#ozone disinfection

[ozycare]

#ozycare #HVAC Air Purifier #Industrial Grade Air Purification #Ozone Disinfection #Ozyvac

[nursing-and-wellness23]

Unlocking the Healing Powers: Exploring the Benefits of Ozone Therapy  

Ozone therapy is a medical treatment that involves the therapeutic use of ozone, a gas composed of three oxygen molecules. Widely recognized for its disinfectant properties, ozone therapy has expanded to various medical applications. Studies explore its effects, safety, and potential toxicity, with emerging evidence highlighting its role in wound healing, immune modulation, and treatment for conditions like wounds, pain, postoperative issues, and infectious diseases.

Ozone therapy, a natural treatment for medical conditions, involves the administration of ozone gas to stimulate the immune system and promote healing. This therapy improves oxygen delivery throughout the body, increasing blood circulation and enhancing the body's ability to heal itself. It activates antioxidant enzymes, reducing inflammation and supporting tissue regeneration. Ozone therapy has shown promise in treating chronic pain, arthritis, infections, and cancer, improving energy levels and boosting the immune system. It is non-invasive and has minimal side effects when administered correctly. Patients often report feeling rejuvenated and increased vitality after treatment. However, it is essential to consult a qualified healthcare professional for proper evaluation and individualized treatment plans to maximize the benefits of ozone therapy.

Here are some additional resources  Scientific article that you might find helpful

Journal of Ozone Therapy (uv.es)

#Ozone Therapy #Medical Treatment #Disinfectant #Therapeutic Applications #Safety #Toxicity #Wound Healing #Immune Modulation #Pain Management #Postoperative Care #Infectious Diseases #ozone #therapy #healingpowers #oxygen #holistichealth #alternativehealth #naturalhealing #healthandwellness #physiotherapy #recovery #wellnessjourney #holistichealing #oxygenation #detoxification #antiinflammatory #cellularhealth #immuneboost #oxygenbar #naturopathy

[megharesearch]

The latest report on the Worldwide Ultraviolet Ozone Disinfection Machine Market Report is the more professional in-depth of this Industry is providers the status and forecast, categorizes, market size (value & volume) by type, application, region and Forecast 2023 - 2030.

#Ultraviolet Ozone Disinfection Machine Market

[gedmbh2019]

Univog FW5 Ozonwasser zur Teigproduktion. Zum reduzieren der Keimbelastung im Mehl und Grieß wird Ozonwasser in den Mischer gegeben. Das Ozon wirkt direkt und reduziert so die Keimzahl und erhöht die Haltbarkeit. Es werden immer 20ltr Ozonwasser in eine neue Ladung Teig gegeben. Der Univog steht den Tag über vor der Produktion und wird abends zum putzen wieder rein geholt. #univog #gedmbh #gedmbh2019 #fw5 #lebensmittelqualität #lebensmittelindustrie #desinfektion #haccp #teigwaren #nudelteig #umweltfreundlich #rückstandsfrei #pasta #ozonewater #ozone #ozonwasser #ozon #cleaninplace #cip #disinfection #bäckerei #fleischerei #metzgerei #ozono #acquaozonizzata #acquaozono #brauerei @univog @gedmbh2019 @zicklergmbh @achim_zaun @kellereiartikel_beisteiner @roeha.kellereibedarf (hier: GeD mbH) https://www.instagram.com/p/CoDNPpItZLd/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#univog #gedmbh #gedmbh2019 #fw5 #lebensmittelqualität #lebensmittelindustrie #desinfektion #haccp #teigwaren #nudelteig #umweltfreundlich #rückstandsfrei #pasta #ozonewater #ozone #ozonwasser #ozon #cleaninplace #cip #disinfection #bäckerei #fleischerei #metzgerei #ozono #acquaozonizzata #acquaozono #brauerei

[rirahecaxop]

Alternative dis

infectants and oxidants guidance manual

#http://vk.cc/c7jKeU #<p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><center>ALTERNATIVE DISINFECTANTS AND OXIDANTS GUIDANCE MANUAL >> <strong><u><a href= rel="n #<br> epa guidance manual #<br> epa turbidity standards #<br> tudelft water treatmentgiardia log inactivation #<br> surface water protection #<br> enhanced coagulation #<br> epa water treatment manual filtration #<br> #<br> </p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>&nbsp;</p><p>Alternative Disinfectants and Oxidants Guidance Manual · What people are saying - Write a review · Se #EPA Guidance Manual. Alternative Disinfectants and Oxidants. 7. PEROXONE (OZONE/HYDROGEN. PEROXIDE). Advanced oxidation processes generate #------- DISCLAIMER This manual provides accurate technical data and engineering information on disinfectants and oxidants that are not as w #Additional Physical Format: Online version: Alternative disinfectants and oxidants guidance manual. [Washington #D.C.] : U.S. Environmental Protection Agency #EPA Guidance Manual. Alternative Disinfectants and Oxidants. 1. INTRODUCTION. 1.1 Objective of this Manual. Chlorine is #by far #the most commonly used #</p><br>https://rexatewusov.tumblr.com/post/693331684834361344/stata-manual-survival-analysis #https://rexatewusov.tumblr.com/post/693333716355973120/bruhn-aerospace-structures-pdf #https://rexatewusov.tumblr.com/post/693333218368356352/rel-nofollow-target-blank-read-online #https://rexatewusov.tumblr.com/post/693333716355973120/bruhn-aerospace-structures-pdf.

[primeclean]

Packing routines don't need to take too long before a trip. A CPAP user's packing takes a little longer, but with practice, it becomes routine. If you're new to CPAP, you should know a few things about traveling with it. Here are some guidelines for traveling with CPAP...

#CPAP Cleaning Supplies #CPAP Cleaning Machine #CPAP Breathing Machine #CPAP Tubing Connectors #Ozone CPAP Cleaner #Ozone Disinfection CPAP #cpap sanitizer bag

[twilight-saga-headcanons]

Twilight Saga Headcanons - What They Smell Like

Requested by: no one

oOo

The Cullens:

Carlisle takes great pride in his grooming, but tends to go for scentless soaps because some of his patients have allergies. Always somehow smells a little like disinfectant when he gets home after work. He somehow smells very ancient, like incense and a scent you might discover walking through an extremely old and dusty church.

Everything about Esme smells delicate. Her favorite scents as a human were floral and light, like lavender and rosewater. Definitely has an aroma of perfume that trails after her, though she doesn't wear any.

The only way to really describe Edward's scent is clean. Icy cedar, fresh snow, and oranges. It's a pure, subtle scent.

Rosalie's scent is arguably the most powerful. It isn't strong, but it's enticing. It's like warm Tennessee Whiskey and dripping honey - a scent that's designed to seduce and draw you in.

Emmett would absolutely smell like Axe body spray if Rosalie would let him wear it - she doesn't. It stings EVERYONE's noses to an insane degree. Overall, though, Emmett smells like warm velvet, like a blanket you've just pulled out of the dryer.

Even after all this time, Jasper still carries the faint scent of gunpowder. There's something about his scent that stings, like mint and eucalyptus.

Alice smells like salt and coconut, like a sweet and windy beach day. She also carries a light scent of sparking ozone, but it's so faint that sometimes they all forget that it's there.

oOo

Wolf Pack:

Sam assumes he smells so much like food because of the many hours spent in Emily's kitchen. Sam is warm honey mixed in with steaming oatmeal; fresh bread and maple syrup.

Jared used to smell like leather because of the jacket he always wore to school, but that was destroyed years ago when he phased. It's an extremely manly scent mixed with vanilla and amber.

Paul's scent is very warm and spicy, a natural and earthy woodsy musk, like the soil after a heavy rain. It can tingle your nose, but it's still very attractive.

Surprisingly, the one who smells most like the outdoors is Embry. His whole body is tied to the scent of patchouli and pine; it's a very nature-based scent.

A lot of Jacob's scent is mixed in with how much time he spends around cars, so you'll get a whiff of rush and metal and probably motor oil, but it isn't unpleasant or off-putting.

Tobacco is the leading scent for Quil, which he assumes is because of his grandfather. He also smells very much like ginger and cinnamon.

Though she's never been a big reader, Leah smells like old books and paper. It's a bit of a dusty scent, but goes well when mixed with her favorite vetiver lotion and body wash.

Seth has a very bright and welcoming smell, like cinnamon sugar or a freshly baked pie crust. It's a smell you somehow always associate with your childhood, but you can't put your finger on exactly why.

#twilight saga headcanons #new moon headcanons #the cullens #quileute wolf pack #twilight saga #twilight renaissance #jacob black #edward cullen #leah clearwater #jasper hale #alice cullen #rosalie hale #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #emmett cullen #seth clearwater #paul lahote #sam uley #jared cameron #quil ateara

[ask-papa-terzo]

What are your favorite smells?

Hmm... Acqua Di Gio, it is Omega's cologne.

Ozone is another smell I like.

The smell of the incense that we use to cleanse the Cathedral before mass.

Hospitals, I like the disinfectant smell.

#ghost #ghost band #ghost bc #papa emeritus #papa terzo #terzo #papa emeritus iii #ask terzo

[illwynd]

A Song in the Key of Death

It's still Halloween, so here's a new spookyfic!

Human AU, teen outcast Loki and dead rocker Thor. Loosely based on Trick or Treat (1986). 3.3k words.

“You should be loyal to your heroes. They can turn on you.” - Sammi Curr

Contents: thorki, underage sexuality, bullying, violence, mentions of death

(Read on AO3 or read below)

Hero worship is easy when you’re a high school outcast. Especially when your hero is Thor.

Loki lies in bed, headphones on his ears, Thor’s voice loud in his head. Drums thrash, guitars scream, and at the center of it all is Thor. He has Thor’s poster on the opposite wall, where he can look at it as he’s falling asleep. 

Thor’s music speaks to him. 

His parents disapprove. His classmates call him a freak, a weirdo. 

Loki doesn’t care. 

He’s bought all the magazines with pictures of Thor in them, and he’s bought all his albums, and he’s watched all his videos. Loki’s dreams at night are filled with the way Thor moves, sleek black leather clinging to his legs, the torn shirt practically falling off his shoulders, so much bare skin, and he bares it as if daring anyone to say anything. His eyes are piercing and lined with kohl and his hair is long and messy and his body is thick and powerful. Anyone could want him. He could want anyone. Clearly, neither of those possibilities bothers him. In the realm of metal, Thor is a god, above all the petty prejudices and small-minded fears.

Loki thinks about it and he writes letters he doesn’t send. 

Thor, if I ever met you, would you want me?

No one else seems to. 

Loki watches as the media tries to tear Thor down, calling him satanic, calling him depraved, calling him obscene, and he feels like he understands, the way no one else could. They’re both misunderstood. They’re both mistreated. The only difference is… Loki longs for Thor with a ferocity that only a lonely 17-year-old can muster, and Thor doesn’t know he exists. 

Loki dreams and he plays Thor’s records obsessively and he knows every song by heart and he writes still more letters. Letters he would not ever admit to writing. 

*

The week Thor dies, Loki is in a daze. He hears about it in a brief mention on some news show his mother is watching, and he doesn’t think it can possibly be true. A freak accident. A fire in his hotel. 

Loki doesn’t remember anything about the next day at all. Or the day after that. Even the bloody nose and bruises he gets from a couple of the more brainless of the high school assholes when his inattention gets him in trouble, even that barely registers. The shove at his backpack at the top of the stairs, barely catching himself from going down face-first but catching himself wrenches his shoulder on the banister and practically breaks his arm, and the laughter of his classmates all around at his pale sweating face and pained gasps. Then being the one to get a detention when he leaps up and lashes out at the one who had pushed him, driven by fury. His hero's dead and this is the shit he has to deal with every day and nothing is ever going to get any better. And even that fades into the dull grey of bitterness like a fog in his mind, until none of it seems to matter.

And then it’s Friday, and he stays up late because there’s a storm coming and he suddenly wants it. He wants to hear the sky tearing itself apart. 

The wind howls and the clouds race past the distant stars and he goes for a walk, not even bothering with an umbrella or a slicker, just pulling his hoodie up to cover the earphones, and Thor’s voice rings out over the rumble of the storm. 

The smell of ozone. Metal on his tongue. The feeling of the hairs on his neck rising. 

Loki realizes what it means half a second too late.

It is the brightest light he’s ever seen, and the loudest sound he’s ever heard, and as it passes through him, too sharp and sudden to even be called pain, he is sure he is going to die. 

*

He wakes up in a hospital bed. He knows it from the subtle but pervasive odor of disinfectant, the unsettling feeling of an IV drip taped into a vein in the crook of his arm, the warble of distant beeping machines.

Below that sound, even softer, though, there is music. He can hear it. He doesn’t know the song. But then Thor starts singing.

He knows Thor’s voice. He’d recognize it anywhere. And it is not a song Loki has ever heard before. Loki tries to find out from the nurses—only once, though, after the way they look at him when he asks about the music. 

He’s discharged the next day, with some painkillers for the burns and an order to call them if anything gets worse, and he goes home and frantically Googles all the lyrics he scribbled down. Surely it’s some unreleased material, right? Some songs that never made it onto an album. That happened all the time, and it's possible he was hearing, oh, strains from some orderly's headphones amplified through a vent near his bed, something weird like that. Isn't that possible? 

But he turns up nothing about the lyrics, if so. Dejected, he goes to the kitchen to find something to cram in his face.

The toaster shocks him when he tries to make toast. The coffee pot sputters and gurgles and dies. The clock on the microwave flashes 6:66. 

At least peanut butter smeared on a slice of bread doesn’t require electricity. 

Soon after, Loki lies down to sleep in his own bed, with a sigh, and he stares up at the poster of Thor. Loki would feel like more of a creep, studying every inch of Thor’s body in the picture, except for the look in Thor’s eyes. He feels like, somehow, they already know each other. 

He slips into dreams and Thor is there. Above him on a stage, growling into the mike, screaming the melody, hips gyrating. Then the stage is gone and it’s just them, and it’s so real he can smell Thor’s sweat. There’s nothing sweet about it. Thor between his legs, and it’s sharp and real and he’s never felt so alive. 

He wakes up slowly the next morning. Late morning. Saturday. The house empty and echoing with the distant sounds of lawnmowers and cars going by on the street and kids playing in the neighboring yards. He lies there with his eyelids glued shut, groaning under his breath. Throws an arm up over his head to hide from the creeping sunlight for as long as he can, and he’s half dozing when the music starts up again. 

The strange thing, though, is that this time it sounds distorted, the way a record sounds when you spin it backwards. He’s heard of that, bands doing it as a joke or a way to mess with all the most credulous parents and preachers and journalists who are deeply concerned with the forces leading the youth astray. The corner of his mouth curls up reflexively. 

But the difference is that there’s no vinyl under his fingers. The disjointed rhythm and jolting vocals are coming from nowhere, drowning out all the more prosaic sounds from beyond his window, and there's no logical theory he can invent this time for where it could be coming from.

And as he listens, his body feeling like he’s drifting, floating, and impossibly heavy all at the same time, he begins to make sense of the sounds. Begins to pick out the words. 

Pentagram circle – lightning struck – bring me back – bring me – obey me – bring me – obey me – pentagram circle – lightning struck

Loki breathes slowly, hearing his heart beat in his ears. 

He does it that night, alone in his room. He’s researched as much as he can and he’s put together the rest by feel, by intuition. He draws the pentagram on his floor in ashes, with black and red candles burning at the five points. He plays Thor’s albums on his stereo while he recites an incantation he found on the internet, elaborated with a few of Thor's lyrics to make it sound cooler. But nothing happens until he switches his stereo off, falls silent, feeling foolish for having tried. He presses his hands against his eyes. When he opens them again, his gaze lands on the plasma ball sitting on his shelf, a toy he had barely thought of in years. 

He was already lightning-struck and still has the burns to prove it. But the feeling, the taste in the air as he clicks it on… 

He can hear music again, softly. 

He kneels beside the pentagram, and as the music grows louder he tries to hum along. He can hear words and he sings the chorus, his hands on the plasma ball, the tickle of electricity on his fingertips.

He should be more surprised when a shadow fills the center of the symbol on his floor. Tall black leather boots. Sweeping upward, torn black skintight denim. Mesh over pale, muscled abdomen. More leather over the broad, massive shoulders. Tendons of the neck and the strong, set jaw. Long black hair, messy and animal. Fierce eyes… 

The scars on his face, his arms—those take a moment to register. Burn scars, deep and gnarled. 

“Thor,” Loki says, the name filling his mouth as his eyes are wide with awe. It’s the moment he’s always dreamed of. And this, this is something he never would have thought it could be. It is Thor in his bedroom. Because he called him back to the world of the living. Because he resurrected his hero from death. 

He thinks of his old lust-sodden fantasies and he knows that they were nothing compared to this. They were sad and desperate, begging for a single scrap of attention or acknowledgment. Once, just to breathe the same air as Thor, he’d have considered his whole life fulfilled. Once, he’d written so many secret longings, in the terribly certainty that Thor would never know, would never see them, would never care. Hopelessness had been safety, and despair. 

Now, he watches as Thor frowns down at his kneeling form. 

And he watches as Thor takes in the sight of everything else around him and seems to come to a conclusion in a moment, striding forth, breaking free of the pentagram’s boundaries with a shiver of blue-white lightning crackling all over his form. 

Thor strides forth, seeming not to notice him at all. 

The dark figure of him slips into the shadows and disappears.

All the candles go out.

*

Loki lies on his bed for the next day and a half. He lies curled around his radio, weakness immobilizing him. 

The news pours in. Electrical storms. Freak accidents in which dozens of people were injured or died. Speakers, amplifiers. Live mikes. Event sound systems. 

Loki lies there listening, and inside him a fury is growing. He has been loyal. He has never been as devoted to anything or anyone as he is to Thor. To Thor’s music. To his message. To… to him. He has been loyal!

He thinks it like a scream. He can feel it in his throat, searing. 

It was Thor who lied, who deceived. It was Thor who used him. 

Why had Thor simply… walked over him, not even glancing at the one who had brought him back? Why had Thor not even noticed him? 

*

Loki girds himself and prepares. He loads up his parents’ car (the one nobody really drives often, the terrible old sky-blue Cutlass just sitting out in the garage with rust in its wheel-wells and a cassette deck that eats tapes every full moon) with his backpack and camping gear from his brief truncated scouting days and a bunch of junk food and torn paper maps, and he hits the road, intuition still pulling him along like a current. 

He still just wants Thor. But now there is more than that. 

His hero has turned on him. And though he is not stupid or naïve enough to believe in fairness in the universe, it is a situation that calls for action.

Thor is somewhere out there, killing people, breaking things, wreaking havoc. Loki figures he can find him, can let the same feeling deep inside pull him along like a tide to wherever his hero is. And then there will be a reckoning. 

It is a foolish thought, perhaps. One that only a dejected 17-year-old could have conceived. 

Being too young and dumb to know what is impossible is an advantage sometimes. 

*

He drives with the radio turned low and the windows rolled down, the air off the highway buffeting in his face and stirring the hairs on his arm, fighting against the heat of the sunlight. Smell of asphalt and diesel exhaust and the endless fields along the roadside. He’s been driving for hours, barely aware of the mutter of “Crazy Train” through the speakers. When the song cuts out in another two and a half minutes, the station turns over to a news break, a radio announcer’s impassive description of the inexplicable trail of mayhem that has struck over the last few days. No one wants to say it, no one wants to admit that the string of incidents is connected. No one wants to acknowledge the obvious.

That, at least, is a problem Loki doesn’t have. He knows exactly who is at the center of the storm. 

And maybe that’s why he’s the only one who seems to notice that… the body count isn’t what it should have been. The last few, particularly. 

But it’s hard to think on that too deeply when the music inside him is welling, drowning out the monotone of the newscaster entirely. 

The song has been growing louder since three exits back, and his hands grip the steering wheel. His knuckles creak. His heart thuds in his chest. He shifts his hips on sky-blue leather, a subtle motion of his driving foot to relieve the tension that has built up in his body.

What will he do if he finds him? What will he say? 

He’s still wondering when the air rushing over his arm grows cooler, the sunlight abruptly gone, clouds closing in overhead. 

The song grows louder still as the first drops pelt down on the windshield, and he curses and hits the wipers as the rain brings down all the dust with it, splattering the car with crud, smearing it grey-brown across the glass. 

“You don’t play fair, man,” Loki murmurs, grumbles. His lip twitches. “That’s okay. I'm used to it.”  

*

He knows the place instantly when he sees it. The music has been growing louder for the last hour, until the rhythm of the drumbeat has taken up residence in Loki’s core and the shriek of the chords travels along his every nerve. He jolts the steering wheel sharply to the right, veering off the highway, down the side road, onto what can barely be called a driveway, into a dirt lot that’s already half filled with vehicles even older and more beat-up than his. 

It’s gonna happen here. He knows it, even as he slams it into park and yanks up the emergency brake. He has to sit there shuddering for a few moments, the car still trembling beneath him in sympathy.

Screaming metal, a song in the key of death, battles against the sounds of pedal steel guitar in a whining country tune. 

The door hinges squeal likewise and nobody even notices when a 17-year-old wanders into the bar, and for that he supposes he should be a little bit grateful. He takes in the smells of spilt cheap beer and cheap bar food and too-infrequent bathing and various varieties of road dirt. He takes in the sights of an entirely different sort of leather boots and sticky-topped tables and the chicken wire surrounding the whole stage area, walling it off from the jeers of flying glass. There’s a band up there now, just getting tuned up for the evening. It makes Loki think of the “Rawhide” theme for a second, and the idea makes him laugh. 

He’s got his hand in a bowl of free peanuts and pretzels when Thor shows up and takes over the stage. The musicians around him jolt at first with electricity, pain written across their faces. A few resist it, fight back. They’re the ones that slump to the ground soon after. 

The rest go along with it, and their bodies begin to play their instruments in a way they never would have before. A tune they do not know. A stubborn energy that doesn’t come from their tired bones. 

There is lightning crackling over everything as Thor’s form appears in the midst of them, limned in spotlight blue. Chains glittering. Leather glistening.

Loki wants to see it. Part of him just wants to be part of this. He never got to go to one of Thor’s live shows when he was, well, alive. He can’t miss the chance now, and he pushes forward through the press of hicks and bikers to get closer to the stage. 

Another part of him, though, is burning. His hands clench at his sides. 

If Thor is going to be going around exacting revenge like this, he at least owes it to Loki—the reason Thor is alive again—to bring him with. Loki has plenty of his own revenge that he’d like to grab. 

That is what infuriates him the most. The fact that Thor had dismissed him without a thought. Walked past him and turned away after everything Loki had done for him. After how much Loki had wanted him and everything he was.

When the first bolt of lightning shoots from the neck of Thor’s guitar, Loki can taste it in the air. Revels in it, in the sight of some wannabe-cowboy burning to a crisp not twenty feet away from him. 

Another bolt shoots out. Another.

People are screaming, running, fleeing. Suede fringe and bolo braids flying.

Loki is ducking between them, toward the side of the room—he’d spotted it when he first came in, a door that barred the way to the stage area.

The knob turns under his hand. 

When he makes it up onto the platform, there’s nobody else left alive in the building. Dead musicians and dead patrons and dead barmen. 

Thor is still there, panting hard under the bright lights, guitar still slung on a heavy chain over his shoulders. Sweat glinting. The lights hot and still. 

Loki approaches, fearless, and he feels himself smiling. 

“You need me. It’s all been falling apart, hasn’t it?” he says, thinking of the newscaster's bland monotone. Feeling the fading bruises on his own body from school. The feeling. The feeling that has driven him. The vengeance and rage and betrayal.

Thor plays a broken, sorrowful chord before the pick falls from his fingers. His face turns sharply to where Loki stands. 

“I brought you back, Thor. You owe everything to me.” 

Thor stares at him, brow twisting. 

Loki spreads his hands, welcoming. “Come here, beautiful.” 

Thor strides closer. And in the empty bar, Loki reaches up and trails his fingertips across Thor's scarred face. 

“Your music will live forever. The legend of you will keep it alive. No one will ever be able to forget,” he promises. “At least, that’s how it will be if you have a good manager. One who believes in you.” 

Thor gazes at him. His kohl-lined eyes pierce into Loki’s core, and the feeling is like nothing he has ever experienced. It’s like everything he always dreamed. Everything he could have ever hoped, writing desperate, aching letters into the darkness.

Thor stands before him, and Loki pushes down on his shoulders until Thor kneels before him. Hands he has watched in videos countless times come to rest on his waist, fingers splayed. Wrapping around the sharp angles of hipbones beneath denim.

There in the middle of the wreckage, Thor presses his brow against Loki’s abdomen, bowed as if in prayer. It is a chaste gesture, and it makes Loki’s blood burn hotter than his own sweatiest wet dreams of a month before.

Then Thor’s face turns upward. His eyes intense and staring back into his. 

Loki buries his hands in Thor’s hair, feeling the softness of it.

“We will do great things together,” Loki murmurs, swept up in pleasure. “Just you wait.”

#thorki #my fic #spookyfic

[heartofhubris]

Ford smelling like paper and oil and ozone but also like fire and pines and sap and day old coffee and dust but also dirty clothes and metal and that faint smell of disinfectant and saline and isopropyl alcohol on the tips of his fingers

#ford pines #hc #gf

[ixupi94]

Ozone is harmful af but boy is it a great disinfectant! 👌

(My hc: Brio enjoys drinking chemicals as if they're fine wines)

#nitrus brio #nitrusbrio #nbrio #n brio #brio #crash bandicoot #crashbandicoot #crashbandicootfanart #crash bandicoot fanart #comic #my art

[ozycare]

#Ozone Generator #HVAC Air Purifier #Ozone Air Purifier #Disinfection Solutions #Disinfection Surface and Air #ozone machine #disinfection solution and Sanitizer #ozone generator for car #Ozycare #ozone generator manufacturer #Disinfection Solutions for Hospita

[dollsonmain]

Mm. Stringy slime goobies. No wonder these smell so bad.

All clean!!!! I do still need to derust the tails. So mostly clean!

I didn't open Secret Beauty because I'd have to cut her saddle out to get to her tail, Talks a Lot because of her electronic components which would also have to be cut out, and DJ due to the wind up mechanism which I randomly discovered still works when her tail suddenly took a spin and tossed dirty water all over my face and into my eye. Somehow, bad stuff keeps going between my glasses and my face and getting in my eyes.

Either way.

Everyone has been scrubbed out and disinfected. There is still a little rooting-hole grime to deal with but that'll be easier now that they're less icky overall.

I noticed that Baby's diaper is peeling off of her body and was worried it was something I'd done (that's not happened before and I'm using the same methods as always....), but it's in her before photos. Sort of. You can see a little bit missing.

I should have taken better photos of that...

Sigh.

Either way, there's a little more cleaning to do, then let them dry, and then ozone time (which will likely be tomorrow, not today) and then into the SunBox.

I need a better applicator for the cream so that it doesn't end up streaky.

[academiccockroach]

So I got in my feels about All Might again

and one of the muses decided to come down and kiss me on my little sleep deprived forehead to help me get this brainrot out

so I wrote a scene

to make a case showing how him telling Izuku what he did on the rooftop was the most heroic thing he ever did

Tw: some gruesome descriptions of violence and gore

“Can I still be a hero even if I’m quirkless?”

Toshinori stopped mid launch. He shouldn’t have. He was running out of time. He should take what measly few seconds he can rake together from his quirk and make a heroic exit.

His lung hurt. That sentence in of itself was a conundrum.

There was nothing to hurt.

So then why did it ache so much right now?

He turned back and looked at the kid, still mumbling on. Pain throbbed up and down his body like a stampeding herd. Very big horses with very big, spiked hooves made of staples and stitches and grafts.

He looked down and he did not see a kid.

He saw bruised knuckles. He saw chipped teeth. He saw callouses and scars and lips and twitches when a sound was just a bit too much like the bang of a gun.

He heard desperate pleas for help. He heard people dying. Horrible, terrible deaths. He heard bodies make sounds that no body should be able to make.

He smelled gunpowder and ozone and the fresh iron of blood and the unmistakable miasma of rotting carcasses and infected wounds and the even more horrid stench of gauze and disinfectant and hospitals and bodies being cremated.

He did not hear whatever the boy said next.

He heard, I leave the rest to you, All Might.

He thought about the rest.

He thought about sleepless nights when by the fourth day or so, everything started to lose meaning. When you no longer are tired you’re just— no longer are anything.

He thought about Torino’s feet meeting his jaw again and again and again. How it feels to swish mouthfuls of teeth and blood diluted saliva around before spitting them and getting up again.

It was always again. Never finally.

He thought about crying. Alone. He thought about fingers digging into fingers in search of someone to hold but finding only his own crooked, calloused hands.

He felt the thin bones of a skull crackling underneath those same desperate fingers like sacramental bread. He felt how soft everyone was underneath that thin, thin layer of measly bone.

Even the most rotten of people.

All he wished was to use those hands to help and all he did was sully them in blood.

Toshinori deflated.

The kid, of course, freaked out. Toshinori just— sighed. He couldn’t find it in himself to be bothered for some reason. He rarely could these days. They were just a red and blue and yellow mishmash of fights he rushed and press interviews he fled and fans he could not spare time and colleagues he no longer knew how to address.

And when you mush together so many colours, in the end, it all just becomes a murky grey.

Toshinori blinked to banish all that grey away and set on reassuring the kid that he was, in fact, the ‘real’ All Might. In the whatever flesh he still had on his bones pierced by hero-grade titanium implants.

The horror on the middle school student’s face somehow made his nonexistent side hurt all the more. Something in there bled still. And Toshinori, for all his raging inner fire, did not know how to cauterise it.

The kid was small. Barely five feet. Face soft and squishy, eyes sparkling and round even if they were red from crying and a bit jittery from residue adrenaline. His hands were delicate, fingers all straight and dainty. The only imperfection on them was a writer’s bump.

His smile was wobbly but it was honest.

Toshinori opened his mouth to say the words. To shove all that down and indulge this kid like he did all the others. Yes, even quirkless ones. He said to them what he himself would have liked to hear way back.

But then he closed it. The kid stared at him, at his hollow vessel of a body with anticipation exuding from every pore like an admiration-fuelled furnace.

He was so young.

He was so innocent.

Toshinori imagined that frame a few years from now. Bulkier but also getting kinda crooked. He imagined how those dainty hands would look covered in blood and dirt, twisted and slightly shaking from damage sustained.

He imagined those teeth kicked in, those eyes blackened, those protruding collar bones broken and remade again and again until there wasn’t a part of this child not contorted by the greatest profession of them all.

He imagined looking into those impossibly large eyes and seeing a lingering shadow behind them. A shadow of guilt and anger and fear.

He imagined the green-haired boy bleeding out on the ground with his entire insides splayed like a morbid art piece and he decided to spare a life.

“A smile that knows no fear, huh…”

#all might #toshinori yagi #yagi toshinori #midoriya izuku #bnha chapter 1 #fanfiction #I will die on this hill #no bashin’ allowed in this house #I will not take this any more #fuck the man has his problmes but he made the right fucking call #not to say Izuku isn’t prime hero material #but in the context of all might’s fate is that a good thing? #hero aca #bnha #mha #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #deku #pro heroes

[gedmbh2019]

Wirkungsweise von Ozon. Ozon (O3) wird aus zwei atomischen Sauerstoff (O2) unter Zufuhr von Energie (UV-Licht, Strom) gebildet. Dabei werden die Atome gezwungen eine höhere Verbindung einzugehen. Diese Verbindung ist sehr instabil und zerfällt auch ohne Reaktionspartner wieder zurück in zwei atomischen Sauerstoff (O2). Dadurch kann Ozon (O3) auch nicht in Flaschen oder Behältern gelagert werden. Trifft das Ozon (O3) auf eine z.B. Hefezelle so reagiert das Ozon stark oxidierend auf die Zellmembran und bricht diese auf, die Zellflüssigkeit läuft dabei aus und der Zellkern ist alleine nicht mehr überlebensfähig. Beim Aufeinandertreffen von Zelle und Ozon (O3) wird das dritte Sauerstoffatom (O) abgetrennt. Durch das abtrennen des einen Sauerstoffatoms (O) bleibt nach der Reaktion nur normaler zwei atomischer Sauerstoff (O2) übrig, da sich die einzelnen Sauerstoffatome (O) dann zu zweiatomischen Sauerstoff (O2) zusammen fügen. Ozon (O3) ist nicht selektiv und wirkt auf diese Weise gegen jegliche Art von Hefen, Bakterien, Viren, Pilzen. Durch diese Wirkungsweise ist Ozon umweltfreundlich und rückstandsfrei als Desinfektion einzusetzen. Vorführungen durch Provintec GmbH Bozen Zickler GmbH Böchingen Richard Wagner Alzey RÖHA Kellereigeräte Gollhofen Reinhardt Kellereibedarf Deidesheim Beisteiner Kellereimaschinen Neckenmarkt GeD mbH Rhodt #univog #gedmbh #gedmbh2019 #umweltfreundlich #rueckstandsfrei #desinfektion #disinfection #ozon #ozono #acquaozonizzata #haccp #lebensmittelsauberkeit #lebensmittelindustrie #landwirtschaft #cip #cleaninplace #ozonwassersystem #cantina #bodega #metzgerei #fleischerei #brauerei #mosterei #tenuta #vignoble #barrique #barriquereinigung #lebensmittelsicherheit #vinicola #weingut @univog @kellereiartikel_beisteiner @cantinakaltern @cantinaterlano @cantinakurtatsch @cantinatramin @cantinaendrizzi @klauslentsch @cantina_girlan @cantinaendrizzi @roeha.kellereimaschinen @kellereibozen @elena.walch @alois.lageder @hofstatter.winery @forstbeer @zicklergmbh @gedmbh2019 @achim_zaun (hier: GeD mbH) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cnb5fmat7d6/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#univog #gedmbh #gedmbh2019 #umweltfreundlich #rueckstandsfrei #desinfektion #disinfection #ozon #ozono #acquaozonizzata #haccp #lebensmittelsauberkeit #lebensmittelindustrie #landwirtschaft #cip #cleaninplace #ozonwassersystem #cantina #bodega #metzgerei #fleischerei #brauerei #mosterei #tenuta #vignoble #barrique #barriquereinigung #lebensmittelsicherheit #vinicola #weingut

[lizadale]

That last ask made me curious, and as a writer who does scent to magic, i must ask

What are the best 2 scents you would put to the magic of the bleck crew? Anything specific like an item or more of a feeling or what?

I need to know 👀

sorry this took me a long time because out of all my senses, my worst one is smell. or at least it's the one I think about the least. anyway, i had to go and...sniff things. for ideas. these descriptions might be too vague but.

Blumiere - his magic is tied closely to fire so i imagine warm, spicy scents that tickle the nose and clear the sinuses. cinnamon? but also like with a smoky undertone

the Dark Prognosticus - (separate bc it has its own smell and affects Blumiere's) acrid and moldy, faintly like decay

Nastasia - citrusy, like yuzu, but also like ammonia-y? something you associate with disinfectants

Dimentio - GLITTER GLUE straight up smells like fabric softener, probably. idk how to describe it, but cool, breezy smells. maybe something kind of faintly herbal

O'Chunks - earthy smells, dry clay, pine, salty (not like the ocean tho)

Mimi - metallic. puts that coppery taste in your mouth, but then there's a layer of sweet overtop of it that tries too hard to mask the metal and becomes cloying. maybe like...licorice.

Luigi/L - ozone, obviously, if using Thunderhand. like an approaching storm. if he's using soul magic instead then the scent is thick and heavy like humid air in a forest

#headcanons