#Waste water storage tanks

[sameeksha-4717]

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[harshdakadam]

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[sincrotanks]

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[emergencyplumbingil]

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[bhupatiengineering]

Industrial Waste Water Storage Tanks Manufacturers in India

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[inkformyblood]

in all the wrong order (CWFKB25)

Kiss of life @codywanfirstkissbingo 'Civilian' Medic Obi-Wan x Trooper Cody, Canon Divergence. Same AU as this fic from last year!

Cody blinks up at the man straddling his torso, his breath ragged but there and that was an improvement over five minutes ago. “Just throw me straight back into the river. Please.”

The medic, because he couldn’t be anything else with the speed he had thrown himself after Cody, down the embankment, just laughs, folding forward to press his forehead to Cody’s chest. There’s a moment of respite, something Cody desperately needs and is rarely offered even when he’s recovering from lightly dying, and he grabs at it with both hands. 

There’s a faint tremor in the mud beneath him, the deliberate footsteps of some mechanical behemoth echoing through the network of tunnels that carve through this planet like a network of veins. On one side, the river thunders past, a faint spray spattering onto Cody’s bare skin, exposed through the tears in his blacks, the spaces where his plastoid armour had buckled beneath the strain. The water’s dark, mud and silt streaked through it from higher ground, higher battlefields, and Cody tips his head to one side to spit out the overwhelming brackish taste in his mouth. It wouldn’t be suitable for drinking for weeks, something they’d need to keep in mind if the campaign dragged out any longer. 

���Dying men don’t usually have such a good sense of humour,” the medic says as he straightens, making no move to shift from his perch across Cody’s hips. He’s dressed strangely, no armour like the clones had come to expect from civilians and their Jedi leadership, but his tunic is dark and reinforced, belted at the slight divot of his waist. There’s a patch sewn onto his left shoulder, a symbol Cody doesn’t know but recognises all the same.

Cody shrugs as best as he can. His fresh collection of injuries is beginning to claw against his nerves once more, a shrieking line down one thigh, a complimentary chorus high in the knotted muscle of his shoulder. “Maybe I’m the exception. You should throw me back in the river, just to be safe.”

The medic pouts, honest to the stars, pouts, his eyes impossibly blue as the expression wavers into a grin that’s slightly too wide, too many teeth on display. “Am I so terrible that you keep trying to get away from me?”

“Not you.” Cody tries to grab at one of the pouches on his belt and runs into the immediate problem of the man’s thigh. The other man is warm, surprisingly so given that the clones run several degrees hotter than the galaxy at large, and Cody doesn’t draw his hand back immediately. 

There’s some minor blood loss happening, he’ll blame that. 

The medic laughs once more, softer this time, and he shifts his weight sideways completely, settling himself to kneel next to Cody. The mud squelches beneath his calves, his mouth drawn into a tight line as he fights back a shudder. It’s a strangely familiar gesture and it takes Cody a moment to place where he’s seen it before, his thoughts unspooling back to Kamino. There would be machinery in place for the same tasks they were set — refilling the growth media for the tubies, emptying the waste tanks that lurk in the lower levels, an endless moving of crates from one storage room to another — but it had been their tasks to complete, an extension of the contract that had brought them into existence. They would wear the same expression the medic does, a stubborn insistence on their place in the universe being there and now.

“So,” the medic prompts, cupping his fingers just beneath Cody’s chin and turning his face towards him. “If it’s not me, then what is the hurry?” He repeats the gesture on the opposite side of Cody’s chin, turning his face away, and Cody allows the motion, an aching helplessness coring into the hollows of his bones. 

“I have some questions for you first.” Cody reaches for the pouch on his belt once more, unimpeded this time by strange medics fishing clones out of the river. The fabric is still damp, the supposed waterproof coating doing worse than nothing as it holds the water stationary and freezing until Cody disturbs it, soaking his hand and into his blacks beneath. His spare com lights up as he draws it free, a distinct chirp emitting as it begins to connect to the network boosters in his armour. Those, at least, should be more waterproof than the rest of him. Karking intel and the gaps big enough to pilot a ship through. 

The medic looks delighted. 

The universe must have a strange fascination with Cody to have him so thoroughly dissected down to the impulses humming through his veins and then to throw this man at him. 

Cody’s helmet is a distant memory as he pushes himself upright, mud cloying and thick at his back, the medic leaning forward to support him. There’s the lingering scent of iron as he does so, heavy enough to coat Cody’s tongue and he swallows back a tang of bile. On his mouth, his lips, there’s a faint taste of something else beneath the sour brackish water. He didn’t think this planet had anything that could be classed as floral vegetation, just the standard creeping vines that hide droids and cliffs alike. Cody focuses on the man next to him instead of how exposed he feels, a wound freshly tore open with his face bare. 

“What’s your name?” Cody asks, hooking the com over his ear. It’s still connecting, a low whirr poking against the side of his skull, but he can ignore it for the moment, letting the sound wash over him like the distant rush of the river and the ping of blaster fire high above him. 

“Call me Ben. Ben Kenobi.” Ben smiles, lopsided once more, his eyes focused on Cody’s face. 

That’s not entirely a lie, enough of the truth for it to feel solid beneath the thin veneer of paint and flimsiwork. When they’d first left Kamino and been exposed to the universe at large, emotions had been tricky to read on natborns. Harder still from humanoids who shared the same basic framework they all did, noses thinner or broader, brows thicker or thinner or non-existent, because they didn’t look right, they didn’t match how a brother would look. There’d been training packages upon training packages about their weaponry, simulations for every kind of battlefield and ambush scenario, but nothing about what it meant if a natborn bares their teeth and keeps their eyes wide, the disgust that could be transmitted with barely more than a twitch of muscles in the cheek.

So, Cody learnt.

It wasn’t easy, but Cody is exactly who had been made to be and everything he had torn from the fabric of the universe to be his, so he rose above it, gasping and choking but surviving. 

Ben lies with a smile, nearly as easily as the other man breathes, and even the knowing is more of a feeling than anything Cody can project onto the wall of the ship and circle in red paint. ‘Kenobi’ is a ridiculous enough name that it would be easy to find on the holonet or any semi-functioning database that the Senate could construct so that would be the best choice to lie about, except this man, this ridiculous civilian medic who is the middle of an active warzone and throws himself after a random clone who made one misjudgement on the steepness of a mountain, isn’t lying about it. 

“Good to meet you, Ben,” Cody says. He holds out his hand, biting back a laugh at the situation he has fallen into. There would be a new section of the training module because of him, he’s sure of it. “I’m Cody.”

Ben’s hand is warm against Cody’s. A thick band of calluses spans the base of his fingers and a ridge indents the line of his thumb, the placement familiar enough to the medics Cody is used to. 

“What are you doing here, Ben?” Cody maintains his grip on Ben’s hand, shifting slightly to press his fingertips against the delicate network of veins at his wrist. His pulse is strong, steady, 

and Cody hopes a foolish desire that it stays like that. It isn’t often that he meets beautiful strangers who aren’t trying to kill him, his brothers, or the Jedi General he has been assigned to because Alpha-17 has a scar in the shape of Cody’s teeth on his forearm. 

Ben brushes his free hand over his thigh, smearing a line of dark mud over the paler fabric. “I’m a medic and I can be helpful here. Otherwise, I go where the universe calls me.” His grin sharpens, some old hurt passing just beneath the surface before it’s submerged once more. 

“Admirable,” Cody murmurs. His comm ticks into the second stage of transmitting, the whirr sharpening into a series of clicks as it begins to connect with the secure channels. Not long now before he will need to be on the move again, unknown medics or not. “What did you do after you pulled me out of the river?”

“What do you remember last?” Ben leans forward, his gaze locked onto Cody’s face. It’s a deliberate study like Ben is trying to catalogue the minutiae that would distinguish Cody from his brothers in every way except for relying for the scar that curls around his eye and crosses over his temple. 

Cody can’t remember ever being looked at like that.

“There was a hollow beneath the vines, packed full of the things so it read as solid on the scan and from a quick visual assessment.” Cody shrugs, the motion pulling at the jagged line of his ribs, the torn-open crevasses of his armour. “It made my descent faster than intended and I landed in the river.”

All of the currently active clones could swim. It had been a near necessity given the crumbling ruins of Kamino’s towers, the lower levels with only rusting hatches between the faux sterile quarters allocated to the early batches and the ocean outside. 

Ben’s answer is conversational, a gentle remark as if it is nothing more impactful than the weather being discussed. “You landed in the main current with stunning accuracy. A few more moments or if you hadn’t been as strong a swimmer and you would have been lost to the river before I could even try to help you. For your records, you were unconscious and not breathing when I pulled you out so I performed manual breathing to get the water out of your lungs.”

“Manual breathing?”

Ben’s smile softens slightly, his gaze wandering away from Cody to the river as his cheek indents making the expression lopsided. “It’s also called the kiss of life.”

Cody blinks. There is definitely not a training module for this situation. 

“It does seem like we are doing everything out of order,” Cody murmurs, squeezing Ben’s hand once more before he releases the other man. “You kiss me before you even know my name.”

Ben huffs out a quiet laugh, covering his face with both hands. His grin is just visible through the gap between his hands, some relief from an ancient table given flesh and warmth, and Cody wants a kiss he can remember. Ben speaks from behind his fragile cover, his eyes glinting at Cody behind the bars of his fingers, “I will confess to some curiosity as to why you threw yourself into the river in the first place.”

The decision had been tactically sound at the time but now, with a few mouthfuls of river water coating his stomach and Ben’s attention finally tuned, the explanation felt fragile, easily dismissed. Cody’s shoulders lock into place, his hands still in his lap, his posture sure and perfect once more. It hurts, a dull twist through exhausted muscles, but he had been made for this.

In his ear, his comm hums, connecting to every feed thrown over the planet and the few fragile connections snaking their way back to Coruscant. One channel flickers, demanding his attention, and Cody opens it with a blink, scanning over the furious contents. 

“Battlefield tactics,” he answers Ben, beginning to push himself upright. “Small difference of opinion on the quickest way back to the ship following an engagement and I’ve just won.”

“You nearly died,” Ben murmurs, but there’s no heat behind his words, no righteous fury to shake the stars from the sky, just an understanding. He must have siblings of a sort as well. 

Mud clings to Cody’s thighs, his back, his hips, his blacks near unsalvageable as it begins a slow conquest through the seams of his armour, the dented hollows from blaster bolts. It’s cold, not unlike the river, and Cody curls his hands into fists, squeezing them tight until it aches. 

“From here, it’s a straight ride down the river to your ship,” Ben says, pushing himself to his feet. It’s an infinitely more graceful endeavour than Cody could aspire to, the mud seeming to be repelled from him while it clings to every inch of Cody. “Would you like me to throw you in as requested or are you going to jump?”

Cody chews his cheek, the dull pressure echoing against the whirr of the com. Another message flickering through the channel from Rex, deliberately low quality and it would be a nondescript image to anyone else — a tangle of vines with bright purple leaves protruding from the central mass, slightly blurred due to the movement of the camera — and Cody flicks a message back to him, his eyes twitching minutely to activate the keys. 

In addition to the vines that cocoon every inch of this planet, there’s an unusual interference that messes with their automated navigation systems in their helmets. Cody, as a benevolent commander and older vode, did not remind Rex of this fact before he spent the better part of their competition heading in the wrong direction. Any active assaults are, thankfully, on the other side of the planet even if the vibrations can still be felt.

“If you are heading to our base, I could travel with you?” Cody’s voice doesn’t tremble, he’s a good soldier, tries to be a good man in whatever framework the clones have claimed for themselves. Mysterious and a security risk as Ben may be, it’s a battlefield that envelops this planet, and the other man is neither Jedi or Trooper.

Something shutters behind Ben’s eyes, a fierce wanting banked in the same moment of its creation. He’s hungry for something Cody can’t name but denies himself it in the same motion. “I’ll have to decline, my dear. I have some unfortunate history with your General.”

Understandable. Cody had his own unfortunate history with his General. Qui-Gon’s reputation as a maverick was well-earned and only faltered minutely when impacting against Cody’s plans and procedures and enough flimsiwork to drown in. 

“I can appreciate that,” Cody remarks dryly. Ben laughs once more, brushing his hand through his hair and frowning at the likely damp sensation of it.

“If you could, would you give him a message?”

“I’m not kissing him,” Cody answers immediately.

Ben recoils, an expression of wonderous horror splashed over his features before he collects himself. His shoulders twitch as he breathes out through his nose, his hands clasped in front of him. “A normal message, I promise, Cody. Could you tell him—“ Ben’s mouth flattens into a line, any expression on his face smoothed over into a perfect, placid nothingness. There’s a few statues scattered around the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and one of them impacts against Cody’s thoughts now, a weather worn curve of stone from a planet that no longer existed but somehow still resonates the same weary hesitation that Ben emits, the need to act when the desire has fled. 

“Tell him that Kenobi says hello. Please, Cody?”

“Of course,” Cody replies. 

There is little else to be said with their parting and Cody makes his way to the riverbank, pausing on the soft sloping edge. Spray impacts his cheeks, reality beginning to come back into focus once more. He turns back to Ben, a slight figure with the bottom of his tunic stained with mud, his hair dishevelled from the press of his fingers, and Cody presses his fingers to his mouth. He breathes once against them, his very lungs sore but manageable, and extends them to Ben before he jumps into the river. It’s only slightly fancy, tucking himself into a roll before he extends out with the minimal space he has, entering the water with barely a splash to distrust the sound of Ben’s laughter.

Qui-Gon is waiting for him as Cody makes his way into their camp a few hours ahead of Rex, with a spare set of blacks slung over his shoulder.

“The Force works in mysterious ways,” he says in answer to Cody’s raised eyebrow.

Cody shucks his armour quickly, peeling the damp blacks from his frame and drawing on the fresh set. One sleeve is frayed, a thin tear sewn up and beginning to come apart once more, and Cody worries at it as he redresses in his armour. “Got a message for you, General,” he says finally, rocking back into a wide stance, his hands clasped behind his back.

“Oh?” 

“Kenobi says hello.”

Cody isn’t Force-sensitive, less than even the baseline they tested all of the clones with, but he senses something crack in Qui-Gon’s demeanour, some old hurt shattered so it can heal properly.

“Did he now?” Qui-Gon murmurs, clasping his hands in front of himself and walking back towards the centre of camp. Cody doesn’t follow him immediately, turning back to stare into the tangle of vines and partially exposed hills he had emerged from. He hopes Ben is looking back at him. 

[wildmrmix]

12:30 I’m here to spread some Curly Johnny Ponyboy friendship based on what I used to do with old friends.

They’re all pretty chill with affection, especially with those they’re comfortable with. So sometimes they’ll go down to the lot and Ponyboy will lean against Johnny, and Curly will just… stand there before eventually sitting on Pb’s other side and very slowly start to lean against him as well (he will deny purposefully initiating any kind of affection till his last breath). And then they all just talk absolute trash about people. 3 boys alone for hours what will they do: make fun of people. Sometimes it’s strangers, sometimes it’s people from their school, sometimes it’s other buddies; nobody’s safe.

Sometimes Curly’ll come by the lot just to see if Ponyboy’s there yet, though he doesn’t just ditch if it’s only Johnny. I mean, he did, but then it got kind of weird to interact with the guy you very obviously ignored a handful of times. Those two are awkward as hell without Ponyboy being their middle ground in conversations, but they become actually acquainted with the other through these accidental lot-meetups. At least, as much as you can with how quiet Johnny is

On weekends, sometimes they try to push the curfew and go out to places like the Dingo, or the park, or sometimes they simply walk around for a while after dark. They make fun of and poke at and tease each other, sometimes giving out stupid dares just for laughs. And sometimes they will all just sit and smoke, ranting about their problems not because they’re inherently overwhelming at the moment, but because the others will listen.

During lunch periods, if Curly’s set on the idea enough, he’ll get Ponyboy and Johnny to ditch for a bit and they go off behind the school building to waste the period away. One time they walked off and found a storage/ water tank some ways away and they climbed onto it. Curly lost a ring on it and they ended up spending the rest of their time there trying and failing to find and grab it.

[thorny-person]

marine aliens again

I was thinking up some world beholding things for my aliens again, mainly the manatee based one but some aspects could work for the rest unless I get a different idea later

More information about the doodles below if you’re interested, like a lot of info lol.

Top left corner: I was thinking how they manatees may depict themselves or simplify their image and I ended up with these little idols! They would most commonly be carved from drift woods or stone in common use such as toys, decor, art, etc. with the exception of larger more intricate idols used for offerings, statues or alters with the swirls on them showing areas of importance or strength

Left middle: manatee patterns tend towards rounded shapes, circles and wiggly lines as it reminds them or various shapes of water, stones, swaying plants in the currents and so on. This also carries over into their food prep in some ways, such as the small rounded shapes of stuffed knotted plants for common meals while the larger ‘leaf’ patterns are used in mass storage of stable plants such as kelps and seaweeds.

Bottom left: a manatee tapestry idea depicting a matron, made from various fibers of marine plants. Culture wise weaving, macrame, and other various similar crafts are import to them since they view the actions as essential to their lifestyles for fabrics of various uses like clothing and bedding as well as being able to properly store large quantities of staple foods.

Top right: the common ‘bowl’ types for under water dining, left one is for ‘sinking’ foods that you don’t have to worry about floating away from the table while downturn right ‘bowl’ is for such foods that you would expect to float away. The downturn ‘bowels’ can also come in clear glass varieties depending on location to allow the person to see what they’re getting, larger restaurants normally have this option.

Right middle: common utensils for underwater dining, hooked is mainly for meats or scooping things out of shells/exoskeletons. The two pronged utensil is used for mostly plant based foods or large pieces of a meal. Spoons or ‘tailed’ utensils are for meals with many small pieces that are stuck together which isn’t a common occurrence outside of things like caviar or mushed foods to help a calf struggling to adjust to solid foods after being weened off of milk. Gripped tongs are used for live food that would be unsafe to eat if it wear dead, similar to lobster being unsafe when it’s not fresh but manatees just decide to eat those types of critters live (young calf’s who haven’t had live meals yet will often dare each other to do so while hanging out)

Right bottom: shown here is the dining table preferred by manatees with anchor bars to hold the meal bowls securely, normally with multiple anchors for each person wether it’s for mixed meals or the average meal which compared to a humans (2-3% of their weight) to a manatees (15-20% of their weight) is a lot of food or at the very least calorie rich. The middle groove serves as an arm rest as well as safe spot for each persons utensils to be stored, sanitary items to clean up before and after meals.

Finally on the bottom are ports that have retractable fresh water taps to drink with meals that typically connects to a water tank below the table that’s connected to a large tank of clean salt water that is processed into fresh as needed. Each tap has a twistable ring around the nozzle to stop the one way water flow to help avoid drinking the salt water in the room as well as to prevent waste of fresh water.

[may-be-a-plant]

I think I've finally decided how I want the bathroom on the Ghost to function!! So, canon layout of the Ghost has no bathroom, and questionable amenities, leaving most of that up to the imagination of the viewer. I think for the stories I write (and if anyone else likes it, feel free to use!) im going to have it as follows:

-Storage tank: The Ghost has a water reserve storage tank used for the sake of crew hydration and minimal galley use if necessary.

-Cleaning: Dishes are typically placed in a Waterless Sonic Vibration cabinet for cleaning, which disintegrates food particles. This then gets released at will into space during travel. Any food residue that cannot be shaken loose by the Sonic, get scrubbed by hand when convenient.

Instead of rinsing hands/objects in a sink (which is possible, I'll cover water in a second), messes are normally cleaned with rags and commercial long-storage wipes and cleaners that weigh less and take up less space than an additional water system would.

-Laundry: dirty laundry also gets stashed into a Waterless Sonic Cabinet that is more gentle than the one used for dishes. Ezra tried to use the Dish sonic for clothes once and it ended up tearing his shirt appart. Sabine does this intentionally to give fabric a 'distressed' look.

-Toilet: like the food particles in the dish sonic, waste is collected and offloaded or released into space when convenient.

-Trash: collected trash is also stored where room is available and offloaded when convenient. If done planetside, some spaceports charge a fee for trash removal.

-Shower: When in space, the crew uses another, larger Convertible Waterless Sonic to remove residue from themselves. Its works well, but its not terribly comfortable. Ezra tried to use it fully clothed once to 'save time'. This resulted in dirt particles getting trapped and rubbing between him and his clothes, giving him a series of painful static shocks. Zeb hates using it as it makes his fur feel wrong.

-Water!!: When on a planet with readily available water, the Ghost's water tank has a Y-shaped hose that can either be connected to a utility pipe, or just dropped into whatever random lake they find. The water passes through one half of the hose to a pipe that runs up along the engine to both heat the water and boil away bacteria before the crew drinks it.

The other side of the hose provides plain cold water for the Convertible Sonic. The pipes converge in a way that allows shower temperature control for a comfortably warm water-shower. This is when Sabine typically dyes her hair and she will fight anyone to the death to be the first one in. This is also when water is more readily available in the galley. Waste water drains back out of a seperate hose.

Before heading into space, and if they aren't being chased, they make sure everyone has a chance to have a water-shower and fill the crew-hydration tank.

They once were chased off of a planet by angry villagers after dropping the intake hose into an apparently 'sacred lake'. Zeb, who was the only one that got to use the shower before leaving, occasionally jokes about his 'holy baptism' and 'you know, on that one planet, I'm actually considered a priest'.

[work2025]

"High-Quality Wastewater Processing Tanks in Pune, India - Prefabricated Storage Solutions"

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[sameeksha-4717]

[harshdakadam]

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Introduction

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[sincrotanks]

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[waywardsalt]

rough rough draft of chapter 1 of the bellum x linebeck fic

Though the storm had passed and the sun finally shown upon the sea again, Linebeck felt gloomy. He leaned against his ship’s rope railings and stared at the horizon. The night before, the pounding of the rain had put him at ease. Now, the bright afternoon had brought back that familiar anxiety. After some thinking, Linebeck pushed himself away from the railing and resolved to begin his morning chores.

                As the only person on his ship, it was up to Linebeck to take care of it- and he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. He knew his beloved steamship like the back of his hand, and he collected a bucket as he blinked the last of the sleep from his eyes. Firstly, he gathered seawater to dump into the engine’s storage tank. The ship was drifting at the moment, but once Linebeck would turn it on, the heat would build up in the engine and the water would boil and evaporate and build up steam to get the wheels moving.

Linebeck knelt at the lowest edge of the deck and dunked the bucket into the water for the ninth- tenth? - time. He’d have to do some extra engine maintenance before he got moving. He’d been traveling during the entire storm, likely pushing the engine to its limits. But after the water gathering, Linebeck checked the hull for barnacles and scratches, checked the railings for damaged rope, checked his food and water supplies, barely giving himself a moment of rest while he went through the familiar motions.

Since he began sailing, Linebeck’s life had been altogether monotonous and unpredictable. His ship was one he had designed himself, and knew better than anyone else how to take care of and operate it. He had no desire to take on a crew, and knew from experience that they’d only hold him back- trying to teach new people how to work his ship was incredibly tedious and often led to them making mistakes and doing more harm than good. The last bastard he’d temporarily hired and bothered to teach about his ship- Linebeck scowled and shook his head. Not even worth thinking about, now.

The storm had replenished his fresh water supply. It had been bad enough to obscure visibility across the sea, so Linebeck had done some fishing. If he cared for gods, he would have thanked one that he made it through without getting sick.

He didn’t need a crew. Linebeck hadn’t had a long-term crew member for what- seven years now? They just made him feel uneasy and he could never muster up the patience to put up with them.

Or maybe he kept finding the wrong people. That had certainly happened before. He was never particularly good with other people. Linebeck was almost certain that he’d made a good few new enemies just in the last month. His eyes scanned the horizon as he walked back out onto the deck. Linebeck tightened his grip on his mop’s handle. He was totally alone. And yet his skin prickled with unease.

“…No point worrying,” he mumbled to himself. He started mopping the deck, forcing himself to keep his eyes trained on the wood. His last chore of the morning was always the most soothing. He moved slowly and rhythmically, beginning at the prow and slowly making his way back to the cabin. His ship was small, though large enough to be comfortable for him. The deck sloped upwards a few feet from the cabin and plateaued, about a foot higher and better to accommodate the rooms and machinery beneath.

The air was warm and humid; Linebeck brushed his hair out of his face and behind his shoulders. He considered removing his coat, but he was nearly done mopping- no point in wasting the time. The heat was never a big issue for him. He was perfectly suited to the sea, and Linebeck felt more than confidant handling every aspect of this life on his own. No problems whatsoever. No good reason for the anxiety that refused to leave his mind.

Maybe there was a good reason, the same reason why he kept scanning the horizon.

Finished mopping the deck, Linebeck turned to admire it. The storm had cleaned it well enough, but now that the sky was clear he wasn’t just going to cut out part of his morning routine.

With everything done for the morning, Linebeck gathered up his mop and the bucket and moved to put them away. The bucket would be dumped out and left with other containers in the storage room, the mop left in the engine room… and then the engine would need to be started up. The nearest inhabited island was two days away (with good conditions), so while Linebeck had no need to get going right that moment, he felt safer with the engine running.

To get the engine started, Linebeck pulled a lever by the wheel up and waited a moment as he heard the hissing of steam start, and then stop. He knelt down in front of the storage tank. Enough water for the day, that was for sure. He withdrew his matchbox from a pocket in his coat and struck a match, humming idly to himself as he tossed it in the space below the water. It would only be a few minutes before the ship could get going; over the years, Linebeck had gone back and forth on the design of the engine, and managed to make it especially efficient with different materials and methods, and was quite proud of it. While the water heated up, he shut the tank door and sat back, resting a moment.

He’d gotten… some sleep last night. He’d dreamed briefly, and didn’t feel as terrible as he usually did. Some sleep. Better than no sleep at all. Linebeck laid down on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. He stared at the winding pipes at the tops of the walls and then shut his eyes. If he was lucky, he could perhaps find a few minutes to nap. Just a few minutes…

The ticking of the machinery around him slowly faded in as the engine properly started up. The sound melted into with the noise of the ocean outside, and Linebeck felt his anxieties ease. The familiarity of his daily routine eased his mind like nothing else.

The next island was north of his position… Linebeck let out a long breath. He’d have to at least position his ship facing north, and get started within the hour. He sat up and stretched. If he got started now, he could reach the island by late tomorrow. The engine was ready to go, and Linebeck smiled to himself as he fiddled with some of the smaller levers and switches, listening to the subtle changes in the ticking and clicking around him.

He paused when he heard up an unfamiliar noise. Linebeck stilled his hands, suddenly feeling cold.

Without thinking, Linebeck kicked the engine into proper operation and after a moment, the wheels on either side of the ship started turning and he quickly steered the ship in the opposite direction of that odd sound. He heard it again, from outside his ship- the unmistakable sound of cannon fire, and Linebeck was not brave enough to stop and check to see if it was aimed at him.

It was usually aimed at him, anyways.

Linebeck steered his ship away and locked the wheel in place; he felt his heart pounding in his chest as more muffled canon fire reached his ears. One sounded closer than the rest, and he managed to tear himself away from the wheel and run up to deck. Running away was nice, but he needed to know where to run away to.

It seemed like he was getting chased more and more. Linebeck figured he ought to start a list of the crews that had it out for him; that was something to do once he was safe. He stumbled out onto the deck and leaned over the rope railing, staring at the southern horizon. Sure enough, he could see a pirate ship in the distance heading his way, and the wind was in their favor.

Linebeck gripped the railings until the rope started to dig into his skin. The hell did he do to them? He recognized the decorated sails as the sails of the ship that’d been pursuing him before the storm. Their captain was one he’d cheated out of several hundred rupees in poker- or was that a different crew? No time to think it over while they got closer and closer. More cannon fire rang out, and Linebeck jumped back as the cannonball splashed into the water dangerously close to his ship.

Sailing in a straight line was a terrible idea. Better to leverage his steamship’s advantages and focus on disrupting their aim. Linebeck wildly looked around. No rocks or islands in sight. His best hope was to run for it and hope that either they’d run out of cannonballs or the wind would die down. He raced back inside.

He was just one man; why did all of these pirates decide that being slighted by him once marked him as the biggest threat to them on the entire Great Sea? Pirates were so petty. He flinched when he heard a muffled splash and felt the ship rock. Linebeck gripped the wheel tightly and started turning the ship west, his sweaty hands almost slipping off. He gritted his teeth as the cannon fire sounded closer and the ship rocked again.

The last time he’d been pursued like this, a cannonball had burnt his hull and cost him several days of sleep. Linebeck turned the ship far enough around to spy the pursuing pirates again; the moment he heard the cannon fire again, he spun the wheel to sail in the opposite direction. Turning was slow, but his ship never stopped moving. He’d had nightmares about one of the wheels being damage, and Linebeck felt weak in the knees just thinking about it.

As the pirate ship slipped out of view, the waters around his ship were more violently disrupted, and Linebeck yelped as his ship was more violently rocked by the waves. There was no cannon fire, no sound of a cannonball hitting the waves- and the water was clearly churning too violently for it to have been a cannonball. He clung to the steering wheel for dear life, his knees nearly buckling underneath him, and the cacophonous sound of an especially large wave made him wince. The ship rocked again, but still no cannon fire. Instead, Linebeck picked up a new muffled noise.

…Splintering wood?

The wood of his own ship was fine, there was no motion asides from the violent waves rocking his ship, but the distant splintering continued, and with it, faraway screams. For the second time in barely five minutes, Linebeck’s curiosity prevailed over his fear. On shaky legs he stumbled up onto his deck- slick with water that had poured onboard, and nearly fell over the railings when he reached them.

The pursuing pirate ship was being torn apart by something. Something had pulled the main mast down and split it in half, tearing through the sails and ripping the vessel in half. Linebeck squinted, hardly seeing anything that could be causing it, then caught a glimpse of what looked like a thick black rope curled around the prow, tearing it clean off and dragging it into the sea. The way those ‘ropes’ moved; Linebeck slowly slid down into a crouch as he realized that a sea monster was what was attacking that ship.

One pirate jumped from where the prow had been, likely trying to escape and swim away, but a black tentacle shot out of the water and grabbed them midair and yanked them below the water. Linebeck felt frozen to the spot, more than grateful that he wasn’t the creature’s target, but he feared that if he took advantage of the chaos and sailed away, he would be attacked next.

The pursuing ship began to sink, and the sharp cracking of wood was piercing as it reached Linebeck’s ears. The hull was torn in two, more tentacles appearing to crush them into unsalvageable wreckages. The fear that shot through Linebeck urged him to straighten back up. He started to hurry back into the engine room, but stopped in his tracks as the tentacles withdrew back into the water.

The pirate ship’s remains slowly sank, survivors clinging to any floating pieces. Linebeck stared at the water around his ship. That… thing had stopped. That sea monster that he and those pirates had the misfortune to disturb.

That sea monster- Linebeck had researched every possible hostile creature that had been seen on the Great Sea, and that certainly had to have been one of them. He grabbed onto his railing again, feeling too sick to move his gaze from the sinking ship down to the waters just below him. He stood at the end of the railing, steady on the sloping deck despite the way his limbs shook and his heart hammered in his chest.

There was a sea monster in these waters. It had just wiped out an entire pirate crew in hardly a minute. From what Linebeck could recall, that pirate crew was rather prepared and experienced, and their ship certainly wasn’t some glorified piece of driftwood. This wasn’t just an overgrown gyorg or some other typical sea monster- he was at the mercy of the kind of sea monster that had stories passed around. The kinds that endured for decades or even centuries and were either worshipped or feared. He’d never seen a regular sea monster that had those kinds of tentacles and was that quick and deadly.

One of the stranded pirates was suddenly and violently pulled under water. Linebeck lowered himself back down to a crouch, staring at the now-empty patch of water. After a few moments, a faint red hue bloomed from deep under the surface.

I’m going to die.

The thought seemed to echo in Linebeck’s head. It wasn’t a thought he was unfamiliar with, but it was much, much more frantic now than ever. He was going to drown or be eaten. Even if he got out unscathed, his ship likely wouldn’t, and that sounded just as bad as if he got injured. Linebeck shakily stared down at the water mere feet from him. Every tiny wave and ripple in the water heightened his anxiety, and his mind raced. Another pirate was pulled under the water, eaten, and the waters were still for a moment. Then, there was a subtle ripple further away from the wreckage and closer to Linebeck’s ship.

How do I get out of this?

Linebeck’s terror forced him to his feet, and he raced into his ship’s cabin. That monster was more than capable of catching up with that pirate ship, and Linebeck stumbled on his way down the stairs as his ship rocked slightly.

This monster was capable of killing and catching him with ease, and it tore apart that pirate ship with ease, and it was eating the survivors, and Linebeck was up next if he didn’t think fast. His feet brought him into his ship’s cramped kitchen, and he stood still in the doorway for a moment. His fear and quick-thinking seemed to crash into each other, and his mind went blank as he stared around. Linebeck switched his attention from his utensils to the fish he’d recently caught and had yet to clean to the cupboards. Why the hell had he run here?

The sea monster killed all of the pirates. It was probably chasing after him now. It tore apart the ship, and… ate the pirates. Ate the pirates. Linebeck stared at his recently-caught fish. There were a pair of smaller amberjacks he’d picked up during the storm, a seabass he had a few different plans for, and then a large loovar he’d been planning to sell. He suddenly felt itchy looking at that loovar. He was going to sell it. It was a large, pristine loovar, with sleek, undamaged scales and was over five feet long and took up the entire counter that fit in the narrow kitchen. It was valuable and would net him a good sum of rupees at the next island he docked at.

Linebeck’s ship rocked again, violently enough to knock him off balance. The terror finally mixed with his quick thinking and he grabbed and yanked the loovar off the counter, stumbling a moment under its weight. He slung it over his shoulder and hauled it up the stairs, his shoulder aching before he was even in the engine room. Goddesses, his coat was going to reek if he made it out of this alive.

He paused to grab his mop and tuck it into the crook of his elbow and stumbled a bit, stubbornly keeping the fish from touching the floor. The ship rocked under his feet again, and Linebeck shuddered and hurried out onto the deck. The water around his ship’s hull ripped every few moments, and Linebeck didn’t hesitate in letting the loovar drop onto the wood. He kicked it off the deck, and it fell unceremoniously into the water and floated barely a few inches from the hull- too close.

With the mop he prodded at it and sent it floating slowly away from his ship. And so, Linebeck huddled at the edge of his deck, leaning against his mop for support. For just a moment, the waters were still. The loovar bobbed on the water’s surface and the sunlight glinted off its scales. Linebeck exhaled slowly. For all he knew, the monster could have already left. He could probably grab the loovar if he was careful.

Linebeck started to reach back out with the mop, but drew it back as the water around the loovar suddenly started to ripple. The rippling grew more furious, and the water began to bubble and small waves started rushing out from around the fish- a dark shape was just barely visible deep in the water. The shape rushed to the surface, and Linebeck only got the quickest glimpse before falling backwards onto the deck as the largest waves yet set his ship violently rocking.

It was huge, easily half the size of his ship, and a stunning yellow. For the split second he saw it, Linebeck couldn’t discern any detail, but he didn’t miss the mouth full of sharp teeth that engulfed the loovar. Linebeck had fallen onto his back and didn’t dare move as the sea calmed down, the blurry image of the beast burnt into his mind. He stared up at the sky and realized that the fear in his chest had eased. Had he appeased the creature? The rocking of his ship slowly stopped, and he felt he was in no hurry to get up.

There was a slight splashing, and Linebeck jolted upright. He stared off the edge of the deck, at where the loovar had been floating. It stared back at him. The sunlight glinted off its yellow body, greenish in some spots, and golden in others. Under the water, the rest of it was just a murky shadow. In its mouth, encircled by those teeth, was an eye that stared back at him, the tiny pupil within a burning yellow and orange, surrounded by deep black. A monstrous eye, and one that Linebeck could’ve sworn he’d seen somewhere. Something about the thing’s unblinking gaze made a sense of visceral horror return to Linebeck, and before he could think it through, he scrambled to his feet.

The creature didn’t move in the water, but its eye followed his movements. Despite the hammering of his heart, Linebeck couldn’t tear his gaze away from that eye. His limbs felt locked in place, and his breathing came in in ragged gasps and he realized just how bad his situation had gotten. There was no way that loovar was enough to save him. He’d seen the way the creature had torn apart that pirate ship. He’d seen the way it had grabbed and killed those pirates. There was nothing keeping it from killing him next.

Then, without any sound but the sounds of the water, the creature sank down into the ocean and out of sight.

Linebeck immediately hurried back into his cabin, just barely remembering to snatch up his mop.

He wasted no time in getting his ship up and running again, and set a course for the island before even thinking of relaxing. Linebeck anxiously surveyed the sea as he steered the ship away, but spotted nothing out of the ordinary.

…Maybe the loovar had satisfied that… thing. Linebeck tried not to think much about it. But his nerves were still shot by the encounter, and he stiffly steered until the sun began to set.

He didn’t anchor the ship until stars glittered in the sky. Linebeck moved gingerly around his ship, half expecting that monster to return. But the evening was quiet, and Linebeck eventually felt relaxed enough after doing his rounds. He collected every book he had that mentioned sea monsters and went out on deck to read and rest.

Linebeck rested against the prow. He set the books in his lap and started flipping through each one, quickly skipping through what turned out to be a catalogue of common seafaring enemies, and finding a short collection of short stories based on powerful creatures around the world. As the sun dipped further below the horizon, Linebeck finally reached a much more informative book- one that had been gathering dust at the edge of the shelf- and flipped through more slowly, inspecting each illustration. Dragons, sentient plants, fish creatures, and Linebeck slowed down upon reaching the chapter reserved for deities. It didn’t take long for him to turn a page and find a familiar illustration.

It was little more than a collection of sketches, but that eye was unmistakable. Linebeck leaned over the book with a small spark of triumph in his heart. He was right- it was one he’d heard of before, a creature named ‘Bellum’. Apparently a powerful, demonic sea monster.

Linebeck felt a faint shiver down his spine and he sat up and stared off across the sea. He shut the book and gathered up the rest. Back in the cabin, he locked the door out, and hesitated with his hand on the knob. That nearby island was his destination, a small island with a small town that he’d been for. He needed supplies, needed to restock on food and parts and whatever else eluded him at the moment.

He double-checked the lock and silently headed down into the storage room. Linebeck left the volume with the information on Bellum on the table, and put the rest back on the bookshelf behind the thin bar that kept them from falling out.

Bellum.

Linebeck turned and stared at the book on the table. In the dim light of the few lit lanterns in the room, the book seemed almost ominous with its dark cover and elaborate spine. Where had he picked this one up? Was it one from home, or something he’d bought on a whim a while ago? Either way, it was worth reading through and taking notes on- even if the information he wanted seemed to only take up two pages.

Linebeck idly rubbed his hands together. The only indication of his lingering anxiety was the thin layer of sweat on his palms. Most sea monsters were known through shared stories and rumored sightings. Once he got all he could from the book, he could start asking around at islands. With any luck, though, he wouldn’t have to see that thing again.

[sewagetreatmentplant01]

The Science behind RO Technology in Delhi: How Netsol Water Ensures Purity

Netsol Water is a leading Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, providing advance solutions for waste water management. Reverse Osmosis is an advanced purification technology used to eliminate contaminants from water sources. This entails pumping water through a porous membrane where the impurities are retained while the water is collected on the other side. It is very essential method to get safe water to drink because sometimes the water quality can be a big issue in places such as Delhi.

This approach applies hydraulic pressure to filter water through a semi-permeable membrane that retains dissolved solids. It is one of the most efficient methods of getting water free from impurities because it can target most salinity particles, bacteria, and other microorganisms. RO technology is based on the phenomenon of osmosis, which is a natural process of water diffusion from an area of low solute concentration to an area of high solute concentration.

Different kinds of RO systems by Netsol water in Delhi

Netsol Water is one of the best Commercial RO Plant Manufacturer in Delhi, offering cutting-edge solutions for waste water. Netsol Water is a well-known Water purification company, which deals in a number of RO systems, which satisfy the consumer’s need and demand. Their techniques involve the application of modern technology to produce very effective water purification.

Some of the RO systems offered by Netsol Water in Delhi include:

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How Netsol Water Ensure Purity by Their Reverse Osmosis Technology in Delhi?

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[popcorn-plots]

holy shit

Storytime: my sister and I were woken up by strange meowing, almost screaming sounds. Very faint, they sounded like they could be either a baby screaming or cats yowling.

My sister knocks on my door and asked me if I could hear the screaming too. I said yes and she said that she was worried about our two cats because the screaming sounded like distressed cats.

I, like the older sibling I am, say let's go check it out and try and figure out what's going on. On the way out of the house, we find our first cat (Acorn). We leave, and the yowling takes us across the street to our neighbors house, who also has a cat. We live in a cul-de-sac so it's relatively well lit, but we can't see anything. No weird shadows, no cat figures, not even one running across the street.

The yowling sounds like it's right in front of us, and then it starts getting fainter and leads up back towards our house. We cross the street, and the yowling sounds like it's right in front of us again. And this isn't a constant yowling, but it's close enough that we can follow it. It starts leading up to our back yard. We go and start searching, calling out for our other cat (Lucia). Then it starts coming from up the hill near the fence. We live on a hill, and our backyard consists of three layers. Our first layer, with our house and our outdoor table, etc. Then the second layer is where our trampoline and tree swing are, then the third layer is basically mountain. Grass up to a waste high, weeds, remnants of a stone path my dad built a few years ago, and a treehouse that came with the property, and the Fence.

Now we live right beneath a water treatment plant.

Like two of these massive tanks of water plus a few buildings are the only thing between my house and the base of Mount Timpanogos and let me tell you, that plant is terrifying at night.

So my sister and I run back into the house to grab our shoes and some cat food, because that yowling that is right in our backyard sounds a lot like Lucia when she's in pain.

It's 1 in the morning. I'm in my pajamas with church flats and my wearable blanket, armed with meow mix cat food and my phone. And we start climbing the rocks to the fence.

It's somewhat light outside with light pollution and the water plant and our flashlights. The yowling stops as soon as we get to the top of the hill.

Lucia isn't answering our calls. Usually, she comes running up to me when I call her name outside.

We look behind the cement wall of our neighbors house, where there's about three feet of space and hidden about 15 feet away are eyes. Glowing in the dark from the flashlight. Cat eyes. The yowling starts again.

My sister and I carefully walk into the space. I go first because I'm better at handling cats, and there's another cat. Staring at us and growling. The first cat we saw looked like Lucia, if Lucia was a short-hair breed (she's long-haired, part maincoon). We walk further and another pair of eyes reflect in the lights.

There are three cats (each with collars, and I don't think anyone but us and my neighbors with one chubby orange cat have indoor/outdoor cats) sitting behind our neighbors yard, yowling their heads off from different parts of the property.

None of them are Lucia. I tell my sister to turn back around, once we get down from the hill we're going to find Lucia and make sure she's okay.

We get down into the house, lock all the doors, and we find Lucia safe and sound in my parents room. I go back to my room.

I haven't heard the yowling since. Like, at all. Not a single cat-related sound. It's been 45 minutes and I'm still shaking.

What the fuck did I find