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diz-eaze · 2 months ago

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please write more modern yandere scara please please please pretty please woth a cherry on top…IM BEGGING YOU i love this so much

; thank u for enabling me to rot over yandere scara nonnie <33 you've heard of cyberstalker scara and roomie scara, so now I'll present to you jealous scara in his most unserious way possible <3

; others; 3rd, 2nd, 1st.

; half serious half silly, not proofread, yandere, freak behavior, implicit afab (y/n) for this one bc of periods, slight nsfw, not proofread so there may be typos !!

some jealous scara thoughts !!

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your phone. literally what does this tiny, rectangular device have that he doesn't (everything)? never mind the fact that he also uses a phone because it's different, he uses his as an archive for everything related to you !! and what about you?? 🤨🤨 what's your excuse for being glued to your phone 24/7 doomscrolling through tiktok and ig reels, huh? sigh. what's the point of life if the huzz (you) don't even use your phone to cyberstalk him back :(. wdym you don't bug his phone to secretly place a tracking app to monitor where he is at all times, wdym you're not spying on the private conversations he has (he literally only talks to his mom). where's the passion, the romance? the dating pool is truly cooked - says scara, as he struggles to form a normal social connection with you without being borderline manic. for both your sake and his, put the phone down <3.

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your tampons/pads/menstual cups. he hates their existence. they are impeding in his life !! why are you using all these products, that cost money btw, when you can use his mouth instead :( he's being serious when he thinks that, like that is genuinely his mindset. in HIS perfect world of delusion, you'd never go outside during your periods and will instead use his mouth like a menstrual deposit while you do your pending work 😭😭. every month he begs to any deity above that you'll finally throw out your feminine products like god PLEASE let him have this (no one is listening to his prayers). please never trust him around your trashcan because he WILL dig that shit up like some fucking raccoon and suck the blood out of it like he's some modern day vampire. he doesn't even care if he gets sick from doing it :(

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your skin products like lotions or face serums. oh to be the toner that you apply to your face day and night, seeping deep into your pores and bringing your skin nutrition and hydration :((( curse this blasted mortal body of his !! why can't he be the one to do that for you !? and don't even get him started on body lotion that you lather into your skin after every shower... sigh. sigh. SIGHHHH. if he was your lotion, he'd moisturize you in record time, btw. at the very least, if he can't be the product himself then at least let him be the one to apply it on your body.

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of the food that enters your mouth. it makes him want to throw up and cry every time he eats with you and watches as the food enters your mouth and goes into your digestive system. he wants to be that so fucking bad it's downright ridiculous. he laughs and makes idle conversation with you outside, but underneath the table he's clenching his fists so hard it's undoubtedly starting to wound. it's fine, he tells himself, but in reality he's so so upset because he badly wants to be entrenched in your saliva and be put through your intestines, too :(. is that not romantic? and don't tell him otherwise.

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your clothes. he's like the wolf tearing his t-shirt meme whenever he thinks about you and encroaches on the fact that you wear clothes just like any other human being :0. he's dramatically slamming his gaming desk over in anger because grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr there are other species that get to be wrapped around your body for a good portion of the day :/ (ignoring the fact that it's literally just pieces of cloth?). he gets even angrier if you wear bras, too, because just let him be the one to hold up your breasts, please. it won't remove his jealousy, but it'll be enough to get him to function again.

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of whoever makes you laugh. like, haha !! nice one !! anyways, what's so funny? :// it wasn't even that good, lol. he'd downplay the other person's jokes SOOO BAD it's highkey pathetic of him. he tries to have this air of 'idgaf' and in his mind he's executing it amazingly but then you take a look at him being so pressed over a goddamn joke and that illusion just shatters completely. he stays up at night replaying the way you laughed at their joke over and over and over again. it's literally his sleep paralysis demon. he could be 58 years old and married to you but he'd still have nightmares about it. he's that bothered. and GOD FORBID you laugh at a meme because now he's deepdiving into a new career (becoming a meme account) and just hoping that he lands on your timeline and hopefully get a chuckle or a hehe out of you or else someone prevent him from pulling the trigger. don't worry diva, why laugh at tiktoks or tweets when you have a jester at your disposal? scara believes that the online world needs to be destroyed and to bring back medieval times because he has to be the only who makes you laugh ok.

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your video games. it's like those stereotypical gamer bf x normie gf relationship except he's not a normie nor is he a girl, but he still acts like a possessive toxic gf who gets insanely insecure over their s/o playing minecraft out of all things. think of the insane levels of jealousy he'll experience if you play games that require playing with other actual people btw. think of valorant, league, overwatch, etc. he'd actually fall to his knees in complete agony. he overhears someone on mic laugh at something you said one time, and when you get home from college classes he's already destroyed your built pc :). how about playing with only him next time, yeah?

modern au yandere scara gets jealous of your friends, especially if that friend has known you longer than he has. there's nothing that can compare to the sheer envy he holds for people who've known you for that long - the lotions, the video games, the clothes don't even hold a candle to this - because there's no greater bliss in his life than your existence and the act of knowing you intimately. and he likes to think that he's the best in that field. the number one researcher, even, so when he gets to know more about the people you surround yourself with and see some that have known you since childhood.... it leaves a heavy weight in his chest. his fingers uncontrollably itch. he gets his dreadful cloud of gloom over his head. it's not fair. he should've been the one to know you since preschool instead of your friend, right? ugh, if only he had the premonition to see into the future !! don't let him be alone with your friends because you'll end up experiencing friendship break-ups with no rhyme or reason 😭😭😭

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bestanimal · 9 months ago

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Round 1 - Phylum Arthropoda

(Sources - 1, 2, 3, 4)

Arthropoda is a phylum of animals that have segmented bodies, possess a chitin exoskeleton, and have paired segmented appendages. They are colloquially called “bugs” though this is often only used for terrestrial arthropods, and sometimes only used for insects specifically.

After Nematoda, this is the most successful phylum, and it is far more diverse, with up to 10 million species! Arthropods account for 80% of all known living animal species. The three major subphyla include the Chelicerates (sea spiders, horseshoe crabs, arachnids, and the extinct eurypterids and chasmataspidids), the Myriapods (centipedes and millipedes), and the Crustaceans (shrimps, prawns, crabs, lobsters, crayfish, seed shrimp, branchiopods, fish lice, krill, remipedes, isopods, barnacles, copepods, opossum shrimps, amphipods, mantis shrimp, entognaths, and insects).

Arthropods are so diverse in fact that it is next to impossible for me to describe a model arthropod. They are important members of marine, freshwater, land, and air ecosystems and are one of only two major animal groups that have adapted to life in dry environments, the others being chordates. All arthropods have an exoskeleton and must molt as they grow, replacing their exoskeleton. Some arthropods go through a metamorphosis in this process. They have brains, a heart, and blood (called hemolymph, though some crustaceans and insects also use hemoglobin). They sense the world through small hairs called setae which are sensitive to vibration, air currents, and even chemicles in the air or water. Pressure sensors function similarly to eardrums. Antennae monitor humidity, moisture, temperature, sound, smell, and/or taste, depending on species. Most arthropods have sophisticated visual systems ranging from simple eyes (ocelli) which orient towards light, to compound eyes consisting of fifteen to several thousand independent ommatidia capable of forming images, detecting fast movement, or even seeing polarized or ultra-violet light. Some arthropods are hermaphroditic, some have more than two sexes, some reproduce by parthenogenesis, some by internal fertilization, some by external, some have complex courtship rituals, some lay eggs, some give live birth, some have prolonged maternal care. The first arthropods are known from the Ediacaran, before the Cambrian era.

Propaganda below the cut:

Insects are the first animals to have achieved flight

The smallest arthropods are the parasitic crustaceans of the class Tantulocarida, some of which are less than 100 micrometres long. The largest arthropod is the Japanese Spider Crab (Macrocheira kaempferi) with a legspan of up to 4 metres (13 ft) long. The heaviest is the American Lobster (Homarus americanus), which can get up to 20 kilograms (44 lb).

Many arthropods are popular pets, including various species of crab, shrimp, isopod, crayfish, mantis shrimp, millipede, centipede, tarantula, true spider, scorpion, amblypygid, vinegaroon, mantis, cockroach, beetle, moth, and ant! Some are even domesticated, including silk moths and honeybees.

Many arthropods are eaten by humans as a delicacy, and farming insects for food is considered more sustainable than farming large chordates. These farmed arthropods are referred to as “minilivestock.”

Arthropods feature in a variety of ways in biomimicry: humans imitating elements of nature. For example, the cooling system of termite mounds has been imitated in architecture, and the internal structure of the dactyl clubs of mantis shrimp have been imitated to create more damage tolerant materials.

Spider venoms are being studied as a less harmful alternative to chemical pesticides, as they are deadly to insects but the great majority are harmless to vertebrates. They have also been studied and could have uses in treating cardiac arrhythmia, muscular dystrophy, glioma, Alzheimer's disease, strokes, and erectile dysfunction.

Shellac is a resin secreted by the female Lac Bug (Kerria lacca) on trees in the forests of India and Thailand. It is used as a brush-on colorant, food glaze, natural primer, sanding sealant, tannin-blocker, odour-blocker, stain, and high-gloss varnish. It was once used in electrical applications as an insulator, and was used to make phonograph and gramophone records until it was replaced by vinyl.

One of the biggest ecosystem services arthropods provide for humans is pollination. Crops where pollinator insects are essential include brazil nuts, cocoa beans, and fruits including kiwi, melons, and pumpkins. Crops where pollinator insects provide 40-90% of pollination include avocados, nuts like cashews and almonds, and fruits like apples, apricots, blueberries, cherries, mangoes, peaches, plums, pears, and raspberries. In crops where pollinators are not essential they still increase production and yield. Important pollinators include bees, flies, wasps, butterflies, and moths.

Many arthropods are sacred to humans. In Ancient Egypt, scarab beetles were used in art, religious ceremonies, and funerary practices, and were represented by the god Khepri. Bees supposedly grew from the tears of the sun god Ra, spilled across the desert sand. The goddess of healing venomous bites and stings, Serket, was depicted as a scorpion. Kalahari Desert's San People tell of a legendary hero, Mantis, who asked a bee to guide him to find the purpose of life. When the bee became weary from their search, he left the mantis on a floating flower, and planted a seed within him before passing from his exhaustion. The first human was born from this seed. In Akan folklore, the cunning trickster figure Anansi/Ananse is depicted as a spider. Western astrology uses the crab constellation, called Cancer, and the scorpion constellation, called Scorpio. Dragonflies symbolize pure water in Navajo tradition. In Anishinaabe culture, dreamcatchers are meant to represent spiderwebs and are used as a protective charm for infants. They originate from the Spider Grandmother, who takes care of the children and the people of the land in many Native American cultures. The Moche people of ancient Peru often depicted spiders and crabs in their art. In an Ancient Greek hymn, Eos, the goddess of the dawn, requests of Zeus to let her lover Tithonus live forever as an immortal. Tithonus became immortal, but not ageless, and eventually became so small, old, and shriveled that he turned into the first cicada. Another hymn sings of the Thriae, a trinity of Aegean bee nymphs. Native Athenians wore golden grasshopper brooches to symbolize that they were of pure, Athenian lineage. In an Ancient Sumerian poem, a fly helps the goddess Inanna when her husband Dumuzid is being chased by galla demons. In Japanese culture, butterflies carry many meanings, from being the souls of humans to symbols of youth to guides into the afterlife. Ancient Romans also believed that butterflies were the souls of the dead. Some of the Nagas of Manipur claim ancestry from a butterfly. Many cultures use the butterfly as a symbol of rebirth. And the list goes on…

cute crab eat a strawbebby:

#round 1 #animal polls #listen narrowing it down to just 4 images almost killed me #if arthropods don’t move on to round 2 I will have to take like an extra week off to mourn that I can’t show you all the cool bugs #there’s so many cool bugs guys #i chose the orchid mantis over a trilobite beetle and a poofy little bee fly cause I figured it had broader appeal #and used a horseshoe crab instead of a spider cause people are so Weird about spiders I worried it would impact the numbers #sigh #anyway I’m really hoping for Chordata Arthropoda Mollusca as top three #other phyla are all great but these three would make for the most interesting Round 2 imo #arthropoda

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plutoswritingplanet · 1 year ago

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Enabler (Mark Hoffman x Female!Reader)

a/n: y'all missed me? i binged the entirety of the saw franchise while sick and... yeah.. f the police right?

Warnings: Non-Con (like, fr, be warned, be safe), a lazy ass idea for a Jigsaw trap, Workplace Crush heehee, Smut, Strahm's also here

Summary: You've survived a test, made for you by Jigsaw. As your two coworkers visit you in the hospital, Hoffman thinks back to that faithful night of your kidnapping. Cross-Posted on AO3.

Live or die, detective. Make your choice.

The mechanically distorted voice follows you through your journey to regaining consciousness. It's words flicker in and out of existence, as your eyelids flutter against the white light of the hospital room. Your eyes water and you groan, as the mixture of the night's events comes back to you in a wave of nausea and dull pain engulfing your entire body. Your fingers scratch lightly at the crispy white duvet, and you feel every single tendon in your hand flex, earning another groan from you.

There's a steady sound of beeping present in the room. It makes your brows furrow slightly. It must've been really bad, if they had you hooked up to a heart monitor. You don't really remember just how bad it was, your mind flickers to the moment you slid your hand into the metal box and then... Pain, so much pain, and the smell of blood that follows you like a phantom even in the pristine light of the hospital room.

- Thank God you're awake. - a voice brings you back from beneath the surface, a familiar one, laced with inexplicable worry.

You force your eyes to open all the way. Bright light attacks your pupils and you can't bring your arm up to shield yourself, even if you tried. Pain, bordering on tearing, floods your system whenever you try to force your upper limbs to work. Tears form beneath your eyelids and you blink forcefully to distribute moisture across your eyeballs.

There are two men in your room, and even their blurred sillhouettes are enough to let a wave of relief wash over you.

One standing by the foot of your bed, towering over the entire space, even with the slight hunch in his back. The other one sits by your side, hands fiddling with the edge of a green blanket the hospital staff must've left for you. Even with the grogginess of sleep still hanging onto you, you immediately notice the sudden lack of his wedding ring, which he usually kept on. Perhaps he's just washed his hands. On instinct, your head rolls over towards the sitting man, and your lips pull back into a tired smile of recognition.

- Hello ladies... - your voice doesn't sound like a voice at all.

It's hoarse, barely recognizable, sounding more like a huff of wind going through rusty machinery. Still, Special Agent Peter Strahm lets out a puff of air, tension sliding off of his shoulders as if a tangible weight has been lifted from them. Your eyes shift downwards, towards his hands, and you watch as his fingers twitch, so close to grabbing yours, yet deciding against it at the last minute.

God bless professionalism, you think bitterly, before straightening your head on the pillow and looking towards the other man.

Detective Mark Hoffman watches you intensly from the foot of your bed, his expression unreadable, as he takes in the sight of you. Face almost washed out of any color, sunken cheeks and eyes, lips so close to blue it's almost making him pity you. Almost.

Then, there are the bandages. Starting at both of your palms, running up and up, all the way towards your elbows, where your skin peaks at him from under the hospital gown. They've managed to stop most of the bleeding, but he can see clear as day, specs of drying blood showing through the cloth, creating a contrast that's strangely hypnotizing. He doesn't want to imagine how your arms look underneath. Doesn't need to, he has seen those wounds first hand. Both after you were rescued... And before that.

- How long have I been out? - you ask after a moment of silence, your voice regaining a bit of your usual color.

Mark opens his mouth, but it's Strahm who answers you first. The Detective bites down on a scowl. He was never too interested in literary heights, but even he must admit there is something poetic about the both of them crowding around your bed, while you lay there, stricken by tragedy. It makes him feel ridiculous. You make him feel ridiculous.

- Two days - Strahm supplies, his eyes flickering around your face, the bed, the medical apparatus - You've been unconscious most of the time, lost a whole lot of blood.

To that, you scoff, or laugh, neither of them are sure. Of course you've lost a lot of blood. That was the point of the game, wasn't it? To bleed yourself dry. And supposedly some important life lesson was also hidden in there, but after five minutes of pissing blood from your veins into a beaker, you really must've lost it in translation.

- Fuck... - you sigh, slowly trying to move your muscles under the covers.

You try to lift your hand towards the bedside table, where a water bottle with a straw is waiting for you, but your hand starts to shake so badly, you have to give up. Oh, you hated this. This feeling of helplessness. That's when Hoffman springs to action, closing the distance between himself and the other side of your bed. He snatches the bottle from the table like a man on a mission, and places the straw right at your lips.

- Thanks - you mutter, eyes connecting with his for a split second, before focusing all your efforts on drinking.

You don't remember water tasting this good, and as you swallow, you let yourself hum with delight. After a while, the bottle is finished, and Mark dutifully places it back on the table, debating whether to shuffle back to his original place, or to somehow stay here, looming over you as there was no chair for him to sit in. You decide for him, patting the side of your bed and attempting to shift your legs a little, to make more room. He takes the hint and plops himself right next to your foot, his hand coming up to grab at your calf reassuringly. Immediately after that, all reservations seem to leave Strahm, as his hand slides over yours in a warm embrace.

If you weren't so goddamn tired, you would've laughed. Two manly men, fighting like a bunch of petty schoolgirls. Your chest swells with something dangerously close to affection. Quick, someone call for the doctors to bring back professionalism into the room.

- Do you remember anything from that night? - Hoffman asks with slight tension in his voice.

- Is this really the best time to be asking this? They've barely woken up - Strahm's always close to outrage when Hoffman's around, and you silence him with a slight shake of your head.

- It's fine, I can talk - you mutter, brain already working overtime, as you think hard on every single detail from your recent kidnapping.

- I called you.

Your eyes focus on Hoffman, and you can see his jaw shift under his skin as he swallows. His lips twitch into a small smile, but you can see worry settling heavily over his brows, as he looks over the bandages on your arm, his thumb rubbing circles into the skin of your calf through the blanket.

- That you did. - and at the time, it almost startled him to death.

***

The puff of smoke you let out flows into the night air of the city, as you lean your head against the cool wall of the restaurant. You're dressed a bit too elegantly, too much like a costume of a successful woman, with skinny heels and too big of a coat.

Hoffman watches with unreserved fascination the way neon lights illuminate the column of your throat. Hidden in the shadows of his car, finally he can watch you without the confines of his professional reputation restraining him. Only if for a fleeting moment, before he has to put on the mask and fulfill his other duty.

Still, his eyes glide greedily over your body, dolled up specially for this fancy dinner with your highschool "friends". You've been buzzing around the station for almost a week now, complaining about this particular meeting, and every time you've mentioned it, Hoffman was making plans. All he had to do, was wait until you were ready to leave. He was certain, you would like a long, calming walk after this whole spectacle. You always did those, whenever a particularly hard hitting case appeared.

Another puff of smoke, and you reach towards the pocket of your coat, fishing out your phone and flicking it on. His eyebrows raise in curiosity, as he watches you dial a number and place the device between your shoulder and your ear. Your hand reaches down to loosen the strap on your heel, and Hoffman is so transfixed by your display of calculated clumsiness, he almost flies from his seat, when his phone starts to ring in his pocket.

Your number is displayed proudly next to your name, and he blinks a few times, before answering.

- Hoffman speaking.

- It's me - your words are slightly slurred, and from his hiding spot he can see the smile forming on your painted lips.

- Did something happen? Why are you calling me? - he asks, trying to sound as bored and tired as he possibly can, while fighting off the sudden jolt of adrenaline surging through his body.

He sees you straighten out against the wall, finally giving up on the strap of your heel. Then he hears the shuffling. And laughter, a short chuckle that sends something swirling in his stomach.

- I'm fine, I'm fine... I just... - you hesitate, hand coming up to tug at the roots of your hair, before taking a long drag from your cigarette, irresponsible, Hoffman thinks - I just wanted to hear a voice of someone who's not a complete asshole.

His laugh comes out in a huff, and it seems contagious enough to make you chuckle as well. If only you knew on how many layers you were in the wrong. Perhaps you'll find out someday, most likely not. Not after tonight.

Still, the sheer notion of you calling him of all people. Calling him instead of your favorite Special Agent even. There's a feeling dangerously close to pride climbing up Hoffman's chest, and he has to swallow it down, before he does something stupid. Which, in this case would be not doing anything. He has to remind himself, why this whole situation is taking place, and all feelings of flattery turn to ash in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow.

- I take it the dinner isn't going well.

- Oh it's fucking terrible - you shake your head in frustration - I don't really care about what they say, I just want to eat food. Which, as it turns out, is a lot to ask for at a dinner party.

- Want me to come over? - he asks, hand playing idly with the black synthetic hair of his pig mask.

For a second, you seem to be actually considering it, and Hoffman would lie, saying it didn't make something swell up in his chest again. Dangerous, very dangerous.

- Nah - you sigh, before throwing a long, disgusted look at the door to the restaurant - Give me permission to ditch them.

He doesn't hesitate to engage in this short, familiar dance of yours.

- You have my permission to ditch them.

Another sigh, then a wave of giggles. Your expression in the neon lights looks almost affectionate. Hoffman reaches for the chloroform bottle.

- Thank you - is this a blush Hoffman sees on your cheeks, or is it just his mind supplying what he wishes was true, who's to say - For the talk and everything. I'll see you at the station.

- Good night, Detective.

He disconnects with one hand, while the other wrestles the mask over his face.

You don't even notice, when he slips behind you, with a chloroform cloth in his palm. It takes a couple of seconds of wrestling, but it still makes him pretty worked up, in more ways than he has anticipated. There is no screaming, for which he is grateful. Your body is strong against his, as you give him all you've got, trying to shake his much larger frame. Your heel digs painfully into his foot, as you slam it down, and he fights back the urge to scream. You can't hear his voice, it would be too telling. While his one hand presses the cloth to your face, the other tries to contain the flurry of panicked punches you throw his way.

The way you wriggle against him shouldn't really affect him that much, hasn't affected him with any other victims. But the sheer fact it's you he's overpowering, seems to be enough. He balls the cloth in his hand sticking it further down your mouth, and shudders at the feeling of your teeth dragging against his leather gloves.

A muffled scream is all that you have left, as your hips buck into his forcefully, hands scratching down his forearms. His breathing heavily behind you, watching with mixed emotions as, finally, consciousness leaves you.

You fall down in a heap at his feet, to which Hoffman has to admit, he has never felt so powerful. There's blood on your stiletto and a perfectly round hole in his shoe. He grunts in annoyance at the prospect of having to hide a limp for a couple of weeks.

Getting your lifeless body into the trunk of his car is laughably easy.

***

- So you didn't see who attacked you? - Hoffman clarifies, and you nod solemnly.

His hands flex, your leg underneath his palm twitching slightly. Strahm sighs heavily next to you, his head hung low, as he massages your fingers so gently, it's almost as if he's afraid you'll break under his touch.

You appreciate that, him leaving his bad cop persona on the hanger by the door. Still, between his tactful worry and Hoffman's stressed twitchiness, one of you has to be the stern policeman. And it seems this time the honor falls on your shoulders. So, you wiggle in your place, rising into a sitting position. The suddenly stern expression seems almost foreign on your sunken face, a caricature of a person you used to be. No, scratch that, you still are. This is the one thing you won't allow Jigsaw to corrupt.

- He's strong though - you say, eyes glued to the edge of the green blanket, as you focus on all the sensations from the night of your attack - Uses chloroform to sedate his victims.

- Kramer? - Hoffman asks and you immediately shake your head.

- I can take a dying cancer patient. That man was healthy, fucking gigantic and... - your eyebrows furrow - He caught me by surprise right after we ended the call.

Hoffman looks like he has something else to say, but he swallows thickly, his palm pressing further into your calf. You try to give him a reassuring smile, convince him, that it's alright. It falls flat against his tense expression, and you know deep down, he feels guilty for not talking to you longer, not checking up on you. He shouldn't, but it's just the way he works. And you appreciate it.

He's enjoying himself far more than he would've anticipated, listening to you talk about him without actually knowing anything.

He likes the way your entire face scrunches in focus, trying to remember anything of note, while he's sitting right here, right in front of you. Perhaps he's becoming an adrenaline junkie? All thanks to you. Yes, he thinks, eyes gliding over your disheveled hair, you're absolutely the enabler here, and you don't even realize that.

Even after what he put you through.

His jaw tightens at the thought of you never actually learning from this special, intimate experience he has concocted just for the two of you. Haven't you heard the tape? Or perhaps you're just too goddamn dense to comprehend the lesson. As he looks into your doe eyes filled with pity and misguided understanding, he's beginning to think the latter's the case.

- And after that? - Strahm is still careful, as if you are some startled animal, and Hoffman huffs through his nose, letting some of his bubbling anger out.

You visibly shudder, and while on the surface both men have the same, worried reaction, Hoffman feels as if he's ready to run a marathon. You're scared, scarred forever by him, and yet here you sit, unaware. Letting him pet your leg like some goddamn pet. Good thing Kramer doesn't actually know how to read minds, otherwise Hoffman might end up in a trap himself for just thinking about you.

- I woke up in a chair - you answer after a while, your voice numb and emotionless.

That won't do, Hoffman thinks, eyes burrowing into your skull, as if he wants to drill a hole and look straight into your brain. He wants you crying, unconsolable, changed. That carefree, light persona you've been flaunting before him since the moment you've arrived at his station. He wanted it gone.

- My legs were tied, and my wrists were hanging down from the armrest. There were boxes underneath, with buttons...

Suddenly, you head snaps up, eyes fiery and filled with righteous fire none of the men expected. Hoffman thinks, for just a second, that something has clicked in your mind. Something that would unmask his entire operation. The thought excites and terrifies him at the same time and subcontiously, he throws a quick look towards Strahm, who's too absorbed in your statement to pay him any mind.

- He was checking the restraints when I woke up - there is something in your voice, something that makes Strahm lean closer in his chair, something that keeps Hoffman from breathing too deeply, because deep inside he knows what comes next - I think this whole thing can be psycho-sexual.

There. You can hear the pin drop, as your words register in the men's brains.

- How...? - Strahm starts, but you cut him off harshly.

- He got hard while tying me up.

Silence.

Only the beeping from the medical apparatus can be heard in the room. Strahm closes his eyes, bracing himself for the next question he has to ask. Hoffman on the other hand is becoming redder and redder under the collar of his shirt. How far will you go with your story?

- Did he...? - Strahm swallows, cutting himself off.

Hoffman leans forward, as if he wants to pull the answer from between your teeth himself.

Did he? You're avoiding both their gazes, eyes flickering between your bandaged arms, something darker settling over your features as memories flood you. Did he? Hoffman's hand clamps itself down onto your calf, you can feel all five fingers digging into your flesh. How much will you tell, how much are you willing to share with your darling Special Agent? With him? Hoffman feels his chest tighten, every breath becoming more and more shallow. You, on the other hand, inhale slowly, deeply, then exhale.

- He didn't.

Hoffman wants to laugh.

***

He tightens the restraints on your left arm, when you start to rouse from sleep. Your head lolls to the side, cheek pressing into his arm. He freezes in his spot, one hand flying towards his face to secure the pig mask over his features. Silence hangs heavily between the two of you, cut only by the quiet groans coming from your waking body.

Transfixed, Hoffman watches the way your lips seem to hang slightly open, lipstick smeared, mascara running, staining his shirt, as you all but rub your face against his shoulder. You look lovely like this, so vulnerable, with your face mushed against him. Nothing like the headstrong, strudy woman he's come to know over the short time you've spent at his station.

Were your superiors aware of what they were doing? Sending some pretty young thing, straight from the academy, eyes still shining with ideals, all the way into the heap of corruption that was his city? And right in the middle of the biggest serial killer case the world has ever seen. They must've known you were doomed to fail. The narrative was never on your side, no matter how hard you tried to deny it.

- Mmm... - finally, he can hear your voice get clearer, still groggy from the chemicals he has pumped into your neck - Mark...

He nearly jumps at the sound of his name. Thoughts run rampant through his skull, heart beating so hard, he's scared it will fly right out of his chest. Have you recognized him? He made sure to leave all traces of the Detective Mark Hoffman at the door before starting this. It was impossible, he did everything right.

Your head rolls back against the backrest of the chair, your throat exposed to the world, to his hungry eyes. Your pulse runs rampant through your veins, and Hoffman feels a sudden urge to rip your trachea out with his teeth. Or, press an open mouthed kiss behind your ear, he can't seem to decide.

- Oh, Mark... - a moan slips from your lips, and this time, he fully comprehends what is happening.

The realization runs past his brain and straight to his crotch. With shaking hands he reaches for a leather belt, and forcefully pushes it into your mouth, causing your eyelids to flutter.

Finally, your eyes start to open. Pretty eyes, he thinks, especially now that they're surrounded by dark stains from your mascara, glossy and unfocused. You writhe in the chair, as if you're waking up from a wonderful nap, arms straining against the restraints when you try to stretch. Then, your body freezes, realization that something is terribly wrong settling over you in an almost visible shadow.

Panicked, you turn your head towards him. Tears flow freely down your cheeks, and Hoffman flexes his fingers. The urge to rip his mask off, to show you who he really is grows in him like a tumor.

Oh the look on your face would be something for the history books. Your favorite grumpy detective, your best work buddy. Would the truth about his identity crush you? He liked to think it would. He liked to think it would suck any will to live right out of you.

He wanted to have that power over you.

Hoffman drinks in your terrified expression like a man parched. The confusion between your eyebrows, the click in your jaw, when you realized you've been gagged, the way your eyes find him in the darkness of the room. It's almost too easy to let himself be enchanted by the way you look, so different from your usual appearance.

Where is that young profiler teasing him about his gruff exterior any chance they get? He could never decide whether he wanted to kill you or fuck you in these situations, hiding his frustrations behind an exasperated eyeroll, or a smile if he felt generous.

Right now, he can't decide either, as you begin to move in the chair, tugging at the belts holding your limbs down, scanning the room behind him, You're smart, he knows and despises that with his whole heart. Because if you weren't, he could just write you off as a naive, stupid girl, who doesn't know her place. But he can't, which means everything you've done, you've been doing intentionally, and the thought boils him from the inside.

Your gaze falls towards the boxes under your hands, the slits in the armrests, where stainless steel blades reflect the light from a singular lamp. And the beaker, right in front of you, ready to be filled. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what you're supposed to do, and you give out a pathetic whine, which Hoffman immediately commits to his memory.

Killing you is out of his hands now. The game has been set, and the outcome rests solely on your trembling shoulders. The second part however...

His eyes rake across your entire body, taking in the elegant blouse, which is now stained and torn in a couple of places. The tight pencil skirt you've chosen for the dinner, and how it has ridden up your thighs. Your stockings, torn on your knees, where you fell to the floor. And those damned stilettoes, one of which still has his blood on it's heel . Which reminds him...

Hoffman steps in front of your chair, your eyes following him cautiously. He can see thoughts run rampant through your head, searching for a way to get out, trying to determine his intentions, anything that might be helpful.

Well, good fucking luck Miss Profiler.

He kneels down in front of you, taking a hold of your calf in a manner so gentle he's surprised himself. The leather gloves on his fingers make the task of unclasping the small belt around your leg a hassle, but he doesn't falter. You two have all the time in the world.

Figuratively speaking. He needs to be out of here in half an hour.

The heel slips from your foot and Hoffman lets out a barely audible chuckle, as he's greeted by neon pink nail polish.

Professionalism, you would remind him every single time, whenever he even dreamt of coming closer to you. It was infuriating, the way you led him by his nose, coming to work in the tightest of clothing, swaying your hips like the place belonged to you. And then, you would walk past him with a laugh and wink at Strahm of all people, when you thought he wasn't looking.

His hand splays out all across your calf, a touch so unexpected, he feels your muscles jump under his fingers. All your focus shatters immediately, as his second hand joins the other, running up and down your leg, stopping just short of your thigh. Realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and he follows your line of vision straight to a very visible problem brewing in his trousers. Mentally, he scolds himself for loosing control so easily.

If Kramer could see him now, he'd shoot him on the spot.

But then again, maybe not. After all he agreed to let Hoffman orchestrate this entire game, and then allowed him to carry it out, despite his connections to the victim. You could never guess with that old bastard, and for that, Hoffman is eternally grateful.

Your body twitches in the chair, as he finally drags his hands higher. You squirm, leather gloves feeling foreign on your skin.

He knows, he knows, he wants to coo at you from under the mask, swallowing the urge with a sigh. You can't hear his voice, he reminds himself, almost too enraptured by the heat radiating off of your body.

He continues to massage your leg, fingers hooking into the torn material of your stocking, pulling at it, tearing it further in an agonizingly slow pace. Almost as if he wants to watch closely as the fibers give away. Then, in a sudden change of pace he rips them entirely apart, until they fall in strips of sheer fabric on the chair.

A gasp escapes you, and you spring into action, legs clamping shut in an instant. You're fast, but Hoffman is faster, and he wedges both his hands between your shaking thighs. It takes little to no effort to open you up again, and he leans down, squeezing his torso between your knees.

Time freezes for a moment, as the both of you watch each other closely. Your chest is rising and falling in rapid succession, as fire begins to brew in your eyes. Hoffman leans even closer, hands skimming just short of your core, as they forcefully drag your skirt up.

God, he loves this look on you. The heat, the anger, the swirling desire. Because he can clearly see the way you take in his frame, unknown to you yet so familiar. Were you able to decipher some familiarities? At this point he can't seem to care, he's so close to his reward.

Touch me, and I'll kill you, your eyes scream at him.

If you kill me, I'll drag you down with me, the dark holes of his mask seem to reply.

Two forceful tugs and the material of your underwear tears from your body. Cold air makes you uncomfortable, yes, but it's nothing compared to the stillness of the man before you. He stares, intensely, for a moment completely frozen in his spot. You can hear deep, heathing breaths coming from the rubber mask and wonder what is going through this strange man's head. For a second you're actually worried this will be the end of it. As much as you hated what was happening to you right now, you would hate it much more, if you were left wanting.

Your worries are disproved in a split-second, as gloved fingers wiggle their way into your core. They take you apart, delicately at first, as if the man before you is trying to commemorate your every nook and cranny to memory. This slow exploration twists into adoration in your mind, as you fight off an onslaugh of shivers deliciously running down your spine. You huff, muscles tensing at the intrusion. Despite your growing wetness, the man in front of you has some real thick fingers, made even bigger by his leather gloves.

He turns his masked head to the side, and you desperately want to know what he's thinking. Your head rolls back, as you bite down on the leather belt in your mouth. Eyes closing, your mind starts to wander into places you're too ashamed to acknowledge.

God, you're sick. Thinking about your much older coworker in this beyond fucked up situation. But your mind has already supplied you with images of him rolling his sleeves up. His eyes following you around the room when he thinks you don't pay attention. Lingering touches that burn through your clothing. Oh, how much you reveled in the attention, how you stored all those small moments in your mind, just to bring them up in the privacy of your home.

Perhaps you deserve to be put in trap, perhaps this is your lesson. Discovering the depths of your depravity.

With a deep sigh, Hoffman pushes his finger in, as far as it can go, and your hips nearly fly off the chair, bucking into his palm. The sound you make bounces off the walls of the room, surrounding him in an echo of your cracking voice. Then, he starts to work you, adding a second finger until you wail through your gagged mouth. His entire arm is put to work, body pressing incredibly closer, as he soaks in your face twisted in pain and pleasure.

This is so much better than what he imagined. And he has had quite the imagination, from the moment you appeared in his life. All the times he would zone out during a meeting, letting you talk to Strahm about a new discovery in the case, while he let his mind wonder. It was torture, pure and simple. There were points where he couldn't be left alone in his office without his pants tightening. Horrible, awful feelings, all of which were your fault.

His fingers curl into you, and for a second you swear you can see stars flying across your vision. He notices the sudden change, and doubles the efforts at hitting thet exact spot over, and over again until your legs start shaking. His leather-clad thumb presses tightly into your bundle of nerves, bordering on overstimulation. While his right hand brings you closer to your release, his left one grabs every inch of flesh it can find, fondling with your breasts, squeezing your throat, playing with your blushed cheeks. The rubber of the pig mask is cold against your collarbones, as the man presses his weight to your front, as if he wants to bury himself into your chest.

No one can hear your screams, no one except Hoffman, and he commits every note to memory. Then, your voice snuffs out completely, as your entire body tenses so much, he's actually concerned you'll free yourself from the binds. Your release sneaks up on you and seizes your body in a sudden chokehold. For a moment, you can't breathe, teeth grinding against each other. God, it's been an embarrassingly long time ago since you've had even a resemblance of an orgasm like this one.

Hoffman feels wetness cover his entire palm, coming towards his arm. You're breathing heavily, when he slides his fingers out of you, the leather gloves shining with a souvenir of your altercation. He straightens himself above you, knees cracking as he does. Then, for a moment he just stands there, his shoulders rising and falling heavily, as he huffs under the mask. With heavy eyelids, you watch, as the man lifts it ever so slightly. Your vision is blurry, but your stomach still does a flip, when you see an outline of his tongue darting out to taste you. Then, the mask is back all the way on, and the reality of your circumstance becomes clear once again.

To his credit, he gives you a couple of minutes to gather yourself, as much as you can in this situation. Cold air makes you squirm in your spot, as you feel the stickiness of your release coat your thighs. Then, the man produces a small casette player from his pocket, presses start, and throws it between your still open legs. He's out of the room before the recording even starts and you're left alone to fight. Or to die.

***

- When I've put my hands in the boxes and pressed the buttons, knives came out from the armrests - you recount, voice steady despite the chills running up your back. - I had to fill the beaker with my blood, then the restraints would give away and the door would open.

- What was your lesson about? - Hoffman asks, a certain smugness to him, one, that makes you shift in your seat.

For a second you were worried, that he deduced what has truly happened from your expression. Perhaps he could read minds, and he discovered you've been thinking of him, while getting off on Jigsaw's apprentices hand. You had to physically shake your head to banish the thought. It was hard enough to look him in the face without impossible scenarios looming over you.

- The tape hasn't been recovered? - you ask with a tightness to your voice.

- It has, but I haven't listened to it yet - a lie.

A big, fat, fucking lie, and both him and Strahm know it. The other man turns to him with clear confusion, but Hoffman doesn't bother even acknowledging him. He's too invested in that delicate, blooming fire, which starts to eminate from your eyes. The same flame he has seen back in that room, where you looked at him like you wanted to devour him whole. And you don't even know it.

- He said - you swallow, and Hoffman follows the movements of your throat greedily. - He said I was an enabler, that I bring out the worst in people - another swallow, your gaze never faltering, and Hoffman feels his mouth run dry - That I revel in other's misery.

- That's not true - Strahm jumps towards you, ready to reassure, to be the gentle hand you undoubtedly need.

- I stabbed the fucker in the foot with my stiletto - your voice breaks, and Strahm pulls away with an unreadable expression.

- And one more thing...

Hoffman turns fully towards you, hands running up and down your calf, as if he's trying to massage the memories back to your brain, make you think of how you fell apart on those exact fingers. The thrill of having you here, so close to the truth is unlike anything he's ever felt.

- I know what he smells like.

Admittedly it's a small thing, an inconsiderable detail, that will most likely help no one. Still, the sheer tone of voice in which you've said it forces Hoffman to make a detour to his house, between the hospital and the police station. There, he takes a black garbage bag and throws away every single piece of cologne he can find in his house.

Except one. A small sample he remembers using that very night. He stores it in his cupboard, right next to his bed, a small reminder of what has transpired between you both. Balancing his work life and his secret identity has never been easy, but now... He's almost tempted to throw it all away if it means looking into your tear stained eyes again.

#mark hoffman x reader #saw x reader #mark hoffman #woop woop thats the sound of the police #woop woop thats the sound of the beast #my writing #saw franchise #saw

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waiitiridge · 6 months ago

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Kia ora! Just a wee re-introduction

I'm just another solarpunk in Aotearoa looking for other like-minded friends, inspiration, and advice on other ways I can green up my life. I love sewing, baking, making, gardening, and animals.

I live in an off-grid tiny home I built with my partner in 2016 out of wood and second-hand windows/doors/appliances. We run off solar power, rain water, a composting toilet, and try to repair, mend, make, borrow, and buy 2nd hand or local. Our meat is all hunted, which here in Aotearoa is a huge help for our environment as our only native mammals are seals and bats. Everything else is a pest. We also grow a lot of our own fruit and veggies, but the garden is still a work in progress. This year, i have a new wing of the veggie garden built, but I still have so much work to do around the herb and fairy garden.

I'm looking at irrigating the garden and automating the process. I saw something about https://www.home-assistant.io/ online but would love any advice you might have. I'd like to automate and chart my watering as well as integrate moisture monitors and a weather monitoring system.

I have an electric bike and an old 1996 honda crv. I'd like to switch to an electric vehicle, something like a Pickman 4x4 or another small farm vehicle, as I only need to get to the village bus stop, neighbouring farms, and the occasional trip into town via back roads.

Clothes are me-made with 2nd hand materials, mostly from the dump shop. I've helped start a collection point for alternative recycling like bottle lids and tetrapaks, a library of things, and a community workshop. We are working towards a bike repair hub and time bank but it might be a couple years before they are operational.

Please share all your inspiration, book recommendations, and thoughts around other ways I can make an impact in my community 😊

#cottagecore #cottage life #slow living #cottagecore aesthetic #hobbitcore #sustainability #solarpunk

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sngl-led-auto-lights · 1 month ago

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Why don't cars have a dash board warning light alerting you when a taillight or headlight is out? You normally don't know until you get pulled over by a cop. Even if you check them before each trip they sometimes burn out while on the trip.

The absence of universal dashboard warnings for burnt-out exterior lights (headlights, taillights, etc.) is a mix of cost, design priorities, and technological limitations—but solutions exist. Here’s why most cars lack this feature and what drivers can do:

Why Most Cars Don’t Warn You Cost-Cutting by Manufacturers:

Adding a monitoring system for every bulb requires additional wiring, sensors, and software, which automakers often omit to keep prices low, especially in budget vehicles.

Example: A $20 circuit to detect bulb failures adds up to millions in production costs across a car model’s lifespan. Simpler Electrical Systems:

Older cars use basic circuits where a burnt bulb doesn’t disrupt the electrical flow (unlike a blown fuse). Modern CAN bus systems can detect failures but aren’t always programmed to alert drivers. Assumption of Manual Checks:

Manufacturers assume drivers will notice via:

Reflections (e.g., light bouncing off garage walls).

Dashboard icons for specific systems (e.g., brake light warnings tied to the brake pedal circuit). Regulatory Gaps:

The U.S. doesn’t mandate bulb-out warnings, though the EU requires rear light failure alerts in newer cars (via ECE Regulation 48).

Cars That Do Have Warnings Luxury/Modern Vehicles: Brands like BMW, Mercedes, and Tesla include bulb monitoring systems in higher trims.

LED Lighting: Many EVs and hybrids with full LED setups (e.g., Ford Mustang Mach-E) self-diagnose faults since LEDs rarely fail abruptly.

Aftermarket Kits: Products like LightGuardian (50–100) plug into taillight circuits and trigger an alarm if a bulb dies.

Why Bulbs Burn Out Mid-Trip Halogen Bulbs: Prone to sudden failure due to filament vibration or temperature swings.

Voltage Spikes: Poor alternator regulation can surge power, killing bulbs.

Moisture/Corrosion: Water ingress in housings causes shorts over time.

Practical Solutions for Drivers Retrofit Your Car:

Install LED bulbs with built-in failure alerts (e.g., Philips X-tremeUltinon).

Use Bluetooth-enabled bulb holders (e.g., Lumilinks) that notify your phone. Routine Checks:

Nightly Reflection Test: Park facing a wall and check light patterns.

Monthly Buddy Check: Have someone press brakes/turn signals while you inspect. Legal Workarounds:

In regions requiring annual inspections (e.g., EU, Japan), mechanics flag dead bulbs.

Use dual-filament bulbs for redundancy (e.g., a brake light that still works as a taillight if one filament fails).

Why It’s Likely to Improve LED Adoption: Longer-lasting LEDs (25,000+ hours) reduce failure rates.

Smart Lighting: New cars with matrix LED or laser lights often self-diagnose.

Consumer Demand: Aftermarket alerts (e.g., $30 Wireless Car Light Monitor) are gaining traction.

Bottom Line

While universal bulb-out warnings aren’t standard yet, technology and regulations are catching up. Until then, proactive checks and affordable aftermarket gadgets can save you from a traffic stop. 🔧💡

Pro tip: If your car has automatic headlights, toggle them to “off” occasionally to manually check all lights in a reflection.

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beardedmrbean · 7 months ago

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A powerful bomb cyclone fueled by a Category 5 atmospheric river is expected to explode across the West Coast of the U.S. this week, threatening to unleash hurricane-force winds, catastrophic flooding, and massive snowfall in the mountains.

The intense mid-latitude storm is expected to hit Tuesday through Thursday, potentially affecting millions of Americans from Washington State down to Oregon and Northern California.

Some areas along the California coast could see level 4 impacts, which is in the "extreme" category, Weather Nation TV reported.

As reported by Newsweek, up to 21 inches of rainfall is expected in parts of Northern California this week, following a round of heavy rain and snow that arrived last week affecting the Pacific Northwest. River and flash flooding is likely in these areas.

"This intense storm system is expected to bring major impacts to areas of the Northwest and northern California with heavy rain, strong winds, and big swells," reported Weather Nation TV.

"The storm system will have potential to more than double that pressure drop, with forecast models showing a drop of 50-60 mb (millibars) in less than a day, starting at over 1,000 mb Monday night, possibly dropping below 950 mb by Tuesday night."

Meteorologist Ryan Maue, former chief scientist at the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration, advised on X, formerly Twitter, on Sunday, that central pressure will fall almost 70 mb in 24 hours reaching 942 mb, similar to a Category 4 hurricane.

The Category 5 atmospheric river—a designation reserved for the most extreme rain events—will funnel vast amounts of water vapor into the region, which could trigger widespread flooding and landslides.

Atmospheric rivers are narrow channels in the atmosphere that can carry a large amount of moisture with them. They form when cold air from the Arctic meets warm, moist air from the tropics, cooling it to form heavy precipitation.

A so-called "bomb cyclone" is when a cold mass of air collides with a warm mass, intensifying a cyclone, bringing more violent winds and a greater likelihood of coastal flooding.

Bombogenesis, or "bomb out," is the term reserved for low-pressure systems that intensify rapidly, typically with a pressure drop of at least 24 mb in 24 hours, as reported by Weather Nation TV, confirming that this definition changes based on latitude.

A map shows areas on the West Coast that will be affected by the bomb cyclone and atmospheric river weather systems.

The extreme nature of this storm raises questions about the influence of climate change on weather patterns. Warmer ocean temperatures are believed to intensify atmospheric rivers, making such events more frequent and severe.

Experts have linked severe storms such as these to climate change pushing more moisture into the atmosphere and energizing weather systems, as reported by Newsweek.

"There's more moisture in the atmosphere, so there's more moisture that falls out of it," Chris Brierley, a professor of climate science at University College London, who specializes in climate modeling, previously told Newsweek.

"The [increased] severity is something we have projected for quite a while, and is something that we're seeing across the board with storms—that when it rains, it rains more, just purely from a thermodynamic response of a warmer atmosphere and a higher saturation of vapor pressure," he added.

Newsweek contacted additional climate experts for comment on Monday via email.

As the West Coast braces for the storm, residents in low-lying areas are advised to prepare to leave if flash flood warnings are issued. Weather Nation advised that areas along the coast could also see strong enough winds to down trees and power lines, primarily from Tuesday into Wednesday.

Residents in affected states should continue to monitor updates from the National Weather Service (NWS), weather stations, and local authorities as the situation develops.

#nunyas news

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opstechsanjana · 9 months ago

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Moisture Control System Installation | Cotton ginning moisture system in Africa

#Moisture System #Cotton ginning moisture system in Africa #Moisture Control System in Africa #Moisture Monitoring System in Africa #Moisture System Installation #https://mistcoolingsystemsafrica.com/portfolio/moisture-system

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daleeltrading · 2 months ago

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Common Faults in Switchgear Systems and How to Fix Them

Low voltage switchgear plays a crucial role in protecting electrical circuits and ensuring the safe distribution of electricity in commercial, residential, and industrial environments. However, like any electrical equipment, switchgear systems can develop faults over time, leading to power disruptions, equipment damage, or even fire hazards.

In this article, we’ll explore the most common issues in low voltage switchgear, their possible causes, how to fix them, and preventive maintenance tips to ensure smooth operation.

1. Overheating of Switchgear Components

Cause:

Loose electrical connections

Overloaded circuits

Poor ventilation

Aging components

Solution:

Tighten all connections using a torque wrench

Redistribute electrical load or upgrade to a higher-rated switchgear

Improve cooling/ventilation in the switchgear room

Replace old or worn-out components

Prevention:

Conduct regular thermal imaging inspections

Maintain optimal room temperature and airflow

Schedule periodic tightening of connections

2. Tripping of Circuit Breakers

Cause:

Short circuits or ground faults

Overload conditions

Defective breakers

Solution:

Identify the fault using an insulation resistance tester or breaker analyzer

Remove the cause of the overload

Replace or service the faulty circuit breaker

Prevention:

Use the correct size and type of breaker for each circuit

Monitor electrical loads regularly

Perform periodic breaker testing and calibration

3. Arcing or Flashovers

Cause:

Dust, moisture, or contamination inside the switchgear

Damaged insulation

Improper clearances

Solution:

Clean and dry the internal components

Replace or re-insulate affected parts

Ensure proper spacing and clearance between conductors

Prevention:

Maintain a clean and dry switchgear enclosure

Conduct insulation resistance testing periodically

Use arc flash protection gear and systems

4. Failure of Control Circuits

Cause:

Blown fuses

Broken control wiring

Faulty relays or timers

Solution:

Test and replace blown fuses

Inspect and reconnect or replace broken wires

Check relays, timers, and contactors for functionality

Prevention:

Use quality wiring and connectors

Implement surge protection devices

Conduct routine functional tests on control circuits

5. Mechanical Wear and Tear

Cause:

Frequent switching operations

Poor lubrication

Old mechanical components

Solution:

Replace worn-out mechanical parts (e.g., springs, latches)

Lubricate moving parts as per manufacturer’s guidelines

Retrofit old switchgear with modern alternatives

Prevention:

Schedule mechanical maintenance regularly

Monitor switching frequency and upgrade equipment if needed

Final Thoughts

Low voltage switchgear is the backbone of your electrical infrastructure. Regular maintenance, proper installation, and early detection of faults are key to ensuring safety and efficiency.

Quick Maintenance Checklist:

Thermal imaging checks

Insulation resistance testing

Breaker calibration

Visual inspection for dust/moisture

Cleaning and lubrication

By understanding common faults and how to address them, you can reduce downtime, improve safety, and extend the life of your low voltage switchgear system.

#electrical #low voltage #switchgear #electrical equipment

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wolven91 · 1 year ago

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Drifting - Part 2

“Okay, make a fist.” Asked the serious geckin, blue in scale but the owner of long spines that started on his nose and continued up and over his head, down his back and finished at his tail. Zeet was his name.

Casper the friendly human, made a fist and felt the action drain him, as if he’d been at the gym for the last hour doing the same action. However, as his fingers met his palm and the tendons on the back of his hand tensed and corded against his skin, the giant metal fist not a few metres away, suspended in a secure field; made an identical fist.

“What’s the drift?” The blue geckin asked the second geckin who monitored the process not a few feet away, but a fair distance for the diminutive creatures. Her name, as far as Casper knew, was Wren.

“0.001%.” She retorted with an equally serious tone, she turned back and adjusted the two round panes of glass that sat across her snout. If not for the fact that Casper was sweating with the exertion of making a fist, he would have found her cute.

“Impossible. Check it again.” The first geckin demanded, turning to face her as if she had just made a poorly timed joke.

“Sir, I checked it three times, then used the older program to see if it got a different result.” Wren explained, quite confident despite Zeet’s incredulous tone.

“And?”

“It reports 0.002%.”

Both geckins turned back to the human, almost expectantly and gazed at him. No; studying him.

“W-what?” He asked, strain in his voice.

“You can relax Casper. You did very well.” Praised Zeet as Casper gasped, unclenching his fist, and slumping in the chair. He’d been fresh as a daisy when he’d sat down; why had a few wires been so draining?!

“That… took effort…” The young man explained, slipping his arm from the sleeve, and ensuring it was placed carefully onto the caddy.

“You were controlling more than just muscle and sinew young man.” Zeet explained, touching a finger to the control rod of his own personal walker and approached the human. At a foot tall, just like the rest of the geckins, he utilised mechanical legs attached to a platform that he stood upon to move around larger distances.

“Why am I exhausted?”

“Because, unbeknownst to your conscious mind, you not only controlled your own limb, but also controlled that robotic limb.”

“I’ve seen that done before…” Casper licked his lips to try and bring moisture to them. “They used electrodes or something… they had to concentrate, but it didn’t tire them out.”

Wren appeared at Casper’s side and pressed a bottle of orange liquid into his hands. It was almost as tall as her.

“Drink this, you’ll feel better.” She promised, her green scales were a deep emerald, her it was the frill around her neck that was only partially pulled in that made Casper smile. She was agitated. Perhaps worried about him?

The man gave her a curt nod, which caused her frill to pull in tight before he grasped the bottle and drank from it deeply. It wasn’t quite ‘orange’, but it was certainly something citrus and refreshed him almost immediately. After the first gulp he took a breath and downed the rest of the bottle in one, almost immediately feeling better and like his old self.

“What you just did was unconsciously control every single servo, circuit, and piston within that machine. Your mind: without your knowledge, was able to manage and steady all of that. The electrode method, that you mentioned, is a low intensity method of controlling simpler systems.”

“And we can’t use that method with these?”

“These are not for domestic use. I make it quite clear to you; these are bleeding edge machines. Capable of not only reacting as your body, not as a mere extension, but also your mind being able to incorporate the advantages these machines have.”

“Like what?”

“We can have a play with telescopic vision if you like? I’ve heard that is the easiest to manage. If you get addicted to the world those eyes, we can try out electromagnetic wavelengths, infrared, perhaps-“

“Sir.” Wren cut in, a frown on her face and her small, pointed teeth being bared.

“Mm, yes. Carry on.” Zeet surrendered, holding up his hands as if giving up.

“Before we go on, how are you feeling?” Wren asked, looking up at Casper and adjusting her specs.

“Better.” The man replied, giving her a warm grin.

“Better? You weren’t well before?” She poked, not letting him off the hook yet.

“I was tired, like I’d been doing bicep curls all morning. But now it’s like I’m fresh again?” Casper admitted honestly, if she was a doctor checking on him, then he wasn’t about to lie. The speed of his recovery was as if he had been fooled into being tired, rather than actually being tired.

“Marvelous.” Zeet whispered.

“*Sir.*” Wren immediately hissed; the respect of his seniority gone. Casper frowned then cut in, there was something he wasn’t being told.

“What’s going on? Is this about the.. the ‘drift’ thing? What was the drift you were on about?” He asked, demanding an answer.

“I knew he was bright, am I allowed to answer that *direct* question doctor?” Zeet asked the green geckin with a near taunting tone.

Wren merely sniffed, flattening her neck ruffle against herself and shrugged with a single hand, offering Casper up to Zeet, seemingly satisfied.

“’Drift’ is the natural loss of signal strength between your mind and the mechanical parts. The more parts, bits, and pieces, the greater the chance of drift and the more sluggish the movements and actions of the piloted mechs will be, all the way until failure.” Zeet explained with a toothy grin. It was Wren who spoke next, softly explaining it to Casper without infantizing him.

“Geckin have a fantastic drift score. We can manage mechs of incredible size and complexity without much loss of control. Realistically, the next closest would be chintians, but they refuse to be pilots for our mechs.” She said, turning her hand in a gesture as she spoke, still calmly and softly.

“Why?” Casper asked.

“You know the plug in your arm?” Zeet began, pointing at the limb that was limp in Casper’s lap.

Casper looked down and turned his arm over. There was a single dark red dot of scabbed blood. Around it was a bright red circle with the metal casing of the plug had been pressed into his flesh.

“Yeah?”

“It can lead to fur-loss.” Concluded Zeet, rather offhandedly.

“Along with other things.” Cut in Wren, with the speed of someone adding ‘terms and conditions’ at the end of an advert.

“They consider that unacceptable. We consider it the cost of having faster reaction speeds to our machines. They rely on taking hits and surviving them. We believe in the philosophy of never getting hit.” The tiny lizard explained with a mouthful of sharp teeth, eager at the thought.

“Do geckins have any fur to lose? Do you lose scales?” Casper asked, if there were side effects for some species, were there any for geckins?

“No.” Zeet answered immediately.

“Well…” Wren began, but was immediately cut off.

“No, we do not lose scales with use.” Zeet said again, staring at the doctor.

“They can dull though.” She explained, closing her eyes then turning her head to look at Casper before opening them again. She held his gaze firmly.

“Not through usage doctor!” Zeet snapped, certainly exasperated.

“A pilot who is connected for long periods or who is in intense environments requiring constant movement will find side effects, such as scale fading.” Wren continued, putting across the idea that it was not without a cost.

“He doesn’t need to hear this, what is the chance he’s going to be in that environment? Zero!” Zeet shouted, throwing his hands up before gesturing to Casper, then then inert arm.

“Look, it’s fine. As you say; unlikely.” Casper agreed, trying to calm the tension in the room. “So what about me? What about human drift”

“Ah, good male. A fine mind between those big ears.” Zeet grinned again, turning to Casper and clasping his hands. “Your drift, at worst calculation was about 0.002%. That is nothing. That is about as good as a prostetic replacing your actual arm. Unheard of for managing an arm that complicated.”

“What’s a geckin’s drift percentage?”

“5.” Wren said pointedly. “On average. Ace pilots are around the single percent or less range, but that is through biological luck, augmentation and prolonged life-long training. Your natural ability appears to be quite potent.” The tiny green lizard admited.

“Yours, baring in mind your evolution wouldn’t have any sort of natual selection for this, is considered a one in a life time pilot. If humans are all this well adjusted, each and every one of them will be very much welcome in geckin territories…”

Casper turned to the arm and gazed at it. A mech pilot? That would be fantastic! He didn’t like the idea of ‘stressful environments’ though.

“You wouldn’t want me in like, a fight or anything, right?” Casper asked, staring at Zeet carefully.

“May my tail fall off! No! Could you imagine what the GC would say if we endangered a human? Immediately after your new classification? Absolutely not. Completely out of the question.” He promised, waving his hand as if to dismiss a fly that was bothering him.

“Normally I would warn you about listening to our Zeet here, but he’s right. The geckin people are still under threat by ssypno aggression. Their seat at the table of three means all they have to do is convince one of the other two to agree that they be allowed to create a vassal of our people and we can expect no support from the GC to stop them. Endangering you would all but guarantee the support of one or both of the other two.”

A small hand touched his arm as she leant forward to rest her’s against him, the good doctor offering him a smile.

“The danger to you is over, you can rest easy knowing the rest of your life will be free of hardships.” She lied.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

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lastimeexteriors-omaha · 4 months ago

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How Do You Prevent Water Leaks in Residential Metal Roofing?

Metal roofs have gained a reputation for being durable, low-maintenance, and long-lasting, making them an excellent choice for many Omaha homeowners. However, even with these advantages, they are not immune to water leaks if not properly maintained or installed. Whether you're considering a metal roof for your home or you already have one, understanding how to prevent leaks is essential for safeguarding your investment and keeping your home dry and damage-free.

In this article, we'll explore the common causes of leaks in residential metal roofing, outline effective preventive measures, and provide actionable tips to help you maintain a watertight roof for years to come.

Understanding Common Causes of Metal Roof Leaks

Before diving into prevention strategies, it’s helpful to understand what causes metal roofs to leak in the first place. Knowing these culprits can help you identify issues early and take appropriate measures.

Improper Installation: Metal roofing is a precise craft. Misaligned panels, poorly placed screws, or inadequate sealing around roof penetrations such as chimneys, vents, and skylights are some of the common installation errors that lead to leaks. An improperly installed roof often results in gaps that allow water to seep in.

Loose or Damaged Fasteners: Metal roofs are secured using screws with rubber washers designed to create a watertight seal. Over time, due to thermal expansion and contraction, these fasteners can loosen, break, or fail, allowing water to penetrate through the gaps.

Worn or Deteriorated Sealants: Sealants are commonly used around penetrations and seams in metal roofing. While effective, these materials degrade over time due to exposure to UV rays, fluctuating temperatures, and weather conditions.

Flashing Failures: Flashing is used to protect roof edges and areas where the roof meets vertical surfaces like walls or chimneys. When flashing is improperly installed, damaged, or corroded, it can cause leaks.

Corrosion and Rust: Although metal roofs are designed to resist rust, poor maintenance or exposure to moisture over time can lead to corrosion. Rust creates weak spots in the roofing material, which can develop into holes and allow water to leak through.

Proven Methods to Prevent Water Leaks in Metal Roofing

Now that you understand the common causes of leaks let’s look at the practical steps you can take to prevent them. These strategies not only protect your roof but also enhance its lifespan and value.

1. Invest in Proper Installation

Hire Experienced Professionals: One of the best ways to prevent leaks is to start with a properly installed roof. Ensure you hire experienced contractors who specialize in metal roofing. Ask for references and verify their expertise before signing a contract.

Use High-Quality Materials: Ensure your roof is installed using premium-grade panels, fasteners, and sealants. Quality materials are more durable and less likely to fail over time.

2. Schedule Regular Inspections and Maintenance

Routine maintenance is critical for keeping your metal roof in excellent condition. Make it a habit to inspect your roof at least twice a year and after major storms. During inspections, focus on the following:

Tighten Loose Fasteners: Inspect all screws and fasteners for signs of loosening or damage. Tighten or replace them as needed to maintain a secure seal.

Monitor Seams and Sealants: Check all seams, edges, and penetrations for signs of worn or deteriorated sealant. If you notice cracking or peeling, replace the sealant immediately.

Check for Rust and Corrosion: Address any signs of rust early by sanding down affected areas and applying rust inhibitors or protective coatings.

3. Keep Your Roof Clean

A clean roof is less prone to leaks. Debris can trap moisture, causing corrosion and clogging drainage systems.

Remove Leaves and Branches: Regularly sweep away leaves, branches, and other debris that accumulate on the roof.

Maintain Gutters and Downspouts: Clean gutters and downspouts to ensure proper water flow. Clogged gutters can cause water to pool on the roof, increasing the risk of leaks.

4. Ensure Proper Ventilation and Insulation

Moisture buildup can occur inside your attic if ventilation or insulation is inadequate. This moisture can lead to condensation under the metal panels, which mimics the effects of a roof leak.

Install Adequate Ventilation: Proper airflow helps regulate attic temperatures and prevents condensation from forming.

Upgrade Insulation: Quality insulation reduces temperature fluctuations, minimizing the expansion and contraction of metal panels.

5. Use Durable Flashing and Sealants

Install Weather-Resistant Flashing: Flashing around chimneys, vents, and other roof features should be durable and properly sealed to prevent water intrusion.

Replace Sealants as Needed: Sealants are a key line of defense against leaks. Replace them as part of routine maintenance to ensure they remain effective.

6. Protect Against Rust and Corrosion

Apply Protective Coatings: Consider coating your metal roof with a water-resistant sealant or protective layer to guard against rust.

Address Rust Immediately: If you spot rust, sand it down and treat the area promptly to prevent further spread.

How a Metal Roof Protects Your Home When Properly Maintained

When properly installed and maintained, metal roofing is one of the most reliable roofing materials available. Its durability, resistance to extreme weather, and energy efficiency make it a popular choice for Omaha homeowners. By taking the steps outlined above, you can extend the lifespan of your roof, prevent costly repairs, and enjoy peace of mind.

Conclusion

Preventing water leaks in residential metal roofing comes down to proper installation, regular maintenance, and proactive care. By addressing potential issues early and following the best practices outlined here, you can ensure your metal roof remains strong, watertight, and visually appealing for years to come.

If you're ready to take the next step in maintaining your metal roof or considering a new installation, consult with local roofing professionals in Omaha for expert advice and services tailored to your needs. Don’t wait—protect your home and investment today!

#roofing #lastime exteriors #residential metal roofing

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lastimeexteriors-nebraska · 4 months ago

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How Does Residential Metal Roofing Affect Home Ventilation?

Many homeowners focus on aesthetics, durability, and energy efficiency when it comes to home improvements. One element that often gets overlooked is ventilation. You might be wondering how your choice of roofing material, like residential metal roofing, impacts the airflow in your home. Let’s dive into how residential metal roofing can affect your home's ventilation, ensuring a comfortable and energy-efficient living space.

Understanding Residential Metal Roofing

Residential metal roofing is becoming increasingly popular among homeowners. It offers a sleek, modern look and is known for its durability and energy efficiency. Metal roofs reflect heat from the sun, helping to keep homes cooler in the summer months. However, to maximize their benefits, it’s essential to consider how these roofs interact with your home's ventilation system.

The Basics of Home Ventilation

Before we delve into the relationship between residential metal roofing and home ventilation, let’s clarify what home ventilation entails. Proper ventilation allows fresh air to circulate throughout your home while expelling stale air, moisture, and unwanted odors. This process helps maintain a healthy indoor environment and can significantly impact energy bills.

How Residential Metal Roofing Influences Ventilation

1. Design and Structure

The design of your residential metal roofing can significantly affect ventilation. For instance, standing seam metal roofs often have built-in ventilation systems that enhance airflow. These roofs can also be installed with ridge vents or other ventilation options that allow hot air to escape while drawing in cooler air. This design helps maintain a balanced temperature in your home.

In contrast, traditional shingles may offer less design flexibility. If you opt for a non-ventilated metal roof, consider additional ventilation systems to ensure adequate airflow.

2. Reflective Properties

Residential metal roofing typically comes with reflective coatings that prevent heat absorption. This is beneficial for your home’s temperature regulation but can also affect air circulation. A cooler roof may lead to lower attic temperatures, reducing the amount of warm air rising into your living spaces. However, any trapped heat could lead to moisture issues or condensation problems in the attic without proper ventilation.

To maximize the benefits of your reflective metal roof, ensure your ventilation system complements its properties. You may use ridge vents, gable vents, or soffit vents to facilitate airflow.

3. Energy Efficiency

Energy efficiency is a major selling point for residential metal roofing. These roofs can significantly lower energy costs by minimizing heat transfer and reducing the need for air conditioning in the summer. However, energy savings can be compromised if your home needs proper ventilation. Without adequate airflow, your attic can become excessively hot, leading to higher energy consumption as your HVAC system works harder to cool down the space.

Maintaining Proper Ventilation

Proper maintenance ensures that your residential metal roofing supports effective ventilation. Here are some tips to keep in mind:

Regular Inspections

Conduct annual inspections of your roof and ventilation systems. Look for obstructions, such as debris in the vents or signs of damage. Addressing these issues early can prevent more significant problems later.

Install Ventilation Accessories

If your metal roof doesn’t include built-in ventilation options, consider installing accessories like ridge vents, power vents, or turbines. These additions can enhance airflow and improve your home’s overall ventilation.

Monitor Humidity Levels

Keep an eye on indoor humidity levels. If you notice excessive moisture, it might indicate your ventilation system isn’t malfunctioning. Humidity levels a% can create an environment conducive to mold and mildew growth, warming your home and family.

The Benefits of Proper Ventilation with Residential Metal Roofing

Investing in proper ventilation alongside residential metal roofing brings several advantages:

Improved Indoor Air Quality: Effective ventilation helps filter out indoor pollutants, improving the overall air quality in your home.

Extended Roof Lifespan: Proper airflow helps prevent heat buildup in the attic, reducing the risk of damage to your roof and extending its life.

Energy Savings: With adequate ventilation, your HVAC system will work less hard, lowering energy bills.

Comfortable Living Spaces: Maintaining a consistent temperature and humidity level in your home provides a more relaxed environment for you and your family.

In summary, residential metal roofing can positively impact your home’s ventilation if properly designed and maintained. Enhancing airflow allows you to enjoy a more comfortable living environment while maximizing energy efficiency. Whether considering a new metal roof or lookingimprovingxisting one, remember to prioritize ventilation in your planning.

Ready to explore how residential metal roofing can enhance your home’s ventilation and energy efficiency? Visit Lastime Exteriors to learn more about our services and discover innovative, energy-efficient roofing solutions tailored to your needs!

#lastime exteriors #residential metal roofing #roofing

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spacetimewithstuartgary · 9 months ago

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Research abounds at the International Space Station

At the International Space station, researchers are making strides in everything from Earth science to chemical properties. Here's what they're up to and why it matters.

Recently, researchers have found that eddies, or swirling wind patterns, increased moisture evaporation in an alfalfa field. A better understanding of the complex exchange of water and heat between the ground and atmosphere could improve remote sensing products and their use in agricultural water management.

The station's ECOSTRESS instrument takes high-resolution thermal infrared measurements of Earth's surface that provide data on changes in water availability, vegetation water stress, and agricultural water use. Researchers use observations from the USGS Landsat 8 and 9 satellites and ECOSTRESS to validate climate models and update data on Earth's surface energy (the amount of energy absorbed from the sun and radiated back into the atmosphere).

Properties of flow boiling

Researchers have identified various properties for flow boiling using n-perfleurohexane, a fluid used to cool electronics. A better understanding of this process can improve models for designing thermal cooling systems used in the electronics, energy, aerospace, and other industries.

Flow boiling, a method of thermal management, uses the heat generated by a device to boil a liquid, generating vapor bubbles that lift the heat from the surface. The Flow Boiling and Condensation Experiment (FBCE) tested a flow boiling method in microgravity, where the process is less efficient; in the absence of buoyancy, bubbles grow larger and remain near the surface.

A new radiation-resistant polymer

Researchers successfully manufactured a polymer of rare metals and other elements that showed high radiation resistance and has a suitable size and weight for use in space. This result provides knowledge that can support development of improved shielding for future spacecraft and extraterrestrial habitats.

The Roscosmos investigation Shielding Composite tested the absorbed radiation dose of two polymers during 225 days on the space station using monthly monitoring by the Pille-ISS investigation. The data showed that the material has high and stable radiation shielding characteristics. Protecting crew members and equipment from radiation is an important requirement for future long-duration space missions.

TOP IMAGE: The ECOSTRESS instrument on the International Space Station. Credit: NASA

CENTRE IMAGE: ECOSTRESS data shows evaporative stress in agricultural fields in California’s San Joaquin Valley. Credit: NASA

LOWER IMAGE: NASA astronauts Mark Vande Hei and Kayla Barron set up for the Flow Boiling and Condensation Experiment. Credit: NASA

#science #space #astronomy #physics #news #nasa #astrophysics #esa

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yelenapilled · 1 year ago

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reflections; maki x reader

:rosyln

:master list

Shoko wasn't surprised.

The longer she stared at her computer screen the better she begins to piece it together. Her eyes were hooded yet examining every pixel. Her face was blank yet her mind was swimming with ideas and possibilities that could've happened.

Have you gone down that path?

Have you been pushed into the darkness?

Were you another Suguru?

Her lips were pursed together—only separated by the cigarette hanging between them— as she kept staring at her screen, her hand resting on her mouse. Her posture was slouched, unusually, since she's normally sitting upright in her chair the way she should be. She inhaled slowly, letting the smoke fill her lungs and release the stress from her system before she blew it out through her nose in a deep sigh.

She knows it's not confirmed—the theories are going around, the accusations are being made—but she knows. She knows even though there's no proof to show. She knows you killed those people.

That building was still on fire—a window and another sorcerer had to come to escort everyone out so they could put up a veil. Her heart sinks at how convenient it was—a building caught on fire and close to 60 people dead just 2 weeks after you left. She can't believe it when her mind circles back to the revelation again and again— because that's the same body of the person who was sitting so awkwardly in her chair just a year ago, now a murderer.

She wishes there was something better she could've done. Maybe you wouldn't have gone off to turn into another Suguru. The thought of things ending for you the way they ended for him makes her heart wrench, and she knows exactly who it would be ended by. She doesn't dare say it or even think it, lest the dormant tear in her eyelid roll down her pale cheek. The door swings open, pulling her attention from her screen and to the students standing in the doorway.

Yuji and Maki stood there with Nobara's arms over their shoulders, her body limp as she barely held it up. Shoko mainly paid attention to Maki; her sunken eyes and her pale face didn't go unnoticed by Shoko's familiar gaze. She sees it all—the slump of her usually strong shoulders, the crescents under her eyes, the red tint to them, the glare. She sees it and knows it better than anyone—except for you.

"Nobara sprained her ankle during our group run," Maki swallows in her dry throat, the moisture leaving the gums of her mouth for them to dry up in the cold air. Shoko raises her disappointed brows and gets up reluctantly after switching tabs on her monitor.

"Up, on the table," Shoko tilts her head to the mortuary table while she opens up a glass cabinet door, pulling out blue rubber gloves while Maki and Yuji stand there idly.

Shoko strolls over to Nobara sitting on the table with her legs extended. She glanced down at her right ankle; it was quick, but it looked swollen to her so she didn't bother examining it like she normally would.

Her nimble fingers gently massage the skin and her muscle, earning a hiss from Nobara as Shoko presses down on a spot. She sighs, stepping away and floating over to the freezer to take out an ice pack.

"Don't put any weight on it, don't run, just take it easy on your ankle," she hands Nobara the pack in her idle hand, Nobara gazing up at the indifferent look on Shoko's face as she moves back to her desk. The three teenagers noticed her attitude was a bit off, as she'd normally be a little more spunky about it. But her eyes held little to no light in them even in the glow of her screen.

The two of them helped Nobara up from the table, the ice pack carefully balanced on her shoe as she hops back down the hallway. Maki shuts the door, leaving Shoko to her feelings once again as her hooded eyes lazily scan her computer.

Yuji and Maki help Nobara get back to her room, the second year opening the door and helping her hop in. Yuji dismisses himself to go bother Megumi, leaving Maki to carefully take off Nobara's shoes and leave them by the side of her bed.

"Thank you, Maki-san," Nobara huffs as she rests the ice pack on her bruised skin. Maki nods wordlessly with an uninterested hum as she turns to face the door.

"Can you stay here with me? Just so I won't be lonely," Nobara pleads, looking at Maki's straightened back as she pauses at the door. Maki's heart sinks when she hears Nobara. Her eyes lower and her brows furrow as she lets out a slow sigh.

"Sure," she turns back and lazily walks over to Nobara's bed, sitting stiffly on the edge as if she's in unknown territory, her back straightened and her chin tilted up as her eyes focus on the wall, as if looking at her would be a felony against her feelings for you (and said feelings bear fruit).

Nobara deadpans her eyes. "You can sit wherever you want, you know."

"Yeah," Maki mutters, not sparing her another glance as she nibbles on her bottom lip. Nobara watches with dull eyes, watching Maki and almost reading her thoughts. She knows she still thinks about you, about what she could've done differently if she wasn't so quick to get angry, about how she never listened to you and how she regrets it. She knows she's ready to listen, she'll always be ready, all that's left now is for you to come back, to be held in her comforting arms and shield the world away from you.

A cord is struck in Nobara's brain once again, triggering her jealousy as her lips purse into a line. She sees it on Maki's face, her swollen eyes, the reddish tint to them. She sees the slump in her shoulders. She wishes that one day the sun might shine brighter and the earth might tilt just a little differently so Nobara can see those confident and strong shoulders Maki usually carried.

"You're so dry. What's wrong?"

Maki side eyes Nobara with her sharp gaze, her eyes hooded into a glare because Nobara knows what's wrong. She knows what despair is stirring in her stomach, that impending feeling of pain that feels like a knife to the gut.

"Stuff," she answers, her eyes narrowing as they shift back to the wall. Nobara watches her glare at the manilla colored paint, a few pieces chipped from past owners who stayed during their time here.

"I'm your friend, Maki. I can't watch you suffer in silence because I'm your friend. What's wrong?"

Almost as if a domino was knocked from the tower of her patience, Maki's eyes shot back to Nobara's wandering gaze as she sits up straight, mimicking her posture. She feels another domino get flicked off by Nobara's tempting fingers, her eye twitching slightly at the look she sees in her. The look of jealousy, like she knows it's you who's causing all this turmoil within Maki's gut, knowing you're the only one who can fix it or make it even worse.

"If it'll shut you up," Maki sighs, closing her eyes as she takes a quiet deep breath and remembers to stay calm, her friend is only trying to help her.

"I'm not over Y/n's leaving." She spits out like a piece of gum that'd lost its flavor a while ago. Her eyes darken as her mind plays it back like a drama movie, like one in the 1960's with the black and white and the rigid frames, watching a broken camera repeat the same scene over and over and never moving on. That's how it feels to open up, to tell others about how she felt about your leaving.

"I'm not over Y/n. I thought I was the closest person to them, but even though I was in their bedsheets I was still kept in the Hubble Telescope of their world, only watching from afar the person I grew to love and grew up with. I knew something was up the day Megumi introduced you to us, the way they walked into that forest with a slump to their shoulders like a tired dog. I vividly remember my heart aching to reach for them and pull them back and demand what was wrong. Thinking about it now I should've seen it sooner, as I was blinded by the love that brought tears to my eyes watching their back to me and the door slam in my face and made my heart wrench asand hurt and throb and flutter wildly. I would've listened to them, I will listen. I need them to come back—I need to find them, even if it's on a parade night and they're walking alone or celebrating with someone else, the dread of never telling me the truth might not ever hang over their head like a stormy cloud the same again but it will always anchor my heart to the rock bottom of my sorrows if I don't hear their voice again, if I don't see their face again. Even when it's been two weeks I sit and lay in their bed like it was something we bought together, warm blankets and pillows do nothing to resolve the pain swelling in my chest at the emptiness of their room that was once an innocent girl's. In those four walls I see the ghosts of us through the moonlight that shines down to playback memories in a sorrow light that dims me more and more. I can't pull myself away from their room, I can't stay there and suffocate in the dry air that they once breathed. I never would've imagined a point in my life where I get this mushy and emotional in front of someone, even my own reflection, but I'm in love with them. I'm hopeless, I can't be pulled away from it, I'm in too deep, I can't stop myself from loving them, from hurting all over at the thought of never seeing them again. I love them, I feel more than just love for them, I couldn't tell you what it was, but I know love is part of it."

Words have failed Nobara at the speech she listened to, she wonders what the hell Maki's doing as a Jujutsu Sorcerer and should instead become a poet. Her lips part but nothing comes out, her heart pounding in her chest. That cord of jealousy falls silent, the emotion pausing in their vibrations to even stare at Maki with surprise that flows through her body instead of petty and jealously. She even starts to feel bad that she ever wanted to take Maki away from you—she knows you're her soulmate now, even if she doesn't believe in such things, no underclassman like her could get in the way of a love like that.

Nobara blinks in shock, still speechless at the monologue Maki just delivered and executed perfectly. Her eyes widen as she swallows in her dry throat and shakes her head slightly.

"You...I don't even know what to say to that," she sputters, earning a softer look from Maki this time around as she lifts a brow.

"You really love them. You really love Hatake-senpai."

"Not a day passes where I'm not thinking about them," Maki sighs sadly, her chest caving as she looks down at the floor with lowered eyes and a heavy heart. Nobara watches with guilt sprouting in her chest as she swallows the lump in her throat, her face losing its color as she thinks of all those times she wanted to strangle you or get rid of you or take Maki away from you.

Maki looks at Nobara after sensing her discomfort, lifting a suspicious eyebrow. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Nobara shakes her head briefly like a wet dog shaking the water off its fur, still looking at Maki with a white face and parted lips. "Uh...sorry, I was spacing out. That was...wow..."

"I don't need a compliment. It's simply the truth," Maki states roughly as she gets up from the edge of Nobara's neat bed, earning a soft look on her face as she watches Maki stomp towards the door with strong but rough shoulders and an irritated aura, her nimble hand shutting the door.

———

You looked like you were dying.

There were bags under and around your eyes that made you look like a raccoon, your face was almost drained of its color, your pupils were like periods and your eyes were red (from drinking and crying). You didn't go back to Yuki's place yesterday, you couldn't, not after what you'd done to yourself and countless other people. Your actions ended up on TV, more theories floating around the city and other parts of the country that you would catch tidbits of on your trips around.

But now a few weeks have passed since then. Your heart is still aching, in desperate need of some form of reconciliation as it shriveled in your chest until it was in the form of a raisin, drained and dry from its feeling and judgment. With those two things was your morality. You completely lost any and all self respect you had left and started doing dangerous things that would determine your life on a coin flip. Walking drunk on the railings of bridges (sometimes with your eyes closed), standing close over the edge of buildings with days of sleepless nights, nearly tipping over as you almost nod off each time. It never works, though, like life is so against you that it doesn't want you to escape its claws of hate even though death.

You wandered down through the tunnels underground, surprisingly sober today, shuffling through the darkness that's only lit by the low flame lit by your fingertips and dancing in the weak flow of air that occasionally passes through. You would sometimes hear something, like footsteps, but you assumed it was just the small water flowing on the bottom of the tunnel. The further you wandered the darker it got, the sunlight losing you from its unfair grip as you slip into the pits.

You land roughly on your feet, grunting as you enlarge your flame a little bit to find a table in the middle of the pitted room which led to many more tunnels. A number of chairs sat united on each side of the table, less than 10. You wondered who in the world would be camping out here in these parts until you remembered you're out here, too.

A rock fell from the side of the wall, your ear twitching as it caught wind of some footsteps gently pattering against the damp ground.

"Isn't this a nice surprise?" A light voice asked, making you turn your head to find a group standing at the edge of the tunnel, standing like an amoeba at the last few inches of the route before it dropped a few feet off into the pit.

You furrowed your brows as you see a familiar face, as well as a few curses standing behind it. The familiar face smiled—it was the same face, but it was different. Stitches lined across his forehead, that was what set him apart from the familiarity.

The voice's host appeared behind the familiar face, a grin on its face as it looks at you with different colored eyes that shined with a twinge of malevolence in them. It waved its arm cheerfully as it stared at you, and that's when you realized it was a curse, grinning at you like it isn't aware you're a jujutsu sorcerer.

"I suppose it is," you turn fully to face them, narrowing your eyes as your gaze meets the familiar face; Suguru Geto; you weren't fond of the name, the first and last experience you had with it was when he insulted Maki right in front of you and got away with it, and then crushed her leg just some time later. You remember hearing that he was dead, that Gojo killed him last year, and also that Gojo didn't show up for a few weeks after that.

"You're Suguru Geto—" you pause as you look once again at the stitches across his forehead. "At least...that's what my senses tell me."

"What does your cursed energy tell you?" He asks, that same smooth voice flowing from his throat as if it actually was his own. You frowned, putting out the flame on your fingertips and lowering your hand.

"You're someone else. Someone who's been around for longer than they should've."

"I can neither confirm nor deny," he shrugs playfully. "And who might you be?"

"No one to you unless I find out who you really are." You clench your fist, digging crescents into your flesh.

The man chuckles, his shoulders shaking in sync with his giggles. "You are a simple sorcerer. I need not tell you, weakling."

Your eyes widen, cursed energy flowing through your veins as a firm shadow appears in your palm and forms a dark foggy orb that vibrates, mini blades all over it sharp enough to pierce right through an Egyptian pyramid. The familiar face looks down at your hand with a calm expression, even a small smile on his lips.

"Weak?" You snarl, your nose crinkling. Emotions are flooding in your body—grief, anger, despair, hopelessness— they're bringing out a lash of responses that make your head spin like it's floating in a pool of your feelings. "Idiot, I'm a special grade!"

"I suppose I was wrong," he lifts his hand, making your grip tighten around the vibrating orb. "I'm not Suguru Geto. That's all you need to know, sorcerer."

"Hatake," you answer, earning lifted eyebrows from the Fake-Suguru.

"Hatake?"

"Hatake," you confirm, the curses looking at each other with confusion as the Fake-Suguru takes a step toward you.

"I'm honored. I thought that clan was a myth," he says smoothly, making your eye twitch as he gets closer.

"Who are you."

"You shall find out later...you don't happen to be a student at one of the Tech Schools, do you?"

"I banished myself from them," you released the vibrating orb as it poofed away into thin air, dark specs floating onto the ground and falling like little snowflakes. "I no longer consider myself a student."

"Excellent," he grins. "You are...extraordinary, just from your name alone. Your name, now, child?"

"Y/n," you roll your eyes with a click of your tongue, scoffing at the warm smile on his face.

"I saw the flame on your fingers when we entered. They were black. Does that have any correlation with the incident that happened a few weeks ago?"

"If you're talking about the building with black fire, then I can neither confirm nor deny that until I know your name and purpose with Suguru Geto's body."

His warm smile falls from his face and turns into a flat expression, matching yours as he sighs softly with a slump of his shoulders. "Kenjaku."

"And your purpose?" You lifted a brow.

He frowned, "A plan. A plan to allow curses to roam the planet like they used to."

"A very shallow plan," you scoff disappointedly. "You'll have to get through Gojo before that happens."

"I have it all perfectly planned out, dear child," he looks at you with a warm twinge in his eyes again, smiling mischievously. "Satoru Gojo will be sealed in Shibuya on October 20th."

"You seem confident," you narrowed your eyes again, pursing your lips into an unsatisfied line. "That isn't actually when he will be sealed. If it were you wouldn't answer so loosely to a child you aren't even sure you can trust."

"You're clever," he admits. "That is correct. I don't know if I can trust you yet, child. Or if I even can."

"Do you want me to prove myself?"

"Are you saying you want in on the plan?"

"Possibly. For reasons beyond your heartless comprehension."

"Maybe," he shrugs. "But I must know. Is there anyone...important to you, back at the Tech School?"

Your heart drops. You already know what he's about to ask of you, like a repeat of last year. Your legs turn to jelly, your heart races in your chest, your breathing turns shallow and your palms turn clammy.

"No," you lie instantly, hoping he'd come up with something else for you to do to prove yourself.

He narrows his eyes. "Liar."

"She's no longer in my heart," you press your lips into a line again, feeling your heart break even more as you tell white lies to the man in front of you who seems to see through everything you tell him. "I abandoned her in my own will."

"You mustn't lie, it's a sin."

"There's nothing more I could do. Let me part from him as I please, he was always a stranger to me."

Kenjaku hums, leaning back as he looks at the curses behind him, then back at you with a tempting look in his eyes.

"...I see. Any family?"

"You know well enough we're almost extinct," you frown again. "Don't be silly."

"A little angry, I see. You mustn't be seen in the undershirt of your school uniform," he points to your white collared shirt, a little roughed up from your near death experiences, with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows.

You roll your eyes once more, sighing sharply. Your patience is running thin, thinner than a piece of paper as he stands in front of you and examines you thoroughly.

"Mahito," he calls up, a curse stepping forward with a little pep in his step, grinning at you brightly. "Show this girl to the sewers, there's a sorcerer that needs to be taken care of."

"Yay! A new member!" He chirps as he skips along, hopping in the pit as he strides across. You follow shallowly, your hands in your pockets as you walk slowly behind him enough to recollect yourself after telling the biggest lie you've ever told.

"Do you think the soul comes first, or the body?" He randomly breaks the silence with that off-putting question, turning to you with a cheshire grin showing his teeth. You blatantly look back at him with a blunt look on your face, your hands in your pockets as you walk behind him with a careful pace.

Confused, but logically prepared, you sighed sharply and and rolled your eyes, "The body. It biologically comes first and the soul is molded within them through experiences in their lives."

"I see you're quite the realist," he chirps, whipping his head back to face forward, his light blue hair grouped in separate portions by hair ties twirling behind him as he skipped down the tunnel. His footsteps resonated with a damp sound to them, the material on the ground catching onto his shoes and etching onto the designs.

"It's facts," you deadpan, looking at him like he's an idiot, which you certainly thought he was.

"I noticed you seemed a little sharp with Geto-kun earlier when he asked you about your relationships. You were a little tense with your answer...like you were genuinely bothered by it."

"I see that it's none of your business, curse," you spat like it was an insult, frowning again as he comedically turned his head back around with a wicked smile.

"You were lying!"

"I abandoned her, that's the truth."

"And why did you abandon her if you cared about her?"

"If you had human empathy you would realize you just answered your own question," you roll your eyes again, feeling your patience run thin as he chips away at it more and more with his intruding.

"And you clearly see I do not, so I cease to understand why you would leave her if she had such a special place in that little heart of yours!"

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from yelling out the truth to him, your fists balling up in your pockets with anger surging through your head as you glare at him with a sharp gaze.

"She was my first friend," you answered in as much of a calm voice—which was as shaky as your lips. The curse, Mahito, looked back at you with a new curious glint in his eyes.

"Go on."

"I was first introduced to her when I was a child. I would occasionally see her around where I lived but it was just longer than brief, the amount of time I spent with her before last year would add up to only half a day. I didn't have much else to communicate with in a positive light so I couldn't complain. She's a little rough in the beginning but she's kind, she's got a good head on her shoulders and a strong heart in her chest—"

"I didn't ask for your life story," Mahito giggles and goes back to skipping down the tunnel. "So you care about her a lot. That totally changes my theory about the soul!"

"Why do you care so much about souls anyway?"

"It's part of my cursed technique!"

"It's part of mine, too," you mutter with an annoyed tone.

"Then you understand my curiosity, no?"

"Not really. I was sold into a different family because of my cursed technique."

"Sold?" He turns to you again with a full stop to his peppy step. "Is it that important?"

"One of the rarest," you sigh as you walk in front of him. "Infinite Soul."

"Never heard of it," he grins cheekily again. "Sounds cool, though."

"It's a pain."

"So what are your ideas about the soul?" He cuts that topic and switches to another one, catching up to you with a smile.

"I don't really care about that."

"You have a pretty big soul if you care about this girl so much."

"You couldn't comprehend it," you answer bluntly.

"Try me, human."

"Alright then. Last year I was laid upon the task to find and murder said girl. I was distraught, but I knew better than to object. So I went begrudgingly with a secret that would impact both our lives and our relationship with each other to the school she goes to and spent the last year as a two-faced backstabber. When her sister arrives upon the death of a first year student she demands I tell her why I went there instead of the school she went to once we're alone and I admitted to her my purpose of coming. Little did I know that was the biggest mistake of my life and said girl overheard me talking about it. You couldn't comprehend it but that girl takes up such a big space in my heart that I couldn't find it in my soul to kill her where she stood so instead I made myself look bad, telling her I would've killed her if she found out either way. I disappear for the rest of the day and spend it at a bar where I met some guy who gave me advice to tell her the truth before she declares it was too late, which it was by the time I got to her because she already said she couldn't forgive me. I spend the next eternity avoiding her with a heavy heart before the Exchange Event happens, and we're attacked by special grade curses and she falls injured, so I take her to a reverse cursed technique user where I tell said user about my feelings and the situation. She suggests I tell her the truth before she leaves to tend to others. Said girl wakes up from being passed out and she confronts me about eavesdropping on her previously when she said she couldn't forgive me. It leads to an argument where she tells me to leave in the end and I haven't seen her since. You have no clue how much it hurts to do this to her because it feels like a thousand knives poking at my skin right now knowing I might never see her again."

"You talk a lot," Mahito giggles, looking at you with hooded eyes and a knowing look. "So you're in love."

"Wasn't it obvious?"

"I thought so. What's the deal, anyways? She told you to leave, so you did."

"Like I said before, you couldn't comprehend it because you're a curse. Instead of ending her life I'm sparing her in return of her never seeing me again."

"Blah, blah," he rolls his eyes dramatically. "Humans and love. It's so confusing, she's just a girl, Y/n."

"No she's not," you answer, a pause between you two.

"So what, you're telling me that you're doing all this because you believe she's the love of your life?"

You fall silent for a moment, still walking next to him with a little space between your two as your hands shuffle in your pockets. You squint your eyes, nibbling on your lip as you think about it. You were positive you're in love with Maki, you think about her every day and get unbearably depressed at the idea of your current status. The fact you're out here doing evil and she's back at Jujutsu Tech feeling however you may think she's feeling.

You want her to be happy, and that may just be in a life where you're not in it. You want her to smile more brightly, to laugh more often and not worry about the many burdens laid over her shoulders. Even if you were to witness it from a thousand miles away it would put you at peace with your decisions.

"Maybe she is. Maybe she's worth abandoning her and letting her forget me and move on," you finally answer, looking ahead at the end of the tunnel to find a gap and a drop to another floor.

You and Mahito reach the edge, standing over it before stepping down and finding a sorcerer fighting measly 3rd grade curses.

Mahito looks at you with a grin, tilting his head in the sorcerer's direction as he hides his excitement to see how you act.

You swallow the lump in your throat, stepping forward and casting a shadow over your palm, forming a lightning bolt and gripping it tightly, dashing towards the sorcerer before he could even process your presence.

Blood splattered on the ground, his body falling with a thud as he lays in a pool of red. You stand over it, thinking how that could've been Maki if you weren't a coward. You lose your grip on the lightning bolt, letting it fall to the ground and dissipate in a small dark mist before disappearing, hanging your head low as you look down at the lifeless body.

"I didn't think you had it in you," Mahito grins widely again, stepping forward as he claps his hands. "With all that talk about a girl who clearly didn't care about your absence."

You roll your eyes, turning back to face him with lowered eyes and darker rings around them than when he first saw you, your eyes sunken and the color drained from your face.

You brush past him, making your way back down the opposite direction of the tunnel you came through, stepping closer towards the clutches of evil and further from Maki's heart.

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