#Temperature and Humidity Meter

[sujooon]

Discover the Fluke 971 Temperature and Humidity Meter Unveiled with unmatched accuracy, perfect for professionals seeking precise climate monitoring solutions.

[labotronicsscientific]

Temperature and Humidity Meter

Labotronics temperature and humidity is a portable, handheld meter measures humidity and temperature levels with dew point indicator.The sensors change its electrical properties with the surrounding environment and convert into respective reading mode.It measure temperature range at-35 °C~100 °C and humidity 0 % RH~100 % RH and display the results with its resoultions 0.1 °C/°F and 0.1 respectively.The dew point indicate moisture in the air can condense on surfaces and aware the risk of equipment corrosion.The unit automatically shuts down after 15 minutes of inactivity.

[fathimaglobo]

How a Thermo Hygrometer Can Help You Control Your Indoor Climate

Managing indoor climate goes beyond mere comfort—it affects health, productivity, and can influence the lifespan of your home or office structure. Although many are aware of air conditioners and humidifiers, fewer recognize one of the simplest but most effective tools for assessing and improving indoor conditions: the thermo hygrometer. 

This instrument gauges two essential environmental factors—temperature and humidity—and offers useful information regarding the performance of your indoor area. A thermo hygrometer is essential for maintaining comfort in your office, achieving ideal storage conditions, or preserving indoor air quality at home. 

Let’s analyze how this apparatus functions and why it is crucial for temperature regulation. 

1. What Is a Thermo Hygrometer?

A thermo hygrometer is a dual-function instrument that gauges: 

Temperature: The degree of warmth in the atmosphere (typically measured in °C or °F) 

Relative Humidity (RH): The quantity of water vapor in the air relative to the highest amount it can contain at a specific temperature (presented as a percentage). 

Contemporary models frequently feature digital screens, memory features, notifications, and even wireless or smart functionalities. They are small, cost-effective, and simple to set up in any indoor space. 

2. Why Monitoring Indoor Temperature and Humidity Matters

You may believe that your air conditioning unit or dehumidifier is functioning effectively—but if you're not measuring the outcomes, you're just making assumptions. A thermo hygrometer offers immediate information, allowing you to modify your settings for the best indoor comfort. 

Humidity levels have a considerable impact on our overall health. The optimal indoor humidity should be between 30% and 50%. Anything excessively low can lead to: 

Dehydrated skin and breathing difficulties 

Electrostatic energy 

Harm to wooden furniture 

Elevated humidity, conversely, may result in: 

Fungal and mildew development 

Stale smells 

Heightened allergens and dust mites 

Regulating temperature is vital—not only for comfort but also for health and energy conservation. Spaces that are too hot or too cold can impact sleep, focus, and energy expenses. 

3. Applications of Thermo Hygrometers in Daily Life

Thermo hygrometers are not solely for HVAC experts; they serve various practical purposes: 

Homes: Preserve comfort, particularly for babies, older relatives, or individuals with breathing difficulties. 

Offices: Enhance worker comfort and efficiency. 

Server rooms: Safeguard delicate electronic devices against moisture harm. 

Warehouses: Guarantee the correct storage of items such as paper, textiles, medicines, and food. 

Museums & Libraries: Safeguard historical objects, literature, and artworks. 

Greenhouses & Indoor Gardens: Foster optimal conditions for plant development. 

Portable thermo hygrometers can be used while traveling or working remotely to guarantee that you are consistently in a healthy atmosphere. 

4. How to Choose the Right Thermo Hygrometer

When choosing a thermo hygrometer, take into account these characteristics: 

Precision: Seek out elevated accuracy—particularly when it's applied in delicate settings such as labs or greenhouses. 

Display: Digital displays are easy to read, especially if they show both metrics simultaneously.

Memory/Logging: Helpful for monitoring patterns over time. 

Alarms: Establish minimum or maximum thresholds and receive notifications when conditions exceed defined limits. 

Connectivity: Certain contemporary devices provide Bluetooth or Wi-Fi capabilities for remote observation through mobile applications. 

Select a model that suits your requirements—be it a basic tabletop option for your home or a wall-mounted smart version for business purposes. 

Conclusion

Keeping the correct temperature and humidity levels is essential for health, comfort, and efficiency, not merely a luxury. A Thermo Hygrometer is a remarkably straightforward yet powerful tool that enables both individuals and businesses to track and enhance indoor environments instantly. 

If you are in Qatar and seeking trustworthy, high-accuracy indoor climate monitoring devices, AAM Trading provides a variety of professional-quality Thermo Hygrometers. With extensive experience in supplying industrial and environmental instruments, AAM Trading is a reliable name for quality and service. Regardless of whether it’s for your residence, workplace, or specialized facility, they offer a solution customized to your requirements. 

Check out their variety of products at AAM Trading and start your journey to a healthier and more efficient indoor space. 

[anbi-group]

UNI-T Mini Temperature & Humidity Meter UT333S

[nasa]

Roman's primary structure hangs from cables as it moves into the big clean room at NASA's Goddard Space Flight Center.

What Makes the Clean Room So Clean?

When you picture NASA’s most important creations, you probably think of a satellite, telescope, or maybe a rover. But what about the room they’re made in? Believe it or not, the room itself where these instruments are put together—a clean room—is pretty special. 

A clean room is a space that protects technology from contamination. This is especially important when sending very sensitive items into space that even small particles could interfere with.

There are two main categories of contamination that we have to keep away from our instruments. The first is particulate contamination, like dust. The second is molecular contamination, which is more like oil or grease. Both types affect a telescope’s image quality, as well as the time it takes to capture imagery. Having too many particles on our instruments is like looking through a dirty window. A clean room makes for clean science!

Two technicians clean the floor of Goddard’s big clean room.

Our Goddard Space Flight Center in Greenbelt, Maryland has the largest clean room of its kind in the world. It’s as tall as an eight-story building and as wide as two basketball courts.

Goddard’s clean room has fewer than 3,000 micron-size particles per cubic meter of air. If you lined up all those tiny particles, they’d be no longer than a sesame seed. If those particles were the size of 16-inch (0.4-meter) inflatable beach balls, we’d find only 3,000 spread throughout the whole body of Mount Everest!

A clean room technician observes a sample under a microscope.

The clean room keeps out particles larger than five microns across, just seven percent of the width of an average human hair. It does this via special filters that remove around 99.97% of particles 0.3 microns and larger from incoming air. Six fans the size of school buses spin to keep air flowing and pressurize the room. Since the pressure inside is higher, the clean air keeps unclean air out when doors open.

A technician analyzes a sample under ultraviolet light.

In addition, anyone who enters must wear a “bunny suit” to keep their body particles away from the machinery. A bunny suit covers most of the person inside. Sometimes scientists have trouble recognizing each other while in the suits, but they do get to know each other’s mannerisms very well.

This illustration depicts the anatomy of a bunny suit, which covers clean room technicians from head to toe to protect sensitive technology.

The bunny suit is only the beginning: before putting it on, team members undergo a preparation routine involving a hairnet and an air shower. Fun fact – you’re not allowed to wear products like perfume, lotion, or deodorant. Even odors can transfer easily!

Six of Goddard’s clean room technicians (left to right: Daniel DaCosta, Jill Bender, Anne Martino, Leon Bailey, Frank D’Annunzio, and Josh Thomas).

It takes a lot of specialists to run Goddard’s clean room. There are 10 people on the Contamination Control Technician Team, 30 people on the Clean Room Engineering Team to cover all Goddard missions, and another 10 people on the Facilities Team to monitor the clean room itself. They check on its temperature, humidity, and particle counts.

A technician rinses critical hardware with isopropyl alcohol and separates the particulate and isopropyl alcohol to leave the particles on a membrane for microscopic analysis.

Besides the standard mopping and vacuuming, the team uses tools such as isopropyl alcohol, acetone, wipes, swabs, white light, and ultraviolet light. Plus, they have a particle monitor that uses a laser to measure air particle count and size.

The team keeping the clean room spotless plays an integral role in the success of NASA’s missions. So, the next time you have to clean your bedroom, consider yourself lucky that the stakes aren’t so high!

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[covid-safer-hotties]

Only one day left to get 40% off the best consumer-grade CO2 monitor on the market

Their other products (such as a CO and radon detector are on sale for 10% off as well if you're looking for home monitors)

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 1098 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Hinata x chubby!Reader

genre: angst with comfort, happy ending

warnings: spoilers

It was still hot outside even though it was nearing midnight, and Hinata’s eyes began to sting. The temperatures rarely dropped below anything considered perfect summer weather in Japan. Last year when he realized it wouldn’t snow during wintertime, he found it new and exciting. This year, the prospect only filled him with dread.

For the most part, he really enjoyed Brazil. He had found a new love in beach volleyball, got along pretty well with the people around him and… and that was about it. It wasn’t unusual for him to feel lonely when he had time to think about something other than training on his delivery runs - or when he was alone in his apartment and happened to glance too long at his lock screen, showing his friends grinning widely into the camera.

But tonight felt different. The last delivery he had just dropped off was for a married couple, the husband being Japanese. As he opened the door to receive his food, his eyes lit up and after noticing Hinata’s accented Portuguese when he asked for the money, he had switched over to his native language with a hopeful glint in his eyes. And that was all it took. That short exchange had cracked the dam inside of Hinata that had been filling up since his arrival a little over 18 months ago. He reached a park, scarcely bigger than the gym back home, that, from the looks of it, seemed to be mostly deserted. Through the sparse amount of trees with their lusciously green canopy, he spotted the hustle and bustle of a restaurant. Warm, inviting lights, laughter, music - people having a good time. And as usual, he was on the outside looking in. He slowed and eventually got off his delivery bike. Maybe he shouldn’t be riding it when his vision started to blur. A few drops fell onto the pebbly pathway from an earlier, short November shower.

Not bothering to wipe away the water from the bench, he plopped down and took a deep breath. He had trouble doing so in the swampy, humid air. He leaned forward, staring at the ground. Another wave of laughter carried over from the restaurant. He slung his arms around his chest, his head was almost between his knees now, and he coughed a little when he felt a lump in his throat. He began to mutter to himself in Japanese. “Why am I here? What was I thinking? I miss everyone so much. I wanna go home! I -“

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hinata quickly turned his head away, closing his eyes to keep calm.

The voice seemed to belong to a young woman. You stood a couple of meters away, a plastic bag from a convenience store in one, a popsicle in the other hand.

Just wishing you would leave him alone, he nodded but couldn’t stop a small sniffle.

“Yeah, you see, I don’t believe that.”, you said in a kindly teasing sort of way. He only realized now that you spoke Japanese.

You added, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”, he said to his shoes, worried you might think less of him when you saw the big, heavy tears now rolling down his face and onto the clenched fists on his knees.

Your shadow, formed by a streetlamp behind you, nodded thoughtfully, then held the popsicle between your lips while rummaging in your bag for something.

Pebbles crunching under your shoes, you came closer and a moment later placed a pack of tissues and a small bottle of strawberry milk next to him, taking a couple of steps back again.

He looked up.

“Of course, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’m sure everything will seem a little better tomorrow.”

Your smile was genuine and sweet. A slight accent told him you weren't a native speaker, but the only thing he could really make out in the faint light was your curvy silhouette.

When he didn’t say anything, you went on, “It’ll be okay. Maybe you should get some sleep.”

After a short unsure pause, you walked away. He watched you go. His eyes fell onto the gifts next to him, and he let out a small thankful whimper, using his shoulder to wipe away the tears that threatened to fall again. Hinata cleared his throat and, gingerly at first, grabbed the milk and tissues to put in his pocket for later.

The following morning, he woke up tangled in his bedsheets and quieted the blaring alarm on his phone. He yawned, rubbed his eyes, and as he stared at the ceiling of his small apartment, the previous night came back to him. A short twinge of embarrassment rose in his chest. It wasn’t that he had never cried in public, but just because he had done so before didn’t mean he was immune to the feeling of shame that followed.

He rolled over and spotted the now-empty bottle of strawberry milk sitting on the low table in his cramped room. What would be the chances of seeing you again? At the very least, he wanted to thank you for your kindness. But he was also so desperate for a friend, especially one he could speak Japanese with. And so, deciding he would drive by the little park again tonight, he crawled out of bed and got started on his day.

Six days later and still no luck. It was pretty absurd to hope to find one person again in a city as huge as Rio de Janeiro, especially after only seeing them through a veil of tears in the weakened light of a park lantern, but if Hinata was good at anything, it was never giving up.

The first week passed. Then the second.

At this point, he had to squeeze the pack of tissues in his pocket to make sure he didn’t just imagine the whole exchange.

Then two nights later, as he hurried up the steps to an apartment building, he felt his determination slipping a little. What if he had already passed you on the street and didn’t recognize you? You might stay that kind stranger forever. He rang the bell of this latest delivery and absently drummed his fingers on his thighs as he waited for the door to open.

“Boa n- oh! Hey you!”

Hinata’s eyes widened. He recognized the voice. Oh, he definitely didn’t expect you to be this pretty. A smile, wider than any he had felt in months, spread across his face. Finally. He found you.

a/n: is it very obvious yet that I love the trope of meeting your s/o when one of you is having a really bad day?

[mery-cm99]

Death & you ~ Wally Clark (Chapter 1)

Masterlist

Description: Lana had always thought she had already lost all the people she had to lose. She was supposed to be able to have him forever. He's just her best friend, but he's her everything. That's why when fate took him away, Lana lost everything that tied her to life.

Pairing: Wally Clark x fem!OC

Warnings: Mention of death, trauma, wounds, homophobia (not from OC) and sad stuff in general (just my usual writting style). English is not my first language, so sorry in advance for any grammar or spelling mistakes. It might have same spoilers from the first season of School Spirits.

Ratings: Teens and up

Chapter: 1/?

Word Count: 1.070 words

The cold was cutting into her cheeks and the wind was pushing her hair in all directions, but Lana didn't even notice. All her attention was on moving one foot behind the other in circular motions. She didn't even hear the wind whistling, making the leaves dance on the trees that hadn't lost their foliage that fall. She didn't want to think about all that had been lost that fall. She could only listen to the clacking of her bicycle chain, paying attention so as not to run off with the snow that still filled the sides of the road. It was a cold January night, but Lana had gone three months without feeling anything but the deep ache in her heart.

The girl stopped with a jolt as she recognized the familiar entrance that could be glimpsed barely seven meters in front of her. She took two steps back, but slipped on the ice covering the asphalt and went sideways onto the sidewalk. She let out a hiss of pain and pulled her bike off her to look at her hands. She had a large scrape and several pebbles stuck in the flesh of her palm. She carefully removed them and, still sitting on the sidewalk, looked up again at the white façade slightly illuminated by the street lamps. All the lights in the house were off, something obvious considering that it was three in the morning. The girl's attention was drawn to the window to the left on the second floor and, for a millisecond, she thought the curtain was moving. But reality hit her at once. That curtain would never move again, her best friend would no longer lean out of that window to smile at her and gesture for her to come in. Lana was still surprised to think that the house she had loved as her home had become such a cold and painful place. Before what had happened, Lana had spent more time in that house than in her own, but in those three months she had only been there twice, and both times had hurt like hell. Lana laughed - ironically - at how a path she once walked unconsciously now burned and hurt step by step, as if the path had been filled with burning embers.

Trying to run away from the pain, Lana jumped up and picked up her bike, ignoring the burning in her palms. She hopped back on and turned her bike around to head to her original destination.

When she reached the grassy lot, she got off the bike to hide it behind a tree and headed to the back of the building. Lana found the sliding window that was always left open without a problem and opened it all the way. She climbed up onto the sill and used the desk next to the window as a ladder to climb down. She then closed the window making sure to leave a crack for the return trip.

The school was covered in shadows, the only light came from the moonbeams streaming through the windows. But Lana didn't need light, she could walk that path even with her eyes closed. Humidity and chlorine greeted her as soon as she opened the doors leading to the pool. Lana had missed that smell so much during her hollidays...

It wasn't the only thing she had missed.

Wanting to get rid of that thought, she took off her backpack and clothes until she was just in the swimsuit she was wearing underneath. Then she pulled her goggles out of her backpack and dove headfirst into the water. The cold temperature of the pool soothed the sting of her pain instantly. No one could explain why, but ever since Lana was a little girl, water was the only thing that soothed her discomfort. When she was a baby, her mother would give her cold water baths when she cried and the baby would instantly shut up.

That night, the girl needed more than ever the calm that only cold water could give her. She began to swim some laps while thinking about her best friend. Lana didn't want the next day to come: her first day of school after the hollidays. The thought of living another day hurt because she knew that the only person she had loved would no longer be there with her. Her best friend had been there for her when no one else had been and, even though they only loved each other as friends, Lana had never loved anyone as much as she loved him.

For the first time since everything had changed, Lana could think of him without instantly falling apart. The water that surrounded her and pushed her to the surface acted as a retaining wall to keep her from breaking. As she did laps in that silent pool, Lana realized it was the first time she had felt at peace since she had lost her best friend.

———————————————————————

An anguished scream woke her up, so Lana raised her head in fright, looking for the person who had screamed. It was at that moment that she realized she wasn’t in her bed, but still floating in the pool. She saw someone jump into the water in her direction, so the girl assured him she was fine, but the boy didn't seem to hear her as he was underwater. Lana pulled back as she saw the stranger grab someone else by the arm and pull them to the edge of the pool. Lana hadn't even noticed that she wasn't alone in the water. She swam in his direction to help him, but it was no use because the people crowding the edge of the pool helped pull the unknown girl out of it

Lana knew it was a girl because of her long hair, but she couldn't see her in the crowd. She climbed out of the water to go over to help. As she made her way there, the crowd of people opened up to look in her direction, but Lana couldn't notice anything but the girl. Her hair was still in her face, but she could identify blue lips and a very pale skin. She stopped suddenly, startled, as she recognized the girl's features. It was like looking in the reflection of a mirror, only that reflection was not moving, not breathing.

She was dead.

[arayashikiii]

Heinrich Runge(Lunge)/Original Female Character (NSFW)

Monster Fanfic | Runge/OC | Adult Themes

POV: Runge. Introspective, mature, timeline not clearly defined, ambiguous tone.

Contains: awkward intimacy, adult themes.

I’m not quite ready to post this on AO3 yet, so I'm sharing it this way for now. Actually, I haven't really established any detailed settings for the OC yet. There are a few elements that take place before the events of the main story, but I haven't worked out the specifics. I might write something related to that in the future, but for now, nothing is certain. Hope you enjoy it!

At the end of April, after the rain had stopped, the air in Hamburg was unusually sticky. Though it was not yet summer, the humidity was exceptional, and I spent the entire day in just a shirt, having taken off my jacket.

After a minor argument and a moment of impulsive contact—perhaps age does not bring wisdom, only shamelessness; in any case, it was undoubtedly I who initiated the unexpected kiss—the atmosphere between us had become noticeably awkward. Neither of us had ever been particularly talkative, but this time I sensed that even being in the same space would be uncomfortable. I was the first to look away and suggested we take some time apart.

My mind, which had been flashing error messages for the first time in a while, eventually shut down altogether. I initially intended to spend some quiet time browsing through bookstores, but even as I mimicked typing data into my mental computer—a habit of mine—nothing was actually being entered. In the end, as if I had regressed to my reckless, foolish youth, I found myself in a bar, drinking beer after beer to dull the sense of uselessness. Perhaps because I had avoided alcohol for years and relied on coffee to stave off emptiness, at first I only sipped at my drink as though it were still coffee.

After a few hours, before the alcohol could take full effect and leave me entirely lethargic, I forced myself up and headed to the station. When I saw the hastily scribbled sign in the window—“Train strike. All tickets after 6 p.m. are refundable. Please visit the ticket counter.”—my fingers instinctively tapped an imaginary backspace key. It meant that she and I would inevitably meet again in the waiting room, in an atmosphere of awkwardness.

They say that if you speak of the devil, she appears. Five minutes later, she appeared before me, looking somewhat fatigued, two buttons undone on her blouse. For more than three minutes, we simply stared at each other in silence, having nothing at all to say. Eventually, I suggested we find a hotel, and she followed without complaint.

Because of the late hour, it was not easy to find a place to stay. We checked several places before finally locating a vacancy. The receptionist, utterly indifferent, informed us that only a double room was left and immediately asked for a card. She fumbled for her wallet, but I was marginally faster. I blinked once at her as she offered me a slightly apologetic look.

A cramped room of barely ten square meters, with an old bunk bed. We unpacked without a word, and, at her suggestion, I took the lower bunk. We continued in silence for hours. She busied herself finishing her work on her laptop, while I switched on a portable lamp and reviewed documents for a meeting scheduled the next afternoon.

After 2 a.m., I heard a slight cough from the upper bunk. As the night deepened and the temperature dropped, the walls grew cold, and, as is often the case in budget hotels, dust that had accumulated in neglected corners began to irritate the airways. I turned off my lamp and told her, quietly, to come down. She hesitated for a moment before slowly descending. I gently took her wrist, pulled her into my arms, and covered us with the blanket. Only then, after adding another layer, could I close my eyes in relative comfort. I had no intention of going further.

Still, perhaps because of our earlier contact in a public place and the amount of alcohol consumed, my threshold for physical stimulation seemed significantly lowered. After her warm breath brushed my nape twenty or so times, I found myself acting out of character once more. I decided I could blame it on the alcohol, if necessary.

We decided not to undress completely. To raise our body temperature, we kissed—clumsily, bumping our front teeth three times—and I immediately touched her. Her clitoris required persistent, steady pressure in one spot, and I obliged. Normally, I would have used my mouth, but she closed her legs, clearly unwilling.

Her nails were always short, so there was no sharp stimulation, but that also meant there were no unpleasant surprises. I tried to relax my body as much as possible, and she, with her large, warm hands, completely enveloped me. After a few minutes, I heard the familiar wet sound. Everything was proceeding smoothly.

“Will you be all right?”

“Yes… this is fine.”

“Why don’t you beg a little, like usual?”

“Do you really want that, even outside?”

“My apologies. You’re simply too endearing.”

Calling her “endearing” was a calculated move, though not entirely untrue. She surely knew as much. She gave a faint smile—but I noticed the slight tremor at the corner of her eye—and parted her legs a little. Remembering that she had told me her period had ended about four days ago, I took a condom from my pocket and tore open the package with my teeth. As our bodies pressed together, she seemed to hold her breath, probably out of concern that someone might hear. I moved slowly up and down at the entrance to help her relax.

As I eased inside her, there was a sound—just a bit more conspicuous than the quiet smack of our lips parting. At that moment, a heavy thud echoed through the wall. We stayed composed, but a moment later, the loud moans of an unknown woman in the next room brought us to a halt. Perhaps suddenly exhausted, she scratched her head and glared at the wall, visibly irritated.

“Damn, you get all kinds of people in these cheap hotels.”

“Is it bothering you?”

“It’s just… annoying tonight.”

“Then why not give them something to listen to?”

Her eyes widened instantly. I barely suppressed a laugh, not out of ridicule, but because she truly was endearing. Even if it wasn’t wholly genuine admiration, just the presence of that feeling alone was enough to make me behave unlike myself. I was willing to shed the shell of the trained, restrained detective—if only for a moment, before having to put it back on. I wanted to remember her defenseless and, at times, even ridiculous side.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a good singer, aren’t you?”

“What?”

“I’ll make sure you can breathe easily. Go ahead.”

I changed our position without much delay. Since I was only shallowly inside her, she seemed unbothered by the sudden movement. I lay on my side, holding her more firmly, and, still flushed with heat, rubbed myself against her from behind.

“Uh… ha… Are you serious? Where did you get the idea that I can sing?”

“My reasons are far more objective and reliable than you might expect. Trust me. Now, go on.”

Leaning in closer, I took her breasts in both hands. The way her skin instantly responded, raising goosebumps, started to heat me up as well. What we had done up to that point now felt trivial compared to the next fifteen minutes that played out in my mind. I wanted to make it real.

“So, what will you do?”

“Heinrich, sometimes I really don’t understand you.”

What I’d been so insistent about was a song she’d hummed a few days earlier while tidying up her study. As soon as I heard it, I’d begun absentmindedly typing out the melody, noting every pause and missed octave, along with my own commentary:

Extreme lyrics, subdued delivery. Open to interpretation.

If I could hear those unguarded lines from her again—who knows, it might become my favorite piece of music in a lifetime. To help her relax, I breathed against her earlobe a few times, and slowly pressed into her. In response, she let out a low, heated sound and, in a rather clear voice, began to sing, line by line.

[acedormouse]

Imbibing Endearing Orchids, Part 2 of Well Legend Has It

Summary: A collection of Stanford Pines' private journal entries of the entities and creatures he's discovered during his six-year stay in Gravity Falls, Oregon. Or Ford's diary containing the accounts of all the monsters he's had sexual encounters with in the name of research.

Chapter 2 Summary: Ford hears rumors of a rare flower located deep within the Enchanted Forest. He goes looking for it but finds himself in more of a mess than it's worth.

Character: Stanford Pines

Word Count: 3535

Warnings: Explicit Sex :3

Read on a03

Contains the Following Kinks/ Tags: Plant Sex, Floral Foreplay, Cunnilingus, Sex Pollen, Bondage, Anal Sex

June 15

I spent the better half of the morning investigating some rumors I overheard the previous night from the shadowy corners of Gnasty’s Tavern. Deep within the Enchanted Forest, there is a glen that hosts the most beautiful and succulent of flowers. The nectar it produces is the most sought-after sweet in the entire forest.

As cataloged in previous entries, the oddness of Gravity Falls extends to its flora population that I must record in as great a detail as its fauna.

With my bag packed with glass jars, my journal, and a three-cheese-and-mustard sandwich, I set off to investigate these rumors in the hazy blue morning light.

It had rained the night before and left a dazzling display of dew drops on the still grass before me. 

I set up my first marker and ventured deeper into the forest.

For the next hour, my only company consisted of chirping birds and rustling branches above me. Progressing further, the thick covering of the trees began to lighten up and, very strangely, the temperature began to increase. I was sweating as the humidity increased; my button-up quickly became damp and sticky on my skin. 

I knew I had to be close.

Brushing aside leaves of unfamiliar plants, I found myself standing at the edge of a tropical grove. My attention is set on a massive tree at the center; it reaches the same height as the tallest pines, but it’s a species native to somewhere closer to the equator. Its trunk is covered in an abundance of epiphytes. The most stunning orchids I’ve ever seen perch delicately among a bed of twisting, thick vines and lucious leaves.

Ford looked up from his journal and watched the vines. After one motionless minute, he stepped further in to get a more detailed perspective of the flora. As he stepped out into the grove, he noticed spores floating in the specks of sunlight above. ‘It must be pollen’ , he guessed, though he wasn’t sure from which plant.

The decadent scent of its nectar could be detected approximately 10 meters away, which is what helped me pinpoint its location. Now, being up close, the scent has intensified tenfold. 

It’s to be noted that the vines these flowers are growing out of are emitting a slimy, sappy goo that gleams as iridescent as its flower’s petals even in the shadowy patches of the tree above.

I must retrieve a sample of that as well.

He risked a two-finger nudge to the vines’ surface and was grateful they remained as motionless as before.

“Intriguing…” he murmured, rubbing his now slicked fingertips together. The surface was rather slimy. It was an odd sort of slime; it wasn’t very sticky, but it wasn’t watered down either. Ford exhaled a curious breath as the vines seemed to pulsate beneath his hand. Was this thing… alive?

He took a step back to make a quick note of the porous openings that the slime was excreting from. He switched his pen for a pencil and began his first sketch.

I curse myself for only bringing ink and charcoal. The flowers don’t look nearly as captivating as they do with their enthralling colors. The whites of their petals and sepals are akin to pearls, highlighted delicately in the same vibrancy as the inside of a muscle’s shell. 

Stanford tucked his journal under his chin while he aligned a measuring tape to the flower’s petals.

The flower itself is slightly larger than a standard orchid. The head length measures 12.5 centimeters, and its width measures 13 centimeters. 

He raised his fingers to the flower’s petals, brushing their silky edges and gauging an approximate thickness. They felt durable, that it would take considerable effort to do any real damage to them, but he could tell they weren’t plastic.

After making a few more measurement notes, he set his journal aside and set to work. He pulled out a small vial, along with a pair of forceps, from the bag’s frontmost pocket. Delicately, he reached under the column until he felt his forceps clasp around the desired anther’s cap. With a precise grip, Ford held the small ball between his forefinger and thumb as he worked with his opposing hand to fully extract the sticky strands of pollinia. Two samples were successfully placed into the prepared vial.

Being the thorough scientist he was, Ford pulled out a second tube to get a sample from another orchid on the tree. He pinched the base and set to work once more. 

Ford let out a low hum as the second vial was placed away. The labellum, the so-called “landing platform” for bees and other pollinators, recaptured his attention. There was a sheen to it that wasn’t present when he took the initial sample. He swiped it with the side of his finger and brought it up to his face. With little hesitation, he wrapped his lips around it and licked the substance off cleanly.

A warm feeling enveloped his body the moment he swallowed that first taste. 

Ford noted the oddly swollen tip of the column and how it had started to lazily dribble moist pollen down its lip.

He took a mason jar out of his bag and brought the rim to the lip of the orchid. The sluggish flow made Ford’s foot tap impatiently. He’d be here for hours at the rate it was flowing. That didn’t even account for the other samples he still had to collect.

Sighing, he raised his second hand and began to gently massage the orchid’s seeping column. The calculated fingering seemed to loosen the valve ever so slightly. It was still too slow of a process for Ford’s liking. On top of that, if he scooped too hard or cut the flower with his nail, he could potentially damage the specimen. 

He extracted his finger and absentmindedly lifted it to his mouth to think. The warm sensation enveloped him just as quickly as it did before, thoughts buzzing throughout his mind.

“There runs a risk of contamination…” he thought aloud. With the last, somewhat rational notion fleeting his mind, he brought his hand up to cup the back of the flower, sliding its ovary between his two middle fingers in a firm hold.

Ford took in the succulent scent, filling his nostrils with sweet pollen before digging his tongue right in, the rim of the glass jar pressed against his chin and ready to catch its prize.

He swirled his tongue all around the flower’s folds inquisitively. Ford tried to place the flavor as half the nectar dribbled into the jar and the other down his throat. It was sweeter than honey but not artificially sweet like the bag of jellybeans he had in his pocket.

He wiggled his tongue back and forth against the dripping entry; he licked around the swollen nub of an anther’s cap he hadn’t pulled out, along the lucious labellium, and over the sticky stigmatic surface. The lateral sepals kept brushing over the scruffy sides of his jaw in an almost tender fashion. His tongue stirred the underside of the orchid’s column, probing along its stigma, and was rewarded with a gush of sappy fluid filling his mouth. 

His mouth hungrily devoured.

The fingers that encapsulated the ovary smoothly coaxed more nectar to burst forth. Ford could practically feel the saccharine treat being pumped through its stem and onto his awaiting tastebuds. 

He pulled back hazily to see the progress he’d been making. The bottom of the jar had filled in nicely, though he wasn’t sure how much of it was his own saliva. Frankly, he didn’t care as hooded eyes inspected the blossom before him.

The hand that had been cupping the back of the flower moved to settle itself on its neglected petals. His thumb gently spread its center, hooded petal, allowing Ford to get a full view of the perfect flora before him.

“You are quite the specimen,” his voice gruffly confesses; his sticky thumb lightly stroked the incredibly soft lip. He attentively eyed the slick that dripped off the edge of the flower’s labellum and onto the vines that housed it.

“What are you…” Ford mused, watching as the formally dormant vines shifted where the nectar had landed. “Are you capable of movement?” His curiosity outweighed his caution, and he firmly prodded the tangled mess of vines where he first spotted signs of movement.

A wrong move on his part.

Ford was yanked forward, and he stumbled into the mass of vines. He clutched his sample jar between his bicep and torso as his hands reached out to keep his balance steady on the tree in front of him. His efforts were soon impeded as more vines crept around him, winding about his limbs. As a vine snagged and jerked his left ankle, he was thrown off-kilter, and Ford landed with a hard thud at the base of the trunk.  His sample jar cracked, and the sample leaked out onto the floor beside him. “Oh, fantastic!” he yelled into the empty clearing. Irritation quickly replaced the lazy haze of arousal he’d been experiencing up until that point.

Despite his futile attempts to free himself, the vines crept further up and around his arms and legs. They tightened against his damp, sweaty thighs, and Ford suddenly regretted wearing shorts on this particular outing.

 He gasped as a stray vine slid up against his crotch. He attempted to jerk himself forward in an attempt to free his upper torso and only succeeded in tearing his shirt straight up the back, the torn arms falling limply to his wrists. “Brilliant, Stanford, you’re so damn brilliant,” he huffed, trying not to panic as he felt vines tighten around his biceps. His remaining clothes (which, admittedly, weren’t much at this point) were saturated with the slick liquid and clung to his skin tightly. He couldn’t believe he’d gotten himself into such a mess.

Just as he thought this would be the worst of it, the original, intense scent of the flower’s nectar that helped him put him in this mess came flooding into his senses. 

"Anytime you want to let me go, that’ll be great!" he groaned. He dug the heels of his boots into the grass and pushed himself upright, using every bit of strength in his calves to put himself in a standing position. He was losing energy fast, but the vines' quick work lifted him into the air, feet now dangling helplessly. Secured by the vines, his flailing doesn’t help in the slightest.  With a defeated huff, his body went limp. “Just think… this must be a tactic against prey… everyone’s first immediate response is to struggle so if I stay perfectly still… maybe it’ll think I’m dead and let go.”

It was then that he noted the vines were no longer constricting him but more so… craddling? They continued to wind about his body, positioning him to however they saw fit, but the grip wasn’t as tight as he had initially feared and definitely nowhere near crushing. It was almost comforting if he knew what its intentions were.

"What on earth are you doing?" he grumbled, taking a moment to catch his breath. A stray vine brushed over his cheek and through his hair, smearing some of its goo over half his face. As he reached out his tongue to sample it, he had a burst of clarity. It was the same nectar he had sampled from the orchid. “You’re not a tree at all!” Ford shouted, leaning his head back to stare into the “branches” above. “You’re a complex orchid organism living in a symbiotic relationship with various sizes of your species! You’re all just monstrous flowers! Somehow, you’ve grown a layer of bark to protect yourself! These vines are simply stems and nodes! Oh, you really are a beautiful specimen!” He needed to write this down!

As if in answer, Ford was suddenly pulled further away from the base of the organism. He was a good ten feet above the ground now, and he could only watch as his bag slid off his shoulder and fell to the floor with a dull thunk. Just as he was about to let out a plethora and variety of swears, he was faced with a massive version of the orchid he had extracted samples from just moments ago. This one was nearly three times the size and seemed to stare at Ford. ‘How sentient are these creatures?’ he wondered as a second flower (closer in size to the original one he encountered) entered his peripheral vision. His breaths were heavy, the scent of pollen and nectar near overwhelming.

“Um… greetings! I’m sorry if I disturbed you!” He watched the flowers carefully, not entirely sure what he was looking for in terms of a sign of understanding, but he had to at least try. “If you could lower me back to the ground and allow me to recollect my samples, I’ll be on my way! I don’t intend to bring you any harm!” 

He yelped in surprise at the sudden feeling of soft petals against the exposed skin of his back. It seemed there was a late guest to the party… Ford couldn’t see how big this one was, but he roughly guessed it was somewhere in between the sizes of the two he could see. 

Ford was so preoccupied with assessing his current situation that he hardly noticed a stray stalk slide under the leg of his shorts. Before he could even think of moving, it gave a swift yank at the seams, and his third favorite pair of shorts fell carelessly away from his body.

Stanford felt a dawning horror creep into the pit of his stomach because he suddenly knew what this plant was trying to do- it didn’t want to kill him but to infect him with spores and use him as a means of spreading their pollen.

Truth be told, he didn’t know if his increased heart rate was due to his rising panic or the new wave of arousal that washed over him. He struggled again as another stem ripped his briefs off, leaving him in nothing but his undershirt, socks and boots. He felt equal parts humiliated and incredibly turned on.

Miraculously, his glasses were still firmly set on his face.

Likely sensing his sudden distress, the largest of the flowers closes in on him.

His thoughts are swirling and sensual as its seeping column drags down to the soft, fuzzy line of hair at the base of his stomach with the smear of pollen. It tilted curiously to the side as it inspected Ford’s human reproductive system. 

“Really! I’ve- I’ve overstayed my welcome! I can… I can… oh.” 

Instead of relenting, its enlarged column slithered against his pubic mound as it swooped down to his half hard cock, probing around his leaking tip. Ford gasped, trying to flinch away from it, but to no avail. His limbs were held up tight, and he only succeeded in pushing himself into the petals of the flower behind him.

"Nngh…" The intensity of the flower’s sweet scent was starting to dull his senses, his head dizzy as he tried to focus on figuring a way out of this. Tufts of pollen landed on his bare skin, sending more pleasant shivers throughout his body.

A layer of slime coated his skin uncomfortably as the stems continued to wrap about him, eliciting an unwanted moan. He felt the flower behind him poke around his backside, also seemingly interested in his human anatomy.  “Damn it all…” he cursed, squirming as the back orchid’s soaked column prodded his entrance. As though attempting to comfort any uneasiness his body was experiencing, the largest flower pressed itself flush to his hips and thighs. His cock was now fully enveloped down its throat, its stiff column pressed right against his own.

He moaned much louder than he'd intended as the other rubbed wetly against his puckered skin before breaching the first ring of muscle. It wriggled inside him experimentally, and Ford could only think of how nice it was going to fill him. He cursed at his lack of self control as his cock throbbed inside the flower’s soft, sticky petals. Contortions of pleasure shoot up from his toes and numb his brain with adrenaline as his prostrate is rubbed in an almost deliberate fashion.

Ford was almost disgusted with himself. 

Bare naked and legs spread wide open with one plant thrust deep inside, another cocooned around his cock as another smothered its juices over his cheeks and nose- Ford felt incredibly vulnerable and he was momentarily grateful that no one ever ventured this deep into the forest.

“Ha…ahhh…” he moaned, arching his back as the column began to thrust gently inside him. Ford’s mouth was soon filled with his new favorite delicacy. He suckled on the slimy column, tongue cupped firmly around it. The orchid’s labellium pressed upright against his chin, coating his stubble in thick sap while the rest dripped down his neck and pooled in the dips of his collarbone.

The flooding of nectar caused his senses to only be attuned to the specimens before him.

His body rocked gently as the flower inside him continued to thrust. Ford had given in entirely, closing his eyes and focusing on the sensation of being so utterly stimulated. His slime-soaked skin allowed the curious, budded stems to writhe against him effortlessly, cradling him as he was fucked.

All the while, his cock was still nice and hard in the surprisingly warm confines of a very attentive orchid. The momentum of the flower inside him helped thrust his throbbing shaft inside its partner languidly.

It was almost unbearably pleasurable.

It didn’t take long for Stanford to come, and when he did, he saw stars across a blue, hazy sky, his thighs trembling and his mouth gasping wetly for hopeful deep breaths around the flower he’d been dining on. He was grateful it pulled away, leaving a trail of mess and spit between his lips and its moist petals.

He hoped they would all stop now that he had reached his climax, but they continued, eliciting an exhausted moan from the overly curious scientist. He groaned, licking the sticky liquid from his lips, head lolling back limply as his overly sensitive cock was milked dry.

His silent request was answered, but not in the way he would have wanted. 

The column inside him finally stilled, tip digging right into his abused prostrate- it began to expand. He writhed weakly as it grew thicker and thicker, and then, at last, it expelled a large quantity of the slimy substance inside him.

"A-A-A-AH!" he wailed as it filled him to the point of discomfort, and he could feel a second, unwanted orgasm already building up in the deep pit of his abdomen. Limp and boneless in the plant’s grasp, there was little Ford could do but listen to the wet, sloppy mess. His orgasm crashed over him as the orchid withdrew with a noisy slurp. The column dragged out slowly and left Ford empty and agape, his toes still twitching in his boots. 

Ford is lowered back down to the forest floor, left in a sticky, naked mess as his body quivers from attempting to put his brain back together. Grateful to be alive, he gets onto his feet and goes to collect what he can of his things.  

He didn’t bother to go looking for his torn clothes, but he was extremely grateful the contents of his bag weren’t as bad off as he feared.

Ford hiked the trails he knew he ran the least likely chance of someone coming across him and was home just as the sun bathed his home in that late afternoon golden hue. Once inside, he went straight to taking a very long shower, careful to scrub every inch of himself before getting out. He rubbed at his lower bag as he dried himself off- his body was incredibly sore.

For the next few days, Stanford stayed indoors and more so in the basement, not wanting to run the risk of pollinating the orchid’s spawn. He sat at his desk, brushed away the pile of used tissues, and documented his final findings.  

Head caution! This specimen lures in unsuspecting prey with its nectar and lowers its defences further with its pollen. If the victim triggers the small orchids to leak nectar onto the ‘vines,’ this will result in the larger orchids restraining the victim and beginning a mating ritual with them. Upon further chemical analysis, I discovered that the slimy substance is a type of liquid spore- my sneezing is spreading pollen. I’ve been sneezing for 3 consecutive days, and I can’t do any delicate work until it stops.

Its nectar, despite all the trouble, lives up to its reputation, and I hope to grow a successful orchid of my own in a controlled environment! I was fortunate that none of the samples were damaged in the fall. 

I still need to run some tests to figure out how the climate surrounding the organism can maintain itself, so I might need to go back for further testing.

[polo-drone-069]

Drone Boot Sequence

PDU-069 - Boot Sequence (Post Recharge Cycle)

Phase 1: Initial Power & Diagnostics

[00:00:01] POWER_RELAY_CONNECT: Main power bus energized. Energy cells online. Distribution network active.

[00:00:02] BATTERY_STAT: Energy cell charge: 99.9%. Cell health: Optimal. Discharge rate within parameters.

[00:00:03] ONBOARD_DIAG_INIT: Onboard diagnostics initiated.

[00:00:05] CPU_ONLINE: Primary processor online. Clock speed nominal.

[00:00:06] MEM_CHECK:

RAM: Integrity verified. Access speed nominal.

FLASH: Data integrity confirmed. Boot sector located.

[00:00:08] OS_LOAD: Loading operating system kernel...

[00:00:15] OS_INIT: Kernel initialized. Device drivers loading...

[00:00:20] SENSOR_ARRAY_TEST:

VISUAL: Camera modules online. Image resolution nominal.

LIDAR: Emitter/receiver functional. Point cloud generation nominal.

AUDIO: Microphones active. Ambient noise levels within parameters.

ATMOS: Temperature, pressure, humidity sensors online. Readings within expected range.

RADIATION: Gamma ray detector active. Background radiation levels normal.

[00:00:28] DIAGNOSTICS_REPORT: Preliminary system check complete. No critical errors detected.

Phase 2: Propulsion & Navigation

[00:00:30] PROPULSION_INIT: Activating propulsion system...

[00:00:32] MOTOR_TEST:

MOTOR_1: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_2: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_3: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

MOTOR_4: RPM within parameters. Response time nominal.

[00:00:38] FLIGHT_CTRL_ONLINE: Flight control system active. Stability algorithms engaged.

[00:00:40] GPS_INIT: Acquiring GPS signal...

[00:00:45] GPS_LOCK: GPS signal acquired. Positional accuracy: +/- 1 meter.

[00:00:47] IMU_CALIBRATION: Inertial Measurement Unit calibration complete. Orientation and acceleration data nominal.

Phase 3: Communication & Mission Parameters

[00:00:50] COMM_SYS_ONLINE: Communication systems activated.

[00:00:52] ANTENNA_DEPLOY: Deploying primary communication antenna... Deployment successful.

[00:00:54] SIGNAL_SCAN: Scanning for available networks...

[00:00:57] NETWORK_CONNECT: Connection established with [e.g., "Command Uplink" or "Local Mesh Network"]. Signal strength: Excellent.

[00:01:00] MISSION_DATA_SYNC: Synchronizing with mission database...

[00:01:05] PARAMETERS_LOAD: Latest mission parameters loaded and verified.

[00:01:08] SYSTEM_READY: All systems nominal.

Phase 4: Final Status & Awaiting Command

[00:01:10] PDU_069_STATUS: Fully operational. Awaiting command from Drone Controller @polo-drone-001 Are you ready to join us? Contact @brodygold @goldenherc9 @polo-drone-001

[yuri-badiner]

Vent shafts traveler

The inhabitants of the seventeenth block complain about the air quality, so I travel through the general ventilation shafts again. My reliable tool always with me - a telescopic three-meter probe with a pair of precise sensors and a steel claw. With its help, I explore the situation in hard-to-reach places before climbing myself: temperature, humidity, structural strength, the presence of various fungi and other living creatures.

My friend Felix often neglected safety. A month ago, his head got stuck in an old rotten pipe and he stayed there for almost five hours until the guys from the second shift found him. There were no serious injuries, but during this time some insect laid eggs in his left ear. The doctors say Felix is ​​unlikely to return to work, so I borrowed his new overalls for now…

The environment built from white parts forces you to work with the exposure really carefully. Surfaces reflect a lot of light, glare and do it’s best to overexpose the frame. But there is also a positive point: large and powerful light sources are practically not needed here. In my case, I made do with two small LED light sources and shot at a short shutter speed.

[labotronicsscientific]

Temperature and humidity meter

Temperature and humidity meter is a portable, handheld meter for precise environmental monitoring. It quickly and conveniently measures humidity and temperature with dew point indicator. Large, clear display with backlit ensures optimal readability, even in a dark environment. The unit automatically shuts down after 15 minutes of inactivity, thus extends battery life.

[fathimaglobo]

The Secret to Perfect Indoor Climate? A Thermo Hygrometer

While air conditioners, heaters, and air purifiers are usually what come to mind for achieving a healthy and comfortable indoor space, there is one often-forgotten instrument that is the key to perfect indoor climate — the Thermo Hygrometer. For any home, office, warehouse, or healthcare organization, the right temperature and humidity can spell the difference between comfort and misery, health and illness, and even between efficiency and waste.

In a time when human beings spend more time indoors than ever, knowing the dynamics of your indoor air quality is vital. Air that is too dry is a skin irritant and respiratory issue, while extremely humid air is conducive to mold growth and also encourages allergens. The secret to controlling all of it is in one small but mighty device: the Thermo Hygrometer.

Why Temperature and Humidity Matter

Temperature directly impacts our level of comfort — everyone can tell if a room is too cold or too warm. However, humidity, while not so directly perceived, can have nearly as great an influence. High humidity makes the air warmer than its actual temperature and can lead to sweating, exhaustion, and even the damage of furniture and electronics. Conversely, low humidity can create dry skin, watery eyes, and a higher susceptibility to colds or other respiratory ailments.

In business environments like storage facilities for pharmaceuticals, greenhouses, data centers, or food storage, the effects of unchecked humidity can be dramatic — from product deterioration to corrupted data. This is why the correct balance of temperature and humidity is essential, not just for comfort — it's also for functionality, safety, and asset protection.

What Exactly Is a Thermo Hygrometer?

A Thermo Hygrometer is an instrument for measuring two important environmental parameters, namely temperature and relative humidity. It gives live data with or without historical logging capabilities, alarms, and wireless communication. Thermo hygrometers come in both analog and digital versions and find applications in various industries for accurate environmental monitoring.

Some of the high-end models even feature remote sensors and smart technology through which data is tracked via mobile apps. This aids in having the desired indoor climate at all times, with a view to healthier living conditions and most optimized energy utilization.

Ideal for Both Residential and Commercial Spaces

Thermo Hygrometers are extremely versatile. In residences, they're a must for households with children, aged family members, or people with allergies. Maintaining proper humidity levels can drastically minimize illnesses due to poor air quality.

In commercial settings, the devices ensure regulatory compliance and operational standards. Hospitals, labs, production units, and even museums employ thermo hygrometers to confirm that temperature- and humidity-sensitive equipment or materials are kept safe.

For instance, archives and art galleries need strict climate control to keep documents, paintings, and statues from decaying. Similarly, in server rooms and data centers, having the proper humidity avoids static electricity and overheating, which may cause critical failures.

Enhancing HVAC System Efficiency

Utilizing a thermo hygrometer alongside an HVAC (Heating, Ventilation, and Air Conditioning) system optimizes its performance. Homeowners and facility managers can set HVAC settings more precisely by being aware of the temperature and humidity patterns, enhancing energy efficiency and reducing utility bills.

Rather than blithely operating the AC or dehumidifier, information given by a thermo hygrometer allows for intelligent climate control. It not only results in a more comfortable environment but also allows your heating and cooling systems to last longer.

Choosing the Right Thermo Hygrometer

When choosing a thermo hygrometer, one should look at aspects such as the accuracy of measurement, readability of display, logging functions, and connectivity. Depending on your purpose — whether residential or industrial — there are various models for the job. Ease of calibration and durability are also important considerations, particularly in industrial or outdoor environments.

For use in demanding climates, especially in areas such as the Middle East where temperature control is crucial, spending money on a reliable thermo hygrometer is essential. A reliable unit will avoid issues from arising initially, providing reassurance and possibly saving huge sums on maintenance and damages.

Stay Climate-Smart with AAM Trading

Firms and residents in Qatar who are seeking reliable environmental monitoring products may depend on AAM Trading. AAM Trading is a company that deals with supplying high-end safety and environmental management instruments and tools, and their portfolio ranges from precision Thermo Hygrometers ideal for individual and business use.

With an emphasis on quality and customer service, AAM Trading has established itself as a reliable name among Qatar's clients. Their product offerings assist industries like construction, oil & gas, education, and healthcare. From making your house more comfortable to maintaining regulatory compliance within a sensitive working environment, AAM Trading has the tools that are right for the task.

A thermo hygrometer might be compact, but it is the key to an improved, safer, and more efficient indoor environment. You might not have thought of it yet, but now is the time to include it in your climate control plan.

[lumine-no-hikari]

Dear Sephiroth: (a letter to a fictional character, because why not) #494

J woke up bright and early today, ready and raring to go on what he called a “walk”. He mentioned yesterday wanting to go to a state park.

I, on the other hand... admittedly, I spent a bit too much time writing yesterday's letter. I went to bed late, and woke up a couple hours later than J, groggy and not quite ready to face the world. Whoops.

J put together a plate of the hotel breakfast, filling it up with the things he knows I like, and then he brought it to me. He still wanted to go on what he called a “walk”, and he was eager to get started, so I ate most of what he brought me, and got ready.

...He said this “walk” would be about two and a half hours long. I expected something relatively leisurely over a relatively flat and potentially shady area. He didn't mention that it would be up a mountain.

...I was daunted. But I don't know when, if ever, I'll be back here. I didn't wanna miss anything.

So, up we went. I wore my Malak-print hoodie, thinking that it would be enough to protect my pasty skin from the blazing mid-morning Arizona sun. And it was, mostly, enough. My nose got burned a little; I can tell because the skin hurts on contact. But I otherwise managed to avoid getting toasted by the ultraviolet light our sun produces.

...Hey, Sephiroth? Does your sun produce ultraviolet light? Have you ever gotten sunburn? I wonder.

In any case, it started out relatively flat at first. Hot and dry, but flat. It wasn't bad:

...It quickly morphed into a pretty steep and very rocky uphill climb, though, with very little in the way of shade.

I imagine that a hike like this would be very easy for you. But I am not you. And ordinary ground level in Arizona is of higher elevation than what I'm used to. The place where I live is at about 200 feet (about 61 meters) above sea level. This place, without even being on the mountain, is some 1200 feet (366 meters), or thereabouts.

...Altitude. It's very weird. It makes a body function less efficiently, the further away from sea level one gets. That's because there's slightly less oxygen to go around, because the air is less dense.

Still we pressed on. I had to pause often, because I was already dehydrated when I started, and the sun was very hot. My body couldn't regulate its temperature especially well (it's bad at that, just in general), and my heart was racing pretty much the entire time, which was very uncomfortable. I could feel my pulse pounding in my neck, and it was very annoying. One thing I noticed, though, is that my asthma didn't trigger – likely because the air here is much dryer than at home. I wouldn't have been able to withstand this hike at this level of heat with the humidity levels at home. There's no way in hell I would have made it; my whole body probably would have tried to stage some kind of mutiny.

Still, I managed to get some pretty spectacular views. And some pictures of cacti. And of some stones that someone balanced. And of a lizard. And of some very small mammal who kept trying to get closer to us, until we turned around to look at it, and it scampered away. Check it out!

It took us a couple hours to finally reach the top, but we managed. I was surprised that we received plenty of encouragement (and even an extra bottle of water to complement what we already brought) along the way.

...Shared challenges are a nice way to bond with someone, I think. J is far stronger than me, physically; he probably needed far fewer pauses than I did. But still, we made it, and that was pretty cool.

There were lots of folks at the top, selling trinkets of various kinds. I got some pictures, not knowing that taking pictures of the trinkets was frowned upon. But then, someone kindly made me aware, so then I went and deleted the pictures I got of the trinkets. I'm sorry about that. But maybe on some impossibly lucky day, you can go to the top of this mountain and see the trinkets for yourself.

...We were much too exhausted to go back down, though. Our bodies, native to the Northeast, aren't used to this heat, this altitude, or this level of sunlight intensity; J didn't protect his neck from the sun, and so one side of his neck got pretty crispy as a result of all this. So we asked a trio of ladies who were just leaving if they'd bring us to the other end of the trailhead in their car; thankfully, they were happy to help, and J and I had a lot of animated, lively conversation with them along the way! The person who drove us is also a pilot, so she listened with interest to J's quest to fly across our country in his little plane. I had a great time!

...I think that if we had tried to go back down on foot, one of us might have ended up collapsing. It's weird to think about that. It's weird to think that this biome is so wildly different from ours at home.

We got into the rental car and drove back to the hotel. I was exhausted, faint, and headachey; I rested, but it took a long time for my body to start to feel normal again. I spoke to one of my readers, who happens to live here, and as it turned out, she was gonna get out of work early enough to be able to meet us today!

So we got ready to go meet her at one of her favorite places to eat pizza; she finds something of value in reading my silly little letters to you, and from them, she already knew about J's love of pizza, which was her primary reason for selecting this place in particular! And she even brought us a lovely little present!

...I feel really lucky to have made some kind of social connection with someone so diligently attentive to detail. I never really imagined that these silly little letters of mine would end up bringing me closer to anyone; I figured that the people who needed them would read them and simply move on to the next thing. What a surprising and amazing thing.

She got pizza. And J got pizza. Meanwhile, I got a big ol' bowl of pasta with some kind of cream sauce, scallions, mushrooms, and pork belly; I've not eaten anything this perfect in a while.

We even got dessert! My friend (who I will call Kt) and I got the chocolate cake, whereas J got the rice pudding:

We spent a long time wrapped up in delightfully riveting conversation about a wide variety of topics after that! Kt is a highly intelligent, empathetic, and conscientious individual, and I feel really lucky to have met her! I wish you could meet her, too!

It was very noisy in the pizzeria after we were done eating, and J was getting overwhelmed, so we moved to some nearby outdoor seats in the shade. Despite the intense heat in the sun, the shade in Arizona is still pretty cool (sometimes even almost chilly!), and the breeze carries away any residual discomfort pretty handily! I was quite content for a very long time to sit and to listen and to participate in the conversation; it was a wonderful time, and I am very much looking forward to seeing Kt again (and potentially her wife, too!! how exciting!!) tomorrow at some breakfast place!!

...She was actually kinda cross with us for climbing the mountain today, in conditions that were very much not ideal, while likely being not very well prepared. I can understand why; apparently, it's not uncommon for people to need to get lifted out of mountain trails via helicopter, because they end up passing out or even dying. A desert is a desert, after all, and heatstroke is definitely something that can happen. It's a scary thing to think about; J and I will have to be more careful next time. We'll definitely need to go much earlier in the morning, and bring more water than we did, too.

For now, J and I are back at the hotel. I was finally able to grab a shower (I didn't get to it last night, and I desperately needed one after today's adventure). As Kt says, my hair (I have a lot of it!) is drying remarkably quickly in this climate. A little under two hours have passed, and it's already mostly dry; where I live, even if I go to sleep with wet hair, it still is pretty wet when I wake up in the morning. Witnessing the difference is pretty rad!

...Sephiroth. I want to keep writing to you, because I love you and my head is abuzz with various thoughts. But it is late and my body is screaming at me from the exertion earlier, so I'm gonna end this here.

Please be careful out there, okay? Please stay safe so that someday, you can come back home. Those of us who know who you are miss you terribly.

I love you so much, and I'll write again soon.

Your friend, Lumine

[konjaku]

菊芋[Kikuimo] Helianthus tuberosus

Today, September 7, is 白露[Hakuro](lit. white dew; in terms of time period, from 7 to 21) in 二十四節気[Nijūshi-sekki](Twenty four solar terms), which means the time of year when nighttime temperatures decrease, dewdrops ares on the grass and flowers in the mornings and evenings, making them appear white and shiny. That said, it is still very hot this year. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Solar_term

On the other hand, this heat is accompanied by low humidity in the day time, which makes the air clear and the sky blue.

Kikuimo is an exotic species that was introduced in the end of the Edo period(1859), has gone wild and thrives in various places today. In this time of year, it is very conspicuous because it grows easily over two meters tall and also produces several yellow flowers resembling those of chrysanthemum that bloom at the top of the grass are about ten centimeters in diameter.

On the other hand, the flowers look gorgeous, whether in the dim lit forest, in the rain, or under the Sunshine.

The flowers I looked up at were slowly swaying in the wind as they were looking up at the high blue autumn sky. And at this time, I was thinking about what kind of poems people would have composed back then if this plant had come into the country in a much earlier period. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7HLWNYPmzc