#stirrups in column

[tata-tiscon]

Tata Tiscon 550 SD rebars

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To know more, visit Tata Tiscon Website

[srjsteel]

Understanding the Role of Construction Rings in Reinforcement

Construction rings play a pivotal role in modern construction, serving as essential components for reinforcement stability and structural integrity. These seemingly simple elements prove crucial in ensuring the longevity and strength of reinforced concrete structures through effective wire binding techniques.

The Fundamentals of Reinforcement Binding

Construction rings, combined with binding wire, create the foundation for stable reinforcement assemblies. The precise placement and securing of reinforcement bars depend heavily on proper wire binding techniques, which prevent displacement during concrete pouring and ensure optimal load distribution in the finished structure.

Types of Construction Rings and Their Applications

Standard Construction Rings

These versatile components serve multiple purposes in reinforcement assembly. Their design allows for secure binding wire attachment while maintaining proper spacing between reinforcement elements. The durability of these rings ensures long-term structural stability.

Specialized Reinforcement Rings

Advanced construction projects often require specialized construction rings designed for specific applications. These variants offer enhanced features for particular structural requirements:

Heavy-duty rings for massive concrete structures

Corrosion-resistant variants for exposed environments

Custom-sized rings for unique architectural designs

The Science Behind Wire Binding

Binding Wire Characteristics

Quality binding wire exhibits specific properties essential for reliable reinforcement assembly:

Optimal tensile strength

Resistance to corrosion

Flexibility for proper tying

Compatibility with various construction rings

Wire Binding Techniques

Professional wire binding methods ensure maximum stability:

Double-loop connections for primary structural elements

Single-loop bindings for secondary reinforcement

Continuous binding for special applications

Cross-wire techniques for complex geometries

Enhancing Structural Integrity

Load Distribution

Construction rings contribute significantly to proper load distribution throughout reinforced structures. Their strategic placement and secure binding wire connections prevent localized stress concentrations that could compromise structural integrity.

Displacement Prevention

Effective wire binding using construction rings prevents reinforcement displacement during concrete pouring. This stability ensures that reinforcement maintains its designed position, crucial for achieving specified structural strength.

Quality Considerations

Material Selection

Choosing appropriate construction rings and binding wire materials depends on various factors:

Environmental exposure conditions

Structural load requirements

Construction timeframe

Budget constraints

Installation Standards

Professional installation practices ensure optimal performance:

Proper spacing between construction rings

Correct wire binding tension

Appropriate overlap at connections

Regular quality checks during installation

Advanced Applications

High-Rise Construction

Tall buildings demand specialized construction rings and binding wire configurations to handle increased structural loads and wind forces. Enhanced wire binding techniques ensure stability throughout the structure's height.

Seismic Considerations

Areas prone to seismic activity require particular attention to reinforcement binding. Construction rings and wire binding methods must accommodate potential movement while maintaining structural integrity.

Cost-Efficiency Analysis

Long-Term Benefits

Investing in quality construction rings and binding wire yields significant advantages:

Reduced maintenance requirements

Enhanced structural longevity

Better resistance to environmental factors

Improved overall building performance

Installation Efficiency

Proper selection of construction rings and binding wire can significantly impact installation time and labor costs:

Faster assembly processes

Reduced material waste

Lower risk of rework

Improved quality control

Future Trends

Innovation in Materials

Emerging technologies continue to improve construction rings and binding wire materials:

Enhanced durability characteristics

Better corrosion resistance

Improved workability

Sustainable production methods

Smart Construction Integration

Modern construction increasingly incorporates digital monitoring and quality control:

Automated inspection systems

Real-time strength monitoring

Digital documentation

Performance tracking

Conclusion

The strategic importance of construction rings and proper wire binding techniques cannot be overstated in modern construction. These fundamental components ensure structural integrity through precise reinforcement assembly and secure connections. By selecting appropriate materials and following professional installation practices, construction projects benefit from enhanced stability, longevity, and performance. As construction technology advances, the role of these essential components continues to evolve, contributing to safer, more efficient building practices.

[scary-grace]

Expiation (Chapter 6) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Even after slaying the High Kingdom's greatest enemy and sparing its people from a terrible fate, Shigaraki Tomura's past crimes make him an outcast in the castle. Still, someone has to attend to him, and that someone is you -- and unlike the maids who came before you, you're not afraid to ask a question. (cross-posted to Ao3)

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Chapter 6

The army’s finally stopped for the night, and although you’ve been looking forward to it since sunrise, all you can conjure at the moment is a sharp strike of dismay. All around you, knights and nobles and squires are dismounting easily from their horses, landing on their feet, grasping the reins, and striding off to parts unknown, but you know just from the sensation in your legs that they won’t hold you up. You were fine for the first part of the journey, when the narrow paths of the Forest Perilous were easier to travel on foot. Now you’ve reached the forest’s glades, and the days of riding are getting longer. You don’t have the conditioning to keep up. The last three days, you’ve dismounted from your saddle only to fall flat on your face in the dirt.

People have laughed at you. You don’t blame them for laughing. You would laugh, if it was someone other than you – at least, you think you would. Maybe if it was someone else, you’d feel some sympathy for the only person in the entire army who never thought to go to war.

A pair of hands seize you around your waist and you nearly jump out of your skin. “Take your feet out of the stirrups,” Sir Tomura says, and once you’ve done so, he pulls you down from the saddle and sets you on your feet.

He doesn’t let go until you’ve found them, and once you have, you realize that you’re more embarrassed than you would have been if you’d fallen. You look up at him. “I grew tired of waiting for you,” he says by way of explanation. “This way.”

You grasp your mare’s reins and stumble after him. The crowd that would have laughed at you is silent in his wake.

You’ve been a source of amusement to most of the army, but to Sir Tomura, you’ve been more of a liability than anything else. You’re slow to recover from each day’s ride. You get lost amidst the column more often than not, far from your Lord when you’re supposed to be at his side. The first night of the journey, the tent collapsed on him partway through the night, and the fact that he cut his way free meant that you had to make dozens of repairs before you could even think about putting it up again.

Once you’d fixed it, you tried to scurry back to your own makeshift bed by the fire. Sir Tomura stopped you. “You’ll sleep here,” he said, through clenched teeth, his mouth twitching in a way you’d never seen before. “If it should collapse again, you will share my fate.”

The tent has stayed up, and you’ve not gone back to sleeping by the fire. The second night of the journey, it rained, and the night after that, too, and on the fourth night your bedroll went missing. When you went looking for it, you found it laid out in the tent, beside Sir Tomura’s cot. “The other knights share their tents with their squires,” he said without looking at you. “As this is apparently the custom, I’ll follow it.”

It’s the custom for knights and squires of the same gender, not for men and women, although you know that several squires have more than a working relationship with their knights. That’s not how it is between you and Sir Tomura. The two of you spend a great deal of time together, but he’s never given even the slightest indication of that sort of interest in you. You’re not sure romance interests him at all. Most knights and nobles have at least one bed partner. As far as you know, Lord Tenya and Sir Tomura are the only ones who don’t.

Sir Tomura’s already removed Nomu’s tack and settled him with a water trough and a bundle of hay. You were supposed to do that, if you’d managed to get off your horse without embarrassing yourself. You remove the grey mare’s tack and tie her up alongside Nomu. While none of the other horses dare come close, your horse is more than willing to snatch bites of hay from directly under his nose. Nomu barely reacts to her antics. With the horses cared for, you turn your attention to erecting the tent – and as he has since the second night of the journey, Sir Tomura assists you.

He does so in silence. You wonder if he resents helping you, and although you’ve held onto the question for weeks, it escapes. “Wouldn’t you prefer to rest, my Lord? I do not need the help.”

“It’s my tent, too. I have a vested interest in ensuring that it doesn’t try to devour me in the middle of the night.”

“You thought it was eating you?”

“What would you have thought?” Sir Tomura glances at you, then looks away. “It seemed as plausible as anything else.”

To your horror, you find yourself biting back laughter. “I’m not surprised you drew your sword.”

“All the more reason for me to make sure it’s pitched correctly. I cannot draw my sword recklessly if you are near.” Sir Tomura hammers the last of the tent pegs into the ground and straightens up. “You traveled this path through the Forest. Do you recall anything about this region?”

You wish you didn’t, but you do. “We called it the Veil.”

“That’s what it is.”

“Not vale – veil, like a bride wears.” You think back to the journey. Were you alone by then? No, you don’t think so. You think it happened here. “Time moves strangely within it. I saw things, or heard things, or smelled them – it was not always wise to trust my senses.”

“A place of magic,” Sir Tomura says, and you nod. “Why call it the Veil?”

“They say –” you trail off, feeling ridiculous. Sir Tomura gestures for you to go on. “The barrier between this world and the others is thinnest here. It is the most dangerous part of the journey, especially at night.”

“Why?”

You shake your head. “I don’t remember.”

You aren’t sure if you ever knew in the first place. All you knew were the nights you spent huddled amidst the roots of trees with your hands over your ears and the days you spent stumbling along the Veil’s paths with bare, bloody feet. “I see,” Sir Tomura says after a moment. “I will pass word that we must be on our guard.”

Another question occurs too you – an imprudent one, just like every question you ask Sir Tomura lately seems to be. “My Lord, what was your journey through the forest like?”

Sir Tomura walks away without answering, leaving you to wonder whether you’ve offended him or whether he simply didn’t hear you. He answers almost all the questions you ask him, even though he has no obligation to. It always catches you by surprise when you stumble upon one that he won’t even acknowledge.

The nights follow the same pattern, always: Camp is made, a meeting of King Izuku’s captains and councilors convenes, food is distributed, and following that, the knights and squires and servants and soldiers separate out to their own campfires to while away an hour or two before sleep overcomes them. Servants sleep early to wake earliest, but squires stay up as long as their masters do, should their master require anything from them. Sir Tomura doesn’t stay up particularly late, even though he’s been grudgingly included in a group of the king’s councilors who share a fire each night. He always puts in a perfunctory appearance before retreating to his tent.

Once you asked him why. That was a question he was willing to answer. “There’s nothing to interest me. I may as well sleep.”

The result of Sir Tomura’s habit is that while you’re the worst rider among the squires, you’re consistently better rested than the others. Which is a good thing; you need all your wits about you to survive each day on the road to war.

You’ve always been a light sleeper, waking at the slightest of sounds, but the noise that startles you awake tonight is impossible to mis – a sharp, agonized gasp, as though the person making it has been struck through the heart. You sit up in a hurry and look for the assailant, but there is none. Just Sir Tomura, thrashing this way and that on his cot, clawing at his chest and breathing as if he’s on the edge of tears.

He’s having a nightmare. Your nightmares are always the waking sort, haunting you in idle moments rather than assailing you in your sleep, but you know what it looks like. You didn’t think Sir Tomura had nightmares. Monsters and villains don’t, or shouldn’t – but he’s always been more than just a villain, in spite of his insistence otherwise. You watch for a moment, paralyzed, as Sir Tomura’s distress increases, but it’s the way he curls in on himself, as if to shield himself from a blow, that makes up your mind. Your Lord is in distress. You can’t sit here and do nothing.

Waking Sir Tomura is a tricky prospect. You can’t think of anything to do that he won’t read as threatening, so although the urge to shake him awake is overpowering, you retreat out of grasping range. Then you lift your meager excuse for a pillow off your bedroll and lightly smack Sir Tomura with it. He’s a light sleeper, too. It only takes one hit to wake him up, and when he wakes, he scrambles for a weapon, drawing his knife from beneath his pillow and rolling over to reach for his sword. Reaching for his sword means he’s looking your way, and at the sight of you, he freezes.

You freeze, too. “What happened?” Sir Tomura demands, his voice raspy and rawer than before. “Why did you do that?”

“You were having a nightmare,” you say. Sir Tomura looks skeptical, although it’s undermined by the paleness of his face and the haunted look in his eyes. “It looked uncomfortable, and you were scratching your wound.”

Sir Tomura sits up with a grimace. His shirt is in shreds, and his cursed wound is oozing clear fluid tinged with blood. You hold out your hand for his shirt, but he misreads you. Rather than peeling off his ruined shirt and giving it to you to be mended, Sir Tomura grasps your hand. For a moment, he simply holds it; then he raises it, pressing your palm against his cheek. His skin is clammy with cold sweat, his hair soaked with it where your fingers brush his hairline. He turns his head against your hand and you feel his breath warming your palm.

You spend as much time with Sir Tomura as any squire or personal servant, and from the beginning, you’ve been more – familiar – with him than the latter role would suggest. In response, he’s been more familiar with you, holding your hand at the feast, letting you tend to his hair after the duel with Sir Katsuki, helping you down from your horse. You’re accustomed to casual touch. This doesn’t feel casual.

It doesn’t look casual, either. Even in the darkness of your tent, it’s obvious that you should not be touching him this way, but he’s the one who pulled your hand to him. Sir Tomura is stubborn. He cannot be compelled to do anything he doesn’t wish to. Is this what he wants from you?

“My Lord,” you say, keeping your voice steady, calm, “your wound needs tending before you can sleep, and I must mend your shirt. May I?”

He lets go of your hand slowly. “You may.”

You duck out of the tent to retrieve clean water from the stream at the edge of the encampment, then go pawing through the simple healing kit you packed for a clean cloth and a few herbs that, when applied to a wound, proved some relief from pain. To your knowledge, Sir Tomura has never sought pain relief before, and he’s never asked you to summon a healer. But you’ve never seen his wound so irritated, and he needs to sleep. Maybe he’ll accept it this once.

By the time you return to the tent, Sir Tomura’s struggled out of his shirt and left it in a pile on the floor for you to deal with later. He sits up as you approach. “Lie back,” you say. “It’ll be easier to treat your wound.”

Sir Tomura lies back by degrees, and you begin to clean the edges of the cursed wound on his chest. They’re ragged and terrible, and although you do your best to be careful, you know by the way his body tenses that your touch is causing pain. You moisten the clean cloth from the bucket of water, bind up the herbs in it, and lay it carefully over Sir Tomura’s wound. He stirs discontentedly. “What are you doing?”

“It will help.” You hope so, anyway. You get up again and come back with your entire medical kit. “If I bind it tightly, it should stay in place overnight.”

You expect Sir Tomura to argue with you, but he doesn’t. He follows your instruction to sit up so you can secure the compress with a bandage, then lies down again. His paleness has faded, replaced with a patchy, hectic flush, and when you brush your fingers against his cheek, it’s hot. You find another clean cloth, moisten it from the bucket, and sweep it carefully over his forehead, his cheek, his jaw.

You’re on your fourth pass with the cloth before you realize what you’re doing. Shortly afterward, you realize that you’ve lost your mind. Finding him a cold cloth is one thing, a reasonable thing – but then you should have placed it on his forehead and retreated to mend his shirt. You shouldn’t have done this. What is this, anyway? What are you doing? Why isn’t Sir Tomura stopping you? You shouldn’t need a noble to tell you when you’ve crossed a line; you should know, and you do. You force yourself to stop.

You’ve barely lifted your hands away when Sir Tomura speaks. “Don’t.”

Something twists in your chest, makes it hard to breathe. “My Lord?”

“Don’t,” Sir Tomura says again. His eyes are closed. “Unless it’s what you wish, don’t stop.”

You return to your self-appointed task at once, wiping away the flush on his cheeks. It’s spread down to his throat, too, and you pursue it with a light touch, doing your best not to linger on the scars at the side of his neck. Sir Tomura turns his head, revealing the other side of his neck, and you moisten the cloth again before obliging. He sighs, and the sound drives a spike through whatever fragile sense of ease you’ve developed with this. Your own face feels hot, for an entirely different reason than his must be. Why did he make that sound? Why do you want to hear it again?

“Why,” Sir Tomura starts, and for a terrifying moment, you think he’s read your mind. “Why would you do this?”

“My Lord?”

“This.” One hand lifts, making a gesture that seems to encompass everything within the tent. “Do not say that it is an honor.”

“It is,” you say. Sir Tomura scoffs quietly. “And because you let me.”

Sir Tomura opens his eyes at that, and all you can do is hope that the flush in your cheeks has retreated. He stares up at you, pale in the darkness. There’s nothing for you to do but look back. You know his features well, having served him daily for months, often being the only person in a given set who’s willing to raise their eyes to him, and although the details of his features are hard to see in the dark, your eyes have adjusted enough to make a few things out. The birthmark on his cheek, just below the right corner of his mouth. The scar distorting his lips, the other over his right eye. His pale hair fanned out across the pillow. His gaze, empty when you first met him, now focused more often than not.

A word comes to mind, not one you’ve applied to him before; in fact, you’re sure that no one has, because they never look at him long enough. Sir Tomura is striking. No, handsome. No – beautiful.

Too beautiful to look at. You turn away and begin to repack the medical supplies, only to startle so badly when Sir Tomura’s hand comes to rest against your back that you drop them all. “If you must wake me again, don’t hit me with a pillow.”

“Your first act upon waking was to reach for your weapons. I was wise to stay out of range.”

“The first time,” Sir Tomura says. “Now I’ll know it’s you.”

You hear what he isn’t saying. He’ll know it’s you, and he trusts you not to harm him. Trusts you enough to not move immediately to protect himself. Trusts you enough to let you wake him gently. You nod and go back to sorting supplies, praying that this will only happen once. Praying that you won’t find yourself in this position ever again – in the dark and quiet, with your Lord sprawled out before you, his eyes settled almost softly on yours.

He doesn’t sleep for the remainder of the night. Although he lies quietly, his eyes are open, and he watches you as you mend his shirt, one torn piece at a time. In spite of your awareness that he’s awake, he still catches you by surprise when he speaks. “Is there no ruined thing too small for you to mend?”

“No,” you say. “If I have the pieces, I can repair it.”

“All the pieces?”

“Enough of them,” you say. You hold out the shirt for him to examine, then close the gap when he beckons you closer. “This piece is too small to fill the gap it left – the rest of it was too shredded for use. But – here, hold this –”

You keep the piece, and hand Sir Tomura the shirt. He watches you align the piece as closely as possible with the space it’s too small to fill, then reach for your magic. You’ve given up trying to match color or material while mending things for Sir Tomura; what flows from your fingers is always silver, and the silver joins the small piece back to the rest of the shirt, filling in the remainder of the space itself. “My magic can still repair it,” you say. “I can bring most things back together, so long as there is something left to work with.”

It’s a struggle to keep a note of pride from entering your voice, until you remember that you’re sitting beside Sir Tomura, one of the greatest magicians of. “Your ability outpaces mine,” Sir Tomura says, and you turn to stare at him. He’s studying the shirt, turning it over in his hands. “For all my strength, I could not do this.”

“Have you ever tried?”

“I don’t need to try,” Sir Tomura says. He runs his fingers over the seams you’ve sealed, one at a time. “I have you.”

<- Chapter 5

taglist: @shigarakislaughter @cheeseonatower @deadhands69 @xeveryxstarfallx @dance-with-me-in-hell @stardustdreamersisi @koohiii @warxhammer @f3r4lfr0gg3r @handumb @shikiblessed @agente707 @atspiss @lvtuss @issaortiz @lacrimae-lotos @aslutforfictionalmen @baking-ghoul @boogiemansbitch @evilcookie5 @minniessskii

[aegon-targaryen]

The Missing Horseshoe

Zelink Week Day 7: Reunion | BOTW Zelink | read on AO3 | @zelinkcommunity

Some people, Zelda thought when the sound of hoofbeats reached her ears, would be thrilled by this reunion.

She couldn’t go anywhere in the castle without hearing the rumors. Soldiers, servants, Sheikah researchers—he was all they seemed to talk about. The swordsman stood against eight men in the training yard today. The swordsman saved the princess’s life with a pot lid. The swordsman can take down Lynels with a flick of his finger. They never used his name. Zelda supposed he had no use for it when he was already a living legend, an embodiment of all the hope she failed to inspire.

But as he halted his horse before the shrine, all she saw was a stubborn burr stuck to her clothing—or, much worse, an anchor dragging her back beneath her father’s watchful eye.

She took a deep breath of the chilly mountain air, reaching for some semblance of calm. It’s a beautiful day. Focus on that. A crisp breeze swept through the Ancient Columns; the sun gilded his hair as he dropped from the saddle with effortless grace. He was no one’s archetypal image of a knight, thanks to his small stature and delicate features—yet that didn’t stop Zelda’s handmaids from swooning over him when the thought she wasn’t listening.

Worst of all, there was truth underlying the gossip about his skill. No matter how many times she gave him the slip, he found her without breaking a sweat.

Zelda stalked down from the shrine she couldn’t even activate without his help, lecturing him about personal space while he just stood there, unwavering and unreadable. The swordsman’s eyes are blue as the ocean, one of her maids had tittered, and I’d love nothing more than to drown in them. Well, she was welcome to him. Zelda couldn’t stand the way his gaze concealed everything about him and exposed everything about her.

“Return to the castle, and tell that to my father, please,” she tossed over her shoulder as strode past him. Surely the command would stick this time. Surely he wouldn’t keep stealing it all away—the wild, the solitude, the only chance she had to make a tangible contribution to Hyrule.

For a few blissful seconds, there was nothing but silence behind her.

Then footsteps, trotting to catch up. The sound tossed one more log onto the fire building up in Zelda’s chest. He fell into step behind her, always behind her, always reminding her. And as the heat seared up her throat and down to her fingertips like a mockery of the power she would never claim, she whirled, flinging the words at his blank face.

“And stop following me!”

He blinked hard, several times over, as if the sun was in his eyes. His fingers—already curled into fists at his sides—tightened almost imperceptibly under his gloves. Even now, his gaze never left hers, and Zelda couldn’t look away either, because this was the first hint of emotion she’d ever seen him show.

Anger? Contempt? It didn’t matter; she already knew how to fill in the gaps his silence created. She was a spoiled brat who abused her station against someone who was only following the king’s orders. She was a broken vessel using her jagged edges like a weapon. She was supposed to be his partner against the darkness, but when the Calamity came raging down upon Hyrule, he would be facing it alone.

Zelda jackknifed away and continued towards her white stallion, shame curdling in her stomach. Rune shifted restlessly as she reached him, probably sensing her tempestuous mood—he didn’t like her much either, but that was nothing new. She yanked the stirrups down and was about to mount when the wind carried a single word to her, quiet and ordinary and completely shocking.

“Wait.”

Disbelief froze her in place. The swordsman was stone-faced again when she looked back at him, but for a moment he seemed to be…hesitating. Wavering. She’d never seen him look anything but completely, ruthlessly certain of himself, and it replaced her fury with pure bafflement.

Then he came towards her, the blue-and-gold scabbard tapping against his back with every step, and Zelda was rooted to the ground in anticipation of what he might do. Rebuke her, or forsake her, or—

He walked right past her, stopping to run a hand along Rune’s leg in a quiet request for him to lift his leg. Confused beyond belief now, Zelda stared at her knight’s downturned face while he studied the horse’s hoof. The twin crescents of his eyelashes were fanned out across his cheeks, a shade darker than his tawny hair, and there was a tiny scar at his temple that she had never noticed before.

And then he shifted, reminding her where they were, and she realized what had caught his attention: her stallion was missing a shoe.

“Blessings of Hylia,” she swore. “When did that happen?”

The swordsman straightened, looking up at her impassively; of course he couldn’t answer that question.

“We’ll have to walk him all the way across the Tabantha Bridge. But the path is so steep, that might make matters worse…perhaps we could fetch a farrier back here. Assuming there is a farrier at the stable—" With every word Zelda felt more foolish, more selfish, for there was no doubt Rune had thrown the shoe during her mad rush to slip away undetected.

As her knight turned away, she watched the set of his shoulders, always so straight and alert under the weight of the sword. Despite everything, the sight had become a familiar part of her world, and it made her heart lurch when she saw him reach his mare and brace a hand on the saddle, as though preparing to mount. Preparing to leave.

Two minutes ago, Zelda had been certain that was what she wanted. But when she considered what type of person would notice a horse’s predicament right after being snapped at by a half-mad princess, she wasn’t so sure. She had the strangest sensation that she stood on the precipice of something vast, but until she jumped, she wouldn’t know if it was a trove of precious technology or a pool of sacred springwater waiting to drown her.

The swordsman did not mount his mare. Instead he stretched up on his tiptoes to rummage around in his saddlebag, coming back towards her with a bundle of bandages and a spare bowstring. The latter he gave to Zelda, who accepted it in dumbfounded silence. Then he picked up Rune’s leg and began to wrap his hoof with bandages, filling in the space the shoe had left behind.

She took the opportunity to study him again: the steady precision of his hands, the way he pressed his lips together in concentration, the dark circles under his eyes that matched her own. The last detail surprised her, though perhaps it shouldn’t have. He had stood guard outside her room at the inn last night, as he always did when they traveled, no matter her insistence that it wasn’t necessary.

Did he snatch any sleep out there, leaned against her door through the slim hours of the night? It was difficult to picture him falling short of any goal. Zelda would give anything to feel half so certain of herself for a day, an hour, a moment.

If only she could ask where his strength came from. She had tried that day by Lake Kolomo, when she brought up the voice in the sword and he responded with a wordless nod, as if it was a given that he could hear it. She had swallowed the rest of her questions, though they had rattled around her ribcage every day since. How do you pull your fate down from heaven to earth? How do you hold it in your hands without shaking? How do you carry it on your shoulders like it weighs nothing?

Maybe that was the wrong place to start. Maybe the first thing Zelda needed to say was, I’m sorry.

Maybe she needed to call him by his name.

The swordsman—Link—held out a hand, and she stared for a moment before remembering the bowstring. She placed it in his open palm, feeling a shiver travel up her spine as her fingers brushed his callused skin, and watched him tie the bowstring around Rune’s wrapped hoof to hold everything in place. That would get him back to the stable uninjured, though when the horse put his leg down, he huffed in displeasure at the encumbrance.

“Sorry,” Link murmured sympathetically, patting Rune’s shoulder. “It’s not for long.”

Zelda’s eyes were stinging from the cool wind, from the shock of hearing him speak, from everything. Her own voice wasn’t as clear as she’d like it to be, but she took a step towards the precipice and said, “Thank you.”

He dropped his hand suddenly, taking a step back from Rune, as though he’d forgotten her presence until she spoke. And when he raised his eyes to meet hers, his expression was blank as a slate once more.

I see, she thought with cold clarity. In her mind’s eye, the precipice receded from view, leaving her in the same place as always: a barren land with path to follow, no map to reference, and no guide to keep her company.

She’d always known Link was capable of both speech and compassion. Interwoven with the gossip about his skill were stories of him rescuing kittens from trees and helping old women carry their groceries home. Mipha watched him with shining eyes; Daruk called him a Sworn Brother. Somewhere along the line, Link must have spoken to them both, just as he’d spoken to her horse with quiet kindness.

Then the answer was simple: he didn’t want to talk to Zelda.

She pressed a hand to Rune’s warm neck, surprised when he dipped his head and nuzzled at her quietly. He was sweet beneath his tough exterior. Maybe her knight was too, but that wasn’t for her to see. It was for someone who wasn’t a failure of a princess, someone who wouldn’t abandon him to the fate they were supposed to share.

He was still looking at her unfathomably. Unable to bear it for one more second, Zelda reached for her horse’s reins.

“Well?” she said tiredly, not bothering to wait for a response that would never come. She led Rune down the slope, moving slowly for the sake of his uneven footing, waiting for the sound of Link and his mare falling into place behind them. Half-collapsed columns of white stone jutted up on either side of the path, surrounding them like the fangs of a beast.

It would take a while yet to loosen the coils around her heart, and longer still for his silent walls to come down. But one thing did change in those ruins, no matter how much Zelda wished otherwise—from that day forward, she could no longer keep Link’s name out of her thoughts.

.

.

.

[limerental]

ficletvember 2023 - day 17

ciri & geralt canon divergence, ft. vampire yennefer

When Geralt fails to make their Beltane rendezvous, witcher Ciri takes on the contract he failed to return from. this one is truly all over the place lmao

Pausing to stroke a placating hand down the mane of her antsy mount, Ciri cursed the thorny gnarl of undergrowth that had proven impossible to navigate on horseback. Though she was loathe to leave Kelpie alone in the midnight forest, there was no way forward but to dismount and press on.

Her destination at least was clear.

A full moon brimmed above the dark spires of the looming manor house, looking almost spectral in the wash of pale light. Its description matched the details of the contract perfectly, and she dreaded learning how accurate the rest was.

She whispered to Kelpie, securing her stirrups and unclasping her reins to ensure nothing caught when set loose. The mare snorted and wasted little time in turning tail and leaving at speed, heels kicking out to express her true thoughts about the place. Ciri supposed she'd find her in the morning returned to the stables at the inn, having charmed the stableboys into a thorough groom and a bucket of hot bran mash. 

She could forgive Kelpie her unease.

The villagers said this forest was cursed, that any human who entered would never leave again, but Ciri was a Witcher. She doubted the existence of the curse and had escaped from worse circumstances than some spooky forest.

She was only here because Geralt had not appeared at their rendezvous several days past.

Each year, they met for Beltane just outside Maribor and joined the celebrations there. Though she was as scarred and hardened as he was now, she always felt like a little girl again on those nights around the bonfires, wine-drunk and swapping tall tales of their travels.

This year, hoping he had only been briefly delayed, Ciri had joined the revelry around the fires with less girlish joy. She'd done her best to enjoy herself, knowing it was a witcher's lot to be uncertain of every reunion. The baker's wife had consoled her long through the night, so it hadn't been the worst Beltane celebration. 

In the morning, she'd fled the baker's foul curses and chosen to seek out Geralt rather than wait around.

She had found his trail without much trouble.

From what intelligence she could gather from the scattered gossip of villagers, it was not some feral monster or cursed being but likely a higher vampire that lived here on the forested estate. Such creatures were unpredictable. Most had mastered their animal instincts but were all the more likely to be sadistic and deviant and enjoy inflicting suffering.

The moon had risen high by the time she pressed through the thicket and clambered over the vine-heavy fence that circled the manor's courtyard. The house appeared to be in horrible disrepair but a closer look revealed the dilapidation to be superficial. 

Warm light glowed here and there behind the shuttered windows. 

Ciri felt for the pommel of her sword as she slunk through the courtyard. Dangerous monsters tended not to light candles, but she knew very well that there were worse things than monsters in the world.

Finding a side door unlatched, she stole as silently as she could down a darkened hallway. 

Very few could creep more silently than Ciri did, but even so, the pair who sat together at the candlelit dining table did not seem surprised to see her enter. 

The dark-haired woman smiled with a glint of dangerous fangs, and Geralt swayed in his chair beside her, heavy-lidded eyes uncomprehending.

“You've interrupted dinner,” said the vampire, dabbing blood from the corner of her mouth with a scarlet napkin. The curved sharp of her claws trailed along the pale column of Geralt's wounded throat. 

Punctured neatly but not torn. Ciri desperately envied a true witcher's sharp hearing, wishing to be certain that the heart still beat strongly in Geralt's breast, that she had not drained him nearly dry.

Her sword rasped slowly free of its sheath, wary that an abrupt movement could quicken the vampire's claws.

“I always thought Witcher's blood wasn't palatable to vampires,” said Ciri as she squared her feet into a fighting stance. She didn’t have much of a plan beyond fighting her way to Geralt, but she hoped it wouldn't come to that. A freshly-fed higher vampire would far outmatch her. 

Worse, if Geralt were in her thrall, the vampire would not need to bother with fighting. To fight him off would be hard enough without worrying about injuring him.

“Oh it's awful,” said the vampire, her nose wrinkling. She wore a black and white dress that hugged her slender figure as she leaned provocatively in her chair, the black waves of her hair falling over an exposed shoulder. “I wouldn't bother at all, but he likes it so very much when I feed from him. It's a hard temptation to resist.”

“Release him,” Ciri ordered, not allowing her outheld sword to quiver. 

“And who are you then?” The vampire's eyes were strange and violet, looking her over in slow and disdainful contemplation. 

“I'm his–” 

Ciri didn't quite have words for what she was to Geralt. 

Orphaned by war and stumbling by chance into his care, she had spent her childhood hidden away in the mountains, raised by witchers and trained to fight. Though the process that would have made her a true mutant had been lost to time, a specific diet of peculiar herbs and mushrooms had left her as broad and strong as any man, if not a witcher. 

Though witchers could have no biological children, Ciri was as close as it came to a daughter. She had never said so aloud. It seemed like too big a sentiment to give voice to.

“Did you think no one would come for him?” Ciri asked. “That you could take your time in killing him because of course no one would miss a Witcher? Well, you'd be wrong. He was meant to meet me three days past, and he's never blown me off before and never will.”

The vampire sat suddenly straighter, her eyes widening.

“Oh,” she said, her voice changed. “You're his–”

The vampire lay a hand on Geralt's cheek, and Ciri flinched, expecting to watch his throat cut before her eyes. Instead the hand only patted gently, enough to rouse the white-haired Witcher. His eyes fluttered and he grumbled something. 

“Wake up, you lazy creature,” the vampire hissed. “I didn't drink all that much, and I've released the thrall. This is no time for a nap.”

“Yen,” Geralt whined in obvious displeasure, blinking into awareness at last. “Yen, what d'you– oh. Ciri.”

“Geralt, dear, remind me of the date,” said the vampire, her clawed fingers still caressing Geralt's cheek. 

To her surprise and confusion, Ciri would almost describe her changed voice as affectionate. 

Meanwhile, as Geralt processed the situation, he began to look sheepish and uncomfortable, something close to guilty.

“It’s lmost Beltane,” Geralt said, words somewhat slurred.

“Past Beltane,” Ciri corrected. “Three days past.”

“Huh,” he grunted. 

“Geralt, love,” said the vampire, “I fear you've forgotten your daughter's birthday. And created quite the awkward situation for us both.”

[kapilasteel]

From Columns to Confidence: Why Contractors Keep Coming Back for 8mm Rods from Trusted Brands

8mm rod price per piece isn't just a line item on a builder’s budget sheet — it’s the starting point of something much bigger. For contractors who pour their energy into every beam, slab, and column, the right rod means the difference between uncertainty and unshakeable confidence. As the backbone of modern construction, TMT saria and Super Rings are changing how builders view strength, reliability, and repeat purchase decisions.

What’s So Special About 8mm Rods?

The Backbone of Precision

An 8mm rod isn’t just a smaller variant of standard TMT bars — it’s often the go-to for structural detailing. From beam stirrups to footings and floor rings, these rods are crucial in tying larger elements together with finesse and form. For contractors, size doesn't always mean strength — precision does.

More Than a Rod: It’s a Statement of Trust

Trusted brands don’t just deliver 8mm rods; they deliver peace of mind. When a contractor returns to a known name, it’s because the product hasn’t let them down — not once. Brands like Kapila Steel have built a reputation not just on quality, but on consistency, which speaks volumes in a sector where even a single failure can bring down years of credibility.

Awareness: Why Quality in 8mm Rods Matters

Not Just Fillers, But Structural Anchors

Though often overlooked compared to their thicker counterparts, 8mm rods carry their weight — quite literally — in foundational work. Be it residential slabs or commercial walls, these rods ensure everything else falls into place.

Consideration: Comparing What’s Out There

TMT Saria vs. Conventional Rebar

When choosing reinforcement materials, contractors have learned to be picky. TMT saria — known for its superior tensile strength, earthquake resistance, and corrosion-proof coating — has become a benchmark. The 8mm rods made using TMT processes offer exceptional weldability and bendability, making them a preferred pick for intricate designs.

The Unsung Hero: Super Rings

Super Rings — typically used in conjunction with 8mm rods — bring balance and support to the entire structure. Their function? To hold the skeleton of the building together, much like the way ligaments work in the human body. And when both are sourced from a trusted brand, the synergy between the two elements is unmatched.

Why Contractors Come Back Again (and Again)

A Track Record That Speaks

Time and again, trusted brands have delivered 8mm rods that maintain uniform diameter, consistent weight, and top-tier strength. These aren’t factory floor miracles — they’re the result of technology, quality control, and years of refinement.

Smooth Supply, No Surprises

Reputation doesn’t just come from product quality. It also comes from reliability in supply, price transparency, and smooth logistics. Trusted brands understand that a delayed rod is a delayed slab — and in construction, time costs money.

Decision Time: Why It Pays to Stick With the Trusted Names

No Guesswork, Only Confidence

Choosing 8mm rods, TMT saria, and Super Rings from trusted manufacturers isn’t about playing safe — it’s about playing smart. Experienced contractors know that one compromise today can lead to big regrets tomorrow. That’s why once they find a brand they trust, they stick with it.

Familiarity Breeds Excellence

There’s an ease that comes with working with materials you know. From rod placement to bending angles, experienced contractors can feel the difference in their palms.

Conclusion

From foundation rings to rooftop reinforcements, the humble 8mm rod plays a starring role. But it’s not just the rod — it’s where it comes from that matters most. The repeated preference for trusted brands among seasoned contractors proves one thing: quality isn’t just bought, it’s remembered. And when every slab and stirrup counts, confidence is poured as deeply as concrete.

[constructioncostco]

The reinforced concrete column is a structural member and is designed to bear loads. This column has two types of bar. One is a longitudinal bar and another one is a horizontal bar. Stirrups and ties are used in columns in the case of the horizontal bar.

Stirrups are also known as ring, shear reinforcement. Users have to calculate the cutting length of the bar and also have to calculate the number of stirrups to make stirrup for the column. After that users have to decide the size of the stirrup.

Step by step guide

1. To determine the size of the stirrup. 2. To calculate the cutting bar length for stirrup. 3. To calculate the number of stirrups. 4. To bend the bar in stirrup?s shape.

To determine the size of the stirrup

Let us say, The column size is 20" x 40". We all know that the concrete clear cover for reinforcement of column is 1??.

So the length of the stirrup will be 40"-2?1??=37" and the width will be 20"-2?1??=17".

So the size of the stirrup is 37"x17".

Read more

[atwaofficial]

Canto III

Near to the bank of the river, o'ershadowed by oaks, from whose branches

Garlands of Spanish moss and of mystic mistletoe flaunted,

Such as the Druids cut down with golden hatchets at Yule-tide,

Stood, secluded and still, the house of the herdsman. A garden

Girded it round about with a belt of luxuriant blossoms,

Filling the air with fragrance. The house itself was of timbers

Hewn from the cypress-tree, and carefully fitted together.

Large and low was the roof; and on slender columns supported,

Rose-wreathed, vine-encircled, a broad and spacious veranda,

Haunt of the humming-bird and the bee, extended around it.

At each end of the house, amid the flowers of the garden,

Stationed the dove-cots were, as love's perpetual symbol,

Scenes of endless wooing, and endless contentions of rivals.

Silence reigned o'er the place. The line of shadow and sunshine

Ran near the tops of the trees; but the house itself was in shadow,

And from its chimney-top, ascending and slowly expanding

Into the evening air, a thin blue column of smoke rose.

In the rear of the house, from the garden gate, ran a pathway

Through the great groves of oak to the skirts of the limitless prairie,

Into whose sea of flowers the sun was slowly descending.

Full in his track of light, like ships with shadowy canvas

Hanging loose from their spars in a motionless calm in the tropics,

Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines.

Just where the woodlands met the flowery surf of the prairie,

Mounted upon his horse, with Spanish saddle and stirrups,

Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin.

Broad and brown was the face that from under the Spanish sombrero

Gazed on the peaceful scene, with the lordly look of its master.

Round about him were numberless herds of kine, that were grazing

Quietly in the meadows, and breathing the vapory freshness

That uprose from the river, and spread itself over the landscape.

Slowly lifting the horn that hung at his side, and expanding

Fully his broad, deep chest, he blew a blast, that resounded

Wildly and sweet and far, through the still damp air of the evening.

Suddenly out of the grass the long white horns of the cattle

Rose like flakes of foam on the adverse currents of ocean.

Silent a moment they gazed, then bellowing rushed o'er the prairie,

And the whole mass became a cloud, a shade in the distance.

Then, as the herdsman turned to the house, through the gate of the garden

Saw he the forms of the priest and the maiden advancing to meet him.

Suddenly down from his horse he sprang in amazement, and forward

Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder;

When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the blacksmith.

Hearty his welcome was, as he led his guests to the garden.

There in an arbor of roses with endless question and answer

Gave they vent to their hearts, and renewed their friendly embraces,

Laughing and weeping by turns, or sitting silent and thoughtful.

Thoughtful, for Gabriel came not; and now dark doubts and misgivings

Stole o'er the maiden's heart; and Basil, somewhat embarrassed,

Broke the silence and said,—"If you came by the Atchafalaya,

How have you nowhere encountered my Gabriel's boat on the bayous?"

Over Evangeline's face at the words of Basil a shade passed.

Tears came into her eyes, and she said, with a tremulous accent,—

"Gone? is Gabriel gone?" and, concealing her face on his shoulder,

All her o'erburdened heart gave way, and she wept and lamented.

Then the good Basil said,—and his voice grew blithe as he said it,—

"Be of good cheer, my child; it is only to-day he departed.

Foolish boy! he has left me alone with my herds and my horses.

Moody and restless grown, and tried and troubled, his spirit

Could no longer endure the calm of this quiet existence.

Thinking ever of thee, uncertain and sorrowful ever,

Ever silent, or speaking only of thee and his troubles,

He at length had become so tedious to men and to maidens,

Tedious even to me, that at length I bethought me, and sent him

Unto the town of Adayes to trade for mules with the Spaniards.

Thence he will follow the Indian trails to the Ozark Mountains,

Hunting for furs in the forests, on rivers trapping the beaver.

Therefore be of good cheer; we will follow the fugitive lover;

He is not far on his way, and the Fates and the streams are against him.

Up and away to-morrow, and through the red dew of the morning

We will follow him fast, and bring him back to his prison."

Then glad voices were heard, and up from the banks of the river,

Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the fiddler.

Long under Basil's roof had he lived like a god on Olympus,

Having no other care than dispensing music to mortals.

Far renowned was he for his silver locks and his fiddle.

"Long live Michael," they cried, "our brave Acadian minstrel!"

As they bore him aloft in triumphal procession; and straightway

Father Felician advanced with Evangeline, greeting the old man

Kindly and oft, and recalling the past, while Basil, enraptured,

Hailed with hilarious joy his old companions and gossips,

Laughing loud and long, and embracing mothers and daughters.

Much they marvelled to see the wealth of the cidevant blacksmith,

All his domains and his herds, and his patriarchal demeanor;

Much they marvelled to hear his tales of the soil and the climate,

And of the prairie; whose numberless herds were his who would take them;

Each one thought in his heart, that he, too, would go and do likewise.

Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda,

Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of Basil

Waited his late return; and they rested and feasted together.

Over the joyous feast the sudden darkness descended.

All was silent without, and, illuming the landscape with silver,

Fair rose the dewy moon and the myriad stars; but within doors,

Brighter than these, shone the faces of friends in the glimmering lamplight.

Then from his station aloft, at the head of the table, the herdsman

Poured forth his heart and his wine together in endless profusion.

Lighting his pipe, that was filled with sweet Natchitoches tobacco,

Thus he spake to his guests, who listened, and smiled as they listened:—

"Welcome once more, my friends, who long have been friendless and homeless,

Welcome once more to a home, that is better perchance than the old one!

Here no hungry winter congeals our blood like the rivers;

Here no stony ground provokes the wrath of the farmer.

Smoothly the ploughshare runs through the soil, as a keel through the water.

All the year round the orange-groves are in blossom; and grass grows

More in a single night than a whole Canadian summer.

Here, too, numberless herds run wild and unclaimed in the prairies;

Here, too, lands may be had for the asking, and forests of timber

With a few blows of the axe are hewn and framed into houses.

After your houses are built, and your fields are yellow with harvests,

No King George of England shall drive you away from your homesteads,

Burning your dwellings and barns, and stealing your farms and your cattle."

Speaking these words, he blew a wrathful cloud from his nostrils,

While his huge, brown hand came thundering down on the table,

So that the guests all started; and Father Felician, astounded,

Suddenly paused, with a pinch of snuff half-way to his nostrils.

But the brave Basil resumed, and his words were milder and gayer:—

"Only beware of the fever, my friends, beware of the fever!

For it is not like that of our cold Acadian climate,

Cured by wearing a spider hung round one's neck in a nutshell!"

Then there were voices heard at the door, and footsteps approaching

Sounded upon the stairs and the floor of the breezy veranda.

It was the neighboring Creoles and small Acadian planters,

Who had been summoned all to the house of Basil the Herdsman.

Merry the meeting was of ancient comrades and neighbors:

Friend clasped friend in his arms; and they who before were as strangers,

Meeting in exile, became straightway as friends to each other,

Drawn by the gentle bond of a common country together.

But in the neighboring hall a strain of music, proceeding

From the accordant strings of Michael's melodious fiddle,

Broke up all further speech. Away, like children delighted,

All things forgotten beside, they gave themselves to the maddening

Whirl of the dizzy dance, as it swept and swayed to the music,

Dreamlike, with beaming eyes and the rush of fluttering garments.

Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsman

Sat, conversing together of past and present and future;

While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within her

Olden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the music

Heard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadness

Came o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden.

Beautiful was the night. Behind the black wall of the forest,

Tipping its summit with silver, arose the moon. On the river

Fell here and there through the branches a tremulous gleam of the moonlight,

Like the sweet thoughts of love on a darkened and devious spirit.

Nearer and round about her, the manifold flowers of the garden

Poured out their souls in odors, that were their prayers and confessions

Unto the night, as it went its way, like a silent Carthusian.

Fuller of fragrance than they, and as heavy with shadows and night-dews,

Hung the heart of the maiden. The calm and the magical moonlight

Seemed to inundate her soul with indefinable longing;

As, through the garden gate, and beneath the shade of the oak-trees,

Passed she along the path to the edge of the measureless prairie.

Silent it lay, with a silvery haze upon it, and fire-flies

Gleaming and floating away in mingled and infinite numbers.

Over her head the stars, the thoughts of God in the heavens,

Shone on the eyes of man who had ceased to marvel and worship,

Save when a blazing comet was seen on the walls of that temple,

As if a hand had appeared and written upon them, "Upharsin."

And the soul of the maiden, between the stars and the fire-flies,

Wandered alone, and she cried,—"O Gabriel! O my beloved!

Art thou so near unto me, and yet I cannot behold thee?

Art thou so near unto me, and yet thy voice does not reach me?

Ah! how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie!

Ah! how often thine eyes have looked on the woodlands around me!

Ah! how often beneath this oak, returning from labor,

Thou hast lain down to rest and to dream of me in thy slumbers!

When shall these eyes behold, these arms be folded about thee?"

Loud and sudden and near the note of a whippoorwill sounded

Like a flute in the woods; and anon, through the neighboring thickets,

Farther and farther away it floated and dropped into silence.

"Patience!" whispered the oaks from oracular caverns of darkness:

And, from the moonlit meadow, a sigh responded, "To-morrow!"

Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the garden

Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses

With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal.

"Farewell!" said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;

"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,

And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming."

"Farewell!" answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended

Down to the river's brink, where the boatmen already were waiting.

Thus beginning their journey with morning, and sunshine, and gladness,

Swiftly they followed the flight of him who was speeding before them,

Blown by the blast of fate like a dead leaf over the desert.

Not that day, nor the next, nor yet the day that succeeded,

Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river,

Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertain

Rumors alone were their guides through a wild and desolate Country;

Till, at the little inn of the Spanish town of Adayes,

Weary and worn, they alighted, and learned from the garrulous landlord,

That on the day before, with horses and guides and companions,

Gabriel left the village, and took the road of the prairies.

- Longfellow

[constructioninformation]

Definition of Bar bending

It is the method of bending reinforcing steel into shapes which are important for reinforced concrete construction.

Definition of Bar bending schedule(BBS)

Bar bending schedule alias schedule of bars refers to a list of reinforcement bars, a specified RCC work item that is shown in a tabular form for a smooth view. This table sums up all the necessary particulars of bars ranging from diameter, shape of bending, length of each bent and straight portions, angles of bending, total length of each bar, and number of each type of bar. This information can be used for making an estimate of quantities.

It includes all the details essential for fabrication of steel like bar mark, bar type and size, number of units, length of a bar, shape code, distance between stirrups (column, plinth, beam) etc.

While generating bar schedules, it is important to take proper care about length. In case of bending, bar length will be raised at the bending positions.

Benefits of the Bar Schedule:

When bar bending schedule is applied along with reinforcement detailed drawing, it makes the quality of construction superior.

Once bar bending schedule is prepared, cutting and bending of reinforcement is performed at factory and shipped to job site. This improves quick implementation at site and minimizes construction time and cost as fewer workers are needed for bar bending. Bar bending also circumvents the wastage of steel reinforcement (5 to 10%) and thus project cost is saved significantly.

It offers the perfect estimation of reinforcement steel requirement for all the structural members which are applied to workout complete reinforcement requirement for whole project.

Read more

[dasshilpa2222]

Definition of Bar bending

It is the method of bending reinforcing steel into shapes which are important for reinforced concrete construction.

Definition of Bar bending schedule(BBS)

Bar bending schedule alias schedule of bars refers to a list of reinforcement bars, a specified RCC work item that is shown in a tabular form for a smooth view. This table sums up all the necessary particulars of bars ranging from diameter, shape of bending, length of each bent and straight portions, angles of bending, total length of each bar, and number of each type of bar. This information can be used for making an estimate of quantities.

It includes all the details essential for fabrication of steel like bar mark, bar type and size, number of units, length of a bar, shape code, distance between stirrups (column, plinth, beam) etc.

While generating bar schedules, it is important to take proper care about length. In case of bending, bar length will be raised at the bending positions.

Benefits of the Bar Schedule:

When bar bending schedule is applied along with reinforcement detailed drawing, it makes the quality of construction superior.

Once bar bending schedule is prepared, cutting and bending of reinforcement is performed at factory and shipped to job site. This improves quick implementation at site and minimizes construction time and cost as fewer workers are needed for bar bending. Bar bending also circumvents the wastage of steel reinforcement (5 to 10%) and thus project cost is saved significantly.

It offers the perfect estimation of reinforcement steel requirement for all the structural members which are applied to workout complete reinforcement requirement for whole project.

Read more

[tata-tiscon]

Find answers to your Home Building Questions

A Step-by-Step Guide for Home Building Construction which makes things easy, especially if you have the help of experts who will assist during the entire process.

Just Visit @ https://tatatiscon.co.in/

[dasmanisa2222]

Stirrups play a crucial role in reinforcing concrete structures, providing the necessary support to withstand tensile forces and ensuring durability. These steel reinforcement bars, commonly known as rebar ties or links, are essential in holding the main reinforcement in place and preventing structural failure.

Concrete structures require robust reinforcement to handle loads effectively, and stirrups help achieve that by resisting shear forces and maintaining stability. The type of stirrup used depends on various factors, such as structural design, load-bearing capacity, and construction requirements.

Functions of Stirrups in Concrete Structures

Stirrups serve several key purposes in reinforced concrete structures, including:

Shear Resistance: They provide resistance against shear forces, preventing cracks and structural failure.

Reinforcement Holding: Stirrups help keep longitudinal reinforcement bars in place, ensuring uniform spacing.

Structural Stability: They enhance the strength and stability of beams, columns, and slabs.

Load Distribution: By effectively distributing loads, stirrups help maintain the integrity of concrete structures over time.

Types of Stirrups Used in Construction

1. Single-Legged Stirrups

These are the simplest type of stirrups, consisting of a single bar bent into a U-shape and placed around longitudinal reinforcement. They are commonly used in small-scale constructions and lightweight structural components where shear forces are minimal.

2. Two-Legged Stirrups

Two-legged stirrups, also known as U-stirrups, are the most widely used in beam and column reinforcement. They offer enhanced shear resistance and support for concrete structures, making them ideal for medium-load applications.

Read more

[fractured-shield]

scene 3 (Leithe and Idhren, second chronologically)

“I’m told an escort is required. Again. You’d think they’d trust me by now, or at least care less for my safety, without my title.” Leithe’s tone made clear what she thought of that. “—What? Don’t tell me you agree with them?”

It was apparent that she had seen something in Idhren’s expression that he hadn’t meant to be there. He tapped his pen against the side of the inkwell, marking down a few more counts in the correct column and checking them against the records he had brought from the Thiamal’s archives. The capital’s archives were quite extensive, though they were less carefully maintained than those he typically used in Linador.

“The roads haven’t been this safe in half a century,” Leithe continued. “It’s Vailra, not a trip to fucking Ilgost.”

“It’s less about the roads, and more about the snakes alongside them—or the brush-birds, if one of those takes flight under your horse’s nose I worry that in her fright she’d try to follow.”

Leithe’s horse was rather young and high-spirited. Such a mount would hardly be suitable for a typical (former) noblewoman, but he’d learned that Leithe was hardly typical.

“Can’t argue with that.” She took a book from the stack in front of him and began leafing through it. “I wish the guards were less dull though, you know? I’m aware it’s not exactly the most interesting assignment, but you’d think being amicable would make it easier to tolerate. It’s not like I don’t try to talk to them.”

He wondered—would it be a good idea to offer? Would she appreciate it, or would he be overstepping, offending her by making it seem that he didn’t trust her to take care of herself?

“…Coincidentally, I’m to to present the Warmaster’s request for the high-mage’s attendance. I had planned to arrive in Vailra around the end of the month, then head to Nar-thelyr when the weather warms.” He allowed a small smile as he met her eyes. “I imagine your guild would find an officer, even inactive and low-ranking, to be a more than suitable escort—if my company is agreeable, of course..?”

Leithe closed the book, a puff of dust rising from its pages as she did. “Gods, would you really?”

He nodded. “I’m not sure I can quiet a startled horse from my own saddle, if it comes to it, but I’ll try.”

“Oh, fuck off, it’s not like any other guard could do more. And if someone’s got to watch me pick leaves out of my hair because another blade of grass scared her, it’d be less embarrassing if it’s you.”

<<<>>> <<<>>> <<<>>>

“You are aware it was a joke, aren’t you?”

Leithe seemed terribly amused, behind her concern, and he could hardly blame her. It hadn’t been his most intelligent moment.

“It wasn’t from my saddle, so it hardly counts.”

Her horse, a little spotted thing with no withers to speak of, had startled at some flicker of shadow or other, right as they’d been getting back in their saddles after a while of walking. Leithe had barely gotten her boots into the stirrups, and was in the process of losing her seat as she made a grab for the reins. Still on foot, Idhren had taken hold of the reins as well—getting the mare’s head around and stopping her for long enough for Leithe to recover…and wrenching his elbow in the process.

Idhren had insisted it was fine, and then Leithe had insisted that they stop anyway, and obviously she’d won that argument. Her famous stubbornness aside, it always seemed so easy to agree with her.

Not that she’d given him time to disagree if he had wanted to. She’d been out of her saddle in an instant, undoing the laces of his cloak and pushing back his sleeve before he could protest. Her horse, thankfully, had gotten over her fright and stood quietly. His had been completely unbothered by the whole affair: she was currently busying herself with the few tufts of roadside grass that were still green this late in the season.

“Does it hurt?” Leithe prodded at his arm, and he remembered—not that his own was very extensive—that she’d never mentioned any medical training at all.

“No—” an immediate lie, as she poked him again in a slightly different place.

It was barely three days into their trip, which felt a bit insulting.

“It’s fine, I promise. I can still ride well enough.” He didn’t move away.

“You can, I’m sure, but I’ve seen you stay up all night over work that doesn’t even need to be done, so forgive me if I don’t think you should.”

“It’s just strained, it’ll be fine in an hour.”

Ignoring him, Leithe turned back to her horse, running the stirrups up their leathers and loosening the girth. “Then that’s an hour we can afford to rest.”

He didn’t have an answer to that. It did still twinge a bit, as he started to loosen his horse’s gear as well, but if he moved just so, and didn’t put too much weight on that side, it was perfectly fine.

“I’m not sure if there are any wolves this far south. Or buire-deer? Maybe thieves along the road?” Leithe wondered, throwing herself onto the grass with an ease at odds with her words.

“What happened to the safety of the roads you were so sure of?” Idhren joined her more carefully.

“Maybe you should let me hold onto your sword. Just for now: we're sitting targets, and you can't use it.” She reached out to tug his sleeve back into place without waiting for permission. She’d said nothing about the scars of a soldier—more reckless and stupid than most, he’d never claim otherwise—that the sleeve had covered. It was rather refreshing.

“Its guard is shaped for the left hand, you wouldn’t find it very comfortable. And it’s a bit too big for you, don’t you think?”

He couldn’t resist a little teasing. Maybe it would convince her he wasn’t in too much pain, if nothing else.

Leithe swatted at his wrist in mock anger, then leaned back in the grass, hands behind her head. “You can’t blame me for trying, it’s such a nice sword, is all.”

It took him a moment to manage a hum of agreement. Her curls, messy from her hands and the coarse blades of grass and gentle wind, brushing so gently against the freckles on her cheek, were a bit distracting. He allowed a brief, fond smile for as long as she looked away.

[civilguidelines]

What size of reinforcement is used in RCC member is based on the architectural drawing and designing for the G+2 house. If the user wants to make a design where the height of the building is less than 10 m and the spacing of columns is 4m to 5m, the user can do the design.

Users should have to check live load, soil type, dead load, vertical load, horizontal load, slenderness ratio, deflection of the beam while drawing design for RCC structure for the residential house as per I.S. Code guidelines.

According to the rules, let's assume that a structure of G+2 residential building, using standard 9" thick walls, so the user should use reinforcement size of 16mm for mesh bar for footing, 16mm size used for the column, 16mm size used for beam and 10mm & 8mm iron rod size used for RCC roof slab casting.

Reinforcement detail of Footing

Let's assume that a structure of G+2 residential building, using standard 9" thick walls. So the size of the footing depth should be a minimum of 6 to 7 feet in a trapezoidal shape, using reinforcement size T16@5"C/C for mesh bar of Fe 500 used with m20 grade of concrete with a clear cover of 50mm.

Reinforcement details of the Column

Let's assume a structure of G+2 residential building, using standard 9" thick walls, size of the column should be minimum 10" x 16", using 4nos of reinforcement size T16 at corner & 2nos of T12 at the center of Fe 500 used with m20 grade of concrete with stirrups of T10@6"C/C with clear cover 35mm.

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[raogbl]

Stirrups are the structural elements which help to provide support to the reinforced concrete beams and columns in the construction structures including buildings, bridges, and other structures. Stirrups can be made of steel and are able to resist tensile forces that have occurred in the construction structure. The stirrup can bent to a rectangular or U shape and can be placed vertically at fixed intervals. The structural integrity of the concrete elements can be ensured in case the space between the Stirrups does not exceed a certain limit. The size and shapes of the Stirrups depend upon the load-bearing capacity and other requirement of the construction structures.

The purposes of Stirrups

➢ The main purpose of Stirrups is to hold the primary reinforcement bars as well as prevent columns and beams from buckling. ➢ In addition, Stirrups are used to improve the comprehensive strength of the columns as well as increase the column’s ductility.

➢ Another purpose of using Stirrups is to inhibit the primary reinforcement movement during the concreting process of the construction structure. ➢ For the same purpose as in columns for the calculation of lumpsum, Stirrups have been employed in the beams. ➢ It is also used in producing the longitudinal bars along with the lateral confinements. ➢ This is also used to keep the longitudinal bars in place during the construction process. ➢ Stirrups are also used to keep the concrete in the core thus helping to make the concrete more ductile and strong.

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[kapilasteel]

Are 8mm Rods Suitable for Residential RCC Frames?

The 8mm rod price per piece, has grown to be an important consideration for homeowners and small contractors making plans for residential creation projects. When budgets are tight, the temptation to opt for smaller-diameter reinforcement bars is understandable. Yet, the query remains: can those thinner rods safely help the structural integrity of residential reinforced cement concrete (RCC) frames?

Understanding Steel Reinforcement Basics

Reinforcement bars, generally referred to as TMT saria in many markets, form the skeleton of any concrete shape. These steel rods work in tandem with concrete to create a composite fabric that withstands both compression and tension forces. The diameter of those bars without delay impacts the load-bearing capacity and sturdiness of the ensuing structure.

Modern TMT saria undergoes thermal mechanical treatment, giving it superior power houses in comparison to older, slight steel versions. When nicely included with Super Rings (stirrups) that bind the principle bars together, they devise a sturdy framework that stops concrete from cracking underneath strain.

Technical Considerations for Residential Structures

For residential creation, structural engineers normally specify minimal reinforcement requirements based totally on numerous factors:

Load Requirements

Most residential homes need to face up to:

Dead hundreds (structural weight)

Live masses (occupants, furnishings)

Environmental loads (wind, rain, seismic pastime)

The 8mm rod charge in keeping with the piece might appear attractive to start with; however, these thinner rods offer appreciably less tensile power than their 10mm or 12mm opposite numbers. When calculating the steel-to-concrete ratio, engineers have to make sure there is sufficient reinforcement to address predicted stresses.

Durability Concerns

Thinner TMT saria may be extra prone to:

Corrosion damage

Reduced fire resistance

Limited load-bearing ability

The spacing between Super Rings will become even more vital with the use of 8mm rods. These stirrups should be located at proper intervals to prevent buckling and ensure the structural integrity of columns and beams.

Regional Building Codes and Standards

Most building codes worldwide specify minimum reinforcement diameters for structural factors:

Columns and Primary Beams

For important structural additives, 8mm rods do not often meet code requirements. These important elements typically require 12mm or larger diameter TMT saria, with Super Rings spaced in line with calculated shear forces.

Secondary Elements

For non-load-bearing partitions, slabs, and minor beams, 8mm rods might be applicable under precise situations. However, even right here, structural engineers often advocate larger diameters for long-term sturdiness.

Cost-Benefit Analysis

While the 8mm rod rate in line with the piece gives instantaneous savings, the long-term implications deserve attention:

Potential restore charges because of structural inadequacies

Reduced property lifespan

Safety issues all through excessive weather occasions

Insurance and resale fees affect

Smart builders stabilize the initial TMT saria costs towards these potential future costs. Super Rings manufactured from 8mm rods can be suitable for stirrups in positive programs; however, the use of them as number one reinforcement frequently proves penny-sensible but pound-foolish.

Making an Informed Decision

For owners considering residential construction, the following steps are advocated:

Consult a structural engineer instead of making selections based completely on the 8mm rod rate per piece.

Review neighborhood building codes and seismic requirements.

Consider the expected lifespan of the structure.

Factor in nearby weather situations that could accelerate corrosion.

Quality TMT saria, when properly designated and mounted with suitable Super Rings, bureaucracy the spine of a safe, long-lasting domestic. The minimal financial savings received from undersized reinforcement rarely justify the capacity risks.

For maximum residential RCC frames, 10mm or 12mm bars represent the practical minimum for primary structural factors, with 8mm rods doubtlessly the most suitable and handiest for precise, non-vital programs beneath professional steerage.