#insulation tape roll

[silvershinesblog]

Discover the Excellence of Silver Shine Adhesive: Your Premier PVC Tape Manufacturer in Delhi

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Unraveling the Legacy of Silver Shine Adhesive

Silver Shine Adhesive was founded with a mission to provide superior adhesive solutions to various industries. Over the years, the company has grown exponentially, thanks to its commitment to quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction. Located in the heart of Delhi, Silver Shine Adhesive leverages state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities and a team of skilled professionals to produce top-notch PVC tapes.

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Conclusion

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For more information about Silver Shine Adhesive and their range of products, visit their website or contact their customer service team. Experience the excellence of Silver Shine Adhesive, and discover why they are the preferred choice for PVC tape manufacturers in Delhi.

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By choosing Silver Shine Adhesive, you are not just investing in high-quality PVC tapes; you are partnering with a company that values excellence, reliability, and sustainability. Join the ranks of their satisfied customers and elevate your adhesive solutions with Silver Shine Adhesive.

[silver-shine123]

Protect Your Electrical Wires with PVC Electrical Insulation Tape

In addition to offering superior mechanical protection, PVC Electrical Insulation Tape has a high dielectric strength. They are suitable for automotive applications in terms of conformability. It is made of polyvinyl chloride sheet using authorised production techniques to guarantee excellent quality and strength, which is then evaluated using a range of quality indicators. PVC is a substance that we frequently utilise in our goods and it offers a number of benefits for electrical and mechanical insulation.

[itheunknown]

odi et amo - (01) all i had

negelected! meta! reader x platonic! batfam masterlist / prev / next

(TW) : emotional neglect, self-destructive behaviour, self-harm, suicide, depression, unhealthy coping mechanisms, underage smoking, underage drinking, alcohol abuse, depression, bpd, depictions of mental illness, violence, trauma, ...

the wind was howling.

your bag felt heavy on your shoulders as you brisked through the night, flickering street lights as your only source of light. your phone died a while back, but it's fine since you knew every nook and cranny of the route from your workplace back to your aunt's apartment. 

you've had a pretty shitty day so far: customers yelling in your face about things out of your control, your bicycle getting stolen (again) rendering you having to travel back on foot, and on top of that, you have exams coming up this week.

all you could let out was a tired sigh while trying to revise the material under your breath.

just as you're about to turn the knob of the apartment door, looking forward to finally getting some sleep before having to drag yourself to school that starts in a few hours, the door swings open violently and you stumble back, startled. the sight of your aunt gripping the door while holding a broken bottle greets you as she stands there with an unsettling and wild look in her eyes, her tone final.

“get in the car, now.”

sitting in gotham’s police department with the background noise feels distant, everything is incoherent, too much noise, too much light, just too much.

you feel hollow.

can’t wrap your head around the series of events that had just occurred, alternating between gnawing your lips and picking your fingers, the chatter zoned in and out as you just sat there, not knowing what was to come.

you don’t know how long you've sat there while the police were making phone calls and running through their data records of you after taking multiple different samples 2 days ago in order to decide where they should toss you to next. you’ve been placed under watch just so they could make sure there were no complications from the injuries you sustained, practically living in the station. it wasn’t that bad, the GCPD was well-insulated, safe, and you’re given food to eat for free (not that you can taste anything). it’s much better than being left to fend for yourself in the streets.

you know you should be planning on what to do next, but your brain feels like tv static, nothing making sense. you had worked so hard despite the circumstances you were in, tried to make the best out of the shitty cards dealt. you weren’t happy, but you were in control, you had a plan. work hard, save up, get a degree and move the fuck out of this godforsaken city. start over.

staring at the ground, a pair of shoes enters your vision.

“your labs came back, we got your DNA results.”

this was not what you had in mind.

you’ve never been in a car this luxurious before. the man who introduced himself as alfred, the wayne’s family butler, your father's butler, was seated in the front driving to your supposed new home. you stare outside, gaze unfocused, arms cradling your backpack close to your chest - your entire life in it: your school supplies and a few other personal items, while the rest remains at your aunt’s apartment - that is currently taped off by police and under investigation. eyes trained on the passing view outside, you feel bad for alfred who’s tried to strike up conversation to get to know you, but you couldn't find it in yourself to elaborate on your short responses. you hope he doesn’t take it too personally.

before you knew it, the car rolled to a stop outside the wayne manor. grabbing your bag, you trail behind the butler, the feeling of dread suddenly consumes your entire being.

“i do apologize for the absence of master bruce, young miss. i’m certain if he weren’t caught up with this current case, you would've received a personal welcome from your father himself", he gave you an apologetic smile.

you nodded in response, not really processing his words despite the tiny feeling of disappointment felt as you step foot into the grand yet empty manor. your presence a stark contrast to the fancy room you've entered.

however, you do look forward to seeing your new family: your father and siblings that alfred mentioned in brief, insisting for you to get to know them yourself while singing them high praises.

maybe this was the start over you needed. maybe you'll finally know what it's like to be loved.

you should've known then.

expectations only lead to disappointment.

you're tired, so very tired.

you're done.

nothing feels worth it anymore.

you don't have it in you to continue.

feet dangling off the crumbling abandoned building, you feel oddly at peace. everything is quiet. everything feels right, no responsibilities, no burdens, no more. you've decided.

for once in your life, you feel assured, this is the most optimal solution.

for once in your life, you're looking forward to something.

death must be so peaceful, lay buried within the earth, surrounded by silence. no yesterday, no today, no tomorrow. forget time, forgive life.

you'd be no more.

the wind is howling.

you stand up, staring down the steep drop. standing tall, unafraid, certain.

everything was quiet.

you're ready.

you shuffle closer to the edge, one foot hovering off as you will your other foot to do the same, fighting against your body's survival instinct. you're finally doing something for yourself.

"that's a big drop."

you stumble forward in surprise, nearly falling off until a hand grabs the back of your shirt, pulling you back further from the edge. you're stunned speechless, turning to see the source of the whistling voice.

"that's pretty ballsy of you, kid, i gotta admit."

this is embarrassing.

still unable to form any response, you let out a strangled noise in return as he let go of your shirt.

why the hell is one of gotham’s vigilante here.

an uncomfortable silence ensues, you don't know what to say, occasionally glancing up at the masked vigilante while you shifted your weight from one foot to another, feeling awkward.

just as you're about to try and weasel your way out of the situation, he beats you to it.

"nice spot! how'd you even get in?"

he asks casually while stretching and looking around. you don't know what to say.

"it's a still a weekday tomorrow , don't you have school? your parents must be worried you're out here."

your aunt is still waiting for you to return with your half of the pay for the rent. you have an assignment due tomorrow that's worth 10% of your final grade. there's nothing to look forward to.

"...i guess?"

now, you're uncertain, not knowing whether he genuinely didn't understand the implications of your actions or trying to lighten the severity of the situation.

he's uncertain.

he doesn't know how to approach this. he's never had to deal with this before.

you can tell by the strained smile and tensed posture that he also doesn't know what to do. somehow, you appreciate it. the situation is somewhat amusing now that you think about it. one of gotham's most dedicated vigilante standing in an abandoned building trying his best to stop a nobody from ending their insignificant life.

you almost let out a chuckle.

the vigilante bends down to pick up your discarded bag that was tossed to the side, handing it to you. you mumble your thanks, grabbing it and swinging it over your shoulders.

hesitantly, he places his hand on your much smaller frame. his voice warm and soft.

"go home. i'm sure someone is waiting for you."

you've waited for a year.

surrounded by the four walls of your assigned bedroom in the more cold, desolated part in the manor. you didn’t really mind, this arrangement was a blessing in disguise as it turned out, or maybe this arrangement was what turned you into the person you’ve become.

you don’t think you’re a great person, but you weren’t bad either, so you don’t understand why no one in the wayne manor would give you their time of day. sure, you were never reduced to begging for life necessities and having to bust your ass off at some sketchy restaurant working under legal age, while also balancing school work - this was objectively a far better environment for a person to live in compared to when you lived with your aunt. 

but was it wrong to want to be noticed by your own family? against your better judgement, you dared to hope.

you hoped to feel the warmth and care of what being tied by blood could grant. you hoped for an embrace, you hoped for company, you hoped for compassion, you hoped for connection. you hope and hope and hope, all you did was hope, until your memory was mostly filled with what you hoped, until you finally understood you were with them yet you were alone.

you had no place in their life.

just like the day you first arrived, bruce wayne, your father, was always busy. a persona to upkeep in the public eye, an enterprise to maintain, and his children to look after, to be a worthy role model.

but not you, never you.

despite alfred’s effort in trying to arrange for you two to get to know each other in the first week, there was never time. you were trying to wrap your head around the drastic changes that happened, from the procedures of transferring  schools, collecting what little belongings you had from the police station after the investigation, and quitting your job. meanwhile, bruce was still busy chasing leads to his case, determined that he was close to solving whatever it was. it took another week for you to stand in front of bruce’s door, wanting to formally introduce yourself and express your gratitude for taking you in, even if he was legally obligated to. when you finally saw him, you dared to hope. standing in front of you was your father, someone who shared your features. you see him, you see yourself. 

you could never forget the look in his eyes.

it was clear he had no idea who your mother was, but it was fine, you didn’t know her either. your desire to get to know him was not returned. was this what having a father is meant to be like? he couldn’t care less about you. all he did was run you through the ground rules of the house, who to go to if you were to request something, to inform him if you needed anything.

you needed him to look at you.

tim drake was the next person you encountered, your slightly older brother. you hoped that with the proximity in age, it would be easier to connect to him. however, it always seemed like he was preoccupied with something more important, he could not even be bothered to pretend to show interest when you had introduced yourself. you felt small, both in the figurative and literal sense. he was undoubtedly intelligent and talented. you’ve seen the way bruce look at him, actually hold a conversation with him. he was deserving, nothing you could measure to. bruce actually looked at him.

why does nobody look at you?

then you ran into jason todd. to your knowledge, he does not primarily reside within the manor anymore, which would explain why you haven’t really seen him around at all. it doesn’t explain why your first encounter with him was assuming a burglar had snuck in through the window at 3 in the morning. you had nearly dropped your cup of coffee, hearing a brief commentary on how there was another caffeine addict in the house before leaving the kitchen with you still holding your breath in shock. you can’t form a solid opinion on him since you barely see him.

in stark contrast, you had met richard grayson, or dick. the ever sweetest and most amazing older brother that any younger sibling would dream to have. you do too, seeing how much of a brother he was to the other members of the house, but not to you.

never to you.

you’d like to blame him for blindly hoping for things to be different, with his empty promises when he accidentally runs into you while on his search for someone else, and small talk when he’s waiting for something. you catch your father’s appreciative glances towards him sometimes, when dick helps out with managing your siblings.

especially damian al ghul, your half-brother. you were excited to have a younger blood sibling, not that the others were any less important to you, but merely for the delusion that blood could bring you together.

blood meant nothing.

damian was introduced after you were brought in, and his last name was promptly changed into wayne. your encounter was different from the others, him being the only one that sought you out first. again, you had hoped. trying to hide your excitement, you had mistakenly thought he was different from the others, your flesh and blood. 

it’s all the same.

damian had berated your existence, bringing up how you were so unworthy of being a wayne you had yet to receive your father’s last name. you stood there listening to everything he had to say. your flesh and blood.

you admired his strong personality and ability to assert what he wanted. you were complete opposites. it’s no surprise that that’s why he was worthy of the last name.he ended up being the one who had interacted with you the most, even if it was mostly him bullying you. secretly, you held him dear, seeing resemblance between damian and your aunt. he was your flesh and blood.

cassandra cain was yet another sibling you falsely assumed having something in common would bring you two closer. but at this point, you no longer had it in you to put effort in forming a connection with anyone else, worn down by the countless times you’ve been casted aside. 

you remain in the shadows, watching them carry on their daily lives, watched the life you had desperately wanted to be part of but found it impossible. you don’t belong with them, you don’t belong anywhere.

their silence made you feel forgettable.

do you even exist if no one remembers you?

the wind is howling.

and so are the voices.

i don't think im a good story teller since i mostly wrote analytical essays ^^' hopefully it makes sense like who let them (me) cook?? likes and reblogs are appreciated!!

(TAGLIST) lmk if you'd like to be added to the taglist :heh:

@confused-they @hoeinthehouse @heartjwonie @strwberryglass

[mrspeechless]

She could have sworn she heard it again. The familiar sound of footsteps trampling carpets of autumn leaves just outside of her window. How many seasons had gone by with that distinct crunch blocked out, barred from existence, as disregardable white noise? But to the world outside of the damnably insulated walls of her home it was her existence that struggled to be noticed.

The muscles of her neck, despite their dull constant ache, heaved up her head in a struggle that made the task look herculean. Her left cheek, swollen above her gag, was a tad damp from the wet splotch on the rug she'd been sobbing into. Her back arched slightly into the tension of her cruelly diligent hogtie, allowing her lungs to siphon air in deeper measure through a pair of flared nostrils. If someone, anyone, was walking by she needed them to hear her.

For a half-step her eyes, stung red by tears, blinked closed as the collection of air in her chest wound itself in a dense bubble. Her eyes flew open once more as all that precious oxygen was blasted like cannonfire out of her chest, a grapeshot of noise filtered through exhausted and strained vocal chords. From her perspective that scream was like dragon's breath, a shrill and horrible cry that under any other circumstance could have laid waste to a small village of innocents. But this dragon was muzzled, and the barrier of her gag once again kept her fiery shouts for salvation tucked in the bowels of her throat, penetrating the seemingly indomitable walls of her gag in meek, stifled bleats more befitting of a lost lamb.

Indeed this gag was her mortal enemy. The very same pair of cozy socks she always wore to fend off the chills of upcoming winter months had been unceremoniously seized from her feet, bundled together, and rammed deep into her mouth. The unwanted intrusion was like a dense boulder that only grew heavier over the hours of uncontrollably salivating against the sordid laundry. She yearned with every tear that rolled down the surface of her gag for the relief of being able to rest the expended and weary muscles of her jaw.

The gag's true malevolence, however, was made manifest in the bands of microfoam that clutched round her head like a python squeezing the life from its latest catch. Her captor seemed intent to fuse it to her flesh in the way that the gagging tape felt glued like a second skin over her swollen cheeks and uncontrollably spread lips. The sensation of it all, thick articles invading and plugging the entirety of her mouth and cruel clutches of sealed bandaging smothering an entire half of her face, working in vicious orchestration to deny her a right once believed to be inalienable. In doing so her monstrous gag maintains her victimhood as those footsteps continue to crush fallen leaves along the path away from her home. What followed could be unceremoniously classified as a tantrum if the consequences were not so dire. Her body writhed in desperate spasms against stalwart ropework. Her limbs ached and her joints chafed, but the barely audible squeals that filtered through the shield of tape came not because of pain. Frustration, fear, anger, all loaded into the barrel of her heart and discharged fiercely into the small bubble of space she could wriggle around in. Shivers that attempted to manifest at the memory of how his hands touched her body, and uncomfortable clamminess of his hot breath whispering his degenerate intentions in her ear, were repurposed into raging and desperate tugs at the hogtie that bent her figure so wickedly. Exhaustion would take her with nothing of substance to show for it. Just like before the muscles in her neck give in. Her head lays flat on its side, the flesh of her cheek acquainting itself to the familiar damp spot on the rug. She clutches her eyes shut tightly, but cannot stop them from contributing to that dampness with yet another pitifully defeated sob.

[motimatcha]

Characters: Gekko, Phoenix, Yoru, Chamber

Gener: fluff

On a cold winter night, when the temperature outside drops to minus thirty-five degrees and a cold wind blows through the windows...

Gekko will offer to seal the cracks with tape. This hardly saves you, despite the fact that you used two rolls of tape.

Phoenix will turn on the heater to warm up the entire apartment, but this action, like trying to warm up the entire street, will have no effect.

Yoru, who is equally comfortable in the heat and in the cold to wear light clothes, will not offer anything better and more reasonable than to call the repair service and go to his home.

Chamber has never encountered this problem because he is rich and can afford to install insulation on his windows.

[gaybananabread]

Hi I love your fics! I was wondering if you could write a lee bakugo and ler best jeanist? If your requests are closed you can just ignore this, I thought it could be cute though!

Have a great day! Remember to take care of yourself!

TickleTober Day 2 - Accidental

Okay, kinda lucked out! I was gonna wait till November to do this request, but I liked the pairing and needed an idea. You didn't request it as TickleTober, but that's what it is now. Changes nothing, just gives me an excuse to write it as such lol. Ignore any sewing-term errors, I don't sew anything. Anywho, I hope you Enjoy!

Lee: Bakugou

Ler: Best Jeanist

Summary: Jeanist thought that Bakugou's suit needed some special touches. The blonde obviously protests, leading to some rather giggly measurements.

Warnings: none! This is a tickle fic, so if you don't like that, scroll away!!

Bakugou's hero suit was…well, it wasn't bad. It just lacked a certain flair the pro hero was looking for. So, with him mentoring the teen and all, Jeanist thought it his responsibility to spruce up the slightly drab suit.

The rapidly approaching fall season was a decent inspiration for him. With fall comes the changing of leaves, carving of pumpkins and cooler weather. Jeanist made sure to insulate the suit, knowing the blonde needed to sweat for his quirk to work. He kept the theme mainly orange, yellow and black, adding in a few splashes of green for style. 

By the end of his lunch break, he had drawn up a new seasonal suit for Bakugou. It was time for the hard part: getting his measurements without the boy exploding.

“I don’t need a new suit! Nothin’s fucking wrong with it!��� Bakugou was not putting up with another change. His poor hair had been the first change. That damn comb over…he’ll never get over it. Now he wanted to switch up his suit design? Fuck that.

The pro hero sighed, expecting this reaction. “No need to be so dramatic. It’s just a little…seasonal makeover. Trust me, you’ll be much happier.” Bakugou huffed, shaking his head. Yeah right, he had said the same thing about the hairstyle…

Bakugou's choice of words wasn't his best idea. He was getting a bit pissy, letting his temper get the best of him. "Fuck off. My suit is fine, no more makeovers!" He glared at the pro, but that temper faded when he saw the look on his face. The look that meant Jeanist was done with his shit.

"Quite the mouth on you. I believe I said something about censoring your f-bombs, did I not?" Threads flew towards the teen, wrapping around his limbs and getting him positioned. When Jeanist was done, Bakugou was standing tall, his arms and legs spread just enough to get perfect measurements. "I would say 'stand still', but I don't think that'll be an issue now."

A bit dramatic, but he needed it. Bakugou thrashed and tugged on the thread, but everytime one broke, three more were quick to replace it. Jeanist was careful not to hurt the boy, just restrain him. "The fuck?! Get these damn threads offa me!" 

The pro rolled his eyes, grabbing his measuring tape and approaching him. "What did I just say?" Jeanist first ran the tape around his chest, getting the bust measurements. He wasn't expecting the other blonde's gasp when his fingers grazed his ribs. "Bakugou…are you hurt?"

Shit… "No, go away! Get these damn threads away from me!" He tried thrashing his way out, but nothing was working. Jeanist was too good at keeping him in place.

"Bakugou, if you're hiding an injury, you're only hurting yourself more. I only think less of you for getting injured if you don't tell me about it." His tone was serious. The pro didn't mess around when it came to his others' well-being. Giving Bakugou a stern look-over, he could tell the explosive teen wasn't lying. But if he wasn't injured, why'd he gasp? Jeanist knew he wasn't getting a straight answer; best to run a test…

Ignoring his protests, Jeanist got back to measuring. He did the bust measurements one more time, his fingers grazing Bakugou's ribs again. The teen was prepared, though, biting his cheek to keep quiet.

Okay, no noise that time…moving onto the waist. He moved the tape down, fiddling with the ends of it to find the exact measurement. He pressed his fingers against the boy's lower stomach, taking mental notes of the numbers. 

Bakugou's breathing was a bit shaky, his cheek starting to hurt from biting it so hard. Why couldn't Jeanist measure somewhere that wasn't ticklish? Literally any other place would have been fine. He just had to start with his ribs. Things only went downhill from there…

Now for hip girth. The tape was moved once again, running around his hips. Bakugou struggled not to react when he felt his mentor's fingers brush his hips. He could feel his cheeks heat up, the embarrassment and stupidity of his situation getting to him. 

Jeanist heard how shaky his breathing was getting, glancing up at the teen's face. What he saw shocked him. A blushing Bakugou, struggling not to smile. Why would he…wait a minute. He got a wonderful idea. And oho, it was perfect. 

The measuring tape was pulled away, Best Jeanist's fingers leaving his torso. Bakugou huffed, sparing a glance at his mentor. He instantly regretted it. The pro hero's smile was as wide as it was mischievous. The measurements were done for now, he could've released him; but he didn't. He knew. Bakugou was fucked. 

"Jeanist I- don't you FUCKING dare! I'll blow you into the stratosphere! Back off!" The blond pulled at his thread restraints, but Jeanist was too good with his quirk. He could barely wiggle around, much less escape.

The pro hero chuckled, shaking his head. "Wow, again with the language. What's it gonna take for you to clean up your act, Bakugou?" He tucked his arms behind his back, slowly getting closer to the teen. He knew exactly what it would take. He just wanted to have a bit of fun with his temperamental mentee. 

"Maybe…something like this?" He went behind the teen, squeezing his side. Bakugou huffed, jerking as much as the threads would allow. How were things as simple as threads keeping him restrained so well? 

"Lemme go! I swear, if you touch me one more time, I'll fucking blast you-" He couldn't even finish his sentence before Jeanist squeezed his side again, cutting his words off with a yelp. "There's that word again. You've really got to stop using it. Children aren't going to want to be near a hero who uses such scary language." 

To be completely honest, Jeanist didn't really care how the boy spoke. It wasn't up to him, he wasn't going to dictate how he communicated. Still, the cursing gave him an excuse to tickle the other blonde. An excuse he wasn't about to let go of.

Deciding to just go for it, Jeanist scribbled across the teen's stomach. He was pleasantly surprised to hear Baku's poorly-restrained giggles. He wasn't putting up much of an effort to conceal them anymore. "Shihit- nohoho! Get ohohoff!" 

It was nice to hear the aggressive, loud teen giggle like that. After all, he was still a kid. A teenager, yes, but still a kid. The boy deserves to laugh. And, by the looks of it, he doesn't really mind. 

"You'd think that you would stop cussing, but no. Honestly, do you ever learn your lesson?" The wiggling fingers move upwards, heading for his ribs. Bakugou's giggling got louder, still lighter and bubbly. At least he was on the right track.

Jeanist slowly moved up Bakugou's ribs, scribbling between each bone. The teen squirmed and thrashed as much as he could, his pink cheeks deepening to a vibrant red. The giggling was now borderline laughter. Just needed that one extra notch to get there.

"Goho awahahay, ohohold mahahahan!" The pro scoffed, pausing his tickling for a second. That kid was in for it now… "Old man?! I'm 35, thank you very much! That's a perfectly normal age for a hero. I think you need a lesson in manners…" 

The pro's hand suddenly darted upwards, scribbling mercilessly on the spot where his underarms meet the top of his ribs. Bakugou all but screamed, loud cackles replacing his giggling. "NOHOHO! GEHEHET- NOHOT THEHEHERE!" 

Jeanist just chuckled as he continued his ticklish fun. He was enjoying himself, seeing his mentee laugh like that. The boy never let loose besides fighting, it was a nice sight. "There we go, improvement. No insults, and not one swear word!" He didn't really have a definite reason for tickling Bakugou, besides the fact that it was fun. Excuses would help, though.

Laughter echoed around Jeanist's office, bouncing off the walls and lively the place up. The denim-clad pro experimentally squeezed Bakugou's hip, smirking at the squawk he got in return. His fingers moved away from the teen's death spot, fully moving his hands down to focus on his hips. 

"OHOHO MY- IHIHI'LL KIHILL YOUHUHU!" Bakugou was trying to continue his sort-of squirming, but he was tiring out. The tickles, paired with that morning's training and patrol, had him beat. He managed to keep his head held up, laughing as the pro went at his hips. 

His thumbs drilled into the boisterous teen's hips, smirking as he pulled laugh after laugh out of him. The kid definitely had a nice one; much better than his normal demented cackling. His eyes wandered down to Bakugou's legs, questioning if they'd be half as his upper body. Lucky for him, he forgot a measurement. 

"Oh, my bad! I forgot to measure your inseam! We'll need to take care of that, now won't we?" Jeanist pulled the measuring tape from his pocket once again, holding it against Bakugou's thigh. Only this time, he actually poked around the area, purposefully tickling him while getting the measurement.

Thigh tickles are a completely different experience from anywhere else on the body (imo). As such, Bakugou's laugh was a brand-new shade of adorable. The fiery teen giggled and squeaked, pitchy laughter replacing his cackles.

"CohOHOme ohohon! Youhuhu AHA- uhum,  j-jeheherk!” To his mentor’s surprise, Bakugou actually filtered his language. True, he had begun to call him an ass, but he took the effort to stop himself. It was kinda cute, even if he didn’t truly care about the other blonde’s language.

Jeanist chuckled, easing up on his student’s hips. “Would you look at that, he can learn. All it took was some tickling!” Said student groaned, his cheeks reddening as Jeanist said the word. Normally, he can hear and say the word just fine. That time, however, he was being teased and restrained by someone he looked up to. It’s waaay harder to stay composed when you’re giggling like an idiot.

Finally, the tickling and teasing got to him. Bakugou actually tapped out. He didn’t exactly say “uncle” or anything, but he did say one word that hadn’t been spoken since Jeanist started. “S-STOHOHOP IHIT! JeHEHEAnihihist noho mohOHORE!” 

And stop it he did. The pro hero pulled his hands away as the threads holding Bakugou in place snapped. The teen fell forwards, a bit dazed from laughing so hard for so long. Jeanist caught the giggly student before he could hurt himself. “Woah, careful. I didn’t go too far, did I?”

Bakugou shook his head, hiding his red face in his mentor’s shoulder. “Sh-shuhuhut uhup…” That was the only response he needed to know that everything was fine. The older blonde wrapped his arms around him, keeping the boy upright and letting him know that there was no judgment. 

“Alright, I’ll stop. Still, you have to admit you enjoyed yourself just a little.” Bakugou groaned, weakly punching his mentor’s side. That just made him laugh and muss up the teen’s hair. “I’ll take that as another yes.” 

A lightbulb seemed to go off in Jeanist’s head as he remembered the whole reason the silliness started. “Oh, I almost forgot! Now that I’ve got your measurements, I can start on your new suit!” He walked over to a nearby couch, laying the teen down to rest. Bakugou wasn’t totally spent, but he could use a breather. He grumbled something, but didn’t protest any. He wanted a quick nap, and knew Jeanist wouldn’t tease him for it. 

The pro went over to his personal work-area, grabbing the fabrics for Bakugou’s new suit. Hopefully, by the time his student woke up, he would have a starting point on the garment.

Their playful exchange had given him some good ideas on where to add extra padding, as well as some pops of color. Bakugou might have been a bit temperamental, but he was a good kid. A good kid deserves a good suit. As he cut the first length of fabric, he thought of the happy smile that was on his mentee’s face as he tickled him. He would have to take measurements more often…

[roboticchibitan]

I once, a decade ago, made a custom dressform using water activated paper tape and spray insation foam following a tutorial I found online. The paper tape was only used as a mold for the spray foam. The finished dressform came out if the paper tape mold and was just a foam copy of my body. It wasn't the most durable foam, but the closest tutorials I can find now call for plaster bandages, and expanding two part foam that costs $160 to make something in my size. Whereas a couple rolls of paper tape and three or four bottles of spray insulation foam is about $40.

I cannot for the life of me find this tutorial or even a mention of it and no tutorials I've found reference spray insulation foam so I'm wondering if there's a reason this method didn't survive the test of time. I did find one person on Reddit filled their duct tape dressform with spray foam but I couldn't find any other mentions of it.

[nothasideblog]

Problems of All Sizes

Cal comes down with a cold and tries to power through. ---

He hates to say it, but shoveling would be much easier without Kata's “help.” Every fifteen minutes or so, she shouts, “Wait!” and scrambles down to pluck out a bug or root, spilling dirt into the bottom of the hole.

She’s just trying to be helpful, he knows, and she is, in the long run. The likelihood of finding pyrite is pretty high on Koboh, and the plants she sees tend to be useful.

But Cal isn’t thinking about the long run. He’s thinking about the growing crick in his neck and ache in his–...he pauses thoughtfully and rolls out his wrists. 

Everywhere, he decides. He aches everywhere. He wants to be done with this. 

There was a problem with Pyloon’s electrical system. Cal woke up to the lights sporadically flickering and Greez swearing up and down. Cal quickly discovered that tinkering with the breaker box would not fix the problem. Hence, digging in the sand for wires. 

“Cal? Why’s your lightsaber blue?”

He also might want to be done with this because Kata has been asking a lot of questions lately. 

Usually, he can come up with something semi-intelligent to say. But, right now, he struggles to find any answer that satisfies her. He blames the heat getting to his head and the fact she gets sharper every day. 

 “That’s a good question. I don’t know. Why do you think it’s blue?”

She hums, turning over a sprout in her hand. “Is it because it’s your favorite color?”

He laughs a little, something catches, and he coughs once before saying, “I’ve honestly never really thought about it. I guess so.” He digs the shovel's tip under a stone and thinks of the glint of Merrin’s hair. Was silver a color? “Now that I’m thinking about it, maybe blue isn’t my favorite.”

“I didn’t think so. Red wasn’t Papa’s.” 

“I-hhheehh--HEt’SH!” Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, Cal sneezes, the shovel slips forward, and his head collides into the dirt wall. 

It’s all pretty embarrassing. Luckily, Kata reacts with grace–she holds her stomach and kicks her legs and she snorts-laughs so hard it has her choking for breath. 

Cal can’t help but let a little smile quirk at the corner of his mouth. He grabs her foot, shaking it with false venom, “Laugh it up. If I’m sick, guess who finishes the job?” 

She jerks her sandal from his grasp and stands up with a grin, “Merrin! I’ll go get her.”

“I meant you!” Cal calls after her, but she’s already around the corner. She’s faster than usual, and he swears he sees a hint of green. Merrin must be teaching her things. Good. That was good, right? 

Cal shifts his weight onto the shovel's step, and he meets the resistance of the wire’s rubber coating. He kneels to get to work, brushing away dirt with his hand to find the wire’s insulation cracked. He begins stripping away at it. 

A flash of green cracks to his right. He doesn’t need to look away from his work. He knows who it is, “Kata said you needed help,” Merrin’s alto voice rings out. 

“Well,” He starts taping over the newly restored wiring, “The hard part is over.”

“Do you want me to leave?” 

He turns to face her, “Of course, I don’t want you to–what?” He falters when her eyes flick up to his forehead and she smiles, not unsympathetic. 

He rubs at it with the back of his hand and it comes back with dirt. He can feel his ears turn pink. 

Merrin takes the shovel from his hand first and reaches down to help him out of the hole. Once he’s above ground again, she wordlessly begins finishing the task, pushing dirt back into place. Cal helps to the best of his ability, kicking it in with his foot. “Did she tell you how–…” “She told me how it happened, yes.” She shakes her head and uses her thumb to wipe the rest of the dirt off his face, ”What is wrong with you?”

Ears pinker still, he says, “Thanks. Nothing major. I, uh, think I might have picked up a bug.” 

She regards him carefully, eyebrows raised, “A parasite?”

“I think it’s-a-cold..!” As if confirming its presence, Cal pitches forward. This time, he covers it with the crook of his arm. “HAT’SHh’uH…ugh.” 

He feels a tug at the back of his neck and hears a tearing noise. Merrin pushes something into his hand—a piece of cloth. Bewildered, he sniffs, “Did you rip this off the back of my scarf? 

Merrin pinches the edge of what’s left of it behind him between two fingers. “Was it not more of a cape? Did you need it?”

“I guess not.” Cal huffs out a laugh and turns away to blow his nose. 

They walk back to Pyloon’s together. The doors slide open, and he’s relieved that half of the bar’s lights hold steady with a healthy hum. The other half remains disconnected and black. He’ll take it as a win. 

“Cal!” He turns to see Kata with a grin so wide he worries it’ll crack her face. “I helped make you something! Be right back!” He clears his throat to reply, but she’s already rushing towards the kitchen, weaving between customers. The regulars side-step her, used to her bursts of energy. 

Merrin slips into a booth, and Cal sits across from her. He swipes a few napkins from the dispenser and shoves them into his pocket. He pulls out three more and uses the first to swipe under his nose.

Merrin’s dark eyes watch him, and she smiles, amused, “You are like a Moog hoarding food for the winter.” 

“Well, at the rate I’m going, I won’t have much scarf left by the end of the night,” He huffs. 

“Excuse me!” Kata’s voice rings out around the corner. Cal pokes his head out of the booth to see her stepping heel-toe towards them, eyes glued to the giant steaming bowl of soup in her hands. It sloshes wildly from left to right. He morbidly thinks of how it’s a perfect representation of how his stomach feels watching the piping-hot liquid get dangerously close to her skin. 

He’s at her side instantly, lifting it from her grasp, “Is this for me?”

Kata follows him to the booth, crossing her arms, “Yeah but I had it!” She insists.  

“Sorry. Do you want it back?” he asks, though he’s already set it on the table and reclaimed his seat. 

Kata rolls her eyes, “It’s okay, I guess,” She scrambles up next to Merrin and sits on her knees.

Cal scoops up a heaping spoonful and sticks it in his mouth. It’s still steaming when he swallows it, but he can barely mind the burn when it’s wonderfully salty with something akin to dill. He chews on a bite of potato, “Did Greeze help you with this?”

Kata grins, “How did you know?”

Cal shrugs, “Because it’s delicious.” 

“Really?!” She plants her hands on the table to lean over to look into the bowl. Her eyes reflect the golden blobs floating in the broth. They look like stars. 

I saw the entire galaxy in her eyes. 

He feels a wave of nausea, but he pushes through and shoves the spoon back into his mouth. Under the table, Merrin taps his foot a little. He glances up and she gives him a questioning look. He smiles at her and hopes it’s reassuring.

“Tell us how you made it, child,” Merrin says, tucking a strand of hair behind Kata’s ear. 

“Greeze chopped the vegetables, but I added the spices,” Kata lights up, “They’re from the garden.”

Cal eats while she talks. The broth is rich and coats his throat, and the steam makes it easier to breathe. He should make sure Kata gets a bowl, one that hasn’t been contaminated with whatever head cold struck him this time. Unfortunately, his nose starts running before he can say anything. He ducks his face into another napkin, “Hih-HIt’SHuh!” 

“Sounds like you’re coming down with something nasty.” 

Cal sniffs, teary-eyed, as Greeze saddles up next to them and leans against Merrin’s side of the booth. “It’s not so bad. I ended up getting free soup out of the whole thing.” 

“You get a free bed along with it, too,” Greeze jerks his thumb towards Cal’s room, “Might as well make use of it.”

The thought is tempting. His head feels too heavy and too light simultaneously, “Thaahhnk-Hih!…” He catches himself, turning and blinking away the feeling. It leaves his nose buzzing. “Sorry, thank you. I’ll head down in a minute. I haven’t had a chance to catch up with Merrin.”

She shares a look with Kata, who grins and asks, “Who’s Berrid?” 

“Oh, ha ha,” Cal smiles, despite himself, “Our beloved Nightsister has nothing to say to that?”

“Don’t make fun of the ailing; it’s not honorable,” Merrin’s voice remains steady, but her eyes dance with laughter. “My day was fine, Cal.” 

He rests his cheek in his hand. She looks nice in this light. He wonders if everything looks different to her nocturnal eyesight. He sniffs and bites down a curse as his nose starts to itch again. “That’s good. You went book huh-hunting?” 

Her dark lips quirk into a smile, “I found an old text on magnets and galaxies. I left it on your bed.” Merrin had been exploring caves on Jeddah to help Cal link something–anything to figure out how to fix the compass. The design was so advanced, Cal struggled to even get the damn thing open. 

“HehH…!!”

But, reading books is a nice, non-physically exhausting activity, something to look forward to. He would be so lost without Merrin. He would be so dead without Merrin.

“RRt’SHHuh!” He buries his face into his napkin and tries to recover as casually as possible, but, “MPHHsshuh!!!” He blinks, dizzy. 

Merrin squeezes his forearm, “You should go take a look.”

“...Yeah, alright,” Cal lets his shoulders slump and he begins to get up, stiff. “Wait,” He squints, his focus hazing. He turns to Kata, “There’s enough soup left for you, right?”

Greeze laughs, “You don’t usually just make one bowl of soup, Cal, there’s a whole pot.” He seems a little disturbed, but that’s nothing new. Greeze is routinely unsettled by a lot of things Cal says these days. The thought makes him ache. 

A flash of green and a cool hand on his forehead diverges him from his thoughts. He’s having trouble holding onto those today–thoughts. But Merrin is taking his arm, so he’s fine with whatever happens next. 

“Goodnight Cal!” Kata calls after him.

They turn the corner and he slurs, “S’the middle of the day.” 

Merrin pushes his hair back. He fights a shiver creeping up his shoulders, and she whispers, “On’sila,” in his ear. He doesn’t know what it means, but the words are nice little puffs of air on his neck. She scrapes her nails down his scalp, and he finds his eyes closing. Her other hand guides him to lie down, and he recognizes the soft comforter of his bed. 

When did they get here?

The floor crackles and he hears the doors slide open. “What about the ‘old magnet text?’” He asks, and he winces when his voice breaks on “text.”

There are a few moments of silence where he worries he’ll fall asleep. But, soon enough, he feels the heavy weight of paper and leather as she drops it, rather heavily into his lap.

“You won’t last 15 minutes,” She wagers. 

He blinks his eyes open and sits up on his elbows. The world spins momentarily but settles, and he begins thumbing through the pages,“C’mon, give me at least twenty.” 

Merrin plucks it from his grasp. He doesn’t reach for it back but shoots her a questioning look. She meets it with a level stare, “I will read.” 

Cal rolls his eyes and starts to reach for it again, but she jerks it away and hastily announces, “To practice my Basic.”

That gets him reconsidering and relaxing back into bed, so she begins. “Magnetic fields in the spiral arms of our galaxy are tilted away from the galactic average by a high degree…”

[wirewitchviolet]

How a Computer Works - Part 3 (Miniaturization and Standardization)

For anyone just joining in, I'm writing a series of posts explaining perhaps haphazardly all there is to know about how a computer works, from the most basic fundamental circuitry components to whatever level of higher functionality I eventually get to. As explained in the first post on this subject, I am doing this just in pure text, so that if you are inclined you can straight up print these posts out or narrate them onto some audio tape or whatever and have full access to them should every computer in the world suddenly collapse into a pile of dust or something. Part 1 mainly covered the basic mechanical principles of circuitry and how to physically construct a logic gate. Part 2 covered logic gates in detail and how to use them to create a basic working architecture for a general purpose computer. Today we're going to be talking more about what you're looking at when you crack a machine open so you can make sense of all the important fiddly bits and have maybe a starting point on how to troubleshoot things with a multimeter or something.

Before getting into it though, I do have to shake my little donation can again and remind you that I do not know how I am going to get through the winter without becoming homeless, so if this is valuable to you, I'd appreciate some help.

Boards of Bread and Printed Circuits

With the things I've explained so far, you could totally build a computer right now, but it'd be a bit messy. You can totally buy resistors, transistors, capacitors, and diodes by the bagful for basically nothing, and cheap rolls of insulated wire, but there's all these long exposed pins to cut short and soldering things in mid-air is a messy nightmare and you'd just have this big tangle of wires in a bag or something that would almost certainly short out on you. So let's look into ways to organize stuff a little.

If you start playing around with electronics on your own, one of the first things you want to hook yourself up with besides raw components and wires is a breadboard or 12. And if you're watching people explain these things with visual aids, you'll also see a lot of them, so it's good to know exactly what they are and how they work. Your standard breadboard is a brick of plastic with a bunch of little holes in it. Incidentally, the name comes from how the first ones were literally just named after the wooden cutting boards for slicing bread people recycled to make them. Inside these holes there's some pinching bits of conductive metal which connect to each other in a particular way (pretty sure you can just see the strips that connect one if you pry the bottom off), so you can just jam a thing wire or prong into a hole, have it held in place, and make a connection to every other hole its connected to on the other side.

There is a ton of standardization to all of this. The holes should always be 0.1 inches apart () and split into two big grids. Everyone I've ever seen has 63 rows, each with 5 holes labeled A-E, a shallow channel through the middle of the board, and then another 5, F-J, and we generally have numbers printed every 5 rows. Down underneath, for any given row, the set of 5 pins on each side of the channel are connected. So, holes 1A, 1B, 1C, 1D, and 1E are all connected to each other, and nothing else. Holes 1F, 1G, 1H, 1I, and 1J are also connected to each other. There's no connection though between 1E and 1F, or 1A and 2A.

Most breadboards will also have a couple of "power rails" along the sides. These are just going to be labeled with a long red line and +, and a long blue or black line and -, and have holes in 2x5 blocks staggered out. With these, all 25 or 50 or whatever holes near the red + line connect with each other, and all the ones near the black line connect with each other. The gaps every 5 holes don't serve any purpose beyond looking different enough from the big grid so you hopefully don't mix it up and forget that these ones all connect down the length, and not in in little clumps across the width like everything else. The idea, for the sake of convention, is you plug a wire connected directly to the positive side of your battery or DC adapter or whatever into any red line hole, the negative side to any blue/black hole, and then tada, you can make a circuit just by plugging a wire in from red to a normal grid line, whatever bits you want span from that grid line to another, and eventually you connect the far end back anywhere on the black/blue line.

With a nice circuit board, there's also little snap-together pegs along the sides, and the power rails are just snapped on with those. So you can just kinda cut through the backing with a knife or some scissors, snap those off, connect multiple boards together without redundant power rails in the middle, and then just have these nice spare long lines of linked sockets. In the computer I'm building on these, I'm just using spare power rails for the bus. Oh and the big grooved channel down the middle also has a purpose. Bigger electronic components, like our good good friend the integrated circuit, are generally designed to be exactly wide enough (or more, but by a multiple of 0.1 inches) to straddle that groove as you plug their legs into the wires on either side, so they nicely fit into a breadboard, and there's a handy gap to slide something under and pry them off later on.

Typically though, you don't see breadboards inside a computer, or anything else. They're super handy for tinkering around and designing stuff, but for final builds, you want something more permanent. Usually, that's a printed circuit board, or PCB. This is pretty much what everyone's going to picture when they think about the guts of a computer. A big hard (usually) green board with a bunch of intricate lines, or "traces" running all over made of (usually) copper. And maybe with some metal ringed holes punched all the way through (they call those vias). These tend to look really complicated and maybe even a little magical, but they're honestly they're just pre-placed wires with a sense of style.

Most of the material of the board is insulated. The copper traces conduct real well, and manufacturers have done the math on just how close together they can be run without connecting to each other in places you don't want. The holes that go all the way through are for either plugging other bits in that tend to come with long legs you maybe want to keep intact, or just ways to run a trace through to the other side, where we often have traces on the back too to maximize our space. Most of what makes them look all cool and magical is how the traces run as close packed as possible to conserve space, and tend to only turn at 45 degree angles, which is just an artifact of how the machinery used to etch them out sued to be iffy about anything else.

So tada, you have all your wires pre-stuck to a nice sturdy board, and maybe even have labels printed right on there for where you solder all the various components to finish the thing. Oh and when you hear people talk about like, motherboards and daughterboards? The big main board you have for everything is a motherboard. Sometimes you need more than that, so you make smaller ones, and connect them up ether with some soldering or cartridge style with end-pins sliding snugly into sockets, and those we call daughterboards.

Integrated Circuits, or as they're also known, "chips"

The last thing you're likely to find if you crack open a computer, or just about any other electronic device that isn't super old or super super simple, are integrated circuits. Generally these are think black plastic bars that look like you'd maybe try to awkardly use them to spread cheese or peanutbutter on crackers in a prepacked snack or something, with rows of tiny little legs that running along either side. Kinda makes them look like little toy bugs or something. Sometimes they're square with pins along every edge, because sometimes you need a lot of pins. These are integrated circuits, or microchips, or just chips, and wow are they handy.

Sometime back in the 60s when people were really getting their heads around just how ridiculously small they could make electronic components and still have them work, we started to quite rapidly move towards a point where the big concern was no longer "can we shrink all this stuff down to a manageable size" and more "we are shrinking everything down to such an absurdly tiny size that we need to pack it all up in some kind of basically indestructible package, while still being able to interact with it."

So, yeah, we worked out a really solid standard there. I kinda wish I could find more on how it was set or what sort of plastic was used, but you take your absurdly shrunken down complex circuit for doing whatever. You run the teensiest tiniest wires you can out from it that thicken up at the ends into standard toothy prongs you can sink into a breadboard or a PCB with that standardized pin spacing, and you coat it all in this black plastic so firmly enveloping it that nothing can move around inside or get broken, hopefully.

And honestly, in my opinion, this is all TOO standardized. The only real visible difference between any two given integrated circuits is how many legs they have, and even those tend to come to some pretty standard numbers. They're always the same size shape and color, they all have the same convention of having a little indented notch on one side so you know which end is which, and they all seem to use just the worst ink in the world to print a block of numbers on the back with their manufacturer, date of assembly, a catalog number, and some other random stuff.

For real if there's any real comprehensive standard for what's printing on these, I can't for the life of me find it. All I know is, SOMEWHERE, you've got a 2 or 3 letter code for every manufacturer, a number for the chip, and a 4 digit date code with the last 2 digits of the year, and which week of that year it was. These three things can be in any order, other things can also be on there, probably with zero spacing, and usually printed in ink that wipes away like immediately or at least is only readable under really direct light, it sucks.

Once you know what a chip is though and look up the datasheet for it, you should have all sorts of handy info on what's inside, and just need to know what every leg is for. For that, you find which end has a notch in it, that's the left side, sometimes there's also a little dot in the lower left corner, and hopefully the label is printed in alignment with that. From there, the bottom left leg is pin 1, and then you count counterclockwise around the whole chip. You're basically always going to have positive and negative power pins, past that anything goes. You can cram a whole computer into a single chip, yo can have someone just put like 4 NAND gates on a chip for convenience, whatever.

OK, but how do they make them so small?

OK, so, mostly a circuit we're going to want to shrink down and put on a chip is just gonna be a big pile of logic gates, we can make our logic gates just using transistors, and we can make transistors just by chemically treating some silicon. So we just need SUPER flat sheets of treated silicon, along with some little strands of capacitive/resistive/insulating material here and there, and a few vertically oriented bits of conductive metal to pass signals up and down as we layer these together. Then we just need to etch them out, real real small and tight.

And we can do that etching at like, basically infinite resolution it turns out. It just so happens we have access to special acids that eat through the materials we need them to eat through, but that only work when they're being directly hit with fairly intense UV light. And a thing about light is when you have say, a big cut out pattern that you hold between a light and a surface, it casts a shadow on it... and the scaling of that shadow depends entirely on the distances between the light, the pattern, and the surface. So if you're super careful calibrating everything, you can etch a pattern into something at a scale where the main limiting factors become stuff like how many molecules thick things have to be to hold their shape. Seriously, they use electron microscopes to inspect builds because that's the level of tininess we have achieved.

So yeah, you etch your layers of various materials out with shadow masks and UV acid, you stack them up, you somehow align microscopic pins to hold them together and then you coat the whole mess in plastic forever. Tada. Anything you want in a little chip.

ROMs, maybe with various letters in front

So there's a bunch of standard generally useful things people put into ICs, but also with a computer you generally want some real bespoke stored values with a lookup table where you'll keep, say, a program to be run by feeding whatever's inside out to the bus line by line. For that we use a chip we call Read Only Memory, or ROM. Nothing super special there, just... hard wire in the values you need when you manufacture it. Manufacturing these chips though is kind of a lot, with the exacting calibrations and the acid and the clean rooms and all. Can't we have some sort of Programmable ROM? Well sure, just like build it so that all the values are 1, and build a special little thing that feeds more voltage through than it can handle and physically destroy the fuse for everything you don't want to be a 1.

OK that's still kind of a serious commitment. What if I want to reuse this later? Oh, so you want some sort of Erasable PROM? OK someone came up with a funky setting where you overload and blow out the fuses but then if you expose the guts of the chip to direct UV light through this little window, everything should reform back to 1. Just like, throw a sticker on there when you don't want to erase it. Well great, but can we maybe not have me desolder it and take it out to put under a lamp? Oh la de da! You need Electronically Erasable PROMs? EEPROMs? I guess we can make THAT work, somehow. They're still gonna be slow to write to though, can't have anything. I mean, not unless we invented like, flash memory. Which somehow does all this at speeds where you can use it for long term storage without it being a pain. So that's just kinda the thing we have now. Sorry I don't quite get the principles behind it enough to summarize. Something about floating components and needing less voltage or whatever. Apparently you sacrifice some read speed next to older options but hey, usable rewritable long term storage you just plug in, no jumping through extra hoops.

So OK. I think that's everything I can explain without biting the bullet and explaining ALUs and such. Well, there's keyboards (they're just buttons connecting input lines), monitors (these days, LEDs wired up in big grids), and mice (there's spokes in wheels that click X times or cameras checking the offset values of dust on your desk or whatnot).

Maybe throw me some money before we move on ?

CONTINUED IN PART 4

[silvershine302]

A Comprehensive Guide to PVC Tape Rolls and Their Applications

PVC tape rolls are a versatile and essential tool for a wide range of applications, particularly in the electrical and construction industries. Known for their durability and flexibility, these tapes play a crucial role in insulation, protection, and securing electrical connections. In this blog, we’ll explore everything about PVC tape rolls, including their types, uses, and why choosing the right PVC tape manufacturers is essential. We’ll also touch on products like Bijli tape, friction insulation tape, and the importance of a quality insulation tape roll.

What Are PVC Tape Rolls?

PVC (Polyvinyl Chloride) tape rolls are adhesive-backed tapes primarily used in electrical applications. These tapes are designed to provide excellent electrical insulation, resistance to abrasion, and long-lasting durability. Whether it's binding wires, marking cables, or ensuring the safety of electrical joints, electric tape rolls are indispensable.

Key features of PVC tape rolls include:

High dielectric strength.

Resistance to moisture, chemicals, and UV light.

Flexibility to wrap around uneven surfaces.

Bijli Tape: The Household Essential

When discussing electric tape rolls, Bijli tape stands out as a reliable product for everyday use. Popularly used in Indian households and commercial projects, Bijli tape offers robust insulation and ease of application.

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[ahedderick]

Blood

Ok. woo. I think I can write this up, now.

My son's Dr decided he needed a specific long-Covid test. We had to send away for it. A kit came in the mail, complete with an insulated mailing pouch, two tiny cold-packs, a vial, and an outer mailer (Fed-ex). Plus a whole lot of paperwork.

Yesterday morning we set off to go to Labcorp and get the blood drawn. It is in the same general direction as the Fed-ex building, so that was a plus. However, when we checked in, the lady at the desk looked at the paperwork and started making phone calls. Soon she told us, "we can't do that here, you'll have to go to the hospital lab."

Drat. We left, and it took me a minute to figure out how to get there - despite having lived here my whole life. Our town is cut up seven different ways by railroads, cliffs and steep ridges, perpetual construction, and rivers. Getting from Here to There can be an exercise in imagination. We did get there, however.

The diagnostic lab at the hospital can be a little crowded, but it didn't look too bad when we went in. We were somewhat under a deadline, because the sample had to be delivered to Fed-ex in time to be overnighted back to the lab it came from.

The lady who was checking us in told us our paperwork needed authorization from the Dr. (As we had gotten it direct from a lab, it had never passed through the doc's hands or been signed by her) Calls made. Faxes sent. More papers printed. At this point we were juggling three sets of paperwork.

Son was called back, and I went with in case there were more questions. The phlebotomist looked over his package in puzzlement, and made a phone call. Really, at that point, she should have talked to me first. It took her a w-h-i-l-e on the phone to get certain what was happening (she draws the blood, hands the sample to us, we take it to Fed-ex.) She then turned to try to explain all that to me. "Yes! I know. We will take it to Fed-ex!" I was trying to keep cool and calm, but getting a bit frustrated by this point. Then she said there was still paperwork missing, and left on a lengthy excursion to go get it from the front desk lady.

Finally, blood was drawn. She handed me the insulated foil package, and son and I got the heck out of there. Finding, on our way out, that the adhesive strip that was supposed to seal the insulated package was not actually sticky. Honestly, if you looked very closely, it looked like it had been stuck down once and reopened. It HAD to be sealed to ship, because the cold packs must be kept close to the sample, and the outer packaging was quite big.

Got in the car, feeling quite tense. We have been working on this [simple] project for an hour and a half, now. We zoomed off to Ace hardware, which was at least on the way to the Fed-ex drop-off. Grabbed a big roll of Gorilla tape. Stood in line while the pleasant cashier rang up the gentleman in front of us, and chit-chatted. The man behind us told Son that he had used Gorilla tape to install his window airconditioning unit last spring, and had a heckuva time getting it back out to put away for fall. I had questions, and did not ask them.

Car! Package! Open tape! Unable to tear tape! Use car keys to saw through tape! Seal inner package! Seal outer package! ZOOM!

The Fed-ex place was in&out-simple. Thank. God. We left feeling drained.

Shortly after I got home, Larry the Appliance Guy showed up. While it took a month, he had received the part to fix my oven. I can now bake again. I should bake. a treat.

[silver-shine123]

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[millenialfanfictionaddiction]

Really random thought

Sakusa is dating a manager from another team and he gives them his jacket so he can find the in a tournament crowd and they wear it and there team sees it and they lose their minds

Probably tendou/noya and Tanaka

😂😂😂 bhahahahahhahaha ok but imagine it with Inarizaki 👀 Sakusa totes knows exactly what he’s doing. He’s been getting under Atsumu’s skin since 2012 ✋🏻

Sakusa told you to take his jacket because there was a “breeze” in the stadium and he was not about you getting any sort of sickness. He also wasn’t about to have you get lost in the crowd.

You shrugged, not thinking much about it because Sakusa would only ever mean well right?

Right 👀

You slip the jacket over your Inarizaki’s manager jacket because why not 🤷🏻‍♀️

You make your way back to your team and Akagi is the first to spot you

He’s all like 😐🤨

Omimi follows with the confusion because they are definitely sure their team colors did not change from Black, Maroon and white to freaking lime green and yellow.

Honestly iconic colors 👏🏻 10/10 to the Itachiyama design team

Ginjima and Aran spot you next and they are like

👁️👄👁️

Suna is just video taping this entire time 🙄

Kita notices you and narrows his eyes because he’s worried you’re cold and he can’t have that! Perhaps the Inarizaki jackets need more insulation ��

“Hey guys!” You say, as these dummies just stare at you

Thankfully the silence doesn’t last long because good things never last on this time

“YN WHAT THE HECK ARE YA WEARIN!?!?” Atsumu screams, “THAT’S ITACHIYAMA’S JACKET!”

You, looking down and shrugging, “yeah it is! Omi gave it to me.”

“Omi as in Sakusa KiyOMI??” Atsumu shouts again

“Do you know any other Omi’s Sumu?” Osamu interrupts

“YN this is a huge betrayal of our trust!” Atsumu bellows as you roll your eyes, trying to ignore him as best you can

That’s a pipe dream Yn let’s be 4 real mkay

“Atsumu will you shut up. I gave Yn my jacket so they didn’t get lost in the crowd,” Sakusa said, interrupting the conversation as Atsumu glared back

“Are you saying we can’t protect our manager?” Atsumu growled back

“I’m saying there’s a lot of people here and Yn could easily get lost,” Sakusa responded

Actually the team thought he had a decent point but they were still mad that Sakusa had put his jacket on you.

“I think we can protect Yn ourselves,” Aran said, removing Sakusa’s jacket and handing it back to him

Sakusa narrows his eyes at the team as you sigh and roll your eyes. Honestly you can’t have anything nice Yn.

“Thanks Omi, I appreciate you lending me your jacket! Can I keep it for after the game?” You inquired, thinking this would fix everything

“YN you can wear my jacket!” Atsumu yells as you smile at him.

“YN is my partner, they will wear my jacket!” Sakusa growls in response

You rn 👉🏻 🌳 🐜 🌳

“Ok enough!” Kita finally interjects, “YN can wear Sakusa’s jacket after our match. Now let’s go warm up.”

Sakusa is just smirking at Atsumu as Ginjima tries to hold him back

Of course, Osamu has to continue to egg him on because why not

“Didnt Yn reject you asking them out like 7 times?” He says as Atsumu narrows his eyes

“Actually it was 9,” Suna chimes in

You 👉🏻😐

Really Yn what did you expect 😂

[tobydandelion]

I sure am glad I have my Everything Tray (a large serving tray with everything I need to keep up with time management, medications and hygiene) next to me, because I definitely won't be able to get around the house for a while today.

My three layers of compression socks don't insulate me from being able to feel the painful texture of the floor, and I can't force myself to walk to my shoes because it's like a torture game from 'Saw' to try to get to them, and I'm already too exhausted and in pain from wiping my body down with bath wipes for the day because all the sounds and rapid temperature change of a bath or shower would be even worse and I wouldn't be able to force myself through that pain.

As for food today, I tried eating my favorite protein bars but the texture feels so chalky right now that I can hardly force myself to chew and swallow. I think for the next time I have to go off my meds, I'll definitely need to have some nutrition shakes stocked. I can't even eat the (probably delicious, smells amazing) crock pot chicken I managed to put in and turn on yesterday. Even slow cooked meat feels awful on my tongue right now. And I should definitely be eating a lot more than I can force down right now, because I need to do large vestibular and proprioceptive stims like jumping/dancing/spinning/pacing off my meds, too.

I'm very eager for my doctor to get back; on cannabis I even only need two layers of socks, and can shower myself with minimal pain if I'm listening to comforting music and I pay careful attention to room temperature preparation for exiting the water. And I can eat lots more things with it, too. In fact I love cooking, it's a special interest of mine. And it's so frustrating to be unable to.

I'm glad Iowa at least has SOME kind of medical cannabis program, but it's definitely set up to be slyly primarily recreational. The fact that I'm profoundly disabled without cannabis but I can ONLY go through the same doctor who issued the medical cannabis card in the first place to get a thc limit increase, despite it needing redone every three months, is ridiculous medical gatekeeping. The only ones harmed by such excessive red tape are those who actually require it to comfortably live.

It's frustrating. I can't wait to get into school so I can advocate for myself and my neurokin better. I'm glad the ball's finally been rolling on that.

[magicspace114]

New faces - pack bonds part 3

Toby was quiet but you could still see a glint of curiosity in their eye as your brother pulled out strange tools from his case. You were worried at first that they'd be scared but if anything, they were in awe.

They sat themselves up a little straighter on the couch and carefully reached for James, stopping when they'd gained his attention before they'd even touched him. "Um, what do these do?" Toby asked, voice quiet but not mumbling.

Your brother's eyes flickered to you before looking back at Toby. "These are some lock picking tools," he explained, picking up a set of lock picks, "these are for manual locks like the one on that door." He pointed to your front door. "For this though, they won't be much help." He looked over his shoulder, "mum said this would be a digital lock."

"Isn't it?" She asked.

"No, digital usually has a combination or something. There isn't anything like that here," James took Toby's hands, turning them over to see if there was anything he could use. "How does this work normally? Do they use a key? A fob?"

"They have a button," Toby said, "it activates the restraints or releases them. The button looks like it's tied to a network of switches that send wireless signals to the restraints."

"Alright," your brother took out a clamp meter and attached it to one of the bands.

"What is that?" Toby asked.

"It's a clamp meter, it can measure any electrical signals in the bands so I can see what I'm working with." James said, not looking up from the screen.

"Will it work with this?" Toby asked, "this tech won't be anything like yours."

"If it's still AC or DC it should be fine," James shrugged, "you may be alien but basic physics should still work, right?"

"I-I guess." Toby nodded.

James hummed and looked at the readings. Remarkably, he was getting them. It looked like it wasn't all too different after all. The problem was, there were no visible wires to cut, seemingly no power source to drain. These were simple, black, metal bands. They were too tight against Toby's wrists to just pull off too, not without hurting the kid.

"I have an idea."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?" You mumbled, knowing James wouldn't have stopped there if it was a good idea.

"It's kinda a 'see what happens' type of deal," James grinned, pulling out a small device. It was like a taser but you know, mostly because he's used it on you, that it was a lot weaker than a regular taser. It was mostly to stun electronics.

It was a homemade device with the odd couple wires sticking out and the grip made by wrapping duct tape around rubber insulation. There was a metal tip that delivered the shock.

Toby looked between you and James as you glared. "Don't you dare," you said.

"Look, we gotta figure out how this works, right? Besides, it's not a dangerous current. It's just a little sting," James said, "see?" He jutted it at you and you shrieked before he even pressed the button.

"James!" You shoved him when he laughed.

"See? It's fiiiine," James looked at Toby, "don't mind her, she's a drama queen." You hit him again on the shoulder.

"Drama queen?" Toby tilted their head then turned to you, "you didn't say you were royalty."

James paused then burst out laughing. You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile yourself, "it's just an expression. It means someone's a very dramatic person." James was laughing so much, he was leaning against you for support. You quickly moved and let him fall to the floor.

"Ok, I like this kid," James chuckled, finally starting to calm down, "can we keep him?" Your dad just chuckled in the background until you shot him a look.

"They've probably got parents looking for them," your mother said and the light mood wore off both you and Toby. "We might need to find a way to reunite them somehow."

"No," you said immediately as Toby's breathing picked up.

"May?" Your mother asked.

Toby crawled over to you and small panicked bleats escaped him. You lifted an arm to let them curl into you. "They don't get to call themselves parents." You said stubbornly.

"I can't go back," Toby whined, "I can't-"

"Wow, wow," James said, "calm down mama bear, we won't take him away from you." You gave your brother a look and he gave you a nod back, a serious look falling over his face. He went back to picking at the bands around Toby's arms. "Ok, this might sting a bit but it'll only be for a second, ok?" He looked up and Toby nodded at him.

James shocked the band and suddenly both lit up blue along with the metal collar around Toby's neck. The bands magnetised and pinned his wrists together and two more that were disguised in the fur on their legs pinned his legs together.

Toby shrieked and tripped over themselves, falling off the couch and onto the floor. They fought for their hands, bleating and whining in vain as the electromagnetic force was too strong.

"Wow, hang on." James said, getting down on the floor with Toby but the alien kicked out, propelling themselves along the floor and squirming away.

"Wait," you took your brother's shoulder, keeping him in place.

Toby backed themselves up against the wall and curled their limbs up close. They shivered and squeezed their eyes closed. You approached slowly, coming at them from the side. They didn't acknowledge you as they mumbled to themselves.

"Toby?" You asked, quietly.

Toby let out a quiet bleat and started mumbling to themselves. "S'not my name." You overheard them say in their mindless rambling.

"Tobs," you said, "do you know where you are right now?"

Toby didn't acknowledge you as you crept closer. You caught movement in the corner of your eye and you turned to see your brother fiddling with wires and a large nail. You decided to figure that out later.

"Open your eyes, Toby. Just take a look around. You're safe."

"I-I'm good," Toby said slightly louder than their previous ramblings, "I'm good, I swear. I'll be good." They let out another whine that twisted your heart painfully in your chest.

"You are good, Tobs." You carefully put your hand on the top of their head, in between their horns. Toby flinched initially but when your hand did nothing more but ruffle through their hair, they sunk into the touch. "Open your eyes, it's ok, you're safe with me. It's May. I promise, you're safe."

Toby didn't open their eyes yet, still too scared but they leaned towards you. You shifted your body to be beside them and you pulled them closer, keeping physical contact light but supporting.

Your mother stood up from her seat and sat against the wall perpendicular to you. You watched her move, unable to keep the kicked puppy expression off your face. You felt horrible that there was nothing you could do for the little alien. Your mother started humming.

The hum was soft but audible. It was a lullaby, one you were familiar with. Your mother was always a lovely singer and even after years of not hearing it, the song was just as beautiful as when she'd sung to you after a nightmare. You rubbed circles into Toby's back while she sang.

Your brother snuck close now. On seeing what he had in his hand, you recognised the electromagnet in his hand. It was simple and rather crude considering the tech he was using it against but you could hear a faint buzzing as he got closer with it. He held it up to Toby's collar and the lights dimmed a little before turning back to the usual flashing yellow. Toby's arms fell away from each other and their ankles were also able to separate.

Once they were freed, you pulled Toby onto your lap, picking them up and taking them to another room so they could better calm down.

< Previous

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[telleroftime]

Teardrop ||| Moondrop + Reader

You were certain you were prepared for everything before entering the play structure, ready to do your job and fix whatever was broken. What you were not ready for, against your better judgement, was the very repetitive occurrence of your life: fainting.

———————————————

Request - Anonymous : Could I request a hurt/comfort fic with Moondrop? (Could be platonic or romantic). I keep having this idea about a staff reader going into one of the play structures to check on a broken cable or whatever but they end up fainting while still inside (I was thinking due to P.O.T.S. Syndrome). Moon would find them after hours and basically have to calm them down once they wake up and help them out.

Pairing: Moondrop & Gender Neutral ! Reader

Relationship: Platonic

Tone: Hurt/Comfort

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Fainting, Vague implication of claustrophobia, Description of a panic attack.

Oneshot Masterlist

A/N: I tried doing as much research into P.O.T.S. as I could before starting because everyone deserves to be represented. Please correct me if I got anything wrong so that I know for the future.

Writing this made me realise I know nothing about how electricians work. Fake it till you make it, I'm so sorry if all of this is wrong.

———————————————

The Daycare's night theme was well in the middle of playing when you finally finished distributing the warning signs and glow in the dark tape. To your dismay, it took you longer than you anticipated.

Your wheelchair kept getting stuck on the soft carpets and padded mats, proving to be an inconvenience. The weight of it kept sinking deep into the foam surfaces which meant you had to strain yourself to push forward; to unlodge it from the divots it formed. Additionally, the roll of tape had fallen from your grasp more than once, and there were times when the thin plastic film didn't want to remain tied around the poles no matter how hard you pulled.

However, in the end, you managed to tie off each entrance to the smaller play area. At two levels nonetheless, ensuring that the children got the hint and didn't crawl through. You also managed to disable the power to the maze-like structure, meaning that you were practically ready to enter through the only remaining exit.

Placing the final plastic sign on the ground, slightly askew to let you get closer, you put your wheelchair’s brakes on and sighed, adjusting the strap around your chest.

You were certain you had everything, even though you shuffled to double check. Your over-the-shoulder black bag held your duct tape and insulation tape, safe in the back corner and held in place by a stiff separator. Between them and the clear box of screws and bolts was an array of differently sized screwdrivers and cutters. Each one had a different coloured rubber end. Red and blue and green. The few smaller ones that came from a monotoned set were colour coordinated using coloured tape.

It was all a system you took care to keep clean and memorised. It was something that let you be as efficient as possible whenever you manoeuvred around the Pizzaplex.

Nevertheless, you knew that if you were missing something, the daycare specific tool kit would hold the rest. Your bits and bobs of collected accessories and screws and nails that jangled within the smaller pockets of the bag would have to be enough - and have been enough for you to ease past the worry that maybe you forgot something. It was never the case.

Slowly, you pulled yourself up to your feet, mindful of the speed you did so and let your body reestablish its equilibrium. When it did and you felt comfortable to move, you were about to bend over to grab hold of the handle of the aforementioned tool kit, Freddy’s face like a brand on the hard plastic lid. That's when you heard the characteristic jingle of the Daycare Attendant's bells paired with soft footfalls.

You turned around to face him, mindful of how quickly you did so, the body of Moon standing about a metre away from the wheelchair. He seemed nonchalant as he walked closer to you, hunched with a tired sort of swagger, mechanically moving to be right behind the wheelchair.

The red LEDs of his eyes looked directly at you as the silicon tips of his hands travelled the round metal edge of the wheelchair with a little resistance from the forced friction. All the while the small golden bells at his wrists chimed quietly: a little dingle-dangle with each movement.

You moved to speak, but Moon beat you to it.

His head twitched slightly and caused the bell at the tip of his hat to jiggle in a sort of static motion, “there’s one more cycle left before the daycare closes,” he explained, his head never angling from where you stood, “I warned Sunny to keep the children away from the play structure~”

Moon's tone was as coarse as always yet he made sure that the voicebox was quiet, creating a sort of hushed whisper. Well, as loud of a whisper as he could without accidentally waking one of the children that were currently napping in a distant corner of the Daycare.

Nodding at his words, you finally leaned down and picked up the tool kit, taking steps towards the narrow entrance of the play structure. “Thank you Moon,” you said with a soft smile, muscles tense with the weight of the hard box. Smiling up at the animatronic, your head bobbed towards where you knew the children were sleeping, “though you should worry about yourself for now. If a kid wakes up they’ll worry if you’re not there.”

It was his turn to nod, bobbing his head in a sharp motion. There wasn't much more to the conversation as both of you had a job to perform, however seeing his long fingers wiggle absentmindedly made a calm sensation bloom in your chest.

With that and a feeling of contentness, you watched him do a cheesy bow - his head spinning on its axis - before you grinned and turned to finally enter the confines of the play structure.

———

To say that the problem was daft would be an understatement. A child had apparently snagged the buckle of their clothes on a particular, protruding part of the foam that covered the metal bars of the structure's supports. It was almost as if it poked right into the material, became logged, and proceeded to be pulled down as the child hopped the small distance into the shallow ball pit below.

That in itself wouldn’t be a problem if the actual bar didn’t have hidden wires running along its length that were tugged out by the force - ones that were powering the sheltered lights and tiny cameras hidden within the play structure itself. Sure, the placement of them could be dangerous. If parents found out about them there would be quite a few angry mothers, distressed fathers, and appalled guardians. But as always, the corporation wasn't that bothered, and minimal effort in terms of things like this was their go to.

So the wires were going to remain ever that much closer to the curious hands of children.

Thankfully, however, most of the time the thickly insulated wires would be held in place by dozens of black zip ties. It was the case here too, although the job done was way too sloppy. The zip ties weren't nearly as tight as they should have been, allowing the pieces of wire to wobble within their bindings. There also weren’t that many to begin with, at least not in the part visible to you.

That alone was probably why the cables themselves hung limply downwards, two pulled out of their place by the metal pole.

Hands reaching up, you tested the give on the wires, pleased to see that there wasn’t much. Instead, there was something blocking further movement from either direction. Locked in place by zip ties and sharp turns, falls and rises, of the structure. Simply shortening the wire would do the trick here, although it wasn't the best of options.

On a professional standpoint, removing the layers of protective foam from around the structure and repositioning the cables and wires would be the correct thing to do. But, once again, the Pizzaplex adored its 'Minimal Effort' policy with its minal staff pay. So, minimal it would be.

As the music of the Nighttime Lullaby ended, and the Daycare quickly filled with the echoes of laughing and giddy children, you quickly got to work. It would be an easy fix afterall.

Pulling off the remaining foam, you bent down and grabbed the pair of wire cutters that neatly lay within the tool kit, standing back up slowly to come face to face with the wires. You grabbed hold of their length with your insulator gloves now on, and proceeded to cut the two hanging wires down the middle. From there, it didn't take you long to remove the outer plastic from each length.

One practised cut and snip after the next, you were quick to reconnect the ends of each, ensuring that the strands of metal within the insulated casings held firmly by themselves  before you dug in you over the shoulder bag. Without looking, your fingers thumbled for the insulator tape, wrapped it around each of the adjusted wires tightly, and dropped it back into its slot in the bag.

When you were done, finishing it off with way too many zip ties that would no doubt inconvenience the next person that had to fix things here, you tested how snug the wire was against the support. Perfect.

There was barely any give, and after deciding everything was as good as it was going to get, you checked the time. The last thing left to do was to place new foam to hide the circuit.

But that stopped being your priority when you felt yourself blink slowly, a sudden wave of dizziness hitting you.

You knew what was coming, and without thinking, like a second instinct engraved into your soul, you lowered yourself to the padded ground. To your right was the tiny ball pit, your hand briefly thumbling within it before you pulled yourself to the opposite side.

With how it was going, you had enough time to slip the black bag from your shoulder and lay down with an uneasy breath before you felt your consciousness unwillingly slip from you.

———

When your eyes opened again, you were slow to come to your senses.

Everything felt foggy and the lights of the room had been switched off; casting you in darkness. Other than the faint static buzzing in the background and the uncomfortable ringing in your ears, there was no noise nor any sounds of people to break you out of your disorientation. No nothing other than the deafening silence.

Your hands patted the surroundings, noting that the space was a lot smaller than you thought or remembered, and that you couldn't feel anything. No, you had gloves on. Hot on your skin and blocking out one of the only senses that you wanted to feel. Frantically, you clawed to take them off, and the heavy gloves fell to the ground with a frightened thud. The moment that they did, your clammy hands aimed for the floor.

The ground was cold to your touch as you pulled yourself to sit in the darkness, padded with a rustling material. You felt for your bag, and as your hands grew more frantic in their search for answers, something to diminish the fog clouding your mind, you hit your hand on the hard lid of a box that let out a loud jingling sound at the impact.

If the sudden sound didn't startle you then the pain most definitely did, and your hands recoiled back to your chest. This wasn't good, not in the slightest.

What were you doing beforehand? Where were you? What was going on? How long has it been? 

You weren’t thinking straight when your breathing started picking up, sharp and painful against your lungs as you scrambled about in the small space with terror lacing your actions. Water pooled in your eyes, making the faint light from past the surrounding nets - in the far distance of your vision - completely disappear. It was dark, too dark.

You couldn’t see and that scared you.

Panic was heavy in your veins, blood rushing painfully to your head as your body slouched under you. You really wanted to focus, but you couldn’t. A million 'what if's' flooded your thoughts as your hands gripped at the thin fabric of your shirt. You wanted to leave. You wanted to be home.

The distraction of your panic was enough for you to miss the chime of bells as they neared quickly. One after the other with continued steps. All you could hear was the loud and painful beating of your heart that caused your throat to tighten with sobs. You also missed the nearing of the bright red glow of a certain animatronic's eyes. Your eyes shut tightly to the point it hurt. You needed to breathe, you knew you did.

It was only when he was right next to you that you noticed him. 

Moon crouched in front of you, legs spread apart awkwardly with one hand between them to balance himself on the floor like a house cat would. If he was talking, you couldn’t hear him.

Opening your mouth to speak, you noticed you couldn’t. As you looked up at him, not a single, tangible sound escaped you which only fueled your crying that much more. One choked sob after the other. You wanted to shout for help, ask him for support - for anything other than how you were feeling right now.

Thankfully, you didn't have to explain yourself as Moondrop adjusted himself on the ground, long metal limbs folding into a cross legged position. Slowly and wordlessly, he moved his hands from up by the neck of his body, down to where the stomach would be. Up and down in an almost physical simulation of a breath.

With a hiccup from you and a tilt of his head to prompt you, you took the hint and breathlessly followed his actions. A long, though shallow, breathe in and an exhale out. One after the other as your eyes burned holes into his own.

After a while, only one of his hands moved, forcing you to continue breathing in such a way. It helped you a lot, though your chest still burned with a strong, searing pain and the terror kept leaving you in shaky sounds of fear: sobs and whimpers alike.

But your breathing did start to steady, and when Moon noticed your constant rhythm, his other hand moved to gently - almost wearily - rest on your shoulder. "Can you hear me now, Starlight?" He asked, head once again tilting to the side with a jingle of the hat's bell.

At the sight of you nodding your head, he visibly relaxed.

"That's good Starlight. You are safe now~ Just keep breathing, just keep breathing. You're going to be alrighty-right..."

You sat there with him for a little while longer until the sound of your wheezing breath was replaced with simple, tired hiccups. The fog in your mind was gone, lost somewhere at the back of your thoughts with that temporary wave of dizziness. For now you did not need to worry, all you needed to do is be calm. And you were, for the most.

"Come on, Starlight, let's get you out of here," Moondrop said with a grizzly static in his voice and stood up, body bent to fit his height in the child-sized structure. His hands carefully guided you to your feet, keeping you stable.

"How about something to drink?"

———

You were certain that at least one hour had passed since Moon left you sitting on one of those plastic kiddie chairs by a matching table. The rush of fear-driven adrenaline was gone, and you were now letting yourself daze off. You'd long since finished the water Moon had brought you, fingers running against the crayola marks and paint stains on the rough surface of the plastic.

You were thankful for Moondrop. He had brought your wheelchair towards where you sat, black bag sitting in the otherwise empty seat. Everything was in tact, placed back into it's allocated compartments as you were so quick to check. He even kindly brought you some salty snacks, ones with names you recognised and trusted.

This time, even with your dazed state, you didn't miss the soft footfalls that made his golden bells ring and turned to look at him.

“Are you feeling better?” Moon croaked out, crouching down on the opposite side of the table to the wheelchair.

With the angle he was at you doubted it would be comfortable for anyone, even the other animatronics at the Pizzaplex. Still, you had to admit that it looked more comfortable than the way you were sitting, your legs high to your chest with the low placement of the kiddie seat.

“Better than before, thank you,” you answered with a tired smile.

"That's a goodie~"

A beat of silence passed by as his head tilted with observation, the intensity of his LEDs flickering as he did so.

"I told security what happened. You can stay here for the night. They put you down as off work tomorrow too.”

You sighed, exhaustion gripping your eyes and causing the already dull ache from the previous tears to worsen into a persistent throb. You reached for the child-sized cup Moon brought for you, looking into its empty contents.

"You didn’t have to do that for me," You said, chin leaning against the palm of your hand.

"Of course I did Starlight! You're a friend of mine, and Sunny, and the Daycare. I wasn't going to just leave you."

You snorted a chuckle, "either way, thank you."

Standing to his full height, Moon offered to take you somewhere more comfortable. When you agreed with a simple nod, he picked you up with ease. Post-adrenaline exhaustion was slowly but surely washing over you, and you could barely keep your eyes open as Moon cradled your body to his, and carried you into one of the backrooms. The pillows he set you on were as soft as a cloud.

"If you need anything, just call for me," he said with an unintentional grumble of his voicebox.

He didn't explain much more than that, but he didn't have to. With the support of whatever bedding he placed you on, and the dim glow of a star-themed night light, you only managed to mumble a quiet and incoherent, "bedtime," before you were officially pulled into the waves of sleep.

Moondrop refused to move from your side for the hours of still night silence to come.

———————————————

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