#Construction Quality

[manomavengineers]

Construction Quality Assurance | Manomav Engineers

Visit at: https://www.manomav.com/services/project-management-for-building-construction/

[shreetmtbars]

Excavation is a fundamental step in construction, laying the groundwork for a stable and secure structure. This blog delves into the importance of excavation, the techniques involved, and its impact on overall construction quality. Learn how proper excavation practices ensure the longevity and safety of buildings. Visit ShreeTMT to explore more about the role of excavation in construction.

[newwavesylviaplath]

we've officially got a sneak peak at all five cover variants of chappell roans 'the giver'!!!

[ingoodjesst]

have you put the pieces together yet, detective

[icantspellthings]

Vulcan

[blushingzephyr]

bertie has played ‘because my baby don’t mean ‘maybe’ now’ seven times in a row and jeeves is OVER it.

bonus doodle panel/doodle under the cut

[barnowlive]

yippeeee more realism experiments using tma dragons as test subjects >:3

here you go ~5 people who actually like this au

[repressed-cowpoke]

Req: I'd love to see post-ch.6/canon-divergent Charthur!!

Maybe placed a few months after Charles had found Arthur on that mountain, still alive. Lots of uncertainty and fear and frustration on both ends as Arthur slowly learns to live again alongside chronic pain/illness. Maybe as they both settle into a newfound and unfamiliar domestic life.

No specific prompt, but if you'd prefer it, maybe 3 for injury?? Drabble or one-shot or whatever works ^^

Arthur is hunched over a bowl in his lap, bracing it with both trembling hands as he heaves and heaves---coughs up a sickly mixture of blood and mucus that swirls in the bottom of his bowl. Charles is there beside him, because he always is, with a firm hand pressed to the sweaty backside of Arthur's neck. His expression tense with worry, though voices his intent to comfort; "You're ok. You're ok." (Though the words are meant for Arthur, he's just as desperate for self assurance in them. Arthur will be okay, because he wills it, because surely there must be some break in his losses.) The noises he manages are pitiful; pained and low.

When Arthur has completed his coughing fit, he lets Charles push him back down to the stiff mattress under him. The effort has left him breathless, too exhausted to do so much as lift an arm and push his hair from his eyes, and so the man beside him does, instead. Cards dark fingers through light hair, leaving just a few short strands that defy the motion and fall over his forehead once more. These strands are disregarded, and instead Charles plants his hand firmly on Arthur's chest.

He can feel the pulsing of Arthur's heart beneath that skin and muscle, the steady thump, thump, thump

His fingers curl slightly, as though in an effort to grasp the beating thing---to hold it in warm hands and admire.

"Hate this." Arthur finally says once he's caught his fleeting breath. "Hate this, hate it."

Charles knows what he's referring to. The bedridden, sickly state he's confined too on the worst days and the unsteady nature of the best. Arthur muses that it would be easier for god, or whatever it is dictating his predicament, to instead pick a damn side. But life has never been easy, nor so simple---this matter shows no sign of change.

"I know. It'll get easier."

"When?" It holds more spite than he really means. Charles was a fool not to let him die nearly two years prior, in the corn fields at the hand of the bounty hunter. To have not taken the money and run. And Charles is just as much a fool now, not leaving him upon the second opportunity, leaving him on that mountain instead of hauling him down under the light of sunrise. When is he going to take his chance?

"It will." It has to.

Perhaps the bounty hunter would've shot Charles had he turned to run. Perhaps Charles would be in a far worse place now than at this sick mans beside. Perhaps there were heavier things to haul down the mountain that morning, worse things to go back for. Arthur can be alive for Charles' sake if nothing else, though he'd hardly call this living

And so Charles grabs Arthur's hand in his, brings it to his lips and kisses each hardened knuckle, then just holds it. Morning light streams through the window pane, emphasizes the contours of the two mens faces, highlights stray dust in the air. Though Arthur is tired, oh so tired, he smiles.

[quietwingsinthesky]

i do not understand taylor swift i have been forced to listen to her music so much and it is never good. and im allowed to say that because i have shit music taste so if even i don’t like it, there’s got to be something wrong here.

[queenaquataine]

Some drawings of the gaang

[onesizedgirl]

Naur because why the costumes in r*p are so horrendous good god what was the budget? Three peas and a leather boot?😭

[qwakque]

STUDY SESH!!!!

finally got some time to doodle for myself!!!!

[starleska]

losing my shit!!! i was so very convinced that my last ridiculous fictional crush of 2023 would be the Toymaker, severe as the brainrot has been and is...who could've guessed he'd be pipped at the post by Dr Fry, a man who brainwashes chickens 😂💖 my mind is a JOKE

[inksandpensblog]

Yeah um for anyone needing more evidence that the TvTropes pages for AvA/AvM shouldn't be taken at face value

[feline-evil]

Wrench looking at Literally Anything and Anyone: (Rage. Disgust. Trying to kill with his gaze alone.)

Wrench looking at Numbers:

(Well listen. Ok. This is Wrench we're talking about so still some rage and still some killing-gaze but. Softer....Soft....Reserved only for This One Guy. I know it's subtle, he's Mr Wrench. But look, see hims face.)