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the boy is mine (carol's edition)

you know i had to do it to 'em. if you'd like to take a crack at the 'the boy is mine' writing challenge, you can check it out here. you can also see the masterlist of everyone's works here. a/n: for me, how eddie was fleshed out in FOI has always been how i see him. hurting, but goofy, but snarky, but sweet, but loving, but scared, but all that. eddie 'has taken care of himself since third grade' munson just makes sense to me. in this ficlet, our romantic night in gets muddled when eddie doesn't know how to just let someone love him right. i've also always have written eddie as older than he actually is, so here -- he's 25. argue with the wall. tw: 18+, angst, hurt/comfort, some smutty references but no smut, references to smoking and drinking. some arguing but nothing crazy.

The day was hard on his shoulders and back, no one should be hunched over the hood of a car for this long -- and even being young isn't saving him from the grimace he makes every time he gets out of his bed with a decades old mattresss. Eddie cracks his neck each way while he chugs down the road leading to Forest Hills, slick and shiny with rain from the afternoon. The orangey yellow headlights on his beat up '71 Chevrolet bounce cheerily off the darkened asphalt, but the scrape, clatter, and growl of his engine and whatever else was a stark reminder that this van was on it's last leg. As bright as the headlights were, the gloomy purpled evening sky was a perfect match to his mood.

Today is Eddie Munson's birthday.

For the past few years, Eddie has spent his birthday working double shifts at the auto shop and then meeting the guys at the Hideout to get so drunk he can't see. Can't be sad about your birthday if you're too drunk to think about how your mama's dead and your dad won't call. Can't be sad about how you won't ever get to hear her sing you happy birthday, or put on a record, or dance with you in the living room. Or have your dad make dinner and put the six pack away if only for that night. To not run out on 'a job' or 'work a late shift' where he won't come back for days afterward.

He'd drink and drink until you had to hold him up to get him out of the bar, piling him into the back seat and having the guys follow you home to help load him into bed. He always looked forward to the greasy diner hangover breakfast in the morning where it could be just the two of you, and not his birthday, and not all the awful things he thinks he is.

The gravel groans and crunches when he pulls in at the side of the trailer he used to share with Wayne. With another roll of his head and shoulders he kills the ignition, hopping out of the van and leaning over to grab his bag. It's only when he slings it over his shoulder that he notices the warm glow of the kitchen light on, passing muted through the small curtains. He hip checks the door shut and makes his way up the steps that need repairing -- another thing to add to the list for 'Spring Cleaning' in a couple weeks that he knows he'll forget to do until you remind him or one of the boards rots out. Eddie's ring tap against the metal handle and he braces for the screech of the door, only to be met with the cozy blend of garlic, onion, and rosemary hitting his nose first. He swallows while he kicks off his work boots, turning the corner to see you in the kitchenette, putting the lid back onto the one large pasta pot he has and turning the burner off. "Oh!" you jump when you see him, shock turning into a smile, "You're earlier than I thought you'd be. Hold on!"

"What're y--" He's interrupted by you hurrying into the fridge, glass clinking when you pull out a Mionetto bottle that was already opened to reveal the cork.

"Surprise!" you ring out, popping the bottle with a little flourish, "Happy birthday!" He stands there, unsure at first what he's looking at, trying to take it all in. You in the kitchen with an apron on, the table set nice, a cake set on the counter to cool with a covered bowl of what looks like home made vanilla frosting next to it. To the side, a familiar small notebook lays opened to a buttercream recipe -- his mom's buttercream recipe, still scrawled in her loopy handwriting on yellowing pages with fading blue ink.

"Melvald's didn't have any like, nice cups," you say with a scrunch of your nose as you pour two glasses of prosecco into flimsy plastic flutes, "Is that okay?" "Uh..." he snaps back to reality when you hand him the cup, "Y-yeah that's okay." "Happy birthday, handsome," you smile, raising your drink before you take a sip, he follows suit.

"What is all this?" he asks, voice sounding like it's coming from someone else. Objectively, he should be falling to his knees right now, crying with adoration for you. Sobbing over the clear effort you've put in for a romantic night together at the trailer. "Um," you suck in your lips quickly, and release them, eyes lowering to the scuffed linoleum, "I uh, I made braised short rib and mashed potatoes, some broccoli. Wayne told me that um, that your dad used to smoke them for your birthday but we don't have a smoker so..."

"Why?" The swell in his heart builds from genuine affection to suspicious bitterness, this was way too much.

"Did you not check the calendar today or something? It's kind of a big day," you try to lighten the mood with a laugh, taking the apron off and hanging it on the hook by the hallway, "Sit, sit." He follows your direction, sitting at the table where the place setting is the best it can be with what you have. You even folded up the paper towels nicely. He silently sips on the bubbles, uncomfortable on the makeshift throw pillow cushion on the chair, while you take the plate in front of him and begin serving.

"I should um," he starts, voice gravelly, "I should wash my hands and uh, and change or..." "Yeah," you nod, voice higher pitched than expected, "Go, go ahead. It'll all be ready when you're done washing up." He leaves the glass behind, thudding into the bedroom where he notices a Frederick's of Hollywood bag sitting at the end of the bed. A small pile of gifts in shiny blue paper lay stacked up pretty on his dresser -- a card front in center 'Eddie My Love' - you write it in the same way you sing it to him absentmindedly every now and again. Flipping the lyrics every time. He swallows again, pulling in his cheeks and biting down while he peels off his coveralls and slips into what he was planning to wear to drinks later -- a band tee and some worn jeans. It feels cheap to wear this now, now that you've put in all this effort. Now that you're looking all sweet and put together in the kitchen for him. He rolls his shoulders again, trying to stretch the frustration out. He doesn't wanna be mad at you, you didn't do anything wrong. He doesn't wanan feel so sick in his chest over it -- but he does. All this work for what? Eddie takes his rings off to wash his hands, using the same Dove bar soap to wash the remaining grime off his face from work. Big inhale, big exhale into the towel on the door before making it back to the kitchen where the dinette table was ready for dinner, two tapered candles lit in old holders on the side. He sits across from you, your eyes glittering in the light of the flame.

"You didn't have to do this," he says quietly. Your lips twitch into a half smile, head cocking slightly to the side. "I know, but it's your day...it's a big one, too. The big two-five," your voice doing its best to soothe, "Can't just, I dunno -- get plastered at The Hideout every year..."

"Sure I can," he shrugs with a quirk of his brows, pushing the mashed potatoes around with his fork. He watches the melty pat of butter ooze off one of the edges like a volcano, pooling in next to the broccoli. "And you like that? That's fun for you?" you chuckle before noticing he's just playing with his food, "You gonna eat?"

"Getting plastered at The Hideout is like, tradition," he mutters, looking at the clock over the cabinets, "And we're gonna be late meeting the guys."

"Ed..." you say, a vapor of disappointment floating through his name when you say it. He winces.

"Like I said, babe," he says, "You didn't have to do all this -- y'know, spend all this extra cash on dinner and --"

"I know I didn't have to, but I wanted to -- I wanted to do something nice so that your birthday could be sp -- " "Okay, well I don't need my birthday to be special, it never is," he snaps, he doesn't mean to, "I didn't ask you to do this for me." You hold your soft gaze at him, shoulders round down while you rest a cheek on your palm. If Eddie's mama was still alive, she'd tell you to get your elbows off the table.

In the flame, your glittering eyes turn glassy. You let a soft breath out through your nose, a sulk clear in your posture. "You're right," you mumble, a soft squeak of a sound while you slowly stand, shaking your head, "You're right, you didn't ask. I shouldn't have assumed that you..."

You trail off while you flick the lights on in the kitchen, leaning forward to gently blow out the taper candles. Your hand swishes away the smoke and soot, pushing out out of the cracked kitchen window before the smoke detector catches it. The cabinets creak while you take out some Tupperware from the top shelves, the good stuff that the ladies in the park sold Wayne back in the 70s. They click and clack as the bowls and trays and their tops hit the formica counter top.

"Well--well, wait -- you don't have to pack it up, babe," he says, sitting up a little taller in the chair. When he hears the shudder in your breath he stands, "You don't have to put it away."

"No, it's fine," you assure, a small strain coming through from your chest, "It'll be like -- you'll be so excited when you get home and there's all this food. I just gotta call the guys and tell them to just go to the bar instead of coming here."

"Whaddayou mean, coming here?"

You turn around, eyes wet now but not crying, a tug on your brow and taughtness in your jaw from where you try to hold it back.

"It was supposed to be a surprise," you shrug, "But like, it's not important. Lemme just pack this up and I'll get it figured out." "What's the surprise?" he asks, tilting his head to get a better look at you. "Well I..." you let out another breath, lower lip wobbling; an action your stop with a sharp inhale through the nose. "Well I thought it would be fun if the guys came over and did a birthday oneshot campaign with you. I helped Gare and Jeff write it and Jeff was gonna DM," you let out in one breath, "And it was gonna be like, a silly drinking game version." "You were gonna play?" he asks meekly. You nod. You rarely play, always watch. Always make snacks or help him clean up the trailer, always order the pizza because Eddie forgets to. Always add extra mushrooms on one because Richie likes extra mushrooms. Always make sure to get one with white sauce cause red cause doesn't sit great with Dustin.

"Did a, um, did a character sheet and whatever," you say, defeated, while you open the utensil drawer to pull out an extra pair of tongs and a serving spoon, "Drew her -- it's in your card."

You start to pack up the food and the tears start up again, welling in your eyes but still not spilling over. Eddie steps forward, getting between you and the pots and pans on the stove.

"Hey, wait," his voice bare audible, "Babe, don't."

"It's okay," you sniffle, "I just have to call them."

"No -- baby, stop," there's an edge now, ring hand falling on your wrist, "Stop packing it up."

"It's fine--"

A waltz between you, him, and the tupperware on the counter.

"Don't make me..." he huffs, trying to maneuver the tongs out of your hand, "If you don't stop, we're gonna have a pr--"

"Ed, enough! We will go to the bar, it's fine," you urge, anxiety heightening in your chest where it bursts, you start to cry, "Please, let me put it away. It's fine. I just -- fuck --"

"I feel like such an asshole," you sigh, breaking. You relent, letting go of the tongs where he takes them and leaves them between the burners on the yellowed stove.

"Don't be like that, you're not," he soothes, closing in on you against the counters edge, "You're not, I'm sorry."

"I really just wanted your birthday to be special," you weakly murmur, wiping at your eyes.

"You know how I get," he says, rough hands coming up to cup your face where he leaves a soft kiss to your cheek, "M'just not great at bein' fussed over."

"You deserve to be fussed over, doofus," you garble out, his thumbs replacing your fingers to catch the tears as they fall.

"It's hard, babe," he nods, "You knows it's hard for me. Y'know with my mom's stuff gone and my dad being...who fuckin' -- who fuckin' knows. The Hideout just makes sense. That's y'know -- that's what I deserve."

"That's not even true," you shake your head, "Don't be stupid."

"Well, I barely graduated so," he offers you a peck to each salty, wet cheek, "Stupid's my middle name." "Don't cry, sweetheart," he breathes, leaning in with a slow kiss. A kiss drenched in apologies and thank yous, breaks away just to kiss again. And again, and again, and again until you're both breathless under the sickly yellow green glow of the overhead kitchen light. "How about I change into something nicer than this, and we'll pop these plates in the microwave and start over," he asks, a smile toying on his full lips, "'Kay?"

You nod back, getting another peck stolen from you, and following him down the hall. "Oh, yes, yes, allow me to slip into something more..." he announces with flourish, posing half sexily half awkwardly in the doorway to his bedroom, "Uncomfortable." You snort, giggling while you follow in after him, settling on the end of his bed, "You don't have to dress up fancy." "'Course I do," he tsks, brows furrowing, "M'going to a five star restaurant doll, I can't look like a slob." He pulls out a pair of slacks from a funeral he went to two years ago, discarding his jeans and sliding them up over his pale legs. To your dismay, he plucks the t-shirt with a screen print of a tux out of his closet, and exchanges the worn Dio tee with that. You'll always prefer the Dio tee. "Classy," you tease. He winks, and that's enough to make you okay with the tux shirt. His fingers trail over the stack of presents and land on the envelope.

"Can I open the card?"

"Sure."

"Am I gonna cry over it?" he asks, looking at you over the dull paper when he flicks open the top.

You shake your head, "Nah, it's not sappy. You're the sappy card writer."

"I'm so sappy," he agrees, pulling out the card, "I gotta work on that, huh?"

"No, I like when you're sappy, ya sap." You watch him read the card, blush evident in the warm wash of gold from his bedside lamp. You're not a sappy card writer, but you always know how to make him feel like a kid with a crush. When he opens up your character sheet his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. "Shit," he grins, "Rogue tiefling, huh? You tryna kill me?"

"I thought it could be fun," you titter, standing up to look at the pages next to him, "Chaotic evil. Look at me."

"Ugh, baby's first villain," he gushes, "I love it."

"Look at the picture," you bounce on the balls of your feet while he goes to the next page. A much quieter 'shit' falls from his mouth. It was not a drawing that was for the rest of the guys to see, a sketch of a tiefling version of you in an outfit meant for his eyes only. "So you are trying to kill me," he asks, fingers tracing the curve of 'your' hip on the page where the outfit digs into the fat of 'your' hips.

"No, that'll be later," you smirk.

"Hm?' his brows raise.

"What do you think is in the Frederick's bag?" you ask, faux innocence smattering into your tone.

"Ah, you put a little costume together for me?" Eddie's mouth waters at the thought, brain fuzzy as he looks at the picture and then at you.

"Something like that," you tease, making your way back out into the hallway. "Something like that?!" he repeats back, hurrying back out to pull you into a searing kiss before you can make it back into the kitchen. The kind from the movies where he dips you down toward the faded carpet. As he pulls away, he nuzzles your nose against his, staring at you through lowered lids, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," you nod, both of you making it back to full height, "Happy birthday."

You relight the candles on the table and nuke the plates of food, topping off each others plastic flutes with the left over Prosecco. There's three cases of beer in the fridge and you know Gareth is bringing Absinthe and it's something you pray doesn't mess your boyfriend up too much.

Dinner is the best meal Eddie's had in years, unable to keep his eyes off of you in between bites while you rehash your day and him, his. You're picking up the dishes off the table when the boys show up and they deliver. Taking the heat off you, they provide the snacks and even more extra booze. Jeff passes out party hats that make you all look ridiculous -- Eddie can remember laughing this much on his birthday, not even when he was a kid. Not even when his mama was alive.

After the oneshot completes and everyone is ankles deep in a tipsy haze and the smoke from a few joints lingers in the air, you walk in with the cake that is finally frosted -- the 2 and 5 confetti colored candles dancing in front of him while the rest sparkle in the middle of the coffee table. He makes one thousand wishes that he knows will come true because his friends are all still there with him and so are you. You're one room right over, cutting the cake and plating it up, and you'll be there when the boys leave in your skimpy nerdy costume that you bought just for him. And you'll be there while he sleeps and you'll be there when he wakes up. You'll be there across from him the next morning when he feeds you fries dipped in chocolate shake at the diner.

Today is Eddie Munson's birthday. And his mother's buttercream frosting is the sweetest it's ever tasted.

echoes of a dream

written for @doctordonnaweek day 6: help/friends

also on ao3

Donna has nightmares about what happened in Shan Shen. Usually, the memories of her dreams fade within minutes of waking up, washed away by a warm cup of tea and a couple of deep breaths. That is, until she dreams about how she died.

On that night, she wakes with a shout. She's tangled in her blankets and her sleep shirt has shifted so that the collar is tight around her neck. She sits up and, after a brief struggle, manages to get the blankets shoved to the floor and her shirt adjusted. Even without the weight of her blankets, Donna still feels like she can’t breathe. In an attempt to calm her racing thoughts, she closes her eyes and takes stock of herself.

The side of her body feels bruised and there's a fear that sits heavy in her belly. There had been a truck. The deafening screech of tires on asphalt rings in her ears. She had been hit. She had been dying. No, she had died. That had been the only way to disrupt that timeline, she remembers, the only way to get herself, the other her, to turn left.

Unlike her other dreams, this nightmare is not fading from her mind. In fact, with every breath she takes, more memories of that universe come flooding in. The feeling of pain and fear will not let her go. Without thinking, Donna gets up and makes her way to the TARDIS kitchen. With shaking hands, she puts the kettle on.

Donna leans back against the counter and waits for the water to boil. The wall across from her fades from view and suddenly she is facing that godforsaken blue truck again. Tires squeal on the pavement as the driver tries to both stop and swerve to avoid hitting her. They aren't fast enough. There's a sickening thud and then she's on her back in the road, staring at the sky and the face of a young, blonde woman. Donna's thoughts spiral around one thing - dying, dying, dead, dying, dead, dead, dead -

"Donna?"

She blinks and suddenly she's back to herself, back in the TARDIS, with the Doctor in front of her and the kettle whistling shrill in her ears. The Doctor scans her face and by the small frown that tugs his mouth downward, he doesn't like what he finds there. He reaches behind her, removes the kettle from the burner and turns off the heat.

Donna takes that moment to wipe tears from her face. She knows she must look a mess, eyes red and puffy from crying. She rubs her cheeks harder, like she can wipe away that happened. The Doctor takes her wrists and pulls her hands away from her face.

"What happened?" he asks.

"Nightmare,” she says. “It was nothing." Donna pulls her hands free and turns to make that cup of tea. After a moment's hesitation, she pulls another cup out of the cabinet and makes one for the Doctor too.

Maybe it'll get him to stop asking questions.

He takes the tea but doesn't drink it. "Donna, I've been calling your name for five minutes. The kettle was going off and you couldn't hear it either.” His frown deepens. “You were miles from the TARDIS, weren’t you? Where were you?" 

He isn’t demanding in his questioning, and Donna can’t help but notice that without his coat and suit jacket and tie, the Doctor looks so small, so human. He's standing in the middle of the TARDIS kitchen holding a steaming cup of tea and he’s trying to help, Donna just has to let him.

She takes a deep breath. "I died."

"What?"

"I dreamed about my death. In that alternate universe created by that blasted beetle." Her grip tightens around her cup. She forces herself to relax and take a drink. It's warm, comforting. 

"You shouldn't remember anything from that universe, how-” the Doctor cuts himself off. “No, nevermind that, you died?" Donna looks down at her tea. "So did you." Her tears, which had slowed but not stopped, pick up again. They drip down her nose and her cheeks and into her cup.

"Donna..." The Doctor sets his cup down on the counter. He then gently pries her cup out of her hands and sets it down next to his own. He pulls her into a hug and Donna does not resist.

She fists her hands in the back of his jacket and sobs. She’s getting his shirt wet but she can't bring herself to care, not right now. Later, when she’s calmed down, she'll be embarrassed about it, but for now she cries and the Doctor holds her as tight as he can. He rubs one hand up and down her spine in a soothing gesture.

Even once her sobs have quieted, Donna does not pull away. She is reminded of Midnight, of the Doctor holding her this way because he had needed it. "In that universe, I turned right," she whispers into his shoulder. The Doctor continues rubbing her back. "I never made it to H.C. Clements. I wasn't there to stop you. You drowned under the weight of the Thames."

The Doctor takes a deep breath, like he's going to say something. Donna doesn't let him.

"Do you know how many people you’ve saved, Doctor? I know it weighs on you, how many people you've had to let die, but do you know how many more you've saved? Without you, the Earth became a horrible place. London choked, people dissolved into fat, everything you stopped happened. You've protected and saved so many lives." 

Donna hears the Doctor sniff, and then he’s burying his face in her hair. “But I couldn’t protect you,” he whispers, and his voice is thick. “You said you died.” 

“I did,” she confirms. “I had to. It was the only way I could make sure that I turned left. Nobody wants to remember what it feels like to die, but if I had to go back and do it again, I would.” Donna pulls back and looks him in the eye. “I would do it again, if it meant saving you.”

To that, the Doctor has no response. Donna likes to think it's because he knows arguing with her is a pointless endeavor. He searches her face for a moment. “I could block the memories again, if it would help?” 

“Don’t you dare,” Donna says immediately. “Someone needs to remember what the world was like without you.” 

Donna is no fool. She knows that there will be more nights like this, where everything she went through in that alternate universe bubbles up and she drowns in it, but for right now she is okay. She will make it.

She says as much to the Doctor. “Thank you.” Donna yawns and the exhaustion she had been fighting creeps into her bones. She lets the Doctor go and steps towards the door. “Goodnight, Doctor.”

The Doctor watches her go. “Goodnight, Donna,” he says. 

Clari! Hello i am back once again to ask you what is the "Dari" aesthetic?

Like what are the vibes, do you have any mood boards or anything? 👀👀

hi hi hi sunshine!!! <33 i have an obscenely embarrassing amount of photos saved that remind me of me + dabi but i am absolutely horrid at making moodboards so >.< i tried my best with this HAHAHA but visual aesthetic wise we’re very much that cliché girly girl x bad boy, pink and black type combo <33

i especially love the last photo because that girl looks scarily similar to me LMAOOOO like seriously

in terms of what it feels like: late night drives speeding way too fast through vacant city streets; empty diners at 3am; sharp knuckles and sharp collarbones; icy hands between warm thighs; giggles bouncing off the bark of dense forests; the dainty sound of pills clicking against plastic; warped hardwood floors and a stove with two working burners; dirty fingernails tearing through white lace; combat boots splashing in puddles on the asphalt; midnight double features at the rundown drive-in; hard candy clacking against teeth as sugary tongues force it from one mouth into another; love notes scrawled hastily on torn pieces of paper; scars in the shape of hands, his teeth, his name

Paloma 'Sunny' Vascoe

Part 1. Part 2. This is part 3

Alejandro had requested information from her, via text to a burner phone she kept in the shoe box. Once she had gotten her bag, it had been the first thing she checked. All she sent back was a message asking for some time. The usual spot she’d gone to for the exchanges was clearly unsafe, not to mention some distance from the safe house. A new spot was required.

There was a knock on her door, and she quickly put the phone back in to the shoe box, before shoving it under the bed. Paloma answered the door. Alejandro explained he needed to leave the safe house, and it would be safe and secure. Before that though he showed her where the weapons were stashed in the house just in case.

Paloma waited until he left the house with Rudolfo, listening for the sound of the vehicles leaving. Paloma took some time on her personal phone, to check a location she’d seen on the way to the safehouse.

An abandoned zoo. That would work. No one would be around, no security footage and hopefully no other Narcos.

Paloma took the shoe box out again and checked the message Alejandro had sent her, properly.

A: I need some information tonight, can you meet?

?: hang on, need a minute.

Paloma texted him back.

?: New location. Abandoned Zoo. Give me a couple of hours.

A: How much?

Paloma thought about it for a minute, staring at the phone. She set it down and got changed into darker clothing, ripped black jeans, a dark grey shirt and a black hoodie. After taking her fingers through her hair quickly, she tied her hair back. She tried a bandanna around her head, knotting it under her ponytail, and then put on the skeletal bandanna over her face. The hood covered the top of her face enough at night, so she couldn’t be seen as easily. Thankfully Alejandro respected his informant’s privacy.

Paloma stuffed a few things into her pockets and checked her phone.

A: How much?

He would be pissed upon meeting her. Not like the two got along all that much, their transactions were quick, with him having little patience for her antics. Tonight though, would be bad. Marco had been attacked. She recalled the weapons stash. Just in case, she told herself. Paloma could shoot. A hand gun couldn’t hurt. As she opened the stash, and reached for one of the hand guns, she noticed her hands were shaking. Call it off? No. No she had to give him the information no matter what he asked for.

The hand gun was strapped to her belt and gidden under her t-shirt. Paloma got the burner phone and saw the last text again. She couldn’t tell him no, he would question it. There was always a price for information. If it wasn’t money then it was an exchange of more information.

A: how much?

?: Sorry in a rush. $100, but you know my interest rates.

Paloma tucked everything into a small over the shoulder backpack and hurried out of the safe house.

Meanwhile Alejandro watched through a tablet, as his informant fled the safehouse. He hadn’t told her about the cameras. Alejandro sighed, with Rudolfo sitting next to him in the jeep. He’d figured her out, but deep down he had wanted to be wrong.

…………

Paloma found an opening in the fence bordering the abandoned zoo. She slipped in and texted Alejandro to see how far out he was.

A: Another hour.

?: aight

For a moment she pulled her bandanna down from her face, breathing in the muggy Las Almas air. She needed some time to get into her informant persona. Personality went a long way, keeping her home life and Narcos life separate. It hadn’t done enough, but at this point there was no going back. Safer to keep up the facade with Alejandro, otherwise she could lose her only father for good. Lose the only safety and family she’s ever known.

Paloma heard a jeep pulling up and meandered over to it, covering her face once again. She traipsed over the cracked and crumbled asphalt and cement walkways before hopping on to a short wall. The young narcos paced along her wall, with her hands behind her back, each step being animated, like a guilty cartoon character trying to walk away without getting caught. The jeep’s lights remained on, as she heard two doors open and close from the sides. There was still the wrought iron gate between them, as she turned on her heel and then hopped back off the wall. The two special forces men stood in front of the gate, with her on the other side. She went over to them keeping the hood up in a way that still shadowed her eyes.

“Well what can I do for you gentleman?” She asked, tilting her head to the side. Alejandro’s eyes bearing into her, while a normal response, this time shut down her antics quickly. She swallowed hard.

“…okay… definitely not a social call then. Must be pretty serious information you need from me.” The narcos said.

“You know what I want pendejo.” He said. Paloma went very still and very quiet. Oh fuck she was in big shit now.

“A little lost there colonel. You didn’t tell me anything in the texts.” Paloma said, failing to hide her nervousness.

“He didn’t need to.” Rudolfo corrected. The narcos was feeling very fortunate there were iron bars between her and the two men. Her gaze dropped as she debated whether to make a run for it. There’s a chance still.

“You mean the recent attack. Heard about it, not sure what else I can tell ya…” she said keeping her head down.

“Why did they go after him?” Alejandro asked. “The full truth.”

Paloma sighed. Fuck it. There was no point.

“I thought I was being careful.” She said quietly. “I swear I never meant for any of it to happe-“

“What the fuck did you think would happen?!” Alejandro snapped.

“I joined to keep them off of us! I didn’t have anything before Marco and being with him kept me safe! That’s why I started selling the intel!” She exclaimed, emotions were erupting in her chest and out her throat. “I could get money to help Marco, try to keep him out of harm’s way, and help you guys take down the narcos. Now it’s all gone wrong and I don’t know how! I swear I thought he was safe!”

She buried her face in her hands. Alejandro shook his head, while Rudolfo crossed his arms.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Rudolfo asked. Paloma dropped her hands.

“I was scared… didn’t want to lose the only family I had. But I already fucked that up. I swear the intel stuff was just to help pay bills. Marco didn’t know anything about it.” Paloma said. Alejandro stepped away from the gate, shaking his head. Kid was in over her head that was for sure, and she’d put herself there.

“I joined the narcos so I could stay safe, and keep Marco out of it. I didn’t want anything to do with it after we killed some poor guy who was just living on the streets.”

She continued. “It’s why I went to you directly. If you had the information, there was no chance of it going wrong. Marco trusted you. Raids and attacks could be stopped before they happened.”

Alejandro paced around while Rudolfo was watching Paloma. She was right the information had been useful. He understood why she did it but now there were consequences. Ones she hadn’t prepared for. He believed her, it was a matter of trusting her.

“Can you get more?” Alejandro asked. Paloma looked at him, eye widening slightly. She looked at Rudolfo and then back at Alejandro, before nodding.

“I can try.” She said. Alejandro sighed.

“Keep doing it.” He ordered.

“Colonel?” Rudolfo looked at his friend a little confused.

“You can get me more information than get it. Keep doing it. You’re good at it. Find out who learned your name. We’ll take care of it together.” He said, almost begrudgingly. “Not losing my best source.”

Paloma nodded. “Yes sir.”

“When you go back, you have to cover all of this. Marco, the exchanges, the safehouse, everything. It never happened.”

Paloma nodded, straightening up.

“If anything goes wrong you need to tell us, either me or Sergeant Parra.” He ordered. She nodded again.

“…what happens now?” She asked.

“Head back to the safe house. I need to finish up some work at the base.” She nodded and waited.

“Dismissed.” He said. Paloma gave him a tiny smile under the bandanna, nodded before hurrying off into the zoo. Rudolfo joined Alejandro back to the jeep.

“You think she’ll be okay?” Rudolfo asked.

“We’ll see.” Alejandro said. “She’s good. I think she can.”

Rudolfo nodded and got into the vehicle with his colonel.

Note: There is more to come but in terms of the overall backstory of how Paloma got involved with Alejandro and the Los Vaqueros this is the finale. I intend to post more later on. If you have any suggestions, ideas, questions or requests, feel free to use the Request button or leave a comment.

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could you do illinois x fem!reader

you get home from work. As you cook for dinner, you put it on plate, all the sudden illinois came home, he came to you that you felt dizzy, you honestly fainted that illinois catches you, he carry you to bedroom, everything is gonna be fine

(hope you will write it, thanks and have a good day)

Catch

I was trying to think of a specific way to make this for femme reader, so apologies if this isn't truly femme. But I actually had something similar happen to me recently. Yes, I am okay, don't worry about it.

Illinois x F!Reader, TW: passing out Words: 692

It had been a long day, and you hadn’t really made sure you were taking care of yourself. Your boss had been harping on you for not getting enough work done, so you had worked through your lunch break. You were really only running on your morning coffee and spite when you pulled into the driveway. There wasn’t much time to relax as you knew that Illinois was going to be home soon, and you wanted to make sure dinner was ready. Sure, you both work really hard, but he had been away on another expedition and you wanted to make an apology for not being able to pick him up from the airport. 

Quickly throwing together dinner made your head spin a little, reassuring yourself that you’d sit down shortly. You kicked off your heels into the dining room, feet aching from the long day of working in the office. Your balance wavered for just a moment, making sure that you caught yourself on something other than the hot stove.

The sound of tires on the asphalt outside sent your heart beating a little bit faster in excitement, looking out the window to see him climbing out the back of a taxi. Luckily, dinner was just about finished. You turned off the burners, stirring the pan once more as the jingle of keys behind you alert to his entrance. 

“I’m home, treasure! Oh, you make me dinner, babygirl~?"

Your head whips around, albeit too quickly when he enters the kitchen. You watch his smirk turn into panic as you lose your balance, vision turning black as your body goes limp. He manages to dive forward fast enough to keep you from hitting the floor, scooping you up into his arms. He moves you to the couch, elevating your feet up, cushioning around you as he makes sure you’re still breathing. 

Honestly, if you had been one of his working partners, he’d be a little bit more worried. But he kept you safe, at home, with your pup. Nugget comes over, greeting him excitedly before he turns his attention to you, head underneath Illinois’ arm, snoot poking through the gap. Illy sets Nugget up on the couch with you, grabbing you some water from the kitchen.

Your head is gently moved into his lap, still making sure you’re flat. You have no idea how long you were out for, but a golden snoot nosing at your hand for pets is the first thing you register when you regain consciousness. Illy’s hands, gloves long removed, combs through your hair as you rest in his lap. His smile returns, gentle and caring instead of his usual flirtatious and smug. 

“Good morning, sweetheart? My babygirl get so excited to see me that you’re gonna start fainting on me~?”

His tone is teasing, but you can still hear the underlying tone of concern as he brushes the hair out of your face, gently easing you up so you’re sitting in his lap, head resting back on his shoulder as his arms keep you upright. With one of his hands, he grabs your water, helping you take small sips through the straw as he keeps you steady.

“I didn’t mean to! I’ve been busy today, my boss made me work through my lunch…”

“Have you not eaten yet today? Have you drank any water?”

“...no…”

He sighs lovingly exasperatedly.

“Sweetheart, I need you to be taking care of yourself. Can’t have my precious treasure turn into a pile of dust. Not when you can be beautiful and gleaming. But, I’m home now. I’ll talk to your boss since you mentioned him overworking y’all before.”

“Don’t do that, that- I’ll be fine…”

“Clearly not, because you just fainted into my arms the moment I step through the door. I hope you don’t plan on making a habit out of that~”

A kiss to your temple reassures he’s not mad at you, just understandably concerned. You’ll be snuggling there for a while. Perhaps if he’s charming enough, he’ll convince you to take a sick day. Just a day of him taking care of you, just what the doctor ordered.

It happened too fast — like a daydream in summer night.

Sanzu decided to let himself get caught by Mikey, trying to shake them off you and the Haitani; as you went to the highway and changed all of your phones to a burner one, keeping a low profile after the three of you were currently wanted by the vicious leader of Bonten.

Your current residence was one of Ran's personal villas that's not under the Bonten's radar; stating that this was the only place where he could take a breath once in a while when Mikey started to overwork the older man, knowing how deep his hatred was for the lilac haired man.

The villa was minimalist. Almost no furniture except for the mandatory one. The walls were painted in dull ash grey with one-way floor-to-ceiling windows; keeping the privacy inside since Ran believed it was the priority when he built a new house as a Bonten executive director.

"Who actually thought three of us gone live like this one day?"

Rindou let out a sigh, kicking his legs as he sat down on the counter; earning a harsh slap from Ran on the shoulder while you were making breakfast for the three of you.

A full-meal course consisted of beef stew, roasted eggplant and some (failed) Mont Blanc, a request Ran made as he tried to make it based on his memory; cursing under his breath since he knew checking the internet meaning Bonten going to breath behind his nape, catching up on him thanks to a Mont Blanc recipe.

"Rindou,"

"How did you manage to get Sanzu to snuck me out?"

Rindou looked at you as if you were crazy, stating how he would never talk to a manic addict who wanted him to die every single day for drowning a pound of his powder; looking at Ran to speak to you about the runaway plan on his behalf.

"It was.. Takemichi. He made this whole plan — called 'the Runaway Bride',"

Ran rolled his eyes at the tacky name, feeling disgusted at himself for mentally agreed to it since all he cared about was your safety; feeling better now since the plan worked successfully and none of them were killed or losing a limb on the way to here.

"He said he wanted to save you from that lunatic, telling me that he got a perfect plan. It was crazy, low blow and reckless. But,"

This time he put his utensil down, raising his head to see you in the eyes; a soft smile he tried to hide was visible even though he tried to cover it with his hand and a cough, biting inside his cheek to prevent it from getting bigger.

"He was right. This mission is a success."

Cutting off the circuit was such a low blow and cliché; but, then again, no one would care about it since most people would be put inside the hall and Ran was given a privilege to move around as the main planner for the event, giving him a reason to have the electricity cut off around thirty minutes after he left the area, going straight to the underground parking lot until he got the sign to make a move.

"Thanks to Sanzu, though."

The younger man added, giving you more details on how Mikey asked Sanzu to always check everything the Haitani touched and went to; fearing that they going to sabotage this event when Sanzu turned a blind eye at Ran's doing and helped them to execute this plan.

Eh, 'kay? Not like I care, though. I'll be her guard so check the sign, lavender head.

It left you wondering now since you never actually knew about Sanzu until a few weeks ago when Mikey invited you for dinner.

Sanzu had been imprisoned for almost two weeks, left with a glass of water and dried up fruits; not enough to make him full but more than enough to keep him alive after angering Mikey, his saviour and king.

His lavish clothes were tattered and covered with soots, slightly torn after he jumped out from the car and fell to the asphalt in high speed; rolling down the road while trying to shield himself from Kokonoi's shoots and his men, taking out his Glock and killed them one by one until there was only three of them by the side road.

"Better give me a good reason today."

"Nothing, I was bored."

He looked at the white-haired man with his signature grin, licking his reopening wound after Mikey landed a few punches on his face, purposely on his scars; trying to take out the traumatized little boy inside for the sake of this selfish mission.

Kokonoi wasn't a yes man or an obedient subordinate; he was a man who got his own goals and moves. But, what Mikey went through that night reminded me of how Akane slipped away from his life, leaving this empty hole forever while he was forced to stay alive and live to the fullest — with no sign of his first love in his sight forever.

"In three days, Mikey will let you go—"

"Slay,"

"You'll be relocated to Shenzhen as the new leader of Wanzhenna."

Sanzu closed his mouth tight as Kokonoi left him alone, leaning his back against the cold wall and closing his eyes shut; realising what Mikey wanted from him. It was to stay away as far as possible from you so he could finally trace you and the Haitani while he kept a close eye on Sanzu.

Shenzhen was amazing and Wanzhenna been gaining a lot of power; but, he wasn't sure if it was his sober up due to no pills or the post-nut clarity towards the reality of his life because right now, he wanted to see you and say no matter how many times he died, he'd rise from the grave and save you even if it's from Mikey.

"As I thought, I shoulda keep my hair like before."

He let out a chuckle as a flash of your younger self showed up in his mind; a long, flowing pink hair that made contact with his bleeding shoulder and your eyes diligently trying to find any sign of fracture after Toman got attacked.

Pretty boy should have a pretty mouth, too, you know?

He didn't know what made you think he was considered pretty but he knew that the day you were no longer in Mikey's grasp; he knew that he got nothing to do with you anymore and he could go back, overdosing himself with these thoughts of him being happy for once; tasting the sweet lie at the end of this tongue.

"I hope I can see you again in my next life,"

Ran could only say he was so thankful for having Rindou as the three of you were inside the underground bunker right now; hearing a faint noise of guns and drawers falling to the ground a few minutes after he locked the door from inside-only before someone could alter it.

"Your hunch is a lifesaver, Rin-Rin."

"Fuck off, manwhore."

Rindou tried to push his brother away, feeling disgusted at the attempt to hug him as you chuckled at their antics and turned to see the lounge; not expecting there would be more furniture inside here than the real villa.

A counter made of real marble and tons of freeze dried groceries inside the food storage; wondering how far he had thought about this before as you watched the older man tugged his little brother's hair and turned his head to look at you.

"Hey, adoptive sis, c'mere!"

He wrapped your shoulder with his lanky arm, nuzzling his cheek against yours as Rindou's hand tried to claw Ran's other cheek; emitting a slight chuckle from you.

Rindou left for the bed earlier, stating he was too tired on saving both of your lives as you and Ran enjoyed a glass of wine from his personal cellar, talking about things you missed out when he made this plan with Rindou and everyone.

As both of your consciousness started to slip away, Ran looked at you with hazy eyes; words starting to get slurred and his self control became looser than before, almost drunk but sober enough to talk to you without making a mistake.

"Y'know, kid. Heard Hanagaki talked to himself,"

He hiccupped, taking his upper buttons off and resting his arm over his head; slightly leaning against the giant couch in the lounge while he kept his eyes on you.

"Dunno he was drunk or schizo, but that little shit talked to himself about time leaping at the hotel's toilet. He was really quiet but man, I got one helluva ear."

Head nodding off to his words, you rested your head against his shoulder and felt his arm over your stomach; eyes getting heavier with sleepiness and you thought you deserved one after a while.

"... Sano. Sano!"

You woke up, finding Hina and Takemichi looking at you as you stared at them like they were crazy; looking down to your clothes as you realised that you were still at the summer festival and currently sleeping on a bench.

"We kept calling for you but you won't respond, do you know how dangerous this place actually is!"

Hina huffed out as Takemichi looked at you worried before Hina left you with Takemichi for a bit, saying she would buy something for you to eat and drink since you looked so pale; worried that you didn't have a proper meal before going to here.

Didn't want to waste any time anymore, you placed your hand on Takemichi's shoulder; eyes looking deep into his before you whispered under your breath.

"I can time leap, too."

"What—"

He closed his mouth, feeling surprised that he wasn't alone in this one but he felt confused about why you always died in every timeline he visited; thinking that there might be a possibility that there was another time leaper like both of you.

You tapped your chin, thinking what Takemichi was probably right since these faint, chipped dreams — or memories — were different; whether it was your future, friends or death. As if, there was someone else who controlled your life between your death behind the stage.

Asphalt Batch Mix Plant in Uttar Pradesh

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Asphalt batching plant India - Atlas Technologies

This asphalt batching plant is supplied with aggregate feeder bins, vibrating screen, charging conveyor, dryer drum with multi-fuel burner, fuel tank for dryer burner, hot aggregate elevator, filler feeding system vibrating screen, hot bins, mixing unit, bitumen tanks, control panel, dry dust collector and bag house type pollution control units.

The Burner of An Asphalt Mixing Plant Determines its Success.

If you are well versed with the machine you will know how important the burner. The asphalt plant burner is the component which determines the success or failure of the product.

The coal and Oil dual purpose burners is a multi-fuel burner, which can use fuel oil alone, or coal alone. It is composed of the main burner, fuel valve group, pulverized coal supply system, and control system. The entire system has a one-key switching centralized control system, and there is no need to replace, add or remove any subsystems when switching the fuel types.

The coal and oil dual purpose burners is a newly designed multi-purpose burner, which is widely used in asphalt mixing plants, drying, boilers and other industries.

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60-90 TPH Hot Mix Plant

60-90 tph hot mix plant is a kind of equipment used to produce asphalt mixture, which is widely used in road construction, maintenance and repair works. The main function of 60-90 tph hot mix asphalt plant equipment is to mix aggregate, asphalt and other additives in a certain proportion and produce asphalt mixture that meets the requirements of the project by heating and mixing. Haomei Machinery offer 60-90 ton per hour hot mix asphalt plant in the model of LB1000, whose production capacity is 80 ton per hour, and the mixer rated capacity is 1000L.  

Here are some key features and considerations about 60-90 tph hot mix plant: Production capacity: 60-90 tons per hour asphalt hot mix plant has a high production capacity and is suitable for small and medium-sized projects. Depending on the model and configuration, the actual capacity may vary. Equipment Configuration: Asphalt hot mix plant usually consists of aggregate conveying system, asphalt supply system, mixing system, control system and other parts. These systems need to work together to ensure the uniformity and stability of the asphalt mixture. Environmental performance: With the improvement of environmental awareness, hot mix asphalt plant pays more and more attention to environmental performance in the design and production process. For example, low emission burners, effective dust removal devices and noise control technologies are used to minimize the impact on the environment. Degree of automation: Modern asphalt hot mix plant usually has a high degree of automation, which can realize the functions of automatic batching, automatic control and automatic inspection to improve the production efficiency and product quality.

When choosing 60-90 tph hot mix plant, you need to consider the following factors: Project demand: According to the scale, duration and quality requirements of the project, choose the right model and configuration of asphalt hot mix plant. Site conditions: Asphalt hot mix plant needs to occupy a certain site space, so you need to consider factors such as the size, shape and infrastructure of the site. Investment budget: The price of asphalt hot mix plant varies according to the model, configuration and brand, so you need to make a reasonable choice according to the investment budget. After-sales service: Choose manufacturers or suppliers with good after-sales service and technical support to ensure the normal operation and timely maintenance of the equipment.

In short, 60-90 tph hot mix plant is an important road construction equipment, choosing the right equipment is important to ensure the quality and progress of the project.

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The Actual Cost To Seal A Driveway

When it comes to home improvement, driveway maintenance often gets pushed to the back burner. Yet, sealing a driveway not only boosts curb appeal but also extends its lifespan. The real question is, what's the sealing driveway cost? And what about sealcoating driveway cost? Let's dive into the nitty-gritty of these expenses and understand the investment involved in maintaining your driveway. Factors That Influence The Price Sealing and sealcoating are similar but distinct processes, and their costs can be influenced by various factors. Here's what you should consider: Driveway Material: Asphalt driveways are commonly sealcoated, while concrete driveways are sealed. The materials and processes for each are different, impacting the cost. Size of the Driveway: Naturally, a larger area requires more material and labor, hence increasing the cost. Current Condition: A driveway with many cracks or potholes might need repairs before sealing or sealcoating, raising the overall price. Your Geographic Location: Labor and material costs vary by region. Urban areas might have higher rates than rural locations. Breaking Down The Costs Now, for the part everyone's been waiting for: the actual figures. - Concrete Driveway Sealing: The average sealing driveway cost for concrete surfaces ranges from $0.50 to $2.50 per square foot. This means a standard two-car driveway of 450 square feet will range from $225 to $1,125. - Asphalt Driveway Sealcoating: When it comes to asphalt, the sealcoating driveway cost averages between $0.25 to $0.65 per square foot. For the same-sized driveway, expect to pay between $112.50 to $292.50. Remember, these are ballpark figures. The actual price can fluctuate based on the factors mentioned earlier. Why Invest In Sealing Or Sealcoating? While the costs might seem significant, they're a worthy investment. Here’s why: - Enhanced Durability: Sealing protects the driveway from UV rays, water damage, and chemical spills, significantly extending its life. - Improved Appearance: Over time, driveways can become faded. Sealing or sealcoating refreshes their look, making them appear brand new. - Cost-Effective in the Long Run: Addressing minor issues now can save a fortune later. By regularly sealing, you can avoid expensive repairs or a complete driveway replacement. Preparing For The Icy Months: Safe Thaw To The Rescue Winter is often the arch-nemesis of driveways. Ice can lead to cracks, which then expands and contracts with temperature changes, causing further damage. Using regular salts can worsen the situation by corroding the sealed layer. This is where Safe Thaw comes into play. A chemical and toxin-free industrial use ice melt, Safe Thaw ensures that your freshly sealed driveway stays protected. The granular ice melt is specifically designed to be kind to both asphalt and concrete surfaces. By opting for Safe Thaw, you can enjoy peace of mind knowing your investment in sealing or sealcoating remains undamaged, even during the harshest winter months. Conclusion Understanding the sealing driveway cost and sealcoating driveway cost is crucial for homeowners. These procedures, while seemingly simple, play a significant role in ensuring the driveway remains in pristine condition. And with products like Safe Thaw available, maintaining a driveway during winter becomes a breeze. So, while there's an upfront cost involved in sealing or sealcoating, the long-term benefits — both in terms of aesthetics and functionality — are undeniable. A well-maintained driveway not only boosts your property's appeal but also its overall value. An investment today can save significant expenses down the road. Read the full article

JUAL BURNER PRESS 1G LIGHT OIL

Riello Press 1G Light Oil Original Italy

Burner seri PRESS G mencakup jarak tembak dari 107 hingga 1660 kW dan telah dirancang untuk digunakan dalam instalasi sipil dengan dimensi rata-rata, seperti area bangunan dan kelompok apartemen besar atau untuk digunakan dalam aplikasi industri, seperti pabrik kecil atau menengah. Operasi adalah dua tahap; pembakar dilengkapi dengan kotak kontrol keamanan pembakar berbasis mikroprosesor yang menyediakan indikasi operasi dan diagnosis penyebab kesalahan. Kepala pembakaran, yang dapat diatur berdasarkan output yang dibutuhkan, memungkinkan kinerja optimal memastikan pembakaran yang baik dan mengurangi konsumsi bahan bakar. Fitur utama dari burner ini adalah keandalannya karena konstruksinya yang sederhana dan kuat, yang memungkinkan pengoperasian tanpa intervensi pemeliharaan tertentu. Perawatan yang disederhanakan dicapai dengan sistem bilah geser, yang memungkinkan akses mudah ke semua komponen penting kepala pembakaran. Semua komponen listrik dapat diakses dengan mudah hanya dengan melepas panel pelindung, sehingga menjamin intervensi yang cepat dan sederhana pada komponen.

Dengan operasi dua tahap, file Pembakar PRESS 1G bisa mengikuti beban suhu yang diminta oleh sistem. Rasio modulasi 2: 1 tercapai, berkat “dua nozel” teknik; udaranya disesuaikan dengan posisi ram hidrolik. Pada operasi dua tahap, burner secara bertahap menyesuaikan keluaran ke tingkat yang diminta, dengan memvariasikan antara dua tingkat yang telah ditentukan sebelumnya

Semua burner seri PRESS 1G dilengkapi dengan panel kontrol mikroprosesor baru untuk pengawasan selama operasi terputus-putus. Untuk membantu pekerjaan commissioning dan pemeliharaan, ada dua elemen utama: Tombol reset penguncian adalah elemen operasi pusat untuk mengatur ulang kontrol burner dan untuk mengaktifkan / menonaktifkan fungsi diagnostik. LED multi-warna adalah elemen indikasi utama untuk diagnosis dan antarmuka visual diagnosa. Kedua elemen tersebut terletak di bawah penutup transparan tombol reset penguncian, seperti yang ditunjukkan di bawah ini.

Mesin Burner Ini Bisa Di Aplikasikan :

Mesin Tanki Pemanas Asphalt Mesin Tungku Furnace Peleburan Timah Mesin Steam Boiler Mesin Thermal Oil Boiler Mesin Rotary Dryer Mitra Boiler Menyediakan unit burner Riello solar juga menyediakan sparepart, serta memiliki after sales untuk pemasangan dan mantanancenya. Burner dapat di setting dengan menyesuaikan kebutuhan aplikasi pada mesin industri di Pabrik.

Burner seri PRESS 1G-2G-3G-4G mencakup rentang pembakaran dari 107 hingga 1660 kW dan telah dirancang untuk digunakan dalam instalasi sipil dengan dimensi rata-rata seperti area bangunan dan kelompok apartemen besar atau untuk digunakan dalam aplikasi industri seperti pabrik kecil atau menengah Pengoperasiannya terdiri dari dua tahap pembakar dilengkapi dengan kotak kontrol keselamatan pembakar berbasis mikroprosesor yang memberikan indikasi pengoperasian dan diagnosis penyebab kesalahan. Kepala pembakaran yang dapat diatur berdasarkan keluaran yang diperlukan memungkinkan kinerja optimal untuk memastikan pembakaran yang baik dan mengurangi konsumsi bahan bakar Fitur utama dari pembakar ini adalah keandalannya karena konstruksinya yang sederhana dan kuat yang memungkinkan pengoperasian tanpa intervensi pemeliharaan khusus Perawatan yang disederhanakan dicapai dengan sistem batang geser yang memungkinkan akses mudah ke semua komponen penting kepala pembakaran Semua komponen kelistrikan mudah diakses hanya dengan melepas panel pelindung sehingga menjamin intervensi yang cepat dan sederhana pada komponen.

Specification STATE OF SUPPLY

Pembakar minyak draft paksa monoblok dengan operasi dua tahap, otomatis penuh, terdiri dari: - Sirkuit penghisap udara dilapisi bahan kedap suara - Kipas dengan bilah melengkung ke depan dengan kinerja tinggi dalam hal tekanan dan pengiriman udara - Peredam udara untuk pengaturan udara - Ram hidrolik untuk kontrol peredam udara - Memulai motor pada 2800 rpm, tiga fase 400V dengan netral, 50Hz (fase tunggal, 230V dan 50Hz untuk PRESS GW model) - Kepala pembakaran, yang dapat diatur berdasarkan keluaran yang dibutuhkan, dilengkapi dengan: - Ujung kerucut berbahan stainless steel, tahan terhadap korosi dan suhu tinggi - elektroda pengapian - disk stabilitas api - Titik uji tekanan kipas - Pompa roda gigi untuk suplai bahan bakar bertekanan tinggi, dilengkapi dengan: - Saring - pengatur tekanan - sambungan untuk memasang pengukur tekanan dan vakuometer - bypass internal untuk pemasangan pipa tunggal - Unit katup dengan dua katup pengiriman oli pada sirkuit keluaran - Fotosel untuk deteksi api - Kotak kontrol keamanan burner berbasis mikroprosesor, dengan fungsi diagnostik - Bilah geser untuk pemasangan dan pemeliharaan yang lebih mudah - Filter perlindungan terhadap gangguan radio - Tingkat perlindungan listrik IP 44. Peralatan standar: - 2 pipa fleksibel untuk sambungan ke jaringan suplai minyak - 2 gasket untuk pipa fleksibel - 2 puting untuk sambungan ke pompa - 4 sekrup untuk memasang flensa burner ke boiler - 1 layar termal - Buku pegangan instruksi untuk instalasi, penggunaan dan pemeliharaan - Katalog suku cadang.

Hubungi Kami

CV. SUMBER TEKNIK SOBO Blk. D19 Jl. Utama Raya Perum Permata Sepatan No.21, Pisangan Jaya, Kec. Sepatan, Kabupaten Tangerang, Banten 15520 Whatsapp : 0852 8276 2784 Mobile : 0852 82762 784 Website : https://boilersburner.com Email : [email protected]