#halogen crushing

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

Irons.

[ This blog is run by @calleigator ]

Hello! I am a firefighter. In the fire service, we use various irons—one of which is a modified crowbar called a halogen. I like halogens. They’re fun.

However I also like the Shinonome siblings from Project Sekai. I also like assigning characters from other media to be part of the Shinonome family.

Then the thought came to crush all Shinonome siblings with halogens. So that’s what I will do.

This blog runs on a semi-daily schedule that goes as follows:

Days that end with 2 or 6: Ena will be crushed.

Days that end with 4 or 8: Akito will be crushed.

Days that end with 0: Other Characters are adopted into the Shinonome family and then crushed. These can be from any media.

This runs by rotations and 0 days can be requested!! The crushing began on October 2nd, 2024.

Tags:

#Ena is crushed for Days 2 and 6

#Akito is crushed for Days 4 and 8

#NAME is crushed for Day 0

#Shinonome Adoption also for Day 0

#Halogen Crushing for Shinonome’s being crushed

#Anti-Halogen Crushing for Shinonome’s NOT being crushed

DISCLAIMER: I am a minor and am NOT affiliated with SEGA, Colorful Palette, or anything official related to Project Sekai NOR creators of any media showcased. This was inspired by @i-run-saki-over-with-trucks specifically and all others with a similar theme.

If you need to contact me, I am @calleigator and if you wanna friend me on PJSK my ID is [432929375353335813]

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

Dear god the damage control that must be done poor everyone about to be collateral damage

Pretend they're looking at a screen with a spiral on itm anyways yes rin is NOT hypnotized it's the major rule in the hypnosis sekai rulebook

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

oh god i think i'm in love with k.d. lang

[kangaracha]

QUEENMAKER | CHAPTER 18

---

pairing chan x reader

genre ninth member au, angst, fluff, coming of age, social media, cancel culture, anxiety, depression, forbidden love,

summary To JYPE, the solution is simple; take the sole trainee that will not debut with your brand new girl group, and use her to replace the missing vocalist in your male group that insisted on starting as nine.

Unfortunately, to the fans and the members themselves, it isn't that simple.

status ongoing

taglist OPEN

a/n thanks again for 1k followers! also, taglists are sort of working again, if you're someone that only comes here when you get a tag, you've probably missed a few chapters

previous | masterlist | next

---

The airport is a crush of bodies and phones and flashing cameras, staring you down as you follow Seungmin's back through the glass doors and try not to stutter under the weight of so many eyes on you at once.

It happens fast and yet also so very, very slow, every second dripping past so discernibly that you swear you can feel time moving around you. Every breath hitches in your lungs as you walk, every blink of your eyes blinded by the halogen lights overhead or the lense of another camera, searching for the face a manager has tried to hide for you under cap and hood and mask. The clothing is hot and stifling, the collar of your shirt suffocating where it is tucked into the black hoodie, the ends of your hair scratching at the back of your neck, but you're too scared to pull it down or to even look up, your eyes fixed on Seungmin's heels and the tails of the loose shirt he's pulled on just for this walk through the line of fire.

You'd looked for Chan when you'd gotten out of the car, gravitating naturally towards the leader (the one that had defended you online, the one that could look you in the eyes and tell you the truth and went out of his way to prove it the moment he had an opportunity), but he'd fallen back and you'd been steered towards the centre of the group, sticking to Seungmin's side instead. Seungmin was dependable too, like Changbin; unafraid of the crowds that pushed and pulled at each other and tried to lean in close as security shove their way through, and fiercely loyal when the situation called for it.

Seungmin doesn't look back though. He doesn't have time, when the hands to either side are reaching for him just as much as they do to shove you, when hired bodies keep nearly separating you as they move in circles around you, carrying out their job. You're not sure how you could feel so small and alone in such a large crowd of people, seen by so many eyes, but for a moment you do, and then-

An arm lands across the back of your neck, a hand resting casually over your shoulder, pulling you into someone's side. Felix, recogniseable by the soft blue jumper he's wearing and the blonde hair that pokes out from underneath his beanie. You have a feeling he's not supposed to do it, from the wicked gleam in his eye when he glances at you and the way that he marches onward, feet placed deliberately beside yours as if to challenge anyone to tear him away, but you can't find it in yourself to make an excuse and pull back, to walk on your own two feet. 

You were scared, after all; you are scared, even with the reassurance of the weight of his arm around your shoulders and the angle of his body blocking some of the cameras that angle and click and glare at you like if they stare hard enough, you might freely divulge your secrets. You've never seen a crowd like this before, so close and so...mob-like, uncontrolled and ready to roll over each other if it means getting their two seconds of fame, their photo that's unlike any other.

"I get scared too sometimes," Felix says, close enough to your ear that you can hear him over the mayhem. "Just keep walking. The faster we get there, the quicker it'll be over."

"Thanks, Felix," you say in return, but you don't think he can hear you over the crowd. 

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @lixie-phoria @mysweethannie @chlodavids

@hanniemylovelyquokka @tfshouldidohere @lauraliisa @puppysmileseungmin @kalopsian-thoughts

@puppy-minnie @readerofallthingss @dvbkie099 @kthstrawberryshortcake-main @acker-night

@d-chagi @lynlyndoll @borahae-reads @ihrtlix @yienmarkk

@minhwa @i2innie @jinnie-ret @conwunder @amesification

@starssongs98 @weirdhumanbeinglol @morinuu @the-weird-mold-in-the-sink @bokkiesplace

@amyyscorner @jiisungllvr @skzstaykatsy @blackhairandbangs @jungkookies1002

@hyuuukais @imsiriuslyreal @thatonedemigodfromseoul @gini143 @mercurywritesstuff

@splat00z @filmbypsh @palindrome969 @crabrangoongirl25 @enzos-shit

@jabmastersupriseee @kayleefriedchicken @hynjinswrld @duhgurl @cheshireshiya

@keepswingin

[sil-te-plait-tue-moi]

Lovers' fevers.

Quick summary: Rust tries to overcome the night you spent together.

Word count: 655 words

Warnings: Mentions of smut; don't chain-smoke???

A/N: Last drabble before I actually commit to a longer story. Read context for this (and eventually that) here!

***

To remove himself from his tendency to think and think and think, Rust smoked, slumped over the wiry railing of the upper balcony outside his place. His first instinct had been to drink, of course—but, once he had opened the fridge, he was consumed by the image of your fingers curled pretty over the neck of the Corona he really shouldn’t have given you. 

So far, he had made his way through half a pack, sucking down smoke as if he’d be nearly as lucky enough to be granted his silent death wish. At least, then, his skin would stop buzzing like a halogen bulb, give way to true silence. 

It was evil, really: if there existed a God, He sure loved violence. Rust would’ve loved to blame it on external possession: it had not been him reduced to an animal, really, but something other, and that something had touched and been touched and had indulged in that pointless hunger. Selfish. 

He shuddered quietly at the memory, which pulsed thickly, rhythmically, just behind his eyes, an all-consuming vibration. Half-convinced that there was something supernatural about your touch, Rust hastily lit another cigarette, crushing the previous beneath his matted work shoes, counting on the habit to numb this inconvenient distraction. His skin was thick. So thick, in fact, that there were times where Rust felt it was really a suit, some aspect he could step out of and inspect for maintenance. No sensation, no pain, could ever compare to the fact-based knowledge that everything happens in the head. Manage the mind; manage the self. The mind outlasted the self. Nostrils burning, eyes blown wide, Rust would tell that to Crash before receding, so that his brain would not leak from his ears. It usually worked. Here, he felt acutely aware of every temperature shift, every varying texture upon his skin, writhing secretly with near overstimulation.

Still, you remained, like a ghost. He dragged a hand across his face, like he might manually remove the anguish there. 

He should’ve liked to blame you. Temptress, Eve in the garden. Only, in what world would that ever be fair? Rust only existed to deliver what was fair, what was just. He refused to align with the supposed blameless. Marty considered himself blameless, and some unmanaged part of Rust loathed him for it, itched to apprehend him.

Rust was not blameless – far from it. Every bad thing that happened to him, he knew he deserved. Call it karma. Nature carried out its dues – why shouldn’t he?

You had smelled so fresh. 

You were trying to quit – he had almost felt guilty, smoking so openly in front of you. Then too, it had been a last-line defence against the craving that only grew every time he allowed himself to look at you, that gnawed and tore at his gut when your tired voice had quietened to a low drawl. You: threat to his realm, soft, wanting. When you had opened yourself to him, took him in deep, you were close and warm and wet – Rust would have liked to have blamed it on his programming, the way he responded. He knew, though, that it was just him.

He would not sleep tonight, he understood. He would not even approach his bed. The whole place still smelled like you, even though the linens had been to the laundromat’s, even though he had had the windows cracked open to Louisiana’s summer heat every night since. 

Maybe Rust would drive to a bar. Maybe he would stop at a gas station, stock up on Camel Blues. Then, he would shower. In the morning, he would shower again, knowing that, in any proximity at work, he could risk weakening your resilience to quit with the cigarette smoke that seemed infused into his very being. Or perhaps he would let you be tempted by this – perhaps you would then understand what was happening to him. 

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

MY THEORY IS PROVEN TRUE BY FANON YAY (and the salamander covers hehehehe)

A THIRD SHINONOME?!

[pjsk-blogs-lists]

Project Sekai “I Do [this] to [character]” Gimmick Blogs Masterlist:

@hypnosis-sekai

@giving-pjsk-characters-sweets

@giving-pjsk-guns

@making-ichika-drown

@i-run-saki-over-with-trucks

@gives-honami-apple-pie

@putting-minori-in-places

@minori-loses-her-head

@infectingminori-with-clovervirus

@i-punt-penguins-at-haruka

@i-hit-airi-with-meteors

@airi-dies-of-cats

@putting-shizuku-in-places

@i-give-shizuku-hinomori-bread (x)

@nagi-haunts-an

@i-bonk-akito-with-metal-pipes

@halogens-vs-shinonomes

@i-drop-violins-on-toya

@i-give-toya-plush-bananas

@i-set-tsukasa-on-fire

@metal-pipe-tsukasa-bonker

@i-drop-pianos-on-tsukasa

@i-explode-rui-and-tsukasa

@i-throw-flower-pots-at-emu

@canaries-kidnap-nene-kusanagi

@giving-nene-games

@i-crush-rui-with-anvils

@i-set-ruikamishiro-on-fire

@kanades-chair-stalks-her

@i-throw-frying-pans-at-mafuyu

@i-trap-shinonome-ena-in-bubbles

@mizukis-bell-tolls

@i-give-mizuki-flowers

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

Fuuta Kajiyama Shinonome has been crushed

[entities-of-posts]

do you have an idea for what a domain or ritual for the Dull could be?

An office job with a perfect grid of grey cubicles, bright halogen lights and hidden ceiling speakers that play only a quiet drone of white noise. Each come with a small, perfectly identical plastic plant and the same empty corporate motivational poster as only decoration. You are not allowed to decorate them yourself. There is a strict business formal dress code. You are always busy, but the purpose of your work is inane and vague. You fill forms. You push your pencil. The workload is not necessarily enough to make you feel crushed, but enough that you don’t have time to chitchat. Enough that you stay a little late every day. It’s strongly encouraged by the blankly smiling faces of the managers. You start to feel like you never have time for yourself when you get home, even though you work perfectly reasonable hours on paper. The cafeteria is free, but everything tastes so bland. Everything you cook yourself starts to taste the same way. On your days off the weight of the week that passed and the week that’s coming oh so soon keep you glued to your sofa, apathetically scrolling social media or watching empty reality tv, until it’s time for another week, again, again, again. But you’re lucky to have a job that pays well enough, and you won’t find any better. Your coworker Carlos’ name is spelled as “Carl” on his cubicle. But it doesn’t matter, you hardly know him anyway.

An idyllic suburbia. 2,5 children per home, good Christian marriages. An HOA that makes sure no one breaks the dream with any colorful paint outside the identical house, any colorful paint inside them, anything less than a perfectly manicured turf lawn, any decoration, anyone out walking past sunset or other irregular hours, any car too cheap or too old or in another color than a pleasant muted grey or an unapproved model, any children’s lemonade stand, any children drawing in chalk on the sidewalk, any children yelling, any children outside the houses, any fruit tree, any flowers, any bird, any bug, any pet, any backyard party, any inside party, any overnight visitors, any daytime visitors, any flag but the star spangled banner, any words but the right kind of English uttered, any lights on past nine, any unusual outside furniture, any unusual inside furniture, any unhappy faces, any noise, ever, ever.

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

ATTACK

11k notes and I'll reveal every blog that I own

side note: comments don't count

[i-drop-pianos-on-tsukasa]

i mean, he plays piano. we might as well.

url is self explanatory. i make pianos fall on that gay boy.

let me know if you're uncomfortable with my interactions!

i won't crush people's fan art with pianos UNLESS i know they are okay with blogs like this doing their thing.

for example, if they tag another blog like this in a post of theirs, or respond to one making an edit of their art with the gimmick in a way that shows that they're not uncomfortable with it.

tag me in tsukasas you want me to drop a piano on!

i might only make piano crushing edits sometimes for a multitude of reasons.

run by @mizuribbons

-

blogs like this:

@i-run-saki-over-with-trucks (the original blog!)

@metal-pipe-tsukasa-bonker

@i-set-ruikamishiro-on-fire

@i-set-tsukasa-on-fire

@i-crush-rui-with-anvils

@i-bonk-akito-with-metal-pipes

@canaries-kidnap-nene-kusanagi

@kanades-chair-stalks-her

@i-explode-rui-and-tsukasa

@halogens-vs-shinonomes

@i-hit-airi-with-meteors

@i-trap-shinonome-ena-in-bubbles (won't tag for some reason)

@mizukis-bell-tolls

@i-run-akito-over-with-trains

possibly more i haven't seen yet?

-

tags:

#get crushed idiot - a piano falls on tsukasa!

#tsukasa is spared... for now - no pianos... yet.

#a piano has been summoned! - posts i get tagged in so i can drop a piano on tsukasa.

[i-explode-rui-and-tsukasa]

hi nerds

this is my info post ig

blog is run by serial dumbass @willowthefoxxo

so basically until i get a few people who i know are ok with my gimmick blog shenanigans I'll only explode gays I've been tagged on or that have already been subjected to gimmick blog chaos

uh

yea lemme know if you want me to fuck off basically. you are allowed to tell me to fuck off it you don't want my gimmick blog chaos in your notifs

also here are some other pjsk character tormenters

@i-run-saki-over-with-trucks (the og)

@i-set-tsukasa-on-fire

@metal-pipe-tsukasa-bonker

@i-crush-rui-with-anvils

@i-set-ruikamishiro-on-fire

@i-drop-pianos-on-tsukasa

@i-bonk-akito-with-metal-pipes

@giving-pjsk-characters-sweets

@canaries-kidnap-nene-kusanagi

@kanades-chair-stalks-her

@halogens-vs-shinonomes

@i-hit-airi-with-meteors

@i-run-akito-over-with-trains

@mizukis-bell-tolls

@i-throw-flower-pots-at-emu

[halogens-vs-shinonomes]

We abuse them lovingly in this household

Omfg stop posting about Akito Shinonome he's hideous as well his sister is also hideous

My FBI agents are on their way to my comment section to roast you for dissing my wife's boyfriend and My Queen Ena Shinonome

WHO WANTS TO SEE MORE AKITO POSTS

[bubster3020]

ALBUM REVIEW #1 - We are Beautiful, We are Doomed - Los Campesinos!

We are Beautiful, We are Doomed is an amazing record. Despite the insane turnaround on this album (just less than 8 months), it improves on everything their debut already did exceptionally well. Gareth's writing, which was already one of the standout points of "Hold on Now, Youngster", has somehow improved even further on this project, exploring themes of love and its absence more tactfully while still keeping the cheek the band came onto the scene with fully intact. This is only helped further by how much more cohesive WABWAD is than its predecessor.

On the record, every song flows so seamlessly into one another that despite the fact I've listened to every song individually probably hundreds of times, I am always invested the full way through. There is no song that takes you out of the experience or makes you do a double take; it's a front to back vibe that sucks you in effortlessly. The blaring synths and distorted guitars all over the album give way to an angst that is so addicting you can't turn it off. This is the band's noisiest and arguably most raw endeavor, and they use that noise to deliver some of the most energetic tracks they have ever produced.

The album opens by hitting you with a brick of a song, "Ways To Make It Through The Wall." This song is a loud, self-loathing banger of a tone set, showing off just how different this album is from their debut. This is an intentional reference to their song "My Year In Lists" where Gareth says that "hope is tantamount to hopelessness," and works wonders to show you that this is something new. That hopeless feeling translates into a series of failed relationships throughout the album. Whether it's looking back into memories of failed romances in "Miserabilia" or realizing you've been forgotten about on "It's Never That Easy Though, Is It?," there's always an acute sense of nostalgia that permeates the project, no matter the subject.

Despite its often boisterous production, it doesn't go without it's moments of sincerity that can just be crushing when coming right after the rest of this record. Songs like "You'll Need Those Fingers For Crossing" and "Heart Swells/Pacific Daylight Time" are brutal yearnings for past partners, even if neither person deserved the other. These songs act as payoffs to all the wit and angst, showing that no matter how cocky Gareth may come off, he's not the image he projects as; he's as vulnerable and regretful as anyone else. These songs are more subdued and by nature, they really show off Ellen's superb bass talents, Tom's killer riffs (especially on "You'll Need Those Fingers For Crossing"), and of course Gareth's signature glockenspiel.

Overall, We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed is an excitingly loud entry into the LC! discography that delivers on everything it promises to, and then some. It features some of the band's tightest, most poetic writing, talking about futures as bright as halogens and writing letters to God as a means to win Pascal's wager. The entire album feels like a bittersweet, melancholic and romanticized trip down memory lane that ultimately acknowledges that while there was beauty in past flings, they were ultimately doomed.

Favorite song: We Are Beautiful, We Are Doomed

Least favourite: N/A

Score : 10/10

[medicatedmaniac]

Hyperuranion

A place in heaven where the perfect forms of all things reside, and everything we experience in our lives is a shadow of these ideal forms.

Read on Ao3

11.29pm 

September 1995

She'd shot him and he'd thanked her. 

They talk in codes about Navajo code talk. 

They don't talk about his father's blood on his shirt. 

They don't talk about her sister's blood on her floorboards. 

The things they do talk about: Probability. Plausibility. Deniability. 

They talk in the darkened interior of the car about lightning (relativistic electrons, cosmic rays, ions in cumulus clouds) , teenage angst (she confesses she smoked cigarettes on the porch much to her fathers disappointment, he confesses he purposefully flunked the honor roll much to his fathers indifference) . 

They theorize the terrible things they would have wrought had they been Darren Peter Oswald. 

It all seems so easy to talk and talk without ever really talking. A sesquipedalian purgatory. 

Mulder rambles, his words as restless as his hands on the steering wheel. "Never had a crush on any of my teachers. Too much blue rinse for me." 

Rambles on and on and on until he hears a soft twitchy snore from the passenger side. 

He shuts up. Eyes back to the road. The sound of miles passing. 

In his mind he keeps rambling. 

Mulder wants to ask how she is. 

How are you sleeping with the rusted iron of your sister's blood under the hallway rug? Can your mother look you in the eye yet? Has the dirt settled on the grave?  

He feels, irrationally, foolishly, that he will call her Dana. Wants to confide that he has several books on anthroponymy collecting library late fees. That he practices saying her name in his dreams. 

Wants to confess this the way a criminal confesses for leniency, a sinner confesses for absolution. 

Dana. Dana. Dana. 

From the corner of his eye he watches her hands fold and unfold in her lap as she sleeps. They remind him of the pale seafoam of the pacific coast. 

Dana, I wore your cross for you. Dana, I'd carry your cross for you.

He wishes to be her panacea. 

In the dark there is a flash. A cracking sound of the firmament breaking open. Thunder. 

On one long exhale he says woefully to himself: "People used to think lightning was a sign from the heavens."

"Maybe they were right."

He doesn't mean to turn so quickly to her. So quick it's almost whiplash. Her eyes shimmer in the dark. The edges of her fuzzy. She looks like a nereid peering up from briny black depths. 

Barbed light spears the skies ahead. A ghostly flash fills the car. Mulder blinks and sees shadows. 

Licks his lips and wonders if the Scully women possess the powers of clairvoyance, telepathy. Thinks of the Scully women, fracturing apart around him. Haughty and intangible, stoic mythoi. 

Collateral damage.

He replies: "Oh yeah? What sign do you think the heavens have deigned to send down to us mere mortals, Scully?” 

The thunder rolls over them. “I don’t know.”

Mulder worries his back molar with the tip of his tongue. 

Would it make any difference to know the signs?

“I don’t blame you, Mulder.”

Halogen white cuts the opaque night as his heart is torn asunder. A heavenly shout follows.

Dana.

“Scully.” 

“I don’t blame you. I don’t blame you for anything. You didn’t make my choices for me. This is my life. She was my sister.”

Mulder feels a pang of guilt, so sharp and unyielding that it makes his ears ring. “Scully, if I hadn’t—”

“Mulder, stop. It wasn’t your fault." Her voice crackles with the syllables, tenuous with grief. "And… and it wasn’t my fault either.”

He tries to swallow past the painful lump in his throat. Feigns to himself a great interest in the asphalt of the interstate under the headlights. The first rivers of rain sliding along the windshield.

“And I chose… I choose to stay, Mulder. I believe in what we’re doing. I believe in you.”

He wishes she would believe in anything else. 

"I don't know if I deserve that kind of faith, Scully." The words barely audible over the engine, the tires, the thunder, the terrible four chambers of his heart constricting. "You've given up so much." 

"So have you." 

Mulder turns to face Scully and for a moment, he sees her clearly within the mortal realm of their entwined lives. 

He wants to argue with her. Tell her he didn't choose to give up anything. That it was taken from him in a flash of white light on November 27, 1973 and he can still feel the metal of his fathers gun cold in his sweat slick child sized palm. This is his life, not hers. 

He wants to tell her that she can, that she should , walk away and choose anything else. 

Choose her family. 

Choose her happiness. 

Choose a life without him in it. 

It's only been three years. It's not too late for you (it is for me) . 

Be a doctor. A sister. A daughter. A mother. Dana, Dana, Dana. 

The words stick in his throat, unspoken and heavy, and he hates himself for being selfish. 

For all his rambling he can’t find words now.

[suntelecomcn]

High-Performance Fiber Optic Cables for the FTTH Access Network Application

With the continuous development of FTTH (Fiber-to-the-Home) network construction, there will be more and more new varieties of fiber optic cables for the FTTH access network application. This article will discuss the three types of fiber optic cables for FTTH in detail.

Fiber Optic Cables for FTTH Access Network

FTTH is an access network architecture that allows deploying xPON technology to provide high speeds of Internet access downstream (from the network to the end-user) and upstream (from the user to the network) over optical fiber from the operator’s switching equipment to an individual home. The main fiber optic cables implemented to build up the FTTH access network are the FTTH feeder cable, FTTH distribution cable, and FTTH drop cable.

FTTH Feeder Cable

FTTH feeder cable, such as stranded loose tube light-armored cable connects the central office/hut to the fiber distribution hub (FDH). It is ideal for duct and aerial installations. This cable has good mechanical and temperature performance, high hydrolysis resistance, high strength loose tube, good crush resistance and flexibility, high tensile strength ensured by steel wire, and good moisture-proof ensured by PSP (steel tape).

Stranded loose tube light-armored cable construction is that 250um fibers are positioned in a loose tube which is made of high modulus plastic and filled with a water-resistant filling compound; A steel wire, sometimes sheathed with polyethylene (PE) for cable with high fiber count, locates in the center of core as a metallic strength member; Tubes are stranded around the strength member into a compact and circular cable core; The PSP is longitudinally applied over the cable core which is filled with the filling compound to protect it from water ingress; The cable is completed with a PE sheath.

FTTH Distribution Cable

FTTH distribution cable connects the FDH to the fiber access termination (FAT). FTTH distribution cable, such as indoor distribution cable uses φ900um tight buffer fibers as an optical communication medium and aramid yarn strength member. It is compliant with a PVC or LSZH jacket. Generally, FTTH distribution cable is available in fiber counts ranging from 2 to 144 fibers. It has excellent stripping performance of tight buffer fiber, good tensile strength, and small size. FTTH distribution cable is used in indoor /outdoor and backbone cable distribution in building applications.

FTTH Drop Cable

FTTH drop cable is used between the fiber terminal and the building or home. It is ideal for aerial, direct buried, and ducted installations. FTTH drop cable has good crush resistance ensured by parallel strength member, good tensile strength ensured by single steel wire, low smoke, small diameter, zero halogen sheath, simple structure, lightweight, and high practicability.

FTTH drop cable construction is that the optical fiber unit is positioned in the center. Two parallel steel wire strength members are placed at the two sides; A steel wire as the additional strength member is also applied. The cable is completed with an LSZH sheath.

Things to Consider When Choosing Fiber Optic Cables for FTTH Access Network

When choosing the three fiber optic cables for the FTTH access network, there are some general elements that you should pay attention to that influence the method of cable deployment.

Type of FTTH Architecture: The FTTH architecture implemented will influence the data rate and the optical power budget, which will affect the choice of fiber optic cable for the FTTH access network.

Fiber Type of Existing Network: If an existing network is expanded, you must add hardware that can integrate seamlessly with the existing infrastructure.

Installation Environment: No matter the indoor or outdoor applications, there are always different environments where the cable will be installed. For instance, in rugged spaces where your cable may suffer damage, such as basements or in conduits sharing space with electrical or other wirings, you may choose a rugged sheathed cable that is flexible and crush resistant.

Conclusion

FTTH allows a fiber optic cable to be laid from the provider’s equipment directly to the user’s home. Choosing the correct fiber optic cables for FTTH access networks will directly affect network reliability, operational flexibility, and the economics of FTTH deployment.

Sun Telecom specializes in providing one-stop total fiber optic solutions for all fiber optic application industries worldwide. Contact us if you have any needs.