#heat exchanger repair and fabrication

[instrument-installation-company]

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Additional Contact Information-

Address: 26 Gul Way, Singapore 629199

Fax: +65 6862 0218

Phone: +65 6411 6570

Email: information@mun-siong.com

Website: https://www.mun-siong.com/

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

For a Yuu OC

Walker arrives at the school the usual way. They don’t really feel different and take the lack of appetite and sleep down to the major life changes happening. New dorm, a monster to take care of, whole new world full of magic they can’t use, it’s a lot. The take what they can get and keep their head down as much as Grim allows.

Until they face the Overblotted Miner.

Desperate, they smash the jar, cut their hands on the glass, ink on their hands, and they see it. The Miner’s falling one by one due to overmining, the unstable gems causing tempers to rise, until Dopey buries the last of his brothers and succumbs to their own overuse of magic. Walker wakes up crying, a lifetime of knowledge of gems and minerals and jewels settling into their hands and a wish to go home.

Walker goes to the library in-between classes to try and understand more of overblots and what happened with them in particular, but there is nothing. The only recorded documentation of overblots leads to the infected person’s death or complete loss of magic.

Is it because they are magicless that they were able too? That the knowledge or magic, whatever it was, overflows since it has nowhere to go?

It happens again with Riddle.

Except Riddle is alive, and breathing, and still in there. Unlike Dopey, he hasn’t given up, he hasn’t sunk to deep into the dark there. Walker bears witness, pulls the both of them out, and passes out. Crowley drops them at their dorm to rest, not staying to see their eyes moving and hands twitching as they live a lifetime in a few hours. The Queen settles on her throne, whispering to them bout order, madness, invention and nonsense and Daring.

Their fingertips are dipped black, vines crawling up the knuckles, a lace motif incomplete on their wrist. They steal a pair of Deuce’s leather gloves and the lie passes too easily on their tongue that he must have lost them.

They continue on, though they notice that sleep never comes as easily, nor do they seem to need as much to be just as productive. A magic thing? It doesn’t seem to happen to anyone else, but they are different. So different. It's been pointed out so many times. They are already tired of hearing it.

The sabotage of other students isn’t totally surprising, considering it’s a school full of students who glorify villains, but they can’t help the smug feeling when he sets up a damn stampede. Called it!

Leona’s overblot is worse, seeing Ruggle panting for air before they can finally pull him out of Leona’s clawed hands. It must be the sand or the heat causing mirages though. Sometimes it’s Ruggie, and other times the face shifts and changes into something close but not quite. They drag the jar of ink down with them, and bear witness once again.

Jack is the one to carry them to Ramshackle this time, ears flat at the state of the place before leaving, making plans to grab some Savannaclaw students and make some repairs as payment for getting Leona out. He doesn’t see the twitching eyes and hands, the feet that move, the groans of pain.

Walker wakes up with dried sweat sticking to their skin, back aching. they choke, and stares down at the teeth that fall from their mouth.

There is ink on their thighs, African like maybe? It’s not anything they recognizes. At least it’s easier to hide.

The savanna claw students actually pull through though, making basic repairs and spare fabric to reupholster the chairs and couches, in exchange for not speaking anything of Leona’s blot to the outside world. Walker hadn’t intended to, but they will not turn down a gift when needed.

With the bathroom finally in working order, they get to see the damage. The lace motif has formed into full gloves that pull up to their forearms though the pattern has shifted. Roses curl quietly, a spade, diamond, clover and heart hidden in the foliage, a smile hidden on the cure of their wrist bone. Their thighs remained unchanged, though they know the images have moved. The ink moves on their body.

But worse than any of that, is their back. Their shoulder blades frame an oval outline, two jabbed pieces like glass coming together. What is this? Where did it come from? Should they tell-

No. No, what would Crowley even do? He’s encouraged them to take care of everything else themselves, including their dorm. They can figure this out too.

(They should have said something)

Ace and Deuce exchange a glance when they catch Walker covering their laughs or smiles with their gloved hands. Was it always a habit they had that they just missed? Did they always wear gloves? When did they start wearing jewelry with rough cut gems and stones? Deuce only shrugs, taking it as something he simply missed. He isn’t used to actually caring about his ‘friends’, so this is all new to him. But he does trust that Walker is honest. When they say they are fine, he believes them. Ace doesn’t, but if they aren’t in any pain and won’t tell him the truth, it’ll happen eventually.

Something burns in Walker’s throat when they find out about Grim’s deception. Seriously, bartering with his magic? Foolish boy, unknowing of the gift he has. He wastes his potential.

It takes work, the familiar burn of Leona’s magic taste strange in such a humid place, and then there is ink everywhere. Azul’s overblot is tragic in a way that the others didn’t. Perhaps Walker simply relates too much, feeling displaced and judged for something they couldn’t control. They don’t feel surprised when they fall in, firmly pulling Azul from his misery. Jade looks curiously down when your body goes completely limp. There is no twitching of the eyes or hands, you are as limp as a fresh corpse in his hands. Floyd takes one last curious look at you before they collect what is left of their things in Ramshackle, something familiar in your presence. Something old.

You wake up feeling older than salt, older than water, hands clutching at friends you don’t have, at your stomach and ribs. Ink pours down your cheeks.

Write. A voice whispers. There is a journal on the desk, a leather-bound prize you had picked up at your weekly check to the lost and found for clothes and other things that might be useful. You and I both know they only have half the story, a Twisted version. You remember it don’t you dear? Write. Complete our stories.

Grim finds you hours later up in the night, an oil lamp long burned out, but the scratching of your pen is unyielding. He asks if it is normal for humans from your world to have glowing eyes. You lie again and tell him yes.

Ace and Deuce try and bring up your behavior with the others, but this is all they have ever known you as. Quiet, watching, observing, modest. You seem sensitive to sunlight, but Jade conveniently leaves behind a pair of sunglasses that are simply unsuitable to the business now. Otherwise, what is there to say? Ace and Deuce hover but otherwise you seem ok? What else can they do?

Sometimes Grim finds you at night, simply staring into space, writing things down without even looking down at the pages, there are books and books filled at the dorm now with your writing. He has trouble getting you to respond when you are like this, sometimes you sound different or say something weird, but you always come back. He wonders if your going through another growth spurt or something from your world, the dark marks on your stomach curve up into your ribs now.

Jamil looks at you and sees danger, but he needs you in order to make this plan work. But there is something wrong with you. Even with Kalim, bright and distracting as he is, he can feel your eyes. You ask odd things. You called Kalim a Sultan and laughed it off as an accident but it came it so sincerely, so genuinely.

You watch Jamil overblot with open arms, guiding him through with ease. Once is an accident. Twice is coincidence. Three times is a pattern. Four though? Four is planned. Is it Crowley? Fate? You?

Kalim carries you to Ramshackle on the very carpet you stole, your body near lifeless. He hesitates to leave, but Grim convinces him that you are always like this after. He’ll even tell Walker to send a text when they wake up.

It takes an entire night, far longer than usual, but they do wake up. Half of their back is filled with jagged pieces, and their shoulders and arms burn with new black markings similar to Kalim’s Henna. Walker traces the patterns and thinks they pair well with the roses. The Rose disagrees. The Lion simply laughs at her displeasure. The Witch delights in your beauty, the feral and elegant. The Djinn is new and says nothing yet, but he has always chosen his words more carefully.

And so it continues with each overblot. Deeper down Walker goes, the more marks, the more layers. Their feet and ankles decorated with German patterns, the shackles of Grecian around their calves and shins wrapped like leather sandals, a forest of thorns and beasts burned into their chest, a dragon wrapped around their heart. With each one, the whispers get louder, the books get longer, the unused magic, curling into their muscle and sinew and veins, gets stronger.

The jagged pieces are whole. The mirror is complete but shattered. As far as Walker knows, it always will be.

Until it isn’t.

Grim snaps, because of course he does. How could he not? Walker saves them, as they have all the others. They pass out as you have all the others. Around you, the entire school is battered and tired, finally taking the Chimera down, wanting nothing more than to drag you both to Ramshackle for some much-needed sleep.

The mirrors start to hum. The windows black out and reflect only darkness and hands reaching.

The jagged pieces on your back snap into place, whole and complete.

You are pulled into the air by black strings, ink pouring out of your eyes, dropping into puddles on the floor. The ink shakes, ripples, forms, bubbling and rising.

The dorm leaders can only stare in horror as their faces rise from the blot.

No, not themselves. Their puppeteers.

You have saved them so many times. They can do this. Surely, they can still save you.

But what are they saving you from?

[vahalia-cress]

⸸ 𝔓𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔢𝔡 𝔔𝔲𝔢𝔢𝔫 ⸸

Little hands reached for the plush fox as Vahalia lowered allowing Idalia to grasp her pudgy little hands into the fabric of it. The song of babbles filled the morning air as she spent this moment out along the cabin’s balcony opening overlooking the shoals nearby. With the twins safely within her sphere of comfort, Vahalia attended them in moments where peace lingered.

It was peaceful, for the time being.

Evran held firmly to Vahalia’s thumb, often trying to kidnap it within the confines of his mouth but could never seem to understand why the fleshy wiggly thing fought him at every attempt, poor coordination only landed him the side of his mother’s hand.

A soft knock came to the cabin door and it opened once Bruce had inspected the caller from beyond the other end. A soft exchange of voices was shared and then the visitor entered with her hands nestled into the pocket of her slacks, “The package was delivered and they’re grateful for your assistance in retrieving what remained of the supplies.” Castien spoke.

“Good.” the reply came and Vahalia shifted Evran from her grasp to be handed off to Marion who assisted her. Standing she eventually made her way to Castien, “And my offer?”

“You’ve certainly piqued their interest and they are willing to meet with you. Their partner arrives from Urqopacha in a days time and they’re requesting that they be present as well.”

“Good. We’ll set up a meeting with them.”

“What do you plan on offering them?”

Vahalia bore a small look to Castien with brow perked, “You hadn’t read the missive?”

“No. Little to no reason to; though I was quite curious I thought it best to ask you directly.” Castien chuckled, “You tend to always have a plan.”

“Loosely.” Vahalia afforded her kindness, a small smirk that rested on her cheek enough to flash a small dimple. She made for the trolley that had a collection of drinks, pouring a glass of water for herself and Castien, “I’m proposing seeds, saplings and vegetation from Black Water. We have the means and the folks here seem to enjoy some of the things we take for granted – and vice versa. If it is one thing I have learned during my time here, it is that the Pelu are keen on all sorts of trinkets, baubles – just about anything for Trade. They speak my language so we merely speak theirs in return. It is a matter of wants, needs, and fulfilling a demand abroad.” handing off the cool glass to Castien, the pair partook in their beverage.

“Such things you’ll pass through Black Water from other merchants or –?”

“Homegrown.” Vahalia added, “Hopefully in time when the harvests at the vineyard are complete we can start shipments of the wines from Valnain.”

“A long trek for a ship,” Castien noted.

“Thankfully I have an extra to spare.” Vahalia looked to her glass with a subtle, darkened smirk, “--Or rather, that I will. That’s where the Scorpion comes in.”

Quizical would have been the look Castien would have mustered had she not already been aware of some of Vahalia’s steps; or rather had she not have known the woman at all. Quietly she continued to hydrate herself from the Tuliyollal heat.

“Pearl the Scorpion, inform the captain we’ll be taking the Red Queen at nightfall. I want that ship captured and ready to sail in two days for Black Water. They’ll make any necessary repairs to have it in well-working order for the voyages into Tural in the future. I’ll contact Edalene to let her know they’ll be expecting a new ship to dock in due course.”

Castien simply nodded as she adjusted the linkpearl in her ear, “Anything else I should relay?”

Vahalia fell silent a moment as she peered out towards the large open cabin balcony and along the shoals once more, “Offer the crew their lives in place of their loyalty to me. All those who oppose, ensure they’ll be with their Mistress Whitlock soon enough.”

Castien knew the outcome of those who would decline. She had been present that evening when she, Wren, Cordelia, and Vahalia had captured Ophelia and forced her to pay her dues. That woman had paid a steep price for her betrayal; in blood, life signed on the figurative dotted line. Without hesitation, Castien's hand moved and she activated the pearl to relay the message, crimson eyes following the Lady Cress as she simply went about her business with her children.

She seemed entirely...unbothered.

[andmaybegayer]

idle Google scholar searching isn't really helping but I do often wonder whether the "they don't make hard-wearing clothes anymore" thing is partially down to the dramatic shift in the cost and style of clothing production and wear trends. This is entirely contradictory spitballing.

Firstly, survivorship bias, a lot of Ye Olden clothing is completely gone because it was cheap thin linen worn to death by some peasant, the stuff that persists is either rich person clothes worn only a few times or lucky to have been preserved. It's well known that historical clothing collections are largely the clothing of nobles and very wealthy merchants. That linen was probably pretty hard-wearing, because, it's linen, but it was also probably heavily repaired and busted after a few years like modern jeans often are.

Secondly, clothing was stupendously expensive and time consuming in the past, so it's very difficult to reasonably compare a $10 T-shirt to a summer dress that required a hundred person hours of spinning and weaving just to make the raw material for. A comparable modern article would be like. A bespoke dress shirt or tailored gown.

Thirdly, we wear much more wear-susceptible clothing as a result of these changes, the most obvious example being stretch. Stretch fabrics eventually lose their stretch, go slack, and become shitty to wear. People who wear raw denim and solid chino trousers and stiff linen shirts and pure cotton dresses exist but they're considered special interest niche fashion nerds, most people seem to find stretch clothing more comfortable and appreciate the way that it cheaply fits a wide array of body types. Wool knits stretch and go way back but most people don't choose to wear wool if they have a choice these days.

Fourthly, clothes are so cheap that we don't look after them in the same ways. A hole in some trousers for most people means "throw those away and get new ones" because trousers are a $20 line item, not several weeks of continuous spinning and weaving. We wash clothes way, way more often which increases wear in exchange for better hygiene. It's also less labour intensive to wash frequently than if you had to plan your whole day around heating water for laundry.

It seems more likely to me that patterns in clothing wear have moved from "small quantities of expensive clothing that is carefully looked after" to "larger quantities of cheaper clothing that is treated more disposably" than that actual wear resistance at equivalent points on the price curve has changed. If you spend hours of your income equivalent to whatever a peasant had to spend on a linen or wool square they spun and wove you could probably get a really nice high end piece of tailored clothing.

[mxstellatayte]

metal, nuts, bolts, and a hell of a lot blaster residue (chapter 2.)

din djarin x female mechanic reader.

chapter 2 word count: 6.0k

warnings/tags: graphic depictions of violence, reader is a mechanic, found family, din djarin speaks mando'a, din and reader are both very touch starved, i don't know how fictional money works, din djarin is a bottom, smut written and proofread by an asexual, din and reader have ptsd, canon is dead and i killed it, no use of y/n

You wake, your eyes crusted over with sleep as your alarm beeps loudly at you. Your face is mashed into your pillow, your left cheek making your lips jut out awkwardly as your right arm and foot hang off of your small bed, sleeping on your stomach. It’s a marvel it’s even considered an adult-sized bed- your feet hang off of the end of the bed more often than not and your shoulders barely fit onto the narrow mattress without hanging off of the edge. Your right arm reaches up lazily as you prop yourself up, sphynx-style, on your left, blinking groggily at the bright sun already shining brightly through your window. It takes you a few minutes of sitting there on your bed, readjusting to the waking world, for you to recall the current ship in your hangar in desperate need of repairs. 

“That blasted Crest is going to be the death of me,” you mutter as you grab a pair of overalls, a dark green t-shirt and undergarments before hauling it to your bathroom and peeing. After washing your hands, you don’t bother inspecting your appearance in the shitty mirror, opting to simply start your ‘fresher. Having warm water in your ‘fresher is a luxury you allow yourself once a week, and today is that kind of day. The steam slowly floats from behind the curtain, and you step in, having stripped your pajamas while you were waiting for it to heat up. It runs over your body and through your hair, slowly saturating your body, and you sigh, finally being able to rinse most of the encrusted grease, oil and soot from your body after the day before. 

After allowing yourself a few moments of bliss, simply relishing in the warm patter of water on your skin, you add soap to your hair, then a whipped oil treatment you use to remove the tangles. It is, like many other things in your life, a routine you’ve grown accustomed to. After finishing rinsing out your hair and washing your body, you turn off the nozzle and grab your towel, wrapping it around your body and trying to drip as little water on your floor as possible. You dry your hair off as much as you can and dress yourself, clipping your bra on and sliding a dark green t-shirt over your body before pulling on your underwear and the denim overalls over your legs, clasping them at your shoulders, and wiggling your feet into a pair of socks. As usual, you stuff the small fabric pouch sitting on the edge of your windowsill in your right front pocket, the feeling of its presence comforting and familiar. It may be strange to others, but it’s something you can’t leave your house without and you’ve never quite known why. 

You open your cooler and sigh; you need to go grocery shopping, likely using credits from your payment yesterday. Why must adulting on your own be so difficult? That is one thing you miss about being a part of the Empire, hate to admit it as you may. You never had to go shopping for clothes or worry about finances- in exchange for your services, they offered you a bed to sleep in, a roof over your head, uniforms, and food, all without you having to fret over your remaining credits in your budget or whether you’d paid this month’s rent. Pulling a nutrient-rich packet of food out, you stuff it in your pocket and loop your holster, blaster still inside from the night before, through the loops on your overalls. Your feet slide into their boots, your hands tying the laces tight, double-knotting them as you always do. After ensuring your keycard is safely in the left pocket of your pants, you unlock your door and step out into the bright light, locking it behind you.

08:25, your watch reads. Late. 

Fuck.

There’s a very distinct way people walk when they’re late, you’ve noticed. Torso slightly forward, feet landing heavy with authority and a get-the-fuck-out-of-my-way aura about them. Arms swinging but rigid, face determined, and a slight bounce in their step. That walk is the very walk you’re using right now, your blaster bouncing slightly on your hip. You slide deftly through the growing crowd in the city’s streets, even this early in the morning. Children run to school, parents bidding goodbyes quickly, then calling their kids back quickly- they forgot their lunch. A young Devaronian girl accidentally runs into your leg, stumbling back a few paces before falling backwards. “Hey, kiddo. Didn’t see you there. Let’s get you up from there, yeah?” You halt your rapid pace, leaning down and offering your hand out for her to get back up. She hesitates for a moment, lifting her hand before pulling it back, looking between your face and your hand. You wear what you hope to look like a friendly smile, your heart beating loudly in your ears as you pause. After a few moments, she reaches out, taking your hand and hauling herself to her feet with your help. “You okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” She pauses, biting her lower lip as she scans your face. “Are you the mechanic my daddy says works magic? The one on the outside of the city near the north gates?”

An excited feeling bubbles up in your throat. That’s where you recognized her from. Her father, one of your most loyal (and best paying) customers, frequented your services, often needing repairs for his speeder and, on one rare occurrence, a ship he was taking off-world and needed an inspection and light fuel for. “Yeah, I am! You must be Dendo’s kid, then? Salwa?”

She beams with pride, nodding brightly. “Yeah! He’s going to help us beat the Empire!” You smile at her, still bent over and resting your hands on your knees to get at her eye level. 

“That’s awesome. We’re going to need all the fighters we can get.” The schoolteacher rings a large bell behind you, signaling the two-minute call to the beginning of the school day. “Off you go, then. And tell your father I say hi!” 

“Yeah, of course!” She waves over her shoulder as she runs up the steps into the building, bowing slightly to the teacher as she enters. Kapp Dendo, one of Nevarro’s prominent Rebel leaders, had been a customer of yours from the start, claiming that “no man I’ve ever met could hold a candle to female mechanics,” the statement making you nearly cry with pride. Your hard work had paid off, and now you had at least one loyal customer, and an influential one, no less. You stand in your spot in the city square for just a moment before you remember your task at hand: opening up shop. You swivel on your heel, speeding down the roads and weaving between the throngs of people preparing to open their stalls in the city market for the day. You wave hello to a few of your customers, seeing all sorts of people- humans, Twi’leks, a group of three evidently hungover Ugnaughts, a shockingly large ensemble of Ithorians, and even a Kaleesh. The diversity among Nevarro’s populace is nothing new to you, and before you know it, your feet have carried you to the door to your hangar. With a swipe of your keycard and a quick type of your keycode, the familiar dark metal doors open with a hiss of air, and you step through, leaving them open for customers to come and go as they please. 

Sitting down at your desk, you shuffle together papers from an old job and slide them into your incinerator, a small puff of ash rising from the small slit on the side of your desk. This desk, in comparison to the rest of your hangar, is organized, every paper, pen and notebook with scribbled notes having a place on top or in a drawer. You scribble some notes for yourself to take care of later in the day- charge bills go out today which will need to be mailed out, you need to place a new order for rations to be delivered to your house, and a note with your name on it has been scribbled in swooping handwriting, folded into thirds and left sitting on top of the pile of papers you’ve begun to inspect.

I went out to get a new radio and get something fixed in my armor. Be back by 13:00. 

Mando

Oh, also, the kid says hi. He’s in the ship if you want to watch him. His name is Grogu.

You pay the rest of the note no mind, only squealing with glee at the prospect of the small child being under your care for the day. Dropping all that you’re doing, you shove away from your desk, any papers or bills left aside for later in the day, when the sun is high in the sky and you’re sweating so much your eyes sting. Rushing into the hangar, you try not to run up the ramp of the ship, noticing the crate with the parts inside still lingering by your workbench. The child- Grogu- sits eagerly in his small pod, his large dark eyes lighting with joy and babbling as he holds out his hands excitedly when he sees you come up the ramp. 

“Hey, Grogu!” You say, leaning over and picking him up out of his nest of metal and soft blankets. “You ready to see something cool?” He giggles in joy and wraps a small, three-fingered hand around your own index finger, clearly excited. “I’ll take that as a yes. Can you control your little egg?” He nods, and you gently set him back inside, the pod whirring quietly as you step back, following you just as it did Mando. “You’re going to be safe in there, right?” Another nod and gurgle, and you grin. “Come on, then! I’ve got a lot of stuff to fix on your dad’s ship, and it isn’t going to fix itself.” 

Before you even begin welding, you ensure that Grogu is thoroughly protected, wrapping a sturdy leather blanket around his body and covering his large ears with the cap you wear on colder days. “Comfy?” He nods, looking around curiously. “Hey, you wanna make a friend?” Your foot clicks Squeaks’ pedal, stirring it awake, and Grogu giggles, the sound making you smile. After twisting your hair up, tying it back and sliding your hat over it all, you stuff all of your tools into your rucksack and shove your tablet in your back pocket. Something crinkles in your pocket and you realize you never ate your breakfast. Breaking open the packet, you opt for tipping the granola directly into your mouth rather than picking it out with your fingers, favoring efficiency over dignity. 

The majority of the repairs go smoothly, only a small hiccup when you realize that the shield system requires a manual override from the ship’s owner, and it’s currently registered to the Mandalorian’s chain code. When he returns, he inputs the override, and the shield reboot runs smoothly. The final task, which you leave for the next day, is the radio replacement. Mando successfully found a completely new radio system, and you get the impression that you probably shouldn’t ask where or how he got it. That’s how it goes with a lot of things on Nevarro: someone does something convenient for you, it seems a little bit weird how someone would come across such a thing, and you don’t ask any questions. Interestingly enough, it was almost the same way under the Empire: accept the gesture, don’t ask questions. It’s how things go and no one asks about how the system got set into place or why it’s there. It just is. 

“Everything else went well?” You’re perched on your workbench, spine bent like an Ossuan banana and feet dangling off the side as you sit on the edge, looking over the last of the documents on your clipboard before you send out the bills for credit accounts. You look up from your papers, your eyebrows releasing the crease between them when you see the Mandalorian walking up to you. Grogu walks next to him, and you find a small appreciation in yourself for how fast the kid can move. For barely reaching your knees, he can hustle when he’s keeping up with his dad. 

“Yeah, mostly. The patch in the hull ended up needing the whole panel replaced, but other than that, everything else went well. Grogu is a wonderful work companion, by the way,” you say, grinning down at the small creature. A slightly cold breeze flows through your hangar and you straighten up, shivering and stimming involuntarily, the cold setting your nerves on edge. You pull the small fabric pouch out of your pocket and begin fidgeting with it, not removing the contents (a small handful of stones from your homeworld,) but rather pushing the stones around inside the worn fabric. “You did make sure the radio’s compatible with the ship, right?”

“Yeah, I did. I left it in the crate, but it’s in its own box.” He stops a few feet from where you sit, but Grogu continues up to the workbench, then, turning to Mando, points up to you and gurgles again, seemingly asking to get up on top with you. “Come on, kid, we’ve got someone to say hi to. An old friend.” Grogu babbles something sad-sounding, and you think a little part of you dies inside, but you need to catch up on sleep and the sun is rapidly sinking, the hot day having drained every ounce of energy your limited amount of sleep the night before had earned you. 

You bid your customers goodbye, leaving them with the guest entry keycode you change with each moon cycle for security so they can re-enter after you leave, and close up shop early for the day. Your rigorous day, combined with your limited amount of food, lack of sleep, and the blistering volcanic heat, has served as a reminder that you are still very much human, and require some form of treatment to keep going day by day. On your way home, you remember to drop off your bills at the postal and stop at the grocer to order a week’s worth of food, hoping that it’ll be delivered by the time you return home the next day.

Delivered by the time the Mandalorian leaves.

You try to ignore the tightness in your chest you felt, to stifle it and shove it down. But it only results in a sinking feeling, an ick simmering in your stomach that you can’t quite smother on your own.

Revnog. Why not? You have ten extra credits sitting in your pocket, remnants from your grocery run and decide that a drink or two couldn’t hurt. Besides, you can’t remember the last time you treated yourself to a drink at the bar down the street from your home. You spot the neon bright sign out of the corner of your eye, the sign that never goes out anytime before 1:30 each night and illuminates your street in a 30 foot radius, marking one of the few establishments on Nevarro that still had an alcohol permit after Karga’s changes in government. Your feet make their way to the door and you push it open, the strangely pleasant clamor of music, chatter and clinking glasses hitting your ears and the familiar smell of alcohol- both droid and biotic- hitting your nose. The establishment is dark, but each booth, many of which are taken, are illuminated by a hanging light over the table. Instead of bothering to find a booth, you slide onto a stool at the bar and order a glass of revnog. “Bespinian, if you have it.” You flash the last four digits of your chain code, proving your age to drink, and the bartender nods with a smile and pulls a bottle off of the shelf behind her. A small part of you warms to know that she has your favorite kind as the bottle’s familiar shape pours the opaque white liquid into a glass, the slight light blue tint swirling in the glass as she slides it across the metal surface. She pulls out a small bowl of Bespinian citrus commonly used to chase the thick burn that comes with the alcohol. “Thank you,” you say, passing her five credits. 

You slouch in your seat, taking a sip of the drink and giving up the put-together look. The burn as it flows down your throat tickles and you relish in the feeling, opting to leave the feeling rather than chase it with the fruit. “I ain’t no coward,” you’d say to Mir-Le over drinks before she went off to Sorgan to live with a woman that, based on what you’d heard about her, would make her happy day in and day out. She was the first friend you had on Nevarro, one of the few people you trusted. Sure, you had friends now, the regular customers you’d become close with, but none as close as Mir-Le. Another sip down, the tangy yet sweet flavor burning down your throat. Sips continue slowly, slowly warming you up from the inside, and you let your mind go blank as you stare emptily into the swirling liquid.

“Rough day?” 

You look up with a start, the voice so close suddenly startling you out of your dissociative blur. The bartender, a kind-eyed Twi’lek with beautiful dark blue skin, dries glasses as she looks at you with a knowing smile. “You could say that, yeah,” you sigh, not quite knowing how to start. “You okay if I ask for some advice?”

“I feel like I signed up for giving advice when I took the job, as bullshitted as the advice may be. Hit me.” She sets the glass down and folds her arms, leaning onto the counter. You’re not sure if it’s the drink, the proximity, the intoxicating smell of her skin or your dry spell of not getting laid, but you can’t help but feel a stir deep in your stomach, trying not to breathe through your nose and inhale the sweet smell of her perfume, trying to figure out how to explain your current dilemma. 

You’re about to begin your vent before you realize that you never introduced yourself to her. “Shit, I never introduced myself.” You offer your name and your hand, and she takes it with a firm handshake.

“Call me Frey.”

“Hi, Frey. Okay. So you might think I’m crazy, but I think… I think I might be attracted to someone whose name I don’t even know, much less what he looks like.”

“You met him online?” She cocks a brow at you, a motherlike look on her face.

“No, he’s a customer. I’ve met him, I just don’t know his name or what he looks like. He’s a Mandalorian- one of the ones that never takes off his helmet. And he has this little kid that he brings almost everywhere he goes, and the way he treats the kid makes me want kids. I physically can’t have them, thank Maker, but I feel like if I could, I would want to have kids with him. It’s really strange and I should probably be a little bit worried about it, but I’m not, for some reason. How should I go about this? Because I don’t even know if it’s just me not getting laid in months or having very few close friends, but I just feel a kind of pull to him.”

“That is… a lot. Okay. Give me a second,” she replies, and you nod, taking a sip of your drink as she contemplates an answer. “I’m going to preface this by saying that I’m not going to sugarcoat my answer. In my experience and observations, people tend to fall faster for someone when they’re in a dry spell. That influence, that desire, often leads my customers to do something stupid and reckless, like having sex with someone they’ll regret fucking in the morning. Of course, that means more listening to them complain, but the tips are worth it.” You snort out a laugh, and she smiles. “Granted, I’m not telling you to go hook up with someone to end your suffering, but if that’s what you think will work, then go for it. What I’m hearing, though, is that your attraction to this mysterious man in armor is more romantic than sexual?”

You grimace as you take another sip, shaking your head. “God, no. Yes, he’s adorable when he talks to the kid and would clearly burn down the universe for him, but I can tell you with absolute confidence that I would not mind if he fucked me into next cycle.” You don’t bother lowering your voice any more than you already have, the bar having mostly emptied by this point. You spare a glance at your watch: 01:03. It’s late, much later than you’re normally awake, but you can’t help yourself when you lean slightly closer to Frey. She laughs quietly, her smile contagious. 

“In that case, I would offer to bring you home and treat you the way you deserve.” Your stomach drops, heat pooling between your hipbones. Without an answer, you down the rest of your drink and nod, and she laughs, pushing back from the bar. “I’ll take that as a yes, then. Give me three minutes to kick these guys out and clean up real quick, yeah?” You offer a nod in response, and before you know it, you’re running back to your house, Frey’s hand clutched in yours as the two of you laugh when you stumble slightly drunkenly, like a pair of horny teenagers. 

Your fingers fumble with the lock, and before the door closes behind you, you’re getting kissed by Frey, her lips soft against yours as her hands settle on your hips. “You gonna be good for me and let me take care of you?” You blush, your stomach flipping in loops, and nod sheepishly. “Let me hear you.” 

“Yes. I’ll be good.”

“That’s my girl.”

THE NEXT DAY

You groan as your alarm beeps annoyingly at you, the headache from your hangover evident. As you wipe the sleep from your eyes, you remember the night before and smile in bliss. “Morning to you,” Frey’s voice calls, and you open your eyes slowly, eyes dilating against the bright light. Once adjusted, you see her dressing herself, tucking her t-shirt into her pants before fastening the zipper and button. 

“Morning,” you groan, your voice scratchy with sleep. “Thank you for last night.”

“Of course. It was fun.” She leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead and leaning back. “I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah. I know where to find you.” You hesitate for a moment, realizing the potential strangeness in your choice of words. “At work, I mean. Not in a creepy ‘I’ve been stalking you and know where you live’ kind of way.” Frey smiles again, a light laugh escaping her lips. 

“I know what you mean, gorgeous. Good luck with the Mandalorian.” She steps out of your room, moving to leave your house. You hesitate for a moment, then realize the absurdity of staying in bed. You launch the covers off and hurry after her, catching her in your front room.

“Wait, Frey-” She turns and immediately attempts to hide a laugh, and it’s in that moment that you realize you’re still completely naked. Your front room doesn’t have many street or alley facing windows, and the ones that are present are shuttered, thank Maker. “Take care of yourself? Watch out for the shitty people out there. Nevarro has plenty- I would know.”

Frey smiles one more time, approaching you and pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I will. Don’t worry.” With that, she turns around the corner and you hear the door hiss, opening and closing, and you’re suddenly left in your front room on a Friday morning after a hookup, butt-ass naked and in need of food. Dressing yourself in a pair of overalls and a t-shirt, nearly identical to your clothes the day before, you remember to eat something while you’re still at home before setting out to work, ensuring that you’re on time today. 

By the time you arrive, you’ve already mentally planned how you’re going to replace the radio in the Crest. It’s going to be tricky, but nothing will beat the wire connection you had to repair last night. It had taken you far too long and you regretted promising no droids- a mechanic droid would have that done in thirty seconds when it took you thirty minutes. 

You slip your headphones on as you enter your hangar, Mando having left another note on your desk, with the same scrawled handwriting, this time in red marker on unlined paper. 

Gone to Karga’s for a deal. Back by 12:00. Feel free to start working on the ship. Kid’s yours today, too.

You slide off one of the earpieces of your headphones as you walk up the ramp and see Grogu sitting in the pod, looking excitedly at you as you enter the ship. “Come on, Grogu. Let’s look at this radio.” Upon inspection, you grin knowing how easy the repair will be- likely less than three hours plus some calibration time, which Mando will have to be present for so you can get it connected to his helmet’s audio processing unit. Grabbing your rucksack of tools and your blowtorch, you begin unscrewing the current communication system from the dashboard, wiggling it free once the panel is disconnected. It’s a mess of wires, connections and unmarked cables, but the radio unit has the different wires labeled, and you begin wrapping paper tape around them and labeling them in accordance to their function, then clamping them to the dash so they don’t fall into the abyss of the ship’s inner workings. Grogu sits on the top of the dash, fiddling with a small necklace around his neck, and you notice that it’s a signet of the Mythosaur. Mando probably gave it to him, you realize, and your heart swells with endearment before you stifle the feeling once more. 

A certain song begins playing through your headphones, and you can’t help but yank the second earpiece back on, squeal and dance excitedly when you hear the first words of your all-time favorite song.

My inner child needs a bulletproof vest

And a phone that can’t text

And twenty years’ rest.

Build a bomb shelter

Bite a belt for the stress

Never know what’s next.

You sing along, the lyrics so familiar you could recite them without the background music. Your knee bounces to the heavy bass, and when the chorus hits, you lean back and close your eyes, spinning in the pilot's seat and belting out the high notes with everything in your body. When you spin back towards the front of the ship, Grogu is watching with a wide smile, waving his hands excitedly. You hold your screwdriver as if it was a microphone, singing to Grogu as if he was an audience. When you’re done with the chorus, you return to bouncing joyfully in your seat, all work set aside for the brief period of the song. As it concludes, you smile and set your tools back to work, pushing your left earpiece back so you can hear Grogu if he needs something. 

After two more hours of fiddling with wires, soldering irons, buttons, and screwdrivers, you smile victoriously as the radio connects with your test module- you didn’t fuck up any part of the annoyingly tedious process. 

You asked me if I want to get a tattoo

Dude, I fuckin’ barely even know you

Probably never ever gonna call you

But you make me wanna die

Yeah, your outfit is a crime

And I need an exit line

“You make me sick, you make me sick! I’m sick of it!” You drum your fingers on the dash before standing up when the chorus hits, jumping with a shriek as you see the Mandalorian standing there. How did he sneak up on you? You had one earpiece off and that armor looks ridiculously heavy and loud. “Maker, you scared me.” You pull both of your headphones off and let them rest around your neck, the music continuing before you press a button on the side and it pauses. 

“How did the repairs go? The radio works?” Damn, not even an apology? Cold. You shrug it off, however, hoping that he’ll pay you and get off this ridiculously hot planet and out of your mind so you won’t end up with your emotions in a twist anymore. 

“Yeah, it just needs a calibration to your helmet’s audio processing system and then you’re all good. Repairs are done.” He looks down at you, his helmet tilted in a way that makes your insides stir. “What?”

“That was fast. I thought you’d be needing to work into the afternoon, but clearly not.” His voice sounds slightly condescending, and you frown. 

“I thought Karga put in a good word for me,” you say, crossing your arms. “That hurts.” The Mandalorian remains silent, and you realize it’s time to move on from the topic. “Anyway, if you want to set your helmet to connect to the ship, I can make sure it connects and send you on your way.”

“Yeah, let’s do that.” He taps a few buttons on his gauntlet and a small light illuminates, and you press a button on the radio to connect it to his helmet. A few seconds later, the light on the radio switches to blue, and his gauntlet beeps, signifying the secured connection. 

“Hang on, I’m going to double check it works two ways.” You grab your test radio and climb down the ladder to exit the ship, scurrying down the ramp. Once you’re out of earshot of the comm system, you press the button on the side of your test radio, raising it to just a few inches from your lips. “Can you hear me? Testing, check. Out.”

“I read you,” you hear through your radio, the Mandalorian’s voice clear as day. “You hear me?”

“Yeah,” you say, exhaling a sigh of relief. Nothing had been royally fucked up. “I hear you.” 

Twenty minutes later, you’ve been paid and his ship has left the hangar. 

Forty minutes later, you can’t focus on cleaning up, your thoughts constantly floating towards the Mandalorian- some thoughts socially acceptable, some very much not.

An hour later, you’re mindlessly doodling shapes onto the sheets of paper that litter your desk, mentally searching for a project and hoping for a customer. 

Five hours later, you’re cleaning off your desk, wiping away countless old bills and sheets of notes and to-do lists before you subconsciously tuck the notes Mando had left on your desk, hurried scribbly handwriting in red and blue pens, into the pocket of your overalls. 

Two days later, you can’t stop thinking about the wall of Beskar and how much he clearly cared about that weird little kid.

A week later, you’ve decided to stop eagerly throwing the covers off of your bed and scurrying to your hangar, decided to stop hoping to see the battered old ship landed in your domain each day.

A month later, despite your best efforts to forget the Mandalorian’s kindness and generosity to get his ship fixed (and his really cute kid,) you can’t help but let your shoulders sink a little bit more each morning when that hunk of metal isn’t sitting where you hope it’ll be. 

Two weeks after you go to Frey’s again in another fit of desperation, you slide open your doors awaiting an empty hangar once again, but there it is: the Crest you’ve been eagerly awaiting for months, a familiar and much welcomed sight to your eyes. 

What’s better, however, is how before the ramp is even fully descended after Mando sees you through the cockpit window and holds Grogu up, the small child waving eagerly at you before looking at his dad and pointing at you, the kid is running down the ramp and hopping off the end when it’s about a foot off of the ground, then beelining it straight for you. You dump your rucksack on your workbench and kneel down, picking up the small child and hugging him gently, smiling broadly. “Hey, Grogu! I missed you!” He laughs, a bright sound you immediately adore. Mando approaches the two of you and you hold out the kid, but he waves you off.

“I'll let you hold on to him for a while. He missed you,” says the gruff voice you've waited for what feels like eons to hear. “Think you can fix up the Crest again? You worked some magic on her last time because she's been running better than ever since you did your tinkering last time.” You grin, pride swelling in your chest. 

“Yeah, I can. What seems to need some love?” So he shows you, leading you in and around the ship, pointing out small repairs and wiring that needed handling, remaining by your side the whole thing as Grogu clutched to one of your fingers in his tiny hand. 

You agree to a price, he provides the parts, and you provide the expertise and labor. It's finished quicker than he expects, and before he knows it, he's flying back off of Nevarro, a slight tightness in his heart that he won't be hearing your voice or seeing your smile for who knows how long.

So every time he can, he returns to see you, making up some bullshit excuse about how his ship didn’t sound right, just needed a refuel, something needed recalibration- anything so he could see you. It isn’t something that goes unnoticed by you, but you wave it off as friendliness, even as you bite the collar of your sleep shirt to muffle your moans as you desperately try to get yourself off on your fingers each night after he leaves, curiosity about what the tall, brooding wall of walking Beskar was like sexually left to the confines of your bedroom under the cover of darkness. 

This routine, him making up an excuse and you fixing the nonexistent flaws in his ship, becomes something familiar, about six months passing of him visiting you every two weeks or so before it happened.

You open the door to your hangar and step through glancing at the Crest sitting in its usual place, taking off your blaster and setting it on your workbench. Mistake number one. You’d walked to the hangar with your headphones on in your own little world, having slept like shit and the kaffae you’d grabbed along the way hadn’t kicked in yet. Mistake number two. You close your eyes and let your head fall back on your shoulders, exhaling deeply, and letting yourself relax, even if for just a moment. Mistake number three. If Nevarro has taught you one thing, it’s that you should never let your guard down, even if you’re with someone you’d trust with your life. It’s only between songs that you hear the quiet beeping you think must be a trick of your ears. But when you look back to Squeaks, still sitting in its charging port, you see it: explosives. With a countdown timer reading three seconds.

Two seconds. Your eyes widen in panic as you try to run away from it as fast as you can, turning heel and running. 

One second. Your feet slam into the ground, heels burning as your arms pump and your throat burns in panic. Your stomach drops as you hear the final beep, and your eyes squeeze shut as you just take one more step, get that much farther away…

Boom.

[empyreumata]

𝗟𝗶𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗼𝗿, 𝗖𝗹𝗮𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗲. "𝗟𝗼𝘃𝗲." 𝗜𝗻 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙩𝙚 𝙎𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙨. 𝗧𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗯𝘆 𝗞𝗮𝘁𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗮 𝗗𝗼𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗻. 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗬𝗼𝗿𝗸: 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗗𝗶𝗿𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀, 𝟮𝟬𝟭𝟱.

A little tired, the groceries stretching out her new knit sack, Ana boarded the tram. She placed the bundle in her lap and the tram began to move. She then settled back in her seat trying to get comfortable, with a half-contented sigh.

Ana’s children were good, something true and succulent. They were growing up, taking their baths, demanding for themselves, misbehaved, ever more complete moments. The kitchen was after all spacious, the faulty stove gave off small explosions. The heat was stifling in the apartment they were paying off bit by bit. But the wind whipping the curtains she herself had cut to measure reminded her that if she wanted she could stop and wipe her brow, gazing at the calm horizon. Like a farmhand. She had sown the seeds she had in her hand, no others, but these alone. And trees were growing. Her brief conversation with the electric bill collector was growing, the water in the laundry sink was growing, her children were growing, the table with food was growing, her husband coming home with the newspapers and smiling with hunger, the tiresome singing of the maids in the building. Ana gave to everything, tranquilly, her small, strong hand, her stream of life.

A certain hour of the afternoon was more dangerous. A certain hour of the afternoon the trees she had planted would laugh at her. When nothing else needed her strength, she got worried. Yet she felt more solid than ever, her body had filled out a bit and it was a sight to see her cut the fabric for the boys’ shirts, the large scissors snapping on the cloth. All her vaguely artistic desire had long since been directed toward making the days fulfilled and beautiful; over time, her taste for the decorative had developed and supplanted her inner disorder. She seemed to have discovered that everything could be perfected, to each thing she could lend a harmonious appearance; life could be wrought by the hand of man.

Deep down, Ana had always needed to feel the firm root of things. And this is what a home bewilderingly had given her. Through winding paths, she had fallen into a woman’s fate, with the surprise of fitting into it as if she had invented it. The man she’d married was a real man, the children she’d had were real children. Her former youth seemed as strange to her as one of life’s illnesses. She had gradually emerged from it to discover that one could also live without happiness: abolishing it, she had found a legion of people, previously invisible, who lived the way a person works — with persistence, continuity, joy. What had happened to Ana before she had a home was forever out of reach: a restless exaltation so often mistaken for unbearable happiness. In exchange she had created something at last comprehensible, an adult life. That was what she had wanted and chosen.

The only thing she worried about was being careful during that dangerous hour of the afternoon, when the house was empty and needed nothing more from her, the sun high, the family members scattered to their duties. As she looked at the clean furniture, her heart would contract slightly in astonishment. But there was no room in her life for feeling tender toward her astonishment — she’d smother it with the same skill the household chores had given her. Then she’d go do the shopping or get something repaired, caring for her home and family in their absence. When she returned it would be the end of the afternoon and the children home from school needed her. In this way night would fall, with its peaceful vibration. In the morning she’d awake haloed by her calm duties. She’d find the furniture dusty and dirty again, as if repentantly come home. As for herself, she obscurely participated in the gentle black roots of the world. And nourished life anonymously. That was what she had wanted and chosen.

The tram went swaying along the tracks, heading down broad avenues. Soon a more humid breeze blew announcing, more than the end of the afternoon, the end of the unstable hour. Ana breathed deeply and a great acceptance gave her face a womanly air.

The tram would slow, then come to a halt. There was time to relax before Humaitá. That was when she looked at the man standing at the tram stop.

The difference between him and the others was that he really was stopped. Standing there, his hands reaching in front of him. He was blind.

What else could have made Ana sit up warily? Something uneasy was happening. Then she saw: the blind man was chewing gum … A blind man was chewing gum.

Ana still had a second to think about how her brothers were coming for dinner — her heart beat violently, at intervals. Leaning forward, she stared intently at the blind man, the way we stare at things that don’t see us. He was chewing gum in the dark. Without suffering, eyes open. The chewing motion made it look like he was smiling and then suddenly not smiling, smiling and not smiling — as if he had insulted her, Ana stared at him. And whoever saw her would have the impression of a woman filled with hatred. But she kept staring at him, leaning further and further forward — the tram suddenly lurched throwing her unexpectedly backward, the heavy knit sack tumbled from her lap, crashed to the floor — Ana screamed, the conductor gave the order to stop before he knew what was happening — the tram ground to a halt, the passengers looked around frightened.

Unable to move to pick up her groceries, Ana sat up, pale. A facial expression, long unused, had reemerged with difficulty, still tentative, incomprehensible. The paperboy laughed while returning her bundle. But the eggs had broken inside their newspaper wrapping. Viscous, yellow yolks dripped through the mesh. The blind man had interrupted his chewing and was reaching out his uncertain hands, trying in vain to grasp what was happening. The package of eggs had been thrown from the bag and, amid the passengers’ smiles and the conductor’s signal, the tram lurched back into motion.

A few seconds later nobody was looking at her. The tram rumbled along the tracks and the blind man chewing gum stayed behind forever. But the damage was done.

The knit mesh was rough between her fingers, not intimate as when she had knit it. The mesh had lost its meaning and being on a tram was a snapped thread; she didn’t know what to do with the groceries on her lap. And like a strange song, the world started up again all around. The damage was done. Why? could she have forgotten there were blind people? Compassion was suffocating her, Ana breathed heavily. Even the things that existed before this event were now wary, had a more hostile, perishable aspect … The world had become once again a distress. Several years were crashing down, the yellow yolks were running. Expelled from her own days, it seemed to her that the people on the street were in peril, kept afloat on the surface of the darkness by a minimal balance — and for a moment the lack of meaning left them so free they didn’t know where to go. The perception of an absence of law happened so suddenly that Ana clutched the seat in front of her, as if she might fall off the tram, as if things could be reverted with the same calm they no longer held.

What she called a crisis had finally come. And its sign was the intense pleasure with which she now looked at things, suffering in alarm. The heat had become more stifling, everything had gained strength and louder voices. On the Rua Voluntários da Pátria a revolution seemed about to break out, the sewer grates were dry, the air dusty. A blind man chewing gum had plunged the world into dark voraciousness. In every strong person there was an absence of compassion for the blind man and people frightened her with the vigor they possessed. Next to her was a lady in blue, with a face. She averted her gaze, quickly. On the sidewalk, a woman shoved her son! Two lovers interlaced their fingers smiling … And the blind man? Ana had fallen into an excruciating benevolence.

She had pacified life so well, taken such care for it not to explode. She had kept it all in serene comprehension, separated each person from the rest, clothes were clearly made to be worn and you could choose the evening movie from the newspaper — everything wrought in such a way that one day followed another. And a blind man chewing gum was shattering it all to pieces. And through this compassion there appeared to Ana a life full of sweet nausea, rising to her mouth.

Only then did she realize she was long past her stop. In her weak state everything was hitting her with a jolt; she left the tram weak in the knees, looked around, clutching the eggstained mesh. For a moment she couldn’t get her bearings. She seemed to have stepped off into the middle of the night.

It was a long street, with high, yellow walls. Her heart pounding with fear, she sought in vain to recognize her surroundings, while the life she had discovered kept pulsating and a warmer, more mysterious wind whirled round her face. She stood there looking at the wall. At last she figured out where she was. Walking a little further along a hedge, she passed through the gates of the Botanical Garden.

She trudged down the central promenade, between the coconut palms. There was no one in the Garden. She put her packages on the ground, sat on a bench along a path and stayed there a long while.

The vastness seemed to calm her, the silence regulated her breathing. She was falling asleep inside herself.

From a distance she saw the avenue of palms where the afternoon was bright and full. But the shade of the branches covered the path.

All around were serene noises, scent of trees, little surprises among the vines. The whole Garden crushed by the ever faster instants of the afternoon. From where did that half-dream come that encircled her? Like a droning of bees and birds. Everything was strange, too gentle, too big.

A light, intimate movement startled her — she spun around. Nothing seemed to have moved. But motionless in the central avenue stood a powerful cat. Its fur was soft. Resuming its silent walk, it disappeared.

Worried, she looked around. The branches were swaying, the shadows wavering on the ground. A sparrow was pecking at the dirt. And suddenly, in distress, she seemed to have fallen into an ambush. There was a secret labor underway in the Garden that she was starting to perceive.

In the trees the fruits were black, sweet like honey. On the ground were dried pits full of circumvolutions, like little rotting brains. The bench was stained with purple juices. With intense gentleness the waters murmured. Clinging to the tree trunk were the luxuriant limbs of a spider. The cruelty of the world was tranquil. The murder was deep. And death was not what we thought.

While imaginary — it was a world to sink one’s teeth into, a world of voluminous dahlias and tulips. The trunks were crisscrossed by leafy parasites, their embrace was soft, sticky. Like the revulsion that precedes a surrender — it was fascinating, the woman was nauseated, and it was fascinating.

The trees were laden, the world was so rich it was rotting. When Ana thought how there were children and grown men going hungry, the nausea rose to her throat, as if she were pregnant and abandoned. The moral of the Garden was something else. Now that the blind man had led her to it, she trembled upon the first steps of a sparkling, shadowy world, where giant water lilies floated monstrous. The little flowers scattered through the grass didn’t look yellow or rosy to her, but the color of bad gold and scarlet. The decomposition was deep, perfumed … But all the heavy things, she saw with her head encircled by a swarm of insects, sent by the most exquisite life in the world. The breeze insinuated itself among the flowers. Ana sensed rather than smelled its sweetish scent … The Garden was so pretty that she was afraid of Hell.

It was nearly evening now and everything seemed full, heavy, a squirrel leaped in the shadows. Beneath her feet the earth was soft, Ana inhaled it with delight. It was fascinating, and she felt nauseated.

But when she remembered the children, toward whom she was now guilty, she stood with a cry of pain. She grabbed her bag, went down the dark path, reached the promenade. She was nearly running — and she saw the Garden all around, with its haughty impersonality. She rattled the locked gates, rattled them gripping the rough wood. The guard appeared, shocked not to have seen her.

Until she reached the door of her building, she seemed on the verge of a disaster. She ran to the elevator clutching the mesh sack, her soul pounding in her chest — what was happening? Her compassion for the blind man was as violent as an agony, but the world seemed to be hers, dirty, perishable, hers. She opened her front door. The living room was large, square, the doorknobs were gleaming spotlessly, the windowpanes gleaming, the lamp gleaming — what new land was this? And for an instant the wholesome life she had led up till now seemed like a morally insane way to live. The boy who ran to her was a being with long legs and a face just like hers, who ran up and hugged her. She clutched him tightly, in alarm. She protected herself trembling. Because life was in peril. She loved the world, loved what had been created — she loved with nausea. The same way she’d always been fascinated by oysters, with that vaguely sick feeling she always got when nearing the truth, warning her. She embraced her son, nearly to the point of hurting him. As if she had learned of an evil — the blind man or the lovely Botanical Garden? — she clung to him, whom she loved more than anything. She had been touched by the demon of faith. Life is horrible, she said to him softly, ravenous. What would she do if she heeded the call of the blind man? She would go alone … There were places poor and rich that needed her. She needed them … I’m scared, she said. She felt the child’s delicate ribs between her arms, heard his frightened sobbing. Mama, the boy called. She held him away from her, looked at that face, her heart cringed. Don’t let Mama forget you, she told him. As soon as the child felt her embrace loosen, he broke free and fled to the bedroom door, looking at her from greater safety. It was the worst look she had ever received. The blood rushed to her face, warming it.

She let herself fall into a chair, her fingers still gripping the mesh sack. What was she ashamed of?

There was no escape. The days she had forged had ruptured the crust and the water was pouring out. She was facing the oyster. And there was no way not to look at it. What was she ashamed of? That it was no longer compassion, it wasn’t just compassion: her heart had filled with the worst desire to live.

She no longer knew whether she was on the side of the blind man or the dense plants. The man had gradually receded into the distance and in torture she seemed to have gone over to the side of whoever had wounded his eyes. The Botanical Garden, tranquil and tall, was revealing this to her. In horror she was discovering that she belonged to the strong part of the world — and what name should she give her violent mercy? She would have to kiss the leper, since she would never be just his sister. A blind man led me to the worst in myself, she thought in alarm. She felt banished because no pauper would drink water from her ardent hands. Ah! it was easier to be a saint than a person! By God, hadn’t it been real, the compassion that had fathomed the deepest waters of her heart? But it was the compassion of a lion.

Humiliated, she knew the blind man would prefer a poorer love. And, trembling, she also knew why. The life of the Botanical Garden was calling her as a werewolf is called by the moonlight. Oh! but she loved the blind man! she thought with moist eyes. Yet this wasn’t the feeling you’d go to church with. I’m scared, she said alone in the living room. She got up and went to the kitchen to help the maid with dinner.

But life made her shiver, like a chill. She heard the school bell, distant and constant. The little horror of the dust threading together the underside of the oven, where she discovered the little spider. Carrying the vase to change its water — there was the horror of the flower surrendering languid and sickening to her hands. The same secret labor was underway there in the kitchen. Near the trash can, she crushed the ant with her foot. The little murder of the ant. The tiny body trembled. The water droplets were dripping into the stagnant water in the laundry sink. The summer beetles. The horror of the inexpressive beetles. All around was a silent, slow, persistent life. Horror, horror. She paced back and forth across the kitchen, slicing the steaks, stirring the sauce. Round her head, circling, round the light, the mosquitoes of a sweltering night. A night on which compassion was raw as bad love. Between her two breasts sweat slid down. Faith was breaking her, the heat of the stove stung her eyes.

Then her husband arrived, her brothers and their wives arrived, her brothers’ children arrived.

They ate dinner with all the windows open, on the ninth floor. An airplane went shuddering past, threatening in the heat of the sky. Though made with few eggs, the dinner was good. Her children stayed up too, playing on the rug with the others. It was summer, it would be pointless to send them to bed. Ana was a little pale and laughed softly with the others.

After dinner, at last, the first cooler breeze came in through the windows. They sat around the table, the family. Worn out from the day, glad not to disagree, so ready not to find fault. They laughed at everything, with kind and human hearts. The children were growing up admirably around them. And as if it were a butterfly, Ana caught the instant between her fingers before it was never hers again.

Later, when everyone had gone and the children were already in bed, she was a brute woman looking out the window. The city was asleep and hot. Would whatever the blind man had unleashed fit into her days? How many years would it take for her to grow old again? The slightest movement and she’d trample one of the children. But with a lover’s mischief, she seemed to accept that out of the flower emerged the mosquito, that the giant water lilies floated on the darkness of the lake. The blind man dangled among the fruits of the Botanical Garden.

If that was the oven exploding, the whole house would already be on fire! she thought rushing into the kitchen and finding her husband in front of the spilled coffee.

“What happened?!” she screamed vibrating all over.

He jumped at his wife’s fright. And suddenly laughed in comprehension:

“It was nothing,” he said, “I’m just clumsy.” He looked tired, bags under his eyes.

But encountering Ana’s strange face, he peered at her with greater attention. Then he drew her close, in a swift caress.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you, ever!” she said.

“At least let the oven explode at me,” he answered smiling.

She stayed limp in his arms. This afternoon something tranquil had burst, and a humorous, sad tone was hanging over the house. “Time for bed,” he said, “it’s late.” In a gesture that wasn’t his, but that seemed natural, he held his wife’s hand, taking her along without looking back, removing her from the danger of living.

The dizziness of benevolence was over.

And, if she had passed through love and its hell, she was now combing her hair before the mirror, for an instant with no world at all in her heart. Before going to bed, as if putting out a candle, she blew out the little flame of the day.

[eolewyn1010]

Taking another turn in the "holding myself accountable" department, let's see.

Things that went good:

I had to run around the goddamn city twice to find my doctor's vacation substitute because they didn't put that online, but I managed a call, a personal visit, and for now, my antidepressant supply is secured. Go me.

The substitute doctor is super cute, and not in a crush way but in a "I wanna adopt him" kinda way.

We used up the cheese before it went bad, and the mushrooms too. Go prevention of food wastage.

My hydration streak is going so well, you guys.

Getting used to actually getting up when the alarm rings. It's starting to take effect; I'm getting tired way before midnight now. We'll get there.

I got dressed the third day in a row!

Despite the fucking idiots sending us the wrong parts, we repaired the toilet hinges... by exchanging the seat entirely. Whatever; it's done.

I started a new needlework project! I bought the linen for the pirate shirt literal years ago, and it's time to finally make that a thing. Cutting is finished, seams started.

I replied to my pending messages on Discord. Hoping I haven't offended my friend by letting them wait for an answer for more than a week :( Sorry Pip, my brain was being weird.

Things that went not so good:

Wandering around the city in the heat left me with a blister. Summer is not merciful on my feet, but neither am I.

Brushing my teeth twice a day instead of once is still an on-off thing. I need to stabilize that.

Still haven't written a comment on my friend's new chapter.

Things I could do tomorrow:

Write that comment on my friend's fic chapter. They really deserve it; the chapter was so good.

Calisthenics. Tis that time again. It's hot, so I will hate it, but I can do it.

Watch more Bernadette Banner, bc I'm a simple soul and that's what ultimately got me back into sewing.

Things I could do these days:

I should really text my friend. We haven't heard from each other since I came home from visiting them, and if I wait for them not to be busy before I dare to approach them, we'll never get to a movie night or some talking.

More sewing! I'm so looking forward to how the shirt is going to look when I have that and the cravat done. And, fingers crossed, by the end of the week my new fabrics should be here.

Go shopping with my mom; I'll pick her up from work at Thursday. Thank heavens for AC in shops.

Read more of the Terry Pratchett book I've started. I love Pratchett's writing, and I haven't really sat down to read in months.

[castoelect]

Aluminum to Copper Brazing Flux Cored Wires—Shop Now: 8851310039

Brazing is a critical process in various industrial applications where joining dissimilar metals like aluminum and copper is required. Aluminum to Copper Brazing Flux Cored Wires are innovative solutions designed to simplify the brazing process while ensuring strong, durable, and reliable joints. These wires are particularly valuable in industries such as HVAC, automotive, aerospace, and electrical engineering, where lightweight, corrosion-resistant, and conductive materials are paramount.

What are the Brazing Flux-Cored Wires?

Brazing Flux Cored Wires are specialized brazing wires with a core filled with flux material. Flux is essential in the brazing process because it helps remove oxides, prevents oxidation, and promotes wetting by allowing the filler material to flow smoothly over the surfaces being joined. This eliminates the need for separate flux application, reducing process complexity and improving efficiency.

In the context of aluminum-to-copper brazing, the flux inside the cored wire is carefully formulated to handle the unique challenges posed by these metals. Aluminum forms a stable and hard-to-remove oxide layer, while copper's high thermal conductivity can make achieving uniform heating difficult. Flux-cored wires address these issues effectively, ensuring a seamless and reliable bond.

Advantages of Aluminum to Copper Brazing Flux-Cored Wires

Until now, the flux-cored braze wires by Shop Castron Electrode provide the following advantages:

Simplified Brazing Process: The integration of flux into the wire eliminates the need for a separate flux application step. This reduces preparation time, minimizes potential errors, and ensures consistent application across joints.

Superior Joint Strength: The filler material in flux-cored wires is engineered to create robust bonds between aluminum and copper, even under thermal and mechanical stress. These joints are suitable for high-performance applications.

Enhanced Corrosion Resistance: Brazed joints using flux-cored wires are less prone to corrosion, making them ideal for applications in humid or chemically aggressive environments, such as HVAC systems and marine equipment.

Optimized Thermal and Electrical Conductivity: Copper is known for its excellent electrical and thermal conductivity, while aluminum is valued for being lightweight. Flux-cored wires facilitate efficient bonding without compromising these critical properties.

Cost-Effectiveness: The streamlined brazing process reduces labor costs and waste, making flux-cored wires a cost-effective choice for mass production or repair applications.

Key Applications

HVAC Systems: Joining aluminum and copper components in heat exchangers and refrigerant circuits.

Automotive Industry: Brazing aluminum radiators and copper piping in thermal management systems.

Aerospace: Fabricating lightweight yet strong connections in airframes and electrical systems.

Electrical Engineering: Creating high-conductivity connections in power systems and electronics.

Best Practices for Use

To achieve optimal results with aluminum-to-copper brazing flux-cored wires, the following practices are recommended:

Surface Preparation: Ensure the surfaces to be joined are clean and free from grease, dirt, or heavy oxides.

Heating Technique: Use controlled and even heating, avoiding overheating, which can damage the metals or filler.

Wire Handling: Store the wires in a dry environment to prevent moisture absorption, which could impact the flux’s performance.

Conclusion

Aluminum to copper brazing flux-cored wires represent a significant advancement in metallurgical joining technologies. By simplifying the brazing process and delivering reliable, high-strength joints, these wires empower industries to achieve better performance and efficiency. Whether in critical HVAC systems or sophisticated aerospace applications, they ensure durability, conductivity, and corrosion resistance, making them an indispensable tool in modern manufacturing and repair processes. For further details, visit https://shop.castonelectrode.in/2024/07/26/copper-brazing-flux/

[akshay121314]

Applications of Hastelloy B2 Round Bars in the Chemical and Aerospace Industries

Hastelloy B2 is a high-performance alloy known for its excellent resistance to corrosion, particularly in highly acidic environments. This makes it a popular choice in industries such as chemical processing and aerospace. One of the key forms in which Hastelloy B2 is supplied is as Hastelloy B2 round bars, which are used in a variety of critical applications where strength and resistance to corrosion are essential.

1. Chemical Industry Applications

In the chemical industry, Hastelloy B2 round bars are primarily used for equipment and components that come into contact with highly corrosive chemicals. This alloy’s ability to resist attack from acids, especially hydrochloric acid and other chlorides, makes it ideal for use in reactors, piping systems, and heat exchangers where exposure to aggressive chemicals is common.

For example, Hastelloy B2 round bars are used to make valves, pumps, and pressure vessels that handle harsh chemical reactions. These components must not only be resistant to corrosion but also capable of maintaining strength under high pressure and temperature. Hastelloy B2, with its strong resistance to stress corrosion cracking and pitting, helps ensure the durability and reliability of these critical parts.

2. Corrosion-Resistant Equipment

The chemical industry often deals with substances that can cause severe corrosion over time, leading to equipment failures, maintenance costs, and safety hazards. Hastelloy B2 round bars provide an effective solution by offering long-lasting corrosion resistance, thus reducing the need for frequent repairs and replacements. Whether it’s in storage tanks, reaction vessels, or piping systems, Hastelloy B2’s ability to withstand chemical exposure ensures smooth operations and lowers operational costs.

3. Aerospace Industry Applications

In the aerospace industry, materials used must withstand extreme temperatures, pressures, and exposure to various atmospheric conditions. Hastelloy B2 round bars are used in components that require high strength and resistance to heat and corrosion, making them a popular choice for aircraft and spacecraft parts.

For example, Hastelloy B2 round bars are used to create turbine blades, engine components, and exhaust systems in aerospace applications. These parts are exposed to high heat and pressure during flight, and Hastelloy B2's excellent resistance to heat and corrosion ensures that they perform reliably. The alloy's strength, even at elevated temperatures, makes it ideal for maintaining the structural integrity of aerospace components.

4. Heat Exchangers and Other High-Temperature Applications

In both the chemical and aerospace industries, heat exchangers are essential for transferring heat between different substances. These components must be made from materials that can handle high temperatures without degrading. Hastelloy B2 round bars are an excellent choice for heat exchangers in both industries, as they maintain their strength and resist corrosion at high temperatures. This makes them perfect for use in systems that involve heating or cooling chemical substances or exhaust gases.

5. Welding and Fabrication

Another significant application of Hastelloy B2 round bars is in welding and fabrication. In both the chemical and aerospace industries, welding is often required to join parts made from Hastelloy B2. Due to its excellent welding properties, Hastelloy B2 round bars can be easily welded to create custom parts and components for various industrial applications. This flexibility is crucial in industries where bespoke solutions are often needed to meet specific design or operational requirements.

6. Specialized Components for Harsh Environments

Both the chemical and aerospace industries deal with environments where few materials can thrive. Hastelloy B2 round bars are ideal for applications in these extreme environments because they maintain their structural integrity and resist damage from corrosive chemicals, high temperatures, and mechanical stress. These properties make Hastelloy B2 a preferred material for specialized components used in equipment such as distillation columns, reactors, and components within rocket engines.

7. Long-Term Durability and Performance

In industries like chemical processing and aerospace, downtime due to equipment failure can be costly. The durability and high-performance characteristics of Hastelloy B2 round bars help prevent such issues. Their resistance to corrosion and high strength ensure that they last longer, requiring fewer repairs and replacements. This leads to increased productivity, fewer operational disruptions, and reduced maintenance costs.

Conclusion

Hastelloy B2 round bars are essential components in both the chemical and aerospace industries due to their excellent resistance to corrosion, high strength, and ability to perform in extreme environments. Whether in chemical reactors, heat exchangers, or aerospace engine parts, Hastelloy B2’s durability and performance make it a reliable choice for industries that require materials capable of withstanding harsh conditions. By using Hastelloy B2 round bars, companies in these sectors can ensure that their equipment operates efficiently, safely, and for longer periods, ultimately contributing to the success and sustainability of their operations.

[smspumpsengineers]

Reputed Centrifugal Chemical Pump Manufacturer in India

SMS Pump & Engineers is a leading company specializing in the design and manufacture of centrifugal pumps, chemical pumps and connected equipment, primarily for chemical, food, fabric, ceramic, laminate, car, paper industries, solvent transfers, warmth exchangers, and numerous various other commercial markets. SMS Pump & Engineers has actually simply dispatched numerous orders of centrifugal and chemical pumps to the reputed chemical sector.

The esteemed chemical market with a solid reputation in the chemical field and huge understanding of the marketplace, combined with our bespoke centrifugal and chemical pumps for bringing a winning suggestion of strong innovation and manufacturing.

Our pump's adaptability to industrial requirements makes it an effective device for markets to attain targets. With their high performances, our commercial pumps are prepared to meet the demands of future energy efficiency policies.

At SMS Pump & Engineers, we take on all obstacles to develop a world-class series of commercial pumps. As a leading centrifugal chemical pump manufacturer, our products are created to do exceptionally well across all stress applications, from low to high.

Below in this blog, we have compiled a few of the details of why the chemical market selected our pumps, what is centrifugal and chemical pumps, their advantages and applications, just how these pumps operate in the chemical market, and extra.

Why Did The Reputed Chemical Sector Choose SMS Pump & Engineers Pumps?

SMS Pump & Engineers pumps were mostly chosen as a result of their high performance and resulting low power usage.

At SMS Pump & Engineers, we make pumps for transferring destructive liquids, like acids, slurries, and wastewater drainage, and designed with rust resistance to lower repair service and substitute expenditures.

By using our chemical-resistant pump, markets can reduce the ecological effect of corroded cast iron pumps. Built to be durable and to stand up to a range of chemicals, it assures that no damages is caused due to chemicals. As a relied on centrifugal multi stage pump manufacturer, we provide trustworthy solutions for requiring applications.

What Is A Centrifugal Pump?

A centrifugal pump is a mechanical device used to relocate liquids by the conversion of rotational kinetic energy from one or more driven rotors, called impellers.

Fluid gets in the pump impeller along its axis and is increased out by centrifugal force.

This activity of the impeller results in the rise of the fluid's rate and pressure that routes it towards the pump electrical outlet.

The pump casing is innovatively designed to tighten the fluid from the inlet, network it right into the impeller, and then it reduces and regulate the liquid before getting discharged.

Due to its high flow rate abilities, abrasive remedy compatibility, as well as their fairly simple design, it is the very best option in the industries.

What Is A Chemical Pump?

When the regular pumps cannot help, chemical pumps pertain to the rescue.

Chemical pumps are used to move chemicals and chemical slurries. They are specially developed to be corrosion and abrasive resistant to industrial fluids such as solvents, bleach, paint, and so on.

These pumps are likewise used to move liquids at high pressure. It is also discovered practical in providing flow dimension and control for applications that need specific volumes of chemicals.

Chemical pumps come to be needed for industries relocating destructive and rough fluids of numerous degrees of viscosity, such as sulphuric acids, acetic acid, and sodium hypochlorite.

Chemical pumps are extra resilient contrasted to standard pumps and quickly pump hot, cold, eruptive, aggressive, toxic, unstable, and polluted liquids.

They are mostly made use of in food processing, petrochemical, and chemical markets, in addition to in the off-site application of high-temperature heating systems.

How Do Centrifugal & Chemical Pumps Operate In Chemical Industry?

Because of the destructive and extreme nature of chemicals, they must be dealt with meticulously. Thus, excellent pump selection is critical to stand up to the details harsh chemicals.

In many chemical industries, important chemical compounds such as solvents, acids, polymers, and so on, are made use of in the manufacturing process. This develops the need of efficient liquid monitoring to ensure a safe setting and a productive production process.

Centrifugal and chemical pumps are unique and the perfect option for chemical sectors, since they have the capacity to provide high flow prices and changes, which can be performed in the circulation rates according to the TDH of the piping system.

These pumps are suitable for numerous commercial applications from storage space and dumping to filtering and blood circulation.

Both pumps deal with maximum efficiency to offer optimum performance and dependability with excellent stability at various operating factors. As a leading vertical centrifugal pump manufacturer, we ensure our designs satisfy the highest criteria for performance and toughness.

Read more about leading thermic fluid pump manufacturer in India.

Salient Features of Centrifugal & Chemical Pump

Chemical Resistance

Rough Resistance

Highly Durable

Energy-Saving

Easy Circulation

Low Maintenance

Robust building and construction

Applications of Centrifugal & Chemical Pump

Cold And Hot Water Circulation

Cooling Towers Installation

Chemical Plant

Acid transfer

Petroleum Industries

Paper Industries

Steel Industries

Chemical Industries

Sugar Plants

Textile Industries

Ceramic Industries

Solvent Transfer

Food Industries

Laminate Industries

Automobile Industries

SMS Pump & Engineers - A Leading Producer of Industrial Pumps in Ahmedabad, India.

In the fast-growing chemical sectors, there is a significant demand for high-performing industrial pumps that are maintenance-free and likewise satisfy various industrial challenges.

Whether you're seeking pumps to handle rough slurries, thick liquids, or high-temperature fluids - you can trust SMS Pump & Engineers to give you with a reliable pumping option.

SMS Pump & Engineers is a no. 1 supplier of centrifugal pumps, chemical pumps and thermic fluid pump. With a long background of producing premium industrial pumps, our pumps guarantee you of performance, reliability, and longevity.

[metinoxoverseas123]

Stainless Steel 304L Heat Exchanger Tubes: Key Features, Benefits, and Applications

Stainless steel is a crucial material in the manufacturing of heat exchangers due to its excellent mechanical properties and corrosion resistance. Among the different grades, Stainless Steel 304L stands out for its low carbon content, making it ideal for high-performance heat exchanger tubes. This blog explores the key features, benefits, and applications of Stainless Steel 304L Heat Exchanger Tubes in various industries.

What is Stainless Steel 304L?

Stainless Steel 304L is a variation of the standard 304 grade with a lower carbon content (0.03% max), which enhances its corrosion resistance, especially in environments prone to sensitization. This makes it suitable for applications requiring welding without the risk of grain boundary carbide precipitation, which can lead to corrosion in high temperatures.

Key Features of Stainless Steel 304L Heat Exchanger Tubes

Enhanced Corrosion Resistance The lower carbon content in Stainless Steel 304L reduces the risk of corrosion in environments with high temperatures or in situations where welding is required. It provides superior protection against localized corrosion, such as pitting and crevice corrosion, making it ideal for heat exchanger tubes used in aggressive media.

Application: Chemical processing plants, oil refineries, and marine environments.

Keywords: corrosion resistance, 304L stainless steel, heat exchanger corrosion.

Weldability Without Sensitization One of the primary advantages of Stainless Steel 304L over standard 304 is its resistance to sensitization during welding. Sensitization can occur in high-carbon stainless steels, leading to chromium carbide precipitation at the grain boundaries, which compromises corrosion resistance. The low carbon content in 304L avoids this issue, making it perfect for welded heat exchangers.

Application: Heat exchangers requiring extensive welding and fabrication.

Keywords: weldability, 304L stainless steel, heat exchanger tubes.

High Temperature Resistance Similar to 304, Stainless Steel 304L exhibits excellent strength and resistance to scaling at elevated temperatures. It is capable of withstanding both extreme heat and cold, making it a versatile choice for heat exchangers exposed to fluctuating temperatures.

Application: High-temperature industrial processes, energy production, and oil and gas.

Keywords: temperature resistance, high heat capacity, industrial heat exchangers.

Low Maintenance and Long Lifespan Stainless Steel 304L requires minimal maintenance due to its corrosion-resistant properties. It resists scaling, fouling, and buildup, which ensures smooth operation and reduces the need for frequent cleaning and downtime, making it cost-effective over its lifespan.

Application: Food processing, pharmaceutical industries, and HVAC systems.

Keywords: low maintenance, long-lasting heat exchangers, stainless steel tubes.

Benefits of Stainless Steel 304L Heat Exchanger Tubes

1. Cost-Efficient Solution

Although Stainless Steel 304L may come at a slightly higher upfront cost than carbon steel or other materials, its superior durability and resistance to corrosion make it a cost-effective solution in the long term. Reduced need for repairs or replacement ensures a favorable lifecycle cost.

Keywords: cost-efficient, durable heat exchangers, long-term investment.

2. Excellent Mechanical Properties

Despite its lower carbon content, 304L retains excellent mechanical properties, including tensile strength and ductility. This makes it a versatile material suitable for a wide range of industrial applications, including those with high mechanical stresses.

Keywords: mechanical strength, tensile strength, heat exchanger tube properties.

3. Hygienic and Non-Reactive

The hygienic properties of Stainless Steel 304L make it suitable for industries that prioritize cleanliness, such as food and beverage processing, pharmaceuticals, and healthcare. Its non-reactive surface prevents contamination, ensuring safety in sensitive applications.

Keywords: hygienic heat exchangers, clean surfaces, food-grade stainless steel.

4. Sustainability

Like all stainless steels, 304L is fully recyclable, making it an environmentally friendly option for industries aiming to reduce their carbon footprint. Its long lifespan further contributes to sustainability by reducing the need for frequent replacement.

Keywords: sustainable heat exchangers, recyclable stainless steel, eco-friendly materials.

Applications of Stainless Steel 304L Heat Exchanger Tubes

Chemical Processing Stainless Steel 304L's corrosion resistance and weldability make it ideal for chemical plants, where heat exchangers are exposed to corrosive chemicals, high temperatures, and pressures.

Marine Environments The high chloride content in marine environments can cause pitting and crevice corrosion in standard stainless steels. However, 304L's low carbon content enhances its ability to resist corrosion in such conditions, making it suitable for shipbuilding, offshore platforms, and desalination plants.

Food and Beverage Industry The smooth, non-reactive surface of Stainless Steel 304L makes it perfect for use in heat exchangers within the food and beverage industry. Its hygienic properties ensure the prevention of bacterial growth and contamination, meeting strict industry standards.

Pharmaceutical and Biotechnology In applications where cleanliness and contamination control are crucial, such as in pharmaceutical and biotech industries, 304L heat exchanger tubes provide an excellent solution due to their non-reactive, easy-to-clean properties.

Power Generation Power plants and energy facilities often require heat exchangers capable of withstanding high temperatures and pressures. Stainless Steel 304L, with its excellent temperature resistance and mechanical strength, is frequently used in these sectors for cooling and heat recovery applications.

Why Choose Stainless Steel 304L for Heat Exchanger Tubes?

Weldability Without Compromising Corrosion Resistance: Ideal for applications requiring welded joints or fabrications.

High Corrosion and Temperature Resistance: Performs well in harsh environments where chemicals, salts, and heat are involved.

Low Maintenance and Long Lifespan: Reduces operating costs over time due to its durability and ease of maintenance.

Safe and Hygienic: Perfect for industries like food, beverage, and pharmaceuticals that require contamination-free processes.

Conclusion

Stainless Steel 304L heat exchanger tubes are an excellent choice for industries requiring a balance of corrosion resistance, strength, and weldability. With its long lifespan, low maintenance requirements, and high performance in demanding environments, it offers both reliability and cost-effectiveness.

For more details Email: sales@metinoxpiping.com Contact: 70212 61928 If any enquiries please contact us our support team will connect you as soon as possible

[smmindustries]

THE ROLE OF COPPER NICKEL PIPES IN SHIPBUILDING AND REPAIR

In the world of shipbuilding and marine repair, material selection is crucial for ensuring durability, corrosion resistance, and efficient performance. One such material that stands out is copper-nickel (Cu-Ni) alloy, which is extensively used in the piping systems of ships. Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers have gained prominence in shipbuilding and repair due to their exceptional qualities, making them indispensable for marine applications. Let’s explore the importance of copper-nickel pipes in shipbuilding and repair, and why they have become a preferred choice for marine engineers.

1. Corrosion Resistance

The marine environment is highly corrosive due to constant exposure to saltwater, which accelerates the wear and tear of many metals. Copper-nickel alloys, particularly 90/10 (90% copper, 10% nickel) and 70/30 (70% copper, 30% nickel), offer excellent resistance to seawater corrosion. This makes Cu-Ni pipes ideal for seawater piping systems, heat exchangers, and cooling systems on ships. The natural formation of a protective oxide film on the copper-nickel surface further enhances its resistance to corrosion, increasing the longevity of these pipes.

2. Anti-Fouling Properties

Marine organisms such as algae, barnacles, and mussels tend to attach to submerged structures, causing fouling. This biofouling can clog pipes and reduce the efficiency of heat transfer in ship systems. Copper-nickel alloys have inherent anti-fouling properties, preventing the accumulation of marine life on the surfaces of pipes. This self-cleaning nature ensures the smooth operation of seawater systems, reducing maintenance requirements and the risk of system failures.

3. High Strength and Ductility

In addition to corrosion resistance, Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers provide high mechanical strength and ductility, which are essential for the demanding conditions of shipbuilding. These pipes can withstand the high pressures and temperatures present in marine systems, making them suitable for critical applications like fuel lines, hydraulic systems, and fire-fighting systems. Moreover, their ductility allows for easy fabrication and installation, enabling shipbuilders to create complex piping systems without compromising structural integrity.

4. Thermal Conductivity

Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers have excellent thermal conductivity, which makes them ideal for use in heat exchangers and condensers. On ships, heat exchangers are essential for cooling engines and other systems by transferring heat from seawater to cooling fluids. The high thermal conductivity of Cu-Ni pipes enhances the efficiency of heat transfer, ensuring optimal performance of onboard systems.

5. Cost-Effectiveness and Longevity

Although copper-nickel pipes may initially seem more expensive than other materials like stainless steel, their long-term benefits make them cost-effective. The durability, low maintenance requirements, and extended lifespan of Cu-Ni pipes result in lower operational costs over time. Ships equipped with copper-nickel piping systems experience fewer breakdowns and require less frequent replacements, translating to significant savings in maintenance and repair.

6. Versatility in Marine Repair

In ship repair, copper-nickel pipes are widely used for retrofitting and replacing damaged systems. Their compatibility with various marine systems and their ease of installation make them a preferred choice for repair crews. Whether it’s fixing a seawater cooling system or replacing corroded fuel lines, copper-nickel pipes offer a reliable and efficient solution, minimizing downtime and ensuring the vessel’s return to service in a short time.

Why Choose SMM Industries?

With years of experience in the industry, SMM Industries has established itself as a trusted Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers. Our commitment to quality, customization, and customer satisfaction makes us a preferred partner for industries worldwide. Whether you need pipes for a large-scale industrial project or a small application, we are equipped to handle all your requirements.

Contact Us

If you are looking for high-quality Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers, look no further than SMM Industries. Our expert team is here to assist you with your project needs, ensuring you get the best products at competitive prices.

Contact SMM Industries today to learn more about our Copper Nickel Pipe Manufacturers & Suppliers offerings and how we can support your next project.

To Know More  https://www.smmindustriesllp.com/the-role-of-copper-nickel-pipes-in-shipbuilding-and-repair/

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What is the grade of a Hastelloy plate?

Hastelloy plates are widely recognized for their exceptional corrosion resistance and durability, making them ideal for various industrial applications. Among the different grades available, Hastelloy C2000 plates stand out due to their superior performance in harsh environments. But what exactly sets this grade apart, and why is it commonly chosen in industries that demand resilience under extreme conditions?

What is Hastelloy C2000?

Hastelloy is a group of high-performance alloys primarily composed of nickel, molybdenum, and chromium, known for their ability to withstand the most severe environments. Hastelloy C2000, in particular, is a versatile nickel-chromium-molybdenum alloy that is specially designed to resist a broad range of corrosive elements, including sulfuric acid, hydrochloric acid, and even environments with oxidizing and reducing properties.

The addition of copper to Hastelloy C2000 further enhances its resistance to sulfuric acid, a common corrosive agent in many industrial processes. This unique composition allows Hastelloy C2000 plates to be used in industries where other materials would quickly corrode or degrade.

Key Features of Hastelloy C2000 Plates

Exceptional Corrosion Resistance: One of the primary reasons for using Hastelloy C2000 plates is their outstanding resistance to a variety of corrosive substances, making them suitable for chemical processing, petrochemical, and pharmaceutical industries.

Versatile in Different Environments: Hastelloy C2000 excels in both oxidizing and reducing environments, providing protection in processes that involve shifting chemical conditions.

High Strength and Durability: In addition to corrosion resistance, these plates offer excellent mechanical strength and can withstand high temperatures, which is essential for applications in chemical reactors, heat exchangers, and piping systems.

Improved Weldability: The C2000 grade also provides improved weldability over some other grades, allowing for easier fabrication and installation without compromising the integrity of the material.

Applications of Hastelloy C2000 Plates

Industries that require materials to operate in highly corrosive environments rely on Hastelloy C2000 plates for protection and durability. Some of the common applications include:

Chemical Processing: Due to its excellent resistance to a wide range of acids and chemicals, Hastelloy C2000 is frequently used in chemical processing plants, reactors, and containment vessels.

Pharmaceutical Manufacturing: The material's ability to resist corrosion while maintaining a clean surface makes it ideal for use in pharmaceutical and biotechnology industries, where maintaining purity is crucial.

Oil and Gas Industries: In offshore drilling and oil refining, where materials are exposed to extreme environments, Hastelloy C2000 plates are used for components such as piping, heat exchangers, and separators to ensure long-term reliability.

Power Generation: In nuclear and conventional power plants, Hastelloy C2000 is employed in systems that handle high temperatures and corrosive substances.

Why Choose Hastelloy C2000 Plates?

Selecting the right material for your application is critical to ensure efficiency and longevity. Hastelloy C2000 plates offer several advantages over other materials due to their adaptability, corrosion resistance, and ability to function in a wide range of environments. Whether you're working in chemical processing, oil and gas, or power generation, the durability and performance of Hastelloy C2000 can lead to long-term cost savings by reducing maintenance, repairs, and replacements.

Conclusion

In conclusion, Hastelloy C2000 plates represent a high-performance grade of Hastelloy that offers unparalleled corrosion resistance and strength in a variety of industrial settings. Their ability to perform in both oxidizing and reducing environments makes them a versatile choice for industries that require materials to withstand the most challenging conditions. If you're looking for a reliable material to handle extreme environments, Hastelloy C2000 plates should be at the top of your list.

Choosing the right grade of Hastelloy, especially Hastelloy C2000, ensures that your equipment and systems will last longer, perform better, and require less maintenance, making it a smart investment for any industry dealing with corrosive or high-temperature processes.

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Cobalt Alloy Haynes 188 Sheet Suppliers in India

Cobalt-based alloys have long been the material of choice for applications demanding exceptional high-temperature strength, oxidation resistance, and overall durability. Among these, the Cobalt Alloy Haynes 188 sheet stands out due to its impressive properties and versatile applications. This blog delves into the intricacies of Haynes 188, exploring its composition, properties, applications, and advantages.

What is Cobalt Alloy Haynes 188?

Cobalt Alloy Haynes 188, commonly referred to as Haynes 188 or Alloy 188, is a cobalt-nickel-chromium-tungsten alloy designed for high-temperature applications. This superalloy exhibits excellent oxidation resistance up to 1095°C (2000°F) and maintains its strength and stability at elevated temperatures, making it ideal for various demanding environments.

Composition

The chemical composition of Haynes 188 is meticulously balanced to optimize its high-temperature capabilities. The typical composition includes:

Cobalt (Co): Balance

Nickel (Ni): 20%

Chromium (Cr): 22%

Tungsten (W): 14%

Lanthanum (La): 0.02-0.12%

Carbon (C): 0.05-0.15%

Silicon (Si): 0.20-0.50%

Manganese (Mn): 0.20-1.25%

Iron (Fe): 3% max

Properties

High-Temperature Strength

Haynes 188 maintains its mechanical properties even at temperatures approaching 1095°C (2000°F). Its high yield and tensile strengths at elevated temperatures make it suitable for components exposed to extreme thermal conditions.

Oxidation and Hot Corrosion Resistance

One of the standout features of Haynes 188 is its superior oxidation resistance, making it suitable for prolonged exposure to high temperatures. The addition of chromium and lanthanum enhances the alloy's ability to form a stable, adherent oxide layer, protecting the underlying material from corrosive environments.

Fabrication and Weldability

Haynes 188 is readily fabricated by conventional methods. It can be welded using standard techniques, including gas tungsten arc welding (GTAW) and gas metal arc welding (GMAW), without the need for preheating or post-weld heat treatment.

Applications

The unique properties of Haynes 188 make it indispensable in various high-temperature applications, including:

Gas Turbine Engines

Haynes 188 is extensively used in gas turbine engines, particularly in combustor components, transition ducts, and afterburner liners. Its ability to withstand extreme temperatures and resist oxidation makes it ideal for these demanding environments.

Aerospace Industry

In the aerospace sector, Haynes 188 is employed in components exposed to high thermal stress, such as exhaust systems and heat shields. Its reliability and durability ensure the safe and efficient operation of aircraft.

Industrial Heating

Haynes 188 finds applications in industrial heating systems, including heat exchangers and furnace components. Its resistance to thermal fatigue and oxidation prolongs the lifespan of these critical components.

Advantages of Haynes 188

Longevity and Reliability

The exceptional high-temperature performance of Haynes 188 ensures the longevity and reliability of components, reducing maintenance costs and downtime.

Versatility

Haynes 188's versatility in fabrication and welding allows for the creation of complex components tailored to specific high-temperature applications.

Cost-Effectiveness

Despite its premium cost, the durability and extended service life of Haynes 188 components offer long-term cost savings by minimizing replacements and repairs.

Conclusion

Cobalt Alloy Haynes 188 sheet is a remarkable material, engineered to excel in the most demanding high-temperature environments. Its exceptional properties, including high-temperature strength, oxidation resistance, and ease of fabrication, make it a preferred choice in industries such as aerospace, gas turbines, and industrial heating. By choosing Haynes 188, engineers and manufacturers can ensure the performance and longevity of critical components, ultimately leading to more efficient and reliable systems.

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Cheap non-woven bag factory in HCMC

Non-woven bag factory specializes in producing non-woven bags, a type of bag made from recycled materials, environmentally friendly.

Non-woven fabric bags are commonly used for many purposes such as gifts, advertising, carrying goods, and events.Non-woven bag factory

Types of non-woven fabric bags

Non-woven bags with handles This is the most popular type of bag, often used to hold goods, gifts, or in events. Bags with handles are convenient, easy to carry, and can be customized in size, color, and logo printing as required.

Non-woven drawstring bag This bag has a drawstring design at the mouth of the bag, which helps protect the items inside and is easy to open or close. This type of bag is often used to hold gifts, cosmetics, or personal items.

Non-woven box bag The bag has a box-shaped design with sturdy edges, often used to store products that need to be well preserved such as gift boxes, food, or fragile goods. This type of bag has better load-bearing capacity than regular bags.

Laminated non-woven bags These bags are coated with a glossy or matte film on the outside, which increases the aesthetics and durability of the bag. Laminated non-woven bags are often used in promotional events or as high-end gift bags.

Non-woven fabric bag with zipper This type of bag has a zipper design to protect the items inside. Often used as a bag to hold documents, files, or personal items that need to be carefully preserved.

Eco-friendly non-woven bags These bags are made from biodegradable, environmentally friendly non-woven fabrics and are often used in environmental protection campaigns or green events.

Non-woven bag factory

Process at non-woven bag factory

The production process at a non-woven bag factory usually includes the following steps:

1. Prepare ingredients

Fabric selection: Non-woven fabric is selected based on the requirements of thickness, color, and technical characteristics of the bag.

Fabric Cutting: The fabric is cut into pieces of suitable size according to the required design.

Non-woven bag factory

2. Design and printing

Sample design: The sewing factory creates a bag design based on the customer's requirements. This design includes size, style, and printing elements such as logos, slogans, or images.

Printing: The design is printed onto the fabric using printing methods such as silk screen printing, heat transfer printing, or digital printing, depending on customer requirements and order quantity.

Non-woven bag factory

3. Cut and sew

Fabric Cutting: After printing, the fabric is cut into separate parts such as the bag body, bag bottom, and bag handle.

Sewing the bag: The fabric pieces are sewn together to form the finished product. This step includes sewing the body of the bag, sewing the handles, and creating additional details such as drawstrings or zippers if applicable.

Non-woven bag factory

4. Quality control

Product inspection: Finished fabric bags are inspected for sewing quality, durability, and printing details. Products that do not meet requirements will be edited or discarded.

Packing: The finished fabric bags are packed as per the specifications and quantity required by the customer. The packing process also includes a final check on the quality and quantity of the product.

Non-woven bag factory

5. Delivery

Transportation: After packaging, the fabric bags are delivered to the customer at the agreed address and time. The garment factory can use professional transportation services or transport itself depending on the distance and quantity of goods.

6. Customer care and after-sales

Feedback: After delivery, the garment factory often monitors and records feedback from customers to improve service.

Support: If the customer has any problems with the product, the factory will provide support, including repair, exchange, or other warranty services if necessary.

Non-woven bag factory

Zozo fabric bag factory

Zozo fabric bag factory specializes in providing all kinds of fabric bags such as: canvas bags, jute bags , non-woven bags, burlap bags , etc.

Printing quality : The factory provides printing services on demand, with modern printing technology to ensure sharpness and color fastness for designs printed on bags.

Design service : Zozo supports designing bag models according to customer requirements, from choosing materials to completing the product.

Large quantity response : With large production capacity, the factory can respond to large quantity orders for businesses, organizations, or events.

Environmentally friendly : Zozo is committed to using environmentally friendly non-woven fabrics, contributing to environmental protection and sustainable development.Non-woven bag factory

Contact information

ZOZO FABRIC BAG FACTORY

Hotline: 0879679686

Email: xuongzozo99@gmail.com

Time:  8:00-17:30

Address:  No. 8, T4B Street, Tay Thanh, Tan Phu, HCMC

Factory:  965/36/29 Quang Trung, Ward 14, Go Vap, HCM

Fanpage: Xuongmaytuivai

See also:

Cheap jute gift bags

Receive non-woven bag making Phu Nhuan

Receive orders for white non-woven bags in Go Vap 

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Heat Exchangers Manufacturing I Altex Industries

Altex Industries ranks as one of the top Canadian manufacturing companies. Get high-quality heat exchanger engineering, fabrication, and field services with Altex!