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tubetrading · 6 months

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The Heart of Boiler Systems: Exploring the Role of IBR Fitting and Flanges

Boiler systems serve as the backbone of numerous industrial processes, powering everything from heating and hot water supply to steam generation in various manufacturing operations. Within these systems, ensuring safety, efficiency, and reliability is paramount, and this is where IBR (Indian Boiler Regulations) fitting and flanges play a pivotal role. As a trusted distributor in Vadodara and a leading dealer in Gujarat, Tubetrading is dedicated to providing top-quality IBR fitting and flanges to industries across the region. In this blog post, we'll delve into the significance of IBR fitting and flanges in boiler systems, explore their crucial functions, and highlight the expertise of Tubetrading in supplying these essential components.

Understanding IBR Fitting and Flanges

IBR fitting and flanges are integral components of boiler systems that ensure seamless operation and compliance with safety standards mandated by the Indian Boiler Regulations. These regulations are designed to safeguard the integrity of boiler components, prevent accidents, and promote efficient energy utilization. IBR fitting and flanges are manufactured according to stringent specifications outlined by the IBR to guarantee durability, reliability, and performance in demanding industrial environments.

The Role of IBR Fitting and Flanges in Boiler Systems

1. Pressure Regulation: IBR fitting and flanges are designed to withstand high-pressure environments commonly found in boiler systems. They play a crucial role in regulating and controlling the flow of fluids, gases, and steam within the system, ensuring optimal pressure levels for efficient operation.

2. Sealing and Joint Integrity: Proper sealing and joint integrity are essential to prevent leaks and maintain the integrity of boiler systems. IBR fitting and flanges are equipped with robust sealing mechanisms, such as gaskets and O-rings, to create a tight seal between interconnected components, minimizing the risk of leaks and ensuring system integrity.

3. Connection and Interoperability: IBR fitting and flanges serve as connection points between various components of boiler systems, including pipes, valves, and vessels. Their standardized dimensions and configurations enable seamless interoperability, facilitating efficient assembly, maintenance, and repair of boiler systems.

4. Compliance and Certification: Compliance with IBR regulations is mandatory for all boiler components used in India. IBR fitting and flanges undergo rigorous testing and certification processes to ensure compliance with safety standards and regulatory requirements, providing peace of mind to industries reliant on boiler systems.

Tubetrading: Your Trusted Supplier of IBR Fitting and Flanges in Gujarat

As a reputable distributor and dealer of IBR fitting and flanges in Vadodara and Gujarat, Tubetrading prides itself on delivering superior-quality products and exceptional service to its customers. Here's why industries trust Tubetrading for their IBR fitting and flanges needs:

1. Extensive Product Range: Tubetrading offers an extensive range of IBR fitting and flanges, including elbows, tees, reducers, bends, and flanges in various sizes, materials, and specifications. Whether you need standard or customized components, we have the expertise and resources to meet your requirements.

2. Quality Assurance: At Tubetrading, quality is our top priority. We partner with reputable manufacturers who adhere to strict quality control measures and comply with IBR regulations. Our products undergo thorough inspection and testing to ensure they meet the highest standards of performance, reliability, and safety.

3. Expert Guidance: With years of experience in the industry, the team at Tubetrading possesses in-depth knowledge of IBR fitting and flanges and their applications in boiler systems. We provide expert guidance and technical support to help our customers select the right components for their specific needs, ensuring optimal performance and efficiency.

4. Timely Delivery: We understand the importance of timely delivery to our customers' operations. With our efficient logistics network and inventory management systems, we strive to fulfill orders promptly and ensure on-time delivery of IBR fitting and flanges to our customers across Gujarat.

Conclusion

In conclusion, IBR fitting and flanges are the heart of boiler systems, playing a critical role in ensuring safety, efficiency, and compliance with regulatory standards. As a trusted distributor and dealer in Vadodara and Gujarat, Tubetrading is committed to supplying top-quality IBR fitting and flanges to industries across the region. With our extensive product range, quality assurance, expert guidance, and timely delivery, we are your reliable partner for all your IBR fitting and flanges needs. Contact Tubetrading today to learn more about our products and services and discover how we can support your boiler system requirements.

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midseo · 8 months

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Bellows, Boots, Rubber Bellows, Manufacturer, Mumbai, India

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headingalaxys-spicy · 2 years

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Hello there! May I have Germany, England, and France with S/O who can be intimidating like Jade West (when Angered, they can be really violent and sadistic) but deep down they are actually caring and kind). They are being tough is actually a facade to protect themselves from as*holes.

Reader is going to be a nation in this, since I feel it makes the most sense for the scenario given.

Edits Made: 12 Dec 2022 spotted redundancies.

Also I’ve never watched Victorious so I’m sorry if the character traits you’re looking for may be off or absent. I really tried for a badass who takes shit from no one but has a heart of gold. But, I did read a Wikipedia page and watched one video to help me out with writing this. So yeah, enjoy lol.

TW: it’s a slight gore and blood is mentioned and there is cursing.

🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿England 🏴󠁧󠁢󠁥󠁮󠁧󠁿

Arthur is a global superpower and that means he has had to become a gentleman who

can play rough when you have other opponents, pee-ons, and pawns all the while putting on a show of chivalry.

Originally you were a pawn of his that he intended on using during the midst of rising tensions between you and America on the brink of another proxy-war that would drag you and a few other smaller nations into their conflict.

You’re a medium sized nation with a major hand in the diamond business. Your nation is world famous for some of its creations such as designing and providing the crowning jewels for the Royal family for a few centuries. Along with the other royalty, dignitaries, diplomats, and celebrities. You really knew how to dazzle the upper echelons of society. Which is why to England you were a pawn considering you filled in orders for a lot of America’s top 1%. Which meant people in power would be angry if suddenly the main supplier of 60% of all the world's finest gems was annexed by the U.K. a ruthless negotiator that always managed to steal the finest trade deals for his own benefit.

Your other fortes involved innovative energy technology. Which is a growing industry worldwide and makes you and your nation much more of a valued commodity. That America and England WILL fight over to dominate you. Which is why England used his influence: social media campaigns boasting about the great diplomatic relations he has with you. It gets to a point where he is broadcasting almost daily about the special relationship that he has with you to a point where America notices and tries to pay back in kind.

“(Country name) has been invited to the Senate and Congress to discuss some legislation ….” England overheard America’s boss blather on and on about connecting ties and possibly working on some projects in the future. He sat in his study and gritted his teeth and he turned the television off and threw the remote to the other side of the room.

“Bloody bastard. He really needs to learn when not to mess around with other people’s things.” He reached for his phone and he didn't want to let you slip away. Two rings pierced his eardrum before you answered on the other end.

“Y/N it’s Arthur, I wanted to inquire about….” For some reason he hesitates to speak out the words that he actually wants to say. You break the train of thought he had going where it was trying to speed for honesty and stop at the heart of the situation.

“The bullshit show that America is putting on? I’m not amused and I’m going to be ignoring him. Because that’s what I know what's on your mind.” Ice filled your vocal cords. You didn’t need multiple superpowers meddling in your domestic affairs trying to dominate.

“How did you-” Trying to get coal back in to fire up the engines once again. But he moved too slow to deter you from continuing.

“The two of you are aggressive superpowers. Of course. Anyways I’m busy. I have a four eyed moron to keep at bay and prevent him from dragging me to his country for ‘negotiations’ and ‘offerings’. And just so you know now: I don’t want yours either.” Without another word you promptly hang up the phone not really giving Arthur a chance to even state his concerns. You knew he would be a pain in your side too if you didn’t distance yourself.

Arthur swallows his pride. He was actually going to be vulnerable in order to get what he wanted this time.

“Bloody hell.”

After two weeks of sleepless nights on England's end on how he can vocalize his feelings without having to use his power. Which he is accustomed to doing and it came naturally for him. That was a tactic he knew worked well. However he knew that would get him shot and leave your home with a few broken bones. At 3am on a Friday he decided to write it out, pick up some doves, and take a small private jet to (Country Name).

When he arrived in your land and laid down his heart and put up his hands when he was greeted by you with a pistol along with your guards.

“You’ve got 10 seconds to explain yourself when I explicitly told you I wanted nothing to do with you.” Your index finger is itching to pull the trigger to send a resounding message that you don’t fuck with (country name) and come out unscathed.

“Y/N please, love , listen. This isn’t about some petty proxy war between America and I…”

Your eyebrow raises with your finger lightly tugging down on the trigger.

“I love you actually.”

🇫🇷 France 🇫🇷

As an international fashion icon France was never really on your radar. You regarded him as nothing more than an acquaintance that was flashy. He sometimes wanted to be ‘friends’ with and/or mentor you as a fellow flourishing country. You simply brushed him off in the past and shot him a dirty look whenever he approached you. You were not amused by his antics.

However, France does not surrender when it comes to romance and he was determined to not let you become an exception to that. He didn’t. But it did mean that he’s been slapped, tripped down the stairs, nearly getting caught in the crosshairs of your flame thrower, and on Halloween you nearly decapitated him before he got a little too fresh with you.

“Your determination is really beginning to annoy me. Do you have a death wish of sorts? Because I’d be happy to oblige with your immediate execution.” You were currently wielding a battle ax that was polished and sharpened. It’s cool metal being graced by the bright sun rays piercing Francis’ precious baby blues.

‘Damn she really is ruthless.’

“Y/N listen. I know that… you have this whole stubborn facade going on for you but, I’m not trying to harm you or play with you, toy with your feelings or any of that….” His voice trails off into the frigid air that surrounds you. He drew in slow concentrated breaths and was trying not to choke on his words. That was a difficult task when your icy gaze pelted him with icicles. Your sustained silence allowed him to continue with a quaking voice. You were interested in what pathetic pleas he’ll hit you with.

“I just want to be nothing but good to you. Admire you. And have you in my arms each day when the sun fades.”

Stars, roses, and hearts were the only things you could concentrate on as it was the only things that filled your vision as you concentrated on the French man that was pouring his heart out to you. Thornless scarlet roses sprouted from his hands and a soft golden glow came from his heart. God was on Francis’ side this time. Time seemed to be frozen as a gold arrow was given to him with a sharp heart tip.

*God appears out of the deep blue hues of the sky with an elegant angelic bow that looks as if it was made from pure white feathers.*

“Take this my child. You’ll need to get through the thorny barricade that is her way of guarding her heart.”

Francis wipes a few tears from his eyes as he looks at you and your guards frozen in place. You looked like a terrifying goddess that he’d be a devoted follower of.

“Thanks, God.” He stands to his feet with pure determination and readies himself with the bow and arrow aimed directly at your heart. He sucks in a sharp breath and holds it to steady his aim. The twang of the arrow launching itself from the bow filled his eardrums. As it did so the bow poofed into a flurry of pearly iridescent feathers that swirled around him.

When Francis looked in your direction again your eyes had a far softer expression than the vicious scowl that you were wearing before. A light smile graced your lips instead as your eyes made contact with those azure irises.

‘Ah that smile of hers. I feel so many butterflies everytime.’

“I’m sorry Francis. What were we trying to discuss? I’ve lost my train of thought.”

Your life together is relatively peaceful for being nations. Ever since France started dating you he has been less inclined to fight Britain. Not just in wars, but even politically. He doesn’t even bother to try and clap back when Britain begins spouting nonsense about him on Social Media. He ignores it all because his moon was all that he needed.

However if anyone dare to be a dickhead to Francis, they’re in for a real bad time.

If France ever comes home to you and passively talks about someone being a bigot, or threatens him oh …. I’d be praying to God.

“I’m sorry that happened to you honey. How can I make it better?” As you place a kiss on his forehead after you swept some of his luscious locks from his face.

“Nothing my love. I just hate their behavior, that's all. No need to break some nation's neck, or castrate, or any of the mischievous things you do.” A massive cocky smirk spreads wide and long on the Frenchman's face as he pulls you closer to him by grabbing your waist as he looks up at you. A deliciously vexatious grin is on your face as he sees the fire alight in your eyes. Someone goin die tonight.

“Okay.” Confirming you heard him but you weren’t going to listen. There was hell to pay.

You’re extremely protective of Francis. You burn those with callous words with aerosol and flames. To those who lay their hands on him in a brutal way, you end their bloodline. If it’s a nation that wants to be in a war you join in with him and become his sole support.

🇩🇪 Germany 🇩🇪

As Germany was sitting on the bench press his attention wandered over to you lifting weights. You were doing weighted squats. You were fully immersed in the moment and you made your muscles work in unison. You concentrated on making sure your moments were precise so that you would have well defined muscles. You enjoyed the heat of battle on occasion but you did also love your peace and the ability to work on other more productive things than war.

Ludwig’ s mind meandered to how he actually managed to convince you to not continue with your plans to torment him and force him to reincarnate painfully.

“I’ve told you a dozen times: DON’T. CROSS. ONTO. MY. BORDERS. I’m classified as a reclusive nation for A REASON. And I’m stunned that out of all the nations YOU don’t get that.” You were barring your fangs and your voice was raised. You hated this man for invading (country name). You thought he of all people would have enough common sense not to bug you. I mean rules and regulations are his thing. But here he is in the forest caught in a bear trap that was hidden well.

“Ja. Ja. I know zhat. Ho-” You lean down over him making sure that your face aligned up with his. It was intimidating to the German and he wondered why in hell he decided to follow his bashful heart and didn’t follow his grounded mind.

“Then if you do…..WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU HERE?” Ludwig flenched. He wasn’t used to being dominated by another nation. What made it worse is that his emotions were trying to figure out why sparks had hit his heart, his stomach felt airy, and his neither region felt stiff and was expanding. His brain wasn’t really able to come up with a plan that was feasible.

‘So this is what it feels like to be the unter Hund. I might have some apologizing to Italy to do once I reincarnate.’

“I… just.. Verdammit. …. Look I….” Ludwig was tripping over his words as he did his best to evade your piercing gaze that made all of the side effects of his emotions worse. He began to squirm a little and you stabbed your spear in the middle of his abdomen. You took pleasure in his pained grunt he let out.

‘Oh so he’s used to or has been trained to tolerate intense pain. Interesting. I wonder how much farther I can push this. However, Germany can’t be that stupid. Can he?’

Sucking in a sharp breath so he could force out his words.

“Okay…” Ludwig coughs up a little blood. “I deserved that. I should have at the very least sent jou a notice. But, I didn't, I'm sorry.” You didn’t respond, you simply stood over him expectantly. More coaxing with pain was no longer necessary. Crimson continued to spill from his mouth in massive gobs. “I ….” Trying to maintain himself from passing out. However that wasn’t an option. His vision became unfocused. Your pristine face no longer had a scowl but one of concern. Ludwig promptly passes out.

You let out a long sigh that filled the forest air. “Dammit. I have to help him revive or the international community will label me as the bad guy.” You grab your phone and send a mass message to your top surgeons and health care team. You knew you were going to have to kiss up to Germany if you didn’t want other bigger nations to condemn you and possibly invade (country name).

Germany came to a sterile hospital room that only he, two nurses, and Y/N were there, waiting for him to become conscious again. He avoids looking at Y/N for fear she may just get angry with him again.

You swallow your pride and disgust and finally break the constricting silence that was suffocating.

“So, you were saying? About why you were here.” Your leg was crossed over the other with arms crossed. It was like you were a teenager that had to admit that they were wrong and the realization of it was a difficult pill to swallow. Your eyes glazed over his muscular form and you noticed all of the minor injuries: cuts, bruises, and a broken left arm. But your facial expression was still stony and stoic.

“Oh ja, right uhhhhhh…..” His brain and heart still couldn’t get it together.

Ludwig’s cherry red cheeks gave away his motives that weren't hard for Y/N to pick up on.

Y/N rolls her eyes with mild amusement at the dangerous stunt he pulled.

“Look, let's just get you back to your country and agree that you won’t tell others.”

“On one condition leibling.”

Germany uses his persuasion to get you to consider letting him stay so that the two of you could get to know each other and maybe have a decent working relationship. You hesitate and Germany is persistent and eventually he convinces you to be in a relationship with him. Tying your nations relations together.

As a couple the two of you enjoy having routines together. You exercise together, train, and have weekly Wednesday and Saturday movie nights. You never expected that you could get along with a stoic work-o-holic like Ludwig but you found that he did have appeal attributes.

Alright I tried with this one lol. I’m sorry if it wasn’t what you were looking for.

#hetalia #hetalia fandom #hws #headingalaxys writes stuff #headingalaxys #headingalaxys spicy #hetalia germany #aph hetalia #hetalia fanfiction writer #hetalia fanfiction #x reader #hetalia x reader #answered

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carmenlire · 1 year

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Been Like This Part I

read on ao3

Alec walks into the bar and the weight on his shoulders seems to weigh a thousand tons, pressing down, and vaguely Alec wonders if he shouldn’t just go home and collapse into bed. Maybe then he’d finally feel weightless, if just for the half hour it takes to fall asleep.

But no, there’s something that’s pushing him into Hunter’s Moon tonight. Alec carries a strong dislike for most people– all those except for the precious few in his inner circle– but right now he feels a want– a need– to be around others without expectation.

He doesn’t necessarily want to talk to anyone. Really, just the very thought is exhausting, seems beyond his capabilities after a long week of talking to people constantly, ten hours a day, all the more tiresome when the conversations are nothing but impatient entitlement on their side and aggrieved irritation on his.

Distantly, he thinks that it should probably be a little worrying that his job, his dream that he's worked so hard for, is nothing but another source of annoyance and anxiety now.

It’s quiet for a Thursday evening. There’s just a smattering of people in the place. A couple plays pool on the far end, a group of friends are having a raucous time at a table in the corner. Alec smiles a little when one of them shouts something unintelligible just for them all to start laughing.

Alec can’t help but think that, from the entrance at least, it sounds so genuine.

Making his way to the bar, he has his pick of seats. There’s a woman at the end, a small collection of empty margarita glasses keeping her company. Alec figures that he’ll have his own assortment of glass soldiers standing watch by the end of the night.

The stool he chooses has scuffed leather when he pulls it out. It’s a little worn, light scratches here and there. Still, it feels wonderful to sit and to know that he doesn’t have to get up for however long he wants.

Truly, work has been exhausting this week. So many customers, requiring Alec to run in a dozen directions to put out a hundred fires. A cold is going around that’s left him short staffed the past several days. His bean supplier canceled his order without notice, leaving him in a serious lurch this morning.

The voice of the customer who yelled at him just a couple of hours ago-- because he made her plain iced americano without milk-- is still ringing in his ears.

Flipping the sign over to closed this evening had felt like nothing short of a victory. Letting the two remaining staff go home early to clean up by himself had been relaxing even if it had taken the last little bit of energy he’d managed to conserve.

There’s something soothing about being alone in his own space– Alec’s built Lightwood Coffee and Co. from the ground up. It’s his baby first, last, and everything in the middle. The couple of hours it had taken to clean up, go through inventory, and prepare for tomorrow had been the best part of his day, really.

Still, it was exhausting, the simple tasks that had once been filled with passion and excitement. Everything was so dull now, so rote.

In the back of his mind, Alec worries if it’s the coffee shop that’s lost its shine or if it’s just his life in general, color leeching out of everything he touches.

His thoughts have been maudlin all day, really for the past few months.

And now, here at Hunter’s Moon, Alec has no grand plan except to have a few drinks and try to not be so human for the rest of the night.

Something not quite a person, but not so far gone as to actually betray what he feels like– a little off center, stretched a little too thin, trying a little too hard to put on a convincing visage of responsible, perfectly functional adult.

Alec zones out for a few minutes before the bartender makes his way over to him. His overall expression is mildly standoffish, though his face is neutral as he stills in front of Alec and asks, “What can I get you?”

There’s no smile and Alec’s left with the vague feeling that nothing he could do or say would phase the bartender. Alec can relate.

There’s no offer of a menu and Alec doesn’t ask for one. “Can I just get an amaretto sour, please?”

The bartender’s brow raises imperceptible but he just nods, replies, “Sure thing,” and is turning his back before Alec can say anything else.

The drink’s placed in front of him just a moment later and at the first sip, Alec relaxes. It’s good– damned good.

Alec isn’t one to drink much and he’s never been to this particular bar before, though he passes it every day on his way to work. If the drinks are this good every time, then he might just need to become a regular on those days where he wants to blend in with everyone else and disappear for awhile in a simple pleasure.

The first drink is gone in a few efficient swallows. Maybe Alec should be concerned at how easy it’s gone down but it feels like the first time all week that something’s been able to give him an ounce of ease.

The bartender makes the few steps over to him, pauses but doesn’t say anything, just looks at Alec with that brow raised in question.

Alec nods.

The second drink is just as smooth as the first, the sweetness with the slightest bitter note hitting just the right spot.

Idly, Alec wonders if he’s going to get drunk tonight. Truth be told, he’s not much of a drinker. He enjoys the odd night out with Jace or Izzy, has been dragged into a poker night at Simon’s place a time or two where the bottles of cheap wine seemed to pour endlessly.

Still, he doesn’t make a habit of it. Well aware– too aware some might say– of how slippery of a slope these things can be, an underlying paranoia always keeping him in check. Just in case.

It’s during the third amaretto sour when someone sits a seat down from him. Alec doesn’t pay much attention, nothing more than to hear the rough scrape of a stool sliding over the floor, an impression of another man settling in after a day of work.

Briefly, Alec wonders if the other customer’s day was as grueling as his. He finds a well of sympathy at the notion.

Deciding to give the stranger the discretion he’d want, Alec’s attention shifts to other patrons. Crossing the line into tipsy, he’s an eager if apathetic people-watcher.

The group of friends in the corner have found a deck of cards somewhere and are having– what sounds like– an amazing time. Alec would like to imagine that they do this every month, in a similar way to the way he attends his poker nights, the weekly movie nights he has with Jace and Izzy.

It’s a warming thought for all that it strikes a pang of loneliness.

The movie nights have been a bit hit or miss lately. Izzy has been swamped with grad school and Jace is spending so much time with Clary that he’s rainchecked more than once.

Alec skipped a poker night a couple of months ago because one of his evening staff called off and one thing led to another and he hasn’t been to Simon’s since.

Once the streak was over, it was too easy to keep ghosting, the fatigue that’s been riding him into the ground making it too easy to beg off.

And, well, now Alec feels like something has slipped through his fingers, like he’s lost a chance, like he– well like he shouldn’t, can’t, just pick things back up.

It’s absurd, he knows. He’s been friends with Simon since college. Life happens.

Still. Alec has a deep, innate fear of being presumptuous, of overstepping bounds that he didn’t even know existed.

Simon hasn’t (re)extended an invitation and so– Alec doesn’t go over.

The coffee shop takes so much of his attention and it’s become matter of habit to simply go home at the end of the day.

It’s part of the reason that he decided to walk into this bar tonight. Alec isn’t adventurous or spontaneous. More than that, though, he had needed a diversion, felt the need for something else itching just under his skin, tickling his ribs.

Alec’s not one for flights of whimsy but the idea of breaking up the monotony had wiggled its way into his head sometime this morning, in between scalding himself on the edge of a tray of scones and getting berated for not having elderberry syrup. He needed to get away and for once, the idea of slipping into bed after a shower hot enough to burn his skin just didn’t seem like enough.

Maybe it’s the itch for diversion, a desire to not be so alone manifesting as a sad man drinking alone at a bar with nothing but strangers for company.

Alec still feels like it’s better than the alternative, though, and decides not to think about what exactly that says about him or his piss-poor excuse for living lately.

Throughout the past hour or so, Alec’s butt has grown numb and his back aches something approaching awful. These stools were not ergonomically designed and Alec’s a little too tired to keep from slouching in a way that’s a little painful and definitely damaging to his spine.

He lingers over the third drink until it’s watered down, trying to simply exist in a moment that he tells himself he wanted.

If he’s being honest, it’s not really satiating whatever inclination he’d had. Now Alec is still just as tired but the alcohol is already leaving him with a headache, leaving his head feeling the kind of fuzzy that just vaguely pisses him off.

He’s still debating between ordering a fourth drink anyway, staring into the dregs of his glass, when he hears a voice from his left.

It’s smooth, just a little low. “Penny for your thoughts, darling?”

The gentle tease in the words makes Alec smile while still looking down where he's tracing a scratch on the bar. Without quite being aware of it, he murmurs, “I’m not sure if they’re even worth that much.”

Sighing– with more than a little bit of drama to attest to the cup or two of amaretto he’s downed– Alec looks up just to blink, the sight before him arresting.

The man who’d asked the question is wearing an easy smile. His eyeliner is just barely smudged at the edges. His blazer is a deep maroon and the shirt is unbuttoned enough to share a tantalizing stretch of skin.

He looks friendly, Alec can’t help but think.

Waiting until Alec makes eye contact with him, the man’s smile deepens just enough to crinkle the corner of his eye.

“Well, I’m sure that’s not true.”

Warmth simmers in Alec’s chest at the quick rebuttal. He finds himself smiling, in turn. “And what makes you so sure?” Alec can’t resist asking with a raised brow.

To most anyone else, the question might come off as surly, combative. Luckily for Alec, it’s taken as it’s meant– a little too genuine with humor to cover the worst of it.

The stranger gives him an obvious once-over, lifts his own martini glass in a semblance of a cheers. “You’re too handsome for them to be worth any less,” the stranger replies, a not-so-subtle wink serving as punctuation.

Alec can’t help a laugh at that and the shyness strikes them both.

This certainly isn’t what Alec imagined when he walked in here. It’s unexpected but. . . not unwelcome, he decides after a moment of internal musing.

Choosing to blame the liquor, Alec leans a little closer to say, “Then your thoughts must be worth a fortune,” and he’s gratified to get a surprised laugh in return.

“If only everyone thought the same, darling,” the stranger. He hesitates a bare moment before reaching out a hand for Alec to shake. “My name is Magnus. Who might you be?”

Alec doesn’t hesitate to return the handshake, sliding his hand against Magnus’s.

There’s no shiver, no sharp intake of breath. No, Alec just shakes Magnus’s hand, feels the easy warmth against his own, the suggestion of a callous against the edge of his palm.

“Alec,” he offers after a long moment of the two of them just holding hands, not moving. His voice is low, hoarse around the vowels.

The bar seems quieter than it did a moment ago. Behind them, there’s still the din of conversation, the clacking of pool balls across the room. The chorus of a terrible Top 40 hit from 1997 is just barely audible.

Right here, Alec feels more in tune to the moment than he has in– perhaps longer than he’s comfortable admitting.

“Alec,” Magnus repeats. In his echo is both a statement and a question. Alec doesn’t know the answer to either so he just says nothing.

Magnus’s thumb sweeps gentle once, twice, over his knuckles before he lets go.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Alec says, latent confidence in his tone.

“Likewise, I assure you.” Magnus crosses his arms over the bar, head turned toward Alec.

His expression is hard to read for all it projects interest. The small smile at the corner of his lips has yet to fade. “What brings you here this evening, Alec?”

The question is to be expected. Alec still has to take a moment to find his answer.

He debates blatant honesty with pulling a punch or two. It might be nice to confide in a stranger, though Alec’s never quite known where the line should be drawn for appearances.

After a few moments of silence where Magnus doesn’t seem to grow annoyed or impatient or disinterested, Alec settles on being a bit more honest than he might otherwise be.

Alec is just this side of tipsy and unlikely to ever see Magnus again after tonight. Maybe giving oxygen to the tangle of weeds growing in his chest will help him. If nothing else, he supposes, it can’t hurt anything. If Magnus listens to whatever the fuck he has to say and runs for the hills, then at least Alec will be able to close out his tab and go home and forget this ever happened all the sooner.

Mirroring Magnus’s pose, Alec slumps a little more over the bar. His gaze flits from Magnus’s shoulder, to his pocket square, up to his mouth, and finally to his eyes.

Magnus’s eyes are a deep brown. Alec knows they hide more than they reveal. If he’s not mistaken though, warmth in the form of kindness lurks in them.

“I think I hate my job and everyone annoys me. I’m so tired and nothing helps. I feel– stuck, I think, but hell if I know what to do about it.”

Magnus doesn’t say anything for a moment, though his expression has shifted into something surprised but not unpleasantly so. Gently, he offers, “You and every other thirty year old, I’m sure.”

Alec grimaces. “Is it supposed to be this pervasive, though?”

Magnus laughs and this time it’s almost caustic. “Unfortunately, Alec, I don’t think it can be any other way.”

“If you tell me that’s just life, I won’t be responsible for my reaction.” Alec’s voice is dry, though he can’t keep the very real kernel of resentment out of his voice.

Now it’s Magnus’s turn to grimace. “I wouldn’t dare, darling, believe me.”

For some reason, Alec does.

He reaches for his glass, drinks the watered-down remains, places it back down and feels the sounds of glass hitting wood somewhere in the hollow of his ribcage.

Nibbling on his bottom lip, Alec wonders if he should ask the question burning the tip of his tongue. Like most of his decisions tonight, it boils down to might as well.

“Does it get better,” he asks, genuinely curious. “How?”

Magnus tilts his glass in a slow circle, seemingly captivated by the way vermouth and gin catch the light. His words are slow to come.

Alec’s torn between surprise that Magnus– who after just a few minutes introduction, had given the impression of having all the easy answers Alec’s desperate for– is taking his time to find the right words and appreciation that he would take a stranger’s question with the gravity Alec needs right now.

“I don’t know if it gets better,” Magnus admits and seems chagrined to do so. “I think it gets easier, though.” Taking a quick sip of his martini, Magnus gestures towards Alec. “Worries over something might ease just for something else altogether to take its place. You might become confident in one area just to decide to reach for something new or more or different. Once you conquer something or wrestle it into submission, the next thing grabs your attention. And thanks to past efforts, current issues won’t seem quite so dire. At least in my experience.”

Mulling over Magnus’s words, Alec finds himself nodding along. “I guess I can see that,” Alec admits. “Doesn’t really make me feel better right now, though.”

Magnus’s expression turns sympathetic. “I understand, darling. Anything particular with work and the general populace or just overall disgust at the end of a hellish week?”

Alec actually takes a minute to think about it. He’s a little surprised to realize that, “It’s really just general tiredness, I think.” He doesn't mention that the general tiredness has been his constant companion for the past few months.

Humming in commiseration, Magnus nods absently. “The end of the week does tend to make everything that much worse.”

Alec snorts a little. “Now that I know full well.”

The two sit in companionable silence for a few minutes.

Alec’s decided not to order another drink. The conversation with Magnus has him feeling more energized and awake then he was just a few minutes before and he doesn’t really want to add any more alcohol to the weird, unsettling mix of tired and maudlin that’s trying to settle in his stomach.

The abrupt sound of Magnus’s empty glass hitting the bar pulls Alec from his brief reverie. He looks over to see Magnus studying him, eyes intent but the curve of his mouth is pure invitation.

At least to Alec’s amaretto-soaked mind.

In the time it takes to blink, Alec’s meeting Magnus’s gaze. He can’t decide what he’s seeing– interest? Challenge? Pure polite humoring?

Magnus swings his chair to the side until he’s fully facing Alec. Resting his left arm on the counter, Magnus tilts his head to the side. “I don’t pretend to know everything you’ve got going on or the severity of it. What I do know is that I can offer a distraction. If you’re willing?”

Alec blames both his alcohol blood content and the way the light hits Magnus’s earring for the way he turns in his chair, too, leaning in far too close for someone of such short acquaintance.

He blames his well-established lack of any sense of self-preservation in the face of a pretty man when he replies, voice low and rough and just a touch too soft, “Do you want to fuck me, Magnus?”

He’s close enough to truly appreciate the way Magnus’s eyes widen at the words, to feel more than hear the small little intake of breath, to see the way Magnus’s eyes dip to his mouth for a second that lingers.

Magnus doesn’t pull away, though, and so Alec doesn’t either.

The space between them can be measured in heartbeats; a slow, steady pulse of temerity.

Magnus’s voice is low and rough and just as soft as he eventually replies, “I don’t think so, Alec. Not tonight, at least.”

Alec finds a world of possibilities in the curve of that smile.

Alec thinks that some part of him must feel the sting of rejection, the humiliation of presumption. It’s hard to feel any of that, though, when Magnus is still watching him with that same mix of bemusement and patience and interest, like he might not know Alec now but he doesn’t mind staying long enough to get a better understanding.

Blinking slowly, Alec allows himself to truly study Magnus.

He’s handsome and Alec likes the glint of intelligence in his eyes, even at so late an hour and after a few drinks. Magnus has been nothing but kind, a welcome respite, a breath of fresh air.

“Okay,” he breathes, his own smile growing into something tangible. “What kind of distraction did you have in mind then?”

Something in Magnus’s posture relaxes at the question, a tension easing out. He nods once, as though resolute, and stands up.

Alec moves his chair to keep Magnus in front of him until his back is to the bar. Magnus holds out a hand and Alec takes a moment to appreciate the way Magnus’s rings emphasis the slimness of his hands, complementing his dark nail polish.

“A distraction demands a change of scenery.” Magnus nods his head back towards the front door of the Hunter’s Moon. The light in his eye is one part challenge, two parts whimsy.

(Alec doesn’t know it now but it’s another part hope with the smallest streak of uncertainty.)

“What do you say, darling?”

Alec places his hand in Magnus’s without a second thought, the only thing running through his mind is the surety that he doesn’t want to let whatever this is ghost over him. He doesn’t know what it is but it feels fleeting– for once, for the first time since he maybe opened the coffee shop, Alec wants to reach out with both hands and hang on for dear life.

He’s halfway to standing, when he realizes, “Oh shit, we need to close our tabs.”

Magnus laughs, something gentle and teasing. He waves Alec’s concern away. “Don’t worry; It’s already taken care of.”

Alec frowns a little, wondering, but Magnus’s pull is irresistible.

He waits for the bartender to shout them back when he realizes that they’ve left without paying. Alec doesn’t hear anyone calling out and when he looks back, the bartender is just picking up their empty glasses with a roll of his eyes.

It’s the most expression Alec’s seen on his face all night.

Deciding not to worry about it, Alec turns back to where Magnus is leading him out of the bar.

Magnus’s hand is warm and when he looks back to make sure Alec’s still with him, his eyes shine with the same warmth that’s been directed at Alec all night.

Alec squeezes the hand still holding his. “Lead the way.”

#will i ever write part 2 it's anybody's guess #malec fic #my writing #been like this

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jimitjain · 1 year

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horiakiindia01 · 4 days

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crookedherringcolorclod · 2 years

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Asa’s Past, Chapter 2: Shot Through the Heart, and YOU’RE TO BLAME.

Title based on: “You Give Love a Bad Name” by Bon Jovi.

Previous Chapter.

TW: assassination, death, paranormal activities.

•Darkness, it felt all so consuming. Asa couldn’t feel anything other than she felt like she was submerging in dark water.

•It was quiet at first until Asa heard whispers against her ears. The whispers grew louder, overlapping each other until they started screaming and crying.

•Asa’s ears were in constant pain, the screams around her wouldn’t stop ringing inside her ears. It’s like the darkness has pinned her in place, it made her feel so powerless. She felt cold hands grabbing at her in different directions, pulling her, hitting her, and even pinching at her skin.

“Nurse! Nurse come quick; the patient is waking up!!”

”Miss, are you ok? Can you hear me?!”

•Asa woke up with a cold sweat, her body felt heavy and the pain in her back returned, although the pain had subsided to a certain degree to a dull ache.

“Thank the Lord, we thought you wouldn’t make it… how do you feel now?”

“Oliver… where’s the boy? I… I was holding him in my arms.

•The caregiver looked at Asa, confused.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry but the boy is not- “

•In the corner of Asa’s eye, she saw a small boy peeking by the door frame before he immediately started running away.

“No, no, the Young Master is right there… O…Oliver, come back… it’s not… safe”

•The nurses had to convince Asa to calm down and focus on recovering. Asa eventually found out she was unconscious for three days, and the nurses tried to convince her to stay in the hospital until was in a better state to roam around town.

•While in the hospital, she told the nurses she saw someone peeking behind the door, or a strange person standing in front of her, not saying a word. The nurses always shook it off as her hallucinating and told her to sleep.

•Not even a day later, Asa insisted that it would no longer be necessary, mostly so she could not have liquor down her throat, it may have helped her wake up, but it doesn’t mean she enjoyed it.

•The hospitals were dubbed “The House of Death” for a reason, she smelled the slowly rotting flesh on the saws that were never washed and heard the faint breaths of the slowly dying patients until she didn’t hear them anymore. At least, that’s what she thought…

•As for her back, thanks to her vampire abilities they healed well enough. Enough for Asa to go and jump from town to town to find Oliver while trying to earn money.

•When finding a job proved to be difficult, she resorted to pickpocketing people, specifically the older aristocrats and nobles. She was agile enough to steal them without them knowing, she was also fast enough to run away without a trace.

•Snatching delicate bracelets, intricate brooch, necklaces heavy with precious stones, even taking a few antique hair combs from the hairs of the petite women.

•Asa never did steal often, only getting a good amount that can last her for a month. The pawn shop valued her as their best supplier and paid her well too.

•This routine continued for a short while until a thug noticed, then more thugs noticed and scoped on Asa.

“Ain’t that a nice stash? Care to spare some?”

“I know yous can hear me, hand over the money.”

“DON’T YOU IGNORE ME YOU BLOWSE!”

•The hoodlum whipped out a knife and charged toward Asa, only for him to be under her boots in a matter of seconds.

“Get lost, scrub. Do as I say or else, I’ll be walking with your brains on my left boot.”

•Then seemingly out of nowhere, a suited man was clapping. As if that man has witnessed a performance.

“Splendid job, young lady, it seems you have experience in combat.” The man admitted, eyeing Asa.

“And who might you be?” Asa sneered as she continued to press her left boot against the hoodlum’s head, and he let out a pained yelp.

“Oh my!” The man feigned a gasp. “It seems I haven’t introduced myself to you properly.” He dipped his head into a bow and continued to speak.

“The name’s Stefan, pleasure to meet you” he chimed, delighted with himself. Asa was not amused by this stranger; it did not matter that she was able to put a name on his face.

•Apparently Stefan worked in the underground, a gang to be exact. He was curious about Asa’s abilities and wished to recruit her. Seeing no other choice with how she has been living, Asa agreed. It could be a way for her to find better prey to drink blood from.

•So, in the end, she accepted Stefan’s offer and became an assassin. Stefan would give her a name, a face, and the location of her targets and Asa killed nobles and thugs alike. Her targets were shot down from afar with the rifle in her hands, all without a need for a scope.

•Even from afar, she could still hear the screams of the people around the targets, young women scampering around out of panic or men jolting back in terror and starting to push each other around in hopes of a chance to escape the building.

•The only thing that unsettled Asa was that she stopped caring, she simply tuned everything out to make those humans nothing to her as she just finished her job and watch the papers sold off quicker and quicker, talking about her victims’ death.

•When Asa shot target after target, there were only three things that she can hear, her breathing, the shot of her sniper, then screaming. Then there was a fourth sound that she could hear, whispers. They were always close to her ears and ringed in her head for periods, like the day she woke up from the hospital.

•It caught Asa off guard as she tried to muffle the noise. Covering her ears with her hands didn’t help as it would get louder, the only thing that made the voices quiet down is when she was in crowded places or talking to people.

•When she talked to people as usual as she did every day, the townspeople started to look at her as if she was crazy. Asa wondered when this crazed nonsense would stop.

•Since then, Asa started listening to other people as they talked to one another, in hopes to find clues. Whatever she heard from the townspeople sent chills down her spine.

•She learned about the baker she talked to yesterday who died of a stroke three days ago. The little girl she gave a doll to recently, fell down the well hours before Asa saw her.

•It was so hard to comprehend, Asa swore that she was talking to those people, she even held that little girl’s hand as she walked her home…

•Asa was tempted to gouge her eyes out, the souls always looked like how they were before they died, and most people did not have the luxury of dying naturally, or in one piece.

•Some souls were mutilated in the last minutes of their death and Asa was surprised that she still had her sanity intact. She couldn’t continue killing people at that rate as it became painful to look at the souls around her.

•Asa told Stefan that she needed to put the gun down, it was getting too much for her. Stefan simply agreed, which made Asa rather relieved.

•Even after Asa quit assassinating people, she would still see the dead. It took months for her to be desensitized to the gore she must witness every day. She even took notes on her observations, it’s not like she can avoid looking at them.

•Eventually, Asa was able to tune the dead out. Even went as far as to be able to control a good amount of them, just to keep them quiet.

•Well, until Stefan had a different job for her.

•What Asa didn’t expect, was to take a job in grave robbing. More specifically, the newly buried, and she was assigned to rob a fresh corpse to deliver to the client.

•Honestly, Stefan was too suspicious for his good, enigmatic too… Asa doesn’t even want to know what’s going on in his head.

•Kicking down the pebbles as she paced through the uneven patch of ground. The graveyard has nothing but stones as makeshift tombstones. Jagged letters washed smooth from the weather, some left blank.

• Asa usually resorted to helping smuggle goods and cargo on ships since she was technically strong enough to lift anything heavy. It had been months since she learned that she could see the dead. The wandering old souls that surround her don’t faze her anymore as she passed through the old souls with ease.

•At least, until she saw a familiar little boy sitting near the gravestone, playing with slabs of stone as if they were building blocks.

•It was Oliver, Asa was aghast when she found him. For months, she had searched endlessly for him between her shifts, all in the hopes that he might be alive.

•That was the little boy that Asa helped raise alongside the countess, the same boy who followed her as she washed and dried clothes and hung them on the clothing lines.

•The little boy who pressed his face against the white sheets only to pop his chubby face out to see Asa laugh and smile. The sweet young master she couldn’t save, and the young master slowly died out in her arms whilst she lay unconscious.

•Asa remembered all the days when she tried to recap what happened, wondering why she can’t seem to remember what happened after she jumped out the window… No, it was more like she didn’t want to think about the worst-case scenario or the fact that the worst did happen.

•The unintentional meat shield that saved her life from the shotgun… when all she wanted to do was to take the brunt of the fall.

•The hooded man was aiming the pistol at her chest… she kept Oliver to her chest…

•Asa collapsed to the ground, too horrified to cry. She was the only survivor of the manor, a failure of a caretaker, and it would haunt her forever-

“Miss Alice!” A sweet voice chirped, follows by small footsteps walking towards Asa.

•Asa was shocked to see Oliver jumping onto her lap, this was not what she expected.

“I missed you so much! It’s so scary here, Miss Alice…” Oliver exclaimed, unaware of the dried blood on the linen shirt he wore, the head maid picked that shirt for him for his birthday dinner…

“I…I missed you too” Asa stuttered, she tried to hold Oliver in her arms, his entire body was translucent and started to fade in and out.

“I’m so happy you’re here… I feel so sleepy all the time…” Oliver muttered, curling his body towards Asa.

“Miss Alice… can you stay with me a little longer?” Oliver yawned; he was barely visible yet his voice was clear. “Please, please tell me a story too, the one you tell me for bedtime.”

“… of course, young master” Asa sobbed, tears streaming down her face.

•Asa held the little ghost boy in her arms, telling him one story, then another. Patting Oliver’s head and hummed as he finally closed his eyes, seemingly asleep.

•For hours, Asa just stayed with Oliver, hoping to engrave his small face in the back of her mind. She could feel him fading away, even as she tried to cling to him, or what was left of him.

•When daybreak had arrived… the little ghost boy finally disappeared, leaving Asa alone with the rest of the ghosts in the jumbled graveyard.

•Asa felt something close to closure that day. She was grateful to see Oliver again, even if it wasn’t the best circumstances.

•With tears long dried, Asa threw the shovel away.

•That was her last job for Stefan before she decided to jump from town to town, she dints even tell him she was going to leave.

•Asa doesn’t know where she’ll go, but she knows that they’ll never be a shortage of souls that will wander along the way.

•Who knows? Maybe Asa can learn how to put her new powers to the test. There are enough souls to play with.

Next Chapter

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #dl oc #diabolik lovers oc #diabolik oc #asa sakamaki #sakamaki asa #akemi sakamaki #sakamaki akemi #amaya sakamaki #sakamaki amaya

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