#oxygen flow meter

[china-cryogenic-tanks]

Oxygen gas regulator

NINGBO DSW INDUSTRY CO., LTD established in 2004 year, is a global leader in research & development and manufacturing in the welding fields.

Our major products are oxy-fuel cutting and welding equipment such as oxy-acetylene and oxy-fuel welding and cutting equipment, cutting torches, cutting tips, welding nozzles, heating torches, gas regulators, cutting and welding outfits.

For over 10 Years, DSW has been exported to more than 50 countries,listed as long-term strategic partner due to its reliability and accumulated experience.

The medical oxygen regulator is an essential device that is securely attached to an oxygen cylinder to carefully control and regulate the flow of oxygen to the patient. This device plays a crucial role in ensuring that the pressure of the oxygen coming from the cylinder is adjusted to a safe and appropriate level that meets the specific needs of the patient. By carefully regulating the flow of oxygen, the medical oxygen regulator guarantees that the patient receives the precise amount of oxygen required at the prescribed rate for effective treatment.

In healthcare settings such as hospitals, clinics, and other medical facilities, oxygen regulators are widely used to administer oxygen therapy to patients with various respiratory conditions or other medical needs. The DSW-86 pressure gauge is an integral component of the oxygen regulator, providing a clear indication of the pressure level within the gas cylinder to ensure that the oxygen flow is maintained at the correct level.

[medicalequipmentabimed]

Medical Oxygen Concentrator

A medical oxygen concentrator is a device used to deliver a concentrated flow of oxygen to individuals with respiratory conditions or oxygen therapy needs. It functions by extracting oxygen from the ambient air, concentrating it, and delivering it to the patient through a nasal cannula or mask. LED display, alarm system, oxygen purity monitor, power failure alarms

[tomlinmedical]

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SourceURL:file://Document1

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[lazygamer262]

[rafestar]

IS THERE SOMEONE ELSE | Rafe Cameron

WARNINGS: +18 smut, dominance, manipulation, cheating, fire, etc..

SUMMARY: the reader suspects rafe is a cheater and he wants her to trust him

A/N: this is my first story and english isn’t my first language so be polite. if there’s any mistake, i will gladly welcome any advice or help, enjoy♡

When I finally heard the keys in the door, it was my cue to fill myself with more frustration. It's currently 3AM, and like every week before, he's late.

He tells me not to worry and that it's just his father's company, which is having a lot of problems. Since Rafe is the boss, he is more distant, but he excuses himself by saying that he is the only one who can carry the Cameron name further.

I could understand it, until today.

"Honey? Why are you still up?"

I couldn't look into his eyes without feeling flames in them.

I get up from the sofa, trying to contain my anger and the tears that were about to flow down my cheeks.

He approaches me to try to kiss me, he always does it when he arrives. My first reflex was to pull him away.

"What's going on, love?"

He tries to get closer to me and grabs me by my arm.

"Don't... Don't call me that" tears get the best of me and finally fall.

“Y/N…”

"Late again, third week in a row" he lets go of my arm and sighs in frustration.

"Oh god… fuck off” he rolls his eyes. “We've had this conversation hundreds of times, Y/N”

Rafe takes off his jacket and walks across the room with his hands on his head. “I'm really trying… and you're not helping anything. Can't you see? I keep trying to recover from everything that happened…”

“Where have you been today?” He gives me a puzzled look as if it's not “obvious” where he's been.

"Are you really asking that?" he scoffs.

"Have you heard me?”

I can see him licking his cut lips, the smell of alcohol keeps coming even though he is a few meters from me.

"At the office…"

Before he could finish, I interrupted.

"You’re lying"

Confusion brushes his face and I can feel his chest tighten. "I don’t have time for this"

"Of course you don't have time... You never have time for me."

Rafe rolls his eyes and goes to pour himself a shot of whiskey, which was sitting on top of the fireplace.

He always does this when we argue. He always drinks when he is around me.

"You know what Rafe? I was... I was in your office at dinner time."

I watch him drop the bottle with a bang, and that makes me jump a little.

I watch as he straightens his back and his neck before grabbing the bottle again and drinking directly from it, setting the glass aside.

"Your receptionist said you weren't there, that you had left an hour ago"

Rafe takes a long sip and slowly turns to face me, leaning against the side of the fireplace.

"Stop being stupid, if it was dinner time, it was clear that I would not be there"

“She also said that you left the building with your secretary”

He scoffs, "She had to have dinner too, didn't she?"

I feel my cheeks heat up and he just looks at me as he laughs.

I feel my anxiety starting to consume me. My lungs are starved of oxygen and my throat is parched.

My legs, like my hands are shaking. I stagger over to the couch to sit down.

Rafe walks over to me, leaving the bottle on the table. I can see his concern, but it doesn't calm me down at all.

He kneels in front of me with his hands on my thighs.

"Please…" I sobbed. “…Stop doing this to me”

"I'm not doing anything, babe."

"You are! I'm so fucking tired of this! You don't understand that I miss you?!”

Rafe rests his head against my knee before kissing me on it. “You have… you have to understand my situation”

"Im trying Rafe, I really do"

Rafe gets up to sit next to me on the couch. His perfect blue eyes are watery, just like mine. His cheeks glow a bright red, and the air feels thick.

He grabs my hands and places his on my lap. The cold of mine, freezes his expression.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket and places it on my hand.

"I want you to trust me"

"But…"

"Do it"

His lock screen is a pic of us on our first date. That makes tears come out of my eyes again. I feel the warmth of his hands as he cups my face to wipe away my tears.

“I trust you and you have to trust me Y/N… P-Please.” My lip quivers as I give him a slight nod.

I close my eyes as he kisses my forehead for a while. He pulls away and points to his phone.

My hands tremble. I want to trust him, but it doesn't mean that I'm not afraid. In the same way, I unlock the phone.

His hands have not stopped caressing my thighs, trying to calm my anxiety.

After a while of looking at his conversations, his photos, his social media… Nothing. There is nothing.

In his photos, he has folders with me, it is the only thing that can be highlighted. Some unimportant conversations with Kelce, with Topper, a missed call from Sarah, things about his company... but nothing more.

I hand the phone back to him as he gives me an honest look. "Now... do you trust me?"

My first response was to hug him tightly, until I couldn't feel my lungs, I just wanted to feel him.

“I'm sorry…” I feel so stupid.

His hands move up the fabric of my pajama top from behind, letting a shiver run down my spine. With his fingers, he runs up and down my back, following the same continuous pattern.

He places kisses on my head as he feels me sob. "That's it love, it's alright"

"I'm so sorry I didn't trust you... I-I thought that... you and your secr…"

Before I could finish, he breaks away from me and grabs my cheeks with his hands.

"Stop"

"I'm sorry"

“And stop saying sorry. I love you, more than anyone, you know it perfectly. And… and I don't want you to doubt it again. Never"

"I love you so much Rafe"

He crash our lips. The kiss is full of passion, with a noticeable taste of whiskey.

His hands are everywhere, all the way to my thighs, and he lifts me up onto his lap. I can feel both of our breaths quickening, and the kiss becomes deeper and more powerful, as if Rafe is starving for me.

One of his hands goes up to grab my neck and the other massages my ass, until he slaps me hard on it, making me jump and start grinding on him.

“Shit, Rafe…”

"Go on"

My hips grind against his lap, trying to get some friction. His hands move up to my breasts massaging them. He breaks the kiss to rip my top off.

He watches my breasts sway as I continue to move against him. “So fucking pretty”

He begins to give wet kisses to one of my breasts, continuing to massage the other. He takes my nipple between his teeth and I whimper in pleasure as I writhe on top of him. That makes one of his hands go to my hip to keep me in tune with how I was moving my hips earlier, grinding me into him.

He continues sucking on my breasts hungrily for them, my neck stretches up as my eyes roll back, and that gives him the opportunity to travel his lips down my neck leaving purple and red all over my exposed flesh.

But I want more, I need more.

“Rafe… p-please…” I cry.

"Hurts?"

“Mhm…” I hum.

"Tell me Y/N, where does it hurt?" he teases with that mischievous smile that always makes me melt over him.

"Below"

"Below?" he mocks. "where? here?"

He cups my intimacy with his hand while he looks deep into my eyes. "Please.."

"I've heard that before, be a big girl and tell me what you need."

He massages my clit over my shorts and I can see in his eyes that he has noticed how wet I am.

"You"

"Me?"

“Please..” i yelped as he lifted me over his shoulder, heading to our room.

He throws me down on the bed and quickly takes off my shorts, tossing them somewhere on the floor. "No panties" he bites his lower lip as he watches how wet I am.

"Always so wet for me, right?"

He slowly undresses his clothes, very slowly. I flinch as the metal of his belt brushes against my thigh. He likes to play with me, to see me suffer, and I love that he does it.

He continues passing the metal all over my body, until he drops it on the ground. He gets rid of the rest of his clothes and lunges at me like a predator hunting his prey.

I felt his hard erection in my hot center, so I tried to raise my hips to make more contact. Rafe kisses me hard as we both moan into each other's mouths.

“I want to keep watching you suffer, but I am so desperate to be inside you…”

And without warning, I feel a strong push inside of me. “Fuck Y/N… always so tight”

My walls pulses around him, and without any warning, he starts enters in me, hard. His thrusts are fast but hard. My hands clench to him tightly, my breath thick and my moans are loud.

Rafe bends my knees up to his shoulders. This position makes him feel it even more deeply.

"Do you like it? Feeling it so deep in you…” His fingers hook into my neck and he squeezes hard. “…Can your little pussy take me?”

My moans are louder cause of his dirty talk.

One last push until he flips me over. He enters me again, but this time harder. I scream and cry clutching the sheets under me.

"Rafe, shit!"

"That's it, baby."

He grabs both of my hands and holds them behind my back, supporting me only on my chest, until he pulls me further, and the only balance I maintain is on my knees. His thrusts are stronger and his hips ache against mine, but I don't want him to stop.

He grabs my neck to bring my back to his chest, and I feel both heartbeats pumping, as if we were one. One of my hands travels to the nape of his neck, and I tug hard on his hair. I tilt my head to the side and kiss him hard. While with his left he grabs my neck, and the other one goes down to my clit.

"Come on love, give it to me" he breaks the kiss between breaths.

He massages my clit but without letting go of his thrusts, I feel my orgasm approaching closer, while Rafe contracts against me.

"Rafe... I'm going to..."

“I know…”

His thrusts are stronger until I feel my euphoria consume me, and my orgasm arrive. We both do it at the same time, and our fluids come together inside me. Luckily I'm on the pill.

Rafe drops me onto the soft mattress and he falls on top of me.

We both calm our breaths, until he breaks the silence.

"Promise me you won't doubt me again."

"I promise"

[…]

Few hours pass, after cleaning ourselves and snuggling, I feel a sharp pain in my throat that makes me get up for a glass of water.

The cold of the room collides with my bare skin. It's not dawn yet, so it should be 6AM.

With my glass of water, I stop, leaning against the counter, until I hear a noise in Rafe's jacket.

Confusion brushes my face, as his phone is on the table next to the tv.

I reach for the jacket and rummage through the pockets. I gasp when the first thing I pull out… is another phone.

“Please… no, no, no…”

It's similar to the one he left me last night, but this one doesn't have us as wallpaper. It's just a certain lock screen of the phone itself.

I try to unlock him using various significant dates for him. But nothing.

The only one I didn't put was… bingo.

Wheezie's birthday.

The blood stops running through my body when the most recent notification is from his secretary. A pic, to be exact.

"Promise me you won't doubt me again"

I tried to convince myself that it will be something related to the company, but disappointment does not take long to appear.

Indeed, it was a nude.

I review the conversation and it was all…sexting.

I keep checking the conversations on this phone and they were all with girls, all of them.

I don't feel sadness or pain.

Instead, I feel rage and anger.

I decide not to look anymore and start to gather some of my things trying not to make noise.

I take a last look at what it was, my bed, and I see how Rafe sleeps peacefully.

Lot of angel sculpture for the devil that lives inside.

I take my things out of the apartment, and before I close the door, something, maybe kind of psychotic, crosses my mind.

I go back inside and thank his brain for not downing the entire bottle of whiskey. I start spreading it all over the floor, until everything is drenched in alcohol.

I open a cabinet and take out some matches. I light a few at a time, and throw them on the floor.

I go down to the outer parking lot, where my car was located and as I pull away, I watch up as my apartment and my love, go up in flames.

♡

[fishwithtitz]

A Simple Existence (a Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader one shot)

A/N: This one was written specifically for my sweet cheese, my main babe Jen (@copias-juicebox). Her birthday was on Wednesday and this is a very belated present created with her in mind. Girl, you wanted subby sweet Copia, you got him! Love you so much and I'm so happy I met you. Alles Gute zum nachträglichen Geburtstag!

Also, special shout out to @anamelessfool, @eyeslikelilith, and @portaltothevoid for beta'ing and feedback <3

If you'd like to be on my tag list, please comment!

⛧⛧⛧

Rating: Explicit, 18+ MDNI

Papa Emeritus IV x f!reader / 5.1k words

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, hints at dub-con (if you squint?), oral sex, piv, language, cock worshipping

ao3 link

Over the past few weeks, it had become more commonplace for Papa Emeritus IV to be sitting at his cherry wood desk, pen in hand as he rifled through various Ministry tasks late into the night. 

To many, Papa was a figurehead of the church — both through his leadership in the spiritual sector of the Ministry and as frontman of the Ghost project. But so many didn’t realize the influence he had within the planning and implementation of the church and its projects as a whole. 

It was almost as if he breathed much-needed oxygen into the lungs of the abbey and transfused his own lifeblood into the theatrics of the band. The Ministry was, to put it simply, his everything. It was something you had come to love and loathe about the man.

Tonight was no different than any other night the past few weeks. Copia sat perched in his worn office chair (the one he’d taken with him from his stay at the abbey in Venice during his time as a bishop), papal paint smeared somewhat from the occasional swipe of his palm against his cheeks as he thought through a complex task. A banker’s lamp and the starlight were the only sources of illumination in the office space — a tell of how late into the evening it had become. 

You’d sat up night after night waiting for your Papa to come back to his chambers at a reasonable hour. Most nights ended with you falling asleep as you sat  against the headboard in your shared bed or lounged on the loveseat in the sitting room. Tonight, however, you’d had enough. You were worried that the ministry was taking advantage of the Satanic pope’s hardworking and passionate spirit and the last thing you wanted was for him to spiral into burn out. Tonight, you would put your foot down. 

It was a short walk from the Papal chambers to Copia’s office. You’d made the trek what felt like hundreds of times and this specific time, it was as if the route had been cut in half. Perhaps that was the speed at which your bare feet carried you, or perhaps it was the simmering frustration you had bubbling in your chest. Nevertheless, you didn’t bother to knock before you pushed on the oaken double doors to Papa’s workspace. 

As soon as you shut the heavy door behind you, Papa’s head sprung up in alarm as if he had been shaken out of a trance. You walked into the spacious office, nightgown flowing behind you like an estuary, and stopped a couple of meters away from where he sat. 

“Il amore mio, what are you doing h-”

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You found yourself cutting off his tired greeting.

Copia pressed his thumb and forefinger against his temples, gently rubbing them as he closed his eyes in defeated frustration. “I haven’t looked at the clock in a while.”

“It’s nearly one in the morning,” you answered for him, taking a step towards the cherrywood desk. “Come to bed.  It’s not doing you any good burning the midnight oil.”

Copia’s hand dropped from his temples and on any other occasion, you would smirk at the sight of the smudged paint on his fingertips. “I assure you that I have plenty of fuel left for this candle’s flame, amore mio,” he said. 

“But you’re burning it at both ends!” you retorted, voice raising in a mix of sympathy and frustration. “Copia, it’s not a matter of if you’ll drive yourself into the ground but when.” You moved to round the large wooden desk, and as you approached him, your expression softened. “All of this can wait until tomorrow,” you said, voice slightly calmer now.

You shifted behind him and snaked your arms around his shoulders, resting them on his strong chest. Your lips pressed to the hair atop his head.  The salt-and-pepper streaked strands that once were combed back on his head but had since begun to fall into his eyes and around his temples. “Just, come to sleep. I miss you. I miss my Papa.”

And you realized that this man, this hopelessly devoted man beneath the cloak of your arms was the picture of leadership. A perfect blend of authority and quiet strength. Measured. Loving. Dedicated. And when necessary, absolutely ruthless. 

Papa sighed at your admission and reached up to place his non-dominant hand over one of yours, his pen still gripped tight in the other. “Il mio amore,” he began, voice apologetic and oddly tinged with dampened annoyance, “you must understand that I am everyone’s Papa. The work I do is necessary to maintain and grow the ministry — our outreach, our education, charity — the very diffusion of our beliefs lies within my leadership.”

At his dismissal, you felt your grip around him loosen, your hands sliding from around his shoulders as you stepped away from him. “You think I don’t know that? You are one man, Copia. You can’t do it all,” you began as you ran your hand through your hair in frustration. You stepped to the side to better face him, hoping to see him — even just a glance at the mismatched eyes you were growing to love. “I’m tired of watching you run yourself ragged trying. And quite frankly, I’m tired of being left behind while you choose your work over everything else in your life.”

Copia’s eyes finally rose to meet yours. His voice changed from his more understanding and apologetic (possibly even patronizing) tone to one of seriousness. “My work is my duty…my oath to the lightbringer, to his infernal majesty.”

The earlier simmering of frustration in your chest came to a roaring boil at his retort and you moved to face him, arms crossed over your chest as you leaned just slightly over his desk. “Well, I suppose it’s good to know where your duties lie.”

With that, you left the office, leaving Copia to ruminate in the reverberating slam of the heavy oak door and the ringing of your words repeating in his head.

Copia tried his best to finish up the task he’d been in the middle of when you’d stopped by his office at the end of the clergy wing, but no matter how much he attempted to focus, he couldn’t drag his mind away from the argument you’d just shared. Perhaps you were right. Perhaps he had been neglectful in other areas of his life. After a light yawn escaped from his lips, he decided to pack up his work and return back to your shared room. Afterall, he probably owes you an apology.

He didn’t even remember walking back to the papal chambers, the weight of his exhaustion being so heavy that it dulled his sense of time. Despite this, when he entered your shared room, he still had the wherewithal to show slight shock that you were still awake and waiting for him on the sitting room chaise. 

“Tesoro,” he started, walking around the loveseat to approach you, “I am sorry for the way that I spoke earlier—”

His apology was cut off, however, when you held up a hand as if to nonverbally signal for him to stop. His eyebrows creased just slightly in confusion.

“Go to our bedroom and get undressed,” you said, voice devoid of any emotion yet strangely demanding given your usual countenance. As he opened his mouth to protest, you raised an eyebrow, holding your hand up again to silence him once more. With this, Copia’s eyes adopted a slight glimmer and his lips fought the desire to curve into a smirk. He knew what this meant. 

He took a step closer to you and his voice lowered as he spoke. “You want to play Papa tonight, dolcezza?” As he approached you, you fought the desire to conform to him, to allow him to take hold of the reins that he so often gripped. 

You steadied your countenance and gave him a simple nod in retort. 

This time, his lips made the final curve into the smirk he had tried to withhold. As he made his way into the bedroom, his gloveless hand reached towards his neck to loosen his blue cravat (a favorite of yours, he remembered), and unfasten the buttons lining the center of his shirt. He shrugged both of them off and set them on the bench at the foot of the bed before working to remove his pants, belt, shoes, and socks. Soon enough, he was left only in his boxers, and he began to move towards the bed, assuming your insistence that he get some rest.

Instead, you nonchalantly walked by him as you rounded the four-poster bed. “I said undressed, Papa,” you remarked coolly.

He turned to look at you, eyebrows raised once more, before his expression crinkled slightly. “As you wish, amore mio,” he said. Your face remained stoic.

The truth was, as you waited for him to return from his office after your discussion, you realized that you had two choices. You could be angry with him for the neglect he’d shown to your relationship. It would definitely be well-founded, and you had every right to give him a prolonged cold shoulder in retaliation. 

Or, you could approach the situation with the empathy you had craved from him. You could help him realize that his ascension to papacy did not require him to work himself to the bone. On the contrary, it should allow him to revel in the devotion that others craved to provide to him.

You’d decided on the latter.

Papa slid the silken fabric of his boxers down his toned legs (oh, how you’d love to worship those legs) and let them pool on the floor below as he stepped out of them. You motioned to the bed with nothing more than a flick of your gaze, and he sat against the edge. 

“Back against the headboard, Papa.” Your voice felt weirdly not your own. Not that you were complaining, by any means. You felt a surge of confidence and power prickling through your body and you couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he felt like when he presided over Mass. 

Copia scooted his body back to the headboard, back flush against the aged wood, and set his palms down against the pillows. After reaching down to grab his discarded cravat (to which you internally smiled as you noticed the blue hue), your feet carried you towards him, padding softly against the carpet in the papal suite, and you pulled up the sheer organza of your nightgown to reveal the thigh-high stockings you’d adorned while waiting for him to finish in his office. His pupils widened. 

Slipping them off with deliberate purpose, you gathered them both in your hands by their length and reached to grab his right wrist. Without hesitation, you looped the black nylon fabric around him and began securing him to the headboard. “You better than anyone know the values of our church,” -the nylon tightens- “the importance of self indulgence” -pull- “practicing the sin of lust” -loop- “showing our devotion to the one below through celebration of carnal desire.” He watched as you tightened the knot, testing its strength, his eyes deeply curious as he allowed this scenario to play out. You then brought forth his cravat and secured his left hand to the other side in symmetry. 

You backed away and admired your prize. There he sat — the leader of the Ministry of Satan, Papa Emeritus IV, his Unholy Eminence, looking back at you while restrained against the bed with his infernal eye burning. With what? You wondered. Curiosity? Anger? Lust? Annoyance? Intrigue? He opened his mouth to speak, and you reached forward to press a single finger to his lips. 

“You’ve spent so much time speaking on behalf of the church that I think you’ve forgotten how to listen.”

And it was true. All of his duties hung heavy on his shoulders. His ascension to papacy only seemed to increase the workload, and in recognizing his competence, the other senior clergy members dumped task after task upon him that he knew were not required of his predecessors. But, he’d wanted this. He’d yearned for it for so long. How could he stand up against the very ministry that he vowed to serve eternally?

Once more, you lifted up the flowy nightgown to reveal a pair of white satin lace panties. A symbol of purity, innocence — a stark contrast to your actions and the wicked man in front of you. Your thumbs hooked under the waistband and you slid them off, before neatly balling them up in your fist. “Open,” you directed. Surprisingly, Copia obeyed. You smirked and pushed the fabric past his lips and into his mouth, effectively silencing him. 

Your attention turned to his legs splayed out before you. His strong thighs sat parallel to one another as they rested against the pillow-top mattress. Stretching forward, you began to run your hands along each thigh, enjoying the feel of the muscles beneath your palms as they lightly flexed under your touch. “I love these thighs,” you murmured, almost to yourself. You moved to straddle him, climbing just above his knees with your legs on either side of his. Lifting your arms slightly, you loosened the front tie to the bodice of your nightgown, then pulled both breasts out of the scoop neck. They sat directly in front of his painted face, and your eyes watched his as they traveled across the expanse of your chest, his kohl-colored lips barely parted. You swore you heard a noise escape from them. 

You leaned in, breasts brushing against his bare skin as you hovered your mouth by his ear. “Patience,” you breathed, a smirk evident in your tone. As you pulled away, you licked your lips and continued. “You’ve proven that you’re very good at doling out orders. Now,” you trailed your finger down his chest, pausing at the bottom of his sternum, “let’s see if you know how to follow them.”

You knew at this moment that your attention, your affection, was what he craved. However, you also knew that for him to learn to let go, you couldn’t give him what he wanted so easily. Not just yet. So, you leaned back slightly and hovered your bare crotch against his own. You could feel the heat of the both of you and you smiled, pushing down just barely to push your mons against his length. It involuntarily twitched against you and you used this moment to pull back further, earning you a near whine from him (which you purposefully ignored). 

As you sat back against his legs, you looked back down at them, biting your lip. “Fuck, touring has done so much for you. I can’t get enough of these,” you spoke, running your hands along the skin of his quads. “You never have time to let me feel them against me. How sculpted the muscles are, how strong they feel…”

With that, you shuffled your body so that you were straddling his left thigh, your own heat ghosting against the skin of it. You began to press your core down against him, putting pressure against your clit. Looking up, you locked eyes with him. “Do you feel what they do to me?” you asked, beginning to move your hips just slightly, just so, so that he could feel your wetness slipping against him. “How wet it makes me just thinking about touching you?” 

Copia groaned against the fabric of the panties in his mouth. It was muffled but audible, which made you realize just how loud it would be without the gag. 

“And yet…you deny me? All for your work?” Your voice took on a tone of inquisitive mock innocence and hurt, and you creased your eyebrows for effect. Forgetting about the restraints, Copia moved his arms to grab onto you, but groaned again as he realized he was secured into place. 

“What was the saying? ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy?’” At this, you reached down and grabbed onto his erection, trapping it between your leg and his as you ground down on the top of his thigh, pussy pushing down much more forcefully. You let out a moan and tilted your head back at the feeling. He was nearly shaking beneath you. 

Your hips found a slow yet strong rhythm as you gyrated against him. With every forward movement, your leg squeezed against his cock and he let out a series of noises — muffled whimpers and moans — and eventually, his eyelids tightly pressed shut. 

“Is…is pastoral care one of your duties, Papa?” You breathed out, your own voice becoming more lust-dipped as you moved against him. “When you’re taking care of your flock…all of your flock…does that include their desires?” You reached up and grabbed his jaw, forcing him to look at you. “Aren’t I not part of your flock, Papa?”

He nodded in your hand, eyes nearly ablaze as he all but came undone beneath you. He was so hard it was almost painful, and as you moved above him, riding his thigh like a fucking mechanical bull, your own visage was morphed into one of powerful pleasure. Your tempo increased and you let out a shaky moan at the pressure building low in your abdomen. You were close to feeling the release you’d craved from him for god knows how long. This, along with his own impending orgasm, caused him to spit out the panties from his mouth. 

“Dolcezza, please, do not tease me like this,” he whined, words dripping with need. His papal paints were smeared around the mouth and chin from your touch and you bit your lip at the sight. He pulled on the wrist restraints. “Need you,” he choked out. You smirked and immediately ceased your motions against him. His face fell.

“Let’s see if you can use your mouth for something more useful.”

You moved from his thigh, leaving his cock unattended as it dripped for you, hungry and red, nearly pulsating. Suddenly, you stood up and straddled him, bringing your core directly to his face. His increased breath danced across the slick of your pussy and you held back a groan of your own. “If your duties lie only to the church, then maybe you should prove your devotion to honoring the one below.”

Without warning, you slid your hand into his hair and brought his mouth to your wet heat. A strangled groan erupted from him and he immediately dove in, nose against your mound as he fervently moved his tongue between your impossibly slick folds. You reached out with the hand not currently lost within his hair and gripped onto the top of the headboard to steady yourself. 

Copia flattened out his tongue and you began to buck your hips against his face, riding him as he broadly licked up and down your clit and to your entrance. You were certain you were making some sort of pleasurable sound, but at the moment, it was as if the world and all of its stimulation paused. The only thing you could focus on was the feeling of his skillful mouth against you, his eyes shut as he ate you out like a starved man. 

His tongue moved to flick against your sensitive bud and he wrapped his lips around it before sucking harshly. It was a move that he knew drove you crazy, and the burning in your thighs as you tried to stabilize yourself heightened the pressure. You could feel your own legs shaking, but you continued to grind against him, and for the first time, you wished his hands weren’t restrained so that he could fuck you with his fingers, too. 

“You are so good at this,” you hummed out, looking down to watch him as you rode his face. The previous tension from your near orgasm on his thigh was back, and your own reserve was faltering. He flickered his eyes open and growled against your cunt at the sight of you above him, trembling and absolutely wrecked from arousal, and the combination of the vibration of his noises and intensity of his stare sent you reeling over the edge.

You cried out his name, head snapped back as your hand gripping onto the headboard turned white-knuckled. He continued to move his tongue up and down your folds, occasionally flicking his tongue against your oversensitive clit as he helped you through your orgasm.

Eventually, you pulled away sea-legged and released your grasp from his now messed coif, sinking down onto your knees. Your own breath was ragged and you gripped onto his shoulders as you tried to steady yourself. He looked directly ahead at you with a prurient expression, the paint of his cheeks and nose and chin smeared and saturated with your arousal. In a normal situation, he’d make a racy or teasing remark, but he remained silent. It was as if he had finally learned his place. 

You leaned forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you placed a solitary kiss to his sternum, relishing in the feeling of his chest hair against your lips and chin. You then moved south, mouth lightly kissing and sucking on the skin of his abdomen, the angular hip bones that framed his cock, and the trail of hair right below his belly button. 

His neglected length twitched as your face brushed against it and you smirked, sitting up just barely to look at it. Reaching out, you grasped onto him, grip firm, and began to languidly stroke. 

“How could I forget about you?” you cooed, thumb pad pressing against his frenulum before you continued your pace. “You deserve to feel good.” He groaned at the contact and his head jerked back against the solid headboard. You chuckled darkly and licked your lips at the sight of him below you. “The lightbringer would be disappointed if their chosen figurehead didn’t properly spoil in self-indulgent sins of the flesh? Wouldn’t he?”

Copia whined beneath you, but you paid no mind, continuing your slow movements. You lowered your head, breath tickling against the end of him, and began to rub his shaft and tip against your cheeks and lips. “I love your dick,” you said, voice barely above a sultry whisper. You began to press kisses to every inch of his cock, savoring him, worshiping him. 

He squirmed beneath you, and unable to restrain himself, he groaned out, “Cazzo, please.”

You stopped and peered up at him. His eyes were shining with tears of frustration and you were sure that the mix of submission and denial was pushing him to his limits. But despite the look of exasperation on his face, you knew him well enough to know what he truly desired in this moment. And he trusted you completely, fully, to deliver him to reverie. 

“Let me take care of you,” you said, pressing a kiss to the very tip of him before laving your tongue over him slowly. Copia moaned loudly and his hips twitched up into your mouth, requiring you to hold him down with your other hand. “You don’t need to control everything,” you responded, mouth still pressed against his length. 

Had you been looking up, you’d have seen him nod in response, but you were too focused on what was throbbing in front of you to pay him any mind. Lips parted, you descended down his length, taking him as far into your mouth as you possibly could. Copia hissed in response and you smirked around him. You knew that the sudden sensation of warmth would be nearly unbearable, too much, and you delighted in being the one controlling his fire. 

You hollowed out your cheeks and slowly popped off of him. With a swift readjustment of your frame, you straddled his thighs (marveling at the drying slick on the left one), and took his chin in hand. “Look at me,” you murmured, and he obliged. Your non-dominant hand traced the contour of his jaw, fingertips now glazed in white and grey paint, and you dipped your index finger between his lips as you positioned yourself over his cock and sunk down. 

The Satanic Pope’s mouth dipped open and a low groan slipped past your finger still perched on his lip. Your own center was still sensitive from your recent orgasm and the sensation of fullness was almost overwhelming, so you stilled your movement to allow for the both of you to adjust to the feeling. For the first time, you dipped your head forward and rested your forehead against his own, your hand cupping his jaw. You could feel the sweat slicked between the both of you and you closed your eyes as a soft, shaky breath escaped you.

After a moment of blissful stillness, you opened your eyes to look at the man you currently had caged in by your arms and thighs, and you carded your fingers through his hair. His gaze held a knowing fire that you recognized as one of silent permission, of need, desire, of his own restrained dominance. With that, you gripped at his hair near the scalp and tipped his head back as you lifted yourself almost completely off of his length. 

“Out there, you might be the leader of our congregation. You might proselytize to millions of siblings and fans. But right here,” your grip tightened, and you leaned in to whisper against the shell of his ear, “right now, you answer to me. How badly do you want it?”

“Merda, badly, so badly,” he growled. You pulled away and your telltale smirk returned to your features. He looked positively sinister. His face flushed beneath his skull paint and sweat was beading across his brow. Both of his eyes nearly black from lust-blown pupils. A manifestation of evil incarnate. 

“Then take it. Take everything you need.”

And take he did. His hips canted up into you and he slid in to the hilt, flesh pressed against flesh, and you fell forward into his shoulder with a near-howl of your own at the fullness. Your hands found purchase against his pecs and you matched his movements as he pumped into you frantically. Every movement stretched you further, licked flames against the sore muscles of your legs, but you ignored the pain and moved with purpose. Your lips found his and you kissed him for the first time this evening, pouring out your loyalty into the action as his tongue pushed greedily into your mouth. 

As you shifted your position atop him just slightly, his cock brushed against your g-spot and you cried out in euphoria. The corners of his lips curled against yours as he panted through his movements, knowingly hitting that spot with every single upward thrust. 

You swallowed back another moan as you tried to speak. “Fill me so good,” you nearly slurred as you pulled from the kiss. “Look at me,” you said, voice less commanding and more sweet. You knew your release was imminent and you wanted him to visualize the effect he had on you. How he made your body implode as he dragged you down to hell himself.

Your own words were rushed, nearly babbled as you continued. “Look at how good you make me feel.” His eyes locked with yours and you rested one hand on his chest, the other snaking to grasp onto the nape of his neck, while moonbeams erupted in your skin as your climax took hold. Your jaw dropped just slightly and although your mouth threatened a moan, no sound came out as he fervently bucked up into you. 

Your shared motions sped up and you could feel how close he was by the sloppiness of his thrusts as he helped you ride out your release. “Take what you need,” you repeated in a pant. “Take everything you need from me.” 

You pushed through the overstimulation and watched as his hands balled into fists in the restraints and he planted his feet firmly onto the bed, fucking up into you like he never had before. His eyes shone with unsprung tears and he was spitting out a slew of curses in Italian, with affirmations of love peppered in throughout. 

“Cazzo, dolcezza, I-” And just as hard as he had climbed, he crashed down violently. He came roughly with a sound that sounded like a mix between a groan and a sob, hips jerking as he pumped his spend into you with wild abandon. He filled you so deeply that you could feel him beginning to leak down your inner thigh as he pistoned through his orgasm. 

“So good for me,” you purred, pressing a kiss to the place where his hairline began at the top of his forehead, ignoring the sweat-soaked strands that fell into his tear-filled eyes. As you pulled away, you saw one of those tears fall and you quickly swiped it with your thumb. And with that, it was as if the dam had been broken, and both eyes began spilling rushed streams down his cheeks. 

You moved to quickly untie his wrists from the headboard and as soon as he was set free, his arms wrapped around your middle and his head fell to your chest. “So good for me,” you repeated, more of a coo this time, and you pressed another kiss to the top of his head as your hands lovingly traced up and down his back. 

You sat like that for a while, holding him as he softened inside of you, his tears and quiet sobs the backdrop of your denouement. He almost surprised you when he lifted his head to properly look at you. 

“Mi dispiace, tesoro. I don’t know…I’m not sure where this is coming from,” he admitted, thumbs rubbing against the curve of your spine. 

You smiled softly, reassuringly, and brought one of his wrists to your mouth. A red mark had formed from the friction of the cravat, and you kissed at it soothingly. “You have needs too, Papa,” you said as you continued to kiss at the sensitive skin. He hummed in response and you smiled again, this time a little wider. 

“Thank you for letting me love you.”

And in his eyes, you saw a dawning realization, a comfort of sorts that came to flood his mind. He had known this had been an exercise of shared power, of course, of allowing you to express your needs in a way that the both of you enjoyed, even though you hadn’t previously explored the swap in control. However, as you took the reins, you’d gifted him with something he hadn’t anticipated — you’d guided him to liberation, encouraging him to release his expectations (the ones he’d built up of himself and the ministry) and just be. 

Your permission for simple existence was the best thing he hadn’t known to ask for.  

image/gif credit: imgur

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 4

Casper felt *strong*.

He felt like until now, there had been a fear in the back of his mind. A fear that one day his body would fail him.

But as he reached for the metal shutter door, several meters wide and taller than him, his muscles pulled without hesitation. There was no pain, no pressure as his arms engaged and tore the metal upwards with the ease of lifting a single petal that had fallen from a delicate flower.

Once the shutter was mostly up, it stopped and dented, jammed at an angle, Casper considered it for a moment and mentally shrugged, his arms not being able to make that gesture at the moment.

Ducking under and through the shutter door, the man looked out across a great landscape. Turning to peer left and right, the building he had been in was a featureless concrete slab that showed signs of scorch marks and lumps of the solid material broken and pitted as if shot with a gun.

There were no windows or doors all along the space with the exception of the series of hanger bay doors. But Casper had no interest in those, he was staring at the odd shapes and objects in the distance partially hidden by huge rolling hills and dunes.

Who could stop him now from taking a quick look? He felt *free*. What would have caused him pause before was no longer a concern.

The moment he stepped from the safety of the shutter door, he felt his foot sink into the earth, unsteadying him, making him look down. Casper watched as great mounds of dirt built up around his metal foot, as if he was far heavier than normal. He *was* heavier. Why was he..?

It came rushing back. He was piloting a mech. It was an odd sensation to remember such an important and obvious concept. How could he forget such a thing?

The man straightened and took a breath.

Breathing in the alien world's clean air it satisfied him. It was cool and rich with untainted oxygen. He could taste that there were very few particulates to damage him. He knew information this on a factual level.

The young man breathed in again; he could feel his lungs fill and his heart sing for it. He touched a hand to his chest over his heart, only for a 'clang' to draw his head down.

A metal hand, against a metal chest.

If he could frown, he would have. He settled for his optics to click shut, clean themselves, then click open again.

Why was it so hard to remember who he was inside the machine?

"Casper! You having fun there?" Demanded Zeet inside Casper's head.

[I think I broke the door. Sorry about that.]

A moment's pause.

"Ha! Break all the doors you like, it appears like you're already, ready to go for a stroll?" He sounded completely unfazed by the human's destruction; almost giddy even.

[The air out here is... I don't know how to describe it. Cleaner?]

"Your generator needs oxygen to burn, the one in your chest is only a basic model. Barely enough power to run your current rig, although I have tinkered with it, so it should suffice for what we have planned." Came a smug response from Zeet.

"I suspect the air out there is a better quality than the hanger, what with the enclosed space and multiple generators running." The head engineer explained, again, unbothered by the idea of generators running without significant air flow in an enclosed space.

[I think you're right.]

Casper took another step, for the second time finding his footing unstable. Zeet seemed to anticipate Casper's next question.

"We deliberately use loose dirt in the starting area, the idea is to force new pilots to learn how to adjust and fall without fear of being at the top of a hill or a distance away from rescue."

[I think I'm alright.]

As Casper took more steps, they became more confident. He stopped looking down and looked up, to the horizon where the strange square shapes peeked over the hills.

[What's that?] The human asked, while the mech briefly lifted one of its arms and pointed at the structures before dropping it back down to its side. Why did it move so organically?

"An assault course of sorts, although this would be far into your future as a pilot before you'd go over there. That said, I feel that it would be rather pointless to have you make such progress without letting you find your limits. Why not head over and see what you do?" Suggested the voice.

"This is ill advised. We haven't got nearly enough sensors or monitors to keep track of the relevant information." Came Wren's voice, quiet until now.

"You're telling me you don't have his readouts?"

"Not nearly as many as I'd like or choose! This was meant to be a proof of concept! Not a full-scale exercise!"

"Then you will take a page out of our books and plan for any eventuality in future. Casper! Onwards!" Zeet demanded, dismissing the doctor's comments with an almost audible flick of his hand.

Casper urged himself out into the open fields and over the green grass covered dunes. He wandered over to the distant objects without issue, merely walking up then down the rough terrain without delay. By the time he began to near the objects, the human inside the towering machine had long forgotten that he existed once more. Once he arrived at the strange shapes, the young man discovered that he found that they made up a replica of a large town, or centre of a city.

As he walking amongst the buildings, choosing the centre of a street, he noted there were no vehicles, the shop fronts weren't hollow and the buildings themselves; solid blocks without features. It was strange to be reminded of what the world was supposed to somewhat look like now, as he strolled down the main road of the faux town.

[I thought you said this was an assault course?] Casper sent back to the hanger, not seeing the drones overhead, watching his every move. He gingerly laid a hand on the top of what could have been a low corner shop as he reached a intersection of four roads.

"Well we can certainly put you through your paces if you like?" Came a flat tone. Gone was the confidence or giddy vibe to his words. Casper's optics clicked as he felt a strange sensation of danger creep over him. He looked down at one of his hands and made a fist before relaxing. Unlike his own hands, that had a constant tremble since the loss of Earth, these metal hands were perfectly still. Casper never noticed this however.

Casper had done assault courses on Earth. 'Team building' exercises. He wasn't brawny or even particularly fast. He was clever, but powerful wasn't a word he'd use in any self description.

Until today...

He *felt* powerful. He could trust his legs, trust his arms.

To the camera drones overhead, the basic mech, one that was designed to take punishment, but not excel at much else, tilted its reconnaissance unit that sat atop its shoulders as if to crack it's neck. If it were organic, of course.

[Go for it.]

"Understood." Came the immediate reply before Casper got the profound feeling that his next words were not address to the human. "Qik? You're up."

[Qik?]

"Defend yourself Casper." Came a dispassionate response.

[Wait, what? I thought this was an assault course?]

"Defeat the aggressor. No further communication will be acknowledged or sent." Zeet stated, before the human felt whatever connection that was within Casper's head, closedoff.

'Defend' himself? 'Defeat the aggressor'?!

Was he expected to fight? Casper couldn't fight! He'd never been in anymore more than a scuffle when he was twelve! He stepped away from the corner building and into the centre of the intersection, looking around himself for a threat. There were alleys and smaller roads he could duck down to break line of sight, but he need to know *where* the 'aggressor' was coming from!

Casper blinked, and in his panic, his need to find the threat, he felt his mind suddenly expand past what he could see.

It was as if a new sense had just opened up to him. Like he'd lived his life with his eyes closed and was blind, only to discover now; that he could see. This new sensation was not sight, but Casper could *feel* movement of something large and fast approaching him from the hangers to the south, where he had been only a few minutes before.

Whatever it was, it was big and fast. He could sense it was as big as he was. Nothing like the tiny dots that floated harmlessly above.

Aware of the direction of the threat, Casper ducked, dropping his head low and ensuring he himself couldn't be seen over the tops of any of the lower buildings. Quickly shuffling, the man got off the street and ducked down a side road, scooting further down, almost leaning against the building with his back. He paid no attention to the scrapes and loose concrete dust the metal of his back scratched off the structures.

{What idiot did that moron trick into this game this time?}

It was a genderless statement, devoid of emotion. It wasn't talking, like Zeet over the radio. It was text, and an image of a command line and the words filled in at the front of Casper's mind. The man could feel that he could respond.

[I'm the new guy.]

{Cute. Come out and I'll make this quick.}

[Sure, where are you?]

{Finally, a smart one, I'm coming up the main ingress.}

The young man had no interest in revealing himself. Just because the words carried no tone or emotion did not mean that he was a fool. He could sense the threat, it had crossed the distance from the hangers to the fake-town in a matter of less than a minute, whereas it took him substantially longer. Now though, he could see the pulsing 'blip' in his mind's eye. It was slowly making its way up the centre of the town, truthfully being exactly where it had told him it would be.

{I'm starting to suspect you're thinking you're clever...}

[Why's that?]

{You're hiding.}

[I'm struggling to work the controls. Only just started piloting.]

{I don't like liars 'new guy'}

As he crept around the main road, quickly tip toing across the intersecting main road, and using the alleys and smaller side roads to move around, Casper caught his first glimpse of the threat. It was a mech, but unlike his own; blocky, thick with exposed metal, pistons and wires. This one was sleek, designed for speed, but no less deadly. It reminded him of a sword. The sharp angles, the pointed feet that stabbed into the ground. It had a series of spikes along it's back like boney wings.

The whole thing screamed 'professional', all wrapped up in a red and silver paint job. It was the mech of a main character to Casper's eyes.

It didnt so much as walk or move either, the word that sprang to Casper's mind was 'stalking'. It stalked forwards, it's 'head' a pointed eagle-like structure, turning left to right, obviously scanning for him.

[What makes you think I'm a liar?]

{This is just getting insulting now. I'm the final test 'new guy'. You think they'd put you against me? Before you can even move?}

[Stranger things have happened.]

Casper got no response to his last message, but watched as the pointed head, ducked low and out of sight. He was positioned behind her now, closer to the south, nearer the hangers where she had entered, but he now lost track of her. Casper wasn't a fighter, he had no intention of getting into a brawl and made his way to the edge of the town fully intending on running back to the hangers.

The young man wasn't without some knowledge of how to throw a punch. After a physical altercation in his younger school years, his overly dramatic mother had sent him to self defence classes to stand up to the bullies. Instead of being beaten up in just a school setting, he was summarily beaten up in an official setting instead.

All he'd learnt was howto roll with the punches, literally. Casper never stayed on the ground, that was where 'bad' always ended up 'worse'.

Still crouched, sometimes using his hands against the hardtop of the fake roads to help him move, Casper finally made it to the edge of the town and learnt that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The second part of his mech broke the edge boundary of the faux town, a klaxon sounded along with one of the annoying drones swooping down with a red, flashing light directly over his head.

Casper bolted across the road and practically dived into an alleyway, into the town and away from the alarm, which remained in place. His head poked out from around a corner further into the town to see if the mysterious mech had approached to investigate.

The pointed leg that swung at Casper's head missed by what felt like mere inches, saved only because he flinched at something moving fast and fell backwards, deeper into the alleyway. The assaulting red and silver mech obliterated the plain wall with its kick in a shower of destroyed concrete and rebar; bent and demolished at the sheer force of its strike.

{You're fast.} Came a message.

Casper was up, his fists raised, elbows in. He was in his pocket and ready to protect his head.

The heel kick to his solar plexus sent him backwards, arms outstretched by the sheer force as he flew out of the other end of the alleyway and rolling head over heels into the main road again.

{Not fast enough.}

Casper backward rolled onto his feet, one of the buildings arresting his movement in a jarring thud that stuttered his vision. He didn't think, merely moved as he dived to his left down the main road. The besieged building that he'd lent against only moments ago was already buckled, but the rocket propelled mech that slammed into it with its shoulder, destroyed it in a shower of crumbling dust and materials.

The assaulting mech stomped from the cloud of debris and glared down the main road; its own optic sensors scanning for the new pilot.

The road was empty.

{You know I would have already won this right?} The red and silver mech taunted, stalking forwards, looking left and right, clearing buildings. It was sending the message over an open band, so anyone with ears on could hear it.

[I'm still standing.] Came a similar open frequency message. Qik snarled. She couldn't track or know where the new pilot was, she was working on visuals only.

{They disable my tracking system. To give you the tinest of a chance.}

She was crouched low, clearing corners, making sure the 'new guy' didn't try what she had and kick her recon unit in. Without eyes, it was an automatic win for whoever could see.

[If it's any consolation, I don't think this has a tracking system.]

Qik smirked, cocky son of a bitch. She was going to enjoy breaking him down, bit by-

[Heads up!]

A shadow flickered across the street and Qik span on one foot, swinging her leg round in a perfect roundhouse kick that would cut any mech that was in range behind her in half.

But despite her aiming high, looking to destroy an arm or even knock off the head of the opponent, her kick was too low.

From atop a building, the new mech was halfway through a jump and falling rapidly towards Qik. It was a terrible, stupid idea. Gravity was not friendly with anything as big and heavy as a mech. Only those rigs with jump packs and boosters could consider leaving the ground. But this idiot had climbed a building and had launched itself at her?!

So shocked was she, that this idiot would try such an insane and self-destructive move, Qik couldn't decide how to react. She had literally never seen this before.

That delay was enough.

On his way past, Casper grabbed a hold of the eagle-esque head and held on tight, his metal fingers denting the recon unit casing.

Gravity grabbed him and threw him against her, flipping him over her while he hurtled towards the ground in a mulit-ton mech that landed squarely on its recon unit, destroying into a million tiny, expensive pieces. Qik landed on her back, but immediately lost all visual read outs as her own unit was partislly torn from its housing.

{*What?!*} Qik demanded, unbelieving this idiot could succeed in such a stupid move! This was squidgit-shit!

"What?!" Blurted Zeet, blinking as the human had just defeated, the undefeated mercenary; Qik on his very first jaunt within a single hour of his first mech startup.

[What?] Asked Casper, also blinded and unable to move, but wholly unaware of the shitstorm he had just started.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[endangered-aquarium-fish]

Samurai gourami (Sphaerichthys vaillanti)

Endangered

The samurai gourami is a small fish from the area of the Kapuas River in Borneo and its SO FUCKING COOL LOOK AT THEM I WANT ONE RAHHHH

They don’t actually live in the river, they’re way too cool for that-  

They live in a wonderfully bizarre habitat called a peat swamp, where pure rainwater pools over a meters-thick layer of decomposing leaves and wood fallen from the dense canopy above. The acids released as it all decays mean the pH of the water is so low (sometimes 3-4) that nothing can even decompose when it dies, and the tannic acids bond to any dissolved minerals and sink them into the soil. 

The water has the dark color and distinct scent of tea. It sits perfectly still, too dark for any plants to grow, so nearly every fish that makes its home there has to use a specialized organ called the labyrinth organ to get their oxygen from gulps of air. 

…btw, most adult fish will die within minutes in water like that - it’s nearly as acidic as pure vinegar. Samurai gouramis are literally so fucking metal… they live in the fucking Evil Death Water of Doom and theyre just. chilling. unbothered. thriving :3

The gouramis live in pairs, hidden in the tangles of submerged roots and branches and leaves. Their thin shape helps them mimic a dead leaf- and they play into that by acting like one too!! their slow, calm movement looks like they’re simply drifting peacefully through the water, even as they stalk their prey (mostly insects like mosquitoes). Also, they’re some of the biggest fish in the swamp- at a whopping 3 inches long. 

They usually form a social hierarchy where the biggest females get the best territory, food, and mates. And when they choose a mate, it gets really funky and weird :3

The males are less colorful than the females, but they have a pouch in their throat that they can extend as a display, kinda like an anole. The females lay from 10 to 40 eggs at a time before the males fertilize them and scoop them up with their mouth. It’s a lot like the toba betta, but it’s even more specialized - they keep the eggs in their throat pouch, even after they hatch 0.0 The babies spend a while growing up in there, just living in their father’s throat, and so he has to find a way to feed them…

He uses the tannic acids in the water. He absorbs them and mixes them with his own mucus, using their natural stickiness to form sort of a fishy tannin slime that he excretes into his throat like milk for the babies. They spend weeks nibbling at it until they get big enough that he can let them out to swim away. He doesn’t eat anything until they’re free. 

Overall 10/10 fish very funky does a masterful imitation of a leaf. but like if the leaf was fruity or something

They’re endangered by deforestation and pollution from illegal gold mining upstream. The efforts to protect them in the wild have failed, but not in aquariums :3

Luckily they don’t have to live in vinegar or acid rain or something. They’re okay in any soft water with a pH of 6.5 or less, which may even be how your tapwater is naturally. If not, you can gather fallen leaves, seed pods, and sticks from local trees and let those soak in your aquarium, and the tannins they release will give the fish what they need just like in the peat swamps. They really do need very soft water though, so if your water isn’t already naturally soft, this may not be the best fish for you. 

They do best in a shallow tank of at least 30 gallons, with very clean and warm water (75-82 F) and minimal flow. They don’t like bright light so add plenty of floating plants to cast shadows, and make sure the water has plenty of tannins to keep it that dark color. They can be very shy and reclusive sometimes so they really need a lot of cover to feel safe and comfortable enough to come out. It’s easy to give them that, just add lots of wood, dark caves, dead leaves, and plants to the tank. Most plants won’t do well in blackwater, but there are plenty that will - I like to use frogbit, cryptocorynes, water lilies, mosses, and some stem plants like rotala rotundifolia if you let them grow up to the surface. You can also use plants like pothos and peace lilies that like to grow with only their roots in the water - these are amazing at keeping the water clean and your gouramis will love the roots. There should be about an inch of air at the top for the fish to breathe from, and a lid to keep it humid enough so the babies’ labyrinth organs can develop properly. 

Samurai gouramis are wonderfully peaceful and harmless, so whatever you keep with them (except shrimp) is perfectly safe. The only thing you need to worry about is that the gouramis are slow and timid enough that a lot of other fish will eat all the food before they can get any- and if the other fish are aggressive at all the gouramis are done for. The best tankmates for samurai gouramis are small, slow, peaceful, and unintimidating, so I’d suggest a small school of pygmy cories or tiny rasboras like chili, kubotai, or axelrod rasboras. You could probably also keep them with similar peaceful gouramis like chocolate gouramis, licorice gouramis, or snakehead bettas. Just make sure you have plenty of other samurai gouramis (at least 6) since they need company almost as much as we do.

Breeding them is easy, just have a group and they’ll form pairs. The difference between males and females is really easy to see - the males are chocolatey brown like an old fallen leaf, and the females look like a psychedelic rainbow. They’ll all find their own spots in the tank when they decide to breed and eventually the males’ throats will be filled with eggs and they’ll become reclusive and stop eating for up to three weeks while they care for them. It’s best to move the adults into another tank temporarily for a few days after the babies are released or they could get eaten. The fry need to eat the microorganisms that grow around dead leaves, and they should be fed other tiny live foods as supplements like microworms and baby brine shrimp until they get big enough to eat what their parents eat. Even the adults are a bit picky and they prefer live foods but they can usually learn to eat protein rich prepared foods too.

Have fun with ur gouramis :3 

[quirkwizard]

Glad to see ya back at it again with your work! I adore your stuff like lots💕! Totally random question: I have an OC that is based off a conspiracy theory called “Oxygen is a hallucinogenic.” Is there a possible way of making that into a quirk? I can totally understand if it’s too much. I’m just genuinely curious.

While I'm not sure about a full blown illusion power, as you can't exactly balance something like that around something ubiquitous as air, I think you could do a more toned down hallucinogenic power based around breathing in air.

I see it working as an Emitter type Quirk that allows the user to alter the air around them up to five meters. When this air is breathed in and processed, the user can inflict minor psychosomatic effects, effectively causing their target's body to believe something is happening to it. This can have any number of effects, such as making targets feel like they got pinched by something, having them start seeing spots, or making their ears start to ring. The user can target the five senses and may target each one once for each target. As this is coming from the air itself, it can be difficult to identify the source and cause of the issue. The user can target specific effects and areas and can be selective with the targets. Once the Quirk is undone, the targets will return to normal. This gives the user a good tool in subterfuge, able to subtlety inhibit and distract their foes. If nothing else, it can be hilarious to confuse people with it. Though the actual effects of the Quirk are weak and can't deal real harm to the body, working more to distract and hinder people. People can counter this ability by simply not breathing, leaving the area, disrupting the flow of air, or knocking the user out. A possible name for the Quirk could be "Airborne".

[sansxfuckyou]

A short of Naruto cuddling reader after reader has a panic attack?

[I am holding your face so gently right now anon, honestly did not expect to get a request so fast. that being said, hope you enjoy!]

tags/warnings: second pov, panic attack, emotional hurt/comfort (mostly comfort though), Naruto is trying he swears, fluff, heavy physical contact

There's this terrible sense of vertigo flooding every single aspect of your body, shooting down to the tips of your fingers and your toes. More oxygen exiting your lungs then entering, you couldn't breathe in enough, not nearly enough. Your chest hurts, your hands tingle, and your entire body is shaking and trembling and refuses to stop.

It isn't until a set of hands firmly land on your shoulders and pulling you close that it freezes briefly alongside the rest of your body to calculate the touch. It's the furthest thing from what you need but you're being pulled down to the ground into your teammates laps and held onto tight. One arm firmly bracketed around your upper torso and the other across your abdomen and it helps keep you from fainting if nothing else.

Naruto is wracking his head for the few other tips he had picked up in case of this happening again because the last time he was hopeless in being of any assistance and it pissed him off. He should've been able to help, he's supposed to be a support for his teammates and he failed. He eases his grip slowly before coming to the one thing he can barely remember may be helpful: words. Simple words and directions and affirmations, but he can only come up with the bare minimum at the moment.

"Breathe in," he mimics his own instructions with a deep breathe and you follow without realizing it, "And breathe out," again, you follow, slowly coming down.

As the quaking slows to a halt and the worst of it stops, guided away from that terrible place your head likes to lock you in during a moment of weakness. The grounding vice wrapped around your ribs eased up to the point it didn't feel like he would crack your bones, but even that was a comfort in itself. He hasn't stopped counting out the breathing and he isn't sure if he's doing it for your sake or his sake at this point because it's stressful for him as well.

Nothing quite gets the blood pumping like watching his teammate spiral out of control.

His head is resting on your shoulder partially, and his muffled voice comes after a few more heaves of a his chest. "Feelin' better?"

"Feeling better," You parrot back.

"Good enough for the rest of the mission?" He asked quietly, as if he may startle you into another bout of hyperventilation if he speaks too loud. He stretches his legs out but still refuses to let go of you entirely, he can't let you fall apart again. Nope, not happening, never again in a million years unless he dies first.

In response you sink further back into him and the grip returns to a point where it feels like your being hugged by a bear. Tight. Grounding. Reaffirming. It holds you in reality even though you've already dropped down and feel better, not perfect, but better.

"You're gonna give me an actual heart attack one day," Naruto muttered the words, releasing one hand to prop himself upon as he leaned back. He rests his chin on the top of your head and drums his fingers along your upper arm, closer to your elbow. He keeps his breathing metered to the count of three and closes his eyes, if it weren't for the vigil he'd like to keep until you were both back in almost truly safe he would tune out the rest of the world entirely except for the weight on top of him.

But he can't, so he listens closely and catches the tempo of your heartbeat alongside the rustle of grass and the chitter of crickets and the flow of water.

"You're still out of sorts," He sighed out.

You give a nervous laugh, caught red handed with a rabbits heart, "Yeah, but this is helping."

He gives a hum and there's a hint of a grin you can't see, "I guess I'll stay here until my legs go numb then."

[mckitterick]

Manatee Bay, Florida, reports ocean temperature of 101.1°F (38°C), a global record

Ocean temperatures are also breaking records in the North Atlantic and Mediterranean this week.

The ocean has warmed unabated since 1970, having absorbed more than 90% of excess heat from the climate system, and is now seven degrees hotter than normal.

Why is this bad?

Rising global temperatures decrease oxygen solubility in water, increase the rate of oxygen consumption via respiration, and reduce the introduction of oxygen from the atmosphere and surface waters into the ocean interior by increasing stratification and weakening ocean overturning circulation.

Low-oxygen zones increase production of N2O (a potent greenhouse gas), reduce biodiversity, alter food webs, and negatively affect food security and livelihoods. Both acidification and rising temperature are linked with deoxygenation and combine with low-oxygen conditions to affect biogeochemical, physiological, and ecological processes.

Global warming is the primary cause of ongoing deoxygenation. Models project further oxygen declines during the 21st century, even with ambitious emission reductions.

But wait, there's more.

How could ocean warming be catastrophic?

Clathrates are deposits of methane trapped within ice on the bottom of the ocean, usually off the continental shelf where decaying biological material has flowed from the land into the seas for millennia.

Methane is a potent greenhouse gas, possessing global-warming potential 72× greater than carbon dioxide.

Sudden release of large amounts of natural gas from long-frozen methane clathrate deposits likely were responsible for Earth's sudden runaway warming 630 million years ago, the Permian-Triassic extinction event, and the Paleocene-Eocene Thermal Maximum.

Our greatest hope right now is that most clathrates lie deep under the ocean where temperatures are less likely to rise rapidly enough to melt their ice caps.

However, some methane clathrate deposits are much shallower, making them far more vulnerable to warming. A deposit off Canada in the Beaufort Sea and another in the East Siberian Arctic Shelf are as shallow as 45 meters, so even slight ocean warming could quickly release gas from the currently frozen methane.

Not less than 1,400 gigatons of methane currently lurk under the Arctic submarine permafrost, with up to 50 gigatons of methane hydrate highly likely to be abruptly released at any time.

A release on this scale would increase the methane content of the planet's atmosphere by a factor of twelve, equivalent in greenhouse effect to doubling the level of CO2.

Recognizing this threat led to the "Clathrate Gun" hypothesis. A 2012 study concluded that melting these Arctic methane clathrates would mean a 1000-fold free methane increase in a single pulse, increasing atmospheric temperatures by more than 6°C in 80 years.

(map of methane clathrate deposits worldwide)

The worst part of all this horror is that such a sudden warming is also likely to set off other methane clathrate deposits across the world, sending Earth into an ever-increasing temperature spiral akin to those ancient extinction events.

So, yeah, ocean temperatures like this are not just red flags, but radioactively glowing warning signs of impending worldwide disaster.

[astronomia-nova]

The different Mars Rovers and what we learned

Sojourner (1997)

First rover to successfully land on Mars. Defined by NASA as a "micro-rover" due to its small size, Sojourner had a speed of maximum of 0.4 meters pr. minute. It was active for about 80 days on the surface of Mars.

Sojourner carried three cameras, an Atmospheric Structure Instrument (Meteorology Package) and an Alpha Proton X-ray Spectrometer. There instruments.

From Sojourner, NASA learned about the surface and weather conditions of Mars.

Sojourner found rounded rocks at the landing site, which suggests that running water could have been on Mars. The radio-tracking of Pathfinder (mission name) also gave an estimate of Mars' metal core's size (1300 kilometers to 2000 kilometers). It also discovered that the dust that is in the air on Mars is magnetic and possibly made up of mahemite. Sojourner also observed dust devils, ice clouds in the lower atmosphere and temperature fluctuations on the surface of Mars.

Spirit (2004-2010) and Opportunity (2004-2018)

Spirit was one of two Mars rovers launched in 2003 (mission started in 2004). The wheels on Spirit and Opportunity were about double the size of Sojourners. The weight of both rovers was about 17 times Sojourners, and more than double the size. Their goal on Mars was to search the surface for traces of past water. In 2009, Spirit got stuck in soil (in the area called Troy). In 2010, Spirit stopped communications, and the mission ended in 2011.

Opportunity was launched in 2004 along with Spirit but lasted much longer than their twin. Setting the record for the longest-lasting Mars rover, Opportunity stopped communications in 2018. Opportunity also set the record for the longest distance traveled by a rover, around 45 kilometers.

Like Sojourner, Spirit provided data about Mars' weather conditions, especially the wind. Both Spirit and Opportunity found evidence of possible conditions on Mars that could allow microbial life.

Spirit and Opportunity both had panoramic cameras, a thermal emission spectrometer, a Moessbauer spectrometer, an alpha particle X-ray spectrometer, and a microscopic imager.

Curiosity (2012-present)

Curiosity is currently the oldest active Mars rover (as of 21/07/2023) The main purpose of Curiosity is to figure out if Mars has the right environment for microbial lifeforms. Curiosity is currently exploring Gale Crater and had the most advanced instruments at the time. Curiosity has found evidence of water having been on Mars in the past, found old organic material, and discovered that Mars has had a thicker atmosphere in the past.

Curiosity can climb over knee-high obstacles and can go up to 30 meters per hour.

Curiosity carries a radioisotope power system to generate electricity, which gives the rover a steady electricity flow. Curiosity also carries 17 cameras, a laser, a drill, and 10 different instruments.

Perseverance (2021-present)

Perseverance is the newest Mars rover from NASA. The main goal for Perseverance is to research habitable conditions on Mars, but also for signs of past microbial life. The mission also tests possible options for future human expeditions on Mars (ex. improved landing techniques, producing oxygen from the atmosphere and environmental conditions).

The drill Perseverance used can collect samples and then set them aside for collection on the surface.

Zhurong (2021-2022)

Launched by the CNSA, Zhurong is the first Chinese Mars rover. In 2022 it became inactive due to sandstorms and the winter, which prevented it from waking at an appropriate temperature and good sunlight conditions.

Zhurong's mission was to study the topography, examine the surface (soil and elements), and take samples of the atmosphere. To do this it had a RoPeR (Mars Rover Penetrating Radar), RoMAG (Mars Rover Magnetometer), MCS (Mars Climate Station), MarSCoDE (Mars Surface Compound Detector), a multispectral camera and navigation and topography cameras. It also had a remote camera on board.

[learnwithmearticles]

Technology's Use of Water

While water is renewable, it is finite. Its renewability depends on us using and managing our water resources responsibly.

Previous articles on this page have discussed hydropower and how it produces less waste and costs less than other resources. We have also briefly discussed how other energy sources consume water as a coolant or receptacle for waste. Entire university courses are dedicated to human uses of water.

Water Scarcity

Only 3% of water on Earth is freshwater. Of course, we need this to drink, but we need it for many more services beyond that.

Many plumbing fixtures are made of copper, which saltwater severely corrodes, same as lead and, over a longer time, PVC. Toilets on average use 1-5 gallons of water per flush. If we want to preserve freshwater by switching to saltwater plumbing, we would have to rethink and re-pipe entire plumbing systems.

We lose safe water in rain, as well. Supported by a study in Environmental Science and Technology, the Center for Disease Control and Prevention in 2022 stated that rainwater is not safe to drink. Chemicals known as per-/poly-fluoroalkyl substances break down extremely slowly, and have leached from many products like cleaners, fabrics, and shampoo into the water cycle. Removing PFAS from water requires filters of activated carbon or reverse osmosis membranes, which also require frequent maintenance.

A lot of water is also not available to us because it is in ice caps and glaciers, which are estimated to be about 68% of Earth’s freshwater. This water is also being lost, because as glaciers melt at increasing rates, that freshwater becomes saltwater in the ocean.

These limitations mean that water is not necessarily renewable yet, especially because treating water produces its own waste and pollution. We have to be responsible with the small percentage of water we have access to.

Irresponsible Use

There are a ridiculous amount of ways in which we waste water. Leaks, watering lawns, and leaving taps running are some of the big household wastes of water. While individual accountability and changes can still make a big difference, I want to focus on bigger impacts.

One example is in nuclear power production. Nuclear power plants use water to cool down used fuel when it is done being used in the reactor. This results in radioactive and thermal water pollution.

Agriculture is another common cause of water pollution. Excess water from rain or artificial watering runs off of agricultural fields and flows towards streams and bodies of water. This runoff often includes amounts of fertilizers and pesticides ranging from minimal to extremely harmful. This leads to improper levels of oxygen, nitrogen, and hydrogen within the water. Like water contaminated by pharmaceuticals, this is not safe to drink, and something not safe for skin contact.

Technology is also a major factor of water demands. Artificial Intelligence and cryptocurrency are heavy water consumers.

AI is beneficial within waste management, as it is able to quickly analyze information and identify issues, potential problems, and potential areas of improvement. Unfortunately, AI training requires a large amount of water. One study states that training GPT-3 alone can evaporate 700,000 liters of freshwater. In 2027, AI is predicted to consume 4.2 to 6.6 billion cubic meters of water. In comparison, Denmark nationally consumes around one billion cubic meters in a year.

Cryptocurrency is even worse. It goes through a process called mining in which transactions are verified and new ‘coins’ are generated into the system. This process is extremely water-demanding. For example, in 2021, mining of Bitcoin consumed more than 1,600 gigaliters of global water. On average, each cryptocurrency transaction consumes 16,000 liters of water in cooling down the computer equipment and the power plants that provide the electricity.

Saltwater as an alternative in these situations does exist; however, this process has the disadvantages of one-time use, large water intake, sewage discharge, and ocean pollution. Technology has begun to improve on this method with seawater circulation cooling technology, which reduces sewage discharge and water intake, but remains an imperfect solution.

Technology has the potential to drastically improve environmental management and restoration, but still has a long way to go before we offset the huge impacts we have made. Freshwater is taken for granted by many people, and the systems that disproportionately consume the most of it are not held accountable. This cycle must stop if we want to make water a truly renewable resource.

Additional Resources

1. Water Renewability

2. Corrosion on Plumbing

3. Treating PFAS

4. Household Water Waste

5. Nuclear Water Waste

6. AI Helping Water Management

7. AI Water Consumption

8. Crypto Mining Water Consumption

9. Seawater cooling technology

[lazygamer262]