#waterproof isolator switch

[mebaelectric]

Pros Offered By a Weatherproof Junction Box

Sometimes weatherproof electrical box is required on the exterior of your property, whether at home or business, to the point where a specific style of box and accompanying accessories can be acquired. If you want to make a waterproof connection outside, a weatherproof junction box is the best option.

Weatherproof junction boxes are an excellent choice for protecting parts from dangerous exterior components. These boxes are normally sealed enclosures designed for placement on roof overhangs, outside walls, decks, and other surfaces. These boxes are used to mount lighting fixtures and outside receptacles.

Weatherproof junction boxes must feature an exterior fixture or a cover suited for wet environments, however this varies by application. They are often IP (Ingress Protection) or NEMA-rated (National Electrical Manufacturers Association) to endure a wide range of environmental conditions such as extreme cold or heat, UV radiation, wetness, and strong winds.

Benefits of weatherproof junction boxes

Durable

As previously said, weatherproof electrical boxes and weatherproof gang box are constructed with durable materials that will function properly regardless of the weather conditions. Weatherproof junction boxes constructed of stainless steel are resistant to a variety of environmental issues, resulting in a long and reliable product life.

Shock resistant

Depending on the material chosen to construct a weatherproof electrical box, it can provide some degree of impact resistance. Polycarbonate enclosures, in particular, can provide shock resistance due to their great dimensional stability.

Protect against extreme weather fluctuations

When junction boxes are exposed to extreme cold and hot temperatures or UV radiation, they can degrade and lose their capacity to protect your electrical elements. Nonetheless, weatherproof junction boxes can successfully address this immediate weather issue since they are made of high-quality materials that can survive harsh weather conditions. These junction boxes come in a variety of durable materials, including polycarbonate, aluminum, FRP (fiber-reinforced polyester), and stainless steel.

Protect against accidental damage

Weatherproof junction boxes safeguard against unintentional damage to the elements caused by heat, loose connections, sparks, and short circuits. Furthermore, these enclosures protect the wires from dust, grime, and moisture. A reliable and robust weatherproof power junction box is essential, especially if you want to protect your electrical components from the multiple harsh elements encountered in outdoor environments.

[onccyelectrical]

Are you in search of the right #AC_Isolator_Switch? The ONCCY EAS80 AC Isolator Switch offers a diverse range of switch products to fully meet your unique needs. It has a current range from 16A to 125A, with a maximum voltage of up to 800V. This isolator switch features a lockable design to prevent accidental operation, equipped with a lockable rotary knob. The knob color is available for selection. Additionally, the external plastic waterproof box has an IP65 protection rating, providing fire resistance, UV resistance, impact resistance, and corrosion resistance.

[jiahuielec]

JH- Australian standard waterproof isolation switch

Model: DTWS116、DTWS120、DTWS125、DTWS132、DTF120、DTF135、DTF163、DTF220、DTF235、DTF263、DTF320、DTF335、DTF363

Number of stitches：1P、2P、3P

Electric current: 16A, 20A, 25A, 32A

Waterproof grade: IP66

[viperallc]

The Future of Mobile Mining: ModuleBox V4 Smart Aircooled Containers

In the dynamic world of cryptocurrency mining, efficiency and flexibility are key. The ModuleBox V4 Smart Aircooled Mobile Mining Containers, available in both 20HC and 40HC sizes from Viperatech, represent a significant leap in mining infrastructure technology. These containers offer a streamlined, portable solution for miners looking to optimize their operations.

Understanding the ModuleBox V4

The ModuleBox V4 is a state-of-the-art mobile mining container designed to be both efficient and easy to deploy. Available in two sizes, the 20HC and 40HC, these containers cater to different scales of mining operations. Let’s delve into the details and specifications of these innovative mining solutions.

Module Box-20HC

Overall Volume: 42.77 m³

Internal Shelf Layers: 2 × 6

Maximum Miners: 210 units (compatible with S19Pro or other models)

Shelf Height: 400 mm

Adjustable Shelf Hole Distance: 40 mm

Module Box-40HC

Overall Volume: 86.08 m³

Internal Shelf Layers: 4 × 6

Maximum Miners: 420 units (compatible with S19Pro or other models)

Shelf Height: 400 mm

Adjustable Shelf Hole Distance: 40 mm

Power Supply System

Input Voltage: 360 V — 480 V

Module Output: 200 V — 277 V, 50–60 Hz

Maximum Total Power: 830 kW/h for 20HC and 1500 kW/h for 40HC

PDU Power: 3696 W/h (20 A)

Custom Switch and Intelligent PDU/Server: 200 V — 280 V

Multi-Level Security Protection

Protection Classes: Leakage, fuse, breaker control switch, and PDU independent power outage

Input Mode: 3-Phase Equilibrium

Cooling System

Cooling Mode: Water Cooling Curtain, Miner Fan Heat Dissipation

Water Supply Pressure: ≤ 1.5 Pa

Isolation Panel: Waterproof, Flame-Retarded

Additional Features: Dust Screen, Louver

Production and Shipping

Production Time: Each ModuleBox V4 has a production time of 30 days, after which it is shipped.

Ocean Freight Transit: Post-production, the containers are shipped via ocean freight.

Customs Clearance: Viperatech provides a reduced invoice for smoother customs clearance.

Shipping Options: Door-to-door shipping ranges from $4,000 to $12,000 USD, depending on the model and destination.

On-site Requirements: A crane is necessary for container placement at the site.

Conclusion

The ModuleBox V4 Smart Aircooled Mobile Mining Containers are a testament to the advancements in cryptocurrency mining technology. With their robust build, advanced cooling systems, and versatile power supply options, these containers are an excellent choice for miners looking to expand their operations with minimal fuss and maximum efficiency. Whether opting for the compact 20HC or the larger 40HC, miners can benefit from the portability, security, and advanced features that these containers offer. As the world of cryptocurrency continues to evolve, solutions like the ModuleBox V4 will undoubtedly play a crucial role in shaping the future of mining operations.

M.Hussnain Visit us on social media: Facebook | Twitter | LinkedIn | Instagram | YouTube TikTok

[gogetyours]

TRUEFREE T3 TWS Earphones Review | Budget Earbuds That Standout

Lets talk about the T3's See the full review of the TRUEFREE T3 earbuds. Yes the T3's might have the same look as the Apple Airpods but what really is apparent itthe bold transparent Orange design. If you want to stand out from the rest then these T3's will defo fit the profile.

First of all they have a music playback time of around 4h7m with up to a 20 hours boost using the charge case on the go. The case is charged via a type-c charge cable that is supplied so fast charging i key here and with regards to using the earphones while working out, they have minimum waterproof protection and the earbuds do sit very secure within your ears without them falling our when active.

Nope, not much passive noise isolation but you are provided with pretty good music quality. Mids & treble sound spot on while listening to pop music but while we switched to Hip Hop music the bass was not as impactive.

Microphones, not very good, pretty much muffled and that's because of that ENC tech trying too much to block out the outside noise which i guess is good for walking and talking while in public but when on facetime with anyone you do sound blanketed but i will note that you will not have any latency problems.  To see the full review of the TRUEFREE T3 earbuds head on over to our YouTube channel right now.

[jcvapourreviews]

TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod Review

Imagine having the perfect vaping experience with the ARGUS XT Mod by TVDC Voopoo. With a maximum power output of 100W and IP68 rated tri-proofing, this device is built to withstand any environment or scenario. The innovative crater leak-proof design ensures that you never have to worry about leaks or condensation. Plus, the GENE.TT 2.0 chip offers intelligent power matching and multiple vaping modes for a personalized experience. Whether you're a seasoned vaper or just starting out, the ARGUS XT Mod is your ultimate companion for smooth and consistent vapor. So why wait? Grab yours now and indulge in the world of vaping perfection. Why Consider This Product? When it comes to vaping, the TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod is a standout option that you should definitely consider. With its impressive features and benefits, this mod provides a superior vaping experience that will leave you satisfied. Scientific research and evidence support its effectiveness, so you can trust in its quality and performance. Additionally, the product boasts certifications and endorsements that bolster its credibility. Customer testimonials further affirm the positive impact this mod has had on their vaping journey. So, why should you consider this product? Let's dive into the details. Features and Benefits Maximum Power Output The ARGUS XT offers a maximum power output of 100W, delivering intense and robust vapor production. You'll experience a satisfying hit with every puff, as this mod ensures a consistent taste throughout your vaping session. IP68 Certified Protections With an IP68 rating, this mod is built to withstand the harshest environments. Whether you find yourself in wet or dusty conditions, the ARGUS XT remains fearless. Its waterproof, dustproof, and drop-proof design ensures durability and longevity. Crater Leak-Proof Design One of the most impressive features of the ARGUS XT is its ingenious crater leak-proof structure. Condensate is cleverly drained down to an isolated chamber, preventing any leaks or spills. You won't have to worry about messy accidents, making this mod hassle-free and convenient. GENE.TT 2.0 Chip The ARGUS XT is equipped with the latest GENE.TT 2.0 chip, showcasing the mod's intelligence and versatility. It switches matching powers automatically to support various vaping modes, including Smart, RBA, Turbo, and Temp Control. This allows you to tailor your experience to your preferences, ensuring a customized vaping experience. Product Quality When it comes to the quality of the ARGUS XT Mod, Voopoo has spared no expense. This renowned brand is known for its commitment to delivering exceptional products, and the ARGUS XT is no exception. Made with premium materials, the mod is built to last and withstand daily use. Its holeless appearance and leather/metal mixed material not only exude elegance but also offer a comfortable grip. You can choose from five sleek colors, allowing you to showcase your personal style. The lanyard ring loop at the back adds an extra layer of convenience, ensuring you can carry your device securely without the risk of dropping it. What It's Used For Versatile Product Use The ARGUS XT can be used for a wide array of vaping needs. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced vaper, this mod caters to your preferences. Adjust the wattage to your desired level, experiment with different vaping modes, and enjoy a consistent taste with every puff. The mod adapts its power depending on whether you're using an 18650 or 21700 battery. Customizable Experience The Smart mode is ideal for new vapers who want simplicity and ease of use. RBA mode allows advanced users to build their coils and customize their vaping experience further. Turbo mode provides an intense burst of vapor, ideal for vapers seeking a heightened experience. And, for those who prefer temperature control, the ARGUS XT has you covered. Convenience and Portability With its USB Type-C fast charging function, the ARGUS XT ensures minimal downtime. The mod is compatible with both 18650 and 21700 batteries, offering flexibility and convenience. You can keep the device charged and ready to go, ensuring uninterrupted vaping pleasure. Safety and Health Considerations While the ARGUS XT provides an exceptional vaping experience, it's essential to remember the health risks associated with nicotine. This product contains nicotine, a highly addictive substance. It's important to handle and use this mod responsibly and keep it out of the reach of children. If you choose to use the device without nicotine, please note that this explanation "applies only when the device is used with nicotine." Safety should always be a priority when enjoying your vaping experience. Product Specifications (Table Visualization) Feature Specification Power Output Up to 100W Battery Compatibility External 18650 or 21700 Charging Function USB Type-C with 5V / 3A fast charging Protections IP68 Certified (Waterproof, dustproof, and drop-proof) Chip GENE.TT 2.0 Vaping Modes Smart, RBA, Turbo, and Temp Control Cartridge Capacity 2ml (No Nicotine) Colors Available Lime Green, and more sleek options Who Needs This The ARGUS XT Mod is perfect for both beginners and seasoned vapers alike. Beginners will appreciate the Smart mode, which simplifies the vaping experience and ensures ease of use. Seasoned vapers, on the other hand, will enjoy the RBA and Turbo modes, providing them with the ability to customize their vaping experience to their liking. With its versatile compatibility, this mod caters to various needs and preferences. Pros and Cons Pros: - Maximum power output of 100W - IP68 certified protections - Crater leak-proof design - GENE.TT 2.0 chip for intelligent vaping modes - High-quality material and sleek appearance - Convenient USB Type-C fast charging Cons: - Contains nicotine, a highly addictive substance - Requires responsible handling and storage FAQ's - Can I use this mod without nicotine? Yes, you can use the ARGUS XT without nicotine. However, it's important to handle the device responsibly and keep it out of the reach of children. - Can I use other batteries with this mod? The ARGUS XT is compatible with both 18650 and 21700 batteries, offering flexibility and convenience depending on your preference. What Customers Are Saying Customer testimonials rave about the ARGUS XT Mod's exceptional performance and durability. Many highlight its sleek appearance and comfortable grip, making it their go-to vaping device. The versatility and customizable experience have also been praised, allowing users to tailor their vaping sessions to their preferences. Overall Value When considering the TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod, the overall value is undeniable. With its powerful performance, durable design, and multiple vaping modes, this mod delivers an outstanding vaping experience. The ability to choose between different batteries and its fast charging function adds to its convenience and desirability. However, it's important to use this product responsibly and be aware of the potential health risks associated with nicotine. Tips and Tricks for Best Results To ensure optimal performance and longevity of your ARGUS XT Mod, follow these tips and tricks: - Keep the mod clean by regularly wiping it down with a soft cloth. - Handle the device with care to avoid any accidental drops. - Use high-quality batteries and keep them charged for uninterrupted vaping pleasure. - Experiment with different vaping modes to find the one that suits you best. - Stay informed about the latest vaping safety practices. Final Thoughts The TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod is a powerhouse device that is sure to enhance your vaping experience. With its impressive features, durable construction, and customizable performance, this mod is designed to exceed your expectations. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced vaper, the ARGUS XT offers versatility and convenience. Just remember to use it responsibly and prioritize your safety. So, if you're in the market for a top-notch mod that guarantees a consistent and satisfying vape, the ARGUS XT is the perfect choice. Product Summary The TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod is a must-have device for vapers seeking a powerful and reliable mod. With its maximum power output of 100W, IP68 certified protections, and crater leak-proof design, this mod ensures a superior vaping experience. The GENE.TT 2.0 chip brings intelligence and versatility to your vaping sessions, supporting multiple vaping modes. The ARGUS XT's sleek appearance, comfortable grip, and convenient carrying options make it a stylish and functional device. Whether you're a beginner or an experienced vaper, this mod caters to various needs and preferences. Final Recommendation If you're looking for a high-performance mod that delivers exceptional vaping experiences, the TVDC Voopoo Argus XT Mod is the perfect choice. With its impressive features, customizable performance, and remarkable durability, this mod exceeds expectations. However, it's vital to be aware of the risks associated with nicotine and handle the device responsibly. Overall, the ARGUS XT is a valuable investment that will enhance your vaping journey. Disclosure: As an Amazon Associate, I earn from qualifying purchases. Read the full article

[andyhe]

How do I keep my RV’s battery healthy?

Driving on the pen road, with a grand adventure in your beloved RV with a fully charged battery. It’s a world of freedom, exploration and unforgettable experiences. But among all the excitement and anticipation, one critical factor is often overlooked—the health of the RV’s battery.

Your battery is the heartbeat of your mobile oasis, powering everything that make life on the road a breeze. Without a well-maintained battery, your dream camper van could quickly become a nightmare of flickering lights and silent systems. But Do NOT BE AFRAID! This exciting guide will uncover the secrets to keeping your lithium RV battery in top condition.

Explaination of an rv battery (Components and Structure)

An RV battery packed by several components which support electrical power continuously. Knowing more of these components will help you better taking care of your battery.

Battery Case: The outer casing that isolated the battery’s internal components and protects them from external dust and water.

Electrolyte: Mixed sulfuric acid and water that facilitates the flow of electricity within the battery.

Positive and negative: The plates are sheets of lead coated with active materials that undergo chemical reactions during charging and discharging.

Separators: An insulating material is placed between the positive and negative plates to prevent short circuits.

Terminal Posts: Electrical connections to transfer power for the RV’s electrical system

Characteristics of RV batteries

In order to optimize the performance and life of a 24 volt RV battery, it is important to understand the following characteristics

Capacity refers to the amount of electrical energy the camper van battery can store and deliver.

Discharge Rate: This indicates how quickly the lithium RV batteries discharges its stored energy.

Cycle Life: This represents the cycles of charge and discharge that a lithium battery can withstand before its capacity drops significantly.

Self-Discharge Rate: Indicates the rate at which a battery loses its capacity when unused.

Keep your RV’s battery healthy by following these battery care tips.

Protecting Against Deep Discharge

Deep cycled discharge can significantly shorten the life of a 12V lithium RV battery. Limit use of power-hungry devices when the battery is low. Use a deep cycle battery monitor or voltage indicator to track the battery’s state of charge. Pay attention to a battery disconnect switch investment to prevent parasitic loads from draining the battery when the RV not in use.

Storing your RV’s battery health properly

If you going to store your RV’S battery in healthy for an extended period, keeping the battery correctly is important. Disconnect the battery from the waterproof van’s electrical system. Store the battery in a cool, dry location away from direct sunlight. Consider using a maintainer or trickle charger to maintain the charge level during storage.

Utilizing battery disconnect switches

Installing 12 volt battery disconnect switches can help prevent the unnecessary drain on your RV’s battery. When the van is not in use, turn off the battery disconnect switch to isolate the deep cycle battery from the electrical system. This prevents parasitic loads, such as propane detectors or clocks, from draining the battery when unnecessary.

Checking and Cleaning Battery Plus Terminals

Corroded or dirty battery terminals can prevent proper electrical connections. Disconnect the LiFePO4 battery cable and clean the terminals with a wire brush or battery terminal cleaner. Apply a thin coat of petroleum jelly or terminal protector to the terminals to prevent corrosion.

Implementing temperature control measures

Critical temperatures can affect camper van battery performance and life cycles, even fire cases. Avoid exposing the excessive heat or cold. Insulate the 12 volt battery compartment or use battery blankets to regulate the temperature. Park your RV in the shade whenever possible to minimize exposure to direct sunlight.

Considering Solar Charging Options

Solar charging systems provide an environmentally friendly way to recharge your RV batteries. Install solar panels on the roof of your waterproof RV to harness sunlight and convert it into electricity. A solar charge controller regulates the charging process and prevents overcharging or undercharging.

Extending Battery Lifespan with Proper Charging Profiles

Properly charging your RV battery is critical to its longevity.

Use a charger designed for your battery type (e.g. deep cycle, AGM). Follow the manufacturer’s recommendations for charging voltage and current. Avoid overcharging the battery, which may cause the battery to fail prematurely.

Understanding battery capacity and load management

Knowing battery capacity and managing electrical loads can keep batteries from being over-stressed. Determine the power requirements for RV appliances and electronics. Calculate the battery capacity required to support your intended use. Avoid overloading the battery beyond its capacity, otherwise its lifespan will be shortened.

Implementing energy-efficient practices

Energy conserving extends battery charge times and reduces stress on electrical systems. Replace traditional incandescent bulbs with energy-efficient LED lighting. Minimize the use of high-power appliances when running on RV batteries. Choose energy-efficient cooling and heating options in your RV.

How to Maintain Your RV Battery

In addition, to follow up mentioned above care tips, proper maintenance is important and crucial for keeping your RV battery healthy. Regularly clean the battery case and terminals. Inspect the battery for any signs of damage or wear. Test the battery’s charger voltage and state of charge periodically.

Follow the manufacturer’s recommendations for battery maintenance.

How to Clean Your RV’s Battery

Follow the below steps to clean your RV battery:

Safety first: Wear gloves, goggles, and protective clothing

Disconnect the battery: unplug the cables, starting with the negative (-) terminal and moving to the positive (+) terminal.

Prepare a cleaning solution: Mix baking soda and water to create a cleaning solution.

Clean the battery: Dip a brush or sponge into the cleaning solution and scrub the battery case, terminals, and connectors.

Rinse with water: Use clean water to rinse off the cleaning solution and remove any residue.

How to Test Your RV Battery’s Healthy

 Follow these steps to test your RV battery:

Prepare a voltmeter: Obtain a voltmeter or multimeter capable of measuring DC voltage.

Set the voltmeter: Set the voltmeter to the DC voltage setting and ensure the range is appropriate for your battery voltage.

Safety precautions: Put on safety gloves and goggles before handling the battery.

Check the battery voltage: Connect the voltmeter to the battery terminals, ensuring the positive (+) lead is connected to the positive terminal and the negative (-) lead to the negative terminal.

Read the voltage: The voltmeter will display the battery’s voltage. Compare the reading to the manufacturer’s recommended voltage for a fully charged battery.

Analyse the results: If the voltage is significantly lower than recommended, it may indicate that the battery is discharged or malfunctioning.

Load testing (optional): Load testing involves applying a controlled electrical load to the battery and evaluating its voltage response. Consult a professional or battery specialist for load testing procedures.

How to Charge and Discharge Your RV Battery

Charging the battery: Connect your waterproof deep cycle RV battery to a power source, such as shore power or a generator, to charge the battery. Use an appropriate charger to ensure proper charging.

Discharging the battery: As you use appliances and electrical devices in your RV, the battery will gradually discharge. It is important to monitor the battery’s state of charge to prevent deep discharges, which can shorten its lifespan.

Balancing charging and discharging: Regularly recharge your battery to maintain its charge level and avoid deep discharges. Practice energy-efficient habits to minimize strain on the battery.

What are the risks of not keeping my RV’s battery healthy?

Reduced battery lifespan: Lack of proper care and maintenance will lead to battery failure prematurely, requiring frequent battery replacements.

Limited electrical power: Incorrect maintained battery may not deliver the ability to run essential appliances and systems in your camper van.

Increased risk of battery failure: Neglected batteries are more susceptible to sulfuration, corrosion, and internal shorts, increasing the likelihood of battery failure during travel.

Inconvenience and added costs: Dealing with a dead or malfunctioning battery while on the road can disrupt your plans and lead to unexpected expenses for repairs or replacements.

Safety hazards: Corroded or damaged batteries pose safety risks, such as acid leaks and electrical shorts, which can lead to fire hazards or personal injury.

Conclusion

In conclusion, taking proactive steps to keep your RV battery healthy is essential for a hassle-free and enjoyable RVing experience. Our article on how to keep your RV battery healthy was helpful. DA Lithium Battery is committed to providing the best battery solutions for your recreational vehicle. By following the tips and tricks we have outlined, you can extend the life of your RV battery and ensure that you have power support when you need it most. If you have any questions or comments, please don’t hesitate to contact us at DA lithium. Thank you for reading, and happy travels!

https://www.dalithium.com/how-do-i-keep-my-rvs-battery-healthy/

[francis886]

Take you to know the LED power supply

An LED power supply, also known as an LED driver, is a vital component in LED lighting systems that transforms mains electricity (AC) into direct current (DC) to drive LED lamp beads.

Key functions of LED drivers encompass:

Conversion of AC to DC.

Supplying the specific current and voltage needed by lamps.

Offering circuit safety protection for lamps.

Processing electromagnetic compatibility and filtration.

Facilitating other intelligent controls.

Driver-On-Board (DOB) technology integrates the power supply components and light source into the aluminum substrate. This approach, involving switching or linear power supplies, has been increasingly adopted for indoor lighting solutions due to its cost-effectiveness without compromising product quality.

LED power supplies can be classified in multiple ways:

By Output Type:

Constant current power supply: Delivers a steady current with a varying voltage within a set range according to the load resistance.

Constant voltage power supply: Provides a fixed voltage with the output current adjusting based on the load.

By Installation Location:

Built-in power supply: Installed within the lamp cavity, requiring insulation measures if the lamp has a metal shell.

External power supply: Positioned outside the lamp, requires insulation casing and waterproofing for outdoor use.

By Drive Type:

Linear Drive: Simple and direct, without high-frequency switching action, eliminating the need for magnetic components like transformers and electrolytic capacitors in some cases.

Switch Drive: Offers accurate current control and high efficiency, classified into two methods: buck type (for higher power supply voltage than LED terminal voltage or parallel LED driving) and boost type (for lower power supply voltage than LED terminal voltage or series LED driving).

By Isolation:

Isolated Power: Conversion involves an "Electrical-Magnetic-Electrical" process, using a transformer to step down the voltage before rectifying it into a DC output.

Non-isolated power supply: Conversion follows an "electrical-electrical" process, reducing the voltage through components such as inductors before transforming it into a DC output.

The above article is quoted to: https://kingornan.com/take-you-to-know-the-led-power-supply/

[areteelsol]

Use and Importance of Industrial Plugs and Sockets

Industrial Plugs & Sockets are generally used in Industrial Applications.These Products can be used in Indoor and Outdoor applications.It is a CEE 

They are designed in such how so, they will safely connect & disconnect the high electrical phenomenon hundreds with complete safety for the operator.

 Plug & Socket with integral switch device additionally called ‘De-Contactor’. These Plugs & Sockets fulfill the need to safely connect and disconnect the hundreds.

 Industrial Plugs & sockets are employed in robust & arduous conditions in Indoor & out of doors applications. These are offered in several informatics ratings even waterproof protection ratings informatics65 & IP sixty-seven.

 Usually, the rating begins from 16A and comes in several ratings 25A, 32 A, sixty-three A &125 Amp and voltage vary is 110V, 240V, 380V & 415 V.

 What are checkpoints, we must always be wanting to pick sensible Industrial Plugs & Sockets

 Contact material: The material used for these carrying elements plays a key role in the process of the standard of the plug & socket. Current carrying elements ought to be fabricated from copper rather than Brass and the value-added silver tip reduces the contact resistance at the joint whereas transferring this.

Contact System: Contact system ought to be designed in such how that it ought to maintain contact pressure for an extended amount of your time, As compared to the Pin & sleeve sort, the butt sort spring-loaded contact system is way additional reliable, as a result of in spring loaded butt sort contacts, the planned contact pressure ensures correct & reliable association between plug & socket that the contact system with lower contact resistance & correct contact pressure results in terribly coldness rise, the method below than the required limits given in IEC:60309 & thus cause for much longer lifetime of plug & sockets.

 Insulating Material: the inner insulators ought to be fabricated from an insulant, that has properties of high distortions temperature, high abrasion resistance & possesses sensible strength & stiffness additionally at the identical time. Nylon-crammed fiber can be a sensible possibility. the fabric close to the arcing zone ought to be flame retardant material e.g. thermosetting polyester can be best fitted to the applications

 Safety options:  Industrial use need a high level of safety options in merchandise

Live contacts of socket or connective shouldn’t be accessible, even once the plug is in withdrawn condition

It ought to have in designed mechanical interlock & integral switch, so the plug ought to be isolated electrically from socket 1st with facilitate of the switch, before separating automatically totally from the socket

The safety cowl or lid of the socket should be there, ideally, spring loaded one, that ought to be closed mechanically, once the plug is taken out of the socket.

Vibration proof Termination:  Industrial plugs & sockets are being widely employed in applications like moving trains or vehicles, mining & stone crushing machines, etc. wherever there are a ton of vibrations concerned throughout the operation of the machine. For any such applications, termination on the Plug & sockets must be reliable, so it doesn’t malfunction throughout the operation of the machine. BCH DS sort Plug & Socket comes with a special split somatotype of terminations, additionally called vibration proof terminals, which makes it the best work & ideal answer to be used in such applications

IP Rating:  Industrial plugs & Sockets are offered in several informatics ratings to urge dirt & waterproof protection. informatics sixty-five rating is most well-liked once there's the abundant risk of liquid exposure or water within the out of doors applications.

Know additional concerning informatics ratings

 IP Protection classes as per IEC 60529

 BCH Industrial Plugs & Sockets are reliable & proven across industries and widely employed in attachment machines, robotics, motors, and marble cutting machines, remote powering in cement, chemical, oil plants, coal mining, rail coach factories, and railways station, tube stations,  railway maintenance sheds, moving containers, airports, ports, shipbuilding yards, offshore platforms, food & beverages, milk containers, room appliances, transportable or mobile power retailers being employed in MES, defense & region applications, cable connective applications, pump stations, pump stations, stage lighting, studio projectors & tunnel lighting, etc

[mebaelectric]

The Significance of Isolator Switches China

The waterproof isolator switch is an often overlooked but essential component in electrical systems. This inconspicuous gadget is crucial to guarantee the safety and proper operation of any equipment, including air conditioners.

What is the main purpose and benefit of an isolator switch?

An isolator switch, also known as an isolation switch or disconnect switch, is designed to entirely isolate an electrical circuit or equipment from its power supply.

To protect safety during maintenance and repairs, isolator switches cut electricity to equipment or circuits. Isolating the power supply eliminates inadvertent contact with active electrical components, lowering the danger of electric shock or damage.

Emergency Shutdown

In the case of an electrical failure, fire, or other dangerous scenario, an isolator switch provides a quick and easy way to turn off the power supply to the afflicted circuit or equipment.

Isolator switches from waterproof isolator switch supplier prevent electrical equipment from harm during maintenance or while not in use. Disconnecting the power source eliminates power surges, electrical failures, and voltage spikes that might damage sensitive components.

Complying with electrical requirements

Electrical codes and regulations frequently demand the use of isolator switches in certain applications to guarantee that safety requirements are followed. Isolator switches allow electrical systems to comply with these rules.

Overall, the primary function of an isolator switch is to offer a safe and effective method of isolating electrical circuits or equipment from their power supply. It improves electrical safety, protects persons and equipment, and enables maintenance and emergency procedures to be completed without exposing people to electrical risks.

Does an air conditioner require an isolator?

Yes, most air conditioners require an isolator switch. An isolator switch is a critical component for the safe installation and operation of air conditioners. It enables the disconnection of electricity to the air conditioner, assuring the safety of anybody doing maintenance, repairs, or inspections on the device. With the current load shedding, electricity is sometimes quite unstable, thus a trained electrician should install a separate waterproof isolator switch china for all air conditioners. This is an important safety feature that enables the cutoff of power to the device during maintenance, repairs, or emergencies, assuring individual safety and compliance with electrical standards.

Follow our Facebook and Twitter for more information about our product.

[onccyelectrical]

The ONCCY EAS80 AC isolation switch series has received high acclaim from customers for its outstanding performance.

This series features a rated current range from 16A to 125A, effectively catering to the power needs of various scenarios.

In terms of installation methods, the EAS80 series provides remarkable versatility: DIN Rail Mounting: The installation process is simple and quick, making it suitable for a variety of industrial environments. Door Interlock Mounting: This feature significantly enhances safety and effectively prevents accidental operations. Waterproof Box Installation: Provides superior protection for the equipment. Panel Mounting: It can seamlessly integrate with various control panels, saving space while ensuring an aesthetically pleasing appearance.

Furthermore, this series presents a choice between plastic and aluminum housings. The plastic housing is lightweight with excellent insulation properties, whereas the aluminum housing is more robust and provides superior heat dissipation.

This product complies with CE, TUV, and other quality standards, ensuring reliable quality. With an IP66 protection rating, it offers outstanding dust and water resistance capabilities—making it suitable for use in various harsh environments.

[ivarisms]

A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Title: A SCAR THAT LOOKS JUST LIKE YOU

Summary: You and your work colleague have travelled to Norway to to write a piece for an online article about the history of Vikings, and your travels have led you to a town where the locals talk about an abandoned castle deep in the mountains where Ivar the Boneless still lives as a thousand-year-old vampire. You don’t believe such nonsense, but are curious to see what artifacts this mysterious castle holds within its walls.

Paring: Vampire!Ivar x Female OC

Warnings: Blood, violence, death, non-con aspects, NSFW for sexual content.

                         “Baby, you’re cruel to me but you see I love it when you make me bleed. I want a scar that looks just like you, till then I gotta learn to be a wiser fool. ” ---- Vampire Smile, Kyla La Grange

                                               CHAPTER ONE

The treacherous winding path that spiralled up into the deepest and most isolated parts of the mountains was endless, or so it seemed after hours of non-stop walking. You were exhausted, and to make things worse the first droplets of snow began to trickle down from the sky above. “You said we would reach this castle an hour ago, and yet I still see no sign of it.”

“Patience, sweet cheeks.” Your work partner and terrible tour-guide Lawrence teased, a wrinkled map in his gloved hands as he turned to grin at you. “Always complaining, it’s not always about the destination but about the journey too. I find hiking in these mountains therapeutic…”

You rolled your eyes at that one, there was nothing therapeutic about this and you really wished you would have said no to this adventure. You weren’t even convinced that there was a castle, especially one that harboured a thousand-year-old vampire inside. “That’s bullshit and you know it.” You pressed on, frowning at the feel of wet inside your ‘waterproof’ boots. Great, you thought. All I need when hiking up a goddamn mountain. “I’m starting to think the locals swindled us here, I bet they’re all down in their local pub laughing about how stupid the latest tourists are in falling for this ridiculous ghost story.”

“It’s not a ghost story, it’s a vampire story – like Dracula.” Lawrence countered, a few steps ahead of you on the trail that became much steeper. “And yeah, it’s probably a crock of shit but hey, we’ll have the castle to ourselves and you know what that means.” Turning to waggle his brow at you, he winked and chuckled to himself.

“Yeah, shelter – and hopefully some firewood.” You grumbled, not even entertaining his attempts at flirting with you. He had tried time and time again to get into your pants, but just couldn’t get the hint.

“I don’t think there’s many trees up this high for firewood, but you never know… might be able to find a couple of ‘em and make a stake out of a branch as a weapon.” He joked. “They said this Ivar is terrifying, I hope I get to kill him. Imagine that on the front of the newspaper, I can see it now. ‘Handsome muscly man kills a thousand-year-old vampire Viking with ease… or Viking vampire’ which one sounds better?”

“None of them.” You smirked. “If he’s a vampire and a Viking, you really think you stand a chance?”

“Hey, I got some moves – I can show you them if you like.” He teased.

“No thanks…”

Walking up the steepest part of the isolated trail, you winced and tugged at the hood of your thick yellow coat as harsh icy winds hurtled towards you. They were powerful, nearly knocking you from your feet as you struggled to maintain your balance.

“There it is.” Lawrence pointed in front of him, and you stumbled forward a few steps to join him to see what he was looking at.

“Oh, wow.” You whispered, seeing for the first time the huge black winding castle in the near distance. It was hidden between two mountain peaks, so no wonder it took so long to find. The locals weren’t lying about one thing, but there was no way in hell a vampire lived within its walls. “The snow is getting heavier, let’s go as quick as we can.”

“Yes, lady boss.” Lawrence scoffed, his tone laced with sarcasm as he led the way.

Half an hour of struggling through near enough knee-deep snow led you and your colleague to the castle grounds. The great heaving stone structure was more than impressive to gaze up at, though the many windows that were draped in darkness made you feel uneasy. Its black towers and stone battlements were still very much intact, withstanding the test of time and the test of such harsh elements in the isolated area of Norway. It had clearly been abandoned centuries before now, yet still radiated a millennium of history you would never get to experience. You wondered what it would have been like back then, when Vikings were in their prime of greatness. Terrifying, you assumed.

Ivar the Boneless was known especially to be cruel and inhumane, the history books wrote him to be a tyrant and monster who killed all that apposed him. It was that wicked reputation that kept his memory alive a thousand years later, proven by how scared the local men and women were to even mention his name. You were intelligent enough to know that vampires didn’t exist, but if by chance they did, then you decided that Ivar would be the worst kind of vampire to bump into.

“Wanna go inside?” Lawrence broke through your train of thought and you looked at him as he pulled free his camera from the pocket of his padded blue jacket.

“Absolutely.” You agreed, deciding it was for the best to push fairy-tales aside and explore further.

Following Lawrence through the first set of steel gates, you were now in the courtyard. This area would have been used to make speeches to the people, used as entertainment and no doubt used for training how to fight. You could almost picture the Vikings now, swinging swords and axes at each other without a care in the world. Reaching into your own pocket to pull free your phone, you swiped at the screen.

No signal, low battery. Fantastic.

Your phone wouldn’t have enough power to last the night, but you had enough to snap a few pictures.

“I’m gonna explore the barracks, are you coming with or doing your own thing?” Lawrence asked.

“I’m…” You breathed, your eyes drawn towards the main doors that would no doubt lead into the very heart of the castle. “I’m going inside, I want to get a few photos before this thing dies on me.”

“Alright, I’ll come find you in a bit.”

Please take your time, you thought. “Okay.”

And with that you both went your separate ways.

 Pushing on the great wooden door that was stiff as a board, you clinched your jaw and rammed your weight into your shoulder with a grunt to try and budge it. One, two, three attempts before the frozen wood gave way. Shoving it open with a deep squeal that echoed loudly throughout the innards of the castle, you peered inside curiously. An icy breeze from within hit your face, and as you swept your gaze around the darkness you realised you were staring down into a great long hall that seemed to travel endlessly into the abyss.

Shrugging your backpack from your shoulders, you delved your hand inside and fiddled around until you grabbed hold of the flashlight you had brought along with you. Flicking the switch, a faint yellow glow lit the way as you moved forward. The old wooden floors creaked beneath the weight of your snow laden boots as you took your first few steps inside, allowing the heavy door to swing back shut with a loud thud. Wincing at the sound, you felt your heart thump nervously and felt a sudden pang of regret wash over you, almost as if you felt like you were trespassing. You can still leave.

“Stop overthinking.” You chastised yourself, knowing you were being irrational now. Ghosts did not exist and neither did vampires, it was all in your head.

Treading carefully, you made your way down the hall that had great long wooden tables lining each side with wax candles sat atop them, the table tops themselves had markings engraved within them and as you dragged your fingers along the symbols, you decided they were probably Old Norse. A language that had been dead for many years. Lifting your had, you rubbed at the thick layer of dust that had settled upon your fingertips. This place definitely hadn’t been touched in a long time, and for a moment you wondered if you and Lawrence were the first tourists to investigate in years. It seemed like it.

Unlocking your phone, you decided to take a few pictures of the beautiful furniture for your records before moving on. This would make for a good article on your blog – frozen in time, a look inside the world of Vikings. You wondered if you could steal something small and tuck it into your bag as a souvenir of sorts. Looking ahead, you noticed a stone fireplace in the centre at the back of the hall and as you strolled over towards it with your phone in hand to take another picture, something else caught your attention from the corner of your eye. Turning, you audibly gasped.

Two beautiful wooden thrones sat untouched at the furthest point of the great hall, sat atop a wooden platform. They looked over the entire hall, above the rest of the tables and you knew then that this was once where the King and Queen probably dined with their people.

“Wow.” You whispered, approaching the rare find. The floorboards creaked with each slow step and as you got closer, your eyes widened and twinkled in the dark as you absorbed the intricate detail of both beautiful chairs.

You walked up onto the platform and reached out to touch the main throne, the one you could only assume belonged to a line of great Kings starting with Ragnar Lothbrok. Dragging your fingers along the twisted branches and steel that bound them together, you smiled and took the opportunity to sit in the throne.

It wasn’t the most comfortable seat, but you definitely felt like royalty as you leaned back and closed your eyes. Just for a moment you pretended it was a different time, that you were a Queen of a Viking army. Breathing in a slow breath, you opened your eyes again and gazed down the hallway you had walked up.

Your eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness as the flashlight rested in your lap, and as you blinked you were certain there was a shape of a figure standing by the main door you had entered through. Lawrence?

“You took your time, come see what I’ve found.” You called out, crossing one leg over the other casually with a coy smile. “I can’t be sure, but I think this throne once belonged to Ragnar Lothbrok and his sons. It’s beautiful…” You drummed your fingers against the arm rest.

No response. The silence was deafening, and you felt a deep fluttering within your belly as you snatched your flashlight and shone it down where the figure stood. But the light didn’t reach that far, and so you leaped from the throne anxiously.

“Lawrence?” You called nervously this time, your eyes narrowing as you kept them on the figure who stood in the shadows, unmoving. “This is not funny; I’m not playing your stupid games idiot.”

Once again there was nothing and you panicked, the stories that had been told to you from the locals playing in the forefront of your mind.

‘Ivar the Boneless died in battle, yes – but he was revived and cursed with immortality. The stories say his brother Hvitserk accompanied him back to the castle where he lives till this very day, surviving on the blood of those who dare enter his lair.’

‘Hvitserk too?’

‘Perhaps, though there have been no witnesses to survive that could tell us what they have seen. All we know is that those who travel up the mountains don’t travel back down, so in all probability they have been killed.’

“Ivar?” You breathed, the flashlight in your hand trembling.

“Hello, Y/N.”

The voice echoed through the hall and your breath caught in your throat, fear bleeding into every fibre of your being as you jumped from the throne platform and sprinted towards a side-door that led into the bowels of the castle. The last thing you wanted was to travel deeper inside, but you had no other choice. Gasping for breaths in the darkness, you tried to hold the flashlight steady and peered down at your phone in the other hand.

No signal.

1% battery life.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You hissed, not having a clue what door led to which room or if there was any other exit that you could escape from. You just ran forward with no sense of direction, and eventually came face to face with a staircase. You couldn’t go back now, what if he was right behind you?

The thought alone made you squeal as you scrambled up the stone steps, tripping over your boot at one point and dropping your useless phone that tumbled all the way back down to the bottom. You wouldn’t be going back for it now. Reaching the upper floors of the bitterly cold castle, your flickering flashlight was threatening to give up on you as you desperately searched for a hiding spot. Bolting to the end of the corridor, you ran into one of the rooms and as quietly as you could, closed the door behind you.

Backing up until your thighs hit the wooden frame of a bed in the centre of the room, you felt tears well in your eyes. You were terrified.

“Y/N, it was a joke!” Lawrence shouted out from outside in the corridor. “It’s me, I was only teasing.”

Anger. You saw red and felt humiliated as your colleague shoved the bedroom door open and grinned back at you, holding his camera in your face and your phone in his other hand. You couldn’t believe it.

“HA!” He laughed loudly when he saw the look on your face, pointing at you as he filmed your reaction. “You ran like a shot, Jesus…”

“Get out.” You growled, storming forward to shove his chest. “It’s not fucking funny, stop filming me.”

“Hey, c’mon – it’s hilarious!” He laughed. “Ivar?” Mocking the way you had called out the Viking’s name, he shook his head and bent forward to slap his knee with amusement. “I thought you didn’t believe in vampires!”

“I said get out!” Slapping the camera from his hands, you scowled up at him as it tumbled and crashed to the floor with a thud.

“Hey, what the fuck!” He glared back at you and snatched the front of your jacket, clinching his jaw as if he was debating on whether to hit you or not. But he decided against it, shoving you instead and watching you fall to the bed as he leaned down to pick up his prized possession. “It was a damn joke, get over yourself.”

“No, you’re trying to use me for your stupid videos and it’s not happening. Whatever footage you’ve got of me on there, delete it.” You warned him.

“Hell no, this is going up on my blog first thing when we get back to town. You’ll see how funny it is when you’ve calmed down. Pretty girl gets spooked by Ivar the Boneless, idiots on the internet eat that shit up.”

That was enough. Lunging forward, you snatched the camera from his grasp and turned around, throwing it as hard as you could against the stone wall opposite the bed. You watched as it smashed, bits of plastic bursting out into shards across the floor and instant regret flooded you.

Not about smashing it, because he deserved that to happen – but because you knew the fact he wouldn’t get views online from his snot-nosed followers would infuriate him.

“Y/N!” He shouted, his voice echoing through the halls as he grabbed the back of your hood and yanked you back towards him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, that’s my life’s work you dumb bitch!”

Wincing as he flung you against the wall by the door, you kicked your boot at his shin and threw a punch that connected with his shoulder.

“Let me go!” You growled, struggling against him as he swung his arm back and swung it forward again, slapping you against the face. A sharp sting radiated through your cheek, and you closed your eyes and lifted your hands to defend yourself from the assault you thought was about to come your way.

But nothing happened.

Instead, you heard gargling.

Snapping your eyes open again, you felt your entire body weaken in terror as Lawrence stood in front of you grasping at his throat. Blood spurted from his mouth and nose as he stumbled back, staring back at you with fear and desperation. You were speechless, frozen stiff in place as he collapsed to his knees and bled out at your feet. Behind him had been standing a tall, broad man with the bluest eyes you think you had ever seen. His hand was coated in blood, and he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean as he gazed back at you in the dark.

“I heard a struggle; it seems you needed some help from this boy.” He mumbled in a deep Nordic accent and stepped over Lawrence’s dying body, towering over you in the confined space. “Are you hurt?”

You stood perfectly still and parted your lips, trying to speak but the sounds of Lawrence’s gargled breaths distracted you. Never had you witnessed someone dying before and as much as you hated him, you felt sick and faint.

“You called my name earlier; it woke me from a deep sleep…” He continued, his blood-stained lips curling into a smirk as he reached his clean hand up to stroke your reddened cheek that would soon bruise from the slap.

A breath hitched in your throat at how cold he was, the gentle stroke of his fingers sending a shiver to ripple up the length of your spine.

“You… you are Ivar the Boneless.” You whispered fearfully, glancing down to the floor to see blood pooling around your boots.

“Yes.” He affirmed. “And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Mm, and what are you and this…” He peered down at the body that had stopped struggling and sighed. “…moron doing creeping around my home, huh?”

“I’m sorry, we came here to see…”

“Go on.” Ivar pressed you impatiently.

“To see if you were real, to see if this place really existed.” You told him. “I’m sorry, I’ll leave. I didn’t mean to disturb you.” You took a step forward and slid past him, your body grazing against his as you tried to head for the door but he grabbed your hand.

“Ah, ah.” He tutted, shaking his head of dark braids. “That is not how it works, you see – as soon as you stepped through that door you became mine.”

You felt your belly flutter and shrank into yourself as he took a step in towards you again, leaning forward to breathe in your hair.

“Yours?” You whispered in confusion.

“Yes, mine.” He told you. “Everything in this castle is my property, that now includes you and this sack of shit on my floor.” Pointing to Lawrence’s body, Ivar sucked in a breath. “Unfortunately, my anger got the best of me when it came to him, I should have kept him alive for his blood. I haven’t fed in a long time.”

He looked you over when he said that, his blue eyes darkening with a hunger that made you want to run. “Please don’t hurt me.”

“I don’t want to.” He explained and ran his hands up over your shoulders, pulling you against him and holding you tight. “But I am hungry, and your blood sings to me my sweet girl. This won’t hurt for long, I promise.”

“No, no!” You gasped, your struggling useless as he dragged his soft lips down the column of your neck. Licking his tongue out against the beating vein that called to him, a deep growl rose from his throat and he sank his teeth into you with a savage bite that made you scream. “Ivar, please!”

Your legs gave way but it didn’t matter, he was unnaturally strong – clutching you to him like a bear would with its prey. Warmth spilled down your collarbone and you whimpered as he drank you, low groans escaping him. Digging your fingernails into his black armour, your eyes rolled as you became weaker in his arms.

Thump. Thump.

Thump…… Thump.

Thump.

Your heartbeat slowed and you huffed out a weak breath when he suddenly pulled his head back, snarling out an animalistic growl. His white teeth and long fangs were coated in blood, a trickle of it spilling down his chiselled chin as you sank against his chest.

“Fuck.” He groaned, eyes almost translucent they were that blue as he gazed down at your pretty face. “Good girl. Come, let’s get you settled.”

Lifting you up into his arms with ease, Ivar carried you from the room in what seemed like a blur as your eyes rolled shut.

“Are you going to kill me?” You whispered.

“Not yet.” He told you, his voice a low seductive growl. “I’m going to drink you and I’m going to fuck you and then I’m going to make you like me and the rest of my family who live in the shadows.”

The rest? You thought, slipping into unconsciousness as Ivar the Vampire stole you away deep into the confines of his castle.

 Starting awake, you sat up in the darkness and reached your hands out to feel soft silk sheets surrounding you. Looking around and down at yourself, you frowned as you noticed your boots, winter trousers and jacket had been removed, replaced with a white cotton dress that barely covered your thighs.

“You are beautiful, y/n.” Ivar mumbled from the shadows, approaching you slowly as you crawled up towards the headboard and away from him.

“What is this place?” You asked, looking around the large room that had been lit with candles. “What did you do to me?”

Turning your gaze back onto him, you felt something flutter deep within you as he stood shirtless. Viking tribal tattoos littered his strong defined chest, and as you dragged your eyes lower you noted his defined abs.

“These are my private quarters, the part of the castle you didn’t get the chance to intrude on.” He raised a brow at you, a dangerous glint within his eye. “But now, here you are with me. I fully intend on creating a bond with you, one where you will be my progeny and I your master.”

You felt your stomach leap as he crawled up onto the bed after you, his piercing eyes never leaving your face as he reached out and grabbed your ankles. Yanking you down the mattress, he smirked sadistically as you yelped in surprise.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Of course, I am.” You whispered, though it was not only fear that you felt as you looked into his eyes but a strange lust. Something was terribly wrong with you to be attracted to this creature but he was so beautiful, almost god-like that it seemed impossible not to.

“It’s good to be afraid, fear makes you more aware of what’s happening.” He leaned forward and kissed your thigh, his cool lips lingering against your skin. “I want you to know that I have waited for you for a long time, and now that I have you, I cannot let you go.”

He spread your thighs then and nuzzled his nose between them, eliciting a gasp from your throat and forcing you to arch your back. Reaching down to twist your fingers into his dark braids, your legs trembled as he breathed in your scent.

“Oh.” You sank your teeth into your bottom lip when he finally pressed a kiss against your mound, a jolt of pleasure radiating through you at the feeling.

You wondered if this was all a dream, a terrifyingly beautiful dream that you soon would wake from. Using his palms to pin you down, Ivar lapped at your tender wet cunt until he had you crying out his name.

You came.

Then you came again. Hard.

Feeling spasms ripple through your entire body, you moaned and spread your legs further as he dragged himself up and over you. Strong arms settled at either side of your head and he dipped his hips between your thighs, the feeling of his hard cock brushing against your soaked centre making you buck your hips in response.

“Do you want to be mine?” He asked, grabbing your throat and grazing his thumb against the bite mark he had left in your throat. “Will you give yourself to me completely, my love?”

You felt compelled to say “Yes.”

It was if he was inside your head, making you say and feel these things for him and yet you gladly accepted your fate.

“Good girl.” He growled and thrust inside of you in one hard stroke, splitting you open with a delicious burn that forced a cry from your lips.

You snatched your arms around his broad defined shoulders, digging your nails into his smooth skin as he began an unrelenting rhythm. You moaned and screamed and shuddered beneath him as he fucked you deep, his controlled movements driving you insane with lust.

“Ivar!” You cried as his girth stretched you painfully, the feeling of being unbelievably full of him almost too much. But he held you down, you weren’t getting away from him as he possessed you. “Oh my god!”

He grunted, a low growl rumbling deep within his chest as he took what belonged to him. Pressing kisses against your collarbone and then down to your breasts, your eyes rolled as he sucked one nipple into his mouth and then the other, paying them equal attention.

Your grip on his braids tightened and he licked a trail up your chest, kissing up your throat and chin until his lips found yours. The Viking vampire’s mouth was soft as he licked his tongue into your mouth when you gasped from one particularly deep thrust of his hips, and you could taste a mix of him and you that made you moan into him.

Sliding one calloused hand down to grab your knee, he lifted your leg and forced it up to rest over his shoulder. Arching against him, you whined at the change of position that dug deeper still and brushed against that spongey piece of heaven tucked up inside of you.

“Ah!” You whimpered, feeling yourself tighten around him.

“That’s it, y/n.” He growled lowly, smirking against your mouth as he stared into the depths of your eyes. Knocking his forehead against yours gently, he watched you as he fucked you hard. Skin smacked against skin, the wet sounds of him taking you filling the room and you stiffened.

Hissing, Ivar snatched a handful of your hair and tugged your head to one side as you came around him. Your pussy spasmed, clutching onto his cock tightly, milking him for everything he had and as he was on the verge of his own release he knew it was time.

Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he sank his fangs into the artery he had torn open earlier and began to drink. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head with so much arousal that you weren’t aware of his deadly love bite. He continued to fuck you, his pace slowing just a little as he drank your hot blood down in large greedy gulps.

Soon, you realised that something was wrong. You felt it. Whimpering in a mixture of pleasure and pain now, you pushed at his arms to try and get him to stop but he didn’t plan on it. He drank you deeply, the addicting taste of your life blood filling the void within him.

“Ivar…” You moaned, frowning in discomfort.

He used his free hand to stroke your face gently as if he were reassuring you all would be okay. Blood spilled into the sheets of the mattress and into your hair in a pool and your heart began to stutter, its strong beat fading.

You gasped for a breath and just before you fell into a fatal sleep, Ivar pulled back with a sputtered growl and sank his fangs into his wrist, tearing open his own flesh before pressing the bleeding wound to your lips.

“Drink!” He demanded of you, and with weak gulps you did.

As his cold blood spilled down your throat, he howled out and came inside you in a deep thrust. He grunted and growled at the pleasure of you.

“That’s it.” He hissed, blood spilling from the corner of his mouth as you slurped at him until you fell asleep.

Your head rolled back against the mattress and you were dead to the world, the human version of yourself dying with laboured breaths as Ivar’s blood worked its way through your body keeping you from slipping away completely.

Pulling out of you, he slid an arm under your neck and lifted your frail frame up into his embrace. The sheets were stained red, it looked like a murder scene and he supposed it was for he had killed you and birthed you a new life that soon would come to be.

“There we go, my sweet girl.” He whispered, kissing the side of your face as he stood from the bed and carried you from the bedroom. “No more pain.”

Strolling through the castle, he smirked a bloody smile when he caught sight of his brothers Hvitserk and Ubbe exiting a room down the corridor.

“We heard everything, you know.” Hvitserk eyed the girl in his brother’s arms curiously, a hunger darkening in his features at the sight of you.

“She’s beautiful.” Ubbe murmured.

“I wanted you to hear.” Ivar muttered arrogantly, kissing the corner of your lips as he said so. “She will soon be one of us, I still need to bury her and by tomorrow she will rise.”

“I want one.” Hvitserk grumbled.

“Me too.” Ubbe glanced at his brother and then back to Ivar. “I think we need to venture into town and find more girls, take them back here and turn them.”

“I think that would be good.” Ivar nodded. “Now, I need one of you to bury us.”

“I’ll do it.” Hvitserk volunteered.

“I’ll watch.” Ubbe smirked.

Heading down the staircase with you safely tucked into his arms, Ivar moved with a blur that no ordinary human would be able to see and took you out into the snowy courtyard.

Setting you down on the snow, he dug a grave big enough for two and set you down inside before he turned to glare at his brothers who watched on curiously.

“Okay…” He nodded and lowered himself down to join you, spooning you from behind and tucking his face into your hair.

Hvitserk grabbed a shovel and scooped a large amount of snow and piled it inside the grave. It wasn’t long before the both of you were buried six feet below the earth.

Soon you would rise with your master by your side, forever bonded by blood and death.

tag list:  @punkrocknpearls  @youbloodymadgenius @strayrockette @tgrrose @ISTORKYOU @ivarhoegh @adrille88 @jadelynlace @readsalot73​

[nomanwalksalone]

BOOK REVIEW: RICHARD JAMES SAVILE ROW

by Réginald-Jérôme de Mans

As Troy McClure said about playing the human in a musical adaptation of Planet of the Apes, reviewing this book is “the role I was born to play!”

Simply entitled Richard James: Savile Row, this book commemorates the 25th anniversary in Savile Row of the fashion house and tailors of the same name.  A read is somewhat disappointing, full of short essays by what amounts to a rather incestuous school of longtime Richard James fans in British media and entertainment, among them British GQ’s Dylan Jones and Richard’s most notorious client, Elton John.

Elton’s known as a voracious devotee – to not say addict – of his favorite outfitters over the decades, buying out entire shopfloors at times.  His twenty-year devotion to Richard James is a key to understanding Richard James’ enormous if unrecognized positive influence on contemporary men’s clothing and British tailoring. Forty years ago Elton dressed head-to-toe in psychedelic Tommy Nutter, switching in the 1980s to over-the-top Gianni Versace glitz.  Since the end of the 1990s, he’s evangelized Richard James.

Tommy Nutter, the last tailor-designer in Savile Row, dominated British men’s tailoring in the 1970s.  Custom tailoring took a back seat to the cult of the ready-to-wear designer, mostly the Continentals: Pierre Cardin, then Armani and Versace.  Nutter had a few isolated 1980s hits, like dressing the Joker in 1989’s Batman, before dying in 1992.

What had become of the British? 1980s attitudes towards luxury and clothing meant regression, selling an image of Britain as Raj, pith helmets, and gin among palm trees, not progress. Ralph Lauren did a much better job selling that ethos in his more expensive lines than any of the British could.  Some tried; those of us of a certain age (me) remember seeing cashmere sweaters made in China sold in Bloomingdales under the label of Savile Row tailor Gieves & Hawkes, or blocky ready-to-wear suits at Barneys sold with the name of Savile Row tailor Kilgour, French & Stanbury, although made in Canada by Samuelson.  An ersatz Britishness for export markets, an ersatz image and look created by ready-to-wear licensees with little input from the British tailors desperately trying to sell their names abroad.

Into this breach came Richard James. Like Nutter, James is categorically not a trained tailor.  What he is, though, is an inspired designer who, since opening on Savile Row, has offered true custom tailoring as well as ready-to-wear in visionary designs.  I remember the first Richard James items I noticed, beautiful belts and wallets of gorgeous quality hand stitched in England with contrasting linings in deeply saturated color.  I still have one of those belts, in all its magnificence.  What did they have to do with British custom tailoring?  Nothing – and everything. For the first time a Savile Row name appeared to be doing something relevant, interesting and elegant – and doing it to the fullest extent and the last detail. Savile Row survives by its export markets and by the reputation its tailors have forged for beautiful items of a certain Britishness.  No more uninspired licensed items that has as much to do with British elegance as a Sterling car (derided by Consumer Reports for “Industrial Revolution-era” English technology, remember those?). What Richard James has done is modernize British elegance from the creepy colonial-obsessed ethos that today only blinkered Brexiteer bluestockings and Internet edgelords cling to.  Even the past James references uses other, more inspired touchstones of British greatness, including his bespoke offer (initially serviced by the Savile Row tailors Anthony J. Hewitt and James Levett before being brought in-house), but also ready-to-wear shirts in stripes that recalled the best of Swinging London; handmade ties whose lush, delicate patterns rivalled the best of midcentury Sulka or today’s Charvet; magnificently, decadently warm alpaca pile ‘teddy bear” coats originally created for 1920s motorists; astonishingly soft leather or suede jackets in the café racer style 1960s London Mods would have died for; and even the made-to-order cashmere socks with custom monograms Corgi used to make for defunct shops of yesteryear like the custom shirtmaker Beale & Inman.  It was a vision of Britishness far, far from Lauren’s fantasies, a Britishness that admitted the turmoil of Ted Heath’s premiership, that added much-needed glamor after John Major’s greyness.  And James reminded us what was wonderful about the British suit by invoking all that was dashing in its cut.  Ready-to-wear suits were made in beautiful cloths from British mills like the impeccable Taylor & Lodge, in unexpectedly evocative colors and patterns: sharp mohair sharkskin, gorgeously patterned real Scottish or Irish tweeds or a French navy that was lighter than the normal shade; even rainbow chalkstripes on a sober dark ground.  The cut was always tapered at the waist, double-vented, slant pocketed in the “hacking” style, a look espoused by Patrick Macnee’s subversively too-British John Steed in the 1960s.  Richard’s linings were often boldly colorful, to remind us what could be playful about the suit, everything that 1980s pretention (clinging to all the trimmings of colonial oppression) had repressed.

Richard James the book shines in cataloguing those designs in beautiful detail.  James really has been the best colorist in the business, as Jones termed him.  Even more importantly, this book also shows how James has aced the tricky game of tennis without a net of innovating within the classic: in addition to recreating ruffle-fronted tuxedo shirts like those of George Lazenby’s louche Bond in 1969’s On Her Majesty’s Secret Service, James also invented tuxedo shirts whose fronts (instead of pleats or stiff waffle-weave Marcella) were hand-beaded by Hand & Lock, beaders and embroiderers to Her Majesty the Queen; Corgi (knitters and hosiers to the Prince of Wales) knitted thick, thick cashmere sweaters with hand-inlaid abstract intarsia designs; elegant cufflinks (always double-sided) recalled childhood marbles in the forms of hand-blown translucent glass or semiprecious banded agate (a real “Aggie”) or amber set in sterling silver; and even a travel bag that recalled the bags given away by Pan Am or Concorde in the early days of jet travel was rendered in ballistic nylon with reflective silver piping and brilliantly contrasting linings.

I’ve never owned a Richard James bespoke suit.  I know that his ready-to-wear suits were disappointingly half-canvassed or fused, despite their wonderful materials.  But they helped remind me that Savile Row could still be relevant, and that those tailors, despite past reputation, could be approachable and contemporary – and that has been my experience with the other tailors of Savile Row, including the impeccable, evocatively named Steed, whom I loved for their name before ever using them.

Every item with the Richard James name carried and carries the same visionary, whimsical design philosophy, a Britishness less fanciful and more romantic than Paul Smith’s, and far less caricatural and cynical than those of Ralph Lauren or Hackett.  Socks, always made to a high-standard by Pantherella, are accented in amusing contrast colors or mad patterns. I have a number that are doing fine almost 20 years later.  My Richard James Concorde bag has been a beloved, perfect gym bag for years, while his larger, tougher Japanese denim bag (trimmed in the best British bridle hide) is my go-to travel holdall no matter where on Earth I go. My beaded Richard James tux shirt is a prized piece of design genius, as is a magnificently waterproof raincoat made for him by Mackintosh in a beige twill that cunningly iridesces turquoise or orange from certain angles. For years I’ve searched for the same shade of gorgeous Thomas Mason turquoise twill cotton that an old Richard James shirt is in, but most of his materials are specially made for his designs; even the fine-gauge cotton knits that John Smedley or Peter Geeson created for him seemed to be in special colors and to his own patterns.

That wealth, that treasury of a vision and genius, tumbles out of Richard James’ new book, pictures that really are worth thousands of words and that speak for themselves about the importance of this designer’s contribution, reminding us that Savile Row, indeed British menswear itself, still had things of wonder to offer us.

[grim-faux]

19 - Null of Light

There was a soured and puffy body behind me the whole time.  I barely noticed when I spun around, the coagulated blood on my shoes stuck to the carpet.  I studied it for a few seconds, a long streak of black led to the gate the disciple had indicated.  Follow the Blood.  

The segregation gate was wide open leading into a corridor, my new course.  I decided the gate at the opposite end of the room was indeed locked, only to save me the ‘long’ walk to confirm this.  I didn’t immediately begin off on my new tour, but stood in a daze as my mind caught up to current events.  I had barely escaped an encounter with the big fucker and returned to the modern section of the Asylum, the area I was first acquainted with the nightmares that would micromanage my… I wouldn’t define it as ‘progress.’  Liberation?  I couldn’t come up with wording that wasn’t cliché or cheap.  I just wanted out, that’s it. Some of my rational was clearing, though my head throbbed and it was hard to think.  The lights, the lights were too intense for my eyes.  Maybe if I wasn’t staring into the cracked visor every second, but I barely realized the way I had it, angled beside my face and my posture was kinked.  I’d spent too long glued to the camera.  Damn, I didn’t give a fuck anymore.

The flies were getting on my nerves, roused as I worked.  They couldn’t decided who they preferred more, the corpse or me.  The dead researcher didn’t have much on him when he perished, but I didn’t think I was the first to poke through his pockets.  There was a penlight and a wallet, and that’s it.  It was morally wrong, I’m aware of that, but I opened his wallet and went through it.  Found a picture of the guy when he was alive with his family.  It was a classic picture, mom and dad and the kid, out in the front yard of a house that looked at home in some middle class neighborhood, probably a city or town I’d never hear about.  My mind wondered where his kid had gone, the picture didn’t look old, not the same as some treasured artifact parents wore to death within the month.  Just a memory.  Was his wife wondering where he went?  Did she care enough to contact authorities?  I was here, I guess not. I tucked the picture into my notepad, in a clean space with no writing.  I flipped through the crisp pages, they had gotten wet from the multiple times I was soaked.  The pocket was waterproof but not submersible, water managed to seep through the zipper.  Some of the pages stuck, but I could work on that later.  I replaced the small booklet in its pocket, then examined the penlight over.  It had two batteries.  Currently, my camera was running low on NV and I had a spare.  I’d probably need them, whatever amount of energy they had. The blood still squelched under my shoes as I moved over the plush carpet, to the open gate.  For some reason the sensation unnerved me.  Of course it would, I’d be disconcerting if it didn’t.  But it was as though I was reliving the Asylum all over, from the beginning.  I’d had enough, I didn’t want to be reminded.  I wanted to let go of this place and leave it far behind me.  Let go, move on, and heal.  I needed to heal.  There would be scarring though.  Deep, hidden, ugly scars. The door in the hall was glass and distorted, but locked.  I peered through, seeing nothing in particular but more hall and a functioning lamp at some distance.  I didn’t linger.  The hall cut to the right, blood stains on the wall and floor caught my eye, where a patient might have been shot.  Cracks and pop marks curved over the plaster, but no bodies.  I continued, following the direction a plate labeled Recreational Hall, indicated with an arrow.  That would probably be the best place to start looking for a theater.  I thought there was a new resonance in the air, but ignored it.  I was worked up enough, though I felt a creeping sense that I wasn’t alone.  Not here in this hall under these bright lights, I gave the stained walls a glance but saw no cameras.  I was alone and isolated. The next right dead ended at a door that refused to open.  I tried to force the handle, but someone had forgotten to unlock it for me, or it was locked intentionally.  I would have to force it, but I didn’t think I had the strength. There had been an open door a ways back, it lead into a dark room I wanted to overlook.  It was careless, I was getting careless, but I almost didn’t care anymore. I stood in the doorway, fumbling for the NV switch until the green visor flashed in my face.  Nothing in the immediate range stood out, just a room with windows and drapes.  Was I hearing… music?  A piano?  It didn’t sound like a radio, I could feel the melody through the walls as did my bones.  Just my head churning, I had difficulty focusing.  I entered the room, abruptly blasted by my old adversary of putrid air.  I was beginning to miss the smell of wet char. The camera buzzed as the image distorted, I paused to wait it out and listened as the music continued.  A pool table sat on the right, sticks still placed on the top with Q-balls scattered hither and yonder.  Large cushioned chairs lined the wall on the left, with another of Murkoff’s trademark dried out plants.  The far side of the wall was set up with an entertainment center, complete with DVDs stacked on the desk by the flat screen.  While stepping beside the pool table I was spooked by my reflection in the screen, until I realized the angle was wrong. When I spun about the image failed in the visor, I waited as my heart thumped, until the static cleared.  By then there was nothing, just the familiar impression in my memories, a shape vaguely….  If someone was following, I needed to keep on the move. I continued toward the pool table, trying not to focus on the reflective surface of the screen.  A body, and the source of reek within the room, appeared in the gloom on the floor, a blood streak led to the fallen Researcher, or was it doctor?  It might’ve been the person that bled in the hall, before he dragged himself in here to die.  He was shot, punch holes clear even through the cracked visor.  I carefully stepped over the body, listening as the gentle tune rose in volume.   On the other side of the pool table, a large split between the floor and lower wall was formed.  The destruction was organized, no evidence of the materials lay nearby but dust and splinters, the crevice was carved out in a rectangular shape, much like a door.  This detour made little sense, but I questioned nothing of the rationality of those left responsible after Murkoff’s demise.  I couldn’t complain, either. The hole led into a sizable storage closet, with a broken locker and some spare tables.  They looked small, maybe a little outdated, probably donated by some preschool from the 40s.  A door across on my right led out into a short hall with more lockers and a small stool with a radio on top of it.  I tried the nobs but it had no power.  Aside from that the hall was a dead end, leading to a segregation gate that was locked. I returned to the storage closet and found the ladder at the side, which led up to a higher level.  Not really a floor, just a loft with railing barring the sides.  Crates and some empty boxes were stacked along walls that appeared outdated, eroded and neglected.  Likewise, the wood was as outdated and an archaic quality took the design, this must have been an area where the old asylum and Murkoff section merged.  Or this side was shut away when Murkoff reopened the asylum. The railing shut the loft in, but across from my position the barrier didn’t fully block in the floor.  Beside the opening stretched a thin ledge I was certain my feet would fit on.  Though there was enough light on the wall lamps that lit up the hall, I still felt comfort with the camera out in case I saw something interesting or caught a glimpse of the shapes that plagued my mind.  It was easier to hold the camera beside my shoulder as I shuffled along the wall, without cramming it against my eye. This area was in disrepair, but not as far gone as the other side of the Asylum where the building was condemned.  The walls were chipped and the paint had worn away years ago, and some of the cables running wires across the walls needed to be updated.  But it was still standing, and had not been completely demolished by hells cleansing fire. That was bad.  And I felt bad for coming up with it. The segregation gate extended up to the ceiling, except for a thin gap in the side where the ledge extended, due to practicality in construction most likely.  I squeezed through, then leaned low judging the distance to a set of lockers across from me.  The lockers shook under my weight and I had to pause to let the ache settle.  I pondered if my backside was bleeding again, it felt like my coat had crystalized to the wound and that spot was nearly numb now, which worried me.  I crouched down and slipped to the wood floor.  The piano music was close now, somewhere in this hall with me?  I weaved around tall stacks of crates, coming to what I knew must be the source. I turned my head to a reinforced door nailed shut, my sudden commotion must’ve prompted the sharp key that was struck.  The sudden sound startled me as it rung in my ears painfully.  My camera was already leveled by my eyes, I didn’t have the presence of mind to adjust or check what I was filming, my mind too occupied by the shape beyond the windows thin screen.   The man rose from his seat and approached the door, I made a pitiful sound when he stopped and gazed through the mesh at me, then tilt his head.  I couldn’t be certain, but it looked like his eyelids had been trimmed away.  As a result they had a fishy, glass like quality.  This procedure seemed familiar to me, but I couldn’t recall where it was I had seen it.  I stared back as he tilt his head the other way, and once satisfied, walked away.  Just like that. I let out a small gasp as I continued to stare into the room, with the softly burning candle atop the piano.  Briefly, I wondered what he had been like before he was mutilated.  What if he had never been a patient? I backed away and turned, on the left a doorway stood waiting, with no visible door to shut.  At one point it had a door, but time changes these things.  I crept close to the frame on one side and peered into the room.  The lights were too bright, and a dull hum had filled the air with the pianist’s absence.  I missed it, I missed the somber tune. The floor had pieces of plaster scattered, that had chipped from the walls.  A short stack of wood steps led up to a platform built four feet above the floor, beneath, a few boxes and other rubbish had been shoved up under the tight storage space between the two floors.  More lockers were set along the crumbling wall on my left, the platform at my right was built along a corner, electrical panels built beside the platform for easy access, their outdated cables extended along the walls and to the lamps burning their hot light.  A few feet beside them, a doorway. No sign of life, no sound or disturbance that I could detect.  I crept to the stairs keeping my movement slow and quiet.  I would be in a bad way if I was surprised here, in the unforgiving yellow blaze.  I never thought I’d just despise the light, but its bright artificial glaze aggravated my head.  It warmed the air around my body, yet I had a chill in my skin.  I was uncertain if the under layer of my coat was still damp or if I was imagining it. Little comfort was to be had in the shadows, where it was I could never know what exactly skipped at the edges of the cracked visor.  I stalled in the doorway atop the upper floor.  I thought there was something, I felt it in my mind.  But as always, nothing.  There was nothing, and never would there be something.  I had to keep reminding myself that. I massaged my eyes then gave the shadows another scrutiny.  Nothing but a wall of black, the air heavy with a stale musk tinted by ancient wood.  I shivered and changed out the battery, before I shuffled through the broken doorframe.  Through the NV I could make out the stacks of empty shelves, pieces of boards and plywood leaning on walls.  A mop and a janitorial bucket had been abandoned in this little closet space, some towels or long sheets had been left to decay along the edges of the wall.  Some of the tattered cloth appeared to have been slept in, at some point or another. I maneuvered around the furniture, getting a little lost as I tried to find my way out of the space.  I climbed atop a shelf but it went nowhere, it was just a small space I could get onto and get nowhere. Finally, I stumbled upon an opening I had probably walked by five times, where a pallet had been set aside.  More of the large dirt tinged cloth was left to dangle on my right, over a wall of the room I was about to enter.  I balanced on the boards angled over the edge, and stopped in my tracks to view the room filled with chairs and the eyes of a dozen people gazing at me.   Corpses.  Victims of this place.  I calmed my nerves as I tensed and dropped down onto the floor below, my shoes thudded on the hollow wood.  I took a few steps forward scanning the eyes, and listened to the strange sound of blood on my shoes.  There was a puddle where I dropped down, there was always blood.  With my camera I zoomed and scanned the room for movement, it was nothing but a house of corpses.  The hair on my neck prickled.  What was I sent here for?  Something specific. Many of the chairs had been scooted aside forming a straight path towards the back of the room, and those red, large familiar words that red EXIT.  I would start there, if not it could be my escape out. I only paused to stare on a stiff cadaver slumped back in his wheelchair, when the lights above burned into focus, and I whirled away as the white cloth was agitated by an image.  I blinked a few times, then turned off the NV when the spots in my eyes cleared somewhat.  I moved to crouch low beside a chair, away from the man in the wheelchair.  The screen had a spray of blood across one corner, and a broken support beam had rotten and fallen, to slant across and catch squirming vapor. “…exit interview recorded December 27th, 1985 Los Alamos, New Mexico.” The movie.  This was what the disciple meant, I was to see this movie, and the key was… here somewhere? “Clearance Sierra Alpha.  Subject DR. Rudolf Wernicke.  14866.” I slipped up into a seat, and set my elbows on the back of the chair before me, in order to hold the camera steady.  Those images…. “The films are real.”  What was I seeing? “There was no alteration to the footage at all?” The guy had a clean voice, sounded formal, maybe with the CIA.  Possibly bureaucratic, I couldn’t decide what.  “No trickery.”   “None.” “In June of 1943 you recorded three instances of spontaneous bleeding.  A half dozen test subjects began to develop brain tumors.” “Yes.  The autopsies revealed that the tumors were pure lead.”  A heavy accent, easily German native.  This was… Dr. Wernicke’s voice? I rested my chin on my arm but kept the camera aimed and steady, though there was nothing to film.  At least, I don’t think— “It killed them?”  Oh… god.  “Can you explain why the results could not be reproduced in the United States?” “I have my theories.  My homeland, in those years.”  He paused here, as though trying to work through the memories that came with his explanation.  “It’s impossible to understand the things we felt.  What we believed.” Germany during World War II was probably one of the most accurate descriptions of hell on Earth.  Or, what we perceived as hell.  The Auschwitz camps that claimed the lives of so many people, children, their families.  I felt tears spilling down my cheek, and buried my face in my arm. “The overwhelming fear.  Ecstatic rage and….”  He trailed off.  “English words are insufficient.” Tremors clutched my body, and I lowered the camera to the chairs backside, unsure if it was still recording the screen.  I didn’t give a fuck, couldn’t tell what I was staring at.  The swirling pain, indescribable things nesting in my mind.  What was I seeing?  I wrapped my arms around my face and cried into them.  Heavy sobs, I need this, I just needed to do this right now. “More than hope.  A human mind in that environment is capable of extraordinary things.” Fuck you. “You’re saying the experiment needed….” “A proximity to death.  To overwhelming madness.  Only a test subject who had witnessed enough horror was capable of activating the engine.” The engine.  The morphogenic engine. “Do you believe your test subjects achieved something supernatural?” “No.” “Do you think they contacted something supernatural?”   “Nothing is supernatural.” At this point the speaker sounded dubious, if not interested in Wernicke’s answer.  “Then what was it?  You said project WALRIDER was a gateway.  A gateway to what?” Eventually my sobs did calm down and I sat up in the chair waiting for the interview to continue, but Dr. Wernicke never answered, or the audio cut off.  I took a deep breath through my nose and settled my frayed thoughts.  I think my coat smelled awful, it was brittle and gritty with dried mud from the Asylum’s grounds, but none of that mattered.  I’d been submerged in death and pain for too long.  I pulled my face from my arms and rubbed a hand over my short hair, I flinched at the unfamiliar gap in my fingers.  Where?  Where did I go now? Not just here, but after this?  I wasn’t going to be normal once I got out.  I brought my hand down and stared at what remained of my ring finger.  Aside from being unable to count down from five on one hand.  My vision fell beyond to the screen, and I shut my eyes.  I was going to get out of this.  No one, no damn dead doctor was going to keep me trapped in this nightmare. “The man sounds like Dr. Strangelove’s anemic brother.  It’s a twenty-five year old audio recording, and interview with this Dr. Wernicke.  Los Alamos means government work.  Wernicke talks about spontaneous bleeding, tumors in psychosomatic reactions in sufficiently disturbed people.  Seems to walk a line between science and Nazi mysticism. “Only a test subject who had witnessed enough horror was capable of activating the engine.”  The Morphogenic Engine. The Engine.  The movie they’re projecting.  It gets in my head like a song you can’t stop humming.  I blink and I see Rorschach tests that look like swarming insects and infected surgery wounds. The patients talk about using the Engine to conjure the Walrider.  It’s the buzzing I hear in my bones.” I fit the little booklet back into its pocket and adjusted the camera on my hand.  Whatever their plans, I would try not to get too involved with them.  I planned to get out of here long before they did anything else, short of blowing the place sky high. The bodies of Murkoff and their victims dot a few of the seats, their dead eyes saw through me to the screen.  Blood splattered the floor, from the wounded before dying.  I tilt my head as a few of the insects aroused by the light and noise began to settle on me, but my contest with them was impossible.  Their interest in my wounds was the least of my concerns. The path to the back of the room was straight forward, I didn’t have a burning desire to climb over chairs and make a ruckus, though it was apparent someone knew I was here.  Near the back where the rows of chairs ended, some tables were left with Researchers placed at or around each.  Throats torn out, torsos shredded, entrails spilling across their laps.  I began to wonder who had set the corpses up, and to what purpose?  To educate them?  This was an Asylum, so that seemed the most sensible reason. Acrid light slid from a wide doorway on my left, where I took would gain access to the projector room.  Or close enough.  He said behind the light, I watched their damn ‘movie.’ When I stepped into the light I paused and finished drying my face with the collar of my coat. There was no sound but for the tick of the projector still running its images, I tried not to think about them.  I stood in the doorway not particularly looking at anything, just picking up the air.  No one was in the room, not with me here, no.  A desk, lockers, and the dead tone of a phone off the hook.  On the floor at the other side of the room, a streak of blood slipped under a door.  I tossed the door behind me shut and moved to stand before the next portal, the only direction provided.  Blood trails.  Father Martin wanted me to follow blood trails.  It was only coming back to me how morbid this was, among the fact that this mark at my feet could have as easily been made by someone dying, as it could have been Martin’s doing. A hall lined with lockers and stacks of boxes greeted me.  The NV whirred as the image spazzed, I pulled the door shut after me as I gave it a moment to clear.  Each time the camera did this my heart rate accelerated.  Eventually, when I least expected it, the camera would die completely. Damn it Miles, stop thinking like that!  Pull yourself together.  Not gonna die here. As I was walking forward, one of the open lockers snapped shut.  The visor flashed and buzzed with static, I waited until it was clear before I took soft steps towards the door. “You have to find Wernicke.  Only way.” I could see the eyes of the person inside glitter in NV as he stared back at me.  I didn’t wait around.  Another source of light spilled from the end of the hall.  A door was nestled in the wall on my left as I neared the light, but I could view through the small mesh, the theater and the images still playing across the room on the screen.  No doubt the stairs on my right went up to the projector room, but an accessible room needed to be searched before I became lost or stuck someplace, which was usually the case in the dilapidated Asylum. The light filled a stage wing of the theater, four or five steps raised up to a short upper portion of the floor, directly to a door that must’ve opened into the back area of the stage where I entered through.  I couldn’t recall a door present in the tiny closet I had been lost in for a full five minutes.  Industrial shelves filled with broken boxes and files lined the wall on the right, numerous large planks of wood were left propped beside shelves.  Best as spare shelves rather barricading doors, it didn’t appear as though these materials had been bothered with.   I poked through the shelves and boxes, selecting a few folders that might hold details that would enlighten me further about this engine, or anything related to the Walrider folklore. From: d.brunton@murkoffcorp.us.com To: g.williard@murkoffcorp.us.com subject: re: FLESH EATING BACTERIA ?!?!?  Wash those hands regularly. : )  >>>on September 19, 2013, at 4:19 AM, GRANT >>><g.williard@murkoffcorp.us.com> wrote: Necrotizing fasciitis? >>>Really? I fucking quit. Trager’s loopy uncle?  I doubt G. Williard got far with that.  I took in the date on the file, September, the nineteenth.  This was an important document to record, it indicated that the Asylum was still running routinely until mid September.  This correlated with the state of decay I had viewed the bodies scattered everywhere.  A big however, my Mutemail admission was dated on the seventeenth.  Given, I didn’t receive the email until the Twenty-third.  Most emails had a schedule release, Mutemail encouraged the feature. What was relevant about these corresponding emails?  Give me a minute, it’s hard to keep these dates and files straight in my head.  I sat down on the platform and set the file on my lap.  Three emails, three emails, between five of Murkoff’s staff, and myself.  The relevant files had dates, that included the Whistle Blowers admission and Williard’s ‘resignation.’  Was it important a date had been attached to the Mutemail, though it had been scheduled to be sent?  It depended on whether or not my contact wanted me to know the date the message was composed.  It could have been a Red Herring, but Mutemail was anonymous, it didn’t matter if anyone knew the date or not, as long as it couldn’t be proven who wrote it. “…but seriously, fuck those guys.” There was no doubt in my mind, that my contact was dead.  I think I should have felt some remorse, a tinge of guilt.  But I couldn’t.  And I didn’t crave the satisfaction that might’ve come if I imagined his death to have been painful, but I wanted to pretend this was all his fault, even if it weren’t true.  I don’t know what happened here, I don’t know who started the chain reaction to this corporate fuck up, but I hoped to never find out.  I hoped to god I never found out. There were no other files that struck my fancy, and some had been damaged by water at one point making their contents unintelligible.  I returned to the dark hall, and paused to let my feed clear before I gazed up the stairs I passed previously.  The steps creaked as I began up, I could feel the forgotten wood shift under my weight, the sounds of the projector beat at my skull the higher I climbed.  I just wanted to get that key and get out of this place, even if it was back to the dormitories of the Asylum, my brain felt like it’d been punctured by a few hundred tiny needles. More boxes, crates forgotten and stacked on a makeshift shelf assembled on the loft.  Blood covered most of them, smelt decayed.  I tried the door on my right, only to be disappointed.  I should just accept that if it has the capacity to inconvenience me, it must.  I messed around with crates before me, wondering if I could climb over.  I crouched down and found several could be pushed out easily under the plank of wood.  I crawled under the space, and kept low as I took in the other side.  The image on the camera died for a few seconds before it flashed back, blinding me momentarily like a mean trick.  Don’t you turn against me too, camera.   The space was empty aside from a desk by the left wall, across the room another door.  I tried the handle but it felt stuck.  With a firm push from my shoulder the it gave, and I coughed as my ribs shifted.  The next attic held yet more heaps of crates lining the walls, and a few in my path.  I flinched when something shifted at the visors edge, expecting a variant or whatever else.  When I blinked it was gone, and I was dubious if there had been something there to begin with.  Still, my wrist and knees tingled, but I attributed it to paranoia.  The images from the screen persisted to swirl in my mind, no matter where memories delved, they were there twisting.  Burned into my retinas. I continued, a bit shaken but I’d walk it off.  I slipped over the scarce group of crates stacked in my path, in order to reach a light pouring from a window on the right side of the room.  A shelf of reels of varying sizes was set beside the door.  This was it. A wheelie coatrack with thin hangars clinging to it, gave no resistance as I pushed it aside, my eyes fixed on the bright shape of the window.  There was little I could make out through the mesh and glass, a broken corpse sat nearly decapitated, his head hung sideways by the remaining tendons.  Another stack of reels sat beside him on the desk, and the audible click of the projector within the room.  As I pushed the door open, the knob snapped out of my hand and I was face to face with one of the patient’s glaring me in the eye.  I leapt backwards hitting a crate with my thigh and tumbled to my side as the door slammed shut.  Fuck! Hard foot falls grew fainter and fainter as I crawled away from the door.  Was I safe?  He didn’t chase me.  What was that all about?  Where did my camera go?  It was still in my hand, the loop was too tight for it to slip loose. I curled up between some boxes and wrapped an arm along my side where my ribs pulsed, some were indeed broken but not enough that it would hinder my movement if I was careful.  Slamming into doors and falling onto hard floors just didn’t help. It sounded as though the patient had run off.  I would be petrified if I wasn’t so damn irritated with all of this.  It had been a nasty surprise.  He was gone, just needed to calm myself and untangle my body.  The camera seemed fine, when I’d fallen I’d tried to break my fall on my right arm.  My swollen hand tingled as sensation returned but otherwise, I couldn’t feel it below the wrist.  I avoid checking it through the NV as well, unsettled by what I might see.  It was probably bleeding again. I held no motivation to enter the room, key or not.  I’m not exactly sure what I planned to do, but I didn’t want to hang around the projector room.  I returned to the loft with the stacked crates fitted on the makeshift shelf, and could see between the gaps the illumination from the doorway that was prior locked.  I would continue to doubt the patient was gone, even if I did hear his footfalls leave.  I couldn’t afford to be reckless, it was becoming a bad habit.  I avoided the issues because it disturbed me, and I didn’t want to dwell too long on how much I was… changing.  I wasn’t the same man that crawled through the open window. I stopped beside the crates to ponder this.  Worst mistake of my career, but I was almost out, wasn’t I?  I was nearly done.  Please let it be so. There was no sound, nothing I could hear over the rattle of that damn projector.  I slipped under the shelf and crawled over to peer around the doorframe, finding nothing much, not even a room.  It was a small balcony with little space, aside from teasing me with a view of the projector room across the house.  Looking to the wall once more I noted that there was a small decorative wall protrusion I might/could trust my weight on.  I hopped the rail and set my feet on the edge, testing traction before scooting along, again with the camera shoved up into my face.  The side of the lens that was cracked distorted the image of my hand pressed to the wall, making it look like the scarred remains of some of the patients. I struggled not to shake at the thought with my back pressed into the crumbling plaster, as it was I had very little space to balance.  I pushed myself around the inner edge and came to another of the corners that had given me trouble outside, but without the rain and chill I was able to make it with no complication.  The rail ahead was bright with the blinding flicker of the movie.  I took a moment to secure the damn camera before I leapt off. I groaned when I hit, my shirt snapped free of the gash and I felt warm liquid spill across my skin. Damn it! I hauled myself into the room and looked around, making certain there was no more surprises. On my right the reel clinked, buzzing in my skull, a table beside it held stacks of films. The only other occupant was the lone corpse I had seen through the window, slumped and decomposing in its chair. The projector in front of it was cold and neglected. The key sat on the corner of the table beside the corpse. I snatched it up and fit it into my pocket.

Despite how the drone of the projector splint my thoughts, I needed to check what was up with my back.  Try and stop the blood flow if I could.  I sat by one of the balcony doors and pulled my shirt out enough to keep the fiber from getting caught on my index finger.  Even if I wasn’t beat to hell, I wouldn’t be able to twist around and see the damage.  I could only feel where the blood had clotted and dried in several layers on my skin, and the slick texture of the wound.  The blood flow had stifled somewhat now that I was still, but whenever I took a breath, fresh blood seeped forth. Not enough to kill me, not enough to slow me down.  But it did concern me. I removed my coat and set it aside.  I tried not to look on its stained surface, as I tore the fabric of my shirt at the shoulder.  It was mostly clean, I avoided the edges where the sewer water had seeped in and discolored the fabric.  Christ, I was insane.  I folded up the piece of cloth and studied it a moment, steeling myself for what I was about to do.  I’m insane, the doctors are going to take one look at me and say, “My god, this man is insane.”  Shit… this is not going to work. Tears stung my eyes as I forced the fabric into the gash.  Burns, it burns like a bitch!  Why am I doing this?!  What is wrong with me?!  I forced the material in as far as I could, and felt my throat clench as I gagged.  Don’t lose it now, keep it together.  I leaned against the door as the nausea passed, my head spinning.  What did I just do to myself?  I touched the gash with a shaky hand and found it was already soaked, but blood was no longer spilling freely. Shots of antibiotics.  No doubt I would need them if I was going to survive, but I had to get out first.  I made sure the cloth wouldn’t come undone when I started moving, and made a shabby effort of tucking my shirttail in.  I don’t know why, routine I guess.  My feet felt steadier than I expected, it must’ve been the adrenaline.  Where did I need to go? I pulled on my coat but couldn’t feel relief in the return of its weight, or the sense of security it brought, having the extra layer to protect me from the stagnant air.  I felt the weight in my pocket and recalled the key I had picked up.  Needed to get back to the gate where the disciple had set me off on this little side quest.  I decided most of this was redundant, but as much as I’d like, I couldn’t argue with a locked gate. The door that had been slammed in my face was jammed.  I didn’t need to go that way though, just needed to get to the floor and find my way back.  I climbed over the rail of the balcony and lowered myself down, without straining my patched side. A loud crunch came from the door, the light gleaming through the edge flashed as another powerful slam rocked it from the other side.  I dropped down, a bit jarred by the short landing but able to get moving to the front of the theater where I had entered.  I brought up the camera in time to swerve around the table of the dead, the beam that lit up the screen didn’t reach the floor where the EXIT door awaited.  I was aware I was fully exposed in the light and needed to move it.  I stashed the camera as the door cracked, it was holding longer than I expected.   I jumped trying to climb back into the space I’d come down through, but the plywood I snagged flipped free and slide down effectively barring any handholds I could take.  I was already trying to get up to pull it down, when the door gave a final cry and shattered. I ducked down and slipped under the light, towards a set of tables stuffed beside the barred door.  At first, I heard nothing, just the constant call of the projector as it ran till the end of days.  I tried to sift under it, listen for what it concealed, what was the danger searching for me?  The floor creaked, couldn’t decide if it was a board shifting under me, or of the ominous danger that now filled the room.  Soft foot falls slipped under the shadows as they carried weight, but that was all I could make out.  Don’t move, let the air settle. Not Chris.  Was it the twins?  I blinked the sweat from my eyes and chanced to peer up and zoom, searching through the haze of light that interfered with the NV.  Of what I could perceive, was the glint of eyes as a tall figure stalked at the back of the house and scanned out. “His liver and tongue.” The voice had been so strong I thought I had actually heard it reverberate in the theater, but it had all been in my head.  I curled down and pressed myself under the tables.  I could see one, where was the other? Worry about that later.  The steps grew louder, overtaking the sound of the projector and the diseased Rorschach’s twisting on the screen.  I wanted to bury myself deeper under the table, but I was not hidden by shadows, I was in full view in the light and vulnerable.  Exposed. Don’t look this way.  Please, don’t look this way.  Subconsciously I curled my arms against my stomach and felt my body quivering; it was incredible the floor beneath me didn’t rattle apart.  I lowered my head and held as still as I could, despite my unsteady breath.  It was painful enough clinging to my sides, but I swore I could feel it.  A vibration in my skin.  The concept unsettled me, I wanted to uncoil and escape myself, forget, but I was trapped.  I was trapped in my mind and skin.  No— The steps paused a few feet away, directly in front of the screen.  The floor boards shift as he turns, checking, searching.  Does he know I’m here?  He’s only here because Farther Martin sent me. I swallow and shift down just an inch, a sharp creek echoes in the room. But it is overtaken by the sound of steps as the figure turns.  Where is he going?  I can’t bear to look up, I just want to hide down in the wood and not be seen.  The pad-pad of steps grows softer as their owner takes them away.  Only then do I chance a glimpse up and risk raising my camera to view his direction.  His walking to the other end of the theater, opposite of me.  If he turns now….oh god. I shove myself out from where I was curled down, and dive forward, my steps echo like thunder over the tick of the film snapping.  The twin jerks around as I cut the corner, knocking a chair down with my knee as I blaze by.  I don’t glance back as I weave around the tables, my eyes fleck to either side fearful I might have missed the brother, that I’d reacted too soon.  I reach the back of the theater and that beautiful exit in five steps. Thoughts return as I near the bright hall, and beyond.  The other twin, what if he’s waiting outside?  What if they’ve anticipated this?  Not stupid, they were not stupid.  Have I just killed myself? I shoot from the theater and press myself to the wall, staring at the dark portal and the danger that lay within.  No sign of either one, I was alone.  Alone except for the dead Murkoff agent that lay beside the wall.  I brushed by the corpse and tried the door above a short set of steps.  It was locked but I was certain this was the door that had been locked when I was searching for the Recreational Hall. There was another door, up several steps, probably on level with the first floor.  I zipped by the theater, unaware if I could outrun the twins.  They always tried to corner me, did they believe I was too fast or did they dislike putting the effort into catching me?  I didn’t want to know, I didn’t want to figure it out.  They wouldn’t catch me, because I would always outsmart them. I sprint to the top of the steps and haul the gate shut on the theater behind me.  There remained no sign of either brother.  This did not mean I was no longer being hunted.  My escape would not be successful until I located the other twin, without getting killed.  The brother was nearby, and there was a whole dark hall ahead of me. A door on my left offered nothing but a small office, some books and files.  I crept inside for a moment only to regroup and steady my thudding heart.  Christ, I hated those guys.  I wiped some of the dampness from my eyes and realized, I had pretty much given up on my hands.  Fuck this place.  Really.  Fuck it. I returned to the hall and tried the handle of the glass door on my left.  It was locked but I already knew that.  Habits.  At my right was the segregation gate that I previously deduced to be locked, but was now opened into the room with the elevator where I began this small excursion.  It looked much of the same as it did when I first came through, aside from the missing twin standing on the opposite side, waiting for me.   I stepped back, but caught myself before I could back up into his brother.  I stepped into the room and shut the door behind me, never lowering my gaze from the bald individual.  With the distance it was tricky to tell, but it looked as though the gate I initially entered, was now shut, presumably locked.  I made slow progress to the other side, unable to put my faith in the door between us.   He watched me, occasionally slapping the flat side of his machete to his hand in anticipation.  He said nothing to me, made no note of how slowly he’d kill me or utter a comment about what his brother had failed to do.  I didn’t spur a conversation either, but didn’t feel relief in the silence.  He slapped that large knife against his palm, there was blood there and cuts where the edge had nicked him.  It never occurred to me as I moved that my camera was still armed, and in fact I was recording him. When I reached the gate and the stairs, I kept my focus on him as I fumbled with the key.  Nothing in his expression altered to reflect my progress, but he was a sociopath, he wasn’t obligated to look disappointed.  I wondered if he was unable to speak or express without his brother present, the concept struck a cord in me and I nearly dropped the key.  After a minute of struggling, the latch clicked.  I slipped behind the gate and slammed the door.  I doubt it would help, but I locked it and kept the key with me.  I worked hard for it, I could keep it as a souvenir.  Wear it on my neck, it’d be a great conversation starter. I passed the blood marked arrow up the winding steps and came to a dark upper floor.  The scorched and ruined upper floor came to mind, where I had nearly fallen.  I don’t know why I thought of that, but I imagined this floor was on the same level.  Movement drew my attention to the left, I jerked back and watched a someone shut a gate behind them, then step across the corridor to one of the distorted glass doors.  It looked like he was heading away from me, to where I couldn’t tell.  As I stood tense and waiting was I… hearing a choir?  No, no, I couldn’t, this was insane.  I took a deep breath and changed the battery out of my camera. Only one to go, and that’s done.  Power was getting low in the camera itself as well.  There were plenty of towers that still functioned around this place, I might be able to charge it a bit.  The thought of getting stuck in a room with my only light source ‘temporarily’ out of commission didn’t set well with me. Right beside me sat the open doors of the elevator, yellow brilliance spilling onto the clean carpet.  At first I was startled to see it in good order, then recalled the elevator I had trapped Trager in was on the furthest side of the Asylum, the outdated and forgotten section.  I entered and tried the buttons, but nothing would function without the key.  I didn’t keep the one from the last elevator, hadn’t thought about it at the time believing I was escaping and the elevator was busted with that sick fuck pinned in it.  That was IF they were universal, having the key only to learn they were not, would have made me sleep better at night.  I gave up on the elevator, and ventured into the dark floor with my camera at the ready. The steel door across the room gave a hollow clunk as the lock held.  When I turned, I whirled away startled by, of all things, a god damn plant.  Fuck.  I recovered and glowered on the dried foliage by the wall, my heart hammered painfully against my ribs.  I don’t think I deserved that.  Gently, I tipped it over with my foot and let the soil dump out with the dry roots.  Better keep moving, just try not to get startled by plants anymore.  Fuck, that was stupid. A few feet along the wall sat another door of stainless steel.  The handle turned easily in my grip, modern and practically brand new.  I shut it for the time, and crossed to the adjacent wall, and the segregation gate there.  It was locked, but it was good to know for sure.  Lamps beyond the gate shone down on the carpet, but I was appreciating my return to the soothing shadows.  This floor, where I was right now, felt kind of nice.  Even if there was no music, I didn’t feel the immediate danger creeping into my person.  Just like when I first entered, everything had looked normal from a glance.  From a glance….  I slipped through the steel door and shut it behind me, as my usual precaution.  I was in another kitchen, with all the modern updates Murkoff incorporated for their staff.  It was with a lot of space, between the countertops set up in the rooms center and against the walls with a few abandoned and empty bowls scattered around.  Rafters were fixed to hang above these kitchenware islands, adorned with hooks and a pot on nearly each one.  Most the free space along the walls was covered with cabinets or freezers, no doubt full of provisions.  A few other odd end sort of kitchen utilities were set up, such as the mobile shelves stacked with trays, and counter space with numerous sinks lined up for the kitchen staff. No bodies, no blood.  From all appearances it was a normal kitchen someplace ordinary, such as the moon. Or almost so.  I stood motionless and listened as metal clinked, and searched around for a set of pots that swayed gently on their hooks.  A draft.  It was a draft, air moving through the vents.  Change in pressure.  I was shaking, seemed like I was shaking constantly now and that frightened me, about as much as the big fuckers grin. I went to one of the cabinets and opened it, hunting for something to hold me until I reached the town.  After a few minutes of searching I had very little to show for my efforts, and gave up.  The survivors must have hit the kitchen for rations, many were left emaciated while Murkoff was in control of their lively hood.  It didn’t appear that their situation had improved, since then. I did find a package of individually wrapped honey cakes, there were only two left but that was enough.  Just some sugar and carbs to keep me going, and some water from the tap.  I did get off the thick layer of blood that had formed on my hands, which resulted in black, watery stains around my sleeves and dark speckles marking up my knuckles.  As long as I didn’t look like some serial killer. I felt better with the sugar in my system.  I had a want to curb some of the ache in my head by eating something, but it was too soon to tell if low blood-sugar was the culprit.  If anything, it felt like the noise was getting worse.  My thoughts crawled through my brain, I sometimes didn’t see the shapes, then there would be static but I wasn’t staring through the visor. One door to a pair was left ajar, I pressed it open entering into another cafeteria.  Long tables set in rows, chairs stacked or tossed into piles across the floor.  On the other side of the room was a human shape, silhouetted against the pale light of the windows.  I shut the door gently, and worked my way around the room, eyes locked on the person. A door on the right side of the room was locked.  I debated a moment, wondering where exactly I was meant to go.  Clearly I was still on this ‘mission’ Father Martin had set me on, I had achieved the key from behind the light… Where did the disciple say I was headed?  The house of God.  The house of God would be a church.  Well, I knew where I would end up, but how did I get there?   I walked to check the other side for a door, but moved closer than safe to the man, and paused to stare out the window.  He was just gazing through the fogged glass, into the dead of night, as the rain streaked and trickled down in long, fading lines.  His head was bowed and his hands clasped together, but I could make out the mutilation to his lips and face. We stood in silence for a moment, still as the night waiting for something.  A brilliant ark split the sky, filling the room with a white haze.  I’m certain he knew I was there but he refused to acknowledge me.  I don’t know if there was an unspoken settlement shared between us, or if the man felt the same as I did.  Whatever it was, it was there and there was nothing to say about it.  Without word or gesture I resumed my path, finding a door left ajar on the other side of the room.  I shut it after me, and met another door barricaded in the usual hasty fashion. A dead end and side table sat at the right, I turned left and moved forward to check around a corner on my right.  It was short hall with the lone door blocked with plywood, I paused as the image in the visor sputtered, then moved on.  I was nearly shocked by the lack of gore and mayhem, though the rancid musk of dried out skin clung to the air, it wasn’t the overpowering rot of fetid intestines.  I wanted to revel in the radical change, but it was an illusion.  A— I ducked my head out of the gleam of the visor and blinked my eyes, working out the harsh impression.  Spots dotted the edges of my vision.  Keep moving.  Just keep moving.  The hall was completely empty, save for me.  I pressed my fingers against the base of my neck and let the pain subside as I shuffled forward. The lamp at the halls end expressed enough light I could take off the nightvision, for a short time.  A door opened on my right, entering into the room that was most likely boarded up from the short hall I passed.  I checked around the corner, believing the humming I felt might be interfering with my hearing.  Sometimes I sensed the noise, but other times, like now in the near silence of the room, I thought the sound was somehow imagined by me.  I tried to pop my ears by adjusting my jaw, or yawning, but it didn’t help.  Like when I first came into the mountain region, that pressure build up.  But now, it was hornets in my head. When did I start thinking hornets? The room appeared to be another recreational room, or lounge.  There was a pool table across from the door, with a game set up and Q-balls scattered.  A few stools were scattered around, beside a thin counter for refreshments.  I stepped further into the room, through its center chairs had been lined up before a screen, beside one of the large decorative support columns.  Along the wall on my right, chairs had been placed before computer terminals left to display login screens of blue, a few remained black and inactive.  A station I could use to charge my camera, if I was so inclined.  It wasn’t the highest priority on my list, to be honest.  That might’ve been another mistake on my part. I turned to the monotone scratch of static playing on the large screen, that the chairs were set to face.  I was startled by the man knelt, speaking calmly to his deity.  It took a moment for my panic to fade, as I reassured myself he was fully absorbed in his prayer.  The camera was leveled beside my chest, but I adjusted its position to film properly. “The static again.  A patient knelt in prayer.  Maybe he bought Father Martin’s line of bullshit.  Maybe he hears what I hear but more clearly.  Maybe it’s his way out of this place.  The Priest called it the Gospel of Sand.” For a while I stood near him, watching the screen in somewhat of a trance.  I didn’t realize I had lowered the camera until my index finger brushed the crisp material of my jeans.  I glanced at them briefly, before I returned my focus to the screen, and the image that was there but… it couldn’t be.  No.  But, if  I squinted and turned my head sideways, working to understand what it was.  In the static, I WAS seeing something.  A form, a shape, a face.  Staring back at me.  And the patient saw it too. I blink and I see Rorschach tests that look like swarming insects and infected surgery wounds. The hair on my neck stood on end and that subtle stabbing in my temple resumed at force.  Staring at static would make you go blind.  But I couldn’t help it.  I backed away, bumping the side of a chair with my leg before I had ripped my gaze away.

What I had seen in the lounge was no coincidence, no delusion.  But what was I seeing?  What had I witnessed?  It was a hallucination from the stress, amplified by the pulse of static.  In the shadows, I was seeing shapes every time I blinked, why not in the dead channel.  It was getting worse, the vertigo.  If I tried to recall the shapes, the pain intensified like a hot poker twisting through the base of my skull.  Until my vision doubled and the floor tilted.

I made it to the doorframe before I collapsed.  My head was aching so bad I was nauseated, but I was done throwing up.  That buzzing, in the air and everywhere, I couldn’t escape it, not until there was distance.  Not until I had run away.  But I couldn’t even stand, when I raised my head a new wave of pain surged through my skull. I switched the camera off and just lay by the door listening to the sound in the walls, the prayers of the forgotten people as they begged for the salvation they had been promised.  This would pass, it always did.  If I gave my body the time to catch up, I would be good to go.  I took steady breaths and just rested for a short spell, I shut my eyes trying to understand what it was they were asking.  What was it we had in common? To escape the nightmare.

[eighthdoctor]

THIRD TIME'S THE CHARM. Miserable wedding guests, anyone from either Gallifrey or HP.

tumblr you suck

after failing to find a Gallifrey combo that amused me sufficiently, have 1500 words of Drarry (UST and comma/parentheses abuse)

edit: tumblr wouldn’t let me put in a read more, press j here if you don’t want uh, 1500 words of upper class whining

Draco is absolutely, completely, entirely certain that he's going to end up somewhere on page 3 tomorrow.

Why? Well for one, he's in his most expensive, most formal robes, which are pure silk from hideously rare species in the Americas or wherever, and this means that the instant they get wet they cling to his skin like flower petals--just as annoying, just as slippery, and much more likely to result in a sad, disapproving lecture from his mother.

Normally Draco isn't anything near so naff as to wear silk to an outdoor wedding, but in his defense he was told it would be taking place in Longbottom's gorgeous greenhouses, safely rain-free. And that was the plan, right up until Potter and his sorry crew arrived, took Groom #1 to relax (according to Weasley) or at least stay out of the way (according to Granger, who he thought had the right of it), chose to do this by way of Quidditch, and long story very short (wasn't Longbottom afraid of Quidditch? along with everything else?), someone put a Quaffle through a wall of the greenhouse, which disrupted the charms enough (something about morphic resonance, he didn't know, it wasn't his greenhouse) to make the ceiling fall in, and the wedding was hastily rescheduled for the front lawn.

At which point Madam Longbottom collected the younger Longbottom, Potter and company attempted to disappear (barring Lovegood, who was, horrifyingly, in the greenhouse, doing something with the plants), and Blaise, the only reason Draco was here at this miserable excuse for a high society occasion and not, say, literally anywhere else, found Draco just as the skies opened up.

"You owe me," Draco had snarled, visions of the metaphorical galleons draped over his body melting away before his eyes.

Blaise had just handed him, out of thin air, a glass of champagne. "No, this is me collecting, remember? After that incident in sixth year."

He hadn't been stupid enough to ask which incident. Sixth year contained a multitude of incidents, each of which Blaise had, graciously, tolerated in the moment and logged in order to get retribution for in the future. (Blaise was one of the few to think they were going to have a future.) Instead he had drained the glass, his mother's imaginary voice switching lectures from the-care-and-keeping-of-centuries-old-robes-that-cost-as-much-as-a-small-mansion to the-correct-way-to-drink-a-glass-of-equally-old-champagne-which-you-have-just-been-handed-by-the-groom, and put a tiny shield over his head.

This had served him well enough until the ceremony began and guests were asked to put their wands away to avoid any sort of unfortunate mishaps. In an acutely embarrassing moment, during which Draco attempted to blend in with the scenery, or at least with the other guests, and failed miserably, Madam Longbottom revealed that the reason the ceremony was still, despite the weather (now attempting to drown Draco out of what he assumed was mercy) outdoors was that Longbottom Manor, since the end of the last-war-but-one, had protections put into it against Death Eaters.

In short, or as short as Draco ever got (not very, according to every Hogwarts professor, both parents, at least six of the other Slytherins in his year, every prefect he had ever known, and no fewer than four wizarding attorneys), he was outside on a very wet June afternoon, watching a close friend get married to a...something.

Apparently Blaise and Longbottom had bonded over plants during the replacement year. Draco wouldn't know.

Now they were bonding over something else, and Draco is sitting in the front row as one of Blaise's groomsmen (Blaise's best man was Theodore, in what was going to be a vain attempt to keep the society papers from writing about the revival meeting of the Death Eaters) as the rain attempts to dissolve the silk, rather than just plaster it to his skin.

And of course, at the end of the opposite row, in the matching position for Longbottom (whose best man was Finnigan; Longbottom had no need to worry about the papers coming up with unfortunate adolescent associations with illegal paramilitary organizations), is Harry fucking Potter, whose passé wool robes would have been dreadful if the weather had been as anticipated (i.e. sunny, clear, warm enough to make Draco consider whether short sleeves were really as risqué as all that) and are instead looking very warm and no doubt smelling strongly of sheep.

Harry Potter and his smelly sheep robes. And his jawline.

Draco stares fixedly at Blaise, who is looking into Longbottom's eyes with an expression Draco has only ever seen on infatuated girls. It is hideously embarrassing, which no doubt means that the public will adore it; part fourteen of the Slytherin Rehabilitation Project a success. Longbottom, who he should probably start thinking of by his first name, but it's so hard to adjust after ten years of mild-to-moderate antagonism and one year of outright war, is looking back in the same way Longbottom always does, i.e. like a struck bull. Since this is a wedding and Blaise only threatened him once, Draco will be gracious and assume this is because Longbottom is always in love with something in his line of sight.

Four feet--or is it five--away, Potter makes a quiet sigh.

The society pages love Potter even more than they hate Draco, a fact which Draco is unabashedly glad for at least once a week, which does mean that Draco knows that Potter and the youngest Weasley broke up four months ago following the youngest Weasley's transfer to the Holyhead Harpies and immediate subsequent discovery of the joys of lesbian sex (this factoid occupied three paragraphs and a photo caption); from his other main source of news (Blaise, who got it from Longbottom who no doubt got it directly from a Weasley), he knows that the sexual rediscovery was mutual and the pair still go out for drinks regularly.

Draco stares harder at Blaise in the vain hope that his friend's newly married ass will distract him from Potter's hair (is it gelled like that or is he just obscenely lucky in hair as he is in everything else?). It fails.

The ceremony ends, there is a kiss (Draco is not thinking about it), and they move across the drive to the reception, where some immensely clever person has erected an awning and charmed it waterproof (why couldn't they have done this for the ceremony?), so Draco forgoes the drinks table in favor of standing under the awning and dripping.

"D'you want me to get you a towel?" someone says from behind his shoulder, and Draco makes a noise he will never admit to later and jumps approximately three feet in the air.

It's Potter. Of course it is.

"No," Draco says, straightening up in a way that makes his robes cling wetly to his back. "I will not dry myself off like some rustic."

Potter looks mildly irritated, i.e. one corner of his mouth draws in and the other twists up, and then one eyebrow jerks slightly, and all that does is accentuate how browned he's gotten since Hogwarts and how much his face has filled out. "So you'd rather be wet then?"

He would. Draco scowls.

Potter upgrades from mild irritation to exasperation. "Look, I thought this would be, you know, a chance to move past things. Celebrating the healing wounds in our culture. That sort of thing."

Draco doesn't even have to think about this. "Did Granger feed you that one?"

Potter crosses his arms, which gives Draco the chance to wonder when he changed from this skinny little stripling to someone with a chest like that. "She's right."

"She's running for Minister and it behooves her to say things that encourage the public to look past the blood issue," Draco says, largely to show off that he's not entirely isolated, and partially because it makes Granger look infinitesimally less Gryffindor and maybe therefore will irk Potter.

Annoyingly, Potter just blinks at him. "She's not--what? Hermione's not running for anything, she's happy at the Dimly. And did you just say behooves? In normal conversation?"

Dimly is Ministry slang for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Granger is about four days from ceremonially sacrificing the DMLE head in an effort to get better creatures laws. She's still naive enough to think that being Minister will help with this (it won't) but smart enough to run almost entirely on her reputation as a war hero. Heroine. "_Some _people received a literary education," Draco says snidely, even though he'd hated every reading assignment from his parents.

"Oh, well that explains a lot about you," Potter says immediately. "Anyway, you're making me cold just to look at you, could I at least get you a spare robe?"

"They wouldn't match!" Draco says, genuinely horrified. If he's going to be in page 3, he'd much rather it was for his entry into an impromptu wet robe contest and not because it looked like he went bin diving in Knockturn Alley.

"...Right," says Potter. "Well. I've done my duty then." And then, without so much as a by-your-leave, he marches off, robes showing exactly how much of his shoulders are muscle (all of them), and leaving Draco feeling like that could have gone rather better.

[woke-gladers]

You're only beginning or a newcomer, you can check out the comprehensive reviews below to determine which LED grow lights rule the market in 2019.

All 5 lighting that we've reviewed are made by reputed companies and will provide with complete mild nourishment to your plants. They will aid your crops in developing quicker and providing you with greater yields.

Even the LED grow lights range from 600W to 1500W in term of power, they all are compatible with small or medium sized increase tents. Assess this hyperlink out to see which mature tents are well worth buying 2019.

Also, check out the next table to see an overall comparison of some facets of this Best LED grow lights for your budget.

BESTVA 1500W LED GROW LIGHT REVIEW -- LARGE COVERAGE AREA AT AFFORDABLE PRICE

Do you have a big growing area?

Then this is one of the best LED grow lights below $200 for you!

You'll get a whopping 6.4 X 6 square feet of coverage area at a height of 24 inches. Is not that great for a marijuana LED grow light that's so economical ?

Why is this among the best LED grow lights under $200 is its exclusive capabilities.

This significant coverage is possible only because of rather high quality LED chips and clinically engineered balance of coverage and LUMEN/PAR output.

All the LEDs installed in this cannabis LED grow light are produced by reputed firms like EPILEDS and BRIDGELUX. This double chip 10-watt LEDs are a lot more better than just 3 watt and 5-watt LEDs. They are much far better, smarter and more efficient. They will last for 100,000 hours, and it is many decades!

This one of the best grow lights beneath $200 also provides your plants using complete spectrum light source, with which your plants can develop faster and provide improved yields.

While utilizing only 280 watts, this best LED grow light 2019 can outperform 1500W HPS/MH traditional lights.

Really impressive right?

BESTVA 1500W Features

According to the manufacturer, this bud LED grow light runs 50 to 60 deg F cooler than many other comparable lights on the market. This is because of well though out cooling design.

Powerful and quiet cooling fans make certain that each of the warm air is tucked out, as well as the holes in the aluminum panel and also the glass panel create heat convection.

Literally Cool XD

Have a look at their official website to see the photos of marijuana and tomato plants grown under this amazing LED grow light.

And on top of all of these features, they also provide you with a more 30-day money-back guarantee and a 3-year warranty if anything malfunctions.

Experts:

Consumes less energy while providing brighter light

Complete spectrum light

2 cooling fans That Are efficient and silent

Double processor system

Cheap

Very big coverage region

3-year guarantee

30 days Money-back Guarantee

Cons:

There Is Not Any on/off switches for Veg and Bloom modes (All LEDs are around all the time)

BESTVA REFLECTOR SERIES 1200W LED GROW LIGHT REVIEW -- HIGH END LED GROW LIGHT FOR MEDICINAL PLANTS

To start with, this light has earned 4.4 stars out 5 on amazon. This demonstrates that this is among the best LED grow lights under $200 on the industry right now.

If you are growing herbal plants then that is the perfect selection for it. The proportion of blue LEDs to red LEDs is 1:1, that is the ideal mix of spectrum.

Just like other BESTVA LED develop lights, you'll get two different mode with this increase light also, one is for Bloom and another for Veg period.

Below are the suggested light times for each period Supplied by the producer:

15 to 18 hours a day for Seeding and Rising period 12 to 14 hours a day for Flowering span BESTVA Reflector Series 1200W

This marijuana LED grow light is made out of high temperature resistant resistant material, so you don't have to worry about its safety. It also has an isolated power source to offer you complete safety. The maximum temperature within the lighting is listed up to only 125 Deg F.

In comparison to some 1000-watt HPS/MH, this LED grow light just have about 258 g of electricity, while providing you with the exact light output.

Impressive, right?

When a you test it out, we're positive you will appreciate its built quality.

The outer frame is made out of aluminum. Unlike other LED grow lights available on the marketplace, the business has employed 5mm integral aluminum construction radiator rather or only fans or several knobs that are dispersed. What this does is, it enables more present, brighter lighting and produces more PAR.

In 24 inches of height, this LED grow light can give you a policy region of 5.2 X 4 feet, way over other comparable LED grow lights.

The company has a team of specialist research and development team, you will always receive a light which is worthy of this title BESTVA.

With the purchase, you'll receive a completely free 3-year guarantee together with a 30-day money-back guarantee. In addition they possess a 27/7 available customer care staff.

Pros:

24-hour customer service

3-year warranty

Runs very cool

Quicker radiator design

Safe

High ratings on amazon

Large coverage area

Full spectrum light

Cons:

a Bit costly than other comparable lights

VIPARSPECTRA REFLECTOR-SERIES 600W LED GROW LIGHT REVIEW -- MARIJUANA GROWERS FAVOURITE LED GROW LIGHT

Searching for the Best LED grow light under $200?

Subsequently this Viparspectra 600W is created for you!

This is ones of their best LED grow lights under $200 that has a massive fan base. On amazon, it's earned 4.6 stars rating from 5 from more than 450 clients.

The evaluations say a whole lot about any product, also in this instance, this bud LED grow light has been highly praised by its own clients.

This bud LED grow light can easily replace your conventional 600-watt HPS/MH. In comparison to this, this LED grow light just uses 269 watts while giving you exactly the same power.

Who does not like energy savings, correct?

Even the design of the grow light was carefully thought-out. The outer case is made from aluminum which will function as a heat sink to lower the functioning temperatures of this LED grow light. You also have 2 cooling fans that are extremely effective and quiet when operating.

With this LED grow light, you don't have to be concerned about heat dissipation in any way. This best veg LED grow light will probably runs 70% cooler in comparison to other light systems.

All the Viparspectra LED grow bulbs have been especially engineered to offer the consumers with the perfect lighting which has a delicate balance of policy and PAR/Lumen output.

You'll also be able to customize this light as you would like. There are two on/off switches offered to you to control both the Bloom and Veg LEDs.

Discussing the policy, you will get a coverage are of 3 x 3 ft and 2.5 X 2.5 ft for Vegetation and bloom stages of plant . The vegetation coverage region is said while carrying 32 inches of elevation in consideration and for its Bloom interval, the height of this light will be 22 inches.

You'll find a total of 120 pieces of 5 watt LEDs set up indoors. These LED chips are manufactured by reputed companies like Epileds and Bridgelux. These high quality LEDs can last up to 100,000 hours readily. Check out this picture below to see the way the LEDs are set up and what different kinds of light you will receive out of it.

VIPARSPECTRA Reflector-Series 600W LEDs

You may even daisy chain this LED grow light with other lights should you like to boost the coverage region.

These features together along with cheap prices make this among the best LED grow lights below $200 in the marketplace in 2019.

Along with these great features, the company also supplies you with a 3-year guarantee and 30 days money back guarantee.

Experts:

Daisy chainable

Cheap

Loaded with features

3 year warranty

Runs 70% sexier

Reputed manufacturer

High-quality LED chips utilized

Large coverage area

High speed and quiet cooling fans

Disadvantages:

Can't work where temperature is more than 40 deg C

Not waterproof

MORSEN REFLECTOR-SERIES 1200W LED GROW LIGHT REVIEW -- LED GROW LIGHT WITH ZENER DIODE PROTECTION

This bud LED grow light from Morsen is one of the best LED grow lights under $200 since they make and design the grow lights in this manner which they have an ideal balance between PAR/LUMEN output along with the policy. This balance makes sure that your plants grow efficiently and you conserve as much energy as possible.

In comparison to a conventional 1200-watt HPS/MH, this best LED grow light for marijuana absorbs only about 233 meters.

Isn't that good power saving?

Speaking about the light spectrum, this best veg develop light provides your plants with a complete range light to excite your plants development. It also supports double functions of Veg lighting and Bloom lighting for different phases of your plants development.

The light is offered by 120 bits of 10-watt EPILEDs dual chips. These LEDs have a lifespan of 100,000 hours, so it is likely to last you for several years. Another great thing about those LEDs is that each individual chip has its own Zener diodefor protection.

Checkout the picture below to see which kinds of LEDs are set up within the increase light.

MORSEN Reflector-Series 1200W LED Chips

For temperature control, the manufacturer has also added a aluminum heat sink which keeps the hot air out and keeps everything cool. You will not have any problem growing your plants indoor with this best LED grow light under $200.

They have also added security facet within this weed LED grow light. The LED grow light is certified by CE and RoHS for security.

The total coverage area you will get for this LED grow light is 3.5 X 3 feet. Although, you can change the height of this lighting to personalize the coverage area according to your liking.

The entire guarantee that you get using the buy is of 3 decades and you also receive a free 30-day satisfaction warranty or they would refund you following the yield.

Experts:

Large coverage region

3 years warranty

30-day money back guarantee

Zener coverage for LEDs

Great quality processors out of EPILEDs

Long Lifespan

Much Better reflector cup design

Cons:

Not waterproof

No mention of cooling fans

VIVOSUN 600W Full Spectrum LED Grow Light

I needed to buy the Vivosun to test as I didn't hear back from anybody at the company about getting a test component. Luckily for me, this is the LED Grow Light Review: Best for under $250, and also the Vivosun comes in way under that.

Unpacking the unit, it appeared to be nicely constructed with 2 Reinforced 5″ Exhaust Fans assembled into the unit. It also includes hanging equipment and a very lengthy plug cord.

As this device is"rated" in 600w I'm hoping it to behave like the Mars Hydro 600 also that it will be on par with a 250w HPS so far as output goes. Manufacturer information on this particular unit is very limited, it is claimed to be a"Full Spectrum" mild but specifics about these wavelengths were not available. Thus, we'll just proceed to the increase.

Even the Vivosun 600W led grow light looked underpowered when I first turned the unit on. The intensity I would expect to see right beneath the light device is just not that high. I don't have a power meter, so I will have to just judge it by experience.

The grow itself was underwhelming but with no problems. Growing started slow and continued gradually to the end of this grow. The Veg period stretched out to 8 weeks along with the flowering time increased to 10 weeks. The yield for every plant dropped a disappointing 12 ounce.

Though this is a cheap LED grow light it is functionality is considerably lower than those other mature lights we tested in this price range of below $250.

Pros:

Solid construction

Amazing heating and ventilation

Cons:

Not as strong as the other components tested within this category.