#LED Explosion-Proof

[shineplusled]

Top Led Light Manufacturers & Suppliers in Mumbai, Surat, Pune, Chennai, India.

Are you finding for top led lighting manufacturers and suppliers in india, mumbai, pune, surat, chennai. Shine Concept Pvt Ltd isone of the no 1 led company in india. we also provide commercial lights, ufo high bay light, flameproof light, LED lens manufacturers, LED street light, led flood light manufactuers. More information visit www.shineplusled.com

[micledtony]

For more information, please visit: www.mic-led.com

[fsesafepteltd]

Deployment of high bay explosion-proof LED lights in an outdoor industrial facility. The lights are mounted on poles or structures to provide overhead illumination for outdoor work areas, loading docks, or storage yards, enhancing safety and visibility in hazardous environments.

[sharpeagle-tech]

Explosion proof portable work light - ATEX approved

Explosion-Proof Work Lights are attached with movable wheels below the gadget and may be moved from one location to another. They are very practical and simple to move. Due to the outside aluminum die-casting, polished surface, and epoxy coating of these lights, they are also quite durable. These 360-degree adjustable lights are perfect for Zones 1&2 and 21&22 and offer improved illumination. The device incorporates an easily adjustable manual valve that controls the lift for simpler operation. Work lights that are portable, strong, and explosion-proof are perfect for explosive conditions.

Key Features

Zones 1 & 2, Zones 21 & 22

Housing made of die-cast aluminum with an epoxy coating for a lovely appearance; lighting angle is adjustable by 120 degrees. Wheels that are simple to move are attached to the bottom of the light box.

Upward and downward adjustment, 360-degree rotation, and complete lighting

Control the lift by using a manual valve or an air pump.

The generator set's bottom has universal wheels that can be used on the pit's train lines and paved surface. Small and lightweight, making it simple to carry.

[nikygypex]

GYPEX Energy saving and explosion-proof LED lights

A good lighting environment is crucial for the speed, quality, and safety of production, especially in factories producing hazardous gases. 。Lighting measures must be taken in any workplace and environment, and places containing various explosive gases are no exception.

Welcome to inquire：13060699415@139.com

[paclights1]

Their high quality light output makes them an ideal choice for illuminating difficult to observe areas that demand constant supervision. They can be triggered by a optional photo control switch, if customized accordingly. Built to sustain and last under harsh and humid weather conditions, exterior wall lights are the perfect choice for the toughest environments, providing great reliability every day. They also provide a low glare and are impact resistant, making them a great choice for just about any application. Please visit: https://www.paclights.com/product-category/outdoor-lighting/hazardous-location/

[proluxinternational]

Solar Panels and Inverter Stockist UAE

One of the top solar panel providers in the UAE, Prolux International, offers distinctive solar solutions for both commercial and residential projects with full AMC. With a total installed capacity of over 8000 solar modules and a total 3.6 MW, we are one of the top Solar Panels and Inverter Stockist UAE. Since our beginning, we have been working relentlessly to fulfil the Group's objective to join the UAE's Green Economy Initiative for sustainable development by promoting the generation and use of solar energy.

[affordablelighting1]

This comprehensive guide explores the importance of explosion-proof lighting in hazardous workplaces. It covers what an explosion-proof LED light is and why it is necessary for hazardous locations. The article also discusses the benefits of explosion-proof lighting and whether LED lights can be explosion-proof. In addition, it provides tips on how to choose the right explosion-proof lighting and where to find them online.

[kiryoutann]

Before reading, please check series masterlist to read the warning(s), disclaimer, and to make sure you’re on the right chapter. Minors do NOT interact.

If you enjoy this, you can buy me a Ko-fi :) Likes, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated!

CW: throwing up.

Back then, Mother wasn’t like this.

Your childhood memories are a broken mosaic, shattered and scattered, much like the snow globe Daddy gifted you at Christmas before he disappeared. At the age of twelve, it seems like your mind finds a way to flush it all out. Now, there's hardly anything left to hold onto as proof that you weren’t born and started out as a sixteen-year-old girl.

Yet, somehow, you know Mother wasn't always like this. She didn't begin her existence as a woman who wielded her critical gaze like a burn, her lips all too willing to spew sharp words when she caught you wearing a dress she didn't remember buying.

Today was supposed to be fun—your lunch outing, “girls time,” as Mom would say. She promised to take you to the new Italian restaurant around the block, then you’d go for some ice cream and some shopping. You figured this was the perfect occasion to wear that beautiful white tweed dress from Auntie Joyce.

But, as you came to your mother’s room to borrow her perfume, her smile faltered at the sight of you. She stopped applying her blush, placing the brush on her dressing table.

“I don’t remember buying this one,” she said, tilting her head as if the fabric offended her.

You bite your lip, torn between telling the truth or lying. But, the dress is just too pretty not to wear.

“You did.” You reply, hoping she’ll buy your lie.

Your mother, however, deepened her frown—she didn't. Instead, she got up from her dressing table chair, striding over to touch the dress' fabric. Her fingers sent a shiver down your spine as she reached the back of your neck to yank the tag. She gasped as she read the designer's name.

“You think I’d buy you a Chanel dress?” She hissed, eyes wide as fury seeped into her voice. “Who gave you this?” she demanded.

Your heart was racing. You were about to respond, but you knew deep down that no explanation would be enough to quell her anger. She would not tolerate your silence. You let out a gasp as she seized your shoulders, shaking your body roughly.

"Who was it?!" She snapped.

“I-It was Auntie Joyce,” you whispered, shrinking under her gaze.

At your answer, her face became even more contorted, features twisting as she dug her sharpened nails into the flesh of your shoulders. “Why?! Why would you do this? Are you trying to insult me?!”

“No!” You pleaded, but she only paced faster, breathing heavily as if on the verge of explosion. “I just... I just liked it!” you desperately tried to explain.

“Liked it? Or was it just that Joyce could afford you what I can’t?!” she booms, spinning around to face you. “Do you wish Joyce was your mother instead? So she could buy you fancy dresses when I worked my ass off for you?!”

A lump formed behind your forehead, the ache intensifying as your vision began to blur. Glancing out the window, you notice the gorgeous weather outdoors—a deceitful illusion that had led you to believe this day would be a good one. You were supposed to go on a lunch outing to that new Italian restaurant.

You clenched your teeth, holding back your words. Did you really give off that impression, simply by wearing this dress? Was it disrespectful of you to accept Aunt Joyce’s gift when you were meant to spend the day with Mother?

The pounding in your head became more intense. Was the adult world this complicated? That every action had layers of implications that weren’t visible on the surface? You had hurt her without even realizing it. If the adult world was this confusing, then how were you going to survive after turning eighteen? Nothing was ever simple.

You stand trembling, picking at your fingers until they bleed. With trembling lips, you dare meet her glare.

“I-I can ch-change,” you stutter, hoping it will calm her anger, anything.

But her brows furrow lower, her mouth twisting in a sneer. A sharp look as she spat: “Too late. You’ve already ruined our day. This is all your fault!”

You struggled to control your racing thoughts and the growing panic. "Please..." You pleaded through shallow breaths.

“Get out of my room.”

Ignoring your desperate pleas, Mother directs her gaze to the mirror, her eyes fixed on her reflection. She doesn’t look at you, but you know she’s waiting. As quietly as you can, you slip out like told. You close the door with a gentle click, and the house falls silent once more. The heaviness in your chest becomes unbearable because you know this will mean two days of Mother treating you as if you were invisible.

Something broke inside you. Fresh tears streamed down your face as the excruciating pain in your temple pounded relentlessly. Your body trembled uncontrollably, racked by waves of sobbing.

Mother wasn't always like this before, but you weren’t sure about that anymore. It was hard to conjure the image of that other version of her, now that the venom had infiltrated your veins, weighing down your eyelids and convincing you that Mother had always been born and started as a woman scattering eggshells in her wake.

Or perhaps you’re the poison. Perhaps you're the one who scattered the eggshells. Perhaps Mother’s venomous outbursts were merely her attempt at retaliating, releasing a barrage of curses and what-ifs. Of another life she might have had if you hadn’t existed, had she never met Dad.

(But I don’t know why I’m here, either.)

Now, you’re sitting on the edge of the plush bed, in the room Sabrina gave you and Simon. The ornate carpet seems to be the thing that catches your attention, but in reality, your mind is more preoccupied with what happened an hour ago: Joyce introducing Simon as your boyfriend to Mother, Mother pretending she’d known all along—“There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet,” as she tells Joyce.

The way she touches you in a gentleness you never believe she was capable of.

Drowning in the depths of your thoughts, you remained oblivious to the shower ceasing or Simon exiting the bathroom in all his bare-chested glory. Droplets of water clung to his skin; a towel hung around his neck. He stares at you like a crossword puzzle, hands on the waistband of his pants.

“You alright?” he asks. 

Forcing a smile, you say, “Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Simon’s eyebrows raise slightly, his gaze studying you suspiciously. But he’s never been one to push people into things they don’t want to say. He moves to retrieve his shirt from his bag.

Unable to hold back your guilt, you blurted out, “Sorry about Sabrina. She shouldn't have acted that way towards you.” You fidgeted with your fingers, seeking a distraction from the growing unease.

Simon paused, then turned first his head and then his body to face you. He claimed the empty spot next to you, the bed dipping heavily under his weight. You didn't dare meet his gaze, fixing your eyes instead on where his shirt was still bundled at his elbows.

“That really what’s ‘ad ya so tangled?”

You let out a humorless chuckle. If only he knew how much his gaze seared you—how desperately you searched for a momentary reprieve by averting your eyes from him. Yet, avoiding him was an impossible task. You dared to look up to meet his stare, feeling your heart flutter against an invisible grip.

“Maybe,” you answered, leaving the question unanswered.

Simon huffed out a breath. It seemed like the situation weighed more heavily on your mind than they did on his.

Feeling brave, you added, “And I’m sorry about my aunt too. For how she labeled you.”

Simon gave a non-committal grunt, and now you were desperate to unload the heaviest guilt of all. One that he probably won’t brush off so easily.

“And I’m sorry about my mother,” you began, voice small and hesitant. But the sentence had been said, and you had to finish it. “I didn’t… I didn’t tell her about you like she claimed.”

When you finish, you brace yourself for his reaction—for his confusion and skepticism, questioning why your mother would say that in the first place. You've prepared yourself to respond truthfully: you don't know. After all, there were countless things your mother did that you couldn't make sense of, no matter how much you racked your brains. By then, you had braced yourself for his irritation, a demand for clarification—or even an accusation that you are trying to trap him, to reveal his existence to your family to ensure he can't leave you so easily.

Feeling indebted to redemption, you try again, “If you want to leave early, before tomorrow… I’d understand.”

“Ya think too fuckin’ much, ya know that?”

You stare at him as Simon tucks his shirt on, muscle ripping under inked skin. He stands, reaching for the cigarette pack he left on the bedside table before he showered earlier. Considering his words, you nod more to yourself.

“Maybe I do.” You reply softly.

“It ain’t fuckin’ ‘ealthy, love,”

Simon shoved the cigarette pack in his pants pocket. He was the last person to talk about healthy habits when he smoked several packs a day. But who are you to judge? Somewhere beneath your brittle bones, in your greenish-brown flesh, you are just as poisoned, if not worse. Every day your mouth spews acid from the rotten fruit growing in your belly.

Based on your self-examination, you offered a simple two-word response.

“I know.”

The great hall was alive with music and laughter as Sabrina led the crowd, Andrew by her side with his possessive hand resting on her waist.

“Tonight’s our last night of freedom before the shackles come on, people!” she exclaimed dramatically, drawing laughter and cheers to fill the room. “So let’s eat, drink, and have a good time! But for the love of God, try to keep yourselves in check; we still have a wedding tomorrow!”

With a glass raised high, she prompted the rest to join her in a toast, followed by a domino of clinks and enthusiastic applause. From your perch at the far end of the room, you watched with a smile as Sabrina blossomed under the attention. Her friends flocked around taking photos, their phones flashing on and off before bringing the blonde into a crushing hug.

The looming shadow at the edge of your vision grabs your attention, and you turn to see Simon's imposing frame returning from a phone call. You greet him with a quiet “Hey,” searching his eyes. “Is everything alright?”

Simon leaned in close to your ear. “Yeah, everythin’s fine.” He cast his gaze on the last-minute decorations scattered around the room. “Fancy.”

You followed his gaze, nodding and bringing your champagne glass to your lips. “It is rather fancy,” you agreed softly, taking in the view of people dancing to particularly cheesy music. “Could’ve Gone For You” blared across the hall—it was a wonder no one had complained yet. “The music could be better though.”

As expected, he gave a derisive snort from behind his mask. “Could’ve gone without that sappy shite, if ya ask me.”

You laugh at his visible irritation, and he smiles—crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes—either in appreciation of his own joke or something else. Looking around, you see Sabrina flitting from guest to guest with her fiancé. Your uncle laughs with a group your age, no doubt torturing them with his lame jokes and exaggerated stories.

As your eyes swept further, a familiar face appeared in the throng. Sabrina’s mother is greeting everyone happily... and beside her, her. Your own mother glided near with a faux smile, her gaze finding you instantly across the room before it landed on your hands. And her face contorted in dislike.

Your airway tightens, and your grip on the glass stem turns your knuckles white. As your mother says something to your aunt—causing her to direct that bright smile in your direction—your breath comes out in short stutters that you refused to acknowledge. But unbeknownst to you, someone else had noticed your suddenly quiet demeanor.

“Here’s my favorite niece!” Aunt Joyce exclaimed, pulling you into her signature suffocating hug layered with her fragrant perfume. You forced a smile, cheeks straining under the effort.

Releasing you, she turned her attention to Simon, brows knitting in the absence of a champagne glass in his grip. “And you, Simon! Where’s your drink?” she asked almost as if she were offended, and before Simon could answer, Joyce waved her hands dismissively. “You know what? I’ll get it for you! Consider this a special treat from the mother of the bride.”

“Bring me one as well, Joyce.”

Then she spoke, unexpectedly. Joyce and you fell silent, exchanging a surprised glance. Mother abhorred drinking, berating even the most moderate drinker within sight of her. Yet here she was, requesting a glass of champagne, with a smile still not reaching her eyes.

Joyce hesitated. For a brief moment, as the conversation lingered in limbo, you hoped she would refuse, that she would stay and not leave you alone with her. But alas, your aunt left the conversation without questions, melting into the crowd with a resumed cheery demeanor and a “Coming right up!” abandoning you and Simon, betraying the image of a good host.

Mother smiled—a perfect picture of a mother—as she turned to Simon. “We haven't really had a chance to talk more, have we?”

The game starts. You wait for Simon's part in their exchange, fingers twisting white-knuckled around your champagne flute. Your heart races like a caged bird's, pounding against your ribs while acid explodes in your stomach.

Simon gave her a curt nod. “I s’pose not.” He answered so casually.

Mother chuckled softly, a sound like ice cracking. “My daughter right here"—she places a manicured hand on your shoulder, nails digging possessively into your exposed skin—“she's very shy, believe it or not; which is probably why she hides so many details from me about you.”

You despise the way her voice assumes a sweet, innocent tone—a mask to deceive yet another person to fall under the impression that she is a "good" mother and to normalize her prying into the lives of the people in your life with the excuse, "I'm just a mother who is worried about her daughter."

Something old, almost ancient, creeps up the walls of your stomach—rising, rising, rising like a tidal wave. Acid scorches your insides, your mind twisted in anxiety. You try to catch your breath to keep your expression schooled.

Mother smiled again, then asked, “What is it you do for work, Simon?”

You yearned to reach out to Simon, to tell him that he was under no obligation to answer. He valued his privacy above all else, you know, sharing little even with you. You wanted him to know that he doesn't owe anyone an explanation, least of all this woman who had so abruptly ambushed him with impudent questioning.

“Engineerin’ stuff, mostly.” came Simon’s reply.

You feel a spark of relief at his lie—one that tells you that he knows he owed this woman nothing. That he, like you, saw through her guise to the poison beneath. And in that, a dark triumph bloomed despite your raging gut. Perhaps it was a sick, twisted thing—the thought of another seeing Mother as she truly was and not as the loving mother she's pretending to be.

Proof that you're not crazy. That you're not the ungrateful, disobedient child who left home as she described to her relatives in pursuit of sympathy.

“An engineer, interesting,” Mother replied, though her smile remained cold. “It’s good (Y/N) has found someone so… capable.”

As she turned to you, you saw it—that brief flash of disgust, dislike, and something more threatening on the curve of her lips. A flash of fangs before the strike. The sour taste of acid reached your epigastrium as your head sank into déjà vu. It was like all the other times, when the family reunion was in full swing and she would tell a series of “jokes” about you.

Which, then, you soon learned was humiliation.

Mother would do it again, this time to Simon. She would paint you in a worse light and portray you as a weight that he would be wise to shed. And then later, after he was gone, Mother's arrogant triumph would be cemented in her chant as if she had proven a point, as if she was right once again.

As if people didn't leave you because of her.

To prove your fears, Mother sighed delicately. “It's too bad I live so far in San Francisco. If I were nearer, I'd be sure to give her lessons to improve herself—she still has a lot to learn, and I wouldn't want my daughter to burden you.”

At this point, the pain had already hit your head. Your mouth shut tightly as you desperately attempted to suppress the wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. In your efforts to maintain a semblance of composure, you missed Simon's concerned glance.

“Reckon if anyone’s a burden ‘ere, it’s meself. But she don’t seem to mind it none.”

Feeling Simon’s hand squeeze your shoulder gently should have melted the tension away—but it didn’t. If anything, it only served to twist the knife deeper. Then, shame bloomed in your chest.

Under Mother’s watchful eyes, even his touch now felt tainted, as if it were something it shouldn’t be. A sin you had no right to. And you hated this—how easily she could twist even this, turning a comforting gesture into something dirty and wrong. It wasn’t, you knew, yet still you couldn’t banish the sickening guilt that writhed within like an eel.

You hate yourself for this.

Mother scoffed at Simon's reply, annoyed he refused to rise to her bait. “That's a surprise. You seem to like my daughter very much.”

The acid hit the tip of your throat. Setting down your champagne glass, you fled the room as fast as your unsteady legs could carry you, one hand clamped over your mouth. You burst through the nearest bathroom door just in time, collapsing in front of the toilet and retching violently. Stinging tears rolled down your cheeks. The acrid fluid spilled through your fingers, stripping your throat raw until there was nothing left but dry heaves.

Sitting on the cold tile, you feel as small as that sixteen-year-old girl again. Everything you’ve tried to do—leaving home and moving to a new continent, changing your phone number, making minimal contact with people who might tell her about you—now feels pointless. Foolish little girl.

How bad was it all those years ago? It's ironic that the memory has been blurred, yet your body still reacts the same way to her. Suddenly, a hole forms in your heart, a vacuum where all the big emotions are drained away, leaving only a hollow emptiness. Nothing. This yawning void is no better than everything.

Lost in the numbing fog, you jumped when the door banged open suddenly. Simon stormed in without a knock—very much in his character. The black mask obscuring his expression, but you could see his eyes burning with some intense emotion that you couldn’t place.

Judgment? Pity? Disgust? You don't know, and you're afraid of finding out.

Instead of answering your "questions," he crouches down in front of you, brown eyes sweeping over you, assessing your condition.

“You alright?”

His voice came out gruff, but there was an unusual edge you’d never heard before. Nodding slowly, you rasped, “Yeah, must’ve been the champagne.” It was a lame lie, but you were too tired to offer a better one.

Simon must have realized that too. He looked at you as if he knew what this was about, as if he had seen plenty of this. But, alas, you were a coward, choosing to avert your gaze and pretending his eyes didn't strip you bare to the bone. How could you explain to him that this was all because of a mother?

“Come on, let’s get ya back to the room, yeah?”

In that moment, you are reminded that Simon is not like her; he doesn't pry or make demands. He doesn't ask questions you fear to answer or force explanations you don’t want to elaborate. Whether it's kindness or indifference, you don’t know, but for now, it’s comfort.

Even as you wrapped yourself in a cocoon as soon as you reached your room, Simon let you. He closed the door after returning from another smoke, turning off the lights and letting the room bask in the pale moonlight coming through the window. The bed groaned as he joined you, his big, warm body close yet distant.

You fervently wish he would embrace you.

Fresh flower arrangements filled the air with a sweet scent; the wedding arch looked stunning with the decorations Joyce had mentioned the day before. On the long-awaited big day, the manor was bustling with excitement and nervousness. Bridesmaids were running around the hallway in their beautiful gowns.

Clicking his tongue, Simon wrestled the buttons of his suit jacket with effort. To think that clothes meant for his smaller, younger self years ago would fit his now bigger body was foolish; however, this was the only formal wear he owned back home. Besides, he had never been one for fancy parties (his life was more about simpler, boring affairs). If it weren’t for you, Simon was sure he wouldn’t be attending any more similar events in the future.

His lips released an exhale as the final button slid into place. Walking to the mirror on the far side of the room, Simon couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. His broad shoulders were stretched to their limits, almost tearing through the black fabric with every movement. Like a grown gorilla stuffed in boy’s clothes. But it’d ‘ave to do, he supposed. Not like there’s time to run out for a new one now.

“All set then?” you asked Simon as you walked out of the bathroom after finishing your makeup and hair.

Glancing around, you saw his tie laid out neatly on the bed. You lifted the silk tie and turned to him, stepping closer to close the distance between the two of you. “Here, let me do this for you.” You offered him.

Simon inclined obligingly, lowering his head to allow you to loop the tie around his neck. The next part proved to be a challenge. Trying to bridge the gap between your heights, you rose up on your tiptoes, hands straining to cross the wide satin over the narrow one, but still fell exasperatingly short.

Releasing a sigh, you looked up into his eyes. “Could you maybe... bend down a bit? I can't reach up there." You said.

A wry smile quirked his lips, and for a moment, you thought he might refuse just to give you a hard time. But after a beat, Simon stooped lower so your faces were level. “How's this, then?”

“Much better, thank you.”

Simon watches your hands work deftly, tucking the strip of silk beneath in a half-Windsor knot. You pull it taut in the direction of his collar, then flatten out the delicate fabric's dimples on the sides. The tie is completely symmetrical after one last tug.

“There.” You smooth the silk against his broad chest.

You turn to do your other preparations, while Simon walks over to the standing mirror to take one last look at his appearance. Satisfied, he turns to watch you insert yourself into your light blue dress.

“Can you help with the zipper?” you ask.

Simon’s footsteps approached before you felt his big palm meet the skin of your back. Your breath hitched, goosebumps running down your spine. He worked the zipper until a brief hissing sound was heard, signaling it’s all set. “All done.” He announced.

Before Simon could stop himself, he leaned in to brush a ghosting kiss by your ear. “Ya smell nice as always.” His warm breath caressed your delicate shell, and you squeezed your eyelids shut as you tried to calm your pounding heart.

Turning to meet his brown eyes, you pause to take in the subtleties of his face, which you know he will conceal once more. The slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes in his rare smiles, the curve of his lips amidst his light stubble. He blinks, and those pale eyelashes flutter along with the butterflies in your stomach.

To be one of the few allowed to see him so unguarded feels like a privilege in its own way.

Your lingering gaze prompted him to ask, “What?”

You simply shook your head with a small smile. “You smell nice too,” you replied, barely more than a shy whisper.

None of you moved. The ceiling fan whirred on ceaselessly, filling the silence with the soft snores of its motor. Outside, the rustling of leaves in the wind waved along with the thin branches that tapped on the window. Your eyes returned to his lips as if it were the only way home, and you wanted to wipe their dry surface with the touch of your tongue.

All of a sudden, the fantasy of the future plays like a presentation inside your pretty head. In the countryside of England, what would it be like if this were your wedding instead of Sabrina’s? If Simon were the happy groom instead of Andrew. There would definitely be his favorite bourbon. You’d wear this classic, timeless wedding dress with a long veil and a waterfall bouquet. His parents and siblings (if he has any) would fill the front rows to watch you exchange vows.

Would Simon want that? Has he ever thought of a wedding with a previous girl? Your heart is gripped tightly by the green monster's hand. He was your first, and yet there was someone before you and another before them. Your chest weighs with the realization that his neck has been bared on lips that aren’t yours.

While you were lost in your own thoughts, Simon was fighting his own. And before he could stop himself, he was leaning in, pressing his lips against yours in a nearly desperate kiss. Your eyes widened, mind compelled to be dragged in as he yanked your waist to bring you closer. He grunted into your mouth as he walked you back, causing your back knees to meet the bed and you to sink into the soft mattress. Your hands curled around his neck by their own accord, clinging to him like a mooring rope that kept you in place.

You weren’t the first, you know.

You weren't the first, and that fact ignited a fierce anger within you. Your fantasies, so cherished, now tear apart like shreds of tissue. The desire to be the first skin he ever touched in lust, to be his living mannequin as he explored a woman’s anatomy and poured his pornographic imagination into you... all seemed like a distant pipe dream shattered by the harsh truth of reality.

These desires... they had almost been wiped away, replaced entirely with a fierce anger and a fierce urge to rid the world of any evidence of him having touched a woman who wasn't you.

But as his tongue expertly sweeps over yours, hooking and tracing the cavern of your mouth carefully, you find yourself lulled once again. His kiss like a prophet spreading a gospel, and surrendering to him is no longer an option. You know you weren't the first, yet you present yourself to him like a willing cattle to a slaughterer all the same.

The boisterous shouting outside the room grew louder, snapping both of you out of the moment. The hurried footsteps on the creaky, old wooden floor were easily heard, before someone's voice announced, "It’s starting!" followed by complete silence in the hallway once more.

Simon was the one to break the kiss, his gaze momentarily fixed on you before shifting to the door and then back to you like a dazed person. “Sorry.” The single word escaped his lips; you're not sure what he's apologizing for.

As he moved to stand, the bed creaked softly beneath his shifting weight. Your eyes follow his retreating form, lingering on his lips, still flushed and swollen from your kiss.

“Wait,” you breathed, catching his wrist before he could turn away.

Simon’s pale eyebrows knit together in a puzzled look, but he still says nothing. Hesitantly, you reach up to swipe your thumb across his lower lip, gathering the faint sheen of gloss left behind.

You chuckled. “You've got my lipstick on,” you explain, holding up the gloss-stained digit for him to see.

The expression on his face changed from confusion to a gradual realization, and finally, a hint of amusement as he let out his own deep chuckle. Licking his lips slowly, he brought his own thumb to swipe across, searching for more residue.

“Fuckin' thing,” he grunted as if in annoyance, but the crinkle around his eyes told otherwise.

Your lips were pulled into a smile. Reaching out your hands, you asked, “Help me up?”

As he pulled you to your feet, you took a moment to smooth your gown and hair, making sure you didn’t look too disheveled from the kiss. Simon retrieved his mask from his pants pocket, hooking the strap over his ear. Slipping your arm into his once more, you both made your way from the room.

From afar, the strains of romantic music (with better taste) colored the wedding day. The sun radiated warmth, casting soft, golden rays on friends and family who had taken their seats waiting for the ceremony to begin. As you and Simon walked along the fresh, green grass, sentimentality began to burrow into your ribs.

As you walk to your seats, your eyes are glued to the side view of his sharp outline. When the light seeps through his bittersweet chocolate, transforming his iris honey-colored, the throbbing in your chest is renewed. You could blame it on the wedding—on the love and romance that hangs in the air as two people prepare to be unionized in a testimony of many. But, in truth, you know better what this is.

A ballerina twirls atop your heart, pirouetting to its rapid rhythm. The pastor has opened the ceremony with the words of God, yet you are busy with your own unspoken prayers.

Please, make him stay.

@strawberrygato @aprosiacperson @chipsbuttercream @arrozyfrijoles23 @pastel-devil-06 @rroseskull

SUPPORT ME THROUGH KO-FI! CHECK MY WRITING COMMISSION. SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS HERE.

[irisbaggins]

This episode validated me so much. I left a comment on one of the shorts on YouTube, and I fucking clocked it. I was right. K and Evan worked together on helping people after Magic Broke, and after Evan left K felt like they had to do everything on their own. I'm just gonna attach my original comment below (everything bolded is to emphasise what I feel very validated on due to the new episode):

YES. Exactly! K and Evan are, fundamentally, very similar in their complexes around others vs the self, aka how they view themselves and how their value is tied to their usefulness. I don't know why they broke up, but my money's on the fact that both Evan and K were drowning in guilt for their actions relating to the breaking of magic, and that put a strain on their relationship. Especially as both K and Evan started to become self-destructive (or, even more in Evan's case) in their attempt to "fix" their mistake. I have an inkling that their breakup was more due to them drifting apart because of their Atlas Complexes (taking the world/their family on their shoulders) rather than an explicit Wrong having happened.

But yeah, Evan is fully in the right about his bodily autonomy and K having ignored that. However, what this clip doesn't include is K's actual reasoning and mindset around this. They wanted to "fix" Evan the same way they've been "fixing" magic as Itsy, and they thought they could do it all on their own; do a massive task that should have been done by a community all by themselves. K attempting to heal Evan and then proceeding to royally screw it up was just the natural progression of K's spiral; they were going to create an explosion at some point if they continued to act as they were. It was just, unfortunately, Evan's arm that got blown up, and not their van.

I am just. I called it. In a YouTube short's comment. I called that the reason for K's erratic behaviour was due to their guilt and sense of responsibility, and K nearly spelled it out when talking to Jammer. And with this confirmation, I feel even more bolstered in saying that I genuinely think that K didn't think through their actions when attempting to heal Evan; they saw that Evan had been hurt and scarred after their breakup, and most likely felt guilt over that. They weren't there for him, which led to him being hurt and having an injury heal wrong. K's a healer at heart, someone who tries to help and fix things, and here's living proof that they weren't enough. That they weren't there for Evan because of their own complexes. They just...hadn't considered what it means to heal an already healed bone, especially when magic is less "whimsical" and a lot more realistic right now.

I could go on and on about K and how their character is amazing, but I'll leave this here for now and bask in the feeling of having my analysis hit true. It's really helping my confidence which I need, oh no I have so much to write for my thesis

[kokoa-la]

Paper Clips Make Good Lock Picks- part two

Part 1

"Still going to ignore me?"

...

"Okay okay you got me. Let's get out of here first. We have an hour and a half before another teacher comes in and watches us for the last 15 minutes."

"What's your name?"

Oh, Danny forgot to introduce himself huh? 

"Danny."

"No last name?" 

"You haven't made it far on the friends list"

"Wow friends already? We just met"

"You're breaking out of detention with me. You picked a lock for me, that's called being friends."

"Do you make all your friends by committing crimes together?"

"Only the best ones"

Danny smiled before walking out and checking the hallway side to side. All clear. 

He waved Tim over and out of the classroom. 

"You know this whole hallway is under watch right? There's cameras here." 

"They don't work."

"What?" 

Danny laughed a little before signaling Tim to follow after him against the wall. 

"You didn't know? After school hours certain cameras shut down. In fact, a lot of them are broken and they never paid to get them repaired. That's why they accept bribes. They lie about having proof of crimes, works every time."

"What are you talking about?"

Danny groaned. Of course Tim didn't know about this, he was one of the rich kids they'd exploit. Danny as well as the other kids who were here off of scholarships or special deals knew about the tactic and had ways to avoid it, but rich kids like Tim didn't need to avoid it. The halfa cursed at the unfairness of life. 

"Of course you don't know. The teachers here scam the rich kids. They accuse them of crimes they didn't commit and because their parents never care for proof, only reputation, they bribe them right away without even asking for the evidence. It's happened so many times and it's why when actual problems happen it's swept up under the rug."

"Are you serious?"

"Uh yeah dude. Usually kids like me try their best to avoid it. Meaning don't fight back, don't stay after school, don't go to the bathroom for anything other than an emergency, and don't talk back to any teachers at all. Those are the basics when you're not as rich as everyone else."

"So that's why you're so adamant on being framed, but couldn't you just ask them for proof it was you?"

"Not that easy. I don't have a guardian, I'm a 'charity case' as they say it."

He practically spit out that last part. Utter disgust in his tone. 

"No parents, no money, no dice. If I don't find proof myself and publicize it or threaten em with it, I'm stuck for a year. I have things to do you know"

"Like blowing up chemistry labs?"

Tim teased. Danny gave him a look over his shoulder and rolled his eyes.

"Ha. Ha. Ha. You're so funny Tim! I wonder if Andys laughing in the hospital."

"He deserved it."

"And I'm innocent."

The two just stared at each other before Danny laughed and turned back around, continuing his walk. Tim chalked up the whole conversation as something to investigate later at home. His new "friend" was turning out to be a lot more interesting than he let on. 

"So this is you searching for clues? Have you gotten anything since you started"

"Well as I was saying earlier all the cameras in the hallway leading to the lab don't work at certain times, and the ones that were IN the lab are completely unsalvageable. And at the time of the explosion the usual delinquent students - Anderson included - were out of class."

"So they're the prime suspect, no chance of it being anyone else?" 

"Not many motives. If someone was using it for an outside project they didn't have permission, and other than that it's just the love of destroying and messing around."

Danny had led them through the school, taking twists and turns Tim couldn't recognize, eventually they had stopped at a roadblock. The hallway ended where a giant white tarp lay hanging from the ceiling. Caution tape was draped from each side to the other. 

"Where are we?" 

"The scene of the crime." 

Danny smiled before walking towards the plastic covering and picking it up from the ground and waving Tim over. Tim sighed before looking around and following after him, shaking his head on the way over. 

"Don't act all disappointed in me, you're literally following me"

"I may have just met you today but I'm convinced that it I left you alone you'd somehow either die or blow something up"

Oh how Tim didn't know the truth to that statement. Danny gasped and placed his hand over his chest all dramatically, taking false offense. 

"I'll have you know death cannot take me! It has tried and failed. Plus, we've been over this, I'm innocent!"

Tim didn't even want to unpack the first part of that. Logically it could be an exaggeration, but something about it felt a little too real to his senses. 

"Whatever, you felon."

"Delinquent."

"Fair, now let's get going" 

The roles had reversed as Tim took the lead instead. Danny let him despite having been here multiple times over the last few weeks. Maybe Tim would see something he couldn't. 

“So what are you hoping to find?”

“Proof of my innocence, or proof of their crimes.”

“Isn’t finding their crimes easier? Considering a lot of people already know about it.”

“Well yeah, but that’d turn back on me.”

“How so?”

God, Danny wanted to punch him. 

“Because they’d flip it on me and say how did I get the information? They’d accuse me of stealing and breaking and entering. They’d say that a delinquent child like me who hasn’t got good influences in my life would resort to just about anything to get out of punishment-”

“That’s a bit specific, don't cha think?”

“Well I’ve had similar things happen to me before”

Creepy boy with creepy powers rang in his head, he ignored it. 

“Anyways, how am I even going to get that stuff? The principal's office has all of that information and the cameras there are fully functioning and top quality. Plus, how am I supposed to get into their computer? I don’t know the password and I can’t hack shit for the life of me. Programming I can do, but that? Whole new haunt.” 

“Haunt- you know what? I’m not going to question that.”

“Good. We’re running out of time anyways. Choosing all the hallways that don’t have cameras or ones that work took a while. We need to wrap this up in 20 and then go back the way we came.”

Tim nodded and walked a bit faster towards what used to be the chem lab. There was more plastic screening in the way, but it was easily bypassed by the two. 

“There’s no one here.”

“They only do construction on this place during school hours two times a week.”

“Why? That’ll take forever.”

“Exactly.”

Tim’s questions were getting to Danny at this point. While the halfa acted all knowing in the beginning, it doesn’t change the fact that he’s actually clueless beyond what he discovered on his own. He doesn’t know why they’re prolonging the construction, it’s probably another scheme of theirs- or if they’re lucky, an extensive cover up. Danny, in all honesty, just wants to be able to go home to his little trash heap of a living space in Crime Alley and sleep. 

Tim moved forward, being way too careful. Danny knew he was oddly silent, but he could still hear the other, so he didn't question it. Superhuman hearing for the win! 

“Why is the construction flowing this way? The back of the room is close to being done, but the front is still in complete disarray. They shouldn’t be doing parts of the room, but the whole room in steps.”

Yeah, Danny couldn’t answer that one. At this point, he was just assuming that Tim had to verbalize his questions when answering them himself. He didn’t reply, and with the way the other didn’t ask again or even look at him, Danny was right. He was content to just let his detention mate do his thing, lord knows Tim’s smarter than Danny anyways.

Tim stepped forward cautiously. The ground was still slightly unsteady considering only like 15% of the room had the floors replaced. Now that Danny thought about it, that was weird. He may be clueless about anything other than ghosts and space, but even he knew that foundations were placed first. This is a dangerous and even unsafe way to do construction. Why repair one part of the room first and then bleed out? Was something hidden in that area? Plus, there was still debris from the explosion- 

“What do you think they’re hiding?”

“We’re about to find out.”

Wow, Tim was really invested now. Danny would have just gone back by now and visited tomorrow, but Tim is full on interested. 

All that was left to do was follow the rich kid further in the room. 

“Careful some of the paint is wet.”

Danny didn’t even want to ask how the other knew that from this distance. Danny could tell, but again, super human senses, Tim? Fully human. It didn’t really matter that much though, so he just followed him further and stepped around certain tiles. 

Tim started inspecting just about everything. Nothing was safe. Every piece of wood, every corner, every point in which two colors met- the guy even pulled out a leveler. Where did he get that? You know what? Didn’t matter. Danny was giving his best in minding his business. If it got him set free? He’d ask zero questions- consider his curiosity swallowed. 

“Tim, we have to go. We’re almost out of time.”

“Is it just me or is this cement not level, and doesn’t the drywall seem incorrect to you?”

Tim finally turned back to Danny, breaking out of his investigator mode. The halfa sighed before stepping over to where his new friend was, taking a closer look at what Tim was pointing out. He was right. The cement was uneven against the wall. It was strange considering Chemistry labs required tile flooring. The tiles wouldn’t go well if it wasn’t steady. Plus, the walls were supposed to be in levels: cement, then insulation, then final layer (could be anything really). The drywall set up wasn’t screwed in correctly, and Danny was pretty sure he could see the insulation in some parts. Considering special tiles or substances had to be used over the drywall to make the chemistry lab safe and usable, it wasn’t a good base. 

Okay, Danny will admit, maybe he did do a little bit of research into chemistry labs. It was a rabbit hole he couldn’t escape when listening to Mr.Lanch drag on and on about the 5 page essay due in a month. He was bored, sue him. He was used to being attacked by ghosts everyday, this place was tame. Sure, it was exhausting, but it was still interesting. 

“This isn’t right. The concrete has cracks in it.”

“So?”

“The school is supposed to use epoxy for the flooring, but for that to work the cement underneath it has to be perfect. This is far from that.”

“But they’re doing tiles, not resin.”

Tim gave Danny a look, and it honestly made him feel poor. Epoxy flooring was expensive- like really expensive- Danny has never seen it before that’s for sure. 

“Danny, the school has enough funding to make 20 of these labs with the highest grade. Tuition alone is insane amounts, even for the rich. The facilities the place offers should be of the highest quality. Even if the floors have to get replaced every few years, it states on the website that it’s supposed to be epoxy.”

Tim took what seemed to be a thousand photos of the area, getting every little detail. 

“Hmm, sounds like they’re cutting corners to cut costs. Leave it to the corrupt.”

“Alright, I got what we needed, let's head back.”

“Thank the Ancients. We’re gonna need to hurry, you know. We took too much time.”

Danny was quick to retrace the steps he took entering, ensuring no more tracks were left. Tim followed suit, and soon enough they were back into the maze of Hallways. This time with Tim leading the way. How the other knew it already when he’d only been through it once was beyond Danny, but again, he wasn’t gonna question it. 

Questioning others gave them a way to ask you questions in return, and Danny wasn’t too keen on answering anything personal.

.

.

.

“Made it!” 

Danny laughed as he slumped in the first seat, dead tired from the way they ran after seeing the clock. They were 10 minutes away when the clock showed they had 5 minutes until a check in. To say they ran would be an understatement. The way the two of them jumped down those stairs would surely raise many questions if Danny was keen to ask, but hey, maybe Tim was one of those ‘do every hobby known to mankind’ rich kids. 

Well his new friend was fit, at the least. Tim hadn’t even broken a sweat, only slightly breathing a little heavier. Danny wished. As a ghost he didn’t have such things as stamina, there was no out of breath when you don’t breathe. As a human, however, he was stuck with meager capabilities he gathered up from running away from bullies and fighting off ghosts with watchful eyes. Seriously, he needed to do whatever Tim was doing (just cheaper). 

Funnily enough, the second Tim sat down a seat away from him, Mr.Lanch entered the room. 

“I see you two have moved. I hope you didn’t cause any disturbances.”

He said while looking directly at Danny. Danny was sure to keep a tight smile on his face, hiding his clenched fist under the desk next to his thigh. 

“No way, sir. I just needed some help on that essay we have. You know I’m a little-”

“Behind, yes, I’m aware. Don’t distract Mr.Drake, he has well enough to do on his own. Am I clear?”

“Yes, yes. Sorry, won’t happen again.”

“Now apologize to Mr.Wayne for bothering him.”

“He wasn’t a bother.”

Tim interrupted, and Danny swore Tim looked annoyed. How come?

“Excuse me?”

“Danny wasn’t bothering me, Mr.Lanch, I was happy to help.”

There was an attitude in his tone, a bit of sharpness that Danny could pick up. He couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

“Yes, well, an esteemed individual such as yourself mustn't get too involved with the likes of him.”

Was this guy for real? Not even bothering to hide the blatant discrimination. Danny refrained from rolling his eyes, his fist clenching ever so tighter, making indents in his skin. 

“What may that mean, Mr.Lanch.”

“Mr.Drake, I’m sure you are well aware that people like… him are not the best influence on those such as yourself.”

Danny could feel the rage bubbling under Tim’s skin- being a sort of empath had its perks. 

“People like him? I am unaware as to what exactly you mean by that.”

Yeah, this was going to continue escalating. Danny cleared his throat, making both of them look over at him.

“I’m sorry Tim for bothering you earlier. It won’t happen again, don’t worry.”

“That’s better like it, now, I will return when time is up. Good day.”

And with that, Mr.Lanch left the room, making Danny sigh in relief. He sunk into his seat and rubbed his fingers over the crescents in his palm. 

“Why did you do that?”

“What?”

Tim gave him an annoyed look.

“Apologize.”

“It’s not that important, Tim. It’s easier on me if I just do what he asks. As long as I don’t get punished too badly it’s fine.”

“Didn’t we just return from trying to prove your innocence?”

“That was different from this. A year of detention and being banned from any labs for the rest of highschool is way too drastic to just take it. I have a thing called a job, Tim, I can’t be here when I could be working. Not all of us have people making food for them anytime they want.”

This was ridiculous. Seriously, Danny may care about justice and all that jazz, but he made a promise to- well- Jazz that he’d finish highschool and do it right. He couldn’t start problems when he already barely got in from this alone. Tim would be fine anywhere he went, Danny wouldn’t, and that’s just the truth. He couldn’t punch his way out of this one, and he accepted that the first month in. It really was Casper high part two, but instead of the treatment being because he was the weird kid, it was because he was the poor orphan. Not much better, now, was it.

Tim finally shut his mouth. Danny allowed himself to roll his eyes before putting his head down on the desk. 10 minutes until freedom. 

Day one was finally over. 

_______________________

Imma be real honest I actually hated part 2 which is why I never posted it, but i've been convinced bcs someone asked for the link to it so i avoided tumblr for a week because i thought itd be mean to show activity and ignore them- so i went back edited it and now theres a part 3 and im worried this will become a short story

anyways enjoy!

Koa out <3

[sharpeagle-tech]

ATEX flashlight - Explosion proof - Intrinsically Safe

Explosion proof flashlights are advanced and dependable lighting solutions specially  designed for use in hazardous environments. Crafted and rigorously tested to comply with ATEX standards, ensuring optimal performance in potentially explosive atmospheres. These intrinsically safe lights are Ideal for industries such as oil and gas, chemical plants, and mining, this flashlight prioritizes safety without compromising on illumination prowess.

Key Features

IP rate: IP65, IP68

Led light source

Zone 1&2, Zone 21&22

High hardness aluminum alloy shell, surface sandblasted anodized, beautiful appearance

Lithium-ion battery, no memory, large capacity, long life, stable performance, low self-discharge rate

Bright light, working light, stroboscopic three modes adjustable

[wannaeatramyeon]

Seong Taehoon x Reader: when did you know you liked me?

Wasn't planning on one for this idiot, but for 'raccoon anon' because you seem to be having a rough time rn. Jake Kim | Samuel Seo

Honestly.

How did Seong Taehoon get a partner that is so cringe and cheesy? When did he realise he liked you? Why would you even ask him that without expecting a teasing remark.

And then you push him more and get rewarded with a (light) kick on the ass. (He should have known that it would have led to you sulking and ignoring him. Oops. That's his bad.)

Seriously though.

Does he really need to recall every single moment he has felt something for you? Isn't it enough that he loves you? Isn't it enough that you make him feel so mushy that even Snapper and Hobin think they can get away with talking back to him when you're around?

That should be proof enough of his feelings for you.

What you digging up the past for?

Taehoon wonders if you'd be disappointed that he didn't see you differently for a long time. That he saw you as his friend first and foremost.

Someone that became a constant in his life.

Who treated him with kindness from the start. A curious sort of kindness, lined with blunt words and a bold attitude, packaged up in a way that Taehoon would be able to accept.

Who he couldn't help but give you a little kindness back too.

Taehoon is still sharp and prickly and oh so quick to anger, but some of his edges are smoothed. Sanded down and refined over time with you and for you.

And then-

A passing offhand comment from Rumi on how cute you are, which he instantly dismissed at first. Sure, Taehoon has eyes. He knows you're cute. Cute like puppies and kittens are cute.

But like a veil lifted from his head, he realised you're not just cute. Especially when Yeonwoo, in Taehoon's mind, all too eagerly agreed.

It was a day spent just hanging around in the company house during summer break. Where it was too hot and hazy to do anything other than sitting around. Messing around and letting the sound of chatter drift around him as he fiddles on his phone.

At Yeonwoo's agreement, Taehoon's leg immediately started twitching and his mood soured.

Quick tempered at the best time, now suddenly explosive for no real reason.

Maybe it was that exact moment when he realised that there is something to this. That he liked you as more than a friend.

Taehoon considers this as he watches you pouting next to him, arms folded tight and determined not to look at him.

"Hey idiot," he calls but you don't respond.

So he tells you.

Tells you Rumi's comment, and he tells you the date. Nothing more, nothing less. Though he does also tells you that four eyed bastard's comment too.

Your mood lifts. Until finally, you turn towards him, body now relaxed and easy, smile bright, and say he's adorable.

Taehoon is Taehoon. Romance never lasts long.

He also tells you to "stop being cringe", "weren't you just mad a second ago", "why you throwing yourself at me now".

Yet his cheeks tinges with pink.

(If you ever ask him, he will forever deny the way he blushed as he told you the moment everything changed.)

[marlynnofmany]

Racetracking

“The good news,” announced the gravelly voice of Mimi the tentacle alien, “Is that this model defaults to zero-g when it breaks.” He led the way down the corridor with tentacle slaps instead of footsteps, which managed to sound exasperated.

I had the brief thought that he was louder than Mur and Wio when he walked, possibly because he spent so much time in the engine room where everything was noisy. But I put that thought aside. I had a pretty good idea what the bad news was.

“The bad news,” Mimi grumbled, “Is that the carrying cage that these high-paying customers insisted on is so broken that I can’t fix it. Even with the right tools.”

“So we have animals in zero-g,” I said.

Mimi waved a tentacle in a way that I privately found hilarious. “We just took off! Just! It’s like they’re trying to frame us for damages!”

I looked at him in alarm. “Are we sure they’re not?”

He made a dismissive motion, still walking. “That’s what the cameras in the storage holds are for. There’s proof that no one dropped it or whatever. And I think Captain Sunlight is already talking to them about it, which is a conversation I do not envy her.”

I winced. “Yeah. Which animals? It’s just one of the carriers, right?”

“The little ones. I dunno what they’re called. They were alive when I left, but they looked pretty upset.”

That didn’t narrow it down. As the ship’s resident animal expert, I’d had a look at each of the half-dozen life support chambers that passed for carriers among the rich folks. Each of them held a different type of little furry whatsit in wild colors. Each was sealed with its own supply of air and gravity — or at least it was supposed to be.

I couldn’t hear any distressed noises yet, but when Mimi poked the button for the door, it slid open to a chorus of muffled squeaks.

The six chambers were lined up in a row, on display in the center of the room, with nothing close enough to so much as touch them. Five held animals calmly nosing around the bottom.

One held a whirling tornado of blue fur.

I dashed over to peer through the glass, hands dancing uncertainly. I shouldn’t touch it, shouldn’t open it. But—!

…But.

I looked closer. “They’re running.” I dropped my hands and stared.

Mimi plopped down next to me. “Is that bad?”

“No, it’s just — Look at them! They’re doing this on purpose!” I started to smile as I realized why the squeaks sounded familiar. “They’ve made their own hamster wheel.”

“A what now?” Mimi wanted to know.

I gestured vaguely. “It’s an exercise thing for animals like this where I’m from. A wheel that they run inside of, and it keeps spinning. These guys—” I pointed at the chamber. “���Have created their own.”

“Uh-HUH.” Mimi tilted his head to watch the antics, which were slowing down as they noticed us. “That is a strange reaction to zero-gravity.”

“I’ve heard of mice that did that, actually,” I said as a memory surfaced. “It took them a while to make a game of it. I wonder if this isn’t the first time the carrier’s gravity has gone screwy.”

Mimi held a curl of tentacle thoughtfully to his face. “That is an interesting data point. The captain will want to know.” He lowered it. “And if you’re sure these things aren’t about to die of organ explosion or whatever, then we should go tell her.”

The blue furry things — which did honestly look a lot like mice — had settled down to some more even-tempered bumping around in there. None were limping as far as I could tell, and none had been knocked unconscious or worse.

“I think they’re okay,” I said, looking closely. “The food dispenser is closed, thankfully, so there aren’t any pellets or globs of water floating about. They just got a bit of excitement.”

Mimi levered himself off the floor. “They’re not the only ones,” he grumbled. “Annoying little meatsticks must be in cahoots with the rich jerks, trying to make our lives harder. Why would they even do that?”

I gave the chamber one last look, then stood and followed him toward the door. “I dunno, it looks like fun. Probably a lot of animals would enjoy that if they knew it was an option.”

Mimi stared at me with one large eye. “Animals from your planet.”

“Well, yeah. Probably others too.”

He made a wet-sounding snort of skepticism and led the way into the hall.

I followed, smiling. “Come on, it looks like fun. I was just thinking it would be neat to try in a zero-g room, though flat walls wouldn’t be as good as curved ones.”

“Your planet’s full of weirdos. You know that, right?”

“Oh, it’s been said before.”

~~~

Thanks to this post for inspiration! It was too good an idea to pass up.

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. But you probably already knew that.