#Black Rust Prevention Paint

[trywonderx]

Benefits of rust cleaner spray - Trywonderx

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Phone Number: 020 - 2606 1530Location: Suprabha Corporate House, 373, Somwar Peth, Pune - 411 001, India

[domesticgoddess22]

wish upon a cowboy

chapter 9: molotov cocktail

Summary: A rugged raider takes you under his wing after hunters leave you for dead. The two of you form a team and you quickly grow attached to him–mumbling, grumbling, protective Joel Miller. When you divulge your wishes to experience life before the outbreak, Joel decides to make them come true. All of them.

warnings: age gap (early 20s/mid 40s), praise kink, breeding kink, daddy kink, unplanned pregnancy, unprotected piv, canon-typical violence, light choking, dom!Joel, angst, joel is bad at feelings, drunk sex, pregnancy sex word count: 3.4k words (chapter 9) rating: 18+ explicit MDNI

masterlist | Ao3 | My Booktower @orcasoul @guiltyaschargedmf @idrkman

Joel still found a way to rope you into his little scheme. He nudged you awake before sunlight had a chance to spill into your bedroom and told you to get dressed or face the wrath of the early morning chill, so you cursed him under your breath as you tugged on your sweatshirt and pulled up your jeans–nearly splitting at the seams from the weight you were starting to gain around your thighs. 

The darkness still cloaked the forest around the house like a thick blanket. Joel was loading the truck with basic supplies to get you through your trip. A few canisters of gas, ammo, and some food. He didn’t take more than you guys would need, but theft was theft and you weren’t going to approve of his behavior.

“What happened to keepin’ them as allies?” You scrunched your nose in disgust. It made you sick to your stomach to steal from Bill and Frank–of all people. They were good men in a world stripped of its humanity. You didn’t want to take advantage of that and punish them for giving you both a chance.

Joel continued packing the truck, responding to your prying demand with a low grunt. The aqua paint peeling was away along the hood and sides of the old Chevy, much like every thin layer of your patience for Joel was peeling away.

“You’re fuckin’ mean, Joel!” You hissed.

“There ain’t another way, sweetheart. Either I steal their truck while they’re asleep or I kill them, ‘n I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’d rather I’d take this route instead.” He said through grit teeth, sweeping his arm over the rusted bed. You frowned. “Thought so. Now get in the damn truck.”

The engine roared to life and Joel barely gave the truck time to warm up before he was backing it out of the garage. The gritty sound of gravel under tires lit your nerves on fire. You found yourself staring at Bill and Frank’s bedroom window waiting for the black square to glow yellow. It didn’t.

The truck crawled like the world would wake if it moved more than a mile per hour. Out here, in the middle of nowhere, it probably would.

“Go open the gate. Be quick about it.” His grip on the steering wheel is tight as he shifts his eyes to you.

You rolled your eyes, slamming the heavy door behind you. Joel shot you a warning glare, or you think he did by the way your felt heat burn into your neck from his general direction. The ring of keys jingled in your grasp. Joel had you sneak into Bill and Frank’s room earlier this morning. His reasoning was that your footfalls were lighter than his, and if you were caught, they’d be more forgiving with you than with him.

The lock clicked and you untangled the chains that were a lot more like spaghetti than metal. Joel revved the engine, his passive aggressive way of urging you to hurry the fuck up. Clearly he was long past worrying about waking Bill. Sweat dripping down your brow, you finally summoned the capacity to undo the knots as the metal ropes fell to the ground with a metallic thud. The colossal gate screeched as you swung it on its hinges until there was enough space for the truck to fit. 

The first task was complete.

Up ahead, Bill had set a wired booby trap to prevent anyone from unlatching the gate from the outside. He kindly told you and Joel about it over supper the other night, that he'd set a wire explosive about ten paces across the gate and that the way to dismantle it was to remove the molotov.

You set the bottle down by a bush, somewhere where Bill could easily find it again. That’s when a twig cracked in the distance and your head snapped toward the faint noise . Shit.

Was that an animal?

Joel hit the gas and blasted out of the yard and your attention was reeled back to the road. The old hunk of metal left behind a cloud of dark smog in its absence. You quickly swung the gate shut, locking the latch as best as you could from the outside. 

“Joel, I heard somethin’ out there.” Your voice felt thick and scratchy this early in the morning as you leaned over the window to whisper to Joel.

“Probably just a squirrel or som’. Get in.” 

“We should stay and check it out.”

He glared at you, shifting the truck into gear without saying another word. Before you could even take a step, a gunshot rang out and rattled you to your core. The shot fired at the truck and you dove back to steer clear of the fire. Joel was out of the truck already, shielding you with his body. Adrenaline was surging through every vein in your body as the car sank to one side along with a depressing hiss.

Double shit.

“You okay?” Joel’s chest was heaving.

“I’m fine.” You both looked back at the house and saw a scowling Bill fiercely holding his rifle.

More gunshots fired in a rapid succession, but this time they were coming from beyond the fence. You scanned the trees frantically. 

“Get back to the house!” Joel barked, yanking his rifle from the back of the truck and then dashing into the trees. You watched the ghost of his presence fade until the branches stilled.

Fear creeped up on you, like a night terror that smothered you even in your wake. Pinning you in your place so you couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t scream. All you could feel was the ominous, cloying feeling of an unknown presence lurking by.

And yet… you simply sat there, on your ass. Frozen in time.

If only you were tough. You wanted to be that girl again, the one that left the QZ with a desert eagle, a box of .357 Magnums, and a pack full of granola bars. No destination. No plan. Just you and the open road that stretched on for miles.

Glass shattered, jolting you back into reality. The greenhouse’s front window had been shattered, exposing the entire garden to cold winter air. You tensed, clenching your jaw as the image brought some clarity to your panicked thoughts. The other rifle, the one you guys were stealing from Bill and Frank, was still tucked snuggly in the bed of the truck. You felt the smooth surface of the barrel cold against your skin. 

Something surged within you. Beneath the surface of your goosebumps skin that called to you. Told you to fight, fight, fight. Somehow, deep in your bones, you knew that feeling had always been there. Calling to you. Ever since your parents were murdered there was a voice inside your head that wanted you to take charge.

A voice you were very much afraid of and hadn’t really listened to echoed in your mind as your shaky hands tried to hold the gun steady. Gunshots continued to fire and you knew that whoever was here was going to bring nothing but destruction.

Death was around every corner. It had taken your parents. Gram. People who you knew back in the QZ. You’d witnessed the death of people who didn’t deserve to die and had arrived at the QZ, bitten and on the road to nowhere, and it was your job to deal with their rotting remains. There was nothing worse than working in the pits.

Gunshots, blood, violence and suffering–all of it was nauseating.

The faint click of a lighter echoed, followed by the soft hiss of a flame flickering to life in the dense, surrounding darkness. You felt the cool titanium barrel against the hot, sweaty pads of your fingers. Ahead, the little flame illuminated the face of a young man crouched in the bushes. He guided the flame to a bottle. 

The molotov.

“Don’t do it.” You said, alerting him of your presence. With the shakiness in your voice it sounded more like a plea than a demand even though you had your rifle pointed right at his face. “If you try to light that, I’ll shoot you right here and now. Headshots are my specialty, but if I have to make you bleed out slowly, I’ll do it.”

Your words cut deep, but inside you were screaming.

He studied you, his pupils reduced to pin points as he waited for your next move. The lighter still produced a small flame in his hand. The molotov in the other, taunting you with its unlit cloth dancing in the soft breeze just inches away from the flame.

“Shoot me then,” he provoked.

The thought of taking his life made your stomach churn, but what other choice did you have? Bile rose in your throat until it coated the back of your tongue. “Kick your gun over to me.” 

To your surprise, he did.

“What’s your name?” You asked, bending over slowly to pick up his handgun, keeping a steady aim at him all the while.

“Chase.” 

“How old are you, Chase?” 

His eyes felt like they were peering into your soul. An icy blue lake. “Twenty-eight.” 

A curse slipped from your lips at how close in age he was to you. How young he was.

Did this really have to end in death? Did everything have to resort to violence? You were sick of death.Tired of the despair and agony of it all.

The distant blast of a gunshot rattled your bones and you nearly lost your grip on the barrel. It was like the first note in the Grim Reaper’s theme song. Then a symphony of more gunshots would follow and then were violently interrupted by the blood curdling screams of the musicians. Somewhere in the distance, you thought you heard Joel’s warcry.

Your tongue poked your cheek as you thought about how the misery could end right here. Right now.

“How about we make a deal? You tell your friends to leave us alone and I won’t kill you.” You try to focus on your breathing. Steady. Calm. 

“You’re just going to… let me go?” He scoffed, the frantic look in his eyes shifting to something more like disbelief.

“One good deed for another.”

“Alrighty then.” Slowly, very slowly, he stood. 

In another life, the two of you might have gone to school together. Maybe you would have been a freshman and a junior at Anderson High School. One of the school year books was left behind in your old apartment back in Austin. You’d thumb through the pages when you were bored, looking at the photos of the school’s cafeteria where groups of kids gathered. Now Anderson probably resembled a tomb more than a place that hosted the best years of someone’s life.

A twig crunched under Chase’s sneaker as he slinked back into the shadows of the trees.

“Hey.” The word leaves your throat sounding more like a croak.

He stopped in his tracks to look back at you.

“Come back here again and I will shoot you.” You meant it. Or at least you wanted to mean it, but the instinct to kill another human being never found you, not even when the hunters had stripped you of your shit and nearly killed you.

Joel was at the front of the house as you walked up the driveway, rifle in hand and Chase’s gun tucked into your belt. Joel was glaring daggers at you. “The fuck did you run off to?”

“Nowhere.” You brushed him off.

“You could have been killed!” Joel was livid, teeth bared at you.

“I’m fine, aren’t I?”

“That ain’t the point! You do what I say when I say it. That’s how this fuckin’ goes.”

“I’m not one of your raider boys that you’d push around!” You were sick of taking orders from him. He shouldn’t have left you alone like that in the first place.

“Then don’t do stupid shit!” Joel clapped back.

You noticed Bill was on the porch with a narrowed gaze and a gun still decorating his arms. His deadpan expression suddenly struck with awe at something behind you.

There was a flash of light and the bone shattering sound of glass breaking. You watched the sparks and flames reflect in Joel’s chocolate brown eyes, like the fury that radiated off of him had actually lit fire. 

It felt like someone dropped an anvil in your stomach when you started to piece together what just happened. The greenhouse–once a sanctuary filled with vegetables and fruits so sweet you could still feel their nectar on your tongue–was now an oven filled with violent, red flames, greedily engulfing everything beautiful and green and alive. 

You turned around slowly, a look of horror painting your face as your jaw went slack. It only took a few moments for tears to run hot down your cheeks. It wasn’t even your greenhouse. You shouldn’t feel so strongly about something that you’d never see again. About something that belonged to someone else. Someone you stole from for that matter.

But it still hurt.

“The molotov…” 

“What?” Joel hissed through his teeth.

“I… I was so nervous that I didn’t realize I left it there. He must have taken it… Oh my god…”

“Who must have taken it?” He cocked his head.

“Chase.”

“And who the fuck is Chase?!” 

“I ran into him. Outside of the gate. I said I’d let him go if he promised he and his gang would back off!” The words were pouring out of your mouth in your desperation to justify your actions.

“You met someone from the outside and let them go? Have I taught you nothing all these months?!” He stretched his arm toward the flames. “Look what your kindness has done. It’s done nothin’ but fuck shit up.” The veins in his neck bulged with anger, and then he spun around, hastily reloading his gun. 

It felt like a knife had pierced into your gut at the harrowing sight of something so innocent, so fucking pure and untainted by the filth of this world, now subject to violence and despair for no good reason other than greed and hatred. 

And it was all your fault. Fuck, it really was.

You let Chase get away, only for him to turn around and betray your trust. And why shouldn’t he have? You were a fucking idiot for trusting a complete stranger.

Blood trickled from your palms at how fiercely you dug your nails into them. The last time you were this angry was when you watched your parents’ execution. You were helpless. Powerless. This world was cruel. 

No, the people in this world were cruel. They destroyed everything good. They took away any semblance of hope or joy and swallowed it, shitting it out until there was nothing left but sewage.

Kill.

Fucking kill them.

Make them pay.

You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of your hand, rough and sandpapery thanks to the dry Texas winter. Bill was shooting at attackers from his porch and Joel was at his side helping defend his property. Two unlikely allies working together to defeat an enemy, and you’d never guess that there was any beef between the two of them. Frank came from inside the house with a box of shotgun shells to offer them. 

Joel yelled at you to get inside, and you obeyed, listening to the battle for hours until it went quiet.

****

The greenhouse looked more like a graveyard of plants. Black char coated the entire structure both inside and out. Dust floated through the air, and when it wasn’t thick on your tongue or swimming through your lungs, it shimmered gently in the morning light’s rays.

“I’m so sorry, Frank.” Your voice was hoarse but the words that came out still rang true. It had been a few hours since Bill, Frank, and Joel fought the intruders off. Most of them were dead, confirmed by the bodies that now lay in the pit by the house. The rest were smart enough to run away when the odds weren’t looking to be in their favor.

Bill responded before Frank could even open his mouth. “First you try to steal our truck, then you go and get our greenhouse destroyed. This is why I don’t like strangers. We were too trusting with you and we shouldn’t have been.”

“It ain’t her fault Bill, you know we didn’t plan for you to get attacked.” Even though Joel was angry at you just a few hours ago, he was still quick to rush to your defense.

“She slipped up and it almost got us killed!” 

“We’re all alive. They ain’t gonna come back here.” Joel assured them.

“You don’t know that!” 

“I want you both to leave.” Bill took three long strides toward where you and Joel stood, tossing a glance between the two of you. “Now.”

Frank stood quietly in the background, his eyes cast downward. 

“Let us stay and help rebuild. Please. It’s the least we can do–the least I can do considering I’m the reason this burned down in the first place.” You straightened your spine, preparing to fight Bill on it.

Bill scoffed, pivoting on his heel to pace around the once-was greenhouse. “Well, I have a better idea. How about you stay and he leaves.”

You tried to come up with ways to reason with Bill. “Joel was a carpenter and can help build the structure. I can clean up and help with whatever is left.”

“He stole my truck and therefore I don’t trust him. Who says he won’t do it again–or worse?” Bill asked you as if Joel wasn’t in the room.

“He won’t.”

“We ain’t stayin’.” Joel said with finality.

“At least we’re on the same page about something for once.” Bill said sarcastically.

“Bill, let’s just hear her out.” Frank whispered, but in the quiet of the morning with no one around, you could still clearly pick up their conversation. “It could take us months to have this redone. And what if the rest of those guys come back? You want them to think it’s just the two of us here?” 

Bill frowned. “He needs to leave.”

All of this stress was making your stomach gurgle. It was like your body couldn’t find a better time to hurl your guts out then right here in front of everyone. It’s better to let it out now than keep it in and suffer! That’s what Gram would say when you were barely taller than the bathroom sink, refusing to puke when you were sick with a stomach bug.

Channeling Gram’s words of wisdom, you folded over and let it all out. You felt a strong, steady hand on your shoulder. When you stood up to see who it was, Joel’s warm brown eyes crinkled with worry.

Bill’s body tensed, his teeth grinding in thought. It was hard to read him usually, as stoic as he was, but you thought you saw a flash of something else behind his eyes–fear maybe.

“How the hell do we know if the kid’s been bitten or not? She’s been sick since she got here!”

“Bill, you know the infection doesn’t progress like that. She’s just been nauseous. Right, sweetie?” Frank turned to you.

You nodded, casting your gaze back to the very unpredictable Bill. His gun clicked and he raised the barrel right at your head. A second gun clicked almost instantly. Joel’s trusty rifle.

“I swear to fuckin’ God bill, if you shoot her, I’ll blow both yours ‘n Frank’s brains out all over this god damn yard!” 

“Then explain why she’s sick as a dog, Joel!” 

Joel was silent. Weighing his next words carefully, as he usually did, but you couldn’t believe that at a time like this he was going to debate whether or not he should tell them the truth when your life was on the line. You realized it’s probably because he was going to shoot before anyone had a chance to even plot their next move.

While you may have let Joel get away with stealing Bill and Frank’s truck, eventually leading you to the ruckus of their greenhouse burning to ashes, you would not allow him to kill them. So you spoke.

“I’m pregnant.” 

All was quiet inside of the ruined greenhouse. Dead quiet. Your heart fluttered and chest heaved as you stared straight into the black depths of the barrel. And then Bill finally lowered his gun, abandoned his defenses, and cocked a brow at Joel.

“So you are that kinda man, huh?”

********

Sorry this took so long, this chapter had important plot points. I've been so very busy but I promise I will update in my spare time. This story means a lot to me <3

[lesmisletters-daily]

One Mother Meets Another Mother

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.4.1

There was, at Montfermeil, near Paris, during the first quarter of this century, a sort of cook-shop which no longer exists. This cook-shop was kept by some people named Thénardier, husband and wife. It was situated in Boulanger Lane. Over the door there was a board nailed flat against the wall. Upon this board was painted something which resembled a man carrying another man on his back, the latter wearing the big gilt epaulettes of a general, with large silver stars; red spots represented blood; the rest of the picture consisted of smoke, and probably represented a battle. Below ran this inscription: AT THE SIGN OF SERGEANT OF WATERLOO (<i>Au Sargent de Waterloo</i>).

Nothing is more common than a cart or a truck at the door of a hostelry. Nevertheless, the vehicle, or, to speak more accurately, the fragment of a vehicle, which encumbered the street in front of the cook-shop of the <i>Sergeant of Waterloo</i>, one evening in the spring of 1818, would certainly have attracted, by its mass, the attention of any painter who had passed that way.

It was the fore-carriage of one of those trucks which are used in wooded tracts of country, and which serve to transport thick planks and the trunks of trees. This fore-carriage was composed of a massive iron axle-tree with a pivot, into which was fitted a heavy shaft, and which was supported by two huge wheels. The whole thing was compact, overwhelming, and misshapen. It seemed like the gun-carriage of an enormous cannon. The ruts of the road had bestowed on the wheels, the fellies, the hub, the axle, and the shaft, a layer of mud, a hideous yellowish daubing hue, tolerably like that with which people are fond of ornamenting cathedrals. The wood was disappearing under mud, and the iron beneath rust. Under the axle-tree hung, like drapery, a huge chain, worthy of some Goliath of a convict. This chain suggested, not the beams, which it was its office to transport, but the mastodons and mammoths which it might have served to harness; it had the air of the galleys, but of cyclopean and superhuman galleys, and it seemed to have been detached from some monster. Homer would have bound Polyphemus with it, and Shakespeare, Caliban.

Why was that fore-carriage of a truck in that place in the street? In the first place, to encumber the street; next, in order that it might finish the process of rusting. There is a throng of institutions in the old social order, which one comes across in this fashion as one walks about outdoors, and which have no other reasons for existence than the above.

The centre of the chain swung very near the ground in the middle, and in the loop, as in the rope of a swing, there were seated and grouped, on that particular evening, in exquisite interlacement, two little girls; one about two years and a half old, the other, eighteen months; the younger in the arms of the other. A handkerchief, cleverly knotted about them, prevented their falling out. A mother had caught sight of that frightful chain, and had said, “Come! there’s a plaything for my children.”

The two children, who were dressed prettily and with some elegance, were radiant with pleasure; one would have said that they were two roses amid old iron; their eyes were a triumph; their fresh cheeks were full of laughter. One had chestnut hair; the other, brown. Their innocent faces were two delighted surprises; a blossoming shrub which grew near wafted to the passers-by perfumes which seemed to emanate from them; the child of eighteen months displayed her pretty little bare stomach with the chaste indecency of childhood. Above and around these two delicate heads, all made of happiness and steeped in light, the gigantic fore-carriage, black with rust, almost terrible, all entangled in curves and wild angles, rose in a vault, like the entrance of a cavern. A few paces apart, crouching down upon the threshold of the hostelry, the mother, not a very prepossessing woman, by the way, though touching at that moment, was swinging the two children by means of a long cord, watching them carefully, for fear of accidents, with that animal and celestial expression which is peculiar to maternity. At every backward and forward swing the hideous links emitted a strident sound, which resembled a cry of rage; the little girls were in ecstasies; the setting sun mingled in this joy, and nothing could be more charming than this caprice of chance which had made of a chain of Titans the swing of cherubim.

As she rocked her little ones, the mother hummed in a discordant voice a romance then celebrated:—

“It must be, said a warrior.”

Her song, and the contemplation of her daughters, prevented her hearing and seeing what was going on in the street.

In the meantime, some one had approached her, as she was beginning the first couplet of the romance, and suddenly she heard a voice saying very near her ear:—

“You have two beautiful children there, Madame.”

“To the fair and tender Imogene—”

replied the mother, continuing her romance; then she turned her head.

A woman stood before her, a few paces distant. This woman also had a child, which she carried in her arms.

She was carrying, in addition, a large carpet-bag, which seemed very heavy.

This woman’s child was one of the most divine creatures that it is possible to behold. It was a girl, two or three years of age. She could have entered into competition with the two other little ones, so far as the coquetry of her dress was concerned; she wore a cap of fine linen, ribbons on her bodice, and Valenciennes lace on her cap. The folds of her skirt were raised so as to permit a view of her white, firm, and dimpled leg. She was admirably rosy and healthy. The little beauty inspired a desire to take a bite from the apples of her cheeks. Of her eyes nothing could be known, except that they must be very large, and that they had magnificent lashes. She was asleep.

She slept with that slumber of absolute confidence peculiar to her age. The arms of mothers are made of tenderness; in them children sleep profoundly.

As for the mother, her appearance was sad and poverty-stricken. She was dressed like a working-woman who is inclined to turn into a peasant again. She was young. Was she handsome? Perhaps; but in that attire it was not apparent. Her hair, a golden lock of which had escaped, seemed very thick, but was severely concealed beneath an ugly, tight, close, nun-like cap, tied under the chin. A smile displays beautiful teeth when one has them; but she did not smile. Her eyes did not seem to have been dry for a very long time. She was pale; she had a very weary and rather sickly appearance. She gazed upon her daughter asleep in her arms with the air peculiar to a mother who has nursed her own child. A large blue handkerchief, such as the Invalides use, was folded into a fichu, and concealed her figure clumsily. Her hands were sunburnt and all dotted with freckles, her forefinger was hardened and lacerated with the needle; she wore a cloak of coarse brown woollen stuff, a linen gown, and coarse shoes. It was Fantine.

It was Fantine, but difficult to recognize. Nevertheless, on scrutinizing her attentively, it was evident that she still retained her beauty. A melancholy fold, which resembled the beginning of irony, wrinkled her right cheek. As for her toilette, that aerial toilette of muslin and ribbons, which seemed made of mirth, of folly, and of music, full of bells, and perfumed with lilacs had vanished like that beautiful and dazzling hoar-frost which is mistaken for diamonds in the sunlight; it melts and leaves the branch quite black.

Ten months had elapsed since the “pretty farce.”

What had taken place during those ten months? It can be divined.

After abandonment, straightened circumstances. Fantine had immediately lost sight of Favourite, Zéphine and Dahlia; the bond once broken on the side of the men, it was loosed between the women; they would have been greatly astonished had any one told them a fortnight later, that they had been friends; there no longer existed any reason for such a thing. Fantine had remained alone. The father of her child gone,—alas! such ruptures are irrevocable,—she found herself absolutely isolated, minus the habit of work and plus the taste for pleasure. Drawn away by her <i>liaison</i> with Tholomyès to disdain the pretty trade which she knew, she had neglected to keep her market open; it was now closed to her. She had no resource. Fantine barely knew how to read, and did not know how to write; in her childhood she had only been taught to sign her name; she had a public letter-writer indite an epistle to Tholomyès, then a second, then a third. Tholomyès replied to none of them. Fantine heard the gossips say, as they looked at her child: “Who takes those children seriously! One only shrugs one’s shoulders over such children!” Then she thought of Tholomyès, who had shrugged his shoulders over his child, and who did not take that innocent being seriously; and her heart grew gloomy toward that man. But what was she to do? She no longer knew to whom to apply. She had committed a fault, but the foundation of her nature, as will be remembered, was modesty and virtue. She was vaguely conscious that she was on the verge of falling into distress, and of gliding into a worse state. Courage was necessary; she possessed it, and held herself firm. The idea of returning to her native town of M. sur M. occurred to her. There, some one might possibly know her and give her work; yes, but it would be necessary to conceal her fault. In a confused way she perceived the necessity of a separation which would be more painful than the first one. Her heart contracted, but she took her resolution. Fantine, as we shall see, had the fierce bravery of life. She had already valiantly renounced finery, had dressed herself in linen, and had put all her silks, all her ornaments, all her ribbons, and all her laces on her daughter, the only vanity which was left to her, and a holy one it was. She sold all that she had, which produced for her two hundred francs; her little debts paid, she had only about eighty francs left. At the age of twenty-two, on a beautiful spring morning, she quitted Paris, bearing her child on her back. Any one who had seen these two pass would have had pity on them. This woman had, in all the world, nothing but her child, and the child had, in all the world, no one but this woman. Fantine had nursed her child, and this had tired her chest, and she coughed a little.

We shall have no further occasion to speak of M. Félix Tholomyès. Let us confine ourselves to saying, that, twenty years later, under King Louis Philippe, he was a great provincial lawyer, wealthy and influential, a wise elector, and a very severe juryman; he was still a man of pleasure.

Towards the middle of the day, after having, from time to time, for the sake of resting herself, travelled, for three or four sous a league, in what was then known as the <i>Petites Voitures des Environs de Paris</i>, the “little suburban coach service,” Fantine found herself at Montfermeil, in the alley Boulanger.

As she passed the Thénardier hostelry, the two little girls, blissful in the monster swing, had dazzled her in a manner, and she had halted in front of that vision of joy.

Charms exist. These two little girls were a charm to this mother.

She gazed at them in much emotion. The presence of angels is an announcement of Paradise. She thought that, above this inn, she beheld the mysterious HERE of Providence. These two little creatures were evidently happy. She gazed at them, she admired them, in such emotion that at the moment when their mother was recovering her breath between two couplets of her song, she could not refrain from addressing to her the remark which we have just read:—

“You have two pretty children, Madame.”

The most ferocious creatures are disarmed by caresses bestowed on their young.

The mother raised her head and thanked her, and bade the wayfarer sit down on the bench at the door, she herself being seated on the threshold. The two women began to chat.

“My name is Madame Thénardier,” said the mother of the two little girls. “We keep this inn.”

Then, her mind still running on her romance, she resumed humming between her teeth:—

“It must be so; I am a knight,

And I am off to Palestine.”

This Madame Thénardier was a sandy-complexioned woman, thin and angular—the type of the soldier’s wife in all its unpleasantness; and what was odd, with a languishing air, which she owed to her perusal of romances. She was a simpering, but masculine creature. Old romances produce that effect when rubbed against the imagination of cook-shop woman. She was still young; she was barely thirty. If this crouching woman had stood upright, her lofty stature and her frame of a perambulating colossus suitable for fairs, might have frightened the traveller at the outset, troubled her confidence, and disturbed what caused what we have to relate to vanish. A person who is seated instead of standing erect—destinies hang upon such a thing as that.

The traveller told her story, with slight modifications.

That she was a working-woman; that her husband was dead; that her work in Paris had failed her, and that she was on her way to seek it elsewhere, in her own native parts; that she had left Paris that morning on foot; that, as she was carrying her child, and felt fatigued, she had got into the Villemomble coach when she met it; that from Villemomble she had come to Montfermeil on foot; that the little one had walked a little, but not much, because she was so young, and that she had been obliged to take her up, and the jewel had fallen asleep.

At this word she bestowed on her daughter a passionate kiss, which woke her. The child opened her eyes, great blue eyes like her mother’s, and looked at—what? Nothing; with that serious and sometimes severe air of little children, which is a mystery of their luminous innocence in the presence of our twilight of virtue. One would say that they feel themselves to be angels, and that they know us to be men. Then the child began to laugh; and although the mother held fast to her, she slipped to the ground with the unconquerable energy of a little being which wished to run. All at once she caught sight of the two others in the swing, stopped short, and put out her tongue, in sign of admiration.

Mother Thénardier released her daughters, made them descend from the swing, and said:—

“Now amuse yourselves, all three of you.”

Children become acquainted quickly at that age, and at the expiration of a minute the little Thénardiers were playing with the newcomer at making holes in the ground, which was an immense pleasure.

The newcomer was very gay; the goodness of the mother is written in the gayety of the child; she had seized a scrap of wood which served her for a shovel, and energetically dug a cavity big enough for a fly. The grave-digger’s business becomes a subject for laughter when performed by a child.

The two women pursued their chat.

“What is your little one’s name?”

“Cosette.”

For Cosette, read Euphrasie. The child’s name was Euphrasie. But out of Euphrasie the mother had made Cosette by that sweet and graceful instinct of mothers and of the populace which changes Josepha into Pepita, and Françoise into Sillette. It is a sort of derivative which disarranges and disconcerts the whole science of etymologists. We have known a grandmother who succeeded in turning Theodore into Gnon.

“How old is she?”

“She is going on three.”

“That is the age of my eldest.”

In the meantime, the three little girls were grouped in an attitude of profound anxiety and blissfulness; an event had happened; a big worm had emerged from the ground, and they were afraid; and they were in ecstasies over it.

Their radiant brows touched each other; one would have said that there were three heads in one aureole.

“How easily children get acquainted at once!” exclaimed Mother Thénardier; “one would swear that they were three sisters!”

This remark was probably the spark which the other mother had been waiting for. She seized the Thénardier’s hand, looked at her fixedly, and said:—

“Will you keep my child for me?”

The Thénardier made one of those movements of surprise which signify neither assent nor refusal.

Cosette’s mother continued:—

“You see, I cannot take my daughter to the country. My work will not permit it. With a child one can find no situation. People are ridiculous in the country. It was the good God who caused me to pass your inn. When I caught sight of your little ones, so pretty, so clean, and so happy, it overwhelmed me. I said: ‘Here is a good mother. That is just the thing; that will make three sisters.’ And then, it will not be long before I return. Will you keep my child for me?”

“I must see about it,” replied the Thénardier.

“I will give you six francs a month.”

Here a man’s voice called from the depths of the cook-shop:—

“Not for less than seven francs. And six months paid in advance.”

“Six times seven makes forty-two,” said the Thénardier.

“I will give it,” said the mother.

“And fifteen francs in addition for preliminary expenses,” added the man’s voice.

“Total, fifty-seven francs,” said Madame Thénardier. And she hummed vaguely, with these figures:—

“It must be, said a warrior.”

“I will pay it,” said the mother. “I have eighty francs. I shall have enough left to reach the country, by travelling on foot. I shall earn money there, and as soon as I have a little I will return for my darling.”

The man’s voice resumed:—

“The little one has an outfit?”

“That is my husband,” said the Thénardier.

“Of course she has an outfit, the poor treasure.—I understood perfectly that it was your husband.—And a beautiful outfit, too! a senseless outfit, everything by the dozen, and silk gowns like a lady. It is here, in my carpet-bag.”

“You must hand it over,” struck in the man’s voice again.

“Of course I shall give it to you,” said the mother. “It would be very queer if I were to leave my daughter quite naked!”

The master’s face appeared.

“That’s good,” said he.

The bargain was concluded. The mother passed the night at the inn, gave up her money and left her child, fastened her carpet-bag once more, now reduced in volume by the removal of the outfit, and light henceforth and set out on the following morning, intending to return soon. People arrange such departures tranquilly; but they are despairs!

A neighbor of the Thénardiers met this mother as she was setting out, and came back with the remark:—

“I have just seen a woman crying in the street so that it was enough to rend your heart.”

When Cosette’s mother had taken her departure, the man said to the woman:—

“That will serve to pay my note for one hundred and ten francs which falls due to-morrow; I lacked fifty francs. Do you know that I should have had a bailiff and a protest after me? You played the mouse-trap nicely with your young ones.”

“Without suspecting it,” said the woman.

[craboon]

the redjam sea or sea of sweetness, is full of toxic algae and metals that sting your nose and mouth with and obscene sweetness, animals pour from the fields in great migrations to feast and die at its shores, leaving sticky trails of red strewn across the shores, most commonly large reddish house centipedes and rust covered snails that crawl from the crevices of the northern shore, the numerous bugs are harvested as food or for their shells the water when cooked down can be used as a tar and sealant and most famously a red paint, some people also eat it as a delicacy risking their health int he process

the sea of milk is a place of still opaque white fluid, primordial ancient things linger there, softly padding in the waves where most seas have a vermin clinging to the shores these ones lurk in the deep unseen, things very old live there long ago the goddess of the earwigs beckoned them from the pale waters and set them to fly to the moon and return only when they became wise

there is not a whole lot of industry around this sea the animals and crafty and things get eaten and gnawed upon when the earwigs emerge at night, there however are more farming settlements farther into the golden lands where the endless grain sates the appetite of the earwigs before they can reach

there are many monasteries and such things built in the seclusion they have found it difficult to keep records without using materials that the earwigs detest the red pigment from the sea of sweetness works well

the cadaverine seas waters are chilled and smell of rot there are numerous mass dyings and blobster like things washed upon the shores, the water is somewhat corrosive and one must were a waxed suit to safely wade, the waters are not filled with much except barnacles, molluscs, brachiopods,and echnoderms fished commonly in row boats with thick coating to prevent the encrusting of life on them, the corpses of the the waxy beasts are harvested and distilled into medicines healing salves and sedatives that have the side effect of giving dreams of one being trapped in mud at the bottom of the sea, in ancient times people built great sarcophagi to store the bodies of the giant waxy whale fish things, and referred them as saints, the fluid of the tombs is a legendary medicine

the gloaming sea is covered in churning pewter waves, cast in never ending twilight there is a great black engine built on the cliffs chains as light as spider silk are cast into the air like a net and as the sun sets apparitions sparks of angels burn into being for an instant before becoming entangled the great engine starts up and reels them in as night falls not sure what they do with them make lightbulbs idk the engine is powered both my the lapping waves agains the great steel wheels but also a material unique to this are called verminstone, its quarried nearby and shipped on rails, it resembles ancient sea fossils, byrozoans, coral, diatoms, sponges porus and once alive, it works when you dont look a rattling in a dark box so they are poured into the engine like coal great rattling and cacophony, worms that creeped so long ago led ghostly in great procession turning the heavy gears

[zelphin124]

Beyond The Bound Pages: Homer

Chapter 1: What it Means to be Abandoned

This is a new series I am writing about an isekai going into Homer's works. Featuring Saga: a gal who somehow has to survive in the Greek world on Odysseus ship. This will be fun. But first... we got to get there. Masterpost [Start] -> Chapter 2

~o0o~

The sweet smell of addicting, artificial strawberries filled the air, correlating with the dust of the paved road. The remnants of dust from graffiti spray paint lingered in the air, forcing a cough from those nearby. It smelled better than the taste it left in the air, and this particular paint stuck to the skin when sprayed. It didn’t help when it mixed with the humidity of the area. 

The woman holding the can took a step back on the two stairs she was standing on, looking at the edge of the wall. To her right, the stairs escalated to another dirt road above. A building arch overlaid most of the stairway. The walls were jagged and uneven on the sides, leading to perfect spots to leave a short message, which was her intention. Behind her was a caged door in a tan brick building, which one of her companions was trying to open. A cobbled pathway was carefully crafted and abandoned to her left, stretching in like a narrow balcony that overlooked the undertones of the abandoned city. The only thing preventing an immediate dropoff was a round, stone wall half a human’s size. It was uneven in its coverage and had breaks in its stretch when it met stairs leading down to the city's lower levels, but it could keep anyone from falling off accidentally. 

Random wires and pipes were strung up and across the buildings. It didn’t help that they had rusted over time from the prevalent rainfall. The sky was clear and bright, with only a few clouds to account for the mass water amid the air. The view from this specific road overlooked the rest of the city, showcasing its deep, interwoven roads and vertical levels. Whoever built the city was skilled in using the hills to their advantage, having crooked windows within the houses peek over the rest of the roofs. It wasn’t a largely abandoned town; one could see the desert hilltops on the edge of the city, showing off its cliffs and small, green bushes that were uncommon enough to be considered a rarity. There was a clear distinction in the various houses: who was rich and who was poor. The rich lived on the upper levels, and the poor lived on the bottom areas of the city, having laundry lines stretched out from roof to roof in the compacted area, versus the rich obtaining extra coverage and safety from potential break-ins. 

However, no one lived in the city anymore. It didn’t matter to the woman why everyone had left, it only mattered that it was a great place to send a message and collect forgotten loot.

Another woman sat on the round barrier near the cobbled road. She swung her feet back and forth, not paying attention to her untied shoelaces that wrapped around her ankles. Her dry, blonde hair was pinned back into a beanie. “Any luck, Zack?” She stuck her tongue out, tracing the dirt on her face. She was good at playing the act of a gang leader with the way she dressed. Her black leather jacket and brown shirt were torn and tattered, along with her ripped loose jeans. She wore bike gloves that did not go with her outfit well, but she always argued it was cool. Scars crossed her face and arms like she was attacked by a bear, but her story of how she got the scars changed every time someone asked her about it. 

The man behind the woman with the spray bottle turned around, adjusting his sunglasses. “I don’t think there’s going to be anything inside here, Isabella.” Zack dusted off his own gloves before he did the same to his white T-shirt. His curly brown hair always got in the way of his eyesight, forcing him to pin it up above his head. He was encouraged to get a haircut but insisted he wanted to create braids with his hair once it grew to the correct length. The hiking boots he wore were tight around his ankles, forcing him to make large steps with each foot movement. He had trouble walking anyway with how unnaturally tall he was. Long, baggy black pants hung from his waist covering his ankles. His voice was harsh and raspy as if he just inhaled the dust of a dirt road. “The people of Craco made sure to take their valuables.” 

Isabella leaned back on the balcony barrier, grunting with dissatisfaction, she was short, but that didn’t make her presence any more comforting. She had a motto of sticking together like a family, but her hypocrisy was exhibited through her actions. “Saga,” she turned to the woman with the spray paint. “You’ve been staring at that wall for too long. Make yourself useful!” 

The woman turned, her long, strawberry-blonde hair curled gently out of her large bun. It would fall to her knees if she let it loose. She was new to the gang, so her hair wasn’t as tattered and dry as the rest of them. It was silky and well-taken care of. Her hazel eyes reflected the setting sun, and she had yet to receive the tattoo on her left cheek of the gang’s symbol. If it were up to her, she would’ve worn a white blouse with a forest green skirt that stretched to her knees, but the uniform of the gang consisted of white and brown T-shirts with leather jackets, tattered work pants, and laced shoes. She was covered in dirt and spray paint, but couldn’t care enough to tidy herself up. Her chest was rather flat, and her body figure was rather square. She gave off tomboy vibes, and her fists were wrapped in bandages from the fights she got in. She cleared her voice, trying to sound tougher than she was. “I’d have to break up the message.” 

Isabella whipped her head around to the south, narrowing her eyes as she heard distant footsteps. “We need to hurry up and catch up with the others. The city is abandoned, but the police will look for people like us here.” Her feet slammed onto the cobblestone as she wiped her face. The scars wrinkled with her disgusted stare. “Zack, forget the door. We will get the loot some other time. Help Saga with the message.” 

“Bellosi mafia di Isabella o,” Zack dropped his tools and walked across the stairs. He leaned his hand on the wall close to where Saga was staring at, towering over her. He was at least a foot taller than her, but he didn’t carry himself with the confidence his height should have brought him. His breath was sour like rotten eggs as he spoke. “Need help spelling that, champ?” 

“No.” Saga turned to face him, not flinching out of his intimidation. She bit her tongue in an attempt to not smell his breath. “We aren’t a mafia. It’s not proper Italian.” 

“Doesn’t have to be,” Isabella kicked a rock down one of the stairpaths, chipping the stones of the road. “It’s a slogan, one that will establish us as a soon-to-be mafia. Remember, act the part until it becomes reality, right?”

Saga flattened her lips and nodded. 

“You don’t even know Italian, so it would be best if you kept your mouth shut and followed blindly,” the gang leader continued. “Write the phrase, then let’s ditch.” 

“You said we were family,” Saga argued. “Family should hear each other out.” 

A hoarse laugh echoed throughout the city as it fled from Zack’s lips. He bent over, resting his back on the wall as he wheezed. His eyes almost bulged out of his skull as if what Saga had said was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. 

Isabella did not have the same reaction. She took off her beanie and ran her hand through her hair. “I meant we were a family as in we would stick together,” she tilted her head sideways, chewing on something: weed, if Saga had to guess. “You have to trust me on this, I don’t have time to explain. We don’t ditch each other, but that doesn’t mean I take care of you to think, understood?” 

Saga grunted and shook the can in her hand with aggression. She double-checked its inky black color before writing the message on the wall. She sprayed it enough to release its stench in the air, forcing Zack to retreat from the wall as he snuffled a few coughs. 

He left Saga’s peripheral vision and rummaged through his duffle bag, clanging the tools together as if they were trash. Saga could tell he was clumsy with them because of the various scraping noises she heard, rather than the usual shuffling pitches. 

Saga heard a door unlatch behind her. “Really, Zack?” Isabella snapped. “Even Omar could’ve done a better job than this.” 

“I loosened it for you,” Zack argued. He cursed under his breath as he followed Isabella into the small room, grabbing a few nails and other supplies they could find in the forsaken metropolis of Italy. 

Saga made haste with painting the message on the wall, covering her face with her arm from the smell and smoke the spray paint let off. The cloud it produced stuck to her skin, and every few seconds she paused to itch the crusted dust off her body. The sun's rays only made the paint on her skin burn. She was expected to endure it, for as Isabella said: “The consequences of breaking the law would be much worse than simple burns on the skin.” 

Saga let out a disgruntled cough as she finished the graffiti, waving her hand in front of her face to get rid of the remaining dust. The humidity only got more intense the more the setting sun beat on Saga’s skin. She took a step back, careful to not trip on the uneven carved stones on the stairs. To her, the message made no sense, and it was hard to decipher. Telling herself repeatedly it was for a purpose she didn’t understand yet felt folly. Her gaze traversed to the gray door next to the wall she mutilated. It appeared slammed shut, but perhaps it had better loot hiding behind it. 

The gang had been searching for scraps all day, and their group in particular had collected nothing. The one sapphire necklace they did find was dropped by Zack through an unreachable crack in the sewage system. Saga wasn’t informed of what the gang was specifically seeking in these ruins, but she assumed it was the leftover valuables left by the former inhabitants. They wanted to claim their share of the treasure within the rubble before the government stole it from the people; at least, that was Zack’s explanation of the situation. 

The woman’s hands ruffled through Zack’s bag, pulling out a tool she knew not the name of. She observed the carvings and markings on it before the structure itself. It had a flat edge that could fit under a small opening and a stronger, round base to push an opposing force open like a lever. She watched Zack use it on a few other doors throughout the city, mostly accounting for his failure to open them. Despite being built like a giant, he seemed to have trouble with the nitty gritty tasks, which Isabella foolishly assigned him to. Omar advised them to switch roles, but Isabella refused to do the work herself. 

Fortunately, Saga had a way of being crafty and self-sufficient even before she joined the group. She carefully slid the flat part of the tool under the solid gray door, ignoring the murmuring of her compatriots behind the chained door. She spanned her gaze across the door hinges; it was the perfect design to lift the door and let it fall forward. Resting her foot and hands on the tool, she inhaled sharply before using precise force to press down. 

The door was promptly lifted off its hinges, its weight carrying itself to the floor. It slammed on the bricks, sending a rustled echo through the newly revealed room. The sound bounced across the walls and roads, causing Saga to wince as it slowly died out. 

The room itself had no light. There was a ladder to the right to get on top of the tiled roof. The house was small and square, with a hard floor and a table at the edge of its wall. There was one thing on the table: a book. 

Saga discarded the tool to the side before bending over to step into the cube. She searched the floor for anything to salvage but came out empty-handed. The door had landed on most of the floor; perhaps it squished whatever was left in the house. She straightened her back and stumbled over to the table. She first eyed the silver in the nails and started to peel them out. They could be smelted for cash. However, as she disassembled the table for its valuable components, her curiosity grew about the book on top of it. 

She paused her theft and stared at the book. Saga was not one to talk to herself in her own head and her thoughts were very few, just as Isabella had instructed her. However, her mind raced when she gave in to the temptation and picked up the book, blowing and wiping the dust off its cover. 

Homer, the title read. Iliad and Odyssey. It detailed it was a special edition with various events between the two books, and its size attested to the claim. The ridges of the book were ancient, and the spine presented the book’s contents dated back to well over two thousand years. 

Saga held the book in one hand, flipping it back and forth in her hands. She knew a studio that would pay good money for something old like it. Her face grimaced at the thought and memory that accompanied the studio. Her fists clenched. 

They were the reason she was here.

“What part about sticking together do you not understand?” Zack’s rustic voice filled her ears as the chained door slammed behind him. “That sound was too loud, it could’ve given away our position.” A rough grip tightened on Saga’s shoulder. 

Saga jumped back, snuffing a surprised scream. She readied her left fist into a punching position whilst her right held the book close to her chest. She grunted and sighed when her heart rate slowed down and her brain registered it was just Zack. Roughly, she forced his hand off of her shoulder. 

Zack hung his tongue out from his mouth like a dog. “Cat got your tongue, champ?” 

“She is a woman of few words, Zack.” Isabella came from behind Zack, shoving a large, marble tabletop into his chest. There was no sign of care from her as Zack barely caught the object and stumbled out of the room. She approached gracefully and shot a disapproving glare at Saga. “Or, you are now. Did you find anything?”

Saga adjusted her stance, leaning on her hip as she carelessly handed the old book to her leader, her eyes slanted and locked on the door now on the floor. Adjusting the bandages on her wrists, Saga took steps to leave the room.

She was stopped. “Nah, nah, nah,” Isabella stuck out her arm to block her path, not taking her eyes off the book. “You just found this here, lying around in the open?” 

Saga flattened her face and nodded, gesturing to the broken table. 

Isabella’s eyes shined like she was looking in her own reflection. A crooked smirk captured her lips. “Nice work, champ, this will make us a great buck. Perhaps this will pay for my–” 

“Our.” Saga’s words were harsh and curt. “I found it.” 

There was a pause as Isabella looked up to meet Saga’s gaze. She chuckled nervously. “Relax, champ,” her tone was gleeful and fibberful. “Of course it’s ours, the money goes to the family, no? The beautiful mafia of Isabella,” she tucked the book under her arm and gestured to the exit. “This will get us on the right track to that glorious vision.” 

Isabella had a whole lot of vision but little action to achieve it from Saga’s point of view. Usually, Saga would endure the blissful, nihilistic aura she emitted, but it was extra sour when put in the mix with Zack’s cocky stupidity. She once had that same mindset, but it was something that long escaped her. If she still had that outlook on life, she wouldn’t be trussing a to-be mafia gang. 

Saga scrambled out of the room and assisted Zack in picking up his tools, eyeing the sunset that besmeared the sky a glorious haze of orange and pink. Perhaps luck was on their side after all; they had gathered valuables all at the last minute. 

“I see why this was left behind,” Saga glanced to see Isabella speaking as she flipped through the pages of Homer. “Imagine reading this textbook, it’s one of those where you have to know background knowledge to understand it.” 

“Someone is insane enough to like it,” Zack hoisted the bag of tools and bag of stolen goods up both his shoulders. “It’ll sell just like the rest of these. I bet I’ll get a sweet gun out of this marbled top–” 

“We start small, remember to meet up on the outside of the city,” Isabella pointed to the hill in view. “You remember the path, Zack, right?” 

“Please, you think I would get lost in a simple maze like this?” Zack smirked wildly and turned south on the cobbled road. He stumbled before he caught himself, reminding himself to take big steps. “We head down.” 

Saga rested her back on the wall she graffitied, her feet pressing against the irregular curves in the steps. Her arms were crossed around her chest before she moved them to adjust her bun. She’d have to cut her hair soon as it was getting difficult to pin it up. 

The gang shuffled to make a move on before Zack stopped in the middle of the path, blocking Isabella’s way. “The hell are you–” 

“Mani in alto dove posso vederli.” 

Zack’s hands went up slowly, resting on his head as his shoulders drooped. Isabella also stopped in her tracks as she backed up, slowly making her way to Saga. 

“Ehi! Non muoverti, o spareremo! Sei in arresto!” 

“Merda,” Isabella hissed, turning to face Saga. “It’s the police.” 

Saga’s eyes widened. She put her hands up as Zack clumsily backed up the alleyway toward the stairs. Once he was out of the way, four policemen came into view. They had their guns drawn as they blocked the road exit. They muttered a few things in Italian that Saga couldn’t understand before gesturing to Zack to get on his knees and release the bags from his possession. 

Saga glanced at Isabella in the corner of her eye. She saw her leader’s eyes plotting, and it never ended well for anyone else when she did so. She bent over as if she was about to get on her knees as well, but her eyes steadily remained on the enforcer’s hands. 

Saga’s heart dropped, and she found it difficult to breathe. She stared at the cop approaching her, unsure what to do but to follow suit. Immediate regret overflowed in her heart; this wasn’t what she thought would happen.

THUNK!

Zack waited for the police to put his gun down and pull out his cuffs before socking him in the throat. He crushed the other gun in the second police’s hands before landing a punch across his face. He ditched his tool bag, grabbed the stolen goods duffle bag, and jumped off of the balcony into a nearby stairway, leading into the maze of the abandoned city below. 

The other cops turned their attention to the noise, giving enough time for Isabella to shove the book into Saga’s hands before taking off up the stairs. She hid behind the wall as one of the cops shot at her, causing a few of the old stones to fall off the arch. It wouldn’t be long before the building collapsed, blocking the path. 

A split second passed as Saga processed her comrades, who were ditching her. It was followed by another awkward second of eye contact with the four police, eyeing the book in her hand. Instinct grabbed her by the throat and forced her into action. She flung her fists into the closest cop’s stomach, shoving him into the balcony barrier before dashing north down the cobbled road. Her heart raced as she ran for her life, diving behind another wall as shots were fired. 

“Torna qui!” The police hollered, two of them pursuing Saga as they fired more rounds of their revolvers in her direction. They sprinted after her on foot, following the cobbled path. 

Saga bolted from behind the wall and further down the path, the rugged walls and landscape of the city blurring as she focused on her exit. Long shadows were cast by the setting sun, showing the city’s weathering facades. It would be difficult to find sturdy things to climb on with the city in its rusted, crumbling state. She shoved the book down her shirt, hoping it would stay as she used her arms to run. She figured the cobbled path would end soon, forcing her to use an alternate route of escape. 

By the time the police also reached the end of the path, they had run out of bullets. They searched around frantically before spotting their target climbing up the pipes and uneven walls. One of them admitted he was too fat to climb after before resulting in chopping at the pipe. The other proceeded to climb up after Saga, slowly gaining on her. 

Saga felt the pipe become more unstable by the minute. Her heart raced as adrenaline kicked in. She spanned her gaze around the area frantically, spotting a roof close by. She grabbed the edge of the window above her before jumping to the tiled roof, breaking into a run once more. 

The other police were not far behind her. He shouted at her as he gained on her, jumping from roof to roof as she followed. His steps were a lot more clangorous than Saga’s, provoking the ruins to collapse after he flew across them. Wherever Saga slid and crumpled tiles under her feet, the police crushed with his, leaving nothing but dust. 

Under different circumstances, Saga would’ve sat to enjoy the sunset from the height she was at, taking in the beautiful scenery of the abandoned city. Saga used her ears to try and see if her comrades were nearby, but there were no signs of them anywhere. She jumped from roof to roof, occasionally attempting her luck at bouncing off different walls, hoping to get an advantage on her pursuers. She dared fate and looked behind her. 

One of the cops was following their path on the ground, panting heavily as he took turns down alleyways and ran up and down various stairs. The leaner cop was right on her tail, catching up with great speed as if he had experience running across rooftops. 

The cop on the roof was close enough to grab her jacket. He reached for her, stumbling over his feet as he lunged for her. Saga had little time to think as she dodged his grasp, sliding down another tiled roof before leaping to another. 

She fell short. Saga gripped onto the edge of the tower, spotting a rusted bell at the top of the observatory. Her hands ached with pain as they dug into the sandstone. She moved her hands up quickly, grabbed onto the ledge, and barely managed to pull herself onto the floor below the bell. She gasped for breath, coughing out the dust that entered her lungs. 

The police stopped on the previous roof, looking up at the tower. His eyes were wide as if he was astonished she made it. He muttered something into his communication device, a phrase in Italian Saga couldn’t understand. 

Saga stood, pain ceasing everything in her body. She crumpled on her hip before straightening her back again, flipping off the cop with both fingers as she caught her breath. Her bun was undone, which let her long hair fall to her sides beautifully. 

The sight of the sunset gleaming on Saga standing in the tower with her long hair out and two middle fingers up didn’t last long. There was an eerie creak before a loud crack. Saga felt the floor give way, sending her down the tower. She let out a pitiful scream, crashing into the ladder and stairs, tumbling over and over again as everything scratched and bruised her face. Her attempts at grabbing onto anything were futile, and it wasn’t long until she hit the base of the tower at the lowest level. Hitting her head, everything went black.

[lastimeexteriors-nebraska]

How Do You Maintain the Color of Residential Metal Roofing?

Maintaining the vibrant color of your residential metal roofing can feel daunting, but it doesn’t have to be! You want your home to look its best, and the roof plays a key role in that curb appeal. Whether your roof is newly installed or a few years old, keeping it fresh and beautiful is achievable with simple care tips. In this guide, you’ll discover how to preserve the color of your metal roof and extend its life by following easy maintenance techniques.

Understanding Residential Metal Roofing

Before diving into maintenance, let’s briefly discuss what residential metal roofing is. These roofs are made from various metals, such as steel, aluminum, and copper, which offer durability and longevity. They are available in multiple colors and finishes, allowing homeowners to choose a style that complements their property. Because they are exposed to the elements, proper care is essential to maintain their appearance and functionality.

Regular Cleaning: The First Step to Color Maintenance

Regular cleaning is one of the best ways to maintain the color of your residential metal roofing. Over time, dirt, debris, and organic materials can accumulate on the surface, leading to discoloration and degradation.

Cleaning Frequency

Aim to clean your roof at least twice a year. In addition to routine cleanings, consider inspecting it after significant storms or if you notice any discoloration.

Cleaning Techniques

Gentle Approach: To remove dirt and debris, use a soft-bristle brush or a low-pressure power washer. Avoid harsh chemicals or abrasive materials, which can scratch and damage the paint finish.

Focus on Problem Areas: Pay special attention to areas prone to moss, algae, or tree sap. These spots can hold moisture and lead to more significant issues if not addressed promptly.

Inspecting for Damage: A Key Component of Maintenance

Regular inspections can help you catch potential issues before they escalate. Here are some tips for inspecting your residential metal roofing:

What to Look For

Rust Spots: Check for any signs of rust, particularly around seams and fasteners. Early detection can prevent larger problems later.

Paint Peeling or Fading: Look for areas where the paint is peeling or losing its luster. These areas may need touch-ups or a complete repaint.

Structural Integrity: Check for loose panels or signs of wear that could compromise the integrity of your roof.

Addressing Issues: Repair or Repaint?

Consider repairing or repainting your residential metal roofing if you notice any damage or discoloration during your inspections.

Minor Repairs

Small rust spots or peeling paint can often be addressed without a full repaint. Use touch-up paint designed for metal roofs and follow the manufacturer’s application instructions.

Full Repainting

A full repaint may be the best option if your roof is significantly faded or damaged. Here are some steps to consider before repainting:

Wait for the Right Time: If you’ve recently installed your roof, allow it to weather for about six months to ensure better paint adhesion.

Choose the Right Paint: Select specially formulated reflective paints for metal roofs to enhance energy efficiency and prolong color retention.

Choosing the Right Color for Your Residential Metal Roofing

If you’re thinking about a new color for your roof, it’s essential to choose wisely. Here are some tips:

Know Your Options

Metal roofs come in a wide array of colors. While traditional colors like gray and black remain popular, don’t shy away from vibrant hues like colonial red or deep blue.

Consider Your Home’s Style

Think about your home's architectural style. A bright color may work well in a modern design but could clash with a more traditional aesthetic.

Check HOA Guidelines

If you live, check for guidelines in a neighborhood with a homeowner's association; checking can prevent potential headaches later.

The Impact of Weather on Your Metal Roof

Weather plays a significant role in the longevity and appearance of your residential metal roofing. Here are a few factors to consider:

Sun Exposure

Constant sun exposure can lead to fading over time. If your home gets a lot of sun, consider using reflective paint to reduce heat absorption and prolong the color’s vibrancy.

Rain and Moisture

Heavy rain and moisture can cause rust and mildew. Ensure your gutters are properly clean and functioning to divert water from your roof.

Snow and Ice

Snow and ice can accumulate on a roof in colder climates. Removing heavy snow loads can help prevent structural issues and keep the roof looking fresh.

Enhancing Energy Efficiency with Your Roof Color

Did you know that your residential metal roofing color can influence your home’s energy efficiency? Choosing lighter colors can help reflect sunlight, keeping your home cooler during hot months. On the other hand, darker colors may absorb heat, which can be beneficial in colder climates.

Preserve Your Roof’s Beauty and Durability

Maintaining the color and integrity of your residential metal roofing doesn’t have to be overwhelming. By following these simple maintenance tips, you can ensure your roof looks great for years. Interested in exploring energy-efficient roofing solutions? Visit Lastime Exteriors today to learn about our services and how we can help you elevate your home’s curb appeal!

By taking proactive steps to care for your residential metal roofing, you can enjoy its beauty and durability for many years. Regular cleaning, inspections, and timely repairs will allow you to maintain the color and integrity of your roof, ensuring your home remains a stunning sight for everyone who passes by. Don’t forget to choose the right color and consider the local climate when deciding about your roofing. Happy roofing maintenance!

[foodandfolklore]

Kitchen Witch Essentials

I want to preference this by saying your priorities of tools for your craft will vary as you get more experienced. If you get more into baking, you may choose to invest in a kitchen mixer. If your path goes more down drinks, you might want to get a French press. This list is for those starting out or looking to maintain general witchy cooking. Nothing on this list is mandatory, so don't feel like you need to go spend money just because it's on this list.

This list will also assume you have general kitchen stuff, like pots, pans, and knives. You may not have everything, but you have enough to cook.

Wooden Spoon

If for whatever reason you don't have a wooden spoon, and you want to do kitchen magic, I strongly recommend you go and get one. You can get them at any store that sells Kitchen Utensils, including the dollar store.

For some kitchen witches, the wooden spoon is like a magic wand. Allowing the witch to direct energy. Personally, I just enjoy using natural materials whenever I can. Also, it's just such a useful tool to have when cooking. You can stir your food on stove top, and since it's made of wood you don't need to worry about damaging non stick surfaces. If you're boiling pasta, stirring with a wooden spoon helps get rid of the foam overboil. You can also just leave the spoon over the pot to prevent pasta water overboiling. Baking bread? Flip the spoon around and use the handle to bring the dough together.

Some people choose to add sigils or other symbols onto their witchy spoons. If you decide to do this, please do not use paint or stain, as this can come off while cooking. Unless this will be a display only spoon, of course. Safest way is to laser burn a design. Check etsy for custom spoons.

Herbs/Spices you know the properties of

I'm sure you already have some non perishable Herbs or Spices in your pantry or spice rack. Black Pepper, Garlic powder, Cinnamon, Paprika, that kind of thing. I want you to pick one and deep dive into the history of that Herb/Spice. What it's been used for in the past, what are some common magical properties and associations; what do YOU associate with it. Write down the magical association, like protection, banish negativity, prosperity, ect. Start with one, work your way up to three. If you have trouble memorizing, keep a little cheat sheet near by.

Now when you add these seasonings, you know what energies you can add/attract with your food.

Mortar and Pestle

If you already have another way to grind spices, like a coffee grinder, this does not need to be a priority. And if you have arm or shoulder issues, I don't recommend using. The main benefit to using a mortar and pestle is the crushing style of grinding tends to release more aroma and flavor then the cutting style of a coffee grinder. If you plan to just use for dry spices, you won't need a very big or fancy one. 20 dollars should get you something small and solid.

Make sure you are getting one made of stone. I tried a wooden one and it's garbage. I use it to hold messy spoons. There are also metal ones, and while I've never tried one, I encourage caution. I worry about long term use stripping whatever coating is stopping it from rusting.

Jars

Glass Jars are so great to have in the kitchen. Leftover sauce? Put it in a jar. Suddenly made a jam? We got jars to put it in. Meal prep overnight oats? Jars are here for you! They're just great for storage. And you don't need to buy them. Lots of things come in jars; just give them a hot soapy soak, scrap the label off, wash and reuse. If you prefer mason jars, I recommend washing the lids by hand. The lids aren't meant to be reused for jarring, so they rust fairly quickly after a few washes. You can buy replacement lids, however.

Plastic Containers

Jars are great, but things get a little dicey when you want to put stuff in the freezer. Water likes to make sure everyone knows it's cold by puffing up bigger; like look at me, I'm freezing here! Which means, there's a chance your glass jar can shatter.

But freezing food is the best way to preserve food since you don't need to add anything like extra salt or sugar. So get some freezer safe containers. I love making batches of broth and stock, and freeze it for later. Or if we have a lot of leftovers, I'll freeze enough for a dinner another week, incase I don't have enough spoons to make dinner one evening. And don't worry, you can wash and reuse plastic containers too.

I'll also freeze food I notice is starting to go weird. If I buy a huge bag of baby spinach, but can't get through it all, I'll transfer it to a freezer bag. Adding frozen spinach to food as it cooks is one of the easiest ways to up your nutrients. You can also freeze other vegetables, just make sure you cut them up first.

Crock Pot/Slow Cooker

Every Witch Needs a Cauldron, and these are Electric Cauldrons. Prices vary mainly based on the size you want. There are different brands, different colors; you can even get some in the theme of your favorite fandom. But they all have the same 3 core settings: High, Low, and keep warm.

Slow cookers are....well, slow. Which is great for certain kinds of food that need to sit for a long time, like meats. But it's also great for Kitchen Witches with a lot going on. Non witches will "Set it and forget it" but it's a good idea to stir every once in a while. Which is where the magic comes in. So, if you're a scatter brained Witch, Like me, or have ADHD and have trouble focusing, an electric cauldron might be for you. Throw everything together in 15 minutes, then give it love and attention when you remember. Normally that happens when you start to smell the food.

Again, this is my preference. Some Kitchen Witches I know prefer to identify a specific pot as their cauldron. Some went and got an actual full size, cast iron cauldron; which is amazing but not feasible for most. I grew up using a slow cooker, so I'm very comfortable around one. But if it's not your thing; that's fine. Maybe your cauldron will be a rice cooker or a Boston Shaker.

[hopefulinternetblaze]

How to Spot Mold Issues on Your Tampa Garage Roof

To spot mold issues on your Tampa garage roof, look for dark patches or stains in black, green, or brown. Check for fuzzy textures, a musty odor, and peeling or bubbling roofing materials. Inspect for water damage like dark spots on shingles or moist attic rafters. Keep vents and overhangs clear of moisture and debris. By regularly inspecting and addressing these signs, you can maintain your roof's integrity and prevent mold growth. More useful tips await you ahead.

Understanding Mold Growth in Humid Climates

When you live in a humid climate, it's crucial to understand how mold thrives in such environments. High humidity levels create an ideal breeding ground for mold spores, which can settle on surfaces like your garage roof.

Mold requires moisture, organic material, and warmth to grow; your roof likely provides all three. If your area experiences consistent rainfall or high humidity, your roof's ventilation becomes vital. Poor airflow can trap moisture, fostering mold growth.

Additionally, leaves and debris can accumulate, retaining moisture and offering nutrients for mold spores. Understanding these conditions helps you identify potential mold problems before they escalate.

Regular maintenance and observation can mitigate mold risks, protecting both your garage and your health in the long run.

Visual Signs of Mold on Your Garage Roof

Mold growth on your garage roof can manifest in several distinct visual signs, making it essential to recognize them early.

First, look for discoloration, which often appears as dark patches or stains in various colors, including black, green, or brown. These can vary in size and may spread over time.

You might also notice a fuzzy or slimy texture in affected areas, indicating active mold spores.

Another sign is a musty odor, which can sometimes seep into your garage space.

Lastly, pay attention to any peeling or bubbling in the roofing material; this can signal underlying mold issues.

Regular inspections can help you catch these visual cues before http://troyozle890.fotosdefrases.com/the-psychology-of-home-restoration-for-tampa-residents they become a more significant problem.

Checking for Moisture and Water Damage

Visual signs of mold are often accompanied by moisture problems that can compromise your garage roof's integrity.

To effectively check for moisture and water damage, follow these steps:

Inspect for Discoloration: Look for dark spots or streaks on your roof, indicating potential water infiltration.Examine the Attic: If accessible, check for dampness, condensation, or mold growth on the rafters and insulation.Look for Exterior Damage: Assess your roof's shingles or tiles for cracks, missing pieces, or rusted flashing that could allow water penetration.Conducting a Thorough Inspection

To ensure you catch mold issues early, conducting a thorough inspection of your roof is essential. Begin by checking for discoloration, particularly dark spots that may indicate mold growth. Inspect areas around vents, chimneys, and overhangs, as these spots often retain moisture. Utilize a ladder for a close examination and look for peeling paint or damaged shingles.

[garagedoorshere]

How to choose the best design for your Garage doors near northern beaches!

With so many options, choosing the right design for a garage door in Northern Beaches can really make a difference to the look and usability of your home. Such as the way it functions, especially in terms of coastal style. Here are some considerations you need to consider in making the right choice: architectural style, material, functionality, and budget.

Evaluate Your Home's Architectural Style:

The garage door should complement your home's style. Whether it's modern, classic, or coastal, the door should fit in.

Coastal Homes: For a beachy vibe, choose light colours like whites, creams, or soft blues. Timber-look doors can also enhance the coastal feel.

Modern Homes: Sleek, minimalist designs work well. Panel lift doors with clean lines and dark colours like black or charcoal can create a contemporary look.

Traditional Homes: For traditional homes, panel doors with decorative hardware add character. Classic white, timber, or neutral tones usually work best.

Consider the Material:

Garage doors come in different materials, each offering varied benefits.

Steel: Steel doors are popular for their durability, security, and affordability. They can be painted to match your home and are relatively low maintenance.

Timber: Timber doors give a very natural, warm appearance. They demand more maintenance in order to prevent warping, rotting, and pest infestations. Timber-look doors provide less maintenance.

Aluminum: Aluminum doors are light in weight and rust-proofed, suitable for coastal regions. They come in a variety of styles and colours.

Colorbond Steel: Colorbond steel garage doors are available in numerous colours to complement your home and garden.

Consider Functionality:

Consider what you are using your garage for and what is important.

Roller Doors: These doors make great sense if your garage is one that is limited in its headroom. They roll up vertically, taking up very little space.

Panel Lift Doors: Often referred to as sectional doors, these lift up in sections and slide along the ceiling for a sleek appearance. These types of doors make sense for most garages.

Tilt Doors: Tilt doors swing outward as a single panel and can be personalised but require additional clearance in front of the garage.

Smart Technology and Automation:

Including smart technology adds to the convenience and safety features.

Garage Door Openers: An automatic opener lets one open and close his garage door using a button. The remote opener should have safety features, especially smartphone connectivity.

Remote Access: Some openers can be controlled by a smartphone app, allowing you to monitor and control your door from anywhere.

Budget Considerations:

Set a budget before you shop. 

Prices vary widely based on material, style, and features. Installation costs should also be included. 

Cheaper options may be tempting, but a quality door can save money long-term through reduced maintenance and increased home value.

Professional Installation and Maintenance:

Proper installation is essential to ensure safe and efficient functioning. 

Contact an expert garage door company in the Northern Beaches. 

The lifespan of the door can be increased, and major repair costs can be avoided through constant lubrication and inspection.

Conclusion

Choosing the best garage door design in the Northern Beaches requires balancing looks, usability, and budget. Assess your home's style, consider material and functionality, explore smart tech, and work with a professional to select a door that enhances your home and provides years of reliable service.

[dropexusa]

BA454 PUILUO Under Sliding Cabinet Basket Organizer, 2 Tier Under Sink Organizers Black Under Sink Storage for Bathroom Kitchen       

$21.99  (Price can be change)

 About this item

【Make The Organization Easier】Unlike the others, PUILUO under sink organizers and storage are more flexible. The bottom sliding basket with handles for easy access in limited space. Great for organize increase extra storage space in the pantry, under the sink or on your countertop.

【Advanced Material】The baskets are made of high-quality ABS plastic materials, 4 support tubes adopt spray painting and thickening wrought material, good rust prevention and supporting heavy.

【Stability Construction】It can be easily assembled within 2 minutes by connecting 4 support tubes to the baskets. No tools required. It will not break the furniture or wall without hole punching installation.

【Dimension】Assembly dimension: W8.5'' x D15.5'' x H14.9''. Top basket : W8.5'' x H2.5'', bottom basket : W6.5'' x H2.4''. The maximum height of the bottle that can be accommodated in the bottom area is 8.3 inches. This 2 tier under sliding cabinet basket organizer can be placed in most American houses storage space.

【Quality Assurance】 We provide quality assurance services for any problems of the bathroom under cabinet storage. Any questions, the after-sales personnel will provide you with professional and satisfactory solutions. Let it be your reliable partner for home organization, make your bottles and cans neat and efficient.  

[trywonderx]

What are the painting methods to prevent iron from rusting? - Trywonderx

At Trywonderx, we specialize in providing painting methods to prevent iron from rusting. We have extensive knowledge and experience when it comes to the Painting Iron to Prevent Rusting and the prevention of rusting over time. Our products and services are always of the highest quality and our commitment to providing a lasting solution to iron rust is something that has made us an industry leader. We are proud of the service we provide and guarantee the best results for our customers every time.

One of the most common methods to prevent iron from rusting is to apply a coating of paint. The paint creates a physical barrier between the iron and the surrounding air and moisture, preventing the iron from coming into contact with oxygen and water, which are necessary for the rusting process to occur.

There are different types of paint that can be used for this purpose, such as oil-based paints, epoxy paints, and zinc-rich paints. Each type has its advantages and disadvantages, and the choice will depend on the specific needs of the application.

Other Painting Iron to Prevent Rusting  methods that can help prevent rusting include using a primer before applying the paint, as this can provide additional protection against moisture. Additionally, regular maintenance and touch-ups to the paint coating can help ensure its longevity and effectiveness in preventing rust.

It's worth noting that while Painting Iron to Prevent Rusting  is an effective method for preventing rust, it's not always a permanent solution. Over time, paint coatings can wear down or become damaged, which can allow moisture and oxygen to reach the iron and lead to rusting. Therefore, it's important to monitor the condition of painted surfaces and perform maintenance as necessary to ensure their continued protection.

How to apply: Technique tips and tricks

Applying paint to prevent rust requires careful preparation and application techniques to ensure the coating is effective and long-lasting. Here are some tips and tricks for applying paint to prevent rust:

Surface preparation: Before applying any paint, it's important to prepare the surface by removing any existing rust, dirt, oil, or other contaminants that may prevent the paint from adhering properly. This can be done using a wire brush, sandpaper, or a chemical rust remover. Once the surface is clean, dry, and free of debris, it's ready for painting.

Choose the right paint: There are different types of paint available for preventing rust, and it's important to choose the right one for the specific application. Oil-based paints are commonly used for outdoor surfaces, while epoxy and zinc-rich paints are often used in harsher environments or for industrial applications. Consult with a paint supplier or expert if you're unsure which type of paint is best for your needs.

Apply a primer: Applying a primer before the paint can help improve the adhesion and longevity of the paint coating. The primer can also provide additional protection against moisture and rust. Choose a primer that's compatible with the paint you're using and apply it according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Apply the paint: When applying the paint, use a brush, roller, or spray gun, depending on the size and shape of the surface. Apply thin, even coats, and allow each coat to dry completely before applying the next. This will help ensure that the paint coating is uniform and provides complete coverage.

Touch-ups and maintenance: Even with the best preparation and application techniques, paint coatings can become damaged over time. Regular maintenance and touch-ups can help prolong the life of the paint and prevent rust from forming. Keep an eye out for any areas where the paint has chipped or worn away and apply a fresh coat of paint as necessary.

By following these tips and tricks, you can help ensure that your painted surfaces remain rust-free and protected for years to come.

Conclusion:

In conclusion,we would like to remind readers that proper Painting Iron to Prevent Rusting  methods can help prevent rust and keep your iron looking its best. Contact Trywonderx today to learn more about our painting services!

Contact - info@trywonderx.com

Phone Number: 020 - 2606 1530Location: Suprabha Corporate House, 373, Somwar Peth, Pune - 411 001, India

[manufacturing-hub]

Uttar Pradesh's Best Supplier for MS Reducers

Introduction

Uttar Pradesh is home to some of India's top mild steel (MS) reducer suppliers, known for their high-quality products and durable solutions. These reducers are widely used in industrial piping systems, ensuring smooth flow transitions between different pipe sizes.

Why Choose the Best MS Reducer Supplier in Uttar Pradesh?

High-Quality Material: MS reducers in various grades and standards.

Precision Engineering: Ensures durability and leak-proof performance.

Custom Manufacturing: Available in various sizes and thicknesses.

Competitive Pricing: Affordable solutions for bulk orders.

Timely Delivery: Fast shipping across India and exports.

Types of MS Reducers

TypeDescriptionCommon UsesConcentric ReducerUniform transition between pipes of different sizesIndustrial & chemical pipelinesEccentric ReducerOffset transition for preventing air pocketsWater & drainage systemsThreaded ReducerAllows easy assembly with threaded pipesPlumbing & gas linesWelded ReducerStrong, seamless connectionsHeavy-duty industrial use

Key Industries Using MS Reducers

Oil & Gas: High-pressure piping solutions.

Chemical Processing: Corrosion-resistant pipelines.

Construction: Structural and HVAC applications.

Water Treatment: Rust-free and long-lasting solutions.

Manufacturing: Heavy machinery and industrial setups.

Factors to Consider When Buying MS Reducers

Material Grade: Different MS grades for industrial needs.

Size Compatibility: Ensure proper fit for existing pipelines.

Surface Finish: Black, galvanized, or painted for corrosion resistance.

Testing & Certification: Ensure quality compliance (ISO, ASTM, etc.).

Supplier Reputation: Choose a supplier with positive reviews and testimonials.

Leading MS Reducer Suppliers in Uttar Pradesh

Company A: Specializes in bulk manufacturing with ISO certification.

Company B: Offers customized reducers with quick turnaround time.

Company C: Focuses on high-pressure and corrosion-resistant MS reducers.

Benefits of Buying from Uttar Pradesh-Based MS Reducer Suppliers

Local Availability: Reduces shipping costs and lead times.

Customization Options: Tailor-made solutions for industries.

Support & After-Sales Service: Better warranty and technical assistance.

FAQs

What is the difference between concentric and eccentric reducers?

Concentric Reducers: Align the centerline of both pipes, ensuring smooth fluid flow.

Eccentric Reducers: Have an offset to prevent air pockets, ideal for drainage systems.

Which MS grade is best for reducers?

Standard MS: Ideal for general applications.

Galvanized MS: Best for corrosion-prone environments like chemical industries.

How do I choose the right MS reducer size?

Match the reducer size with your existing pipe diameter and flow requirements.

Do MS reducers require maintenance?

Regular cleaning and inspections help maintain longevity and efficiency.

Where can I buy MS reducers in Uttar Pradesh?

From reputed suppliers and distributors listed on TradeIndia, Justdial, and industry directories.

[ar15handguard1]

Cerakote AR-10 Handguards: Style, Protection & Performance

Why a High-Quality AR-10 Handguard Matters

The AR-10 platform is built for power, precision, and versatility. Whether you're a long-range shooter, a tactical operator, or a firearm enthusiast, the right handguard is essential for performance, durability, and customization. One of the best upgrades you can make? A Cerakote-coated AR-10 handguard.

Cerakote finishes aren’t just about aesthetics—they provide exceptional protection against wear, corrosion, and heat, ensuring your rifle performs under the toughest conditions. Let’s dive into why a Cerakote AR-10 handguard is a must-have for any serious shooter.

The Power of Cerakote: Why It’s Ideal for AR-10 Handguards

1. Extreme Durability & Corrosion Resistance

A standard anodized or painted handguard may look good out of the box, but over time, scratches, rust, and wear can degrade its quality. Cerakote, a ceramic-based coating, is designed to withstand abrasion, chemicals, and harsh environmental conditions, keeping your AR-10 handguard looking and performing like new.

Benefits of a Cerakote-Coated Handguard: ✔ Resists moisture and rust – Perfect for humid or rainy environments ✔ Scratch and impact-resistant – Holds up to rough handling and field use ✔ Extends the lifespan of your handguard – No more chipping or fading paint

2. Heat Resistance for Better Performance

Firing multiple rounds in quick succession generates a significant amount of heat. Traditional coatings may break down over time, leading to discoloration or even performance issues. Cerakote can withstand extreme temperatures, preventing heat-related degradation and ensuring a cooler, more reliable handguard.

Style Meets Function: Customizing Your AR-10 with Cerakote

1. Stand Out with Custom Colors & Patterns

Cerakote isn’t just about protection—it’s also about personalization. Whether you prefer a tactical matte black, FDE (Flat Dark Earth), OD Green, or a custom camo pattern, Cerakote gives you the flexibility to match your AR-10 to your shooting environment or personal style.

🔥 Popular Cerakote Colors for AR-10 Handguards:

Flat Dark Earth (FDE) – A favorite for military-style builds

OD Green – Perfect for woodland and tactical setups

Burnt Bronze – A sleek, modern look

Sniper Gray – Great for a neutral, urban aesthetic

Custom Camo – Unique designs for hunting or tactical use

2. Improved Grip & Handling

A Cerakote finish doesn’t just look good—it also provides a slightly textured, non-slip surface that improves your grip. Whether you're in wet conditions or wearing gloves, a Cerakote AR-10 handguard ensures better control and handling of your rifle.

Choosing the Right AR-10 Handguard for Your Build

1. Free-Float vs. Drop-In Handguards

When selecting an AR-10 handguard, it’s important to choose the right type for your shooting needs:

🔹 Free-Float Handguards – Improve accuracy by reducing barrel pressure, perfect for precision shooting. 🔹 Drop-In Handguards – Easy to install and ideal for traditional builds.

2. M-LOK, Key Mod, or Picatinny Rail Systems?

Your handguard should be compatible with your preferred accessory mounting system:

✔ M-LOK – Lightweight, modular, and widely used for modern builds. ✔ Key Mod – Quick and easy accessory mounting. ✔ Picatinny – Best for durability and rugged use.

Why Choose a Cerakote AR-10 Handguard?

✔ Long-lasting durability & corrosion resistance ✔ Superior heat protection for intense shooting sessions ✔ Custom colors & patterns for a personalized build ✔ Enhanced grip and handling for better control ✔ Compatible with M-LOK, Key Mod & Picatinny rails

If you’re serious about performance, protection, and customization, a Cerakote AR-10 handguard is one of the best investments you can make for your rifle.

Upgrade Your AR-10 with a Cerakote Handguard Today!

A high-quality Cerakote AR-10 handguard doesn’t just protect your rifle—it enhances its style, functionality, and longevity. Whether you're building from scratch or upgrading an existing setup, Cerakote is the ultimate choice for durability and aesthetics.

🔥 Ready to take your AR-10 to the next level? Browse our selection of Cerakote-coated handguards and find the perfect match for your build! 🛒 Shop Online: [https://www.ar15handguard.com/]

[jakedoors]

Half Moon Kitchen Handles – The Small Detail That Transforms Your Kitchen!

Introduction

When it comes to kitchen design, even the smallest details, such as handles, can have a significant impact on the overall aesthetic. Among the many options available, half moon handles kitchen designs stand out for their unique shape and modern appeal. In this blog, we'll explore why half moon handles are becoming a popular choice in kitchens, their design advantages, and how they can be incorporated into your home.

1. What Are Half Moon Handles for Kitchens?

1.1 Defining the Design

They are characterised by their crescent or semi-circular shape, which mimics the form of a half-moon. These handles are typically mounted on the edge of kitchen cabinets or drawers, allowing for a comfortable grip. Their curved design is both aesthetically pleasing and ergonomic, making them easy to use.

1.2 A Contemporary Look

The simplicity and elegance of half-moon handles make them ideal for modern kitchens. Their smooth, rounded edges give the kitchen a soft yet stylish appearance, making them an excellent choice for contemporary interiors.

2. Benefits of Using Half Moon Handles in the Kitchen

2.1 Space-Saving Design

One of the main benefits of half moon handles kitchen designs is their compact size. They don't protrude much from the cabinet surface, which can be especially useful in smaller kitchens where space is limited. This design allows for a clutter-free look without sacrificing functionality.

2.2 Easy to Use

The curved, ergonomic design of half moon handles makes them easy to grip and use, even with wet or greasy hands. The shape provides an intuitive pulling mechanism, reducing the effort needed to open and close kitchen cabinets.

2.3 Stylish and Versatile

Whether you're going for a minimalist, industrial, or Scandinavian-inspired design, it can complement a wide range of kitchen styles. Their understated elegance makes them a versatile choice that works well with various cabinet materials and finishes.

3. Materials and Finishes for Half Moon Handles

3.1 Stainless Steel

Stainless steel is a popular material for half moon handles because of its durability and sleek, modern look. It's resistant to rust and stains, making it an excellent option for kitchen environments where moisture and cooking oils are prevalent.

3.2 Brass or Gold

For a touch of luxury and sophistication, these are made from brass or gold finishes can add a warm, rich feel to the space. These finishes work particularly well in kitchens with classic or vintage aesthetics.

3.3 Matte and Glossy Black

Matte and glossy black half-moon handles add a modern and bold contrast to the kitchen's design. They pair beautifully with both light and dark cabinet colours, offering a striking visual appeal that is both contemporary and stylish.

4. Incorporating Half Moon Handles into Your Kitchen Design

4.1 Matching With Cabinet Colours

Half moon handles can be easily matched with different cabinet colours and materials. Whether you have wooden, painted, or laminate cabinets, these handles complement a variety of finishes, adding a uniform and elegant touch to your kitchen design.

4.2 Using Half Moon Handles in Different Areas

Though commonly used in kitchens, half-moon handles are versatile enough to be used in other areas of the home, such as bathrooms or living rooms. They can be used for cabinetry, drawers, or even wardrobes, providing a consistent look throughout your home.

5. Why Half Moon Handles Are a Great Investment

5.1 Durability

They are made from sturdy materials like stainless steel, brass, and aluminium, ensuring they remain functional and attractive for many years. Their resistance to wear and tear makes them a reliable and long-lasting choice.

5.2 Minimal Maintenance

These handles are relatively low maintenance. Regular cleaning with a soft cloth will keep them looking pristine, while their smooth surface prevents dirt and grease from accumulating.

Conclusion

Half moon handles kitchen are a stylish, functional, and versatile choice for modern kitchen designs. With their sleek curves and ergonomic functionality, these handles offer both aesthetic appeal and practicality. Whether you prefer stainless steel, brass, or matte black, there's a half moon handle that will perfectly complement your kitchen décor and enhance its overall design.

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] This is a special black colour stand/trolley suitable for both front & Top load washing machines, refrigerators, dishwashers, coolers etc. For Washing Machine: This stand is suitable for almost all sizes of top and front load fully automatic washing machines of capacities 5 kg, 5.5 kg, 5.8 kg, 6 kg, 6.2 kg, 6.5 kg, 6.8 kg, 7 kg, 7.2 kg, 7.5 kg, 7.8 kg, 8 kg, 8.19 kg, 8.5 kg, 9 kg, 9.5 kg, 9.8 kg, 10 kg, 10.5 kg, 11 kg & 12 kg. This stand is also suitable for semi automatic washing machines ( Please make sure the base dimension of your machine is not more than 32 inch X 32 inch ). This stand has special vibration absorbing mechanism which doesn't only absorb the vibrations of the machine but also makes your machine stable at one place. There are twenty four good quality wheels attached to the four corners of the stand which help in moving stand from one place to another without any hassle. The stand is made of metal ( iron) which makes it capable of carrying 250 Kgs of weight easily. The stand is not just painted but powder coated which is a special type of painting method which helps in extending the life of the stand Free Anti Vibration Pad ✅ Versatile Stand: Suitable for washing machines front & Top load 5 to 12 kg, including popular brands like IFB, Bosch, LG, Samsung, Haier, Whirlpool, and Panasonic. Specifically designed for 7 kg,8 kg & 9kg models, refrigerators (50L - 500L), and dishwashers of all sizes. ✅ Durable and Sturdy Construction: Crafted from high-quality stainless steel, this washing machine stand supports up to 500 kg, ensuring stability and safety for all your appliances. ✅ Adjustable Size for a Perfect Fit: It features adjustable dimensions from 19 inches x 19 inches to 32 inches x 32 inches, making it ideal for various appliance sizes, ✅ Easy Mobility and Maintenance: With 24 heavy-duty wheels, this stand allows for effortless movement of your washing machine, refrigerator, or dishwasher, making cleaning easier and preventing rust and moisture damage. ✅ 𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲: The main body of this trolley is made out of Stainless steel and It has a maximum weight limit of 500 Kg and can support washing machine (Capacity - 5 kg, 5.5 kg, 5.8 kg, 6 kg, 6.2 kg, 6.5 kg, 6.8 kg, 7 kg, 7.2 kg, 7.5 kg, 7.8 kg, 8 kg, 8.19 kg, 8.5 kg, 9 kg, 9.5 kg, 9.8 kg, 10 kg, 10.5 kg, 11 kg, 11.5kg, 12 kg) [ad_2]

[chromedelete]

Caliper Painting Near Me: Customising Your Car’s Appearance with Style

For car enthusiasts, every detail matters, and one area that often gets overlooked is the brake calipers. However, caliper painting near me offers an easy and affordable way to enhance the look of your vehicle while also providing a layer of protection. In this blog, we’ll explore the benefits of caliper painting, the options available for custom colours, and why finding a local service provider is essential for a professional finish.

1. Why Should You Paint Your Calipers?

1.1 Aesthetic Appeal

One of the most popular reasons for painting brake calipers is to improve the aesthetic appeal of your car. Whether you want to match your calipers to the colour of your car or create a striking contrast, custom-painted calipers can transform your vehicle’s look.

1.2 Protection from Corrosion

Brake calipers are exposed to heat, moisture, and road debris, which can lead to rust and corrosion over time. High-quality brake caliper paint creates a protective barrier that helps prevent rust and prolongs the life of your calipers.

1.3 Easy Maintenance

Painted calipers are easier to clean than unpainted ones. The paint prevents dirt and grime from sticking to the surface, making it simpler to maintain the appearance of your vehicle’s brake system.

2. Choosing the Right Colour for Your Calipers

2.1 Matching the Car’s Paint

Many car owners opt for colours that complement or match their car’s paint job. Whether you have a sleek black car or a vibrant red one, a matching caliper colour can create a cohesive, stylish appearance.

2.2 Bold and Unique Colours

For a more dramatic effect, consider choosing a contrasting colour for your calipers. Bright colours like red, yellow, or blue can make a bold statement and add a custom touch to your car’s look.

2.3 Metallic and Gloss Finishes

If you’re looking for a more sophisticated appearance, metallic and gloss finishes are a popular choice. These finishes catch the light and give the calipers a sleek, polished look.

3. The Process of Caliper Painting

3.1 Preparation of the Calipers

Before painting, the calipers must be cleaned thoroughly to remove dirt, rust, and brake dust. Any old paint is also stripped away to ensure that the new coat adheres properly.

3.2 Application of Primer

A high-quality primer is applied to the calipers to ensure that the paint sticks and provides a long-lasting finish. The primer also helps prevent rust and corrosion.

3.3 Painting the Calipers

The paint is then applied in multiple coats to ensure an even, smooth finish. After painting, the calipers are left to dry and cure before being reinstalled on the car.

4. Finding a Caliper Painting Service Near You

4.1 Researching Local Providers

When searching for caliper painting near me, it’s important to find a reputable service provider who offers high-quality paint and professional application. Research local workshops or body shops in your area, and check customer reviews to find a trusted provider.

4.2 Asking About the Process and Materials

Ensure that the service provider uses high-quality, heat-resistant paint specifically designed for brake calipers. You should also inquire about the process they follow, including any preparation work and curing times.

4.3 Comparing Prices

While the cost of caliper painting varies depending on the service provider, it’s essential to get quotes from a few local shops to ensure you're getting competitive pricing for the quality of service offered.

Conclusion

Caliper painting near me is an excellent way to customise your car and give it a fresh, unique look. Not only does it enhance the aesthetics, but it also provides additional protection for the brake system. Whether you opt for a custom colour or a classic metallic finish, painted calipers can make your car stand out. Choose a reliable local service provider to ensure a professional and long-lasting finish.