Halogen lamp bulb
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We’re here to help you find the right halogen replacement bulbs. Start shopping, or contact one of our LS-1 certified lighting experts. 230v 2000w G22 Tube Type Explosion Proof High Power Iodine Tungsten Lamp Zhiguan Specification Of Quartz Halogen Bulb. The one major difference in their construction is that a small amount of halogen gas is added inside. 230v 2000 Watt Bulb G22 Quartz Tungsten Halogen Lamp QTH Light. We stock superior lamps designed to out perform your retail, hospitality and commercial expectations. Halogen light bulbs are similar to incandescent bulbs. You can find the perfect halogen lighting for your application - whether that’s track lighting, recessed ceiling fixtures or landscape lighting. The halogen lamp from Simba Lighting is a great addition to your home and office, bearing an extremely low yearly cost. Our top notch halogen replacement bulbs come in a variety of low voltage and line voltage options for indoor and outdoor fixtures. Simba Halogen Light Bulb Best for Larger Rooms. Quality Halogen Replacement Bulbs from the Leader in Commercial Lighting Another reason why we’re your trusted source for halogen bulbs.
#Halogen lamp bulb plus#
Lighting Supply strives for 100% customer satisfaction, plus if we don’t have exactly what you ordered, we won’t ever substitute a product without your approval. To learn more about halogen bulbs, visit our article, Halogen Lights, the "New" Incandescent Bulb. With an excellent CRI, instant on, and easy dimming capabilities, halogen bulbs are a popular choice with good reason. Manufactured by trusted brands, our halogen light bulbs offer greater efficiency, saving you money, when compared to incandescent light bulbs.
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Halogen bulbs can be dimmed, but occasionally they should be operated at full light output to retain long life.Halogen Bulbs Halogen Bulbs | Halogen Light Bulb Replacements.
In addition, the bulbs produce ultraviolet radiation that may be harmful if light is not first absorbed or filtered by a glass shield.
Halogen bi-pin and J bulbs can burst, and therefore, should be used in a fully enclosed fixture to provide shielding.
Keep combustible materials away from the bulb and avoid touching while in use. Ideal for living rooms, kitchens, bedrooms, office areas, conference rooms, classrooms, and other similar settings. This line of light bulbs will produce a more balanced white light, with a subtle blue tinge. The bulbs must be protected by a glass cover in the fixture to prevent potential damage from bulb rupture. Cool white or brilliant white refers to color temperatures between 3100K and 4500K.
#Halogen lamp bulb crack#
do not touch J-type bulbs with bare hands because high temperatures may crack the quartz bulb if it has been etched with oils from hands and fingers. Because of their high operating temperatures and unique bases, thermal control and socket design within the fixture are important. They may be double or single ended and are available in a variety of lengths and wattage. These gases, along with a small filament of tungsten, are encased in a. Tube-shaped halogen bulbs (J-type) are made of quartz glass to withstand high operating temperatures. Halogen bulbs consist of inert gases and a halogen gas (bromine or iodine, for example). Most halogen bulbs use about one-quarter less energy than the standard incandescent, but recently some halogen lamps have entered the market that use half the energy of standard incandescents. Xenon lamps are very similar, except that xenon gas is used instead of halogen. These types of bulbs are also known as quartz iodine lamps or tungsten halogen lamps. Halogen infrared (IR) bulbs also have a reflective coating to redirect infrared energy back onto the filament to save energy. 360 Lighting Modern Table Lamps 14 1/2' High Set of 2 Touch On Off Switch Silver Metal White Drum Shade for Bedroom Bedside Office. Halogen light bulbs are incandescent lamps that contain a small amount of bromine or iodine added. Halogen bulbs have an inner capsule that contains halogen gas, which extends bulb life. Halogen screw base bulbs fit into the same medium-based sockets as common incandescent bulbs. Halogen bi-pin bulbs only fit into fixtures designed exclusively for their use. Some halogen bulbs have a pin base (bi-pin). Restrict their use to applications where short hours of use are expected, or where there are no other alternatives. Thats to say a halogen will appear brighter than an incandescent of same power (watts). However, halogen bulbs offer significantly lower efficacy and shorter life than fluorescent and LED bulbs. Answer (1 of 11): Generally speaking, halogen bulbs are more efficient than incandescents. Due to the addition of halogen gas and in some products a coating that reflects infrared energy, halogen incandescent bulbs are somewhat more efficacious (the amount of light produced per unit of input power) than common incandescent bulbs.
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Government Asset Soap! This is half of the last part (the smut got too long and I wanted to post this dammit).
Original concept comes from @ceilidho’s military asset Soap. Further inspiration came from @391780’s Nikto version “The Summons”. Both are very good and you should definitely check out!!
Content:
Post-trauma coping, Non-Con Touching and Kissing, Violence (mentioned), Unstable Soap
It’s probably a fire hazard, the candles. They’re sprinkled across your little cabin like fireflies, feeble but steady heartbeats of a home you’re failing to build. Too many of them, likely. Two, sometimes three, per room. Tiny tealights, smokeless soy, scented pine. It would be easier, safer, to just turn on the lamps you foolishly invested in.
You can’t bear anything brighter than golden halogen anymore, though. The glare drags you back to a tiny cell bisected by cruel metal, holding back an even crueler fate. No, you’d much rather wade through pools of shadow and firelight, fire code be damned.
It’s a small cabin, but you’ve already cluttered it up with furniture and rugs, a theme for each room. Yellow and blue for the kitchen. Purple and cream for the den. Green and brown for your bedroom. Nooks to hide in, spaces to squeeze into, big shapes to huddle behind. You’ll never be caught out in a cold, barren room ever again.
Your days are long regardless of the time of year. Get groceries in town every day, making a point to be friendly and seen so that someone might notice if you suddenly stop coming. Clean incessantly, so many surfaces to dust. Pick hobbies like daisies. Knitting and crocheting, different paint styles, felting. You’re contemplating carpentry, would like to build shelves for all the books stacked up in the den. Keep a dream journal by your bed that you neglect for weeks at a time.
You draw out the nights until you can count the hours until dawn on one hand. Stay up baking, making homemade ink, learning new ways to style your hair, anything, anything, anything—
It’s not the sleeping – or at least that’s not the worst of it. It’s the waking.
Laswell suggested a cat.
You told her to stop suggesting pussy to unstable people.
But it’s still not a bad idea. Another living thing to keep you accountable; the plants are pretty and time-consuming, but not good company.
You talk yourself out of it every time, knowing the worst-case scenario. It’s not catastrophizing if it actually happens, and you can feel an invisible time weighing on your shoulders like another gravity. Tick, tick, tick. Heavier, heavier, heavier. It’s hard to breathe beneath the wait.
The military doesn’t do apologies. It does platitudes at best. Well wishes and good intentions are painted in brushstrokes of blood. Victory flags are planted on bodies, living or otherwise. Laswell apologized. She swore that if there had been another way – any other way…
She didn’t promise to leave you alone. Didn’t assure you that you’d never see her or her goons again.
If you thought it would do any good, you’d tip one of the candles over and set it all aflame. Rebirth through fire. But you never did figure yourself for a phoenix. And besides, a phoenix is still itself, even when the ash falls away.
So, you spool out your time like picking at tapestry threads, one thin string at time.
Tonight, it’s bread. Cinnamon chocolate babka, to be specific. You were craving something sweet. Are debating the merits of some sort of cream cheese icing while you shower off the long, ever-busy day.
Have decided on an optimistic why not as you slip out to begin your overly complicated self-care routine. Moisturizers, hair oils, lotion. An unexpected benefit of overloading yourself, you suppose. Even when you first got out of the military, you didn’t take such good care of yourself. You have a jogging route now. You’re handling your trauma every possible way except therapy. (And sleeping.) Better than nothing, you figure.
The candles have gone out in your bedroom. You click your tongue in annoyance, trying to remember where you left the matches this time. Bedside table?
You pad across the soft carpet, using the edge of the bed as a guide in the pitch black. The only other problem with candles is that their humble light doesn’t reach very far. But you know this house and keep the floors tidy enough that you’re confident you won’t trip.
Make it to the nightstand without incident and pat around. Knock the side of your hand into the little carton and only just catch it before it hits the deck. Let out a little huff and start to fumble it open.
“Nice catch, bonnie.”
You gasp, but your voice doesn’t get any farther than the back of your tongue. The box slips from your numb fingers, matchsticks scattering across the floor. He tsks.
“Shame that. We’ll get ‘em later.”
You can’t move. Can barely breathe. You’re just frozen, heart thundering with a sudden storm of fear and confusion. Hands still aloft in front of you, spine rigid, knees locked.
You feel more than hear movement behind you, and then the warmth of his body seeping into your naked skin. Not quite touching. Not yet.
“Missed you, little bird,” he rasps in your ear.
You always thought that in a moment like this you would scream. Kick and elbow and fight, damn your certain loss. But when it comes down to it, survival drowns out all those stupid, haughty ideas about pride and dignity. So you don’t curse and shout like you always fancied you would.
You whisper, “Soap.”
He hums but it sounds like a growl in your panicked state. “Missed me too, aye? You’re already naked fer me.”
His hands are searing when they settle on your waist like they belong there. He pulls you back against him; in the dark he’s bigger, broader than you remember. At least, you think, he’s fully clothed for now.
“What are you… how are you here?” you ask.
He barks a laugh, mean and rough. “Was only a matter of time after that shite they pulled.”
You squeeze your eyes shut and see it recreated in the phosphenes behind your lids.
Soap buried balls deep inside of you, murmuring a constant stream of filth as he got harder and harder inside you. Filling you up as you twitched around him, oversensitive and teary, afraid of what would come next.
Then the lights flashed, flicked red. An alarm sounded, Laswell’s voice ordering Soap away from you. But he just snarled and hunched over you, hips snapping to bury himself right back inside while you cried out.
The locked door swung in, armed guards swarming in. Yanked Soap off you while you scrambled to cover yourself. Someone grabbing your arm none too gently to pull you from the room. Soap wild-eyed and snarling like something possessed, until he was overtaken by struggling guards and you were trembling naked in that damned hallway.
“Was mad at you, at first, cannae lie,” he says, almost conversational. Your eyes snap open, though you know it’ll do you no good. “But I’ve had time to think on it. Wasnae yer fault, was it? Saw them drag you out.”
An awful relief floods you. Fuck dignity, fuck honesty. This is Soap right behind you, completely unrestrained and unsupervised.
“Yeah,” you answer, voice small. “I didn’t know they would do that. What… um. What happened to you?”
He presses his face into your damp hair, pressing closer, snaking his arms to squeeze you against him.
“Sent me off on some shite mission,” he explains, “probably hoped I’d die out there. You smell so good, lass.”
You shiver as his breath ghosts over the sensitive skin of your neck. Hot, humid.
“And… and then what?” you insist, trying to stall.
You’re not sure what you’re stalling for. There will be no miraculous saves here – not that you really got any last time. It’s not like there’s any real plan to be made here, either. None that you’d be confident enough to risk his wrath on.
“Disappeared. Took care of business. Came to get my pretty little bird.”
A rough hand trails over the curve of your hip, brush the neat curls of your mound. You suck in a breath, hands twitching with the urge to stop him but not sure of putting up resistance when you’re still unsure of his mental state.
“And what about you, hm?” he rumbles. “Been a good girl while I’ve been away?”
His fingers dart down towards your entrance, not nearly prepared for anything. Least of all his thick digits.
“Y-yes!” you yelp, grabbing at his wrist. Relief makes you dizzy when you manage to stop him. “I-I’ve been good. Which means I’m not… I can’t just take you. I need… I need prep.”
He huffs, nips at the tender spot beneath your ear. The thrill that shoots through your stomach is terrifying.
“That’s what these are for, bonnie.”
And to your horror, he starts to push past your resistance like your staying hands aren’t there at all.
“John!”
He freezes. You shudder air into your burning lungs, feeling dizzy on panic.
You can get through this without pain, just think.
“I haven’t even got to see you,” you stutter, voice shaky. Can’t quite inject the disappointment you’re trying for, but hopefully it’ll work. “And I bet you’re all dirty from travel.”
He grumbles. “So what?”
You scramble to think of a satisfactory response. “S-so let’s get reacquainted in the shower, yeah? That way I can see your handsome face, at least.”
He chuckles, grazes his teeth “playfully” across your cheek. “Bossy thing.”
“You like it.”
And to your shock, he agrees with an amused huff. Hauls you up in his arms and walks you back to the still muggy bathroom. You’re set on your feet and spun around, chin jerked up to receive a savage kiss. All tongue and teeth, no finesse. He’s just licking into your mouth, hungry and animalistic, spit dribbling down your chin.
When he finally pulls away, you blink spots from your vision. Finally focus on his smug features and make a soft, horrified noise when you register the splatter of crimson across them.
“Och, that? My little bird had watchers.”
Of course you did. The horror ebbs a bit. Resentment has made you indiscriminately bitter.
“Oh,” you say, “th-thank you. Definitely glad we’re showering first, then.”
“Squeamish?”
You’d like to know when the world turned upside down and John fucking “Soap” MacTavish began teasing you about the blood on his face.
“A bit,” you admit.
“Poor dear,” he coos. “Hard to believe we were made for each other sometimes, aye? Complementary, we are.”
Is that what he thinks? Christ.
You turn to start the shower again, spine prickling with the weight of his eyes on your back. The water rushes down and then he’s crowding you against the cold wall beneath the (thankfully) warm spray.
“Y-you’re still dressed!” you protest between sharp nips to your collarbone.
“Fix it, then,” he snarls.
You claw his shirt up his back, get momentarily distracted by the impressive display of muscle hidden beneath. Draw your palms over his chest and feel him shudder.
“Fuckin’ heavenly, love,” he purrs. “Missed this.”
A vague memory comes back to you, him gripping you close because he felt you naked against him for the first time. Him admitting he hasn’t had affectionate touch in a while.
This… this you could work with.
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