#Filter press manufacturer

[wokinget]

All About Filter Press Manufacturer

To satisfy your needs, we provide a wide range of filter press sizes. From our huge 2000mm lab filter press down to 200mm. Additionally, the filter press manufacturer may be fitted with a system for automatically washing clothes, a drop tray, a shaking system, etc.

We are able to provide the entire filter press dewatering plant along with the filter press, including the thickener and all other required plant ancillaries like the feeding pump, compressors, conveyor, and even special chemical-resistant paint.

Every piece of equipment we offer is designed to increase your production over time.The feed pump for filters is often referred to as a filter press pump. Delivering slurry to the maker of the filter press is the function of the feed pump. 

The filter press's rate of filtration is determined by the feed pressure, which is affected by the power of the filter press manufacturer and the head of the feed pump.Therefore, compatibility with the filter press and slurry performance should be taken into account while selecting the feed pump.

Nearly every form of slurry can be processed using a filter press china, including slurries from the ceramics, stone, glass, mining, petrochemical, culinary, pharmaceutical, textile, leather, and municipal industries, as well as slurries from the washing of coal, sand, and minerals.

using solid carbon steel that resists corrosion, has high rigidity, meets structural stability standards, and has a long service life; Filter press china are produced using a unique, patented process and high polymer PE. 

The benefits include being lightweight, resistant to corrosion, resistant to acids and bases, virulent, and tasteless;A well-known brand of component is used in the electrohydraulic integration control system.

Precision machining and dependable, long-lasting service are the benefits of hydraulic systems;high-quality production methods and tools. It is an ideal solid-liquid separation device that is easy to use, safe to operate, convenient to service; utilizing cutting-edge production methods and technology to ensure that every product is at the highest degree of advantage.

A wide range of adjustable parameters, including inlet quantity, discharge clearance, pull plate tension, pull plate speed, and other factors, allow this machine to produce any specification (chamber or membrane) of 630mm1250mm, which is nearly the same as the ordinary automatic filter press with the same filtering area. It also has a simple structure, high production efficiency, stable and reliable operation, and low maintenance costs.

In order to address the problem of the difficult-to-clean sticky muck on filter cloth, the pneumatic shaking function was carefully devised. When compared to a standard filter press, rapid filtering and one-time pull plate discharge can significantly cut labor costs, boost production capacity of a single machine, and shorten process times.

[mehuloffpage]

Sparkler Filter Press Manufacturer | Sparkler Zero Hold Up Filter Press Manufacturer | Akshar Engineering Works

The Sparkler Filter Press Manufacturer, Sparkler Zero Hold Up Filter Press Manufacturer is the most versatile filtration system for solid - liquid separation. It can also be used apart from filtration, with the help of filter aids for giving a sparkling effect to the liquids filtered.

[aryanengineers]

Top-Quality Bag Filters from Aryan Engineers – Your Trusted Partner

Aryan Engineers stands as a trusted name in the realm of bag filter manufacturer in India, offering a diverse range of solutions to meet the evolving needs of various industries. With a focus on quality, innovation, and customer satisfaction, we take pride in being a reliable partner for businesses seeking top-notch equipment that enhances their operational efficiency and productivity.

Discover precision-engineered ointment manufacturing vessels at Aryan Engineers, designed to meet stringent quality standards and facilitate the production of pharmaceutical and cosmetic products with accuracy and consistency. Our ointment manufacturing vessels are crafted with attention to detail to ensure optimal performance and reliability in your manufacturing processes.

Reliable liquid manufacturing plant for Consistent Quality

As a leading liquid manufacturing plant, Aryan Engineers specializes in delivering state-of-the-art plants that enable efficient production of liquid products across diverse industries. Our liquid manufacturing plants are engineered to streamline the manufacturing process, ensuring high-quality output while optimizing operational costs and resources.

Experience the superior filtration capabilities with zero hold up filter press manufacturer, designed to efficiently separate solids from liquids with minimal loss and maximum clarity. Our zero hold up filter presses are ideal for applications requiring precise filtration, consistent results, and easy maintenance, making them a valuable asset in various industrial processes.

At Aryan Engineers, customer-centricity is ingrained in our ethos. We are committed to understanding our clients' unique requirements, providing tailored solutions, and offering exceptional service to ensure their complete satisfaction with our products and services.

[yotanamachinetools]

Best Membrane Plate Filter Press In India

Yotana is well known best membrane plate filter presses manufacturers in Ahmedabad, Gujarat. We provide top quality membrane plate filter presses to our local and global client. Our membrane filter presses offer exceptional dewatering and reduce filtration time by over 50%, based on the suspension. Explore our Filter Press Plates for superior filtration solutions.

[amikonblowers]

The Advantages of Working with Twin Lobe Roots Blower Manufacturers

As Twin Lobe Roots Blower manufacturers, we understand the importance of having a reliable and efficient blower system in your industrial or commercial application. Our Twin Lobe Roots Blowers are designed to provide superior performance, reliability and energy efficiency while ensuring that they meet your specific needs.

Twin Lobe Roots Blowers are ideal for applications ranging from sewage treatment to pneumatic conveying systems. They are capable of providing high-pressure and high-volume performance in a wide range of environments. With their low-noise operation, they are also perfect for noise-sensitive environments.

The Twin Lobe Roots Blower design offers several advantages over other types of blowers. Firstly, they are extremely reliable, providing consistent and reliable performance even in the most demanding applications. Secondly, they are incredibly efficient, using up to 80% less energy than comparable blowers. Finally, they are also extremely durable and require minimal maintenance.

At Twin Lobe Roots Blower manufacturers India, we take pride in providing our customers with superior quality blowers that are designed to meet their specific needs and applications. Our blowers are designed to provide high-pressure and high-volume performance without sacrificing reliability or energy efficiency.

We strive to provide our customers with the best quality products and services available. We are committed to providing high-quality products and services at competitive prices and with timely delivery. We stand behind our products and services, and we are always available to answer any questions or concerns that you may have.

If you are looking for a reliable and efficient blower system for your industrial or commercial application, Twin Lobe Roots Blower manufacturers are here to help. Contact us today to learn more about our products and services, and to discuss your specific needs.

Amikon Engineers & Consultant

Registered Office:

Plot No - 194, Block-k, Vijay Vihar, Phase-2, Sector-4, Rohini, Delhi -110085, India

Corporate Office:

Office No.148,1st Floor, Vardhmaan Grand Plaza, Sector-3, Rohini, New Delhi - 110085 (INDIA)

E-mail:amikonblowers@gmail.com,info@amikonblowers.com,sales@amikonblowers.com

Call Support:

Tel: +91 11 41516313

Mobile : +91 9311108295, +91 9311108296

[soltechpumps]

Filter Press Manufacturers

Soltech Pumps & Equipment Pvt. Ltd. is one of the leading Filter Press Manufacturers in Delhi. Due to our cutting-edge technology, we manufacture customized products according to industry standards. Our Filter Press is highly acclaimed by users for its excellent performance and compliance with industry standards.  For more information about us contact us via email or visit our website.

[oilpress]

[johnbrand]

This or That

“Wait, what did you say this game was called again?” Christopher asked.

“‘This or That’!” Felix replied, obviously excited. All day he had waited to try out this new personality-quiz app, having received a plethora of positive reviews from friends, coworkers, and online. As soon as his shift was up, he rushed back to the small apartment he shared with his loving boyfriend. The smoother, slimmer Christopher was surprised by his partner’s sudden enjoyment and fascination as the app finished its download.

“How does it work?”

“It’s simple,” Felix, more of a twunk vers than an actual top, replied. “Apparently the game offers you different options, red or blue, this or that. You keep filtering down before it lands on a hyper-specific personality type.”

Christopher shrugged, “Sounds simple enough, but why is it so popular?”

“It’s supposed to be like freaky accurate.” Felix opened the app and entered CHRISTOPHER into the flashing box. “I’ve been hearing about it all day, but I wanted to try it with you.”

Christopher blushed at that, watching as the first prompt came in. The app wished to know who was filling out the survey: “This” was the person themselves, “That” was another person. Felix pushed “That”.

“So you’re filling it out for me?” Christopher asked, a little bummed.

“And you’ll do mine,” Felix assured, moving past the next prompt. The first few waves were the simple ones: male or female, old or young, rich or comfortable. Christopher laid back into the couch they were both seated on, grabbing a remote and searching for a “The Real Housewives…” title. On Felix’s end, he eventually landed on a question regarding sexuality.

THIS: Heterosexuality or THAT: Homosexuality

Felix’s finger tapped “That”, but unlike before the next prompt did not appear. For some reason, the "That" option did not respond and proceed forward. He tapped it again, and again, and kept doing so until Christopher noticed.

“I think my screen may have frozen?” Felix explained. To check, he tapped the “This” option. His face skewed slightly as it accepted, moving forward.

“Is it working again, dude?” Chris asked, not looking up from his phone.

“Uh…yeah,” Felix gulped, hoping the error would not severely impact the results. He was already a good amount in, and he did not want to make his roommate wait. Felix reviewed the next prompt.

THIS: Alpha or THAT: Beta

Felix knew the answer, but something told him to go with the other option. He had already messed up, so maybe it would be funny to purposely skew further. Thinking it could be a good laugh, Felix considered manipulating the quiz to manufacture the opposite. Cautiously, he pressed the “This” option, moving on.

“God, these hags are annoying…” Chris mumbled, his voice a little deeper than usual as he switched channels to something more interesting. The loud rowdiness of a football game’s broadcast quickly filled the room, but all Felix could focus on was his phone. To his surprise, after the last tap, the app had begun to filter through its own prompts on its own. Felix’s eyes tried to follow as the screen flashed with new questions and answered them accordingly.

THIS: Masculine-Leaning or THAT: Feminine-Leaning

THIS: Monoracial or THAT: Multiracial

THIS: Strong or THAT: Meek

THIS: Arrogant or THAT: Reserved

THIS: Excitable or THAT: Laid-Back

THIS: Selfless or THAT: Authoritative

THIS: Traditional or THAT: Progressive

Each of the answers clicked by without Felix being able to alter a thing. He could not even exit the app. Desperate, Felix stood up and moved towards the kitchen, hoping to grab his laptop in order to look up some kind of solution. But before he made it, the app suddenly stopped, presenting Felix with the results.

“With 100% accuracy, This or That reports that CRISTOBAL is: AVERAGE STRAIGHT MALE.”

Felix stood stunned, taking a breath and slowly reentering reality. Still on the couch and now manspreading as much as possible, Chris’s focus appeared to be solely on the cheerleaders performing their half-time show. Felix’s own focus soon shifted to be solely on his straight roommate’s cock, the massive schlong becoming chubby thanks to the tit-tastic routine on the television.

“Bro? Come on!” Chris’s rich, masculine voice snapped Felix out of his lustful gaze. “I hate it when you do that gay stuff, it’s annoying.”

“Oh…uh sorry…” Something felt wrong, like Felix was forgetting something.

“You can be a fag or whatever, it doesn’t matter to me,” Chris’s slight cringe said otherwise. “But you can’t just perv on my goods man.”

Felix nodded quickly, blushing furiously.

“By the way, you’ll need to stay in your room again tonight. Finally convinced this chick from stats to come over and ‘study’. She doesn’t know the only thing she’ll be studying is all 8 inches of my man meat.”

His straight roommate smirked cockily at his own joke, adjusting himself proudly. Felix tried his best not to sneak a look and obediently exited to his room. As soon as his door was shut, Felix gave his throbbing cock a tug, hoping Chris’s study partner would be arriving soon.

[marutifiltars]

Filter Press Manufacturer Supplier in Gujarat, India

Maruti Filters | Filter Press Manufacturer & Supplier in Gujarat, India

A machine used in separation procedures, specifically to separate solids and liquids, is an industrial filter press. The device stacks numerous filter elements and makes it simple to extract the filtered solids, clean, or replace the filter media. Although they cannot be used in a continuous operation, filter presses can nevertheless perform extremely well, especially when a low residual liquid content in the solid is desired. In marble manufacturers, filter presses are used, among other things, to separate water from dirt so that the water can be used again when cutting marble. How Does a Filter Press Work? Filter presses function by pumping slurry into the device so that solids are dispersed uniformly throughout the fill cycle. Solids accumulate on the filter cloth, forming the filter cake.

The filtrate then leaves the filter plates through the corner ports and enters the manifold, producing clean filtered water. Because filter presses use pressure to filter materials, when the feed pump for the filter press builds pressure, solids accumulate inside the chambers until they are entirely full, forming the cake. The cycle is finished and the filter cakes are prepared for release once the chambers are filled. Fast action automatic plate changers are used in several filter presses with larger capacity to shorten cycle times. Some filter presses are made especially for completely automated, round-the-clock use in hazardous environments like mines or chemical industrial facilities.

[halogalopaghost]

Shroud

read on AO3

After all the screaming, the silence that settled over the triage tent was deeply unsettling.

April remembered Casey sitting on the couch at her old place and watching TV a million years ago, before the world ended. He grimaced at a hockey game and announced that no matter how badass a guy was, if his knee was bent the wrong direction, he was gonna scream like a little girl. That Caseyism had been proven to her time and again over the last eight years they’d spent trying to save the human race, by the biggest and baddest of asses and even Casey himself. Still, some little part of her, the same part that saw him as her little brother and maybe a little bit invincible, must have thought Raphael was the exception.

He was not.

They had a hard time at first figuring out why he was screaming. There was so much going on around them, so much chaos and blood, there was no saying how much of his crying was caused by the physical versus emotional. Either way, the syringe of fentanyl had taken care of it.

The resistance usually hoarded those drugs like precious gold. They were only being manufactured in very small amounts these days, and even then they were nigh upon impossible for the resistance to get their hands on. The turtles were no exception to this rule—they had endured countless wounds and even surgical procedures that they really should have been sedated for, all without anesthetics or narcotic pain medication. And even though April was the one they all called commander, everyone knew Leonardo was a close second; so when he told the medic to knock his brother’s ass out, that medic did as he was told.

Leonardo stood at April’s shoulder as she sat beside the surgeon, watching him stitch Raph’s newly-empty eye socket closed. Her own eyes were swollen and raw from crying, and she had yet to even get through the worst of it. She knew she was in for a second, more volatile breakdown later when the reality of it really hit her. When she laid down to go to sleep and Casey wasn’t there, when the other half of the bed was empty—

“I’m sorry,” Leo whispered. “I wouldn’t let him go back in. I—” he cut himself off and took a breath.

April usually would have pressed him to go on and not hold back for her sake—she was leading the goddamn resistance, she needed to know everything and not be protected even by these turtles who spent most of their time by her side, these days. But today, just this once, she was going to let him shield her from the gory details. Maybe someday she’d want to hear the story about how her brave, stupid husband went out in a blaze of glory, but not the very same day as that death.

“I didn’t want to lose either of them, but I didn’t want to lose both of them,” Leo finally finished. "I'm so sorry." He rested his hand on April’s shoulder, and she leaned into the touch.

“You did all you could, Leo. This is just what war is.”

He was quiet for a moment. The surgeon tied off the last stitch. “Still sucks.”

“Yeah. Still sucks.”

Raph's awareness came to him in bits and pieces. Hearing came first, as it always did, and was accompanied by an unpleasant ringing. High pitched screaming from all around him that he couldn't shut off, because he had a habit of standing a little too close to explosions. H It wasn't new to him, just somehow worse than usual. Beyond the ever-present screech he could hear the soft sounds of life—someone shifting in a chair, feet scuffing concrete floors, the groan of the wounded somewhere nearby.

The pain filtered in after that, and he sucked a breath in through his teeth. Son of a bitch, his face was on fire. His head felt like it was in a vice, and his leg didn't feel real good either, but he was pleased to find that he could wiggle all ten fingers and toes. Still doing better than Mike.

He tried to open his eyes and a whimper of pain escaped him. Fuck, his face hurt! Why'd his face hurt so bad? It hadn't even hurt this much that time he fractured his cheekbone.

"Raph?"

April's voice. He stiffened. He couldn't remember exactly why, but he knew he didn't want to see her at the moment.

He couldn't think through the thick fog of pain on his mind, the searing pain on his face was far more pressing than whatever reason he was avoiding April this time. He thought fondly of ibuprofen. Remember that? He asked his body. Remember ibuprofen? He could go for about eight hundred of those bad boys.

A hand slotted into his, small and cold, even to him. He squeezed her fingers. I hear you.

An almost-unnoticeable sigh of relief. More chair squeaking as she adjusted. "You haven't been out too long, only about a day. If you wanna go right back to sleep, I won't tell."

He forced himself to breathe through the pain. You gotta breathe deeply, Donnie always said, even if it hurts. I'm not treating your sorry shell for pneumonia.

He missed his brother. He would trade any and every painkiller in the world for his know-it-all brother. Hell, he'd trade the world itself.

He lifted his other hand to his face, searching blindly for the reason it hurt so badly. April lurched forward to stop him, but it was too late. His rough, calloused fingers caught on the cotton gauze, and he stopped cold.

It all came back to him at once. The fire, the searing heat, that last glimpse of Casey he caught right before the boiler blew—

His head was splitting open like an egg, brain running down his face. It had to be. Nothing else could hurt this badly. He felt tears rush to his eyes and bit back a cry of pain. Why did his goddamn face hurt so much? He dug at the hurt with the heel of his hand—and the world around him shook.

April grabbed his hand and wrenched it away from his face. "Raph, stop! You're gonna hurt yourself!"

It was too fucking late for that, it already hurt. It hurt it hurt it hurt, the tears, the loss, the burns, the everything. It stung and burned and fucking hurt all over.

"You need painkillers," she said. It wasn't a question.

"No," he hissed. "I'm fine. Save 'em, I'm fine."

He heaved a few unsteady breaths. He could control this, he could do it. He just...needed a minute.

"What's the damage?" His voice was too thin. He needed a drink.

April's long silence was telling. Raph touched the gauze again, gentle and cautious this time.

"Whole thing's gone, huh?"

"Shrapnel ruptured the sclera and pierced the musculature behind it. You're lucky it didn't end up in your brain." She didn't say I'm sorry, they all stopped saying it a long time ago. It was an unspoken constant; they were all sorry.

"'S what I get," he mumbled. He dropped his hands to his chest and let out a breath. The pain still raged on, but he could tune it out. "And—is he...did Casey make it out?"

All the air in the room turned to ice. Raph knew his hearing wasn't really that sensitive anymore, but he woulda swore he heard April's heart beat faster. Every second passed like an eon in the horrible moment between dread and knowledge.

"No," she whispered.

Raph’s fists clenched. He could learn to live without the eye. Fight without it, do life without it, keep hope alive without it. But without Casey—? He clutched at the gauze as white-hot, urgent pain ricocheted around in the empty socket. The rush of tears burned.

It tore a hole in his fucking heart. He couldn't do this without Casey, without his best friend that stood by him through thick and thin and unwaveringly supported him. His big brother, his confidant, the only person outside of his immediate family that ever really understood him and saw all of his inner struggle. His chest heaved with empty breath. And April—fuck, April was a widow. He couldn't save her husband, the one constant that she had. She didn't even have anything to bury. Raph failed her, he failed to bring Casey home even if it was in a body bag.

"Leo told me what happened."

No wonder she was here, she was waiting for him to wake up so she could tell him how many ways he could go fuck himself. He didn't say I'm sorry, it wouldn’t change a thing. She was probably real sorry too.

April's hand closed around his forearm, and it burned like condemnation and hellfire. "You can't blame yourself. Don't."

He sucked a sharp breath in. “What?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes. “He wouldn’t want you to blame yourself, Raph. You know that.”

“It—it was my fault. He wanted to fall back, he said we needed to cut our losses—”

“And he was wrong. You gave the extraction team the extra few minutes they needed, he—” the tears finally spilled over and she paused to sniffle. “Casey was the only one who didn’t make it.”

That…was really good. That was the lowest fatality rate of a rescue mission in a long time. And with the prisoners they freed…they’d actually come out with positive numbers, rather than total losses. Casey would be damn proud of that. Of them.

Raph got real quiet.

There was a time that he would have let April gather him up into her arms and hold him until the sorrow had eased. There was a time, too, when he would have gotten out of bed and screamed and punched the walls, broken whatever he could get his hands on. But he used up his sorrow when Donnie went away, and after Splinter left, his anger was exhausted too. He just laid there with tears silently running down his face, eyes covered and body trembling silently. He had nothing left.

“I’m sorry,” he said through clenched teeth. Even though he didn’t have to. Even though it didn’t mean anything. “I’m so fucking sorry.” A sob caught in his throat and he strangled it into an anguished swear. He didn’t deserve to cry when his best friend’s widow, his fucking sister, was sitting there mourning beside him.

“Raph, it’s not your fault. It’s Shredder.”

That’s what she said every time they lost something else to this fucking godforsaken war—it’s not your fault Splinter died, it’s Shredder, it’s not your fault Mikey’s radius and ulna were reduced to fucking atoms, it’s Shredder. Well who failed to stop him in the first place, huh? Of course it was his fault, of course it was.

Silence, long and uncomfortable and condemning, stretched on in the sickbay. There wasn’t any privacy in the apocalypse—on the other side of the dirty shower curtain barely three feet from Raph’s cot, there was another guy mourning some other loss. Another wounded, another mourner, another dead, another I’m sorry that didn’t mean a damn thing. It never ended.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” April eventually said. “Considering.”

Considering the one-less-eyeball. Raph finally peeled open the one functioning eye he still had and took a long look at April. She was blurry—if his vision hadn’t been so good before the total loss of depth perception, it was shit now. Still, he didn’t need to see in HD to know her eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with red.

“Are you sure you don’t need meds?”

He nodded. The deep, stabbing headache would keep him in bed, but honestly, he didn’t care. He wanted to curl up and drown in the misery just for a little while. “You should sleep, Commander.”

She smiled bitterly. “Do I look that bad?”

“Dunno,” he answered honestly. “From here ya just look fuzzy. Am I wrong?”

She sighed and scrubbed tears off her already-raw face. “You’re right.” A beat. Then, barely audible, “Bed’s awful empty.”

Without a second thought, Raph scooted to the side of the narrow cot until his shell met open air. He patted the mattress, and April curled up in the vacated space beside him. She wasn’t even fully settled in before the first heartbroken sob tore out of her throat.

Raph held her close and closed his eye. Fuck this. Fuck Shredder. Fuck everything.

  Making the choice to leave came easier than he expected it to.

The same day that the medic cleared him to leave the sickbay, Raph went to his bunk and started packing. He just couldn’t take it anymore—the constant battle, the loss, the grief, but most of all, the constant fear. As long as there were loved ones nearby, there was fear. Mikey, April, Angel, shit, even Leo—there wasn’t a second of the day that he wasn’t pants-shittingly terrified that they would be next, and he couldn’t take any more! He just couldn’t take any more. Donnie, Splinter, now Casey too? He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t take any more empty graves.

He couldn’t even bring Casey’s body home to his wife.

His eye, the one that still had an eyeball in it, burned with unshed tears as he shoved his shit in a bag. He didn’t know yet where he was gonna go; the sewers weren’t safe anymore, central park was razed ages ago. He was gonna have to leave the city. Maybe the farm up in Northampton was still safe, none of them had been up there since the summer Donnie went missing.

He reached into the drawer of the beat-up bedside table and his new lack of depth perception finally got him, he slammed his hand right into the back of the drawer and cursed.

Mike blearily peeked out from the top bunk, then grinned. It was the middle of the day, but he looked half asleep. He must have been on night watch. “Arr, matey, it be good to see ye up and about. Hah, eyepatch humor.” His smile flickered at the sight of the bag. “Where—where are you going?”

Raph looked down. “Leaving. I can’t fuckin’ do this anymore, Mike.”

He scoffed. “You’re kidding. You can’t just run off and do your lone-wolf thing anymore Raph, it’s not safe.” A long silence passed. “Come on, be real, dude. Where are you gonna go?”

“I dunno. But I am leaving.”

There was a brief silence. “Fuck you.”

Raph one-eyed blinked.

“What, are you going on some one-man suicide mission against the Shredder or something? We aren’t kids anymore Raph.”

“No, I’m just—I’m leaving, okay? It’s none of your fucking business.”

“Fuck you,” he repeated. He rolled over in his bunk and disappeared into his scratchy wool blanket. “You’ll be back in a week.”

Raph didn’t bother with the contents of the drawer. On his way out of the barracks, something thwacked him on the shoulder, then fell to the concrete. He caught a rustle from Mike’s bunk as he knelt to pick it up.

It was a red mask with one eye stitched closed.

He moved on to the kitchen and stole some rations—nothing crazy, just a few days’ worth. It wasn’t difficult. Everyone knew who he was, everyone knew the turtles were April’s second-third-fourth in command, so no one questioned him as he gathered shit up.

He didn’t go out of his way to say goodbye to Leo. He wouldn’t have said anything to Mikey either if they hadn’t shared a bunk. Leo had tried to stop him from leaving a hundred times before—both back when they were kids and since they had helped form this ramshackle ‘resistance’—and this time he wasn’t going to give him the chance. He tossed the bag over his shoulder and headed out on foot.

He expected Leo, was braced to argue with him and even fight past him if he had to. He wasn’t expecting April. In fact, April might have been the last person he wanted to see. It was her that he was running from, after all.

She stood propped against the wall by the gate with Casey’s giant bomber jacket draped over her shoulders. It was just starting to get chilly out in the evenings, barely cold enough for her to need it. Just the sight of the thing made him want to curl up in a ball and cry his guts out.

She looked up as he approached and of course—of course she didn’t look angry. She looked hurt.

“Don’t try to talk me outta it.”

She shook her head. “Why? I don’t get it.”

He sighed and looked away. Even blurry, he couldn’t stand the sight of her so heartbroken. “Why can’t you just be mad at me already? Yell at me, hit me, get it over with.”

“Raph, I’m not going to be—”

“You should be!” he yelled. “I couldn’t even bring him home in a body bag! He wanted to get out and I stopped him!” His empty eye socket burned again, it truly was insult to injury that crying hurt so much. “He should have come back—he shoulda been the one that came back, and not me.”

April pushed away from the wall and came to stand in front of him. He had caught up to her a little bit height-wise, but she would always be a little bit taller. She cupped his cheek in her hand and chewed on her lip for a moment. “You’re my brother, Raphie.”

He stood there in her grasp, choking back the tears that ran down his face anyways.

She tilted his head forward and planted a soft kiss on his head, then shrugged out of the jacket. She slung it around his shoulders instead. “You’re really going?”

“I have to. I—I gotta get outta here, April.”

She sniffled, then sobbed quietly, but she nodded. She wasn’t going to try to stop him. “Don’t forget about us, okay?”

He wiped tears off his own face and nodded. “Okay.”

There was a moment of hesitation, and before he could second-guess himself, Raph pulled her into a tight hug. She felt so small and breakable in his arms. Mike would watch over her—he was probably the one who sent her out here to begin with.

Dusk turned to night as he held on to her. She didn’t move or complain, content to hold on as long as he would let her. Eventually he had to let go. They both sniffled, but nothing else was said.

She watched him go, Casey’s jacket around his shoulders, until he faded away into the night.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

Recently my brother and I drove five hours to go watch the eclipse with our dad. Due to time, we had to go on a day where it was raining and we also had to take my brother’s POS car rather then my less POS car because I took the insurance off mine while I’ve been unemployed. Anyway, a few notes about my brother’s car:

We only have third about 75% of the time

Windows (for the most part) can only be rolled down by the driver because the electrical is kind of fried and the child lock engages and disengages randomly.

His radio worked for about 3 months after he got it and then it randomly shit the bed so he uses USB computer speakers because (amazingly) the USB port still provides enough power to run them (knock on wood)

A squirrel pissed in his air filter a few months ago and due to scummy manufacturing practices, changing the air filter requires taking off the entire dashboard with a proprietary drill head. So, naturally, we have not changed that air filter.

We have a cache of Mary Brown’s honey dill sauce tucked away for occasions in front of the display screen that used to say it was January first, 2012 no matter how you set it, but now due to electrical issues, it now eternally says that the passenger door is open.

So already off to a great start. However, as we closed in on our destination, about four hours in, blasting weird Quebecois folk music on our USB computer speakers, the driver side wiper flew off and into the middle of a four lane highway. At this point, it wasn’t raining too much, and the next spot that could possibly have a wiper was literally our destination, so we had to press on. We figured the rain was dying down, so all would be fine.

All was not fine. Gradually, the rain really started coming down and I began to plan how we would Not Die. I grew up watching a lot of both Top Gear and RedGreen, so I have a very creative approach to car trouble. When we eventually had to pull over to avoid vehicular death, I gave my brother my plan.

The plan was to move the dinky passenger wiper to the driver side and then to avoid the horrible metal on glass noises when we used the wiper, we would tie fabric onto the passenger wiper arm. He agreed to the plan and we got out to execute the plan. Thankfully, I pack for a weekend trip like I’m going to shit myself twice a day, so I pulled out two pairs of underwear that I wouldn’t miss if the plan failed. Then, we used the drawstring from a pair of sweatpants to tie the underwear around the wiper arm. On a side note, the only thing we had to cut the drawstring with was a small chainsaw we were taking to my dad’s to clean up a couple trees.

Anyway, allow me to introduce to you……………… The Panty Swiper

[witchfall]

go on, let it fall [1]

[jullus pyr norbanus/Warrior of Light/Alphinaud Leveilleur]

[~5550 words]

Jullus meets the Warriors of Light.

Not that he knew that, then; perhaps, if he had, this would have ended so much differently.

---

Jullus peels off his gloves to check for frostbite, breath falling out of his mouth in heavy, watery clouds.

Does he remember how to move his fingers? Yes — for a small mercy, the synapses between brain and finger are preserved. But numbness filters upstream, from his fingers to his wrists, and it blots his mind in fear, even though he knows, logically…

He knows it is not frostbite and he knows it is not magic and he knows it is not some new, terrible virus wrought to give them ignoble deaths piled in their own fluids.

(The men won’t shut the fuck up.)

It’s because he is having a panic attack and cannot breathe.

Atticus, one of the infantrymen, presses a lit cigarette into his hand and gestures vaguely at him. Take it. They lack supplies and heat but they still have cigarettes, for some reason, maybe because only now did discipline die, replaced instead with animal instinct to just get through the moment.

Moment by moment, they become exactly what they’re trying to defeat.

Maybe his thoughts can be seen on his face, because Publius, on his other side, suddenly says, “It’s just a cigarette, man. It didn’t insult your—”

It didn’t insult your mother, goes the rest of that saying, and Publius wisely clicks his mouth shut before he finishes it — but it does make Jullus put the end of the thing in his mouth to avoid replying.

Tastes fucking bad, dry as the ash falling out of the sky, and when he breathes it in his body nearly bends itself in two from how badly his lungs reject the coarse smoke. He coughs horribly, raucously, and finds breathing a sharp, thin thing. The panic of real physical danger, however, seems to short circuit whatever chemical re-creation his body had decided to manufacture, and when he can finally breathe — when the men around him stop smirking — he realizes he hasn’t thought about his hands in a few minutes.

“I’m going on patrol,” Jullus announces, giving the cigarette back. It’s his turn soon, anyway, and lingering leads to chemical imbalance. “I’ll…try to find…more than this.”

The men watch him like he just announced he was diagnosed with a terminal illness — obliging of his earnestness, even though they know it will be the death of him.

[read on ao3.]