#Alloys Fabric

[vamshi11]

Exploring MS Plates: Varieties, Applications, and Their Design Impact with Top Brands from SteelonCall

Diverse Varieties of MS Plates

Mild Steel (MS) plates, celebrated for their robustness and adaptability, come in various types to suit different industrial and construction needs:

Standard MS Plates: These versatile plates are the go-to choice for general applications. Their balanced mix of strength and flexibility makes them ideal for structural supports, machinery parts, and general fabrication tasks.

High Strength Low Alloy (HSLA) Plates: Designed to offer enhanced strength without compromising weldability, HSLA plates are perfect for demanding applications. They are commonly used in heavy machinery, bridges, and other high-stress environments.

Corrosion-Resistant Plates: Coated or treated to withstand environmental wear, these plates are used in areas prone to moisture and chemicals. They are ideal for outdoor installations and marine applications where durability against corrosion is crucial.

Quenched and Tempered Plates: Through specific heat treatments, these plates gain exceptional hardness and impact resistance. They are utilized in heavy-duty machinery and equipment that require superior strength and durability.

Wide-Ranging Applications of MS Plates

The applications of MS plates span a diverse array of sectors, reflecting their integral role in modern industry and construction:

Construction: In construction, MS plates are essential for structural components like beams, columns, and reinforcements. They provide the necessary stability and strength for buildings, bridges, and infrastructure projects.

Manufacturing: The industrial sector relies on MS plates for machinery and equipment fabrication.

Automotive Industry: MS plates are used extensively in automotive production for vehicle bodies and chassis. Their strength and formability are key to producing safe and reliable automotive parts.

Shipbuilding: In the maritime industry, MS plates are fundamental in constructing ship hulls and decks. 

Agricultural Equipment: MS plates are utilized in the production of agricultural machinery. Their toughness and ability to withstand heavy loads make them ideal for farming equipment.

Impact of MS Plates on Design Innovation

MS plates are not only functional but also inspire creative design solutions:

Architectural Innovation: In contemporary architecture, MS plates are often used for their sleek, industrial aesthetic. They feature prominently in building facades, decorative elements, and structural highlights, contributing to modern architectural styles.

Custom Fabrication: The flexibility of MS plates allows for custom designs and fabrications. From bespoke furniture to artistic installations, their ability to be cut, welded, and shaped supports unique and tailored design solutions.

Facade Solutions: For building facades, MS plates can create striking visual effects while providing durability. Various treatments and finishes offer designers flexibility in achieving distinctive and functional exterior designs.

Versatile Design Options: The range of finishes and treatments available for MS plates enables their use in diverse design contexts. This adaptability allows for integration into both interior and exterior designs, meeting varied aesthetic and functional requirements.

Premium MS Plates Available at SteelonCall

At SteelonCall, we offer a selection of high-quality MS plates from renowned brands, ensuring that you receive the best materials for your projects:

Vizag Steel: Renowned for its superior quality and reliable performance, Vizag Steel’s MS plates are ideal for a range of applications, providing both strength and durability.

SAIL: SAIL offers a wide array of MS plates known for their consistent quality and performance, suitable for various industrial and construction needs.

Jindal: Jindal’s MS plates are celebrated for their exceptional strength and resilience, making them a preferred choice for demanding applications in construction and manufacturing.

Conclusion

MS plates are a fundamental component in numerous industrial and construction applications, valued for their strength, versatility, and adaptability. At SteelonCall, we provide top-quality MS plates from leading brands like Vizag Steel, SAIL, and Jindal, complete with test certificates to ensure authenticity and performance. Whether you need MS plates for construction, manufacturing, or innovative design projects, our range of products meets your highest standards.

For the best prices and exceptional service, contact us at 08062212000 or visit our website at steeloncall.com. Discover how our premium MS plates can elevate your projects and meet your needs with excellence.

#MSPlates #SteelPlates #DesignInnovation #ConstructionMaterials #TopSteelBrands #SteelonCall #QualitySteel

[nakodasteel10]

Excellence in Alloy Steel Pipes: Nakoda Steel Industry's Unrivaled Precision and Innovation

Nakoda Steel Industry stands as a frontrunner in the domain of alloy steel pipes manufacturing. With a commitment to quality, innovation, and precision, they offer a diverse range of high-grade alloy steel pipes. Their expertise and dedication make them the go-to choice for industry-specific pipe solutions.

[fanservices123]

Failure Analysis Lab Mumbai, Pune, Nashik,Chennai,Hyderabad,India

[lightasthesun]

Comprehensive Lexicon Guide for First-Time SW Fic Readers:

Flimsi/Flimsiplast = Paper

Flimsiwork/Datawork = Paperwork

Stylus = Pen

Datapad = Tablet

Comlink/Comm = Communication Device/Phone

Binders = Handcuffs

Chronometer = Clock

Spectacles = Eyeglasses

Chrono = Watch

Conservator = Refrigerator

Caf = Coffee

Nerfburger = Hamburger

Blue milk = Milk (literally blue)

Hubba chips = French Fries

Sweet roll = Doughnut

Flatcakes = Pancakes

Tabac = Tobacco

HoloNet = World Wide Web

Holovision/HoloTV = Television

Holodrama/Holovids = Movie/Videos

Holocamera/Holocam = Camera

Holomap = three-dimensional map

Holojournal = Newspaper

Holocube = Picture frame

Holotable = Projector

Holoscanner = X-ray machine

Holojournalist = Reporter

Flatholo/Holograph = Photograph

Sonic Damper = Active Noise Cancellation

Refresher/Fresher= Bathroom

Sonic Bath = Bath

Sanisteam/Sonic shower = Waterless Shower

Hydrospanner = Wrench

Hydro Flask = Water Bottle

Power Cell/Energy Cell = Batteries

Authorization Chip = Decryption key

Datatape = Disk

Datastick = Flash drive

(Personal) Com Code = Phone number

Datachip = SD Card

Synthflesh = Synthetic skin

Glowrod = Flashlight

Sparkstick = Match

Slugthrower = Gun

Slug = Bullet

Vibroblade = a blade that can vibrate at high frequencies, increasing its cutting power and penetrating ability (tactical knife)

Rangefinder = Rifle scope

Turbolaser = Cannon

Ion pike/Vibropike = Spear

Electro Staff = Stun baton

Blaster = Pistol/Rifle

Stun Blaster = similar to a Taser

Landspeeder/Airspeeder/Speeder = Car

Turbolift = Elevator

Slideramp = Escalator

Starfighter = Fighter jet

Rotorcraft = Helicopter

Hoverpack/Jetpack= Jet pack

Speeder Bike = Motorcycle

Skylane = Traffic lane

Railspeeder/Hovertrain = Train

Power Chair/Hoverchair= Wheelchair

Windscreen = Windshield

Podracing = Car racing

Dejarik = Chess

Sabacc = Poker and Blackjack combined

Galactic Rebels = Combat simulator

B'shingh = Dungeons and dragons

Jizz = Jazz music

Wailer = Singer (ie. Jizz Wailer)

Cantina = Bar or Pup

Para Sailing = Paragliding

Aurebesh = Alphabet

Credits = Money

Sleeping Pallet = Bedroll

Naming Day = Birthday

Youngling = Child

Galactic Basic Standard/ Basic = English

Medkit/Medpac = First aid kit

Hypo = Syringe

Medic/Healer = Doctor

Medcenter = Hospital

Bactapatch = Bandaid

Nanoweave = Fabric

Transparisteel = Glass

Plastifoam = Packing material

Durasteel = Steel

Plasteel = Plastic

Duracrete = Concrete

Slicer = Hacker (slicing = hacking)

Identikit = Passport

Minder = Therapist

Synthleather = Vinyl

Viewport = Window

Cooling Unit = Air-conditioning

Honeydarter = Bee

Slythmonger = Drugdealer

Spice = Drugs

Stimpill = Caffeine pill

Power Socket = Plug

Cutters = Scissors

Cycle = Day

Standard Cycle = 24h

Standard Week = 5 days

Standard Month = 35 standard days

Standard Year = approx. ten months

Tenday = literally ten days

Cigarras/Smokes = Cigarettes

Click = Kilometer or 'a moment'

Parsec = a unit of distance

Tweezers/Clanker/tin head/tinnie = Droid

Separatist = Seppie

Promise Ring = Wedding Ring

Body Glove = Jumpsuit

Slicksuit = Wet suit

Civvies = Civilian clothing

Carbonite = a metal alloy used to freeze a person in a state of hibernation

Hyperdrive = device that allows a starship to travel faster than lightspeed

Moisture vaporator = device that can extract water from the air, commonly used on tatooine

Glareshades = Sunglasses

Gasser = Gas Oven

Repulsorlift = technology that can create an anti-gravity field and is used for levitating heavy objects

Heating unit = Heater

Utility Droid = Roomba

Sunbonnet = a Clone trooper helmet

Bad Batcher = a defective Clone Trooper

Banthabrain = birdbrain/ a stupid person

Bantha fodder = waste of space/nonsense

Blast! = word of exclamation

Blasted! = s.o in anger or annoyance

Blaster-brained = dimwitted

Blaster fodder = cannon fodder

Blast off = Piss off

Brainless = Stupid

Bug/Bugger = used to refer to Geonosians

Forceforsaken = godforsaken

Full of Poodoo = full of shit

Poodoo = Shit

Kriff = Fuck

Jedi scum = derogatory term for jedi

Kark = derogatory expletive

Larty = LAAT/i gunship

Laserbrain = insult

Meat droid = derogatory term for Clone Troopers

Redrobes = Palpatines guard

Rookie/Shinie = newly recruited Trooper

Scum = insult to refer to bounty hunters/rebels

Sharpie = Sharp-witted

Sithspawn/Sithspit/Hellspawn! = expletive

Sleemo = Slimeball

Son of a bantha = insult

Wizard! = Cool

Spaced = dead

Hutt-spawn = Bastard

Karabast = exclamation of dismay

Stang = Crap

Buckethead/Bucketbrain = derogatory term for Stormtroopers

Bucket = Helmet

Nat-born = Natural Born

Roger Roger = affirmative/copy that

Droid poppers = EMP grenade

Sitrep = short for situation report

Backwater Planet = any planet that isn't part of the core system

Holocron = device that can project a three-dimensional image of a person/object and is used for communication or entertainment.

Kessel Run = a risky Operation. Commonly used as a metaphor in impossible situations.

Thermal Detonator= device that can create a powerful explosion like a grenade or bomb

Ray Shield/Energy Shield = creates a (protective) barrier

Rebreather = device that allows a person to breathe underwater or in toxic environments

Phrases:

Wild goose chase = wild bantha chase

That's bantha shit = that's bullshit

As slippery as a greased Dug = untrustworthy

Credit for your thoughts = penny for your thoughts

Cut the poodoo = cut the crap

to get your gills in a twist = get upset about something

Holy mother of meteors = holy mother of god

Oh my skies/ Oh my stars = exclamation of surprise

Stars' end! = exclamation of disbelief

What in the blue blazes = exclamation

When Geonosis freezes over/When it snows on tatooine = extremely unlikely

Who pissed in your power supply = who pissed you off

Blast it = damn it

By the maker = exclamation of surprise

Great karking Dragon = expression of disbelief

Lothcat got your tongue = equivalent of 'cat got your tongue?'

Sod it = expression of frustration

[medicaldevicesindustrynews]

Unleashing the Potential of Oxygen-Free Copper: Revolutionizing High-Performance Applications

Oxygen-free high-conductivity copper is another name for oxygen-free copper. A class of wrought copper alloys known as oxygen-free copper is refined using an electrolytic process and exhibits excellent conductivity. In particular, electrolytic refining is required to reduce the oxygen concentration to or below 0.001%. Makers are focused on item testing to make sure that production programs,…

[tobuzzu]

A suit of armor masquerading as formal wear, designed for parties and social events.

The bioluminescent cloth is made using firefly silk, a form of firesilk that can be safely worn without risk of burning. To give it its blue coloration, the firefly silk is dyed with pigment processed from Moon Globe flowers, changing the orange shine of the fabric into a vivid gradient of blues and purples, reminiscent to that of the moon globe.

A weave of deactivated blaze and firefly silk is used for the rest of the garment. Though having lost their glow, they still retain their fire retardant properties, serving as a decent guard against fire-breath. Gold silk is then woven over to stylize the cloth.

Meteoric iron is used to forge the helmet. The Ripples of blues and purples are the result of the traces amounts of sky fire added to the alloy, the purpose being to protect the wearer from prying mindreaders.

(I headcanon that the length of time firesilk can burn for depends on the type, with sun silk burning for only several hours or days, blaze silk for several months, firefly silk burning for several years, and goldsilk forever, because gold never erodes.)

[sobwh]

Sixaluminium - Devasa+

Aluminum extrusion is a process used to create parts with specific cross-sectional profiles by pushing heated alloy material through a die. This process allows for the creation of various shapes and sizes, making it a versatile method for manufacturing aluminum profiles. Despite its importance, many people may not even notice the prevalence of aluminum extrusions in their homes. In Turkey aluminium manufacturer, companies like Aluminance Aluminum Industry and Trade Inc. and Ş. are leading manufacturers of aluminum extrusion profiles and composite panels. These companies play a crucial role in providing high-quality aluminum extrusion products for various industries, including construction. The construction industry greatly benefits from the use of aluminum extrusion profiles. Aluminum construction are lightweight, strong, and corrosion-resistant, making them ideal for construction applications. They are commonly used in windows, doors, and other architectural elements due to their structural integrity and cost benefits. Additionally, aluminum extrusions offer sustainability advantages as they are recyclable and can be repurposed for other projects . The use of aluminum extrusions in construction also contributes to faster construction timelines, as they can be easily fabricated and installed. Overall, aluminium systems profiles have become an essential component in the construction industry, offering a range of benefits for architects, builders, and homeowners alike. In Turkey aluminium extrusion manufacturers like Ş. have played a significant role in supplying the construction industry with high-quality aluminum profiles. These profiles are used in various applications, including aluminum systems for windows, doors, and facades . The 40-Series Aluminium Extrusion Profile produced in the EU is a popular choice for construction pr aluminium veranda ojects due to its quality and durability. The use of aluminum extrusion profiles in construction not only enhances the aesthetics of buildings but also provides structural stability and longevity. With the continued advancements in aluminum extrusion technology, the construction industry can expect further innovation and development in the utilization of aluminum profiles for various architectural and structural applications.

[wheelsgoroundincircles]

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

This 1958 Chevrolet Corvette underwent a pro-street-style metamorphosis between 2008 and 2011. It is endowed with a 383 cubic inch stroker V8 engine, harmonized with a TH350 three-speed automatic transmission, and a narrowed rear axle featuring a limited-slip differential. The rear suspension has been upgraded with a ladder-bar configuration, adjustable coilovers, and the addition of a lift-off hood. The body, painted a striking red with white coves, comes with a detachable hardtop. Inside, a roll cage has been installed along with a B&M Pro Stick shifter, a shift light, aftermarket gauges, and black Procar bucket seats. The enhancements also include dual Edelbrock carburetors, Hooker headers, side-exit exhaust pipes, 15” alloy wheels, and front disc brakes. Acquired by the current dealer in February 2024, this modified C1 Corvette is now part of the Coffee Walk Corvette Collection in Wylie, Texas, and is offered without reserve, complete with build records and a clean Pennsylvania title.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The fiberglass exterior is adorned in red with white coves and includes a removable hardtop and a lift-off hood with an integrated air scoop. A Stewart-Warner fuel-pressure gauge is mounted on the cowl, and the right-rear corner features a battery cutoff switch and external terminals. The gallery reveals cracks in the weatherstripping, pitted chrome, and paint imperfections.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

Polished 15” alloy wheels are shod with 25.0×5.0” front and 29.5×11.5” rear Hoosier drag tires, installed in April 2024. A crossmember supports the rear suspension, which has been modified with ladder bars, a diagonal link, and adjustable coilovers. The braking system includes front disc brakes and rear drums.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The interior is equipped with a roll cage and Procar high-back bucket seats in black. Enhancements include a B&M Pro Stick shifter, an MSD shift light, rocker-switch controls, and fabricated metal door panels. The gallery displays flaking paint and wear on interior surfaces.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The three-spoke steering wheel is positioned in front of a 160-mph speedometer and auxiliary gauges. An AutoMeter pedestal tachometer is mounted atop the non-functional factory tachometer. Additional gauges for coolant temperature and oil pressure are located in the center console. The mechanical odometer is inoperative, and the total mileage remains unknown.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

A Harwood plastic fuel cell is mounted in the trunk, which has been tubbed with fabricated aluminum panels to accommodate the rear wheels.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

The 350ci V8 engine block, bored and stroked to 383ci, features four-bolt main bearings. The build includes forged pistons, ARP fasteners, a polished Edelbrock intake manifold, dual Edelbrock carburetors, an MSD ignition module, and Hooker long-tube headers that flow into side-exit exhaust pipes.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

Power is transmitted to the rear wheels through a TH350 three-speed automatic transmission and a narrowed Dana 60 rear axle with a limited-slip differential.

1958 Chevrolet Corvette

[satyrmagos]

Devotional pendant featuring images associated with Hephaistos, the Greek god of metalwork, smithing, and craft. Hephaistos name is commonly transliterated into English as Hephaestus, and he is known to the Romans as Vulcan. The anvil, hammer, tongs, and elemental fire triangle were chosen based on my own decades of work with the god.

* One inch (27mm) in diameter, 3mm thick, with a bail suitable for a 2-3mm chain.

* Made of solid .925 sterling silver or shibuichi (an art metal alloy made of 3:1 copper:silver), yellow brass, or bronze.

* Available as a coin, with an upeye for use as a pendant, or with three jump rings for use in a rosary-style necklace.

Each piece is hand-made to order in my home studio, with unique variations and defects as a result of the fabrication and casting process.

[couldsewyouastitchandsavenine]

Beneath the Beskar [01] — Din Djarin

a/n: this came to me in a dream... any kind of feedback would be appreciated.

pairing: din djarin x reader

wordcount: 3K

part 01 | part 02 | part 03

—

It starts on Nevarro.

Your eyes meet his visor as he strides into the cantina. Even among the throng of roughnecks and bounty hunters that call this hole-in-the-wall dive their haunt, the Mandalorian cuts an imposing figure—a bastion of lethal grace cloaked in that ancient alloy. But you’ve gotten used to his presence, his silent intensity. 

As he approaches the bar, the beskar-wearing warrior gives the slightest nod in your direction and you bite your lip, fighting a smile. Even after mending so many of his frayed fabrics, after cataloguing each trinket he's brought from his hunts, he still regards you with that impenetrable reserve, as though you were part of a particularly complex mission briefing.

The cantina is rowdy tonight, the air thick and reeking of stale spice beer. You sip your own drink, watching from your corner as Din leans against the bar, those broad beskar-clad shoulders tense under his battered armour. 

A trio of Devaronian bruisers shoulder past, close enough that one clips Din’s pauldron with a meaty shoulder. You can see him stiffen, your own fingers tightening around the glass as one of the three sneers something crude Din's way. The words are lost amidst the cantina's din, but the meaning is durasteel clear when his alien buddies guffaw raucously.

You open your mouth, ready to intervene—silly as you know that impulse is—when Din straightens, the dim lights casting harsh planes across his battered helm. Even without seeing his face, his body language speaks volumes in that way only you've learned to read.

Leave it, he seems to say without words, the set of his shoulders and the minute shift of his hips saying more than any vocoder-laced phrase could.

With the faintest nod, you lean back into the threadbare chair, watching as the Devaronians snicker again. But they know better than to test this particular bounty hunter’s patience further. One mutters something else, guttural and mocking, but they soon slink off towards the sabacc tables. 

Only when they’re gone does Din relax, resuming his casual lean against the bar as he waits for his quarry. You catch yourself letting out a slow breath, quickly realising that worrying about Din is a foolish errand—Din Djarin can handle himself better than anyone in this dump. 

Finally, after what feels like aeons, his helmet tilts towards you again, and you feel warmth spread all over you despite yourself. So, you give a little wave, trying not to show that only moments ago you’d been busy sizing up every patron between you, strategizing how to get to him if things go south.

From anyone else, such scrutiny would be strange, even frightening. But this is just how you've come to operate around Din. Assessing threats, picking out exits, searching for improvised weapons—just in case. It's second nature by now. 

And you know that he doesn’t need your help. Wouldn’t want your help, but…well, you can’t really help it. You care about the walking tin-can more than you care to admit.

His vocoder crackles once, an acknowledging rumble. He won't come over, not with the mood in the cantina so combustible tonight. But you'll wait, as you always do, draining your cup while keeping watch over that beskar-clad back.

That's just how it is between you two.

—

You remember the first time he'd sought you out, back when you'd managed that quaint little fabric shop down the street from here. His armour had been dull and scuffed, the cape tattered from Nevarro's biting winds. You’d been struck by the weary line of his shoulders as he gingerly laid the frayed fabric on your counter.

"Can you fix this?" His vocoder had rasped, little more than a request yet edged with an underlying hope—or was it desperation? You hadn’t been able to put a finger on the emotion underpinning that gravelly tone.

You had run calloused fingers over the worn wool, assessing the damage with a critical eye. "It'll need some work, but I can patch it up. I've mended far worse."

That impassive helmet had dipped once in a shallow nod as he retrieved a jingling pouch of credits. "How many?"

Shaking your head, you’d offered him a small smile. "Pay me when you come back for it."

For a long moment, the bounty hunter had stood utterly still, his vizor aimed squarely at you. And then, with deliberate movements, he’d reached into a tattered satchel and withdrew something, holding it forth.

"For your trouble." The vocoder had crackled as you accepted the carved wooden figurine. You'd taken it gingerly, marvelling at the delicate whorls and grooves, the unmistakable craftsmanship.

"It's beautiful," you’d murmured, looking up to find that impassive helmet tilted your way once more, almost...expectant, as if awaiting for your reaction. "Where did you get this?"

The words tumbled out before you could censure them. But instead of retreating into stony silence, his vocoder rumbled again in that way that made your pulse skip. "On a hunt. You like it?"

You nodded, turning the small treasure over to admire it from every angle. "It's beautiful. I'll take good care of it...and your cape."  

He’d held your gaze a moment more through that inscrutable visor before giving one of those shallow dips of his helm. With a whisper of beskar plates, he turned and strode from your shop, the tattered cape bundled in your hands and the carved figurine's warmth radiating through your palm.

And just like that, it became...not quite routine, but a pattern of sorts. A dance of give and take between you. You'd take whatever frayed fabrics and singed cloaks he passed along, repairing them with deft stitches and the attentive care they deserved.

In return, he brought you trinkets from his hunts—scraps of lace with intricate details, tarnished jewellery, curios that caught his discerning eye; tiny treasures from the jobs that took him criss-crossing the Outer Rim's seediest worlds. You've lost count of how many now sit on your nightstand, their craftsmanship a stark contrast to your humble living space.

Maybe once, you'd wondered if these tokens meant something, if Din was trying to convey....something beyond the typical client-artisan norms. But you know better now. The Mandalorian keeps his affairs strictly professional, leaving scant room for indulgent fancies.

Still, you can't ignore the thrill that races through you whenever he appears, cape torn and weather-beaten as he passes it into your keeping once more.

It's become almost a ritual between you two—the repair, the token, the scant words exchanged through that impassive helmet. 

A ritual that promises his return.

—

Hours later, the cantina lies empty and still, the silence descending like a heavy shroud. You sit in your chair, chin propped on your hand as you watch Din clean his blaster with that same methodical precision he devotes to all his gear.  

There's a strange sort of serenity to the practised movements, the muted clink of beskar as he twists to adjust the vambraces' straps. When he settles the disassembled components on the pitted tabletop between you, you can't resist reaching out to trace the etched symbols with one fingertip.

His vocoder rumbles a wordless tone, not quite reprimand but enough to still your hand. You bite your lip, fighting a smile—he's never outright forbidden you from touching, yet you know he prefers to keep things strictly business.

Only...that line has blurred of late, hasn't it? At least on the part of your foolish heart.

Because, you've lost track of how many times you've waited in this dingy cantina for him to return from a hunt, or how many sunrises you've watched him stride away into the dunes beyond Nevarro's outskirts with your gut twisting in nervousness.

You clear your throat, pulling your hand back across the battered table's surface.

"Planning to stick around for a while this time?"

Din goes still, the servos of his helmet whining faintly as he tips it in that curious, birdlike way. He doesn't answer right away, leaving you to fill the hanging silence as your gut twists with anxiety.

"Not that I'm complaining," you rush to add with an awkward laugh, scooping up the tarnished figurine he brought you this time—some exotic, spined creature of the Outer Rim rendered in sinuous curves. "I know this life keeps you moving."  

Your thumb traces the intricate whorls as you study the small treasure, trying not to seem as emotionally invested in his answer as you are. It's not like you and Din are...well, whatever it is you've become over these past cycles, it's unconventional at best.

The beskar plates of his helm almost seem to glint in the cantina's low light. You can picture the slight furrow of his brow under there, the silent weighing of words before he rumbles, "Perhaps."

There's an edge to that mechanised rasp, the faintest tinge of fatigue...or perhaps bitterness and it makes you look up sharply. This is the most unflappable man you know—if anyone could bear the cruelties of this life without flinching, it should be him. Yet...

"There's been a development," he continues, cutting across your wandering musings. "With my Covert."

You set the figurine down carefully, holding his visor with your gaze. The cantina seems to grow even quieter, the only sound is your thrumming pulse echoing in your ears.

"They..." His vocoder crackles with distant static, the words catching.

But you don't ask him to explain. Din has mentioned his clan of Mandalorian survivors only in the vaguest terms over the years you've known him. You know how sacred those bonds are to his culture; his entire existence.

"Din..." You reach across the table without thinking, your fingers alighting on the back of his glove before you can second-guess the impulse.

He goes utterly still under your tentative touch. For a sobering beat, you consider pulling back—until, with infinite care, he turns his hand over, leather clad fingers curling around yours with astounding gentleness.

Then, he huffs out a harsh, ragged exhalation through the vocoder's grill.

"They found out," he grates at last, "that I had...removed my buy'ce. In the aftermath—"

He cuts himself off again, the plates of his cuirass rising and falling with the force of his ragged breaths. You tighten your grip, searching for words that could possibly convey the depth of your sympathy; your anger on his behalf.   

But what comfort can you offer someone whose entire life, whose whole existence has been so violently shaken? So instead, you sit in silence, holding his hand, a single point of contact, willing it to anchor him against whatever storm rages inside.

Long moments pass before Din straightens, giving your fingers one final lingering squeeze before withdrawing his hand. The spell is broken, but the air between you seems to hum with a new tension, ripe with unspoken things.  

Din shifts, and you catch the black scuff across his chest plate. You resist the urge to reach out, to trace the mark and inquire after its story. He would share it if he intended to—another lesson you've learned.

"You've got a place to stay?" Your voice is too loud in the tomblike hush.

He inclines his head slowly. "The Crest."  

Meaning that hollow metal shell of a ship out on the scrublands, a place you've never set foot despite how your paths have entwined over the years. You chew your lip, debating whether to make your customary offer for him to stay the night. But the silence hangs too heavy between you, and the moment is lost.

Your eyes stray back to the scattered components on the table, and his visor tilts to meet your gaze. You open your mouth, not quite sure what you mean to say, when his vocoder rumbles.

"Cape needs some work, if you have time."

He nods towards the tattered edge of his cloak where it brushes the cantina's gritty floor. Your fingers flex instinctively, eager to take up needle and thread once more.

"Of course. I can have it ready for you before you leave."

"...Good." The cantina's ancient air cyclers wheeze to life, ruffling the tattered fabric. He tips his helmet a fraction—a nod, almost imperceptible. "I'll bring something...for your trouble."

Your heart kicks against your ribs as you nod in turn, suddenly, viscerally aware of how close you sit, how easily you could reach out to rest your hand on those shiny vambraces—

He shifts again, resettling that beskar-clad bulk against the rickety chair like he's sensed the turn your thoughts have taken. You swallow hard and force a smile that doesn't reach your eyes.

"I'll be here."

You wait for a moment before rising to your feet, brushing off your scuffed flightsuit as Din watches, still and unreadable as ever behind his beskar'gam.

"Well...goodnight, then." You pause, waiting for him to respond in kind, but he remains silent.

With a small shake of your head, you turn towards the cantina's dingy back exit, the one that lets out near your ramshackle homestead. As much as you've grown...accustomed to the Mandalorian, his silence still has a way of making you feel off-kilter, unbalanced.

Because this strange bond that's formed between you two—you can no longer lie to yourself about how it makes you feel. And as makeshift and fragile as it is, built on repair work and trinkets, and fueled by unspoken words and lingering glances they always seem to hint at a promise of...something more.

And you know that it should be enough—it has been enough for so long.

Yet you can't ignore the hollow ache blooming in your chest every time he slips away and out of your grasp without a backwards glance, that beskar helm betraying nothing of the thoughts behind it.  

You're halfway to the exit when the cantina's heavy silence is shattered by the thud of Din's bootsteps across the grit-strewn floor. He moves with that same brutal efficiency and economy of motion as ever.

Spinning, you find him closer than expected, near enough that you can glimpse your own reflection in the chestplate's dull sheen. You suck in a sharp breath that has nothing to do with the cantina's stale, smoke-clogged air.

"Or you can come with me," he rasps, and the low timbre of that vocoder seems to reverberate in your very bones.

For one endless beat, you can only stare up at him, at that silent enigma of the beskar faceplate. There's a weight to his words you can't put name to, a strange gravity that belies the simplicity of the statement.

You search the shadows of his visor fruitlessly, wishing not for the first time that you could see the man's eyes, not out of morbid curiosity but because you've come to genuinely care for this battle-worn hunter. And something in you longs for even the smallest sliver of connection.  

You swallow hard, lifting your chin. Foolish, to hope for more than he's willing—or able—to give. But you've never been one to back down from a challenge.

So you hold his visor, steadying your voice. "Okay. I'll come with you."

After a moment, Din dips his helmet. Not quite a nod, but an acknowledgment all the same.

And for now—perhaps for always—that will have to be enough.

[raccoonfallsharder]

˚₊‧✶ headcanon 21 ✶‧₊˚

i write about raccoon sense of touch a lot [this kinda spicy rumination] and i think about it a lot

like two-thirds of a raccoon’s sensory perception area in the cerebral cortex is just… focused entirely on interpreting tactile data. their fingers have whiskers (okay, vibrissae) so they can identify objects without even making paw-contact. their hands become hypersensitive when wet (lord). if they identify things with their paws, they can remember them for up to/around a year without touching them again.

so yeah, when you press a kiss to rocket’s palm, it damn near lights up his whole brain. holding hands? palm-to-palm? it’s so intimate that he’s probably absolutely scarlet under all that fur. he probably thinks it feels like you might as well be reading his mind. he memorizes you the same way he memorizes every gun he takes apart and every bomb he puts together.

i suppose this means he thinks mostly in tactile sensation, too. when he’s imagining you, it’s less about the color of your hair (assuming the high evolutionary’s made sure he can see the same color-range as humans, anyway). it’s not about the clarity of your eyes, or how you’d looked with the sun haloing you that morning on xandar when he’d first let you touch his shoulder. nope. when rocket thinks about you, it’s how warm your hands are, every little soft pillow and rasping callus on your palm and fingertips. the brush of them through his fur, every one of his little hairs standing on end in its follicle. it's the shape of the bones in your wrists from that time he traced them into memory.

similarly, rocket doesn’t remember lylla’s liquid-dark eyes so much as the silkiness of her pelt, the cool graze of her vibranium-alloy hands. the delicate touch of the damp fabric on his forehead that very first day, and the squeeze of her arms on the very last.

and so, the natural outcome of all this is that he dreams in touch, too. it’s not the silver flash of scalpels and the blood on the ground — it’s not even the gunshots and floor’s desperate pleading and his own wails, or the scent of laser-burnt fur and blood — though of course those are all there too. it’s the pain he dreams of: feeling it fresh in his body, every incision and broken bone and careless laser-stitch, every screw and metal plate soldered in. it’s not the lights for their white-brightness; it’s the tearful squinting squeeze of his eyes, the burning in his pinpoint-pupils. it’s the way lylla’s body had buckled and loosened, and pulled from his arms to the ground by gravity — the last of her warmth wisping through his fingers, already a ghost between the cold arête cages. it’s the plummet in his own belly — that terrible twisting knot that dropped when his first family did, and never ever stopped.

all that pain. it’s so much. it’s so much to make up for.

it’s so much to make up for.

but you’ll get started.

headcanons & imagines masterlist

[carsthatnevermadeitetc]

Claveau Descartes, 1948. Another debutante at the 35th Paris Mondial de l'Automobile. An advanced 6 passenger luxury saloon by Émile Claveau with a SOHC alloy 2.3 litre V8 engine driving the front wheels through a 5 speed gearbox. The bodywork was fabricated from an alloy of aluminium and copper called Duralinox. Claveau had presented the car in model form a year before but 75 years ago this weekend he showed a fully working prototype that had been built with the cooperation of Aluminium Français. The Descartes had a drag coefficient of 0.29 and a top speed of 95 mph, both remarkable for 1948. However it went no further than a single prototype

[whatavery]

Hot and Cold (Art Trade)

My part of an art trade I did with Tucsi featuring Nicocai. Funnily enough, my first time writing that pairing, but it was fun! I tried to get Nico's dialogue down, so please do let me know how I did!

Oh and of course, this story is illustrated by Tucsi as well! Look at it, isn't it adorable?

Part II

---

---

As his grip on his own hand tightened, Mordecai's ear gave an irritable flicker from the small the unflattering sound of leather squeezing against leather. He let out a short, shuddering sigh. Even in the darkened interior of the car, he could see his breath in front of his face, a small fog that dissipated in seconds. Even clad in his thick, dark coat, the late winter cold still cut through it, chilling him to the bone.

“Aw you feelin’ cold, cher? Need me t’ warm dem hands of yours?” Mordecai didn’t even turn to face his companion in the dark, the larger, light gray cat’s silhouette clear as day despite how dark it was. The unmistakable silhouette of Nicodeme Savoy leaned in towards Mordecai as he side-eyed the Cajun cat. “My Cajun blood keeps me warm – it can warm you too…”

“Are you suggesting I use your blood for warmth?” Mordecai scoffed derisively, still side-eyeing the bigger cat. He turned his green-eyed gaze forward instead, focused on the seemingly vacant area outside. The cold night had a clear sky, the full-moon’s light beaming down, bathing everything in its pale, silvery blue light. Mordecai could see frost glistening off what little plant-life was present outside. “That’s morbid even by your standards, Mr. Savoy…”

“Lagniappe, lagniappe! Never knew you was in’trested in dat sort’a stuff, cher!” Nicodeme laughed in the dark in that deep baritone of his. Mordecai’s left ear gave an irate flicker, before it laid back against his head. He wasn't sure what was worse; being stuck in a dark, cold car at midnight, waiting for a pickup, or the fact that he had to endure Nicodeme's constant comments, his endless onslaught of jabs at him.

“Never mind,” Mordecai sighed, adjusting his glasses for a moment, carefully repositioning his them ever so slightly upon the bridge of his nose. The conversation wasn't one he thought they ought to continue. Who knew where it might take them. Given that this man’s sister had already carved one sigil into Mordecai's chest, he didn’t need to give Nicodeme a reason to think this was an experience he wished to relive.

“Always so serious,” Nicodeme grunted. When Mordecai turned his head to look towards him, he saw Nicodeme in the dark, looking at him with an exaggerated pout on his face, clearly doing his best to come across as what he either thought a serious person looked like… or he was mocking Mordecai, which he knew to be the more likely option. “Just make a bahbin, no jokes. Serious business.”

Mordecai turned the other way, ignoring his companion as he glanced out the window by the passenger seat. He squeezed his hands together tighter, trying to keep warm the best that he could, though the mercilessly cold winter night didn’t leave him with much of a chance.

Finally, Mordecai relented his fidgeting, reluctantly unbuttoning his coat, which immediately caused all the warmth the fabric had trapped between him and it to rush out. As the cold air within the car rushed in to fill the available space, Mordecai shuddered again and pulled out his pocket watch. The conductive nature of the golden metal alloy meant that even through his leather gloves, it felt as though Mordecai held a chunk of ice that somehow got colder and colder. The warmth coming from his own body could only affect the metal for so long, now that it was out in the open.

“They’re late…” Mordecai noted in the most monotonous, most irate tone he could muster. The nerve of these people… Although he knew it wouldn't do him or Marigold any good, the temptation to shoot them on sight when they eventually turned up was quite strong. But Mordecai just put the pocket watch back into his inner pocket. He shuddered again as he hurriedly closed his coat.

“C’mere.” Before Mordecai could even think to tell Nicodeme to leave him alone, he felt two, massive mittens around his own. Although Nicodeme's were barren, not covered by gloves, Mordecai was surprised to find that they were incredibly warm. Perhaps there was some level of truth to the bigger cat’s boastful claims about his Cajun blood. “Dere, ain’t dat better, cher?”

Mordecai said nothing. Although he detested sudden physical contact like this, he had to admit the bigger cat’s warmth was rather pleasant. His hands had previously felt as though they’d been dunked into a bank of snow. Despite there being no snow outside, the air was sharp and cold, and Mordecai knew the only thing worse than sitting in this dark, still vehicle was actually venturing out into he cold, dark night.

When Nicodeme let go again, Mordecai shot him a look, a look which was returned by a grin, a smirk. Mordecai let out an exasperated sigh. “What?”

“If ya’ want me to keep warmin’ you, all you gotta do is ask,” Nicodeme said with a wink of those yellow eyes. Even in the dark, the Cajun cat’s eyes practically glowed like the fireflies that would take to floating around these parts on warm summer nights.

Mordecai didn’t say a word as he squeezed his hands together again. Any minute now… They had to show up, didn’t they? How much longer could they possibly leave them waiting? When the bigger cat chuckled again, Mordecai sighed once more. “Yes? What did I do now that’s so funny?”

“Yer just so stubborn, cher – commes les vieux. It’s funny. Yer freezin’ cold and don’t want no help stayin’ warm?” Mordecai hadn't much of a clue what Nicodeme was saying when he slipped into French – he already had trouble understanding the Cajun cat when he spoke English, his thick, pronounced accent often making his words difficult to decipher. It didn’t help when he spoke fast, though mercifully he currently spoke rather slowly. “Gar ici, I’ll keep you warm.”

“What are-?” But Mordecai didn’t finish his sentence before a thick log of an arm was slipped around him. Pulled sideways, Mordecai found himself pressed up against the massive, warm body of the Cajun cat. He was surprised by just how warm he was; his body was like a furnace. It was no wonder he rarely took to wearing warm clothes, even in winter. It was strangely impressive in a way…

“Dere, isn’t dat better? Yer shiverin’, boo,” Nicodeme whispered in the dark. Mordecai gave the most feeble of squirms, a halfhearted attempt at breaking free from the already loose grip the bigger cat had on him. Nicodeme's built form was a formidable one; Mordecai knew he put great effort into staying in shape and that he was very strong; he’d witnessed Nicodeme wrestling men bigger than himself, using his brute strength to throw people around with little effort. If he truly wanted to, he could have put Mordecai in an iron grip to keep him from slipping away… but he didn’t.

Despite this, Mordecai remained in place. “You’re suffocating me…”

“I’m barely holdin’ on. I think yer startin’ t’ like me, mon cher,” Nicodeme insisted, giving yet another chuckle. Mordecai didn’t respond as he stayed put, deciding that keeping quiet was his best option; the more he spoke, the more ammo this bigger man had for teasing him, no matter what he did say. “Are ya’ feelin’ warmer?”

“… yes.” Mordecai didn’t want to admit it, but being pressed up against the bigger cat was indeed helping him stay warm, much like sitting by a fireplace. It likely came down to the bigger cat’s metabolism, Mordecai thought to himself. Or maybe he was just so cold that even the weakest source of heat would warm his bones right up.

“An’ what do dey say when a friend helps ‘em out?” Nicodeme asked in an almost sing-song kind of voice. He may as well have been waggling his finger at Mordecai, who shot him an irritated look.

“… Thank you, Mr. Savoy,” he grunted reluctantly.

“Pleasure’s all mine, cher,” Nicodeme said before Mordecai felt the bigger cat lean towards him. Having turned his head slightly to look, Mordecai's entire being tensed up the moment Nicodeme's lips made contact. He didn’t hit Mordecai's cheek, nor did he hit his lips. It was right in between, the side of Mordecai's black and white muzzle, right by the edge of where his white-fur blended into the blackness.

As if he’d been poked with a red hot iron, Mordecai felt his entire face warming up in an instant as he stared at Nicodeme in disbelief. The bigger cat looked back at him, before he roared with laughter, to which Mordecai immediately shushed him. “Not so loud…! What was that for?”

“Well, I thought it could warm ya’ up – an’ I was right, cher, yer almost glowin’,” the gray cat said, smirking at him. Nicodeme's left arm had been resting against the window on the driver’s side of the car, but now the bigger cat moved his left hand towards Mordecai. He felt that big, strong mitt of his brushing his cheek. “Don’t be shy now… I know ya’ like me, mon cher.”

Mordecai gritted his teeth, grumbling something under his breath to which Nicodeme raised both eyebrows inquisitively. Mordecai spoke up, though his voice was strangely shaky. “Highly unprofessional… You shouldn’t go giving people kisses like that – and certainly not me…”

“Not like dat? Den how? On de lips instead?” Nicodeme asked, his tone clearly feigning ignorance, as if he truly hadn't a clue what Mordecai meant. The tuxedo cat glared at him in the dark. He felt those thick, rough fingers brushing his cheek once more with a surprising level of gentleness that Mordecai wouldn't have thought this big man capable of.

“No. Please, don’t you even think about-” Mordecai was cut off almost immediately when Nicodeme put a small amount of force in to turn his head till they faced each other.

“Think about what, cher?” he asked, his gaze locked onto Mordecai's green eyes.

“Stop it…”

“Stop what?”

“Stop looking at me like that,” Mordecai almost gasped. Why did he sound so breathless all of sudden? Why did he feel breathless? His eyes widened when Nicodeme leaned closer still. “Wait…”

“Hmmm? For what, boo?” Nicodeme asked in a low, raspy whisper in the dark. His voice was so low, but it was as though he may as well be shouting at Mordecai. He heard and locked onto each and every word. “Nervous?”

“I think I hear them… They’re here,” Mordecai lied. The bigger cat’s ears perked up as he listened for a moment, his gaze turning from Mordecai to quickly scan their surroundings outside the car. Of course, there wasn't a soul to be seen in any direction.

Grinning, Nicodeme leaned closer still. “Just tell me to stop – anytime you want, cher…”

Mordecai opened his mouth, but not as much as a squeak left his lips. Nicodeme tilted his head to the side. Mordecai could feel his heart racing, as if threatening to burst right through his rib-cage. He let out one last shuddering breath before it happened.

The second Nicodeme's lips made contact with his, Mordecai felt as though he had been lit on fire, warmth coursing throughout every fiber of his being. He felt a tingling sensation down his spine all the way to the white tip of his tail.

It was a brief experience, Nicodeme mercifully deciding not to prolong it. When he pulled back, Mordecai saw that smirk he'd gotten so used to over the past few months. “Yer shakin’, boo. Do ya’ need more warmth?”

“No…” Mordecai had thought that it was Nicodeme who was shaking, but he realized that it was indeed himself. But at least he was no longer cold. “Please… Let go of me, Mr. Savoy…”

Nicodeme seemed surprised, but he gave a light chuckle, releasing Mordecai immediately, much to his relief. “I think you can start callin’ me Nico now…”

“And why is that?” Mordecai snapped once he’d sufficiently calmed down. His heart wasn't racing anymore and he wasn't feeling tingly… but the warmth had also left his body the moment he scooted back to where he’d been sitting previously.

“I s’pose I just think it’s strange t’ be formal with someone you kissed,” Nico said, warmth immediately rushing back into Mordecai’s cheeks. The bigger cat gave a soft laugh at this, Mordecai not meeting his eyes.

Without a word, Mordecai slid sideways towards the bigger cat, pushed himself up against him and kissed him on the lips. He gripped Nico’s vest as if to hold on for dear life, like the last piece of floating debris in a shipwreck that would keep his head above water. Mordecai didn’t make the kiss last for too long either, it was just a firm, but brief kiss.

Mordecai was left breathless again and Nico seemed taken by surprise, though he did smile. “Ah, what a lovely surprise…”

“Don’t you mention it to anyone… Ever… What now?” Mordecai asked, feeling annoyance boiling up inside him again when Nico started to chuckle. What had he done now that was so amusing to him? Would he ever stop-

Mordecai gave a start when he heard loud tapping upon the window behind him. Whirling around so fast his glasses nearly flew off, he looked through the passenger seat window, horrified to see that they were no longer alone. It was time to do business… But how much had they seen?

Based on the way Nico kept snickering as he exited the car, Mordecai felt his heart sinking… He was never going to hear the end of this...

[usafphantom2]

The SR 71 was at least 60 years ahead of its time.

The question was …is the SR 71 a product of its time? (Time frame would be late 1950s to 1966.)

Former U-2 technician Damien Leimback wrote; the following *In my opinion, this man is brilliant.*

He Disagrees with the question that the SR 71 was a product of its time.

I disagree because of the technologies that had to be invented or perfected in order for the plane to work that did not exist before the types (I include the A-12 here) introduction.

Here are some examples……

Using titanium in such massive amounts was unheard of in an aircraft; most of it is sourced from the Soviet Union through shell companies. New fabrication methods and new titanium alloys had to be created to build the plane.

Corrugated panels that expanded without changing shape were used in a novel way, as well as new types of glass for the windscreen and new ways of fusing it to the frame without the use of glue (that would melt under high temps) were used.

The fuel was routed through the leading edges of the wings to keep them cool and also to preheat the fuel for a better burn, novel approaches used for the first time on this plane.

The fuel itself was a custom blend and had a radioactive isotope added to it that allowed the ionization to scatter Radar waves in the high atmosphere. C-50 was used to secure the contract for the CIA. it was also called panther pi%s

Oils and lubricants had to be custom blended for the aircraft in order to function at the high and low temp extremes the plane would encounter.

The David Clark company built a pressure suit for the pilots, as the one the U-2 pilots wore was insufficient. The U-2 pilots later adopted the same suit.

The tires had aluminum mixed with latex in order to withstand the temps that would be encountered in the wheel wells during flight.

The J-58 engine was a hybrid of the turbo jet and ramjet, and MOST EFFICIENT at Mach 3.2, unheard of anywhere before or since.

And this is just a small sampling of the technologies that had to be invented or perfected in order for this plane to work. No one else was capable of flying anything like it in the 1960’s and its performance has yet to be matched today, almost 60 years later. If that's not ahead of its time, I don't know what is.

Posted by Linda Sheffield

@Habubrats71 via X

[kaalbela]

Zari or jari is a form of embroidery from South Asia made using an even thread traditionally made of fine gold or silver. This thread is woven into fabrics, primarily silk, to make intricate patterns and elaborate designs of embroidery. During the Vedic ages, the gold embroidery was associated with the grandeur and regal attire of gods, kings, and literary figures. Zari was popularised during the Mughal era; the port of Surat was linked to the Meccan pilgrimage route which served as a major factor for re-introducing this ancient craft in India.

Real zari was originally made from fine silver or gold thread is drawn from silver or gold alloys. These days, cheap and durable alternatives are used. This non-genuine modern zari is light in weight & more durable than earlier editions. Also, it has the sought after properties of resistance to tarnishing and knotting.

Surat in the state of Gujarat on the west coast of India is the world's largest producer of all types of zari embroidery. The art of zari making has been inherited from father to son for many centuries, and are often passed down in utmost secrecy.

1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 | textile series

[hetalianhistorian]

Orders for the FanFun's Hetalia phone shoulder and fragment cases bags are open for preorders until July 10th!!

Source link: https://fanfunmarket.co.jp/artist/80-hetalia

Each bag has a flower and color based on each of the main cast. A shoulder strap bag will cost ¥15,400 yen. The pouch is approximately 17.0cm in length, 10.0cm in width, and 1.8cm in thickness. The shoulder strap will be around 110cm. Its body is made from synthetic leather with the fabric consisting on rayon, the metal made from zinc alloy, and the stones being made from glass. The fragment cases are sold separately, each costing about ¥9,900 yen each. The size is approximately 12.0cm in length and 7.0cm in width. The material is the same as the shoulder strap bag. The zipper will have the character's name engraved on the front and the back of it including different greetings from each character's language. Here are the different engravements:

Italy: "Ciao"

Germany: "Guten Tag"

Japan: "Konnichiwa"

America: "Hey"

England: "Hello"

France: "Bonjour"

Russia: "Privet"

China: "Ni Hao"

Order period will be from June 13th to July 10th. Preorders will be shipped out in late October 2024. You can preorder here through the FanFun website! Note: Not all stores ship internationally. A proxy or forwarding service may have to be utilized. Please keep this in mind and do your own research when buying Hetalia goods from Japan!