#rubber roofing material

[roofprotectproducts]

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[321arka]

EPDM (ethylene propylene diene monomer) rubber roofing has emerged as a popular choice for flat roofs due to its durability, longevity, and ease of installation. This versatile roofing material offers a host of advantages over traditional options, making it a favorite among architects, contractors, and homeowners alike.

Understanding EPDM

EPDM is a synthetic rubber roofing membrane known for its exceptional weather resistance, thermal stability, and resistance to ozone and ultraviolet (UV) radiation. These characteristics make it an ideal material for flat roofs, where exposure to the elements is constant. EPDM comes in large rolls, and its installation involves adhering the sheets to the roof substrate, creating a seamless and durable waterproof barrier.

Cost of EPDM Flat Roof

The cost of EPDM flat roofing can vary based on several factors, including the size of the roof, labor costs in the region, and any additional materials or features required. Here's a breakdown of the primary cost considerations:

Material Cost:

EPDM is typically priced per square foot. The cost can range from $0.80 to $3.50 per square foot, depending on the thickness of the membrane and whether it is black or white (with white EPDM reflecting more sunlight and potentially reducing cooling costs).

Labour Cost:

Professional installation is recommended for EPDM flat roofs, and labor costs can vary. On average, expect to pay between $3 to $7 per square foot for installation. Factors such as roof complexity, accessibility, and local labor rates can influence the final labor cost.

Read more

[reysdriver]

Rubbermaid & Web-Boy | P.P.

You're the Black Cat, and you find out the face behind another masked vigilante is more familiar than you ever expected — peter x fem!reader sexual tension

warnings: some adult language

words: 0.9k

a/n: this is so self-indulgent omg I literally just wanted to experience some sexual tension with Andrew Garfield

The cool night breeze swept through your neatly tied white hair as you walked carefully along the banister of a roof above an abandoned building.

Being a hero is boring, you thought to yourself as you pretended to topple on the railing, the tight material of your suit making a small noise.

Perfectly timed, you heard a police siren in the distance. Looking towards the sound, you located the source, seeing the bright red and blue coming from a cop car.

As you were running towards the sound of sirens, you heard a noise behind you, something like a thwip followed by a whoosh, but you elected to ignore it and focus on the criminal activity a few blocks over. You heard it again a few moments later. As much as you wanted to ignore it again, it was an odd noise you knew couldn't be normal. 

You wanted to investigate those strange sounds, but before you could even turn around, you felt yourself being pulled against the wall, but it didn't feel like a person of any sort was doing it.

You looked down at your wrist and saw that it was stuck to a wall, being tied back by a web of some sort. You couldn't pull your hand off of the coarse brick wall, no matter how hard you tried. You looked up from your hand to find a sleek silhouette, dressed in blue and red spandex. You presumed that he was the one to do that to you, and you justifiably got angry. 

"What the fuck?! Let me go!" You said, slightly louder than you had expected.

"(y/n)?" The masked figure said in shock. 

You maintained the tone when you recognized the voice as one of your friends and asked "Peter?"

He froze in his tracks when he realized that he had just revealed his identity to you. "No." He said sheepishly. 

It had taken a second, but you had just realized that he was the so-called 'masked menace' that you had seen pictures and videos of all over the internet and the news. That was your best friend, and he had never told you. But to be fair, you had never told him that you had adopted a vigilante alter ego that you had never told him about either. 

"Peter, I know what your voice sounds like." You told him. "You're the Web-Boy?"

"Spider-Man, actually. And you're the, what, Rubbermaid?" He said, gesturing to your black suit that you had put together yourself. 

You let out a sarcastic laugh. "Very funny, I know the suit's a little rubber-like, but I'm the Black Cat." 

"I've never heard of you." He said. You wondered if he was jealous that there was another hero around Queens. 

"Maybe because I'm just better at this and don't have pictures of me scattered across every news station in New York." 

"Or maybe you're worse, and you just don't do anything newsworthy." 

Now you knew he was jealous of you.

"Excuse you, Parker." You retorted. "Just this week, I've saved a life, stopped five crimes, and even tied a burglar up and left him on the steps of the police station!"

 "Impressive. I've done twice that."

"Asshole." You spat, attempting to move your hand off the wall again.

"I thought you were a criminal!" He defended. "You're the one wearing an all black outfit and a burglar mask!" 

You were repulsed by the idea of being considered a villain, as you stood for justice and goodness. But if you were going to be honest, the idea intrigued you a little. 

"No, but I might become one if you don't let me go."

He laughed and took off his costume mask. You saw his face and could confirm that it was in fact, your best friend Peter Parker behind the webslinger suit the whole time. 

"You don't want to stay here and hang out with me?" He asked in a half-joke tone. “Wow, everything changes when you put on the superhero suit.”

You didn't laugh or say anything back. Instead, you responded by looking at him displeased and then gesturing with your head to your arm stuck being raised next to you. 

"Alright, alright, I'll let you go."

He pulled out a small blade from the black spider on his chest and cut the white strings so to let your hand free.

"What? No, 'thank you'?" Peter asked after he let you go.  

You started to walk away, then walked back to Peter just for a second, long enough for you to throw a quick punch. 

"That's for gluing me to the wall with your webs." You said sassily, then calmed your tone. "Now, don't ever do that again, or I swear I'll do as I promised before and just become a villain to take you down."

He started rubbing his upper arm where you had hit him to soothe it. 

You continued to walk away, but before you could even get off the roof, you heard him call you. "I'll see you in school, (y/n)!"

[admin-cock-creations]

Date a Merc: Chapter 13

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Pairing: Pyro / Scout / Reader Summary: Date a Scout who plays on a slip n’ slide with Pyro. Warnings: N/A

There was bound to be heat when you worked in the desert of New Mexico, but sometimes you were cursed when an extra potent heat wave rolled through the area. Such was one of those times, and right smack in the midst of summer. The Admins had some mercy on you mercs and gave you some ceasefire time until the temperatures were back within a reasonable heat index for fighting, so until that point, you were all working on keeping cool with limited supplies.

There was a benefit, however, of having near unlimited access to industrial grade and quantity materials. While nosing around in the somewhat cooler garage of Engie, Pyro came across a large roll of high-density polyethylene and was quick to share a rather brilliant idea with the aforementioned Texan and Scout. You were initially in the dark about their little plan as you were in the rec room sucking in ice water and air from the pathetic air-con unit, but it didn’t take long before you began to hear the construction sounds outside.

In a signature move of playful intellect, the trio was building a large slip n’ slide course using the roll of liner and some assorted materials Engineer had lying around the garage and wasn’t going to use anytime soon. There were sloped turns, Pyro had already begun digging for a holding pond to end in, and Scout was discussing a ramp sliding down from the base’s roof.

Scout and Pyro being your significant others, you knew them pretty well and chalked this up to Engie humoring their melted brain antics until the heat made them give up, but soon enough you were the one being proved wrong, and within only two days the trio had built a fully functional slip n’ slide course and pool-seized retention pond. Engie had even added a little ‘splash zone’ for those less inclined to sliding and swimming.

So, you currently lounged, watching Scout and Pyro slip, slide, and play while you relaxed in a chair under the gentle, cooling mist of the ‘splash zone’. Mostly you were there to make sure the pair were regularly applying sunscreen, but you weren’t going to deny that your little makeshift waterpark was doing wonders to beat the heat wave. From behind your sunglasses, you watched Scout make another pass down the slide, splashing into the retention pond a few feet away from Pyro who diligently shielded their little rubber ducks from the incoming wave. You couldn’t help but smile and laugh at your lovers.

“Come on, you two, time for another round of sunblock!” You called while waving the tube in the air to get their attention. Scout had initially groaned when you insisted on the sunscreen before they started playing, but now he was right beside Pyro in rushing up to meet you as getting the stuff applied was just an excuse to have your hands all over his body. Pyro wasn’t nearly as exposed as Scout with their wetsuit on, but they still had exposed arms and legs that needed covering, and they insisted on Scout lathering them up while you attended to him.

“Alright, fine, hold on a sec!”

You giggled at your two partners, taking care to lather up Scout’s back and shoulders while he first attended to Py’s arms. You waited patiently while he got the other’s legs, waiting your turn to do the same until Pyro piped up and offered to return the favor.

“Daaaaang, gettin’ fondled by both my hot babes? Go right ahead, Py!”

It was hard not to snort a little at Scout’s eagerness, leaning back in your chair as Pyro finished up the lather job on Scout. Once done, the pair gave you a spin so you could make sure they were thoroughly covered before returning to the water.

“You look good to me,” you started, getting excited shouts from the two as they turned to run back into the water before you shouted at them.

“You forgot something, though!”

Scout and Pyro stopped, turning to look back with expressions of confusion and slight embarrassment.

“I’d say I’m overdue a kiss from you two,” you grinned at them, sending them scampering back up to your side. Scout clutched your face in his hands with a grin of his own, smothering your face in a barrage of little kisses that made you giggle before placing a sloppy kiss on your mouth. Pyro nudged their mask into your neck and cheek, making you blush and giggle as you could hear their excited breathing through the air filter. They didn’t stop there, though, as they swiftly turned to Scout and gave a nudge to his cheek as well.

“GET A ROOM, HIPPIES!”

The three of you turned to look at where the shouting had come from, spying the rest of your team now suited up into their bathing suits and ready to join in on the slip n’ slide fun.

“Yer just jealous I got two hot partners and I can do a better slide down the ramp, Sol!” Scout taunted his fellow American, starting up one of their signature spats that resulted in them racing off to climb up the roof to the start of the slip n’ slide. You chuckled and shook your head at the two as Engie, Spy, and Medic came to join you in the ‘splash zone’ while Demo and Heavy joined Pyro in the retention pond and Sniper gave himself enough space to follow up to the roof without getting caught in Soldier and Scout’s little battle.

“At least the liner’s tough enough to withstand all the nonsense. I think we’re gonna have to keep this slip n’ slide around.”

[zeestarfishalien]

Lingering Souls

CW: Drugs (fear gas being referred to as a drug), Panic Attack (again it’s fear gas)

[Day 2 dpxdc week 2023; Danny Fenton // Full Hazmat AU // Fear Gas]

• MemeLords (Danny Fenton/Stephanie Brown) if you squint.

When the adrenaline hits, Stephanie prepares herself to face the visions of her failures, of people she cares about dying in her arms, or even visions of dying slowly somewhere cold and alone.

What she doesn’t expect is the odd warping of reality where all the shadows move. There’s people, so many people. Most of them have some sort of violent wound on them hanging open but not freshly bleeding. Her eyes can’t accurately judge distances any more as figures seem to loom closer or flick away with the barest hint of movement. There’s a glow from up on the roof ledge above her that attracts her attention even though moving her head makes her stomach turn.

There. Stretching in a blur of shadows and neon green glow, a figure moves. Suddenly all she can hear is heavy breathing filtered through a mask and the sound is so loud. She can’t hear her own breathing. Is she breathing? Panic rises further as she can’t hear her own breathing, feel her chest rise and fall and the breathing gets louder and louder, the figure hasn’t moved yet, watching Scarecrow monologue.

An ice cold hand grips her shoulder without warning but before she can scream, another is pressed against her mouth, silencing her. She can’t see them, but they’re so cold, like her hands that one time she got captured by Mr. Freeze.

“Shhhhh,” the raspy voice murmurs in her ear. “I need you to breathe with me.” Then she hears the exaggerated rattling breath through a filter that’s different from the overwhelming heavy breathing that’s still plaguing her ears.

They’re trying to get her to breathe. She really wasn’t breathing? That thought nearly sends her spiraling into panic all over and the heavy breathing picks up in speed once more.

“Hey, hey…” the raspy voice is soft, soothing even if it sounds like it must hurt its owner’s throat. “Close your eyes, I’ll put your hand on my shoulder so you can feel me breathe.”

She does it, she closes her eyes. She’s not usually one to listen to a stranger’s command but this is not a usual sort of situation. There’s the shifting of what sounds like rubber then her gloved hand is placed on Raspy Voice’s shoulder. She can feel them breathe and she finally drags in a shuddering breath to match their pace after a few moments of fumbling.

The strange breathing plaguing her matches her own shakily drawn breaths and slowly ever so slowly as her adrenaline plateaus, it dawns on her that the breathing matches hers because it is hers. The drugs are altering her sense of reality. She knows this.

She jolts as a crash and a human squawk cuts off Crane’s monologue. She almost opens her eyes, it’s habit. She needs to know what’s going on, but she knows she’ll lose her tenuous grip on her fear if she does.

“We’ve got him,” the voice reassures her. “Just breathe with me. I won’t leave you.”

And she believes them. Something about Cold Hand’s voice cuts through and draws away the drug induced fear. Which logically shouldn’t be possible but far be it from Stephanie to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Crane must have made this strain short acting. She can hear her heartbeat settling back into something resembling a normal pace. It helps that Cold Hands is murmuring reassurances and documenting what is going on so she can relax a little easier. Crane is caught. The material beneath her gloved fingers is odd. She can’t tell the details obviously but it doesn’t sit in her grip the way she’s used to.

“I’m gonna…let me take my hood off before you open your eyes,” Cold Hands says suddenly.

There’s a rustling and a hiss of air being released from closed circulation, more rustling and then a raspy “okay.”

It’s so quietly said that Stephanie almost doesn’t hear it. It still takes another few moments for her to gather the courage to open her eyes again.

She’s looking into a face spiderwebbed with glowing green lines. The lines reach up to their eyes which also glow in that same ominous color. She has to remind herself that it’s the same color as Kori’s eyes, panic is still easily bubbling up.

She notes the black and white hazmat suit, an odd color. Their companion also wears one in the same colors, their mask is still on but their back is turned as they keep watch over Crane and his goonies.

“I’m Phantom, he/him,” Cold Hands, Phantom says obviously trying to pull her attention back to him. She lets him.

“Spoiler, any.”

“Even Neos?” She’s pretty sure he’s only asking to keep her talking, to keep the conversation going.

“Especially Neo-pronouns.”

Phantom’s grin is infectious. She firmly ignores that thought.

“Who’s your twin over there?”

Phantom pauses at that and not the human sort of pause, his entire body goes absolutely still. Stephanie thinks his heart might have even stopped but she’d have to move to check his pulse. After what feels like an eternity (it’s probably not been that long but time gets wiggy when you’re high on mind altering drugs), his gaze flicks away and she knows he’s either debating on whether or not to lie or about what lie to tell.

When he looks back, he meets her gaze steadily (so probably not lying).

“It’s just me,” he says in that low rasp. The other one, the other Phantom turns to look at them even though he shouldn’t have been able to hear the first one’s voice. Maybe they’re connected?

“An illusion?” She asks it just to eliminate unlikely theories.

“No,” Cold Hands Phantom says, confirming her theory. “He’s completely separate from me until we merge back together.”

Well that’s…got to be confusing.

“It is,” he replied.

“Did I say that out loud?”

“Yeah, you’re still pretty out of it.”

“That checks out. Why hazmat? Seems cumbersome and not for fighting villains.” She knows it’s probably rude but figures the guy might cut her some slack since she’s drugged up at the moment. She’s not one to miss an advantage where she can get one.

For his part, Cold Hands Phantom doesn’t look offended. If anything he looks a little bemused and she wonders how many other thoughts she might have said out loud instead of in the privacy of her own mind. That could get embarrassing real fast. It’s better not to think about it for too long or she’ll lose her nerve.

“Do you believe in ghosts?”

The non sequitur throws her addled mind for a bit of a loop and then she has to think about it for a minute. Does she believe in ghosts? She certainly believes that some spirits linger after death and for people to return from the dead, their souls must have been somewhere.

“I believe that our souls can linger, yeah.”

He nods.

“I’m that; a lingering soul. I died in a hazmat suit so that’s what I’m stuck with. At least until I’m dead long enough to change it.”

“Is that why your hands are so flipping cold,” she bursts out.

He laughs. It’s a cracking horrid sounding laugh, but it’s genuine and filled with his amusement.

“Yeah,” he takes a breath to get the few lingering chuckles under control, “that’s part of the reason my hands are so cold.”

“Hmm…seems like it sucks.”

“Which part? The suit or the cold hands?”

“Both, but I was referring to the suit.”

“Sometimes it does but then again, I don’t have to deal with the stares or the patronizing adults nearly so often. The suit itself is just a part of me so it doesn’t get in my way.”

“You doing alright though?” She doesn’t know what makes her ask that. Possibly the drugs? She’s gonna blame the drugs. But even though she didn’t plan to say it, she finds that she really does mean it. Obviously he’s not gonna want sympathy or pity for his death. It’s something he has to deal with every day. But how many people ask him how he’s doing?

“I…” he fumbles. His face contorts, shifting the glowing lichtenburg figures into interesting shapes and contortions. His fingers come up to rake through his unruly white hair as he takes the time to truly think about her question.

“Some days are easier than others,” he finally settles on. “Being here, now? That’s good. I’m doing good.”

“Okay,” she says and sits back tipping her chin up as she closes her eyes. The nausea is getting worse, but also she doesn’t know what else to say or how to look Phantom in the eyes. So instead she focuses on her breathing.

B would want her to try to find out everything she can about Phantom. But respectfully, screw him. She’s still struggling with the drugs and Phantom did nothing but help her through it and tie up Scarecrow and his goons. While she might want to know how he managed to get her over the effects of the drug so fast and with no antidote, she’s just grateful he did it.

She’ll claim that she was too out of it. Alfred won’t let B get on her case over this.

And well…the dead deserve to rest.

Author’s Note: Steph absolutely was saying much of her thoughts aloud. Will we ever know how much? Who can say. Danny didn’t want her to feel embarrassed about it since she couldn’t really help it.

Also Steph using any pronouns is something you won’t even be able to pry out of my cold dead hands. Thank you for coming to my ted talk

[godesssiri]

I wanted to give some advice to people who are near enough to help areas affected by the recent hurricanes and haven't been affected themselves. I live in New Zealand and last year my home town was devastated by Cyclone Gabrielle, I live 4 hours away and was organizing to get things in to people who needed them.

Look on Facebook. Groups will be organizing and sharing information about what donations are needed and where to bring them to. A determined middle-aged woman will be helping hundreds of people out of her garage or whatever empty space she's been able to sweet-talk or brow-beat some business man into loaning her.

Donate material goods that are actually needed right now. It's tempting to go 'I've got no money but I can clean out my wardrobe and give stuff'. Please don't. I saw several charities turning stuff away because SO MUCH had been dumped on them.

Right now things that you can actually give from your own homes if you have them to give or if you can appeal to your community:

Big and tall men's clothing, they'll get loads of women's and kids stuff but there will be a shortage of larger men's clothes so if you are a larger man or know one you can hit up, they'll be grateful.

Sturdy footwear, particularly rubber boots - they've got a lot of mud to slog through and they need to protect their feet.

Protective clothing, work gloves, hard hats, high vis gear.

Camping lights, head-lights, solar-lights. If they're without power these are all much safer than candles.

Monitor local Facebook groups and see if they're appealing for anything in particular.

In a few months to a year or so they're going to need everything else so if you want to help but all you've got to give is your old fridge or a pile of blankets then just hold off until people are asking for those things. Once they have a safe place to live they'll need help filling it. Keep following any Facebook groups that form and be prepared to help later.

If you can buy things to take in or get local businesses to donate or however you go about providing new things, stuff that's gonna be really helpful right now:

Prepacked food that's easy to heat up on a barbeque or camp stove. Pouches, meals in a can, just add boiling water, anything you'd take camping. Ingredients aren't really helpful right now for people who are using all their energy to survive and don't have extra to make a meal.

Milk powder. You can make up just as much as you need and don't need to worry about refrigerating it.

Bottled water.

Baby formula.

Diapers

Toilet-paper

Baby wipes. The wastewater systems will be a mess so they're probably being advised to avoid showering even if they have running water. Baby wipes are a good way to keep reasonably clean.

Clorox wipes or similar products. Just as they're having trouble keeping themselves clean it's also a challenge to keep their environment clean.

Heavy duty garbage bags. There's a lot of spoiled food, soaked/rotting paper/fabric/building materials, that need to be contained until they can be gotten rid of. Landfill is likely affected so the best they'll be able to do is seal it up in heavy duty plastic until there's somewhere they can dump it.

Camp stove gas canisters

Batteries

Pet food

Tortillas. They keep longer than leavened bread, there's a million things you can do with them, and they're way more compact for transport. (When we had the car full to the roof with stuff we were taking in to our family, I was so proud when I realized we could transport 300 tortillas in the spaces under the driver's and passenger's seats.)

Over the counter meds - there'll be lots of people doing work that's making them very sore. Also basic first aid stuff, it'd be a bitch if you survived the hurricane uninjured only to end up with an infection that you got from a splinter while cleaning up.

If you're delivering things yourself then avoid staying in the area for too long unless you're actually taking part in the clean up. Take everything that you'll need while you're there. When you leave offer to take trash out with you.

People who've been through a disaster like this will need help long term so if you can't help right now don't feel bad, keep an eye on the situation and eventually something will come up that you can help with.

[inkykeiji]

can you do #16 pasttime with sd!nat shouto please? 💙

prompt: past time series: sugar daddy natsuo warnings: use of the word daddy, touya being touya briefly mentioned, ASPD mention words: 1k

The sun is just beginning its descent below the horizon by the time you arrive, smearing the sky with strokes of pink and orange. The dense scent of burnt rubber infuses the air, and your nose wrinkles cutely as you exit Shouto’s Aston Martin. He laughs, giving your hand a gentle squeeze as he leads you toward the entrance, gravel popping beneath the rubber of your sneakers.

Jaku Go-Karts. 

It’s a dingy little place now, rundown and ruined by the passage of time, but Shouto loves it all the same. 

The concrete is cracked, stained with crisscrossing skid marks from rubber burnt. The thick tractor tires that line the racetrack are worn and fraying; scars they bear from constant abuse. That shitty little snack-shack, pitched off to the side of the speedway as though thrown in as an afterthought, is still the same; all white chipping paint and stale funnel cakes, with the old arcade having shrunk to a mere three units, all unheard of, screens washed out and flickering. 

Even after twenty odd years, the track hasn’t changed a bit, and Shouto knows every twist, every curve, every fork, the route seared into the tissues of his brain with such accuracy that he’s sure he could drive the whole course with his eyes blindfolded. 

“This was one of our favourite past times, when we were kids,” he tells you as he rests his wrists on the chainlink fence, notes of melancholy in his tone.

“Really?”

“Yeah. It was one of the few things we all loved doing, together.”

“Even Touya?”

“Even Touya,” Shouto nods, pausing for a moment as a memory flashes through his mind, then exhaling a snort through a sardonic little smirk. “Granted, I’m sure Touya enjoyed this mostly because he got to repeatedly run me off the track.”

“Why am I not surprised,” you respond dryly. 

The image of three Todoroki boys materializes in your head; Touya already the smallest, his younger brothers towering over him, but still the ringleader nevertheless, marching onto the track with their souped up go-karts—Touya’s plastered with crude stickers, peeling and veiny; Natsuo’s all clean lines and glistening paint; Shouto’s full of dents and dings, paint scraped in sharp strokes, revealing the silver metal beneath. 

It must’ve been nice, even if only for a moment; a short instance where they all got along, despite a few bumps and patches, co-existing in some semblance of semi-peaceful, enjoying a singular activity, together. 

“It was a rare, acceptable method to torture me.” 

And although Shouto’s voice is wry, there’s a small smile on his face, eyes glazed with nostalgia-tinged memories—hazy, soft, coated in sugar.  

“Once, my kart even caught on fire. Natsuo pulled me from it before any real damage was done,” his gaze shifts downward, blunt nails picking at his cuticles, huffing out a mangled imitation of a chuckle. “Touya was so angry he didn’t talk to him for days. Said he ruined a perfect instance of ‘poetic justice’. Said it was divine intervention, and he should’ve just let it play out.”

“That’s terrible,” you breathe.

“That’s Touya,” Shouto shrugs with a weary acceptance. 

“So he’s always been a sociopath, then.”

That gets Shouto to laugh, sweet smile dispelling most of the despondence from his face, gaze flicking to yours through the corner of his eye. “Technically, he couldn’t have been diagnosed with ASPD just yet. He was only about fifteen or so. But yeah, he’s always been messed up.” 

Questions itch on your tongue, and you fold it in on itself, pressing it to the roof of your mouth in an attempt to smother them. 

Why was it only him? Daddy and Shouto and Fuyumi have their issues, sure, but doesn’t everyone? Maybe their personality flaws are a bit more severe than the average person’s, but that can be brushed off and explained by the fact that they were raised by a billionaire, can’t it? They all grew up under the same roof, so why is Touya so much worse? 

Your tongue flattens, then curls over your teeth, sucking for a moment before slowly scraping against the edges. It’s none of your business, and it shouldn’t matter anyway. 

“Enough about Touya,” you demand with a wave of your hand. “We came here to race, didn’t we?” 

Laughing again, Shouto shakes his head, fondness settling in his eyes. “Yeah, sweetheart, we came to race.”

“I’m gonna leave you in the dust!”

“Bold statement to make to a seasoned pro,” he quips. 

In the end, you do leave Shouto in the dust, but only because he allows you to, slowing down around wide corners and crashing into sharp turns on purpose as you whiz past him. Nevertheless, it’s still fun, your cheeks sore from incessant smiling and your throat raw from grating laughs and screams, and he still treats you to ice cream, just like he promised he would if you beat him—Don’t tell your Daddy, okay? He’d flip if he knew you were having sweets before dinner—the tips of your fingers encrusted with glittering sugar from the sugar cones, mouths stained blue and pink from the artificial dyes. 

You’re practically falling asleep in his arms by the time he gets you back to Natsuo, who coos and quickly takes you from his little brother, his most precious possession being returned to him. 

And after you’ve been washed and brushed and put to bed, Natsuo sits down with Shouto, sweating crystal glasses filled with whiskey and ice in their palms, and asks him why he did it. 

“Why I did what? You asked me to take her out, give her a good time, and I did. As I always do.”

Natsuo fixes him with a look, features flat and unimpressed. “You know that’s not what I’m asking. Why did you bring her there, of all places?” 

Swirling amber in his hand, Shouto shrugs, staring at his glass and clinking ice against the sides. 

“I thought it’d be nice, you know, to make new memories there. We loved it so much when we were kids and I—I didn’t want to lose that. I won’t lose that.” He looks up, mismatched eyes shining in the dim light of Natsuo’s study. “It’s time we start reclaiming some things.” 

[dapurinthos]

;_; i just want to have adorable jedi younglings to heal my own inner child

Hawk-Bat Clan is hurried into the lift and back up into the morning sunshine. I set my shoulders and finish my ration bar, crumpling the wrapper up and shoving it into the deep pockets of my robes that can hold so many things. I hold onto Rael’s closest sleeve for balance as the lift rises and I slip one foot then the other into my outside shoes so that my soft-soled in-Temple shoes are protected and kept clean. By the time the lift opens back up on the roof, nine pairs of feet are all the saffron-gamboge hue of the flexible outside shoes that end just above our ankles. They make me think first of pattens and chopines, platformed shoes once worn to keep clothing that was hard to wash above the muddy mix of dirt and refuse and animal waste that unpaved streets inevitably descended into, though these soles are maybe a single centimetre. They and the rest of the shoe are made in one piece, of a rubbery, but breathable, material that doesn’t even have a seam around the vamp or down the centre like one-seam moccasins. They're not really rubber, though. Every time a pair gets too beat-up or worn-down, it gets put in a box labelled especially for outside shoes. When there are enough shoes in the box, it gets sent down to a room somewhere below the actual truncated pyramid of the Temple so they can be recycled into new shoes. Rubber is a thermoset, its form set after it cools. Any after-heating just results in the outside becoming unbearably sticky and disgusting, needing to be dissolved with rubbing alcohol. Unless there’s someone whose job it is to solely focus on unlinking the chemical bonds and sifting through impurities with the Force, it’s far more likely they’re just some sort of thermoplast that is of high enough quality to be able to reheat, melt, and reform. Actual recyclable plastics: an outright miracle. They must have been recycling them over and over again for nearly a century, these shoes that carry that warm hue of the late years of the High Republic forward and make us look like a bunch of pelikki, orangey-yellow feet with swooping short robes in hues of warm greys and soft tans above.

[narrators-journal]

Sorry to ask again for more king!leo tatsuya I wanna see more of him giving in slowly with his title until he’s crazy crazy

You wanted Tatsuya to go crazy, and I hope I delivered. If this feels lacking in the insanity, think of it as it simply being an unreliable narrator. I hope it scratches your itch, it was fun to work on lol. Though, at the same time, it was a bit of a challenge bc I haven’t delved into psycho-type characters in a long while, and Tatsuya doesn’t strike me as the type to realize he’s gone off the hinges.

The title of ‘King Leo’ belonged to Sudou. It belonged to the arsonist who had tried to blow him and his friends up multiple times over, tried to frame them as terrorists, and was arguably to blame for the entire catastrophe that had become the tall brunette’s life. That was who King Leo was. That was who the old gas-scented, bloodied and charred coat that Tatsuya wore once more belonged to. Tatsuya, was simply Tatsuya. He was Jun Kurosu’s childhood friend and he didn’t want to be anything else.

He didn’t want to be a wildcard. He didn’t want to be some puppet or toy in Nyarlethotep and Philemon’s petty game. Not like Sudou had been. He just wanted to keep the promise he’d made to Jun in the past and protect him. So, some part of him was...kind of happy to have a second chance to fulfill that promise. Though, of course, the more logical side of the brunette knew how selfish and insane that morbid spark of joy was.

Jun’s finally free of Nyarlethotep’s control, he’s got a mother and father who loves him, he doesn’t need me in this timeline. I should leave him alone, that’d be for the best.Tatsuya thought with the acrid scent of smoke in his lungs, and bubbly floor wax beneath his feet.

Yet, at the same time that the brunette knew there was truth in the thought, his chest ached under its weight. Possibly a worse ache than the one that filled his chest when he thought back to the life he left behind, or when he’d...orchestrated things. Which…at least partially, was why he was in the hallway that burned around him. Some painfully selfish part of him refused to leave Jun’s side, even if the ravenette had a perfect life. Probably because he brainwashed me. When I was playing King Leo for him. He thought, though it didn’t stop him.

His progress was a bit slow due to the wax that clung to his shoes and threatened to melt the rubber in the soles, but he pushed on to climb the smoke-choked stairs to the roof. Which, as he’d expected, oozed out more of the thick, inky clouds and had playful flames that peeked out of the holes of crumbled and cracked material. And, among the crowds of scared children and frazzled teachers, was a familiar ravenette. “Jun,” he called, getting the shorter man’s attention and confusion easily. “Wha- who the hell are you?” He asked, the anxiety and fear in his voice like a dagger into Tatsuya’s heart, but he still smiled. Even as the aerospace museum shook dangerously beneath Tatsuya’s feet. “How do you know me? Have we met?” Jun asked, those dark eyes locked onto Tatsuya, and the tall brunette instantly wanted to kiss him, or hug him at least. But, he refrained. “Um…” I should lie, right? I’m not supposed to be around my friends, they’ll remember the other side and the world will be destroyed.He thought while he admired Jun’s charcoal-dark eyes, But… Before he could weigh the consequences further, he spoke, “Yeah. I’m Tatsuya Suou, remember?”

That was all it took. His name, that was all it took before those beautifully dark pits lit up with melancholy. Adoration, excitement, regret, guilt, Tatsuya could almost see when each memory sank back in. It was like some domino game, all too easy to knock over. As proven when the ravenette’s eyes filled with horror, anger, and agony. “Oh, Tacchi...why-” Jun whispered as his eyes slowly filled with tears before Tatsuya wrapped his arms around him and crushed him into his muscular chest. “Because. I made a promise to protect you, and I’m going to.” He said warmly with his arms locked tightly around the shakey ravenette, “I’m going to stay at your side no matter what, Jo- Jun.” He assured, even though he knew what he’d just done.

[tubetrading]

Key Design Considerations for Pantograph Support Insulators in High-Speed Rail Systems

In the realm of high-speed rail systems, every component plays a crucial role in ensuring safe and efficient operations.  Among these components, pantograph support insulators stand out as critical elements that facilitate the seamless transmission of power from overhead lines to the train's electrical system.  As a leading pantograph insulator manufacturer in India, Radiant Enterprises recognizes the importance of meticulous design considerations in crafting reliable and durable insulators.  In this blog post, we'll explore the key design considerations essential for pantograph support insulators in 25 KV high-speed rail systems, shedding light on Radiant Enterprises' commitment to excellence in manufacturing.

Understanding Pantograph Support Insulators

Pantograph support insulators are integral components of the overhead electrification system in high-speed rail networks.  These insulators provide electrical isolation and mechanical support for the pantograph, which is the apparatus mounted on the train's roof responsible for collecting electricity from the overhead wires (catenary).  In 25 KV high-speed rail systems, where trains operate at exceptionally high speeds, the performance and reliability of pantograph support insulators are paramount.

Design Considerations for Pantograph Support Insulators

Material Selection:  The choice of materials significantly influences the performance and longevity of pantograph support insulators.  At Radiant Enterprises, we utilize high-quality, durable materials such as silicone rubber or composite polymers that exhibit excellent electrical insulation properties, mechanical strength, and resistance to environmental factors such as UV radiation, pollution, and temperature variations.

2.   Electrical Insulation:  Ensuring reliable electrical insulation is paramount to prevent electrical arcing and ensure the safe transmission of power.  Our pantograph support insulators are engineered to withstand high voltage levels (25 KV) and exhibit low electrical conductivity to minimize power losses and mitigate the risk of electrical faults.

3.   Mechanical Strength:  Pantograph support insulators are subjected to mechanical stresses induced by the pantograph's movement and external forces such as wind loads and vibrations.  Therefore, our insulators undergo rigorous mechanical testing to ensure they can withstand these forces without deformation or failure, ensuring uninterrupted operation and minimal maintenance requirements.

4.   Corrosion Resistance:  In outdoor environments exposed to moisture, pollution, and corrosive agents, corrosion resistance is essential to maintain the structural integrity of pantograph support insulators over their operational lifespan.  Our insulators are engineered with corrosion-resistant materials and undergo surface treatments to enhance their resistance to rust and degradation, ensuring long-term reliability and performance.

5.   Dimensional Accuracy:  Precision engineering is critical to ensure proper fit and alignment of pantograph support insulators with the overhead wires and the train's pantograph.  Our insulators are manufactured with tight tolerances and undergo strict quality control measures to guarantee dimensional accuracy and compatibility with the rail infrastructure, minimizing installation challenges and optimizing performance.

6.   UV Stability:  Exposure to ultraviolet (UV) radiation can degrade insulator materials over time, compromising their electrical and mechanical properties.  Therefore, our pantograph support insulators are formulated with UV-stabilized materials that withstand prolonged exposure to sunlight without degradation, ensuring reliable performance and longevity in outdoor applications.

Radiant Enterprises:  Your Trusted Pantograph Insulator Manufacturer in India

As a leading manufacturer of pantograph support insulators in India, Radiant Enterprises is committed to delivering superior quality products that meet the stringent requirements of high-speed rail systems.  Our state-of-the-art manufacturing facilities, coupled with a team of experienced engineers and quality assurance experts, enable us to design and produce pantograph insulators that excel in performance, reliability, and durability.

Conclusion

In the dynamic world of high-speed rail systems, the reliability and performance of pantograph support insulators are critical for ensuring safe and efficient operations.  By adhering to meticulous design considerations such as material selection, electrical insulation, mechanical strength, corrosion resistance, dimensional accuracy, and UV stability, manufacturers like Radiant Enterprises can deliver pantograph insulators that meet the demanding requirements of 25 KV high-speed rail systems.  As a trusted pantograph insulator manufacturer in India, Radiant Enterprises is committed to providing innovative solutions that contribute to the advancement of railway electrification technology and the seamless operation of high-speed rail networks.

[roofprotectproducts]

Rubber Roofing: Should You Go For it?

Rubber roofing has become quite popular due to its durability, flexibility, and resistance to weathering and UV radiation. Also, it can withstand high temperatures and harsh weather. Thus, it is a great choice for buildings located in areas that experience heavy rainfall, snow, or hail.

If you are wondering whether it’s a good idea to use rubber roofing, you have landed at the right place. Here, you’ll understand the various aspects of rubber roofing that’ll help you with your decision.

What is Rubber Roofing?

Rubber roofing is a type of roofing material made from a synthetic rubber compound. It is the best roof coating for flat roof or low-sloped roof. Moreover, it is suitable for both residential and commercial buildings.

It is possible to install rubber roofing in several ways, including fully adhered, mechanically attached, or ballasted. Available in rolls of various sizes and thicknesses, rubber roofing material can be cut to fit any size or shape of the roof. Special types of adhesives or tapes are used to create a watertight seal that helps prevent leaks.

Benefits of Rubber Roofing

Rubber roofing offers several benefits, including the ones mentioned below:

Long-lasting

Rubber roofing is highly durable and can withstand extreme weather conditions, such as hail, wind, and heavy rainfall. It can also withstand exposure to UV radiation and does not easily crack or warp.

Low Maintenance

Rubber roofing requires low maintenance. You only need to perform periodic cleaning to remove debris and dirt.Low Maintenance

Rubber roofing

Energy Efficient

Rubber roofing behaves as a good insulator, which helps reduce energy costs by maintaining a more consistent indoor temperature.

Easy to Install

The installation process of rubber roofing is quick and easy. You can either glue the sheets onto the roof or fasten them mechanically.

Versatile

Rubber roofing is suitable for several types of roofs, including flat and low-sloped roofs.

Environment-friendly

Rubber roofing is often made from recycled materials, which can reduce the amount of waste going to landfills.

Cost-effective

Rubber roofing is cost-effective, as it is inexpensive compared to many other roofing materials. It can also save additional money over time due to its low maintenance.

Conclusion

Rubber roofing is a great choice for anyone looking for a long-lasting roofing solution. Also, it is affordable compared to several other roofing materials out there. You can contact a leading roofing contractor near your location to get it installed at your building.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-Seven — Patrons

That's my brother. I couldn’t lose him. That’s my brother. 

5.4k words | 19 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: death, body horror in a way? cops [ACAB]

I fought to turn in place, ignoring the stinging soreness in my body and how the shards of glass from the broken window sliced into my knees. “Brent?” I repeated more urgently. Dr. Sims materialized into pixels and was gone, flitting out of the window beside him. I pulled myself over the side of the driver’s seat to look at Brent, who was limp and unmoving. My heart dropped in my chest, and I immediately began to shake his shoulder. “Hey man, come on,”

The truck groaned a bit as some weight was added, and Dad’s face appeared in the shattered square where the back passenger window used to be. “Jean, are you okay?” He demanded. 

“Dad, Brent won’t—” I cut off, only glancing at him for a moment before turning back to Brent. There was some blood coming out of his nose. “Come on, asshole, wake up—”

There was that crystalline sound that always accompanied Dr. Sims’ powers, and the passenger-side door was yanked off of its hinges with a grind of metal. 

“Come out of there,” Dad demanded above, looking at me from the hole where the passenger’s side door was. 

I shook my head, trying to push up off my knees to get a better look at his face. He just wouldn’t move. 

Getting up to look at Brent gave Dr. Sims enough leverage to grab me by my arm, and he pulled me up with a surprising amount of strength for a dude who looked like he avoided heavy lifting at all costs. Dr. Sims dragged me out of the wreckage, my legs getting cut up in the shards sticking out of the window’s track as he yanked me out of the smoking car and flitted down with the aid of his powers, setting me down on the road. 

The truck that had been chasing us was entirely decimated, the hood of it denting in so far that the back of the truck lifted up a bit. The mangled bodies of the thieves chasing us slumped in the seats or out of the broken windshield. The other truck was nowhere to be seen. 

Dr. Sims gave me a one-over, noting the little bits of blood littering my body and asking, “Are you hurt?” 

I blinked, looking away from our destroyed truck to him, then to where he was looking at my body. My side was bleeding again, staining my shirt. 

I shook my head, coughing again and trying to get to my feet. Who the fuck cared about that right now? Brent was hurt. 

Dr. Sims’ hand came to my shoulder and he forced me back down. “You need to stay sitting Jean, at least until we know how injured you are—”

Dad’s smoke form flitted out of the truck, to the road by the roof. “Eugene!” He shouted. “Help me turn the truck!” 

Dr. Sims hesitated, looking at Dad as he hooked his hands on the truck, then to me. “Don’t move,” he stressed before disappearing in a pixelated blue cloud. 

He flitted over the truck and beside Dad, the two of them straining to lift the truck even with their powers. I shakily got to my feet, ignoring the stench of rubber and smoke and death to begin closing the gap between me and the totaled truck. Between me and my brother. 

The truck settled, and Brent’s form followed the momentum and slumped over the center console. My heart practically left my chest. “Brent?” I called, breaking into a jog. 

Dad flitted to the passenger side and clambered in, hooking his hands under Brent’s arms to begin pulling him out. Dr. Sims grabbed Brent’s legs as soon as he was able, and the two laid him down gently on the ground, Dad immediately checking him for a pulse. 

I used my powers to dash the rest of the way towards them and skidded to a stop on my feet just as Dad pulled away from Brent, and Dr. Sims moved in his place, hands lighting up blue as he began to slam them into his chest to perform CPR. 

I was glued in place by fear, frozen by it. Everything around me seemed to slow down until I was able to watch how every dense blue pixel of Dr. Sims’ power tried to spread into Brent’s chest and restart his heart, giving him a bit more strength to push his steeled rib cage in. I could see into the truck now that Brent’s form wasn’t there; there was a nice indent in the dash of the car in the form of Brent’s chest, wires and glass and everything scattered around the seat. He had somehow taken the force from the crash chest-first. 

Dad’s jaw was so steeled it looked like it’d wire shut forever. “C’mon, son,” he whispered through grit teeth. “C’mon.”

“D, see if there’s any smoke in his lungs,” Dr. Sims grunted, putting more force into his presses. 

Dad tilted Brent’s head back, using one hand to open his mouth while the other came up to hover just above it, skin going dark as the smoke pulled from inside of him and swirled around in a lazy ambience. Dad’s fingers flared, and the smoke ringlets around his wrists spun faster. 

Something slowly escaped from Brent’s mouth, pulling from somewhere deep in his throat; the smoke from the accident and whatever move Dad had pulled, the bit that he never got to force out on hacking coughs. Dr. Sims kept punching a beat into his chest, the blue on his arms glowing stronger. 

My hands were on my lips now as I silently sobbed, eyes so wide the tears pooled as I refused to blink. My mind could only chant how that’s my brother, again and again and again as I watched Dad and his friend fight to bring him back to life. That's my brother. I couldn’t lose him. That’s my brother. 

The blue of Dr. Sims’ power seemed to charge, glowing brighter before his next push down and following the movement; there was a deafening pulse that made me flinch as the energy of his power shot down into Brent’s chest, charging the underlying steel in it blue in some odd attempt to shock his heart back to life. The remnants breezed past, ruffling my hair. Pushing away the breath I was already barely taking in. That was my brother. Why wouldn’t he wake up?

Dr. Sims’ arms charged up again, and there was another pulse, the bass accompanying it making my ears throb. How much time had passed? It felt like a lifetime. How long was too long? 

My hands shook and my eyes got too blurry to see past by the time the third pulse of energy pushed out of Dr. Sims, the blowback from it clearing the tears in my eyes. Brent’s chest was now glowing a dim blue, the energy shifting deep in his chest. 

Dr. Sims stopped his compressions, arms falling limply to his sides as he huffed. Dad fell back from his knees, staring blankly at Brent, smoke dissipating from his hand. Why did they stop, why weren’t they trying anymore? 

I took a step back, shaking my head. No. No, no, no, no, no no nonononono. 

There was a pensive moment where nothing moved. The only sounds came from the groans of our broken and beaten truck as the stuff in the engine settled and the swampland below us. Everything fell to my senses then, engraving in my memory forever; the way Brent’s sternum glowed, the blood from his nose, the tears in Dad’s eyes. The way the glass scattered around Brent caught the warm light of the bridge’s lamps and reflected them back like stars. The small gashes along his arm that was once facing the window of the truck. The smoke still in the air from our wreck froze in place, painting a picture of a moment that would haunt me forever. 

The blue in Brent’s chest faded, and Dr. Sims shifted to watch it intensely. There was something in his face that made me pause, that had me looking between him and Brent’s body in hope. 

The blue suddenly flashed, and with it came something else; a large aura of steel ripped from every pore in Brent’s body, pulling away and then snapping back to him just as quickly. The hit from their return was just enough to shock Brent back to life, their stabbing into his skin making him gasp out, eyes shooting open. 

Dad scrambled on his knees, “Brent,” he rushed, “Can you hear me?”

Brent couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “What the fuck,” he groaned, coughing. 

Dad laughed breathlessly, like he couldn’t believe his eyes. Brent cursed. He’d be fine. I choked back a sob of relief. “You okay?” Dad asked. 

Brent blinked hard a few times, head moving to the side to look at the destroyed truck. “What happened?” He asked, trying to sit up. Dr. Sims put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You need to lie down,” he advised. “Your Conducrine Gland needs time to work before you start moving.”

Brent looked at him, bewildered. “My what?” He asked. 

“It’s the little sack that makes the proteins that creates your powers,” Dad chimed in. “You need to let it heal your body all the way before you move. You got hit pretty hard, bud.”

Pretty hard was the understatement of the century. 

Brent laid his head back down, blinking hard. He stayed there for a moment before his head popped back up and he said, “Shit, Jean, where’s Jean—”

“She’s right there,” Dad pointed in my direction. Something about the acknowledgement broke the spell the fear had over me, and I was rushing over to Brent, crouching down on my knees. 

“Are you okay?” I demanded, looking at the cuts and bruises on Brent’s body. Steel was slowly overtaking the red under the slices, healing him from the inside out. 

“Are you okay?” he asked pointedly instead.

I glanced down at myself; my jeans had ripped at some point, and my palms were bleeding, little holes stabbed in them from the glass. I looked like a mess. My fingers moved to my side, where my stitching had popped, and came back bloody. “Jean,” Dad got up from where he was sitting. “Let me see your side.”

I nodded, standing and letting Dad raise my shirt, getting a bit woozy when he did. The gash on my side that had only been stitched for a week had lost three of those stitches, the barely-welded skin trying to pull away from itself. 

Dad gave me a look over — checking my face, examining my cast to make sure it didn’t break — his brow furrowing the entire time. “I told you to stay on the floorboard, Regina,” he began to chastise. 

There was a calm anger in his voice, like he was trying to keep himself from yelling at me. “Wh—” I cut off. “Dad, you can’t be serious right now.”

“I’m very serious.” His eyes left the cut he was pulling glass out of to bore into mine. “You will listen to me when I tell you to do something.”

“Dr. Sims was shot, and Brent was driving.” I defended. “You fell off the car! What, was I just supposed to sit and wait—”

“No, what you’re not supposed to do is put yourself in front of a bunch of bullets when you can’t heal.” Dad shot back. “You should have stayed in the truck!”

“They would have shot up the truck anyways!”

“I was dealing with them.” Dad said through grit teeth. “I would have been able to deal with them if I didn’t also have to worry about keeping you safe.”

I blinked. Was Dad…blaming me for this? “I was trying to keep everyone from getting hurt—” I started, Dad cutting me off. 

“That’s not your job, Jean!” Dad growled. “We’re not going through all of this to help you just so you can throw it away on some stupid heroics. You want to be helpful? Do what you’re told. Don’t make us drop out of the sky just to save the people you’re sacrificing in the process. Stop throwing yourself into danger trying to do something you can’t.”

My voice died in my throat. Dad really was blaming me for this. For what happened to Brent, for the destruction. Was he right? We wouldn’t be here in the first place if it wasn’t for me. 

Yet again, something else happened that was my fault. 

All the defensive spirit left my chest and I looked down at the asphalt. “Okay.” I simply muttered. 

Dad stayed there, his feet unmoving, before I heard him sigh above me. “We’re gonna have to call the cops.” He said, like it was the worst possible option. “Get ready for a long night.”

It was indeed a very long night. 

EMT rushed in with the multiple police cruisers, checking me out at Dad’s insistence. All I gained was more scratches and bruises, and the stitching on my side gained two butterfly strips and the insistence that I take it easy the next few weeks till the others dissolved. 

That was the first two hours. The other five were spent being questioned at the police station. 

There was either disdain or acceptance of our presence at the police station, no in between. There was one officer who handed Brent and I wrapped sandwiches, and another who sneered great, more of their kind. I’d say it was some good cop/bad cop facade if they were actually asking us any questions. We were just asked our version of events, and told to stay put. I was falling asleep sitting up in the chair by the time they released Dad and Dr. Sims from wherever they were in the back of the station. 

The room Brent and I were in was a meeting room of some kind, all of our things on the long table after being searched through. Dad came in first, rubbing his eyes. “You two okay?” He asked. 

I nodded. Brent was folded over the side of the table, head in his arms, dozing off. 

Dad looked at our things splayed out across the top of the table, and groaned. “My fucking truck,” he muttered. He plopped down in a chair, elbows going to the table, head in hands. “There goes transportation.”

“We’re in the center of the city,” I started. “Don’t they have trolleys here?”

Dad shook his head. “Not for where we’re going. But we would have had to ditch the truck anyways, so this doesn’t change much.”

My brow furrowed. “Where….where are we going?”

Dad leaned his head back, keeping his eyes closed. “The person that could help us lives in the swamplands. We would have had to take a boat.” 

I rubbed my eyes, yawning. “Where would we be staying if he’s in the swamp?” I asked. I thought he’d be in the city, or at least close enough to it for us to have a hotel. 

Dad shrugged. “Offered us his place. We’ll figure out sleeping situations when we get there.”

I nodded, eyes going back to the grain of the table. Every time I blinked, I could see Brent laid out on the asphalt, in that middle ground between dead and alive. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me. He wouldn’t have almost died if it wasn’t for me.

Dr. Sims was in the room a few moments later, looking just as beat down. “We’re the ones chased and robbed, and they treat us like the criminals.” he sneered, pulling his bag close and unzipping it. “We’re lucky we’re getting off on technicalities,”

"Might be a conduit safe haven, but that doesn't mean everyone's still welcoming," Dad muttered.

Dr. Sims opened up the laptop, checking to see if the screen was shattered and closing it just as quickly when he realized it wasn’t. He then pulled another one out, doing the same. “Well if they bothered doing anything about the highway robbers, we wouldn't be in this mess.” Dr. Sims muttered. It was the angriest I’d ever seen him. I didn't even know the guy could get angry.

“We need to leave soon,” Dad groaned. He must have been considering passing out right here in the meeting room like I was. 

Dr. Sims sighed. “Yeah.” He closed the second laptop and shoved them both back in the bag. “Alright, come on. Let’s get going.”

We stepped out of the police precinct and into the sun, tired, sore, and groggy. 

The rest of the city wasn’t feeling our laze, though. 

We were deep in what I had to assume was downtown, surrounded by neon signs and tall buildings all in some square. It was this blend of modern and vintage that shouldn’t have worked, but somehow did; Greek Revival buildings with fairy lights wired in their wrought iron, multi-story brick buildings with moving neon signs. This didn’t look like the decimated New Marais we were all told about, at least. 

But then again, we were coming out of a police station after nearly being sniped, so.

Brent and I only had one bag each; my big mountaineering bag was on my back, and Brent was holding the handles of his old football equipment duffle bag. Dad brought his thick briefcase along with his own hiking bag, and Dr. Sims was able to fit both the straps of his backpack and the sash of the messenger bag on his body comfortably. We definitely looked like tourists, but we at least didn’t have much to lug around — so it wasn’t too strange when Dad suggested, “Let’s walk. We’ll find a trolley to the docks if we don’t just get there first.”

“Thought you said New Marais was unsafe,” Brent tried to joke. I could tell it was only partially in jest; even with his Conduit abilities, parts of his skin were still pink from the bullets. He definitely didn’t look interested in gaining more marks. 

“That’s why you two will walk in front of us, and we’ll make sure nothing happens. Don’t stop, keep walking, do not engage anyone that tries to talk to you.” Dad commanded. 

I wasn’t in any place to challenge him. I’m sure he was still mad about the last time I didn’t listen to him. 

New Marais was a city I could get lost in, if given the chance. Partially because I had no fucking idea where I was going, but also because it had an allure to it I’d never caught from anywhere else. There were no alleys, no spaces between doorstops. The porches on the second floors seemed to run for miles, curving with the buildings as we entered some giant square with a huge cathedral in the middle. 

“Never would have thought the land of the sinners would have such a big church.” I quipped. 

Brent froze dead in his tracks, looking around. “I know where we are.” He murmured. His eyes widened in that way they always did when he was close to some sort of architectural archaeology, and he exclaimed, “No way, I know where we are! Jean, c’mon!”

And then he just took off, much to Dad’s protests. 

“Brent!” Dad shouted as Brent disappeared somewhere behind a crowd, a group of men performing little stunts to the cheers of the watchers, passing around a bucket for change after each trick. Dad cursed under his breath, saying, “C’mon, we’ve gotta keep an eye on him,” and rushing off just as fast, leaving Dr. Sims and I to chase after him in his wake. 

Brent was hard to track in the crowd, something Dad was struggling with too as he shouted, “Brent!” again in an effort to call him back. But, between two parents and their baby’s stroller, I caught a glimpse of him, saying, “Dad, over here!” 

I became the leader, weaving through the crowd with a coordinated ease that Dad and Dr. Sims were struggling to follow. I didn’t worry about that; I just kept my eyes on Brent as he dodged his way through the people, skittering to a stop at the front of the cathedral’s gardens. 

“Brent!” I called, managing to find a gap wide enough to jog the rest of the way to him. He didn’t move, eyes staying glued ahead as I got closer to chastise him. “Dude, you’ve gotta—”

I glanced over and cut off, finally realizing what he was looking at. 

The cathedral was huge, elevated gardens and tiered steps leading up to the steepled gothic church with a giant rosetta window in the arch of the lancets. At least, I think that’s what those curvy bits just over the entrance were called. I’d ask Brent, but he was transfixed on what stood in front of the cathedral. 

Just up the first flight of steps past the iron gates, a terrace cut into the stairs, this huge pile of concrete sat up in its center and lit up despite it being the middle of the morning. It would have looked like a bad disposal of some concrete left over from the church’s repairs if it wasn’t for what was sticking out of it. It was an old step, ripped up and immortalized because of what was embedded in it: Cole MacGrath’s Amp. A two-pronged prod made of nothing but metal, his weapon of choice as he fought back the Beast and saved the world from its destruction. Trapped in concrete and now forever preserved, the closest we would get to an Arthurian sword in the stone. 

Behind it on a pedestal stood the man himself, cast in stone. Cole MacGrath’s effigy stood with one foot propped up on an extra little slab of concrete, posed as if ready to leap forward and punch whatever was in his way. One fist was balled and ready to do so. The other had its fingers flared, ready to call upon that electricity I remember he was blessed with and strike with who knew what. Maybe bolts of lightning. Maybe simple arcs. 

I think what took me off guard was how normal the man looked, even in commemoration. The most eye-catching thing about him was the Amp in a sling bag on his back. Otherwise he just looked…normal. Really short hair, a tee-shirt. He looked like a regular man, someone who couldn’t have been capable of what he did. 

Maybe that’s what was most inspiring about it. That he wasn’t some god, but under it all, a man. 

“The Patron Saint of New Marais,” Brent breathed, stepping closer to the closed iron gate and lacing his fingers in the spaces. I followed close, as if it’d help me get a better look.

“Is this…” I drew off, looking around. “Is this where it happened?” 

Brent nodded. 

Somewhere, right in front of me or behind me or maybe even where I was standing, was where Cole MacGrath took his last stand and defeated the Beast almost 26 years ago. 

There was shuffling behind us, and Dad and Dr. Sims appeared, stepping close. Dad’s disapproval died in his throat as he looked at the scene before him, while Dr. Sims’ looked reserved, like he was at a wake. 

We stayed in an enraptured moment of silence for about two minutes before the spell finally broke over Brent, and he turned to Dad. “Did you have anything cool?” He asked. “Like a weapon or something?”

Dad scoffed, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Yeah — I had a chain.”

I blinked. “That was it?”

“Got the job done, didn’t it?”

“We should go,” Dr. Sims interrupted. “We shouldn’t keep him waiting any longer than we need to.” 

Dad hit the stalling motor on the boat rather hard, hissing, “That’s fucking great,” 

“Well,” Dr. Sims sighed. “We did tell the guy at the marina we’d take it as is. Guess we should have checked the fuel.”

It was probably the dingiest little thing at the docks, but it was supposed to be enough for the trip out to the swamps. Or, we thought it would have been. Dad and Dr. Sims bargained with some guy who looked surprised to even be spoken to, offered a few incentives for a three day use of the boat that involved Dr. Sims’ video powers and his Macbook that looked like it needed to be put down back in 2023. Brent and I didn’t ask exactly what this favor was. Probably was safer if we didn’t know. 

But Dad, in his rush, offered to take it then and there, which led to us floating aimlessly in the middle of the wetland, accompanied by nothing but direct sunlight and screaming trees as the cicadas yelled their protests at our presence. 

Brent was perched in the center of the dinghy, knees tucked to his chest. We’d finally found a downside to his steeled reinforcements; he was dense. Not mentally, though I was saving that joke for later — steel’s apparently three times heavier than bone, and his weight increased a good 40% when his muscles became laced with it. When Brent moved to step into the boat the first time at the docks, it lurched under his foot and threw me overboard. So he was situated in the direct center of the boat and told not to move. Not that he needed much incentive; he looked at the water with apprehension, probably thinking about the last time he was submerged. 

And right now, that turned into a bit of panic. “So we’re stuck here?” Brent demanded, looking around. 

“I could go,” Dr. Sims offered, “Buy some gas?”

“I mean,” I started, shrugging slightly, “I could sorta push us along? If I manipulate a current behind us, I should be able to—”

“No.”

Dad’s voice was low and stressed, like I’d just suggested stealing from the Pentagon. “Dad, it’s just a tide, it’s super eas—”

“I said no, Regina.” He looked down at me, glower in his eyes. 

“It’s not a tidal wave!” I retorted. Dr. Sims looked away from Dad uncomfortably and I could see Brent roll his eyes, but I didn’t care. “It’s a current. It’s literally one of the easiest things I can do!”

Dad’s chest flexed when he inhaled, as if trying to make himself bigger. “No. You’re not in a position to be doing that right now.”

“You mean I’m too weak.”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I mean, Dad could probably do it—” Brent tried to interject

“I can’t.” Dad responded simply. “Most I can do is shoot water off into the swamp.” He then turned his attention back to me. “Jean, you’re not doing this.”

“I’m not healing right now, but I can use my powers. You saw me on the bridge! It’s not gonna kill me.” 

Dad’s eyes flashed, and he opened his mouth to argue more when Dr. Sims interjected. “It isn’t a bad idea, Del.”

“Euge—”

“We’re out of gas, and besides, the more power she uses, the more proteins in her system. More of those means it might speed up her healing.” Dr. Sims continued, like Dad hadn’t even spoken. He looked at Dad and stressed, “It could be good for her.”

Dad stayed staring at his friend for a while before moving away from the stern of the boat, motioning me to it wordlessly. 

I stomped past, uncaring about how it rocked the little dingy and Brent’s “Jean!” behind me as he tried to keep himself steady. 

This was ridiculous! There was this fire in my chest as I summoned my water and began trying to manipulate the swamp; what was going on with Dad? He was acting like I couldn’t do anything right! If there was something I couldn’t mess up, it was piloting a goddamn boat. 

That weird discomfort in my shoulder blades was back, a sort of soreness that I couldn’t really compare. It pulled as I did, manipulating the waters around the boat to gently push it forward. 

The boat moved slowly, but hey, it moved. This was more than I’d done before, and Brent’s heavy ass wasn’t exactly helping — so it dragged lazily through the water, Dr. Sims directing turns every now and again as we traveled deeper into the swampland. “How long are we gonna be here?” Brent asks behind me. 

“What, New Marais? Or this guy’s place?” Dad hummed. 

“Both, I guess.”

Dad sighs. “Hopefully, not too long. This guy can give us some info on the tar, might have some connections, and then we’ll be out of here.”

“What is he? Some kinda scientist?”

Dad scoffed. “He’s not much,” 

“He’s been there since the beginning,” Dr. Sims interrupts. “He was Cole MacGrath’s best friend.”

“Holy shit, the Cole MacGrath?” Brent asks, incredulous. 

“He’s been doing a lot of underground pro-Conduit work since. It’s how your father and I met him,” Dr. Sims added. 

Dad murmured off on the side, “Sure, if you call that fucking work,”

“D,” Dr. Sims chastised, sounding tired. I could only imagine the exacerbated look he was giving Dad. 

“Let’s just hope he’s actually useful this time,” Dad says simply, voice curt. Dr. Sims sighed somewhere behind me. 

There’s an awkward silence that even the cicadas’ screams couldn’t cut through, Brent cracking to ask, “So what kind of Conduit is he?” 

“He’s not.” Dad replied flatly. 

Dr. Sims tried his best to be more welcoming. “He helped MacGrath with a lot of stuff — built the amp, even — but he’s not a Conduit.”

“Oh,” Brent hummed. “And he decided out here was the best place to settle down?” 

“It’s off the grid. No one’s gonna come out here willingly,” Dr. Sims explains. “He’s made as many enemies as we have over the years.”

“Let’s just see what he knows. The sooner we get outta here, the better,” Dad grumbled. 

I hadn’t realized he was saying this because we were at our destination, ignorant to it all until Dr. Sims told me to veer left and a voice echoed over the ambiance of the swamp. “Well, long time no see, Eugene!” 

I looked over my shoulder to see one of those swamp houses, a shabby little shack on stilts — only this one was modified to hell, with an extra floor and what looked like an old train car on the other side of a wide dock, where a portly older man stood. He was in a printed blue and white cuban shirt, the quiff of his slightly graying brown hair blowing in the breeze that shot between the mangroves. His eyes hid behind glasses but his face reminded me of those little rodent animals that always smiled, quokkas or something. 

I pushed the boat to the dock, Dad throwing a rope up to tether it as Dr. Sims pulled himself out of the boat to greet the guy. The water slipped away from my arms, sank back into my skin, and I flinched when it settled; something about letting go of my control made the center of my shoulders twinge in pain, like I strained myself with a stretch. 

Rolling my shoulders, I turned, catching how Dad was looking at me. “You okay?” He asked. He still looked a little miffed from earlier, but at least the concern was genuine. 

But if I told him something was hurting after doing the exact thing he wanted me not to, I knew I’d never hear the end of it. He’d tighten his grip on me and I’d never be allowed to do anything like this again around him. 

So I lied, saying, “Just tired.”  

Dad nodded. “I know. Me too. We’ll talk to this guy, and then you both need to get some sleep.”

Brent was still in the center of the boat, unmoving. He couldn’t get out till we all did for fear of throwing us overboard. “You’re telling me,” he grumbled, staring off into space. He looked exhausted. The bags under his eyes seemed deeper than usual, and I had to wonder if it was because of his near-death experience.

Dad moved to grab a bag, stopping when he heard, “Nice to finally meet you, Delsin,”

We all turned to look at the guy who was standing on the dock with Dr. Sims, hands on his hips. “Kids,” Dad said instead of greeting the guy back, “This is Zeke Dunbar.”

Special shout out to my little boy, lovingly referred to as 'Delsin Layer' by friends, for coming up with the cool idea of how certain conduit powers could theoretically revive people! I've never met a more inquisitive and creative mind. He also really wants me to point out the steel when Brent's revived comes from the in-game healing animation (he was very serious about it staying in-canon). I may have given him too much control and he's now trying to direct more things in this story lol.

[maximumwobblerbanditdonut]

In The Style, Blue!

SH presented two watches of the same brand at Nobleman's photo shoot, one of which matched the colour well. The watch chosen to match her blue jacket is a MONOBALANCIER HURACAN STERRATO inspired by a Lamborghini from the Italian luxury sports car manufacturer. The colourful piece was launched simultaneously with the new supercar of the same name.

Although SH's trousers have no hems, his stylist did not pay attention to the unfinished edge of the trousers.

Styling @mrmontyjackson

Roger Dubuis has led the charge in daring and innovative watchmaking, earning its reputation as the master of “hyper-horology”. The brand’s creations boast a bold and avant-garde design philosophy, resulting in futuristic and distinctive timepieces incorporating cutting-edge materials and complex mechanical movements.

The Excalibur Spider Monobalancier Huracán Sterrato is a brilliant extension of the brand’s Excalibur line, taking inspiration from the off-road Lamborghini Huracán Sterrato released last year, only this time dressed in an alluring blue attire.

Sporting a blue outfit, the new Huracán Sterrato watch features lines that cut across the dial, echoing the shape of the car’s roof rack. The timepiece boasts a quick-release system for rapid strap changes, allowing seamless adaptation to any occasion. The bright camo-patterned strap is a nod to the gritty abilities of the Huracán Sterrato, a remarkable feat achieved by vulcanising numerous coloured rubber plates.

The New Roger Dubuis Excalibur Spider Monobalancier Huracán Sterrato. Experience the latest offering from the hyper-horology brand created in partnership with the Lamborghini Squadra Corse.

The watch is powered by the automatic RD630 calibre movement, explicitly developed for the partnership with Lamborghini Squadra Corse, and it mirrors the hexagonal air intakes of the Huracán. The balance wheel takes centre stage at noon, tilted at a 12° angle to evoke Sterrato’s rev counter. This ingenious design decision adds depth to the dial and potentially enhances precision by averaging out positional errors.

The date display at 6 o’clock maintains the balance of the dial, while its rotation in front of a coloured decoder makes for a fascinating visual effect. With a transparent case back, you’ll marvel at the semi-skeletonised movement and its full rotor, cleverly resembling a Huracán wheel rim in motion. The dynamic illusion of pure speed is captivating. The watch offers 60 hours of power reserve with twin barrels, ensuring reliability and performance.

When it comes to telling time, the hour and minute hands might blend into the dial, but there are other focuses. The watch’s essence lies in its experience, just like driving a Lamborghini is more about the thrilling journey than the destination. The Roger Dubuis Excalibur Spider Monobalancier Huracán Sterrato delivers a powerful and exhilarating experience, and it can be yours for £ 59.500 (USD 70,000, taxes not included) Note only 28 will be made.

Lamborghini Huracán Sterrato. Asphalt and dirt can travel together.

The Excalibur Spider Monobalancier Huracán Sterrato is a timepiece to celebrate the Lamborghini Huracán Sterrato supercar built to conquer off-road terrain. The car is a marvel like no other, with its 5.2-litre V10 engine delivering a breathtaking 610 CV (449 kW) at 8,000 rpm and rocketing from 0 to 100 km/h in a mere 3.4 seconds.

[nirbobharvey]

Residential Roofing - What You Need to Know

alt="Residential asphalt shingle roofing system installation"

Prevent having your residential roofing system improperly installed or assembled with poor-quality material. Knowing how components of a residential roofing system are made and installed will help you acquire the best quality residential roof and its installation in the Atlanta metro area.

newimageroofingatlanta.com gathered the following residential roof anatomy, manufacturing, and installation information to help you when selecting a roofing system, its components, and the roof installer for your Atlanta, Georgia, home.

Residential Sloped Roofing System

A residential sloped roof is a protective shield for your home, safeguarding you from the elements while increasing your home’s structural integrity. An essential component of the roofing system is the shingle (a key component that enhances your home’s aesthetic appeal and contributes to the durability and longevity of its roof). Consider the following anatomy of a residential sloped roof:

1. Roof Deck – A sloped roof’s foundation is its deck, typically made of plywood or oriented strand board (OSB). It provides a sturdy base for the installation of roofing materials and ensures structural stability.

2. Underlayment – Beneath the roofing shingles lies the underlayment, a water-resistant barrier shielding the roof deck from moisture and helps prevent leaks. Common underlayment types include asphalt-saturated felt and synthetic materials like synthetic underlayment or rubberized asphalt.

3. Roofing Shingles – Roofing shingles are the visible layer of a residential sloped roof, providing protection and enhancing the overall aesthetics. There are various shingle types available, like asphalt shingles, wood shingles, metal shingles, and clay or concrete tiles. Among these, asphalt shingles are the most commonly used due to their affordability, durability, and ease of installation (specially cut or formed shingles are produced for the ridge and hips).

Asphalt Shingle Manufacturing Process

While asphalt shingle manufacturing and technology have evolved over the years, their basic composition has remained the same. Consider the following asphalt shingle manufacturing process:

Raw Materials – Asphalt shingle production begins with high-quality material selection. Fiberglass or organic mats serve as a shingle’s core, while asphalt acts as a waterproofing agent. Mineral granules are then applied for surface protection and UV resistance, and additives are incorporated to enhance the shingle’s fire resistance and flexibility.

Mat Preparation – The selected mat material (fiberglass or organic), undergoes a manufacturing process to reinforce its strength and durability. Fiberglass mats are made by weaving glass fibers together, while organic mats are typically composed of recycled felt paper.

Coating and Drying – The prepared mat is then coated with asphalt (front and back), using a saturation process to ensure consistent coverage. The coated mat passes through a drying oven, which allows the asphalt to rapidly cure and stabilize.

Granule Application – Once dried, the coated mat proceeds to the granule application process. A layer of ceramic-coated mineral granules is evenly distributed on the top surface of the shingle, providing color, texture, and protection against weathering elements. The granules are embedded into the asphalt surface to enhance adhesion and durability.

Cutting and Shaping – After granule application, the asphalt-coated mat is cut into individual shingles. This process can be done manually or using automated machinery, depending on the production scale.

Packaging and Distribution – Finished roofing shingles are carefully inspected for quality and packed into bundles or cartons. They are then shipped to distributors, contractors, and suppliers for installation on residential roofs.

Note: Read more about roofing shingle production and options by visiting this roof shingle manufacturer.

Residential Sloped Roof Installation

Installing a residential shingle roofing system requires careful planning, proper preparation, and skilled execution. Here is a step-by-step overview of the typical installation process:

Preparation and Safety – Before beginning any work, safety must be prioritized. This includes wearing appropriate personal protective equipment (PPE) like:

Hard hat

Gloves

Goggles

Non-slip footwear

Harness

The area around the home should be cleared of any obstacles, and precautions should be taken to protect landscaping and outdoor features or furniture.

Removal of Existing Roofing Materials (Tear-off) – If there is an existing roof, the first step is to remove the old roofing materials. This may involve stripping off old shingles, underlayment, and flashing. Care should be taken to dispose of the old materials properly.

Inspection and Repair – Once the roof is cleared, a thorough inspection should be conducted to identify any damaged roof decking, sheathing, or structural issues. Any necessary repairs or replacements should be completed before installing a new roofing system.

Underlayment Installation – Install the underlayment, which acts as a moisture barrier and provides an additional protective layer. Asphalt-saturated felt or synthetic underlayment is commonly used. The underlayment should be rolled out horizontally, starting from the bottom edge of the roof and overlapping each subsequent row by a few inches (to ensure proper watershed).

Flashing Installation – Flashing is used to prevent water penetration at vulnerable areas like:

Valleys

Chimneys

Skylights

Roof intersections

Flashing is typically made of metal or a flexible waterproof material. Flashing should be installed before the shingles, ensuring proper coverage, sealing, and drainage.

Starter Shingle Placement – These shingles have a specialized adhesive strip and are installed along the roof’s eaves. These specialized shingles provide a secure foundation for the rest of the shingles and help prevent wind uplift.

Shingle Installation – The chosen shingles are installed from the bottom up, working in rows. Each shingle is nailed or stapled into place using appropriate roofing fasteners. It is crucial to follow the manufacturer’s guidelines regarding nail placement, spacing, and shingle overlap (for best product performance).

Ventilation and Ridge Cap Installation – Roof vents or ridge vents are installed to ensure proper attic ventilation preventing moisture buildup, allow air circulation, and help regulate temperature and humidity. The ridge cap, a specialized shingle designed for the roof’s peak, is then installed, overlapping the adjacent shingles and providing a solid, finished look.

Cleanup and Final Inspection – Once the roof’s shingles are installed, the work area should be thoroughly cleaned, removing all debris or loose material. A final inspection should be conducted to ensure the roof is properly installed, all shingles are secure, and there are no visible issues or gaps.

Note: The specific installation process may vary depending on factors like the shingle type, roof design, and local building codes. It is recommended to consult with a professional roofing contractor for a precise installation or replacement tailored to your specific roof and location requirements. A well-installed residential shingle roofing system provides long-lasting protection, durability, and aesthetic appeal to your home.

Residential Asphalt Shingle Roofing

In this article, you discovered the composition of a residential roofing system, asphalt shingle manufacturing, and how residential sloped roofs are installed.

Understanding how residential roofing systems are built, manufactured, and installed will help you choose the best materials for your home’s roof.

Not knowing how to recognize quality roofing material or identify the steps in a roof replacement or installation will leave you vulnerable to unscrupulous and unprofessional roofers trying to take advantage of your need.

Sources: energy.gov/eere/buildings/articles/cool-asphalt-shingles gccds.msstate.edu/research/altconstruction/roof/roof.pdf owenscorning.com

To see the original version of this article, visit https://www.newimageroofingatlanta.com/residential-roofing-what-you-need-to-know/

[henry-jwell]

TPO Waterproof Sheet Extrusion Line

Jwell company adopts the solid roll for combining multilayers, this new technology make the TPO sheet having a good function against wind uncovering.TPO waterproof sheet is a new type of waterproof product, which is produced with thermoplastic polyole-fin plus antioxygen and plastifier and so on, the middle layer is polyester fabric for reinforcement, the surface is laminated with textile fiber and aluminum foil. This kind of TPO waterproof sheet has the features of good weatherproof and suppleness. It is mainly used for house, tunnel, basement architecture and other waterproof fields. Used for different kinds of plastic material, such as PVC, TPO,etc.Being able to produce below sheets: Plastic roll sheet (model: H): without coating with inner reinforced material or outer material. Roll sheet with outer fiber (Model: L): coating with fiber or non-woven fabric. Inner reinforced roll sheet (Model: P): Inner layer coats with polyester mesh. Inner reinforced roll sheet (Model: G): Inner layer coats with glass fiber. Features of TPO waterproof coiled material 1. Ethylene propylene rubber and polypropylene are combined by advanced polymerization technology, which has both excellent weather resistance of ethylene propylene rubber and weldability of polypropylene. 2. The special formulation technology does not need to add any plasticizer that is easy to make the material brittle, does not produce the embrittlement of general hot welded coiled materials (such as PVC) due to the migration of plasticizer, and maintains the long-term waterproof function. 3. Excellent high and low temperature resistance. Like rubber materials, it still maintains flexibility at - 50 ℃ and mechanical strength at higher temperature. 4. Chemical resistance, acid, alkali, salt, animal oil, vegetable oil, lubricating oil corrosion, algae, mold and other microbial growth. 5. It has excellent root puncture resistance and can be used as root puncture resistant coiled material for planting roof. 6. Heat aging resistance and good dimensional stability. 7. The light colored surface dominated by white has smooth surface and high reflectivity, which has energy-saving effect 8. The lap joint is constructed by thermal welding, which can form a high-strength and reliable sealing waterproof layer. 9. The reinforced TPO waterproof coiled material is sandwiched with a layer of polyester fiber fabric in the middle, which provides the coiled material with high tensile performance, high tear strength, fatigue resistance and puncture resistance, and is more suitable for mechanically fixing the roof system. 10. The backing TPO waterproof coiled material is the fabric on the lower surface of the coiled material, which makes the coiled material easier to bond with the base layer. 11. Homogeneous TPO waterproof coiled material has good plasticity and can be processed into various shapes after heating to adapt to the practice of complex nodes Main technical specification Model SJP130/36-SJZ92/188-3400 JWP130/26+JWP130/26-2400 Product structure TPO+(Net)+TPO PVC+(Net)+PVC Products width 3200mm 2200mm Products thickness 0.8-3mm 0.5-3mm Extruder model SJP130/36-SJZ92/188 JWP130/26+JWP130/26 Capacity 1200kg/h 1500kg/h Read the full article

[zicklinroofing]

Best Practices to Follow for Your Roof Repair

Whether you are hiring a Roof Repair Contractor or looking to repair your roof yourself, there are some best practices you must follow. These best practices will help ensure the safety of the person making the repairs and also ensure that the roof ends up looking better than before. In this post, we have listed down some key best practices that you all can follow during your roof repair. 

Wear Proper Attire

It is important that when you are up on the roof to repair it that you wear proper clothing. It is generally advised to wear worn-out jeans and long sleeve shirts that protect you against the sun. Also, wearing rubber-soled shoes is necessary to make sure you have the proper grip while walking on the roof. 

Always Use Matching Shingles 

Mismatching shingles can be a real eyesore for onlookers. It can hamper the curb appeal of the property and ruin its aesthetics. The look of your home’s roof adds a lot to its overall beauty. It also has a direct impact on the market value of the property. So, always make sure there are no patches on your roof and that all the shingles match each other in color, size, and look. 

Cover Your Nail Heads 

Leaving exposed nail heads on your roof can be very risky. It can cause the nail to get rusted as it will be exposed to the elements of nature. Exposed nail heads that are not properly sealed can also result in water leakage through the roof. This is a step of the roof repair process that can be easily overlooked but an experienced Roof Installation Contractor would keep it in mind. So, keep this advice in mind for every situation in life, nothing good ever comes from leaving a nail exposed.

Decide Between Roof Repair and Replacement 

In many cases, the condition of the roof is so far gone that it is beyond repair. In such a case, it is best to identify whether it would be best to spend money on repairing the roof or replacing the entire roof. Generally different materials that are used in the roof have a finite amount of life. You need to understand how many years your roof’s material can last before you make the judgment call about repairing and replacing it. You would also need to take into account your budget and the expenditure for both roof repair and replacement.

Knowing When to Call the Pros

Smart people know their limitations. They know what they can manage on their own and where they need the assistance of professionals. Your property’s roof is an extremely important part of your home. Call the Best Roof Repair Contractor that can help you repair your roof most professionally and reliably as possible. It will give you the confidence of knowing that your newly repaired roof will last for many decades.

Conclusion

These are just a few of the best practices that you should consider to make sure that your roof’s repair is done successfully so that not only is the roof looking good but is also extremely safe for your family.