#Low Finned Tubes

[krystalglobalengltd]

What Are Low Finned Tube and Their Uses?

Finned tubes are commonly utilized in heat exchangers, but you may wonder what makes them preferable to regular tubes. Here’s an overview of what finned tubes are and why they play a key role in heat exchange systems.

Understanding Finned Tubes

What Are Finned Tubes?

Finned tubes are elongated tubes equipped with attached aluminium fins, often made of aluminium-clad carbon steel. These fins maximize contact with the external fluid, speeding up the heat exchange process between the fluid inside the tube and the surrounding medium. Unlike standard tubes, finned tubes enable a faster and more efficient heat transfer due to their increased surface area.

Finned tubes come in different shapes, including oval, circular, and flat designs, catering to varied industrial applications.

Why Use Finned Tubes?

Finned tubes are especially beneficial for air heat exchangers. In these systems, heat transfer occurs between a liquid and a gas, typically air. Since the heat transfer coefficient of air is relatively low, a finned tube enhances efficiency by increasing the surface area, allowing for quicker heat transfer.

Applications of Fin Tube Heat Exchangers

Fin tube heat exchangers are widely used in both household and industrial applications. Examples include:

- Air Conditioners: Here, finned tubes cool the air that flows across them, helping regulate indoor temperature efficiently.

- Automotive Radiators: Finned tubes in car radiators cool the fluid within the tubes by allowing airflow through the radiator's cross-sectional area.

Benefits of Using Finned Tubes

Finned tubes offer several advantages, including:

1. Enhanced Heat Transfer Rate: The fins expand the tube’s surface area, expediting heat transfer.

2. Better Heat Transfer Coefficient: In a regular tube, the inner and outer surface areas are similar, meaning the fluid with the lower heat transfer coefficient often dictates the system’s heat transfer rate. Finned tubes greatly increase the surface area on the outer side, especially useful when the internal fluid’s heat transfer coefficient is higher than that of the external fluid.

3. Reduced Equipment Size and Cost Efficiency: By increasing surface area, finned tubes allow for fewer tubes to be used in a given application, reducing the equipment’s overall size and potentially lowering project costs in the long term.

If you’re seeking reliable, high-quality finned tubes, reach out to Krystal High Fin Tubes—a leading manufacturer in Ahmedabad. With a broad range of products like seamless tubes, hydraulic tubes, instrumentation tubes, mechanical tubes, and fin tube heat exchangers, Krystal  offers robust solutions tailored to various industrial needs.

Contact Krystal High Finned Tubes: Krystal Global Engineering Limited For inquiries, call +91-7208489863 or email: export@krystalgeltd.com.

[heatexchangertubes]

The Difference Between High Fin Tubes and Low Fin Tubes

Explore the nuances of high and low fin tubes on our blog. Learn about their differences, applications, and advantages. An insightful guide for industry professionals and enthusiasts. Visit now!

[monsoon-of-art]

another small megamer writing snippet, again, to try and shake off the writing dust. This one is very sweet, you've been warned

Roll pushed open the door to the Medical Room, then leaned back to grab the handle of her little doctor kit with her teeth before wiggling inside.

Rock was out at sea, trying to calm their rampaging brothers, and Dad was out there with him, leaving Roll all alone in the lab.

Well. Not quite alone.

No, one of her brothers was in the Medical Room, in the very very large tank pressed up against the back wall.

She remembered Dad and a few of his drones carrying him in. Dad was frantic, seeing his son injured and unresponsive. Saying that the colors were dull and how his scales were starting to flake away.

(Roll was just surprised at how large her brother was….she knew Rock and herself weren't very big, but seeing him from the safety of her small tank, and how he barely fit through the door …was she going to grow up to be that big one day?)

Dad couldn't stay long. He wanted to, but the others needed him and Rock, so he gave Roll a kiss on the forehead and ran out the door.

She didn't have Rock’s copy ability. Nor did she have his bravery. But Roll wasn't about to sit around and do nothing.

So she dragged in her little doctor kit into the Medical Room, staring at the large tank and the grey lump inside. Said lump was connected to a plethora of wires and tubes, a faint heart monitor beeping somewhere in the room.

Roll did not share her twin’s dislike of the Medical Room. In all honesty, she found it rather fascinating. All of these devices had a purpose, the purpose of making others feel better. Maybe she could learn how they worked, and she could make others better too!

Roll pressed her cheek against the glass, looking at the flowing orange fins and the red scales running down his body. She thought back to pictures Dad had shown her of her older brothers. If memory served…

“You’re…DLN-006? No, 007? Fire?”

The lump stirred, emitting a low, mournful whine.

“Oh, sorry!” she whispered. “One second-”

Roll briefly left the tank, grabbing some boxes and whatever was laying around the room to build a rough staircase. Once completed, she grabbed her little kit and clambered up, splashing inside the tank with little grace.

Immediately she could practically taste all the medicine that had been mixed into the water. Fire must be very sick, more than she anticipated. Could she even help?

No, she had to try.

Swimming down, she took a moment just to look. Roll was meeting one of her big brothers for the first time…ever! She and Rock had been so excited to meet them, she just didn’t expect it to be like…this.

With an excited trill, she nuzzled against his arm. (He was so warm!)

Fire blearily cracked open an eye, gazing in her general direction.

Roll beamed at this. “Hi! Hi hi!! I'm Roll! I'm your little sister! It's so nice to finally meet you!”

All she got in reply was an ear twitch. His gaze seemed distant, and overall he just looked so���so tired. 

“I’ll make you feel better. I promise.” She said, voice full of determination as she nuzzled his arm once more.

While hesitant to leave his side, Roll swam around to see if he had any lingering injuries. And he did, but they were already bandaged and covered with gauze. So much for using her little doctor kit here.

She tried to think of what Dad did whenever she or Rock got sick. Unfortunately, she wasn’t allowed to use the stove, so making her brother some soup wasn’t an option.

(Even though she totally could. She could totally make soup if Dad would let her. And she'd be so good at it.)

Roll thought harder, thinking of what else they did when someone fell ill. Soup, rest, making them comfy…

Wait. She knew what to do!

She swam back, a soft purr in her throat as she wiggled a bit closer to him, settling on his back. Once settled, she nuzzled her cheek against his back, starting to gently knead on him.

She was trying not to be rough, and trying not to use her claws.

Roll couldn't make him soup, or bring him toys, or bandage him up more than he already was. But she could try to make him comfy, try and show he was safe and loved and cared for. That she was right here, and that he wasn't alone.

After a minute of her purring as much as she could, she felt Fire stir underneath her paws. He met her purring with a deep rumbling from his chest, the tension and stress slowly leaving him.

It was working! It was working!! Roll could feel him relaxing, and sure he still seemed tired, but at least he was finally settling down-

Something tugged at her tail. Then tugged harder. Then she was dragged off his back and onto the tank floor.

Fire had grabbed her by the tail, and was now staring at her with a half-exhausted, half-apologetic expression. With a half-hearted chuff, he brought her close again, almost tucking her under his chin.

Then, he sighed, satisfied.

Roll had no idea how to react to any of this. She knew (hoped anyway) that Fire wouldn’t hurt her. But now here she was, curled up under him. Was this normal? Was this because he felt sick?

Fire started to rumble-purr again, and she could practically feel it in her bones with her so close to his throat and chest now.

Was he…trying to comfort her now?

…Because it was kinda working?

Something deep down reassured her that this was nice. This was good, even. Fire was warm and would keep her safe, his rumbling purr lulling her into a relaxed doze.

And as she wiggled closer, nuzzling against his chin and closing her eyes, she purred with him.

[fishenjoyer1]

Fish of the Day

The fish of the day today is the devils hole pupfish!

The devils hole pupfish, scientific name Cyprinodon diabolis, is an endangered fish known to live in exactly one spot, Devils hole. Devils hole is a limestone cavern with a geothermal pool found in Nye county of Nevada, and a disconnected section of Death Valley National Park. The geothermal pool keeps the water at a consistent 33 degrees Celsius all seasons, and has low dissolved oxygen amounts. The surface of water at the cave is only 72ft by 12ft, but below that the cave descends deep into the earth. Below the surface pool there is a larger cavern descending to 150 meters at its deepest before branching into a smaller tube at the bottom, the depth of which is currently unknown.1965 two teenagers went diving in the hole with scuba gear, and were never seen again,  rescue divers sent after them found a dropped flashlight, and other scuba gear but the bodies were never found. One rescue diver dropped a weighted plate that fell a full 932ft without contacting a bottom to the chamber, describing the water below him as an "infinity chamber". Later scans of the cave revealed it is at least as deep as 1,247ft, although to this day the depth is still unknown. Another well known aspect of the cave is that it can be used to determine when there are earthquakes all over the world. The water surges and has displayed unique patterns during the 2022 Mexico 7.6 magnitude earthquake, along with other strong earthquakes further from the hole. Such as: the 2012 6.2 magnitude earthquake in Papua New Guinea, or the 2018 7.4 magnitude earthquake in Indonesia. Devils hole pupfish are known to live only in the first 80ft of the cave.

Devils hole pupfish are unique in appearance, getting only as large as an inch, and being one of few species that have no pelvic fins, however when raised in colder conditions these pupfish will regrow these appendages. As juveniles these fish are an off white color, and females retain some of this coloring in adulthood. This species has only ever been recorded with as many as 500 wild fish at its highest, hitting an all time low point of 42 fish in 2007. The more recent numbers are looking up however, and there were 263 pupfish observed in spring of 2022. The survival from egg to adulthood is small, but the likelihood with human effort that this fish will survive the test of time is high. Described as possibly the most isolated wild vertebrate species in the world. These fish live only 10-14 months, reaching sexual maturity at 8-10 weeks old and spawn year round with peaks in mid February-May, and a smaller peak in July-September. Due to the unique oxygen levels of devils hole, these fish have adapted to enter a state of tupor, similar to hibernation, where they can live anaerobically. This allows them to go without breathing for up to 2 hours, however they produce ethanol as a byproduct.

Most of the devils hole pupfish life is on the rocky outcrops of the surface waters of the cave system. Breeding, egg laying, diet, resting, and schedules surrounding the placement of the sun all depend on these rocky outcroppings of stone near the surface of the water. The diet of these fish is dependent on the rock outcroppings of the cave, as they eat anything they can find in the cave system. This includes: small freshwater crustaceans, beetles, flatworms, freshwater snails, inorganic matter made of small sections of the caves limestone, along with spirogyra and diatom algae, which grows on the rocks themselves and makes up most of the pupfish's diet. Due to their diet being mostly algae types, pupfish are incredibly susceptible to the seismic activity in the devils' hole, as it creates small tsunamis along surface water and washes away algae on the rocks, leaving them without a majority of their food source until it regrows. When these earthquakes happen the pupfish are known to flee into the deer waters of the cave until the water has stilled, and are thought to perhaps feel earthquakes before they happen, although not much research has been done on this yet.

Have a good Wednesday, everyone!

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun part 6

Pain throbbed from every part of his body. Teal blood leaked from where his scales had been ripped off, and fins torn in two, but the adrenaline was in full swing. Danny forced his eyes open in spiteful glaring. This was a new low even for Skulker.

Danny shifted his body. Thank Jane Austen that Damian hadn’t taken much of the impact, and curse her too for him being right about the dolphins. Danny shoved the kid behind him, even as he clutched his torn up side.

“Phantom, you’re injur-“

“Get behind me.” Danny snapped, putting an inhuman growl into his words. Dami went uncharacteristically quiet at the command.

Skulker loomed overhead, smug bastard. Guy gloats about skinning a fourteen-year-old for sport, fails, then comes back for a ten-year-old instead.

“It is I, Skulker, the greatest hunter in the ocean, and these are hunting dogs.” The dolphins circled around him, even bumping noses with his suit and accepting pats Ugh. As if he couldn’t get any grosser. “And you, Damian Wayne, have a lovely fish tank back at my cabin reserved just for you.”

Danny let magic build up in his arms. All his willpower went into not flinching from the searing pain as stressed muscles took on even more strain. “C-can it Skulker. I thought you were creepy enough with the pelt thing, now you’re outdoing even Vlad, and that’s a fucking achievement. Maybe you should get a cat?”

Skulker slammed his foot on the floor, if there had been a floor. “THE OCEAN’S GREATEST HUNTER DOES NOT NEED A CAT! PERISH!”

Skulker’s suit opened up at the back to reveal blinking torpedo tubes. Danny unleashed his cold magic along the net. The rope flash froze. Pain surged through his tail, but Danny pushed through and launched out with Damian in tow, shattering the ice.

The dolphins squealed again, but with Danny surging out of range, it barely did any damage.

“Damian, take this!” Danny yelled. He unhooked the wrist ray from his utility belt and shoved it into Damian’s hands. “It goes on your wrist. Press the button to arm it. Clench your fist to fire!”

Danny clicked and whistled. The landscape reflected his calls back at him.

His lateral line spiked with energy. Danny swerved to the side just as a torpedo sailed past him. Damian leaned to the side and aimed the wrist way behind them. Watery explosions erupted and sent shockwaves catapulting them further. Holy shit, where did this kid learn to shoot a wrist gun?! Danny’s line alerted him to two bodies overhead. The dolphins were gaining on them quick.

“I’m gonna flip. Hold on tight!” Belly up, Danny fired three quick beams. Two of them missed and hit the surface. One snagged a dolphin right in the tail. It tumbled out of control and crashed into its partner with a distressed click. In his arms, Damian gasped auidibly.

Danny clicked in a high pitch, almost inaudible to humans. He sped along the seafloor south. He kept clicking, and clicking, making sure he was right. A volley of energy beams cascaded down and Danny zigzagged between them. A shot hit its mark. His sail burned as it tore a hole in it. They needed some space fast.

A spear formed in his hand. Danny went belly up again. He took a moment to aim his shot. Skulker fired another torpedo. With an overhead throw, the spear took off and hit the torpedo straight on. A second spear went at blinding speed and puncture Skulker in one of his boosters. A third one impaled him straight on in the leg. Skulker cried out.

Just ahead of them, Danny spotted their salvation. The trench he detected earlier!

With one last look at the hunter, Danny dived into the trench. As much as the guy prided himself a master of the hunt, even the ocean’s pressure would squeeze him like a grape. As the adrenaline faded from his body, and the colour faded from his vision, Danny made for the first cave he saw. With the last of his strength, he entered the cave, before crashing to the floor.

“Damian, need food, to heal..”

“Phantom? Phantom?!” Damian cried out. The older boy’s gills still moved. He could still feel Phantom’s pulse under his wrist.

Damian didn’t even catch himself warbling in terror. Damian tore through Phantom’s pockets. He tossed supplies and tools out until he located the bandages. The bandages went around whatever wounds he could reach, but Phantom was so large he couldn’t even push him to a more even position. It took all Damian’s strength just to lift the older boy enough to bring the bandages around his body.

Damian heaved shallow breaths as he worked. “Phantom, are you awake? Please, listen to me.” But Phantom did not stir.

Damian’s vision went blurry, and his eyes felt slimy and wet and clogged. He wiped the pearlescent tear away, but paused at the teal blue stain on his green-scaled hand. Phantom’s blood. He stared at Phantom’s sail, its spine snapped in two in some places, and torn up like a tattered blanket in others. His breath itched in his throat. Phantom’s gills looked raw, and it was clear they were struggling. Damian’s felt like they were cramping. He didn’t dare touch the sail, or the gills, nor any of his other fins, for he didn’t have the faintest clue what to do with them. His ignorance would only damage them further.

Just as his ignorance had caused this disaster in the first place…

Suddenly, he felt very, very small. Damian’s head flicked between the mouth of the cave, deep enough that it appeared like twilight even though it was mid-afternoon, and to Phantom. Phantom needed stitches, and more bandages, and disinfectant, none of which they had access to. Phantom had packed up almost everything in his home base except the thermos, and somehow he barely had any medical supplies. Frustration welled up in Damian until he wanted to scream.

Damian shot off, but stopped himself inches before the exit. What would he even do? This trench was a wasteland as far as the eye could see. How could one call a hospital in the middle of the Pacific? And even if there was help out there, a primal fear crawled out from the back of Damian’s brain. The thought of leaving the safety of this cave became unnaturally terrifying. Against his wishes, fears of predators lurking in every direction consumed his mindscape, of human fishermen casting nets from above. The darkness of the cave beckoned to him with promises of warm and comfort far away from the dangers of the ocean.

Damian backed away from the mouth. His mouth hung open in horror. Hot tears continued to pour out, despite his attempts to bat them away. His body was weak, his only companion out of commission with no way to save him, and even his very mind was faltering.

And this time he couldn’t even blame it on anyone but himself. He was weak. He let his guard down twice and now he couldn’t even be rational about it. All he could feel was pulsing dread and the tears that just intensified the more he tried to push them back.

Damian laid his head upon Phantom’s tail. He stared blankly through his flesh and counted his bones as he simply let go. Damian cried for the second time in five years, openly and in total remorse. Father would be disappointed. Mother would be disappointed. Pennyworth and Richard would be disappointed.

Damian lost count of how long he spent like this. It could’ve been hours. The tears hardened into shiny beads that piled up on the floor. The pile grew to four inches of height.

The world-ending anguish faded away into a dull ache, a numb sorrow. The faintest motion caught his eye. Damian startled. Blinking the residual tears away, Damian scanned his surroundings, only to find no soul but them.

Another movement. It was Phantom’s hip fins. His translucent skin had showed clearly the fracture bone of the right fin underneath, but Damian could’ve sworn there was one fewer crack than before.

The fin jerked upward. Damian watched in real time as another crack in the bone mended itself before his very eyes. It was mesmerizing.

All around Phantom’s body, the worst of the worst injuries were beginning to heal. By observing from a different angle, Damian could even see wounds sealing underneath the bandages.

However, only a minute passed before the healing slowed down. And then it stalled.

Damian had a solid idea why. Phantom needed energy. They had paused for a brief snack in the morning, and had nothing else the eat up until now. Phantom was starving and accelerated healing was worthless without nutrients to sustain it.

Suddenly, Damian found himself with a new mission. He wiped the last of his tears, sniffed the last of his sniffles, and armed himself. The Anti-Creep Stick and Wrist Ray slotted neatly into his makeshift utility belt, along with a flashlight, and Phantom’s knife. The older siren had vehemently denied Damian a chance at wielding it, deeming the Anti-Creep Stick to be more age-appropriate. Damian would show him now…

However, his new bravado met its match as he paused at the threshold. The closer he got to the outside world, the stronger and stronger that primal fear roared in the deepest part of his brain. Each inch was like sinking through pitch. What would he do if Skulker returned? What would he do if some ancient ocean predator decided to snack on his flesh? Maybe he should just-

No! He could not!

Priming his muscles, Damian shot out of the cave as fast as he could muster, fast enough that he had no time to second-guess his decision. The fear peeked at fever pitch, instinctual warnings build up from eons of siren evolution blaring like the Watchtower in an alien invasion, now ignored. Once he found himself outside the cave, he steeled his resolve, and swam forth into the unknown.

He had to make this up to Phantom, somehow.

[russellsppttemplates]

How much of their struggle to have a babies did y/n and Lance's families know? Like, did they keep things more between themselves, or did they share with few people( like y/n mom or Choe)?

Tw: infertility, IVF treatments

"Do you want me to go with you?", Lance wondered, "you wouldn't mind?", you replied, "of course not, sweetheart. We're in this together", he kissed your knuckles, "besides, your mother texted me yesterday saying that she had baked those little cakes I love", he smirked.

"Mom", you called, "remind me again of what happened when aunt and uncle were trying to have a baby", you asked. Having someone in the family with a similar diagnosis to yours meant that the baby questions were somewhat carefully thought through before someone asked them, so asking your mum, you figured, would be safe.

"Oh, well, they tried for a really long time, she took some hormones to help with her ovulation, because she had a low egg count", she said, "at the time, they also saw a specialist but the treatments were not an option for her, but around a year, a year and a half later, your cousin arrived", she finished, "something on your mind?".

"We've been doing the whole calendar thing and ovulation sticks, but it's yet to work", you admitted, "we both have healthy counts, so it's something else, but this really sucks, you know?", you blurted, feeling her hug you to her side, "I'm sorry, darling, but it will all work for the best, I'm sure of it", she kissed your forehead, "besides, it doesn't look like it's a job to try, you know? You have a very handsome looking husband", she smirked as you swatted her hand, "besides, as long as there is love between you two, you'll be good".

.

As much as you didn't feel like shouting out to everyone in the world that you would be undergoing fertility treatments to start building your family, you knew you and Lance needed support. Not because you were ashamed or embarrassed, but it was still a personal matter that involved your families, and having their support would be good to fall back on.

When you arrived at your parents' house, your father was quick to get some drinks out while your mother made some tea and got the little cakes to the coffee table, "so, Lance, everything fine at work?", you dad began, "yes, it's been going really well, actually", he smiled talking about a few new topics and some they had discussed the previous visit you had payed them.

"You're a bit quiet, darling, is everything okay?", your mother noticed, rubbing your thigh from her seat by your side, "Actually, I've been meaning to tell you something, we have, actually", you gulped, "We have been to Dr. Marlin's office again because we've been having trouble with trying for a baby, and as it turns out, it's a blocked fallopian tube, so things aren't ending up where they should end up and it makes the whole thing pretty much impossible this way",

"Oh, Y/N, I'm sorry", she got up to hug you before your dad gestured the sign you've had since you were little. You sometimes got scared when going to school, so whenever you were already inside the gate and he couldn't give you another hug after dropping you off, he would slightly cross his arms on his chest as if he was hugging you and you would do the same before stretching out your pointer finger as he did the same, pretending you were touching his. It had become a silly thing when you were little, but it quickly became your thing.

"We are going to begin the treatments soon, hopefully", Lance took over, "Dr. Marlin just needs to get the cycle up to speed and sorted out, and then we begin them when Y/N is comfortable enough", Lance noted, absentmindedly grabbed your hand in his, his thumb rubbing the skin.

"Honey, if there is anything we can help you, help you both", your father said, "let us know. You're not going through this alone", he smiled.

.

"How are you doing with all of it?", Chloe asked her younger brother as she bounced her little one in her arms. Scotty and Chloe had finally felt okay enough to welcome visitors to meet the new addition to the Stroll-James family and you and Lance also found the time to vist them between both of your schedules.

"I've been good. I think now that we know what is happening, we know how to deal with it. We kept trying and it wasn't working, so to know why it wasn't working and that there is a way to help it's comforting", he admitted, "Y/N has been good, too, I think. I've made sure she's telling me how she feels and whenever things get too much so we can work it out together, like a team", he smiled, stretching his arm and softly touching his nephew's cheek.

"I was so scared to invite you because I didn't want Y/N to feel bad about it. I know it's stupid to try and put myself in her position when I've never had issues, but I didn't want either of you feeling bad", Chloe added, "thanks for your consideration, but I think it's fine", Lance smiled as he heard Scotty's footsteps and your giggles coming their way.

"I'm proud of you, Lance", his sister complimented, "of the man you've become. I'm not saying I doubted you'd be like this, but it's a pleasure to see you like this", she nudged him, seeing her husband and you walking into the living room.

"Hey, look who's up!", you cooed at the little bow, "can Auntie Y/N have a cuddle? It's okay if it's not, though", you checked with your sister in-law, "of course it's okay, it gives me time to go to the bathroom!", she cheered, passing her son to your arms, "hello, sweet boy, you're wide awake now, aren't you?", you smiled, touching his soft cheek and seeing his light coloured eyes now open, "here", you heard Lance call you, arranging the space next to him on the sofa so you could sit next to him, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, "are you feeling good?", he wondered, checking in as you smiled at him, "yes, I am. Thank you for checking in", you kissed his cheek, "and this is good practice, isn't it? Isn't it, gorgeous boy? Yes, it is", you cooed at your nephew, hoping that this was a practice moment for what was to come.

(Thank you for submitting an ask 🤍)

[dramagodesss]

Ruthless - jj maybank x oc

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

chapter eleven : diving down dad's secrets

Kiara inspected the tank gauge. “Quarter full. Enough for one of us.” She looked around. “Who knows how to dive?”

“You put the tube in your mouth and breathe. How hard can it be?” JJ said, shrugging.

Camille shifted on her feet. “My dad used to dive,” she murmured. “I just know… you gotta do stops or something on the way up.”

After the plan 'blending in' was chatastrophicly ruined by the outburst at the bonefire and officer Peterkin had payed johnb an early (and not so firendly) visit, jj had convinced the pogues to get into the marsh to finally find out what was going on 'i'm going either way' had said camille, determination on her tone. 'i need to know what that boat has to do with my dad'.

And there they were.

Pope nodded seriously. “If you come up too fast, nitrogen gets into your blood and you get the bends.”

JJ raised a brow. “The bends as in like… bend over and—”

Pope cut him off sharply. “The bends kill you.”

JJ blinked. “Right. Copy that.”

“I’ll do it,” Camille said, voice steady. “It’s fine.”

Pope crouched, already doing calculations in the boat. “Okay, so… you need to do your safety stop at about ten feet for two minutes, alright?”

Kiara stripped off her shirt and dove into the water with barely a splash.

John B blinked. “What was that about?”

“I dunno,” Camille said with a grin. “But I liked it. A lot.”

She reached for the hem of her top, pulling it over her head and tossing it into the boat. Her tight blue bikini shimmered in the light, but the smile dropped from JJ’s face when they saw the angry bruise blooming across her lower back, a dark scab in the middle of it— but there was more. a yellow looking bruise on her ribs. that's not where she got hit, he thought to himself.

but he still tried to play it cool. “Damn, striptease in front of our friends? Mmm.”

Camille slapped his arm after saking off her jean shorts. “Ew. Stop being weird.”

As Kiara surfaced again, JJ helped John B get the gear on Camille.

“When you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and twist, then pull, okay?” John B said, handing her a small crowbar-type tool.

Camille nodded, murmuring a soft “Okay.”

Kiara called out as she got back in the boat. “Hey! I tied my T-shirt to the chain. That’s your ten-foot mark. Do your safety stop there.” Camille nodded as she muttered a 'thanks baby'.

Pope stepped up, eyes locked on hers. “Keep an eye on this.” He pointed to the pressure gauge. “You need enough air to decompress. Got it?”

Camille’s emerald eyes flicked to the gauge, then back to Pope. “How much do I need?”

Pope hesitated. “Unclear." he muttered. "Breathe as little as possible.”

JJ stepped in, his voice softer now. “Zen. Think zen, you know?” He mimicked slow breathing through a mask, then leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Be careful,” Kiara said.

Camille pulled the mask on, tucking her curls under the strap. “Okay,” she said, heart pounding. “Wish me luck.”

Without another word, she jumped.

The water rippled, then calmed.

Silence.

“She really did that,” John B muttered.

Kiara crossed her arms, eyes on the water. “That bruise on her back? The bad one? That wasn’t from yesterday.”

Pope frowned. “There’s one that looked old.”

Before anyone could respond, the low whirr of a motor cut through the stillness.

A police boat rounded the marsh bend, slow but steady.

JJ’s eyes widened. “Shit.”

“Shit,” Pope echoed.

“She’s still down there,” Kiara whispered.

And the cops were getting closer.

Camille sank deeper into the stillness of the marsh, each kick of her fins drawing her closer to the eerie silhouette of the sunken boat. Her grip tightened around the small crowbar tool John B had given her, her eyes scanning through the murky water.

The cargo hold was partially caved in, jagged metal twisting like bones. She spotted a rusted compartment door—half-covered in algae and silt. Inside, barely visible, was the shape of a duffel bag wedged in tight.

Her heart kicked.

That’s it.

She hovered closer, jamming the crowbar into the seam between the hatch and the frame. Her arms strained as she twisted. Nothing. She grit her teeth, readjusted, and yanked harder.

Twist. Then pull.

With a groan of bending metal, the hatch popped open just enough for her to slip her hand in. The duffel was stuck. Waterlogged and heavy.

She hooked the tool into the bag’s strap, tugging with everything she had.

Come on. Come on.

It finally gave with a violent rip, and the sudden momentum nearly knocked her back. She caught herself, grabbed the bag to her chest, and turned to rise—

And froze.

Above, next to their boat, a new one floated.

A figure leaned over the side.

Oh my god. Not now.

Her lungs were already burning, the needle on her oxygen gauge now dangerously low.

She kicked toward the surface but stopped at the anchor chain—Kiara’s t-shirt fluttering like a flag. Ten feet. Two minutes.

She gripped the chain, bag clutched to her chest, and waited.

Stillness around her. But her eyes stayed on the silhouette above. A figure was there. Watching.

Breathe. Slowly. Slowly.

And then, mercifully, the motor above started.

The boat pulled away.

She burst upward.

The moment her head broke the surface, gasping, the Pogues were already leaning over the edge.

“Cami!” Kiara’s voice cracked with relief.

“Oh my god, baby—are you okay???” JJ shouted, already leaning off the edge of the boat.

Camille swam hard, breath ragged. “Who the fuck was that???” she called, flinging the soaked duffel bag onto the deck.

“Shoupe,” Pope answered darkly, eyes locked on his panting friend.

Camille reached the edge, and John B and JJ hauled her up. She collapsed on the deck, coughing, mask dangling from her neck.

“Fucking fatass almost murdered me,” she panted.

The others laughed, half in panic, half in hysterical relief.

JJ crouched next to her, undoing the straps of the tank, eyes flicking to the bruise on her back. “Jesus, Cam. That was—insane.”

“Insanely hot,” Kiara added with a shaky smile, handing her a towel.

John B took the tank off, setting it aside. “You crushed that. Seriously.”

Camille rolled onto her back, catching her breath. “I’m never diving again.”

JJ leaned down and kissed her, brushing wet curls from her face. “Fair.”

Camille had barely caught her breath when Pope’s head shot up, scanning the water behind them.

“…Guys?”

A dark shape appeared, cutting fast across the waves—too fast.

Another boat.

Two men onboard. Hard eyes. One of them raised something that glinted.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

The windshield of the Pogues’ boat cracked in an instant.

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—WHAT THE FUCK??” JJ shouted, diving over Camille instinctively, shielding her with his body.

John B slammed the throttle forward. “HOLD ON!”

The boat rocketed through the marsh water, bouncing off the chop. Everyone dropped flat to the floor, hands gripping what they could.

Bullets zipped past like hornets, shattering the side mirror and splintering the edge of the rail.

“What the hell—who even are these guys?!” Kiara yelled, eyes wide.

JJ turned his head, shouting over the engine and gunfire. “I don't wanna know”

“Gimme the gun!” Camille barked, trying to sit up.

JJ hesitated for half a second, then reached under the seat and handed it to her.

Camille’s hands were still wet and shaking, but she flicked off the safety, pushed up, aimed over the edge—

BANG.

The first shot rang wide, but the second?

CRACK— right through the windshield of the other boat.

The treasure hunters flinched, ducking, and their boat veered slightly off-course.

“YES!” Pope whooped.

“Slow down, assholes!” Camille hissed through gritted teeth, taking another shot that hit the railing near their console.

The enemy boat swerved again—this time slower, falling behind.

“They’re backing off!” Kiara yelled, peeking up from the deck.

John B didn’t ease up. He kept the boat flying forward, weaving through the mangroves.

JJ pulled Camille back down to the deck, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other on her waist. “Jesus Christ, Cami— are you okay?”

She panted, wide-eyed, heart racing, the gun still hot in her hand. “I’m good. I’m okay. Just—holy shit.”

JJ stared at her for a second, in total awe, then leaned in and pressed his forehead against hers. “You can’t just do shit like that. You’re gonna kill me.”

She cracked a breathless grin. “You’re the one who gave me the gun.”

Pope peeked up again, watching the disappearing threat in the distance. “We need to get off the water. Now.”

Camille dropped the gun into her lap, adrenaline still ripping through her. “Let’s go. Before they remember how to aim.”

John B nodded, eyes fixed ahead. “Hold on. Almost there.”

They sped deeper into the marshes, wind tearing through their hair, laughter and panic tangled in the air like smoke.

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·｡

"cami, baby, what if we took a lil break?" muttered jj with a soft tone.

Camille had gone mad. at least that was what the pogues thought when she started checking every little detail. after scaping the treasure hunters they had gone to her house to find out what that duffel-bag contained— what almost killed them. 'a fucking compass? seriusly? we almost fucking died— my girlfriend almost drowned for a fucking compass?' had said the blue eyed boy, disappointed and a bit angry. 'dude, this was my dad's'. had replied johnb.

but that still didnt explain what the fuck was the 'find dave harper- he has the key' note all about.

and it was driving her insane.

"no! I— it doesn't make fucking sense! my dad— dead, alive, missing— whatever form or wherever he is has something to do with this fucking shit, okay? I'm not letting that go! there has to be something!" she closed the fridge door with more force than needed, making one of the pictures fall from the fridge. "I'm not fucking crazy!" just as she croached down to grab the picture, she found herself with a black marker writting— her dad's writting. 'OLIVER'.

just as she turned the picture she saw it— it was her as a kid, hugging her dad.

"what the fuck...?" she muttered.

leaving the soda she had just taken off the fridge on the counter, she started pulling all the pictures off the fridge, magnets clinging against the floor. "Cam what are you—" asked pope, quickly being cut by the blonde.

"shhh" she responded, turning all the pictures back.

the pogues started to approach camille as she started laying them all on the counter. they all could see what they all had in common : the name oliver was written in bald letters in the back of all of them.

OLIVER OLIVER OLIVER OLIVER OLIVER

"isn't that your teddy's name? the giraffe? the one that's fucked up?" murmured jj.

Camille’s eyes snapped up at JJ’s words.

Her heart stalled.

“…Yes,” she whispered, the realization slamming into her like a wave. “Yes!”

She didn’t even explain—just bolted down the hall, her socks slipping slightly on the wood floor. The Pogues exchanged confused looks and scrambled after her.

She threw her bedroom door open and dove straight for the top shelf of her closet, where a battered, lanky plush giraffe sat slumped between old hoodies and shoeboxes.

“Cami—what are you doing?” Kiara asked, breathless from the chase.

Camille pulled the giraffe down, holding it with both hands. Its fabric was sun-bleached, fraying at the seams. The tag still had her five-year-old scribble in fading marker: Oliver.

Without hesitation, she ran her fingers along the seams of its neck, pressing at the worn stitches.

Her breath caught. There—under its belly—one line of stitching was not factory-done. It was uneven. Rushed. Hidden.

She grabbed a pair of scissors from her desk drawer and gently sliced it open.

Everyone stood frozen.

Inside, tucked deep in the plush stuffing, was something wrapped in old, waxy paper.

Camille’s hands trembled as she pulled it free, unwrapping it slowly.

beneath the last layer of paper—folded, faded, and crinkled—was something else.

A note.

Camille unfolded it carefully, smoothing it with shaking fingers. Her eyes scanned the words, written in her father’s unmistakable, slanted handwriting.

In the hands of the sun, there lays a secret under the blue scarf.

“…What the hell does that mean?” Kiara asked, leaning over her shoulder.

“‘Hands of the sun’… wait—wait. That’s Les Palmes du Soleil,” said John B, snapping his fingers. “That’s this house. That’s the name of this house—your house.”

Pope’s eyes widened. “So there’s something hidden here.”

JJ ran a hand through his hair. “Okay… so where’s the blue scarf? What is that, some clue code for what?”

“Maybe it’s literal,” Camille muttered. “We look for something blue. Something scarf-like.”

They scattered, eyes scanning every shelf, throw pillow, photo frame, curtain rod.

JJ called out, “Yo, guys—Cam’s aesthetic is literally ‘beach chic, cottage-core mystery.’ Everything’s blue.”

“The rug!” Kiara’s voice rang out. “The fucking rug!”

They all rushed into the smaller living room—Camille’s dad’s old space, mostly untouched since his death.

Camille’s eyes dropped to the large woven rug under the coffee table—soft blue and beige, always a staple piece no one ever questioned.

The Pogues launched into action—grabbing corners of the table, pushing it off with a loud scrape of wood against wood. Camille and JJ yanked the rug up and over.

Beneath it?

Wooden floorboards. But one—dead center—had a carved outline.

A square.

John B crouched immediately. “This is it. This is so it.”

Pope grabbed a nearby fire poker, prying at the edge. After a few heartbeats and one well-placed crack, the board lifted free.

A dark, narrow stairwell opened beneath them—leading down.

A secret. A basement. Hidden right under Camille’s feet all along.

JJ stared down into the darkness, then back at Camille. “Well, babe. Hope your dad left snacks.”

The wooden stairs creaked under their weight as the Pogues filed down into the hidden basement. A thick, musty air hit them instantly—cool and untouched for who knows how long.

JJ clicked his flashlight on. “Well… this is terrifying.”

It was cluttered. Piles of dusty boxes, old crates, scattered furniture covered in yellowed sheets. A broken fan. Fishing rods. Worn boots. But Camille’s eyes didn’t stop moving—searching, scanning.

“Guys,” she whispered, stepping toward a shelf along the far wall.

Dozens of old photo albums were stacked crookedly, half-falling over. There were framed pictures covered in grime, tangled strings of lights, a rusted compass, and—

A leather notebook.

Her breath caught.

She reached for it without thinking, hands brushing away dust. The leather was scuffed, dark brown with faint cracks. She knew it immediately. “This was my dad’s. He always had it with him. Like… every day.”

Camille opened it slowly.

Pages and pages of tightly packed writing filled the worn journal—maps, coordinates, drawn symbols, notes scribbled in ink and pencil. It was chaotic, and completely focused on one thing.

The Royal Merchant.

John B hovered behind her, scanning the pages with wide eyes. “This is… all Royal Merchant research. That’s the wreck my dad was obsessed with.”

“Same,” Camille muttered. “He told me it was just stories. He lied.”

Tucked between the pages was a photograph—a portrait. A younger Camille, maybe thirteen. Hair longer, cheeks still soft with childhood, smiling like she hadn’t learned to hold back yet.

On the back, in unfamiliar handwriting, were the words:

Do it for her.

She stared at it for a long second, heart dropping into her stomach.

“Cam…” JJ said softly, eyes flicking between her and the photo.

But she didn’t respond. She kept flipping through the last pages.

That’s when she found it.

A crumpled, dirty note, edges stiff and curled. It was smudged, stained—with blood.

Camille unfolded it carefully, staring at the messy, crooked handwriting:

Big Bird, you won’t believe what I found out about. We are gonna be rich, fat ass!!!! See you soon, fucker —Dave

“Big Bird…?” JJ said, squinting. “That’s what your dad used to call you, right? Bird?” he muttered, baby blue eyes locked on his friend.

Camille looked up at him. “What?”

“yes. that was his nickname for me. Bird. how...?”

"so, if johnb is bird, then big bird..." pope's eyes lingered the small space, coming across camille's dristraught's expression.

JJ stepped back, voice low. “Dude. Are you saying… Camille’s dad wrote that note to johnb's dad?”

John B nodded, stunned. “Yeah. And it means… they were in this together.”

Camille looked down at the note again, her stomach dropping as the words twisted into something darker. The blood. The excitement. The danger.

˖°𓇼𓂃 𓈒𓏸

a couple of days had gone by and Camille was even more confused than she was before— all they knew was that big john and her dad were reserching together on the royal merchant. Someone was after her dad (or his corpse— if there was even one) and the compass johnb had found had REDFIELD engraved on it. that's it. that was all they had.

“…and we were all over like this and then we hear—BAM BAM BOOM! and then—Cami, are you even listening to me?”

JJ’s voice cut through the fog in her head, sharp but not unkind. Those ice blue eyes were locked on hers, narrowed with something between confusion and concern.

Camille blinked rapidly, her gaze focusing again as she sat hunched on the couch, hands loosely clasped between her knees. Around her, the Pogues all exchanged quiet glances. She hadn’t been the same since they found the note—the bloodstained one from her dad to John B’s.

“Sorry, Jay…” she muttered, rubbing her temples. “I spaced out. What were you saying?”

JJ’s brows drew together. “The guys. The ones that shot at us? They were at Lana’s.”

That yanked her straight into reality.

John B stepped forward, still holding the weathered notebook they’d unearthed from her basement. “We went to talk to Lana—see if she knew anything about the compass..”

“She freaked out,” JJ said. “Told John B he needed to get rid of it.”

Kiara’s arms were crossed, tension crawling over her shoulders. “You think they’re hunting for the compass now? ”

“They have to be,” said Pope.

Camille swallowed hard, eyes flicking to the compass on the table—still innocuous-looking, still so full of mystery.

She glanced at John B. “Why would Lana want you to get rid of it?”

John B’s jaw tensed. “I think she’s scared. I think she knows whoever’s after it isn’t gonna stop.”

Pope tapped the compass. “It’s tied to all of this. Royal Merchant. Your dad. and yours. both of them ,” he said, looking between Camille and John B.

And then a new sound hit the quiet room—wheels on gravel.

A car. Outside.

JJ was up in a heartbeat, crossing to the window. “Shit.”

“What?” Kiara asked, rising.

He turned to them, jaw set. “Black truck. They found us.”

Everyone scrambled—Camille grabbing the notebook and compass, John B locking the door, Kiara and Pope trying to find the exit.

"JJ" Camille's eyes locked with her boyfriend's. "The gun."

jj's eyes flickered. "uhhhhh..."

“Where’s the fucking gun, JJ?”

His lips parted like he was going to answer—but then his whole expression twisted in guilt.

“...in the backpack. i left it on the porch.”

Camille's breath caught. “You what?!”

"Are you serius?? only fucking time we need the gun and we don't have it??" whispered kiara anxiously.

Before he could answer, they all froze at the sound of boots hitting the porch—two sets. Heavy, fast, and not bothering to be quiet.

Pope hissed, “Window, now.”

The window wouldn’t budge at first—stuck with years of paint and rusted shut from the salt air. Pope yanked it hard, panic rising as boots thudded closer on the porch, until finally, with a screech, it gave way. One by one they slipped through just in time, tumbling into the overgrown grass and crawling toward the only place they could hide: the coop.

Cramped in the musty wooden shed, chickens rustled around them, the air thick with feathers and fear. Through the slats, they watched the men tear through the house, grabbing papers, pulling maps off walls—everything Big John had worked on, vanishing into greedy hands. Then a chicken let out a loud, shrill squawk, again and again, drawing one of the treasure hunters toward the coop. Without thinking, JJ grabbed it, silenced it with trembling hands, his jaw clenched. Kiara turned away, biting her fist, tears spilling down her cheeks. Camille wrapped her arms around her, pulling her in tight. “Shh, it’s okay,” she whispered, brushing curls from her face. “Don’t look.” Kiara buried her face in Camille’s neck as the footsteps faded and the truck finally pulled away. For a moment, no one moved. Then John B sat back, wide-eyed. “The diary—my dad’s compass—”

Camille stopped him, voice steady. “Don’t worry. I got it.” She lifted the leather-bound journal and the compass from beneath her shirt, her arms still wrapped protectively around Kiara.

.ೃ࿔*:･𓆉︎

The sun was low on the horizon, painting the marsh in golds and oranges. Crickets had started to chirp, and the occasional call of a heron echoed in the still air. JJ sat with his legs stretched out, a stick in his hand, absently drawing in the dirt while Camille leaned back beside him on the old boat trailer, eyes scanning the path Kiara and John B had taken toward the lighthouse. Pope had went home after a his dad called asking for backup on their business 'this is crowded as hell! come help your old man! im boutta get a panick attack or somethin'!'

"They better not take forever," JJ muttered.

Camille smiled faintly. “Told you you’re not going up there alone with John B.”

“Still not fair,” he grumbled.

“That’s what you get for punching Topper and pulling a gun in one night,” she teased.

He didn’t respond right away—just fidgeted in his pocket until he pulled something out and held it toward her, awkwardly. “Here.”

Camille blinked. “What’s this?”

JJ cleared his throat. “It’s stupid. Just—here.” In his hand was a small necklace, strung with uneven little shells, a few tiny beads mixed in, all held together by sun-bleached twine. Homemade. Imperfect. Somehow perfect.

“You… did this?” she asked softly, taking it gently from his fingers.

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. “I saw you were a bit, um… off. Or sad. I dunno. Just… figured I’d try to cheer you up or somethin’. You don’t have to wear it or anything.”

Camille didn’t speak. Just stared at the little necklace, then at him.

JJ scratched the back of his neck. “It’s stupid, I—”

“Jayjay…”

He looked up.

“It’s beautiful,” she said, voice cracking. “I love it. I love you. Thank you.”

JJ froze.

Camille’s eyes brimmed with tears, her thumb brushing over the shells.

“You what?”

She laughed through the tears. “I love you. You heard me.”

JJ looked like someone had just punched the air out of his lungs. His mouth opened and closed, heart racing faster than it had during any gunfight. Then slowly, almost shyly, a smile curved on his lips. “I—fuck. I love you too.”

Camille reached over, pulling him into a soft kiss as the marsh quieted around them, and the light began to fade.

jj pulled back slightly, blinking at her teary face with a crooked smile. “You cryin’?” he asked, voice low, teasing—but gentle. he hadn't noticed at first as he kept his eyes on the ground, avoiding eye contact, afraid of her posible reaction.

Camille let out a small laugh, wiping at her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Shut up.”

“No, no, you are,” he grinned, nudging her knee with his. “I made you cry. That’s gotta mean it’s a good necklace.”

She sniffled, holding up the shells again for a second before slipping it around her neck and tying it behind with steady fingers. Once it was on, she looked up at him, chin lifted, proud and sure.

“There,” she said, brushing her curls over her shoulder. “Looks good on me, huh?”

JJ stared for a second, something warm and amazed behind those storm-blue eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Looks perfect.”

She leaned into his side, and he instinctively threw an arm around her shoulders. both quiet, they enjoyed the view of the glazing sun descend into the horizon.

A buzz on her back pocket took her out of her peace.

Camille blinked, then checked it. Comment. Bold, flirty. Right there under the pic of her in the bikini.

JJ leaned over her shoulder. Read it. Stared.

“Oh hell no—” he muttered.

“Jay…” she said carefully, but he was already grabbing his phone. "I'm sorry I—"

“Sorry for what, Cami?” he shot back, eyes still locked on his screen, voice low and tight. “You're out here being all sweet and tryna be friends with that asshole, and posting me, trying to be respectful with our relationship—and this fucking idiot is commenting crap—just gimme a second, mamas.”

His thumb was flying across the screen, muscles twitching like he was holding himself back from throwing something. Camille placed her hand on his chest gently, grounding him.

“JJ,” she said softly. “You’re the only one I want. He doesn’t matter.”

JJ glanced up at her, his breathing heavy, tension still radiating off of him—but her voice, her eyes, they calmed him just enough. His shoulders dropped a little.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I just—you're my girl. he doesn't get to say that to my girl.”

Camille's cheeks flushed.

you're my girl.

my girl.

my girl.

A minute later, Camille’s phone pinged again.

jjmakesbankk just posted.

Four photos.

Caption: my girl ♥️.

Camille’s jaw dropped. “jj—”

He shrugged. “He wants to play? Let him see who you’re coming home to.”

And yeah, maybe her heart melted a little more.

a/n : rafe be like NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT? NEVER GIVE UP!

im having too much fun doin all this screenshots and ig posts BAHAHA.

btw my first SMAU is out!! read it here : playin’ the players + I’ve written some nerd rafe blurbs if you wanna go check that out too :))

taglist : @moonywhisp3rs

[damnaation]

Light in the Deep

A little lost mer ends up face to face with a deep water leviathan.

Soft, safe, unwilling-to-willing vore, mer pred and prey.

Ao3 link

She was lost. Not that she knew where she was supposed to be, actually, but surely it wasn't here, in the middle of the open ocean? Some part of her brain was setting off alarm bells at that, but trying to remember why was like trying to catch bubbles with her fingers.

Well, they weren't going to figure it out just floating there. Maybe there was someone nearby they could ask for help? Though they couldn't see any signs of anyone else, just a steep slope riddled with holes—a dead volcano, some part of their brain noted. Full of lava tubes.

“Hello?” She chirped, ear fins perked to listen for any response, though after a few seconds she deflated slightly. Nothing.

Hanging around out in the open wouldn't help anything, though. With a sharp flick of her tail she darted towards one of the holes, peering in curiously—it seemed empty, without even any signs of passage. The next several entrances were the same, dark and empty voids leading into the mountain.

The further down they got, the darker it became, growing dim like a storm was rolling in. They paused, glancing up—they'd gone deeper than they'd expected, and still no sign of anyone.

The next opening in the mountainside was much larger, a gaping black chasm many times her own length. It sent a shiver down her spine, though she couldn't say why—it looked almost like a mouth, yawning wide and ready to swallow her up.

A sudden shift in the water made them tense, fins flared in a subconscious attempt to make them look bigger, but otherwise unmoving for the moment.

“Hello there, little minnow.” A low voice rumbled from behind them, chuckling slightly. The light had changed, an odd greenish glow emanating from something they couldn't see quite yet.

Turning with a flick of her tail, her eyes widened as she came face to face with a much, much larger mer, speckled with bioluminescent markings.

Leviathan.

He grinned at her, revealing long, needle-sharp teeth that made her blood run cold. A disturbance in the water alerted her to some movement, and that was the final straw.

They bolted, darting away with a sharp flick of their tail. It would be impossible to outswim him, but if they could get out of reach-

Diving into one of the lava tubes, they followed it to a dead end—the path forward blocked by an old collapse, but at least there was a bend blocking them from view. And the tunnel was surely too small for him to be able to grab them.

The sound of rock crumbling under pressure made her yelp, pressing against the rubble and trying to make herself as small as possible. She was too brightly colored to blend in, pink scales and orange fins a distinct beacon in the dim grey tunnel, but there wasn't anywhere else for her to go.

“Oh, come now, little minnow. That's not any way to greet a stranger.” The leviathan hummed, though his pleasant tone was undercut by yet more cracking and shuffling of stone.

Leviathans were dangerous. They remembered that much, or at least they could figure it out. Whatever he had in mind for them would no doubt end badly.

A frightened noise escaped them as they cowered, fins trembling and pressed close to their body. The cacophony from whatever he'd been doing had stopped, at least, but there was no way he'd left. Not that quickly.

She shuddered, pulling her tail close and wrapping her arms around it nervously. How long could she wait? Not forever, surely—eventually she would need to eat, after all. But who knows how long he would wait, lurking outside for her to come out so he could… do whatever leviathans did with shallow dwellers. Certainly nothing good, that's for sure.

Maybe they could shift the rocks blocking their path enough to escape? But they could also trigger a bigger collapse—best not to risk it. With a soft, anxious click they settled in to wait, nervous and trembling.

She wasn't sure how long it'd been by the time she saw the light, bright and comforting like the sun. Uncurling from her spot, she approached cautiously with a flick of her tail, but the light stayed out of reach. Still bright, with a slight greenish tint, but she couldn't tell what it was. It hovered near the entrance to her little hideaway, gleaming just barely out of reach.

They hesitated, feeling a brief flash of concern at the thought of leaving their refuge… but surely it would be alright? Leviathans didn't like bright light, after all. They were deep-dwellers, living in the constant night of the darkest ocean depths. Surely he was gone.

With a little chirp they slowly made their way out of the lava tube, catching a glimpse of claw marks gouged into the rocks as they swam past. A brief shudder ran through them, but they focused on the light again. It seemed a little closer, like they could just reach out and touch it-

The light pulled back, dancing out of her reach as she tried to grab it. Letting out a frustrated noise, she darted forward, reaching out with her hand to touch the light. Her fingers just barely brushed against it when it suddenly jerked back and went out.

A low chuckle surrounded them as they blinked, eyes unadjusted to the dim surroundings after staring at the bright light. They tensed at the feeling of water being disturbed, but couldn't see where it was coming from just yet.

“Well, well, well. Aren't you a cute little thing with a head all full of seaweed.”

She froze, hardly even daring to breathe at the sound of the leviathan’s low call. Stupid—of course he hadn't been gone. And she'd all but swum right into his jaws. Her eyes finally adjusted enough to see his face, looming over her ominously with a threatening smirk and-

And a lure. Poking out of his head of dark curls, pulsing a soft greenish light like the rest of his bioluminescent spots.

“It's awfully dangerous for little minnows like you out in the open. You're lucky I showed up—you could've ended up as a snack for someone far crueller than I.” He murmured, hands curling loosely around them and pulling them closer to his face. They let out a distressed click, pressing back against his palms but unable to escape—he could catch them easily no matter how they tried to flee. Shaking, fins pressed flat in fear, they stared up at him with wide eyes. “Oh, don't be like that, little one. I'll keep you perfectly safe, don't you worry your pretty little head about it.”

“Y-you don't have to- I'll b-be fine-” She stammered, voice high pitched and shaky from fear. The leviathan chuckled, shifting his hands and extending a clawed finger to trace along one of her fins—despite the distressed trill and flinch away his action prompted from her.

“But you're such a cute little thing. Really, I could just eat you up.” He chuckled, running his finger along their body until he tipped their chin up, the point of his claw just barely touching their skin. They shuddered, gills flaring anxiously—eat them? Surely it was just an exaggeration-

But after a moment he grinned, revealing needle-like teeth that made their blood run cold. “In fact…”

She yelped as his hand suddenly closed around her, holding her up closer to his face as she squirmed. Damn it- she should have stayed put, not gotten distracted by that damn light. “No- I- let me go!”

His hold was tight enough she couldn't wiggle free, arms pinned by his fingers and tail fin just barely poking out, but not tight enough to hurt though. Even as he lifted her to his face despite her protests.

With a low hum he opened his mouth wide, sharp teeth parting to give them a far too close view of the inside of his maw. There were a few spots of bioluminescence inside, pulsing softly as if beckoning them in. His grip on them loosened slightly, and for a brief moment they hoped to escape, but he simply shifted his hold on them before shoving them unceremoniously into his jaws.

Teeth snapped shut behind her with a definitive clack, and for a moment she sat there stunned before his tongue moved beneath her, abruptly pinning her to the roof of his mouth. The water surrounding her started to drain, and she gasped as she was abruptly forced to switch to air breathing. The sound of him swallowing made her shudder, shoving her hair out of her face and trembling in terror.

He wouldn't be able to hear their calls if they weren't in water—it didn't travel as well above the surface, and they had no way of knowing if he knew human speech. He'd effectively silenced them with hardly any effort, and all they could do was wait—their claws weren't sharp enough to do any damage, and they didn't have any other spines or defenses-

He licked her, jarring her from her thoughts and making her flail and sputter. For a brief moment she'd wondered if he was just planning to hold her in his mouth, but the sudden activity dashed that faint hope. A low, pleased rumble surrounded her as she squirmed and shoved at his tongue, making her shudder at the implication—he was tasting her, and apparently liked it.

After a few moments he pressed them to the roof of his mouth again, head angled towards his throat—which they could unfortunately see quite well, with the spots of bioluminescence in his mouth. “No!” They shouted, writhing desperately but unable to move much before he opened his mouth again and swallowed them with a torrent of water.

His throat was hot and tight, pinning her arms to her sides and forcing her deeper into his body despite her squirming. It felt like an eternity, powerful muscles squeezing and shoving her past the thumping of his heart and the dull rush of water through his gills before she was finally dropped into an open space, once again lit with bioluminescent flecks. Splashing into a pool of water, she yelped, bubbles trailing from her mouth and gills as she re-adjusted to breathing water. An amused chuckle surrounded her as she flailed, trying to reorient herself.

At least there was enough water for them to call. “Let me out!” They cried, shoving and clawing at the fleshy walls surrounding them. Their claws weren't very sharp, but they doubted it felt very good—a suspicion confirmed as they were suddenly squeezed in place and prevented from moving by the muscles tensing around them.

“You're not as fast as I am, little minnow. I'd rather not be waiting around for you to catch up.” The leviathan rumbled, making her pause her attempts at struggling.

“... What?”

“Would you rather I let you exhaust yourself swimming after me? Or risk getting snatched up as someone's snack? Not all deep dwellers are welcoming to your kind, minnow.”

That made even less sense. “Oh, ‘protect’ me from ending up as food by eating me yourself. Sure.” She snapped, wriggling enough to get her arm out of the uncomfortable position it had been stuck in. He let out a short series of exasperated clicks before she was suddenly released from the tight squeeze, letting out a startled yelp as she practically fell back to the bottom of his stomach.

“Your head really is full of seaweed, isn't it?” He hummed, a brief area of pressure resting on them for a moment. “You're just in storage, minnow.”

… What?

They paused, flicking their tail in confusion. The water didn't look or taste strange, and the only opening was above them… was he telling the truth? They couldn't feel anything, and when they reached out to touch the walls they just felt slimy, no tingling or burning on their skin.

“You couldn't have told me that before- before making me think I was gonna die?” She responded, sounding a little shaky. The leviathan rumbled softly, as something pressed against her again—his hand, maybe?

“I could have. But you wouldn't have squirmed as much, and it felt so nice.” She swatted the side of his storage-stomach with her tail, letting out an indignant noise. “But you're safe, minnow. You're lucky you ended up in my territory, I'm not one to make a meal of something that can talk back. Unlike some other leviathans…” An odd shiver went through her surroundings, as if he'd shuddered at the thought.

“Oh.” They twisted to curl up on themself, wrapping their arms around their tail nervously.

“Do you have a name, little minnow?” He asked, the bioluminescent flecks surrounding them brightening slightly. For a moment they paused, unsure if they could answer—they couldn't remember much, after all, certainly not why they were in the open ocean on their own—before something came to them.

“Phoenix.” It sounded like a name, and she liked it. “You?”

“Phoenix.” He hummed, repeating it slowly as if savoring it much like he had the rest of her. “Interesting. My name is Juniper. What were you doing out here all on your own?”

Of course he would ask that. She curled in tighter on herself, fins drooping slightly in distress.

“Little minnow?”

“... I don't know. I'm lost, I think, but I don't know where I'm supposed to be.” She finally responded, sounding rather morose. Juniper went silent for a few moments, clicking softly before speaking up.

“Well, I wouldn't mind a bit of company. Especially not from such a cute little thing as you.” Their fins perked up slightly at his offer and they uncurled some, looking up towards his call.

“I... Thank you.” He might not have made the best introduction, but he hadn't hurt them, and at least hanging around a leviathan would minimize the chances of something happening to them.

“Of course. Now, make yourself comfortable, I'm going hunting.”

[ask-annamary]

why do some fish have lungs?

To breathe, of course.

Ha, I know that answer will not satisfy you. The fish you are thinking of are the aptly named “Lungfish”. They have lungs for… well. A lot of reasons, reely. Evolution, adaptation, specific needs in their habitats. Let’s ink about where exactly do lungfish live. The three families of extant lungfish are Protopteridae, Lepidosirenidae, and Neoceratodontidae. They live in Africa, South America, and Australia respectively. These areas can get incredibly hot and dry during the summer reasons, and this could very well be the reason behind this strange adaptation.

Pictured here is the West African lungfish. Known for its elongated, tendril like fins, it’s distinct snout, and yes… it’s lungs. This fish is an obligate air breather, meaning every 30 minutes or so it will surface to take gulps of air. Unlike most fish, this one is better at extracting oxygen from the air with its lungs, rather than oxygen from the water with its gills. Still, this fish requires a good body of water to survive. During the dry season, however, the rivers these fish reside in can dry up. For this reason, a lungfish can burrow in the mud and enter a period of “Estivation.” Similar to hibernation, the fish will remain inactive and will return when water levels rise again.

This is a problem that many other lungfish face during the dry seasons. When oxygen levels in the water are too low for gills to reliably work with, then they can turn to the air to breath. Isn’t that nice? Did you know the West African can make a cocoon of mucus for itself when it burrows? And said mucus makes a sort of breathing tube for itself from its burrow to the surface, like my very own breathing tube. I’d imagine it would be quite comfortable to sleep underground for an extended period of time. A nice, dark, enclosed space all for myself.

I hope this answers your question Anon. The short answer: Lungfish have lungs to extract oxygen from the air. The long answer? Whale I’ll have to dive into the whole evolution spiel. I haven’t even gone into primitive lungfish such as Dipterus…

Misty confinced me to post these illustrations as well. Initially they were cut just to keep things shrimple, but she told me that they looked “cute” and “nice”. I said “shore, whatever you say.” Maybe I should practice drawing some more…

[es46]

Nakarkos is such an interesting creature, so I opted on another monstie sharing its theme. - KARAKAGAU Title - Fulgurite dragon Monster class - Elder dragon Known locales - Deserts Element/ailment - Paralysis Elemental weakness - Water (3), Dragon (2), Ice (1), Thunder (0), Fire (0) Ailment weakness - Paralysis (3), Poison (2), Blast (2), Stun (1), Sleep (1) Karakagau is an elder dragon endemic to desert regions. Contrary to most of its clade, it has an invertebrate form with a multitude of tentacles and a huge soft body. The relation to Nakarkos is obvious, as is its unique placement among elder dragons. Camouflaged by its brown and gold colours, Karakagau excels at burrowing, its rear tendrils digging out pits whilst breathing tubes and motion-sensitive fins protrude above the sand. Though known to sample fruits from time to time, Karakagau is primarily a lurking predator, creating large pits in the sand and waiting patiently for prey to stumble into its grasp, most of its body hidden save for its breathing tubes and fins. To potentially increases its chances of success, Karakagau will wriggle a tentacle around in the pit, mimicking the motions of a trapped animal to lure in other carnivores. For this reason, field workers are advised to pay extremely close attention to their surroundings when working in desert environments, as Karakagau will not hesitate to take humans as prey. Fortunately, there are subtle clues to indicate Karakagau's presence. The elder dragon exudes a strange paralytic chemical from the spines on its body and tentacles. This chemical will react with sand molecules to create an interesting crystalline form similar to fulgurite, which is often seen surrounding the pits it makes. These crystals are how Karakagau mark their territory against others of their kind, and they may even use larger clusters as weapons, either like knives or throwing them at enemies. Otherwise, if its ambush is foiled, Karakagau relies principally on its lashing limbs. It can also spit the chemical from its beak, paralyzing prey and rivals from a distance. Unlike most elder dragons, Karakagau does not display the capacity to meaningfully influence natural phenomena. It controls no elements nor alters its environment in any significant way. It is not even known to drive out neighbouring monsters through occupation, beyond those directly aware of its presence. Karakagau rarely ventures from the pits it creates, usually only leaving when it wishes to travel to an oasis to gather fruit. The elder dragon also relies on oases to reproduce; while the adult is terrestrial, the eggs its lays and the young that emerge are dependant on water. Interestingly, Karakagau are never seen to gather to mate, implying the species is asexual or parthenogenetic. While certainly a cunning ambush predator, Karakagau's comparative lack of power and influences ranks it lower than most elder dragons (Low Rank - 5, High/Master Rank - 5). The real challenge lies in exposing its ambush site. Sonic bombs are highly recommended to disorientate the elder dragon, and water weapons are useful for diluting and nullifying its paralyzing chemicals. Given its dependance on its environment to be an effective threat, the Guild believes Karakagau could be subject to capture, lacking logistical concerns of significant influence. Only accomplished hunters who have proven their worth in higher ranks should attempt such a feat. As ambush predators, Karakagau rarely directly contends with other monsters in combat, opting to simply paralyze and drag under the sand. It can be concerned by the likes of Monoblos and Diablos, whose armoured bodies and sharp horns can threaten it. As with many elder dragons, Karakagau is terrified of Nergigante and burrows as deep as it can should it sense the presence of the predator. - Thank you for reading and take care.

[biggestdev]

My PC Has Seen Some Shit

I build my computer during the lockdowns, and like many others, was doing some wacky shit just because.

I decided I was going to build a small form factor (SSF) PC, but I wasnt satisfied with simply jaming all the parts AND cooling into a relatively small case, I wanted to cram all the bits into the smallest volume I could manage, and utilize an external radiator to cool it all. Thus, the abomination:

(I may or may not have "borrowed" the kitchen countertop for a full week, my roomate took it in stride.) At the time, it was decent hardware, if intentionally limited. Ryzen 5 5600 CPU, RTX 2070 GPU, and a special power supply combination - HDPLEX 400W DC-DC power converter/ATX power supply internal to the case, and a 380-watt external power brick. I had to hunt for a very specific GPU, that was both small enough to fit in the chassis I picked out, and also efficient enough to fit in the 380W power budget:

and also some dope-ass no-drip quick-disconnect fittings for the water loop:

Those, plus a panel mount connector on the chassis for the pump and fan cables on the cooling tower, means I could easily dissasemble the pc into 3 parts - power brick, pc, and tower, to easily move it if needed.

I am still really proud of what I accomplished in terms of fitting everything into such a small chassis, if I had a 3D printer I could have made a couple brackets and covers to fill the holes that are covered in painter's tape, and had something looking real nice, but in the end I decided it was too much work to upkeep, the quick-connect ports on the back restricted water flow too much, and caused a lot of noise in the flow, like an air pocket that never went away with time. That and the blue coloring I added (actual cooling liquid coloring, NOT FOOD DYE) almost immediately cooked out of the water and deposited in the water block fins, and on the inside walls of the tubes, making it look a bit ugly tbh.

In 2023, I took the complete OPPOSITE approach and rebuilt the computer on an open-frame chassis, and hung it on the wall behind my monitor at my new place:

My desire had shifted from "unassuming box with neat internals" to "pussy out". Since all the components are now exposed to naked air, i was able to adjust fan curves so that they only turned on under extreme load. The GPU fan doesnt even spin until I boot up a game! I initially used the stock CPU cooler, but it didn't work well enough to keep the fan at low RPM, so I upgraded to a Noctua low profile cooler with a way better configuration that cools the cpu and board components really well.

The end result is a super quiet PC that is damn near silent until I boot up a game, and even then, the loudest thing is a battle between the GPU fan and the coil whine from that same GPU!

60% duty cycle on the GPU fan was about the minimum I can spin it to keep the temperature below throttling point at 100% utilisation, and I'm totally happy with that! The CPU fan spins all the time, but it's a noctua so I can't even hear it at idle, and at 100% CPU use, it's only up to maybe 50% speed, which is still damn quiet.

This is how my computer has been configured ever since, and I am proud for sure! It's a fun PC to look at visually, and it's got an interesting history to talk about (to me at least!)

[thepartyponies]

I posted about this a bit ago how I’ve been having this idea of building a retro motorcycle based on the the ’88-90 Honda VTR250:

Dgmw, that’s some peak aesthetic and I love it, but the 250cc 13500rpm v-twin engine would make for a great board track racer/cafe racer build. Some big skinny wire spoke wheels, girder forks, low handlebars, big round headlight and classic analog gauges. 👌

But a big issue I’ve had is that the stock frame just doesn’t look right for a 1920s aesthetic build, it’s a chunky aluminum perimeter frame like most modern sport bikes and it blocks a lot of the engine from view. So I didn’t like that, and the thought of designing and building a whole new frame from scratch was a bit intimidating.

But I was researching the bike and I discovered that it had a predecessor that wasn’t sold here called the VT250F. It used an engine that looks and seems almost identical, and for the first few model years it had a traditional round-steel-tube frame:

Now that looks way more appropriate for a retro build! Maybe not with the red paint, but the round tubing just looks way better, and you can get a lot better view of the engine, especially with the silver fins and valve covers. It’s probably heavier and not as stiff but hey there’s no free lunch.

Now picture that, but made to look a little more like this:

[hohhggk]

the science project pt. 4

• this is a series in which enemies turn into to lovers, ft. y/n and chris sturniolo

•Y/N and Chris Sturniolo are sworn enemies—until a science project forces them to work together. Tension turns explosive when an argument in her bedroom ends with him on top of her, eyes dark, lips inches away. Enemies? Maybe. But tonight, the line between hate and want disappears.

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

Chapter Four – Y/N’s POV

When I open the front door, he’s already leaning against the frame—backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, hood pulled down, grey sweatpants hanging low on his hips like they’re barely holding on. His black compression shirt clings to every sharp line of him—his chest, his shoulders, his arms.

I hate how good he looks. I hate that I notice.

“Wow,” he says, eyes dragging over me like a touch I can’t swat away. “You did not dress like that for a science project.”

My jaw tightens. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But the second his eyes drop to my legs, my stomach twists. His gaze lingers—slow, hot, unreadable. He doesn’t even pretend to hide it.

I turn and walk upstairs before he can see the way I’m already flushed.

He follows without a word.

Every creak of the stairs feels too loud. Every breath feels too full. And when we step into my bedroom, I feel it—I feel the shift. Like the second his body crosses the threshold, the air changes.

It’s warmer in here. It smells like cinnamon sugar and candle wax and perfume.

Cloud by Ariana Grande, to be specific—the vanilla one I only wear when I want someone to remember me.

The room glows. Literally. There are three candles lit—one flickering on my desk, one nestled into my windowsill, and one tucked by my bed, a Bath & Body Works three-wick in Warm Cinnamon Roll. The flame dances against the side of the jar, reflecting in the mirror and painting gold across the walls.

My bedsheets are fresh—white cotton with pale pink embroidery—and the throw blanket is folded neatly at the foot. The air smells like fall and sugar and tension. My LED lights are dimmed, letting the candles do the work. The walls are covered in posters—music, movies, Polaroids of me and my friends laughing at carnivals and sleepovers, even one I accidentally took of myself mid-eye roll.

Chris stands in the center of it all like he belongs there. Like he’s not the exact opposite of everything this space is.

His eyes scan slowly, taking it in.

“You really lit candles,” he says, that mocking edge already curling around his tongue. “Should I have brought wine?”

I roll my eyes and cross my arms. “Do you want to do the project or not?”

He drops his bag with a thud on the rug beside my bed and flops down right on the edge of it like it’s his. Like we do this all the time.

“Sure,” he says, stretching back slightly. His shirt rides up an inch. “But full disclosure, I only know about the reproductive system from firsthand experience.”

My stomach jumps and I shoot him a glare.

“I swear to God—”

“I’m joking,” he says innocently. “Unless you want me to demonstrate.”

“Chris.”

“Okay, okay.” He pulls out the textbook and cracks it open dramatically. The spine groans. “Chapter Twelve: Human Reproductive System. Oof. That’s a loaded topic.”

I sit next to him carefully—not too close. Close enough to read, far enough not to touch. My legs are crossed, and I have to tug my tube top up subtly every time I shift.

He notices.

Of course he notices.

I smell the warmth of him now. Clean, masculine, a little like cologne and the dryer. His leg brushes mine and he doesn’t move.

I swallow and force myself to look at the book.

It’s already open to a diagram of the male body.

Graphic. Anatomical. Every vein, every part, labeled in bold black ink.

I blink, feeling heat crawl up my chest. “Ugh. Gross.”

Chris glances over, grin widening like he’s waited for this.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, voice syrupy-smooth. “Never seen one before?”

“Shut up,” I snap, trying to flip the page, but he holds the edge down with one finger.

He leans in. His breath brushes my cheek. “Y/N. Be honest. You’re blushing.”

“I am not—”

“You so are.” He points to my cheek. “Right there. Little pink glow. Kinda cute, actually.”

“Chris.” I glare. “Can you just focus?”

“I am focusing. On you. And how you’re reacting like this textbook just tried to kiss you.”

I shove his arm. He laughs.

The page turns to the female reproductive system. Even worse. I tense. He notices that too.

“You uncomfortable?” he asks, voice dipping lower now. Almost serious.

I pause. “I just think it’s weird. They don’t even try to make it not awkward.”

He hums, and something changes in his face. He still looks like a menace, but there’s softness behind his eyes now. Just a flicker.

“It’s just a body,” he says. “It’s not gross. It’s you. It’s human.”

His tone isn’t teasing anymore. It’s quiet. Steady. And for a second, I forget to breathe.

Then he shifts closer. Not by much—just enough that our knees touch now, his thigh warm against mine. The air feels heavier. The candle flickers beside us. The scent of cinnamon is stronger.

“You sure you want to keep going?” he murmurs, smirking again. “I don’t want you passing out from embarrassment.”

“I’m fine,” I whisper, though my voice is thinner than I’d like.

He watches me for a long moment. His gaze drops to my lips.

My breath hitches.

His voice drops.

“You smell good, by the way,” he says softly, like he wasn’t expecting to admit that. “Like… vanilla or something.”

I don’t say anything.

I can’t say anything.

The tension coils between us, tighter and tighter, until I feel like I’ll snap. His hand is resting on the bed, inches from mine. I can feel the heat of it like it’s already touching me.

He leans in, just a little more. The creak of the bed beneath him is deafening.

Then—

“You’re not gonna run away if I ask you something, right?”

My heart trips. “Depends on what it is.”

He turns to me slowly, voice lower than ever. His lips hover inches from mine.

“I’ll keep working on this project,” he says, “on one condition.”

I’m already shaking. “What?”

His eyes are molten now. Starving. Focused.

“I get to kiss you.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[imgtoxai328]

Revolutionary Fighter Maintenance

A cinematic, hyper-realistic depiction of a Messerschmitt Bf 110 G-4 heavy fighter parked on a rough, partially paved Indonesian airstrip during the late 1940s. The aircraft retains its original late-war Luftwaffe camouflage — a mottled blend of RLM 74 dark gray-green and RLM 75 gray-violet on top, with a faded RLM 76 light blue-gray underside. The fuselage shows subtle paint chipping and patchy repairs. The Luftwaffe insignia has been painted over and replaced with faded, uneven Indonesian Air Force roundels and tail fin flash — the red and white Garuda-era insignia (correctly aligned red above, white below) on both sides of the fuselage and under the left wing, applied by hand with visible brush marks and slight asymmetry. The aircraft is parked in full side view, centered in the frame, with its nose slightly angled toward the camera to show depth. The cockpit canopy is open, revealing the detailed interior with padded headrest, controls, and weathered seatbelts. Several Indonesian revolutionary ground crew members are actively maintaining and rearming the plane. One mechanic in rolled-up khaki fatigues is perched atop a ladder, checking the twin Daimler-Benz engines with the engine cowl open. Another revolutionary soldier in a mixture of salvaged German uniform and native sarong is loading 20mm cannon belts into the nose armament bay. Two more are reloading rocket pods or WGr. 21 tubes under the wings, using a makeshift wooden cart. Tools, ammo boxes, jerry cans, and oil drums are scattered on the ground, giving the scene a grounded, improvised atmosphere. A few items show the hybrid nature of this alternate setting: a Japanese canvas tent in the background, crates marked in German script, and a captured RAF barrel reused as a workbench. The tropical environment surrounds the airstrip — distant palm trees and banana plants, but kept short and sparse so as not to obscure the aircraft or intrude over the wing height. The sun is low, casting warm golden-hour light with long shadows and glints of sunlight reflecting off the aircraft's fuselage and canopy. There are oil stains, footprints, and tire tracks on the worn laterite ground, and faint heat distortion rising from the engines. A barefoot revolutionary youth walks by carrying a steel toolbox, while in the background, a disassembled tail section of another aircraft lies forgotten under a tarp.

[imgtoxai243]

Revolutionary Fighter Maintenance

A cinematic, hyper-realistic depiction of a Messerschmitt Bf 110 G-4 heavy fighter parked on a rough, partially paved Indonesian airstrip during the late 1940s. The aircraft retains its original late-war Luftwaffe camouflage — a mottled blend of RLM 74 dark gray-green and RLM 75 gray-violet on top, with a faded RLM 76 light blue-gray underside. The fuselage shows subtle paint chipping and patchy repairs. The Luftwaffe insignia has been painted over and replaced with faded, uneven Indonesian Air Force roundels and tail fin flash — the red and white Garuda-era insignia (correctly aligned red above, white below) on both sides of the fuselage and under the left wing, applied by hand with visible brush marks and slight asymmetry. The aircraft is parked in full side view, centered in the frame, with its nose slightly angled toward the camera to show depth. The cockpit canopy is open, revealing the detailed interior with padded headrest, controls, and weathered seatbelts. Several Indonesian revolutionary ground crew members are actively maintaining and rearming the plane. One mechanic in rolled-up khaki fatigues is perched atop a ladder, checking the twin Daimler-Benz engines with the engine cowl open. Another revolutionary soldier in a mixture of salvaged German uniform and native sarong is loading 20mm cannon belts into the nose armament bay. Two more are reloading rocket pods or WGr. 21 tubes under the wings, using a makeshift wooden cart. Tools, ammo boxes, jerry cans, and oil drums are scattered on the ground, giving the scene a grounded, improvised atmosphere. A few items show the hybrid nature of this alternate setting: a Japanese canvas tent in the background, crates marked in German script, and a captured RAF barrel reused as a workbench. The tropical environment surrounds the airstrip — distant palm trees and banana plants, but kept short and sparse so as not to obscure the aircraft or intrude over the wing height. The sun is low, casting warm golden-hour light with long shadows and glints of sunlight reflecting off the aircraft's fuselage and canopy. There are oil stains, footprints, and tire tracks on the worn laterite ground, and faint heat distortion rising from the engines. A barefoot revolutionary youth walks by carrying a steel toolbox, while in the background, a disassembled tail section of another aircraft lies forgotten under a tarp.

[katariyaapvtltd10]

A Complete Guide to Evaporator Coils in HVAC Systems

When we think of HVAC systems, most of us picture air conditioners or large outdoor units humming away. But behind the scenes, one critical component works quietly to make temperature control possible—the evaporator coil. Though small in size, this coil plays a big role in how efficiently your system runs, how comfortable your indoor environment is, and even how long your HVAC system lasts.

In this comprehensive guide, we’ll break down what evaporator coils are, how they work, the types available, common issues, and maintenance tips to keep them running smoothly.

What is an Evaporator Coil?

An evaporator coil is the part of your HVAC system located inside or near the air handler or furnace. Its main job is to absorb heat from indoor air, allowing the refrigerant inside the coil to evaporate and carry the heat outdoors. It works hand-in-hand with the condenser coil and compressor to complete the refrigeration cycle.

Simply put, while the condenser coil releases heat, the evaporator coil absorbs it—making your home cooler in the summer.

How Does It Work?

Here’s a simple breakdown of how the evaporator coil functions:

Refrigerant enters the evaporator coil as a cold, low-pressure liquid.

As warm indoor air passes over the coil, the refrigerant absorbs the heat and evaporates into a gas.

The cooled air is blown back into your space through the ductwork.

The heated refrigerant gas travels to the compressor and condenser coil, where it releases the heat outdoors.

This cycle continues until your thermostat signals the system to stop.

Types of Evaporator Coils

Evaporator coils come in various shapes and configurations, each suited to specific types of HVAC systems:

A-Coils: Shaped like an "A" and commonly used in vertical air handlers.

N-Coils: Compact, with an "N" shape, often used in tight spaces.

Slab Coils: Flat coils placed horizontally, typically used in horizontal HVAC units.

Plate Fin Coils: Made with flat aluminum fins and copper tubing—commonly found in both residential and commercial systems.

The choice depends on the design of your HVAC system and the space available for installation.

Materials Used

Most evaporator coils are made from:

Copper tubing, which provides excellent thermal conductivity.

Aluminum fins, which help increase the surface area for better heat exchange.

In some modern systems, all-aluminum coils are used to reduce corrosion risks.

Signs of Evaporator Coil Problems

Like any mechanical component, evaporator coils can develop issues. Watch for these signs:

Reduced cooling efficiency

Warm air blowing from vents

Frequent system cycling

Refrigerant leaks or ice buildup

Unusual hissing or bubbling sounds

If you notice any of these, it's time to call in a professional for inspection or repair.

Common Issues and Causes

Refrigerant Leaks: Over time, tiny pinholes can develop in the coil, leading to refrigerant loss.

Frozen Coils: Caused by restricted airflow or low refrigerant levels.

Corrosion: Especially in coastal areas or places with high indoor humidity.

Dust and Debris: A dirty coil can't absorb heat effectively, putting strain on the whole system.

Maintenance Tips

Proper maintenance can extend the life of your evaporator coil and keep your HVAC running efficiently:

Replace air filters regularly to ensure proper airflow.

Schedule annual HVAC checkups with a certified technician.

Keep the area around the air handler clean to reduce dust accumulation.

Use a dehumidifier in humid climates to prevent coil freezing and corrosion.

When to Replace an Evaporator Coil

If your coil is leaking, heavily corroded, or beyond repair, replacement might be the best option. Since the coil works closely with the compressor, it’s crucial to ensure they are compatible—sometimes it’s more cost-effective to replace the entire unit, especially if it’s old.

Final Thoughts

The evaporator coil might not be the most visible part of your HVAC system, but its impact is undeniable. From absorbing heat to ensuring efficient cooling, this coil is at the heart of your comfort. Understanding how it works and taking care of it through regular maintenance can save you from costly repairs and help your system run smoothly for years.

Whether you're a homeowner, facility manager, or HVAC enthusiast, staying informed about components like evaporator coils empowers you to make smarter decisions about your system's care and performance.