#chemical process tanks

[dennerikengineering]

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[taknikinc]

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[avonengineering]

Industrial Tanks

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[rlyehtaxidermist]

December 2-3, 1984

It's been forty years since a Union Carbide chemical plant exposed five hundred thousand people to methyl isocyanate in Bhopal, India. Thousands were killed in the initial event, thousands more died from complications months or years later, and at least a hundred thousand were permanently injured.

The cause of the incident was the introduction of water to a methyl isocyanate storage tank. This caused a runaway reaction, overpressurising the tank from 14 to 280 kPa over the course of two hours, at which point the tank cracked - but even with atmospheric escape of the gas, pressure continued to increase to nearly 400 kPa - at which point the gauge could no longer give an accurate reading.

After roughly 30 tonnes of gas escaped, employees triggered the plant's alarm system - which was originally designed to alert both workers in the plant and the people in the surrounding city. Company policy mandated that they not alarm the populace about "inconsequential" leakages, so the two alarms had been decoupled by the time of the release. For nearly an hour and a half, the plant's management continued to tell authorities that everything was fine and they had no idea what had happened. Hospital staff had to guess what gas was causing the symptoms. No shelter in place order was given; the public siren remained silent for an hour and a half.

Union Carbide had identified 61 hazards at the Bhopal plant in a 1982 audit, but never followed up on the inspection. Mere months before the incident, UCC discussed the possibility of a methyl isocyanate reaction similar to what occurred in Bhopal at one of their West Virginia plants - however, the report and its predictions were never forwarded to the Bhopal plant, despite the similar design and process.

The Union Carbide Corporation asserts that the incident was caused by sabotage performed by a disgruntled worker. They claim that workers conspired with the Indian government to hide evidence of sabotage in order to blame the company, claiming that the safety systems were sufficient to prevent the incident without human intervention.

On the night of the incident, the tank's monitoring equipment had been malfunctioning for years, reduced to a single manually operated backup. Management had shut off refrigeration of the tank, keeping it at more than 15 degrees Celsius above the recommended temperature. The emergency flare and gas scrubbers had been out of order for months - and even if they had been active, they had insufficient capacity. Deluge guns - a type of pressurised water cannon intended to dissolve escaping gas - lacked enough pressure to even reach the gas cloud.

No motive for the alleged sabotage was suggested.

Warren Anderson, CEO of Union Carbide, refused to answer homicide charges by the Indian government, with the US government denying repeated requests for extradition. He died in 2014, months before the thirtieth anniversary of the disaster in Bhopal.

Union Carbide have divested their stake in their Indian subsidiary UCIL, and refuse to fund any efforts to clean up the abandoned site, insisting that the fault lied with UCIL management and the alleged saboteur. The company paid $470 million dollars to the Indian government - which worked out to a cost of 43 cents per share of the company. Union Carbide's annual earnings were $4.88 per share after the Bhopal settlement.

The 2012 Global Intelligence Files leak revealed that Union Carbide's current owner, Dow Chemical, had employed the surveillance firm Stratfor to monitor activists seeking compensation for the Bhopal disaster.

Dow responded to the email leak that they were "required to take appropriate action to protect their people and safeguard their facilities" - an attitude that seems to have been very lacking in 1984.

[strawberrystepmom]

cw: omegaverse, knotting. alpha!narumi x omega f!reader. anatomy is mentioned (breasts). reluctant mates can certainly become something more, right? | word count: 1.7k, reading time: 5 minutes.

In fourteen days flat, you’ve managed to go from being considered for an international match up as an unmated omega to flying to Japan to meet with your prospective alpha to being trapped inside of a room with the man that has been deemed your mate.

At first you doubted those claims of ownership, Gen Narumi’s temperament almost uncomfortably unlike your own, at least on the surface. For the things you have in common - willingness to speak your mind being one and a proud streak you find it hard to criticize yourself over - your differences were obvious from the start. He’s bold, a born leader whose mouth moves however it desires. You’re thoughtful, careful in what you say and how you move, considerate of the world around you and your place in it.

No matter the reservations about his personality, your body disagreed immediately when you caught a whiff of him while sitting for an interview. Peppery and natural, a mixture of musk and spice and something sweet that perfectly mingles with your own pheromones. You felt the telltale signs of a heat coming on immediately and would’ve excused yourself if it weren’t as though something were keeping you pinned in place, seated and ready for him.

Now you’re here. That seated and ready thing is about to come true, two people in a room that locks from the outside. Soundproof, waterproof, whatever proof. This is business as usual clearly although you feel a little strange to be in such a clinical setting while experiencing what has always been something you’ve dreamed of.

The b word. Bonding.

Damn near everything feels uncomfortable when you are as wildly aroused as you are, every last nerve you have alight with desire. The, well, your alpha paces across the floor, fiddling with the button of his pants and pulling the zipper down. They sag around his hips and you swallow thickly from your place on the bed, as close to nude as you’re willing to come right now in a cotton tank top and cheeky cut underwear.

“Is this your first time?”

You aren’t sure why you’d expect any better ice breaker than that from Narumi given what he’s shown you so far but that’s the one he settled on, pants now a puddle around his ankles on the floor. Snorting, you shake your head and turn your face toward him.

“Is it yours?”

He shoots you a warning glance. You should just assume that the great Commander has taken troves of women to his bed. Giggling to yourself, you shift uncomfortably on the bed and assume it’s your responsibility to figure out if he has or not. 

You’d rather just move on so you do.

“I’ve absolutely had sex before, just never taken anyone’s knot before.”

Your honesty stops Gen in his tracks, shirt halfway off and hanging over his arms awkwardly while he glowers at you with a brow raised out of the hole meant for his head. 

“Are you serious?”

Folding your arms over your thin tank top clad chest, you shrug and wag your head. “Yes. I wanted to save it for my mate. Is it so wrong to be a romantic?”

Considering anything about the base urges the two of you feel as alpha and omega respectively as romance has never really crossed his mind before. To him, this is a chemical process. It’s numbers and markers and all of the other shit he saw scribbled next to the measurements of your hips and waist in the file folder Hasegawa showed him a week ago. Biology and instinct, not love.

“Interesting,” he opines, humming. “So you think because people are mates that they’re supposed to be in love?”

Hauling his shirt off the rest of the way, it makes its way to the floor while he joins you on the bed. The blazing eyed alpha raises both of his brows, inhaling air that is thick with the scent of you, his own scent sharp and mixing with yours. 

Scoffing, you roll your eyes and lower your arms from over your chest. Your nipples are pebbled, a natural reaction to the arousal you’re feeling thanks to his cloying scent and the cool air of the room. They have to be keeping it as low as possible, you think while noticing your hairs are standing on end and goosebumps are covering your arms.

“No. I’m not that naive but I think there are some things best kept between people who belong to each other, Gen.” Sighing, you glance away from Narumi and lift your thumb to your mouth to gnaw on your cuticle. “I’m not explaining this very well so this is all I’m going to say and then we can change the subject but what I’m saying is that you can knot me.”

The smirk that comes across his face isn’t missed when you peek at him from the corner of your eye. 

“So you’re admitting we’re at least mates then? Changed your tune from a few days ago.”

The look on your face said more about how you felt than you ever would and he will never forget the slight quiver in your lip when you smiled at him after he agreed that you were his match. 

“Oh my god you’re impossible!” Contemplating throwing your arms up, you settle for angrily raising your brows and widening your eyes instead, face turned toward your unruly companion. “Obviously. That’s why I flew on a plane to be here. We are mates. Biologically compatible. Knot and knotee. Whatever makes you feel the best about what we are.” 

He leans down and his hair hangs over both of your faces, his bangs tickling your nose and forehead.

“So you don’t expect me to be your boyfriend then, do you?”

You don’t want his insistence that the two of you are nothing but biologically compatible to hurt yet it does. A little ache in your chest, a little twitch of your fingers where they rest at your sides. 

“I get the impression you’re going to do whatever you want no matter what I say, Narumi.”

From Gen to Narumi again with a few simple words. Your body language shifts again, arms once again folded over your chest, face turned toward the wall opposite you. It fills the room with the scent of you, stronger than before, and he swallows a mouth full of saliva.

“I would like us to at least be friends,” you finally admit. Your voice is small, almost far away sounding as though you’ve retreated from him completely. “You may not see all of this the same way that I do but it’s important to me that we have something besides sex in common.”

The tension and air in the small room both remain thick. Narumi sits back on his heels and wishes his rut weren’t hitting him so intensely. It’s not that he doesn’t like you although it seems that way and he knows that’s his fault. He likes you more than he expected and that’s the real problem.

Seeing you come to life instead of being a face and name on a page over the past several days has been unexpectedly endearing, his daily walk from his room to his office consumed with thoughts of you. Most of them have been impure of course but between those he’s managed to really consider other aspects of what his life looks like now that he’s found a mate.

“Look at me.”

He commands it and you do it, as all good omegas do. Your face is drawn into a flat expression, unlike your usual half smile and bright eyes. This process has taken as much out of you as it has him, the cracks showing in the form of glossy unshed tears on your lower lashline.

“I don’t…” he begins and you shake your head, pouting slightly while reaching for one of his hands. You don’t lace your fingers together, simply resting his palm on your soft, warm thigh and placing your hand over the top of it.

“It’s okay, I ge –”

Cut off before you even begin, he presses his forehead against yours and squeezes your thigh.

“I don’t know what to think about any of this. The whole process makes you feel like shit, like everyone only wants you for one thing.” Sighing, he shakes his head. “I want us to be friends too and I want you to…”

He cuts himself off before he can finish. I want you to be happy that I’m your alpha. The words are too heavy on his tongue to let them go yet. Sensing his hesitation, you jump in to bridge the gap. 

“Oh so you want me too? That’s good to know.”

You smile while taking a glance at him, looking more like yourself now that you aren’t sulking. He doesn’t want to indulge you too much but chuckles, the space between the two of you growing smaller while he climbs over your body. 

“As weird as this situation is, yes.” 

He lowers himself until you are enveloped by lithe, muscular arms and his abdomen is pressed against yours. The initial rush of closeness makes him dizzy, lightheaded almost, and your scent is now completely unavoidable. Lowering his face to nuzzle against your neck, you moan softly and the hand that was gripping your thigh now slides to the inside of it. 

“I want you really, really bad.” A kiss is placed against your clavicle, those fingers on your inner thigh now drenched with your pre-heat slick that has been soaking them and your panties since the two of you were first locked in here. 

“My mate,” he croons, voice little more than a rasp, greedy mouth now nipping at your throat, your shoulder, anything he can get to. 

Another slight pang shows itself in your chest but you ignore it, too overcome by your urge to be taken to ponder the possessiveness from a real world perspective. For now, it’s the two of you existing in this fantasy as a bonded pair, sating the others' urges for the first time in your lives. 

Your heart pounds in excitement. 

[satans-codpiece]

8 with screamer pls

8) oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

(Implicitly TFP Starscream, post-Partners. Him sneaking around the Nemesis is so good for this.)

----

You thought you were dying; that someone's finally come to kill the High Command's pet human in an idiotic power play-

Until he was shushing you.

"What are you doing here?"

You hadn't seen him in weeks, months-- you still didn't see him as talons had curled together in a protective cup. Until your demand registered in his audials and each towering rod of metal sprung apart.

"ME???" He hisses, optics wide, lighting up the room in scarlet. All around you, his thin digits twitch with indignation. He holds you at chest height, but even here he makes you look up to see him. "What do you think I'm doing? I'm running on fumes out there and-" Starscream's head whips towards the door. All at once the red light that had been bathing you is gone, illuminating dark metal. It takes another several seconds before you hear what had drawn his attention. Footsteps- several in succession. A squad of Vehicons. Were they there for him? You turn back towards him and truly take in his appearance. As bright as his lights are in the pitch black room, they're dim- dim for how blinding they should be with him keyed up, ready to fight whatever came through the door. Worse, him looking away gives you the perfect view of the horrid scratch just below his right optic.

He holds you so close, so precariously folding his limbs to fit into the closet anyway- you stretch up onto your tip toes and reach for him. "Starscream..."

Your fingertips barely brush metal. His face snaps back towards you.

In an instant you can see it, plain as though he'd told you himself. He didn't come back for you-- not that you would have expected him to, he was hardly the most dedicated of them-- but now that he has you in his servos again... The apertures of his optics spin, watching you, betraying more than he would ever want to say. Outside, the footsteps recede.

"I was worried about you." You say, "I missed you." and it's true. When you reach for him again, he lets you touch, your tiny palm against his massive, cool cheek.

"Of course you did." Starscream says on instinct. But the waver of his optics, of his derma means there's something else. Starscream quiets as he struggles to say something with sincerity. Evidently, he doesn't quite get there. "I can't mass displace." It's not what he really means to say, replaces his first-line defense of sarcasm and self-aggrandizement with second-line allusion. It's enough to give you pause- "Have to be quick." and that's enough for you to push it aside.

You nod, instantly breathless. You don't know what quick means to him right now, so you skip the formalities and kick your pants off the edge of his servo. His optics darken at the sight of you adjusting, settling back against the quickly warming plates.

And when you part your legs for him- his engine hums, spooling up despite his attempts to suppress the sound- and his glossa spills from his intake. Slick, smooth metal joints trace up your thigh- and that's all the warm-up you get before he's sliding between your lips.

A gasp rips its way from your mouth- and you quickly cover it with your hand, sinking your teeth into your fingers just to keep quiet. From the heat in Starscream's gaze and the momentary flick of his wings, you think he'd wish you wouldn't- regardless of how tactically sound that impulse is.

He drags his glossa up nice and slow, lets his optics shutter, rerouting processing power to the chemical sensors on his glossa. It's been a quartex- no, two- since he last tasted you and your strange little organic lubricant. It's sweet and so strangely inert, his drained tanks aching for energy-dense fuel, not the delicious strings of proteins you leak so obligingly onto his glossa.

His faceplate is cool when he draws his servo even closer, your thighs pressing up to rough-worn metal. You sigh for the contact, squirm in his palm as his languid licks turn intentional, the tapered tip prodding at your entrance while the base rubs teasingly across your clit.

"Star," You sigh into your fist. He must hear it- because his engine gives a stuttering, half-aborted purr and his glossa pushes in.

With so little effort, he fills you- and your warmth, your softness, your taste surrounds him. This time, his engine's spooling goes unchecked, a deep rumble that rises in pitch- and yet does nothing to hide the distinctive shnk of his panel opening.

You wish you had the time, that he had the energy to fuck you properly. It's been so long, and as nice as his glossa feels pumping into you, squirming deliciously against your walls, it's not the same.

Around you, his talons twitch again- and now you watch his arm move and stroke himself with a pace that shuns the very concept of patience. Heat bursts from his vents, fans clicking ever higher in vain. It's been too long- too long without him, too long worrying. There's no room for the nice, slow reunion fuck you each deserved.

"Close," You gasp, but he already knows. He's felt how your soft, squishing walls keep trying to clamp down on his glossa, as though you could trap him inside that soft, wet little frame-

"Yes, yes," He purrs- voice rumbling unimpeded from his vox. Red light washes over your tiny body as he re-engages his optics, watches as you squirm in his servo-

And when you cry out, "Star!" body going rigid because of him- for him- Starscream's engine stutters, skips a cycle and he moans against your skin. His arm trembles, struggles to work himself through his own overload.

He leans away, his vents hot like desert air on your skin. The light of his optics has dimmed, lowered in the wake of his spent charge- but still coat your body in a garnet gleam, every inch of you painted red for him.

You rub your hand along his, feel the grooves between plates. "Do you have to go?" You murmur, staring up him.

"I'll be back." Starscream promises, stroking your body so carefully with one long, sharp talon. "I'll find you."

[macmay]

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[gatorbites-imagines]

i was wandering if you can write bane x reader [ i'd ascent to god if its trans/ftm reader, it's ok if you can't or dont want to write it :) ] with a big size difference that's all! have a good day/night and take care of yourself <3

Bane x FTM reader

Headcanons

Still have no internet in my apartment, but luckily my sister is letting me visit her place to do assignments, so I can upload stuff from there.

This is based off of comic Bane more than anything, but i cant really find any gifs of that guy, so comic panel it is.

All in all, I don’t think it matters much to Bane that you are trans. It isn’t something he would see as a dealbreaker, or even care too much about. As long as you guys get along and both have feelings for one another.

Bane is extremely smart too, so if you can’t legally find ways to get treatment, then he would probably know at least 10 different ways to get the result you need.

If you want to build muscle, then Bane is also your guy. He knows as much as one can about the process of working the body and getting the result you want, so he would be able to help you get the look you want, even if you aren’t on any testosterone or hormone blockers.

If you want to work out then Bane could also help you out if you aren’t one for top surgery, as you can get a similar look through the right diet and workout routine. But if you want top surgery, you bet he’s taking care of you afterwards, since he would know a thing or two about medical procedures.

Bane being who he is probably also knows different ways to get you to the hormone level you want, but he would most likely avoid doing anything as drastic as his own mix up with chemicals and the likes, unless that’s what you are trying to go for as well. Would make sure you knew all the dangers first though, just in case.

If you want neither and don’t care much for hormone treatment, surgeries or even presenting masc, then it doesn’t pose any issues either, since Bane wouldn’t really care. Hes one of those “wear whatever you want, I can fight” kinda boyfriends. As long as you are happy and comfortable, then he is comfortable and happy.

He seems like a big scary dude, but Bane would be very respectful of you and how you present yourself. Gives very much “big scary dog privilege” when you guys go out, and you do go out sometimes, as I could imagine some of the bats would let you two go on dates, as long as Bane isn’t causing any trouble. You’ll have to live with being shadowed the entire time though.

The huge size difference also strengthens the whole scary shadow thing, so even if people wanna be transphobic too you, they sure as hell don’t dare to do so, since Bane is towering over literally everyone there with muscles that could kill.

Sharing clothes with Bane would also be entertaining, since hes so much bigger than you. Even just his tank tops would hang off you and slide right off you. You would have to tie it with something or tuck it into your pants with a belt, and even then, it would still look super baggy.

You don’t get the chance to borrow his mask, since he needs it himself. But I could see him finding it kinda sweet if you worked the pattern or colors into your own style. It also helps to tell anybody who wants to hurt you that you hand in hand with Bane. So, crossing you is crossing Bane, even when he’s locked away in Arkham.

The extreme size difference also means you can climb him like a tree, like hanging onto his back like a backpack, or hanging around his neck with your arms without your feet being able to touch the ground if he stands up straight.

You being Banes lover also probably becomes some of the “in the know” knowledge around Gotham. The bigger fish know not to mess with you since Bane would be breathing down their necks if they as much as thought about it.

But being Bane’s partner also means you’d know how to protect yourself and even kill if need be. Being much smaller than him and also being trans puts you at risk, so your lover would want you to know how to take care of anybody that tries to harm you when he’s not around. So, you end up knowing how to use a lot of different weapons and fighting styles one way or another.

But in the end, Bane is a respectful guy whose too damn smart to let you being trans get in the way of a relationship. Your big size difference is also cute in his eyes, since he can easily pick you up or just wrap you in his arms. It’s pretty damn great.

[askvectorprime]

Dear, Vector Prime.

Could you tell us about the snacks Cybertronians eat?

Dear Snacking Satiated,

Ah, snacks—something that unites species throughout the multiverse. Whether as an accompaniment to a cup of oxide, or as a late-night pick-me-up, the temptation to top up with snack food between recharge periods is undeniable—despite the energon imbalances that can result. Even I have my own preferences.

The most famous of course, is the simple energon goodie. This is a small amount of energon in its jellified state, often known as energon gum or energon resin. It's easy to mold into different shapes; with cubes, icosahedrons, and sticks all being popular.

Another popular snack is chocolate-covered oil drums. Here the natural oxidation of the Cybertronian chocolate provides a pleasing bitterness to the mellow oil. The treat is popular with many Cybertronians, and even I've been known to enjoy one on occasion.

Ah, of course I must point out that these terms I've been using—"sweet," "chocolate," and "bitter"—are all approximations. I should take this opportunity to explain this, because it's important to note that Cybertronian foods would taste extremely unpleasant to humans, in much the same way organic sugar is toxic to Cybertronian fuel tanks. When I say energon is naturally sweet, I am referring to our ability to taste the fissile element within it. As an aside, this is also where our sense of sourness comes form, as energon undergoes radioactive decay and becomes depleted. While this is unfortunate for people who like sweet treats, it is invaluable for a good energon wine.

As for Cybertronian chocolate, that comes from rare mechanical plants. These plants process chemicals for fuel and along the way a thick sludgy bi-product is created and sealed within pods for disposal. Cybertronians learned to process this sludge even further to create a bitter yet pleasing chemical. The bitterness comes from our natural toxicity sensors, and so when searching for an equivalent, it is common to associate it with Earth fuels like chocolate or coffee.

[dcdreamblog]

Followup, the Joker has claimed a few times that he was the original Red Hood--do you think there's any credibility to that?

Am I placing much historical stock in one of the many, MANY manifestos written by a murderous sociopath? No honestly I can't say that I am. Thankfully, I do not have to because as any Gothamite will tell you, the Joker is not as slick as he likes to think he is. SO, let's talk some dates and times.

(The Ace Chemical Process Planet located in Gotham City, NJ) The raid/robbery that The Joker cites as his "one bad day" in his manifesto DID happen. That much is a matter of public record. Generally, here is how it went down.

(All times are taken in EST)

2:00 AM: The Gang makes their way, unnoticed into the factory's central processing area

2:02 AM: The Gang's gunmen are spotted by Ace security, a call to the GCPD is made and the security guards open fire against police advice.

2:03-2:15 AM: Most of the Gang members are killed in the resulting firefight before the police arrive outside the building. Leaving only "Red Hood One" the Gang's assumed leader.

2:16 AM: Batman arrives on the scene, breaking through the skylight of the processing area. His presence is noted entering the building by the GCPD and within the plant by Ace security

2:17-2:20 AM: Batman and Red Hood One engage in a short scuffle and chase through the processing plant, eventually ending up on a catwalk overhanging vats of caustic chemicals. Red Hood One is characterized as "nervous", "jittery" and "terrified" by Ace security

2:21 AM: Red Hood One backs up against the railing of the catwalk, seemingly over committing his weight he falls backwards over the railing. Batman lunges forward in an attempt to catch him but Red Hood One's loose evening glove slips free and he tumbles into the vat below.

2:25 AM: GCPD arrives on the scene, all members of the Red Hood Gang are marked DOA by paramedics.

1 Week: The tanks are drained in full, their contents and the drainage pipes, outflow stream and factory grounds are searched. Red Hood One's body is never recovered. Ace Chemical releases a statement saying that full immersion in the chemicals within the vat is "incompatible with human life". On their advice, Red Hood One is declared legally dead, his identity never established.

1 Month: His single evening glove is left in a sealed evidence bag on the desk of Gotham's then new police commissioner, Jim Gordon. This is taken as evidence that even Batman has declared the case cold.

4 Months: The Joker makes his first public appearance, attempting to release toxic chemicals into the Gotham reservoir. After his defeat and arrest, the chemicals are tested. They are the same chemical from the vats at the Ace Chemical Planet where Red Hood One went missing. The chemical is not publically available for purchase and is a controlled substance, meaning it is only purchasable in bulk for corporate and government manufacturing. This means the only missing batch is the one drained from the vats to search for Red Hood One's body.

It's that last detail that I think will leave this door open until the end of time. Famously as it has been noted though, it's impossible to prove beyond circumstantial evidence.

The Joker has no fingerprints (consistent with them being burned off, which is a common enough criminal tactic that it doesn't prove anything), dental and DNA records matching his own do not exist on any public database.

If Red Hood One left skin, hair or prints on the inside of that glove it's not in the case file and Batman's not telling.

[westonspharmacyphotodept]

Disposable Camera series, no.3: The Birthday Gift

--

Suppose that for her birthday, Ellie received a gift from somebody in Jackson. A new friend, or maybe Maria. A rare treasure from the old world - a little yellow plastic Kodak camera containing a full roll of unexposed film. As a curious and creative soul, it would be the perfect thing to take along on her birthday hike with Joel to a surprise location in the forest.

As before, we’re working with a cheap piece of hardware, designed to take functional pictures in bright sunlight, though thankfully on this occasion there’s plenty of sunshine to use. In the dark museum, we’re really gonna need the flash.

The film is degraded, and the developing facilities are not ideal. In Jackson there’s an old abandoned pharmacy (guess which one), and Eugene has managed to bring the processing machines back to life. In a warehouse not far out of town we found some leftover chemicals and other supplies (even a stack of faded red envelopes to store your prints).

We don’t know Ellie’s birth date, we only know it must be in the summer — nobody is hiking in Wyoming in a tank top outside of June, July or August. So I’ve given my best guess. Hopefully one day we find out the real date.

Once again please enjoy, and if you share please remember to credit.

(Original game photography from The Last Of Us Part II by @westonspharmacyphotodept, created with all manual post-production using no presets, templates, stock or AI).

[taknikinc]

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[rin-and-jade]

Accidentally Setting Off Bombs?.. : A Post on (system) Triggers

What if you're on a fine day, nothing's going wrong, only to be met with a specific phrase or experience that throws off your balance for the next few days?

Well, it seems like you got some landmines in your mental territory with it's uninviting presence--but triggers are more than just a trauma mechanism. As basically, we all (singlet and systems) operate with many, many, different types of triggers that makes us act the way we are.

This post will cover different kinds of triggers, educate the nuance of its purpose, as well as how they operate--or respond like, and how to handle the typical destructive and bad triggers! There's even bonus info. CLICK ME!!

TLDR section: gotchu covered! Scroll to most bottom.

Trigger? What trigger?

Uhhm.. Hold for a sec guys-- *googles awkwardly infront of you* Alright, found it: "to cause something to start" -Cambridge Dictionary

To cause something, you say? Okay, i see now, try bringing yourself back to past experiences for a while and observe how some responses/conversations had made you feel: sad? happy? confused? angry?

That's a general example of triggers, as they spark an emotion to you within a brief moment after you've finished registering and processing an information.

When it comes to system topics, the word "triggers" are often used to describe any informational/sensory input that caused/starts a switch between two parts. This usually takes more than sparking a fuse that will cause emotions to do that though.. here, let the chief explain some types for you:

Types of triggers.. (and as bomb names)

Internal - Dynamite Caused by: Thoughts, memories, experiences Combustion power: High

Details: Due to high sensitivity, any internal pressure can cause it to detonate and land a strong impact, giving way for strong emotional reactions to hit fast and strong, or a sudden switch to happen.

External - Landmine Caused by: Stimuli from external environments (scents, people, places) Combustion power: High

Details: Due to its ability to detect pressure on a proximity, rearing too close to one would cause a detonation, no matter how unexpected or aloof.

Physiological - Grenade Caused by: Heart rate, pain, hunger, fatigue, etc Combustion power: Moderate high

Details: Being exposed to a stimulus causes the safety pin to be pulled, which gradually causes a build up of chemicals before reaching to the shell's threshold, causing a defined space of explosion.

Psychological - Time bomb Caused by: Stress, anxiety, overwhelm, etc Combustion power: Moderate

Details: Set with a special timer, after being triggered, it has a defined length of time before it detonates, this can be from a couple of seconds to hours. Failure to diffuse, would mean the prolonged exposure and effects will inevitably, turn into an explosive mess.

Behavioral - Smoke bomb Caused by: Routine, certain repetition, engaging an activity Combustion power: Moderate

Details: They're not apparently harmful, but when deployed, it causes a fog of confusion, causing dissociation and detachment from a certain part to notice or be fully aware of the situation. Unlike other previous bombs, they may cause a more silent/subtle or temporary switch or shift.

Emotional - Firecrackers Caused by: Negative, or positive emotions Combustion power: Low to moderate

Details: Although small, they're very loud and explosive. They do not have any destructive capabilities within them, yet capable of causing a temporary reaction of emotions or myriad of things. Possibly close to a partial switch/influence. Unless strong, it could cause a switch.

Symptom - Flare gun Caused by: Presence of specific symptoms from illnesses/health Combustion power: Low

Details: They don't have any explosive or destructive qualities, rather, it's akin to an SOS signal, alerting possible parts to come by as an aid to the situation, responding and taking the wheel from the distress call, tanking discomfort/symptoms.

Meaning of terms: "Caused by" - To convey what it detects that started the trigger "Combustion power" - To convey how strong it facilitates a switch, and/or how destructive the reaction would be if it sets the fuse off

Okay, but how do they work??

Explosives devices such as dynamites, landmines, or grenades pack a lot of charged emotions or reactions that is strong enough as a signal to your brain to perform several brain modes and complete a switch that is necessary to the heat of the situation.

While less destructive ones like crackers and flares do not hold enough pressure or combustion, which explains partial alter influences, or just enough to call them into the co-conscious proximity.

--

The idea of how triggers facilitate switches is from how these inputs are taken account into brain modes as cues, and depending on the cues and learnt patterns, it will bring forth an associated alter that fits for the situation.

In short, parts have their own memory banks of experiences and triggers, which is why dangerous or stressful situations bring forth protectors or why seeing cute videos or toys bring forth littles.

Are we ever free from triggers?

No, not really--but that doesn't mean its bad!

Generally, triggers are just the mediator to initiate certain steps, actions, emotions, or learnt behaviors to navigate our life. It's what puts us into work mode, or when to joke--when to not. We're made of different sets of modes, and these triggers made sure we act and think correctly within specific situations.

The issue here is when traumatic triggers are ruining other benign types of triggers, which i will address next.

When bombs are planted with trickery:

The complexity starts here. Why? Because triggers also works in stacks and combos. Especially the traumatic ones. A trigger only can shift/affect a mood or state, but combo'd ones does a rollercoaster of reactions, where most damage is done.

They're capable of stacking or performed in combos due to how each activates another trigger, one after other, i'll give an example:

You got insulted by someone (external trigger) -> Caused you to feel sad (emotional trigger) -> Makes you remember all the other times you've disappointed people (internal trigger) -> These past experiences slowly overwhelm you and cloud your judgement (psychological trigger) -> Which causes a breakdown and perform unhealthy coping mechanisms, like isolating or substances (behavioral trigger)

Oof.... yeah no one would like that. Right? Right??..

Alright, and that's how easy it is to get caught up to a reactive state. And you'd love to know ANY. FRICKING. WAYS. to diffuse that annoying pattern.. which i do know--if not this post won't even be released if it doesn't have the advice section.

Chief, spill your CIA files on this!

I am, i am!!..

Oftentimes, these triggers hit you big and hard,, because once ya lose your cool? Thats game over. Now, here's a lil cheat sheet:

Identify the device Which is why understanding and identifying the name of the bombs is the first important step to counter the detonation. Did you snap a trigger for defensive behavior? Or the one that makes you feel lots of things?

Do not run, attempt to diffuse instead I mean, we all want to escape from potential dangers, but that doesn't stop the explosion, which may or may not hurt you or other people within the process. Once you start feeling finicky or a little panicky--immediately assert yourself to recognize your build up pressure, that'll muffle it good and helps you and control from the reactive bursts from affecting you emotionally and mentally.

Cut the wires off (get out of the negative thought loop) Take proactive steps to solve or manage your emotions. We often assume the worst would happen, and thats when.. you leave the bomb as it is. Get going and prevent the worst possible scenario. Craft a plan on how you can manage,, are there pliers? Do you have enough time to cover with a shield to avoid its impact? I don't know, smash it!

Understand consequences (additional info) When you realize that there are various ways to react after a trigger is activated, you might see which can make the situation worse, or can make the situation lighter. This buys you a little more time to reflect and choose the outcome you truly want to achieve.

For first-timers, it is hard to fight off the bombs because you never had a plan or experience to handle them, if so, this is your call to create a plan or strategy whenever triggers will topple your balance. Most importantly, self confidence and trust in managing a difficult, bomby situation would do you wonders.

If you failed to deactivate the bomb:

Salvage the situation If the damage was inevitable, then you can attempt to ground yourself back, and empathetically apologize to the people who got hurt in the process. Explain to them what just happened, and etc.

Log them in What pattern did you see? What can you implement next time to manage the situation better? This is a good moment for reflection/evaluation and planning.

Give yourself some grace (most important) You're just learning, punishing or shaming yourself won't get you anywhere far. It's okay, you can still practice to deflect another future trigger if you do failed a bunch.

Bonus Information

Triggers are also connected to the polyvagal theory, i'll share you a bit on it!

When brain modes has the job to pull out the right alters for the right situation then... who opens the gate for a switch to happen? Thats right, its your big brother: Mr. PV .

Hyper-aroused vagus:

Switches happen within the sympathetic state--which is all about action and fight/flight. Being in a sympathetic state makes certain alters with active roles be more alert, and also signals an urgency to be flexible or adapt to the situation. The threshold for triggers to feel 'moderate' emotions also lowers (means more sensitive), which also make sense why you are easier to be irritated or emotional in a heightened state.

Often times, if too many alters are co-conscious, and variated stimulus are presented, this causes multiple switches at short successions in attempt to upkeep the demand of which alter is needed within the ever-changing moment. Like when you're trying to juggle some balls with your hands, it's akin to multitasking.. but juggling alters around.

Oh right, sounds familiar huh? That's what rapid switch is.

Hypo-aroused vagus:

But, when you're too overwhelmed or had exerted alot of strain/energy, you might crash into a mental exhaustion.

This exhaustion is the dorsal vagal state, where your body attempts to conserve and hide away when active fighting doesn't work. triggers are harder to facilitate switches as it puts the threshold bar up high.. rendering normal triggers obsolete.

Felt like you've been there? Well, that's the process which made you front-stuck, which you might recognize.

-- clarification -- Rapid switch and front-stuck also involve other factors such as stress tolerance and emotional resilience, take this as a piece of pov to learn how these two mechanisms works.

Takeaway

Alright fellas.. that's all you get from the hands on education on my bomb camp. What kind of bomb do you often experience? Which one is the most annoying to you so far? Let me know!

Also.. it would be awesome if you start mentioning triggers as bomb names as they almost perfectly depict what they feel like.

AND REMEMBER. Do not attempt to intentionally trigger a bomb without a professional or a trusty friend. Doing so alone would cause unwanted effects. If you want to un-learn your triggers, contact me,, the master of bombs,,, i'll be able to curate a personalized step by step on how to tackle them!

(and... uh... i write my posts differently after final fusing, i hope you guys are okay with this forever now)

-- TLDR --

Triggers in DID they are cues (internal, external, emotional, etc.) that cause a specific reaction or switch between alters, depending on the situation.

Triggers vary in impact: some are like dynamite (internal triggers from memories), others like landmines (external stimuli), grenades (physiological states), time bombs (psychological stress), smoke bombs (behavioral patterns), firecrackers (emotional responses), or flare guns (symptom-related).

Polyvagal Theory explains rapid switching between hyperarousal (fight-or-flight state) and hypoarousal (shutdown state), contributing to feeling "stuck" or experiencing frequent switches.

Not all triggers are negative; they can play an adaptive role, bringing forward the most appropriate alter for a situation. Learn to manage and "diffuse" these triggers by identifying them, using grounding techniques, and developing strategies to mitigate their effects.

Key takeaway: Triggers are a natural part of life for everyone, but managing traumatic triggers is essential for those with DID. Understanding and handling them effectively can help maintain balance and well-being.

- chrono

[whumpisgoodwhumpislife]

The device

Masterlist

This chapter is why I started this series. It hasn't left my mind since I've read this by @sowhumpshaped ! This writer has a very unique style, I absolutely love it

CW : lab whump, living battery whumpee, nonsexual nudity, needles, kinda medical whump.

First, they removed the tubes and IVs from his body. They had drawn little crosses everywhere one was supposed to be, and his arms were littered in black ink. Erik would've protested, ask what it was for if he could, but the thick plastic mask was still snuggly fitted over and inside his mouth and nose.

When they started removing the heavy metal straps tethering him to the medical table, he hoped he could try to make a run for it, but as soon as he tried to stand, his knees buckled under him and he collapsed. Erik's breathing started accelerating as he tried to push himself up. His efforts were pathetic; it was as if his muscles had turned to jelly. He was exhausted.

Two orderlies grabbed him under his arms and started dragging him away. He tried to struggle, but his body barely twitched in their grasp.

Erik was led through another sterile, white corridor, escorted by several men in white coats, and a few in fluorescent orange vests.

"Extraction device" they said. It couldn't mean anything good for him. They had managed to find a way to leech his energy out of his body, and to use it for their own purpose. And that process was agonizing, leaving him barely able to move.

They entered another room, bigger, with a higher ceiling. It was filled with various equipment, reminiscent more of the interior of a spaceship than a laboratory. And in the center, there was a tall, transparent cylinder that spanned the entire height of the room. And it was empty.

Erik whimpered through his mask, immediately understanding what it was for.

The orderlies dropped him next to it and he squirmed, desperately trying to crawl away. But they held him still, as the researchers began to insert needles, IVs, tubes in the places marked by the little crosses. Two others were attached to his mask, and as he breathed in, the air tasted bitter, like chemicals.

He was still completely undressed, vulnerable, but it was the least of his worries right now. The people in flashy orange jackets were working around the electrical consoles, to which he was now connected by a variety of cables. One of the scientists nodded, and the orderlies hoisted Erik to his feet, dragging him inside the translucent cylinder. The wall spun around, and closed on him without leaving a trace, sealing him inside of the tank. He tried to bang against the wall, but whatever it was made of, it was resistant.

Erik grabbed one of the IVs on his left arm and tried to rip it away, but it just burned. It was as if the needle was fused inside his skin.

His hands shaking from the strain, still recovering from his previous ordeal, he tried every tube, every cable, but they all held fast. His mask as well.

He pressed his hands against the glass. He could see the scientists working outside of his cylinder, in a flurry of activities. Then, a loud thudding noise echoed in the cramped space, making him wince and cover his ears.

And the grid at his feet started sputtering a thick yellowish liquid. The level rose quickly, from his feet to his knees, to his hips, to his chest. Erik was hyperventilating in the mask, banging feebly against the walls as the chemical solution slowly lifted him. It was denser than water, and when it reached the top of the tank, it left Erik suspended in the middle of it, squirming as a cloud of bubbles escaped his mask at regular intervals.

Helpless, like a fish in a tank.

Taglist : @sausages-things @jumpywhumpywriter @why-not-ask-me-a-better-question @thataquaticwhumper @alyscat

@whatamidoingherehelpme @fleur-a-whump @ratsupremacy88

[lil-elle]

Can u do a leehan imagine where he likes fish and he finally found someone that likes fish too

Waahhh he's so cute

Through the Glass

group: boynextdoor

pair: leehan x gn!reader

genre: chance encounter, fluff

word count: 579

content: just cute shy fluff

a/n: i love pretty shy boys, he's a sweetie

Leehan's eyes followed the small fish as they floated around the tank, a content smile on his face. This always happened, he'd come to the pet store to buy food and chemicals for his fish and get distracted by the ones in store. He'd be lucky to leave the store that day without a new one.

Admiring each tank as he walked through the aisles, his eye focused on the tank at the very end, the tank that he loved the most. He stopped in front of it, leaning over to peer in with a wide smile.

“Corydoras!” He exclaimed, his ears immediately perking up to another voice that overlapped his as he spoke. Looking straight through the glass of the tank, he made eye contact with you, leant over admiring the fish in the same way.

You smiled at him, just a smile a stranger would give to another stranger, but he felt his face flush. He wasn't used to interacting with strangers, let alone strangers that were so pretty.

If the smile wasn't enough, he watched in awe as you looped around the side of the tank, coming to stand right next to him.

“I've always wanted some of my own but…my apartment is too small for a good tank.” You chuckled shyly, placing a hand on the glass and letting your gaze follow the small brown fish in front of you.

Leehan's mind was in overdrive, like every ridge of his brain was working to find a response to this stranger suddenly talking to him. After a short moment of shuffling through seemingly programmed responses, he finally forced a few words out of his mouth.

“I-I have some…”

The way you lit up at him as soon as the words processed in your brain made his heart stutter in the same way his mouth did, a feeling he wasn't quite familiar with.

“Really?? Jealous! How many?” You exclaimed, maybe a little too loud for the small space you two were in.

This time, his mouth moved faster than his brain and he blurted something out before really considering it. “A-a few.”

You stared at him for a moment, doe eyed and thoughtless before breaking into a wide smile and cute giggle, a giggle that once again penetrated his heart for no good reason.

“Is that code for ‘too many’?” You giggled through your words, bringing a hand up to cover your mouth slightly. His eyes dilated and his heart throbbed for the 3rd time, no sign that it was going to stop.

Suddenly, it was as if any guard he'd put up had completely vanished, and he let out a chuckle in sync with your giggles. You felt a flutter in your stomach, realising how handsome he really was, especially now he was smiling. Your smile only grew watching him fight short and shy giggles, and you didn't even notice how strangely attracted to him you felt despite knowing absolutely nothing about him.

He looked down at you, finally breaking away from his giggles and allowing his eyes to meet yours properly. He'd never felt so comfortable with a stranger, so comfortable that he wanted to put in the effort to be more than just a stranger.

“I didn't catch your name…” He muttered, eyes already positively smitten with the sight of you in front of him.

What you two didn't know was that this chance encounter would become a lot more meaningful than it seemed.

-

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

TAGLIST:

@hyunromi @chocoeon @hyunukitty @minjaezed

[robocatfan]

An angry summary of Speak the Ocean by Rebecca Enzor -Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Preface 2

We get another in-universe training manual. This time it’s about how to handle a mer arrival.

It tells us that the tank should be cleaned and cycled for a week - which as stated before, should actually be for 2-8 weeks! - before they set out to hunt a mer, and that all equipment like the tanks and cranes should be inspected and ready to use by then.

It also notes that the mer will be drugged with quinaldine - a chemical used for the transportation of which (guess I did learn something useful from this book, huh) - for transport, but that doesn’t mean they’ll be any less dangerous.

Next, it talks about the transportation procedure, which involves lifting the mer from the boat with the dock crane and placing them in the transport tank with the head and arms facing back (“back” as in down? The opposite direction? Eh, who knows?) all while an employee keeps watch.

It also warns (in all caps) to not let the creature sit under the sun since that will cause it to foam from shock.

Once that part of the process is done, a vet is called for a simple visual examination of the mer. Seriously, that’s all they are allowed to do - they can’t even place their hands near its tank! One wonders how these mers don’t end up sick more often.

Anyway, when that’s done, the net should be hooked once again to the crane and slowly lowered into the holding tank, since dropping them so suddenly into colder waters can also cause them to foam from shock. Understandable, but considering how cold the waters of their natural habitat can get, they might be able to handle the temperature just fine.

And once the mer is fully inside and the net is removed, the lights should be dimmed and one of two fish should be thrown into the water to slow the mer to eat and recover once the effects of the quinaldine (which may last for about one or two days) wear off.

Lastly, if the mer shows aggression or dates to be just a tiny bit noisy, the electroshocker ™ should be used until they are under control.

Once again, no wonder these guys act so aggressive towards people :v.

Chapter 6- Finn

We are back to Finn’s perspective as he notes how crowded the dock behind Oceanica is (it doesn’t really feel that way, really) when the hunting boat arrives with the mer. He also notes the fishermen had to venture way out to find it (explaining why they were in the supposedly safe hunting zone in the previous chapter), and that the last day was filled with preparations, including that of the tanks he and Jen (mostly Jen) cleaned the week prior.

When the net lifts the creature (Erie) out of the boat, he and Jen are surprised upon seeing the dolphin (aka Niku) she’s hugging, since that’s proof that the theory that both species have a symbiotic relationship is true, as well as the stories the fishermen told about dolphins helping the mers steer away from boats.

And yet we never get to see any of that in the previous chapters- much less them being successful in it, considering the big amount of darkened shells.

The pair is lowered into a ten feet long and 3 feet wide transport tank that’s barely big enough for them, and while Delmara argues with the fishermen about the price for their catch - since she doesn’t want to pay them extra for the dolphin, Finn and Jen step for a closer look.

Finn then sees that the mer has the same hair color that the mer his dad found (aka the queen), and his first thought is that he knows exactly how to make her his. Ew.

But before that he remarks that she’s probably as young as their previous arrival, showing Jen that one can determine a mer’s age by how vibrant the tips of their fins are, and that the color fades with age. And when Jen comments that she’d expected the mer to be actively trying to slaughter everyone (most likely due to Finn’s constant, incessant warnings), he repeats what the training manual said about sedating the creatures.

As Delmara’s discussion continues (with Finn telling us in two sentences what they are doing instead of actually showing it), Jen suggests that, instead of separating the dolphin from the mer, they could have them perform together since that would draw in more people.

And though he notes that there’s something calculating in her gaze as she says that, that’s all it takes for Finn to be convinced by her idea and go up to talk to Delmara.

At first she dismisses him since she’s too busy cursing out the fishermen, but he manages to voice the suggestion and insists on it when she tries to refuse due to lacking a husbandry license for cetaceans. (but not before he mentally compares the woman who’s been essentially his mentor for the past few years to a Chihuahua.) Since they don’t have much time to decide due to the risk of the mer foaming under the sun, Finn persists.

And when Delmara still doesn’t relent even after he reminds her that she’d promised him a mer, notes that Jen could help due to having studied marine biology in university (but shouldn’t she already know that since, you know, she hired her in the first place?) and that someone needs to take over when he comes back to school (which I hope refers to college/ university, because this grown ass man surely has graduated by now) in August, Finn pulls out his trump card: a colored sketch he’d found in his dad’s office of the mermaid he’d discovered, which just so happens to resemble the once currently in their transport tank.

This finally is enough to sway Delmara to keep the dolphin and give the mer to him, but she warns him that he only has until the end of summer to make a profit. Finn’s mood is not affected by this: in fact, he’s so happy that he picks up and twirls Jen around when he goes to tell her the news. And since she came up with the idea in the first place, he’s making her his assistant.

She’s dismayed by this, and when she remarks at the apparent nepotism when Finn reminds her he’s friends with Delmara’s nephew, he notes that “he has a lot of responses to that, but most of them would get him smacked”, so they instead focus on moving the transport tank. Yes, them - not any of the supposed “many” employees that are crowding the dock.

Yeah, in spite of this place having enough workers to completely crowd the dock- some of whom could have done this task - it feels emptier than a bag of chips due to the fact that the only people we see doing or interacting with anything are the named characters. The others just exist to fill up space I guess.

Anyway, after reiterating that the tank is too small for the pair, Finn and Jen bring it to the holding tank room. As he calls the veterinarian over, Finn notes that while the mer is cowering instead of scrutinizing them like the rest of her kind (and that will make her easier to work with), her dolphin companion is actively attempting to protect her.

Since it’s also obscuring her from view, the vet tells Finn to hold it down- which he somehow manages to do, and then somehow gets a large cut from it a sentence later.

And I’m like ?????????

Someone please tell me how this even works, because how?!

Anyway after the vet finishes his checkup (which is not elaborated upon, to the point that there’s not even a remark about the literal tail injury!), and casually paying no mind to the large cut on his forearm after cleaning it up (which is never brought up again), Finn helps Jen crank the net up. And he notes that the mer gasps- gasps, a sound associated normally with humans - when the net lifts, but he doesn’t even think about it.

As they are slowly placing the net in the normal tanks and the mer tries to get her gills in the water (shouldn’t it be her mouth since that’s where the water enters her body?) Serge comes over, and upon seeing the creature’s hair color, suggests calling her Neon.

Jen corrects him and says that they should call her Dotty due to resembling a dottyback or royal gamma instead, and while Finn is in “nerd love” at her knowledge of reef fish, he rather go by their normal periodic table naming conventions. So after a couple of suggestions (including Cadmium, which they give to the dolphin due to being a male name), they decide to call the mer Iodine.

And once the pair is fully lowered, the group prepares to “separate these elements”. And while Jen grimaces and wonders if it’s necessary as Serge goes for the electroshocker ™ ( not before Finn warns him to not poke his mer like a jellyfish) Finn, in full corporate mode and unwilling to screw up his chance, tells her that not only will it make them easier to wake with, but allowing them to be together once they are performing will be “a good incentive to get them working. A treat for cooperating.”

… alright then.

While Jen isn’t fully convinced, she relents and everyone gets into position.

Chapter 7- Erie

After they are fully inside the tank, Erie - who’s still clinging to her guard- is surprised at the strangeness of their new surroundings and confused when the net starts to gather below them.

Niku is also confused (and Erie almost casually notes that she tasted the blood from his attack on the landfolk), but tells her to stay calm and not give the landfolk a reason to hurt her.

Just then a “loop” (aka the electroshocker ™ ) enters the water and the net shifts. And before Erie can ask what’s going on, they are both electrocuted.

As expected it hurts like hell, to the point that Erie feels like her body is burning and when it ends, they both end up floating belly up like the mers in chapter 4. And before either can recover, the net separates them.

The next five paragraphs are spent with Erie panicking, screaming and begging for her guard not to leave her as she tries to reach him through the ropes - and while he’s tense enough that she fears he might beach himself in an attempt to attack the landfolk, he just swims around and tells her he doesn’t know what to do instead of doing anything useful to save her like pulling at the net.

Eventually she’s completely lifted from the water, leaving him out of her reach and sight, only able to huff water at her.

As soon as she’s dropped into a different body of water, Erie screams for Niku and tries to reach him, but it’s blocked from doing so by a barrier that’s keeping them separated. And though she’s unable to hear him due to not being in the same space, she takes comfort in the fact that she can still see him.

Well, until one of the landfolk (aka Finn) steps between them, which causes her to back up and look at the surface in fear of the loop, and when she looks back at him, the creep smiles at her possessively. Once again, ew.

The next paragraph is spent describing how he - “a creature out of her nightmares” - looks from her perspective, with her noting his snail-like skin, the different colors of his “two tails” ( the term the text this time uses to describe the legs. Why didn’t it use that earlier instead of outright referring to them as legs?) and the large bump where his nostrils are. Once again, just like the advisor.

… you can probably guess what the author is intending to say with all of these constant reminders.

Anyway, she hears him say something she’s unable to understand before there’s a splash that she first assumes it’s the loop, but it’s instead the result of a dead fish thrown at the water, which confuses her immensely.

She then waits until the landfolk leaves to inspect the barrier, noting it’s mostly uniform and has few anomalies, including a thing resembling a tube worm (aka the tubes connecting the tanks) that connects their enclosure, but she can’t - doesn’t even try, really - figure out a way through.

So Erie only stares at Niku helplessly until her adrenaline fades and she curls up at the bottom of the enclosure, exhausted.