#hot pipe insulation

[refractoryinsulation]

Maintenance and Installation of Hot Pipe Insulation

Many of these systems depend on pipes moving heat efficiently. Inefficiently insulated pipes waste energy, are dangerous, and harm the environment. Hot pipe insulation improves industrial efficiency, safety, and carbon footprint.

Source Link: https://www.statusthoughts.com/guidance-on-hot-pipe-insulation-for-industrial-heating-systems/

[unopenablebox]

my big contributions to the household, "take restless people for recreational grocery shopping", "smilingly reexplain things other people explained already, but when they said it it seemed like they could experience an emotion, so it didn't count", and "cook short ribs so delicious that even the pickiest man alive cannot reject them for inadequacy"

[semi-sketchy]

I talked my mom into buying a home mold test kit.

This is like the 4th time this year I've had a tonsil infection. I'm basically never sick, but the past two years have been near constant throat issues. I know I have severe allergies, been an issue since I was a baby, but this is getting stupid.

The bathroom that had a leak for a month and no one believed me until I got a wild hair and tore into my closet wall like "I TOLD YOU I HEARD DRIPPING" is, as you can guess, on the other side of my room. I swear when I come back from being gone awhile, my room smells so musty. I can't close my closet door, that just makes the odor worse.

The bathroom itself is not properly ventilated, with the walls around the shower spotted with mold, the curtain turning color after about 4 days, and mold on the trim.

We found out our HVAC condensation had been leaking into our ducts as well as just harboring water from our last water heater that leaked years ago. We spent all day pretending to be HVAC people and replacing the wet flex-ducts ourselves.

My dad wanted to sell seedlings for extra money and we had approximately 1,200 plants in our house during the spring, essentially turning our space into a grow house. (He INSISTS there was nothing wrong with this and he's gonna do it again. I didn't spend my days scrubbing the mold off our windows and blackened vent covers for him to fuck it up again, I'll stop him by force if I have to.)

Yeah. I know there's mold. The question is HOW MUCH? We treated things the best we could, I used mold products and not bleach, we have a MERV 13 furnace filter, several HEPA air purifiers and run a dehumidifier in the crawl space.

You have no idea how much I wish I could just pack up and move out of this house, it really needs to just be torn down. Even Bowie (my cat) is having allergy issues.

[avengineers]

All types of insulation material suppliers in Greater Noida

We are all types of insulation material suppliers in Noida , we provide various types of insulation including storage tanks, different grades of pipes, vessels, reactors & various equipment for a wide range of process industries.along with that we provide Hot water piping,Warm water piping ,CIP piping &Chiller piping ,HVAC piping.

For more details please visit our website-https://avengineersefp.com/service/hot-and-cold-insulation/

[sterlingengineers]

Industrial Boilers and Parts Manufacturer & Supplier in Pune, India

Industrial Boilers and Parts Manufacturer & Supplier in Pune, India.

Sterling Engineers and Boilers Pvt. Ltd.

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[kktechecoproducts]

Hot Water Geyser | KK Tech Eco Products

KK Tech Eco Products' upright electric Hot Water Geyser provides exceptional performance while also providing the convenience of electricity. Our single and double-element models are available in a variety of sizes to accommodate a wide range of household requirements. Bradford White quality includes the HydroJet® Total Performance System to reduce costly sediment buildup and Vitraglas® enamel tank lining to extend the life of your water heater.

[hellenhighwater]

In a truly shocking twist, my house has NOT been leaking heat since the furnace died six days ago. I normally keep the house between 66-68 in the winter, because it does heat unevenly and if I go any warmer, it's too hot in the bedrooms. The furnace died, and the house dropped to 58, but with the addition of three small electric space heaters, the house has held temp between 61-65 F the entire time, which is remarkable given that it's been sub-freezing the whole time and this sucker is made of 1860s wood. I'm not complaining! I was just hoping to make sure my pipes didn't burst. I thought old houses were supposed to be leaky and drafty and hard to keep warm.

My current theory is that Malice and Vice have been stuffing their shed cat hair into the walls, and it's fantastic insulation.

[thatbitchkayla31]

I need someone to tell me that releasing my cats into the crawl space attic to let them hunt down the squirrels is a bad idea

[eowynstwin]

reviewing the prelude / neighbors

previous

On a cold winter's day in the early morning hours, you knock on your neighbor Captain John Price's door to make a noise complaint. - John realizes belatedly that perhaps he’s doing it again, coming on too strong. - ao3

There is no noise next door.

Silence, in Price's line of work, almost always precludes trouble. The quiet stalk of a fireteam toward an objective; the abrupt halt of an informant’s intel. Never good. Always the guarantee of a day’s bad end.

Usually, he can hear the creak of your mattress as you get up—the thing must be ancient, and he’s concerned for your back—and the rumble of your plumbing as you turn on the sink first thing in the morning. You’re always up about an hour and a half after he is, close to eight-thirty, and you usually meet him outside about an hour later. Slow riser, you are.

(He tries not to fantasize too much about tiptoeing around in the mornings as you snuggle in his bed, wrapped in his blankets as he gets breakfast ready for the both of you.)

But today there’s not a whisper of your horrible bedsprings from the other side of the wall. The pipes remain silent. When he steps outside today, he will be alone.

You’re gone for two days. He can handle that long. He can.

Still, he lingers in bed the first morning, agitated, too warm in the sheets but stubbornly trying to act like he’s still perfectly comfortable. It doesn’t work. The bed linens dampen as he starts sweating, and his morning wood is more insistent than it usually is. He sighs and gets up, lays the blankets back to let them air dry, and gets his day started.

Once he’s in the shower, and the water has warmed enough to step into, John angles the shower head to spray a little higher and leans against the cool tile wall. Hot water pounds his chest, streaming down between his pectorals and over the jumping muscles of his stomach as he takes his cock in hand and gives it a stroke from head to root. He closes his eyes.

John does not have any shame in jerking off, not really, but a niggling something always tickles the back of his mind when he thinks of you while doing it. Like he’s being too pushy, even in his own head, when he knows that you’re not on the same page as him yet.

He shouldn’t be thinking of your hand wrapped around him instead, as his fingers cover your clit and dip into your cunt, when he’s not even sure you will have him at all. John does not like to indulge in fantasy that cannot become reality.

I wanted to touch you. John snarls, bucking into his hand.

He hadn’t lied to you. He hadn’t. He can wait as long as you need. If he gets to have you, he wants you eager. He wants you certain. He wants you to relax into him without fear or doubt. Whatever he wants from you is secondary to that—he can’t enjoy himself, enjoy you, if you don’t trust him.

Would you trust him if you knew you inspired his hand to wrap around his cock?

He doesn’t know. He’s not sure. All he knows is that after he left that night, you did the exact same thing he’s doing now. That has to mean something.

He remembers it—your distant cry making it to him through drywall, insulation, and the patter of his own shower, and if he closes his eyes he can almost fool himself now, as hot water slides down his back and chest, that he can hear it again—

I wanted to touch you—

He comes, short and hard, palm sliding fast up and down his shaft, groaning roughly as his cum hits the tile. Water streams down around his face in steady rivulets, joining it.

He wants you to trust him. He wants you to let him spoil you rotten.

Turning the water off once he finishes his shower, John keeps thinking as he absently towels off. He keeps getting the sense that there’s something he’s missing.

If you want him—and he knows now, you do want him—why haven’t you said anything? He thinks about all of the times he’s tried to flirt, tried to make his interest known, only for you to treat it like a joke. Incorrigible, you call him, as if his overtures are the result of some unsatisfied appetite. As if you haven’t, from the very start, given him every reason imaginable to want you.

He studies himself in the bathroom mirror as he touches up his beard, remembering the linger of your gaze across his body. He is not a vain man, not quite, but even he might like to preen a bit over how good he looks for pushing forty. He can’t keep up with Ghost at the racks, nor Gaz on the track circuit, and Soap has him beat at the punching bags, but Price has logged every personal best within the last three years. His shoulders are broad, his chest hard and defined, and his waist tapers nicely down to wide thighs and full calves.

He runs a hand across his stomach. He’d never managed, though, to get the cut look he sees in perfume ads and superhero movies these days. Is that what women like now? Is that what you like?

If it was a complete lack of attraction on your part, he’d understand. But Price is a details man. He misses nothing, especially when it comes to you. The way you look at him, the way you move around him reveals more than he knows you ever intend to. He hears your breath shorten when he’s close, sees your pupils dilate, your brows soften. You don’t lean away when he leans in.

He remembers your gaze again, the first morning and many mornings after, and snorts at himself. Attraction, he’s fairly sure, isn’t the issue.

So what is, then?

Rather than spend the morning moping, and waiting for the ambiance of your morning routine that simply would not come, John finds a clean pair of sweats, laces into his trainers, and goes for a jog. Running has always helped him think.

Part of him wonders if his fixation is inspired in part by a long dry spell. Price hasn’t been with anyone in a long while—months, actually. His last encounter had been with a woman he’d been casually seeing in between deployments.

She’d been nice enough, certainly eager for him. They would meet, have drinks, maybe a meal, and have sex. He’d spend the night and leave early in the morning. They didn’t talk much, not at least about anything serious. She never asked about his work. She never really asked much about him at all.

Which had been the arrangement. Price had been candid about his situation from the beginning—his work came first, and he had little room in his life for much else. He couldn’t offer her much in the way of long-term commitment when he had to make peace with the real possibility that each deployment was one he might not come back from. She’d seemed to understand. It had taken Price a while to figure out that she just…hadn’t really cared.

It was more likely, he knew, that she simply could not grasp that he could die. Few civilians could really wrap their head around that fact. He couldn’t really blame her for that.

But he couldn’t deny either that seeing her had started to make it feel like his insides were slowly decaying. All he was to her was a big, rough man who would throw her around in bed and wouldn’t bother her with trite things like domesticity and mortality. A fantasy. Nothing more.

He’d broken it off in person, frank and respectful, and she’d taken it as well as he’d hoped.

Then she’d texted him a few weeks later inviting him over for drinks. He neglected to respond and blocked her number.

The cool morning air is sharp in Price’s lungs, painfully welcome, as he counts his breaths in the back of his head. He’d given up after all of that. He didn’t need sex. He didn’t need a relationship. If the walls of his flat closed in around him when he was home, alone, well—that was the sacrifice, wasn’t it? The price he paid to be able to go out into the world and fix things that other men only complained about after watching the news.

It shouldn’t matter that these days those problems didn’t stay fixed anymore.

Price finishes his circuit and comes to a gradual stop back at his front doorstep, panting hard, hands on hips as he heaves and wonders if maybe he should cut back on smoking.

He looks to your window, dark and shuttered. You always have a hot mug of coffee pressed between your palms.

He could try coffee.

The day passes. John spends some time getting his affairs in order for the end of his leave, reads the latest book you’ve lent him (a retrospective on the rise and fall of the American cattle boom), spends an hour at the gym, two at the pub, and comes home again to dark windows next door.

It’s dull. He misses you. And once his front door closes behind him, hours of silence loom in the periphery.

He’s settling into his armchair for a game on TV—championship league, nothing worth paying attention to, John just can’t stand the quiet—when his phone, deep in his pocket, vibrates. When he pulls it out, his heart leaps.

It’s just a text message. He unlocks his phone and navigates to the chat. You’ve sent a photo: a glass, filled with some sort of liquor and a couple of ice cubes, set on a rickety old plank of wood that must be a table.

Ordered this in your honor. Pretty good! Not sure of the brand. Can’t remember the one we got either

John smiles. He can’t help it. He even laughs a little, and taps on the picture to zoom in—your hand is in the frame, laying gently alongside the glass, nails painted a pretty light color and a thin silver ring around your index finger. He takes this in with the voracity of a man starving.

Macallan, he replies. The best. That looks good though

Three dots dance as you type. My coworker says it’s Johnnie Walker

I take it back, dump that swill on the ground, Price types, grinning harder.

It’s really fine! you protest.

He imagines your expression, the kind draw of your brows together in spirited defense—an expression he’s seen on you many times, advocating for some character or another that he has developed a grudge against.

God, does he miss you.

Fine for uni lads maybe, he sends.

You do remember who I’m supervising on this trip?

John snorts. Point taken. Then, impulsively, I’ll get you something even better when you’re home.

Home. When you’re home. As if home is one place, and not two, separate places merely conjoined.

You spoil me John

He sends back immediately, I’m trying to

There’s a lag. John realizes belatedly that perhaps he’s doing it again, coming on too strong. He can’t help it. When he knows what he wants—when he knows he can pursue it—he does not bother with half measures. He has been through and done too much to hedge his efforts while knowing how easily things can escape his grasp.

He has to remind himself that holding onto you too tightly, though, could cause you to slip through his fingers.

Then, finally—I don’t know why

Bells ring in John’s head. Can’t a man treat a woman he fancies? he asks.

Dots jump for what feels like several minutes, disappearing several times. He imagines you typing rapidly, that worried look he’s seen so often creasing your brow and tightening the corners of your mouth.

Eventually, a cascade.

I don’t know WHY you fancy me

There’s nothing really interesting about me

I’m quite boring

Not like you

You’ve been so to many places and done so many things and I’ve never even left the country and I don’t see how you could even like talking to me much less do anything else

I teach lit and read books and that’s all my life is and that’s not really sexy

You must have better options

I may be a little tipsy sorry

John’s frown deepens with every successive message.

This is it. This is the answer to his question, or it’s somewhere in there. He’s been wondering all day—now, this is his chance.

I’d like to call you, he replies. Is now a good time?

A brief pause, with John’s stomach hanging suspended in the air the whole time.

Then, Yes

He dials you. You pick up on the first ring.

“Hello,” you say.

next

[refractoryinsulation]

Guidance on Hot Pipe Insulation for Industrial Heating Systems

Industrial heating systems are important in many fields, such as chemical handling, manufacturing, and power creation. Many of these systems depend on pipes moving heat efficiently. Inefficiently insulated pipes waste energy, are dangerous, and harm the environment.

Source Link: https://www.statusthoughts.com/guidance-on-hot-pipe-insulation-for-industrial-heating-systems/

[mytheoristavenue]

GOTG Rocket x Reader 🍋 - Heatwaves

Summary: Long from home, the ship's air conditioner breaks, resulting in hallucination-inducing heat. Your obvious crush on Rocket doesn't make things any better.

Warnings: Inspired by a series of TMNT fics I did a while back, sexual innuendo, dirty talk, degradation, praise, illness from excessive heat, daydreaming/hallucinating, suggestive situations, sexual tension, judgment impaired by arousal, fem!reader, non specified species!reader, humanoid/anthro!reader, takes place between vol. 2 and infinity war

You were so dizzy, melting into the sofa, sprawled out with no regard for anyone else's comfort. Your head rested against Mantis's leg, while your legs invaded Drax's bubble, not that he minded. His people didn't really understand the concepts of personal space anyhow. You were all in this boat though, Gamora splayed out on the floor as it was the coolest surface in the ship. With this heat, all there was to do to bear it was strip down to the littlest clothing possible before becoming indecent and napping to make the time pass quicker.

"C'mon, you guys, cheer up," Peter forced a cheerful tone from the cockpit. "Rocket said he should be finished with the repairs on the AC tomorrow."

"Thank God," you groaned, pinching the fabric of your tanktop to unstick it from your chest. "I can't take this shit anymore."

"Yeah, I'm so sweaty, it feels like I showered in my clothes." Mantis agreed from above you, doing the same and wiggling all over to have her shirt sit right.

"But you didn't," Drax gave her a lead-poisoned stare. "I have been watching you for hours and you haven't moved, let alone gone to shower." The empath's head very slowly turned towards him, her glare and pursed lips screaming that she was done with his nonsense.

"Ya know," the captain called again. "If you're hot, just think how Rocket feels. It's probably way hotter down there in the boiler, plus he's covered in fur."

"I am Groot." The sapling said, raising his head off Gamora's chest as she nodded, agreeing with him.

"I don't care that fur is like insulation, if you're hot, he's hot. And I don't see any of you trying to help him, so stop whining." Peter's light reprimand, admittedly had pulled on your heartstrings a bit. It was awfully nice of Rocket to fix the AC all by himself, even if he was the only one with the know-how to do it.

"He's right," you sighed, begrudgingly tearing yourself off the sofa, your exposed skin having stuck to it. Finally separated from the mound of leather and flesh, you stumbled over to the kitchenette and threw open the fridge before grabbing a few bottles of water. "Rocket might need some help, I'll go check on him."

-----

You had never been in this part of the ship before, slinking through halls and around protruding pipes and fixtures. It was much hotter down here, closer to the water heating systems. You had to halt for a moment, pressing your hand to the wall for stability as you hunched a bit. If you were already feeling faint, you couldn't imagine how Rocket was feeling. For all you knew, he could have passed out and nobody would have known.

Suddenly you began to make out a distant, distorted racket that echoed and reverberated against every surface. It sounded almost...melodic? Following as it became louder, it led you to a warm light that streamed out from beyond a closed door. You halted for a moment, now being able to separate the noise, which you now recognized as a voice, singing lazily. Rocket never sang in front of people and you almost felt perverted as you listened to his rendition of Silver's 'Wham Bam Shang-A-Lang'. "Now that it's said and we both understand," he softly crooned, voice carrying to far reaches. "Let's say our goodbyes before it gets out of hand."

Inhaling sharply, you finally found it in you to grip the door handle and let yourself in. Orange light flooded out of the small room and the music became as clear as it was going to get, loud enough to conceal the sound of the door opening. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him.

Everyone had always been able to tell you were sweet on Rocket, and you'd never done much to hide the fact but seeing him now, bathed in marigold neon, laid flat on his back up underneath a large fixture...shirtless- it was too much for you. His fur was slicked against his chest from sweat and his jumpsuit was tied loosely on his hips, revealing much more of him than you ever could have been prepared to see. Adding to that his admittedly lovely, gruff singing voice, the scene was a recipe for an upset tummy.

Deciding you couldn't handle this, you silently tried to back out of the room, eyes trained on him like a deer in headlights. You may have gotten away with it, had one of the water bottles not fallen from the crook of your elbow, alerting him to your presence. Instantly, he rolled out from under the machine, set down his tools, and sat up, staring at you. "(Y/N), what are you doing down here?"

Now that you could see his face, you were in even worse shape. The white stripes on his cheeks were smeared with grease, whiskers crumpled, and fur unkempt. He looked incredibly rugged- more so than usual. "Hello? Knowwhere to (Y/N)?" he croaked again and waved a hand in front of him, voice hoarse from unrestricted use. "You okay?"

At last, you shook out of your trance, flustered to hell and back, and eagerly swooped down to grab the bottle. "Y-Yeah, I'm great! You're just really hot!" Rocket stared at you for a second, waiting for you to correct yourself before owning the compliment and mocking you for it. Obviously, you didn't take the hint, so that was his cue.

"Well thanks, dollface," he smirked, standing up and sauntering over to the doorway, taking the dropped bottle from you before popping off the cap and chugging it. About halfway through, he stopped with a deep, relieved sigh. "I always thought I was pretty hot but it's still nice to hear it from someone else." That's when your stomach dropped, realizing what you'd said. Time to backtrack.

"Oh my God, no!" you gasped, once again dropping what you were holding to slap your hands to your face. "I don't think you're hot!" Rocket looked at you quizzically, hand on hip. "I-I mean I do think you're attractive, b-but not in a weird way! More like a friend way!"

"Uh-huh," he teased, crossing his arms and leaning on the doorframe. "Friend attraction's the best kind, ya know? And don't sweat it, Quill says I'm hot all the time."

"Rocket, please..." you finally gave in, physically crumbling. "I meant like- you're probably getting hot down here and I wanted to bring you something to drink."

"I know, dollface, I'm just yankin' your chain." he laughed, pushing off the wall and walking back farther into the room to sit on a bucket. "I needed a break anyway, thanks princess."

"Princess...?"

"What?"

"N-Nothing!" You finally let out a sigh of relief, following a bit closer and sitting on the floor. "So how's it coming?" you asked, uncapping your own bottle after passing him the last one.

"Well, I've identified the problem, but I don't got the right parts to fix it. Good news is, I think I was able to work up a temporary replacement that should at least get us back to Knowwhere. I know if we can just get home, I can get a brand new part for cheap-" You weren't sure when, but at some point, you'd stopped listening, mind and eyes wandering.

" Ah, fuck, (Y/N), easy! Yeah, j-just like that, keep movin' just like that for me princess..."

"Are you even listening?" Rocket's annoyed tone brought you out of your daydream. You must have zoned out without realizing it, how embarrassing. "Jeez, you're hopeless, ya know that?" He chided, standing up and grabbing a rag to wipe his hands on.

"Sorry..." you slumped shamefully before trailing him as he got back into position. "H-Hey, is there anything I can do to help you out?"

"Hmm," he paused, laying back down on the creeper, ready to roll back under the unit. "I guess you can keep me company, hand me tools," he proposed, disappearing under the machine. Suddenly his voice dropped an octave, words echoed against metallic surfaces that made you freeze. "I know my girl is very good with my tools."

You squeaked at his sudden turn in demeanor, falling on your behind and scrambling away from him. "W-What?!"

Rocket rolled back out, propping up on an elbow, eyeing you with concern. "What, what'd I say?" he asked frantically. "What's up with you?"

"Y-You said-" you stammered, not even comfortable with repeating what you heard. "Y-You said...I'm g-good with your tools!"

He looked at you like you were the biggest moron he'd ever met. "Well, yeah?" he chastised. "You help me in my shop all the time, so I know you know which ones are which. You're good at knowing which ones to hand me." Your chest heaved as he once again returned to his position, reaching his hand out. His small fingers curled, a sign for you to hand something over. "Gimme that ratchet." Quickly, you placed it in his hand, before clicking open the socket set.

"What size socket?"

"Twelve millimeter." He answered, settling the tool on his stomach to use both hands for whatever he was doing. Scanning the set, you plucked out the shallow twelve millimeter piece and set it on his chest, waiting for him to grab it. He did and growled in dismay, giving it back.

"No, princess," he corrected, gasping through clenched teeth. "Need it deep."

"You...w-what?" you carefully asked, feeling incredibly dizzy and unable to discern truth from hallucination.

"I need the deep twelve millimeter, not the shallow one." Rocket scolded, giving a frustrated sigh as he listened to you scramble for the correct piece, profusely apologizing all the while. Finally, you found the right one, presenting it to him just in time for him to roll out from under the fixture again. "Okay, dollface," he titled his head, worried. "What's your deal?"

"Deal? There's no deal!" you played dumb, laughing nervously, hoping he'd just drop it. "I'm fine, really!"

You went rigid, watching him silently creep closer to you, unsure if this was real or not. Finally, he placed a paw against your cheek and whispered in close: "You're burnin' up, baby."

"Rocket, I don't feel good." you stated abruptly. "I-I think something's wrong with me."

"I'll say," he cooed, dragging his knuckles down the side of your face. "How about you let me change that, hmm?" The world around you began to blur, and all you could make out were his words. You understood that his hands were on you, but you couldn't say where; you couldn't feel it, you couldn't even see clearly. "Yeah, baby just lay down, lemme do all the work." He soothed seductively. "Let daddy take care of you, 'kay, (Y/N)?"

That last word, it was your name, right? He kept repeating it, like a broken record, and suddenly all the gruffness left his voice. You listened as intently as you could, hearing it morph from lustful to monotone, and then increasingly more worried- desperate even. "(Y/N)!" There it was again.

Slowly, as his voice became more clear, the cloudiness in your vision dissipated and your senses began to return. Your cheek burned against hot metal, and you could feel patting on your face. A figure hovered over you, close enough to breathe on you. "Goddamnit, (Y/N), wake up!"

"R-Rocket...?" you stuttered, recognizing the figure. "What's going on...?"

"Nevermind that," he hushed. "Lay back down," Suddenly, he turned away from you, yelling out the door, presumably to the oncoming footsteps stampeding down the hall. "In here!" Your eyelids began to get heavy as the world began to fall away again. The last thing you remember was being lifted into the air by a second, hulking figure, then nothing.

-----

You awoke in your bunk, arctic air breezing by your face. What had happened, how did you get here? Where was Rocket? Your fingers twitched, sore from lack of use and the tips of them caught the sensation of something foreign. Multiple fibers connected to one source, soft in mass but wirey when you singled one out. Letting your hand travel up the organism, you froze, realizing you'd answered one of your questions. Glancing down, you found Rocket, curled in a ball at your side. That was odd, you did share a room, but Rocket never slept in your bunk.

Your movements must have roused him as he stirred under your touch, slowly unfurling himself and stretching out. "You're up," he noted, smiling a bit. "You'll be happy to know the AC is fixed."

Now that you took notice of it, the room was cooler, cold even. "Wow," you yawned, smiling back sleepily. "How long was I out for?"

"About eight hours," he copied, yawning as a reaction to seeing you do the same. You halted a moment, confused.

"Wait, I thought you said it'd take you another day to fix it?" you rubbed sleep from your eye waiting for his explaination.

"Nothin' an all nighter couldn't fix." He laughed exhaustedly, curling back up into your side. You'd usually question his sudden cuddliness, but it made your bed that much cozier. "Honestly, your little heatstroke..." his voice softened a bit. "It scared me a little. I was worried about ya."

"Heatstroke..." you repeated. "That makes so much sense," At least now you had an explanation for all those hallucinations from earlier. Though you were glad to be well again, Rocket's attention was nice, even if it was all in your head. "That explains me hearing and seeing things that weren't there down in the boiler. Sorry for acting so weird.." you confessed sheepishly.

"Don't be sorry," he chuckled cockily, eyes peacefully resting. "We'll definitely be having a lengthy, private conversation about all that after I catch up on some sleep." Your stomach dropped at that, imagining all the terrible outcomes that could result from said conversation. "And for the record, dollface, I do think you're very good at handling my tools, ya know," he smirked, nuzzling your ear. "When you follow directions."

Your stomach did flips as your head began to feel heavy again. "I-I must still be hallucinating...I swear I just heard you say-"

"Did I fuckin' stutter?"

[honeygrahambitch]

Hot take: I know it would be fun to have a bored, disinterested Will while Hannibal is making ten thousand plans about building their home but hear me out.

Maybe Hannibal indeed would be very focused on color pallets and misc decor and stuff that wouldn't be Will's strengths.

Hannibal: which one for the bathroom

Will: they all look the same

Hannibal: They are three different types of blue, Will.

Will: the middle one.

Hannibal: the right one it is then

But listen, Will would be extremely involved in other aspects like the insulation, the electricity, the gas and water pipes and all that stuff that I personally don't have a deep knowledge about but I just know that dads usually do.

So in that way, Will would be very much into the structure of their home and he'd get excited about the drywall.

[avengineers]

We provide Hot And Cold Insulation Services in India. Hot Insulation is typically used to insulate thermal compartments, hot vessels, and tanks, as well as piping systems transporting hot gases and substances.Cold Insulation is typically used to insulate cooling compartments, chilled water pipelines, cold storage, building structures, refrigeration, and air conditioning systems, among other things.

For more details please visit our website-https://avengineersefp.com/service/hot-and-cold-insulation/

[sterlingengineers]

Industrial MS Chimney Manufacturers and Suppliers in Pune

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The Sterling Engineers Difference.

Sterling Engineers has established itself as a trusted name in the industry with a legacy of delivering excellence in industrial chimney manufacturing. Here's why Sterling Engineers is the preferred choice for IndustrialMS Chimneys:

Diverse Range of Industrial MS Chimneys: Sterling Engineers offers a diverse range of industrial chimneys made from Mild Steel (MS). These chimneys are engineered to meet the specific requirements of various industries, ensuring efficient and safe ventilation and exhaust systems.

Custom Solutions: Recognizing that each industrial setup has unique needs, Sterling Engineers provides custom chimney solutions. Whether you require a chimney for a power plant, chemical facility, or any other industry, they have the expertise to tailor their chimneys to your specifications.

Competitive Pricing: Sterling Engineers  believes that quality should be accessible to all. They offer Industrial MS Chimneys at competitive prices, ensuring that businesses of all sizes can benefit from their top-notch products without compromising on quality.

Experienced Manufacturers: With years of experience in the field, Sterling Engineers has honed its skills and expertise in the design and manufacturing of Industrial MS Chimneys. Their team of experts ensures that each chimney meets industry standards and safety regulations.

Industry Applications:Sterling Engineers chimneys find applications in a wide range of industries, including power generation plants, chemical processing facilities, gas plants, and more. Their chimneys are designed to effectively handle the specific exhaust needs of these industries.

Made in India, Serving the Globe: Sterling Engineers proudly manufactures its Industrial MS Chimneys in Pune, India. Their commitment to quality, precision, and craftsmanship is a testament to the "Make in India" initiative. These chimneys are not only trusted by domestic industries but also exported to serve global clients.

Quality Assurance: Quality is at the core of Sterling Engineers' manufacturing process. Each Industrial MS Chimney undergoes stringent quality control measures to ensure durability, efficiency, and safety. These chimneys are built  to withstand the rigors of industrial environments.

Commitment to Customer Satisfaction: Sterling Engineers places customer satisfaction as a top priority. They understand the critical role that industrial chimneys play in maintaining safe and efficient operations. Their team is dedicated to providing support and solutions that exceed your expectations.

Your Trusted Partner in Industrial Ventilation

Whether you operate a power plant, chemical processing facility, gas plant, or any other industrial setup,Sterling Engineers is your trusted partner in industrial ventilation. Their Industrial MS Chimneys are designed to meet the specific needs of your facility, ensuring the efficient removal of exhaust gases and pollutants.

As you navigate the complexities of industrial ventilation,Sterling Engineers stands by your side, not just as a supplier but as a partner who shares your commitment to safety, efficiency, and compliance. With their expertise in Industrial MS Chimneys, competitive pricing, and dedication to quality, Sterling Engineers  is your go-to destination for all your industrial ventilation needs in Pune, India, and beyond.

Conclusion

In the realm of industrial ventilation, Sterling Engineersshines as a reliable manufacturer and supplier of Industrial MS Chimneys in Pune, India. Their commitment to quality, affordability, and customer satisfaction makes them an invaluable partner for industries seeking effective ventilation and exhaust solutions.

As industrial processes continue to evolve and expand,Sterling Engineers remains at the forefront, ensuring that businesses have access to top-notch Industrial MS Chimneys that are vital for maintaining safe and efficient operations. With a focus on excellence and a global perspective, Sterling Engineers is poised to play a pivotal role in shaping the future of industrial ventilation systems and contributing to the success of industries worldwide.

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9689011211

[lastoneout]

I'm obviously not gonna do anything about it because I figure the people doing it are like desperate for a job but I s2g I am slightly concerned by the steady increase I'm seeing of DoorDash drivers on bikes.

And it's not even cuz I'm like worried about my food not being perfectly piping hot fresh when it gets to me, and ngl some of the guys on bike have done a way better job than the people in cars, but like this has happened enough that I have had to stop ordering certain kinds of food due to the fact that it's, on average, 100F+ here in the day time and a lot of food I like to eat just cannot safely be at that temperature for more than a minute or two if even that.

And like I am just gonna not order those foods, I do not want to put anyone who is desperate for work out of a job but like....this is going to make someone sick, right? The first time this happened I had ordered a poke bowl and that ended up being inedible because it was like 108F outside and the guy on the bike handed it to me out of a very thin insulated bag that just had a half-melted frozen water bottle in it, and the food was warm and the fish smelled weird, so yeah, not eating it, but still. I know this guy CLEARLY needs the money and this is ABSOLUTELY on DoorDash, but if they're gonna allow bike dashers maybe limit what stores they're allowed to deliver from? So you don't have people delivering food poisoning? Is that too much to ask??

[nox-lycaena]

Bustersword - Final Fantasy VII Remake/Rebirth

Since I still have these pictures and the post for them didn't work on instagram (hate youu), I'm posting my progress post here~

Processing time: about 3 weeks (each)

I actually started the sword at a time when I almost stopped cosplaying... I just wanted to build something cool, from a fandom I love... It was only after/during that I decided to cosplay Cloud

Since I built two swords, the progress pictures are a bit mixed. I took a lot of pictures at the beginning for my closest friends, but the second sword is more stable 👌🏻 the steps were very similar.

Materials:

- Floor panels for sound insulation

- Newspaper

- Wood glue, hot glue

- foam rubber/foam

- Empty acrylic hemispheres

- artificial leather

- Core 1: Wooden strip / Core 2: PVC pipe

I started by gluing the plates together and cutting out the holes for the balls.

I carefully fitted the balls to the core - the Materia was ready at first 😅

After the plates had been shaped a little (very delicate material, similar to polystyrene), I covered the basic structure with wood glue 1-2 times.

The cutting edge was made using newspaper and wood glue.

The handle was cut out of foam and glued.

I didn't want to make the plates on the handle at first and had engraved them 😅 Later I scale it and adapt them to the existing dimensions.

I wrapped the handle with a strip of imitation leather. A few scratches and "pistol shots" later, it was as good as finished! 👏🏻

The LEDs consist of bottle bottom lights that can be attached and removed with Velcro in the second daggerboard. Since I don't walk around without Materia, you can't see the LEDs or the rod.

I had built a hook into the first daggerboard for carrying it - but this also damaged the plates. Now I carry the sword on my back with a luggage strap.

I am very happy and proud to have built it - and twice 😅 and it was also important to me to be able to take it to cons without discussions 👌🏻