#coal dry separation

[tangshandirotechnology]

Profile

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[dirotech]

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[thatfinewine]

THE RICK AND MORTY SEASON 8 FIRST LOOK JUST DROPPED!

( twitter, youtube )

Typed up and added the script to this post just because. :D

- - - - - - - - - - - ✂

(The scene opens with Rick and Morty listening to a true crime podcast in their spaceship.)

Podcaster voice: You're about to learn the horrible fate of the Oak Point High lacrosse team, whose annual retreat took a bloody turn... But this podcast isn't about autopsies or graphic reports or their fascinating murders. We're not here to do that--

(Both look annoyed. Rick turns off the podcast.)

Rick: Too bad, someone else will.

Morty: It's a big market, man.

(The ship gives an alert and shows a model of a large spacecraft.)

Ship: Cryo-Ship detected.

Rick: Ooh, power's still online! (Burps.) What do you think, Morty? A bunch of sleeping beauties? Wanna go tap on some glass?

Morty: That could be fun! We- we haven't done one of those in a while. Think they have a basketball court?

Rick: Basketball court, huh?

Morty: Ball is life!

(They fly to and land inside the cryo-ship. Rick turns on the lights and whistles. They start walking around, looking at the cryo-pods with aliens placed into cryo-sleep inside of them.)

Rick: Holy shit! Look at this place! Damn, Morty! It ain't just your run-of-the-mill arc ship. This thing is gold-plated!

(Morty knocks on the glass of one of the cryo-pods.)

Morty: Wow. Where do you think they're going? Colonizing a new planet?

(Rick accesses the ship's computer and laughs at what he sees.)

Rick: Heh, looks like these guys flung themselves into space after wrecking their homeworld. This'll be like taking candy from a baby... if that baby was in a coma!

Morty: Oh! We're- we're robbing them?

(Rick gestures to the computer screen.)

Rick: They robbed their planet first, Morty.

(The two find a giant sealed vault door and run up to it.)

Rick: Whoa, mama! You see this, Morty? This thing is fancy! Computer said it's got super-rare hyper-coal inside. The planet they left is a husk, Morty! They sucked their marble dry!

(Rick attempts to get inside by pressing a button on the vault computer. The vault computer denies him entry.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Access denied.

Rick: ...Huh.

(Rick frowns and removes a device from his labcoat and puts it on top of the vault's computer, trying to hack his way in. The vault computer beeps twice, showing he is still denied access.)

Rick: Alright, on second thought, let's just blow a hole in the ship and drag the vault home.

Morty: WHAT?!

(Rick ignores him and pulls out a bag from his labcoat.)

Rick: Help me with these charges.

Morty: Rick, I'm fine with taking candy from a baby, but I draw the line at blowing up the stroller!

(Morty grabs the bag of explosives. He and Rick start fighting over it.)

Rick: What the hell, Morty! We're not LITERALLY robbing babies!

(The bag tears and Morty falls backward. The explosives in the bag fly across the floor. One hits the floor and activates.)

Rick: Goddamnit, Morty! Look what you did!

(Rick activates a forcefield to shield them from the blast as the device explodes. An alarm from the cryo-ship's speakers begins blaring as fire spreads from the explosion. Sprinklers from the ceiling turn on and begin raining water down to try to put out the fire.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Fire detected. Emergency cryo-wake commencing in 30 seconds…

(Morty starts running up the stairs back to the main area of the cryo-ship, and Rick follows behind him.)

Rick: You little shit! You woke 'em up!

Morty: Fine! Let's get out of here!

(Rick grabs the collar of Morty's shirt and yanks him back. Rick types something into the cryo-ship computer.)

Rick: Fuck you! I'm not leaving without that hyper-coal!

(The ship shows a red X over two of the cryo-pods, both on separate levels of the ship. Rick starts pulling his own ears into points to make himself look like the aliens inside of the cryo-pods.)

Rick: Now go find that other pod with a dead guy in it!

(Rick pulls Morty's ears into points as Morty yelps like it hurts.)

Morty: Hey!

(Rick continues talking over him.)

Rick: Sub-bay 18!

Morty: What dead guy?!

(Rick begins removing his own clothes so he's naked like the aliens in the other cryo-pods.)

Rick: Just get in the pod with the bones! Or don't and get thrown out an airlock!

(Rick grabs the skeleton from the open pod and puts it into a box. He puts the box inside of a small chamber, closing the door and hiding the box. Rick climbs inside of the now empty cryo-pod.)

Cryo-ship computer voice: Cryo-wake in 10 seconds…

Morty: RICK!

Rick: You did this to yourself, Morty! Your dumb-ass moral compass has really fucked things up!

(Rick slams the cryo-pod closed. Morty screams in panic and starts running to find the other cryo-pod to hide in.)

Morty: Oh God! Oh jeez!

(Rick and Morty title card.)

[queerprayers]

does God love me? will He be okay if I go to him, tired and weary, ready to collapse? what will happen when I do that?

Hello beloved, many months later. I'm answering you today because I want you and everyone reading this (and myself) to know the answer to this. Your questions are questions we all ask, ones that people have gone to God with for at least as long as we have stories of God's people.

Mostly today I have God's words for you (through other people), said and experienced much more deeply than I could write, but I will say what I have in my heart too. And that is that God's love is present even when we cannot feel it. God loves you not just when you are aware of this fact. And however much you question it or tear it apart or run away from it or ignore it or forget it, it is all around us and within us. Also, "God loves you" always feels incomplete to me (although it isn't)--I always want to add, take a moment to see the Trinity as Lover/Beloved/Love, see God as Love and the One who Loves and the One who is Love, because love is a verb and a noun and a state of being, and God loves us because we exist in a world in the palm of his hand. God loves you as a person, yes, please know that, and also: our existence is inseparable from the Love moving through each breath. If grief is love with nowhere to go, God is love with everywhere to go.

"Will he be okay" is such an interesting phrase but I think I know exactly what you mean. The answer is that God holds and experiences and is himself the universe, which has space for everything within you. After creating the world, God rested--holy rest is built in to our experiences. God knows and welcomes our need to rest, even commanded it. He will be more than okay--he will rejoice at your arrival, however much of a prodigal son you are, and your collapse will be into him.

What will happen? I can't promise you won't still be tired. There are so many reasons to be tired, and they won't all disappear. Many of things that most tire me are the things that are the things most worth it--the work of love, of caring about the world, of caring for myself, of putting one foot in front of the other. The evil and pain of the world drains us the more we pay attention to it--and yet we are called to do these tiring things. The more I go to God the more love I have in me and the more that care drains me--and yet. It fills me too. God is a well that will never run dry. I drink and am more satisfied and more thirsty than anything else can make me.

What will happen is you will keep caring. And keep working. And hopefully you will have enough rest to not collapse but if you do, if the world fills you with more weariness than you can stand, the One who holds the world in the palm of his hand has room for that. You will be filled with the hunger and the rest of love. A foretaste of the feast to come, when hunger and thirst will be no more.

Some words of scripture for you--may they be a moment of rest.

God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in them. (1 John 4:16 NIV)

For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:37-39 NIV)

[Elijah] went on a day's journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. "I have had enough, LORD," he said. "Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors." Then he lay down under the bush and fell asleep. All at once an angel touched him and said, "Get up and eat." He looked around, and there by his head was some bread baked over hot coals, and a jar of water. He ate and drank and then lay down again. The angel of the LORD came back a second time and touched him and said, "Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you." So he got up and ate and drank. Strengthened by that food, he traveled forty days and forty nights until he reached Horeb, the mountain of God. There he went into a cave and spent the night. And the word of the LORD came to him: . . . "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the LORD, for the LORD is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (1 Kings 19:4-13 NIV)

This is probably my favorite Bible passage. When we collapse in the desert and ask to die, God doesn't make us get up right away. First an angel gives us food and water. And then, God is in the gentle whisper, the quiet breath. Elijah finds his purpose after resting and hears God in the quiet. May it be so for us.

. . . Jesus, tired as he was from the journey, sat down by the well. It was about noon. When a Samaritan woman came to draw water, Jesus said to her, "Will you give me a drink?" . . . "Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:6-7; 13 NIV)

This obviously isn't the full story (which you should definitely read if you're not familiar--this is Jesus talking with a woman Jewish people didn't associate themselves with, already knowing her, revealing himself as the Messiah to her), but I wanted you to hear Jesus tired, asking for a drink of earthly water--and also knowing that what he can give us is more than any well can provide. So, too, with rest. Jesus ate and drank and rested on this earth, while being God. He experienced weariness even though he didn't need to, so he could do it with us--while teaching the bigger picture.

And I leave you with this, which answers your question "what will happen" beautifully:

The LORD your God in your midst, the Mighty One, will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness, He will quiet you with his love, He will rejoice over you with singing. (Zephaniah 3:17 NKJV)

Go in peace. If you still carry the weariness of this ask, may it be blessed.

<3 Johanna

[pocket-sized-nightmare]

here’s my entry for day 6 of @gem-pearl-week 2024! today’s prompt is “devotion/betrayal”

Gem and Pearl are mining together.

It’s a simple, calm moment – not the endless twisting hallways of a woodland mansion, not the treacherous depths of the ocean, just a cave of stone and ores.

Pearl taps her pickaxe against a block of coal ore, picks up the remains, and attaches them to a few sticks in her pocket. “Running low on torches?”

“No.” Gem checks her pockets. “Yes, actually. Can I have some?”

Pearl laughs aloud. “Of course.”

They work together in silence for a few minutes longer. It’s something Pearl has always valued about Gem. As much as they both love upbeat conversations, they’re both happy to enjoy each other’s quiet company. It’s nice to be by each other’s side with no pressure.

Well, no pressure except for monsters.

Pearl suddenly gasps. “Behind you, Gem!”

Gem whirls around, face to face with a creeper. She shrieks. “Oh, heck no!”

Pearl couldn’t agree more. “Oh, no, you don’t!” She swings her axe at the creeper, neatly separating its head from its body. It disappears in a puff of smoke.

Pearl puts her axe away and brushes the dirt off her hands. “There we go. All is well once again.”

“Pearl…” Gem says.

“No, I know! It spooked me, too. Creepers have a way of sneaking up on you.”

“Yeah, but Pearl…”

“So, which way are we going next?”

Gem gives up on being casual. “Pearl, turn around!”

This time, it’s Pearl’s turn to glance behind her and gasp. Not one but two creepers are on her tail, followed closely behind by a zombie. “Why are there so many mobs?”

Gem reaches for a clock in her pocket and checks the time. “Oh, void, we’ve been mining for hours. The sun went down when we weren’t paying attention.”

“Darn it.” Pearl readies her axe again. “Looks like we’re in for a bit more adventure than–”

She’s interrupted by a creeper explosion.

The blast throws both Pearl and Gem forward a few blocks. A few blocks of stone tumble from the cave edge behind them, revealing a massive cave network. “Whoa,” Gem whispers. “That was there the whole time?”

Another creeper hisses. Pearl grabs Gem’s hand. “And we should probably go there. Now.”

They duck through the creeper tunnel, but the other creepers are fast enough to cut them off. Another creeper explodes beside Pearl, knocking her against a wall and into the path of a rushing waterfall.

Gem reaches into the waterfall and grabs for Pearl’s hand, but she only succeeds in tumbling into it beside her. They both emerge soaked to the bone. “That went well,” Gem mutters.

“Into a well, you mean.” Pearl chuckles ruefully. “Absolutely ruined my wings. That’s gonna take a minute to dry off.”

Gem looks over Pearl’s shoulder to see what she means – her delicate luna moth wings are weighed down by water. It looks as though she can hardly move them. “Oh, that’s the worst. All I’ve got is a couple vines on my antler.”

Pearl laughs. “Here, let me help you with that.”

As Pearl untangles the last vine from Gem’s head, a flash of green appears behind her. Right. There was a zombie. She reaches for her axe and tries to fight back, but the zombie has the element of surprise on its side. The fight drives Pearl back a few blocks – towards the edge of a deep ravine.

Gem rushes over and stabs the zombie straight through the chest. It disappears in a puff of smoke. She only has enough time to look over and spot a dozen dripstone stalagmites on the floor of the ravine before a shriek cuts through her mind and fills her with terror.

Pearl stumbles backwards and slips over the ledge.

Gem grabs her hand just before she disappears from view. “Pearl, use your wings!”

Pearl uselessly flutters them. They flop down by her sides. “I can’t, they’re drenched!”

Panic floods Gem’s mind, blocking out any reasonable thoughts. She tries to help Pearl back up onto the cliff, but she’s losing her balance. “It’s okay, you’re gonna be fine…”

Pearl can feel Gem stumbling forward. She tries to pull her hand away. “Gem, let go.”

Gem takes a step forward in an attempt to regain her footing. “Absolutely not!”

“Gem, I’m just gonna drag you down with me. Please let go of me.”

“No!” Gem can feel the tears beginning to fall, but she can’t figure out why. “I’m not gonna let you die!”

Pearl looks at Gem with an expression of equal parts confusion and concern. “Gem, listen to me. I’m gonna be fine. I don’t want you to lose your levels. Please let go of my hand.”

“No, I won’t. I can’t! I’m not gonna let go of you–” Gem loses her balance.

Pearl wrenches her hand out of Gem’s grip and dives into the cavern. Gem tumbles to the ground, just managing to catch herself before she goes over the cliff too.

<PearlescentMoon was impaled on a stalagmite>

————

Pearl wakes up on the bed just outside the cave. The post-respawn adrenaline crash washes over her in an instant. She considers rolling over and going back to bed, then sits up and shakes the sleep from her mind. If Gem is still as distraught as she was during the cliff incident, Pearl should find her.

Pearl walks back into the cave, humming softly. “Gem?” she calls. “You better not have died too. I’ll tease you forever.”

There’s no response.

Pearl follows her trail of torches through the cave until the creeper holes come into view. She runs through the unintentional tunnel and back to the ravine. “Gem, you still here?”

A glimpse of red hair comes into view. Pearl stops cold in the tunnel.

Gem is curled up in a ball on the ground at the edge of the ravine, sobbing. She’s muttering incoherently under her breath, but Pearl can make out a few words over and over: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

Pearl doesn’t even say a word. She walks over to Gem, kneels down next to her, wraps her arms around her, and pulls her away from the edge. Pearl can feel Gem trembling in her arms, so she holds her tighter without a thought of letting go.

Gem buries herself in the soft warmth of Pearl’s hoodie and sobs. Void, she should be used to it by now, but she’s still caught off guard by the comfort of Pearl’s hugs. Pearl’s like a human weighted blanket. It isn’t fair.

“Shh,” Pearl whispers under her breath. “No worries. I’m here. I’m alive.”

Gem sobs harder. She’s desperate to catch her breath, but the air refuses to enter her lungs when she tries to breathe. “I know– I know, but– couldn’t– it was– you were– Pearl, I couldn’t…” Her heart pounds in her chest. She’s falling apart. “Losing you all over again…”

Pearl wraps her (now-luckily-dry) wings around Gem and holds her tightly. “I know. It’s okay. Flashbacks are….” She takes a few quiet breaths, as though to transfer her calmness over to Gem. “They’re scary, aren’t they? But it’s okay. We’re on Hermitcraft. Respawn’s on. If we fall, we’ll get right back up again.”

“I let you down,” Gem whispers. “I couldn’t save you.”

“You tried,” Pearl whispers back. “That’s more than enough.”

Gem looks up for the first time. Her tear-filled, sparkling green eyes stare straight into Pearl’s celestial blue, and Pearl suddenly feels like crying too. “Look at me,” Pearl murmurs. “No cuts and bruises. No broken bones. No fucked-up code. Just me. Just me, looking at you.”

“‘M sorry,” Gem mutters. “Overreacted…”

“Never.” Pearl holds Gem even closer. “You’re a Life Series player now, Gem. Comes with the territory, y’know?”

Gem nods, no longer meeting Pearl’s eyes.

“And you know what else?” Pearl takes Gem’s hands. Gem slowly meets her gaze again. Pearl smiles. “I love you so much.”

Gem begins to cry again, lost in a tangled mess of emotions. “I love you too.”

Pearl helps Gem to her feet. “You wanna get out of this stupid mine?”

Gem can’t suppress a soft giggle through her tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I really do.”

They walk back into the moonlight together, holding hands. Gem refuses to let go, and Pearl wouldn’t dream of pulling away. Every so often, Gem murmurs a soft promise to protect her partner, and Pearl responds with an even softer promise of safety. “I’ve got you,” both of them whisper. “I’m right here with you.”

It’s enough. It’s always been enough.

[scotianostra]

On 25th September 1923 40 men were killed when Redding Colliery, near Falkirk, was inundated by water from old workings.

The Redding disaster was one of the worst in the history of the Scottish coalfield and a devastating event in the life of a small local mining community. At 5.00am on Tuesday 25th September 1923 an inrush of water flooded much of No. 23 pit and by the time the rescue and recovery operation was completed in December the bodies of 40 men had been recovered. Redding No. 23 pit was operated by the Nimmo family of Westquarter House on a lease from the Duke of Hamilton. The main shaft was on the north bank of the Union Canal to the west of Redding village and the coal was being worked in a southerly direction towards a dyke of hard rock created by an ancient geological fault which separated No.23 from old abandoned coal workings. These were filled with water but it was believed that the dyke was thick enough to prevent any dangerous inrush. However it transpired that on the abandoned side of the dyke a sump, or chamber had been cut deep into the dyke making it significantly thinner at that point. This was opposite the Dublin section where coal was being stripped from the dyke. It was at this point that water entered and flooded the pit.

There were 66 men trapped in the pit at the time of the disaster and a huge rescue operation was mounted involving pit rescue teams from all over the Falkirk district and beyond. After 5 hours 21 men were rescued as they emerged through a old shaft to the south east called the Gutter Hole. As seen in the first pic, crowds of anxious relatives gathered near the pit head and teams of divers arrived to examine the flooded workings. On 4th October five men were recovered alive and well but they were the last.

It must have been awful for the 11 men who had survived for up to 14 days in a dry section of the pit which the rescuers had assumed was full of water. Several of the men had left messages for their families, at first full of optimism that rescue was near but later despairing of their own futures and those of their families. One reads:-

"25th - Tell my wife to keep up for the sake of her children, for I don't believe I will see her again. God bless you and help you, for my mind is made up I will never see you again. - Your loving husband, James Jarvie". Another two messages from Jarvie are undated, and say:- " My Dear Wife, - believe you think I am drowned. I am still living yet, and have great hopes of being saved. Keep your heart, Maggie and look after the weans, and my two boys in America." and "Dearest Maggie, - Convey the news to our two sons. Tell Peggie, James, Lilly, Jeannie, and wee Maisie to keep up. It is a sore blow to you Maggie. Good-bye."

Jarvie was regarded as having sacrificed his own life for those of his comrades. In the opinion of those who were rescued, he had ample time to get clear, but instead of making for the pit-bottom and safety, he elected to return and warn the ten others - beside whom he was found dead - of their danger.

The last body was recovered from the main part of the pit in early December, the fortieth man on the fortieth day of the rescue operation. Amazingly, work began again in Pit No.23 in January. There is a full account of the disaster here http://www.scottishmining.co.uk/240.html

The second pic shows the funeral procession in Falkirk High Street, a street I walk down several times a week. The other pics are of the memorial near Redding Cross with the names of the forty men who lost their lives, it has recently been refurbished.

[your-resident-boat-person]

What is it about the RMS Olympic that makes it stand out from other ocean liners?

For me it's a lot of things. I'm going to start with a weird one. Her engines.

The RMS Mauretania was the biggest ship in the world until the Olympic was completed in 1911, and the fastest until 1927. She was designed for speed first and foremost. She had 4 propellers powered by steam turbines, which were the new hot thing at the time. Cunard built 2 "test ships," the Carmania and the Caronia. Carmania had steam turbines, and Caronia had traditional triple expansion steam engines. Carmania was faster, so Cunard used turbines. Mauretania had a top speed (at the time) of about 27.75 knots. Which is impressive. However, her service speed, the speed she went at when she crossed the ocean, was 23.69 knots. Mauretania was designed for speed. This was an impressive speed. The fastest way to cross the ocean for 20 years.

Meanwhile, Olympic was built with comfort in mind. Steam turbines were a relatively new technology and not well understood. Ships that had them had really bad vibration issues, and White Star didn't care about speed. They weren't looking to compete with Cunard on that front. So, they equipped the Olympic with traditional triple expansion steam engines. However, after the steam was exhausted from the final cylinder, it was redirected into a low-pressure turbine. This strange combination engine system gave the Olympic 3 Propellers. Without the turbine, she probably wouldn't have gone above 18 knots. But with that little extra push, her top speed became competitive with Cunard. Her top speed was 21.75 knots. So even without the new fancy turbines, she was effectively only 2 knots slower. But that's not the impressive part about all of this.

In a single day, the Mauretania burned on average 1,000 tons of coal to go 23.69 knots. Meanwhile, Olympic, with her weird engine Mish mash, only consumed 650 tons in a day. And she was only 2 knots slower! And with the turbine propeller right behind her (comparatively) large rudder, she was a really good turner for a ship of her size. I just love the engineering here.

Anyway, that's only one reason I love her so much. Her career was another great thing about her. After Titanic sank, White Star refitted Olympic to make her even safer (she was objectively the safest ship in the world both before and after this refit) and White Star pulled the biggest PR comeback in history. Her return to service in 1913 was widely celebrated. During World War 1, she served as a troop ship, and she is the only Ocean Liner to have ever sunk enemy tonnage in either World Wars. A German U-Boat was trying to torpedo her, but because she could turn so well, they were actually able to swing her around, ram the U-Boat and sink it! She also survived a separate torpedo attack because it failed to detonate when it struck. After the war, when they put her in dry dock, they found the hole. They didn't even know they were hit! The double hull contained the flooding. After the war, she returned to passenger service and became extremely popular with the rich and famous, earning herself the nickname of "the movie star liner." By the 1930s, White Star's new flagship, the Majestic, was having some extreme problems. She was a German ship given to them as compensation for the loss of Britannic. She began having some electrical problems that caused frequent fires, and her hull plates were tearing. Even though she was 10,000 tons bigger than Olympic, and she was a newer and safer ship, Olympic was still in fantastic shape, suffering from none of these problems.

Next, is her interiors. I love the Edwardian wood paneling. Ships before Olympic like the Adriatic are a bit too sparse for my taste, and ships like the Aquitania just don't look comfortable to me. Her interiors are gorgeous, but it's kind of imposing. I wouldn't want to sit on the furniture or get close to the walls. It's like a work of art, but that doesn't make her comfortable. I have the same problem with the Normandie. Beautiful, but not comfortable. People nowadays forget that you actually had to live inside these ships for about a week at a time. We can only look. Occupying these interiors is very different. Meanwhile, I feel like the Olympic gets that perfect balance between looking gorgeous, but not being imposing. I can imagine myself sitting comfortably on a chair in the grand staircase and watching the people go by. I like the pseudo art deco of the Queen Mary, Queen Elizabeth, and Mauretania 2, but I just prefer the Edwardian decor of the Olympic.

Next is her exterior. She's not my favorite in this regard, that title goes to the SS United States. But the Olympic is still gorgeous. I like the height to width ratio of her funnels, I think they're a good size relative to the rest of her. For an example of funnels I don't like, I think the Normandies funnels are way too thick and tall. The Olympics superstructure is appealing and isn't too tall. The rounded bridge atop the flatter lower decks has just an incredible effect. The Big 4 had the bridge separate from the rest of the superstructure, and it looked kinda goofy to me. Olympic is just all around really good in this regard. Not the best, but really good.

I think it's such a shame that she's been reduced to "Titanic's sister." She was so much more than that. I can talk about the Olympic for hours, but this post is too long already.

[awellboiledicicle]

Sometimes I want to pin my boyfriend down and open him up, just to dig around in his chest and match the feelings writhing inside to what he says.

To take a scalpel and gently section out the layers that make him until I'm past the gore and meat. Crack open the ribs to give me access to shuffle aside the liver. Relocate the lungs. Until I'm past the heart and the blade begins separating layers of soul.

Because he says such fiery, beautiful, sweet, lovely things... and I want to hold their source in my hands.

I want to burn myself on the embers of desire that makes him lust for me, to need me inside or under him to the point of delirium.

I want to feel the cool humidity of a rainbow that arches from his soul to mine, the prismatic shine clinging to my forearms as I dig deeper.

I want to feel the salt of his tears dry as I cradle the sensitive and shaking form of his shifting inner world. Observe the facets and colors its shot through with, flashing at the vulnerability of someone seeing him so clearly. Understanding him as imperfectly perfectly as I can.

I want the contact high of finding where he stashes away the joy in his heart, so I know where to find it when the darkness spreads through his guts like a disease. I want to feel the weight of its delicate floss, tingling against my gloved hands. I imagine it looks like a butterfly, with wings woven from ukelele strings. I can see the light of it in his eyes when he looks at me.

I want to lay it all out, vessels and connections still throbbing with life. This would, of course, no longer be a vivisection if I were so careless as to forget how it all goes back together. After all, what use is knowing where the butterfly lands, if you don't know how it slowly fans away the despair around it? How his traumas--hung tenderly on a rack bedside, so they did not errantly convulse their way upward to strangle him while unattended--take up so much of his guts that they mold everything else to form?

How does one learn anatomy without learning the importance of connection? Of dependance?

I would replace everything after I studied it, of course. This is exploratory vivisection, not alteration.

And then I would stroke his pretty face as he awoke, bloody and known and vulnerable.

And I would hold him tight, like I always do.

No matter which him it is. No matter which organ of intense emotion is flaring, I will hold him as he wants me to.

But I do not need to stoop to prodding when he will gladly work the knife himself.

How beautiful, how wild, how fantastic it is to feel his breath on my face as he tears open his chest to show me his fire. The feeling of his grip on my wrists as he growls his devotion against my neck and spills his coals across me. The flashing vulnerability as he clings to me in the dark and peels back his own layers as I litter his forehead with kisses.

So sometimes I want to open him up, but mostly he does it himself.

[tangshandirotechnology]

FGX-12 Composite Dry Coal Separator Used in Coal Deshaling & Coal Beneficiation

In some open pit coal mine area, around 30-50% stones and gangue is mixed in raw coal during coal mining, thus,that removing stone & gangue ahead of time from raw coal is the first work before coal beneficiation,intelligent FGX12 dry coal separator developed by Tangshan Diro Technology can remove around 98% gangue & stone or more, separating efficiency is upto 95%, Erro Possible is around 0.1-0.16, the clean coal content in reject is 2%.

1.Our customers can choose to sell clean coal directly or supply to power plant to make great economic benefit,this is worthy of investment for low rank coal.

For some low rank coal like lignite,and long flame coal etc,this is the most optimal way to invest in economic cost and benefit,due to 1/4 investment cost of cost washery. Specially for lignite, there is no slime produced during production,thus the relevant cost like slime processing,storage,and transportation is all saved.

2. Some customers will feed clean coal to coal washing preparation plant for further processing.

1）Sharply reduce water & processing cost,cause the reject and stone is removed ahead of time;

2）Save transportation cost.

3） Moreover,that dry coal pre-preparation of raw material, reduce un-efficient processing of raw materials, the gangue and stone does not participating in coal washery;

4）Capacity of raw coal washery is reduced, reduce abrasion of equipments.

We roughly figure out the cost, if install our FGX-12 dry coal separation plant before coal washery,capacity is 120-150tph,then can help users save around $ 1100000/a. So, we advocate coal mines and power plant to design a scientific complete coal beneficiation plant,consider more economic value,reduce cost and loss, create more economic benefit.Tangshan Diro Technology are pragmatic,reliable and for offer our customer with optimal and washibility plant.

History of FGX composit dry coal separator

We have 34 years experience to process coal in dry way,DIRO designed FGX-1 dry coal separator initally for dry coal deshaling & coal preparation in 1989, the separating efficiency is 92%, erro possible is around 0.1~0.2. So, FGX composite dry coal separator is widely installed in arid and cold area in west northern part of China.

Why DIRO developed FGX-1 dry coal separator in 1989?

FGX series compound dry coal separator is widely installed in arid and cold area in west northern part of China, like Shann'xi,Shanxi,Inner Mongolia and Xinjiang province,cause this area is covered by MuUs Desert,be shortage of water;most importantly, coal mines & power plants are lack of investment capital in 1980's-2000's China.That quickly change the coal stream recource into the money is a intially idea, if cost is lower than coal washing plant,that is perfect. Thus, our engineers were working to design FGX-1 dry coal separator to solve two problems:

1. dry coal deshaling

2. coal beneficiation in dry method, has less effect on tempreture & weather situation

I was bore and grew up in Yulin city,Shann'xi,which coal reserves is 29.097 billion tons,it accounts for 1/3 of China's coal. The fast development of coal mining and dry coal preparation technology & coal washing tech in China, promoting the area development.

During development of 34 years,our FGX & FX dry coal preparation plant are assembled in Russia,Ukrain & Poland, the whole coal beneficiation plant is not affected on cold weather & lower tempreture conditions. In Gobi desert area in Mongolia, and South Africa, water is a problem,then this technology is assembled to solve the water problem of coal preparation, our FX series dry coal preparation,separating efficiency is upto 95%.

Please #check my website for more info:www.fxdrycoalprep.com

whatsapp:+8613730503881

[dirotech]

FGX dry coal separator is developped in 1986, it do excellently to solve coal higher ash,higher sulfure problems, increase calorific

Application:

Coal Deshaling

Thermal coal for Dry Coal Processing

Pre-preparation before coal washery.

[what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me]

Been mulling over the vague idea of a sci-fi Kirby au that features Meta Knight as a lone human taken from his home and struggling to survive in a galaxy that is very much not made for him.

One of my favorite concepts for it so far is that Galaxia is a type of alien parasite.

Eons ago, when the universe was very young and unstable, two forms of life so different from each other had found themselves living on a planet whose name is lost in time. This planet is a legend in the present, believed to house technology so advanced it might have been magic, and the inhabitants were said to be immortal. Speculation claims that the god-like aliens grew bored of the young universe, choosing to abandon it and ascend to a higher existence. If you unlock their secrets, you would receive the throne of godhood as well.

The reality of the forgotten planet is different, and some of these so-called “gods” are still alive and could tell you such.

Galaxia is originally from the forgotten planet, and she remembers that the environment was so hostile that technology never developed past primitive space travel. There was no grand magic, and while the inhabitants were long-lived, neither species were immortal. Life on the forgotten planet found a way to struggle and hold on, and not much else ever was accomplished.

The modern tongue refer to the two species which had inhabited the planet as Fire People and Parasites.

The Fire People were cunning, swift, and beacons of endless energy, but the nature of their bodies left them vulnerable and easily snuffed out into ash and coals. The Parasites are armored, vicious, and nearly immortal, but this came at the cost of never being able to live without the energy of another.

The modern tongue misrepresents the latter of the two.

Both these species survived the hostile conditions of their planet by depending on each other. Fire People were so easily extinguished, but if they offered a Parasite their energy, then a Parasite would act as protective shield. Two lived as One. If One became separated into Two, then both are sure to die. Symbiotic is the proper word to describe Galaxia.

Galaxia in particular had been distinguished due to being the companion to the Fire People’s king: Photron.

The two had bonded when the king had only been a young spark. Not many had been brave enough to approach such a old and powerful Parasite such as herself. The power Galaxia demands is so great that most Fire People are sucked dry of their life energy and extinguished in mere moments. The royal parents had been terrified that their young spark was approaching such a monster, but it was of no consequence. Galaxia’s many gold-red-green-blue-pink-white eyes saw the potential Photron held, but even more important was the young spark’s charm. Seldom had Galaxia come across another mind who she enjoyed the companionship of, and she had been gleeful to accept the bond with young Photron.

The bond between such a powerful Parasite and Fire is responsible for Photron eventually claiming the throne. This powerful bond is also how Photron survived long enough to see the rest of his people die.

The hostile planet which these species resided on was not stable, the atmosphere was unwinding and the ground crumbling. The Parasites would try to fight this fate, to defend their beloved Fire, but even their power can not match that of nature, and slowly Fire after Fire were snuffed out. Soon the streets were empty of people; instead littered with the sleeping bodies of The Parasites lain amongst piles of coals and ash. Although these Parasites were still alive and merely in a hibernation of sorts, they would perish when the planet fully shatters.

Overcome with the grief of being unable to save his people from the decay of their planet, Photron wondered if he could save at least one life. The King Photron did not know if there was anyone else in the universe outside of his dying planet, and space travel was not a proven concept, but he valued the life of his companion over his own. This inspired Photron to hatch a scheme.

In secret, Photron commissioned his last few engineers to make a vessel capable of leaving the planet. Upon the night of the machine’s completion, the clever king used the flames of his own body to burn a special herb which was known to paralyze The Parasites, making them fall off. Galaxia felt betrayed that her companion would not take into account her wishes to stay until the end, but she was in a death-like sleep before it mattered. Put into a primitive space capsule and launched blindly into the depths of the universe, Galaxia would not be awake to see the light of her beloved companion be snuffed out.

The Parasites share similarities to the tardigrade. By succumbing to a death-like state, she had survived eons outside of her home planet without a host. In recent millennia, this parasite had become a legend, alongside the sparse few other who had survived the destruction of their home. She and the others are sought after in the belief that they hold the secrets of immortality.

Upon being awoken by such a person looking to cheat death, Galaxia had not been impressed, but she agreed. She was lonely. Her new host, of course, had not been worthy of her gifts like Photron had. In just two lunar cycles, the new host proved to be too weak, unable to meet the high amount of life energy which The Parasite fed off of. This fool paid for their hubris with their life. It was of no consequence to Galaxia. The next fool would come along sooner or later. And each one would be drained of their energy just like the last.

This was how Galaxia once again gained the reputation of a monster, and how her kind shifted from being seen as symbiotic to being Parasites.

Of course, while many would avoid her completely, there were others who would be interested in the services of such monsters like The Parasites. Nefarious companies looking to get rid of “failed investments”. Headstrong warriors hoping to get her aid in battle. All sought out stories of a nameless monster for one reason or another. All were unworthy.

Galaxia extinguished flame after flame until a peculiar life form had crossed her path. The alien was one she had never seen before, but obviously a warrior. Scars littered it’s skin, with the most gruesome of which had been slashed deep across its eyes. All that remained were two pale white slivers which ghosted over Galaxia’s golden form with no recognition. This alien was blind, seemingly a result of a battle, and did not know the fate that awaited it.

In a echo of a memory from eons ago, the alien approached Galaxia without fear, and she let the pitiful thing blindly stumble into her. The process of bonding was easier through physical touch, and Galaxia hungered for fresh life energy. Prehensile hands clumsily found hold on her massive golden form, enabling a basic mental connection, and the Parasite began picking through the mind of the fighter before her.

She dissected the language of the alien—the Human—and then spoke with him. Galaxia saw bits of herself in the man before her. Ripped away from their people and her planet, never able to return, living a life being seen as a monster when all they really wanted was a companion. Both have true names which mean nothing to the rest of the galaxy, both are simply called monsters and parasites. The Human expressed frustration and grief which struck a chord with the monster. Galaxia’s many gold-red-green-blue-pink-white eyes saw the potential the nameless Human held, but even more important was the fact that she had found a kindred spirit who was tired of being alone like she was.

Galaxia decided to make an offer.

“Give me a name, give your life, and I will protect that life. I will be your sword, your shield. I will give you my eyes to use as your own and I’ll give you a name in return. Let Two become One.”

After that fateful encounter two monsters did not leave the cave. Meta Knight and Galaxia instead chose to travel the universe as one.

[mariacallous]

Huevos haminados, eggs cooked slowly through the night, are one of the most recognizable foods of the Sephardic kitchen. But in fact, the uniquely Jewish cooking method long predates its popularity among the Jewish community in Spain. With the Spanish Expulsion of 1492, it spread widely to other Jewish communities while simultaneously remaining a hallmark of Sephardic cuisine.

The name huevos haminados (or just haminados for short) derives from Ladino, combining eggs with the name for the Shabbat stew in which they were cooked, hamin, the Sephardic precursor to what Ashkenazi Jews call cholent. Such eggs emerge from the pot brown in color, with a nutty and meaty flavor, along with a deliciously creamy yolk.

Inquisition trial records from both Spain and Mexico document the popularity of these eggs among crypto-Jews. In A Drizzle of Honey: The Lives and Recipes of Spain’s Secret Jews, David M. Gitlitz and Linda Kay Davidson highlight indictments that point to the “red eggs” some conversos ate alongside their “Jewish meat and Sabbath stew,” indicating they maintained a secret Jewish lifestyle. Haminados were thus recognized as a genuinely Jewish food item.

Despite their Sephardic association, haminados have ancestors that predate the Spanish Jewish community. In the Talmudic Tractate Shabbat we are told that Jews in the Galilean city of Tzippori left eggs heating on the Sabbath for long and slow cooking. In other parts of the Talmud, we find distinct terms to describe eggs that are roasted, boiled in water, stewed in other liquids, or cooked in ashes.

The dry-heat method appears to have been the earliest way to long-cook eggs. Throughout history, in many places, Jews prepared their Shabbat eggs in this manner. Yemenite Jews roasted them in the oven next to their jachnun or kubaneh, Egyptian Jews buried them in the coals of the bathhouse fire, and in parts of Germany and Austria, some Ashkenazim placed eggs in a separate container alongside their cholent. Still today, many Iraqi Jews leave eggs to roast slowly on the lid of their pot of t’beet (a chicken-and-rice Shabbat dish).

Technically, such eggs are called huevos asados — roasted eggs. But they developed directly into haminados in medieval Spain. Dry-roasted eggs shrink inside their shells, but by placing them inside the moist hamin, Sephardim got the same taste with a more pleasant texture.

Haminados became so beloved to Sephardic Jews that they began eating them at other times: Shabbat morning for desayuno (breakfast), Purim (due to the similar sound of hamin and the villainous Haman) or even at regular meals during the week. In order to eat them with dairy foods and still observe the kosher laws, one more development took place: the eggs emerged from the meaty hamin pot and were cooked in water by themselves. To maintain the classic look and flavor, many put onion skins or coffee grounds into the water. (Apparently, the brown color comes from the Maillard reaction, and develops even in plain water. But tradition runs strong, and perhaps these additives deepen the color beyond the chemical reaction alone.) The onion skin technique had already become common in 15th century Spain.

With their post-1492 spread, Sephardic Jews transferred haminados to their new homes all around the Mediterranean. Some regional names for them highlight their origins: “Jewish eggs” or “eggs of Salonica” (once a highly Jewish city). Furthermore, for around 1,000 years after the fall of the Roman Empire there were virtually no chickens (and thus no eggs) in Europe. So, while Ashkenazim already consumed lots of eggs by the 14th century, haminados were more strongly linked to Sephardim, who, in Muslim lands, had never stopped eating eggs in the first place.

Nowadays, Sephardic Jews have elevated these simple eggs, creating interesting designs by slightly cracking the shells after the initial boil, or even by pressing delicate leaves between the eggshells and a piece of panty hose! Israeli cookbooks feature tips such as using older eggs, which are easier to peel, and not bringing the eggs to a strong boil to avoid over-hardening.

Perhaps most notably, the eggs are now showing up in Ashkenazi cholent pots as well. In a world where one can learn any cooking style via the internet, and where Jews of different ethnic origins more frequently marry each other, taste trumps tradition and foods of Jews from different regions start blending together.

This identifiably Sephardic egg reaches back to its pan-Jewish origins and now bridges the differences between disparate diasporic communities. Haminados remind us that Jews everywhere are part of a single great nation, and we have the food to prove it.

[harmonic-melodii]

Cotton Candy Fields

Love lures a fresh girl in, coating her with sunshine 

and rainbows. Unicorns frolic through candy fields of 

peppermint grains. All a trap, feeding on her ignorance.

Pain prickles through fragile skin, peeling back a layer, 

raw and unprotected. Like a fawn separate from her mother.

Nothing stops a predator from sinking ivory-glistened fangs

into dark flesh.

Elders suck on her sweet bone marrow, biting stringy 

tendons with carnivorous frenzy, leaving her weak, wounded, 

unable to fight back. Should she bite and devour their flesh for 

what they stole? No.

Love makes her complacent, ceasing any instinct to harm

(and instead fawns) with a chain wrapped taut around her throat, 

searing her skin. It burns. Her flesh melts. A hand extends for hers; 

icy and pure. 

The chain cracks (but she can’t reach) not broken yet, it can’t

be broken... years and tears bled into the hardwood floors

of her heart, staining the walls of her own soul with words now

struggling to break from her teeth.

Coals simmer in her belly. Passive slithering lies ignite a flame she’d

forgotten how to light. Its power consumes her. Mind, body, and

soul. To purge parts tainted with misguided love. Hot liquid tears 

spill from once-dry aqueducts as she reminds herself:

“Freedom won’t come yet. I will find it soon.” She takes small steps

as her chain yields control. Cotton candy fields dissolve under sheets

of rain pouring down. It doesn’t last forever. Birds sing new

songs, flowers bloom with new petals and leaves wither, buried in

nature’s grave.

Even so, she walks, refusing to stop. Her–tired–feet and–aching–legs

force her onward. No longer is she seduced by the sweet nothings of

cotton candy fields that rot a young girl’s teeth. Some days, she

wishes the elders had eaten her whole, yet reminded of sacrifices still

carries on. 

[petri808]

Day 1 @flufftober “I’ve got you” Nalu Drabble

“Aww, it’s been sooo looonnggg,” Lucy whines as she stretches her lower back and twists from side to side. “I can’t wait to get up this trail and take in that sweet clean air!”

Natsu chuckles as he finishes clicking the buckle of his backpack and checks to make sure the strap is nice and snug around his chest. “I wonder if we’ll see deer this time, that’d be cool.”

They work a lot of hours, Lucy as a crime journalist and him as a firefighter, so it’s hard to find a time when they’re both off on the same day. Now, it’s finally autumn, technically at least, with the heat index no longer in the triple digits to make hiking uncomfortable. Summer was truly miserable this year too, super dry conditions with no summer storms. For his job, that meant more fires than normal, often accidental like someone deciding to barbecue with coals over dead grass or kids burning trash in a barrel out of boredom.

She takes a swig of her water bottle before putting it away in her satchel. “Do you think it’ll be this dry up there too?” Lucy asks as she taps the dry grass with her foot causing a crunching sound.

“It’ll be dry, but probably not this dry once we get to about the 8,200 foot elevation and the forest is thicker.”

“8,200 feet?”

“Maybe two-thirds to three-fourths the way up the trail.”

“Oh, okay. It’s just kinda sad to see it like this.”

They’ve been on high alert, but his boss approved this time-off months in advance because in another week they will be saying “I do.” It may seem odd to be going hiking instead of using the time to solidify wedding plans, but relaxing is just as important for their sanity. And besides, he’s sure Lucy will agree when he says, that the wedding is just a formality at this point. Altogether, they’ve been close for 20 years, a couple for 13 of those years, and the marriage certificate signed 8 years ago. The only reason the ceremony took so long to take place is their busy careers.

Natsu walks over and puts his arm around her waist before kissing her temple. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The trail they’ve chosen is considered a moderate one in length and difficulty, two miles one way with an incline of about 8-12 degrees give-or-take. It’s a well worn and a well marked trail popular with locals, so the couple will have no difficulties scaling it. The forest is made up of a lot of needled tree varieties like pines, firs, and spruces as well as maples or hardy mahogany’s or an occasional mountain apple. There are also a spattering of berry options in the area that the deer and other wildlife eat like blackberry, mulberry, snowberries, and elderberry.

So many things to look at! And the smell… just a myriad of earthly scents in a dry air filling their lungs to replace what the city’s pollution left behind. They take their time as they traverse the dirt-packed trail, worn into a shallow groove from years of service, up the shallow incline of the mountain pass in a zig-zag. Every so often, they can hear the sounds of small creatures scampering through the leaf litter, through brush, or maybe a squirrel in it’s hollowed tree den high above. The birds too, add to the natural symphony with differing tweets and twittering chirps, or perhaps a call of warning when they see the two-legged creatures passing by. They were happy to see that while dry, once they got deeper into the tree line the flora appear to have weathered the summer sun just fine.

Eventually they reach the 8,000 foot elevation which is almost to the turning point in the trail. Here there is an opening in the tree line that allows the couple to peer down into the valley below that separates this mountain range into two. Maybe if you listen hard enough on a day with very little noise, it’s possible to hear the whooshing, burbling sounds of the river at it’s heart. Here the trail is around three feet wide. On the mountain side, there’s approximately four more feet of brush before you hit the wall, but on the other there is a sheer drop off the cliff side. Because of the trails worn out groove, it creates a sort of lip or raised berm before the cliff begins. Now, the cliff itself is deceiving because the cliff side is covered in low brush and bramble, and tops of trees that have taken root at a lower level. It makes it difficult to see just how steep it really is and camouflages the dangers.

Natsu takes off the pack and puts it on the ground so he can grab something to snack on and a drink. He then sits down on a large rock on the mountain side of the trail. It’s as good a time as any to take a break and appreciate the beautiful scenery. Lucy too accepts a small bag of trail mix from him before stepping near the edge of the berm. As she munches on finger-fulls of the treats, she takes a wide survey of the area. This isn’t the first time they’ve been here or stopped at this very spot before, so it’s nothing really new.

“Look!” Lucy points to some trees to their right near the entrance of the valley. “They’re starting to turn color! I bet if we came back in a month this whole area will be a multi-color sea of leaves!”

“Oh yeah?” Natsu responds. “That’ll make for some nice photos, maybe we should come back to take pics to turn into holiday cards?”

Finding the suggestion appealing, Lucy turns on her heel quickly to face him. “Oh, I love that idea!”

And that’s when he sees it. As Lucy spins around in her excitement, the dirt beam which is normally solid and compact, completely crumbles and breaks off the cliff’s edge. “LUCY!” Natsu screams as he pops up and tries to reach…

“Huh?” Lucy instantly looks down, but it’s already too late as she feels the ground below her feet give way. “OH! AHHH!” She cries out and her eyes blow up like saucers as she drops below the edge.

All Natsu can see as his hand grabs air is the love of his life disappearing from view, with her wide-eyed expression burning into his mind. “Lucy!!” He stumbles to his knees and peers over the edge.

“Natsu!!” She screams back.

‘Oh thank the stars!’ Natsu instantly lets out the air he’d been holding in when he sees that Lucy is about four feet down and has managed to grab onto a root. It’s still a precarious situation, evident by the continuously crumbling dirt around them. The root could give way or more of the cliff edge which would send Natsu down too. The abnormally hot and dry summer conditions have left the bare soil so dry that there’s little to keep it together. “Lucy! Don’t panic! Okay? Babe don’t move around too much, stay as still as you can okay?!”

“O-Okay,” Lucy sniffles, “p-please hurry!”

Natsu locks eyes with her and steadies his breathing as his emergency training kicks in. He knows better than most the importance of staying calm and appearing confident in these situations. “I got you! Lucy, you believe me right? I’m gonna get you out of there!”

A sense of ease rolls over when Lucy feels the cocksureness flowing from her man. She knows she can count on him, but to feel it is surreal. “I do! Y-Yeah, I do!”

He takes a quick assessment of the edges stability and notes he can’t put a lot of pressure on the dirt or it will break off again. That means if he tries to just reach for her and it gives way, they will both fall. Okay, the cliff face is at give or take a 55-65 degree angle, and no way to know if it turns into a sheer drop further down. There are several bushes doting the area though there’s no way to know how deeply rooted they are. Natsu can also see a many random divots on the cliff face created when rocks are likely dislodged due to weathering. He reaches down and yanks on a close-by bush to see how deeply rooted it is and it’s more solid than it looks. The edge is weak, but if he lays flat, and uses the rest of his body to counter and distribute his weight, he should be able to reach down maybe two feet. But that still means he’s two feet shy of reaching her.

“Okay, Lucy?”

“Y-yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to trust me and do exactly what I say. Can you do that?”

“O-Okay…”

“You trust me right?”

“Of course, I trust you.”

“Do you see that bush just above your head? I want you to grab onto it at the base. Keep holding onto the root, but grab the bush with your other hand.”

“Okay…”

“And— but don’t looks down! There is a divot in the ground just below your left knee. I need you to use the bushes to help you pull yourself up until your foot can catch hold of the divot. Let your body drag along the ground not lift up while you do that. Once your foot feels like it’s solid in the divot, reach for the next two bushes above. You should feel another divot maybe another foot up to match. Can you do this? I should be able to reach you if you can get closer.”

“I-I’ll try.”

“Not try,” Natsu pushes her to think positive, “baby, you will!” He moves into position to where from his rib cage down it’s laying on the ground over the trail with the weight of the backpack anchoring his feet. He leans over the edge and extends his hand as far as it will reach. “Come on Lucy! Grab my hand!”

Tentatively, Lucy starts to make her move, first grabbing the base of the bush, then pulling up as her foot skims for the divot. Once it hits an indentation, she presses into it with her toes for stability. Just as she’s about to move to the next bushes, a couple of small rocks break free from the edge where Natsu is laying, causing her to look down.

Seeing how far up they are spooks her, and reminds her of the precariousness of the position. “I’m scared, Natsu…” Lucy whimpers. Why is this happening to them? It’s such a beautiful day, going on a hike which is something they enjoy. And right before the wedding ceremony. “It’s so high…”

“Look at me,” Natsu commands and Lucy instantly obeys. With her eyes transfixed, he responds as soothingly as he can muster. “It’s okay to be scared, but look’it, you already did the first step, just one more.” He flexes his fingers and smiles. “Take a deep breath and come to me Lucy!”

No verbal response, she just gives a shaky nod as she looks at her target and reaches for it. One bush grabbed onto, then two, and finally, her foot finds the divot.

“Now let go of one bush, and reach for my hand.”

With a trembling gulp, Lucy slowly reaches up, crawling her fingers up the cliff face as she aims for Natsu’s hand.

“Almost there…” He assures as he extends as far as he can as well. When he feels the tips of her fingers, “almost there…” Lucy stretches on tiptoe giving her the last bit of distance needed for Natsu to grab her left wrist. “Gotcha! Okay, I’m gonna start pulling, keep grabbing onto things too.”

“O-Okay.”

Little by little with him pulling and her reaching, they scale the cliff face. One foot conquered, two feet, each shift and movement triggering little cascades of dirt or rock causing Lucy to pause and lower her head to avoid them. Two more feet to go. “Grab onto my neck as soon as you can with one hand.��� He lifts the few inches allowing her to do just that. “Okay…” Natsu tenses up his core and thighs, and presses down with his knees tensed to provide additional drag. After getting one arm around her back and side, with hand under Lucy’s right armpit, he uses everything his torso can offer, pulling up while using his knees to scoot backwards a few inches. Once her shoulders have cleared the edge, she wraps her other around his neck. Natsu changes positions quickly, still holding her tightly with his left, he uses his free hand to push off the ground while his legs shift and curl to the side and pulling her up and over. This brings his knees under him and allows him to use them as a lever for this final hurrah. With a straining grunt, Lucy is yanked over the edge, the momentum causing Natsu to fall onto his back and her onto his chest, immediately wrapping his other arm around her and scooting all the way back to the mountain side of the trail. He sits up and keeps her in his lap.

One would expect an immediate celebration, but such a physical and mental expenditure takes it’s toll. For half a minute they remain, wrapped tightly to each other in silence save for the natural symphony oblivious around them and the rise and fall of their chests while their breathing returns to normal. But soon, all the adrenaline that helped Natsu through, runs away, and all the emotions he’s tamped down explode to the surface. He’s been through tons of emergency rescues and battled hundreds of blazes, but never once has he felt this level of fear. Natsu keeps his head on Lucy’s shoulder, but adds pressure against her neck as a he speaks. “I thought I lost you…” his shaky words in a somber tone are just barely audible as if he’s too afraid to give it any more power.

Lucy reciprocates, tilting her head into the nape of his neck. “Me too…” She tightens her hug when she feels the moisture from his tears starting to soak the fabric of her shirt. His trembling frame speaks volumes. For as long as she’s known this man, she can’t think of a time when he’s shown this level of vulnerability. Always the protector worrying more about others than himself. “Natsu, I re—ally don’t know how you can handle death defying stuff so calmly, ‘cause that was fucking scary!”

“I’d rather do my job a hundred times over than go through this again.” Natsu mumbles. And he means it. They’re lives, their spirits are so entwined already that if he lost her, it’s like being dead too.”

They stay tangled for a little longer before getting to their feet and start heading back down the trail, but both are exhausted, so it takes a little longer than usual, stopping every so often for breaks. The air around Natsu feels heavy and yet light too. How can one feel both at the same time, well, it’s the only way he can explain it. As a trained emergency responder, it’s his job to be aware of anything dangerous and yet today he failed to notice the dry dirt or how close Lucy was getting to the edge. Perhaps this guilt is where the heaviness comes from and yet lightness stems from the same source. It’s because he is trained that he was able to save her life today and that has to feel good.

Sensing something amiss, Lucy squeezes the hand she’s holding and leans her head against his bicep. “Something bothering you?”

“Mmm,” Natsu throws on a genuine smile. Death always makes us think what if, but it’s time to let go. Lucy’s still here, smiling, and holding his hand as they walk along the trail. She’s not letting this experience hold her down. Plus, she’s tougher than she looks, and if he continues to feel sorry, it’s an afront to her inner strength. Sometimes… it’s a wonder who’s really the savior between them. “Nope,” Natsu smiles and kisses her temple area. “Not anymore.”

[dwellordream]

“By 1900, the domestic role of women was already beginning to reflect the long-term effects of social and technological changes that had been taking place since the Civil War. Most significantly, women’s marital and maternal roles were different from the ones that their grandmothers had experienced in 1850. Marriages themselves were not as permanent as they had been in the past. By 1900, the divorce rate had risen to one in twelve couples; by 1915 the rate was one in nine. Two-thirds of divorces were sought by women, a clear indication that a growing number of women were unwilling to accept unsatisfactory marriages and that, increasingly, they had the courage and the means to obtain their independence.

The proportion of women choosing never to marry at all had risen from 6 percent (where it had been throughout the 19th century) to 10 percent in the 1890s. Within this new group of women who never married were many educated professionals and others who felt that they could find satisfactory lives, work, and companionship without husbands and children. Among married white women of childbearing age, the birthrate had dropped 50 percent in the course of a century; it had gone from seven children for each woman in 1800 to three to four children in 1900. Among African-American women, the birth rate began to decline dramatically after 1900. By the 1920s about half of all married black women in northern cities were remaining childless, compared to only one-fourth of married white women. The birthrate of immigrant groups also decreased as they became more assimilated into American culture.

…As a rule, innovation happened more quickly in cities than in rural areas, and new technology was available to the well-to-do many years before it reached the homes of working people. Few of the new home utilities and labor-saving machines were ready for mass consumption before 1920. Between 1890 and 1920, for example, most American women were still washing household clothing and linen by hand in tubs with corrugated scrubbing boards. In a series of separate operations, each of which required fresh hot water, they boiled the clothes on the stove, rinsed them, blued the whites, and starched nearly everything except work clothes. Every item was wrung out through a hand-cranked roller mangle and hung to dry, outdoors or indoors, depending on the weather. The next day almost everything, including sheets, had to be ironed, using heavy flatirons that were heated on the stove and reheated as they cooled.

All but the wealthiest housewives did some laundry themselves, or assisted their domestic servants with the backbreaking labor. Any family who could afford it hired a laundress to come in by the day or take clothing to her own home to wash. By 1910, commercial steam laundries--staffed mostly by women workers--had become big business in cities and large towns, easing the chores of wash day for housewives. In later decades, automatic washing machines would return laundry to the home, making it, once again, the responsibility of the housewife.

…In 1900, nearly all American homes had cast-iron stoves, which had replaced fireplace cooking and heating in all but the most primitive houses. Stoves made cooking much easier and used fuel economically, and their temperature could be more or less controlled through the manipulation of a set of dampers. Many kitchen stoves had attached water-heating and storage reservoirs, which made dish washing and laundry easier than they had been in the days when all water had to be hauled and heated in kettles over the fire.

Most Americans used coal for heating and cooking, though families burned wood in parts of the country where trees were still abundant. Coal and wood smoke left a thin film of grime on furniture and windowsills and embedded itself in carpets and curtains, making housecleaning a repetitive and thankless task. Coal-fired furnaces and central heating systems, which burned more clearly than small stoves and had been available for decades, were still so expensive in the 1890s that they were found only in the urban homes of affluent people.

…Ironically, the opportunity to improve housekeeping with new sources of energy and new appliances would actually make housework more complex, multiplying some tasks while relieving the burdens of others. The presence in the home of hot running water meant washing and cleaning were easier, but also suggested the need to take more baths or to mop the floor more often. Washing machines made it possible to wash the same clothes more frequently than before. Easily regulated gas or electric ovens meant the housewife could attempt more elaborate cooking and baking than her mother had been able to produce in her day.

Despite its heavily advertised promises, the new domestic technology did not actually liberate women from housework. Rather, it served to intensify the personal importance of the home and the woman’s role in it by suggesting that her housework could be scientifically perfected. All the domestic experts and professional home economists promoted scientific housekeeping and the consumption of new appliances and energy sources. In magazines and books, on the lecture circuit, and in secondary schools, where domestic science became part of the required curriculum for girls, these authorities encouraged homemakers and potential homemakers to time their tasks, to break household jobs into segments, and to follow strict sanitary guidelines, especially in cleaning bathrooms and kitchens, potential sources of infectious disease.”

- Karen Manners Smith, “Women at Home.” in New Paths to Power: American Women, 1890-1920

[bestiarium]

The Ovinnik [Slavic mythology; Russian myths]

Slavic and Russian folklore has several domestic spirits, such as the Domovoi and the Bannik. They could be either kind or malicious, but the most dangerous of them was the Ovinnik.

This creature resided in threshing barns, which is where the straw is separated from the edible grain. These buildings were highly flammable and therefore associated with danger and death, which is possibly where the idea came from that a dangerous spirit lives there (or perhaps, and this is just conjecture, the Ovinnik was made up by parents to dissuade children from playing there). In northern Russia, the threshing barn was located a good distance away from the rest of the farmstead, to prevent it from lighting the other buildings on fire should the barn’s furnace accidentally ignite the straw (note: the furnace was used to dry the grain).

Usually, an Ovinnik took the form of a particularly large black cat. Its eyes were red and glowed like burning coals. Other times, these spirits appeared as large wolves. In other sources, the Ovinnik is often portrayed as a human-like creature sitting close to a furnace.

It was the Ovinnik spirit who oversaw the use of the furnace: he forbade the people from lighting it on certain holidays, as well as days with a particularly strong wind. If the people ignored his warnings, he would burn the entire thing to the ground. One story, for example, is about a woman who beat flax on a sacred day and was burned to death as a punishment. In another tale, a farmer outsmarted the spirit and cast it into a burning fire, giving the Ovinnik a taste of its own medicine. But the creature survived and returned years later. Out of vengeance, it killed the farmer’s son.

Aside from burning farmstead to ashes, the Ovinnik had the ability to see into the future and could be consulted at the start of a new year. The spirit received offerings from the people, such as roosters that were decapitated and their blood sprinkled over the corners of the barn.

Although these beings were undoubtedly dangerous, they weren’t always evil. In one story, the spirit found a child who was being chased by the undead ghost of an old woman. The Ovinnik fought the ghost to protect the kid, and the two spirits clashed until the sun rose. In other versions, the spirit is sometimes called Rigačnik and this version offers protection from evil wizards. While this is a different version of the same being, its appearance differs a bit: a Rigačnik appears as a man with short, curly hair dressed in stained, torn clothing. He actively helps the owners of the farmstead.

Eventually, Christianity influenced the local folklore and mythology and the tale of the Ovinnik was among them. The Christians tried to change the public opinion of the Ovinnik by making it into a bogeyman that could only be seen during the morning service on Easter Sunday. However, people kept making offerings to the Ovinnik as a spirit of the furnace. Eventually, the Ovinnik was changed to a kind of Christian protective spirit, and that is why he forbids people from using the furnace on (Christian) sacred holidays, such as Saint Thekla Zarevnica’s holiday, which is the 23rd of September. Eventually, the Domovoy (which is possibly the most popular and well known Slavic household spirit) adopted the traits and functions of the Ovinnik and other similar spirits.  

Sources: Ivanits, L. J., 1989, Russian Folk Belief, M. E. Sharpe, 249 pp. Haase, F., 1939, Volksglaube und Brauchtum der Ostslaven, Georg Olms Verslag, 428 pp. ��исина, Е. A., 2020, ТРАДИЦИОННЫЕ РИТУАЛЫ В СОВРЕМЕННОЙ РОССИЙСКОЙ МЕНТАЛЬНОСТИ, ЕВРАЗИЙСКИЙ ЮРИДИЧЕСКИЙ ЖУРНАЛ, 2(141), p.491-492. (image source: Ivan Bilibin)