#Glass Bead Sterilizer

[elezalabmate]

Glass Bead sterilizer

The Labmate Glass Bead Sterilizer, crafted from stainless steel, is designed to function within a temperature range spanning from 100 to 300°C. This sterilization apparatus is primarily employed for the decontamination of diverse surgical instruments, including tweezers, scalpels, needles, and forceps, among others. Notably compact in its dimensions, this sterilizer can be conveniently integrated into a Laminar Air Flow system.

Product link:

[tirupatidental]

Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilization

In the dynamic landscape of dental care, advancements in sterilization technology have become imperative for ensuring patient safety and regulatory compliance. The Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer emerges as a cutting-edge solution, promising a revolution in dental instrument sterilization.

Trace the historical progression of sterilization methods in dental practices, highlighting the challenges and advancements that led to the development of modern sterilization technologies. Set the stage for the need for innovative solutions like the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer.

Delve into the operational principles of the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer, exploring how dry heat and glass beads collaborate to achieve rapid and effective sterilization. Highlight its unique features and advantages over traditional sterilization methods.

Discuss in detail the advantages offered by the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer, such as its efficiency, versatility, and environmental sustainability. Explore how its advanced technology contributes to a streamlined workflow in dental practices.

Examine the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer’s role in ensuring compliance with stringent sterilization regulations set forth by dental associations and health regulatory bodies. Illustrate how its design aligns with and exceeds industry standards.

Provide real-world examples and case studies showcasing the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer in action. Highlight testimonials and experiences from dental professionals who have integrated this innovative technology into their practices.

Explore the potential future implications of the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer on the dental industry. Discuss how its adoption may pave the way for further advancements in sterilization technologies.

In conclusion, the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer emerges as a transformative force in dental sterilization, blending efficiency, compliance, and innovation. Its integration into dental practices not only ensures the highest standards of hygiene but also propels the industry toward a safer and more technologically advanced future.

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!scientist!reader, noncon, frottage, size kink, lots of cum, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day one [ pickle + size kink ]

you had been so close to pushing the alarm. so close to alerting the guards, and so close to being saved. your hand still reaches out towards the red button on your desk, but you’re held back too far at this point to hit it, restrained and helpless.

on top of that, you knew if anyone saw how much you were actually enjoying the beast’s containment breach, you’d be fired.

from this angle, you could watch your feet sway back and forth.

your legs dangled.

suspended at least a full foot above the sterile floor, a lopsided ovally shadow danced in tandem against the tiles below your stocking-clad toes. where your black heels had fallen off during the struggle, you have no idea. your shoes are the least of your concerns at the moment. your eyeline, albeit blurry from the crooked positioning of your glasses as you struggled against the beast, traces your own legs, and the runners of ripped pantyhose up your knees and over your thighs. the tears became more prominent, and your stockings more akin to the shreds of a cheap mummy costume hanging off your hips. it made your head spin, seeing how vulnerable and exposed your lower half was. your gray pencil skirt had been pushed up, haphazardly around your belly, and two, massive and clawed hands grip your soft thighs, from underneath, keeping them spread wide for the monstrous cock to rub against your core.

it was much too big to fit inside ( luckily for you, because as you stare at how endowed Pickle actually was, you could imagine the carnage a tool as big and hard as his would wreak on your organs ). Pickle had been frustrated at that— pushing and growling and snarling and trying to bite at the back of your neck when you squirmed to hold you steady so he can force it into your small opening, but your body couldn’t even stretch enough to take the head, so after several grueling moments of trying to cram and push, he settled for grinding against your pussy, instead. his movements were clumsy, driven by instinct and lust, and his hips rocked furiously, his grip on his thighs dragging you along the length of his rigid, powerful sex.

at first you’d fought and pushed and clawed at him to stop, telling him it hurt and that he was a bad, bad boy for doing this, but you couldn’t help that your body started to react. you started to get wet. your cunt started to soak the cock that was trying to slot between your soft, sticky netherlips, though it was much too thick, it managed to spread them, allowing them to kiss the expanse just enough to feel as though this Jurassic man was splitting you apart without actually being inside of you.

amidst your own mewls and groans, you could hear the constant drip-dripping of the primitive man’s thick cum as it beaded at the swollen, purple tip and frosted the many, many inches, emphasizing the bulging veins as it coats them in white, and dribbled on to the floor between his gargantuan feet. there was already a puddle on the floor. he had cum so many times that the release no longer erupted, but seemed to bubble out in a constant stream. either this was normal behavior, to breed and breed until he ran completely dry, or he was simply so pent up after the one hundred and ninety million years of being frozen that he couldn’t stop now even if he wanted to, you couldn’t be sure.

if you hadn’t been the unwilling test subject, you might’ve been interested in studying his mating habits.

“F—fff—uck—!” a breathy croak of complete submission— it was the best you could do when dominated by a man of this stature, a beast of his magnitude. your lab coat hands off your shoulders, your blouse ripped open from the sheer power of his claws, and your breasts flop wildly against the rhythm as your eyelids flutter.

not just Pickle had cum, but you as well, your release gluing itself in sticky webs and a glossy finish to your thighs and his manhood. “I can’t… take it…” you’d started to babble after you reached peak a handful of times, your head rolling around on your shoulders, your small body slumping against his sturdy, broad chest that heaves with excitable, ragged breathing and grunts of pleasure as he jacks his cock off with your body. “I-I’m going… crazy…”

what’s worse, you realized, is that you were only getting slipperier, slicker, and more pliable. if the giant kept this up, it wouldn’t be much longer before he’d force his cock into your poor hole, regardless of the fact that he must know he’d fully and truly break you if he did.

[thedevilrisen]

Hospital - 3

Nova Crosby -

11:46 pm

Luke sat in the blue hallway of the hospital, hands shaking as he picked at the buttered banana bread that the nurse suggested he purchase, he had to admit. It was very good. Sitting there in his own world of dismay, struggling to find his footing in the storm of uncertainties. Since he was sent down to the cafe, which closed half-an-hour ago no new information had arised.

Luke was still waiting for Sid near the entrance of the hospital, responding to his message with an 'I'll tell you when you get here.' Both men knew that that conversation would be better had face to face, with each other to lean on. A common theme between the two was a severe restlessness, understandability so when a loved one was in a precarious position.

Luke's gaze followed movement outside the glass entry doors to the hospital, when the motion sensor light triggered he identified the movement as Sidney and immediately jumped up to greet him. Luke pressed the green button for the door as it was past visiting hours which meant no one from the outside was allowed in.

When Sid walked through the glass doors, his eyes connecting with Luke's as the two let out a simultaneous breath of relief. While many would be worried for Nova there were probably only two who would match the incredulous level and right now they were standing and looking at each other in the hospital entrance tears beading the tops of their lashes in solitude.

"How you holding up, kid?" Sid rasped out, barely above a whisper. He had to admit, Luke looked like a mess, dark bags under his bloodshot eyes, his hair was tousled from running his hand through it countless times as he sat in the weight of the situation.

"I certainly could be better, I can tell you that much." Luke spoke sarcastically, Sid got the impression that Luke was very much akin to a wounded animal. Terrified and defensive, refusing help from others because that would make the situation worse. "Not as bad as you I'd imagine."

Sid nodded solemnly along with the whispered words, when he had first heard from Luke what was wrong with Nova he had consulted his medical dictionary to disclose what a brain aneurysm was and whether or not her was having one. Never in a million years or life times did he think he would be standing in the entrance of a hospital in which housed Nova in its sterile-lit depths.

"While she was first and foremost my darling little girl Luke, she's now your girl too. I've always know one way or another she'd become so infatuated with someone and I'd be handing her off at an alter eventually." Sid took a deep breath, eyes darting around as he tried to find the correct way to word his next statement, "I had just always prayed, that one day it would be the right person. I don't want to make any outrageous assumptions.. but if I didn't know any better Luke I'd say you are planning to be that person."

Luke finally felt his walls crumble, the strong front he held in the ambulance and in the emergency, when he took a picture with the server at the cafetiera. It all came crashing down. Tears spewed from Luke's eyes as he stumbled forward into Sidney's arms, wet gargled sobs entrenched the prior tranquility of the hospital lobby and turned it into a cacophony of suffering. The ensemble of incoherence continued to play as the ship sank, and Luke to his knees with Sidney in tow, his arms still cradling the distraught boy.

Sidney didn't try to quiet the boy, Luke needed to let out the emotion or he would explode. As his quaking shoulders softened to mear trembles and tears subsided Sid loosened his grip, letting Luke drag himself back into reality, allowing him to strengthen his frontier again for everything that was to come.

And come it did.

Unknown ID

Dear Family of Nova Crosby, two of her 3 schedules surgeries went to plan, we were unable to perform the third due to a complication in which she has been moved to the Intensive Care unit, located on level three, for close monitoring. Please find the Intensive Care waiting room located outside ward 3A where a nurse will come find you and bring you to visit.

[lucimiir]

MY FAV DUNE PT 2 COSTUMES

And my (mostly visual/aesthetic) reasoning

(In no particular order)

Ok starting off STRONG with this Irulan look:

It’s simple, it’s classy, it looks comfy AND elegant. I love the beadwork on the headpiece and how it’s Bene Gesserit-adjacent but you can still completely see her face and hair. The light colors look good on her and that collar made me question it for just long enough to make it better.

Next up is Jessica’s early sayyadina look, and I loooooove this robe. The earth colors are nice, I like how it kinda blends in with the sietch while emphasizing her eyes, and the fabric is very rough and functional looking while still being beautiful. Mostly I’m psyched about the patterns in the weaving (I think it’s woven) and the way that creates continuity with her tattoos.

I had trouble finding good pictures for this, but

Everything about this scene was GORGEOUS. I swear I didn’t breathe for the first ten minutes of the movie, and these Harkonnen uniforms were part of it. The colors here are amazing and make the black look so harsh and unnatural compared to the sand and rocks and the Fremen clothing. Their shiny helmets are terrifying and sterile and buglike and I am living for it. (Little me would have gotten nightmares)

Obviously we’ve all acknowledged Lady Margot’s amazing dress, but it’s just That Good. The structure! The open shoulders and low neck + hood! The color! Sinister and sexy. And despite the fact that I loved the color, I might love this even more in the black and white scenes because it shows off the construction so well and the opera glasses honestly tie it all together.

Ok bringing back Jessica because she Doesn’t Miss:

I loooove this. The gold printing (?) around the hood might be my favorite part, and the beads under the collar are awesome without weighing down her whole face like the outfit she wears for most of the film with all the metal on the forehead. I also like how the structure and design of it is extra similar to Reverend Mother Mohiam, with the giant rectangular hood, but the color and the face beading are actually more reminiscent of the gown she wears when the Atreides arrive on Arrakis in part one.

A shoutout for Feyd-Rautha’s armor in the duel:

Idk I just really like how shiny it is. All the Harkonnen stuff reminds me of bugs (those evil looking shiny black beetles) I like how this is actually very much like a stillsuit and really similar to what Paul’s wearing, but more evil and shiny.

Last but CERTAINLY not least is just Chani’s blue scarf. BOY does this pull its visual weight. Like symbolism and meaning aside, it’s such a necessary piece of color in the all the desert scenes, and adds visual interest to what is a largely beige movie. In tons of the scenes most of the color is bright bright blue in the characters’ eyes and this scarf. And I think it adds a lot of joy and lightness to Chani’s appearance, which obviously symbolically changes as she does.

I just love costumes! This was a visually stunning film! I’m feeling very happy!

[carnivorousyandeere]

Alright more thoughts— specifically about Marcus with afab Darling and kegel balls. Please heed the warnings, this one’s fucked up

More Unethical Pelvic Floor Therapy with Marcus

( MDNI, No Age in Bio DNI )

CW: abuse of power, gaslighting, unethical medicine, intentional bad medical advice (leaving kegel balls in for extended periods can actually fatigue your muscles and damage them; any company suggesting you do this instead of actual exercises is working from pseudoscience. If it’s your kink to leave ‘em in a long time go ham or whatever… just know the risks), smut, dubcon, overstimulation, painful fingering, painful sex, mating press but no talk of actual breeding

Info: gn afab reader

Your physical therapists had recommended you start using kegel balls— “it’ll help with your mood and disgestion!” Said one. “It’s a great workout, helps keep you healthy,” nodded the second. The last insinuated it would improve your sex life— as if you’d had sex with anyone but the three of them since you started visiting their office.

None of them had really explained how you were supposed to use them, so you figured your best bet would be to ask Marcus. The other two would insist on “showing you how to use them,” and you’d just end up fucked out in one of their offices again. When you asked, he just laughed a little and pushed up his glasses, typing away at his computer and not sparing a glance, as if you should already know the answer.

“You lube it up, with as little lube as possible, and slide it into the vaginal canal. Then, it should rest rather comfortably near your cervix, much as a tampon might. After that, you just let it stay there for a few hours while you go about your day. Your pelvic floor muscles will contract as you go about your day.”

“Oh…” you feel your face burning. “Is that… it, then?”

“Mm?” Marcus finally glances up at you. “Yeah? You shouldn’t keep them in for longer than eight hours at a time. And if you think the ones we’ll be sending you home with are too big, or you experience any pain or unusual discharge, come back in right away.”

~~~

You made it a few days. The feeling was strange, though not unpleasant— at first. You could feel it inside you as you walked around, though if you ignored it the feeling began to fade. You did notice yourself squirming a bit more, finding it harder to get comfortable. You felt… full in a way you hadn’t before. Eating and drinking made the pressure in your gut all the more noticeable. You tried not to think about it too much, and took it out at the end of your day as instructed, even though the lack of a string to pull it by was a little difficult.

The second day, you had a little trouble inserting the ball, though not too much. You did notice a small ache as the day wore on, and that your underwear felt a little more… wet than usual. At the end of the day, though, you were able to take the ball out and relax.

You woke up hot and wet the third day. You felt a little tight, but the ball slipped in without much trouble. You couldn’t focus on anything, though. Your abdomen felt so tight and hot. You feared you might leak through your underwear, and had to come home early to try and compose yourself. But try as you might when you got home, you couldn’t get the kegel ball out. You’d gotten too tight, painfully so. Embarrassed and needier than you could remember being in a long while, you pulled your clothes back up and make your way to the clinic for Marcus’ help.

~~~

It doesn’t take him long to figure out what’s going on between your panicked expression and the sweat beading at your temples, even as you struggle to tell him what’s wrong. Marcus coaxes you to undress. You lay back on an exam table, and Marcus quickly dawns a sterile mask and a pair of gloves, spreading lube over his gloved fingers. You hiss and flinch away when his fingers ghost over your clit. You see Marcus’ glimmering eyes narrow over his mask.

“You kept that damn thing in for hours a day, didn’t you?”

“Y-yes, you… told me to…”

Marcus’ eyebrows shoot up. “There’s no way… that’s far too long… your poor muscles must be so fatigued.”

He slides a finger inside you, eyebrows raising even a bit further when the tip of his finger meets the kegel ball still lodged inside you. “You couldn’t even get it out again… poor baby.”

He ignores your pained whines as he slides his finger in and out, adding a bit more lube to ease you. He doesn’t want to permanently injure you, after all… You tense and tear up as a second finger begins to slide in. Marcus shushes you, holding your hip with his other hand and brushing his thumb over the skin.

“You’ll be alright, we’ve just gotta open you up enough to pull it out.” He scissors his fingers gently, working you open. His eyes rove hungrily over your form, following the tears that drip from your eyes and devouring your pained expression like it’s a fine dessert. His pants feel much too tight.

Eventually, Marcus is able to grab the small ball and gently wiggle it free. You let out a sigh of relief and slump against the table when his hands leave you, and the ball thumps onto the table then clatters away onto the floor, forgotten as Marcus’ hands come back to spread you open to get a good look. Your folds are wet and puffy, much more than from the lube. Marcus twitches in his pants, fighting back a groan.

You tense again, wet eyes darting to him in surprise when you feel his finger testing your entrance again. “M-Marcus, please, it’s too—“

“Sore?” He interrupts. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you don’t listen to me. And if I don’t massage out these muscles now, it’s only gonna feel worse on down the line.”

You whine, turning your face to the side as Marcus slides that finger deeper inside and slides his mask down with his other hand. He kisses your cheek, tasting the tear tracks there. You shut your eyes and nod. It’s all you can do.

Your muscles are just too tight, clenching painfully around around his thick fingers as he works them inside. He spreads you apart a little bit more, keeping up the pretense of helping to relieve the ache in your core, before his fingers find that sensitive spot inside you. You jolt at the feeling, a lightning bolt of strained pleasure that has you gritting your teeth through the stars in your vision.

Marcus shushes you as you pant and groan at the strange feeling building in your gut, his fingers working that spot ever more harshly. He reassures you that everything’s going to be okay. He kisses your cheek, your forehead, strokes your hip with his free hand. It’s the most painful orgasm you’ve ever felt, but the relief that follows as you gush around his fingers is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before. You go boneless against the exam table, covering your face and willing your heart to calm down.

Marcus’ fingers still, but only for a moment. He curls them again right before you can catch your breath.

“M-Marcus, no, it hurts, I can’t-”

He curls his fingers harder, breathing in your pained whine as his lips ghost over yours.

“I’ll help you feel better, but you need to relax.”

“I can’t,” you sob.

“You can,” he insists. “Be good and let me help you.”

You sob harder, finding yourself nodding again, relinquishing control over yourself as you let him work you over on his fingers again and again. You feel so tired, so achy, the burning pleasure rubbing your nerves raw like sandpaper.

Marcus relishes in your cries, making you cum twice, then thrice, before losing patience and slipping his scrubs down to rub his cock against you. You jolt and cry out even louder as his tip brushes over your clit. Marcus bites his lip, fighting back a groan at the sight. You look so pretty, tear-stained and incoherent.

He can’t help running his hands up the backs of your thighs, slick with sweat, and pressing them firmly against your chest as he slides in. Marcus stays still for a moment, savoring how hot and wet you are. You’re so tight that every twitch of him inside you makes you gasp with the discomfort. He knows you’re only going to be more sore in the morning. The thought of taking care of you, so weak and helpless, only makes him twitch even harder, moaning against the shell of your ear.

[abarbaricyalp]

If you can combo 5,6, 30 intimacy for Sam and Bucky... Thank you

5: holding hands, kissing the back of it 6: kissing the tip of their nose 30: being protective Not gonna lie, I had difficulty imagining them being in a situation where they'd be kissing each other's hands and noses while also needing to be protective 😅 I know this is probably not what you had in mind, but it would not leave my mind.

All things considered, a cave behind a waterfall was pretty damn romantic. Bucky had found the cave. The dinosaurs they were hiding from, were not his fault. He should get all the points for the romanticism and lose nothing for the dinosaurs.

"Let me see your hand," he said, scooting closer to where Sam was washing his hand off in the waterfall. They should stay away from it. Who knew what kind of vision dinosaurs had. Sure, he'd been obsessed with them as kids, but he was pretty sure dinosaurs were one of those things that books in the 20s had been wrong about.

Sam held out his hand without complaint, which was a small miracle. "I cut it while we were climbing," he explained. He sucked in a sharp breath as Bucky put his thumbs on either side of the gash in his palm. "It's pretty deep."

Bucky nodded in agreement. For the first time in this whole forsaken night, the fact that they weren't in battle gear was actually helpful. He tore off the hem of his shirt and tied it around the middle of Sam's hand. It was not remotely sterile, but he couldn't really do anything about that. This would at least keep him from bleeding so badly and maybe keep dirt from getting in easily.

Sam stared at his hand, cupped gently in both of Bucky's and then let out a short laugh. "Oh my God, we look like a stupid action movie."

Bucky thought they looked like stupid action movies pretty regularly, but he figured Sam meant an action adventure movie. One of those ones with jungles and cargo crates and giant monsters, ancient runes and lost cities. Impossible feats of strength, like jumping over a ratty bridge or climbing up the side of a ship in the middle of a storm or hanging out of the blown out window of a two-seater plane. Probably based on a video game or some other existing IP.

"Those don't usually start in the middle of dinner at a local pasta place," Bucky pointed out. "We didn't even get our second glass of wine."

"It was good wine. Congrats on recognizing that. I'll make you a cultured man in no time." Sam started to pull his hand back, started to make to get to his feet.

Bucky curled his fingers around Sam's, up high, away from the cut. Sam settled back on the rocky ground with a raised eyebrow. "We can't wait around for someone to throw another temporal displacement bomb at us, Buck," he pointed out. "We've gotta figure out a way out of here."

"I know," Bucky accepted, though he kind of didn't think it'd be that easy. Without any reinforcements, without any gear of their own, what the hell were they going to do? Use their cells to call for help? He doubted that even the Kimoyo beads could traverse millions of years. And no one knew where they were, or were expecting them some other place. They wouldn't be missed until something else exploded or they missed the next call-out. It had been a long time since Bucky had felt helpless--he could force his body to extremes unheard of to survive, to protect Sam--but being chased by a dinosaur he couldn't name through forest growth so dense and thick and large the sun didn't reach the ground and then being forced to climb a cliff face so new every rock was rough and unpolished had just about wrung out the hope from him.

"I just..." He hesitated for a second, then brought Sam's hand up to his mouth and placed a soft kiss over the bandage on his palm, then turned Sam's hand over to kiss his scrapped up knuckles. "Just wanna make sure you're okay before we get back to adventuring."

Sam's face softened. He put his other hand to Bucky's cheek, thumb brushing over the crooked prop of it midway down where he'd been hit by a falling rock earlier. "I'm okay, Buck. Eventually, we'll have to add lizards to our list."

"What list?" Bucky asked, shaken from his deepening, pooling panic. Back to the world of a beautiful waterfall and dappled sunlight just for a second.

"Androids, aliens, and wizards."

The force with which Bucky rolled his eyes was enough to skyrocket the blooming headache snaking through his brain. "You can't say wizards and lizards in the same stupid catchphrase."

"Sure I can," Sam scoffed. "We're fighting morons who call themselves the Serpent Society. I think we need to add lizards."

"Just accept that you and I do not fight wizards that often," Bucky insisted.

"We fight wizards plenty."

"When, Sam? When do we ever fight wizards?"

"Loki," Sam said.

"Loki is a god. Apparently. And neither us ever fought him."

Sam reached over then, hands on either side of Bucky's face, and realigned his nose with an audible crack of cartilage snapping back into place.

Bucky had been led to believe by countless sci-fi books and his favorite modern movie that dinosaurs hunted by sound because their eyesight was bad. This was the only reason he did not howl with indignant pain and anger. He smacked his hands up against his own face--which did not make anything feel better--and glared at Sam--the effect of which was lessened by the tears that had naturally sprung to his eyes.

"Asshole," he ground out. "I told you it would set itself. The serum always puts things back where they belong."

"I couldn't stand looking at it anymore," Sam defended. "And it was making your voice sound weird. Move your hands." He batted Bucky's hands away and examined the line of his nose, then the full effect of his face. "Right as rain. Stop being a baby." He leaned forward and kissed either side of Bucky's nose, then the bruised bridge of it, then brushed the tip of his nose against Bucky's in apology.

Fine, that was enough to sate Bucky. He brushed his nose against Sam's again before leaning back against the cave wall. "How are we gonna get out of this one, Sam?" he asked.

Sam adjusted to sit beside him, grimacing as rough rock bit into his shoulders and back. "I don't know. Do you think the temporal imbalance will still be where we came in at? It disrupts the fabric of time and reality, right?"

"I don't think anything at all about this shit. I just call Strange and tune him out when he gets bitchy."

"So, all the time," Sam surmised with a tired, but affectionate, grin.

"Yeah, kind of," Bucky admitted. He dropped his arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him closer. "Do you know anything about dinosaurs?"

"Not really," Sam admitted himself. "I missed both boys' dinosaur phases."

"Do you think they're, like, diurnal?" Bucky ventured.

"No idea. There had to have been some nocturnal ones, right?"

"Yeah, but probably not the big ones."

Sam's eyebrows rose in thought. "They're all big, but I guess that kind of makes sense. So, what did you have on you for our date night?"

Bucky looked at Sam with a little bit of an abashed look. "Don't make it sound like I wore a tac belt," he muttered. "I just have a few knives. Didn't even have a gun in my jacket. Wherever that is now. I don't think a handful of combat knives are going to help us out here."

Sam had retrieved his own knife and flipped it around in his fingers. Each time the sharp side passed over the pads, it made an low scratching sound. Sam didn't need Bucky to tell him to take care of his shit and clearly he did it well. It still wasn't going to help.

"The only thing we can try is looking for that temporal weakness," Sam decided. "And the longer we wait, the more likely it is to close."

"I'm gonna tell Torres you had no faith in his ability to find us," Bucky threatened emptily.

"I don't think he'd blame me," Sam assured. He stood, then offered his hand down to Bucky to haul him up. "Hopefully we'll be able to tell when something big is coming at us. We didn't recognize the sound last time because we weren't prepared. Now we know what we're up against."

Bucky nodded. "Stay close to me, alright? Vibranium is still stronger than dinosaur teeth."

"Your arm is the size of their toothpicks, Buck," Sam pointed out, but he let Bucky take the lead.

Bucky half expected something to be waiting for them as they came through the water. They had to get into it to get back to the cliff face and all he did was hope there was nothing flesh eating in the water. Large or otherwise.

But there was nothing waiting for them and nothing eating them. A win all around.

The water helped wash away some of the grime and blood though, which was nice. Bucky had no idea if dinosaurs had acute olfactory systems, but he imagined smelling like the landscape and not unknown human should help. Besides, he thought better when he wasn't disgusting.

The climb down was a different kind of difficult from the climb up. Gravity was useful, but neither of them could see what they were doing and Sam kept managing to put his foot down on Bucky's fingers.

"I'm usually flying," Sam pointed out in a hiss while Bucky pulled out some ancient foul language on him. "I don't have to climb."

Impossibly, they managed to get to the ground without dying. The landscape they'd been dropped into was wetter and greener than Bucky had been expecting. There was foliage and trees and the cliffs provided run off that snaked around in thin streams. It had been a mad dash earlier to find shelter, so Bucky hadn't been able to examine their current prison. He wasn't sure what the safest route-of-action would be.

Sam kept looking up at the trees, but he evidently wasn't finding what he was looking for because he kept walking with a grunt.

"I don't think we should risk eating anything yet," Bucky called over to him, jogging a little to catch up. "That should really be a last ditch effort. Like...you should eat me before you eat something you find here."

Sam's nose scrunched in abject disgust. "I'm not eating you. I'm not looking for food," he added. "I'm looking for birds."

"Why?" Bucky asked. "I don't think birds existed back here. They're all, like, pterodactyls."

"Pterodactyls aren't the closest relatives to birds," Sam corrected. "I mean, like, birds are the closest living relative to pterodactyls, but not the other way around."

"Why are you looking for birds?" Bucky redirected. Because he kind of didn't care about living relatives when they were stuck with the old version.

"Because I--" Sam stopped suddenly, just on the other side of an opening in the tree line. "Buck," he warned so quietly Bucky almost couldn't hear him. Bucky pushed away the safety bar arm that had gone out in front of him so he could stand by Sam.

In the clearing, there was a whole entire T-fucking-rex.

There were lots of times Bucky's thinking brain shut down in favor of his fighting brain. Back in the war, he'd always felt like something else took over his body and moved it around like the worlds most skilled marionette. Since breaking Hydra's conditioning, he'd felt the Soldier settle into his skin during difficult fights.

Coming face to face with a real fucking T-rex, huddled like the world's largest chicken over a nest, had about every dissociative disorder filling Bucky's bones and muscle and soul and hollow spots. He put himself in front of Sam immediately, pushing Sam back so that he'd have a head start on the running.

The dinosaur was tense, but hadn't stood. Bucky had a cat. He knew that look. He knew that not standing didn't mean anything for a predator with power. It was watching them intently. Buck felt like he couldn't move.

"Sam, run," he whispered, pushing at Sam's hip again. "I'll distract it. You need to get back to the cliff."

"Shut up," Sam whispered back. "Just...just let me think. Give me a second."

The T-rex crouched. Terror punched through Bucky like a real object. He almost got sick with it. "Sam, please," he begged. "Get out of here."

"Hey," Sam said. Loudly. Bucky jumped and looked at him with wild desperation. "We're not here to hurt you or those eggs," he said. "We didn't mean to walk this way."

The T-rex cocked its huge head. It blinked, the way lizards did, which was uncanny. And then, for some reason, it settled back down.

"What the fuck is happening?" Bucky whispered.

"I'm saving your life," Sam answered. To the T-rex, he added, "Are there others around? We could use some help."

The T-rex bellowed. It wasn't like in Jurassic Park. It was...deeper. Fuller. Not so metal-on-metal reverb screeching. It was still damn terrifying and Bucky yelped a little. "What the fuck, Sam?" he hissed.

"T-rex is one of the closest relatives to birds. I can talk to birds, ergo I can talk to dinosaurs," Sam explained like that made any sense.

"What the hell do you mean you can talk to birds? Did it just call another T-rex over here?"

"Actually, she called the other one to some other spot. She wouldn't want it near her nest. We have to go meet it."

"Like hell," Bucky objected.

"Do you want to make this trek on foot again? How did that turn out for us last time?"

"What do you mean you can talk to birds?" Bucky repeated.

"Thank you very much," Sam said to the dinosaur. "And sorry again." He ducked back into the tree line and pulled Bucky with him. "I'll explain later. Right now I need to focus. It's not the same as with birds. I'm having to think a lot more here."

"Did you drink the water? Are you having hallucinations? Hell, am I?"

Sam pinned an unimpressed look on him. "Let's just get going before she changes her mind," he said blandly.

Not for the first time that afternoon, Bucky wondered what the hell his life was.

[hughiecampbelle]

Coffin (Jack Crawford Drabble)

Character/s: Jack, Hannibal mention

Word Count: 935

A/N: I really had a hard time with this prompt, which is why it's a day late (among other reasons) and a teensy bit shorter than the rest of the fics. I am so very sorry my loves, I will get back on track! My favorite thing to write is a complicated, unhappy marriage and who else fits better than Jack Crawford lol. Kicking my feet and giggling at the idea of a marriage crumbling all bc of his stubbornness!!!! It's pouring out and my glasses come today (they're super cute!) and I just know it's gonna be a good day!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! ❤❤❤❤

WRITING EVENT ❤️🔪🩸

Jack, please. . . But you can’t manage the rest of your sentence. What else can you beg for? What else can you plead for? Instead, you look to Dr. Lecter for help. His voice, gentle yet stern, explains your secrets, saying them out loud when you are unable to. Jack's eyes never leave you. His gaze fixated on your face, on the tears that slipped down your cheeks quietly. You can’t meet his eyes though, instead they are cast down at your lap, your fingers antsy, peeling back at hangnails until blood beads from the wound. You stick it in your mouth, not wanting to stain your clothes, tasting metal. Hannibal keeps going on, breaking the news without sterility. You never wanted the truth to come out, not like this. You wanted to keep going with your life, your marriage, even as it began to rot. You wanted to die with Jack as your husband, your love, not as a stranger. You had months left, six if you were lucky, though you weren’t holding out hope. Your life hasn’t been full of luck. There wasn’t an abundance of it. Jack's deep, low voice interrupts him. Why wouldn’t you tell me?

Something sleeps between you in bed. Not a child like you’d always hoped. A family of three, your perfect baby. No, you can’t have that. You never will. Everything you’ve never said drives a division in your marriage. A gaping hole in the mattress, an incision cut down the middle. Desperate, he reaches out, but you cannot reciprocate. You can’t crawl into his embrace and ask for forgiveness. Not tonight, at least. You move farther away from him, to your side, and he understands. He followed you to that office. He sat outside, in the waiting room, and listened through the door. When your time was up, when you thanked Dr. Lecter for his help, you ran into your husband. Physically walking into him. Even before you knew who it was, you smelled him. His cologne. The same on you agonized over, wanting to get the perfect one for his birthday, something you’d both enjoy. That’s what your life used to be: picking out perfumes. Worrying how long it would last, if he’d like it as much as he did, if he would even wear it. Life was easy. You had plenty of time back then. Time to waste, to throw away. How silly it all was. 

You pretend to be asleep when his alarm goes off. He showers, dressing quickly, but when you expect him to walk out the room, he sits instead at the edge of the bed. I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry. You don’t move, don’t flinch, keep your eyes closed. We’ll figure this out together. His voice travels. The door creaks. I love you, he admits, before closing it. That was it, though. He couldn’t face you. He couldn’t look at you and proclaim his feelings, his thoughts and emotions. He had to do it in secret, when he believed you couldn’t hear him. Only anger, disbelief, sadness – those are what he could share, show, perform. He was only capable of being gentle when you weren’t aware. You didn’t want this. You never wanted him to find out. Let him live in ignorance, in bliss. Instead, he searched for answers when he shouldn’t have and now the both of you were hurting. 

He is married to his job. The gore, the carnage, the misery it causes others lulls him to sleep each night. Your marriage was barely breathing. Its coffin was picked out, anticipating the end. It wasn’t your impending death that would call it quits. It’s been decrepit for a long time now. Muscle withering, bones growing soft, skin wrinkling and spotting. Aging is a privilege, but not when it comes to love. You are the mistress, the person he cheats with, a self-indulgence he cannot give up. Chocolate on a cheat day. His career, his peers and students, those are who he vowed himself to. If he does change, if he does try to make you his top priority, it’s not because he’s realized his faults. It’s not because wants to love you the way he used to, the way you deserve. It’s because he knows you have so little time left. Death, mortality, was the only reason he was putting in the effort. How sad is that? 

Why wouldn’t you tell me? He repeats, and you cannot keep biting your tongue. Your eyes meet his and your words come out harsh, cruel. I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want you to mourn me while I’m still alive. He looks as if you’d slapped him, his cheek stinging. The drive home is long, an impending doom settling into your chest. You saw it in his expression, the gears of his mind turning. He wants to repent for his sins. Apologize and move on. You refused. Now you lay in the bed, the bed you shared with him. You smelled his cologne, the one you’d picked out and wrapped, placing a bow on top. You listened to him walk down the stairs. Heard his keys in his hand and, eventually, the front door closed. You weren’t concerned with how many mornings you had like this. How many more dinners you’d share, books you’d read, nights you’d spend wanting to be held by anyone else but him. Instead, you thought of the time after you’re gone. Jack alone, throwing himself into his career, explosive with anger hurting everyone in his path. You’re always getting ahead of yourself Jack. . .

[teine-mallaichte]

I saw this prompt from @whumpwordsoftheday and apparently it tickled something in my brain 😂 and apparently I an torturing Ash again.

CW: non-con drugging, dehumanisation, restraint, medical trauma maybe, panic, drugging.

complex 27

The room hummed with the sterile scent of chemicals, punctuated by the low hiss of gas. Dull lights flickered overhead, casting wavering shadows on the metal walls. Ash sat rigid, chest tight, muscles coiled with tension. His wrists and ankles were securely fastened to the chair, a plastic mask clamped over his mouth and nose, the cold gas pressing against his skin.

Don’t inhale.

"Don’t struggle, just breathe it in,” Sergeant Kerr’s voice cut through the low hum, too calm, too smooth. He stood, arms clasped behind his back, every movement measured, orchestrating the scene.

Ash tightened his lips into a thin line, his jaw clenched so tightly he could feel the muscles in his neck straining. His body trembled with the effort to fight against the instincts screaming at him to breathe.

Don’t breathe.

His lungs burned, the ache spreading through his chest like fire, every second an eternity. His vision blurred at the edges, fingers digging into the metal armrests as his body twitched under the strain, muscles taut like drawn wires. He could hear the faint creak of the bindings around his wrists cutting into his skin as tremors rippled through his arms.

Kerr’s boots echoed on the floor as he stepped closer, hands still clasped behind his back, his gaze sharp and steady. His head tilted slightly, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, as if amused by Ash’s defiance. “Stubborn as ever. Admirable,” Kerr murmured, leaning down until his face was inches from Ash’s, “but useless.”

Ash’s chest spasmed, his ribs aching as he tried to push through the overwhelming pressure building inside him. His throat convulsed with the effort, and sweat beaded along his hairline, running in slow rivulets down the sides of his face. He could feel Kerr’s presence, but it felt muted, like looking at a figure from behind glass.

The thought flickered - Is this real?

Kerr crouched down, his calm demeanor never wavering as his eyes scanned Ash's face. "This isn’t personal." His voice was low, almost gentle. “You just… need correcting.”

His pulse roared in his ears, drowning out everything. The pain in his chest clawed at him, unbearable. Muscles screamed for oxygen. Still, he held on. His knuckles were white. Fingers scraped the chair’s surface, but his gaze staying locked on Kerr.

"You’ll give in," Kerr whispered, his tone dripping with certainty. “It’s just nature. Even the strongest can’t outrun it.”

His body trembled, every nerve alight. His vision darkened, black spots swirling. The ache in his lungs morphed into a sharp, stabbing pain. Sweat soaking the back of his neck.

Not yet.

Kerr’s face twisted in irritation. “Still fighting.” His voice was a low hiss. “I suppose that’s what earned you the top rank, isn’t it?” He leaned in close, gripping Ash's chin and lifting his head, forcing eye contact, “But that rank won’t matter if you’re dead.”

The jab in Ash’s side came fast, pain exploding through the bruise from his last mission. He gasped. Involuntary. Lungs burning as cold gas rushed into his chest. His body convulsing, coughing as the gas scorched its way through him.

Everything hit at once—pain, gas, air—and Ash felt the world shatter around him.

Not now. Not here.

The lightheadedness hit him like a wave, his muscles slackening as the tension unraveled. For a second, his thoughts flared, desperate to hold on, fight, but the drug pulled it all away - everything slipping beyond his reach. The room, Kerr, the chair - they all seemed to blur into something indistinct, shapeless.

None of this is real. It’s not happening. Not again.

Kerr's hand let go of his chin, letting his head droop. The gas hissed louder, pressing in on him, the burning ache in his chest fading into a distant, dull throb. He watched Kerr through heavy-lidded eyes, the man’s face swimming before him, like watching someone through deep water.

“Much better,” Kerr said, almost soothingly, his voice a mockery of comfort. He adjusted the gas levels with a flick of his wrist, keeping Ash groggy, disoriented, but painfully conscious.

Ash’s pulse pounded in his ears, but the sound seemed to come from somewhere else. His body felt heavy, like it was sinking into the chair, yet he still strained against the restraints, feeling them only faintly. His limbs wouldn’t listen. Not mine.

“You see how much easier things are when you comply?” Kerr’s voice hovered over him, his hand brushing Ash’s sweat-soaked hair away from his forehead, almost gently.

Ash’s fingers twitched against the chair, his nails scraping weakly at the metal as he fought to keep his focus, but everything was slipping. His mind drifted in and out, tethered by the sharp, suffocating edge of the gas and the low hum of Kerr’s voice.

“Now,” Kerr continued, walking over to the table to retrieve a syringe, “let’s deal with that overactive mind of yours.”

Ash’s eyes flickered, trying to follow Kerr’s movements, but his body felt distant, heavy. He tried to speak, his words slurring from the fog in his mind. “What…?”

Kerr returned, wiping antiseptic over Ash’s arm. “It’s just a little something to help you. You see, 77,” Kerr murmured as he slid the needle into Ash’s skin, “For all your skil and ability… You think too much. That’s your problem.”

No. Not again. Not...

The cool metal bit into Ash’s arm, and he felt the rush of the drug as it slid into his veins, pulling him further into the haze. His thoughts, already fragmented, began to dissolve entirely, swallowed by a wave of cold calm. His body went slack in the chair, his breathing evening out as the drug took hold.

“Just relax,” Kerr’s voice echoed in the distance. “Stop resisting. It’ll only make things harder for you.”

Ash’s limbs felt like lead, his head lolling to the side as his eyes fluttered closed, his mind dissolved entirely into the cold calm of the drug. Kerr’s voice echoed distantly as everything drifted, 'We’ll have you sharp again soon."

[jaybug-jabbers]

Just some notes I am making for myself!!

Isopod Shopping List:

✔️ Glass aquarium/vivarium (ensure lid has fine mesh to keep out pests; a lid that's partially glass will make it easier to maintain humidity)

✔️ Humidity gauge/thermometer (50-60%, 70-85 degrees F)

✔️ Bark 'hides' and (safe) decorative pieces; cork bark is common

✔️ Squirt bottle for misting

✔️ Substrate (common ones: topsoil, coco fiber, coco chips, sand, charcoal, small pieces of bark/wood, sphagnum moss; the moss helps retain moisture and thus is handy but don't use too much; ensure the soil used has no fertilizer beads or other 'extras' in it):

✔️ Topsoil/Potting Soil

✔️ Worm castings

✔️ Fir Bark Chips

✔️ Charcoal

✔️ Sphagnum Moss

✔️ Dead leaves (primary food source; some people boil or bake them to sterilize but others don't; a variety of leaf types will work; some commonly used ones include maple, oak, birch, elm, cottonwood, etc; thinner leaves and older, more 'rotten' leaves are tastiest to them, but be sure to inspect for mold or hitchhikers; provide plenty of leaves in a layer over the whole tank)

Additional dead organic matter can include seed pods such as magnolia pods, lichen, or other goodies

✔️ Nutrient-rich foods (secondary food source; a variety of things can be used including fish flakes, dried bloodworms, dried shrimp, small pieces of produce scraps, specialized products such as Repashy Morning Wood and Repashy Bug Burger, etc) to be provided in very small amounts that can be eaten quickly and any excess removed before it molds; experiment to see how long it takes for them to consume it and what they prefer to eat

✔️ Cuttlebone (broken up) may be provided if desired for extra calcium

Springtails may be added to help control mold and pests

Isopod Care Notes:

Some keepers have a 'damp' side and a 'drier' side to allow the isopods to regulate their own preferences; sphagnum moss works good for the damp side, and situate a vent by the dry side if possible

Heat should not be needed unless your room is especially cool

Most keepers prefer deep substrate for the isopods to burrow, but some prefer shallower substrate so they can keep track of their stock better (they use a compacted substrate layer and place a looser, shallower burrowing layer on top)

Substrate does not need to be changed often but every few months is a good idea to refresh its nutrients and remove excess frass & ammonia buildup

Exact environmental preferences will depend on the species of isopod; while their needs are often very similar it's important to always double-check about your exact species

Isopods will reproduce readily (females carry the eggs in their bodies and will give 'birth' to live isopods) and the little babbies (mancae) start off very teeny so be careful when you're cleaning

Invert keepers have bred a TON of varieties of isopods, at differing 'difficulty' and price levels; make sure you are purchasing isopods that have been bred in captivity and not poached from the wild; and obviously never release pets into the wild

Some Beginner Isopods & Pretty Color Morphs:

Armadillidium nasatum (Nosy Pillbug): Peach, Orange, White Out/Pearl

Armadillidium vulgare (Roly-Poly): Orange Vigor, St. Lucia, Magic Potion

Porcellio scaber (Rough Woodlouse): Dalmation, Orange Koi, Lava

Porcellio laevis (Swift Woodlouse): Dairy Cow

Cubaris murina (Little Sea Isopod): Anemone, Glacier

Questions for Sellers:

Opinions on enclosures, especially with regards to maintaining proper moisture and airflow

Opinions on where to safely collect leaf litter (esp this time of year), boiling to sterilize (potential nutrition loss)

Species

Where do you get your isopods?

[tirupatidental]

Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer

Title: Innovative Sterilization with Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer: A Paradigm Shift in Disinfection Technology

Introduction

In the ever-evolving landscape of sterilization technology, the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer has emerged as a game-changer. Combining efficiency with simplicity, this device has redefined the standards of disinfection in various industries. As the world grapples with the need for effective sterilization methods, Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer stands out as a beacon of innovation.

Mechanism of Action

At the heart of Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer’s efficacy lies its unique mechanism. The device utilizes glass beads as a medium for sterilization. These beads, heated to a high temperature, create an environment where microorganisms are rapidly eliminated. This dry heat method ensures that the sterilization process is not only swift but also residue-free, addressing concerns about chemical residues common in other sterilization methods.

Versatility Across Industries

One of the standout features of Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer is its versatility. From medical and laboratory equipment to beauty and tattoo tools, this device caters to a wide range of industries. Its adaptability makes it an indispensable tool in settings where maintaining a sterile environment is paramount. The medical field, research laboratories, and beauty salons alike benefit from the efficiency of Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer.

User-Friendly Design

Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer takes user convenience to the forefront. Its user-friendly design ensures that operators, regardless of their expertise, can utilize the device with ease. The straightforward controls and swift sterilization process make it an ideal choice for busy professionals who seek efficiency without compromising on the quality of sterilization.

Cost-Effectiveness

In an era where cost-effectiveness is a key consideration for businesses, Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer stands out as an economical choice. The device’s low operational costs, coupled with its long-lasting performance, make it a financially prudent investment for institutions and businesses looking to maintain high standards of sterilization without breaking the bank.

Environmental Friendliness

Beyond its functionality, Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer also aligns with the growing emphasis on environmental sustainability. Unlike some traditional sterilization methods that may involve the use of harmful chemicals, this device relies on dry heat, eliminating the need for potentially hazardous substances. The eco-friendly approach of Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer resonates with institutions striving to reduce their environmental footprint.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer has redefined the landscape of sterilization technology. Its unique mechanism, versatility, user-friendly design, cost-effectiveness, and environmental friendliness make it a standout choice for a diverse array of industries. As the world continues to prioritize safety and cleanliness, the Tirupati Glass Bead Sterilizer emerges as a beacon of innovation, offering a reliable and efficient solution to the evolving challenges of sterilization.

[boricuacherry-blog]

I looked into the potholes to see if luck was embedded in any of them, and was struck to see a silver dollar nestled in a crack. I felt like an ant striking a goldmine. The thought of being pilloried by my coworkers, though, for using this as an excuse for being late struck me as ironic. Weren't they the ants always looking for a payday? I decided to just not go, and instead stay where I was. Would luck find me again? I sat right where I had found the silver dollar, right on the pavement, in front of a neatly manicured lawn. On the lawn stood a home with frilly curtains and glass windows with a ledge that a black cat was sleeping on. The house looked like Martha Stewart with frumpy clothing. I couldn't stop staring at the house. Aside from being painted an off-white eggshell color, there was nothing Promethean about the paint choice. It did, however, look exactly how I imagined Martha Stewart would look like if she was a house. A face appeared in the window the more I stared. I realized the windows were slightly tinted and a woman, presumably the owner of the house, had been staring right back at me the whole time. I waved, and as I did so, the Martha Stewart lookalike house regurgitated a stout woman with a raven colored page boy haircut and freckles that looked as if Jackson Pollack had splattered them on her. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. I realized she was yawning. She had a robin blue teapot clutched in her thick gnarled fingers that reminded me of tree branches, and she stared at me with these saucerpan pupils the color of a cat's eye stone. They reminded me of 8balls sliding around in a hole. She kept staring at me, but didn't say anything. To be fair, I didn't either. We both stared at each other for God knows how long - me with the silver dollar, her with the teapot. I realized that she was going to win this staring contest when I inadvertently blinked. She sighed again. She beckoned me to come in. I entered the Martha Stewart house, and it didn't look anything like I had imagined. It wasn't sterile or organized, it was a haphazard wasteland of distorted mirrors and miniature figurines and dolls scattered over dated newspapers. Dishes were piled up in the sink and there was a curtain of stringed beads leading into the bedroom, which was in even more disarray. The rooms seemed to get bigger the more I followed. Giant teddy bears with button eyes were staring placidly as their stuffing spilled out in all directions. The house itself, prim and proper on the outside, was like a clown car on the inside, coughing up more and more objects, rooms, and entryways than I even thought possible. I began to wonder if I should have gone to work after all.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Mason Jar Day  

National Mason Jar Day—created by Misty Campbell-Olbert, the founder of Unboxing the Bizarre—celebrates the jar used for canning and countless other purposes, and takes place on the anniversary of the day John Landis Mason patented it in 1858. It seems that the importance of the patent and its date was known early on, as Mason jars were embossed with that information well into the 20th century.

Prior to the invention of the Mason jar, and even after its invention to some extent, glass jars were often sealed with wax—a type of sealant that was many times faulty. The Mason jar was an improvement because of the airtight function of its screw-on-lid. These lids consist of a metal band or ring, which holds down a tin-plated steel disc. A rubber gasket also helps with the sealing process. After jars are filled with food, they are sterilized in boiling water or by steam, and as they cool, a vacuum is created, sealing the jar. The effectiveness of the Mason jar helped to revolutionize home canning.

After 20 years, Mason’s patent expired, and many other companies began producing the jars. The Ball brothers, Hero Fruit Jar Company, and Consolidated Fruit Jar Company all got into the game—but the Ball jar ended up being the most popular brand of the Mason jar with American consumers. Between 1910 and 1915, “bead” jars were introduced. These jars had a “bead” ledge below the lid’s threads, which made the sealing of the jars even tighter and more effective. About this time Ball introduced the Ball Perfect Mason jar, which had the bead design, and became one of the most popular Mason jars of the 20th century. Jarden Home Brands now makes Ball jars, as well as another popular Mason jar brand—Kerr. Still another popular brand of Mason jars is Golden Harvest. In 1875, Charles de Quillfeldt invented a new wire-bail closure for jars, which became known as a lightning closure; thus the jars became known as lightning jars. Henry Putnam improved on Quillfeldt’s design in 1882 with a patent. These represent a whole other way of sealing Mason jars besides the screw-on-lid method. Although there is no longer a Mason jar brand, the name Mason jar is used generically to describe all types of jars that carry a design similar to the original.

The most important use of the Mason jar has been in the canning and preservation of food. Almost every food and vegetable has been pickled, and jams and salsas have been preserved. Mason jars have been particularly useful for this function in areas where there are short growing seasons and the need for food during the winter. There are many other uses for Mason jars. They can be used as vases for flowers or to hold other things, and can be used as drinking glasses. They also have become collector’s items.

Not long after their invention, Mason jars were supplanted by tin cans and plastic containers in commercial packaging, but did continue to be used at home. A further decline in the manufacturing of the jars came to be as interest in home canning tapered off in the decades immediately following World War II—at this time more people were also moving to cities, refrigeration improved, and the transportation of vegetables became easier. But, there was some resurgence of canning in the 1960’s and 1970’s because of the back-to-the-land movement, which was in reaction to the post-war consumerist culture. Today there is once again an increased interest in Mason jars. With the awareness of the economic and environmental costs of the cross country transportation of foods, locally grown foods have become a focus, and canning has been an extension of that. Mason jars have also become more popular for another reason—because some see them as being trendy. They are now found holding fancy cocktails at upscale bars, and have even been used to hold Slurpees at 7-Eleven.

How to Observe

Celebrate the day by using Mason jars! The best way to use them may be to do some canning. Although it may not be peak canning season, you still should be able to find something to can, and there are many canning recipes available online to try. Maybe you can even find a canning recipe in an old family cookbook that dates back to the days when canning was at its peak! Are you looking for something new to collect? Maybe you can use this day to get started on becoming a Mason jar collector. You could also use a Mason jar as a vase, or as a holding implement for pens and pencils. The possibilities for Mason jar ideas are limitless. If nothing else, use a Mason jar as a drinking glass for the day.

Source

[mikaelle-story]

Chapter 8: Fractured Minds

Read Chapter 7

Shinichi awakens suddenly in the real world, gasping for air. He’s still in the Id Fracture chamber, surrounded by the concerned tech team. His partner, Hajime, leans over him.

Hajime: "Shinichi, are you okay? Take it easy, calm down. What happened in there?"

The camera zooms in on his face, determination and fear battling in his eyes, as the screen cuts to black.

The hum of machinery fills the air in the dimly lit control room. Shinichi's breathing is ragged as he sits upright in the Id Fracture chair, sweat beading on his forehead. The room is sterile but stifling, its walls lined with monitors displaying fractured streams of data from his dive. Hajime paces nearby, his face etched with concern. He hesitates, searching for the right words.

Shinichi: (breathing heavily) "I... I saw things. Things that weren't supposed to be real. The Weaver's world... it's breaking me apart. I can't tell what's real anymore, Hajime. I don't know how much longer I can keep going."

Hajime: "You saw the Weaver? Inside the Fracture? Shinichi, that’s impossible. The Fracture only processes residual memories and subconscious patterns. It’s not supposed to have a mind of its own."

Shinichi: "Then explain what I saw. He was there, Hajime. Not just in the victims’ memories—he was watching me. Talking to me. He knows I’m coming for him."

Hajime crouches beside him, lowering his voice so the rest of the team can’t hear.

Hajime: "Shinichi... Are you sure this isn’t just the system messing with your head? We’ve seen what the Fracture can do to someone who stays in too long. It blurs the line between reality and—"

Shinichi: "I know what I saw. And I know what I felt."

His tone silences him. He stands, he remains calm to himself despite the lingering disorientation. The monitors around him display distorted imagery of the fractured world he just left—shards of clocks, shadowy corridors, and glimpses of the Weaver’s amorphous figure. A faint chill lingers in the room, as though his dive has left behind more than just data.

Dr. Endo approaches, holding a tablet filled with readings from Shinichi's session.

Dr. Himari: "Detective Aizawa, your neural activity spiked beyond normal parameters during the dive. There’s something... unusual in the data."

She flips the tablet toward Shinichi and Hajime. The screen displays a series of jagged waves, punctuated by irregular bursts of energy. Overlaying the graph is a faint image—a shadowy, humanoid shape with no discernible features. Shinichi's breath catches as he recognizes the figure. Dr. Endo frowns, adjusting her glasses. She hesitates, then shakes her head.

Dr. Himari: "We’ve never seen anything like this before. It’s as if the Fracture has been... contaminated. This figure shouldn’t exist. It’s not part of the victims’ memories, and it’s certainly not part of you. But it’s there, embedded in the data."

Hajime: "Is it possible that someone tampered with the system? Could the Weaver have found a way to manipulate it from the outside?"

Dr. Himari: "The system is airtight. But this... this suggests that the Weaver isn’t just a person. He’s an Anomaly. Something that defies the very foundation of the Fracture."

Dr. Hiroshi: "An anomaly? That’s… that’s impossible. The Fracture is designed to process only subconscious data, nothing more. If what you’re saying is true, it means that the system has been compromised. But how?"

Aya: (frowning, her voice tense) "This... doesn’t feel right. If the system's been compromised, then we don’t know what we’re dealing with. We could be walking into his trap without even realizing it."

Shinichi: (his expression hardening, voice resolute) "It doesn’t matter. We need to find him, and we need to end this. I don’t care how much the Fracture has changed. I’ll dive back in. We’ll get to the bottom of this, no matter the cost."

Shinichi steps closer to the screen, his gaze sharp and unwavering. The weight of his next words hangs heavily in the air, as if each syllable carries the weight of a decision that could alter everything. He pauses for a moment, his breath steadying, before his eyes narrow with a renewed sense of purpose.

With a deep breath, he forms his plan in the silence, every detail becoming clearer in his mind.

Shinichi: "We need to dive deeper into the Fracture, but with a different approach. We can't just follow the residual patterns—we need to find a way to track him, to understand what he's manipulating within the system. If we can expose his weaknesses, we can take him down. But we do it carefully, or it will consume us."

Hajime looks at Shinichi with a mixture of concern and determination.

Hajime: "That’s a risky move, but if anyone can handle it, it’s you. I’m with you, no matter what. We’ll keep you grounded."

Dr. Takahashi frowns, his tone cautious.

Dr. Hiroshi: "This could unravel everything. The Fracture isn’t just a tool; it’s a delicate system. If we push too hard, we might destroy the only means of tracking him. Are you sure this is the right way?"

Dr. Endo steps forward, her eyes sharp with focus. Dr. Himari: "If it’s the only way to stop The Weaver, then we don’t have a choice. But we need to stay coordinated. One wrong move, and we could all be lost inside his world."

Aya steps into the conversation, her presence calm yet resolute. She surveys the room, her gaze settling on Shinichi.

Aya: "I agree with Dr. Endo. If we don’t push forward, we might never get another chance to stop The Weaver. But we can’t afford to do this blindly. We need to be strategic, stay in control of the system—no matter how deep we go."

She looks at Dr. Takahashi, her voice firm.

Aya: "I understand the risks, Dr. Takahashi, but we’re running out of options. If the Fracture is compromised, we need to understand how—and why. We can’t let the Weaver manipulate it any longer."

Hajime turns to Aya, his tone a mix of concern and determination.

Hajime: "I know you’re right, Aya. But we need to be careful. The deeper we go, the harder it will be to tell what's real and what's part of the Fracture."

Aya meets his gaze, unwavering.

Aya: "I’m not suggesting we rush in blindly. We’ll go in prepared. But if we don’t confront The Weaver now, we may never get another chance. And if we can track him down, we can take him out—together."

Shinichi looks at the team, his eyes scanning each of their faces. The weight of the decision is heavy, but his resolve is clear.

Shinichi: "Aya’s right. We need to confront him now, before the Fracture unravels any further. But we can’t do this alone. We need everyone’s expertise. We dive deep, but we do it together—every step of the way."

Aya steps forward, her voice steady but fierce.

Aya: "We’ll face it head-on, no matter what it takes. But we stay in control of the situation. If the Fracture is the only way to find him, then we’ll use it. But we’re not going to let it consume us."

Dr. Takahashi sighs, his concern still evident, but he nods in agreement.

Dr. Hiroshi: "If you’re all willing to take that risk, then I’ll help guide you. But we must be prepared for what we may uncover. The Weaver isn’t just a man; he’s something far more dangerous."

Shinichi takes a deep breath, his determination unwavering.

Shinichi: "Then let's make sure we end this before it ends us. No more running. We’ll stop The Weaver, once and for all."

The team stands together, ready to dive back into the Fracture, prepared to face the unknown.

Read Chapter 9