making this post to begin is to talk about Hussie the author vs Hussie the author the character, as well as their self insertion via Dave. I'll start with Dave, because it sort of ties in to my general understanding of Hussie, which informs how I read the work.

It's interesting that the character who most often employs the smokescreen of irony to defend his interests, Dave, shares the most tone and headspace with the creator. Not only are their posting and writing styles near identical, Hussie seems to be comfortable in Dave's skin in a way that doesn't translate to the others. When Paradox Space was a thing, there was a particularly graphic scene involving Tavros turning into a dick, written by Hussie. This made a lot of people upset, and in traditional fashion Hussie found a way to preserve the joke, by producing a WALL of Dave text describing the original panels in lurid detail.

Pleasant!

The thing about Dave is that he spends a huge amount of his time defending the idea of 'irony', when we meet him and through out a huge chunk of the story. 'Ironic bad art' is something he and Caliborn argue about, mirroring similar interactions Hussie would seek out on forums they used. The idea of enjoying something ironically is sort of silly to me, because how can you hold an idea ironically? How can you enjoy something and say 'well I don't mean it'? This is something we see Dave grow into, during his time on the meteor. His relationship with Karkat/His conversation with Obama during the epilogue where he never had a relationship like that say, to me, that these issues may have been weighing on Hussies own mind. Though Dave might lack the language to describe it because he spends his formative years on said meteor with the trolls and one other human, we can understand Dave is bi, both through his actions within canon events, the epilogues, and also through Hussie themself. It's sweet to me in a way that Hussie seems to be coming to similar conclusions about his own identity as they grow older.

Again, with Dave here, we see the self referential nature of Hussie's writing. And it's interesting to me because Hussie, the author, is historically at once very private and very public. There are photos of and from Hussie all over dead boards accessible via the wayback machine; his instagram has 30 posts, his formspring and tumblr are basically abandoned. We know a lot about people who have lived with Hussie; we have no clue what state they resided in. They say that they're taking a hands off approach to the beyond canon material; he provides the scripts/outlines for the creative team of Beyond Canon to work off of.

Hussie the person is almost a character, in their interactions. Cheeky and abrasive and encouraging parasocial relationships when they favor his interests. His jokes are edgy and provocative and when they don't land their response to backlash can be mixed. His views and the stories he tells are incredibly progressive; they''ll make an entire cast of characters with the intention of mocking keyboard justice culture and some disabilities. Andrew is a confusing person, who is full of paradoxical natures in their interactions, which is very human, to me.

This becomes even stranger when we account for Hussie, the Author, the Character, who behaves in... questionable manners sometimes.

When most people discuss the idea of 'death of the author' it's about separating the views of the creator from the work. Not only is that impossible with Homestuck, being a multiyear story told by one person drawing on a lot of personal author experience, the author is a character within the fiction. Further complicating this is the death of the author, an act which occurs within said fiction.

Hussie the character is one of the more interesting aspects of the story. An author being involved in their own work wasn't a foreign idea to me, I was familiar with Dark Tower and I cut my prog teeth on Coheed and Cambria ("If written wrote me even chance and the choice to save you", "Well, you say plenty of things, and how's that work? You're a bicycle!") so there was nothing new in the initial premise. When taken in the context of Homestuck, though, we end up with some weird shit. Andrew Hussie the character is he/him, a snapshot of a person who no longer is, in a sense. Andrew Hussie the character is dead, within the fiction. This doesn't change his tendency to meddle with the story and break the fourth wall, (traits shared with his human counterpart) but he also a ghost who is in love with a 13 year old troll, within that fiction. Even here, after the authors literal death, he continues to have input on the fiction with the guise of a troll (which is fitting, given his desire to poke at his own fandom).

We can safely assume that Hussie does not actually have proclivities for their own creation, particularly not those that are children. But they (the author) do play into those bits, on and off the platform. The now abandoned formspring and tumblr are full of back and forths of injokes between him and fans (the vriska thing was something I only learned about after the fact from other fans when I was very confused) that make their way into the comic eventually as an otherwise unexplainable behavior that the in-fiction author has. As such there's a necessary attachment of the author to the fiction, and then separation of them from their self insert within their work.

Furthering this is Calliope's message within the Epilogues, regarding the nature of stories being told by narrators;

"hence, we may view any story as speakerless, or spoken, so as to bring designations to the duality i have just presented."

"once a hidden speaker becomes unmasked, then retroactively the story may be considered spoken all along."

I guess what I'm getting at with all of this is that not only can you not separate the author from the work with Homestuck, you're supposed to actively view the work with the author in mind. You require advance knowledge of photographs/memes/injokes from forums that do not exist anymore. And it's interesting to me, the disconnect between Hussie as they were, edgy and a troll and eager to interact, vs Hussie as they are now, much more reserved and at the same time seeming to find their real self within the grease paint of a clown. I can't say that I blame them at this point, for avoiding the online public, but I also can't help but wonder what a world where Beyond Canon was being done with fan interaction would be like. The era of Juggalo Hussie posting would go hard.

[homo-adaptionem]

Urbex Tips

Urban Exploration tips:

Learn basic first aid & bring a first aid kit.

Don't go in alone. Bring at least two other people.

Build up your strength before hand.

You need a tetanus shot every 10 years. If you haven't had one in the last 10 years, get one before you start.

If you're asthmatic, bring your inhaler.

Do research on the building / area beforehand. Figure out why it's abandoned. Learn the history. If it's condemned, find out why. Could be health reasons.

Enter at your own risk.

Tell a trusted person(s) where you're going. Give them the location of any places you're exploring. This is in case something happens, they know where you are/were going. Make sure they know who you're going with.

Hard hats. Being serious. Shit falls, even in "newer" buildings.

Wear gloves (thick leather work gloves, not that plastic faux leather shit, actual leather. not disposables, they won't do shit against glass and metal), goggles (to protect your eyes), a face mask (ideally construction-grade but the fabric types will work well enough), thick, long pants (like jeans), work or hiking boots, long sleeves, and something to cover your hair, like a beanie. If you've got long hair, put it in a ponytail and stuff it under the hat. Trust me. Also deodorant is a good idea.

Invest in a headlamp (easier than using a flashlight)

Avoid the "white 16 year old boy with friends" mentality. Don't do stupid shit because it's funny. If that floor seems unstable, avoid it. Don't smash shit. Don't jump down dark holes.

Don't steal shit. It's tempting, but I don't recommend it.

Avoid tagging / making graffiti, esp identifying graff. Again, tempting, but you can still get in trouble for it.

If someone catches you, BAIL. Don't get into a fight. Don't stick around for pigs to show up. Don't engage, just get out of there. Most of the time, urbex is trespassing.

If you find (which you probably won't) large sums of money, it might be best to report it. It could be stolen or counterfeit and get you in trouble if you use it. But ultimately it's your own choice.

If you find (which you probably won't) bloody clothing, blood-covered knives (or other weapons), or a gun, report it. Fuck pigs yada yada, but it could be connected to someone's death. Don't touch anything, don't take anything, just call the authorities and tell them where it is. I mention this because it could be connected to the assault or murder of sex workers, partners, and/or minorities.

If you find drugs (which you probably won't), report it. Don't use it. Could be laced. Not safe to use, bro, not worth it.

If you find a body(s), (which you probably won't), report it. Check for a pulse, but if the body is cold and/or stiff, call the authorities. If they're still warm, you can try CPR on them while you call for an ambulance. If they have a pulse, call an ambulance. If it looks like they're ODing, use some narcan if you've got it.

If you find Satantic imagery or whatever, 9 times out of 10 it's just teens fucking around. Like I promise you, they were probably left by some guys wanting to cause a stir or trying to make their own ARG or something.

The building isn't haunted, sorry to say. There are rational explanations for every "supernatural" thing you'll encounter. Sometimes they're the aforementioned guys. If you're superstitious, scared of the dark, easily frightened, or suffer from psychosis, you're probably gonna have a bad time.

You may encounter looters, homeless folks, addicts, and/or mentally ill/disabled folks. Try to avoid confrontation. Let them be. If they're alive and unharmed, leave them alone. If they're injured or ODing, attempt first aid (narcan, tourniquets, compresses, etc.) and call an ambulance. No pigs, just medical help.

Watch out for animals. Don't pet them. Don't hurt them. Leave them alone. Also watch out for snakes, esp in buildings with a lot of concrete or gravel.

Don't wear iconic or identifying clothing. Don't worry about looking nice. Don't wear shit you like because it WILL get torn, stained, and trashed.

Just… never assume you're alone.

Feel free to reblog with other tips.

[pleathewrites]

bellow the fire into my deadened lungs

chapter 5: when they come for you, i will shield your name

(summary) | dabihawks, todoroki family, seroroki, kiribaku, aizawa & class of 1a, all might, league of villains

_______ DAY 8 _______

It is the day of his court hearing that Todoroki Touya dies, for the second time.

Keigo hears it live on the television at a nothing diner Eraserhead and All Might had said they would pick him up from. They were going to allow Keigo to sit in the same car as Touya on the way to the courthouse, planning to follow in a separate car. 

“BREAKING NEWS: TODOROKI TOUYA, KNOWN AS ‘DABI’, DIES IN VEHICULAR EXPLOSION WHILE BEING TRANSPORTED TO HIS COURT HEARING!”

The only thing Keigo can hear through the ringing in his ears is the forgotten five-year-old tucked away at the back of his mind screaming, ‘No! No! NO!’

The only thing Keigo could feel through blizzard winds whipping across his soaring wings was the home within his heart Touya had built with scarred preening hands collapsing and compressing until he could no longer breathe. 

And when he gasps to a landing halt, the only thing Keigo can see through thick smoke and scrap metal with his quirk-enhanced vision is the crude and grotesquely torn-off ring finger Keigo had spent countless hours tracing with his lips, imagining how it’d look enclosed by a gold band with, ‘forever,’ engraved inside.

“Touya!”  

He’s pulled back before he can run into the flames. All Might holds Keigo with every ounce of strength he no longer has and Eraserhead is using his quirk to soften sharpened feathers that cut into All Might’s straining arms. They’re both talking, speaking to Keigo, warning him — they won’t stop talking —  

‘Don’t they understand that Touya needs me, that I need to save him?’

It feels like minutes, hours, seconds, days, before red and orange fire is hosed down completely, and there is no trace of Touya’s body.

“But — I don’t…”

A member of the forensic team is bending down to bag Touya’s left ring finger when Keigo faintly realizes he’s stopped struggling against All Might.

The five-year-old child Keigo has hidden for so long comes out, “He’s fireproof?” 

(Keigo is in too much shock to see the look Shouta gives Yagi — the one that says, ‘don’t say a word.’)

“The damage the fire had done to his body activated the chip inside his wrist to explode. He died almost instantly if that eases your pain any,” Eraserhead tells Keigo. 

The world drops below his feet, not in the manner of when Keigo jumps off buildings to welcome blue skies, but in the manner of gravity plummeting those not gifted with flight to splatter them across concrete. 

Keigo pushes All Might off him with a rough shove and flies to his safehouse, to his home — their home.

And he screams.  

Every feather of his wings sharpen and fly out his back. Dozens of paper-thin cuts sting his cheeks, his neck, and cut through the arms and thighs of his flight suit. The shatter of broken pots and pierced glass means nothing to him. The clatter and bang of splintered wood and stabbed walls do not swallow the horrible shriek of his grieving wails. 

He’s dropped to his knees and he’s screaming, his still screaming, and he does not stop until his vocal cords are torn and swollen shut, until the floorboards are pounded through and clutched between a paralyzed stress-grip, until the fibers of his living room rug are stuck wetly to his nose, until the only noise he can hoarse out are the croons Touya had heard only a handful of times in his short, unlived life.

Keigo stays like that for hours, in the fetal position that five-year-old child had learned to be his only comfort in a life like his. He croons to himself the way Touya had loved so much until his body was too tired to do anything else but drift Keigo away to moonlit-metal and blue dreams. 

CLICK TO READ REST OF CHAPTER 5 ON AO3

[heicodynamics]

This concrete cube testing equipment for Construction Quality Control is featured with hydraulic loading, sensor force measurement, digital display of load value and loading rate, and micro printer to print various test data.It is an indispensable compressive strength tester for construction, building materials, highway bridges, engineering design and other units.

[tutoroot]

What are the Key Mechanical Properties of Solids? 

Mechanical properties of solids refer to the characteristics that define how a material responds to external forces, such as stress, strain, and deformation. These properties include elasticity, plasticity, hardness, toughness, strength, and ductility, among others. They are fundamental in determining a material’s suitability for various applications, influencing its behaviour under different conditions. 

The significance of mechanical properties spans numerous fields. In engineering, these properties ensure the safety and durability of structures like bridges, buildings, and dams. In construction, they guide the selection of materials for specific purposes, such as load-bearing or flexibility. Material science relies heavily on these properties to develop innovative materials that meet evolving industrial demands. 

This article aims to delve into the science behind mechanical properties, their key characteristics, real-world applications, and their indispensable role in innovation and progress. 

The Science Behind Mechanical Properties 

Stress and Strain: Fundamentals 

Stress is the force per unit area exerted on a material. It can be mathematically expressed as: 

where is the applied force and is the cross-sectional area of the material. Strain, on the other hand, measures the deformation caused by stress. It is defined as the ratio of the change in length to the original length: where is the change in length and is the original length. 

Types of Stress and Strain 

Tensile Stress and Strain: Occurs when forces act to stretch a material. Examples include the stretching of rubber bands and cables. 

Compressive Stress and Strain: Results from forces that compress or squeeze a material. Concrete in buildings often experiences compressive stress. 

Shear Stress and Strain: Arises when forces are applied parallel to a surface. Scissors cutting paper is an example of shear stress in action. 

Hooke’s Law and Elasticity 

Elasticity is the ability of a material to return to its original shape and size after the removal of stress. Hooke’s Law describes this behaviour: 

where is the Young’s modulus, a measure of a material’s stiffness. Elasticity is crucial for applications requiring temporary deformation, such as springs. 

Plasticity and Permanent Deformation 

When stress exceeds a material’s elastic limit, it undergoes plastic deformation, leading to permanent changes in shape or size. Metals like aluminium and copper exhibit plasticity, making them ideal for moulding and shaping processes. 

Key Mechanical Properties 

1. Young’s Modulus (Stiffness) 

Represents a material’s resistance to deformation under tensile stress. 

Example: Steel has a high Young’s modulus, making it ideal for construction. 

2. Shear Modulus and Bulk Modulus 

Shear Modulus measures resistance to shape changes under shear stress. 

Bulk Modulus evaluates a material’s response to uniform compression. 

Applications include hydraulic systems and pressure vessels. 

3. Poisson’s Ratio 

Describes the ratio of lateral strain to longitudinal strain. Materials with low Poisson ratios, like cork, are used for sealing applications. 

4. Strength 

Includes tensile, compressive, and shear strength. Determines how much load a material can bear without failure. 

Example: Carbon fiber composites are used in aerospace for their high strength-to-weight ratio. 

5. Ductility and Malleability 

Ductility is the ability to be stretched into a wire. Copper’s ductility makes it suitable for electrical wiring. 

Malleability is the ability to be hammered into sheets. Gold’s malleability is utilized in jewellery making. 

6. Brittleness and Toughness 

Brittleness: Materials like glass break without significant deformation. 

Toughness: Measures a material’s ability to absorb energy before fracturing. Rubber is an example of a tough material. 

7. Hardness 

Resistance to indentation or scratching. Hardness tests include the Mohs scale and the Brinell test. 

Example: Diamond, the hardest known material, is used in cutting tools. 

Applications in Engineering and Design 

Civil Engineering 

Bridges: Steel and reinforced concrete combine high strength and ductility to withstand loads. 

Buildings: Materials like concrete and glass are chosen based on compressive strength and aesthetic appeal. 

Aerospace and Automotive Industries 

Lightweight yet strong materials like titanium alloys ensure efficiency and safety in aircraft. 

Automotive components use materials with high impact resistance, such as advanced polymers. 

Manufacturing Tools and Machinery 

Machine tools rely on hard materials like tungsten carbide for durability and precision. 

Conveyor belts require toughness and flexibility to handle wear and tear. 

Product Design and Safety Analysis 

Consumer goods, such as smartphones, use materials that balance hardness and toughness. 

Safety-critical systems, like helmets and airbags, are designed with energy-absorbing materials. 

Material Science and Advancements 

Developing New Materials 

Nanomaterials and composites offer superior strength and lightweight properties. 

Innovations like graphene enhance conductivity and mechanical strength. 

Sustainability and Recycling 

Recyclable materials, such as aluminium, reduce environmental impact. 

Bio-based polymers provide eco-friendly alternatives for packaging and construction. 

Future Trends 

Smart materials, such as shape-memory alloys, adapt to environmental changes. 

Research focuses on enhancing the durability of materials under extreme conditions. 

The mechanical properties of solids are the backbone of modern engineering, construction, and material science. They ensure the safety, functionality, and efficiency of structures and products. By understanding and leveraging these properties, we can drive innovation, create sustainable solutions, and meet the challenges of an ever-evolving world. 

As we continue to explore new materials and techniques, the importance of mechanical properties will remain at the forefront of progress, shaping a future of resilience and ingenuity. 

For more simplified explanations like the one above, visit the physics blogs on the Tutoroot website. Elevate your learning with Tutoroot’s personalised Physics online tuition. Begin your journey with a FREE DEMO session and discover the advantages of online tuitions. 

[nnctales]

Understanding the Key Differences between High Performance and High Strength Concrete

Concrete, one of the most widely used construction materials, has undergone significant advancements over the years. Among these innovations are high performance concrete (HPC) and high strength concrete (HSC). While they may sound similar, these two types of concrete serve distinct purposes and exhibit contrasting properties. In this article, we will delve into the differences between high…

[nvrcmplt]

@intcritus // First Meeting

It was a strange time, living up to the mantel piece of his Father's strength but Osakwe learned fast when his Dad came home with Shoto and Bon under his arms. The protective streak he understood out of most, and how quickly he acted to take the smaller of the two into his own arms and into the safety of the hideaway. The villain was strong, fast - but a little blinded by their ego that they didn't follow his Dad to this space. Thankful by that nature, Osakwe got the work in wrapping Bon's arm, scraped by something, in minimal gauze from the emergency first aid kit and took a cold compress to Shoto's head that held a bump.

"Dad…"

"Stay down."

Osakwe could see that Olu was bleeding, a head wound so he knew from many studies they were the worst bleeders, but from what he could also tell was that Olu wasn't dizzy or slurring his words. So, he swallowed the panic and nodded firmly, taking hold of Bon's hand and Shoto's to draw some strength from the duo fast asleep. Knocked out? Osakwe felt sick, scared but he held it down. Swallowed with a heavy sigh and nodded to himself to scoot closer to his brothers at this point.

Oluwayemisi remained on his feet, smearing his blood from vision with practice ease and keeping his ears open with eyes ahead. Looking over the edge of crumbled buildings and crushed cars - the flames weren't as bad as they were pretty far from their place, just the smoke was the killer. It removed vision of the landscape, put him on edge and had his hackles raised. He could feel his blood boiling, the beast within himself ready to take over to fight and protect… but against what, was the issue. This country held hundreds of skilled and mutant like beings, Quirks as Todoroki explained to him once - they were many humans that held the wants to be Hero's but were villainized for their skills be them too dark or too creepy.

So, when Olu' braved the minute glance back to his son and his wards - Olu felt his stomach drop. Twisting just in time to dodge a metal pipe slamming over his shoulder - aimed for his face - to impale the wall behind them. Osakwe's bellow was enough to make his fangs bare - his claws swiping out to latch onto the metal item and yank it free to swipe it down in front of him. Colliding with another pipe, then another and another before it stopped all together. The enemy jumped through the cloud of ashen smoke - cackling as their arm extended to form gray in the skin and fire yet another hollow pipe from his skin.

Olu could only snarl as he used the first pipe to deflect the metal item again - sending it down into the Earth - another above to finally have enough and promptly javelin throw the pipe in his grip towards the maker with a bestial roar. Watching it take them down and over the other side of the car was enough - he didn't need to know the blood in the air was that child's, but it was enough to make him hiss. Young - they were all bloody young. What the fuck is going on here… ?!

"DAD!" The alarm was with the sound of crumbling foundations and above did his arms automatically pull away from the pipes to twist upon toes and cover the three lads with his entire frame. The pain was bearable, nothing compared to yanking his son under his chest and tugging Bon and Shoto under Osakwe… His fangs bared with determination and with a bestial strength he pushed down on his feet to give them just enough room to get light from under the caved in floor above. Sweating and feeling blood ooze from parts of his frame, Olu' couldn't care less and only focused on the three beneath him. Osakwe was cradling his ankle, Shoto seemed to be waking but dizzy and Bon was already whimpering, curling up in a ball, which was a good sign if anything. "Boys, be brave." He huffed through the noise and taste of concrete on his tongue - his arms trembled but he couldn't think of it right that moment.

He could just hear cackling but it was gone with the distance. Dumb shit… though a blessing. Arrogance was enough to keep the simplest of jobs to fail. Oluwayemisi stared down into the darkness, the minimal light was working only so much even with his special retinas. Luckily though he smelt no new blood that wasn't his own - Osakwe's ankle was definitely broken. The scent of tears were higher than anything else but to Oluwayemisi that's all he needed to care about. "Osakwe, look at me… You're going to be alright. All three of you are." He started with a need to make sure his cubs were safe. "Stay under me, stay close…" Though his back was protesting, though his thighs were trembling and his arms turning numb, he couldn't move.

Breathing wasn't the best either, from what he could tell it wasn't just the pressure from above, but around them. The air was thicker… that's when it clicked. "Shit." A cough from Bon, then himself, Osakwe followed next as Shoto was out cold again. Fire - a burning fire was closer than before now - filling the place with smoke. Just what he needed; his eyes stung - the kids were wheezing and now he felt scared for them. This was not how they wanted to go.

"Osakwe… pull them closer, as close as you can." He coughed, growling as the smoke filled his throat and lungs - it hurt, hot and thick. Not nice to taste at all either, so he bared his teeth again - feeling his skin itch as hairs began to sprout. "Hold them tight!" His bellow was enough to rattle rock and dust from their dome of debris. Metal screeched and rock crumbled but most of all, the air in their igloo of stone was fresh again. Oluwayemisi's frame thickened, muscle mass tripled with his strength, height and bulk. His mane thickened and lengthened and within moments of pulling the beast from his core - the stone covering was tossed aside.

Osakwe scooped up in one arm, Bon's in the other and Shoto's shirt in his fanged mouth - the four of them were midair as Osakwe opened his eyes again. Gaping at the sight before and below them. The building had been crushed, swiped almost and the floors fell inward. Osakwe couldn't believe his Dad was able to hold all that up for that amount of time but was thankful. He hissed when they finally landed on a road somewhere, his ankle was definitely broken and stung to high-heavens but he held himself upright when placed down and handed Shoto, who was still out cold. If he was awake, the building would have been iced over so easy but it was okay.

Shoto already fought hard to protect him and Bon from the sudden attack. Bon was able to open his eyes better now, though wheezing a heavy cough - the three of them together held each other. Sliding to sit on the floor and clear their airways - as Oluwayemisi, in his lion form stood tall, huffing the remnants of ashen clouds from his chops and keeping an eye on the surroundings. Osakwe couldn't really tell where his dad was bleeding from but he could see the wounds weren't as deep now that they were in the sunlight.

A sudden explosion has the group on edge, the sound of cars and something cackling back through the air. It's when Olu took notice of the bastard that tried to kill them in the first place - on the back of someone able to fly and weave through the Hero's pursuit. Though as his gaze focused more and his chest eased its ache - he noticed the Teacher that looked after Shoto. Aizaka or something, Eizawa? He didn't know perfectly but he knew one thing, he had a score to settle and he didn't even blink twice about pushing to the side to dig his claws into the belly of a motorbike on the roadside. And without any hesitation - launched it from where he stood into the direct path of the flying two fools.

It didn't hit them, well, not that he saw, but it shocked them into flailing out the way and promptly getting fucked over by the dual weight of each other. Plummeting fast and that's when his instincts kicked in. Launching forward upon all fours - twisting over car and around truck - the Lion leapt with ease to stretch out claws mitts to slash through the flying being's side, but also to grab onto them deep - as his fanged maw struck out at the no longer cackling fool's throat. Missing by an inch - Oluwayemisi didn't shy from snagging a mawful of the bastard's shoulder instead. Crunching down with ease in making the two slam into the concrete and rolled with them both with violence at his core.

Oluwayemisi didn't let them go until he heard Aizawa's tone - the red eyed glare in his direction and the lack of understanding as to how his bestial form remained. Still, the two villains were weeping - the flying one knocked out under his grip so he was released with a squelch of claws as the one in his maw, was silently screaming at the dislocation of his shoulder and crushing of his collarbone. Olu' wasn't as gentle upon releasing him from his fangs - releasing with a jerk and huffing a simple noise and spit to rid of its flavor.

Looking down at the Hero's that came by with wariness - his lips rippled at the challenge before he heard Osakwe. "Aizawa-sensei! Todoroki's hurt!" It was all Olu' needed to turn off his hunter and promptly return to his son's side - shedding his bestial form and kneeling aside Shoto to gently pluck the boy up with Bon holding onto Osakwe to help him stand upright on his ankle too.

To think this was the first time they meet proper outside a community center… Oluwayemisi could only nod towards Aizawa as he followed after the underground hero on his order of the kids being aided with them.

[concretecanberra]

Concrete Contractors – What Types of Concrete Are Available?

Concrete is a strong and versatile building material that can be used in a variety of ways. It’s great for creating driveways, garden paths and slabs for garages and extensions.

Find a concreting contractor that specialises in the type of work you need done. The best concreters have up to date training and knowledge of the latest concreting techniques.

Concrete Slabs

Concrete slabs are an essential part of any building project. They create solid foundations and offer stable support for structures like houses, sheds, carports and more. They also provide termite proofing and thermal properties for homes.

Almost every construction site needs concrete slabs, but there are many different types of slabs to choose from. Some are flat while others have a waffle design or are designed for specific uses.

Slabs are usually poured using reinforced concrete. This type of concrete is mixed with things like steel bars or welded wire fabric to give it extra strength. This gives the concrete tensile and compressive strength to handle the heavy load of a house or shed. It also makes the structure termite-proof and able to withstand the scorching Australian summers.

Stamped Concrete

Concrete stamping allows homeowners to choose from a wide variety of colours and designs. They can be used for patios, driveways and pool decks. Besides being durable, stamped concrete is also nonslip and resistant to humidity.

The pattern is created by pressing a rubber or polyurethane stamp against wet concrete to create the desired texture. The concrete contractor then adds a colour or pigment to the concrete before it sets, creating an appealing finish.

Many homeowners choose natural earth tones, such as grays or earthy browns. Others opt for brick, cobblestone or wood patterns. In addition, the concrete can be antiqued with stains or tints. The options are endless! This gives the homeowner a unique look that blends into the natural environment. It is also an economical choice compared to other paving materials like stone, granite or pavers.

Concrete Flooring

Concrete floor resurfacing can offer an attractive, functional and affordable flooring solution for your home or business. It is durable and easy to maintain, and it comes in a wide variety of textures, surfaces and colours.

The price of your concrete floors depends on several factors, including the size of the project and any custom work that is required. For example, a small area may cost more than a larger one because it requires more detail work and set-up time. The condition of the current floor also affects costs, as damaged areas will require repair before new concrete can be laid.

Look for a concrete contractor that specializes in the type of work you need. You wouldn’t want a general contractor to install concrete in your industrial warehouse, for instance.

Concrete Stenciling

Concrete stenciling is one of the latest trends in decorative concrete. It can make plain concrete look like brick, stone pavers, tile, or natural rock. It is also a great way to add texture and design to walkways, patios, kitchens, or living rooms.

Stenciling can be done on new concrete or over existing concrete. If the existing concrete is going to be resurfaced, it must be repaired first. If the surface is cracked, it will need to be fixed with concrete repair products that will be discussed with your concreter.

The best concreters are hard-working, innovative, and work to the highest safety standards. They offer a wide range of services and can help you with your concrete project. They can create beautiful driveways, patios, and garden paths. They can even do a slab for your garage or home extension.

Exposed Aggregate Concrete

Exposed aggregate concrete is an attractive and low maintenance style of decorative concreting that can add character to your driveway, patio or walkway. It is a mix of concrete and pebbles or other rock materials that can be chosen for their shape, size, texture and colour.

This type of concrete is poured into forms and smoothed with a bull float before the surface is covered with plastic and allowed to cure. The top layer of cement paste is then removed using a power washer or garden hose to expose the stones or pebbles in the concrete.

This technique can be done with new concrete or as a facelift to existing concrete surfaces. A Canberra concrete contractor can recommend the best way to achieve the desired effect.

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