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yandere-wishes · 7 months ago

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𝕐𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕄𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣 ℍ𝕚𝕘𝕙

❤️‍🩹Characters: Yandere! MH Ghouls x GN! Reader

❤️‍🩹Summary: There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. You're an eldritch creature living amongst monsters. A piece of you lives within each of them. And a piece of each of them lives inside you...

❤️‍🩹Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsessive tendencies, Body horror in Frankie's part, slight gore and blood in the rest, angst, super cryptic.

❤️‍🩹Could be read as romantic or platonic.

I am a monster, for now and forever. I am a monster, what a terrible being.〜♡॰ॱ

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. ~❣✧❣

⚡︎Frankie Stein ⚡︎

There's something ancient within you. Lost and forgotten. Frankie is desperate to unravel it. To crack it open. She feels you in every one of her limbs. Feels you in the stems of her patchwork heart. That has to account for something right?

Your melancholy seeps through you, tainting the tiles in shades of gold.

Frankie blames the binding of your skin, she's always found it too loose.

Nothing extramundane, to tether your essence within yourself. She wouldn't mind taking you apart and stitching you back together. Recreating you into something perfect. She's grown wry of watching you crack your ribcage open, shoving astral celestials where your heart should be. You mutter things, things she doesn't understand, things she's scared she'll never understand. Her bones rattle, a rouge spark runs down her spine. Every piece of you haunts her...

Frankie use to believe, verily childishly, that parts of her were salvaged from you. She knows now that that's impossible, yet she still wishes every night for the childish dream to come true.

In many ways, Frankie has always been bound to you. Your first friend, your first confidant, your first punishment, your first comprehension. Even when you'd been too young to understand the cacophony of the world, you'd still know the two of you were connected.

It had only taken a lifetime to understand why.

Bones collapse into constellations. Somehow she feels you slipping away. Her slender fingers trace the stitches across the hollow of your chest. A meteoric reminder of her work. "It's okay I'll have you fixed in no time." Frankie doubts you find any truth in her incentive. You've always been drawn to pessimism. Still, she feeds the needle through skin and muscle. Praying she remembers the stronghold pattern her mother taught her.

The shade they used for your blood is too bright. You bleed in rivers,

flowing with no end insight. You wash away her sorrows with farfetched promises. Awakening a longing, she never knew she had.

Frankie wishes she could pluck out your spine. Kiss each vertebra like an iridescent pear. Maybe then your souls would tether, maybe then everything will go back to the way it once was. The needle snags across bones, marring your skin in star-kissed bruises. She pecks each one, muttering a sorry across cold flesh. You feel like home under her lips. A home she never got to know.

Yet the echoes of its brilliance linger faintly in the hearts of those who once knew its warmth.

Frankie smiles as your eyes crack open. Dizzy and distant, you've yet to notice your enhancements. The pieces of herself she tethered onto you. She wonders when you'll notice the new eye, the new leg, the mismatched fingers. Her heart sparks thumbing loudly in her ribcage.

She sinks down, by the operation table,skinning her knees. You feel like home, now more than ever.

Your fingers find her head, patting the matted hair, she smiles something solemn and forlorn. She trails her fingers over one of the stitches on your arm, prying her slender digits between the threads and into the gaping tissue. Her fingers release a spark, your body arches off the table. After all, blood has always been a good conductor for electricity. "It's just a power boost. You'll be right up in a few minutes." a giggle rips from her throat, as you mummble an acknowledgment. Eyes overcast with equal parts grief and glee.

She always knew she loved you how could she not? You'd been linked to her for as long as she had a conscience. You had always been her everything. Sometimes she wonders how you both ended up like this. Stitching pieces of yourselves into each other.

Frankie closes her eyes. Her mind struggling to regain control. Her deep breaths waver as she hears shifting from the table.

"It's alive..."

𓆩❤︎𓆪Draculaura𓆩❤︎𓆪

Draculaura can smell the ethereal ichor now. Maybe it's always been there. Hidden under bygone layers and golden sand. She wonders if now, knowing what you know, makes you see her as anything less. You're older now, smarter. Maybe you understand the world just a little bit better than she ever could.

Despite her gifted immortality, Draculaura likes to think that she's grown, too. No longer the little batling who faints at the mere scent of blood. Yet the urge to vomit is still there, an acidic reflex in the back of her throat. She's been avoiding you lately, simply because you make the urges go away.

She can't live with that.

Can't live with what you make her.

You trace the heart on her cheek. Your fingers feel like divinity sinking into her skin. You try to reason with her, tell her the truths of the crypt. "Surly Draculaura, you must know who you really are. Isn't it silly that you persist in this nativity?" Your words are harsh. Good intentions wrapped in silver blades. She bites her tongue, killing the queries before they dare spill.

You make her crave things.

Things she's avoided her whole life.

There's blood on your lips, dripping onto the ground. She fights the urge to kiss you. The heat of the sun amplifies the scent of the decaying flesh. Her stomach growls, this isn't right. The grip on her parasol tigtens. There is justice behind your actions, not one she can make herself understand. She watches as you tear into the decomposing body. "Don't", it's nothing less of a prayer. She feels her fangs elongate. How she wishes the world would turn to black.

Can a vampire be haunted?

Surly they can, it's the only answer to your staunch lingering.

Draculaura's coffin feels too snug, like a home and a prison encapsulated in one. She wishes she could feel cold dirt under her nails, feel the thrill of digging her way out of a grave. It's your fault, it has to be. Why must you awaken such ancient sensations? Such horrid cravings, such primal needs.

Why must she see divinity in your face, liquid darkness shimmering behind enigmatic eyes? You are something terrifying, something painful. You are what she was supposed to be, what she's fled from her whole life.

Your silhouette is a curse and a blessing. A reminder of a lineage she was thrusted into. A legacy she never wanted. Everything about you is a hunting familiarity for a family she never knew. She wonders if she would have been the prettiest girl in the morgue. She wonders if her father should have let her die all those eons ago.

"I used to be human" She confesses one night. She doesn't know why you agreed to come over. Why seeing you in your pajamas sparks one too many fond memories.

"So?" your tone is one of perplexity. She feels foolish under your gaze. You glide the makeup brush across her cheeks. dusting them with faded nostalgia. "I can't eat them. It'll feel like I'm eating myself" How long has it been since the transformation occurred? how long has it been since she shedded the body of that sickly fragile girl? She's been a vampire for centuries yet still can't get used to the title.

"You can eat these ones..." Something ancient within her stirs, her bones rattle with comprehension. She knows what you mean and it fills her with a need to scream.

Draculaura can't see her reflection, can't gauge how different she is now. You used to help her with her makeup back in high school. Back when the shade of your lipstick determined your personality for the day. She's never seen her face. She prays it's identical to yours. She prays that someday she can embody you...

There's a deathly hunger within her. Bubbling in her stomach. She needs to let it out before it kills her. Can she even die? She's almost sure she wants to. You almost make her want to succumb to the impulse of quitting her humanity all toghter. Your presence makes her all so hungry. She's gotten better at hiding it under school-ghoul gossip and trend talk.

She settles for a kiss tonight, a rushed peck on the cheek. Some vampire she is, instead of bleeding you dry she's pouring her sorrows into you. She wonders if you take note. See the ghosts jouncing within her soul.

Draculaura's nails pick at the skin of her birthmark.

The skin cracks.

blood trickles.

Can a vampire even be haunted?

Yes.

She knew the charade wouldn't last forever.

Knew that one day the lights would dim and the stage would fade to black

A final curtain call. An impending doom.

The final nail in her glass coffin. Rendering it to shards.

And she'll be left plucking fragments from her eternal flesh.

There's a small joy in knowing you'll be her effacer.

The one to put an end to 2,000 years of pretend.

"And then he was all like "You know?" and I was like "Whatever" and he was-"

"Draculaura, I have no idea what you are talking about." She turns to face you, your smile is a crushing weight. On her shoulders crave. You throw your head back and laugh. Laughing at how little she's changed since you shared a desk in class. Since your most eminent concern was fearleading practice and algebra tests. Draculaura should laugh too, this she knows. Yet she remains distracted by your neck and all the glory it holds.

Just a small bite won't hurt...

☾🐾☽Clawdeen Wolf☾🐾☽

Clawdeen is protective to a fault. A trait she could never identify as innate or habit. Still, the urge to stalk you persists. Pricking away at her fur like wolfsbane.

Clawdeen's been brought up to believe in legacy, to worship the moon and the stars and their maker. Ancient things have a way of lasting lifetimes. She knows this now, finds its evidence when she unravels her family, her pack, herself...you. Her kind has been known to nurture those they love, to birth and raise every great warrior. She ponders again if this was originally encrypted in their blood or if her species picked it up throughout the years.

All she knows is that something inside her awakens when she sees you. A testament to an ancient love, long since stifled under sand and snow.

She wonders if that's what she's done with you all these years. If, in her own way, she's raised you to become some sort of warrior, a great beast living amongst subsidiary.

The two of you sit beside the bay window. Her newest sketchbook draped across her lap. You lean in resting your head on her shoulder, listening as she explains the inspiration behind each design.

You feel like you've been mauled. A piece of you thrown in every direction. Only to morph into the creations of your hunter. "You remember your first design?" you ask, closing your eyes to still the world. "Wasn't that when we wrapped Howleen in a red blanket and my mom's scarf?" Her claws prick her upper lip as she stifles a giggle. "And made her walk around the house like it was a Scaris runway" You add, relishing in the bygone recollection.

Your childhood memories together are coated in ichor. Jejune days

when you'd watch her tumble over herself trying to be everything she could never be. Even back then, you'd known something was amiss with the world. Seen the ancient wolf that lay dormant within her. felt its bonds call out to you, pulling you in deeper. You'd cling to her like a frightened child to a teddy bear.

But you're older now. Instead of the scared child, you've turned into the monster under the bed. Funny how everyone's heritage catches up with them at some point. Even when you grow unaware of its presence. Legacy still tends to echo in your bones. You're both the same in that regard.

"I can never tell if I'm alive or dead." You tell her one night.

"Neither" Clawdeen's voice is rigid, stiff. She can feel your awakening and rebirth. It sings in her head, more vital than a howl. "creatures like us don't die so easily. We only transform." She remembers the legends, the wars, they rattle in her bones sending shivers up her spine. Neither of you have ever died. You've survived every tribulation.

"What doesn't kill you makes you stronger" you reply, Clawdeen notes the embers that burn behind your eyes. How they spread across your body like a wildfire.

"What doesn't kill me, simply gives me a reason to kill it" She swears she sees the moon flicker in retort.

Clawdeen slits her throat with her claws.

Choking on moondust and half-fallen stars.

Her father once told her heritage is everything before giving her a golden ring fashioned as a wolf's head. She still doesn't know what he means.

She knows her kind was born from misplaced love.

She's just glad your fates are entwined.

"Someday you'll have red eyes." You trace your thumb over her lashes as you speak. Trailing down to play with her curls. She knows what you mean. Oh how, she wants to devour the hope you offer so freely. Rip it from your heart and feel it pulsing under her fangs. Maybe then her stars will align and she'll truly understand what she is.

Clawdeen's feelings grow teeth, gnawing at her carnivorously as she pulls you close. Muttering a 'thanks' as if it holds the weight of the world. There's comfort in the thought that she's molded you. Helped nourish your flames until they grew so potent. She's ever only been the middle child of the moon. But with you, she feels like so much more. Like something celestial, something ancient. An heirloom made of blood and moonrock.

Above you the clouds part. Giving way to the full moon.

₊˚.༄Lagoona Blue₊˚.༄

The air in her lungs feels synthetic, dry. She chokes off the sand and ozone, blinded by the unfiltered light, leaving burns on her frail, scaled, skin. She wonders if this is how a fish feels as it's being reeled on land. She wonders if she's any different now.

Her heart hammers when she sees you, cracking her ribs in hysteria.

Water lilies bloom from their marrow, she counts them just to distract from the stars burning in your eyes. Her teeth catch her bottom lip, gnawing the pink flesh like a shark does its prey.

Her eyes burn when she catches a glimpse of you by the pond. Gazing conflicted at three-eyed frogs. She can't help but see you as a cacophony of unmarked graves. Too many ghosts linger across your body, they're prints evident in the afternoon sun.

You leave a water lily behind her ear as you brush past her in the hallway. She thinks your perfection is exaggerated, artificial like the air. The kind daydreaming divers pray to find in rogue oysters. Lagoona is sure you're the last of your kind. An endangered creature too proud to ask for help. She clumsily fingers the flower's petals. The wave of nostalgia that invades, has her gasping for air.

The ocean she once called home is overrun by rot. She too is infected by the pollution that plugs her gills. In her dreams, she treads through clean oceans, webbed fingers entwined with yours. There is no corrosion here, no death. Just you and her and everything that entails the definition of good. When she wakes up she notices that her gills are falling one by one. Pastel blue glints scattered, floating across her bed like the empty husks of sea stars.

She too is the last of her kind.

She too is destined to perish in agony.

She wonders if you hear her tears. Hear them fall into the abyssal sea. Feel their reverberations as they create rings on the surface. She can't expect such a thing from you. You're in your own world struggling with your own scars. You left her another flower today, nymphoides indica, she doesn't understand what you're trying to tell her.

The pond has started to bleed too. Its decaying scent is pungent from miles away.

has it bled into her?

Is she infected too?

You're there again today, worlds apart yet close enough to touch. Her body stiffens as she kneels next to you. Desperate for your attention, desperate for you to tell her what she is. Maybe, just maybe she can confess her love in time to share a grave with you.

"I used to be so beautiful.." Your voice sounds evasive. A final cry for help before the ocean consumes you. Your reflection in the pond is muddled over. A glitch in reality, something Frankie would have more experience with. "you still are mate…you still are" Her words are earnest, yet she doubts they bring you solace. "If it's any consolation, I'm polluted too..". You laugh so condescending it makes her stomach churn. She rolls the words in her mouth again, tasting them for misunderstandings.

"We're all polluted Lagoona. We always have been."

You're made of one too many pieces, all doused in poison. You rearrange the water lilies on her head. Your fingers feel like home threading through her hair. "The last of our kind." Lagoona giggles, her body is growing dryer, desperate, the moisturizer and hydration station have long since stopped working. Now she awaits the poison to take over fully. You're her memento mori another helpless creature awaiting death.

And yet, to her, you're still as radiant as the first day she met you.

Lagoona's grave will be in the sea. It's a last wish one you decide to honor. You kiss her on the cheek as she turns to you. Body half submerged in her home. She hugs you, with all the longing her frail corpse can muster. It's only too late when you notice that you too are being submerged. Dragged into the eternal depths. Lagoona refuses to part with you. This is her final gift, the last present she will give you. A quick and painless death. One with a comforting presence.

Her father used to tell her strange tales of bizarre men who'd come to their ancestrial home, seeking answers far too advanced for them. She wonders if she's had the answers all along. Maybe she just had to look a little deeper.

It doesn't matter now. For her final breaths, she is at peace. She is content to end like this. With you in her arms.

𓂀𓆣☥Cleo De Nile☥𓆣𓂀

Cleo likes to think she's come a long way from her former self. No longer an autocrat cheerleader with stary eyes and a need to be worshipped.

She likes to think she's filled out the role of queen, of sovereign, of absolute.

She's done her dynasty proud...

Shattered and transformed herself into the perfect vessel.

It's not until she catches her rogue reflection in the gleam of your eyes, that she realizes she's still the same. Eons have passed yet Cleo still remains the same frail cowardly daughter bearing the burden of the D'Nile name.

You look every bit a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. You've grown to fill the role you never knew you had.

Cleo bleeds gold. She always has.

Little did she know, you did too.

You always had.

There's a crushing weight, something that makes her long for entombment. "I wish I were a mere child once more." her tone is sand on sand. So faint you think it nothing more than a mirage of sound. Her head lays on your lap bleeding out her sins as she prays for the sun to melt her. Feeble, unstable thing she is. Hailing from a feeble unstable place.

Maybe it would do you both some good to forgo the past. To embrace a thundering, grotesque future. Maybe it's time to retire the thrones and gold bangles. Maybe it's time to depart.

she laughs at such a preposterous notion.

Cleo's Icoffine lays in a pool of shards and wires and golden beads. Her bandaged fingers wrapped tightly around your bicep, tugging you closer until the scent of spices and flora became overbearing. "it's...okay" you lie through the rage bubbling in your throat. Through the tears that sting the corners of your eyes. "It's not-it's...it's never been okay", the words feel like boulders crushing her bones. turning her body and bandages back to dust.

You've known Cleo to always wear a broken crown. Funny how, after a millennia, the cracks still keep growing. Only now they bleed into her corpse, cut through bandages, and aim for the heart. You want to wipe her tears away. To whisper glory and purpose into her bejeweled ears.

Cleo lies on the golden floor. It's cold, frigid, she doesn't remember gold to be so unwelcoming, so petrifying. You pull her hand to your heart, hovering above her. Watching as she melts and hardens in the same breath.

"Allow me the pleasure of death once more. Allow me the luxury of being the only monster you ever have to know." Cleo doesn't remember missing her sarcophagi so much. Her lungs fill with broken promises as her eyes sting from mulish obsoletes. "I've been so blind for so long." She confesses, free hand fiddling with the jewels on her blouse. Running them along her nails waiting to see which will scratch first. "As have I, there's no need to-" her voice is harsh as she sits up. The undead rising from its bejeweled grave. Her hands cup your face. She tries to be gentle, to cradle you like a flower petal. "I'm-I-" her breath hitches as her fractured mind screams. "I hate myself all so very much. Yet I love you with every bit of the heart I thought I lost all those millennia ago."

Chaos has a way of squirming through her veins.

Her dreams are tainted in rubies, seeing you lying in the sand.

The noise above is defining. She hates that she's not used to it by now.

It can't be fair.

The world can't take you from her.

You're the only lifeline she has left.

The only hope that remains.

You tell Cleo you want to die one starless night, she understands the sentiment. You don't know why that makes you cry. Her lips leave phantom kisses across your eyelids. Spilling gold pleated secretes into your skin. Cleo wishes she kept you entombed next to her, rotting away far from every disaster. Yet she knows she can't, not now at least. You've morphed her into her purpose better than her omnipotent father and cruel sister ever could. With you by her side, she's truly become a queen, a sovereign, an absolute. While you rein above her, some all-knowing creature who she can't help but worship.

Maybe someday, decades from now.

The love you share will be dethroned

How unlikely such a feat seems.

Taglist: @hadesnewpersephone @feedmestraycats @deathangelraven @itotallysleepenough @yuuka29 @umgatochamadopercyval

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andmaybegayer · 1 year ago

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For a different project I was reading about developments in induction heating technologies and realized I had a small misunderstanding about how induction stoves work.

So, the classic misunderstanding is in why steel works on an induction hob but aluminium doesn't. Most people assume this is because you need a magnetic material in order to induce a current, but if you know your physics you know this isn't true. You can induce a current in any conductor, and indeed inducing currents in aluminium is something that happens in industry all the time.

So then you get to my understanding of why you can't use aluminium and copper, which is that they're too good at conducting electricity. Induction generates a voltage that pushes a current through the material. Aluminium and copper are much better conductors than steel, so the generated potential is lower and the overall current is lower as a result of material interactions with the field, so you don't get nearly as much heat out of induction on aluminium as on steel. This was what I thought. This is also wrong, although it's closer.

The actual answer is one step deeper. Induction hobs have to operate at pretty high frequencies, usually 24-ish kHz, both for audible noise reasons and, crucially, because they rely heavily on the skin effect. Interestingly this makes that first wrong explanation kind of more correct, I'll get to that in a moment.

The skin effect is a thing that happens when you have an alternating current in a bulk material; the AC signal sets up magnetic fields that force current to flow in a thin layer closer to the surface of the solid rather than flowing evenly throughout the material. This increases the effective resistance of the material, since you end up with a reduced effective surface area through which current can flow. The skin effect gets more pronounced at higher frequencies, and it's part of why you'll see bundles of smaller cables used to conduct high power AC: each cable has its own skin that can carry more current than the same quantity of material in one bulk cable.

In the right kinds of steel and iron, 24kHz is enough to generate a current carrying skin only a few tenths of a millimeter thick, which has a high enough resistance to generate the heat needed for cooking. Ferromagnetic materials have very high magnetic permeability, which causes them to experience much stronger skin effects. Copper and aluminium, between their high conductivity and lower magnetic permeability, have much weaker skin effects, their skins at 24kHz are much thicker, and so you just can't kick up enough resistance to the current to generate heat, it just spins around in there getting kind of warm but you'd have a hard time actually cooking with it. Indeed, non-magnetic stainless steel also won't work on induction hobs, because it also has a much thicker skin effect.

So you have the "real answer" being a fun hybrid of the two incorrect explanations.

The main side effects I take away from this are twofold.

1) you can absolutely make an induction hob that will heat copper and aluminum and non-magnetic stainless steels, you just need a high enough frequency to generate a strong enough skin effect to generate heat. Panasonic makes one that uses 60+kHz induction under the brand "Met-all".

2) if you physically constrain the current by having a really thin piece of metal, you can induction heat it anyway. When I read this, I stopped, took out a piece of aluminium foil, and stuck it on my induction cooktop. It almost immediately got incredibly hot and I pulled it away before anything bad happened. Turns out you could definitely melt and maybe even vaporize aluminium this way. So don't do that. Apparently people do this with lightweight titanium cookware too, which would not be able to sustain the necessary currents in a large bulk solid but can if you thin the base of the pan out enough.

#cooking #induction #physics #material science #engineering

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literallymechanical · 3 months ago

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Zap Energy says that they’ve solved Z-pinch by “shear stabilization”, where they have different sections of the plasma moving at different velocities (faster outside, slower inside). Doesn’t shear like that cause instability, not suppress it? Or are plasmas not subject to that law of fluid dynamics

You’re thinking of instabilities in flowing plasma like it’s turbulence in flowing fluid. This is partially correct, but like... okay. So, the field of physics that governs the movement of plasma is called magnetohydrodynamics, where you introduce Maxwell’s equations into Navier-Stokes. It is horrible. I am but a humble mechanical engineer, and I leave the physics to physicists.

The physicists tell me that Zap Energy's science is solid.

Bit of context: Zap Energy is taking an old fusion energy concept from the 1950's called a Z-pinch, and revamping it with modern plasma physics.

A Z-pinch works on the principle that passing an electric current through a conductor generates a magnetic field, which in turn crushes (or "pinches") the conductor. The first observations of the pinch effect were in hollow metal tubes that were used as lightning rods, like this one from a factory in 1905:

Image by Brian James, CC BY-SA 3.0, Wikimedia Commons

Plasma is electrically conductive, and is subject to the same compressive pinch effect as metal. Lightning itself is a plasma pinch, actually.

When you pinch a plasma, it heats up. The fast-moving, charged plasma particles repel each other and push back against the magnetic field until the system reaches equilibrium. The stronger the plasma current, the harder the pinch, the more pressure, and the more heat. With sufficient plasma current and the right hydrogen isotopes, you can create a pinch strong enough to induce nuclear fusion.

The pinch effect was first utilized by a class of fusion machines called Z-pinches in the early 1950's. However, those Z-pinches were extremely unstable. The most common analogy is that compressing plasma with a Z-pinch is like trying to squeeze jello with rubber bands.

UK Atomic Energy Authority, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons

Both linear and toroidal Z-pinches have been built. The toroidal Z-pinch above shows some of the characteristic kink instabilities of a pinched plasma – it goes all squiggly. Researchers started adding external magnets to Z-pinches to help reduce instabilities (which eventually led to the development of the tokamak), but could never get a truly stable plasma. Z-pinch fusion research was largely abandoned in favor of the tokamak and stellarator.

However, the external magnets of a tokamak or stellarator are massive, complex, and use incredible amounts of power. The University of Washington and Zap Energy went back to the old concept of a magnet-less linear Z-pinch, but with a more modern understanding of plasma physics. They discovered that by using a flowing plasma rather than a stationary one, with a faster flow rate on the outer layers (a "sheared-flow" Z-pinch), they were able to achieve great stability with no magnets.

Credit: Zap Energy

Rather than filling a chamber with stationary hydrogen and then pinching it, they blow a "smoke ring" of plasma around a cylinder into their chamber. An electrode at the tip of the cylinder then fires a pulse into the plasma, which creates a pinch with a complex velocity profile.

Credit: Zap Energy

Zap Energy’s physics basis is good. They’ve pretty convincingly demonstrated that sheared-flow does indeed stabilize a pinched plasma, and if they can pull off magnetic confinement fusion with no magnets, it will be massively cheaper than any other method. The uncertainty that Zap is facing comes from mechanical considerations (in particular, electrode erosion is a tricky problem to solve), and the relatively thin margins for efficiency that are inherent to any pulsed fusion technique.

#fusion #z-pinch #science #engineering

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strwbmei · 7 months ago

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i love bottom ei BUT UGH TOP EI??

i think im mentally ill for this but oh gods please hear me out💪💪

i want ei to strangle me while electro surges through her fingers finger she pounds the ever living fuck out of me to breed me bonus if she has a dick percing to zap your cervix everytime you try saying something snarky despite the shock at your neck and the hand squeezing your neck enough to keep you silent

“how’s that? hm? Baby you always have to be so cruel dont you? I dont mean this my love.” she’s reassuring you as you feel her other hand squeeze your hip. its tight enough to give you another bruise to look back at in happiness

who knew the same woman you ride and give head to could be so domaineering when she had the chance? sweet and shy yet so fucking good at making you sob and smile at the same time

“Love you’re twitching stop moving or i cant make you m-.. feel good.” she pants out shes a bit like a puppy when she wants to be though you felt a snarky remark bubbling up but you couldnt speak this time you knew you had to be silent otherwise it’ll be worser for the only source of light in the room to grow bigger and hurt your neck more with its shock

The piercing being used as a conductor for electricity is actually so genius.

Ei really doesn't want to hurt her precious darling, but what else is she supposed to do when you treat her as if you're above her? When you take all that she gives you for granted?

Ei is a goddess. Your goddess, for that matter. She doesn't ask that you bow your head to her or grovel at her feet, but why must you always disrespect her so? Has she not been good to you; given you everything you wished for as soon as you said the word?

No, she has been lenient. Far too lenient. Perhaps Ei's (admittedly) special treatment towards you has led you to think that the two of you were equal when that couldn't be farther from the truth.

Everything that you want to do, you can only do because she allows you. As long as you are in Inazuma—in her territory—this will always be the case.

Did you really think that Ei, a trained warrior and an Archon, couldn't break free of those flimsy ropes you had always liked to tie around her wrists? Not for a second did you have her cornered and helpless. Ei thought you understood that, but it seems she was mistaken.

It's so easy for her to pick you up, bend you over, and fuck you until you're apologizing and begging for her to slow down. Even easier for her to make you cum until your brain is turned into mush from the overstimulation.

And what better way to drill that into your head than to actually do it to you?

"My love... Stay still, hm? You know I don't wish to hurt you." You squirmed around her pierced cock, the metal acting as a conductor for the gentle yet tantalizing jolts of electricity that traveled up your spine. The piercing at the tip of her dick was just a joke you started at first, but you were pleasantly surprised the first time you saw it.

"Bullshi-" You half shriek in pain and half moan in pleasure as a sudden surge of electricity hits you. "Have you not earned your lesson?" Ei frowns. She doesn't want to see you in pain. Moreover, she doesn't want to enjoy seeing you in pain.

Still, if this is the only way, Ei has no other choice.

#strwb drabbles #smut #x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #raiden ei #raiden ei x reader #raiden ei smut

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 year ago

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MC: Humans are good conductors of electricity. No wonder we have a spark.

Malleus: That's so romantic.

Silver: And quite deadly.

Lilia: Don't ruin it, Silver.

#twisted wonderland #twst mc #twst malleus #twst silver #twst lilia

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transgenderer · 4 months ago

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The Silver Program provided silver conductor for use in the electromagnets of the Y-12 plant in place of copper that was not available due to war demands. At an S-1 Executive Committee-Army meeting on July 9, 1942, Ernest Lawrence noted that he would need several thousand tons of copper for magnet windings in a full-scale electromagnetic separation plant that could produce 100 grams of uranium-235 per day. Since copper was high on the list of critical war materials and might be impossible to obtain, Lawrence suggested that silver, a good electrical conductor and not on the critical materials list, might be used. Since the plant would probably be a temporary installation, Manhattan Engineer District (MED) officials decided to approach the Department of Treasury about borrowing a portion of the nation's large stocks of silver bullion. By the end of August, Colonel Kenneth D. Nichols, assistant district engineer of the MED, negotiated the transfer of about 6,000 tons of silver to the War Department. According to the agreement, the silver would remain in the U.S., be returned to the Treasury in five years, and be utilized in government-owned plants essential to the war effort. A subsequent agreement in 1943 raised the quantity of silver transferred to 14,700 tons, worth about $304 million.

I think this isn't adjusted for inflation, or silver used to be drastically cheaper. Today this would be 15 billion dollars of silver (quick Google says silver is currently about a million a ton. Altho it varies, sometimes only half a mill. Nonetheless. An insane amount of silver to borrow)

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srbachchan · 5 months ago

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DAY 5974

Jalsa, Mumbai June 26/27, 2024 Wed/Thu 12:56 am

🪔 ,

June 27 .. birthday wishes to : Ef Ravi Patel .. Ef Diyansh Kumbhat from Chennai .. and .. Ef Ayush Mishra from Bilaspur .. 🙏🏻❤️🚩

💍 .. wedding anniversary greeting to : Ef Rajesh Kejriwal from Kolkata .. completing 35 years of togetherness .. on June 26 .. our wishes and more .. 💐🙏🏻❤️🚩

Birthday - EF - Ravi Patel Thursday, 27 June our wishes for this day and the best ever .. love ❤️

Resistance .. its many forms and values and dimensions and usage .. so it became urgently important to apprise the self of it from sources ..

"Resistance is a multifaceted concept, encompassing physical, psychological, social, and political dimensions. Its definition and application can vary significantly depending on the context in which it is considered. At its core, resistance involves the act of opposing, withstanding, or striving against some force or condition. This broad definition can be applied to various fields, including physics, medicine, psychology, and social movements.

In physics, resistance is a measure of the opposition to the flow of electric current in a conductor. It is quantified by the unit ohm and symbolized by the Greek letter omega (Ω). The resistance of a conductor depends on its material, length, cross-sectional area, and temperature. For instance, materials like copper and aluminum have low resistance and are therefore good conductors, whereas materials like rubber and glass have high resistance and are good insulators. Ohm's Law, a fundamental principle in electrical engineering, states that the current flowing through a conductor between two points is directly proportional to the voltage across the two points and inversely proportional to the resistance. This relationship is crucial in designing electrical circuits and understanding their behavior.

In medicine, resistance often refers to the ability of microorganisms, such as bacteria and viruses, to withstand the effects of drugs that are intended to kill or weaken them. Antibiotic resistance is a significant public health concern, as it makes infections harder to treat, leading to longer hospital stays, higher medical costs, and increased mortality. Resistance can develop through various mechanisms, such as genetic mutations or the acquisition of resistance genes from other bacteria. The overuse and misuse of antibiotics in humans and animals accelerate this process, making it imperative to use these medications judiciously and to develop new treatments.

Psychologically, resistance can manifest as a reluctance or refusal to accept certain thoughts, feelings, or behaviors. This concept is particularly relevant in therapy and counseling, where clients may resist discussing painful or traumatic experiences. This resistance can be conscious or unconscious and can hinder the therapeutic process. Understanding and addressing resistance is crucial for therapists, as it can provide insights into the client's internal conflicts and defenses. Techniques such as building a strong therapeutic alliance, using motivational interviewing, and gradually exposing clients to difficult topics can help in overcoming resistance.

In social and political contexts, resistance is often associated with efforts to oppose and challenge established power structures, policies, or social norms. Throughout history, resistance movements have played pivotal roles in advocating for social change and justice. Examples include the civil rights movement in the United States, the anti-apartheid struggle in South Africa, and the women's suffrage movement. These movements often involve a combination of nonviolent protest, civil disobedience, and sometimes armed struggle. The success of these movements typically depends on various factors, including leadership, organization, public support, and the ability to adapt to changing circumstances.

In contemporary times, resistance continues to be a vital force in addressing issues such as climate change, systemic racism, and economic inequality. Activists and grassroots organizations worldwide are mobilizing to resist policies and practices that they perceive as unjust or harmful. Social media and digital communication have transformed the landscape of resistance, enabling rapid dissemination of information, coordination of actions, and amplification of marginalized voices.

Resistance, in its many forms, is an essential aspect of human experience and societal development. Whether in the realm of science, health, psychology, or social justice, resistance challenges the status quo and fosters progress. It embodies the struggle for survival, dignity, and betterment, reflecting the resilience and determination inherent in individuals and communities. As such, understanding and engaging with the concept of resistance is crucial for addressing the complex challenges of our world. "

... and at times the sources do not even address the most common of them all in the resistance ..

It be the pen and paper writing ..

When the pen has a resistance to the paper quality it is being written on the writing experience is determined as good bad or average ..

When the holding posture of the pen is conveniently comfortable to write, it produces the quality of writing exhibited ..

When the nib and flow of the ink on the pen is of desired like , the paper may be of the best resistance quality, the writing shall never be of the desired ..

paper same .. nib different , pen different .. sign same , but all different in form and appearance ..

GN 😴

Amitabh Bachchan

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emkayewrites · 3 months ago

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Another behind-the-scenes-on-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment from my Lukola fanfic....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

Before she could respond, there was a frantic knocking at her door.

“Duty calls?” Ezra asked.

“Something like that.” Nicola replied. “I’ll speak to you later.”

She hung up and pocketed her phone into her jeans, moving to open the door.

She knew with some certainty that Luke would be the one stood outside. If he had not come to visit her, she would likely be making the trip across the field to him.

In the last few weeks, they had become somewhat inseparable. If they were not due to film a scene together, they still found a way to see each other for a meal, a walk or just to decompress in one of their trailers. This routine had started initially to manage their nerves about their scenes. It was a relief to be able to talk every day just to practice and build trust. As time had passed, they were both realizing they were getting a lot more from each other than just rehearsal time. Nicola found herself looking forward to seeing him and being at the receiving end of his dry wit. In her experience, there were few people in life that you could have such effortless banter with. Meanwhile, Luke was open with her about being introverted and needing to sit in a semi-dark room with no human contact after a long day on set. The running joke was that Nicola no longer counted as human, not after the many nights they had sat in his darkened trailer, eating dinner out of takeaway boxes in relative silence. All in all, there was a comfortable rhythm to their relationship – so much so that even on a day off like today when most cast members were catching up with family and friends, Nicola had been hoping Luke would want to while away some of the hours together. She had resisted reaching out to him though, feeling conscious he might be taking the opportunity to catch up with his parents or Jade.

Sure enough, it was Luke stood at her trailer door, dancing impatiently on the muddy grass as sheets of rain washed over the bright red umbrella he was holding up.

“You can come in, that stays outside.” Nicola pointed at the umbrella.

He immediately bolted inside, keeping the arm with the umbrella extended outside the tailer door.

“How do we bring it in?” He looked at her expectantly. Nicola let out a snort of laughter in response.

“We don’t.”

“I’m not abandoning it out here, it won’t survive and it’s not mine to destroy. I borrowed it from Kraft services. Haven’t you got a tea towel or something?” He urged.

“Nothing big enough to absorb that.” Nicola shrugged, returning to her place on the couch. “I’ve had enough lectures about these vinyl floors to know better. Besides, the umbrella won’t get damaged.”

A crack of thunder erupted around them.

“So is the rest of you planning on coming in or…” She asked, ignoring the sound of the escalating storm; pulling the blanket up over her shoulders again.

“Do you want a response to that, or can I just glare at you?” He shot her a look.

“Well, you can either stand there holding an electricity conductor and glare at me, or you could come in here where it’s safe.” Nicola quipped; one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, fuck. Good point.” He immediately dropped the umbrella with a clatter and pulled his arm inside, slamming the door behind him as he did.

Nicola did her best to hide her amusement.

“You’re the worst.” He said with the twinges of a smile around the corners of his mouth.

He unzipped his raincoat, revealing a thick script pressed against his stomach, protected from the rain. “Bought over today’s pages, thought it might be a good opportunity to go over the scenes.”

He pulled his coat off and took a seat beside her. As he rifled through the script, she found herself absentmindedly sharing her blanket with him, pulling it across his back.

“I keep thinking about when Penelope and the audience see him at the garden party, the cameras on him and he’s meant to just look handsome and interesting.” Luke laughed disbelievingly, looking down at the page. “Talk about a tall order.”

Nicola leaned over, looking at the notes with a frown. “You’re overthinking it now. A lot of that is going to be the hair, the make-up, the lighting, camera angles – it’s not all on you to convey that.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He looked unconvinced. “It’s delivering the sexy smoulder in the close-up that I’m really overthinking.”

The show was famous for the way it framed its romantic heroes in a way that exuded romance, sexiness and intrigue usually all in one tight close-up shot of the face. Nicola had to admit that the amount of face acting they had to do on Bridgerton was on par with stage plays and pantomime with the exception being that here, the shot was redone over, and over, and over. It was no easy feat.

“I had a nightmare last night. I’m doing the shot and Tricia keeps telling me my sexy face attempt looks constipated. I keep messing it up and I give myself constipation from the stress. They have to shut down production for the day and it’s on immortalized forever in the notes for the dailies: Luke Newton fit of constipation shuts down set and costs production ten million pounds.”

“Ten million pounds? Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?” Nicola remarked with a smirk. He gives in and laughs.

“But hey, your brains’ ability to do that – it’s a talent. I wish I had dreams that vivid and hilarious.” She continued.

“It’s a curse.” He disagreed.

“Alright, look at me, look at me.” She insisted, tugging at the blanket to pull his shoulders closer to her. He faced her and she realised just how close to each other they were. They had become gradually desensitized to the level of intimacy required between them but every so often, in a moment off-set like this one, it still caught her off-guard. They were practically nose-to-nose. His eyes levelled with hers.

“Smoulder.” She invited.

A change came across his face. The strain of stress around his eyes and mouth vanished, his features softened as he embodied Colin Bridgerton. His eyes seem to bore into hers.

“Pen, it is good to see you.” His spoke with an affected tone.

“Is it?” Nicola responded with an English accent, looking down at her hands, playing the closed body language of Penelope Featherington.

“Truly. It has felt like I have been absent years instead of months.”

“Much has certainly changed in that time.” She was stoic.

“A good deal, I know.” Luke patted at his shirt with some boastful pride, a smile spreading across his lips. “But it was all the rage in Paris.”

Nicola could not help but to laugh. “Sorry, I’m breaking character. He’s such an arse.”

“It’s alright, I was about to break anyway.” He sighed, rubbing a forefinger against his temple. “So, smoulder rating?”

“If 0 is vomit-inducing Hugh Heffner and 10 is Jason Mamoa as Aquaman, you’re a solid 9 as Season 3 Colin Bridgerton.” She assured.

“Alright, well that’s… I would have believed you if you’d played it cool and given me a 4 but that’s – it’s outrageous.” He shook his head at her, smiling.

“Deal with it. Hand on my granny Nelly’s bible, it’s a 9.”

“Don’t blaspheme, I’m not worth it.” He rolled his eyes at her, turning his concentration back to the script.

Just then, another roll of thunder cracked overhead.

Luke leaned back on the sofa, holding the script up in front of his face. “Alright, well you better order some food, I’m not leaving until either that outside stops or I feel sexy.”

“Oh, so I guess we’re dying here then.” Nicola stated matter-of-factly.

#luke newton #nicola coughlan #bridgerton #polin fanfiction #bridgerton fanfiction #lukola #polin #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #ao3 fanfic #lukola fanfic #derry girls #clare devlin #behind the scenes #on set #bridgerton bts

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