#spray nozzle systems

[fluitech]

The Science Behind Flat Fan Spray Nozzles: Understanding Their Design and Function

In the world of fluid dynamics, few components are as critical as spray nozzles. Among the various types available, flat fan spray nozzles stand out due to their efficiency and versatility in a wide range of applications, particularly in agriculture, industrial cleaning, and chemical processing. This blog will delve into the design and function of flat fan spray nozzles, shedding light on the science that makes them effective within spray nozzle systems.

What Are Flat Fan Spray Nozzles?

Flat fan spray nozzles are designed to produce a thin, flat sheet of liquid that spreads out in a fan-like pattern. This configuration allows for optimal coverage over a wide area, making them ideal for various spraying applications. They are widely used in agricultural applications for crop protection and fertilization, as well as in industrial processes for cleaning and cooling.

Key Characteristics

1. Spray Pattern: The defining feature of flat fan spray nozzles is their unique spray pattern. The liquid exits the nozzle in a fan shape, providing a broad coverage area with a uniform distribution of the spray.

2. Flow Rate: Flat fan nozzles come in various sizes, allowing users to choose the appropriate flow rate for their specific needs. The flow rate is determined by the nozzle size and the pressure of the liquid being sprayed.

3. Angle of Spray: These nozzles are available in different spray angles, typically ranging from 80 to 120 degrees. The spray angle affects the width of the coverage area and is essential for achieving the desired application rate.

4. Pressure Sensitivity: The performance of flat fan spray nozzles is highly dependent on the operating pressure. Higher pressures can lead to finer droplets, while lower pressures produce larger droplets. Understanding this relationship is crucial for optimizing spraying efficiency.

The Science of Fluid Dynamics

The effectiveness of flat fan spray nozzles can be attributed to the principles of fluid dynamics. When liquid flows through the nozzle, several forces come into play, including inertia, surface tension, and viscosity. Here’s how these factors influence the spray pattern:

1. Inertia: As the liquid exits the nozzle, inertia causes the liquid to spread out, forming a fan shape. The design of the nozzle, particularly its internal geometry, plays a crucial role in determining the extent and uniformity of this spread.

2. Surface Tension: Surface tension helps maintain the integrity of the liquid droplets as they exit the nozzle. In flat fan spray nozzles, this property is essential for producing consistent droplet sizes, which directly impacts the application effectiveness.

3. Viscosity: The viscosity of the liquid being sprayed affects how easily it flows through the nozzle. Lower viscosity liquids tend to produce finer droplets, while more viscous liquids can result in larger droplets. Understanding the viscosity of the liquid is crucial when selecting the right spray nozzle system.

Applications of Flat Fan Spray Nozzles

Agriculture

In agriculture, flat fan spray nozzles are commonly used for applying pesticides, herbicides, and fertilizers. Their ability to create a uniform spray pattern allows for even coverage, which is essential for effective crop protection. By adjusting the spray angle and flow rate, farmers can optimize their spraying techniques, leading to improved yield and reduced chemical waste.

Industrial Cleaning

In industrial settings, flat fan spray nozzles are utilized for cleaning surfaces, equipment, and machinery. Their wide spray pattern ensures that large areas can be cleaned quickly and efficiently. Whether used in a pressure washer or a cleaning system, these nozzles help maintain cleanliness and hygiene in various industries.

Chemical Processing

In chemical processing, flat fan spray nozzles are often employed for cooling, mixing, and spraying chemicals. Their design allows for precise control over the application, ensuring that chemicals are delivered effectively without waste.

Selecting the Right Flat Fan Spray Nozzle

When choosing the right flat fan spray nozzle, several factors need to be considered:

1. Application Requirements: Understanding the specific needs of your application is vital. Whether it's agricultural spraying, industrial cleaning, or chemical processing, different applications may require different nozzle specifications.

2. Flow Rate and Pressure: Consider the required flow rate and operating pressure for your system. Choosing a nozzle that matches these specifications will ensure optimal performance.

3. Spray Angle: Select the appropriate spray angle based on the coverage area needed. Wider angles are suitable for larger areas, while narrower angles provide more concentrated coverage.

4. Material Compatibility: Ensure that the nozzle material is compatible with the liquids being sprayed. Corrosive chemicals may require specialized materials to prevent damage.

Benefits of Flat Fan Spray Nozzles

1. Efficiency: The design of flat fan spray nozzles allows for efficient coverage, reducing the amount of liquid needed for effective application.

2. Versatility: These nozzles are suitable for a variety of applications across different industries, making them a valuable tool in any spraying system.

3. Cost-Effectiveness: By minimizing chemical usage and maximizing coverage, flat fan spray nozzles can lead to significant cost savings over time.

4. Environmental Impact: Efficient spraying reduces chemical runoff and waste, contributing to more sustainable practices in agriculture and industry.

Conclusion

Flat fan spray nozzles are a testament to the science of fluid dynamics, offering exceptional performance and versatility across various applications. Understanding their design, function, and the principles behind their operation is crucial for selecting the right nozzle for your needs. By harnessing the benefits of spraying systems nozzles, users can achieve optimal results while promoting efficiency and sustainability. At flui.tech, we are committed to providing high-quality spray nozzle systems tailored to meet the demands of our customers. Whether you're in agriculture, industry, or chemical processing, our expertise and products can help you maximize your spraying efficiency.

[firesafetyproduct]

Why Automatic Fire Suppression Systems Are Essential for Commercial Buildings: Insights from HD Fire Protect

In the bustling environment of commercial buildings, fire safety is paramount. Automatic fire suppression systems play a critical role in safeguarding assets, lives, and operations. At HD Fire Protect, we understand the intricate dynamics of fire safety and the crucial role these systems play in commercial settings. Here’s why investing in an automatic fire suppression system is essential for every commercial building.

1. Early Detection and Rapid Response

Automatic fire suppression systems are designed to detect fires at their inception. Utilizing advanced sensors and detection technology, these systems can identify smoke, heat, or flames and activate suppression measures almost instantly. This rapid response minimizes the potential damage and gives occupants a crucial head start in evacuation, significantly reducing the risk of injuries and fatalities.

2. Protection of Valuable Assets

Commercial buildings often house expensive equipment, critical documents, and valuable inventory. In the event of a fire, these assets are at risk of being damaged or destroyed. Automatic fire suppression systems are engineered to protect these assets by targeting the fire directly at its source. Unlike traditional fire extinguishers that may require human intervention, these systems operate automatically, ensuring protection even when no one is present.

3. Minimizing Business Disruption

A fire can cause severe disruption to business operations. Automatic fire suppression systems help mitigate this risk by quickly extinguishing fires before they can spread. This proactive approach not only protects the building but also minimizes downtime, ensuring that business activities can resume swiftly and efficiently.

4. Compliance with Regulations

Regulatory standards and building codes often mandate the installation of fire suppression systems in commercial properties. Adhering to these regulations not only ensures compliance but also demonstrates a commitment to safety and due diligence. At HD Fire Protect, we offer solutions that meet and exceed industry standards, ensuring that your building remains up to code.

5. Cost-Effective Investment

While the initial cost of installing an automatic fire suppression system may seem significant, the long-term benefits outweigh the investment. The potential savings from preventing fire damage, reducing insurance premiums, and avoiding business interruptions make these systems a cost-effective choice.

Automatic fire suppression systems are an indispensable element of fire safety in commercial buildings. At HD Fire Protect, we are dedicated to providing state-of-the-art solutions that ensure comprehensive protection for your property. Investing in these systems is not just a matter of compliance; it’s a strategic decision to safeguard your business and its future.

[genderqueerdykes]

i know this won't be available everywhere, but especially if you live in a larger city where a lot of folks are affected by opioid use/addiction, it's a really good idea to ask local pharmacies, and even food banks if they are giving out free narcan (naloxone). this can also be found at certain behavioral health offices as well, my case manager is able to get them for me for free. narcan is a life saving medication that can temporarily halt an opioid (oxycodone, hydrocodone, heroin, fentanyl, codeine, morphine, etc.) overdose while you wait for emergency medical services to arrive.

opioid overdose is distress of the respiratory system, meaning that the person overdosing likely is struggling to, or can't breathe at all. it's very important to watch to see if the person is dealing with labored or shallow breathing.

here the official use guide:

[Image ID start: Two screenshots from the FDA's Narcan (Naloxone HCl) Quick Start Guide infographic. It reads:

"Narcan (Naloxone HCl) Nasal spray quick start guide. Opioid Overdose Response Instructions.

Use NARCAN Nasal Spray (naloxone hydrochloride) for known or suspected opioid overdose in adults and children.

Important: For use in the nose only.

Do not remove or test the NARCAN Nasal Spray until ready to use.

1.) Identify Opioid Overdose and Check for Response Ask the person if they are okay and shout name.

Shake shoulders firmly and rub the middle of their chest.

Check for signs of Opioid Overdose:

Will not wake up or respond to your voice or touch

Breathing is very slow, irregular, or has stopped

Center part of their eye is very small, sometimes called "pinpoint pupils".

Lay the person on their back to receive a dose of NARCAN nasal spray.

2.) Give NARCAN nasal spray

Remove NARCAN nasal spray from the box. Peel back the tab with the circle to open the NARCAN nasal spray.

Hold the NARCAN nasal spray with your thumb at the bottom of the plunger and your first and middle fingers on either side of the nozzle.

Gently insert the tip of the nozzle into either nostril.

Tilt the person's head back and provide support under the neck with your hand. Gently insert the tip of the nozzel into one nostril, until your fingers on either side of the nozzle are against the bottom of the person's nose.

Press the plunger firmly to give the dose of NARCAN nasal spray.

Remove the NARCAN Nasal Spray from the nostril after giving the dose.

3.) Call for emergency medical help, Evaluate, and Support

Get emergency medical help right away.

Move the person on their side (recovery position) after giving NARCAN Nasal Spray

Watch the person closely.

If the person does not respond by waking up, to voice or touch, or breathing normally another dose may be given. NARCAN Nasal Spray may be dosed every 2 - 3 minutes, if available.

Repeat Step 2 using a new NARCAN Nasal Spray to give another dose in the other nostril. If additional NARCAN Nasal Sprays are available, repeat step 2 every 2 to 3 minutes until he person responds or emergency medical help is received.

For more information about NARCAN Nasal Spray go to www.narcannasalspray.com, or call 1-844-4NARCAN (1-844-462-7226)."

End image ID.]

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch1. he said yes!! congrats!!

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 1/x (probably 10)

ᰔ words. 7.8k

a/n. hellooo omg welcome to this debut chapter!! tysm to everyone who wanted to be on taglist for this!! i was gagged at the amount of people!! yall are amazing omg n thanks for supporting my works :''') hope you enjoy this chapter and i will see all you lovelies at the bottom <33

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 (pending)

Love thy neighbor.

Cherish thy neighbor.

Tolerate thy neighbor.

Peacefully coexist with thy neighbor. 

Fuck thy neighbor? No, wait, not that one.

It’s murder thy neighbor. That was the phrase you were looking for.

Murder thy neighbor so gruesomely that you’d leave no trace behind. Murder him and bury him somewhere no one could ever find him, so that even in millions of years from now when some other highly advanced mammalian species overtakes the planet and embarks on journeys to acquire fossils, thy neighbor will still never grace the atmospheric oxygen of the earth ever again. It’s the punishment he’d deserve for thoroughly pissing you off at the worst times possible and in the worst ways possible. The smallest of prices to pay.

“SATORU!!!” you yell, storming up the sudsy driveway of your next-door neighbor’s house at eight in the morning, clad in your dirty scrubs from the hell of a night shift you just endured working at the hospital, glass containers inside the lunchbox you were holding hitting painfully against the poor joint in your knee but you just don’t care. Anger is all you can see right now.

Your neighbor (derogatory) stands there in his pajamas with a spray nozzle in his hands, passively spraying water across the top surface of his car, and when he sees you, he pulls his left airpod out of his ear and looks you up and down once. You’re pretty sure there’s steam coming out of your ears. “Uh, do you mind? I’m trying to wash my car.”

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to park your stupid boat in front of my driveway?!” you yell at him, voice hoarse and nails digging into the skin of your palms by the clench of your fists.

“Hm?” he leans back a little to glance past you to his boat. “Oh, you mean my 2023 Boston Whaler 220 Dauntless with low profile bow rail welded stainless steel, Mercury FourStroke hydraulic power steering and, not to mention, a platinum gelcoat hull? That silly old thing? It’s not even parked in front of your driveway.”

“Yes. It is. Are you blind? I can’t move my car into my garage, hence why it’s running idle on the fucking street right now. Your boat’s on my property.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes. It is.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh. Yuh-huh.”

“Honey. I’m a real estate agent. You don’t think I’d know where my own property line starts and ends?”

“Park. It. On. Your. Drive. Way.”

“I spent a lot of money on that boat,” he sighs, “I intend to show it off on the street. Stop acting like there isn’t more than enough room for your tiny prius. It’s not my fault you have the motor skills of a toddler and don’t know how to pull into a driveway,” he pauses for a second and tilts his head upwards in thought, “Oh. Motor skills, haha, get it? Fuck, that’s funny. Hold on, I gotta jot that down,” he pulls his phone out of the pocket of his cotton plaid pajama pants, “my niece would love that. She gets all giggly about puns these days. It’s her birthday next weekend, by the way, turning five.”

“Oh, right,” you scratch the top of your head (been too busy to wash your hair), and realize the ponytail you threw your hair up into at the beginning of your shift last night is now barely hanging on for dear life, “I forgot to tell you, but my cousin said he can’t rent that pony out for her birthday party anymore. Apparently it died.”

He stares at you. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Damn.”

“Mm.”

He shrugs. “That’s fine, thanks anyway,” he swipes up on his phone, “they had crazy hair day at my niece’s elementary school yesterday, wanna see a picture?”

“Sure.”

He turns his phone to show you. “My sister let her cut her hair a little shorter this time since she wouldn’t stop asking. I guess all her friends at school were cutting theirs short too so they wanted to be matching.”

“Aww,” you pout with a small smile when you see the picture, “I think it suits her. That’s a lot of glitter though, y’know that stuff’s really bad for the environment.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, turning his phone screen back to face him, “anyway. I was halfway convinced you just came from some crazy hair day when I saw you stomp up my driveway just now.”

“I’m gonna guillotine your head off with the trunk door of my car. Now move your boat.”

“Hold on one sec,” he says, holding a finger right up to your face, and you flinch backwards slightly before going cross-eyed to stare at it, and then you’re glaring at him again. His phone is ringing in his hand. “I gotta take this.”

“Wha–” you try to interrupt him, but he just says shhh and shakes his finger in front of you, which makes you want to bite it off.

“Hi, Donna!” he exclaims into his phone, “so good to hear from you. Oh, no, not at all, you caught me at the perfect time. I’m just washing my car. Nah, you’re not interrupting anything.”

The urge to smack him consumes you.

“Oh okay, cool, I’m glad you took some time to think about it. Let me know when you want to meet again, if you’re still interested in the house, we can make an offer. Uh huh. Yeah. Sorry, what’s that? Oh,” he pulls his phone from his ear to look at the time, “yeah, that’s fine. Is that the one on 6th street? Sure, I’ll see you then. By the way, how was little Tommy’s soccer game yesterday?...Aw, that’s okay, he’ll get the next one. Hm? Yeah, what’s up? Oh, you know that I’d love to, and there’s no one that enjoys your green bean casserole more than I do, but I’m actually busy tonight! I know! Bummer! Maybe some other time? Alright. Yeah, thanks, you too. Take care. Bye.” He presses the end call on his phone, and there’s an awkward silence as he narrows his eyes at the screen in concentration for a moment while typing something onto it, and then the corner of his eye catches sight of something in his periphery, that something being you, and he jumps a little.

“Oh fuck,” he places a hand on his chest and exhales, “I didn’t know you were still standing there.”

“I’m seriously going to whack you across the face with my lunch box right now.” 

“That gigantic industrial lunch box you carry around for your 12-hour shifts?” he points at your hand, “you’d have blood on your hands. I’d be dead.”

“Yeah, that’s the goal, idiot.”

“You’re so fucking violent, jeez, I bet the inside of your head looks like the inside of Jeffrey Dahmer’s. How do you sleep at night?”

“With fifteen milligrams of melatonin, blackout curtains, a satin sleeping mask, and in the mornings.”

“...that didn’t make you sound like any less of a serial killer.”

“Whatever, at least I don’t have a complex for elderly divorced women. You know that what you do for work isn’t any better than prostitution, right?” 

“Okay. Now I have to hear where you’re going with this.”

You cross your arms across your chest, and your gigantic industrial sized lunch box with the millions of glass containers inside of it hits your hip painfully, enough to warrant a wince, but you keep a straight face as to not show any weakness. “You flirt with vulnerable women who have just gotten out of probably extremely heartbreaking marriages from their cheating country golf club husbands, and pretend to care about all their drama, just so that they’d buy a house from you. I literally heard you say to a lady the other day,” and you do your absolute best to mock him in the most insulting way possible, “‘it’s okay Lorraine. If you’re still struggling to fill your new house with someone new too, then you know where to find me.’”

“Yeah. She wanted to rent out her guest bedroom. I was gonna help her look for tenants.” 

“O-Oh,” you stutter, but stand up straighter, “doesn’t matter. You still pimp yourself out for a sale.”

“So what if I do? I’m hot, why wouldn’t I take advantage of that? You could’ve done the same thing too, but you didn’t, and now you’re stuck working miserable nursing shifts that are probably taking years off of your lifespan.”

“You’re the one taking years off of my lifespan. Now move your fucking boat.”

He sighs and slips his phone back into his pocket before walking past you to your car, that still had the driver’s side door open and was idle in the middle of the street.

“W-Where are you going?” you ask.

“I’m gonna park your car in your garage for you,” he says, waving his hand up in the air dismissively because he knows you’re about to protest, and then he ducks his head into your car, reaching his arm in for the lever that moves the seat backwards, and adjusts it all the way back before he’s able to take a seat at the wheel. And your yelling is a pestering he pays no mind to as he shuts the door.

“Wait– I didn’t give you permission to–” you shout as you step into your driveway, holding your arms out because you’re scared he’s gonna chip off your side mirror on the stern of his boat, but he deftly pulls your car into the driveway. He also almost runs you over in the process.

When he gets out of your car inside your garage, you storm right up to him and yank your car keys out of his hand. “You almost flattened me over my own driveway.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have been standing there,” he easily retorts and leans against your car before crossing his arms over his chest. “Also, case proven, there’s more than enough space to pull your car in. You’re just piss poor at parking.”

“I swear to fucking god. If you’re ever in a life-threatening emergency and wind up at my hospital, your emergency isn’t going to be the thing that kills you, it’s gonna be the cocktail of deadly meds I inject straight into your veins. And I’ll have it charted like it was a death of natural causes.”

His brow furrows and he frowns, but it’s in that sarcastic way that tells you he’s not threatened by you, and the idea of using the taser in your purse on him is briefly entertained in your mind, “I’ve got Kaiser, hun,” he says, “I wouldn’t go to just any regional hospital for healthcare. Put some damn decorum on my name, Jesus.”

“How is it you’re stupid, an asshole, have a sick fetish for elderly women, and also somehow classist at the same time? Can you pick a struggle please?”

“Stop saying I have a fetish for elderly women,” he hisses at you, “especially with that loud obnoxious voice of yours. Our neighbors are gonna think I’m a creep.” He pretends to shiver.

“But it’s true. I bet you lost your virginity to a fifty-year-old cougar the day you turned eighteen. And to one that was probably grooming you even before then, too.”

His eyes widen. “Damn. How’d you know.”

“That you’re a victim?” you ask, tone derisive, “your entire personality is living proof. Please seek help.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was never groomed, and I didn’t lose my virginity to an elderly woman,” he corrects you, “...although said woman was a little older than me.”

“I’ve literally got no fucking interest in this conversation anymore. Get the fuck out of my garage,” you practically spat at him, “the last thing I need to deal with after getting off of a 12-hour night shift is coming home to your stupid face out on the street.” You push past him, making sure to nudge him with your shoulder but he hardly budges, and you lose balance from your own attack, and now you’re doubly pissed off before you make it to the door with your keys jingling in your hand to find the right one to unlock it.

“Good night,” he calls out to you, and you click the button on the garage door so that it starts closing, and watch him as he panics before ducking his head underneath it to make it outside before you can essentially lock him to rot inside of your garage, and then you shut the door behind you, finally inside the comfort of your home.

Ah. Silence.

But it was never a comfortable one. 

“Mom?” you call out as you open the door out of the laundry room to make it into the living room, and your eyes scan the floor. You don’t see her in the kitchen, or on the couch in front of the TV, sometimes she spends time in the pantry room but she’s not in there today. You round the corner over to where the front entrance of the house is, and you see her standing there, peering out of the window to the other houses on the streets. She holds her hands loosely behind her back, and she’s so still she could be a statue.

“Hey,” you say to her, softly, so as not to startle her. “I’m home.”

She looks over her shoulder at you, and you realize her line of sight was set to next door, where you see Gojo has resumed the wash of his car. “Why are you yelling at that sweet boy across the lawn?” she asks you, “he helped me fix the air conditioning last week.”

Your eyes widen slightly, but then you sigh. Typical Gojo getting involved where he should really just mind his own business. “I’m pretty sure by fix you mean he just pressed a bunch of buttons on the thermostat until it started working again.” 

She doesn’t respond as she continues to stare out onto the street, tilting her head slightly while deep in thought, like she’s trying to make sense of what she sees. 

“Mom,” you gently tug her sleeve, “I think you should get away from the window and get some rest. You look tired, and I need to take you for chemo in the afternoon.”

She gently pulls her elbow away from your grip of her sleeve and turns to look at you. “Mom?” she repeats after you, “why are you calling me ‘mom’? Who are you?”

Your blood runs cold from her words, but you don’t have the time or the luxury to react in the way that you want to, and so you suck in a deep breath. It was one of those days. But it’s cruel that she’ll remember your neighbor and not her own daughter. “I’m your daughter,” you gently reintroduce yourself, to the woman who gave you life, “I know that might be a little weird to hear right now.”

“No…” she says, “I think that makes sense. I’m sorry, dear, I think I have a bad memory these days.” She looks at you with concentration, studying the features of your face. “My daughter, yes. You look…oh, dear, you look like you should sleep.”

You nod slowly, releasing the breath you were holding. “Yes. You too, mom.”

You place your gigantic industrial lunch box on the kitchen counter, and come back to hold your mom’s hands as you lead her to her bedroom downstairs. By the time you fix her a small meal in the kitchen, bring it to her and make her eat so she can take her pills, she’s ready to take a small nap and you know that you’ve earned some sleep now too.

The upstairs master bathroom beckons you the second you get upstairs, and even though you’ve been using the master bedroom & bathroom in this house ever since moving your mom downstairs four years ago since she had trouble getting up the stairs, it still feels odd to stand in front of the sink without a stool underneath your feet, like what you had to when you were a kid and your mother would braid your hair. You’re a grown woman now, and as you stare at your reflection, you’re not sure if you can recognize yourself anymore. But rather than dwell on if it was because of any profound reason, you figured you just needed a shower and to get some sleep before you have to wake up again in five hours. Exhaustion is evident on your face, and you swipe under your eyes to get the smudge of mascara off before it tattoos your skin forever. 

Hot water on your skin does little to help your drowsiness, but at least now you feel clean of your shift, and then you remember there are blood stains on your shoes from the stab wound patient that rolled in at 2AM last night, and you should really let them soak for a few hours while you sleep, but you just can’t bother right now. Instead, you slip into something comfortable, draw your curtains back to mimic the dead of night in your room as best as you can, grab the bottle of melatonin sitting at your nightstand and pop a few tablets, feeling feverish as you slip into your sheets. You pull the comforter up over your eyes, a decision that is less ideal than using a sleeping mask since you’ll be breathing your own carbon dioxide until you fall asleep now, but it’s okay. It’s cozy under your blanket. Just this once. And you count sheep to make you sleepy. At least until the melatonin beats you to it.

—

“You’re looking better,” Dr. Johnson says to your mother as he accesses the port on her chest, “were you able to get a good rest?”

Your mother nods and points to you. “My daughter made me take a nap.”

“That’s good,” he coos, “it’s good to get rest before chemo. Your daughter really cares about you.”

“I know,” your mother smiles up at you, “I’m so lucky.” You return her smile with one of your own.

Dr. Johnson starts to push the line of chemo into your mother’s port as she sits on the chair in the treatment lounge, and then stands up from his rolling chair before the nurse quickly moves to twiddle with the drip of the IV bag. 

“Ready for consult?” he asks you.

You grip your binder to your chest. “Yeah.”

You walk into the doctor’s office, one you’ve more than familiarized yourself with over the past couple of years, then take a seat across from Dr. Johnson’s desk as he clicks through his computer before handing you a copy of your mother’s recent lab work.

“Her tumor markers are rising,” you say as you sift through the papers.

“They are, we’ll likely switch to monitoring them every four weeks going forward. But it’s okay, not to worry,” he says, “tumor markers can raise for all sorts of reasons unrelated to cancer.”

“She had a cold last week,” you say, “maybe it’s the inflammation?”

Dr. Johnson lets out a small laugh. “I’m sorry, y/n, sometimes I forget you’re a nurse.” He hums to himself as he pens down something on the notepad in front of him. “When was your mother’s last PET/CT scan?”

“It was in February,” you say, “she’s due soon. I was going to ask if you could order one for her.”

“Yes, I will, I’ll do it right now,” he says as he types something into the computer. “You still have the standing orders for her routine lab work, correct? Do my MAs need to send you the scripts?”

“No, that’s okay, I got them already. Good for six months,” you reassure him.

“Alright, perfect.”

There’s an awkward silence that settles in the room as you shift in your seat with the binder in your lap, full of all of your mother’s medical information and emergency department discharge packets and recent lab work and imaging. You mess with the plastic cover on top of it nervously.

“It’s good she remembers you today,” Dr. Johnson comments, “I remember last week you were upset she didn’t.”

“Oh,” you say, “yeah, I’m sorry. Sometimes it’s hard.”

His eyes leave his computer screen for a second to look at you. “Are you doing alright?”

You nod slowly. You had to be alright, you had no other choice. “I’m fine, thanks,” you say, “um, actually, doc, I just wanted to share with you that I’ve been keeping track of my mom’s Alzheimer’s progression.” You open your binder in your lap, pulling out a packet of papers and placing them on his desk, turning some of them towards him but he doesn’t really spare a proper enough look. “I’ve just been noticing she’s progressively worsening a bit faster than her neurologist had projected.”

“Okay,” he says, sounding curt, and that nervousness comes back. But goddammit, you’re a nurse, you know how to deal with stubborn doctors. And it’s for your mother. There was no one else left to advocate for her except you.

“I was just wondering if we could also order a brain MRI for her?” you ask, “just to rule out anything…her brain fog has been bad, worse than usual, and I’m just really worried about metastasis, especially if it’s a glioma, I’d just want to catch it as soon as possible.”

You have sympathy for oncologists, really, you do. They must deal with paranoid family members all the time, but how could someone blame another for wanting what’s best for their loved one? You don’t think that’s an empathy that anyone should ever lose, regardless of how long you’ve been practicing medicine. 

He sighs. “There’s no indication for that right now, not with her response to treatment as well as her lab work. I’d suggest we just wait on her next PET/CT results, and we can go from there. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, okay?”

“I know,” you say, “but her next scan isn’t for another couple weeks, plus the week it’ll take to have it read, it’ll be far out, so…if we could just order it now?”

He interlocks his fingers and places his hands in front of him on the desk, looking at you with a stern face, but he glances down at the paperwork you’ve sprawled in front of him with scribblings of all the detailed notes you’ve been taking of your mom’s responses to her Alzheimer’s treatments, with time stamps and descriptions of her mental state, and his furrowed brow relaxes slightly. He breathes in deep. “Alright. Fine, I’ll order one. I highly doubt we’ll find anything, though. But since there’s no clear clinical impression warranting a brain MRI right now,” he mentions as he directs his attention back to his computer, “I don’t think insurance will cover it for you with the diagnoses I put in.”

“That’s okay,” you quickly respond, “I’ll pay for it.” 

You collect your imaging orders from the medical assistants at the center of the oncology floor. The chemo nurse, Mai, informs you that your mother still has about two hours left before her treatment is done, and she gently suggests you go eat something while you wait. You tell her it’s okay, that you want to wait with her, but she tells you the hospital cafeteria is serving tater tots today for tater tot tuesday, and those tater tots are to die for. But before you go downstairs to the cafeteria, you find a few minutes to cry in a one stall bathroom.

—

“God damn,” you hear your coworker, Hana, dreamily sigh as she leans on the handle on your standing mobile nursing work desk, and you trail her line of sight to the tight asses of the EMT men that walk by while rolling a stretcher. “It’s like being hot is a part of their job requirement.”

“Uh-huh,” you agree mindlessly as you try to catch up on charting for the rounds you just ran on your patients around the emergency department beds.

4/20/2024 0200: patient notified of the importance of taking ibuprofen. Attempted to give pt the medication. Pt responded “suck on this, bitch”, gestured to his general groin area, then threw ibuprofen tablets at RN. pt upset and requests narcotics instead. Informed MD of pt’s behavior and request. MD will not order narcotic pain medication at this time. Will continue to monitor

“How’s your mom doing?” Hana says, interrupting your typing as she turns to face you now.

“She’s okay,” you say, continuing to punch keys as you stare at your monitor, “she has a PET/CT soon. It’s always nerve wracking when the next scan is coming up.”

“Have you given hospice any more thought?” she asks.

You stop typing and stare blankly ahead at your screen as your heart sinks a little. You have given hospice more thought, and you came to the decision about a week ago that you would go through with it. It’s becoming so increasingly difficult taking care of your mom at home, more than you can manage with all of her doctor’s appointments, radiation appointments, chemotherapy appointments, all of which happen during the late mornings or early afternoons so you can’t even properly rest on most days that you come home from night shifts. Even though you only work three shifts a week, you can’t remember the last time you got a full, uninterrupted eight hours of sleep because of how messed up your circardian rhythm has become. You were practically a walking zombie, and you hardly felt like a person anymore. You’re not going to switch to the day shift, because that would make it difficult to take your mom to her appointments, and also because you get paid extra with the night shift differential, and above all other necessities, what you really needed right now the most was money. Forget the fact you’re still in debt from nursing school, but you co-signed on the medical loans your mother had taken out for treatments, and five years of high acuity medical bills was a living nightmare. And you were living that nightmare. 

“I did,” you say, “I’ve been looking into hospices, but a lot of them are further away than I’d like.” You glance down at your keyboard. “I…I’m going to miss having my mom home. Even though it’s hard to deal with her mood swings and stuff sometimes, I just think the house would feel really empty without her.”

“Aw, my dear,” Hana sighs and rubs her hand up and down your arm soothingly, “I’m sure you’d love to have her home, but I think it’s becoming too much for you. I say this with love and care, but I can’t remember the last time I saw you genuinely smile.”

Your eyes widen slightly from her words, and you release some of the tension in your shoulders, tension you didn’t even realize you were holding onto during this conversation.

“It’s too much for just one person,” she continues, “while I understand you want to spend more time with your mom, the quality of time you’re spending with her could be so much better if you had some weight lifted off your shoulders, where you’re not worrying about her medication schedule or doctor’s appointments or blood draws and all that.”

You nod slowly and manage to give her a small smile, then place your hand over hers that was still soothing over your arm. “Thanks, Hana. I know, I appreciate you looking out for me. I…I think I’ll look more seriously into hospices. It’s just they’re really expensive, too, so I have that to consider as well.”

“Hmm,” she withdraws her hand from you and juts her bottom lip out as she looks up at fluorescent emergency department lighting. You hear a patient cough in the distance as your senses take in the ambient environment once again. “Y’know, there’s this really great new hospice in town that functions as a general facility and also helps manage a lot of chronic diseases too. They have nurses there that do blood draws and everything, and they also transport patients to their affiliated hospital for treatments, like dialysis and chemo and stuff. My friend’s mom has breast cancer and was recently accepted into that hospice,” she tells you, pulling her phone out and looking through some of her messages, “I think it’s only a fifteen minute drive from your house.”

You tilt your head at her with interest, wondering why it didn’t come up on your provider search through insurance, but regardless, it sounded too good to be true. “It’s probably really expensive. My mom’s under the state insurance right now, but I’ve explored government insurance plans too and they’re still really pricey. I just can’t afford it, not with all of her cancer treatments, and adding her under my insurance isn’t really going to be any better either.”

She groans. “I know. What’s with our healthcare plan? You’d think as a hospital, they’d choose better plans for their employees,” she sighs, and then stops to read some of the messages on her phone, “but my friend said that her husband was able to add her mom as a dependant, and his insurance covers 90% of it. I’m sure it depends on the illness, but they only pay a few thousand per month out of pocket.”

You blink at her. “Really? T-That’s insane…do you know what insurance her husband has?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s a Kaiser facility.”

“Oh,” you sigh, “well, they wouldn’t accept state insurance. That’s a private HMO.”

“Shoot,” Hana looks at you apologetically, “I’m so sorry, love, I forgot about that. Sorry to get your hopes up.”

“That’s okay,” you smile at her, “thanks for trying. I’m glad it worked out for your friend, at least.”

Hana glances at her watch and realizes her break is over, so she heads back to her side of the emergency department, and you’re left standing at the nursing station with thoughts running through your head now, and still catastrophically behind on charting.

Hmm.

Kaiser.

You swear someone mentioned that to you recently.

Or maybe you were just remembering another one of those ads you see on television at night. No, no, you’re pretty sure it came up in conversation with someone, but you can’t remember when or why or what or where or who. Hmmmmm. Kaiser, Kaiser, Kaiser. 

Nope. Nothing.

Oh well, maybe it’ll hit you later.

—

It hits you in the form of an intrusive memory when you wake up on a Thursday afternoon in a cold sweat after having a hallucinogenic melatonin dream where you were getting chased by a giant rabbit (don’t ask). 

Kaiser.

Gojo said he has Kaiser insurance. 

And the idea that comes into your head after that is so ridiculous, so absurd, so positively bonkers that you have to slap the sleepiness off your face for a second to make sure you’re still not in some dream state of living, and the harsh sting on your cheek proves that you’re not. And the idea still persists. And now you’re swinging your legs over the edge of your bed, and grabbing your laptop, and opening it, and inputting your pin, and then spending a good three hours researching if this little idea of yours actually has any good level of merit to it, if it could even succeed, if it was even legal? You even find yourself on the phone with insurance representatives, and you stare at the tens of thousands of dollars of debt on your Excel spreadsheet where you keep track of your finances, and you feel the exhaustion in your bones, and you also remember how fucking annoying Gojo is. And yet still, the idea persists. 

And when the pieces of the plan start to unfortunately fall into place, you say, fuck it. What was worse than potentially getting into six figures of debt? It’ll be fine.

But you can only hope he says yes.

.

.

.

[reading commercial break]

hello!! this is ellie, the author. so sorry to interrupt, there is still a bit left for this chapter, but i just wanted to jump in here real quick to explain for some of my readers that may not be american so they may understand reader’s desperation to financially cover the costs of her mother’s healthcare bills. this story is set in suburban america lol, where the healthcare system is so messed up honestly, and this excerpt from the book the body by bill bryson kinda explains:

“Where America really differs from other countries is in the colossal costs of its health care. An angiogram, a survey by The New York Times found, costs an average of $914 in the United States, but only $35 in Canada. Insulin costs about six times as much in America as it does in Europe. The average hip replacement costs $40,364 in America, almost six times the cost in Spain, while an MRI scan in the United States is, at $1,121, four times more than in the Netherlands. The entire system is notoriously unwieldy and cost-heavy.” p360; “...America spends more on health care than any other nation–two and a half times more per person than the average for all other developed nations of the world. One-fifth of all the money Americans earn–$10,209 a year for every citizen, $3.2 trillion altogether–is spent on health care.” p359

unfortunately, a lot of how much you end up spending at the end of the day, depends significantly on the health insurance that you have. it could make the difference of spending a few hundreds to a few thousands to a few tens of thousands and beyond, just based on the insurance plan, even if the illnesses/treatments are exactly the same.

but yeah, just wanted to provide that context lol!! so you must understand reader’s desperation to save a buck!!! 

ok back to regularly scheduled broadcasting!! 🧚‍♀️💕✨

[end of reading commercial break]

.

.

.

—

You’re sitting at a table outside your favorite cafe in town, leg bouncing up and down underneath the surface impatiently and nervously, and you glance at the time on your phone for the fifth time within the past five minutes because you’re unable to alleviate any of the anxiety you’re experiencing right now. You hear the jingling of the cafe door behind you and then you’re a little startled when someone emerges in your periphery by your side.

You look up and see Gojo standing next to you, and you see he already went inside and grabbed a coffee to-go for himself.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Hi,” you say with a small wave.

He takes a seat across from you. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks while he settles in and smooths down the fabric of his suit jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, and has a couple of the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal some of the skin at his collarbone. Probably to seduce the divorced single moms, you think. “And if you called me here to try and convince me for the millionth time to pitch in for that fence you built six months ago, I’m just gonna say no again. I didn’t even want that fence built in the first place. It fucked up the roots on my avocado tree.”

“It’s a joint fence. Neighbors usually pitch in for that kind of stuff, asshole. At least normal neighbors do. You know I talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood when you refused to pay and all of them agree that you’re being a stuck-up prick about it?”

“You know that I also talked shit about you to everyone in the neighborhood and they said the same exact thing about you?”

“Wha–” you gasp, blinking a few times from the betrayal, then mutter “...those two-faced bitches” under your breath.

“So,” he pulls his sleeve back to glance at his watch, “what did you want? I’ve only got thirty minutes to talk before I need to head to an open house.” He brings his cup of coffee to his lips.

“Oh. Right. Just a favor,” you say, “I was wondering if you could marry me.”

He almost spits out his coffee.

“E-Excuse me?” he croaks out, exasperated, and he’s coughing a little bit as he hits his chest with a fist to alleviate the irritation in his throat from some hot coffee that went down the wrong pipe.

“I mean, if it’s not an issue, I’d really appreciate it if you could marry me,” you attempt to clarify, but you realize you probably should’ve thought a little more about how you were going to ask him this, and now you’re too deep to backtrack, so you just hope you’ll find the conversation along the way.

He’s looking at you like you’ve got six heads, brow furrowed and mouth hanging open slightly with that what the fuck? face you see him wear sometimes. But then he sits up a bit straighter, expression morphing into a curious one as he studies your face, head tilting a little in his scrutinization. Then, his face relaxes entirely. He has this knowing look as he nods up and down slowly, like he just figured something out, and then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose in some type of faux frustration. And you don’t understand why you’re already seethingly angry about what he’s going to say next.

“Oh god,” he sighs, “I knew this day would come.”

“Huh?” you squeak out.

“Listen,” he says as he crosses his arms, but one of his hands comes out from where it was tucked in his elbow to waive around in the air as he articulates his words, “I know that I’m very charming, and handsome, and chivalrous, one might say the modern knight in shining armor–”

“Satoru.”

“–and yes, I’ve seen the way you look at me,” he dramatically sighs, “when I’m taking the groceries up the driveway…when I’m out mowing the lawn…when I stretch on the sidewalk before I go for a run. I feel your eyes on me like a hawk. Quite frankly, you look at me like I’m a piece of meat, and I feel very violated by it sometimes–”

“What the fuck are you talking about???”

“But I get it. Really, I do. There’s no need to be embarrassed about it–”

“I’m not embar–”

“It was really only a matter of time before you would do this. So overcome by your feelings for me that you just had to go against the grain of centuries of matrimonial standards and swallow your gigantic pride to propose to me.” 

“Oh my god, what the fuck are you saying–”

“But,” he says, collecting himself now, and taking in a deep breath, “my answer is no. I mean, I shouldn’t have to explain why. But I will. First of all, where the hell is my ring? Secondly, why aren’t you on one knee in front of me right now? Also, in a cafe? Really? I thought you would’ve known I’d have liked something a little bit more romantic than this. Y’know, private, but also where my family’s somewhere around the corner. Maybe by the beach–”

“Can you stop talkin–”

“–while the sun is setting, and I’m wearing a nice dress, and there’s bubbles in the air and rose petals on the sand, and you tell me how enamored you’ve always been of me, and how you can’t wait to spend the rest of your life with me,” he indulgently sighs, “I mean, it’s every guy’s dream. But nooooo, of course you’ve got no taste or sense for romance in any capac–”

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, FORGET THIS,” you stand up out of your chair, fast enough to where it almost falls backwards, and you grab your purse to sling over your shoulder, “I cannot believe I actually thought this plan would ever fucking work.” You’re about to walk away from the table, because you’re realigned with the wisdom of exactly why you can’t stand this man, when his hand reaches out quickly to grasp onto your wrist, to keep you still, and you jump a little from the contact. You look down, his hand unrelenting in its grip as his knuckles flex slightly, and you’re not sure if he’s ever touched you from how foreign the sensation feels.

“Wait,” he says, and when you look at him, his eyes are a little wide like a puppy, “you’re being serious?”

You yank your wrist out of his grip, but the warmth of his touch still lingers, and you wrap your own hand around it to distract yourself from it. “Why would I just ask you to marry me out of nowhere if I wasn’t being serious?”

He gives you a look like the answer to your question is obvious. “Uh, to fuck with me?”

You’re still holding onto your wrist, protectively pressing it against your chest with your back turned away from him slightly, and you look up at the sky for a brief second. Hm, perhaps you could have brought the favor up a bit better, and you realize it might’ve sounded insane on his end, and you’re also still thinking about the tens of thousands of dollars you could save if he said yes, and so you hesitantly open your body language up to him again.

“Just sit,” he sighs.

You take a seat across from him again, hands finding the warm coffee cup in front of you and you purse your lips together before tucking your bottom lip under your front teeth. You take a deep breath before speaking again. “I…I’m being serious. I was wondering if you could marry me as a favor, and not because I think you’re some type of irresistible man candy, god, where do you get your gigantic ego from?”

“I–”

“Rhetorical question, shut it.”

He blinks at you. “What favor are you asking for that’ll be satisfied by me marrying you?”

You twiddle with your thumbs. “I want to put my mom in hospice,” you say, eyes flickering down slightly because you’re worried you’re about to tear up from the words, but when you realize you’ve got enough conviction not to, you look back up at him, and his eyes on you are a little too observant, “most of the hospices in town are further away than I’d like, and really expensive, but I heard there was a Kaiser one nearby…and that a lot of the costs are covered by insurance. So, if you married me, I could send my mom there. And also, under your insurance, the care network would be better, so I could get her a new oncologist and neurologist, and I’d know she’s being taken care of. And…” you clear your throat, “well, it’ll be a lot less expensive, so I can start to catch up on…well, whatever, you get the picture.”

His eyes narrow at you in thought, and he glances at your hands on the table that are nervously fidgeting, and then his eyes meet yours again. “I’m not sure if you can add a…spouse’s parent to a healthcare plan?”

“You can,” you say, “I already called to ask.”

“Oh.”

“Mhm.”

Gojo hums to himself, laying his palms flat on his thighs and rubbing them back and forth on the taut fabric a few times as he thinks with his gaze set off somewhere in the distance. It seems like he’s running through some algorithm of thoughts in his head, and then he slowly nods to himself when he’s made a decision.

“Sure, I’ll do it,” he says.

“Y-You will?” you ask him. You’re uneasy at how easy it was to convince.

“Yeah. I like your mom. She’s a sweet lady, and I want to see her get better.”

His words touch you. And not from the distance of a ten foot pole like you’d usually allow, but more intimate somehow. And you get the feeling you should thank him, but you’re still pissed off from when he almost ran you over on your own driveway earlier this week. 

“Really?” you make sure, almost like you’re hoping he’ll change his mind because now you’re suspicious as to why he agreed so quickly. And you realize he’s already making you paranoid.

“Yeah. I’m saying yes to your proposal, y/n,” he says, “I mean, a marriage is just a legal agreement. Not a big deal. I’d want a prenup though, for obvious reasons. In case you’re a gold digger.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re too cheap to even pitch in for a fucking fence. You think I’d believe you’ve got any gold to dig?”

He sighs. “I said in case.”

“Well, anyways, we can work out logistics and paperwork or whatever later,” you say, and you extend your hand out for him to shake it.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “Um. You’re going to make me shake your hand over this?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, “it’s the diplomatic thing to do.”

“Yes,” he says, “for a diplomatic agreement.”

“Precisely,” you say. “That’s exactly what this is.”

He hesitantly brings his hand up to shake yours, but you quickly withdraw yours at the last second. “Nevermind. I don’t want to touch you.”

“Okay,” he easily accepts, “not how I expected to celebrate getting engaged, but whatever. By the way, when’s the wedding? Are we doing, like, a shotgun destination type vibe? Or something a bit more grand?”

“Just be at the courthouse at noon on Sunday.”

“What?! This weekend? That’s too soon,” he panics, “I need time to pick out a dress, and I need to figure out who my bridesmaids are going to be, and–”

“Satoru. Seriously. Just–...just shut the fuck up. Before the headache that you’ve already given me gets worse.”

You two sit in silence for a moment, him just mindlessly staring at a butterfly that landed on the plant at the center of the table, and you just stare off into the void past him while contemplating every life decision you’ve ever made. But that’s how it always was between you two. As much as you hated to admit it, you were jealous of him in a lot of ways. In every way that you were fucked up, he was nonchalant without a care in the world. You wish you knew what that sort of peace felt like, and you wondered if he could show you. Maybe someday when he doesn’t piss you off.

“So,” he interrupts your thoughts, “are you gonna take my last name?”

“Fuck no, I’d rather die.”

“Alright, jeez, I was just asking.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 1]

a/n. yayy!!! he said yes!! omg congrats on ur engagement!! haha this was a lot of fun to writeee :'') i've got sm fun ideas for this fic. yea this chap was supposed to be longer lol there's still some groundwork to lay w the side quests, but will def cover more of that in the next chapter!!! tysm to everyone that wanted to be on taglist omg i hope that you enjoyed <33 love uuu guysss smmmm also my bad if some stuff doesnt make sense i'm tryna be less perfectionist when i'm editing so that i don't go insane 😍

➸ take me to chapter two!

taglist: @tremendousbouquetflower @cowgirlcujoh @joemama-2 @shinypearlywhites @sykosugu @lovebittenbyevans @luqueam @bloopsstuff @horisdope @alwaysfreakingout @crammingqueen @rideofthevalkyriess @lavender-hvze @gojocock @ceni707 @jxvajxy @catobsessedlady @madaqueue @bbyxxm @gojostit @nixie-19 @cheezitcracker @polarbvnny @cactisjuice @sleepyyammy @lysaray @k4tsukiis @kortanasworld @megumisthirdog @slut-4-gojo @drakenswifeyy @njoxuzi @elernity @jujutsubaby @secretmoneybearvoid @bunny-lily @strawberrygirl0 @httpxxg @bsdicinindirdim @v4mpieres @nanamis-baker @therealestpussyeater @air3922 @13-09-01 @marija4674 @whereflowerswenttodie @geniejunn @bakuhoethotski @ricaliscious @77uchiha77 @hellowoolf @tobaccosunbxrst @possumwho @nvrgojover @kittygrimm88 @samistars @shiin-ye @billiondollarworth @mmeerraa @fjorjestertealeaf @reinam00n @semra4 @st4ryki @new-weather47 @coltsgf @meownuuuu @strawnanamilk @lees-chaotic-brain @ironhottubstranger @spindyl @aise-30 @dunghirse @r0ckst4rjk @44ina @4y3sh4 @lindyloomoo @sweetpo1son @levisfavoriteteashop @delfiiii @fushitoru @gojosimp26 @beabadobeee @astrokenny @horisdope @muchlov3ashley @geniejunn @the-dark-creature @gojonegs @ritzes28 @mo0nforme @drownedpoetss

hope yalls fries never get soggy ever 💕

[radracer]

I love that after all these years of posting old cars that there’s still special additions and add-on’s that I’m learning about 😀

The V75 Liquid Tire Chain was a rare 1969-only option for most Chevrolets (excluding wagons and pickups). It featured rear nozzles that sprayed a traction fluid onto the tires, improving grip on snow and ice. Though short-lived, this unique system added safety and innovation to winter driving, making it a prized feature among collectors today.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

The V75 Liquid Tire Chain was a rare 1969-only option for most Chevrolets (excluding wagons and pickups). It featured rear nozzles that sprayed a traction fluid onto the tires, improving grip on snow and ice. Though short-lived, this unique system added safety and innovation to winter driving, making it a prized feature among collectors today.

[thepixelelf]

[lavender mist] Your laughter bounces off the walls of the apartment, which only makes Jihoon’s evil grin widen.

“Stay back bitch!” you all but screech. “I know how to use this!”

He stands only a few feet away, arms held halfway up as if he’s going to pounce on you at any second. All sweaty, Jihoon’s just come back from the gym, and he threatened you with a gross, damp hug as soon as he walked through the door. Normally you wouldn’t care that much, but you just had a shower.

“Are you trying to spray-bottle train me like a cat right now?”

He points at the Febreze in your hand, eyes going thin at the endearing sight before him.

You scoff and move your trigger finger closer to the handle. “This is Mediterranean Lavender, you little shit. It’s known to kill.”

“I knew we should’ve gone with Honey Berry Hula,” he jokes. Still, he doesn’t back off, and you both slowly circle each other, keeping eye contact all the while.

Despite your (very totally) scary threats, Jihoon lunges forward, and you scream, jumping out of the way just before he can wrap you in his big sweaty arms. He chases you throughout the apartment, his laughter loud enough to be heard through the walls. Your neighbours have to hate you by now.

“Stop chasing me, you lunatic!”

“Stop being ungrateful!” Jihoon says as he runs after you. “I never give you hugs!”

“That doesn’t mean–” You find yourself trapped in a corner, your arm held out straight and pointing the nozzle at Jihoon’s face. “–I want your gross gym smell on me.”

He only smiles again and holds his arms up invitingly, as if you’d want to get all up in that sweat. Ew. “Who’d turn this away?”

“I will use this,” you warn. “You’re going to have lavender in your system for days.”

Jihoon glances up, taking in the thought. “I can deal with that.”

He gives one last surge towards you and engulfs you in quite possibly the warmest hug you’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

“Jihoon,” you complain after an exaggerated gag, “you smell awful.”

He just hugs you tighter, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “You love it.”

“I absolutely do not.”

Raising his head, Jihoon flashes another annoyingly bright smile your way, and you can’t help but be a little endeared. “C’mere,” he says even though you’re about as close as two people can get. He takes your arms and raises them over his shoulders, laughing a bit when he’s met with no resistance.

His lips meet yours in a soft as light kiss, and maybe – only maybe – you enjoy it a little.

“You still smell like a gym floor,” you whisper against his lips.

He laughs, backing away, and you frown slightly at his smug expression.

“There’s an easy answer to that, you know.” He brings your hand with the Febreze between you, placing his thumb over your finger and pressing down. Lavender mist sprays into the air above you, and you both break out into laughter. That laughter, though, eventually turns into frenzied coughing.

“Oh my god.”

“That’s awful.”

“Why did we buy this?!”

[buttsandboltguns]

Cold Blood, Star's Heart

Officially speaking, RAKU-0793-1-MIL-CMDO “Anti” was a combat unit. Her cerebral simulation unit was mounted within a Neohuman Assault Chassis Mk.23, one of the most advanced milspec commando type frames available to the North American Coalition. It contained all the systems developed for the Special Emulation Response Effigy Mk.5, as well as additional improvements to the CSU interfacing and fine-motor control systems.

Unofficially, she was a search and rescue unit. But when most heard that, they laughed - a NAC.23 couldn’t do SAR operations. They were too sharp around the edges. Too rough. Not gentle enough. Too much like a dragon and not enough like a beloved hound. Not friendly enough. Not calming enough.

Not Human enough.

Her unit mates had nicknamed her “Antikythera”, for her ability to always guide them back to their extraction point by the stars and a compass alone. Although she had an internal compass subsystem, she used a physical one. It was more Human. They thought it was quirky and funny, and so she continued to carry a compass, despite the weight being better suited towards things such as bandages or an aluminum splint. But equipment efficiency meant little to being Human. She didn’t know what it was that she lacked that they had, but she would try to make up for it. Maybe the compass helped.

But her job didn’t require a compass. Her ocular array focused, zooming in over hundreds of meters as she picked out a major disturbance in a series of trees and foliage. With a single line of process code, her vision switched from visible spectrum to infrared, the bushes at the bottom of the rubble-covered hill glowing a harsh white from their radiant spectra. That must be the injured mountaineer. Introspection could wait until the rescue was complete.

Her servos whined gently to balance her as she slid down the rocky hill, then breaking into a jog along the pathway along the slope of the ridgeline. She felt her internal gyroscope compensate for the odd sway to her gait - right side secondary electrohydraulic system, 2% inefficiency, low on graphite lubricant - and ignored the system report that popped up in her vision range. It was promptly dismissed. Prioritize the rescue.

The bush readily yielded to her as she pulled it away from the injured individual. She did not bother processing their face - her sensory suite was already complaining about the detectable levels of saline in the air, along with the hormonal cocktail that was readily matched to cortisol. In the fraction of a second before she was fully noticed, she remembered - SAR means prioritize the rescue. Prioritizing the rescue meant preventing panic.

“There is no need to be alarmed,” she started, her voice monotone and delivered with a flat cadence, “I am with the search and rescue team. You are safe now.”

The Human startled, as expected, and she finally shouldered the bush out of the way. Now she could see the injury - a badly sprained ankle. Locally treatable with topical and oral anesthetic for the pain and an aluminum splint for transport. Time to get to work.

“You are injured. I am equipped to handle your injuries. Do you consent to this treatment?”

The statement always felt stale. Offputting. But it was required for droids - like her - to administer any sort of assistance. She felt off. Less Human.

The Human consented visually.

Her chestrig, riveted to the modular outer layers of her abrasion plating, contained the items she required. The topical anesthetic would be first - a spray, one designed to numb the locally affected area. The rescue target would typically complain about the chilliness of the spray.

Carefully, she gripped it with her right side manipulator array. Gentle pressure. There - exactly 3lbs of force. Just right. Pop the cap off with the other - oh, she cracked the lid. A later problem. Spray. Slightly too much force - the spray nozzle was jammed now, stuck in spray mode. Striking the nozzle against her forearm broke it off and unjammed the internal straw, letting the flow stop. It was a wasted can, but it would be a waste anyways. She let go of it into her drop pouch.

Next was the aluminum splint.

In the process of forming it correctly to the rescue target’s leg, she pinched with one pound too much force. A yelp and an utterance of “stupid effigy!” came from the Human.

The mistake was understandable. A civilian not in the field of simulacra, cerebral simulations, and Smart AIs couldn’t be expected to know the difference between an effigy and a droid.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt anyways.

She fixed the slightly-too-tight splint. It was optimal and bound to the leg properly. Behind her, she could hear her unit mates approaching - she would let them handle the rest of it.

The Human seemed to be more at ease being tended by their own kind, anyway.

She had to pretend that didn’t hurt as she stepped away, fading into the shadow of dusk. They wouldn’t be able to find her if they didn’t utilize a communicator module, but she could find them. It was better this way - watching over them all from a distance. Ensuring they got back safe. Every rescue reminded her of that.

She was a mispurposed unit. Designed for war and destruction, yet permitted to roam among the civilians of the N.A.C. Every rescue reminded her of that.

Each time she moved a little too fast and set everyone on edge reminded her of that. Every time she remembered details a little too clearly and made everyone uncomfortable reminded her of that.

Every time she didn’t pick up on some “implication” and messed up the joke reminded her of that.

That she would never be the same as them.

That few would deal with her as she was.

That she wasn’t Human enough.

And Antikythera slipped into the night.

[ktbofficial]

Greetings, this is @hra-official with our proposal for a burn-based weapons system. I must apologize for the convoluted setup, but since the omninode we're transmitting from is still registered under Landmark Colonial, we are unable to display our signature in this message.

Now, to the business at hand: there are two primary challenges with integrating a burn-based weapon system in the assets of Baronic United Command:

As we all know, such a weapon will frequently be used against forces equipped with Harrison Armory mechanized frames. Despite the many flaws of their design ethos, such frames are almost universally well equipeed to manage excess heat and are often hardened against incendiary weapons.

Given that a large portion of RKF chassis are optimized for melee or close-quarters combat, creating hazardous terrain on a front line is liable to be especially hazardous for BUC Kurassiers

The solution? Chemical burn.

As luck would have it, the Hercynian Hive Worm naturally secretes a powerful acid which rapidly corrodes metal and even stone, but is harmless to it's own living tissue. Hercynian Refurbished Armaments has just completed the tests of the first prototypes of a chemical projector capable of harnessing it.

[ID: several images follow. The first is a diagram of a nozzle connected to two nested tanks. The second through seventh are several photos of a Genghis Mk.1 being hosed by a sprayer like the one described by the diagram; they show the mech activating it's autocooler and explosive vents while rust-coloured smoke and brownish sludge leak from it's seams. As of the sixth images it's arms dangle limply at it's sides. In the seventh, armour plates are starting to come off]

As you can see, projector itself is compact enough to be attached to a main mount, although larger hardpoints my be used to supply it with bigger tanks.

The reason the tanks are nested is twofold: firstly, to prevent corrosion of the parent vehicle if they should be pierced; and seondly, to modulate the viscosity and corrosiveness of the payload.

This is needed for it's application in an anti-infantry role: mixed with the correct amount of neutralizing agent, the acid becomes fluid enough to be sprayed in a wide cone, capable of penetrating soft cover and coat a wide area. The partial neutralization of the acid also prevents it from causing burns on living tissues, while still retaining enough efficacy to render infantry-portable weapons and hardsuits ineffective.

In this configuration, the weapon is less-than-lethal while remaining capable of rendering infantry combat-ineffective, meaning that - unlike a flamethrower - using it has a very low risk of killing civilians caught in the crossfire, so long as they are promptly given medical attention.

Excellent. The use of a jungle predator's acid is, in the view of the Jungle Warfare Commission, a slashing moment of brilliance - the nested tanks a further triumph.

We have two questions for you:

Is the projected acid of equivalent weight to a conventional flamethrower's fuel?

Is it easily synthesized by a printer or bioreplicating cloning machine?

Aside from these, this looks to be quite good. We will conduct comparative trials of this weapon system against the one proposed by Revved-and-Ready, and shall return with a decision.

Thank you for your time.

[fluitech]

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[hawkherps]

Sigma's new enclosure is finished!

well, mostly. I want to get another branch or tube or plant or something in that top right corner to fill in the empty space, assuming the monster dracaena doesn't realize it now has an extra foot of vertical space and decide to conquer it. i'll give it a month or two and see how the dracaena adapts before putting something above it. I also want to see how the new pothos grows in, and how the old philodendron adapts. i actually removed two vines from the philo and cut the remaining two down to size a bit since they took over whatever space the dracaena didn't in the old enclosure, so i'm confident the philodendron will help fill in some of the currently empty space even if the dracaena and pothos decide not to.

for the enclosure itself, it's a Leap Habitats 22"x17"x36" enclosure and hoo boy it has its pros and cons... mostly cons. i haven't seen many reviews for these enclosures that aren't from popular youtubers or reddit threads from over a year ago, so here's my opinions below:

i've moved several times so i greatly appreciate how light the enclosure is even fully planted, and being able to screw branches and tubes and other things into the walls instead of having to use spray foam (and then either silicone or the grout method) to mount them is really nice. both are pluses over the glass exoterra 18"x18"x24" Sig has called home since he was given to me. i loved that enclosure but after moving three times with it (once before i made it bioactive) i was not a fan of the weight.

this doesn't apply to me right now, but i do see it as a plus that they included the little spots in the corners of the top that you can pop out to easily install mister nozzles through. i don't know if these holes fit non-Leap misting systems without modification, but it's certainly simpler than some of the setups i've seen for getting misters installed in traditional enclosures like exoterras.

Sigma is... not a great hunter. his method of hunting black soldier flies, for example, is to slam his face as hard as possible into them. this is another big reason i wanted him out of the glass enclosure-- i'm genuinely worried about him injuring himself with the force at which i've watched him bounce his face off the walls and door of the exoterra enclosure. so the softer, less rigid walls and acrylic door are a plus for that alone.

now for the downsides...

i'm really not a huge fan of how flimsy the acrylic door is. if it was a liiiittle thicker i'd probably like it more. the very simple method for the door hinge also means that when open, the door is misaligned, so i have to remember to slightly lift it when i go to close it so it will fit back in its space and close properly. this could be related to the low quality control that i've heard other people report regarding Leap (and experienced myself further below)

the base also leaks. they do sell external water catch trays in case of leakage, but i feel like they should come with the trays instead of the tray being optional, since the design of these things is basically guaranteed to leak without modification.

i didn't encounter this myself because i'd already seen warnings about this and didn't bother trying, but silicone and expanding foam won't adhere to the sides without help. Leap recommends using wall anchors for the foam to hold onto, but there's no real solution for silicone. this is annoying, because being able to seal the damned thing with silicone would GREATLY help the above leaking problem because you could just silicone around the rivets and internal plastic liner so that the leaking wouldn't be an issue. sealants that do bond to polypropylene don't strike me as being safe for use inside a reptile enclosure, especially a bioactive one.

it was also a BITCH to put together. i sort of expected this because a couple reviews i read before buying stated that the quality control is not the best. Leap has several videos on their youtube showcasing how to assemble the enclosures straight out of the box, and the provided instructions in the box are simple enough to follow, but i had to make some minor modifications in order to get the enclosure together due to ill-fitting pieces (for example, the screen top, which also keeps the walls in shape, did not actually fit on top of the walls like it was supposed to and i had to pry some sections open wide enough to actually get the damned thing in place). the alignment pin that goes in the front right of the base also did not want to be flush with the base like it's supposed to be.

all that being said, right now i would still be willing to get another, smaller Leap enclosure in the future for my mourning geckos or another gecko species. whether i actually do get another of their enclosures will really depend on how this one for Sig holds up. the lightness and ease of customization were the entire reasons i ordered this enclosure instead of a similarly sized (24x"18"x36") glass one, so we'll eventually see if that's truly worth the troubleshooting and outright downsides to these enclosures or not.

[lightlessentwine]

OC Profile Board- You may Direct asks at them at any time.

Mina, The Lightless Entwine: [they/them]

Roguish in nature, Mina's a technician of sorts that can construct mechanisms and utilize materials of the outside world to harness power extrinsically. Their ability to do this comes from a lifetime of scavenging and petty thievery to get by and thus doesn't really know *what* exactly it is that they're doing-- just that materials can be linked in a manner of ways. it's almost innate to how their brain seems to work..

their journey started as one to learn everything the world had to offer, but it eventually became a nightmare after realizing they'd been trapped in a cycle of burning the same erdtree in the same lands, over and over again.

with each cycle, a large portion of their memory would fade, but never all of it.. they'd retain aspects; echoes, of previous iterations, until they finally retained the pang of terror that was the knowledge of this curious affliction. with this, the journey became one of self-discovery and philosophical pondering.

Interpersonal Traits: Kind but Bluntly-Spoken, thus often interpreted as Rude. Socially Aware but in a way that they use body language as half of the words they "speak" when in trusted company.

Nima, the Half-Moon Tide [they/them]

a mirror to Mina and a pirate of a very small crew. They never really asked to be lord and simply plundered. Nima's self-appointed goal was to learn to harness a forespoke black flame, having heard it "mighta lost its luster, but was quite a firm negotiator." while burning the erdtree had been a sort of side-requisite to becoming a self-appointed "Pirate-Lord."

They take no interest in theirself beyond their own merit and prefer to simply help anybody who asks, "so long as the shit don't stink."

it took plundering the entire lands between and burning the erdtree before they realized something..; they have no clue how or when they got there. almost laughably, they shrugged this off claiming all they wanted to be was a pirate anyhow.

I.T's: Jovial and Sarcastic, but Cold when they feel slighted. quick to snap at misinterpretations of their facetiousness even though its on them to be clear and concise to strange faces.

Cult Lord Bardier [He/Him]

Bardier is an odd man with an odd goal: to fuse every know material in the lands between, if just to know what happens.. he has a small cult following due to this, hence the moniker.

his twisted brand of brilliance not only makes him highly effective but his attire is essentially an exosuit that he can no longer be separated from; an exceptional (if grim) work of engineering beyond any known technology in the lands between. under the armor plating hides a network of hoses, intricate mechanisms, and rare materials in which he's used to hard-build himself to his suit. this network allows certain liquids and gases to permeate his respiratory and circulatory systems (his bloodstream is sometimes used as a catalyst to form other substances). the pressure differential he maintains to the outside world makes a constant, hollow and airy noise; it allows him to constantly "inhale" until he chooses to either hold the pressure inside the suit or exhale it. although this does cause him a great deal of pain, he has become mentally numb to it for the most part.

Bardier has mastered the art of "flame-throwing," (and as such has an inhuman pain tolerance to heat) in which he may use aspects of his suit in tandem to spray fire from his fingertips or mouth. by super-heating flammable substances from his bloodstream via compressor/sublimator, The suit makes a haunting whistling and creaking as the pressure builds. Bardier "exhales" the various mixtures from the nozzles while the tips of the fingers and a segment near the mandibles of his helm can produce a spark which helps ignite many fuels

Bardier makes the average witness shudder in his semi-inhuman presence and seemingly alien demeanor

I.T's: cryptic to the point of nye uselessness to the average person who dares speak to him. he is a bit hard to understand due to the way the suit has been integrated to his organic parts (burning, scarring from overuse and some hoses protruding from the sides of his neck). a body language that comes across as not only mystifying, but as a complete disregard to the comfort of those he interacts with

The Hound of Eochaid

(this is less of an OC and moreso just Cú Chulainn, the "Hound of Culain" from Irish folklore. his presence in the Lands Between does not add up 1:1 with his actual mythology and therefore i don't intend on doing asks as him as it stands)

"The Alchemist" [he/him; doesn't actually care]

He has never given a name and simply claims to be a truth-seeker. Although a friendly face and a willing cooperator, he tends to show up as quickly as he disappears, and is mostly only glimpsed by other tarnished while observing landscapes from peculiar perches. he leaves most with a single visit before becoming virtually untrackable. his existence is only noted through a handful of tarnished claims who were able to corroborate his details.

one of the few claims he's made of himself is simply that his own identity does not matter "so long as the secrets of the world are seen through him." if contacted, he may spout on rather monotonously for long periods of time, but his words prove invaluable and often permanently perspective-altering. for this reason, he has a small but dedicated following much like Bardier, although the two have never met.

I.T's: not exactly socially adept, but unconcerned with the fact. by far the best spoken of the bunch with an otherworldly degree of extrospection; it makes him think he does not need close physical relations

[abookishdreamer]

Character Intro: Elais (Kingdom of Ichor)

Nicknames- Mother by Komos

Auntie E by Pandaisia

Ms. Slick by Dione

Age- 42 (immortal)

Location- Corinth, Olympius

Personality-She has a taste for the finer things in life with a deep love of art, traveling, and beings. There's a sophisticated touch to her cleverness & persuasion- in business and in everyday life. She's currently dating.

She has the standard abilities of a goddess. As the goddess of oil her other powers/abilities include oleokinesis (oil generation/manipulation), limited alcokinesis (lesser than the extent of her younger sister), being able to turn berries into olives, napalm manipulation (pyro-oleumkinesis), having an innate sense of finding spots where oil happens to be the richest, and gasoline manipulation (venzínikinesis).

Elais is a member of The Oenotropae. Her younger sisters are the other members- Oeno (goddess of berries & wine) and Spermo (goddess of grains). Other members of her immediate family includes her son Komos (god of revelry), her niece Pandaisia (goddess of banquets), as well as her ex-husband Agathodaemon (Daemon) (god of vineyards, grainfields, & luck).

Her primary residence is her mansion in the state of Corinth. The inside is very sleek and modern with the color scheme being dark green, brown, cream, nude, & black. Many modern art paintings and pieces decorate the walls while the flooring is a streakless marble with jade gold accents. There are stone & marble finishes in her bathroom with glass shower doors. She loves the shower system- one of the most expensive at 14,000 drachmas! The Rainmaker shower comes with a touch screen panel that can slect the rain curtain, head & body sprays, mist spray, colored UV light, and even a fragrance mist. The showerhead nozzles are also self-cleaning. There's a seperate bathtub too.

Elais generally gets around in her chic jade green electric sports car. When traveling out of state, she travels by private plane (her boyfriend's) or by ferry.

Her & her sisters are natives of Delos. They visit their homeland annually where they stay at the vacation beach house they equally own.

For breakfast Elais will typically eat a green breakfast bowl- which has cauliflower rice, green onions & chives, a fried egg, sliced avocado, kale, & a bit of freshly squeezed lime juice. She'll also eat a bowl of Earthly Harvest raisin crunch cereal, avocado toast, a green smoothie bowl (made with frozen mango & pineapples, yogurt, coconut water, spinach, and mint) that's topped with sliced kiwi, unsweetened coconut flakes, & chia seeds, or a healthy breakfast burrito- made with scrambled egg whites, turkey sausage, sliced avocado, and spinach.

She's fluent in Minoan.

To start off her day properly, she'll enjoy a relaxing bubble bath with a few drops of rose oil added to the bathwater.

Elais also uses rose oil on her face & body instead of lotion.

When the Titanomachy reached it's height of absolute danger, her and her sisters imposed a period of exile on themselves, seeking refuge & safety in the Underwater realm.

Elais wears her straight shoulder length dark burgundy brown hair sleek and straight. She's also fond of the "wet hair" look style- by mixing the Glory's Crown olive oil curling glaze & pomemade then applying the ambrosia honey shine serum to finish off the look.

She loves her sisters, feeling a bit more maternal towards her baby sis Spermo- always calling & texting to check up. Elais, at times, relates more to Oeno considering that they both went through a divorce. The sisters all have matching bracelets that they wear often- a 24K gold chain with three connecting gemstones that represent each of them. A rhodolite garnet gemstone represents Oeno, a peridot gemstone represents Elais, while a pale yellow sapphire gemstone represents Spermo.

A go-to drink for her is a glass of white wine. She also likes champagne, rosé wine, classic martines, grape juice, coconut water, olive juice, iced tea, grape cola, manhattans, pomegranate juice, & cubatas. A usual from The Roasted Bean is a large mint tea latte.

Her favorite snack are tortilla chips with guacamole dip. She also loves dill pickle gourmet popcorn.

Elais hasn't been close to her son since his induction ceremony. She understands that Komos need to find himself and experience independence, so she tries not to hover too much. Even if Komos doesn't reply to her texts, she feels the tiniest bit of comfort knowing that he reads them.

Her favorite frozen treat is green grape sorbet. She always gets an olympian sized cup at The Frozen Spoon.

Elais owns three businesses. There's the cooking oil brand Kitchen Alchemy. Cooking oils like olive, canola, vegetable, avocado, sunflower, peanut, grapeseed, & many others are made and bottled to be sent out to grocery stores & supermarkets throughout Olympius to be sold. Cooking sprays are also made and sold. There's also the oil refinery company Solaris Petroleum as well as the body oil brand named NECTAR. Her personal favorite from the brand is the rose petal body oil. NECTAR has an official website and Elais has struck up a new distribution deal with Philyra (goddess of perfume, paper, & beauty) for her body oils to be sold in nationwide Olmorfia stores.

Guilty pleasures for her include the green poke bowl from The Ocean Roll, an Olympian burger with extra pickles from Olympic Chef, and a slice of black olive pizza.

In the pantheon Elais is friends with Damia (goddess of naturalness), Aegle (goddess of good health), Ichnaea (goddess of tracking), Pherusa (goddess of substance & farm estates), Amphictyonis (Amy) (goddess of diplomacy), Hestia (goddess of the hearth), Anchiale (Titaness of fire), Apheleia (goddess of simplicity), Nymphe (goddess of self-care), Anatole (goddess of sunrise), The Nesoi, Hesperis (goddess of the evening & sunset), Demeter (goddess of the harvest & agriculture), Nárkosi (goddess of sedation), Theia (Titaness of sight & heavenly light), Kéfi (goddess of mirth), Eunostos (goddess of the flour mill), and Promylaia.

She's still friendly with her former brother-in-law Záchari (god of confectionery).

Her all time favorite dessert is the karithopita from Hollyhock's Bakery.

Elais has no bad feelings towards her ex. She's aware of his girlfriend Panigýri (goddess of festivals). They even met briefly.

At her most recent birthday she was gifted with the Diamond Ave. martini glass jeweled clutch from Kéfi. It's usually Elais' accessory on a night out.

Her and Anchiale are currently taking ballroom dance classes together! Afterwards, they'll stop at her place for a glass of wine.

She goes to the annual olive festival in Athens every year!

Elais once went to the Olympian Gala, where the theme for the event was Zíto i Athína! She wore a floor length olive green satin off-the-shoulder gown from Luxuria. Her hair was styled in an elegant low chignon. She completed the look with metallic silver satin pumps, a headpiece from a mortal fashion designer Melina Menounos (a headband topped with a solid gold dove that has an oilve wreath in its mouth), and a 24K gold floating peridot & diamond ring from Euryphaessa that she wore on her pointer finger. The ring alone was 17,000 drachmas. Elais said that her look was inspired by Athena (goddess of wisdom).

As for her dating life Elais is currently dating an oil tycoon, a cyclops named Aimilios. They initially met at as a business deal near the Prinos oil field, located in the northern Aegean Sea. They both wanted rights to the area to develop it for their respective companies. She was immediately put off by his arrogant & overbearing personality, but Elais also found his tenacity strangely appealing. When they found themselves at the same restaurant in Lemnos, they both shared a drink. She found him to be stiff, humorless, and very sexy. They ended up hooking up that same night. Most days Elais can't stand to be in the same room as him and finds how Aimilios tries to control everything to be annoying. She does love how he takes control in the bedroom and tells her what to do. It drives Elais crazy!

Her all time favorite meal is oxtails with rice and peas. She loves when the meat falls off the bone.

In her free time Elais enjoys surfing, tennis, swimming, golf, sunbathing, cooking, dancing, going to art galleries, going to museums, shopping, going to the cinema, reading, oil painting, and spending time with friends & family.

"The lamp burns bright when wick and oil are clean."

[shaktimanagro]

Protektor 600 is a self-propelled high clearance boom sprayer, especially designed with a wider boom span for extensive coverage of crops. During spraying it ensures minimum damage to tall crops like cotton, sunflower, paddy & chilly due to higher ground clearance. Equipped with advanced nozzles which blast the spray into low micron droplet size, it assures ample penetration into crops with top to bottom leaf coverage and reduced chemical consumption. The hydrostatic transmission system & 4WD brings operating smoothness, agility and flexibility.

Features :

Pendulum Boom Pivot Mechanism High Ground Clearance Ceramic Nozzle Tips Power Steering Digital Control Panel

* The Company reserves absolute rights to modify the specifications of machine and components therein without any prior notice.

[usafphantom2]

Not only JP-7: the SR-71 could use JP-4 and JP-5 as emergency fuels but they both limited the Blackbird top speed to Mach 1.5

JP-7, the fuel that powered the SR-71 Blackbird caused a nationwide shortage of bug spray. Here’s why.

The SR-71 Blackbird was the first aircraft to use its own fuel for hydraulic fluid. It was called the fuel hydraulic system.

The legendary SR-71 Blackbird Mach 3+ spy plane was powered by two 34,000 lbf (151,240 N) thrust-class J58 afterburning turbojet engines. Each engine contained a nine-stage compressor driven by a two-stage turbine. The main burner used an eight-can combustor and the afterburner is fully modulating. The primary nozzle area was variable. Above Mach 2.2, some of the airflow was bled from the fourth stage of the compressor and dumped into the augmentor inlet through six bleed-bypass tubes, circumventing the core of the engine and transitioning the propulsive cycle from a pure turbojet to a turbo-ramjet.

The SR-71 was the first aircraft to use its own fuel for hydraulic fluid. It was called the fuel hydraulic system.

An engine-driven pump provided 1800 psi of recirculating fuel to accurate various engine components and then returned it back to the aircraft fuel system to be burned. Fuel was used in the actuators to control the afterburner nozzles, which maintain the proper exhaust gas temperature and control the thrust output. The fuel was also used in the engine actuators to shift the two-position inlet guide veins from their axial position to the cambered position and back again. This was just another of the many first-ever inventions of the-SR-71.

The J58 engine was hydromechanically controlled and burned a special low volatility jet fuel mixture known as JP-7.

SR-71 print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

Emergency fuels could be used in the SR-71 if the crew was low on fuel and had to use ANY tanker (as already explained the Blackbird relied on KC-135Q tankers [that could simultaneously carry a maximum of 74,490lb of JP-7 and 110,000lb of JP-4 for their own engines] but the SR-71 could also be refueled by standard Stratotankers in the event KC-135Qs were not available or if the Blackbird crew had to deal with an emergency situation) they could find to avoid the loss of the aircraft. The emergency fuels were JP-4 or JP-5 but they limited the Blackbird top speed to Mach 1.5. There were six main fuselage tanks. All 80,285 pounds of JP-7 fuel were carried in six main fuselage tanks. The tanks numbered one through six moved forward to aft (back) tank 6B It could hold 7,020 pounds of gravity-fed fuel and two tanks sumps. This was also called the “doghouse” and was located in the extreme back portion of the fuselage.

These are just a few interesting facts that I found by reading Rich Graham’s “SR 71 Revealed the inside story.” This book was published in 1996 before some of the facts about the SR-71 became unclassified. Last year when I was visiting SR-71 #972 one of my Grandson’s friends asked me “Why is this airplane so big? My immediate answer was… they needed the room to hold as much fuel as possible.

Fuel was the lifeblood of this fastest-manned airplane in the world.

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Facebook Pages Habubrats SR-71 and Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

[specksizedgoddess]

Fuck, it certainly hasn't made me less horny about gassing it with RAID. Watching it finger itself as I press the nozzle through its air hole day after day. Seeing how quickly it squirts when I put tape across the hole for a day, forcing it to live on just the air already in its jar, the fumes mixing with the ever growing pool of carbon dioxide at the bottom, making it hallucinate in horny bliss every time it breathes it in, as overhead a growing cloud of deadly carbon monoxide forms, slowly sinking towards it with every breath, until just before the invisible poison reaches it and ends its barely conscious existence, I pull the tape off and spray it with compressed air, oxygen flooding its system and making it feel so high before a new nozzle pushes into the jar and gives it its daily dose.

Sometimes giving it orders to earn its RAID, at first refused, but soon obeyed without hesitation as its brain melts. "Fuck the nozzle." It struggles desperately to grab ahold of it and force its wet hole onto the thick pole that delivers its favourite drug, cumming instantly as a burst of spray fills it and shoots it off the nozzle to crash back onto the bottom of the jar, a burning agony of pleasure spreading from its hole as it absorbs the spray. "Swallow it." The nozzle bumping against its face until it wraps its lips around it and tries to swallow the overly thick tube, gagging slightly before its stomach is inflated like a balloon, the nozzle the only thing keeping the spray and fumes from pouring back out, and when the nozzle's pulled out, its mouth and nostrils are filled with the vapours, unable to breathe without constantly inhaling it, spasming on the verge of life and death, its brain melting further with every gasp for breath until finally some of the stale air in the jar makes it into its lungs~

Denying it its ""''water""" one day, watching as its thin, atrophied form begins to sway with thirst, before pulling it out of the jar and binding its limbs with rubber bands, its wings crunching prettily beneath the bands, forcing it headfirst into my pussy, getting it nice and wet and lubricated as it tries to slurp up my juices, before pushing its head into my urethra and forcing it to drink my piss straight from the source, soaking its body as it's slowly forced out of my tight hole with a full belly, dumping the pissrag back into its jar and giving it an extra intense spray for good measure. This becoming a frequent occurrence.

Binding it up straight and using it as a squirming dildo, or forcing its legs flat against its body, ignoring its moans of pain, hooking it into a harness and forcing its tight hole onto my swollen, bulbous clit before using it as a strap-on to fuck my friends, telling it that its next week of RAID doses will be determined by how many orgasms it gives them.

Letting my fiends fuck it whenever they think it's put on a good enough show. One of them binding it up tight and sliding it foot first into her girlcock, the last sight it sees before being fully engulfed is me smiling and waving. Spending the rest of the day writhing and struggling for air inside the tight, flaccid hole, bent in all kinds of directions as my friend goes about her day. Then feeling her tighten and harden around it, straightening out, its entire body drowning in the sound of her heartbeat as it starts to race, air becoming thinner as a familiar pungent moisture replaces it. Barely conscious as she begins pulsing, her cock crushing down on it, then suddenly flooding it with girlcum, its body too tight against the walls for the girlcum to squeeze past, forcing every drop into its holes, swelling it up and locking it more tightly inside. Eventually another wave of pressure comes as she starts to soften and loosen, and it's squirted out in a stream of piss. I'm there with my friend to scoop it out of her piss and girlcum and put it back in its jar and spray it nice and thoroughly, the taste of my juices and hers still on its tongue as it drifts off to sleep, its broken stubs of wings flittering as it imagines how I'll use it tomorrow...

AHHEHRYYEYYSGDS OH MY GOD OH MY GOD IM SSO NORMAL IM SSOSRBE WAHSEW IM SO NORMAL IM ASSO SNDFISAJDHAHFHDW GOS

Little thing eagerly stroking her cock as she stares up at you, moaning happily every time it sees that nozzle~ probably small enough that the little cock could fit in the nozzle, fucking it eagerly... same results as if I had a pussy~

Its cute that you think of me with wings because I would never try to escape~ little thing could fly away, but it doesnt want to- and once its wings are destroyed, it never can... your own personal slut~

Cock throbbing as I huff the rank air, the scent of RAID like a drug to me, the sight of that bright red nozzle so exhilerating it sends me into a frenzy... at some point you'd have to pry me away from the nozzle, either trying to fuck it or trying to fit as much of it into my drooling maw as possible~

Watching me squirm helplessly against your inner walls, lapping up a mix of squirt and piss with eager, thankful moans~ hearing your friends laugh as I do another tease, desperate to get each and every one off so I can get my reward... more bugkiller~

And FUCK I would love that... cock twitching as I'm trapped in her shaft, grinding my own shaft against her inner walls, moaning eagerly~ thing stuffed with cum, so, so eager to crawl back... when I'm finally free, you can watch as I scramble to give a quick kiss to your friend's cocktip before letting you scoop me up...

Even cuter is listening~ put an ear up to that jar and you'll hear sleepy, eager whimpers and moans, little half baked sentences of praise and adoration~ little thing even dreams about you...