#CR box

[covid-safer-hotties]

Reference preserved in our archive (Daily updates!)

TL;DR: Corsi-Rosenthal Boxes deliver quality air filtration at upwards of 30% higher air exchanges than comparable HEPA filters on the market. Build 'em for covid. Build em' for wildfire smoke. Build 'em for allergies. Build 'em to clean the air.

Abstract Filtration performance of do-it-yourself (DIY) box fan filters deployed across a university campus was assessed over an academic year. Four DIY air filters were constructed from box fans and air filters with a minimum efficiency reporting value (MERV) of 13 and deployed in four spaces (two laboratories that include sources of particles and two offices). They were operated 9 hours daily with a programmable timer and were continuously monitored with power meters. Particle concentrations in the spaces were continuously monitored with low-cost nephelometers. The particle size dependent clean air delivery rate (CADR) and single pass filtration efficiency for each box was measured in a laboratory before deployment and every 10 weeks, for a total of five measurements over 40 weeks. We find that these DIY box fan filters maintain robust performance over time, with each air filter maintaining at least 60% of its initial CADR at the end of the 40 week study even with daily operation in environments with modest particle concentrations. CADR values for particles of 1.0–3.0 μm optical diameter averaged 34% higher than CADR values for 0.35–1.0 μm particles, aligning with MERV 13 filter size-dependent filtration expectations. Reductions in CADR over time were attributed to a reduction in filtration efficiency, likely due to a loss of filter electrostatic charge over time. There was no strong indication that increased resistance due to particle accumulation on filters appreciably decreased flow rates over time for any of the fans. The long-term robustness of DIY box fan air filters demonstrates their validity as a cost-effective, high performance, alternative to portable high efficiency particulate air (HEPA) filters.

[pipzeroes]

The tune is based, with permission, on “How To Build A Fence” by Nova Scotia singer/songwriter Bob Snider.

How To Build A Corsi-Rosenthal Box

It’s time to clear the air Cause COVID is still there… And if you want a cheap machine that will cancel tox- -ic pathogens in the air, Well then you oughta hear ‘bout the Corsi-Rosenthal Box.

First you get your fan, Keep the box that it came in You’ll need it for the floor; Now get filters, count 'em, four. What rating? MERV-13. The hardware store will know what you mean. As always, you’ll be stuck, Without your tape for duck. Now add a box-cutter, you're on your way to warding off the pox! This is everything you need to build a Corsi-Rosenthal Box.

With the filters, build the shell In order to build it well Look for the big arrow; It shows how the air should flow. First filter you begin With the arrow pointing in Then build a filter fence By butting up against Tape it up so every filter interlocks Now you’ve got four strong walls for your Corsi-Rosenthal Box.

Don’t worry there’s not much more But you’ve got to make a floor That shouldn’t come as a shock Since that’s why you kept the box So cut your square to fit Tape it on the top of it Turn it upside down and then You’re ready for the fan Now with all you’ve done you’ll find that you’re approx- -imately one or two steps from done your Corsi-Rosenthal box

Before you do the rest, You’ve got to give the fan a test You'll feel like such a jerk, If it turns out not to work, When you’ve used up all that tape To attach it to the crate And covered gaps and slits With tape and cardboard bits

Not to complicate, just make a little slit in the tape So the cord can escape Or else the thing will never go Make a little slit then cut another bit Also with a slit They fit Opposite And overlap them now you’re sealing soundly so– You’re sure it’s only through the filters air can blow– Also— They take out dust and pollen and smoke Which is good to know Tape the corners of the fan just to increase the rate of flow– Oh! Congratulations you just built one of the building blocks, For being safe to respire (Ahhh…) Now sit back and admire Your lovely little Corsi-Rosenthal Box

[bandomfandombeyond]

ha. fuckin HA.

one of the bitches who contributed to getting me kicked out of the "queer-oriented" "radical" camp for advocating that people mask and carrying around my CR Box CAUGHT COVID at it.

the Lord rebukes!!!!!!!

[copperhawkthoughts]

If you are in British Columbia, ime, Filtrete 1900s (MERV13) are $30-$35 a piece at Amazon/Home Depot/Canadian Tire, which obviously adds up if you need 4.

That said, you can make a version of this with just one filter and the fan, which will be better than nothing.

Cleanaircrew.org has instructions for a single-filter version that I was able to make with supplies from Canadian Tire for about $90CAD after tax (For Living box fan, 20x20 Filtrete 1900, duct tape)

Pros: works, cheaper up front than my Winix air purifier, replacement filters easy to source

Cons: pretty noisy, no carbon filter, no pre-filter (could add those, for extra cost)

to anyone in the areas impacted by the wildfire smoke, my #1 biggest piece of advice as someone whos been dealing with wildfire smoke in the NW united states for years, is build yourself a Corsi-Rosenthal Cube

they perform as well as expensive HEPA air cleaners, and are comparatively VERY inexpensive. all you need is a box fan, 4 air filters, a piece of cardboard, and some duct tape!!!!

i think it took us maybe a half hour to put ours together, if that, and we replace the filters every 3 months. it's really made a HUGE difference, both when the air quality is bad, but also with our allergies

[pukefactory]

✦ ─ ˗ˋ SWING THE MICROPHONE ˊ˗ ─ ✦

⬨ Summary: Black Sapphire Cookie x Reader headcanons

⬨ Character(s): Black Sapphire Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

⬨ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

⬨ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⬨ Image Credits: Devsisters

★ You are his favorite headline. Whispers spread like wildfire in his presence, yet out of all the tangled lies and twisted truths he spins, you are the only story he never shares. No rumors of your whereabouts, no half-truths woven into the airwaves. You belong to his world, and his alone—why should he let anyone else indulge in the intrigue that is you?

★ His words are silk, wrapping around you effortlessly. Compliments laced with amusement, teasing observations layered with double meanings, murmured affections disguised as passing remarks. His voice is a constant presence—dripping into your ears like honey, weaving itself into your thoughts until you start to wonder: is he playing a game with me, or am I the only thing he’s ever been honest about?

★ Black Sapphire Cookie never simply speaks—he performs. Even his affections are theatrical. A slow, deliberate dip of his head as he takes your hand, lips grazing your knuckles with an impish grin. A murmured endearment, spun so poetically that you almost forget it comes from the most notorious liar in Earthbread. But when his microphone floats to your lips, catching even your most absentminded sighs, you realize—he records every sound you make, a song only he should hear.

★ He does not request your attention—he commands it. A casual conversation can turn into an impromptu broadcast, his voice filling the space around you to ensure you hear only him. If your eyes wander, he guides your chin back with a feather-light touch, an amused hum in his throat. “Oh? Distracted already? Now, that won’t do… You should know, dearest, my best work requires full audience engagement.”

★ The world is a stage, and he has cast you as his co-star. Whether you like it or not, he weaves you into the narrative—your name slipping into hushed whispers, your presence an unspoken mystery to those who listen to his broadcasts. He never confirms, never denies. Just laughs, voice curling like smoke through the radio waves. “Now, now… don’t you all love a secret?”

★ To him, rumors are an art form, and he paints the world with them. But when it comes to you? Not a single lie is spoken. No matter how much the world craves a scandal, how they beg for a whisper of who has ensnared Black Sapphire Cookie’s elusive attention—he keeps you locked behind velvet curtains. You are not for public consumption. You are not for them.

★ He thrives on chaos, yet with you, something shifts. He spins lies to watch kingdoms crumble, to see how easily the world unravels at the seams. Yet, when you are beside him, his words change—still playful, still laced with that teasing edge, but softened at the core. A rare honesty, buried beneath layers of performance. “You’re quite the anomaly, aren’t you? I can’t tell if I want to break you or keep you all to myself.”

★ His jealousy is quiet, insidious. He does not lash out, does not sulk—no, that would be boring. Instead, the airwaves twist with veiled jabs, whispers slipping into the ears of those who dare steal your attention. Words become weapons, illusions twist into whispered truths. By the time he’s done, the offender is left questioning whether they ever knew you at all. After all, why would you need anyone else, when he has already rewritten the world in your favor?

★ He constantly tests your trust. A half-truth here, a playful deception there—he delights in watching you unravel them, seeing if you can keep up with the game. And when you do? Oh, the delight in his eyes. “Clever, clever thing,” he coos, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I do believe you might be my favorite audience yet.”

★ The only thing more terrifying than his voice filling the air is the silence when it vanishes. Black Sapphire Cookie is everywhere—his voice threading through radios, his presence lingering like a shadow behind the scenes. But the moment he stops speaking, when the ever-present hum of his influence fades—that is when you know something is truly wrong. Because silence means one thing: the performance has ended. And what happens next is a script only he knows.

[undead-knick-knack]

Get force caged idiot

[spirit-doll]

Does gummy get embarrassed sometimes

yes. These all are reason.

[rjshope]

revenge is sweet😏

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Honda Ballade 1500 CR-M Extra, 1983. The Ballade was an up-market version of the Civic sold through Honda's Verno dealerships. The second generation model had semi-concealed headlamps in keeping with the styling trend shared with other Honda Verno products including the 2nd generation Prelude. It was powered by a 1.5 litre 12-valve EW series engine.

[danwhobrowses]

Goodness this is like the third episode in a row begetting discourse among the cr fandom. For me this discourse has two perspectives where the division depends on whose perspective you're looking at;

For the armies it was 'We've been sent by the gods and are here to help you stop Predathos as we pla-wait, you're a vessel of Predathos? Isn't that just like Ludinus planned??' which yeah is valid from their perspective

For the Hells it was 'We just came out of 4 back-to-back battles with Ludinus and Predathos itself, we have a solution to save the gods but change the dynamic but we want to discuss it privately with the gods first and now you're trying to kill us!?' which is also valid

What puts me more on BH's side is that we have the context; BH are allowed to be terse when people try to kill them and fail, least of all allies who don't ask for an explanation before asking their god to come down and smite them. They're not villains because they snarked at the person who attempted to sic their god on them, and it's not as if Imogen sic'd Predathos on them in retaliation. Once again they are met with the thankless job and burden that they neither wanted or asked for, but was thrust upon them anyway. With all the times Bells Hells have been criticized for being aimless and indecisive it seems a little strange to criticize them now for being focused and decisive.

Could they have explained from the start? Maybe. Would it have caused a different reaction the moment they said Predathos is in Imogen? Probably not. I can't tell you why they didn't come out of the Cage and immediately explain because I'm not the players; perhaps they wanted to avoid the hysteria and conflict, perhaps they were drained from the fight and wanted to wrap up the episode, or perhaps it was just down to Bell's Hells, as with all CR campaign parties, being infamously bad at communicating, I don't know.

But it's times like these where it's worth reminding that this is a DnD show, nerdy-ass voice actors having fun, it can't always be clean and clear-cut storytelling every second. And sometimes as a fandom we need to take a step back so we don't get ourselves stuck, because we're probably making it deeper than it is and getting annoyed at each other over our interpretation of two groups from the same side getting annoyed at each other. Just, take a breath.

[covid-safer-hotties]

[liltaireissocute]

idk why I can’t get this idea out of my head but

Briarwood rockstar au

Delilah’s the singer, Anna’s backup + probably like drums or smth idk, and Sylas plays guitar. Their band is called Bloody Hell :)

I’m just really gay about them theyre all so AHHHH

THAT'S A MAGNIFICENT AU!!!!! sorry i've got a bit inspired so here is my attempt at the Bloody Hell:

(i'm sorry for not drawing Anna on the drums, i have no idea how to draw drums and somehow they have strong Mother Mother vibes to me)

[immult]

malloy would post an imogen/dancer wip and all i could do is sigh and pick up a pen. it's too good.

[sea-buns]

Never did I expect myself to be mourning the absence of english essays and writing exams and theatre class critiques. Do you understand how fucking amazing of a grade I could get on an analysis of trauma in Critical Role? On Lou Wilson and Emily Axford's finesse in portraying the heavy expectations and double standards placed on children? On Ylfa Snorgelsson's relationship to death? On the journey of a man's relationship to violence? On an analysis of grief in Dimension 20? On the pitfalls of youth? On the dynamic between humanity and religion? On the journey of self-discovery and acceptance? On love in all its forms? On the nature of choice? On everything Brennan Lee Mulligan has to say about capitalism? On the tragedy of im/mortality? On Gerard and Elody's divorce? On the unfeeling and aimless happenstance of the universe? On the role of fate and destiny? I'm not saying it would be easy. I'm saying can you imagine how fucking cool it would have been to turn in 5 pages about a dnd show, feeling good about it?

[natp20]

the emissary is unfortunately a child of divorce

[pukefactory]

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽ BRUISED MOON ☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

⏾⋆ Summary: Shadow Milk Cookie x Reader headcanons

⏾⋆ Character(s): Shadow Milk Cookie (Cookie Run Kingdom)

⏾⋆ Genre: Headcanons, SFW

⏾⋆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

⏾⋆ Image Credits: Devsisters

✶ Shadow Milk Cookie adores an audience, but you? You are his audience. He performs for you, tailors his illusions to dazzle, to enthrall, to catch the glint in your eyes when reality blurs into something surreal. He studies your every reaction more intently than his own performances, dissecting what makes you flinch, what draws a smile, what sends that delightful shiver down your spine.

✶ With him, affection is never simple. It is grandiose, exaggerated—a dramatic tilt of his head as he presses a teasing kiss to your knuckles, a flourish of his staff as he conjures a bouquet that wasn’t there moments before. He does not merely say he adores you—he proclaims it, spinning saccharine, extravagant words that momentarily make you forget the underlying tension laced within his presence.

✶ He is always testing you, just as he does everyone else. But unlike the others, whom he toys with only to break; you are tested to see if you will stay. Will you see through his illusions? Will you recoil when his shadows creep too close? Will you falter when his temper slips, when the jester’s smile cracks? He watches you with the countless eyes hidden in his hair, all of them waiting for the moment you decide he is too much. And when that moment comes, what will you do?

✶ For someone who thrives on deceit, you are the closest thing he has to the truth. Twisted, of course, it always is, but truth nonetheless. There is an honesty in the way he leans just a little closer to you, in the way his illusions soften when you are near. He will never admit it outright, he would never grant you that satisfaction, but when the show is over, when the audience has gone and only the two of you remain, his mask slips. Just a little.

✶ If he wished, he could weave an entire world just for you. In fact, he has. A reality sculpted at his whim, where you are the centerpiece, the muse, the star of his grandest performance. But would you even notice? Would you care? Does it matter? As long as you remain, as long as your eyes are on him, what difference does it make if the world outside his illusions crumbles away? Whether you play along willingly or struggle to escape, your presence alone satisfies him.

✶ His presence is suffocating—in the most intoxicating way. A whisper curling around your ear like a phantom’s breath, a shadow at your back even when you believe yourself alone. His fingers ghost over your skin, barely there, teasing, taunting. He is everywhere and nowhere, watching, waiting. And when he finally does touch you in earnest, it is possessive, consuming—an unspoken claim that you are his, whether you realize it or not.

✶ He never says he is jealous. No, no—where would be the fun in that? Instead, his illusions grow more insidious, whispers twist into rumors, little tricks designed to pull your attention back to him. He turns conversations into riddles, spins falsehoods into reality—anything to remind you that he is the most fascinating thing in your world. And should someone else attempt to steal your focus? Well. Accidents happen.

✶ Those eerie, floating eyes, watching, blinking, shifting colors with his every emotion, fixate on you more often than not. They follow even when he is nowhere to be seen. A silent reminder: he sees you. He always sees you. Whether you find it endearing or terrifying is inconsequential. He is there, whether you acknowledge him or not.

✶ With him, everything is a game, and the game is control. He spins words like silk, illusions like honey, so sweet, so enticing. He makes you question what is real, makes you wonder if you were the one who misunderstood all along. He does not need to force you into his arms, he makes you want to be there. Need to be there. After all, who else could offer a world so vivid, so thrilling? Only he can.

✶ There is no end to this performance, no final bow where he lets you go. He will play the fool, the villain, the lover—whatever it takes to keep you within his act. Because, in truth, the only thing more terrifying than being caught in his web, is the thought of the stage going dark without you on it.