#Induced Draft Fan

[ankitawal]

The induced draft fan helps to control air pollution by removing the contaminated or polluted air from any enclosed space. Almost all industrial sectors that aim to control air pollution generally use the Induced Draft Fan to remove pollutants from the air. Read the blog to find out more about the deals that induced draft fans offer with various impeller designs.

[ventilair108]

Are you looking for Induced Draft Fans Manufacturer in India

 Induced Draft Fans Manufacturer From Faridabad, India:

“VENTILAIR INDIA PVT.LTD.” offers High efficiency induced draft fans with Mild Steel and Stainless Steel construction. Our Fans are suitable for even toughest of the Industrial conditions and are used in various industries such as boiler, chemical, dust collection, pharma, marine, packaging, etc.

Ventilair India has vast experience as an induced draft Fan manufacturer, supplier & exporter. Our fans are widely used by manufacturers of boilers, furnaces, dust collection, and ovens with their equipment. All the impellers are statically and dynamically balanced on the machine. A balancing and fan performance certificate is provided along with the blower. Ventilair makes Induced Draft Fan and Forced Draft Fan are designed to run at high efficiency thereby giving considerable power savings to our customers.

Features of Induced Draft Fans:-

1. Less Power Consumption

2. High Impeller Life

3. Less Maintenance

4. Low noise

5. High Bearing Life

6. Good after sales service

About Us:

Our team of skilled professionals keeps a strict vigil on the manufacturing process to make sure that only faultless products reach our esteemed customers.Established in the year 1988 in Faridabad (Haryana, India), “Ventilair India Private Limited” is amongst the leading Manufacturers and Exporters of a wide variety of air pollution control systems and equipments. Our product range includes Air Cooling System,   

Visit Us: Induced Draft Fans Manufacturer

Contact Information:

No. 11/7, Mile Stone, Mathura Road, Faridabad - 121003, Haryana, India

sales@ventilairfans.com

+91 9971026641

[teral11]

Teral stands out as the Induced Draft Fan manufacturer in India. With a commitment to excellence and cutting-edge technology, Teral has consistently set the industry standard. Their Induced Draft Fans are known for their superior performance, durability, and energy efficiency. Teral's dedication to quality and innovation has earned them a reputation as the best in the business. Whether it's for industrial, commercial, or residential applications, Teral's fans ensure optimal air circulation and ventilation, making them the top choice in India's fan manufacturing landscape.

[teral232]

https://www.blowers-fans.com/forced-draft-fan.html

Teral stands at the forefront of Induced Draft Fan manufacturing in India, renowned for establishing industry benchmarks in both quality and performance. With an unwavering dedication to innovation and unwavering customer-centricity, Teral has cemented its position as the foremost authority in this domain. Their production facilities, staffed by proficient experts, guarantee the creation of inducement draft fans that excel in efficiency and reliability. Be it for industrial applications, HVAC systems, or power generation plants, Teral's product range consistently delivers the ultimate in airflow and cooling solutions. When it comes to Induced Draft Fan manufacturing in India, Teral stands unrivaled in excellence.

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question borne of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[teralreport]

At Teral, we proudly stand as India's premier manufacturer of Induced Draft Fans manufacturer in India. With a commitment to innovation and excellence, we lead the industry by providing solutions for various applications. Our advanced fan systems are engineered for optimal performance, energy efficiency, and reliability, ensuring seamless operations across diverse sectors. Backed by a legacy of trust and a team of skilled professionals, Teral continues to set the standard for superior quality and unmatched performance in the field of Induced Draft Fan manufacturing.

[ddocpl]

Best Practices for Selecting Bag Filter Manufacturers for Your Industrial Needs

Introduction

Bag filters are essential components of many industrial processes. They are used to filter out impurities and pollutants from gasses and liquids, helping to ensure the safety and efficiency of various manufacturing processes. When it comes to selecting bag filter manufacturers for your industrial needs, there are several best practices to keep in mind. In this blog, we will explore some of these practices and how they can help you choose the right Bag Filter Manufacturers in Pune

Following are the Best Practices when Choosing to Bag Filter Manufacturer

Look for Experience and Expertise:

When it comes to bag filter manufacturing, experience, and expertise matter. Look for manufacturers who have been in the business for a long time and have a track record of producing high-quality filters that meet industry standards. Check the manufacturer's website to see their experience and expertise in bag filter manufacturing.

Consider the Manufacturer's Capabilities:

Different industrial processes require different types of bag filters. When selecting a manufacturer, consider their capabilities in terms of the types of filters they can produce. Choose a manufacturer that can produce a wide range of filters to meet your specific needs.

Quality Assurance:

Ensure that the manufacturer has quality assurance measures in place to ensure that their filters meet industry standards. Look for certifications such as ISO 9001:2015, which indicate that the manufacturer has implemented a quality management system.

Customization:

Look for manufacturers that can customize bag filters to meet your specific needs. Customized filters can help improve the efficiency of your industrial processes and minimize downtime.

After-Sales Support:

Select a manufacturer that provides after-sales support, such as installation, maintenance, and repair services. This can help ensure that your bag filters continue to perform optimally over their lifespan.

Conclusion

In summary, selecting the right bag filter manufacturer is critical to the success of your industrial processes. When selecting a manufacturer, consider their experience and expertise, capabilities, quality assurance measures, customization options, and after-sales support. By following these best practices, you can choose the right bag filter manufacturer in Pune that can meet your specific industrial needs.

[whizzinpast]

drop the second iteration of ivantill lore please

Buckle up buttercup because this is not going to be a happy story. It’s not even going to be a ‘sweetly tragic in a hot yaoiful sense’ story. It’s just what it is.

For the uninitiated: the first iteration of IvanTill was incorporated into the beach scene that I’m certain the majority of fans have seen by now (if not, you can see a glimpse of it on this post or just check out Ivan’s page on the wiki). The storyboards were drawn up by Qmeng as far as Round 3 during its production phase.

However, it was drastically changed in the second draft. Qmeng and Vivinos most likely wanted to explore different variations of tragic relationships because they mentioned the first iteration ‘overlapped too much with MiziSua.’ So, they decided to focus more on the toxic aspect of their relationship and the one-sidedness of it.

Cue second iteration.

Ivan is a lot more sinister. He uses his knowledge of Till’s trauma to intentionally provoke him, and it works. Till gives a rage-induced performance that assures his victory.

But much to his horror, it’s exactly what Ivan wanted. Everything occurred exactly as he planned. And through a set of flashbacks, it is revealed that their whole lives, Ivan saw Till as a plaything he could puppet to his will, and he did. He got him into trouble on purpose. He got him hurt on purpose. All because Till was something he believed he owned.

The ending to Round 6 wouldn't be tragic because Ivan couldn’t convey his feelings properly. It would’ve been tragic because Till was never able to break out of Ivan’s control. He was never able to escape his grasp.

In other words: “Till looks down at Ivan’s body and despairs, realizing he will never escape from the burning red sky and the falling meteor (Ivan).” (literally quoted from the draft)

And then the third iteration happened, the one we all know and love, and it’s more like a combination of the two. A lot of Ivan’s actions were left vague specifically because Q & V wanted it like that. They said it themselves, Ivan wasn’t certain of his own feelings for Till, what was their nature and how deep they went. That’s why he fumbled so badly. He had no idea, so neither will we.

[icedbatik]

When I wrote that the fans and the media alike would have a meltdown if Sid didn't sign a contract extension at the earliest possible moment, I knew there was some truth in it. But ... good grief.

I'm not sure fiction could have realistically conveyed the depth of it.

...

From one that I will not link. (Why reward bad journalism?):

... it’s July 3. Where is the new contract for Sidney Crosby?

Clearly, issues are being discussed, and after two months of communication between the two sides, they are not settled. Both Penguins president of hockey operations/GM Kyle Dubas and Crosby have specifically stated that the conversations and negotiations will be private. That’s fine, but notice that neither side has yet used the phrase “optimistic.”

Last week, when discussing his inclusion on Team Canada, Crosby only conceded that “We’re talking. I’ll leave it at that.”

Surely, if both sides were anxious for a deal, some of that would be evident, and the talks would not be shrouded in ... secrecy ...

Seriously?! The Pens notoriously private captain doesn't want his contract extension negotiations to become fodder for every armchair GM on the planet. And the Pens' GM doesn't want outside noise to complicate negotiations. Sid has said he wants to stay and he has a full no-move clause. The Pens have said they want to keep him (and are willing to give him just about anything he wants to do so). As busy as Kyle has been leading up to the draft and during the draft itself, and then with free agency opening, I don't find it at all odd or panic-inducing that Sid hasn't yet signed a contract extension. Both sides have another full year (minus 4 days at this point) to get it done. Yet (some of) the beat reporters are stirring up panic three days in.

Unreal.

I much prefer Joe Starkey's take, which is blunt but essentially says the Pens have a playoffs-capable team -- if everyone on the team plays up to reasonable expectations. Sid being Sid, Geno being Geno, Tanger and EK being their award-winning selves. Ryan Graves coming anywhere close to what he's capable of. Tristan demonstrating consistently and in real time why he's an All-Star goalie.

[dynamic-power]

I'm hoping to maybe clear out my drafts between now and the new year. Here's another one.

Corroded Coffin releases a ballad. It's emotional in a visceral, anger-inducing way; the subject of the song has left, and Eddie Munson, the writer and singer of the song, is clearly struggling with self-loathing over the fact that he still loves him. It's the first time Eddie has ever used gendered pronouns in a love song. He uses he/him exclusively and confirms in an Instagram post a week after the songs release that it's because he's gay.

A year later, actor Steve Harrington does an acoustic cover of the ballad. It's also emotional, but in a different way. Instead of leaving the listener angry, it leaves them feeling every ounce of heartbreak that the song was written with. Fans are pleasantly surprised to find that Steve has kept true to the original and not changed any of the pronouns, instead singing about being spurrned by a man, just like Eddie had intended.

Rumors begin to spread about Steve's sexuality, but he never comments on it. What he does comment on, though, is Eddie's impressed response. They start interacting on Twitter, and then on Instagram. One day, Steve posts a screenshot of them facetiming, Steve on set in California and Eddie backstage somewhere in Europe, and the internet becomes obsessed with their friendship. They start to appear in each other's photos. Steve attends Corroded Coffin concerts. Eddie crashes Steve's sets. They are seen together at random events throughout the next year.

The internet, being what it is, begins to speculate that they might be dating. Steve hasn't been seen with anyone significant outside of Eddie for nearly 18 months and Eddie has begun to drop hints that he might be in a new but serious relationship.

Nothing is confirmed until they post a video of a new song. Unlike the ballad, this is clearly a love song. And at the end, as they are sitting beside one another, grinning like idiots, Eddie grabs the back of Steve's neck and pulls.

The final frame of the video is them. Eyes closed, wearing lovesick smiles, foreheads pressed together. The caption simply says "E+S".

[teral11]

Teral stands out as the Induced Draft Fan manufacturer in India. With a commitment to excellence and cutting-edge technology, Teral has consistently set the industry standard. Their Induced Draft Fans are known for their superior performance, durability, and energy efficiency. Teral's dedication to quality and innovation has earned them a reputation as the best in the business. Whether it's for industrial, commercial, or residential applications, Teral's fans ensure optimal air circulation and ventilation, making them the top choice in India's fan manufacturing landscape.

[teral232]

Teral stands at the forefront of Induced Draft Fan manufacturing in India, renowned for establishing industry benchmarks in both quality and performance. With an unwavering dedication to innovation and unwavering customer-centricity, Teral has cemented its position as the foremost authority in this domain. Their production facilities, staffed by proficient experts, guarantee the creation of inducement draft fans that excel in efficiency and reliability. Be it for industrial applications, HVAC systems, or power generation plants, Teral's product range consistently delivers the ultimate in airflow and cooling solutions. When it comes to Induced Draft Fan manufacturing in India, Teral stands unrivaled in excellence.

[raccoonfallsharder]

recommended works ⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

these are the folks who have written or drawn something (specifically within the rocket raccoon fan community) that either murdered me, resurrected me, or both.

(i am always open to recs so if you wanna link me to your fave i will be so happy to check them out)

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ fanfiction ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

The All of You (ao3) i fuckin love this story so hard. i love the OC. i love the writing. i love the set up. i reread this probably every month or so and pine for more. it's so fuckin good. @lazarel-3000 is a double-threat (at least) who is also on my recced artist list, which means (obviously) they are a recced creator as well.

Casino Royale (ao3) this fic by @hibatasblog (see also: Entanglement, below) is so fucking delightful. petra quill is so hot i want to date her myself, and the tension between her and rocket is through the roof. loving the angst, loving the little ways that heartbreak seeps through every new paragraph, loving the mystery of trying to figure out what happened to petra and rocket to set them on their separate paths and now bring them back together. always waiting anxiously for the next chapter.

Entanglement (ao3) this fic by @hibataao3 has me rationing my consumption in a way i have not done in a long time. i'm like "i only read one chapter a week to pace myself, as a little treat for surviving another seven days." beautiful writing and intricate storytelling, the metaphors and analogies are so good i almost wish i was back in undergrad writing a thesis on it.

Friends (tumblr) @nyxivy is making their way through the rocketober 2023 prompts and the first fic of the series is. so drool-worthy. i've probably read it fifty times since it came out. short and so hot i could die (much like rocket himself), and somehow incredibly sweet in just the span of a few paragraphs? i will continue coming back to this fic and look forward to more from them at every chance i get.

Get Up (tumblr)@caesarhamato22 is another person on my recced creator list because trying to find just one fic to call my "favorite" is a challenge (obviously i was unsuccessful because there are two on this list). anyway this is lovely and fluffy. i die.

last (friday) night (ao3) nsfw. trying to pick a "favorite" of @aliasrocket's work is like trying to choose a favorite incarnation of rocket (i cannot). guess who is also on my recced creators list.

more than seven (tumblr) second @caesarhamato22 fic on this list and another recced creator. this one is one of my favorite comfort fics (i mean it's still sexy as hell) that i come back to very often. like it's just so wonderful and sweet and perfect and atmospheric and vibes

stars. (tumblr) ☕︎ stars. (ao3) sexual tension & some of the loveliest atmospheric writing i've ever consumed. another @aliasrocket fic that lives in my head.

A Very Basic Instinct (tumblr) ☕︎ A Very Basic Instinct (ao3) nsfw. when i tell you this fic did things to me. it is probably one of the fics i reread most. like, all the time jkjk only semiregularly. check out the author @elegant-fleuret for other equally brainrot-inducing smut (also mentioned in my recced creators).

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ art ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@bathmob i wish. i could draw rocket. like this. the vibes are so good. the style. is perfect. i thank the universe whenever i see new art from them.

@glow-autumz is absolutely going to be a published comic artist some day and i will buy anything she works on ever. literally everything she creates has a story behind it, which i love. like, not only are her illustrations gorgeous (and like…often very hot) but every single one is (at least) a single-panel narrative. plus her OC is also cool as hell and i love her interpretations of rocket.

@lazarel-3000 creates the most toe-curlingly delicious art i've seen in a long time. i am seduced by pretty much everything they create. even their rough drafts have me panting. (i also have a crush on their OC and as a bi-lady i look at their art and am often like oh shit this is a fuckin feast). as mentioned before, this artist is also the author of one of my favorite fics and is a recommended creator in general.

@uglly-rodent posts always make me want to pinch the babby raccoom's cheeks and/or cry.

⊹˚₊⊹˚☕︎ creators ☕︎˚⊹₊˚⊹

@aliasrocket writes such beautiful things it is impossible to pick a favorite (i got two of their fics in the fic section and it was difficult to narrow it down that far and even now, i'm not certain). their tumblr has the added advantage of a ton of drabbles, every single one of which is perfection.

@caesarhamato22 read everything. like everything. great smut but i am a sucker for the slice of life shit and it's so fuckin good here. i just wanna be a nail tech on knowhere/locked in a closet with rocket/have him steal my t-shirt/whatever. it's like all my most domestic desires got turned into little fanfiction dreams. so much wish fulfillment i could die

@elegant-fleuret has great fanfiction (more than just the one on my fic list - i just felt like i had to narrow it down and A Very Basic Instinct literally gives me a a fresh hit of dopamine every time i reread it, which is a lot). plus also art. double-threat.

@evolvingchaoswitch writes with a ton of vulnerability and rawness and angst. i am also in love with the shorter pieces they've been putting out for rocketober 2023 (some really great poetry, some really emotional oneshots, some really hot oneshots). plus their OCs always fuckin rock

@lazarel-3000 look. look. i cannot say this enough. please go check them out they are hope in a hopeless place. some of the sexiest art + one of my very favorite fanfictions + one of my very favorite OCs have come out of this flawless individual. (full disclosure they also did some nsfw art of my OC jolie and rocket that has me crying and dying and hyperventilating on a daily basis)

@love-for-faeries-go-burrrr has another one of my favorite OCs and i am always hungry for their little storylines whenever they post.

@mrwolfhare is one of my favorite sources of gotg food-for-thought. just some of the most thoughtful explorations of the details of both the mcu and comic canon, excellent headcanons, beautiful screenshot sets, and really solid art. the drawtober art and ficlets have been highlights in my days this month and i'm told there may be a rad fanfiction on the horizon so keep your eyes on this! (rad fanfiction is here now! read Subject 880HR on ao3)