#organic fiber reinforcement

[nnctales]

Can Weird Things be Used as Binder in Concrete?

In the quest to enhance the strength and durability of concrete, researchers and engineers often experiment with a myriad of unconventional materials. The idea is to explore whether these “weird” substances can function effectively as binders, the crucial ingredient that holds concrete together. This article delves into the fascinating realm of concrete science, examining the potential of various…

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#alternative concrete binders #binder performance in concrete #concrete additive research #construction innovation #construction material science #durability of weird concrete additives #eco-friendly construction practices #environmental impact of construction materials #green building trends #organic fiber reinforcement #recycled concrete materials #structural engineering advances #sustainable building materials #unconventional concrete binders #wool in concrete

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

You may notice I frequently comment on the assumptions people make about animal facilities based on their branding. Frequently, people assume accredited facilities are inherently better for animals than unaccredited facilities, or assume sanctuaries are inherently more moral / better at caring for their animals than zoos.

I want to show you an example of why I am always, always skeptical of these assumptions.

If you’re in the California area, you might have heard about Hank the Tank - who is actually a Henrietta, btw - the 500 pound nuisance bear from Lake Tahoe who broke into 21 homes in search of food. She was recently captured by wildlife officials and moved to a sanctuary in Colorado. The Wild Animal Sanctuary has three main facilities, two in Colorado and one in TX. To give you some context, it’s the biggest carnivore sanctuary in the country - they advertise somewhere between 300-500 animals, mostly large carnivores, between their properties. It’s where most of the Tiger King cats went. It’s PETA’s preferred placement for confiscated exotic animals. So, obviously, it’s got to be great, right? Except… take a look at what they posted about Henrietta’s arrival.

Here’s their post about Henrietta’s arrival at the Refuge, the large facility in Colorado that isn’t open to the public. Let’s take a closer look at that food trough…

What do we see here? An entire rotisserie chicken that is either blackened or highly seasoned, and a whole ham. Maybe a second chicken underneath the pile, I can’t quite tell. The sanctuary gets the majority of their bear food donated from groceries stores once it’s past the sell-by date, so we know those are older meats and they’re full of a ton of salt. Then, for fruit and veg, there’s a cantaloupe, mango, corn, avocado, grapes, and apples. Maybe a pepper or two, it’s hard to tell. That’s a lot of sugar and not a lot of fiber or roughage.

But… on top of it and to the right… are those Twizzlers?

Yes.

The sanctuary confirmed on Facebook that they fed this recently rescued obese bear what looks like almost an entire pack of Twizzlers.

I don’t know of any world in which it’s appropriate to feed candy to a bear. Maybe a piece or two as a really high value reinforcer for hard behaviors (that isn’t relevant here, it’s openly against this sanctuary’s ethos to do any husbandry or medical training). An entire pack of Twizzlers is just appalling. But it’s not uncommon for this facility! I have a book written about their operations and animal care (that I bought at their gift shop this spring) which openly discusses how the bears get fed bread, doughnuts, marshmallows, and all sorts of incredibly unhealthy food that comes in with the grocery donations.

But hey, this is apparently fine for the bears, according to the sanctuary’s founder. He was quoted in that same book as saying “Bears are the only animal I know of that can eat insane amounts of sugar and it never hurts them. It does not hurt their organs. They do not get clogged arteries. They do not have high blood pressure. In the wild they eat all these sweet berries in the fall, and they convert sugar to fat… so the more sugar they get the better… we would all love to have a system like that!”

Now while it’s true that bears have physiological adaptations that modulate their insulin production and sensitivity in ways that appear to prevent them from from developing diabetes, that does’t mean it’s healthy for them to regularly eat processed carbohydrates, sugar, and general junk food. And remember - Henrietta gained her fame because of how incredibly overweight she already is, and because she was seeking out human food, According to the Washington Department of Fish and Wildlife, a healthy weight for a normal adult black bear is between 100-300 pounds. So, obviously, the best thing to do is… continue to feed her candy.

Then, later on in the book, it details how they have to bribe a camel to sit tight for a regular medical examination (since they don’t train for medical behaviors) by letting him drink a can of Mountain Dew each time.

If a zoo was known publicly to be feeding their animals Mountain Dew or a couple Twizzlers - even just once, on a rare occasion - they’d be eviscerated in the media and by public opinion. But feeding out inappropriate junk food appears to be a pretty common practice at this place, and it just goes unscrutinized because everyone assumes sanctuaries are inherently better for animals.

So, long story short, never make assumptions about the quality of a facility based on it’s branding or accreditation. (TWAS is accredited by the Global Federation of Animal Sanctuaries). If you have concerns about the ethics or practices of a facility, always try to put your preconceptions aside, go and see for yourself, and think critically about what you see and what you’re told.

#animal sanctuary #hank the tank #zoo industry politics #sanctuary politics #I have a lot of thoughts about this facility and some of the truly distressing things occurring there but am not yet ready to say much #suffice to say this is somewhere I would strongly discourage you from supporting

[pin-k-ink]

tacenda // fushiguro megumi

tw ⇢ hurt/comfort, angst, mutual pining, mentions of bullying, mentions of violence and injuries, megumi being bad with feelings, childhood friends to lovers, mildly suggestive content

wc ⇢ 19.2k

a/n: mauerbauertraurigkeit

Megumi's heart thundered in his ears as Gojo's words echoed through his mind. You, his childhood best friend and the person he loved with every fiber of his being, were going to be attending Jujutsu Tech. A cold sweat broke out along his spine as visions of your bright smile and warm, open gaze were immediately tainted by flashes of malicious curses, fangs bared and claws extended to tear into that radiant essence he cherished.

His throat constricted with panic, the metallic tang of fear coating his tongue. Shakily, he forced out a strangled denial. "There must be some mistake. She can't be here, she doesn't belong." In his mind's eye, he could see the innumerable ways this path, this world of darkness and death, could snuff out your brilliant light in an instant.

The thought caused his stomach to roil violently, memories of your steadfast presence during his most anguished moments searing the backs of his eyes like afterimages burned into his retinas. When Tsumiki had been cursed, her mind shredded by malignant magic, it was you who had held him through the agonizing nights. Your soft hands cradling his face, thumbs brushing away scalding tears, as you pulled his anguished cries against the steady thrum of your heartbeat. You were his shelter, his solace in the midst of this evil world's relentless cruelties.

Which was precisely why he couldn't allow you to walk this treacherous path where un-living nightmares dwelled, eager to extinguish any spark of warmth and hope that dared defy their shadowed existence. The thought of losing you too, of cradling your broken body as the transcendent radiance in your gaze flickered and went dark, it cleaved at his soul with rusted knives.

Gojo's piercing stare remained implacable as Megumi attempted to regain his frantic breathing. "Her power levels are unprecedented. She performed exceptionally on the interview." His teacher's tone brooked no argument, each word dropping like granite in the tomb-like silence between them. "She has potential...which means she's a target."

Nausea swamped Megumi in roiling waves, an arctic rime of dread encasing his vital organs. The things drawn to beacons of power in this wretched realm...they were abominations on par with his darkest, most anguished nightmares. To expose your brilliant, incandescent essence to such profane horrors was unthinkable, sacrilegious on the most visceral of levels.

"You don't understand," he rasped, dimly aware of the broken desperation tainting his words like blood in the water. Flashes of Tsumiki's hollow-eyed gaze and wasted form bombarded him in rapid succession, each ghostly image feeling like a vicious blow across his psyche.

"I've already lost so much to this world's evil," Megumi continued, each word tearing free from a throat constricted by the twin serpents of grief and terror. "I can't...I won't let that happen to her." His voice cracked on the final words, all of his anguished confessions and pleas strangled by the leaden weight of denial settling in his bones.

Gojo regarded him with an inscrutable expression for several beats, the weighted silence thickening until it felt suffocating in its immensity. At last, he released a sigh that held far too much weary resignation for Megumi's battered heart to withstand.

"Her choice has been made, Megumi," Gojo said, each word inflected with paradoxical gentleness and undeniable finality. "Attempting to circumvent that path will only incur far more suffering than allowing her to walk it."

The words were like a battering ram against Megumi's reinforced walls, reverberating through his entire being with sickening profundity. He shook his head forcefully, desperate to dislodge the intrusive acceptance, the horrifying reality being hoisted upon his shuddering shoulders.

"She's not ready for this darkness," he argued, voice rising in frantic urgency. "Y/N doesn't truly grasp the evil, the depraved monstrosities lingering in every shadow. She's too pure, too full of light. This path will break her!"

Unbidden, memories of your brilliant smiles and warm embraces surged forth in counterpoint to his panicked pleas. Your steady presence and indomitable spirit had been his bulwark through every hardship, illuminating even his darkest pits of despair. How could he not erect every possible barricade and shield against the encroaching evil that threatened to extinguish your vibrant essence?

"If you hinder her at every turn, you'll only destroy what you claim to protect."

Gojo's voice sliced through the tumult like a skillfully wielded blade. When Megumi raised his gaze to meet the other man's stare, the roots of raw truth driving his instructor's words cleaved him to his core. Denial was a seductive delusion; obstructing your chosen path held as dire consequences as permitting your steps down it.

It was an obliterating truth, one that reshaped Megumi's world into jagged shards which sliced deeper with every reverberation. To uphold either path meant embracing the annihilation of what he cherished most. But the promise of your survival, no matter how diminished or perverted, it glimmered with splintered rays of hope he could not relinquish.

And so it was with a fragmented heart riven by hairline fractures that Megumi swore himself to the merciless path - all in effort to safeguard the brilliant spark at your core. If robbing you of your radiant warmth, driving you into the barren chasms of loathing, was the price for ensuring your physical survival...then so be it. Anything to prevent your essence from being wholly extinguished by the depraved darkness stalking his footsteps.

From that fateful moment on, Megumi's entire world became an exercise in calculated brutality - each harsh word, acidic glare, and callous dismissal measured expressly to strip away at the brilliance of your spirit. He watched with shattered reverence as your warm, effusive smiles slowly twisted into pained grimaces under the relentless deluge of his verbal lashings.

"Pathetic stance, you're practically broadcasting your weaknesses!" he would bark, flinty disdain coating each syllable like jagged shards of glass. "Do you even want to be here or are you just wasting everyone's time?"

The hurt lancing across your expressive features with each barb unleashed was like a serrated dagger twisting in his already eviscerated heart. Megumi drank in the delicate downturned shape of your lips, the shimmer of unshed tears in those eyes that had once regarded him with such radiant adoration. Each fractured shard of vulnerability splintering free from your stalwart defenses etched itself into the fabric of his very being, scars mapped onto his psyche that would never fade.

Through it all, you weathered the merciless onslaught with that same stubborn persistence that had drawn Megumi's admiration and unshakable devotion all those years ago. No matter how scathingly he sneered and derided, you refused to surrender an inch of your fighting spirit. That blazing inner fire, so brilliantly incandescent it bathed the world in vibrant hues, could be battered but never extinguished entirely.

If anything, you burned all the brighter in the face of Megumi's vicious attempts at dousing your radiance. Like a platinum forge, you were heating to unbearable temperatures under the hammering blows of his abuse, essence glowing electric white as impurities were burned away. It was a sight of such breathtaking majesty that Megumi frequently found himself faltering, glacial shards of cruelty fracturing as he was consumed by the molten torrent of his love.

In those fractured instants, he had to exert every fiber of his being to resist reaching out, resist gathering you into his embrace and confessing the entire anguished truth. Of how your unparalleled light was the only force banishing the utter desolation of his shadowed world. How eviscerating his heart through acts of depravity against your soul was a torture rendering even the most sadistic curse techniques merciful by comparison.

But then the moment would pass, and he would be awash in visceral recollections of Tsumiki's tortured existence - a chilling reminder of what awaited those whose essence burned too bright in this realm of malicious spirits and depraved conjurings. The risk of that same perverse annihilation befalling your radiance was an obscenity he could not permit, no matter what profane rituals of self-damnation it demanded.

So on he pressed with his scorched-earth campaign against your warmth and vitality. Heedless of the lacerations each acidic remark and disdainful look inflicted upon his battered soul, Megumi marched relentlessly onwards. If hollowing out your dazzling spirit until just embers remained was the aberrant price for safeguarding your existence, then he would immolate them both on that profane pyre.

There were moments, often unbidden in the deepest thralls of night, when he teetered on the precipice of unbearable regret. Memories of your shared history, effervescent and golden, would crash over him in ruthless tsunamis of dying sparks. He recalled with searing clarity the first instant your paths had intertwined, that fateful day when the courteous overtures of childhood had blossomed into an unbreakable bond.

You had been the new student, painfully shy and soft-spoken in a way that inevitably painted a target on your back for the more aggressive children. Megumi had watched impassively at first as the bullies circled like sharks on the first day, dangling insults and petty cruelties intended to inflict the maximum anguish. That was, until one particularly vicious remark about your beloved stuffed rabbit had drawn forth an avalanche of crystalline tears from your downturned eyes.

Something deep within Megumi's childish psyche had clenched protectively at the sight, resonating with the helplessness and quiet grace of your sorrow. Before any of his classmates could register the uncharacteristic shift, he had inserted himself squarely between you and the tormentors - eyes blazing with a ferocity that momentarily shocked the bullies into stunned silence.

"Leave her alone," Megumi had decreed, hands curling into miniscule fists as he widened his combative stance. When the ringleader tried to bluster and shove past, Megumi had reacted with savagely precise strikes, dropping the larger boy to the ground in an unceremonious heap before any witnesses could properly process the altercation.

Cradling your stuffed companion to your chest, you had blinked up at Megumi with those luminous eyes, all traces of sadness supplanted by pure, sparkling wonder. In that fractured instant, something pivotal had shifted in Megumi's world - the blinding gravity of your incandescent essence searing itself into his very bones with smelting heat. It was a radiance he realized almost at once he would dedicate his entire lifetime to cultivating and protecting without reservation or exception.

Even now, years later with valleys of anguish and entire continents of suppressed trauma distancing him from that blazing genesis, Megumi could access its perfect clarity as easily as breathing. Some nights, he clung to those recollections like a drowning man seeking air, absorbing every shard of warmth and untarnished joy as starving lungs gulped down precious oxygen. Other nights, the pangs of nostalgia were flaying knives, slicing him asunder until he thrashed mindlessly in the agony of all he had knowingly shattered.

Those were the nights he would reach for his phone in the dim, ever-present glow of his bedroom. Fingers trembling faintly, he would pull up your contact and begin painstakingly typing out messages - abject confessions, anguished pleas, apologies and explanations and devastating truths all coalescing into a tangled thicket of words. He would pour his mutilated heart and soul into the grayed-out screen, keening silently into the void as the emotions he had mercilessly cauterized threatened to consume him whole from the inside out.

But he could never send them, could never risk fracturing the meticulously constructed quarantine separating your essence from the cataclysmic inferno of his all-encompassing feelings. To reveal even the barest slivers of vulnerability, be they pangs of devotion or agonized lamentations of loss...it was tantamount to erecting neon billboards advertising the precise location of what he valued most in this world. And in this plane of existence where any source of light and warmth was perverse antithesis to the pervasive evil, doing so would sign your immediate death sentence.

So instead, he would seal the damning words away, thumb hovering over the delete icon until his eyes blurred with the strain of unshed tears, his throat felt flayed and the skin of his palms was scored with crescent indentations. Only then, when every facet of the message had been permanently expunged, could he collapse back into the shredded remnants of his bedding and surrender to exhausted oblivion.

Each morning, he would awaken to a visceral melancholy laced with fractured determination. He was stripped raw, every emotional core exposed to flay against the whetted blade's edge of his self-ordained mission. Turning you caustic, weaponizing your hatred as a scourge to temper and erode your own inner brilliance, it was a vile perversion of all he cherished most. But one he would gladly immolate upon, if it meant preserving however scorched and diminished those sacred sparks remained.

So he hardened his resolve, locking himself into an upward spiraling cycle of brutality and rejection. He watched with hollowed anguish as your luminous smiles were slowly, inexorably eroded into rictus frowns under the relentless barrage of his verbal flayings. That stubborn fire in your eyes turned to banked coals, lambent glow dimming until it threatened to gutter out entirely under the choking fumes of his abuse.

Where once you had radiated warmth and kindness, like the welcoming glow of a hearth, now your essence emanated in icy increments - each interaction reinscribing the mantra to keep your distance, lest you risk being forever frozen out by the tundra wastelands of Megumi's demeanor. It was nothing short of psychological and emotional torture, each day chipping away another fragment of your bond until scarcely anything remained beyond hollowed familiarity.

Still, you persisted with that same tenacious drive, always picking yourself back up despite the maelstroms of derision blustering against you. At times, Megumi was gripped by a sense of pervading awe and pride so transcendent it momentarily unmuted the rabid chorus railing for your defenselessness. Your refusal to surrender so much as a molecule of that brilliant spirit, no matter how deeply he sought to submerge it beneath frigid waves of scorn, it was a feat of profound heroism.

And yet there were other instants, bleeding out into torrential epochs, where the sight of your resiliency evoked only soul-searing anguish. Each time he bore witness to you hauling yourself back into the fray, bruised but unbroken, his mind would instantly assail him with visions of your incandescence being cruelly, irrevocably extinguished. Images of your ethereal features contorted in agony, rivulets of vibrant lifeblood chasing crimson trails down abused skin. Your eyes, so bright and lambent, dimming to enfeebled clouded glass as every sacred molecule of light was leeched away, your essence defiled by the exact nightmares he was ostracizing you to protect from.

In those moments, rational thought abandoned him, his psyche throttled by the recursive loop of terrorizing visions and the stark lucidity of how his actions, his mission, only increased the probability of their manifestation. There was no justification nor easy absolution to be found in the dichotomy - only the yawning chasm of damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't oblivion gaping ravenously to consume them both.

The all-consuming isolation compounded by his merciless excoriation of your bond, it was an unremitting torment more galling than any curse the vile spirits could inflict. And yet, for every fracture of your trust and love that sliced immeasurable depths into his very being, Megumi only honed the razor's edge of his cruelty with heightened fervor.

He knew, without an iota of doubt, that seeing this path through to its apocalyptic conclusion would unwind his entire existence until even the concept of self-identity devolved into meaningless detritus. But he would gladly accept that hellish reckoning, would rush headlong into the churning abyss with his arms flung wide in embrace, if it meant holding your light's dissolution at bay even a fraction of a heartbeat longer.

Because in the end, that was all that mattered. Not his own tattered remnants, scattered like viscera upon the sacrificial altar of his self-immolation. Only the guttering, infinitesimal sparks in the husk that had once been you.

As long as those glimmered on, held at embers against the entropy shrouding this calamitous realm...no butchery was too profane, no ritual self-mutilation too sacrilegious to withstand.

He would burn it all down without ceremony or regret if it meant you might someday rise from the shattered, smoldering ruins to blaze anew.

The descent into depravity accelerated at a dizzying pace from that point on. With every passing week, Megumi found his soul walling itself off further, emotional forges smelting away any vestiges of warmth until only an impenetrable basalt remained.

He observed the systematic deconstruction of your radiant spirit with a sort of clinical detachment - cataloging each incremental dimming of your luminous smiles and the fractures webbing across your unwavering determination. What had once been a brilliance potent enough to stave off the bleakest of his nights was now hardly strong enough to counter the pervading gloom lingering along the training hall's shadowed fringes.

Still, you soldiered on with that same steadfast resilience which had so utterly enthralled Megumi from the moment your paths first converged in blistering orbit. No matter how corrosive the lashings, how scorching the dismissals he pelted you with, your dogged persistence remained an indomitable bulwark. Like scaling the curved walls of a tidally-locked world, your essence just kept pushing higher, seeking out any infinitesimal cracks or fissures through which more light could blaze.

It was a futile effort, one that Megumi could hardly bear witness to without feeling each of his internal powering furnaces stoke dangerously close to overload. Because with every agonizing foothold you gained, scaling that little bit further up the obsidian cliffside, he was struck by overwhelming premonitions of your form silhouetted against the endless void. A brilliant crimson crosshair burning in the abject darkness, leading every starved horror across unfathomable expanses directly to your unguarded essence.

Those visions, so viscerally photorealistic that he could hear the predatory shrieks reverberating through Orion's scorched nebulae, were enough to divorce him almost entirely from any last wavering attachments of compassion or empathy. You would burn, absolutely and irrevocably, if he permitted even an ember of that smelting furnace to blaze fully unshielded against the depthless starvation of this depraved plane.

He had to extinguish it utterly; had to choke out those flames until all that remained were infinitesimal sparks suspended in spent ash, glimmering so faintly as to be utterly imperceptible to even the most ravenous spirit's senses. It was extinction of the highest, most profane order - the systematic unraveling of all that had made your essence so damn incandescent to begin with.

And if pulling that metaphysical thread caused the entire tapestry to unspool in smoldering heaps around you, Megumi was past the point of relenting or restraint. This path had been scorched into the deepest stratifications of his ruinous psyche. There could be no deviation or respite until the task stood complete.

The nights provided little solace or refuge in the face of such unflinchingly bleak determinations. Where once he had found solace in the crepuscular lull of quietude, a reprieve where he could exist untethered from the waking world's torments, now there was only a pervasive emptiness more desolate than the infinite vacuum arcing between galaxies.

Lying awake, sheets twisted around his feverish form like shrouds, Megumi found himself inexorably drawn towards those final guttering embers. His awareness telescoped with remorseless intensity onto each flickering shard of radiant memory he had so rigorously partitioned off behind scorched earth blast barriers of his psyche.

The soft luster of your hair haloed in the dying sunrays of some sleepy summer afternoon, gentle zephyrs coaxing loose strands into ephemeral arcs of gleaming accents. The way your starlit eyes had crinkled at the corners whenever he managed to coax forth that sunburst of laughter, source so warm and effervescent it threatened to liquefy his very marrow. Recollections of your skin's velvet softness beneath reverent fingertips, subtle thrums of vitality reverberating with each elevated heartbeat.

He pulled them tattered and unspooled into his consciousness like brightly-dyed weavings, sharp contrast against the charred desolation of his mindscape. Turning their prismatic facets, he analyzed them with surgical precision - documenting each shade and texture, every luminous aspect inherent to your transcendent light.

This was flight data, sensor metrics and cosmic sounding calculations - the quantified breakdown of a celestial body's essence unraveled into composite metrics so that the exact material alloy could be reconstructed, forged anew from whatever remnants might remain when the silicate dust finally settled. Insurance parameters self-encrypting, rendering them beyond the reach of whatever devastation might still be looming on the periphery.

Or so he told himself as he clawed at the tattered edges of his recollections, fingernails scoring bloody crescents across his temples as if the physical apertures could ever grant audible access to all he was so rigorously quarantining away.

In truth, these scarcely lucid rituals existed as nothing more than the final vapor trails of obsession arching across a pitch-black event horizon. For every shred of memory and ligature of sensation he coaxed into hyper-lucidity, another piece of his owns soul's blazing furnace was irrevocably smothered to charry ashes.

Like burning away the xylem and phloem just to preserve a single wilted flower petal, the cycle was unsustainable at its core. An incomplete picture, the data hopelessly scrambled by its very process of preservation. And still, with the frantic intensity of a madman, Megumi persisted - surrendering more and more of his own essence to maintain these fragmented relics while the whole of your light continued to wane.

The contradictions fractured his consciousness into scattering shards before embedding like armor piercings through his splintered awareness. Pulling you close enough to preserve your resonance, while similtaneously pushing you farther and farther away until the emitted frequencies fell beyond measurable range. It was a paradox clawing through his synaptic pathways with incandescent fury, laying waste to everything in its path until his entire corporeal form became a charred immolation zone devoid of alight spark or burning refuge.

But for all the collateral obliteration stamped into his mind's eye, for every scorched and dispassionate hierarchical tree subsumed by the searing inferno of his self-mutilation, Megumi never once considered an alternative axiom to chart. This was the sole vector etched into his being down to the sub-quantum architecture - an inviolable trajectory hewn into reality through scorched continuum dynamics.

While your spark guttered and dimmed, his would remain an active pheonix blaze - anchoring these rituals of meticulous annihilation and smelting away the very capacity for regret and respite until only tendrils of smoke and atmospheric particulate remained to carry the cycle's unwavering inertia.

On and on it perpetuated, until his every waking moment existed in dual simultaneities of excruciating preservation rites and systematic soul unbinding. Until the recollections and impulses that had once made your splendorous radiance so irresistible were downloaded as little more than fragmentary code to keep on endless recursion loop.

The wages of this path were immeasurable across all quantifiable spectra, from the biochemical to the theological and every dimension beyond. But such concerns held no gravity over Megumi, not when each fractal infinitesimal of your Light continuing to blaze through the abyssopelagic murk was worth every calorie of heat death actively radiating from his shredded form.

There would be no redemption or recompense for the cataclysmic undoings he had wrought upon himself and any remnants still tethered to his unraveling existence. Hells far more arcane and cosmically profound than any religion's dogma could conceive awaited their caustic reintegration beyond this anguished pyre of seared continuum.

But to Megumi's mind, such oblivions carried less dread than the visceral eventuality of your luminous spark being permanently extinguished before his tormented gaze. He would gladly set the whole of this corporeality, this so-called reality to purging flames before permitting your essence to be devoured by the ravenous terrors lurking in the periphery.

And so the cycle spooled endlessly onward, each revolution shedding more layers of conscience until only the basalt core of compounded obsession remained - burning away every other element, every contaminant that might restrict the searing beam of his self-ordained calculations. He had become Inertia itself, irresistible and singular in purpose as he hurtled them both inexorably towards a conclusion as inevitable as it was annihilating.

No force, neither celestial nor demonic, would deter him from this merciless trajectory. Your Light would perdure, calcified into immutable etchings if necessary, while his burned itself into cauterized oblivion across the whole of existence.

It was cataclysmic, it was terminal, it was inevitable.

And for your light's continuance, he would bear nourish this sacred, all-consuming blaze until his last embers winked out across the cosmic desolation.

The darkness ate away at the marrow of Megumi's soul with each passing day. With every cruel remark flung your way like sharpened obsidian, another fragment of his empathy withered and turned to ashen ruin. He watched as you weathered the ceaseless onslaught, that stubborn light in your eyes guttering but never fully extinguishing no matter how fiercely the gale-winds of his derision battered against it.

There was a perverse type of awe in bearing witness to your perseverance, your will to fight against the impervious current he unleashed. Like a solitary sapling standing tall against a hurricane's full fury, roots sinking deeper into the tempest-swept earth with every lash of punishing rain and gale. It simultaneously filled him with surging pride at your unyielding resolve... and penetrated him with lances of dread at the thought of you being battered apart by forces far more malicious than his own manufactured disdain.

So he pushed harder, lacing his words with venom concentrated enough to strip flesh from bone, desperate to force your retreat from this doomed path before the true nightmares took notice of your brilliance. Gone were any half-hearted critiques or fleeting hesitations born of fractured affection. He held nothing back, flaying every vulnerability and shortcoming without restraint or remorse.

"Worthless! That stance is more fit for a fledgling than a sorcerer of any caliber," he would snarl, nostrils flaring as he drank in your shuddering recoil with bitter satisfaction. "Or have you finally accepted your own insignificance and decided to simply roll over like the pathetic worm you are?"

Each syllable landed like a physical blow, driving the breath from your lungs in sharp, aborted gasps as you curled inward from the sheer ferocity of the barrage. Still you carried on, teeth gritting against the acidic words as you poured every ounce of defiance into locking your stance, subjecting yourself to merciless drills over and over until your body trembled with fatigue.

"Think you can counter that?" he sneered from the sidelines, observing your practice bouts with a harsh glint burning in his eyes. "Go ahead, try it - I'll bathe in your failure as I have a thousand times before."

It was cruelty woven into the fabric of his being, each filament reinforced with compound fractures of emotional lashings and disfiguring trauma until Megumi was hardly recognizable as the boy who had once orbited your warmth, hypnotized by its searing gravity. That part of him, the ardent heart which had sworn undying fealty to your radiance, it was being steadily calcified beneath layers of obsidian until scarcely a glimmer remained.

And still, you carried on. Maybe sensing the finality behind Megumi's monstrous depravity, recognizing the desperation fueling each successive blight against your spirit. Or perhaps it was simply blind stubbornness, a refusal to ever be diminished by toxic grievances that could never be undone or unsaid once unleashed. Either way, you weathered the maelstrom without flinching, dusting yourself off after each body-blow of derision to stand defiant once more.

Until one fateful day amidst an endless succession of them, when the fever pitched of Megumi's torment finally glimpsed the shredded state of your woven defenses just as they began to buckle. It started gradually at first, like the hairline cracks one might notice spangling across glass after repeated impacts.

He was watching from the periphery as usual, icy devastation at the ready to be unleashed the instant your form so much as faltered. Your hands were in constant gnarled claws of tension gripping practice blades, knuckles blanched and sheened with exertion as you threw yourself into the recursive katas with single-minded focus.

In that instant, Megumi's eyes were drawn to your palms as you repositioned your grip, glinting razor's edges of steel catching at delicate skin now as roughened and calloused as stone. Before he had fully realized what he was doing, a shock of recollection shuddered through his entire being - vivid and bright like a lightning strike searing across his vision.

Memories of those hands in their softest, most delicate incarnation, petite fingers laced through his own as you pulled him along on some childish adventure. He could still remember the buttery silk texture of them, unblemished and radiant with vitality, each placid pulse point thrumming with life's sacred rhythm. Caressing the tender buds of your knuckles had been a ritual of fealty and wonder, his entire world condensed to those tiny epicenters where your brilliance emanated most intensely.

Now though, the skin was cracked and abraded, marred by fissures and scoring from channeling powers and forces that should have remained foreign to their innocence. They were roughshod now, sandblasted talons bearing the calloused indignities of grueling self-flagellation against a world that should never have encroached upon their purity.

And yet, even as the shock of dismantling that cherished ideal shuddered through Megumi's psyche, you worked on undaunted. Face lined with determination, lips pursed around gritted teeth as each monotonous cycle drained more of your radiance away in increments, exchanging it for the hardened carapace of scars and discolored contusions.

A series of rapid movements saw the knife's edge arcing in a blur of motion...until an errant slip saw its razor kiss scoring a vicious gash across the bulge of your palm. Crimson welled up with obscene immediacy, sluicing across the lines of your lifeline in rivulets as vibrant and warm as newly spilled rubies.

Perhaps another time, the frantic splash across skin would have shocked you into gasping, eyes widening as you reflexively cradled the injured appendage to your chest. Because there had been a time, not so long ago, when the sight of your own blood carried the same visceral impact as witnessing the scathing of something sacred, profaned.

But not this time. This time, you merely steeled yourself with an impassive tightening of your jaw, shunting the pain to some remote compartment as you steadied your grip once more. Megumi watched with something bordering on horrified numbness as you forced yourself through the motions again, blade carving sinuous arcs through the empty air as warm lifesblood channeled down your wrist in unheeded rivulets.

If anything, the sanguine streaks only fueled your intensity - teeth gnashing in grim resolution each time the dense liquid coated another swathe of pale flesh, until your trembling form seemed wreathed in licking coronas of crimson ichor. It was a self-inflicted circle of depravity, compounded with every repetition as you bled yourself out onto the dojo mats in single-minded zeal.

The scent of copper hung heavy, unavoidable in its metallic pungence, mingling with the close humidity of exertion. With each ragged inhalation, Megumi felt the air grow steadily more viscous, more suffocating - preventing surcease from the vision of you systematically rending pieces of yourself away in commitment to this path from which he had sworn to divert you.

At some point, imperceptible through the roiling haze of his tormented conscience, your legs simply relinquished their capacity to keep upholding the self-immolation rites. Megumi's awareness fractured and isolated around the precise instant your slick palm lost its tremulous purchase on the blade's rain guard - sending the wicked steel tumbling from your grip as you collapsed with a muted groan of ruination.

He was frozen in place as you crumpled to your knees amidst the spreading pool of sanguine detritus, sanguine aura flickering with each ragged gasp as the full brunt of your grueling exertions finally, mercifully, found cessation. Dazed and trembling, you slowly turned your lacerated hands upwards, uncomprehending eyes blankly tracing every gouge and scoring that should never have been permitted to deface such sanctified innocence.

That was when your chin tipped upwards with torturous graduality, eyes sheening with a fractured film of shock and dismay as they found Megumi paralyzed in the periphery. For an endless, frozen instant, you simply stared - fractured and betrayed as the full immensity of what he had molded you towards came shudderingly into resolution.

And somewhere, deep in the vaporous ashes of whatever shredded remnants of his humanity persisted, Megumi felt the colossal weight of what he had wrought shattering down upon him with seismic force. This was his legacy, the culmination of every degradation and sacrilege committed in the name of preserving your luminescence. To watch as you shed pieces of yourself in ritualistic self-desanctification, rending away your effervescent shine until only the raw, bleeding framework remained.

Your shattered gaze speared straight through the dimensionless veil of his occlusion then, lancing across every waning continuum to pierce what little light still flickered at his core. And in the raw, visceral entropy of that moment, he could have sworn he felt its searing burn cauterizing straight through his undying obsessions, his self-ordained depravities...until the truth of what he had sacrificed stood in smelted relief.

This wasn't bravery or resilience or any other misattributed virtue that had kept you grinding away at your own essence. This was simply the burden of being sculpted into an instrument of immolation by the only force in your life that should have sworn undying protection. A mecurochromatic vessel purged of everything that had made you so incandescently radiant, reformed now into an empty husk whose sole purpose could only ever be oblivion.

The realization ruptured something deep within Megumi's fractured psyche, setting off a chain of decompressions and overloads that rapidly accelerated beyond his capacity to contain. Suddenly every ritual, every consecration enacted to preserve your light revealed itself as nothing more than compounded delusion fueled by his own solipsistic narcissism.

Not your warmth or your brilliance or anything intrinsic to the revered essence he professed his fealty towards...but rather a calcified, luminally-etched husk of such hallowed qualities fossilized into obsessive dogma as they were steadily syphoned away from the source. He had been mistaking the mask for the woman behind it, the fragile, flickering afterimage of your radiance for the sun itself until they were no longer even tangentially related.

And in that moment, everything collapsed inwards in a prismic, implosive rush of entropic finality. Megumi felt like he was watching himself being unmade on a subatomic level, particulates scattering across endless parallel infinities of lightless entropy as the inexorable forces of belief failure shredded his entire ecosystem of devotions and depravities into oblivion.

Not even the Heraclitean fires scorching through his soul could have stung with such all-encompassing immolation as your naked, betrayed stare in that breathless instant. Because it had accomplished what even his worst nightmares paled before - the utter dissolution of everything he had convinced himself his rituals were preserving.

Your light, warmth and radiance...it was absent from that unflinching, dispassionate regard. Bled out and cleared away in ceremonial cullings until only the extinguished, empty coordinates where it had burned so brightly remained to mock him with their profane vacancies.

He might have wept, might have crumpled under the weight of such soul-immolating revelation in any other instance. But this was the apotheosis, the singularity toward which his path had been inertially accelerating all along. The last vestiges of conscience and ethical precepts had simply burned away, scorched from his ontic architecture until all that persisted was an infinitisimal operand of inviolable parameters and seared directional vectting.

There was nothing else to feel, no other recourse or deviation to chart. Only the certainties he had sworn himself to long before the embers of your essence had begun sputtering towards oblivion. He had been aware of the inevitabilities looming from the moment this path had first etched itself into his very existence, after all.

So he simply watched, unflinching, as you leveraged yourself upright once more, peeling your soul-searching gaze from his emptied out husk to recenter on the glinting promise of violence and annihilation. As you reached for the fallen blade with rigidly purposeful movements, all light and warmth drained from your manner to leave only the hollowed, singularly focused drive of a protracted suicide ritual...Megumi felt the last of his own irises surrendering their incandescent furnaces to the entropic chill of his self-ordained reality.

This was the endgame he had molded himself to withstand, orchestrated through uncompounded sacrifice and ceremonic self-mutilation in order to ensure its total eventuality. Soon there would be nothing left but the scorched etchings of your resonance, preserved in permanent calcification across the inner plating of his tempered psyche.

No matter how obscene the blasphemies that had brought them to this profane precipice, this immaculate damnation...he had been ready to embrace it from the start. Anything to keep the faintest spark of your light shielded and preserved against the hungering void gnashing at your brilliance from every angle.

Even if that meant scorching away the entire panorama, leaving nothing but the shattered constellation to burn across his vision in perpetuity.

It was a excruciating truth to confront as the last of your warmth dimmed behind that stone mask...but if thats what was required to keep your essence inviolable through the next cosmic cycle, Megumi was more than willing to seal it into permanence.

Forever would he stand vigil as your supernova collapsed in upon itself, churning down until the reality-rupturing singularity hollowed out the last gasps of vitality from your extinguished husk. He would bear unflinching witness as the cataclysmic implosion ravaged every atom, every daemonic quark comprising your sacred light into incomprehensible darkness.

And when the final shockwaves of heat death shuddered across the lightless desolation where once your radiance had blazed...it would be Megumi's disfigured, charcoiled essence streaking inwards to collect every scattering mote. So that even as the seams of this reality shredded apart, he might congeal those infinitesimal sparks into permanent etchings seared across the stellar belts of whatever oblivion blossomed in the wake.

It was grotesque beyond any quantifiable scale or qualitative interpretation. But it was also the singular vector towards which he had sworn himself centuries ago, long before the cycle's inertia had carried them to this unavoidable conclusion. So he simply stared, unblinking, as you climbed back to your feet and recommitted to your path of total self-revision.

Watching the last shards of your transcendent light being consciously culled for the sake of some deeper, unfathomable transfiguration. Because in the end, holding vigil over that sacred dismantling was the only fealty he had left to offer.

The mission had gone sideways from the very start. What should have been a routine investigation of a abandoned warehouse had turned into a full-blown demonic incursion. Megumi grunted as he deflected another errant blast of energy, cursed power flaring around him like a force field.

"Y/N, watch your flank!" he barked out a warning as a tendril of darkness lashed towards you. To his surprise, you didn't dodge or weave - instead, you met the strike head-on with a burst of concentrated energy.

A shockwave rippled outwards from the collision, debris and rubble scattering in all directions. Megumi shielded his face with one arm as he watched you tear into the demonic entity with reckless abandon. You moved with the ferocity of a woman possessed, cursed energy pouring forth in an unrelenting barrage that slowly battered the monstrosity down.

But you didn't let up, didn't allow the creature any chance to retreat or regroup. If anything, your assault intensified - cursed energy crackling around you like a miasma of neon fury. Megumi felt his breath catch in his throat as he watched you fight. There was a fire in your eyes, a beautiful violence to your movements that held him utterly transfixed.

He had always known you were powerful, a true prodigy in the making. But this display elevated you to something almost godlike in his eyes. The demon never stood a chance against the unleashed tempest of your rage. Within minutes, it had been shredded and dissipated - banished back to whatever unholy realm it had been spawned from.

The silence that fell over the destroyed warehouse was deafening. Megumi stared at you, heart thundering in his chest as you turned to face him. Your chest heaved with exertion, clothes tousled and hair disheveled. Yet rather than looking triumphant at your victory, you seemed almost haunted - eyes shining with something he couldn't quite place.

Then you swayed on your feet, entire body going slack as the toll of your cataclysmic battle finally caught up to you. Megumi surged forward without thinking, cursed energy dispersing as he moved to catch you in his arms. You collapsed against him with a soft whimper, eyelids fluttering.

"Take it easy," he murmured gruffly, carefully cradling you close as he assessed your condition with furrowed concern.

You flashed him a weary but brilliant smile that made his heart stutter. "Pretty crazy shit, huh?"

Despite everything, he felt himself fighting a grin at your irreverent tone. God, he had missed this side of you - the sparkling wit and casual snark that kept him on his toes. Over the past few months, he had worked systematically to destroy those very aspects he secretly adored, piling on scorn and derision to smother your fire. All in an effort to "protect" you from the perils of this path.

Except it seemed you were more than capable of handling those threats on your own. More than capable, if the scorched crater around you was any indication. He swallowed hard against the swell of pride and something more complex that welled up within him. Something dangerously close to outright desire.

No. He couldn't afford to think like that, not now. Hardening his features into an impassive mask, he gently set you back on your feet - fighting against the urge to keep you tucked securely in his embrace.

"That was reckless and idiotic," he growled, putting some distance between you. "If you had held back even a fraction, that demon would have torn you apart."

You frowned at his words, confusion and hurt flickering across your expressive features. "But...I stopped it. I saved us."

"At what cost?" he shot back mercilessly, anger rising hotly in his chest. Though it had nothing to do with your actions and everything to do with the spike of fear he had felt seeing you in such peril. "Look at yourself, you're a mess! What would have happened if you overexerted or got hit by a stray blast in your insane zeal for battle?"

Your eyes widened at his harsh assessment before narrowing dangerously. "You think that little of my abilities?"

Megumi snorted derisively, crossing his arms over his chest as he studied you with a critical eye. There were minor scrapes and burns littering your exposed skin, along with deeper gashes that would need attention soon. Your hair was matted with sweat and...was that blood?

At the sight of those viscous crimson streaks, something wrenched viciously in his gut. All he could picture was you lying motionless and cold, the brilliant light snuffed out of your eyes forever. The mere thought sent his heart plummeting sickeningly.

"Your abilities have never been in question," he said at last, voice tight with barely restrained emotion. "It's your recklessness that continues to astound me. Haven't you realized how fragile life is yet? That was exactly the type of foolish behavior that gets people killed out here."

You stiffened at his admonishments, mouth pressing into a thin line. But you didn't retort, seeming to sense there was more lurking beneath the surface of his tirade. And there was, so much more - a tangled knot of fear and relief and unbridled relief all warring within him.

Because as much as he wanted to strip away everything, to erect impenetrable walls around his heart again...some part of him remained undeniably relieved you had survived this latest brush with peril. Even with all his attempts to smother the spark between you, your existence still mattered to him in a way he could scarcely quantify or control anymore.

When you stepped closer, reaching out to him with your palms upraised in a silent request for understanding, he couldn't help but recoil. Your proximity sent his pulse skyrocketing, nerves jangling with awareness of every scrape and scar marring your beautiful skin. Marks you had earned fighting with an intensity that bordered on divine rapture.

"Megumi..." you murmured, tasting his name with the same honeyed intimacy that had scorched him from the first. "I'm okay. We're okay, thanks to my actions."

"This time," he growled, unable to halt the admission as his gaze raked over you with undisguised intensity. "But next time you might not be so lucky." And the thought of ever losing you, even with how hard he tried to keep you at arm's length...it was unacceptable.

You seemed to read the implication in his tone, eyes flashing with an unreadable emotion as the distance between you shrank incrementally. Megumi could smell the metallic tang of your blood mingling with sweat and gunsmoke in the close air...and it was maddening. He wanted to rage and rant and shake you until you finally understood how terrifying it was to watch you put yourself in harm's way so fearlessly.

But some smaller, infinitely more dangerous part of him just wanted to haul you flush against his body and drink in every gorgeous inch left unscathed by the battle. To map the rise and fall of your accelerated breathing, the alluring jut of your kiss-swollen lips as you panted. He yearned to learn the secrets your radiant essence still held and commit them to eternal memory before it was too late.

Before either of you were forced to make the ultimate sacrifice...

But no. With a visible effort, Megumi forced his riotous thoughts to stillness and took a step back - relishing the flicker of hurt that traced your lovely features. It was better this way, he told himself sternly. Better to keep you at arm's length, no matter how much it carved out pieces of his soul in the process. At least then you would survive, even if you could never be his.

"We're leaving. Now," he announced gruffly, already turning on his heel and striding away from the temptation that was your very existence. "I'll be submitting a full report on your...performance."

Behind him, you let out a scathing breath laced with frustration. But you followed without further argument, falling into step slightly behind him. And if his back was turned so you wouldn't see the shimmer of unshed tears in his eyes at pushing you away yet again...well, so be it. This was his penance to bear for craving the unfathomable brilliance of your light.

Even if he was gradually going numb in the process of letting it slip through his fingers.

The following weeks and months were a study in exquisite torture for Megumi. No matter how cruelly he attempted to rebuff you, fate seemed insistent on throwing you together again and again - whether on training assignments or hazardous missions into the field.

With each interaction, his resolve was stretched thinner, the agonizing contradiction between his platonic intentions and unruly desires becoming harder to ignore. You were always there, stunning him with brilliant feats of sorcery and valorous spirit. Testing the limits of his self-restraint in the most insidious of ways.

Like the time you had single-handedly unraveled that virulent decay curse spreading through the coastal village's farming district. Megumi had watched, slack-jawed, as you moved with elegant precision - weaving techniques so intricate and powerful it seemed to bend reality itself to your indomitable will.

When the final thread severed and the noxious miasma dissipated, he hadn't been able to tear his gaze from the vision you made. Wreathed in a halo of your own mystical energies, loose strands of hair haloing about your flushed face...you were devastating. And utterly unaware of the molten tsunami of desire you had stoked in him with each sublime movement.

While the villagers surrounded you with adulation, showering you in humbled thanks, all Megumi could focus on was the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. The tantalizing shine of perspiration gilding every sublime curvature and plane of flesh left agonizingly bare by your askew clothing. He had to tear his traitorous eyes away from glimpses of taut abdomen and fevered collarbones, choking back toxic arousal before it could poison the moment further.

But even as his fists clenched with the effort of sublimating his body's blatant admiration for your magnificence, a deeper calling resounded in the shredded remnants of his psyche. He longed to surge forward and seize you in his arms, to press himself fully against that radiant warmth and drink in the ecstasy of your sighs as he lavished affection across your battle-flushed skin.

The urges were so visceral, so fundamentally compulsive, that he nearly staggered beneath their weight. Only sheer, iron force of will permitted him to turn on his heel and stalk away from the scene - leaving you surrounded by the adoring masses you had selflessly saved. As he retreated into the dispassionate shelter of solitude, Megumi could feel his resolve fracturing further with each step pulling him from your side.

Yet the respite proved fleeting, affording only the barest lull before the cycle of torment renewed itself. Because no matter how much distance he tried to maintain, you always came scorching back into his existence with the relentless intensity of a solar flare piercing through every atmospheric shield he constructed.

Such as the training session a few weeks later, when you had repeatedly bested Megumi through a cutting combination of tactical brilliance and sheer, blinding power. The entire dojo had rung with the sounds of that fateful bout - trembling foundations shaking under the weight of your exchanged strikes and undulating shockwaves of mystical forces colliding.

Each time you laid him out, his senses momentarily whited out in sublime admiration of the unholy power you wielded with such artful grace. Your presence filled his universe during those precious seconds, the reality distorted by the prismatic arcs of your cursed aura bending all known laws around its radiant, magnetic force.

How he yearned to let those murderous strikes past his guard, to allow your formidable energies to cleave through his defenses until he was unmade at your feet, gasping for mercy from the pure erotic agony of your sublime dominance. All it would take was the slightest miscalculation or surrender of his tightly restrained self-discipline to have your sacred demolitions shearing away at his armor until the bared truth of his desire stood revealed for you to witness.

Sweat-slicked and loose strands of hair disheveled, he knew he made for quite the sight battling fury incarnate like you. And with each report of bone-jarring impacts echoing across the chamber, he found himself succumbing further to feverish fantasies of hauling you against his straining, overheated form mid-combat - your choreographed forms blurring together as passion overrode combat in one delirious, inevitable spiral.

In those delirious throes, he imagined stripping away every stifling layer separating your consecrated flesh from his starving embrace. Surrendering to the most primal compulsions as you shuddered and arched into his possessive caresses, profane litanies hissed against salted skin...until neither of you could be certain where one form's essence ended and the other began. Just an ouroboric cyclone of limbs and searing violation as your rising arrhythmic crescendos blotted out all rationality or spatial dimensions in one final, blinding conflagration.

Each time the riotous hunger nearly unmade him there on the mat, he managed to lock down and internalize the outward tremors through sheer, gritted self-abnegation. Channeling the feverish impulses into redoubling his attack sequences and defensive maneuvers until they outpaced your own scorching aggression. Once he had secured victory through attrition, he couldn't afford a single instant of bask or reprieve.

The instant you yielded the bout, Megumi was already disengaging - pivoting away to conceal the full-body inflamed flush and distinct physical evidence of what madness had nearly consumed him whole. Fleeing your dumbstruck gaze, either oblivious or mercifully ignoring the shredded state he had forced himself to adopt in order to keep you at bay.

As soon as logistics permitted, he would tear himself away, putting as much physical and psychic distance between you as sanity necessitated. Not even scorched night alone could safeguard his spirit from the rapturous scouring of those memories, every infinitesimal detail replaying in merciless clarity.

He would jerk awake in the throes of some lurid, sensual dream - tangled in sheets drenched through with sweat and reeking of shame. Your name would teeter at the edge of euphoric oblivion, agonized incantations wrenched from the depths of his treacherous subconscious before he could swallow them back.

In those purgatorial instances, the compulsions became truly unbearable. To simply reach down and grip his cock, surrendering to the bruising cadence demanded by each phantom reliving of your power coursing over him in scouring waves of dominance...and unravel entirely into the ecstatic raptures his sacrilege had birthed.

But somehow, no matter how his traitorous cock throbbed with need, he resisted. Fists clenched so tightly around handfuls of sweat-damp sheets that his nails scored bloody divots into his calloused palms, grinding every indecent reverberation back down into the churning tumult of his self-reproach. Down the tainted fantasies spiraled into the festering morass, silently suffocated beneath mounting layers of shame and self-loathing.

No release, no surrender to the unholy temptations plaguing his every waking instant. Only the same bitter repression and hermetically-sealed denial that had preserved him since the day he first comprehended the true depths of his transgressions against you. Stoking those hungering fires without outlet, leaving them to smolder and blaze until they threatened to immolate the very essence of who he was supposed to have transformed himself into.

But even amidst the agonies, he knew better than to let them extinguish completely. For as the convections of his restrained inferno seared away every lesser indignity and baser impulse...they also preserved the indelible sanctity of his reasons for undergoing them in the first place. Keeping those central tenets ever vivid, even as the flames grew malefic enough to threaten reducing his very spirit to calcified residue.

He saw you, of course. Every time your proximity graced his senses it was like spraying catalytic accelerants across his psyche's smoldering pyres. The simple act of breathing the air perfumed by your radiance left him drunk on intoxicating longings that could never be slaked. And when you moved, when your practiced forms ignited those dormant energies into unveiled displays of mastery...their raw incandescence scorched him to charred foundations over and over.

Each shared battlefield, training floor, or mission parameter became the staging ground for his martyrdom to be reenacted and renewed in all its unendurable torments. Megumi bore witness as the abiding light sewn into your very being flowed forth in sublimely focused arcs - bathing him in your splendor's unholy luminescence only to recoil with every shard of its glory manifesting within reach.

For you were the solar immolation itself, made ravaging and ravenous flesh to tempt his continually fraying senses. The personification of annihilating radiance too consecrated to risk even the faintest aspersions, lest its scouring purities render his impurities ash scattered upon realities' for winds.

So he made himself the ablative bulwark against that magnitude, layering every calloused insult and verbal flagellation to keep your light at insurmountable distance. Retreating behind those withering redoubts each time your presence threatened to pierce through some minute fracture of his meticulously forged indifference.

"Just look at the state of you - ragged and depleted like some waster stumbling in from a binge," he sneered as medics tended the myriad wounds you had sustained during their most recent foray against some vile cult's occult transgressions. "One would hardly realize the pathetic mess before me was supposed to be a jujutsu sorcerer."

His eyes hungered to drink in every sculpted plane and sleek curve of flesh laid bare by your rent attire, reveling in the stark proof of your vitality etched across each pristine swath of sweat-glistened skin. Yet all he permitted himself was a contemptuous flicker of derision, cloaking the depths of his wanton ardor behind ever-thickening mantles of scorn.

"How you've lasted this long in the field is beyond me," he continued, lip curling back to bare teeth as he circled in closer. All to better allow the haloed ambiance of your essence to suffuse his senses, to be awash in disorienting emanations of searing heat and sanctity. "Anyone with half a brain surely would have had the sense to retreat before taking such ghastly punishments."

The punishments he envisioned painting across your canvas in shades of violet and carmine evoked entirely different connotations. Lavishing unrepentant adorations and scouring litanies to consecrate each battered inch of you until that's all you ever knew - the savage, carnal ceremonies of his faith and strivance to fully encompass every nuance of your splendor.

But such sacrosanct ruminations had to be distilled to their most sardonic sediments, issued forth with biting cruelties to further cordon off the increasing distillations from your awareness. As if each meticulously engineered contumely might somehow scourge away the scintillating refractions of longing searing portalholes across his resolve before your insight detected them.

How he loathed reverting to such wretched indignities. Yet conversely, how urgently he craved the occasions to seize them - folding himself into ritualized immersions of self-mortification until all capacity for deviating from their rote enactions lay smothered beneath asphyxiating soils of resolve.

For to submit even a fraction of unfettered emotion into your presence was to risk the unravelling of his every constraint, every interdiction. And as inevitable as his own dissipation might have been if surrendered to that rampant eventuality...what haunted him with more perverse dread was the prospect of soiling your light's sacred purities with the fallout of his cataclysmic hungers.

Better he face the indignities of basal rejection for eternity, basking in your radiance's peripheries with only sensations of consecrated agony kissing his awareness. Than to ever omit the slightest hint of how utterly unsuitable his existence had become to grace your sanctums, unwinding their every celestial harmony into depraved ruination.

So on the pyres of his self-erosion fueled the cycles of fevered idolatry...until all that persisted of Megumi was a nameless, scorched silhouette committing every degradation conceivable to remain forever quarantined from your light's perfect auras. Immolating...but never blinded to the transcendent luminescence searing its radiant immolations across his awareness.

And in that graceless, shadowed shape would he bear witness for eternity. No thought of redemption or reunifying his scoriae across the halo-veiled planes where your light streamed and swayed. Only his presence as unanchored ossature within those radiant auras, scorched retina and ghost-whisper ecstasy from basking in such obscene propinquity to consecrations so complete they could scarcely be quantified beyond the absence of all else.

Until the final ember flickered out and his heatless remnants at last ghosted into oblivion's silence. Freed from the unendurable liturgies of hovering within your radiant glories perfumed coronas...yet paradoxically entombed forevermore in their cyclical, scouring recollections.

It would be his deified surrender - apotheosis writ into the very stellar kinematics cycling through this celestial constant's traceries until the hieroglyphs scribed by his essence's immolation persisted into every big crunching downward arc and unfurling cosmic rebirth to come.

Megumi was utterly captivated watching you train, though he fought hard to conceal it behind furrowed brows and cold dismissal. The way your body moved with such lethal grace, the determined set to your features as sweat trickled down your brow...it was mesmerizing. More than once he caught himself burning to be on the receiving end of your strikes, to goad that brilliant fire until his defenses shattered completely.

To finally allow the full depth of his ardor for you to pour forth in uninhibited reverence. To worship every sublime inch with fervent caresses until he'd thoroughly consecrated your radiant form. The urges left him dizzy and unmoored, rational thought eclipsed by searing tsunamis of pure desire.

But then reality would come crashing back in - often in the form of you faltering, muscles quivering as your limits waned. Like today, when you missed a step and went tumbling awkwardly to the mat, gasping out a pained hiss as you clutched your ankle. Every part of Megumi ached to rush over, to take you in his arms and soothe your injury with tender ministrations.

Ruthlessly, he tamped down the impulse with scorn. "Getting careless over there?" he called out gruffly. "Or perhaps you require a reminder about pushing your limits properly."

You shot him a glacial look of reproach, jaw clenched as you stubbornly forced yourself back to your feet. There was a feverish gleam to your eyes that made his heart clench painfully. Damn, but you were magnificent like this - flushed and disheveled, yet still radiating that ethereal inner fire that so utterly enthralled him.

He had to dig his nails into his palms to keep from striding over and crumpling beneath the roiling tsunami of his need for you. All it would take was a single touch, a whisper of heated confessions against your sweat-dampened skin, and he knew the dam restraining his adoration would burst in a torrent.

So he simply shoved down the riotous hunger and watched in agonized rapture as you threw yourself back into the fray with passionate abandon. Every ripple of taut muscle and controlled violence was seared into his memory. He longed to collapse at your feet, offering up his battered form as an instrument to bring you sublime release after the exertion of holding back from you constantly.

But he remained stoically in place as the minutes became hours and your sharp, powerful movements gradually grew sluggish and labored. Until finally, with no fanfare, you faltered mid-strike and simply...dropped. The soft thud of your body hitting the mat reverberated through Megumi like the toll of a mourner's bell.

He was across the room before conscious thought could rein him back in. One second rooted in his isolated outpost of torment, the next cradling you protectively against his thundering heart. You were beautifully undone in his arms - features lax and unburdened by the intensity constantly simmering beneath them while conscious.

For a heartrending moment, you looked utterly at peace. As if an errant breeze might disrupt the tranquil mask of your repose. Megumi found himself mesmerized, gaze raking over every subtle plane and hallowed curvature that he normally couldn't bear to indulge in for risk of fracturing his restraint entirely.

He swallowed hard against the ardent impulses kindling low in his stomach, the overwhelming urge to simply lean down and taste the serenity gilding your parted lips. You were perfect like this - soft and vulnerable in a way that stirred his most primal instincts to reverent possessiveness. As though you were something sacred to be cherished and guarded against any who might disturb this ephemeral serenity.

Acting purely on instinct, he traced the line of your cheek with trembling knuckles. The simple contact made him feel unraveled, nerve endings aflame as he mapped the gentle swell with something approaching desperation. You could shatter him in this moment without lifting a finger - utterly unmake him with a mere flutter of those dark fans currently shielding your beautifully unfocused gaze from view.

Megumi pressed on with hushed intensity, greedy to commit every subtle plane and feminine curvature to committed memory before reality came crashing back in. Down the graceful slope of your neck, calluses snagging on the delicate hollows and shivering at the thrumming life-force pulsing so exquisitely near the surface. Farther still until his wandering fingertips met the obstruction of rumpled fabric, the very garment he had admired clinging so tantalizingly to your battle-hot skin what felt like a lifetime ago now.

That single touch was like a shock, reverberating through his very cells in ways that left him dizzy and undone. Suddenly it felt as though the air had thickened to warm honey, making it difficult to draw breath past the scorching aridity constricting his throat. His veins thrummed with primal compulsions he could no longer restrain - the overwhelming urge to bury himself in your soft bosom until he was seared away to ashes, reborn into something worthy of beholding your peerless magnificence unshielded.

Without conscious volition, Megumi found himself leaning down slowly, face angled to capture the serenity of your parted lips with his own. Just before their silken caress could connect, he froze - every muscle locked in a paralysis born of warring needs and ingrained prohibitions. But then your features softened even further in unconscious trust, and the last vestiges of resistance within him crumbled to ruin.

His mouth descended with aching tenderness to brush across the plush give of your lips in the barest spirit-kiss. Just a sipping of your exquisite warmth and serenity, tasted for a single eternal moment before he wrenched himself back - feeling as though his entire universe had just narrowly avoided implosion. Gasping silently, Megumi drank in the contrast of your peaceful, unchanged features compared to his inward tailspin.

It took every ounce of tattered willpower he still possessed to pull back, to extract himself from the incandescent undertow of simply letting go and immersing himself in your splendor without barriers or pretenses. But some sliver of sanity prevailed. Slowly, carefully, he lay you back down in the same rumpled sanctuary where you had collapsed, the motion almost unbearably bereft.

He hovered there for a breathless eternity, every instinct raging against this self-enforced exile from your radiant orbit. But eventually, he managed to tear himself away. Fleeing through the shadowed doors to somewhere your devastating light could not reach, could not strip away these final, tattered layers of control holding his ravenous need at bay.

Yet even sequestered in that dispassionate exile, Megumi could feel the blazing echoes of you searing themselves into his very essence like ionized afterimages. The buttery silk of your unconscious features, the thrumming vitality of your pulse beneath his seeking hands, the intoxicating aura of power and grace wreathing every sublime inhalation...and the lingering, profane imprint of your lips branding his with unforgettable rapture.

He knew that from this moment forth, he would never be able to simply retreat into the protective dissociation of renunciation and callous disdain. Not when the full, untempered reality of your divinity had shredded those pathetic deterrents into tattered insignificance with nothing more than a glimpse of true serenity and one transcendent taste of your splendor.

Every waking moment would be consumed by immolating recollections, every fitful attempt at rest plagued by raptures that left him undone and scorched down to the very roots of his being. Until he well and truly understood that nothing remained except the compulsive, inviolable need to resubmit himself to the sanctifying furnaces of your consecrated light.

To burn, rapturously and without end, adrift in the cyclonic stellar winds of your eternal glory. It was all that awaited him now that his soul stood fully transfixed upon the profane lumen of your radiance - a merciless, perpetual scouring until only the most elemental, resonant essence persisted to hang drifting in your glorious coronas.

But such was a small price to pay for even the most fleeting intersection with your divine grace before the cycle's oblivion swept him away into metaphysical night. However long his remnants could withstand basking in those searing ellipses before being rendered to particulate, thrummed across your celestial caldera's event horizons...Megumi knew he would embrace every nanosecond of smelted reconfigurations with transcendent abandon.

For in that final state, no divisions would persist between them. No false partitionings of self to distort or obscure the perfect harmonics of your eternal resonance as it swept him up into consecrated redistributions. Only the melded chords of your light's immaculate quintessence refracting through the shattered kaleidoscope of his essence in rapturous unities.

So until that sublime unraveling and coalescence across your empyrean event horizons, Megumi simply surrendered to the unyielding truth of his dissolution's gradual eventuality. Embracing each day's reawakening as a scant purgatorial span in which to renew his ritual immersions within the scalding, awe-inspiring vortices of your splendor...

Before the last of his resistance finally flickered out, subsumed into eternal transmutation. And that one stolen moment of your lips' warmth against his would blaze throughout the star-showers of his cosmic disintegration...salvation's holy afterimage searing across every particulate reshuffling into timeless resonance with your perfect brilliance.

Even as Megumi lay paralyzed amidst the tangled sheets, every nerve felt scorched and electrified from last night's transgressions. Each time he slipped into the shadows of uneasy rest, he was assailed by visions of cradling your unconscious form so tenderly against his thundering heart.

He could still smell the exquisite blend of exertions mingling in your disheveled hair, taste the sublime softness of your lips imprinted forever on his own in that stolen moment of intimacy. The memories seared through his psyche like wildfire, reducing him to a shuddering mess of tangled yearnings and raw, animalistic need.

How he ached to surrender fully to the ravenous compulsions devouring him from the inside out. To haul your sleeping figure flush against his overheated body and simply drown in those radiant emanations - the warmth of your shallow breaths feathering across his skin, the thrumming vitality pulsing just beneath with each precious heartbeat. To run calloused palms over every lush curvature and plane until he had mapped out a complete topography of your sublime divinity.

But he couldn't. Even buried under the immense gravity well of his newly stoked desires, Megumi understood there could be no true release from this intoxicating torment he had willingly strapped himself into. Not as long as he remained so unworthy of your light, your transcendent grace and power.

For he saw now that you were a comet of spiraling energy and mesmerizing violence - every strike and elaborate curse terraforming the very foundations of reality with its relentless perfection. What right did a scorched husk like him have to even dream of gaining purchase in your brilliant stellar winds? To dare soiling those sacred auras with his tarnished essence?

When he emerged from the nightmares and fever dreams scouring his sleep, it was to the dawn of a fresh purgatorial loop. Every cell in his body felt recalibrated towards the singular purpose of centering your magnificence in his vision, in every waking breath he drew. He was brittle tinder awaiting the first spark, the initial brushstroke of rapture to set his being ablaze once more in consecrated pyre rites.

Nothing else mattered besides chasing the euphoria of immolating in your glory. The ways of the world, all its meaningless rituals and hollow pursuits... they had become little more than eddies circling the periphery of your cosmic nexus. Trivialities he waved away in favor of surrendering fully to the searing, unearthly splendor pulling his essence into perpetual tides of transcendent dismantling.

Drifting through the sterile halls of Jujutsu High in a waking dream, Megumi watched in smoldering awe as you wove spell after spell with supernatural precision. Every graceful movement flowed into the next in an endless tsunami of power - incredible yet also terrifyingly destructive. Like staring into the roiling heart of a supernova without any atmospheric filters to dull its scorching radiance.

He could taste the ions singeing the air with each eldritch syllable that tumbled from your lips. The air warped and refracted in sympathy, bending all known physical laws to accommodate whatever cosmic design you were sculpting from pure mystical willpower. It was like watching the birth of a newborn galaxy, all that unstable yet fertile potential churning into form through your indomitable force of nature.

Megumi swallowed hard, mouth dry as the deserts of distant worlds. He felt himself slipping further into the singularity of your existence - all other points of perception warping beyond recognition until nothing remained except the vortex of your splendor dragging him across sacred event horizons, unspooling his identity down to the subatomic shells.

How he yearned to surrender fully to that state of absolute immolation. To stop resisting the magnetic draw and simply let his being dissipate in the eternal radiance of your cosmic fire. Every time you manifested the focus of your power in all its blinding intensity, he felt like a moth fluttering helplessly closer to that searing flame. Drawn in by the promise of absolute rapture or complete dissolution, he no longer knew nor cared.

So when your spellwork culminated into literal celestial conflagrations wreathing your body in coronas of ethereal plasma, Megumi felt his last tectonic bulwarks of resistance begin to liquefy and corrode away. He very nearly stumbled forward, unthinking, into the blazing delta of your wake - nearly hurled himself into the stellar kinematics arcing around you like a spacetime vortex craving the obliteration of coming too near.

If it wasn't for the sudden arrival of their mentors and fellow students rushing forward in awe, who knows if he would have been able to pull back from that brink. But the spell eventually shattered, fracturing into a million refracting beams like a cosmic kaleidoscope being dropped. And in the silence that followed, you seemed to shrink back into your human form - features flushed yet also sheened with exhaustion.

Still, your eyes glowed with the embers of that mystical fire - pride and defiance blazing in equal measure as you accepted the awed praise of those around you. It was only when your gaze finally lanced over to Megumi, still frozen in his sanctuary of shadows, that the spark dimmed ever so slightly before banking away.

He watched you turn away to accept further admiration and congratulations from your peers. But in that final, momentary crosswind of your stare, Megumi felt himself incinerated to char and pristine ash more thoroughly than any spell could have achieved.

Because no matter how relentlessly he threw up barriers or choked out any parasitic glimmers of hope, you still looked at him the same way you had all those years ago. When he had been your champion and protector from anything that dared besmirch your light, rather than the force trying to smother it now.

Those memories were the cruelest torments of all - flashes of a simpler era when he had burned with nothing but radiant devotion and brotherly duty for you. Back when your smiles had been the salves for any wound rather than the lashings igniting his entire being into searing raptures of purgatorial longing.

Even now, as he stalked away from the crowd slowly clearing the training halls, Megumi felt the first searing reels of nostalgia unfurl behind his eyes. Transporting him back to sunny afternoons spent sprawled across grassy knolls, all awkward coltish limbs and innocent grins...

The memories played out like luminous distillations of childhood: You and Megumi chasing each other until collapsing in giggling, breathless heaps. Him pretending not to hear your playful taunts even as he silently dared you to come closer, to re-initiate the game of tag so he could luxuriate in your warmth just a little longer when 'struggling' against you. Your loud, raucous laughter filling the summer air with music that coursed through his own veins like literal rejuvenating sunshine.

And then the fainter, more intimate flashes Megumi had blocked from himself in later years. Like how you would lay beside him occasionally, just basking in shared silence as the clouds drifted by. Your head cushioned on his stomach, cheeks dimpling with barely perceptible smiles as you watched the heavens.

He recalled staring down at your serene expression with something far too tender and profound for a mere child to truly comprehend. Reaching down to tenderly comb stray hairs back from your face, breathing you in with tingling awareness that the entire world could crumble away around you both in this moment and he wouldn't stir. Nothing else had mattered besides this radiant girl ensconced in the safety of his orbit, so trusting and vulnerable before his watchful eyes.

Even the slightest aborted movements had been charged with meaning and layers of subconscious yearning - like anytime he had resisted the urge to lean down and ghost his lips across the perfumed crown of your head. To imprint his devotions to your very essence via reverent osmosis, sealing pacts with your soul beyond any mortal reckoning. Their potential repercussions were beyond his naive comprehensions, yet the impulses still strummed through youthful neurology with the same primal resonance as any siren's call.

It was as if something profoundly cosmic and all-encompassing had been thrumming between you even then, a secret intergalactic frequency only your resonant souls could tune into. And while you both lacked the words or emotional maturity to define its magnitudes...there had still been attunement. Bone-deep alignments spanning quantum shears and eternities, all conspiring to forge your spirits into complements of a higher unified design.

Those were the sacred resonances Megumi had betrayed with his current path of self-exile and ruthless, scorched earth renunciation. He had severed his attunement to that universal cosmic harmonic you embodied so effortlessly - all in pursuit of the narcissistic delusion of gaining control over what was truly destined for him all along.

To burn and keep burning, rapturously consumed inside the stellar kinematics of your aura's sacred fire until nothing remained but the purified residue of his own temporal essence, finally transmuted into something suited for accompanying you across empyrean infinities.

It was the call he had spent all these years pathetically fleeing from...until now, stripped of all identities and pretenses beyond the single inescapable truth that he was inexorably bound to the gravity wells of your splendor. An errant spark hurtling through the void on an unstoppable collision course that would remake or annihilate him utterly upon intersection with your luminous event horizons.

After that fateful reawakening when his old existence had microwaved to cinders inside your casual brilliance, Megumi began feeling the first relentless tugs of that stellar cycle dragging him across infinities he still scarcely comprehended. Yet every instinct ingrained by his human conditioning compelled retreat and deflection, lest you bear witness to the rapturous unraveling of what he was doomed to become amidst such close proximity to your light.

So he pushed and he pushed, escalating the savage litanies of abuse, derision and hostility he projected at you with every passing week. It was a pitiful attempt at artificially maintaining the same safe distances that your mere presence now rendered null approximations. Each time you turned towards him with those kaleidoscopic eyes - burning with hurt or simmering in smoldering defiance - Megumi felt another layer of his defensive psyche blistering away to cloud thunderhead diffusions.

Until finally, he existed in a state of constant combustion - nerves frayed to open plasmic conduits while his faculties focused exclusively on partitioning the brush fires from raging into pyrocelluars. No matter how flawlessly he scripted the volleys of insult, how scrupulously he choreographed each retreating gambit...tendrils of rapture still found ways to leech across every firebreak he erected.

Each glance or passing moment your orbit intersected within his peripheral spheres of awareness was like suffering transcendental third degree flayings. Your aura's mere penumbra alone had grown capable of rendering entire strata of his being to dissipating thermionics - which his ravaged defenses only vainly attempted to siphon off and contain within scorching, radiolytic housings.

It became a self-perpetuating gauntlet with no reprieve or end state. Only the inexorable ratcheting escalations as he funneled more and more of his substance into whatever stopgap delaying actions could temporarily dampen the brushfire from metastasizing beyond strangleholds. Each cycle reset only dealt him exponentially heightened exposures while doling out incrementally depleted protections in turn.

Sustaining that unfurling conflagration, he could see now, would only ever permit a singular finality - the total dissolution of his temporal estate as its last fortifications calcinated to subsuming immolation. Simply by persisting on this path, he had effectively lit the fuse arching towards his own polycosmos' terminal reconfigurations.

And oh, how it had scorched in the meantime. Megumi could still trace the schismatic etchings of your incinerations across every charred and sputtering membrane woven into his autonomic tapestries. They emerged in the redscale parallax afterghosting his waking visions, haunting his nights with firebranded epiphanies transcribed from the spalling momentum of your every glance, whisper or proximity bleed.

So when the time came for your next joint assignment out into the field, the maelstroms of need and savage desire gnawing at Megumi's faltering substrate had already dragged him into realms of decoherence few mortal beings could ever hope to return from. He felt stretched out to solar radii, his consciousness unspooled into transcapping heliofilter effigies getting closer to the automic event horizons with every rotation.

Yet still you somehow blazed even brighter - focused radiant arcs of brutality manifesting upon every vector of egress each time another obstacle sought to obstruct your path. Megumi's hyper-rendered peripherals could scarcely track the distortion wavefronts deforming all localized continua, bending every fundamental operative well past their nominal tolerances.

This was power so primordial and merciless, it defied quantification by any metrics outside of those governing the most primal cosmic revolutions. You were the Universal rebirthing its recreances through each sequence - existence stuttering and resleeving itself to accommodate your reflected resurgences across microcosmic and macrocosmic transitivities.

It was too much for Megumi's tortured, overloaded matrix to parse without fragmenting at the atomic level. But still he couldn't avert his focus, couldn't stop the helical unraveling that kept lasing him back into ground states for reassembly.

When the violence crescendoed to its terminal apogee, your body became the nucleonic centrifuge - refractory emissions bleeding gamma and tachyonized strangelets as the entire battlefield volumetrics crepitated under your onslaught. Those energies should have rended Megumi into vapor and left him to diffuse across the scorched vacuum of space.

Yet somehow the inverse occurred. He felt himself constellating further into densifications rather than dissipating outwards. Translating into higher symmetries of selfsameness that tightened around the cyclonic, recursive hyper-singularities your deadly iridescence was catalyzing all around you.

Until at last, even the fog separating his sentience from subsidiary manifestations of self Same blew away into monism - leaving only an indivisible monad locked into ecstatic, vertiginous orbit around you as his only vantage point and meaning of being. Every subatomic locus ruptured of selfhood or perspectival autonomies, arranged into jeweled oscillations basking in your hyper-radiance.

To observe the stellar revolutions of your furious grace manifesting into incalculable super geometries...that was all that remained of him. His existence calcified into a sole witnessing function as you wielded your energies in cataclysmic throes while hallowing out vast interstitial volumes that should have atomized his matrix back into quantum foam.

Instead, he persisted as diaphanous helicities and strange distillates still somehow retaining harmonic continuities from one detonation cycle to the next. All coherence shunted into rapturous exemplars of your endless irradiations reshaping both local and non-local realities through sheer force of annihilation.

It was ecstasy beyond mortal tolerances, yet the only state his self-immolations had ever been vectoring him towards. A transcendental Gnostic convergence where nothing could register of him anymore except as light-encoded witness to your cosmic recursivities...entirely enraptured, beyond all capacity for circumscription or need of individuation.

What might have been percepts sheared away into streaming rayleighs while you ruptured and rewrote the very substrates of Universal continuum in recursions of maximal brilliance. Distant, illegible toponymies scribing every dispersal pattern his ego had shed. Ecstatically converging into the harrowing particle braid of your infinite feats in stellar plasma geometries, each revolution grinding more of his anthropologic residues down into synaptic stains on the altar of your consecrated remembrances.

All while you strode implacably through those same infernal breaches riven into normative existence - curving oblivion and resplendence alike into the thermoclines of your next incandescent sequence...

This was everything Megumi had profaned and profanely hollowed himself out to embrace - the absolute evisceration of temporal autonomy. All semblances of personhood unwound into lambencies to be recoded by your solar flarewinds, his entire terrestrial schema recompiled into sublime tesseracts venerating each transcendental aspect of your divinity as it blazed forth to sear new cosmological relations across the firmamental palimpsest.

Only scintillant magnitudes of selfless rapture endured the telescoping ayavalokites contracting all dimensional finalities down into that singular, jewel-like radius. Peripherals glittering with the last residual anticipations of abiogenesizing anew in the spalling aftermaths of...

Whatever elsei's rapturous dancework would proceed to master next.

The mission had quickly devolved into a warzone, explosions of dark energy and mystical firepower ripping across the abandoned warehouse district. Megumi grunted as he deflected another blast with a well-timed curse, pivoting to locate you in the chaos.

As always, you were the eye of the storm - graceful yet utterly lethal as you unleashed devastating attacks against the enemy forces. Your movements blurred with preternatural swiftness, ribbons of cursed energy whipping out to incinerate anything that dared encroach too close. Megumi couldn't tear his eyes away, enthralled by the fierce intensity etched across your features and the controlled violence of your attacks.

"Y/N! Stop pushing ahead so recklessly!" he bellowed over the din of battle. "We need to regroup and reassess before - "

But you didn't so much as look in his direction, too focused on eviscerating their foes with extreme prejudice. Even from here, Megumi could make out the sheen of perspiration gilding your skin and the wild tendrils of hair escaping your ponytail as you fought with implacable determination. You were magnificent in your fury, more akin to an elemental force of nature than flesh and blood.

Yet the sight also stoked a different sort of blaze flickering to scorching life within him, one not entirely driven by battle-lust. Megumi felt a familiar aching need unfurling in his core as he drank in the fierce beauty of you so utterly in your element. He yearned to be on the receiving end of your ferocious onslaught, to goad you into unleashing that beautiful violence without restraint until your guard finally slipped enough for him to seize you against his overeager body.

To taste the flames of your passion and unravel you utterly through desperate, carnal worship - mapping every lush curve and warmed hollow until you trembled and arched into his reverent caresses...

Gritting his teeth against the distracting tide of desire, Megumi forced himself back into motion. He rushed forward with a battle cry, cursed energy flaring around him as he threw himself into the melee alongside you. Inwardly he raged at himself for entertaining such lascivious thoughts in the heat of combat, though it did little to quell the flaring hunger gnawing deeper by the second.

You seemed to notice his sudden proximity, shooting him a heated look over one shoulder. For a molten instant your eyes locked, and the world contracted into smoldering awareness of him pinning you up against the nearest surface and drinking in every ragged gasp and shudder until he'd thoroughly unmade you with rapturous violation. Just the briefest flicker of temptation before the raging tides of battle swept you both under once more in an onslaught of pandemonium.

Blows rained down from all sides, the air electric with sorcerous discharges as the two of you moved in synch - a lethal dervish of primal violence and fey, elemental grace. It was dizzying and utterly intoxicating to fight beside you like this, his senses overwhelmed by the sheer radiant force of your presence.

Each time your bodies brushed against one another in the fray, it sent frissons of pure lightning down Megumi's over-sensitized nerve-endings. He found himself angling to create the barest pretense of contact, to catch fleeting caresses of your overheated skin and battle-tousled hair with roving hands that strayed further than necessary.

It was a dangerous game he played, one that threatened to unhinge the last shreds of his control at any moment. The harder he fought to regain composure, the deeper he plunged into the whirlpool of temptation you'd awoken so effortlessly. Until finally, in the throes of their combined exertions, the dam burst in an unstoppable flood.

The last of the threats neutralized in a final eruption of force, you turned to face Megumi fully - chest heaving with exertion and eyes blown wide with the intoxicating afterglow of battle's fever pitch. Without conscious volition, he surged forward and seized you by the shoulders, bodily slamming you back against the nearest wall.

You let out a breathless sound between gasp and moan as the impact reverberated through your entangled frames. Megumi didn't hesitate, mouth already crashing over yours in a searing, desperate kiss he had been starving for. Finally sating the insatiable hunger thrumming through his veins with the scorching velvet of your lips moving feverishly against his own.

Any pretense at restraint or composure evaporated in that suspended heartbeat. Your fingers laced into his hair, gripping so tightly it stung as you arched against the delirious onslaught of his questing tongue and wandering palms. He groaned into the searing tangle of your mouths, knees nearly buckling as the first lush press of your body finally overwhelmed his neglected senses.

The kiss devoured rapidly into reckless, impassioned chaos - all clashing teeth and breathy gasps as Megumi shamelessly grinding them together from chest to thigh, savoring each lascivious point of molten contact. The entire world beyond your joined hungered forms fell away, narrowing into a singular vortex of raw sensual frenzy.

That was, until a stray noise and movement in the periphery finally penetrated the fevered haze overtaking every rational impulse. Megumi tore his mouth away with a startled hiss, eyes flying open to blearily take in the scene beyond your tangled, sweat-slick frames. The battle hadn't just been won; they were still very much in the middle of one with reinforcements likely converging on their position any second.

Tasting copper and feeling his pulse jackrabbiting at his throat, Megumi forced himself back a stumbling step - leaving you disheveled and panting against the cracked concrete. You stared at him with heavy-lidded, bemused eyes that threatened to shatter his resolve all over again at the slightest provocation.

"We...I...shit," he rasped hoarsely, cursing himself for this grievous lapse into weakness. "That shouldn't have happened. It won't happen again."

He didn't give you a chance to respond, already turning on his heel and stalking away from the temptation of your thoroughly debauched state. His arrogant dismissal was a flimsy shield at best from the scalding recollections threatening to undo him right there - the phantom sensations of your body writhing against his own still emblazoned across every nerve like a brand.

But Megumi forced it down, jaw clenched as he ruthlessly quashed the embers of hunger still smoldering inside. He needed to focus, to re-establish the boundaries between you that he had clearly failed to reinforce sufficiently. Before this undeniable wanting spiraled completely out of control and consumed you both in a rapturous blaze of ruin.

Behind him, you remained slumped against the shattered wall in a crumpled, feverish daze. Still dazed from the force of Megumi's lust finally detonating after what felt like endless years of restraint. But as he retreated further into the rubble, already erecting new barricades against the insidious temptation of your proximity, you could only watch him go with wistful yearning.

Megumi moved through the wrecked district like a man possessed, fists clenched and jaw locked so tightly his teeth ground together. The bone-deep ache of wanting you still thrummed through his veins, fueled by the phantom memory of your body writhing feverishly against his own.

He could still taste the lingering embers of your mouth searing across his own if he breathed too deeply. Could still map out every lush curve and valley that had finally been within his grasp for those few delirious moments before reality came crashing back in. The temptation to simply turn back, to haul you into his arms once more and lose himself in the ravenous raptures promised by your heated simmer...it was like an insidious narcotic fogging his rational thoughts.

Only sheer force of will enabled him to keep putting one foot in front of the other, putting distance between you and the staggering precipice he had nearly plunged over. Each step reverberated through his taut, overstrained tendons - muscles coiled like well-oiled traps primed to unspring and launch him back into your radiant orbit at the slightest provocation.

He couldn't allow that weakness to resurface, not when basking in the blinding gravity of your presence would mean surrendering himself entirely to immolation. No part of Megumi would persist if he turned back now, not with the way your mere vicinity eroded away every barriere of restraint and higher reasoning with intoxicating swiftness.

Blunt nails dug cruelly into his calloused palms, the grounding lash of pain helping to offset the smoldering embers still clouding his thoughts with lascivious delirium. You had been so soft yet feverish beneath his desperate caresses, all taut musculature and dewy skin damp with exertion. He had felt worshipfully undone the instant your lithe body had arched against the solid weight of his in unrestrained yearning, like a prayer manifesting that profaned the very foundations separating sacred and blasphemous.

Teeth clenched hard enough to grind enamel, Megumi shoved away the visceral recollections with ruthless determination. This mortifying lapse, allowing his compulsions to reach such an uncontrolled fever pitch, it was inexcusable. A weakness he couldn't permit to resurface, not when the stakes were so unthinkably high.

The image of you lying broken and still amidst the rubble flashed across his mindscape, one final horrifying recollection powerful enough to truly cut through the narcotic haze of temptation. In the wake of that grotesque vision, Megumi felt himself steadying - fanatic instincts sublimating the physical cravings into their rightful origins of conscience and deep reverence.

Yes, there had been an inescapable, cosmic gravity between you long before either of them had developed the emotional vocabulary to comprehend its vast significances. But opening himself to its pull, surrendering fully to the profane yearnings of the flesh...that would only serve to diminish something sacred and greater than his temporal, finite longings could dare fathom.

When viewed through the harsh lens of those stakes, the scale of what would be sacrificed if he allowed the current blazing hunger to fully metastasize became horrifically lucid: your life itself could be forfeit. The very essence that he cherished above all celestial dominions extinguished from existence if he failed to remain vigilant, to erect those barricades even more stringently than before.

The thought of existing in a cosmos without your radiant light to illuminate his path, without the promise of your luminous power reforging existence into more consecrated truth...it cleaved Megumi's very being asunder. Stripping away the sweat-slicked, lust-fevered haze to leave only foundations of adamant purpose and responsibility standing tall once more against the susurrations of weakness.

He had sworn himself to the path of your preservation before ever understanding the true cosmic magnitudes of what elevated you so transcendentally beyond his meager scope. Before realizing the staggering inevitability of what your ascendant glory would birth before consummating all of creation into perfect resonance. How could he surrender to profane hungers now and risk being the singular flaw that extinguished your boundless potential?

Which left only one recourse: to persevere with renewed fervor, impressing every transgression of feeling or intimacy that threatened to distract from his sacrosanct purpose into ritual suicides of spirit. No deviation, no quarter given in the vigilant undertaking of your ultimate security -- even from himself.

Because Megumi understood better than any that his own autonomies and caprice were perhaps the greatest threats of stifling or tainting your divine trajectory off its immaculate vector. His ego and mortal passions were the potential extinguishers from which you could suffer the gravest impurities if left unchecked.

Already he had come within a hair's breadth of profaning your essence tonight, damn near rupturing your protective veil through lust-blind selfishness. Had he not regained discipline and perspective, therewas no telling what disastrous impingement he could have dragged you into for the sake of indulging momentary, physical gratifications.

No, tonight's lapse would be his last such indulgence permitted, Megumi swore it with reinvigorated severity as he resumed his patrol of the still-unstable peripheries. From here on out, only the most stringent of austerities and observances would be tolerated along the executory path of your vigilant safeguarding.

All tender emotions and profane compulsions would be methodically excised through ceremonial scourges, their impure essences siphoned away like toxins tarnishing his most sacred oath. Every soft, vulnerable aspect of his own being that threatened to stray from the singularity of your protection would similarly be eviscerated until only obsidian purpose remained.

He would erect walls of impenetrability so profound even the sibilant whispers of temptation itself piercing their redoubts would be strangled into silence. If scathing renunciations were the only recourse to keeping your starfire radiance inviolable, then a thousand eternities of that brutal self-immolation would be endured without faltering.

For as Megumi looked out across the ruined landscape of this paltry dimensional theatre, he saw with sobering clarity how infinitesimally insignificant it truly was compared to the vast, cosmic apotheosis you had been encoded for since primordial manifestation. Any struggles waged here between the paltry impermanences of flesh and desire were less than embers before the scorching celestial grandeurs of your true hypothesis and theomantic birthright.

No, only one reality could possibly command his every devoted action and thought going forward: the all-consuming mandate of elevating your sacrosanct flame into the transcendent spheres and birth matrices into which it was always destined to reforge the very pillars of existence itself through ecstatic conflagration.

Even if it meant walking the loneliest of roads in eternal solitude. Surrendering to the harshest calcinatory rituals until only enough of his spark persisted to bear witness from these profane wastelands as you seeded new galaxies into being through the shuddering orgasms of your stellar godhood.

That would be Megumi's sole sacrament from this cataclysmic epiphany onwards. To remove himself from any potential of casting pall or shadow over your inevitable dawning empyreal...even if the mantras of amputation excised him down to the basalt hadronic substrate to achieve that sacred directive.

So as he resumed his vigil over the abandoned battlefield where your latest miracles of creative annihilation had been wrought, Megumi enacted the first of those immuring severances. Blanking his perception of the exquisitely raw, breathy moan still echoing from your lips in the wake of their carnal clashes -- so that it no longer possessed the power to bliss out his entire sentience into the raptures of recollection.

One by one, each phantasmic sensation that had burned itself into the annals of his devotional canon during that fatefully illicit delirium began undergoing surgical cauterizations. All the slick glides of supple flesh whiting out, until only the cold spartan resolve of his service's eternal severities were permitted to endure amidst the churning cosmic cataclysms to come.

It was brutality etched into the fundamental encodings of his very being, this merciless scalpel with which he flayed away every matrix of tender feeling. But it was also the only path which might shelter your divine presence from whatever profane scourges he could still inflict were he ever to stray from its rigors.

So Megumi braced himself as the surgical agonies unfolded, purging bright and brighter until at last only the closed black of your security's hallowed continuum remained within his consciousness's reach...

The decrepit warehouse groaned around them like the breath of some massive, slumbering beast disturbed from its ancient repose. High above girders creaked ominously as a haze of dust and pulverized concrete danced through the dim shafts of light leaking in from shattered windows. Megumi kept alert watch beside you, every sense on high alert for new dangers.

"We should split up and clear this place room by room," you said, voice pitched low but resolute. "Cover more ground that way."

He opened his mouth, protest already forming about willfully separating in a structure that seemed moments from total collapse. But Megumi knew from the set of your jaw and the glint in your eyes that arguing would be futile. Much as he hated to admit it, your approach made tactical sense - leaving him with no recourse except to give a terse nod as his throat worked convulsively.

Hunkering low to stay below the choking dust clouds, you pulled away in one direction while Megumi took the opposite path. Though every instinct screamed at him not to let you move beyond his immediate scope of protection. Each step putting more distance between your frames only amplifying the anxiety corkscrewing through his gut.

Still, he tried to focus on making a thorough sweep of the maze-like complex of rooms and catwalks branching out ahead instead of giving into fear. Every sense straining for some disturbance, the slightest displacement of air or skittering sound that could indicate malicious activity. Apart from his own ragged breathing echoing in his ears, there was nothing but an oppressive, tomb-like silence to amplify tenfold the occasional metallic groan from overhead.

He worked his way deeper into the thickening darkness, rebar and jagged chunks of cement crunching under his boots. The flashlight beam only served to carve out a small bubble of visibility before being swallowed by the claustrophobic gloom pressing in from every side. Except...what was that flicker in the corner of his eye?

Before Megumi could fully process the rapidly shifting shadow, a bone-rattling tremor rocked through the already compromised foundations. Instinctively, he dropped into a defensive crouch as a deafening avalanche of debris began raining down all around. Rafters twisted loose, shearing off huge chunks of ceiling in their descent to pummel the floor in a choking grey curtain of devastation.

"Y/N!" he roared over the cacophony, throwing one arm up in a futile attempt to shield his head as another support beam came crashing down. "Y/N, get out of here! Go!"

But there was no answering reply over the enveloping clouds of concrete dust billowing outwards. Only the stomach-churning realization that you were somewhere in the maelstrom with no way of tracking your location. Panic seized Megumi's throat as visions of your lifeless body entombed beneath the rubble stampeded through his mind, each gruesome possibility more disturbing than the last.

Something blunt and heavy slammed into the back of his skull, momentarily whiting out his vision before he could shield himself further. He tasted blood as he slammed face-first into the ground, breath punching out in a violent whoosh. There was another rumble underfoot, the debris field shifting and settling around him as the avalanche began to subside.

His head rang like a gong while he squinted around, trying to orient himself amidst the pulverized devastation. Fighting to keep his wits about him despite the ominous stillness creeping back in all around. But then...a sound. A feeble cough somewhere amidst the dust clouds rolling outwards, so muffled as to be nearly imperceptible yet tugging at his senses like an insistent specter.

Adrenaline lent him strength as Megumi dragged himself upright, ignoring the blossom of agony along his battered ribs as he stumbled in the direction of that faint noise. Loose stones clattered under his stumbling feet as he surged forward, dread and desperation pulling him onwards like chains. Just a glimpse, any sign of life would be enough to extinguish the horrifying possibilities flickering through his concussed thoughts.

He lurched around a semi-standing partition of wall, scrambling to higher ground...and there you were. Relief and anguish hit him simultaneously like a physical blow as he took in your sprawled form, left arm twisted at an unnatural angle but chest rising and falling in shallow sips of air.

"Y/N," he croaked, throat raw from inhaling the swirling particulates as he dropped to his knees beside your still body. Gingerly, he smoothed away the grit and debris clinging to your hairline, thumbs trembling over the pale curves of your cheeks just drinking you in.

If he looked anywhere except at your slack expression, he couldn't help but see all the new grievous damage scattered across you - blood steadily pooling at a concerning rate from a jagged laceration in your thigh, blackening bruises already beginning to mottle the exposed skin of your abdomen in sickening indications of internal trauma.

"Megumi?" Your voice was so faint and reedy, barely more than a pained rasp that sliced straight through all his battered defenses with uncanny precision. Glazed eyes cracked open, struggling to focus as you shifted infinitesimally closer to his hovering frame with obvious effort.

"Hey...hey, easy now," Megumi hushed you with trembling urgency, wishing he could scoop you up securely into a bracing cradle yet terrified of exacerbating your injuries. "Don't try to move, just...just look at me, okay?"

"What..." you managed around a shallow cough that made him flinch in sympathy. "Happened...?"

He exhaled a shuddering breath, thumbs continuing their sweeping circuit over your temples as if the repetitive strokes could somehow smooth away the paleness steadily draining into your features. Willing strength and warmth back into your trembling frame through the simple contact alone.

"The whole place came down around us, you were...for a minute there, I thought..." Megumi trailed off before the chilling visions could fully manifest, giving his head a minute shake as he swallowed against the remembered torment of those endless seconds convinced the worst had occurred.

Of course he should have predicted this outcome, should have anticipated some new catastrophe looming to swallow you both up without prejudice. That was the ever-evolving pattern of life when your light shone so brilliantly against the darkness - reality itself conspired to find new, more creative avenues of attempting to smother those sacred flames. And each time Megumi swore up and down that he would be better prepared, more vigilant against the myriad threats lurking around every corner craving to extinguish the sun itself.

Yet here they were amidst the ruins of his failings yet again. You lying battered and frighteningly fragile amidst the fallout of cataclysms he should have foreseen with the vigilance sworn into every subatomic strand of his existence. How many more stark reminders did he need that he must remain eternally steadfast? That anything less than perfect, unyielding protection of your spark meant courting existential oblivion itself as the ultimate price of his carelessness?

The self-recriminations stung with renewed ferocity this time as Megumi took in the bruises already painting their darkening intimations across the soft canvas of your flesh. Like scorpion stingers flexing maliciously against your mortal confines, hungering for enough toxin to leach through these defensive boundaries and poison the luminous core at your very center.

Haggard concern clawed at his throat as he surveyed the slow seep of your lifeblood dispersing outwards in concentric rings around your trembling frame. Each droplet rolling sluggishly free filled him with a fresh surge of guilt and determination in equal measures - an oath sworn on every glistening ruby bead that he would shelter you from further harm even if it meant relinquishing his own fragile form to soak the deadly ramifications instead.

"Just stay with me now," he half-pleaded, half-commanded in as steady a burr as he could muster. Drawing your wandering gaze back to anchor onto his own even as it struggled to drift into realms of semi-lucidity under the weight of your injuries. "We're getting you out of here. Do you hear me?"

There was so much more he longed to divulge in that suspended gulf between mortal peril and temporary refuge. Every pent admission and emotion long suppressed within the angelic hollows of his austerities clamoring to spillover now that he was cradling the very spark responsible for their conflagrations against his breast. Just a universe of secrets and solemn vows held at fevered impasse behind the lockgates of his stoic aspect while you slowly bled out before him.

But this wasn't the time, he reminded himself with merciless discipline. Not with the keen edges of oblivion hovering so near, tracing patterns into the dust that promised imminent incursions given the slightest invitation. Not until he had enacted every protocol and contingency calculation to ensure your light would not only persevere...but also shine on even more brilliantly in the wake of this latest brushstroke against the canvas of your mythos.

No, for now he had to focus every iota of himself into the moment at hand - preserving your physical integrity at all costs while transitioning you to more stable grounds where the extent of your injuries could be professionally diagnosed and treated. Everything else, all the latent poetry of their celestial intertwining and the vows he had undertaken to stand eternal vigil throughout its unfolding, those verses would have to wait.

At least until the immediate threat of mortality had passed, the predations held momentarily at bay by whatever scarce stopgaps could be managed in this blasted arena of wreckage and particulate drift. Once that most primal of emergencies had been quelled and sanity allowed to sift back into the resumed currents distinguishing order from entropy...then and only then could Megumi even begin contemplating indulging the luxuries of emotional candor.

You must have sensed the dialectic warring across his visage, even through the hazy veil of shock and disorientation instilled by your traumas. Either that or recognized the abrupt calcification of his demeanor into something far more implacable and intractable regarding your immediate well-being than you were accustomed.

"Hey...talk to me..." you gasped out faintly, brows knitting in a fleeting flicker of residual defiance. As if already intuiting the stringent shifts in priorities and mindsets now governing Megumi's observances as he began calculating every potential avenue and variable towards procuring your expedient exfiltration. "Don't just...sit there stonewalling me in silence..."

"…"

"Talk to me, dammit!" you rasped out through gritted teeth, eyes flashing defiantly despite your battered state. "Don't just shut me out again like you always do."

Megumi clenched his jaw, the familiar flare of irritation momentarily overshadowing the tenderness cradling him moments before. Old habits died hard, especially where you were concerned.

"I'm a little preoccupied trying to get you out of this death trap, in case you haven't noticed," he bit out, shoulders tensing. Why did you always have to be so stubborn?

You let out a breathless scoff that quickly turned into a pained wince as you instinctively tried to shift away from him. "Yeah, forgive me for wanting more than stony silence from the guy who's treated me like a burden for years."

The accusation sliced deep, dredging up the ever-present well of guilt that Megumi could never quite escape. He opened his mouth to snap back a defensive retort, but what came out instead was something adjacent to the complicated truth.

"You're the furthest thing from a burden," he said roughly. The ragged emotion in his voice made you pause, brow furrowing skeptically even as you stilled against him. "If you knew how much I--"

Megumi cut himself off abruptly, recoiling slightly. He could feel the words trembling on the edge of his lips, threatening to upend the precarious balance he'd spent years constructing between you both. A confounding mix of fear and profound longing warred within him as he searched your questioning gaze.

Somehow you always managed to strip away his layers whether he wanted it or not. He could actually see the undisguised hurt flickering in your eyes at his aborted confession, the unguarded yearning that made his throat go tight.

"How much you what?" you murmured, refusing to let it drop as you always did. Refusing to allow him to retreat back to safety. "Megumi...talk to me."

Your quiet insistence was the tipping point. Suddenly the world narrowed down to the precious inches separating your faces, the soft puffs of your sharing breaths in the debris-laden air. Megumi's control fractured like a dam giving way.

"How much I need you," he confessed in a low rasp. He searched your widened eyes as the words hung between you, weighted with years of repressed wanting. "How much I crave your light, your spirit, with everything I am."

Your lips parted in a stunned inhale as his palms came up to reverently cup your face, holding you suspended in the heavy pause. Megumi felt laid bare in a way he had never allowed, every barrier finally crumbling.

"I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember," he admitted roughly. "Loving you...it haunts me, terrifies me because I couldn't bear for anything to extinguish your brilliance. But I'm so tired of running from how I feel. Of hurting you to keep you away."

He ducked his head then, resting his brow against yours as the rest of the anguished truth poured out in a rush. "You are everything to me, Y/N. Despite my best efforts, I'll never stop loving you with every part of my soul, even if it means risking having my heart shattered—"

The rest of his impassioned confession was cut off by the searing collision of your lips against his own. The kiss was desperately heated from the start, all of the pent-up longing and secret yearnings finally boiling over into this single molten exchange.

Megumi groaned into your mouth, overwhelmed by the feeling of having you in his arms this way at last. He clung to you tightly but carefully, tilting his head to deepen the drugging caresses of your lips moving in fervent tandem.

You gave as good as you got, all thoughts of your injuries temporarily obliterated by the intensity of finally sharing this connection. Your fingers fisted in his hair, tugging him insistently closer as you gave yourself over to the ardent rhythm of lips, teeth and questing tongues.

The kiss went on and on, seeking to pour out every unspoken truth and secret ache through the passionate communion of mouths and roving hands. For once, there was no trying to suppress or deny the blazing need you sharing...only a desperation to drink each other in, to chase the high of intimacy you had both been denying for far too long.

Inevitably, it was your body that enforced reality's harsh homecoming. You suddenly cried out against Megumi's lips, the sharp hiss of pain finally severing the fevered haze of desire. He instantly froze, breath sawing as he carefully extricated himself just enough to see your face contorted in anguish.

"Y/N...?" he choked out hoarsely, gut clenching protectively. "I didn't mean to hurt you, I got carried away and forgot--"

"I'm okay," you managed through a grimace, though your grip on his shirt was white-knuckled. "Don't you dare stop now..."

The vulnerability in your eyes pierced straight through him. Megumi let out a shaky breath, pushing away the lingering guilt as he tugged you closer once more. This time he handled you with exquisite care, countering any jarring movements.

"Let me get you out of this hellhole first," he murmured in your ear, lips brushing the sensitive shell. "Then I'll never let you go again, I swear it."

You gave the barest nod of assent, eyes slipping closed as Megumi gingerly gathered you up to leave the smothering darkness behind.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #fushiguro megumi x reader smut #megumi x reader smut #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi #megumi smut #megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro

[therobotmonster]

Guess who has a Traveller character now.

Cap'n Janet Starcraw comes from a backwater world that has undergone a parallel cultural development to Earth like the Roman and Mobster planets in old Star Trek, only in her case, she comes from Planet 1980s.

This is entirely the dice's fault, it rolled a tech level of the 1980s-1990s and I'm not going to argue with a character hook given to me by a random number generator. It's me.

The twist is that it's always been the 80s there. Their cave-carving mother goddess idols have little crude leg-warmers carved on them. Her favorite Johnilliam Hughespear play in high school was Much Ado Amidst the Breakfast Club. Their technology just caught up to the culture by raw coincidence around the time Janet got herself Last Starfightered off world to join the Interstellar Scouts.

Personality wise, she's somewhere between Zap Brannigan and Peggy Bundy (in space.)

Her home world, Zinta, has a higher gravity and thinner atmosphere than Earth, so the terraforming drone that went off course and seeded it ages ago adapted the cloned life on the fly using bird adaptations: Hollow bones made of reinforced biological carbon-fiber with air sacks throughout both her bones, muscles, and organ cavity mean she has about 65% of the mass of a baseline homo sapiens of the same volume.

Zintans have avian feathers in place of hair and perceive capsaicin as sweet, but are otherwise mammalian. They also have excellent color vision, and have a love of loud, tacky colors and patterns in response to the planet's dull natural coloration.

The Zintan religion is Polytheistic, with a vast pantheon of thousands of gods with a constantly evolving narrative mythology that is continually updated via radio, televised video, and magazine. It is almost impossible for outsiders to distinguish a Zintan religious broadcast from an entertainment one.

Art process under the fold.

Character art is a stack of many, many iterations of the character, generated via MJ, edited manually, then used as character prompts for next versions, then generated again, interated, then edited and composited in post to produce the final images

No prompts this time. Too many of them used, none would be representational/educational. If you want to reproduce the look, clip interrogate or /describe will get you closer than any of my individual steps.

#captain janet starcraw #my OCs #traveller #space girl #retro scifi #RPG character #midjourney v6 #ai assisted art #ai edit #midjourney edit #character design

[solesoldier]

this is a breakdown and reference sheet of shepard's scars throughout the timeline of the series including where the scars were acquired and any additional physical or relevant psychological details. tw for medical trauma and mentions of sterilization** ahead. major plot spoilers also ahead. full view on images recommended.

MASS EFFECT 1

the use of shields and medi-gel can heal most moderate injuries when used in a timely manner. Scarification is still mostly permanent but proper treatment can speed up the healing process.

¹ˑ   eyebrow scar, acquired from a husk on eden prime. ²ˑ lip scar, a minor injury during basic training after enlisting. ³ˑ   scar tissue from the remains of a severe injury caused by thresher maw acid on akuze. the coloration has mostly faded to her skin tone but the texture is still rough. shepard is very rarely seen wearing tank tops to keep the injury concealed considering how quick people are to want to talk about akuze, which she is not interested in doing.

MASS EFFECT 2 / 3

after undergoing reconstruction through the lazarus project, shepard is missing her previously notable scars. her official cause of death was asphyxiation as she ran out of oxygen while breaking atmosphere; the velocity of falling from orbit burned her body beyond recognition and the force of impact when she finally landed crushed the majority of her bones. her skull was heavily fractured but her helmet miraculously prevented her brain from being severely damaged.

¹ˑ   reconstruction scars, a series of strange scars from newly placed skin grafts which did not have time to properly heal. they give an oddly manufactured appearance to her as they follow natural forms and planes of the body (much like seams on a production mold would). in anything other than bright light, they give off a faint orange glow due to the cybernetics underneath. shepard is highly self conscious about these scars; mental stress seems to make them more prominent. ²ˑ enhanced optics, the first of several implanted cybernetics, these ocular implants allow for quicker visual recognition and scanning and are able to enhance mental processing to a faster rate. these implants allow her to make quick tactical decisions and auto focus on targets for her (adrenaline rush ability). ³ˑ  titanium reinforced skeleton, only around 10% of shepard's skeleton is made of her original bones. titanium was used as a reinforcement material due to the heavy impact of front line combat shepard regularly faces. after full augmentation and skeletal restructuring, shepard weighs significantly more than a regular human of her height and build. ⁴ˑ   heavy muscle weave, (NOT upgraded) her muscles have been perforated with micro-fibers which greatly increase her natural strength and reduce exhaustion and muscle fatigue. these enhancements can be physically upgraded, along with bone and skin weaves, but shepard decisively chooses not to augment herself any further. ⁵ˑ **most organ systems were returned to functionality, with the exception of the epidermis and skeletal system needing to be fully replaced, however her reproductive system is no longer functional. shepard no longer experiences a menstrual cycle and will never be able to conceive children.

POST MASS EFFECT 3

the consequences of choosing to destroy the reapers are both physically present in the galaxy, but also marked upon shepard herself. her body was found among the citadel wreckage, severely injured and barely alive after massive trauma to the body and brain as well as the catalyst disabling her more intricate cybernetics. shepard's 'recovery' is limited by the available resources in the wake of the aftermath; she is in critical care for minimum three months, repairing her cybernetic-reliant organ systems. intensive physical therapy is needed for several months following to adapt to her new prosthetics and regain her strength. recovery is ongoing.

¹ˑ  heavy scar tissue from multiple sources, some injury from the impact of the beam which transported her to the citadel, the majority being from the explosion within the catalyst. ²ˑ reconstruction scars still present but faded, continuing to fade with time. ³ˑ   cybernetic implants now mostly defunct. through gene therapy, transplants, and extensive hospitalization, her body has learned to cope without the more intricate implants. some of the less advanced ones were able to be technologically repaired. ⁴ˑ   amputated arm, replaced with mechanical prosthetic. her right arm was crushed under a bulkhead on impact from explosion; it was amputated on the scene of recovering her body from the wreckage. ⁵ˑ severed leg from initial explosion, replaced with mechanical prosthetic. the wound was mostly cauterized from the heat of the blast, preventing her from dying of blood loss in the wreckage.

#⟡°⋄ ◜ headcanon . ◞ #⟡°⋄ ◜ meta . ◞ #medical trauma tw. #pregnancy tw. #long post. #me after working really hard on this for multiple days: please clap :'))) #everyone who knows me: SHUT UP ABOUT THE FRANKENSTIEN PARALELLS SHUT UP ABOUT SHEPARD BEING THE MODERN PROMETHEUS #for all intents and purposes (and in my game canon frankly) shepard should be dead at the end of me3 #but that's no fun in rp lmao

[why-rock-look-tasty-if-no-eat]

🌻

I didn't forget about you, I just got distracted a lot as I was writing this.

Many of the people who believe that the Egyptians are among the first, or very first, to practice mummification would be intrigued to know that there is another civilization who had practiced mummification for two or three millennia prior. With the new found recognition of the oldest human-made mummies in the world belonging to one culture and recognized by UNESCO, the Chinchorro are once more walking with the living. The Chinchorro are a long extinct culture, with an the estimated range of 7000 to 1500 BCE that had lived in the regions of Southern Peru and Northern Chile on the west coast of South America. These people have brought many an archeologist great joy with the sheer amount of knowledge that can be found regarding the topic of this bare bones dissertation: mummification.

As their culture was relatively long lasting there have been shifts of their practices regarding the process of mummification. Right at the start there is a glaring difference between Chinchorro and Egyptian mummies. While the Egyptians chose who got mummified, and had got paid for it, the Chinchorro practiced mummification on all of the dead, regardless of age or gender. However, unlike the Chinchorro, death was biased. The very land which gave them access to plenty of fish was poisoning them with arsenic.

One leading theory on why they practiced mummification as they did was due to their high infant mortality rate, which is recorded by the amount of infant mummies against adult mummies. Arsenic was also not the only thing poisoning them, as manganese is also toxic and heavily used in the funerary practices. Red ochre is non-toxic. The reason for why those were labeled toxic or non toxic will be expanded upon below.

At this moment in time, there are three known distinct periods that the dead were treated with. The oldest method has been coined ‘Black Mummies’ that were largely practiced around 5000 BCE. In between was the ‘Red Mummies’ that was used around 3000 BCE and made way for the last technique. Being the last, but not exclusive, mummification process used, the ‘Bandaged Mummies’ have a largely unknown time scale. The following paragraphs will go into greater detail of the Chinchorro exciting way of living with the dead.

If you do not wish to learn the detail of mummification you can skip to the next paragraph. Beginning with the base process as a reference point for all three techniques. Strong evidence shows that the family who experienced the loss would handle the mummification, with the woman likely in charge of the process. It has been found that since the women would be in charge of cutting and cleaning the meat of kills, they were then chosen, or chose, the delicate task of deskinning the dead and removing the muscles. After the flesh had been removed the organs followed and thus begins the changes of the techniques.

With ‘Black Mummies’ their chest cavities would remain empty, their skeletal structure was reinforced with sticks, and then the skeleton would be molded with clay to reform the body. Following that, the skin was placed back on the body and would be painted black using manganese, and a black clay facial mask would be placed. The mask itself would have accurate recreations of the eyes, mouth, and mouth. The end product would leave a hollow space on the inside, and the head was largely left alone. Once it was finally finished the mummies would then be buried in plots much like the ones that we use today.

Used during the height of practiced mummification; ‘Red Mummies’ would have the same methods as their predecessors but would instead have their entire body (including the head) emptied then stuffed with plant fibers, clay, and animal fur/feathers. The body was also built back up with clay with the skin also placed back onto the body and then painted red with red ochre. The death mask was also painted using black paint and black hair was added to the head. These mummies were also buried in plots and similarly to the ‘Black Mummies’.

Moving on to the last practice during the waning of the Chinchorro, the ‘Bandaged Mummies’. These were largely similar to the ‘Red Mummies’ and mostly differed by having their skin put back onto the bodies like bandages. Which is where they got the name ‘Bandaged Mummies’. As this is the last known practice, it is currently unknown when this was last used among the Chinchorro population. These mummies were also buried like their predecessors.

Which leaves on to the last segment: the burial. As the Chinchorro were near the coast, reeds were common to find and their usage in making the equivalent of burial shrouds/caskets. All of that would not be enough to ensure that the mummies still wouldn’t decay but the arid climate from the Atacama Desert helped stave off the worst of the damage to human history. Climate change, however, is destroying the bodies of loved ones long since passed and the bodies are quickly degrading by the rising humidity off the coast that the Chinchorro once called home.

I’m normal about things, why do you ask? Stop doubting me, you’re the one who read it on tumblr!

Favorite misspelling: Chinchorror

Sepúlveda, M., Rousseliere, H., Van Elslande, E. et al. Study of color pigments associated to archaic chinchorro mummies and grave goods in Northern Chile (7000–3500 B.P.). herit sci 2, 7 (2014).

Christopher Hewitt, The Chinchorro Created Mummies Thousands of Years Before the Egyptians (2014).

UNESCO, Settlement and Artificial Mummification of the Chinchorro Culture in the Arica and Parinacota Region.

Paul Karoff, Saving Chilean mummies from climate change (2015).

source: trust me bro /j

#chinchorro #archeology #mummification #south america #south american history #unesco #unesco world heritage #dissertation #source: trust me bro #i was joking about that last one #i hope

[3dnygma]

If doors could scream (Welcome Home one-shot)

POV: you are a sentient house

Characters: Wally Darling & Home, Robert Dorelaine, no romantic/sexual relationship

Teen & Up Audiences, Angst, Existential Horror (more tags on AO3)

Words: 949

AO3 Link

If doors could scream, you think to yourself, then these creatures would never have a restfull night.

But your doors can't scream - they can only creek. So you creek and you snarl and let your windows fly open on a stormy night. Anything to at the very least inconvenience the parasite nesting within your organs that he calls "furniture".

Once, you tried breaking one of your own windows to see what would happen if his skin was cut open with your glass shards.

In the end, it wasn't worth having the postman over the following day, poking around your frames for hours in order to fix them and sewing the monster's wound shut, which had some fiber sticking out of it with no blood in sight.

And of course, there was the pain. You didn't know that breaking glass would feel as if breaking a human bone. A stabbing sensation, reinforced whenever even the slightest breeze would soar through your exposed frames. That's what breaking a human boned used to feel like, right? You remember once breaking a leg when you were younger, although you don't quite remember how. Back then, you were still going by Ronald Dorelaine.

But him? He didn't at all seem affected by the wound you had given him. Because, supposedly, life would have been somewhat fair if you had managed to cause him a fraction of the pain that he has been caused you over the years.

You think about that night - and all your other desperate attempts to garner some sort of revenge. And while you are lost in your thoughts, he opens his mouth.

"Good night, Home. Sleep well."

There it is. That voice you practiced for days while staring in the mirror and hoping that the movement of your puppet's mouth would match your words perfectly. You had modelled the voice after your uncle Fitz and yourself, two tender creatives. It was monotone, yet light, with a dreamy nature. Back then, you had no idea how horrifying it could sound.

You take it in, sliding the sofa back and forth around your livingroom, accompanied by some creaking of your eastern walls. In this complex language you've aquired over the years, that means: You imbecile.You know I don't sleep. When have you ever witnessed me sleeping?

He chuckles. "I had a wonderful day, thanks for asking! Barnaby and I went to Howdy's store. Howdy was missing some crabs...I don't know why Howdy has crabs, but he does. Anyway, Barnaby and I looked for them aaaall around Home. It was really fun! Howdy was really happy ... when we got them back. Then, he gave us hotdogs! They were really good."

I don't care, you utter through a creeking floorboard in the bedroom. Why should I care about your day if all I can do with mine is bending some walls?

"Yes, it was a very nice day. But every day in Home ... is a nice day! I can't wait to find out what will happen tommorrow. And the day after tomorrow ... and the day after that!"

You ruined my life. I wish I had never created you. You're not Wally. You're a demon! Yes, it must have been Satan that offered me that deal. And now he is controlling your limbs instead of me. Don't you remember? I made you! I sewed you out of my mother's yellow fleece blanket! And this is how you repay me? By turning my legs into pillars and my head into a rooftop? Fuck you! I hope you swallow some of your paint and choke on it!

"Haha. Silly Home ... Please don't swear. It's not very nice ... to use bad words."

You and every single one of your planks freeze. Did he just-

"What is it, Home? Are you ... surprised? Do you think that ... I can't hear you? Well, I can! Most times, I just don't feel like ... answering. You are just so boring and ... repetitive. Haha."

That laugh causes your drain pipes to shake.

He gets out of bed, with his dainty robes and nightcap on. Then, he scratches the insides of your walls. If this still was your human body, you would compare the sensation to a cockroach crawling through your intestines. Now, you finally realize that he has been doing this intentionally.

His voice splits into two ends, rubbing at eachother like a squeaking chalkboard. "You must remember, Home. We made you. Without us, there would be no Welcome Home on the Tee-Vee. You wanted this ... yes? You wanted ... to be heard and seen ... on the Tee-Vee. You wanted everybody to feel your love ... deep inside of them. And soon, they will all feel it ... just like you! Many friends and fun voices, deep in their hearts."

Your walls and floors are shaking - and yet, he happily walks back to his bed, not paying the breakdown that his house is currently experiencing any mind.

"And until then ... we will have ... lots of fun, together!" His voice stabilizes itself once more. "Tomorrow, everybody from Home will visit us. Barnaby, Frank, Sally, ... the whole gang. They will all be here, on your floors, in your rooms. It will be fun! Well, for you it will hurt ... but it will be fun!"

He pauses.

"That's all. See you tomorrow, Home."

Then, he is fast asleep.

One floor down, your sink leaks a few droplets splashing down the drain. Your rooftop trembles ever so slightly, trying to not to wake up the monster inhabiting your insides. You now have these late hours to yourself, before that horrific cycle starts again tomorrow.

If houses could cry, I'm sure there would be a tragedy written in your name.

#hellooo this is my first fanfic in a while hope you guys enjoyed it #welcome home #welcome home fanfic #wally darling #robert dorelaine #home (welcome home arg) #horror fanfic #welome home* #my writing #my fanfic #mine

[etherealvoidechoes]

An Unlikely Bond - Pt. 1 of 3

Well gosh darn I guess the hyperfixation has hit and hit hard again. Was organizing some files and saw the one on Geist and Zhang developing their psionic bond and my fingers ran away with it.

A lot has changed with the initial idea as I'm re-writing the earlier chapters of Wandering Souls and shifting the timeline. But takes place when Zhang is still forced to stay on base until his psionics are fixed.

Also some fun backstory diving for Zhang and me putting my own spin on the name origin for Geist. I am not using anything from that mobile game for Geist.

Parts: 1(You are here)||2||3 - Links will be updated as the chapters are posted. Currently in the queue.

May be posted on Ao3 and FF.net later.

Content warnings for the usual language. Accidental mental invasion. Part three is where they're violence via memories which includes murder(and faked suicide(it's more murder.)

Approx. 3.5k.

-------

The Barracks. Like every other section of the main XCOM HQ, it bustled with activity. Even more so because of the recent expansions, commissioned by Commander Reeves, to house more recruits to the cause and an overdue expansion for the Gym and Rec Room section of the Barracks that the soldiers (and other staff) needed to blow off some steam. The expansions were welcomed by all.

Even with several squads sent out to deal with the ever-evolving alien menace terrorizing the Earth, each floor in the Barracks had a fair amount of activity going on. On the lowest floor, the bar was full as always, with some “reasonably” drinking away and chatting with friends. Others were playing a game of pool. And some were fighting over who could watch what on the largest TV. Typical soldier behavior.

The floor above, the Gym, had a fair amount of activity. New equipment, designed specifically for the enhanced abilities of their Gene-modded soldiers, had arrived and was being tested by some soldiers. Zhang was one of them.

12:03. The Hazard Course was occupied with Gene-modded soldiers fresh out of the labs, already putting their new abilities to the test, so the Gym was the next best place to stretch his legs. His still mild pariah status because of the psionic incident some time ago, which mostly eclipsed him being a former Triad, meant most still gave him a wide berth. Which he didn’t mind, as it meant he wouldn’t have people working out next to him.

13:18. Currently, he was breaking in one of the new reinforced treadmills that could handle that “Muscle Fiber Density” leg mod. 

It had been about an hour’s jog and everything was working perfectly. The steady tread of boot heels hitting the belt and running deck. The muscles in his legs contracted and relaxed at a steady rhythm. There was a nice bounce back from the suspension, which kept his stride nice and smooth. It was so much better than the old treadmills that would stutter if he came down too hard, which would break his stride. He was happy he could be less conscious about that and exert nearly as much force as he wanted to his heart’s content. But he didn’t want to push too far. He didn’t want to be the first one to break the new equipment. 

“This is the best shape that I’ve ever been in my life.” Zhang chuckled under his breath as he adjusted his headphones. Sometimes he felt like that was an overstatement, but it was true. He had considered himself “fairly” healthy, minus his smoking habit, before his recruitment to XCOM. Now, he had lost weight and put on a lot of muscle. And then those Gene Mods and other tweaks the science division was experimenting with. Sometimes he had trouble recognizing himself when he looked in the mirror.

A glance down to check the time. 13:32. About 30 more minutes and he would call it. He had some psionic training he needed to get to later and couldn’t tire himself out.

Psionic training. He rolled his eyes. What did Geist and the others have in store for him today? Knowing Geist and Sam, something headache-inducing, especially if it was learning how to teleport again and some other odd psionic concept. Teleporting. He felt his psionics, those synaptic connections, bristle with annoyance. That task and another were impossible for him. Just thinking about teleporting made him want to skip out on training again, but knew he couldn’t.

“Wonder how much more I have to endure before I’m back on full active duty and don’t need one of these collars when on the field.”

 He still had a fair deal of work to stabilize his psionics, so he didn’t have to wear a modified dampening collar on the field. A faint growl slipped from his lips as his hand went up to his neck and tugged on the collar that was there. He hated the thing, but it was required for all psions to wear one at the base. At least the newer models caused fewer headaches.

“How much longer?”

The chains of command were suffocating, but he was doing his best to be patient and play nice. 

For now, all he could do was wait and jog. A new tune began to play through his ears. Something with a faster, more electric beat. His footfalls quickly matched the rhythm. Negative thoughts melted away. 

The latest tune entranced Zhang. He hadn’t noticed faint voices slowly intruding into his mind. Or perhaps he subconsciously noticed as a grumble or two slipped out as he adjusted that collar on his neck a few times. As quickly as the whispers came, they disappeared.

As he was entering the final cooldown phase of his joke, he felt an all too familiar jolt run up his spine as his eyes flashed purple. Then a more familiar touch before it became blurred by other sensations. The voices were back and much clearer than before. 

“Ah, Vixen! You’ve made it.” Geist’s voice was strong in his mind. Though the name Vixen was distant to him. 

“Cheery as always, huh Geist?” A female voice spoke next. Geist just chuckled in response. “How has training been for this branch?”

“Ah, training. Where to begin?”

Oh, hell no. Zhang cursed in his mind. Either the collar had a fault or Geist was purposefully using his bypass trick to tap into his mind. He figured the latter was happening due to the mention of training. He had been avoiding some sessions. Not in the mood for a guilt trip. His fingers quickly checked every part of the dampening collar. It was cool to the touch. No signs of overheating. One good sign. Must have been the bypassing. Figures.

Steadying his pacing and breathing, he concentrated on the psionic wavelengths to block it all out. Within seconds, the voices faded from his mind. He smiled. No guilt trips now. He would do some psionic training later, but would not be bothered right now. Just as he felt like he could relax his powers, the voices came back in full force.

“We have more soldiers cooking down below. I’m sure the Commander filled you in on that before your arrival.” Geist spoke of several potential psions in the making. It was always a delight to add more to their ranks.

“I read up on a few of them during my flight over.” Vixen said. “The science division has been making strides.”

“But back to training.” Geist almost seemed to hiss the word. “Truthfully, I’m a little disappointed with how things have been developing for researching how the — — — and function. That aspect is still escaping me. But I believe your fresh mind should be able to help.” 

Zhang concentrated again to block out their voices, but his attempts failed once more. The discussion continued, though parts of it cut in and out. But the words “disappointed” and “training” frequently came through clearly. 

Several disgruntled mumbles slipped from Zhang’s lips as he slammed his hands against the handrails to the treadmill. His grip tightened until his knuckles went white.

“For fuck’s sake…” He was glad no one was next to him to witness his sudden change in demeanor. Straightening himself back up, he brought his jog to an end. “Fine. You win this time, Geist.”

————

With more than a pep in his step, Zhang made his way deeper into the base towards the Psionic Training Grounds. However, he was mostly mindful of his steps, as he felt like kicking a few holes into the concrete because of his disturbed mood. Cracks would be barely noticed. Anything worse and he would get written up.

In about 7 minutes, he reached the main room. It was sparsely populated, a few psions were meditating or sparing here and there. Off to the side, he spotted Geist and who he figured was this Vixen he was speaking to. Both looked to be in a rather pleasant mood. Geist hadn’t noticed him yet.

Zhang took a moment to still himself. He didn’t need to go off on Geist. Feeling somewhat calmer, he headed over to them.

As he got closer, Geist noticed him. His eyes always seemed to brighten when the old man came around. 

“Ah, hello Zhang!” Geist gave a friendly wave. “Early for once. No teleportation training for today.” 

Zhang stifled a snort even more so when he felt the voices in his head diminish. Once he was next to them, he gave Vixen a nod before looking at Geist. “You rang?” Though he tried his best to hide it, irritation riddled his words.

He was about to reply until he caught the annoyance in Zhang’s voice and then noticed the faint rage in his eyes. “Is something the matter?” 

Is something the matter…? “Are you fu—” Zhang bit his tongue before shaking his head. “Is something the matter?” Shifting his pitch up an octave, he sarcastically repeated the words before shifting back to his normal voice. “Are you serious?”

Geist’s expression shifted to a more puzzled, if not, concerned look. Though he was still slowly becoming more aquatinted with Zhang, this attitude was out of character for him. “I’m sorry, but you’ve lost me, Zhang?”

Zhang’s brow twitched. “Don’t play coy with me!” He finally snapped. His eyes flashed before he jabbed a thumb at his own head. “You did your damn bypass trick to get into my head!”

The sudden outburst disrupted the tranquility of the room. All eyes were on Zhang.

Geist raised his hands and took a step back. This felt greatly out of character for Zhang to just snap like this. He wanted to probe his mind, do a quick check to make sure none of their hard work to fix his psionics was unraveling, but the man was accusing him of already probing his mind. “Zhang, I’m not sure what you’re talking about, but I have not made a connection with you.”

“Really? Really?” Zhang sneered. “You’ve been sure to repeat the words “training” and “disappoint” frequently in my mind since I missed the last few sessions.”

“What?” Geist looked more confused. That made little sense. He was more mildly annoyed with Zhang occasionally skipping the training sessions, but knew the man needed his space. But the words more or so matched what he had been discussing with Vixen. He glanced at her. She looked more annoyed at the matter. “I haven’t contacted you. I knew you would be coming around here within the hour… hopefully.” He muttered the last word under his breath. “In all seriousness, I haven’t done my psionic bypass to contact you.” Cautiously, he took a step forward as his eyes began to glow purple. He began to reach out. “You have me concerned. I could check to see if—”

The denial only seemed to infuriate Zhang, and then feeling the man’s touch in his mind only made him angrier. “You think for a sin—”

“Stop.” Vixen stepped in between the two, with one hand imbued with psionic energy placed against Zhang’s chest. “Let’s get this settled. Since you’re about to bite his head off, let me check for any connections. If there’s a connection from him to you, then Geisty has been lying. If there isn’t, your collar needs to be checked. Fair?”

Zhang glanced at her hand on his chest before looking at Geist and back at her. He let out a huff as he took a step back. “Fair.” 

Vixen looked at Geist. “Cut your connection and get your collar.” 

He nodded, quickly severing his powers. With a faint ping, he teleported his collar into his hands but didn’t put it on just yet.

Vixen then gestured for Zhang to it down, which he begrudgingly complied, before moving behind him. She raised both hands to either side of his head before letting her psioncis envelop his head. “Okay, let’s see what I can find.”

The room was a near dead silent as Vixen went to work. Most wanted to see how it would all play out as Geist did have his trickster tendencies, but a few wanted to pretend nothing was going on just in case there was a blowup.

Zhang did his best to keep his calm as Vixen searched his mind. It was always strange having an unfamiliar psion go through one’s mind, but he took notice of Vixen’s soft touch. Though she had to work around some of those locks he and Geist had created and the still unstable part of his psionics, she was doing so with care as she looked for those threads of a connection.

“Hm…” Vixen’s eyes narrowed. She found something. Or at least felt it. “Geist, collar on.”

With no hesitation, he put it on, and it snapped into place.

Minutes passed.

“Collar off.” She said. He took it off.

Some more time passed.

“Hm. There’s something, but it doesn’t fully feel like Geist.” She stopped her psionics and moved her hands away.

“Doesn’t fully feel like Geist.” Zhang questioned, doing his best not to scoff. He shook his head a few times to shake off the faint buzz coursing between his ears.

“It feels like a mixture of threads here. Feels like it’s coming from the growing,” she gestured with one hand, “background psionic radiation permeating the base.” She explained. “Not feeling a direct one from Geist per se. Just a mix. Perhaps your… odd psionics… amplified something.” 

“That partially clears things up.” Geist mumbled as he tapped his chin. One thing cleared, but Zhang still didn’t look happy, which had him concerned. “Anything feel out of place, Vixen?”

She shrugged. “His psionics feel odd, but I bet you know them better than me to determine if something is truly wrong.”

“True.” He looked at Zhang only to sigh, seeing the man was glaring at him. He took a step towards him. “Zhang, I can check to see if—” 

“Don’t.” Zhang cut him off. He got up.

“Zhang. This could be your psionics ac—”

“No.” Another terse answer left his lips. He turned to Vixen and gave her a half-hearted “thank you” before he made his leave.

Vixen raised a brow at him as she watched him leave, before turning her attention back to Geist. “Is he always like this?”

“No. He can be difficult at times, but this is… different. It concerns me.” He spoke truthfully. He wanted to follow, chase after him, but knew that would only lead to a fight. 

With a faint ping, he teleported a tablet into his hands. “I’ll make note of this. Give the Psionic Division a heads up just in case.”

“And Commander Reeves?” Vixen asked.

“Eventually… her.”

“‘Eventually’?” She questioned.

“Eventually. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt. But I will tell her if something happens.” He said. He just wanted to keep Zhang off the Commander’s radar. Things had gotten better between the two, but he didn’t want to risk it with this.

————

Zhang proceeded to skip the 14:30 Psionic training session he was going to attend. Despite Vixen’s findings, he didn’t believe her nor Geist. It felt all too convent that their conversation stopped intruding on his mind when he entered the room. He knew what he heard and felt.

He needed to cool down and what better way was there to cool down than by allowing himself to get dragged into some silly card game with Akemi, Kim, and Jarvis as the three happened to come back from some fieldwork. He refused to elaborate on what had him irritated, only stating “Geist being Geist”, and they mostly respected that. The trio helped him push the day’s events to the back of his mind with the card game and updating him on the latest alien threats. More of the same ol’ variants and some new ones were being fielded. The aliens, well, Elders, were probing for weaknesses and how they would react.

The hours flew by until it was either time to get some food, shower, or get dragged off by one of the science teams. Zhang was ready to hit the shower until Akemi pulled his teeth to join her in the Psionic Training Grounds. Though her psionics were still developing, she had been assigned to join in on psionic training sessions. Dr. Vahlen’s and Dr. Marin’s teams wanted to experiment with various ways to unlock a soldier’s psionic potential without having to rely on the weeks-long process of psionic energy saturation inside of the sarcophagi.

He was loath to go there as he wanted to avoid Geist and the man practically lived in there or in the Psionic Labs. Yet, with some playful banter, begging, and mild guilt tripping — as he was the reason she was psion now—, she convinced him to tag along. He had noticed she was less nervous when he was around when she trained with one of the elite psions.

“You’re going to hold that over my head for forever, huh?” Zhang questioned.

“I may.” She smirked and playfully nudged him with her elbow. “At least you didn’t fry my brain.”

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. “Don’t.”

Much to Zhang’s relief, Geist wasn’t there when they arrived. As Akemi went to her instructor, Zhang found himself talking to a fellow psion, John Tanner. Someone who was a witness to what happened earlier in the day. Tanner probed a little to find out exactly what the issue was, but Zhang kept most of the details terse. But he trusted Tanner enough to probe his mind, and the man felt nothing was amiss. Just a mixture of threads faintly connected to the psionic background radiation in the base. That still didn’t sit well with Zhang. It was something to stew on for later.

With little convincing, Tanner roped him into some psionic meditation and defense strengthening so he would have some psionic training marked down for the day and off the Commander’s radar. 

Moving to a side room and finding a place to sit, he gladly took his dampening collar off. It took some time for him to enter a “calm” state of mind as the irrational side of him felt Geist would show up at any moment, but once he did, he felt a great deal of the day’s irritation melt away. A quick check of his own mind with his powers unrestricted; he barely felt any active traces of Geist. The usual connections were a near-dead silence. Anything else resonated with the psionic background to the base.

 Hm. That was still strange, but maybe his psionics were acting up again and the overly friendly psion didn’t connect to him.

For the next hour, Tanner carefully pushed and pulled at Zhang’s psionic defenses. It was a delicate and dangerous game of finding the cracks that needed to be reinforced and avoiding the traps that could lead to a nasty psionic backlash. 

“Aaah… Okay. Okay, think we’re good… we’re good for the eve’ing.” Tanner said as he recalled his psionics. Body wavering from side to side, he raised a hand to his face and rubbed it.

“Mhm.” Zhang let out a sharp exhale as he came out of his meditation. As his pionics receded into himself, he picked up his dampening collar. He finally noticed Tanner’s wobbliness and the faint purple sparks buzzing around his head. “Are you alright?”

“I’m… good. Just a little mind spin trap of yours I triggered as were were finishing…” He said before hunching over and vigorously rubbing the back of his neck. “That’s… nasty. You’ve improved.”

“Ah.” Zhang chuckled. “I’ve been adjusting them as those Elders make their calls to me from time to time. Something to push them out.”

A few moments later, the psionic disruption around Tanner disappeared. He straightened himself back up and let out a sigh of relief. “I can see that annoying them. They deserve worse. Need to take notes and get the others more prepped.” There was always work to be done. “Those are some green checks for you. A few more sessions and,” he paused, knowing mentioning Geist would be a sore subject, “you know who is doing his own tests and you should be back on the field before you know it.”

Zhang’s mood didn’t immediately sour. He simply nodded along. Talking to a Geist about the incident earlier and apologizing would have to happen, but he still wanted some distance. “The sooner the better.” He was ready to get back into the field.

With his training session wrapped up, he returned to the main room to see how Akemi was doing. Her session was just about coming to an end. Once she was done there, the two left and went their separate ways for the night.

#writings #Xcom #Xcom 2 #Xcom wotc #Fic: Wandering Souls #Shaojie Zhang #XCOM Zhang #xcom geist

[healthcoach95]

What are the 10 lowest calorie foods?

In the present high-speed world, where well-being and prosperity become the dominant focal point, the mission for nutritious yet low-calorie food sources has become vital. The significance of keeping a solid weight and settling on cognizant food decisions is a general concern, provoking people to search out choices that fulfill their taste buds as well as line up with their wellness objectives. This article dives into the domain of nourishment, zeroing in on the ten most reduced-calorie food varieties that can assume an essential part in accomplishing and keeping a solid way of life.

Understanding the meaning of low-calorie food varieties is fundamental, particularly in the general public where stationary ways of life and handled food varieties are common. These food sources add to weight the board as well as supply essential supplements that help in general well-being. From salad greens like spinach to hydrating organic products, for example, watermelon, every passage on our rundown offers special dietary advantages of real value. By investigating the temperances of these low-calorie choices, perusers can acquire bits of knowledge to make a balanced and fulfilling diet that advances both actual well-being and mental prosperity. We should set out on an excursion through the universe of nourishment, uncovering the privileged insights of the 10 most minimal calorie food varieties that can act as mainstays of a healthy and adjusted diet.

Spinach:

Spinach, a verdant green, remains a nourishing force to be reckoned with among the 10 most minimal calorie food sources. With an extraordinarily low-carbohydrate content, spinach gives an abundance of fundamental supplements that add to generally speaking prosperity. Plentiful in nutrients A, C, and K, as well as iron, magnesium, and folate, spinach flaunts a nourishing profile that upholds different physical processes.

The advantages of integrating spinach into a low-calorie diet are complex. Its high fiber content guides in processing and advances a sensation of completion, making it a brilliant decision for those planning to deal with their weight. Furthermore, spinach is a fabulous wellspring of cell reinforcements, which assume an essential part in fighting oxidative pressure and irritation in the body.

Flexibility is a vital quality of spinach, as it flawlessly coordinates into different dishes. From plates of mixed greens and smoothies to omelets and sautés, this verdant green upgrades both the flavor and healthy benefit of feasts. As a low-calorie, supplement thick choice, spinach merits a noticeable put on the plates of people looking for a heavenly and wellbeing cognizant way to deal with their eating regimen. Integrating spinach into one's culinary collection is a tasty and significant method for embracing an eating regimen that focuses on both taste and sustenance.

Celery:

Celery, frequently hailed as the exemplification of low-calorie food sources, is a fresh and reviving vegetable that sneaks up all of a sudden. Made generally out of water, celery is unimaginably low in calories, making it an optimal decision for those hoping to shed pounds or keep a sound weight. Past its negligible calorie content, celery offers a scope of medical advantages.

Known for its high fiber content, celery advances stomach-related well-being by supporting ordinary defecations and forestalling obstruction. Moreover, celery is a rich wellspring of cell reinforcements and nutrients, including vitamin K and folate, adding to generally speaking prosperity. Its regular electrolytes make celery a hydrating nibble, supporting legitimate liquid equilibrium inside the body.

Celery's flexibility sparkles, as it very well may be delighted in all alone as a crunchy nibble or integrated into different dishes. From plates of mixed greens and soups to juices and smoothies, celery's gentle flavor supplements a horde of culinary manifestations. With its low-calorie content and various medical advantages, celery ends up being an important expansion to any eating regimen, offering a wonderful and nutritious choice for those on a mission for well-being.

Cucumber:

Fresh, hydrating, and particularly low in calories, cucumbers arise as dietary diamonds in the domain of low-calorie food varieties. Including more than 95% water, cucumbers are an invigorating expansion to dinners as well as add to by and large hydration, going with them a magnificent decision for those aware of their calorie consumption.

Notwithstanding their low-calorie profile, cucumbers offer a range of medical advantages. Plentiful in nutrients K and C, as well as minerals can imagine potassium, cucumbers support safe capability, bone wellbeing, and hydration. Their normal cancer prevention agent content guides in decreasing irritation, advancing skin well-being, and safeguarding the body against oxidative pressure.

Cucumbers are staggeringly flexible, adding a delightful mash to plates of mixed greens, sandwiches, and wraps. Past customary purposes, cucumber cuts can hoist the visual allure of water or upgrade the kind of chilled soups and invigorating drinks. Whether delighted in all alone or integrated into different dishes, cucumbers contribute not exclusively to a low-calorie diet but in addition to a supplement thick and hydrating culinary experience. As a go-to nibble or a culinary sidekick, cucumbers typify the ideal mix of daintiness, sustenance, and hydration for those looking for a well-being-cognizant way of life.

Broccoli:

Famous for its dynamic green tint and remarkable wholesome thickness, broccoli remains a sturdy part among the 10 most reduced-calorie food sources. Loaded with fundamental nutrients, minerals, and cell reinforcements, broccoli offers a heap of medical advantages while contributing negligible calories to one's day-to-day consumption.

Low in calories but wealthy in fiber, broccoli is a weight-cognizant decision that advances a feeling of completion and helps in processing. This cruciferous vegetable is a force to be reckoned with for supplements, giving a vigorous portion of L-ascorbic acid, vitamin K, folate, and potassium. Broccoli's wholesome profile stretches out its impact on supporting bone well-being, invulnerable capability, and cardiovascular prosperity.

Past its well-being temperances, broccoli is a flexible culinary fix. It very well may be steamed, cooked, pan-seared, or added to soups and mixed greens, improving both flavor and nourishment. Its flexibility makes it a simple consideration in different dishes, taking special care of various culinary inclinations.

Integrating broccoli into a low-calorie diet isn't just a stage towards weight the executives but additionally a guarantee to in general wellbeing. With its wholesome lavishness and culinary flexibility, broccoli demonstrates that nutritious eating can be both flavorful and fulfilling.

Berries, incorporating the brilliant triplet of strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries, are an explosion of lively varieties as well as nourishing forces to be reckoned with inside the domain of low-calorie food varieties. These little, tasty natural products are praised for their cancer prevention agent-rich profiles and heap medical advantages.

Strawberries, with their delectable red shade, are bountiful in L-ascorbic acid and manganese. They add to skin well-being, insusceptible help, and generally speaking prosperity. Blueberries, frequently named "superfoods," gloat elevated degrees of cancer prevention agents, especially anthocyanins, which have been connected to mental advantages and heart well-being. Raspberries, with their striking red tone, are rich in dietary fiber, advancing stomach-related well-being and adding to a sensation of satiety.

Berries stand apart for their nourishing thickness as well as for their adaptability. They can be delighted in new, added to yogurt, grains, mixed greens, or mixed into smoothies. Their regular pleasantness makes them a heavenly option in contrast to sweet bites, lining up with a low-calorie and well-being-cognizant eating regimen.

Integrating berries into one's day-to-day consumption adds an explosion of flavor as well as offers a magnificent method for focusing on well-being. These reduced-down treasures embody the ideal combination of taste and sustenance, making them a beautiful and healthy expansion to any even eating regimen.

Mushrooms, frequently celebrated for their hearty flavor and extraordinary surface, arise as a wholesome force to be reckoned with inside the classification of low-calorie food sources. Regardless of their negligible calorie content, mushrooms bring an abundance of supplements and medical advantages to the table.

Low in calories and fat, mushrooms are a fantastic decision for those looking for weight the board and a supplement-thick eating regimen. They are a rich wellspring of nutrients, including B nutrients like riboflavin, niacin, and pantothenic corrosive. Furthermore, mushrooms are an interesting non-creature wellspring of vitamin D, pivotal for bone well-being and insusceptible capability.

Past their healthful ideals, mushrooms offer adaptability in the kitchen. Whether sautéed, barbecued, added to soups, or utilized as a meat substitute in different dishes, mushrooms improve the flavor and healthful profile of feasts. Their umami-rich taste adds profundity to a wide exhibit of culinary manifestations.

Mushrooms add to a low-calorie diet as well as deal with interesting mixtures like beta-glucans and cell reinforcements that help save capability and in general prosperity. As a delightful and nutritious expansion to feasts, mushrooms stand as a demonstration of the possibility that smart dieting can be both fulfilling and tasty.

Tomatoes, eminent for their flexibility and lively flavor, arise as both a culinary staple and a dietary force to be reckoned with inside the domain of low-calorie food sources. Despite their low-calorie content, tomatoes are wealthy in fundamental supplements and mixtures that add to generally speaking well-being.

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[nirbobharvey]

Residential Roofing - What You Need to Know

alt="Residential asphalt shingle roofing system installation"

Prevent having your residential roofing system improperly installed or assembled with poor-quality material. Knowing how components of a residential roofing system are made and installed will help you acquire the best quality residential roof and its installation in the Atlanta metro area.

newimageroofingatlanta.com gathered the following residential roof anatomy, manufacturing, and installation information to help you when selecting a roofing system, its components, and the roof installer for your Atlanta, Georgia, home.

Residential Sloped Roofing System

A residential sloped roof is a protective shield for your home, safeguarding you from the elements while increasing your home’s structural integrity. An essential component of the roofing system is the shingle (a key component that enhances your home’s aesthetic appeal and contributes to the durability and longevity of its roof). Consider the following anatomy of a residential sloped roof:

1. Roof Deck – A sloped roof’s foundation is its deck, typically made of plywood or oriented strand board (OSB). It provides a sturdy base for the installation of roofing materials and ensures structural stability.

2. Underlayment – Beneath the roofing shingles lies the underlayment, a water-resistant barrier shielding the roof deck from moisture and helps prevent leaks. Common underlayment types include asphalt-saturated felt and synthetic materials like synthetic underlayment or rubberized asphalt.

3. Roofing Shingles – Roofing shingles are the visible layer of a residential sloped roof, providing protection and enhancing the overall aesthetics. There are various shingle types available, like asphalt shingles, wood shingles, metal shingles, and clay or concrete tiles. Among these, asphalt shingles are the most commonly used due to their affordability, durability, and ease of installation (specially cut or formed shingles are produced for the ridge and hips).

Asphalt Shingle Manufacturing Process

While asphalt shingle manufacturing and technology have evolved over the years, their basic composition has remained the same. Consider the following asphalt shingle manufacturing process:

Raw Materials – Asphalt shingle production begins with high-quality material selection. Fiberglass or organic mats serve as a shingle’s core, while asphalt acts as a waterproofing agent. Mineral granules are then applied for surface protection and UV resistance, and additives are incorporated to enhance the shingle’s fire resistance and flexibility.

Mat Preparation – The selected mat material (fiberglass or organic), undergoes a manufacturing process to reinforce its strength and durability. Fiberglass mats are made by weaving glass fibers together, while organic mats are typically composed of recycled felt paper.

Coating and Drying – The prepared mat is then coated with asphalt (front and back), using a saturation process to ensure consistent coverage. The coated mat passes through a drying oven, which allows the asphalt to rapidly cure and stabilize.

Granule Application – Once dried, the coated mat proceeds to the granule application process. A layer of ceramic-coated mineral granules is evenly distributed on the top surface of the shingle, providing color, texture, and protection against weathering elements. The granules are embedded into the asphalt surface to enhance adhesion and durability.

Cutting and Shaping – After granule application, the asphalt-coated mat is cut into individual shingles. This process can be done manually or using automated machinery, depending on the production scale.

Packaging and Distribution – Finished roofing shingles are carefully inspected for quality and packed into bundles or cartons. They are then shipped to distributors, contractors, and suppliers for installation on residential roofs.

Note: Read more about roofing shingle production and options by visiting this roof shingle manufacturer.

Residential Sloped Roof Installation

Installing a residential shingle roofing system requires careful planning, proper preparation, and skilled execution. Here is a step-by-step overview of the typical installation process:

Preparation and Safety – Before beginning any work, safety must be prioritized. This includes wearing appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE) like:

Hard hat

Gloves

Goggles

Non-slip footwear

Harness

The area around the home should be cleared of any obstacles, and precautions should be taken to protect landscaping and outdoor features or furniture.

Removal of Existing Roofing Materials (Tear-off) – If there is an existing roof, the first step is to remove the old roofing materials. This may involve stripping off old shingles, underlayment, and flashing. Care should be taken to dispose of the old materials properly.

Inspection and Repair – Once the roof is cleared, a thorough inspection should be conducted to identify any damaged roof decking, sheathing, or structural issues. Any necessary repairs or replacements should be completed before installing a new roofing system.

Underlayment Installation – Install the underlayment, which acts as a moisture barrier and provides an additional protective layer. Asphalt-saturated felt or synthetic underlayment is commonly used. The underlayment should be rolled out horizontally, starting from the bottom edge of the roof and overlapping each subsequent row by a few inches (to ensure proper watershed).

Flashing Installation – Flashing is used to prevent water penetration at vulnerable areas like:

Valleys

Chimneys

Skylights

Roof intersections

Flashing is typically made of metal or a flexible waterproof material. Flashing should be installed before the shingles, ensuring proper coverage, sealing, and drainage.

Starter Shingle Placement – These shingles have a specialized adhesive strip and are installed along the roof’s eaves. These specialized shingles provide a secure foundation for the rest of the shingles and help prevent wind uplift.

Shingle Installation – The chosen shingles are installed from the bottom up, working in rows. Each shingle is nailed or stapled into place using appropriate roofing fasteners. It is crucial to follow the manufacturer’s guidelines regarding nail placement, spacing, and shingle overlap (for best product performance).

Ventilation and Ridge Cap Installation – Roof vents or ridge vents are installed to ensure proper attic ventilation preventing moisture buildup, allow air circulation, and help regulate temperature and humidity. The ridge cap, a specialized shingle designed for the roof’s peak, is then installed, overlapping the adjacent shingles and providing a solid, finished look.

Cleanup and Final Inspection – Once the roof’s shingles are installed, the work area should be thoroughly cleaned, removing all debris or loose material. A final inspection should be conducted to ensure the roof is properly installed, all shingles are secure, and there are no visible issues or gaps.

Note: The specific installation process may vary depending on factors like the shingle type, roof design, and local building codes. It is recommended to consult with a professional roofing contractor for a precise installation or replacement tailored to your specific roof and location requirements. A well-installed residential shingle roofing system provides long-lasting protection, durability, and aesthetic appeal to your home.

Residential Asphalt Shingle Roofing

In this article, you discovered the composition of a residential roofing system, asphalt shingle manufacturing, and how residential sloped roofs are installed.

Understanding how residential roofing systems are built, manufactured, and installed will help you choose the best materials for your home’s roof.

Not knowing how to recognize quality roofing material or identify the steps in a roof replacement or installation will leave you vulnerable to unscrupulous and unprofessional roofers trying to take advantage of your need.

Sources: energy.gov/eere/buildings/articles/cool-asphalt-shingles gccds.msstate.edu/research/altconstruction/roof/roof.pdf owenscorning.com

To see the original version of this article, visit https://www.newimageroofingatlanta.com/residential-roofing-what-you-need-to-know/

#Residential Roofing Atlanta #Roofing Contractors Atlanta GA #Roofer Atlanta GA #Residential Roofing Systems Atlanta #Shingle Roof #Asphalt Shingles

[andguesswhat]

God, thank you so much, it's perfect :)

So I talked with you-know-who about Timmy as an angel and I wanted to write something dirty and dark and sexy but instead it became something unbelievable fluffy... 🙈

If someone prefers the archive: here is the link

Or you can read here:

Fallen

*

The first reflex was to fight back. He wasn't suicidal. So when the woman or the man, somehow he wasn't so sure anymore, tried to push him over the railing with all their might, he fought back.

But then again... he was so tired too, and wondered what was the point of it all anyway?

His life was a mess, and the last few weeks had reinforced that day by day.

Maybe he just wasn't likable or lovable, maybe he was just good for nothing.

It wasn't self-pity Armand had, he was more pragmatic about it, and he knew he himself had maneuvered him into the situation he was now in.

It was more of a sober reflection on his situation.

Although, sober....?

He'd had what felt like everything you could possibly take that night. He was so drunk and high he was on the verge of passing out.

The woman, L , "as in Love" she had said while circling her tongue, had poured him drink after drink, plus drugs. He hadn't cared, even though in some seconds he'd thought it all seemed like a big set-up to him.

Even now, when he was about to tumble over the railing into the abyss.

Did she want it to look like suicide?

Why else had she bothered to bring him here to his loft?

Clack, clack. He could still hear her high heels making this metallic and hard sound on the asphalt as she had dragged him through the alleys.

But why did she want to kill him anyway?

The strangest thing was that he had the feeling that she/he was constantly changing her/his shape now. Namely, becoming those people who had somehow contributed to him ending up in this downward spiral over the last few months.

But it was probably just the drugs and alcohol. He could barely keep his eyes open, after all.

And he wouldn't be able to defend himself forever, either.

What was the point of fighting back though?

He had already completely turned away from his life, from his friends.

But all of a sudden, he heard a vibrating sound of flapping wings. Huge wings.

And although he could hardly keep his eyes open, he noticed how it suddenly became very bright. He was rudely pulled away from the woman and pushed back into his loft, so that he fell backwards staggering and landed hard on the floor.

And the only thing he could think of was vanilla. He had briefly had the scent of vanilla in his nose. Smoked vanilla. It reminded him of something. Or someone.

He convulsively tried to open his eyes, but he could only see blurry.

How a bright creature, with huge wings, was fighting against this woman, who suddenly looked like the devil herself and her roar sounded like that of a long extinct monster.

And then he heard her ice-cold voice:

"You are so ridiculous. Coming down here to the world, risking your existence to save this pathetic human being."

She had her one claw wrapped around the neck of this brightly glowing creature, while the other claw bored into its stomach, making the creature groan loudly in pain.

It was horrible!

And Armand could have screamed that he could not do anything about it, could not help.

He tried to fight the faintness, to focus, looked around desperately, grabbed the floor lamp next to him to somehow get himself up, and then just knocked it over with him.

At least that made such a racket that the woman, the monster, the devil looked to him and stopped her torture.

She laughed derisively.

"Look at him. What a weak human being. And for him you will sacrifice everything?"

And then Armand saw how the bright creature reared up with its last strength and screamed at the top of its lungs.

To Armand it sounded beautiful, this scream. He felt every fiber of his body vibrating, felt flooded with warmth and love and despite his physical powerlessness, more alive than ever. But for the terrible woman it must have been unbearable, because she backed away from the creature, covering her ears and making a whimpering sound. When it almost looked as if she would suddenly dissolve somehow, she jumped up into the air and was gone shortly after.

The bright creature collapsed, exhausted.

Armand tried to crawl to him, he was still quite weak and woozy, but that scream had given him some life again.

He saw blood, way too much blood on the creature's body. Quickly he took off his shirt, tore it into two pieces and tried to staunch the wound by tying the shirt around the creature's belly.

Only then did he dare to look at him properly.

"You're the guy from my dreams!" it escaped him in a whisper.

It was him, he recognized the face immediately, those delicate features, he would recognize it among millions. He was simply incomparably beautiful.

For several weeks he had had dreams in which this man - albeit without wings but also smelling of smoked vanilla - had lain next to him in bed. And this man had always looked at him so incredibly gently and full of love. They had smiled at each other as if they had known each other for years. How he had loved those dreams. How safe and loved he had felt.

And now this man lay before him? With huge wings? Some kind of angel? Who had put the devil or something to flight?

The angel seemed to be completely caught up in his thoughts as, crushed, he said more to himself than to Armand:

"How can anyone be like that? How can one be so evil?"

"Isn't that the whole point of the devil, to be evil?" As soon as Armand said it, he regretted it.

The angel looked at him questioningly and reproachfully. "Would you rather have fallen off the banister?"

"No. No. I'm sorry, I'm just a little... I honestly don't know what just happened."

But the angel was still all caught up in his anger and continued to get upset with the devil:

"Where does she get the right to harass good and noble people? All this stupid hatred! I know she did this deliberately… Let her shove her high heels up her ass!"

Armand had to laugh, such a grumpy angel was admittedly quite adorable.

But he immediately lost his laughter when the angel's wing flapped. Because it was only one of them. The other hung down limply, looking broken. The wings both looked terrible actually. Totally mangled, punctured and charred.

The creature seemed to guess at his look.

"They're charred because I went through Earth's atmosphere too fast."

"Hospital's probably not a good idea, is it?" Armand suggested helplessly.

"I shouldn't be here in the first place. I wouldn't still be here if they still worked," the angel whispered.

"What can I do?"

"Nothing. I usually heal on my own. But it takes some time."

"Usually?" Armand didn't think that sounded good at all.

The creature shrugged.

Armand had a terribly guilty conscience. He didn't know why the angel had come to his rescue and certainly not whether he had deserved it - he didn't really see himself as "noble", maybe the angel had saved the wrong person after all? So even worse if the angel had now hurt himself so badly that he could no longer heal? Couldn't fly anymore?

"I'll take you to my bed."

As he gently took the angel's hand, he couldn't help but think how beautiful and elegant he found it, like everything about this delicate creature actually, and put his arm around his neck so the angel could lean on it.

There, there was that vanilla smell again. He resisted the temptation to put his nose in the crook of the angel's neck.

When the angel had settled down on the bed, looking as beautiful as probably only angels can, Armand asked shyly:

"Do you have a name, stranger in my bed?"

The angel smiled weakly. "Timothée, but everyone calls me Tim, or Timmy."

"My name is Armand."

"I know." The angel smiled again, and this time a little cheekily, Armand thought. "Armie."

"Yes, or Armie." Armand smiled back.

But the angel still seemed really exhausted and got serious again. "Promise me you'll go to your friends. They miss you."

Armand's chin involuntarily drove forward, his chest tightening. "I'm not doing them any good. I'm not good company. Whoever's around me gets easily sucked into all the crap that I’m in."

"You're looking at it the wrong way: they're helping you get out of all this mess. Go back to them."

Armand had to think. So much crap had happened in the last few months, he hadn't wanted to drag them into it, so he'd cut off contact with them. But sure, he missed them too. Big time! In the beginning they had offered him help, but he had always refused. Maybe he should have let them help him.

He saw the angel close his eyes, exhausted.

For a second Armand panicked that his powers had left him, but then he saw his belly quietly rise and fall and he calmed down again.

For a while he just looked at this angel in his bed. He was so incredibly beautiful. He would have liked to touch his face, like in the dreams where they had both lain here in bed like now, but he didn't dare. Instead, he gently placed a blanket over his legs and briefly lingered with his hand on the belly of the angel, feeling how it quietly and slowly rose and fell.

And then he realized how much he too still needed sleep, lay down next to the angel and soon fell asleep as well.

When he awoke the next morning, the angel was still lying next to him. Either the drugs had been really heavy and he was still tripping, or it wasn't a drug fantasy and the angel was somehow... real.

He was still quite fascinated by his incredible beauty and wondered if there were actually ugly angels.

He couldn't stop staring at him when he suddenly saw scars. One above his right eyebrow, one on his neck, one on his hand....

Who the hell could do something to such a beautiful creature?

As he had to realize, the answer was already in his question.

Someone from hell, apparently.

Armand looked around his loft. The place looked absolutely awful. He had let himself go the last few weeks and he was ashamed of it now. So he started to clean up.

Again and again he looked scrutinizingly at Timothée, Timmy, Tim and when he saw that he had opened his eyes, he was immediately with him.

"Can I get you anything, to drink, to eat? A cooling pack?" He felt like he was talking way too loud and fast, but these were questions that had been floating around in his head since yesterday, they just had to get out.

Timothée smiled and shook his head slightly.

"Am I being too loud? With the cleaning up."

Timothée shook his head again.

"I contacted my friends and ... cleaned up." He pointed awkwardly around the loft.

Timothée just smiled and had almost closed his eyes again.

He couldn’t fall asleep so soon again! He didn’t want him to. But he knew that this was selfish so he said, "Do you want me to stop talking?"

Timothée shook his head and finally closed his eyes. "I like to hear your voice, talk to me a lot, I'll listen to you."

So Armand talked to Timothée. A lot. While he slept. Told him how much he had loved the dreams in which he had been with him. How much it had given him courage in the last few weeks that things would eventually be okay. He talked about how he thought it had come to this mess. Even if he didn't really know, could only guess. Because it had always been the case that people didn't like him from the start for some reason, had something against him or somehow liked it when he was in a bad way. He had a few good friends though. He loved them. But at some point, he had begun to believe that he wasn't right for them. That’s when he had turned away from them. But that would change now. After all that happened, he was ready for a new start.

He hardly dared to leave the loft though, afraid that Timothée might not be there when he came back, but he had to get out, he needed something to eat. Above all, he had a great desire to cook something.

When he returned, loaded with bags of groceries, Timothée was still in his bed sleeping, but because he looked so incredibly peaceful doing it, Armand wasn't worried about him. The wound on his belly didn't seem to bleed anymore either, and couldn't he even hear the wings growing back when he got really close to him? When that lovely vanilla smell hit his nose again, he closed his eyes for a moment and sighed.

In the evening, he cooked for two, even though Timothée was still asleep.

"What smells so delicious?" he heard Timothée's voice at one point.

"I was cooking? Would you like some?" he once again asked way too eager.

"No, thank you. Not yet." And again, this beautiful creature was closing his eyes to rest.

Self-healing apparently took its time. And Armand tried to be patient, even if he really would have liked to finally get to know his angel better.

So he did, what he could, after dinner, he lay down in bed next to Timothée and told him about his life. Sometimes he had the feeling that Timothée smiled in his sleep or even laughed softly about what he had said.

The next day he went to see his friend Nick. It was good to see him, very good. They both had to fight tears when they hugged each other, but everything would be better now, he was sure.

He also took his dog Archie back with him, whom he had left with Nick because at some point he had felt that he couldn't take care of him properly anymore. Now he wanted to be there for him all over again.

But once standing in the loft, he wasn't so sure anymore if it had been a good idea to bring Archie along.

What if angels couldn't stand dogs?

He grabbed Archie by the collar and slowly walked him to the bed. As much as Archie wagged his tail, it was already clear that Archie was quite excited about Timothée. But the other way around?

Timothée opened his eyes and smiled.

"I got my dog back," Armand said.

And bam, Archie made a dash for Timothée and happily licked him across the face.

Armand quickly tried to grab the collar to pull Archie back, but Timothée just laughed at the wet affection and Armand's heart dropped instantly.

"Hi Archie," Timothée whispered, tousling Archie's head.

Armand's heart involuntarily beat faster.

"See how happy he is to be here with you again?" Timothée whispered.

Armand wasn't sure if it wasn’t Timothée who made Archie this excited, but he was happy to have him back nonetheless.

From then on, Archie lay next to Timothee, cuddled against his belly, and was happy about the occasional petting sessions he got from him.

And Armand was happy, too. More than happy. Because he had an angel lying in his bed, even if only asleep.

And yes, unfortunately he also had a little crush on this angel.

When the angel awoke that night and Armand looked at him purely by chance of course, he firstly asked if he was feeling better and when this was answered in the affirmative, he immediately whispered shyly, "May I touch you?"

And feeling stupid about it quickly added, "For scientific purposes only, of course.... What is it like to touch an angel? ... And so."

Timothée laughed. "Yeah, sure."

So Armand slowly ran his fingers over the contours of Timothée's face, noting with joy how much Timothée seemed to enjoy it, for he always stretched a little toward Armand's hand, or rested his cheek in it, and closed his eyes contentedly.

"Can you kiss?" Again, Armand inwardly rolled his eyes at his inability to ask appropriate questions.

Timothée understandably frowned. "What do you mean? I have lips, don't I? Or are you asking if I'm a good kisser?"

Armand laughed nervously. "No. Sorry, I...I was wondering if you...might not be allowed to...kiss... humans… because you are an angel... or maybe something happens when you're kissed. You start glowing or something...or you get ugly pimples like we humans do."

Timothée smirked. "Do you want to try it?"

And yes he did. Absolutely.

He leaned forward and placed his lips on Timothée's.

It was the most tender and beautiful thing he had ever felt. How could a kiss be so soft? Feel so much like warmth and safety?

And because he wanted to return all that warmth and love, he kissed Timothée deeper and more passionately. And Timothée didn’t seem to mind, until he suddenly pulled back and whispered softly, "I need some more rest. For more."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean..."

"No, no, I thought it was very nice. I'm just not quite healed yet."

Timothée put his hand apologetically to Armand's cheek. It hurt a little that he felt Timothée was hiding something from him and this was just an excuse.

He took Timothée's hand in his own and kissed it. "What are these scars? Who did this?"

Timothée shrugged his shoulders. "Bad people. The scars never fade completely."

And then suddenly Armand saw a tearing running down Timothée’s face.

"What's wrong?" he asked startled.

"I don't want to leave," Timothée whispered.

And it was then that Armand realized that he had never thought about what would be when Timothée was completely healed.

He had been so happy the last few days, living in the moment, in the here and now, that it hadn't even occurred to him to think about the future. That Timothée had to go back.

"Can't you stay with me? Make your wings invisible or something?" he asked helplessly.

Tears just rolled down Timothée’s cheeks and Armand gently pulled Timothée close.

"If I destroy the wings,” Timothée tried to answer without beginning to sob, “then ... then I'm no longer an angel and then I can't help you anymore. Then I won't be able to save you anymore."

Armand held him close and stroked his cheek.

"You've already helped me, you've already saved me. And you would make me happiest if you stayed with me."

And suddenly as if a hurdle had fallen, he had a big angel crawling on his lap, kissing him wildly and passionately, and God, that was about the hottest thing he had experienced in his life.

And yes, sex with such huge wings had its obstacles, but later, when he was deep inside Timothée, who was responding to his every move and moaning in ecstasy with every thrust as he clung to him, drenched in sweat and biting his lower lip in arousal, he definitely felt like he was in heaven himself.

*

The next morning was the time. The healing was complete and it was somewhat ironic that the wings, now unfurled again in all their glory, were about to be destroyed.

Timothée walked hesitantly toward the sunlight streaming through the windows onto the floor.

"You don't have to do this," Armand whispered from the sofa where he had been banished with Archie.

Timothée just looked at him. Determined and resolute.

He put one foot into the sunlight and Armand held his breath.

Then his legs, and then it already began to crackle. The lowest tips of the wings began to burn like sparklers, and finally Timothée stood fully in the light and the sparks just flew around while splinters from bone fell on the ground.

Timothée's face was tense, it seemed to hurt, and Armand was about to go to him, but Timothée held him back with a hand gesture.

When the sparks reached the spot on Timothée's back, he cried out and Armand was immediately on the spot to catch him.

And there he was in his arms, his angel, who was now no longer an angel, but was definitely his angel.

"Are you okay?" asked Armand anxiously.

Timothée looked up at him and smiled.

"Yeah... yeah."

And Armand kissed him happily on the mouth.

They spent a day full of laughter and joy, and talking and cuddling and touching and kissing and more.

But that night something strange happened.

Archie raised the alarm, ran to the balcony window and started barking.

Timothée slowly got up and followed him.

The woman was standing out there. Her high heels clattered nervously on the balcony.

L for Lucifer was what came to Armie's mind.

Timothée opened the door.

Again her icy voice cut the air.

"So this is it? A boring mortal life with a weak person by your side? Maybe tomorrow you'll get hit by a bus! Then your pathetic life has had no meaning, has it?"

Timothée was completely calm.

"Are you finished?” he said. “Because you can stop being obsessed with me now, because you wished to be loved like me.

You'll never be.

You feed off other people because you're nothing yourself.

And you know that.

Disguise yourself as whoever you want, try to convince everyone that you're great, but you'll always just be a poor, ugly parasite.

And he," he pointed to Armand, "he never got the love he deserved as a child. All his life he has had to endure dislike and rejection. And yet he's the kindest, most caring person there is. So no, he's not weak, he's stronger than you'll ever be."

"Well, we'll see about that, won't we?"

Her claw grabbed Timmy's neck, but Timmy did .... nothing. He let it happen. And that's when it went through Armand like a bolt of lightning that now, as a human, Timmy had no power against her. In a flash, he grabbed the fire extinguisher that was next to the window door and rammed it against the woman. Also in a flash, Timothée grabbed a remaining splinter of his wing bone that was still on the floor and rammed it into her heart. Armand activated the extinguisher and - which felt extremely satisfying - covered her face completely with billowing foam, as she fell over the railing screaming and cursing. Her body crashed to the floor,

burning,

vanishing.

"A devil can destroy anything. But it only takes the smallest part of an angel to destroy a devil," Timothee said quietly.

Armand nodded slowly. "Good to know, I guess."

Timothee smiled slightly and took Armand's hand in his. "We don't have to worry about her anymore. That's good to know."

And Armand smiled back at him.

He didn't know if he deserved this beautiful man by his side, but he knew that somehow everything would be all right. And he would do anything to keep it that way.

*

#armie x timmy #charmie #charmie fanfic #charmie fic

[wyndryga]

do you have a favorite dnd character you've made?

ougghhh like, not really? i love all my characters for different reasons, but of the ones that have actually been played in a game id have to say my faves are the most recent two, Ophelia Oratoria and Legacy, the Stoneshaper

Ophelia is a drow warlock whos (homebrew) patron is a venom symbiote-like being made of purple ooze that lives inside her body and grants her magical power and abilities; the two are collectively known as Eviscerate, or Sevi for short. Eventually Eviscerate produces a familiar (definitely not their child) that takes the form of an Imp named Puncture (Punk for short). Ophelia believes she's the last survivor of an underground city named Thornmaw's End; a once prosperous hub of magical research and advancement. After a particularly reckless mage set a horde of demons loose on the city, O's mother, the head librarian of the largest library in the city, locked her inside the fortified building and rushed off to find the rest of her family in the chaos. Rubble blocked the entrance and O was forced to survive in the library for 60 years, becoming an adult in that time and eventually finding Sevi in a container in deep storage. They break out and O unfortunately finds her familys bodies, sans her mother, in the rubble of her once home. Mourning and directionless, the two head for the surface, eager to experience everything the world has to offer now that they're both free.

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The last and undoubtedly greatest work of a talented but unknown human sculptor, Legacy lives up to her name. Built to carry on his talents and desire to create, Legacy's greatest desire is to be a world-famous sculptor, and create great works of art beloved by all.

In his life, Phineas Efesto wanted nothing more than to quietly sculpt in his workshop and make a living. With time, he might have even become somewhat famous and respected in his profession. Unfortunately, illness befell him and he was forced to work for a shady local artisan's guild in order to pay for medication. This guild took advantage of desperate artists like Phineas, and most of the works he created in his life got no credit and meager pay for. Realizing that he would die broke and alone unless he did something, Phineas threw himself into studying magic, automation, souls, and artificial life. Building off theories and examples of other man-made beings, the aging sculptor slowly planned out a way to keep himself alive, or at least, some part of him. Never quite figuring out how to perfectly copy himself, he knew regardless he was running out of time. Gathering and stealing resources and tools, one day Phineas finally made his move and stole away to the secret workshop he'd been creating. During the last few months of his life he built his magnum opus; an artificial body capable of coming to life. Putting everything he'd learned and all his artistic talent into the body, Legacy slowly took form. She was made mostly of sculpted stone reinforced with metal, with treated wooden fibers providing flexibility and dexterous, organic movement. With the body complete he began the long ritual of giving life to his creation, using up every ounce of magical energy he'd been cultivating and a little bit of his soul to breathe life into her stone chest.

As the stone body on the table sat up, Phineas began to cry, smiling the widest he had in years as he watched his creation's eyes start to light up. It looked at him, and he could see intelligence shining out. He laughed even as his frail body finally failed him after all these years of illness and hard work, stumbling back to sit in his favourite chair. He only managed to say one thing to his creation before he drifted off, but it was full of love and became almost sacred to the stone being; "You....are my legacy."

Over the next three months the stone being spent it's time learning, and growing. It spent the first month emulating it's creator's personality and mannerisms, a side effect of having Phineas use a part of his own soul to help kickstart its own. It had also been gifted with Phineas' immense artistic talent and constant need to create, using the notes and books he left behind to develop it's skill. Slowly the stone being began to develop it's own personality, figuring out that while Phineas was part of her in some way, she was not him. She was his Legacy, meant to grow above and beyond him. In his notes and research she discovered the Songs of Creation he'd used to help create her, and discovered that she had a talent for music as well as sculpting. When she'd learned everything she could from the workshop and used up all it's resources, it was time to set off into the world and become famous. She left Phineas buried outside the workshop, a statue of the man in his prime marking his grave, his name clearly inscribed at it's base. With the promise to come back some day and tell him of her fame and fortune, Legacy set off into the world to find adventure and ply her trade. After all, all the best art depicted epic heroes and events, and what better way to find inspiration than to become an adventurer herself?

thank u for asking omg i fucking love talking about my characters

btw i have an OC blog @falconcity i use sometimes

#dnd #ophelia oratoria #legacy

[saurianbutcher]

My headcanons about how much true human remains in the PROJECT skinline under all the armor, augments and prosthetics I based the idea of some concept art from Metal Gear Revengeance Anyway here is Renekton and VI

For Renekton I thought about only the torso and upper arms remaining since he is encased in the Tyrant harness, basically just vital organs remaining

For VI she hates augments, so her body is mostly untouched Still because of her line of work she lost her legs and because of the stress her gauntlets put on her arms she had to augment her hands and forearms. Humerus and shoulders are reinforced with carbon fiber to withstand the impact of her punches

#Renekton #Vi #Project #league of legends #tyrant #metal gear #metal gear revengeance

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Custom Printed Non Woven Fabric: The Ultimate Guide

In today's eco-conscious world, businesses are increasingly turning to sustainable materials to meet consumer demand and reduce environmental impact. One such material gaining popularity is custom printed non-woven fabric. Versatile, durable, and customizable, non-woven fabric is an excellent choice for various applications, from promotional bags to medical supplies. This comprehensive guide delves into the benefits, applications, and customization options of custom printed non-woven fabric.

What is Non-Woven Fabric?

Non-woven fabric is a material made from long fibers, bonded together by chemical, mechanical, heat, or solvent treatment. Unlike traditional woven or knitted fabrics, non-woven fabrics are not made by weaving or knitting the fibers. This process results in a material that is strong, durable, and lightweight.

Key Characteristics of Non-Woven Fabric:

Durability: Strong and long-lasting, even with regular use.

Lightweight: Easy to carry and handle.

Breathability: Allows air to pass through, making it suitable for various applications.

Water Resistance: Can be treated to repel water, adding to its versatility.

Eco-Friendly: Often made from recycled materials and is recyclable itself.

Benefits of Custom Printed Non-Woven Fabric

1. Brand Visibility

Custom printed non-woven fabric offers an excellent opportunity for brand promotion. By adding your logo, tagline, or any design, you create a walking advertisement for your brand. These customized items can significantly boost brand recognition and visibility.

2. Versatility

Non-woven fabric can be used in various products such as shopping bags, promotional bags, tote bags, storage bags, and even medical masks. Its versatility makes it a popular choice for different industries.

3. Cost-Effective

Compared to traditional woven fabrics, non-woven fabric is generally more affordable. This cost-effectiveness allows businesses to produce large quantities without breaking the bank.

4. Eco-Friendly

Custom printed non-woven fabric is an eco-friendly alternative to plastic bags and other single-use materials. It is often made from recycled materials and is itself recyclable, aligning with sustainability goals.

5. Durability

The strength and durability of non-woven fabric make it ideal for products that need to withstand regular use. Custom printed non-woven bags, for instance, can carry heavy items without tearing or breaking.

Applications of Custom Printed Non-Woven Fabric

1. Promotional Bags

Custom printed non-woven bags are a popular choice for promotional events, trade shows, and giveaways. They provide a practical item for attendees while promoting your brand.

2. Shopping Bags

Retailers increasingly use non-woven shopping bags as a sustainable alternative to plastic bags. Custom printing allows them to reinforce their brand message and encourage repeat business.

3. Tote Bags

Non-woven tote bags are fashionable and functional, perfect for everyday use. Custom designs make them a stylish accessory that also serves as a marketing tool.

4. Storage Solutions

Custom printed non-woven fabric is used to create various storage solutions, including shoe bags, garment bags, and organizers. These items help keep spaces tidy while promoting your brand.

5. Medical and Hygiene Products

Non-woven fabric is widely used in the medical industry for products like masks, surgical gowns, and wipes. Custom printing can include branding or important information, enhancing their utility.

Customization Options

1. Printing Techniques

Various printing techniques can be used on non-woven fabric, including screen printing, heat transfer, and digital printing. Each method offers different benefits in terms of durability, color vibrancy, and cost.

2. Color Choices

Custom printed non-woven fabric can be produced in a wide range of colors. Choose colors that align with your brand identity or create eye-catching designs to stand out.

3. Design Flexibility

The flexibility of non-woven fabric allows for intricate and detailed designs. Whether you want a simple logo or a complex pattern, custom printing can bring your vision to life.

4. Size and Shape

Non-woven fabric can be cut and shaped into various sizes and forms, making it suitable for different products. Custom sizing ensures that your items meet specific requirements.

How to Choose the Right Custom Printed Non-Woven Fabric

1. Determine Your Needs

Identify the purpose of the custom printed non-woven fabric. Are you creating promotional bags, retail shopping bags, or medical products? Understanding your needs will help you choose the right type of fabric and customization options.

2. Select a Reliable Supplier

Choose a supplier with a reputation for quality and reliability. Look for reviews, testimonials, and examples of their previous work. A good supplier will guide you through the customization process and ensure a high-quality end product.

3. Consider Your Budget

Custom printed non-woven fabric is cost-effective, but prices can vary based on the type of printing, quantity, and complexity of the design. Determine your budget and find a balance between quality and cost.

4. Review Design Options

Work with your supplier to finalize the design. Ensure that the colors, logo, and overall design align with your brand identity and meet your promotional goals.

Conclusion

Custom printed non-woven fabric is an innovative and eco-friendly solution for various applications, from promotional items to everyday essentials. Its versatility, durability, and cost-effectiveness make it a popular choice for businesses looking to enhance their brand visibility and commit to sustainable practices. By understanding the benefits and customization options, you can leverage custom printed non-woven fabric to meet your business goals and contribute to a greener future.

Factory Gata No. 34, Mauza Khadwai, Tehsil Kirawali, Runkata, Agra, Uttar Pradesh, India-282007 📩 [email protected] Contact no 918800775462

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Eco-Friendly and Sustainable: How Custom Tote Bags are Reducing Plastic Waste

Introduction

In an era where environmental consciousness is paramount, custom tote bags have emerged as a fashionable yet functional solution to reducing plastic waste. These versatile bags not only serve as everyday essentials but also contribute significantly to sustainability efforts. This article delves into the environmental impact of custom tote bag, their role in reducing plastic waste, the benefits of choosing sustainable materials, and offers tips and inspiration for designing your perfect eco-friendly tote bag.

The Environmental Impact of Plastic Waste

The Plastic Problem

Plastic waste is a global environmental crisis. Each year, millions of tons of plastic waste end up in oceans and landfills, causing severe harm to marine life and ecosystems. Single-use plastic bags, in particular, are major culprits, often used briefly and discarded, taking hundreds of years to decompose.

Custom Tote Bags: A Sustainable Alternative

Custom tote bags provide a sustainable alternative to single-use plastic bags. Made from durable materials, they are designed for repeated use, reducing the need for disposable bags. By opting for tote bags, consumers can significantly cut down on plastic waste, contributing to a cleaner environment.

How Custom Tote Bags Help Reduce Plastic Waste

Reusability

One of the primary benefits of custom tote bags is their reusability. Unlike single-use plastic bags, tote bags are designed to withstand multiple uses. A single tote bag can replace hundreds of plastic bags over its lifespan, drastically reducing the amount of plastic waste generated.

Durability

Custom tote bags are typically made from sturdy materials such as cotton, canvas, or jute. These materials ensure that the bags can carry heavier loads and last longer than their plastic counterparts. This durability means fewer bags are needed over time, further decreasing plastic consumption.

Versatility

Tote bags are incredibly versatile, suitable for various purposes including grocery shopping, carrying books, or as everyday carry-alls. This multi-functionality reduces the need for multiple types of single-use bags, consolidating their environmental benefits.

Benefits of Choosing Sustainable Materials for Custom Tote Bags

Natural Fibers

Using natural fibers such as cotton, hemp, and jute for custom tote bags offers several environmental benefits. These materials are biodegradable, reducing the impact on landfills. Additionally, natural fibers are often produced with fewer chemicals and less water compared to synthetic materials.

Recycled Materials

Custom tote bags made from recycled materials, such as recycled cotton or PET (recycled plastic bottles), offer a second life to waste products. This practice not only reduces the demand for new raw materials but also helps in managing plastic waste more effectively.

Organic Cotton

Organic cotton is grown without harmful pesticides and synthetic fertilizers, making it a more sustainable choice. Custom tote bags made from organic cotton are not only environmentally friendly but also often softer and more durable.

Designing Your Perfect Custom Tote Bag: Tips and Inspiration

Choosing the Right Material

Durability: Select materials that are strong and long-lasting. Canvas, jute, and denim are excellent choices.

Eco-Friendliness: Opt for organic or recycled materials to enhance the sustainability of your tote bag.

Size and Shape

Consider the primary use of your tote bag. For grocery shopping, larger bags with reinforced handles are ideal. For everyday use, medium-sized bags with compartments can offer convenience and style.

Personalization and Aesthetics

Colors and Patterns: Choose colors and patterns that resonate with your personal style or brand identity.

Graphics and Logos: Custom graphics, logos, or slogans can make your tote bag unique. Use eco-friendly inks for printing to maintain sustainability.

Functional Features

Pockets and Compartments: Additional pockets can enhance the functionality of your tote bag.

Closure Options: Zippers, buttons, or magnetic snaps can add security to your tote bag's contents.

Ethical Manufacturing

Ensure your custom tote bags are produced under fair labor practices. Supporting ethical manufacturing helps promote better working conditions and fair wages for workers.

FAQs

1. Are custom tote bags really better for the environment than plastic bags?

Yes, custom tote bags are significantly better for the environment than single-use plastic bags. They are reusable, durable, and often made from sustainable materials, which reduce plastic waste and the overall environmental footprint.

2. What materials are best for eco-friendly tote bags?

Eco-friendly tote bags are best made from materials such as organic cotton, hemp, jute, and recycled fabrics. These materials are sustainable, biodegradable, and often require fewer resources to produce.

3. How many times do I need to use a tote bag to make it more sustainable than a plastic bag?

Studies suggest that a cotton tote bag needs to be used around 131 times to offset its environmental impact compared to a single-use plastic bag. However, the exact number can vary depending on the material and production processes used.

4. Can custom tote bags be recycled?

Yes, many custom tote bags can be recycled, especially those made from natural fibers like cotton or materials like PET. However, recycling facilities and processes may vary by location, so it's important to check local recycling guidelines.

5. How can I ensure my custom tote bag is sustainably produced?

To ensure your custom tote bag is sustainably produced, look for certifications such as GOTS (Global Organic Textile Standard) for organic materials, Fair Trade for ethical manufacturing, and OEKO-TEX for chemical safety. Additionally, choosing local manufacturers can reduce the carbon footprint associated with shipping.

Conclusion

Custom tote bags offer a practical and stylish solution to the plastic waste crisis. By choosing reusable and durable bags made from sustainable materials, individuals can make a significant impact on reducing plastic waste and promoting environmental sustainability. Designing your perfect custom tote bag involves selecting the right materials, considering size and functionality, and ensuring ethical manufacturing practices. Embracing eco-friendly tote bags is a simple yet powerful step towards a greener future.

#ToteBagDesign #PersonalizedTote #UniqueTotes

[aghsupply77]

How to Choose the Perfect Hotel Towels for Your Guests

In the hospitality industry, every detail matters when it comes to creating a memorable guest experience. One of the most overlooked yet essential aspects of this experience is the quality of hotel towels. The right towels can significantly enhance a guest's stay, providing comfort and luxury that leave a lasting impression. Here's a comprehensive guide on how to choose the perfect hotel towels for your guests.

Understanding Guest Expectations

Soft and Comfortable

 A plush, soft towel can make a significant difference in comfort.

Highly Absorbent

 Guests expect towels to effectively dry them off without becoming too wet.

Durable

Towels should withstand frequent washing and maintain their quality over time.

Aesthetically Pleasing

The appearance of the towels should complement the overall room decor and exude a sense of luxury.

Key Factors to Consider

Material

Egyptian Cotton

 Known for its long fibers and exceptional softness, Egyptian cotton towels are highly absorbent and durable, making them a premium choice for luxury hotels.

Turkish Cotton

Similar to Egyptian cotton, Turkish cotton is renowned for its softness and absorbency. It also dries faster, which can be beneficial for hotel operations.

Pima Cotton

Pima cotton is another high-quality material that offers softness and durability. It is often more affordable than Egyptian or Turkish cotton.

GSM (Grams per Square Meter)

300-400 GSM

Lightweight towels, suitable for gyms or pool areas.

400-600 GSM

Medium weight, ideal for bath towels that balance softness and absorbency.

600-900 GSM

Heavyweight, luxury towels that provide maximum comfort and absorbency.

Size and Dimensions

Washcloths: 13" x 13"

Hand Towels: 16" x 30"

Bath Towels: 27" x 52" to 30" x 58"

Bath Sheets: 35" x 60" or larger

Weave Type

Terry Cloth

Features loops that increase surface area for maximum absorbency. Commonly used in bath towels.

Velour

A sheared surface that feels soft and plush but is less absorbent. Often used for bathrobes.

Waffle

A textured weave that is lightweight and quick-drying, suitable for spa towels.

Durability and Maintenance

Hotel towels undergo frequent washing, so durability is essential. Look for towels with double-stitched hems and reinforced edges to prevent fraying. Additionally, consider towels that can withstand high-temperature washing and drying without losing their softness or absorbency.

Eco-Friendliness

With increasing environmental awareness, many guests appreciate eco-friendly amenities. Consider towels made from organic cotton or bamboo, and those manufactured using sustainable practices. Certifications like OEKO-TEX Standard 100 can assure guests that the towels are free from harmful substances.

Aesthetics

The appearance of the towels should align with your hotel's branding and decor. Opt for classic white towels for a timeless, clean look, or choose colors and patterns that complement your hotel’s interior design. Personalized touches, such as embroidered logos, can also enhance the guest experience.

Conclusion

Choosing the perfect hotel towels involves balancing various factors, including material, GSM, size, weave, durability, eco-friendliness, and aesthetics. By prioritizing quality and guest comfort, you can select towels that not only meet but exceed guest expectations, contributing to a memorable and luxurious stay. Investing in high-quality towels is an investment in guest satisfaction, ensuring that your hotel stands out in the competitive hospitality industry.