#Mild steel section

[astpipes]

Exploring the World of Industrial Pipes and Tubes: A Comprehensive Guide

Industrial pipes and tubes are essential components in various sectors, playing crucial roles in construction, manufacturing, and even in furniture design. With a wide range of materials and applications, these pipes and tubes are designed to meet specific requirements in terms of precision, durability, and performance. This article delves into the various types of industrial pipes and tubes, including wordpile tubes, precision pipes, GP pipes, rolling pipes, ASTM pipes, API pipes, and more, exploring their unique features, applications, and benefits.

Wordpile Tubes and Precision Pipes: Accuracy and Reliability

Wordpile tubes and precision pipes are engineered for applications where accuracy is paramount. These tubes are designed with minimal tolerance levels, making them ideal for use in industries like automotive, aerospace, and mechanical engineering. Precision pipes are known for their ability to maintain exact dimensions, ensuring that they perform reliably under high pressure and in extreme conditions. Whether in hydraulic systems or high-performance engines, precision pipes are essential for delivering the accuracy and reliability needed in critical applications.

GP Pipes and Their Versatile Applications

Galvanized Plain (GP) pipes are widely used in construction, water supply systems, and gas distribution due to their excellent corrosion resistance and cost-effectiveness. GP pipes are often selected for their durability and versatility, making them suitable for a wide range of applications. The GP pipe price per kg can vary depending on the material quality, thickness, and market demand, but they remain an economical choice for many projects. GP tubes and GP square pipes are also popular in the furniture industry, where they provide a strong yet aesthetically pleasing framework.

Rolling Pipes and ASTM Pipes: Strength and Compliance

Rolling pipes are primarily utilized in manufacturing processes that involve bending, forming, and shaping. These pipes offer the flexibility and strength required to create complex structures and components. On the other hand, ASTM pipes adhere to the strict standards set by the American Society for Testing and Materials, ensuring consistent quality across various industries. ASTM pipes are commonly used in high-stress environments, such as chemical plants, oil and gas pipelines, and structural applications, where compliance with international standards is essential.

API Pipes and Piling Pipes: Industrial Giants

API (American Petroleum Institute) pipes are specifically designed for the demanding needs of the oil and gas industry. These pipes are built to withstand high pressures, corrosive environments, and the rigors of drilling and transporting crude oil. API pipes are integral to the safe and efficient operation of pipelines and other infrastructure in the energy sector.

Furniture Pipes and Boom Tubes: Innovation in Design

In the furniture industry, pipes are not just functional but also contribute to the design and aesthetic of the final product. Furniture pipes are used to create lightweight, durable, and stylish furniture pieces that are both functional and visually appealing. Boom tubes, commonly found in high-performance vehicles, are designed to enhance exhaust flow, reduce back pressure, and improve engine performance. These tubes are a prime example of how precision engineering can lead to innovation in both form and function.

ERW Precision Tubes and Steel Conduit Pipes: Essential Components

Electric Resistance Welded (ERW) precision tubes are manufactured by welding seams together to create a high-strength, seamless finish. These tubes are widely used in the automotive industry, bicycles, and various mechanical applications where precision and durability are key.

Corten Steel Tubes and Pipes: Aesthetic and Durability

Corten steel tubes and pipes are renowned for their unique weathering properties. Unlike regular steel, corten steel forms a stable rust-like appearance when exposed to the elements, which acts as a protective layer. This characteristic makes corten steel pipes ideal for outdoor structures, bridges, and architectural features where both durability and aesthetics are important.

APH Tubes, CRCA Pipes, and Roller Tubes: Specialized Uses

Air Preheater (APH) tubes are used in thermal power plants to recover heat from flue gases, improving the efficiency of boilers. These tubes are designed to withstand high temperatures and corrosive environments, making them essential in energy production.

Rolled Steel Tubes and Rollertube: Versatile and Strong

Rolled steel tubes are used across numerous applications, including construction, automotive, and industrial machinery. The rolling process enhances the strength and durability of the steel, making it suitable for demanding uses. Rollertube, a specific type of rolled steel tube, is used in roller systems, offering superior performance in material handling applications.

Industrial pipes and tubes are the unsung heroes of many sectors, providing the necessary strength, precision, and durability for a wide range of applications. From the cost-effective GP pipes to the high-strength API pipes and the aesthetically unique corten steel tubes, each type of pipe and tube serves a specific purpose in building, manufacturing, and innovation. Understanding the unique properties and applications of these pipes and tubes allows for better decision-making in selecting the right materials for each project, ensuring that infrastructure and products are built to last.

[bhushanpipes]

Mild Steel Hollow Sections (Bhushan Steels)

Bhushan Steels stands as a premier provider of Mild Steel Hollow Sections, delivering a comprehensive range designed to meet the dynamic demands of modern construction. These meticulously crafted sections epitomize structural excellence, offering a harmonious blend of strength, durability, and adaptability. Trust in Bhushan Steels to empower your projects with reliable solutions that seamlessly balance form and function.

[grillsupplierkol]

At HMB Group – India’s leading mild steel sections manufacturer, it is well appreciated how critical the decision on the material to use is. The subject of today’s article is stainless steel, the most frequently used type of steel, and where it can be used.

[shreejisteelprivatelimited]

Why are MS Beams used in Structural Steel Construction?

Why are MS Beams Used in Structural Steel Construction? The MS beam is also known as the I beam or H-beam. It is broadly acknowledged for its great functionality. The construction industry mainly uses MS beams for strong functionality for buildings, malls, and architecture. MS beam comes in different sizes and shapes.

[tritonalloysinc]

https://www.tritonalloysinc.in/s355joh-pipe.html

[hollowsection]

At Ranflex Metals, these IS 4923 YST 310 Cold Formed Seamless Square Hollow Section Tubing is available in different shapes and sizes, customer can get it easily in their desired shapes and sizes. The international quality of standards of 4923 YST Mild Steel Cold Formed Square Tubes are ASTM, API, ASME, AIS, etc. It consists of excellent tensile strength and best weldability properties.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

somebody to hold

pairing: könig x female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 4,884

summary:

König discovers cuddle therapy.

You discover König.

author’s note: i don’t play COD, i just have a mask kink. all translations are from google, so feel free to send me corrections if they are needed! translations available at the end of the fic

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), potentially bad German translations, mentions of König’s social anxiety, descriptions of scars, touch starved könig, oral sex (m receiving), size kink, praise kink, dirty talk, unprotected p in v, mild breeding kink, choking, fingering, ab riding. Let me know if any are missing!

“Hey, your next appointment is here,” the voice of the practice secretary, Amy, says from the doorway of your office.

You look up from your computer, brow furrowed as you click around your calendar. “I didn’t think I had a late appointment?”

“Last minute add. And just…prepare yourself,” she says, eyes comically wide before she disappears.

You shut your laptop and head for the waiting room, curious about what’s got Amy acting so funny.

You stop short in the doorway. Perhaps it’s the veritable mountain of a man sitting in the tiny plastic waiting room chair fully kitted in military combat gear, including a sniper hood that only reveals two pale blue eyes that scan the room. His hands rest on his large thighs, fingers curling against the fabric of his tac pants.

You’re not unfamiliar with military clients. Your office is near a base, after all. You’ve had a few wander in before. But you’ve never had one quite like him.

“Uh, hi? Hi,” you say, clearing your throat. His eyes shoot to you and you swallow nervously. You give him your name, followed with, “I’m going to be your cuddler this evening. Do you want to follow me back to the session room?”

The man gives a single nod before unfolding from his seat. He absolutely towers over you, his build just as broad as it is tall, and he has to tilt his head down to look at you. He holds an arm out, gesturing for you to lead the way.

You lead him to the back session room, a space curated for comfort. It’s painted a deep blue and lit only with dimmable lamp lighting and string lights that can be turned on or off, depending on the client’s preference. There’s a large couch pressed to one wall, a sectional that has a hidden portion that pulls out to fill in the middle, essentially turning it into a bed. It’s perfect for both seated snugglers and the prone cuddlers.

There’s a snack and water station set up on a wood console table near the door, and beside it are cubbies for storing belongings. A large basket of soft blankets sits near the couch, along with an array of pillows.

You look back at the man that has followed you through the door. Those blue eyes take in every detail of the room before they land back on you. You toe off your sneakers, leaving you in your frog patterned socks. You wiggle your toes.

“Did Amy explain the rules to you and brief you on the terms and conditions?” Another silent nod. “Okay, well, everything we do is completely up to you, within those parameters. We can talk or touch as much or as little as you’d like for the length of your appointment. I can make some suggestions for positions, if you’d like?”

His hands fidget at his sides, fingers flexing and curling into fists like he’s not sure what to do with them. He stares down at the shoes that you’ve left by the door.

“You don’t have to take anything off, if you don’t want to,” you reassure him. “Why don’t you take a seat on the couch?”

The man takes two broad steps before taking a seat, as instructed. You feel a weird sort of giddiness that a man clearly as powerful as him listened to your orders.

He sits with his back straight as a bar of steel, eyes trained on you for the next step in the process, hands placed on his thighs once more. You take a tentative step closer.

“I’m going to sit right here, okay?” You narrate as you sit down near him, a cushion of distance between your bodies. “Is this alright?”

He nods.

“Would you like me to be closer? Or farther?”

“Closer,” a deep accented voice says. It makes your breath catch, the quiet gentleness of it and the way it sounds rough from disuse. “Please.”

You scooch closer, the distance between your bodies shrinking but not yet removed. “Okay?”

“Ja. Yes,” he says. A pause. “Could you…closer?”

“Of course. Is it okay if our bodies touch?”

He nods. You close the gap between your bodies, your thigh pressed along his and your arms brushing with each breath. He’s tense, shoulders tight and fists clenched as he breathes rhythmically through his nose and out his mouth. You let him take a moment to adjust.

“What’s your name?” You ask quietly.

“König.”

________

You are very warm. König can feel the heat of you even through his gear.

He feels a bit ridiculous, sitting here on a couch beside a stranger who he has paid to cuddle him. And he can’t even reach that point yet. Even just having you sit beside him has him trying to calm his breathing.

In…2…3…4….Out.

“Would you like to talk about anything?” You ask. He glances down at you. Scheiße, you’re pretty. That fact certainly isn’t helping him keep calm.

He shakes his head, not trusting his voice to reply. You give him a small smile.

“Well, do you mind if I talk?”

No, he doesn’t mind at all. He’d listen to your voice for hours if he could, the way it's so soft to his ear compared to the shouts and commands he’s used to hearing day in and out. He shakes his head.

Your small smile grows, a bright grin across your face that makes your nose crinkle adorably. König finds his shoulders relaxing the slightest bit.

You tell him about your day and how you were looking forward to the weekend because there is a show that you wish to catch up on. You talk about your cat, a little orange tabby that you adopted three years ago named Toast and how he likes to perch inside the window and watch the birds outside of your apartment. You also mention that Toast has an entire wardrobe of sweaters for the winter that he hates, but you love putting him in them anyways.

Slowly, the tension leaves König’s body. He relaxes against the back of the couch and adjusts his legs, stretching them out in front of him. His hands, which once fidgeted in his lap, are now folded on his chest as he tilts his head back and listens to your stories.

“König?” You place a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Our time is up.”

He blinks. Oh. He must have fallen asleep. He looks over to find you smirking at him.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to bore you to sleep,” you say, voice self-deprecating.

“It was not boring, liebling,” he replies quietly.

______

The following week, you notice a calendar event labeled [CLASSIFIED]. You ask Amy about it.

“It’s the big guy from last week. He made a standing appointment,” she tells you. “But he’s all big, scary military so he didn’t give me a name to put down.”

You smile to yourself. You know his name.

It feels like a fun secret between the two of you.

You’re thrilled that he wants to come back. You hadn’t stopped thinking about his voice and those bright blue eyes all weekend.

When it's time for his appointment, you smile brightly at him in the waiting room. He follows you back to the session room, just as silent as the last time he visited.

You remove your shoes, just as before. He sits on the couch without being prompted.

“Would you like me to sit beside you? Like last time?” You ask. He nods.

You sit down, close enough that your limbs brush, just as you had the week prior. He seems a bit more at ease this time.

“How is Toast?” He asks. You beam at him, thrilled that he remembered you told him about your cat. You tell him about your weekend spent on the couch with your furry friend.

“Can I--,” he begins to ask, pausing uncertainly. He lifts his arm slightly.

You wiggle against him, settling against his side as his arm drops across your shoulders.

“Danke,” the man says. “Thank you.”

“Of course, König.”

______

It goes like that for four weeks. Konig sits on the couch and allows you to settle in beside him, your sides pressed together on the couch. You talk to him about anything and everything that comes to mind, and he listens intently.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, you cling to his words. Especially when he slips into speaking in German.

And if you have to press your thighs together for relief during those moments? Well, you hope the man doesn’t notice.

On the fifth week of his appointments, König surprises you.

When you remove your shoes, König begins to unclasp the buckles holding his tac vest to his chest. You grin at him in encouragement as he sets it to the side.

“I feel…naked,” he comments with a small huff of laughter.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the cheeky reply that ran through your head. He is a client, after all.

He sits beside you on the couch, just as all the other sessions started, but he fidgets with the strap of his leg holster. “Could—,” he starts, pausing for breath. “Could we….lie down?”

“Of course,” you murmur. “Do you have a preference for position?”

“You can…lay your head on my chest?” He says. You give him an encouraging nod, standing up so that he can rearrange his large body so that he’s laying on his back. You reach for the pull tabs of the middle section, sliding it into place. He looks at you in surprise. “That was neat.”

You giggle. “Yeah, this couch is the best,” you comment as you crawl onto the cushion and settle your body along his, your head pillowed on his hard chest.

“This is…nice,” he says.

“Yeah, big guy. It is.”

______

Two weeks into sessions where you lay beside König, he begins talking.

In a quiet, albeit deep, voice he tells you about how he struggles with social anxiety. Being as big as he is was never useful for him until joining the military. He was mercilessly bullied in school as a young boy. He wanted to be a sniper, but his size was a burden to the position. Not to mention, he can’t sit still. He fidgets constantly, and his mind tends to wander if his body is not in motion.

His heart beats quickly beneath your ear as he tells you all the things about himself that he’d been keeping close to his chest for the last two months. He doesn’t stick to just the serious things. He tells you that his favorite color is blue. He has a massive sweet tooth and would kill a man for some traditional Sacher torte.

The laugh that accompanies that particular bit of information might just be your favorite sound in the world.

You don’t mention when your time with him has come to an end. You let him keep talking, afraid to break the spell and return König to his more stoic state.

König ends up noticing that the time has gone past his scheduled appointment. His blue eyes go wide and he sits up abruptly, knocking you off his chest as he begins to apologize profusely in a mix of German and English.

You place a hand on his chest. “It’s okay, König. Really. I just…I like spending time with you,” you admit quietly.

He rests a large gloved hand over yours.

“I enjoy our time as well, mein herz.”

______

König doesn’t show for his next scheduled appointment.

Or the one after that.

Or the one after that.

By the fourth missed appointment, you start to lose hope that you’d ever see him again.

You just hope he’s okay.

______

A sharp knocking noise breaks through your heavy sleep. You roll from the bed, landing gracelessly to the ground and startling Toast, the tabby darting beneath the bed for cover. Another knock sounds through the apartment as you stumble towards the door.

You stand on the tips of your toes to peer through the peephole with bleary eyes. Fumbling with the locks, you pull the door open as quickly as you can.

“König?” You ask breathlessly.

______

The adrenaline from the mission still courses in König’s veins as he tries to wait patiently for you to answer the door to your apartment, but he’s about one minute from either kicking down the door or picking the locks.

He imagines you would likely not appreciate either effort.

But finally, finally, he can hear your soft steps on the other side of the door before the locks disengage and the door is pulled open.

“König?” You ask. You’re wearing a large t-shirt that hits the middle of your thighs, more skin on display for his greedy eyes than he’s ever gotten the chance to see before.

“Liebling,” Konig replies. He steps forward, tentatively crossing the threshold to your home. When you don’t stop him, he takes another step. You look up at him with wide eyes.

“Where…what—,” you stutter, moving aside so that he can fully enter the apartment. He shuts the door behind him.

“Please, liebling, I–,” he starts, words catching in his throat as he looks down at you, the emotions bubbling up his throat. “I need you.”

______

König keeps his eyes trained on you as he unbuckles his helmet, lifting it from his head and dropping it to the floor. Next are the protective braces on his arms and legs, followed by the heavy tac vest and thigh holster.

He lifts the sniper hood, revealing the black balaclava beneath. His chest heaves with harsh breaths as his wide eyes scan your face.

You step forward, wrapping your arms around his middle and squeezing tightly, your head pressed to his chest as you close your eyes and inhale the scent of him.

“Missed you, König,” you murmur. His arms wrap around your shoulders, holding you impossibly tight to his body.

Suddenly you’re lifted from the ground and you squeak with surprise, your legs wrapping around his waist and your arms circling the back of his neck, holding onto him like a koala. The position puts you face to face with the man. His eyes search yours.

“Is this okay?” He asks. All you can do is nod. “Where is your bedroom?”

“Down the hall, last door on the right,” you instruct. König abandons his gear by the door, taking broad steps down the hall in the direction you gave. He gives the door a gentle kick, opening it wide enough to enter.

Toast darts out from beneath the bed, sliding past König’s legs and out to the living area.

He sets you gently on the bed, standing between your spread legs. His eyes remain fixed on yours as he kneels, deft fingers tugging at the laces of his boots.

You could get used to a view like this.

König stands to his full height once he’s removed his boots. A broad, scarred hand cups your cheek tenderly, calloused thumb moving across your cheekbone.

“Mein Liebling," he murmurs. His hand leaves your face and works the fly of his pants open, tugging the rough fabric down over his thighs.

You try very hard not to look but when he curls his fingers into the hem of his combat shirt, you can’t help the greedy way your eyes rove the miles of pale skin.

You take in the muscular thighs that give way to a defined Adonis belt, the cut so severe beneath the waistband of his boxer briefs that you long to trace your tongue along the valley. His abs flex, guiding your exploration up towards his thick chest.

There’s a litany of scars across his body, from smaller bullet wounds to deep slashes covered in thick scar tissue. You reach a hand out, lightly trailing your fingers across one that spans from his collarbone to the middle of his chest.

His hand curls over yours, holding it still against his warm skin. You can feel the frantic beat of his heart beneath your palm.

König’s free hand grasps the top of the balaclava and pulls, finally revealing the face of the man that’s occupied your every free thought over the almost two months you’ve known him.

Shaggy dark blonde hair falls across his forehead, slightly damp with sweat. Thick straight brows over the ice blue eyes framed with long blonde lashes you’ve become so familiar with. A slightly crooked nose and high cheekbones that lead into a strong, stubbled jaw.

There are scars on his face, too. A long silver scar slashes through this eyebrow and across his nose. Another cuts across the high point of his cheek.

He is so beautiful.

You watch as his cheeks turn pink and you belatedly realize you’d said that out loud. You shift to your knees on the mattress, reaching for his hand and pulling him toward you. He plants a knee on the soft surface and you guide him up until you’ve reached the pillows.

Stiffly, he lays beside you, head turned to watch you with those familiar blue eyes. You lay your head on his chest, sighing at the heat of his skin beneath your cheek. You wrap your arm around his waist and throw a leg over his hips, squeezing him tightly.

König doesn’t speak. He has an arm around your body, fingers pressing into the grooves of your ribs to hold you close. You breathe in tandem and his tense muscles begin to relax in your hold.

You shift your leg slightly, eyes going wide as you feel his cock against your knee. Feeling brave, you shift again, dragging your knee along the side of him.

His breathing stutters and you can feel his abs tense beneath you. You slide your hand across his chest, skimming your fingertips across the tight muscles.

“What are you doing, Kleine?” he asks. You lift your head from his chest to look at him.

“I want…can I—,” you stutter, losing your words at the dark look in the man’s eyes.

“I would let you do anything you wanted to me,” König says. “All you have to do is ask.”

You swallow nervously. “Can I touch you?”

“You are touching me,” he replies, a little smirk tilting his lips.

You ghost your hand across his straining length in retaliation. The smirk drops so fast you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips.

“What happened to all that cockiness, hm?”

“Do not tease.” His hips flex beneath your palm, grinding his cock against your hand. “I have very little patience for it.”

You sit up on your knees beside him, moving one of his thick thighs to the side with a press of your hand so that you can crawl between his legs. He looks down at you with half lidded eyes, an arm thrown behind his head to prop him up to see better. You curl your fingers into the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Is this okay?” You ask. He nods.

Permission granted, you slowly work the elastic down until his cock bobs free, slapping obscenely against his abs. Your mouth waters at the sight of the thick, uncut length of him.

“Jesus Christ, König,” you mutter. “Where do you think this thing is going to fit?”

“Ideally? Down your throat and then your cunt,” he replies easily. When you look up at him with wide eyes, he grins so brightly you feel like you’re looking into the sun.

And you’d gladly go blind for it.

You lean forward, giving into the urge to dip your tongue against the divot of his hip, running it along the cut of his abs reverently. His hips jolt at the contact, a whine spilling from his plush pink lips.

“Scheiß,” the man growls. “Bitte, baby, please,” he begs.

You let your tongue trail along the underside of his cock, tracing the prominent vein there to the flared head. You swirl your tongue along the tip, gathering the bead of precum and swallowing it greedily.

König’s chest rises and falls rapidly with his heavy breathing, his large hands fisting your blankets so tightly you briefly worry his bones may crack. He watches you intensely, almost like he’s worried you may disappear if he so much as blinks.

“Relax, König,” you coo, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock. “Let me take care of you.”

______

König has to think about the steps for disassembling a rifle to prevent himself from coming down your throat too quickly. The tight wet heat of your mouth feels so heavenly that for a moment, he worries that he may have actually taken a bullet to the chest on this last mission and he is actually in heaven.

But then you swirl your tongue around the sensitive head of his cock when you draw up his length and he realizes there would be no sin as glorious as this in heaven.

You eyes catch his as you slide him to the back of your throat, your lips straining around him as you try valiantly to take more of him than your limit allows. You gag around him, throating tightening exquisitely before you withdraw for a gasp of air.

You return to your task with admirable determination, eyebrows pinched together in concentration as you work to relax your throat and draw him in deeper.

“Just a little more, liebling, you can do it,” he murmurs, cupping your cheek, feeling the bulge of him in your mouth as his thumb traces the stretch of your lips around his cock. “Nimm das alles für mich.”

Your lips meet your small hand that is still wrapped around the base of him and you breathe deeply through your nose as you hold yourself there for a moment, throat fluttering around him. He groans, fighting the urge to flex his hips and drive himself even deeper.

“That’s it,” he whispers. Your eyelashes glisten with little tears, tiny pearls of wetness that speak to your efforts to please him. “That’s my baby.”

You moan around him as you pull back, his cock dropping from your mouth with an obscene pop. Your breathing is labored as you scramble up his body. König’s hands steady you with a grip around your waist as you reach for his face, tugging him into a messy kiss.

It’s a desperate clashing of lips and teeth and tongues that has König groaning, little whimpers slipping past your lips as he explores your mouth. Your teeth nip into his lower lip before trailing down his jaw and neck.

“Let me see you, Schatz,” he asks, a hand sliding up the back of your thigh to grip your ass and grind your body against his.

You flip beside him hastily, tearing your panties down your thighs and pulling your shirt over your head. Gloriously naked, you straddle his waist.

You’ve positioned yourself just out of reach of where he wants to feel you the most. His hands circle your waist, sliding up until his thumbs caress the underside of your breasts.

“So schön, meine liebe,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb across one tight nipple. Your hips flex and roll across his stomach and he can feel the slick wetness drenching his abs.

“König,” you moan, blunt little nails curling into the hard muscle of his pecs. Your head drops back, the long line of your throat calling to his hand.

He gives into the impulse, wrapping his fingers around your delicate neck, not constricting but merely holding. Your eyes go wide, hands gripping his wrist as you lean into the hold, your hips still grinding against him.

“You are making quite the mess,” König comments with a grin. You shudder in his hold. “Do not worry, liebling, I have never been afraid to get dirty.”

You moan, the sound vibrating deliciously against the hand he still holds around your neck. Your hips still over him as your release courses through you, your eyes fluttering shut.

König releases your throat and you sag against him. He runs a hand down your sweat slick back, over the curve of your ass until he can slip a single finger into your still fluttering hole. You gasp against his neck and he smiles.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, working his hand against you. You make little whimpering noises, lips working against his neck as you rock back against him. He eases a second finger into your dripping pussy, which earns him the sting of your teeth against his skin. “Scheiß!”

_______

You push yourself up on shaky arms, staring down into König’s dark eyes. His fingers slip from your pussy and you whine quietly at the loss.

“Wanna fuck you, König, please?” You murmur.

“I would love nothing more,” he says. He takes his cock in hand. “Take it, liebling.”

You lift your hips to position yourself over him, the fat tip of him notched at your entrance as you start your slow descent. The stretch of him is almost too much to bear, and it must show in your face because he drags a soothing hand across your thigh.

“That’s it,” he coos.

You slide another inch further with a whimper. “You’re so fucking big,” you tell him breathlessly. He chuckles, his cock pulsing inside of you and making you moan.

“Just think about how good it will feel when it is all inside of you, mein süße,” he says. “Filling every inch of you.”

You moan, your body accepting another inch. Your thighs shake with your efforts.

König’s hands grip your hips tightly, sure to leave fingertip shaped bruises that you’ll discover in the morning. On a deep breath, you lower yourself until you’re fully seated and stretched to your limit.

“Good fucking girl,” he growls. You meet his eyes, the blue nothing more than a thin ring around his blown pupils. His chest heaves as he breathes that same controlled rhythm you’ve watched him use before.

In…two…three…four…out.

You shift your hips experimentally, gasping at the overwhelming feeling of fullness. He wasn’t kidding about filling every last inch of you.

Pressing your hands to his chest, you lift your hips just barely off of him before dropping yourself back down. He moans, your name a curse and a prayer on his lips as you continue to build up a rhythm for yourself until you’re lifting almost fully off of him and slamming back down.

“Scheiß! Fuck!” König shouts as your pace picks up. “Mein perfekter kleiner Schatz.”

You lean forward to meet his lips, more of a sharing of breath than a kiss. He wraps his arms around your waist, holding you still as he thrusts up into you.

“König!” You cry, the slide and stretch and dull ache of him too much and yet not enough. His powerful thrusts are so deep at this angle that your eyes well with tears. Each drag of his cock from your pussy hits a spot that makes you see stars. “I’m gonna cum, please, König, please make me cum.”

“Anything for you,” he promises through gritted teeth, his hips picking up speed as he uses a hand on your ass to help slam you down on his cock. He turns his head, his nose brushing against yours tenderly in direct contrast to the way his hips pound against you. “Cum for me, engel. Let me see you.”

With a cry, you do just as he commands, your whole body going taught before sparking like a live wire, your release rolling over you so strongly it's more like a tsunami than a wave. He moans against your lips, hips pounding in an erratic speed as he works you through your orgasm and into his own.

“Fill me up, König,” you slur. “Wanna feel you. Bet you’ll get it so deep with your huge fucking cock.”

He comes with a deep groan, pressing up so deep as he spills inside of you that you gasp at the sensation, the warm heat of him filling you to the brim.

You collapse against him, the sweat on your bodies cooling in the chill of your apartment. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I missed you,” you murmur, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“I will always come back,” he whispers, smoothing the sweat damp hair from your forehead. “So long as you are here for me.”

You tug the blanket from the foot of the bed over your bodies, snuggling into his side. You enjoy the quiet together, his fingers drifting up and down your back. The rapid patter of paws on the wood floor announces the approach of your cat.

The orange tabby hops on the bed, walking on light feet until he reaches the pillow König rests his head on. He curls up along the top of the man’s head, purring contentedly.

“Hello, Toast,” he says. His eyes flick to you. “This is a good sign, yes?”

“I’d say it was an excellent sign,” you reply, kissing the man’s cheek. He smiles.

“Good. Because I think I will be here a while.”

Translations:

Scheiße - fuck

Danke - thank you

mein herz - my heart

Mein Liebling - my darling

Kleine - little one

Bitte - please

Nimm das alles für mich - take it all for me

Schatz - treasure

So schön, meine liebe - so beautiful, my love

mein süße- my sweet

Mein perfekter kleiner Schatz - my perfect little darling

engel - angel

[licorice-tea]

Duty At The Expense Of Desire

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x reader

Content: mild cursing, lots of arguing between reader and Law, reader is nervous to be in a relationship, platonic luffy and reader <3, reader loves the strawhats a lot :)

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: i spent so long just rereading this, i don’t know why but it feels kind of hard to understand? so i might revise it again in the future idk yet! i hope you enjoy reading, again this is very very loosely based on kate and anthony’s season in bridgerton! it was originally going to be 2 parts, but it’s looking like a full on series now… lmk if you want to be tagged in future parts! enjoy! <3

Part 2 | Part 4

Now that your feelings for Law have been revealed- not only to him but to yourself- you find the tension between the two of you is undeniably different from before.

What were once looks of contempt now harbor some quiet desire. Chances of accidentally brushing shoulders when you pass by each other are avoided altogether, for fear of fueling a fire neither of you know how to deal with. And any crass or biting quips are cut out of your minimal interactions completely, as you both now feel they come off as flirtatious rather than standoffish.

A few days have gone by since you confronted Law and he admitted his true feelings for you, all of which have been spent at sea. Nami says there won’t be an island to dock at for at least another three days, given how the weather is slowing the ship, so your crew’s only source of entertainment is each other.

“Y/n,” she asks while the two of you along with Robin relax on the deck, “what happened between you and Traffy the other day?”

Your breath hitches and you cough unnecessarily, already giving away your nervousness to the two very observant women. “Uh, not much.”

“Well, what did you two talk about? You didn’t come back to the table after, so I thought you must have stayed together…” Robin smiles softly, baiting you to reveal more.

“What? No, no, oh my god no… We just…”

Nami urges you on with a sing-song voice; “You just?”

“We… talked.”

“Talked about what?”

“I don’t know. Our issues with each other.”

“And you resolved them?”

“Come on, y/n, tell us what happened!”

“Nothing happened.”

You stand up then, too annoyed to continue talking to your friends. It’s not even their fault really; you would want to know what had gone on too, if the roles were reversed. Maybe you’re just annoyed with yourself for not being able to face your own feelings.

~

With no particular destination in mind, you find yourself in the Thousand Sunny’s library. When you open the door, you see Law browsing the selection of books your crew has accumulated throughout your travels. You shouldn’t be surprised to see him, but you are.

That’s what it must be; what other reason could there be for the sudden raving of your heart and your breath hitching? Any feelings you ever had for him were buried deep inside after last night; too deep to allow yourself to feel them to the extent you were currently, and so these must all be signs of surprise.

You steel yourself and walk in, letting the door close behind you. Law looks up to find out who the person intruding on his studying is, but his eyes are blown wide when he makes eye contact with you. Neither of you speaks as you turn away and cross the room in quick strides to another section of the library.

“Stupid Law,” you think as you try to calm your mind- an impossible task when he’s standing anywhere in the same room. “Stupid weather,” preventing you from getting to an island so you can get some damn space from him. “Stupid library, ” because of its shelves that make it all too easy and tempting to peak through and catch a glimpse of him.

Actually, maybe that’s not too risky of an idea. Cautiously, you bend down slightly and pretend to scan the titles on the shelf. You allow your eyes to slowly wander off the books until you can see Law by peering upwards. But low and behold, he’s staring right back at you.

You gasp and stand up straight, silently cursing your silly plan.

“Y/n.” He walks over to you, 2 books tucked under his arm. “l was under the impression you wanted me to keep your distance from me.”

“I do.”

“I find that hard to believe with the way you’ve been acting around me.”

“It’s just weird. You made me admit that I had feelings for you, and now things are weird.”

“I made you? You didn’t have to say anything, you could’ve rejected me and we both would’ve moved on.”

“I did reject you.”

“By telling me you feel the same? That’s some rejection.”

“You shouldn’t have said anything in the first place.”

“I had to, you told me that you thought I hated you.”

“But I didn’t make you say that you have feelings for me, and so now you’ve made it impossible to ignore.”

“Believe me, I tried to ignore it. To ignore you. It was pointless.”

“Then you weren’t trying hard enough. I could’ve gone a lifetime without bringing up the way I feel for you if it means my crew will be able to continue this alliance for our goals.”

“Don’t give me that shit, your captain made this alliance because he thinks we’re friends. You seriously think he had a goal in mind while doing so?”

With a roll of your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest. “Maybe not, but Luffy is the captain- I trust him, and so I follow him in any endeavor he believes in.”

“Well, I’m the captain of my own crew, and I believe that whatever we have going on is a little more than ally-ship.”

“Regardless of whatever is going on between us, is it really a smart idea to complicate such an important alliance?”

“…No. I suppose it’s not.”

“Then drop it-” You turn, ready to forget about this conversation and continue hiding your feelings away when he grabs your wrist.

“But they wouldn’t care, y/n, and you know that. Your crew thrives on-” he gestures vaguely with his free hand, “-friendship and rainbows and joy.”

Shaking off a smile, you bite back. “That might be true, but you know what’s even more important to my crew? Protecting each other. They wouldn’t like me being with you; even if we are temporary allies, you’re a Captain of another crew and one of the Supernovas. So don’t tell me what they would and wouldn’t be ok with.”

Law seems to think for a second before he releases your wrist. “Hmph.”

Finally, you take your leave to find somewhere- with no Law and no watchful friends- to just think.

~

You settle on the bow of the ship. If you had an ability like Luffy’s or any guarantee that you wouldn’t slip right off and into the sea, you would like to sit on the masthead of the Sunny. A clear, unobstructed view of the world ahead, and the breeze to keep the hair out your eyes could be so peaceful. But, this has some sort of charm to it as well; you do seem to love a challenge (even if it’s one as simple as having to lean over the railing of a ship to see the horizon).

With a cheerful call, the man you had just been thinking of joins you on the railing by the ship’s bow. Luffy speaks animatedly of his plans for all sorts of things, but during a lull in conversation, he asks you something unexpected.

“Do you love him?”

“What?”

“Traffy! Do you love him?”

“I…”

“You’ve said how much you hate him, but that just means your feelings for him are strong. So you love him, right?”

You’ve never been more bothered to hear Luffy say something so uncharacteristically observant.

“I love you guys.”

He hums. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t love other people, too.”

“…I won’t ever leave this crew, Luffy.”

“Of course you won’t!” He latches onto you in an iron-grip hug, and you smile ever so slightly. “But, y/n.”

“Yeah?”

He releases you and instead grabs your shoulders to talk to you face to face. His face seems especially serious- the same way it does when he makes a bold declaration of his dreams or beliefs. “If you love someone, you tell them. You don’t hide it, because you never know when they could be gone.”

Finally, your barely-there smile opens into a full grin. “When did you get to be so wise?”

Luffy shrugs. “Shanks told me that once, I just felt it made sense for you too.”

You and your captain stay there a while longer, giggling over this and that until the sun starts to set on the horizon.

“I'm gonna go sit on Sunny- you wanna come with me?”

Though you’d been fantasizing over what it would feel like up there just a few minutes ago, you shake your head. “No thanks. But, uh, Luffy?”

“Yeah?”

“Could you… not tell anyone about what we talked about?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah, for sure!”

You would come to regret being so vague with your captain, even if he does occasionally display astonishing emotional intelligence.

~

At dinner- where there’s always something going on- you make an effort to sit far from Law. Your attempt is in vain, however, as he ends up right across from you. Luffy sits to your left, and while he takes a small break from stuffing his mouth, he nudges you with his elbow.

Your eyes meet your captain’s as he winks at you, then looks over at Law, and back to you. You can practically see the gears turning in his head as he had some sort of… plan in the works. With a wide grin, he asks, “Soooo Y/n, when are you and Traffy going to get married?”

A moment of silence passes before laughter erupts around the table from everyone except you and “Traffy.” The latter covers his face with one hand and pinches the bridge of his nose while you look simply horrified.

What had happened to not speaking of your earlier conversation? Admittedly, you had spoken of several subjects after your discussion of your feelings for Law… and knowing Luffy, he could have mistaken your vow of silence to be for any one of those subjects.

Since you’re sure your captain didn’t mean to embarrass you with his straightforward view of relationships, you just shake your head and give a muttered response. “We- we’re not, um, going to….”

Law, on the other hand, appears too bothered to stick around and listen to any more jokes. He stands abruptly and disappears in a flash of blue light.

You stick around long enough to finish your plate, then thank Sanji and leave quietly. Some unknown force draws you to Law, when you see him in Nami’s little grove of orange trees. Cautiously, you approach him.

“…Law? I- I’m sorry about that. I don’t know why Luffy said that.”

“It was embarrassing.”

“Okay, Law, they were all just joking. And I can’t even really blame them, because this entire situation is pretty fucking ridiculous.”

“No, y/n, it’s embarrassing that everybody knows how I feel and that you feel the same, and they’re all happy with the idea of us together, but you still don’t want to be with me.”

“It’s not personal, you know that.”

“How can it not be personal?”

“Everything I do is for my crew. I have a duty to them, and not even you or my own feelings will get in the way of that.”

“Do you seriously still believe that they would care if we were together?”

You purse your lips.

“I took your word for it at first, because you know your own crew better than I do, but clearly they have very little regard for what we do. Now I am inclined to believe that you made it up when you said they wouldn’t like us being… being something. And as foolish as I feel after believing that ridiculous excuse, I still want you, y/n. Tell me you want me too.”

“How much?” You ask with a fierce look.

“How much what?”

“How much do you want me, Law? You keep talking about your feelings for me, but you haven’t even said what they are.”

Again, you seem to find any way to continue arguing with the man before you as a means of releasing pent-up feelings. Just kissing him might be easier, but also a whole lot more terrifying and uncertain.

“Desire, attraction, whatever you want to call it-“

“Well, I’m not going to put everything on the line for someone who is attracted to me.”

“It’s more than that, you know that-“

“You know what I think?”

“…What?”

“I think that you can’t even admit to yourself- let alone aloud- the extent of your feelings for me. You want me to say it first so that nothing bad will happen if you put yourself out there, and that’s not going to happen.”

“I-“ He starts to speak, but can’t think of a rebuttal. You have him pegged. “I may not know exactly what my feelings are yet, but I can feel them, y/n. You remain on my mind constantly- so if you want me to stop feeling for you, then you need to stop.”

“Oh, I need to stop?”

“Yes, you-“

“You’re the one constantly making me reconsider everything I tell myself. You are the one who needs to stop.”

“Before what? Before we give in to this… obvious desire, and put aside duties to do something for ourselves?”

Heavy breathing fills the silence. He always manages to rile you up, and you can’t stand it.

“You should go. No, in fact,” you raise your hands in a gesture of surrender, “I’ll go.”

Without giving him the chance to respond, you flee down the stairs to the main deck and through the doors to the cabin hall. All this back and forth with Law is giving you a headache.

You can’t deny it any longer though; now that your captain knows too, it’s like you’ve spoken it into permanent existence. You’re in love with Law, and there’s next to nothing stopping you from being with him in the way you truly desire. Not even your sense of duty.

You should never have counted on the Strawhats to hold you back from something- or someone you love.

Taglist: @augustanna @lavanderdreamve @pinksaiyans @khaleesihavilliard @jennapancake @pinki-minki @loserbee14

[fab-bladesmith]

Claidheamh dà làimh dhubh

A Black Claymore, in the West Highland style, second half of the XVIth century.

Inspired by a variety of surviving examples, this one shows the classic features of the type, with quadrifoils at the end of the downturned quillions of strong rhombic section, fileworked central langets, hollow pommel and top finial. The swelling on the grip is inspired by the sword kept at the Kelvingrove Museum in Glasgow and is leather over wood - most grips visible in such swords nowadays are modern replacements.

Fittings are mild steel, oil-blacked.

The engraved blade is spring steel, made after the various examples of German productions.

See Tony Willis, "the Scottish Two-Handed Sword", Bulletin of the American Society of Arms Collectors 120, pp. 35-69.

Overall length is 1405 mm, blade is 1020 mm long and 45 mm wide, and shy of 5.4 mm thick at its base.

Cross span is 145 mm.

Weight is 1809 grams, point of balance 17 cm from the cross.

Again, sharing from here will only share this picture, so if you want to share the intire set of photos, do it from my Dr Fabrice Cognot, Phd, Bladesmith Page

Thanks

[inkspiredwriting]

A Hair-Raising Experience

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Five Hargreeves was many things: a former assassin, a time-traveler, a seasoned survivor of apocalypses. But a hairdresser? That was a stretch.

Yet here he was, scissors in hand, staring at his wife Y/n with a look that blended confidence with mild panic. Y/n, sitting on a chair in their bathroom, looked up at him with a mixture of trust and fear.

“All the salons are closed,” she said, twisting a lock of her hair nervously. “I just need a trim, Five. How hard can it be?”

Five swallowed, steeling himself. “Piece of cake. I’ve tackled tougher jobs than this.”

He combed through her hair, trying to channel every memory he had of watching people get haircuts. Y/n closed her eyes, and Five took a deep breath, bringing the scissors to the first section of hair.

Snip.

“See? Not bad,” he said, more to convince himself than Y/n.

Y/n, eyes still closed, smiled. “I trust you. Just… not too short, okay?”

Five nodded, focusing intently. The problem was, with each snip, he noticed something that needed evening out. A little here, a little there, and soon he was in over his head.

“What do you think?” Five asked, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

Y/n opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Her expression shifted from cautious optimism to sheer horror. “Five! What did you do?”

Five winced. “I... may have overestimated my abilities.”

Y/n’s once even, shoulder-length hair was now a choppy, lopsided mess. One side was significantly shorter than the other, and there were random, uneven chunks missing.

“Oh my god, I look like a demented hedgehog,” she said, her voice a mixture of laughter and panic.

Five put the scissors down, raising his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I see the problem. I can fix it.”

Y/n eyed him skeptically. “You’re not touching my hair again.”

A frantic call to a 24-hour hair salon later, they were driving through the city, Y/n wearing a baseball cap to hide the disaster. Five sat next to her, muttering apologies and trying to stifle his nervous laughter.

At the salon, the hairdresser took one look at Y/n and raised an eyebrow. “Tough week?”

Y/n pointed at Five. “My husband decided to play stylist.”

The hairdresser gave Five a knowing smile. “Ah, the classic ‘husband haircut.’ Seen a few of those.”

As Y/n sat in the chair, Five hovered nearby, wincing at the critical assessment of his work. The hairdresser, a woman with bright purple hair and an array of tattoos, shook her head in amusement.

“Well, let’s see what we can do here,” she said, running her fingers through Y/n’s hair. “Your husband’s given you a very… unique look.”

Y/n shot Five a mock glare. “Unique is one way to put it.”

The hairdresser snipped away, skillfully transforming the chaos into a stylish, albeit shorter, haircut. Y/n watched in the mirror, relief flooding her features as the damage was undone.

“See? It’s fixable,” the hairdresser said with a grin, stepping back to show the finished product.

Y/n smiled, feeling the now even, sleek bob. “Thank you. You’re a lifesaver.”

Five sighed in relief. “Thank you for saving me from sleeping on the couch.”

On the drive home, Y/n couldn’t help but laugh at the whole ordeal. “You know, you were so confident.”

Five chuckled, shaking his head. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry, Y/n. I really thought I could handle it.”

Y/n reached over, squeezing his hand. “You did your best. It’s kind of sweet, actually. Just… no more haircuts, okay?”

Five grinned, a mixture of sheepishness and affection in his eyes. “Deal. From now on, we leave haircuts to the professionals.”

Back home, with Y/n’s hair restored to its former glory, the incident became a new inside joke. They shared a bottle of wine, toasting to their survival of yet another Hargreeves misadventure.

And though Five may have failed as a hairdresser, he succeeded in proving, once again, that even in the most comical disasters, their love and laughter would always see them through.

[dabratzchronicles]

Who Are You?

A lonely Latina will surely know Not to play with a man’s time.

this fic contains: Element of thriller, violence, foul language, Slight mentions of SA, , if you are not okay with any of those warnings please read one of my other babies, you will see a softer variant of this soon♥️

Ever since she witnessed what she witnessed, she wasn’t the same. 

The constant look over her shoulders, the quick movements of someone, even the fucking stranger she screamed at when she went to the mailbox, every little bit of it, drove her mad, insanity even, it’s fucked up when ya mind playing tricks on ya. 

The deadly grip he had on her, the gun pressed into her under jaw, the gun still hot from being fired 3 times, The eyes of a mad man stare… the soulless orbs she so desperately wanted to have a bit of sympathy, she never found it. 

She remembered it all, the weapon exploding her bubble, his hands, his bloody cold hands searching her body, digging into her pockets to grab her wallet, he ripped it open to see her address flat front of him. 

“I know where you live, Speak a word,” he threatened, pulling the trigger thanking god it was a blank. “And you will experience the real thing. Got Me?” his voice violently filled her ears with mental fucks. 

She frantically nodded her head as he smiled crookedly, moving his gun away and tucked it behind him in his waistband. “Good. Now, See you soon Alana.”

See you soon… fuck do he mean by that? All of the possibilities rammed her mind, he started to get her and he hated it, hated that a man was in her head, everytime she blinked she saw his face. It was becoming too much.

She walked into her apartment and sighed, tossing her bag over to the side as she kicked off her shoes, the fila’s no longer trapping her feet anymore. “My god, People is slaving me.” She complained about her job, telling whoever was listening about how her boss had her fucked up, whipping out her phone to order a large philly steak pizza from domino’s with a 2 liter Fanta. 

She tosses her phone on the couch as she soon follows. Her body freezes, That smell, that mature smell, an all too familiar scent, his. 

She started doing breathing exercises that her mother had recommended to her, to keep her calm in certain situations, and not a single one was working, only thing it was working on was her nerves. 

“Bitch calm down,” she reminded herself, it's probably just phantom smells, she would always smell faint smells of her boyfriend, why would this be any different. 

She sat down on her couch, sinking into the couch as the comforting sectional devoured her unsettled nerves, nothing can go wrong. 

everything is fine.

she turned on her TV to her favorite show, Forensic Files. It was dark and ominous, but true crime settled her. 

Her focus remained on the television, another white lady fell victim to her husband, or so she thought? From what all she gathered from where she turned in: Frankie Smith, a 38 year old lady from Fresno, California. The cali native was brutally murder with her body thrown into a ocean 8 miles out, her body only being found by a fisherman, whose fishing rod was able to pull out a shoe with a foot still inside. In a panic, he called 911, and then- the scent. 

She recognized the scent again by this time she didn’t have time to react, her body froze, the fear and stiffness taking control over her muscles as his hand covered her mouth, with his gun inching closer to her face. 

“Remember me?” he smiled, his breath reeking of Black and Mild’s and Modelos. It’s him. and this time, it wasnt bullshit

“What do you want.” She started her sentence, not as scared as she otherwise would have been, as if something prepared her for it.

“D’aw,” He cooed, sensing that she was toughing up. “I dont want shit, just wanted to see how my friend is.” 

“We ain’t friends, barely close to acquaintances, what the fuck you wan—”

“Watch your fuckin tone.” The gun pressed against her temple, the cold steel cutting off her sentence, her body temperature becoming irregular, her mind racing a thousand miles a minute and her only thought was if her mother was going to be okay, because Lord knows she might not make this. 

“You forget I have no ties to you nor are you important to me, I can blow yo shit back and not give a fuck about it. Speak wisely.”

his words etched into her brain, but he also doesn't get… is that she doesn’t care anymore, she is settled with how life is, nothing she can or want to do. 

She reached back and scratched him on his face, the cry he let out was music to her ears, his scream was loud enough that it possibly alerted the neighbors 

She stumbled off the couch fast enough before the gun went off, fuck 

Time beating against the clock, adrenaline rushing, fear nowhere to be seen, “This bitch,” she heard him say before scuffling could be heard from behind her. 

She tripped over her shoes she left in the way, giving him a chance to catch her. 

She trampled over her shoes, falling face flat on the carpet, knocking almost all the wind out her lungs, her nose throbbing from the impact leaving her with limited oxygen. 

His hands, the roughly clothed hands, tightened their grips on her throat… darkness crept around her eyes. “P-P-Please, Don’t.”

her heart slowed, her lids finally being heavy enough to close.

When she came back, she yelped as she felt something of four sharply pierced her skin, her reflexes kicked in, horsekicking him square in the mouth. 

She scurried her back to a wall, scared that he brought someone with him to finish her off. Who is this white man in my house?! Where is my boyfriend!?! Where are my pants!?! 

Her pants being gone set the bomb that was in her head to blow. 

Her name being called whipped her head to that direction, but it was a woman. Her feathered hair, her soft demeanor with a voice just as light as paper still wasn't enough to calm her. 

“Alana Mendez?” She spoke, keeping her distance as her hands stayed in Alana’s line of sight. “My name is Detective Olivia Benson, I’m here with the NYPD. There were a few calls to 911 about a fight? A man was sent fleeing from this apartment, did he do this?” 

Alana’s mouth opened to speak but words were stuck, NYPD? Detectives? Herself? Her Pants? Too much to take in with little time. 

“Where are my pants?” She asked, looking at her bruised up thighs and shin. Her mind came to the conclusion by itself, that sick fuck.

Olivia placed a white blanket over her legs, asking for the male paramedics to leave the apartment. Her focus went back to Alana who at this point was dead inside. This man who she didn’t know… did her like this. and left her to die… The world is so cold. 

“Do you have any idea who could have done this to you? Any body description? Facial features that stuck out? Article of clothing that you remember?” 

Alana’s eyes wandered to the left, she couldn’t risk her life to say his name, who knows what he would do if he knew she ratted him out. That’s when a thought zoomed past. 

“I don’t know the man's name, nor can I describe him. but he does go by the name of Smoke.”

“Smoke?” Olivia questioned, “And why do they call him smoke?”

“Because just like now, He’s gone with the fuckin wind.”

Youve Got Mail! @megamindsecretlair @miyuhpapayuh @thecapodomme @theereina @persethegawd @episodes-ff

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[astpipes]

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[bhushanpipes]

Unlocking Construction Possibilities: The Role of Mild Steel Hollow Sections

In the expansive world of construction, where imagination meets durability, the materials we choose become the building blocks of progress. Among these, Mild Steel Hollow Sections stand as an exemplar of structural ingenuity and architectural versatility. And in the industrious state of Punjab, known for its dedication to craftsmanship, the production of these sections takes center stage. This article delves into the pivotal role of Mild Steel Hollow Sections and the indispensable contribution of tubes manufacturer in Punjab shaping the contemporary construction landscape.

The Backbone of Structural Integrity: At the heart of any construction project lies a critical component that holds the key to durability and stability. Mild Steel Hollow Sections, often referred to as MS Hollow Sections, fulfill this role with remarkable efficiency. These hollowed-out steel sections are designed to provide exceptional strength while allowing for various applications. From supporting the framework of skyscrapers to forming the intricate lattice of bridges, these sections form the foundation upon which the built environment is constructed.

Navigating Construction Challenges The significance of tubes manufacturer in Punjab cannot be overstated. These manufacturers have taken the responsibility of supplying high-quality Mild Steel Hollow Sections to the construction industry. With an understanding of the evolving demands of the sector, these manufacturers have adopted precision engineering practices to produce sections that adhere to stringent industry standards. Their commitment to consistency and quality ensures that each section plays a vital role in upholding the safety and structural integrity of diverse construction projects.

Unveiling Innovation and Adaptability:

One of the most remarkable aspects of Mild Steel Hollow Sections is their adaptability. Tubes manufacturer in Punjab craft these sections in an array of shapes and sizes, ranging from square to rectangular to circular. This diversity is an architectural boon, as it allows designers and builders to conceptualize structures that flawlessly blend aesthetic appeal with functionality. This flexibility empowers architects to turn their creative visions into tangible realities, regardless of the complexity of the design.

Structural Stability and Sustainability: Beyond their immediate load-bearing capabilities, the design of Mild Steel Hollow Sections contributes to both structural stability and sustainability. The hollow configuration of these sections reduces their weight while maintaining their strength, making them an ideal choice for efficient construction. This lighter weight translates to reduced resource consumption, material wastage, and transportation-related emissions. In an era where sustainable construction practices are increasingly vital, the inherent properties of these sections align with eco-friendly objectives.

Building a Stronger Tomorrow: The role of Mild Steel Hollow Sections extends beyond their immediate application. These sections play a pivotal role in shaping the future of construction. As construction practices evolve to meet new challenges and expectations, the reliability and versatility of these sections remain constant. Architects, engineers, and builders can depend on the structural integrity of these sections to bring their creative visions to life, knowing that their designs will withstand the test of time.

In essence, the journey of tubes manufacturers in Punjab to construction sites across the region is a testament to the collaborative effort required to shape the modern built environment. Mild Steel Hollow Sections serve as the building blocks of innovation, facilitating architectural marvels and structurally robust projects. Their impact extends beyond physical construction, contributing to an industry that thrives on progress while maintaining a commitment to quality and endurance. The legacy of these sections lives on in the towering skyscrapers, intricate bridges, and sturdy industrial complexes that dot the landscape, standing as a testament to both human ingenuity and the enduring strength of well-engineered materials.

As we wrap up our exploration of the construction world, one name shines as a trustworthy guide in this journey – Bhushan Pipes. If you're looking for Mild Steel Hollow Sections that are strong and dependable, Bhushan Pipes is the go-to place.

[topcat77]

Antony Gormley

APERTURE XVII, 2011

10 mm square section mild steel bar

[hasufin]

Modification

I want to share a little project I've been working on this past week. It may seem like nothing, but it was a lot of work and a big pain until I got it done.

Back when my spouse and I moved into our current house, I immediately recognized a dearth of counter space in the kitchen. We resolved this by purchasing a buffet table from Ikea. The table in question was a "Norden" model, which they have since discontinued. Simple enough table, a bit over a meter long and maybe a third that in depth, two drawers and two additional shelves. Great for holding kitchen appliances on top and storage below.

The first thing I did was add locking casters to the bottom so I could move it around easily. That's been a big bonus, as it makes cleaning much easier. I also put some hooks on the ends to hang my cast iron pans.

The problem arose I guess about three years ago when I upgraded to a commercial-grade espresso machine. The Gaggia was okay, but the Expobar is in a completely different class. And that's GREAT for good coffee. For a tabletop that's made of laminated particle board? Not so much.

Now, I had been aware of this problem for a while. I'd tried to ameliorate it by putting a silicone baking mat on top of that side of the table; that slowed down the deterioration, but did not stop it. It was also a daily annoyance, as the espresso machine moved a bit when I torqued the portafilter in place and it would get bunched up. About once a week I would have to lift the espresso machine and move things back.

This came to a head two weeks ago when I took the espresso machine in for some repairs and had to face that the tabletop was ruined. My initial thought was to get a replacement top from Ikea and then put maybe a piece of stone countertop in where the espresso machine sits.

This ran into two problems. First, as I mentioned before, this particular item is discontinued. Ikea will honor the warranty, and the Ikea rep tried pretty hard to make that work, but the reality is I got it too long ago and whatever abuse it's undergone is my problem; they don't sell the parts for it anymore.

Second, stone countertops are EXPENSIVE. While I just want what might be considered scrap, it was still going to be a lot of money, and I was not able to find a source.

Eventually I want to replace the entire thing with something I build myself, and I have some ideas for that. However, right now I have neither the time nor skill to make that happen. I was going to have to replace the top myself.

Since I didn't want to pay for stone, I opted for metal. I ordered a 4'x2' sheet of metal from McMaster and proceeded to prep the top. I sanded down the areas which were bubbling up and roughed up the rest of the surface.

Then, once the metal arrived I used my angle grinder to cut it to width and round the sharp corners. I had this notion that I might bend it over the top and maybe nail it down, or see if I could knurl the edges. However, while I think that was maybe possible, to do it well would have called for tools I don't have and skills I generally lack. The steel was 0.03" thick rolled mild steel. While that's not exactly a knife's edge, and you can touch it without cutting yourself, it's not exactly safe. And although I got much better with the angle grinder in the process (I had a grinder and hardly ever used it), the cut edges were a but uneven. So, I ordered some rubber edging.

In the meantime, I put the metal on the buffet table and prepared it.

I opted for a matte finish, since I would need better buffing tools than I have to get a mirror finish, and matte is easier to maintain than brushed. Since it's mild steel - which rusts easily - I sealed it with a spray lacquer.

Today, the rubber edging finally arrived. This is the same stuff you have on the edges of your car door. I glued it in place, except for one small section which is removable so I can easily clean detritus like coffee grounds off the table top. I also added two receivers to hold the feet of the espresso machine so it doesn't move when I put in the portafilter.

And, behold!

The result looks almost nothing like the original buffet table from Ikea. Someday I'll make something better, but whatever I make will be strongly informed by this, which has been heavily modified to fit my use case.