#Plate type heat exchangers

[coltgroup]

Plate Type Heat Exchanger

A Plate Type Heat Exchanger plates are simple to maintain because they can be taken out and cleaned separately. But, since they may gather debris or smell, you should avoid them.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: implied nsfw, implied noncon/dubcon, poly yanderes, sprained ankle, captive reader, apocolypse au, talk of fertility, murder of unnamed characters, mentions of potentially killing reader

fem reader

Just thinking about the apocalypse, the two army men who’ve long survived it in their shelter with barely any trouble, and then you, a poor girl trying hard to outrun your last captives only to run into them.  

You didn’t realize back then that it was like trading piranhas for sharks, too caught up in begging for their aid to think better of it. You should have just kept running, but your ankle was sprained badly, maybe even broken, and you were wearing so little you would most likely have died from the cold during the night if they hadn’t taken you in.

It seems unfair of them to have kept the giant bunker all to themselves, only the two of them, but you don’t judge. You would likely have kept it all to yourself as well.

This new world has bred new humans, and they’re all monsters. It’s honestly quite surprising they’d even let you in, given this is what they’re protecting, this sanctuary from the past, a comfort most people would kill their closest friend in exchange for.

Trust is all but dead, and so is honor or any other morality—you would know, you’ve lived out there for it all, only having survived by spreading your legs at the right moments. It’s a shameful tactic, and many times, you’ve wondered if it wouldn’t have been better to spare yourself and just die. What was the purpose?

This—you think. This must be it. They have showers and working hot water.

You don’t know how it’s possible—the original owners of the shelter must have been some type of millionaire. You haven’t had a warm shower since the world went to shit—years ago. It’s been a choice of waiting for rain or finding a lake, hoping it wasn’t rancid. Meanwhile, they have soap—scented soap, the lush kind you’d forgotten existed. It feels so nice you have to cry—rejoice—sobbing while lathering yourself, watching all the filth go down the drain, leaving you smooth-skinned once again for the first time in forever. You can’t remember having ever been so clean before, feeling reborn.

They have fresh clothes for you too—new socks and underwear, all clean fabrics, so much more than what you wore—pants, a shirt, and a sweater to keep warm. You didn’t know there still existed people who lived like the old days—you’d thought it was long gone, a bittersweet dream you sometimes have the pleasure of at night instead of the usual nightmares. Never had you thought you’d experience anything even remotely similar, but here you are—looking yourself in the mirror after so long, surprised to see a human looking back at you.

And they feed you. Not scraps, not leftovers, not rot, or days-old flesh from the last successful hunt—but freshly baked bread, vegetables, fruit—for fuck’s sake, they even have juice. You cry again while eating, and then you find yourself begging them again, “Please, let me stay—please, I’ll do anything. I can cook, clean, work—anything at all, I can do it, just please let me stay…”

You’re on your knees, forehead pressed to the heated metal floors—toasty and comforting, you think you could sleep better than ever right there.

“We’ll think about it,” one of them mutters as he gathers the plates. His voice was so harsh he might as well have said, not a chance. It’s clear by his frown that he’d rather send you right out again, leave you to the monsters.

“We’ll at least let you stay until your ankle heals, so don’t worry.” The other is more sympathetic, helping you up. “For now, let’s get you to bed. You must be exhausted.”

It hadn’t crossed your mind that they’d have beds—actual real soft downy mattresses and duvets and pillows. The two of you help make it together. It feels so foreign that you wonder if you might have died earlier. Some years back, you wouldn’t have thought heaven would resemble a prison cell, but now it only made sense—safe metal walls and a bed. What more could one possibly want in the world?

“I’ll wrap your leg for you if you sit.” He holds out a bandage roll, gesturing to your ankle.

Blinking, you can’t even register what he’d just offered until he’s getting down on his knees before you.

You panic, then. Bandages are hard to come by—it hardly seems worth it. “There’s no blood, you shouldn’t waste it—”

“It’ll heal better and faster this way,” he adds reassuringly. His voice is so soft and compelling that you find yourself sitting down without further quarrel, even when it makes you feel spoiled.

He’s gentle with you—holding you steady while wrapping it just tightly enough to be supportive. There hasn’t been a man who’s touched you like it.

“Does that feel okay?”

You can barely tell he’s talking to you. It’s all so lost on you that you can only wordlessly nod your head.

He fastens it just as carefully before standing. “Is there anything else you might need?”

You shake your head just as wordlessly. You can’t believe how nice he’s being. It makes no sense at all. Not in this world. Not anymore.

“I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to lock the door,” he apologizes with a sheepish look once standing on the threshold.

You’d been stuck thinking about how warm the room was, trying to remember a single time you hadn’t been freezing during the night. “That’s okay, I understand,” you say. After all, what’s a locked door in comparison?

“Good,” he smiles—it’s likely the kindest smile you’ve ever seen. “Alright then, good night.”

Once again, you’re left stunned. The last time you’d heard those words spoken must have been from a loved one long since dead. It makes your lip wobble again as you say it back, “Good night.”

It's strange—they could have left you for dead but didn’t. They don’t seem gullible—they can’t be if they’ve managed to protect this place for so long—but you suppose there still exist men who have a soft spot in their hearts for helpless damsels in distress.

As you sink into the comfort, draping your duvet atop your battered body, you don’t even care about the camera in the ceiling—blinking red while watching you.

“Did you have to bandage her up?” he grumbles as the other walks into the bedroom after having said his goodnights to you. 

He’s already in bed, observing through the cameras on a tablet—you were currently curling into the duvet, wrapping it around you close for comfort. You’d likely not slept on anything so soft in a while—it wouldn’t surprise him if you preferred the floor. But no, you drift asleep quite quickly.

“You know how badly things can heal without proper support,” the other answers, regarding it as no big deal. “And besides, it’s not like we often need it—we have plenty to spare.”

He removes his clothes and crawls onto the bed as well, lifting the covers to slot himself right next to the other man, who still has a scowl on his face.

“Oh, come on…” he drawls. “She’s exactly what we’ve been talking about, isn’t she?”

The grump doesn’t answer, still with keen eyes watching you, even as you’ve fallen asleep—as if waiting for you to do something befitting a wild animal in a cage. The other’s eyes fall to the screen as well, but he only awes in delight.

“Look at her, already fast asleep,” he purrs while zooming in on your face. “I mean, did you see how she was begging earlier, what she said? I’d do anything,” he continues, almost whining. “So cute, I could have fucked her right then and there.”

The other man sets the tablet aside with a disagreeing sigh. “We’ll wait at least a week for her system to detoxify from the wasteland,” he says strictly. “I’m not touching her before then, and neither are you unless you want to sleep alone.”

The other groans then, flopping down on his back. “Yeah, yeah, you and your safety protocols,” he dismisses before a smirk creeps up his face, glee twinkling in his eyes as he looks up at his grouchy counterpart. “But then we keep her, right?”

“Tch—we don’t even know if she’s fertile. The wasteland could have made her barren as long as she’s been out there,” the other shuffles down into the sheets as well, turning to look at his partner and the awfully keen look on his face.

“So we test her. Give her a medical check,” he says, again as if it’s not a problem, even when it very well could turn out to be.

They’ve already broken quarantine rules by letting you in here—and who knows what your real objectives truly are.

“I don’t trust her,” he states.

The other pouts. “I don’t see what one little lady can do—she’s hardly a threat. And we already purged the group that was following her. I doubt any of them made it out alive.”

True, he had gone out and sent several gas grenades into the settlement. Surely, none of them managed to escape, but then again—

“Pest control only works when you kill them all, and we’ve just let one inside our own house,” he grumbles.

The other one sighs. “Okay, so if it turns out she isn’t as cute as she looks, we’ll deal with her like the rest. But if I’m right, and she really is just a harmless little thing, we keep her, and I get to have the first go.”

Suppose there isn’t anything better to do aside from killing you straight away, which would only have been a waste of food, water, clothes, and bandages. 

“Fine.”

The other grins at the agreeance, humming, “I guess until then, we’ll just have to make do with each other—I've been hard since we watched her shower.” He leans forward for contact but is shut down as his bedmate rolls around with his back turned to him.

“Tch—take care of it yourself.” Tonight has been too stressful to tug each other’s dicks. 

He can hear him whine behind him, but he settles down soon enough.

Suppose it would be nice fucking a woman again. It’s been so many years he figured he wouldn’t need it anymore. They’ve made do with each other so far. But even he can’t deny, once you’d washed all the blood and muck off, once he saw the dewy hue of your soft skin and the silk of your hair, all those plush curves, and not to mention that awfully sweet look on your face—he felt the tug in his pants too.

He'll do a medical check on you tomorrow. He hopes you’re fertile. But even if you’re not, he might give in to the other’s wishes and keep you anyway. After all, they might have many luxuries, but the comfort of pussy is one they haven’t had in a long, long, long time.

♡ BNHA – KiriBaku, BakuDeku, ShinKami, DabiHawks, EndHawks, ErasurMic ♡ JJK – SatoSugu, ItaFushi, SukuIta, ♡ HQ – Miya twins, KageHina, BokuAka, ♡ CSM – AkiDen, YoshiDen ♡ BLLK – NagiReo

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[jaysteels]

Titanium Heat Exchanger manufacturer, supplier, exporter - Jay Steel Corporation

Jay Steel Corporation is a popular name in manufacturing, supplying, and exporting high-class products like Titanium Heat Exchanger. A titanium heat exchanger is a device that transfers heat between two fluids while keeping them separated. The titanium heat exchanger is designed to withstand extreme temperatures and pressures, making it ideal for use in harsh environments. Its unique properties allow for efficient heat transfer and prevent the build-up of harmful deposits, which can reduce the performance and lifespan of traditional heat exchangers.

[mitsvriii]

LOVE LANGUAGES

ft. genshin men

bell's note: sorry if the matte looks weird or too bright it's my first time messing around with it, might want to read it on a dark/darker mode just in case, experimenting with a more descriptive writing style so if we like let me know, no specific reader type, not proofread or word counted so if there are mistakes let me know, ga-ming is not included because i haven't been up-to-date with genshin and do not want to mischaracterize him

also date is weird because i accidentally posted and had to edit privately so oopsies

words of affirmation

kazuha, thoma, baizhu, neuvillette, zhongli, diluc

Whether it be a small word of encouragement or a simple, "you're doing great today", he always seems to know what to say and when to say it. His words soft as a dew drop falling from leaf to leaf in a misty morning, hitting your ears with such motion that you cannot help the smile that graces your lips, and lifts up the corners of them; like the movement of a picnic blanket being spread out on a flowery field.

quality time

kaeya, ajax, diluc, ayato, itto, gorou, neuvillette, wriothesley

Despite his busy days or numerous tasks for the day, whenever he gets a break he always goes to spend it with you first. Strolls down moonlight paths, childish games galore among hushed giggles, silent remarks exchanged between the flipping of a book's pages, or adoring smiles with stones that fail to jump the stream's waves like dolphins in the ocean. While your time may be short together as duties will call him back, your graceful smile and happy laughter will fill his lungs with purpose and a calm spirit for days to come.

physical touch

freminet, wanderer, tighnari, lyney, thoma, venti

A lingering hand tracing stars onto your back, each touch making your stress dissolve like sugar on your tongue. In other situations, it's a slightly calloused hand latching onto yours perfectly, as if your two hands were magnets meeting each other as one. A firm yet gentle grasp of his hands onto your hips as he oh-so-softly moves you to the side, your shoulders brushing against each other as he walks ahead of you. It could even be the way his thumb traces your cheek on quiet nights in bed, but no matter what it is your stomach is akin to churning butter whenever he touches you.

acts of service

neuvillette, zhongli, tighnari, alhaitham, heizou, xiao, cyno

Holding open a door amidst the sunny heat waves, waiting oh-so-patiently for you to reach it in your midst. It's even the simple offer to do the dishes or clean up around the house for you after a long day of work. Your clean clothes that were previously in a messy pile on the bed the moment you left your shared home for the day were put away neatly in their respective places in your bedroom by the time you returned home. Food prepared early with a little note, with sweet whispers decorated with ink on the note attached to the plate. Although he might seem cold or awfully busy at times, the things he does for you just because he can, says completely otherwise.

gift giving

xiao, zhongli , neuvillette, ajax, lyney, ayato, diluc, venti, kaveh

A bouquet of freshly picked flowers lying on your doorstep. Or an odd trinket from Archons knows what but he's so proud about acquiring it for you that you can't help the laugh that leaves your lungs. If you're lucky he'll find the ingredients to make his special dish, placing it beside you before retreating back to whatever he was busy with that day, but not before giving your temple a soft kiss. On rainy days he'll appear soaked to the bone, a boyish grin lacing his pretty face, with a chipped-off gem in his hands, claiming that the rain smoothed it out for him; hence why he had to get it instead of waiting for the rain to pass. No matter the gift he brings, though, you always cherish them no matter what

[burning-academia-if]

can we know rooks reaction to mc having a nsfw dream about him PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

Ask and you will receive :>

You hadn't meant to let it slip, but then, Rook had always been able to read you well. Better then you had ever realized. When he'd strolled into the kitchen, still half asleep and shirt ridden up just enough to show a sliver of his stomach, he'd caught your stare.

You'd glanced away, perhaps a bit too quickly, mind racing to last night. Of his body and yours, and all the way your bodies entwined together.

A kiss was placed perfectly on the junction between your shoulder and neck. You tried not to suck in a breath, body still sensitive from the lingering effects of your dream.

He laughed into your skin, "What's got you all jumpy this morning?"

"Nothing." You lightly shove him away, and he raises an eyebrow.

"Really?" There's a faint curve to his mouth, like he's trying to suppress a smile. "Because for a second, it was almost like you were, like, weirdly sensitive for some reason."

Of course he noticed, but you schooled your expression anyway, "It's just your imagination."

"Are you sure?" He reached out, hand brushing against your cheek, fingers lightly trailing against the shell of your ear and you barely managed to contain a shudder.

His fingers trailed lower, to your neck, and you snapped, "Rook--"

"I'll stop when you admit it." He gives a shit eating grin at the look you throw this way. Pressed against the counter, there's really no where for you to escape to, and his fingers curved over your collarbones, ghosting the collar of your t-shirt.

Taking a deep breath you manage, "It's nothing, really!" Up from your collarbone to the hollow of your throat, his fingers slowly rise back up. "It was just a dumb dream!"

That stops him, but maybe not in the way you hope. His eyes go bright, grin in full force now as he leans forward, "Dreaming about me are you?"

God, now you've done it. "Oh please, not in the way you think."

"Really? Tell me about the dream then." His hands settle on your hips now instead, one hand slipping under your shirt and meeting bare skin. You can't stop the shudder this time. His thumb runs circle into your sides. "Well? I'm waiting on hearing all about this dream that totally didn't fluster you."

"Have I mentioned I can't stand you sometimes." You try to shove him away, and he catches your hand. Presses a kiss to your wrist. Then, faintly, sinks his teeth into the tender part of it. A soft gasp falls from you.

He kisses it again, as though to soothe, "I'm perfectly easy to stand, you're just stubborn as hell. Which is fine, I know exactly how to get it out of you."

One of his hands drift lower, skimming the waistband of your sweats. You can't stop your body's response at this point, and Rook looks like he's trying not to laugh at you stubborn attempts to fight it anyway. He doesn't let his hand drift any lower, and you hate how much that frustrates you. Instead, he kisses you again, then your throat, then shoulder. He's pressed close to you now, and you feel his body heat.

You know he's the type to crack first though, "You wish."

Then you take his face in your hands and pull him back towards your mouth. He gasps into it, pressing even closer to you still. His lips part and your tongue slips into his mouth. His hand gripping your side squeezes, a feeling that almost hurts as much as it gives pleasure. You know he almost forgets himself, his goal, because for a second his fingers slip under your waistband. So close to where you secretly want them to go. But instead he manages to catch himself, and pulls himself away completely.

A rush of cold hits you and he gasps hard, before laughing when he sees the state your in, "Don't look at me like that. You can have me when you tell me exactly what you dreamed about."

He reaches around you and grabs the plate you'd just made for yourself before darting away before you can fully register the whole exchange.

Your brain catches up with you, and you push yourself away from the counter, "Rook!"

His laughter carries as you dart after him. You can't believe you lost this round.

[bellofthemeadow]

Dawn Ends the Night | Chapter 6

Aemond Targaryen x FemReader (Dayne)

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Series Masterlist

Rating: M for Mature (18 + no minors allowed)

Word Count: 7.4K (longest chapter? My form of apology for the delay in getting this chapter out)

Warning: All warnings on the Series Masterlist, will update if necessary (Re-iterating, no minors allowed! Thank you)

Chapter Summary: You have been in the Red Keep for less than a moon's turn, and you are getting to know some members of your future family. Some are more agreeable than others.

Notes: If anyone is still out there and reading this, I want to deeply apologised for the delay in finishing this chapter. I honestly did not think that it would take around 6 months to finish this, but many things robbed me of my ability to write or to have any type of creative purpose. Chief amongst is that a fell down my stairs ending up in a severe concussion and just the thought of well, thinking and looking at my computer was horrendous.

After many check-ups at the hospital and having let some months pass, I feel like I am mostly headaches free + drowsiness free and I feel ready and super pumped about coming back on this platform and continuing this story.

I hope you all like this chapter, and thank you to all of you who are still here and to all of you who wrote me sweet messages, I opened the app for the first time in a while some weeks ago and they were a true warm hug for my heart 💚💜💚

Unto the story now, with loads of love xxx

Taglist: @duds31 , @snh96, @lol-im-done, @heavenly1927, @whimsywilde , @queen-123s-posts , @httyd-marauders , @singhfae , @nothing-just-hanging-around

Family

Before your arrival in King’s Landing, breaking your fast had meant time spent amongst family, a time when you would gather in the quiet of the morning, exchanging words with your parents and brothers before the day’s duties scattered all of you like leaves in the wind. But now, amidst the towering spires and shadowed corridors of the Red Keep, since meeting Aemond, you have come to realize that the morning meal is all too brief. The moments slip through your fingers like sand, and you find yourself yearning for more—more time, more closeness, more of Aemond. More. You had become greedy since coming to the capital.  

You came to notice as each morning gave way to the next that as the crack of dawn slowly started to give way to the warmth of the morning sun, you would find yourself idly pushing strawberries or blackberries around your plate, and more slowly savouring sweet, honeyed cakes, all in a bid to delay the inevitable parting. You’ve also noticed Aemond doing much the same, pouring his steaming tea with deliberate slowness, chewing each slice of cured meat with thoughtful care. It brought a smile to your face each time, to think that he too wanted to delay the inevitable.  

But all good things must come to an end, and as you swallowed the last piece of fruit, inevitability settled over the both of you. The fleeting sweet tartness was gone, and you knew it was time, regrettably, to rise and face the demands of the day. You would bid the prince farewell, guiding him to your door, Perros’ gaze silently observing the scene. Today, instead of his usual parting words of soft promises, Aemond gently took hold of your hand, his touch tender as he examined the delicate shape of your fingers. Without warning, he pressed his lips softly against your knuckles, his whispered goodbyes a warm breath against your skin. Then, with a swift turn, he departed, leaving you with a lingering sense of yearning and the ghost of his touch upon your hand. 

 Even now, hours upon his departure from your solar and despite the cool morning breeze, you still felt overheated and no amount of pinching yourself was helping. The heat that had risen to your cheeks from his remarks lingered, persisting well into the morning. Every now and then, as you went about your morning duties, you would catch yourself thinking back to your conversation with him, the memory of his voice still echoing in your ears and the ghost of his hands still warm against your waist. And when you closed your eyes, you swore you could still feel the hard planes of Aemond’s chest against your soft breast. The unladylike part of you wished that Perros had not been with you in the room, and you wonder if Aemond was as dutiful as others made him to be – perhaps he could be pushed in the direction of your desires, with the right pair of soft hands of course, you giggle to yourself. 

For now, you enjoy the breezy air of the capital, lying on your back as you bask in the greenery of the royal garden alongside your little group. Gerris and Little Davos, who had not left your brother’s side since you brought him with you from Flea Bottom, played nearby with him and Heleana’s young twins. Your little retinue was scattered, with the younger ones running around with boundless energy while Heleana and you lounged lazily, letting the balmy afternoon sun warm your skin. You sighed contentedly, your fingers softly dancing through the lush, soft grass beneath you, the cool earth was a welcome contrast to the sun's warmth on your skin. 

You watch Gerris being tackled by Davos, their playful tussle drawing the attention of the fair-haired twins, who look on curiously, holding tightly onto each other. Perros let out an exasperated sigh, one that you can clearly hear from where you're lying on the ground. From the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of movement as the old knight begins to walk towards the boys, intent on breaking up their fight. His footsteps crunch on the soft grass as he approaches 

“Let them be, Perros.” You interrupt him, “It is good for Gerris to have a friend who does not care about his name. He needs someone who can truly play with him and who will care for him, the true bond of brotherhood, is it not?”  

Perros inclined his head, although he did look like he swallowed a particularly sour lemon, “Wise words, my Lady.”  

You watched as Gerris grabbed a handful of the rose bush, the flowers perfectly trimmed, and broke the thorny stem from the beautifully plump flower, discarding the petals and holding the long-crooked stem before him like a sword. He aimed his makeshift weapon at Davos, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he loudly proclaimed that he would defeat the evil sorcerer and protect the prince and princess, making the fair-haired twins giggle. 

You raised an eyebrow, “I do however draw a line at destroying royal shrubbery and I fear the gardener will take offence to us.” 

Perros charged towards the boys, who screamed at the sight of the towering knight and darted around, trying to dodge his grasp. Watching the chaos unfold, you couldn't help but smile faintly, a wave of nostalgia washing over you. Gerris let out a shriek that could very well shatter glass as Perros scooped him up by the armpits. The look of sheer betrayal that Gerris shot at Perros made both you and Heleana burst into loud guffas, startling the nearby servants. 

But then, heroic little Davos sprang into action to save his newfound friend. He charged at Perros, crashing into the knight's legs with all his might. The sudden impact made the older man stumble and loose his grip, giving Gerris the chance to wriggle free from his arms and dart to safety. 

It warmed your heart to see your brother so happy and to see Davos, who still looked gaunt in comparison to the rest of your group, gain color and a new twinkle in his eyes. You hoped, from the bottom of your heart, that both boys would build a strong bond of brotherhood and that both would grow to protect each other. This world is too cruel to go about it alone, you mused, thinking of Aemond and his missing eye.  

Circumstances had forced you to face the world alone until the birth of your baby brother. Yet, even after his arrival, his tender age prevented him from being a true companion, and your change in station only served to widen the gap between you, extending far beyond the simple span of years. The memory of Gerris's birth is still vivid in your mind—your mother laboring for hours before finally delivering a rightful heir. While the family rejoiced, you were enveloped in a profound sadness, grappling with feelings of inadequacy that wrapped around your heart like thorny vines, their grip unyielding and relentless. 

For months after Gerris was born, your mother, radiant with the joy of a smooth pregnancy and glowing with happiness at having fulfilled her long-anticipated duty, tried to coax you into bonding with your new brother, her eyes bright with hope. Yet each time, you deftly evaded her attempts, crafting excuse after excuse—he was too small, you were too clumsy, you could not stand his smell. Within you, a hidden bitterness took root, a silent resentment toward the tiny being whose very existence had overshadowed your own, solely because he had been born with a cock between his legs. You were left with nothing but a hollow cavern inside your chest. How unfair it was, you remember thinking, to have been born into one of the few Dornish great houses that still valued male heirs above all else. 

All that remained for you were your cherished books and studies. You clung to the hope that if they could not solve your predicament, they might at least offer some solace. One late evening, on a moonless night, as you delved into a dusty tome, a tale from the far North seized your attention. It told of a young boy who, consumed by jealousy of his elder brother's fortune, suffocated him to seize his crown and title. Horrified by this grotesque betrayal, a direct affront to the sacred teachings of the gods, you slammed the book shut, vowing never to revisit its vile contents. Yet, despite your resolve, the haunting words lingered in your thoughts, whispering of dark shadows and unfathomable acts deep within your soul. 

Some weeks after your brother’s birth, you were walking down the hall after your morning lesson with the maester. As you rounded a corner, the voices of two guards reached your ears. Their words still echoed painfully in your mind: 

“Have you laid eyes on the young master yet?” one guard asked, a note of excitement in his voice. 

The other guard grunted dismissively. “Not yet. I’m still on duty for the young lady. Strange one, she is. It's a blessing from the gods our lady finally bore a proper heir.” 

Chills ran down your spine, and your breath caught in your throat. Was that how everyone saw you? A strange girl unworthy of your family’s ancestral seat? As tears gathered in your eyes, you felt a sticky wetness on your fingers and realized you had crushed the inkpot in your grasp. You wanted to scream, to tear down the walls, to destroy something... or someone. How dare they dismiss you so easily? How dare they deem you unworthy? The urge to lash out, to make them feel your wrath, was almost unbearable. As you silently left the hall, the ink leaving a trail behind you, your mind wandered back to that Northern tale, and  

That very night, the castle lay shrouded in silence, broken only by the occasional groan of ancient wood, as if Starfall was holding its breath. Sneaking out of your room had become a nightly ritual, but tonight, filled with anger and bitterness, your steps carried you to the nursery door. An inexplicable force compelled you to push it open. Hands trembling uncontrollably, you eased the door ajar and peered inside. 

Inside, the gentle rhythm of the nurse's breathing was the only sound, the room bathed in the soft silver light filtering through gauzy curtains. You tiptoed closer to Gerris, the moon casting a serene glow over his cherubic face. Under the night’s tender touch, he appeared so different—not the usurper you had imagined, but simply a baby, innocent and unknowing. His tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, a fragile testament to life’s delicate beauty. 

Your heart tightened as the dark, unwelcome thought crept into your mind once more. "I could just... but no, that's monstrous," you silently reprimanded yourself, the words a desperate plea for sanity. The sheer horror of the act you had momentarily considered struck you like a blade, cutting deep into your conscience. The gods-forsaken book had planted seeds of madness within you, but as you stood there, looking at your brother’s peaceful slumber, you realized the true depth of your error. 

To harm this innocent, to extinguish a life that had only just begun—it would be a sin beyond redemption, a betrayal of everything you held sacred. The realization washed over you, leaving you trembling. Gerris was no enemy; he was family, bound by blood and destiny. The thought of causing him harm was an abomination, a dark whisper from the abyss that you vowed never to heed. 

As tears stung your eyes, a soft coo interrupted your turmoil. Gerris, now awake, was looking directly at you, his eyes wide and curious. There was no accusation there, no awareness of the storm of emotions he had unwittingly caused. Just a baby, reaching out. His smile, wide and guileless, seemed to pierce through the shadows that had gathered around your heart. And when he wrapped his tiny fingers around yours, something shifted within you. 

 "I'm sorry," you whispered, not sure to whom you were apologizing—Gerris, for the dark thoughts, or yourself, for having them. He gurgled happily in response, as if to say he understood and forgave you. 

It was then, in the quiet of the night with only the moon as your witness, that you made a silent vow. "If I cannot be the Lady of Starfall, then I'll ensure you become the greatest lord this castle has ever known. I'll protect you, teach you, be your guide." The words felt like a balm, soothing the raw edges of your soul. 

Gerris's grip on your finger was his silent pact, a bond sealed under the watchful eyes of the stars. From that moment, your path was clear. You would stand by him, defend him, and love him unconditionally. 

You were brought back to the present by youthful giggles infusing the air with joy. Gerris and Davos darted around the garden, leading young Jaehaera and Jaehaerys on a merry chase, their innocent games painting smiles on the faces of the two kingsguards who were tasked with watching your small group. 

Beside you, Heleana sat with the grace of a princess, in her delicate hands, she cradled a praying mantis she had found earlier in her explorations. With curious eyes, she was inspecting its slender legs and vibrant green body. The tiny creature, for its part, seemed unperturbed by the princess's scrutiny, perhaps recognizing the gentleness in her touch and that she would not hurt him. 

Aemond's book lay abandoned by your other side, its pages awaiting your return. You had started the day with the intention of devouring its contents, to lose yourself in the tales of dragons and the heroes who rode them. Yet, the sun's gentle lullaby had other plans, drawing you into a state of blissful lethargy. Like a cup overbrimming with sweet honey, you felt yourself grow slow before succumbing to the warmth of the sun, your eyelids growing heavy with the promise of sleep. 

Sprawled upon the ground, you felt like the old cat who had been stalking the walls of Starfall when you were a girl, always indulging in too much cream, basking in the afterglow of satisfaction. "I could get used to this," you mused silently 

Heleana was thinking aloud, curiousness painting her sweet smile, "This mantis is significantly larger than the ones I usually encounter. They're typically small enough to fit comfortably in my palm, but the legs of this one are sprawling out." 

You cracked open an eye, shifting your gaze towards the green critter still nestled in her grasp. Indeed, it was an impressive size, you thought.  

"Do you think the weather could be influencing its size?" you ventured closing your eyes again. 

Heleana blinked, seemingly taken aback by your sudden interjection, as if she had momentarily forgotten your presence or hadn't anticipated a response. 

"In what manner?" she queried curiously; you could feel her eyes settling on you, making you squirm like you were one of those bugs under her inspection. 

"Well, back in Starfall, there was one year that was particularly mild. The days weren't scorchingly hot, and the nights were warm with a gentle breeze. It was one of the most pleasant periods I can recall," you began, just the memory of those sweet breezy nights, holding Gerris by the hand as you made him look at the stars was enough to make your heart grow within your chest. "During that time, the old cat that roamed the grounds would bring in notably plumper mice. I remember asking our maester about it, and he suggested that the favorable weather allowed the mice to forage more freely and evade predators with greater ease." 

Heleana hummed at your explanation but did not contribute.  "Or perhaps," you added, a playful grin curving your lips, "this mantis simply enjoyed too many honeyed cakes at breakfast." 

With no response from the princess, you wondered if Heleana had even heard your musings or if you had been talking to yourself. However, before you could dwell on the silence any further, a gentle pressure on your right hand, resting on your belly, pulled you back to the present. Alongside, a slight weight settled next to you. Curious, you opened your eyes to find Heleana had cozied up beside you, her presence a comforting weight next to you.  

You softly squinted at her, "What happened to your mantis, Heleana?" You said while gently squeezing her hand in yours. 

"I've decided to test your theory," Heleana announced with a determined grin that brought a smile to your face. "I want to see if Tarrax will grow even larger if she spends more time in the garden." 

"Tarrax?" you echoed with a chuckle, amused by the very mighty sounding name she had chosen for such a critter. 

Nodding, Heleana explained, "Yes, I named her after a Valyrian god. She's mighty, larger than any other mantis in all of King's Landing." 

"A fitting name, indeed," you replied, smiling down at Heleana as she shyly returned your gaze. "You know, Aemond is quite knowledgeable about our history, perhaps more than anyone else in the family, save for our father and uncle. You should ask him to share more with you." 

"Later," you said, waving off the idea with a hand, content to enjoy the present moment. "Right now, I'm spending time with my new sister." 

"Sister?" Heleana's eyes lit up at the word. 

"Of course," you affirmed warmly. "As Aemond's future wife, that makes you, my sister." You then added, with a conspiratorial smile, "And I must say, your company is far more pleasant." 

Heleana's cheeks flushed with a rosy hue. "I've always wanted a sister," she admitted softly. 

You hesitated before broaching a delicate subject. "What about Princess Rhaenyra?" you asked gently. 

Heleana grew quiet, her voice a soft murmur. "I guess she is my sister by blood, but she never really showed she cared about me, or anyone else in my family. I remember, as a child, she would sometimes brush my hair, but then, suddenly, I was no longer welcome in her chamber. Mother mentioned something had happened, but nobody ever explained it to me."  

She sighed, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "They all think I'm too naive to understand. You know, they say when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin..." Her voice trailed off, laden with unspoken sadness. "Everyone seems to have made up their minds about how my coin landed." 

Your eyebrows drew together, a frown forming as her words sank in. Gently, you rolled onto your side, maintaining your hold on Heleana's hand. The sudden closeness seemed to startle her; your noses were almost touching, allowing you to catch the faint, sweet scent of apples that seemed to emanate from her skin. Offering her a soft smile, you brushed a stray silver hair behind her ear. Heleana possessed a beauty distinct from her brother's. While Aemond resembled a statue crafted by divine hands – all sharp lines and smooth angles, with an angular jaw and eyes sharp as a predator's – Heleana radiated a softer, more sweet charm. Her face was round and gentle, her lips glossy and inviting, her eyes wide and innocent.  

"You shouldn't heed others' words, sweet Heleana," you whispered, making sure your voice carried a soothing warmth. It was the same tone you used back home to soothe the skittish kittens that hid in the corners of the castle.  "Though our acquaintance has been brief, it's clear to me that you possess exceptional brilliance and kindness, virtues all too rare in this world in my opinion." 

 Heleana's expression turned forlorn. "I'm not as smart as Aemond," she lamented. "My High Valyrian is mediocre at best, and I don't share his affinity for books." 

"We each have our unique strengths," you reassured her, glancing towards a rose bush where a delicate butterfly had alighted. "Tell me, which would you say is superior: Tarrax or this beautiful butterfly?" You nodded toward a beautiful green and pink butterfly softly chittering near the roses. Heleana looked before turning back to you, her faces inches away from yours.  

Her brows knitted in confusion at the comparison. "It's difficult to say... They're both quite remarkable in their own ways." 

"Exactly," you affirmed, a smile spreading across your face as you squeezed her hand gently. "We all differ, yet each of us holds intrinsic value. And you, Heleana, are a splendid butterfly."  

Heleana's smile lingered, but soon her eyes glazed over, taking on a distant, unfocused look as if she were peering into a world unseen. Your concern deepened at this sudden shift. "Heleana, are you alright?" You tried to look around for help, but you could not move, entranced by her glazed look.  

Yet, she offered no reply. Abruptly, she rose, her grip on your hands tightening. Her voice, when she spoke, carried an eerie cadence, "The dragons dance above the lake. The lake welcomes them both to rest. The faces watch on in wait, happy their land is thus at rest." 

Her words, cryptic and haunting, hung in the air between you like an unspoken curse. The sudden intensity of her gaze, now clear and piercing, seemed to penetrate your very soul, stripping away the pretense and exposing your deepest fears. It was as though she could see through you, beyond the garden's tranquil facade, to a vision that only she could discern. The leaves rustled softly in the breeze, yet their gentle sound felt distant, overshadowed by the chilling weight of her words. 

"Heleana, what happ..." Your question hung unfinished in the air, cut short by a stern voice that seemed out of place amidst the garden's tranquility. "My princess, my lady," called Ser Criston Cole, the annoyed title of his voice suggesting he'd rather be anywhere but here. Perros, looming just behind him, had his arms crossed, his brows furrowed in a manner that clearly communicated his readiness to intervene should the queen’s favored Kingsguard step out of line. 

"Ser Criston," you greeted with a polite smile, attempting to dispel the unsettling echo of Heleana's words from your thoughts. "To what do we owe the pleasure of your company?" 

You could swear you saw a sneer on the knight’s face "The queen requests your presence, my lady, Her Majesty wishes to discuss the wedding arrangements with you." You couldn't help but swallow nervously at the mention of the queen. 

"May I accompany you?" Heleana inquired, shifting her penetrating gaze from you to Ser Criston. His annoyed stance softening upon Heleana’s words, ser Criston offered her a gentle, albeit somewhat strained, smile. "I'm afraid the queen wishes for some privacy with her future daughter-in-law, my princess." 

Heleana nodded in understanding, then looked back at you 

 "I'll remain here with the children until you return." 

You couldn't suppress the smile that her words brought to your lips. "Thank you, Heleana, and Perros," you added, turning to address your guard who looked like he wanted to pummel Cole into the ground, "please stay here and look after them with Heleana. I'd feel much more at ease knowing you're here to ensure their safety." 

Perros looked like he wanted to argue, but seeing your hard gaze, he simply nodded his head before shooting Cole a cold look.

Rising to your feet, you brushed down your skirts, the soft, gauzy purple fabric slipping through your fingers. Almost immediately, Gerris bounded over to you, "Where are you going?" he demanded, a hint of a whine coloring his words. "You've barely played with us!" 

You chuckled, reaching out to tweak his nose affectionately. "You've been darting about all afternoon, young man. You can't expect me to keep up with that pace! Stay here with Princess Heleana." His face fell slightly at your words. 

"Do you really have to leave now?" he pressed disappointingly.  

"Here's a deal for you," you offered, a conspiratorial glint in your eye. "Promise me you'll help Davos look after the twins, be good for Heleana, and I'll read you both an extra story tonight." 

Gerris's mood brightened instantly at the prospect, though he couldn't resist swatting away your hand from his nose with a playful huff. Then, with a bounce in his step, he returned to the small assembly of children. 

"You'll need to guide me, Ser Criston. I must admit, the vastness of this castle still confounds me," you said, offering a light-hearted smile that went unreturned. With a small bow to Heleana, Ser Criston turned sharply on his heel and began to lead the way toward the castle's heart. 

You hastened your steps to keep up with the Kingsguard, mindful not to let the hem of your dress catch beneath your feet. Matching the pace set by the imposing figure clad in white armor proved challenging; his stride was long and unforgiving, his focus squarely ahead, seemingly indifferent to whether you managed to keep up. 

Seeking to puncture the dense silence that enveloped you both, you ventured, "I've heard you hail from Dorne, Ser..." 

His response was brisk, clipped. "No. Only my mother was Dornish." 

"I see," you murmured, the silence resettling heavily between you. After a moment, you tried again, "Have you ever visited Dorne yourself?" 

"Yes, during the War of the Dornish Marshes." 

The words landed heavily, making you inwardly cringe. It seemed everyone in King's Landing bore some grievance against your homeland or its people. Lost in these thoughts, a question slipped from you, unbidden, "You bear no fondness for me, do you, Ser? May I ask why?" 

His stride faltered, a clear sign your words had hit a mark. Turning sharply, Ser Criston's gaze bore into you, his eyes narrowing as he scrutinized you. "You'd like everyone to believe you're the epitome of innocence, wouldn't you? The sweet, unsuspecting girl caught in the machinations of her family and her kingdom. But we both know that's far from the truth." 

You felt your jaw tighten, anger simmering beneath your calm exterior. "There is no scheme," you retorted, your voice edged with frustration. 

Ser Criston's scoff was a harsh, grating sound, echoing mockingly around you, taunting you with its disdain. In two swift strides, the knight advanced, his towering presence suddenly overwhelming, making you acutely aware of your smaller stature. As you peered up at the Kingsguard, you swallowed nervously. Should Ser Criston wish to bash your head against the nearby wall, he very well could. And no one would come to your rescue. You were completely alone in this dark hall, and even if you were not, who in their right mind would dare oppose a knight of the Kingsguard? The protector of the queen, no less. The cold stone walls seemed to close in around you, the flickering torchlight casting ominous shadows that mirrored the fear gnawing at your insides 

Leaning closer, his voice dropped to a menacing whisper, "I've encountered a girl like you before – she believed her status absolved her of decency, she would be content to watch the world burn for her own gain. I won't allow you to follow in her footsteps and hurt this family.” 

You managed a tight swallow, nerves tingling at Ser Criston’s words. "Whoever she was, I am not her," you asserted, trying to sound more confident than you felt.  

Ser Criston paused, his eyes drilling into yours as he weighed your words. "We shall see," he finally said. With that, he turned on his heel, the air hitting your face, before he started resuming his march toward the queen's chambers, leaving you to scramble in his wake.  

As you trailed behind Ser Criston, your pace quickened to match his stride, and your gaze found itself locked on the stark whiteness of his helm. A thought fluttered through your mind, delicate yet persistent, "What womanly shadow has fallen across this knight's path to make him distrust women so?"  

Men always had a way of making their problems every woman’s burden, and in a place like King's Landing, a city where trust is as scarce as shade in the Dornish desert, such mistrust could become lethal. You were no naive ingenue, however; Dorne, for all its beauty and warmth, was no stranger to the same games of power and deception that seemed to animate the heart of the Seven Kingdoms. The corridors of Sunspear had echoed with whispers and schemes, and you had learned early that the veneer of civility often masked a ruthless struggle for dominance. Here in King’s Landing, the stakes were higher, the players more cunning, but the game remained the same. 

Nevertheless, this information about the knight lodged itself in a part of your brain. Information was power and understanding the pains and loyalties of those around you could be as valuable as any sword or magical dragon. To know the mind is to know how people can be used, and Ser Criston might one day become a very valuable piece on your cyvasse board if it ever comes to it.  

As you arrived before the imposing door, the glowing tower etched into the dark, polished wood stood as a solemn sentinel, marking the entrance to the queen’s apartments. Ser Criston knocked twice, each rap sharp and curt, echoing through the stone corridor like a distant war drum. A moment later, the soft, velvety voice of the queen bid you both to enter. Her words, though gentle, carried the weight of authority, wrapping around you like a silken noose, drawing you inexorably into the bedchambers. 

Queen Alicent sat upon a plush green chair, her velvet gown clinging to her figure with elegant modesty. The seven-pointed star necklace embraced her throat, a symbol of her devout faith. She looked rather put out, her fingers absently scratching at one another—a nervous tic, no doubt. 

The three of you regarded one another in heavy silence, the air thick with unspoken words. It was Queen Alicent who finally broke the stillness. 

“We won’t be needing you, Ser Criston,” she said, her voice floating through the room, rich and velvety. Ser Criston bowed, his deference directed more toward the queen than to you, and then retreated, leaving you standing awkwardly before your future mother-in-law. The very thought sent a shiver down your spine, an unsettling notion you constantly tried to push aside. 

“Your Grace,” you began, dipping into a low curtsy, your back as straight as a sword. “You wished to see me?” 

Alicent’s smile was a marvel of diplomacy—warm yet calculated, inviting yet commanding distance, like a sword draped in a beautiful green silk. You could not help but admire such a smile that must have taken years to develop “Indeed, lady Dayne. Sit, please." She gestured to a round table nestled next to the balcony. As you take a seat, Alicent snaps her fingers and servants starts to pour ruby liquid into your glass  

“I hope you like Arbor Red; there is no finer wine in all of King’s Landing, we import it directly from the Reach” Queen Alicent remarked, her voice carrying a subtle note of pride as she gestured toward the goblet on the table before you. 

You smiled hesitantly, the corners of your mouth twitching with uncertainty. “Arbor Red is hard to come by in Dorne. I shall savor this, thank you.” 

The wine’s deep crimson hue caught the light, promising warmth and richness. As you lifted the goblet to your lips, the queen's eyes never left you, her expression unreadable, a mask of courtly grace that concealed the thoughts swirling beneath. 

“I pray you are settling well into your new home, Lady Dayne?” the queen inquired, her tone polite but her gaze sharp and assessing. 

“Everyone has been very welcoming, Your Grace,” you answered diplomatically. “It might not feel like home yet, but I believe it could one day become so.” If these walls could never replace the sand of your homes, at the very least could become the only home you needed.  

“Hmmm,” said the queen thoughtfully. “I was quite young when I left Oldtown with my father to come to court. Although, at the time, I could never have imagined I was to be married to the king.” Her words held no trace of love, only a bitterness that cut through the air like a knife. “It was a great yet unexpected honor, of course.” 

 Your heart tightened at her words. You would have thrown yourself off the high walls had you been in Alicent Hightower’s place. At the very least, Aemond was your age, not a decrepit, sick old man. 

“Of course,” you said, gulping a bit more of your wine. You should slow down. You would need all your wits about you to survive this conversation with the queen. 

“You must be wondering why I asked you here today.” 

“It has crossed my mind,” you admitted. 

“I want to talk to you about your future with my son.” 

The words ‘your future with my son’ echoed in your mind, the taste of Aemond’s mouth on yours etched upon your very soul. “I’ve heard of your morning meetings,” Alicent mentioned casually, though a note of reproach lingered in her tone. 

Your heart raced as you forced a calm smile. “Aemond and I have grown quite fond of each other, Your Grace. Our meetings are a way to strengthen our bond as future man and wife.” 

“Indeed,” the queen replied, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Fondness is all well and good, but the court watches everything. Your actions reflect not just on yourself, but on our house.” 

The noose was slowly tightening around your throat, “I can promise you that Aemond never did anything untoward that could bring shame to himself or to your family.” 

“I should hope so, Aemond is not one to share his thoughts freely however. The queen lamented. It seems that you have made quite the impression.” 

You couldn’t help the soft smile that danced on your lips. “He is a man of deep thought and great feeling, Your Grace. Our conversations have become a cherished part of my day.” 

Queen Alicent's eyes, once stern, now softened just a touch. “It is good to hear that Aemond has found someone who appreciates him for who he is. But remember, fondness must walk hand in hand with duty. Our lives are not our own; they belong to the realm.” 

“I understand, Your Grace,” you said, inclining your head respectfully. “I will uphold the honor and dignity of our house.” 

“See that you do,” the queen replied, her voice carrying the weight of both warning and hope. “In King’s Landing, alliances are as fragile as spun glass, and one misstep can shatter everything.” 

You sighed softly, relieved that the queen’s words had been relatively mild. If that was all she wanted to convey, it was quite manageable. Nothing too bad. 

“However,” the queen continued, her voice taking on a harder edge. You lifted your eyes to meet her piercing gaze. 

“See that you remember this: Aemond’s loyalty will always be, first and foremost, to me and to his family. No matter how many threads you spin, how many lingering glances you throw his way, Aemond is my son before he becomes your anything. Do not think you will sway him to the winds of your mind. Aemond will do what we tell him to, always. Remember these words should you ever need to remind yourself of your place in this castle.” 

Now this you could not let pass. “With all due respect, Your Grace, I would hope that Aemond, as my husband, and I share the same wishes and aspirations. Is this alliance not to unite Dorne and the royal family as one?” 

The queen looked crossly into her glass, and you noticed it was quite empty. Interesting. You would have thought that a woman as pious as the queen would not indulge in drink, especially given how she reprimanded Prince Aegon at every opportunity. 

“Then make sure that your mind is always aligned with his interests and the best interests of this family. You will not like the alternative, I am afraid.” 

“Is that a threat, Your Majesty?” 

“Not a threat. I am simply explaining a fact. You were not there when the other boys teased him in his youth. I was the one whose shoulder he cried upon. I was the only one who cared for him when he was robbed of his eye. Me, not my father, not Viserys. Me. Do not think that your presence nullifies all that I have done for him.” 

You clenched your golden goblet, the ruby red wine as vivid as the fury in your eyes. Just as you were about to retort with your own biting words—though not the wisest course of action—a sharp series of knocks erupted at the large door. 

The queen raised her hand, and one of the guards waiting at the entrance opened the door, revealing none other than the man in question. Aemond entered, his expression stoic, though the wild look in his eyes told a different story. He seemed to sense the tension in the room immediately, his gaze flicking between you and his mother. 

“Mother. My lady,” he greeted, his voice a careful mask of calm. 

“Aemond,” Queen Alicent replied suprised at seeing her son at her door, but her tone softening slightly. “I was discussing the upcoming wedding with your future wife. We were thinking of green with little accents of lavender for the colors.” 

“Hmmmm,” was Aemond’s answer. “Purple is also an honored Targaryen color. Ensure it is visible to honor both my bride and my blood.” 

“We must show unity in this wedding, Aemond. You cannot think to—” 

“I would like to borrow Lady Dayne, Mother, if that is all,” Aemond interrupted smoothly. “I should like to think that color schemes are not the most crucial element in demonstrating the unity of our family, hmmmmm. My lady?” He extended his arm to you. 

You scrambled to reach it, curtseying and softly uttering a thanks to your future mother-in-law before hurrying to Aemond’s side. Together, you left the queen’s solar, Aemond leading you with a grace that accompany his stoic and princely air. 

As you both walked through the halls, you glanced at the strong profile of your betrothed. By the gods, he was handsome, as if carved from marble itself. 

“I hope my mother was not too harsh in her words to you. For if she was, I will have words with her,” Aemond spoke without looking at you, his shoulders tense, his back rod-straight. He flexed his sword hand, as if yearning to grasp the familiar dragon pommel for comfort. 

Without a word, you gently placed your palm in his clenching hand. At the sudden contact, the prince stopped in his tracks and finally turned to look at you, his whole being softening. 

You raised his hand to your mouth, placing a soft kiss on his palm. The warmth of his skin against your lips sent a shiver down your spine. Aemond moved his hand to cup your cheek, the touch gentle yet firm, and you smiled contentedly, nuzzling into his palm as if it were the safest place in the world. 

"It does not matter what your mother said. All that matters is that you know I will always be on your side, regardless of what happens. The rest is superficial. As long as you believe in me and I believe in you, all will be well." 

Aemond's thumb softly stroked the apple of your cheek, sending waves of warmth through you. His touch was both tender and reassuring, a silent promise of his support. "I feel like we do not know each other enough to speak of each other so," he murmured, a hint of uncertainty in his voice. 

“Not close enough? Do you caress the face of every lady in this castle? If so, I will be rather cross,” you teased, a playful glint in your eyes. 

“Do not say such things, you know there is but you,” he replied, his tone earnest. “Although your manners have a way of confounding me, I feel like I was waiting for you. I think you were owed to me,” Aemond softly admitted, doing his upmost to not avert your gaze.  

You tensed at his words. “Owed?” 

“For my eye,” Aemond said simply. “After all that the gods took, I was owed something wonderful, my lady.” 

“I am not sure it works like that,” you replied, your fingers grasping the shirt of his dark green, almost black, leather riding coat. The rich fabric was cool under your touch, a stark contrast to the heat of the moment. 

He leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin, carrying the faint scent of the Arbor Red wine. “Perhaps not. But it feels right, as if fate or the gods have finally given me something to cherish.” 

“Is this fate you speak of the same that led you to rescue me from your mother’s inquisition?” you asked, trying to divert the subject. The softeness and eagerness of his words were bringing out some feelings in too quick a fashion. 

 Aemond looked momentarily sheepish. “I suppose it was not fate, for I went looking for you in the garden. Helaena told me where to find you, and I grew worried. I will not let anything happen to you, my lady, whether it be from my family or anyone else.” 

There was a sincerity in his voice that made your heart ache. You studied his face, his sharp features softened by the candlelight of the narrow corridor, you tugged him to a nearby alcove, hidden from prying eyes.  

Aemond looked startled, but did not take his eyes away from you, while you bit your lips, looking into his lone eye pensively.  

“I would never ask you to choose.” 

“I know. But I would choose you regardless.” 

“Aemond...” 

“Come now.” Aemond's hand slowly slipped from your face, his touch a whisper against your skin as he traced the line of your soft neck, down your sharp shoulder, and along the curve of your arm. His fingers entwined with yours, warm and reassuring, tugging you gently forward. “I want to show you the books I mentioned this morning.” 

“But Aemond, it will be the evening meal soon. I will not have time to go back and change if we go to the library now.” 

“Then we will have our meal in the library.” 

You arched a brow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “I am not sure that is proper.” 

“Hmmmm, good thing I am the fearsome one-eyed prince, and no one would dare go against my words.” You liked it when Aemond was playful, you decided. It was a nice contrast to see the teasing quality alight his one eye against the smooth stoicism of his otherwise marbled face. 

“Except your mother. And your grandfather. And Ser Criston...” 

Aemond tugged you harder, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. “Quite the jester you are. If you would rather eat dinner with my family...” 

“No, that is quite alright,” you said quickly, a singsong quality to your voice. You matched his stride, but your smile drops slightly when you noticed something on his surcoat. 

“Aemond... is that blood?” 

Aemond looked down at his leathers, then brushed his hand over it as if the specks of blood might disappear with a simple gesture. 

“Do not worry, my lady,” he said, his voice calm but evasive. 

“Aemond, what happened?” 

“ ‘tis nothing,” he replied, his tone reassuring but his eyes betraying a hint of something darker. “Just a minor incident. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.” 

“Aemond...” you began, your concern evident in your voice. 

“Come, please. I would cherish the chance to show you my childhood books,” he interrupted gently, his eyes pleading for you to let the matter rest. 

You sighed, feeling the weight of the unspoken words between you. “Alright... keep your secrets then.” 

“I promise it is not as bad as it may look. Do you trust me?” he asked, his gaze unwavering and earnest. 

You so wanted to. Despite the unease gnawing at you, you smiled softly. “Lead the way, my prince.” 

Aemond's face lit up with a rare smile devoid of the dragon sharpness you had come to associate with him, as he tugged you in the direction of the library. The tension of the moment began to fade, replaced by the warmth of his presence. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows on the walls, and the quiet rustle of your combined footsteps echoed through the hallways.  

Looking at Aemond’s strong back you thought that you would find out eventually where the blood came from. Ghosts are patient creatures, after all. 

Next chapter

[thedomesticanthropologist]

What would the bg3 companions do if Tav fixed a home-made meal and cleaned up their stuff for them, studio ghibli style?

I had to take quite a bit of time to think on this one because it would vary wildly depending on /when/ this happened. So, I am re-using my favorite scenario that was widely popularized over 20 years ago by the Gundam Wing fandom for fanfiction purposes, and we are going to say:

"The companions find a safe house where they must hole-up for several weeks before a major confrontation/continuing their journey. It provides a needed opportunity for respite and recovery, a moment to breathe in the eye of the storm." timeline: late Act 3

Tav prepares a home-made meal that takes them the entire day to make. Grilled fish fresh from the river, bread from scratch with herbs from the garden folded into it and butter spread across the top. Potatoes from the garden sliced, seasoned, roasted. Chicken caught and killed that very morning and boiled into a stew with pounds of fresh vegetables - and more. Yams, parsnips, salad greens, All they could find in the cellar, in the surrounding abandoned garden and small farmstead they had settled in. The type of meal that filled a table so thoroughly there was almost no place left to sit if one tried to have their meal at the table.

It had been so long since they had a home to care for, and this journey had given precious little time for such things as careful cleaning and cooking. The little cottage was full of delicious smells, a warm fire burned in the hearth and heated the entire space. The companions, who had all been out for the day on various missions, arrived back to find not only this, but more.

All of the clothes laundered, scented with lavender from the garden. All of their armor polished and scrubbed, weapons cleaned, packs tidied. Rooms swept of cobwebs, bedding replaced. Perhaps a little bit of magic had been used, for everything was dry as well as clean. How would they respond?

Gale: Warmth and joy. He breaks out into a huge smile and fills the room with compliments on everything youve done. A stickler for detail and known for his verbosity, he leaves out no single comment nor does he miss the chance to reflect on what each detail reminds him of - his mothers cooking, his home, the soul-brightening joy of fresh bedding pulled tightly over a clean mattress. He would do all of the clean up after dinner, showing his appreciation not only in words but affirming them with his actions as well.

Karlach: She gets choked up. Honestly. "you didnt have to" isnt on her mind at all, shes just incredibly grateful. You get the biggest bear hug and a shuddering voice of gratitude in your ear. It hasnt been just 'so long' since shes had this level of care- she never has. Nothing like this. She will remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how long or short that life may be. You gave her something that healed a part of her permanently.

Wyll: Flushed and flustered. HE would be heavy on the "you shouldnt have- I would have helped! had you only asked-" Embarassed almost, in the way that he responds, as if he feels bad that he hadnt been able to pre-empt this scenario and find a way of doing it for you first. He feels... guilty. Tries to hide it with gratitude. Is a little quieter than usual.

Lae'zel: Asks what you expect in exchange for services rendered. Makes a quip about you being suited for running an inn as much as you are for battle. Clears her plate, then another. Goes a little quiet for a moment. Then: "You didnt need to. A waste of your time to cater to us thusly. (long pause) .... thank you."

Shadowheart: Questions why, wonders if youve done it to soften the blow of some oncoming bad news. Spends most of her time teasing the other companions for their reactions but in a way where its clear that shes guiding them towards more grateful responses. She smiles at you warmly and softly across the table, eyes twinkling. Her gentle teasing of you is filled with subtle offers of repaying the kindness in ways that you will not be able to expect or predict later on so that she may surprise you in kind. Also, to ensure you cannot reject her because you dont know whats coming or when.

Halsin: Very clearly thanks you with direct eye contact. If your relationship is good, he holds both your hands in his and gives them a firm but caring squeeze. All of his feelings are in his eyes and his words are exceptionally heartfelt and to the point. He has no issues with being appreciative or straightforward, and this meant a lot to him. Offers to run your bath for you later, since Gale is doing the dishes. Probably offers to wash your hair. Comes on to you a bit, he cant help it. Heart eyes 1000%

Astarion: Awkward. Uncomfortable. Initially tries to play it off with pomp and flourish, goes to hint that you just wanted to rifle through everyones things while no one was home. Does, actually, double check all of his belongings. You cant fault him for being who he is. Questions you with a deep frown, but waits to do so until he has you cornered in the back of the hallway where he waited for you to come out of the privy. You reassure him, and hes huffy about it. It takes a lot for him to go from accusational to deflated. Laments he cant enjoy the meal you prepared, only to be presented with a live hog in the store room and a bottle of red wine. You didnt forget. He stares, stutters out his gratitude. Does not apologize for grilling you. Body language towards you for the next few days has a distinct affectionate companionability to it. Small genuine smiles half hidden behind wine glasses.

[secretsandwritings-blog]

Um, so here is part four everyone, because I need to be writing something. I’ll let you know that some of these take place before Tory and her brother had moved into the Lawrusso household. [Those will be italics!!] If you have suggestions for headcanons for anyone, a couple, a different fandom, etc let me know so I could work on that for ya 👨‍🍳

Sam and Miguel often don’t talk about Tory due to him still thinking that she hates her.

Sam has spoken to Johnny that her hatred over Tory was childish and decided to let go of it.

(only kind of wished Daniel did the same thing instead of letting it linger 30+ years. In some way, I’d like to think that Daniel always thought of Johnny over those years.)

To help with the grief, Sam gave Tory and Brandon a build-a-bear with a recorded message from their mother.

Tory tends to hang around Sam’s room, because in some way it reminds her of her mother, Brandon also.

Sam has always thought about giving Tory and Robby a room inside the house so they wouldn’t have to live in the apartments.

Amanda would drop by to Tory’s apartment to see if she ever needed anything like toiletries, groceries, medications, etc.

Anthony gave Brandon one of his older tablets before Daniel decided to buy both him and Tory their own devices.

(their “devices” being new phones and such so they could in contact with everyone.)

Sam and Tory’s style went from two separate ones to one shared one ranging what seems like what one would wear versus the other.

Every time Tory seems to be getting worse, Johnny takes her out on the mat or rage room where she can let all those frustrations out, though he’s still unsure where to take Brandon..

For her birthday one year, Sam had gifted Tory a coloring book along with a sketchbook and pencils, since she heard that she enjoys coloring / drawing things.

For her status at the dojo, Daniel had created a new type of “role” for Tory and claimed that she could be a fill-in instead full-time student at Miyagi-Do.

(this is a role that I made as I do not know if this is an actual thing in martial arts, but basically the fill-in student can have its own dojo. In Tory’s case, that means she can still be Cobra Kai if that’s what she’s wanting to do and the same with Robby.)

Their styles reflected through their academics:

Miguel, Robby, Sam, and Tory definitely have study sessions in Sam’s room.

Everyone else looks for Sam to give an answer, since she’s the only one besides Amanda to get a college level academically.

(Anthony following suit once he gets into high school as well.)

Kenny was surprised to see that everyone was civilized with each other however, he wasn’t surprised to see that they were rowdy.

Everyone eats stuff other people’s plates or drink the rest of their drink if they cannot finish their food / drink.

Eventually Sam and Tory started to sound the same so they decided to distance themselves from one another to quote, “get their voices back to normal.”

All the boys collectively hide away in the basement and claim that the girls need a “special pass” to allow themselves in.

Brandon has a hiding space in the theater room.

Johnny drunkenly bought a soda dispenser so they placed it in the theater room.

Tory and Johnny made a secret language so they can communicate with each other similarly to what Daniel and Robby has with morse code.

They all exchange Valentine’s day gifts with each other and definitely laughed at each other the first year they done it, because it was a surprise to everyone now it’s a tradition, lol.

Kyler is for sure a heated conversation in that house to put that lightly…

(Kenny still doesn’t get the hate on him UNTIL Anthony drops all their problems so now he’s like, “Wow, he’s a piece of shit ,” and they’re all like, “We’ve been telling you that”)

Both Anthony and Johnny say tum tum and tummy instead of stomach.

Robby and Sam get the most stomach aches.

(Robby because he’s constipated (poor him tbh) and Sam gets them on her period, since food doesn’t settle too well when she’s on it.)

Sometimes they all nap together after practice at first they thought it was too gross now they just do it whenever without a second thought.

That’s all I can think of for this moment for part four so there might be a part five in the future…

Parts in order: one , two , three , four , ...

[ethereal27cereal]

Cocoa and Cream - Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

summary: When a big snowstorm hits town, you and your neighbor Eddie find yourselves shoveling nearly 3 feet of snow off your shared driveway. And the only way to warm up is with a good cup of hot cocoa. Based on the prompt: “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Are you a serial killer or something?” from the lovely @thefreakandthehair​ Spicy Six Holiday Fic Challenge.

warnings: not really any, this is just fluff with some pining and Eddie thinking he is a creep.

genre: neighbors to lovers, fluff

word count: 4K

author’s note: Hiya friends, I hope you all like this one, it was a super cute prompt and I loved writing it. Thank you to @kissmecaiti​ for all of your amazing support and for your adorable last line suggestion. Any comments and feedback are always so appreciated 💕 page divider from @firefly-graphics​

Peeking out of the frosted window, you breathe a sigh to see the snow is finally starting to taper off, if only for a brief moment. Long enough to get out and shovel. Again. You have cleared the front porch and walkway twice, wanting to stay on top of the relentless piles of snow. If you don’t start to make a dent in shoveling away the snow on the driveway, it is going to be at least a week before you’re able to get your car out safely. Living alone has its perks, but being the one who has to shovel in what is shaping up to be the biggest snowstorm of the year is definitely not one of them.

You peer out of the curtains again, debating if you are just going to clear the steadily creeping drifts from the front porch or truly try to tackle the driveway. It is a shared driveway, connecting your single car garage and condo to the mirrored copy of your mysteriously handsome neighbor’s condo and garage. He moved in six months ago and introduced himself as Eddie, immediately captivating you with his soft curls and crooked grin, but you’d not gotten much more out of him since then. He’d given a little wave when you both managed to pull into the drive at the same time, a mumbled apology when returning a package of yours that had accidentally been delivered to him, and baffled ‘thank you’ when you showed up on his doorstep with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies to show your thanks. Each time he’d always been friendly, albeit a bit shy.

Despite the shyness, Eddie has really been the ideal neighbor. Devastatingly good looking, well that’s not really an important part of the good neighbor criteria, but it certainly helps. He doesn’t have raucous parties every weekend and doesn’t block the driveway all the time like the previous occupant had. The only thing you can possibly find fault with is the late night guitar practice, but that somehow only adds to his intrigue rather than truly being an annoyance.

Once during the sweltering heat of the summer, you'd summoned up the nerve to ask him about his guitar playing, catching him unaware as he absently strummed his acoustic on his front porch. Nerves bubbled in your belly when his smoldering brown eyes flickered over you warily, staring at each other for a moment too long in the glaring sunshine. Bitten chapped lips offered a swift apology for keeping you up late with his playing, and without so much as another glance, he had disappeared into the darkness of his condo, muttering something about the damn heat before you had a chance to stop him.

All the brief exchanges only leave you wanting to know more about him, maybe spend some time with him and perhaps it could lead to something more than just friendly neighbors. But that also might just be wishful thinking and too many romance novels about meet cutes and falling in love with the boy next door. Besides, you’re pretty certain he does not share the same sentiment, seeing as he is barely able to speak to you for more than a minute without finding an excuse to flee. Maybe you just aren’t his type, thick and curvy isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, or maybe he’s just a recluse, but either way, it is boiling down to the facts that his momentary neighborly niceties will most likely not be extending to shoveling nearly three feet of snow off your side of the driveway.

Running out of time with the snow steadily starting to pick back up again, you abandon your fleeting fantasies, deciding it’s now or never and begin to bundle up in your snow clothes. Wrapped up so tightly that only your eyes peek out, you brace yourself against the chill of the wind and step out onto the front porch, tendrils of frost flicking into your lungs and stealing your breath away. The world sounds muffled and softened under its thick blanket of white, the snow falling to the ground lazily with an inaudible sigh, faint crunching under your foot as you trudge out into the winter wonderland.

Armed with your shovel, you clear a path on the porch and walkway within minutes and move on to the larger task at hand. As you round the corner to the front of the house, you spot him, a flickering figure of darkness almost engulfed by stark white. He’s dressed entirely too sparingly for the chill in the air, what looks like alternating layers of denim and leather jackets covering his top half and a pair of very wet looking black jeans clinging to his sturdy thighs. A black beanie pushes down his wild curls, tendrils clinging to his pink cheeks as he looks up from his work when he hears you slowly approaching. After a gloved wave and a smile to your neighbor, Eddie, you start on clearing the heaps of snow that surround your garage door.

Eddie had hoped he would finish shoveling the whole driveway before you came out, but he’s been at it for what feels like hours and is only just now starting to see a dent. The cold is starting to set into his knees, his toes already numb despite the layers of wool socks he had put on before shoving his feet into the thrifted snow boots that are one size too large. His eyes automatically drift over to stare at you, smiling to see you look a whole lot warmer than he feels. You’re bundled up in a puffy purple jacket, shining eyes just barely visible between your thick knit scarf and black beanie that is almost identical to his except for the pom pom bouncing on top. Eddie’s chest tightens, and though he’d like to blame it on the cold, he’s more than certain it’s because he can’t breathe when you’re around.

He knows shoveling all the snow away isn’t the grandest of gestures, but he hopes in a least a little way it does something to make you happy. Just enough of a kindness so he can see your smile before getting too nervous and retreating to the safety of his home before he’s once again plagued by never ending thoughts of you. He’s tried his hardest to be polite and neighborly, fearing if he is anything more it would be verging on creepy, and he’s not looking to start up the same rumors or stereotypes that had been his ceaseless burden to carry in Hawkins.

New town, fresh start where no one knew the name Eddie Munson or cared about his past. He told himself he would be best off if he simply kept to himself, easier not to scare off people when there isn’t anyone close enough to scare off. And at first it was easy. He went to work and came home, collapsing on the couch in front of the TV, chugging a few beers before passing out. Then he’d repeat it all over again, day after day. Until you.

With a persistent smile and an intoxicatingly sweet sundress, you had cornered him by the mailboxes about a month after he moved in. You’d repeated his name when he introduced himself, and the sound of his own stupid name lilting off your tongue should not have made him weak in the knees, but it did. And it still does. Everyday since, he finds himself hoping for more and more little moments with you, feeling butterflies from even the briefest of glances or a fleeting smile you offer his way. He’s ashamed at how many summer nights he lingered out on the front porch to see if you would wander up after your evening walk and talk to him about his guitar playing again, or about anything really. He endlessly agonizes over any reasonable excuse to talk to you before always deciding against it, not wanting to come off as too pushy or forward.

Eddie is sure that if you knew any of this you would cringe. Who wants to live next door to the freak?, he reminds himself over and over while trying not to cling to the crumbs of your neighborly kindnesses. But the truth is, he’s got it bad. Eddie has a crush on you, the girl next door, and he’d shovel six feet of snow if it meant that you didn’t have to.

Snow begins to blur his vision as the thoughts fade and he quickly realizes the blizzard is coming on in full force again. The path he’s cleared in the snow is rapidly being covered again, though not nearly as deep as it was to start, and he groans at the thought of having more snow to shovel before this storm is finished. Defeated, he looks from where he is standing at the end of the driveway to where you’re struggling against the mountainous drifts, looking even more thoroughly defeated than he feels.. You fling a pile of snow off the end of your shovel, only to have the wind whip most of it back into your face. The wind rages again, nearly taking Eddie off his feet and he decides the window of clear shoveling weather has abruptly come to an end.

“You should get back inside, it’s getting pretty bad. I will finish shoveling when the storm dies down again,” Eddie shouts over to you, his voice straining to project into the chill air.

Your pom pom hat bobbles as you turn your head to look at him. You can make out the faint movement of his lips, but the wind swallows all sounds.

“What?” you holler back, setting your shovel down and bracing against another gust. He repeats himself, but you still can’t catch a single word. Frustrated by the distance and your inability to hear, you begin to trudge through the knee deep snow to get to him. Puffy snow pants and unsteady footing do you no favors, and after trekking only a few steps closer, you find yourself face down in a heap of snow. Freezing cold and full of embarrassment.

In a moment of heroic panic, Eddie leaps over snow drifts and crouches by your side, concern streaked across his frigid features. Frosted wetness seeps into the thin denim of his jeans and chills him to the bone, but his only thoughts are on you and if you are alright.

“Shit are you okay?” he worries and pulls you out of the drift by your arms. Your face is dusted with snow, delicate snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes as you flutter them open to look at him. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, unable to blame it on the frigid air as you cling to his arms and try to steady yourself to a standing position. Nothing seems to be injured, but Eddie scans you up and down just to be sure.

“Ugh, yeah. I mean, my pride is not, but I’m not hurt or anything. Just cold,” you reply with a shiver, leaning into him to savor the feeling of him supporting your weight for just a moment longer and expecting him to let go. But he doesn’t. His arm wraps around your waist, sheltering you against the wind as he guides you towards your front door.  

“Let’s get you inside. This wind is brutal, and you look absolutely freezing.” His breath blows warm against your cheek when he whispers directly into your ear, not letting the storm consume his words again.

Once safely inside, Eddie releases his hold on you suddenly, cold wind sucking the air from your lungs and the strain of shoveling leaving you weaker in the knees than expected and you unceremoniously plop down on the floor.

“Woah! Are you sure you’re okay there, Y/N?” Eddie drops to his knees next to you, his ungloved hand wavering in a dangerous debate of whether or not to touch you again. You stare at him blankly, only able to dwell on how this is the first time you think he’s ever said your name. It sounds sweet, like sticky warm honey dripping from his lips and warming you from the inside out despite the nagging chill that has taken up residence under your skin.

“Y/N?” Eddie repeats again, even more dulcet in its refrain, but the perplexed look of concern on his face forces your reply.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just more exhausted than I thought I was,” you respond, aiming to give a reassuring smile that you’re pretty sure comes out as a grimace. In an effort to get more comfortable and regulate your body temperature, you begin shedding layers, chucking off your hat and gloves then unzipping your jacket and tossing it beside you. Letting out a huff you get to your feet, Eddie’s hand offering gentle support at your elbow so you don’t slip and fall on the wet floor.

Without much thought for your company, you kick off your snow boots and begin to wiggle out of your snow pants. It’s an action that leaves Eddie flustered and turning away with pink cheeks and his heart beating wildly, trying not to stare at the swell of your thighs and hips when you’re fully revealed in a pair of skin hugging long johns and a turtleneck that is leaving far too little up to his imagination.

“I, uhh, well, if you’re alright I should probably go,” Eddie coughs and looks down at his feet.

“No, no, please stay. I can make some hot chocolate. As a thank you. For shoveling and for rescuing me from the snow,” you laugh, a contagiously joyful sound and Eddie cannot say no.

— -

After offering Eddie an old pair of sweatpants to change into since his jeans are soaked, he settles in at the tiny kitchen table, looking stiff and uncomfortably shy while you busy yourself at the stove with heating the chocolate and sugar mixture. You try to fill the silence with small talk, asking about his job at the local auto shop and sharing little things here and there about your interests. He opens up slowly, offering up some tidbits of information, and becoming increasingly animated when he talks about his love of metal music and reading fantasy novels. He confesses that he is relatively new in town, so he doesn’t really do much in his free time besides read and play guitar.

Eddie clams up when you ask about where he moved here from, a tight lipped response telling you it’s best to drop it and move on to something else, but he circles back.

“Sorry, I’m being such a dick. You’re just trying to be nice and ask questions, and I’m being an asshole. I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes, tugging a strand of frizzy curls in front of his lips as he speaks.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re saying more than one or two words to me. I feel like I’ve been the annoying neighbor getting in your business all the time,” you reply with an unsure smile. He regards you softly for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in thought as he weighs his words.

“You’ve not been annoying at all. I’m just not used to the friendly neighbor kind of thing, I guess. I’m just kind of used to people pretending I don’t exist. But it’s nice. You’re nice. I mean, yeah,” Eddie rambles, ending with a huff and a wince at his own pitiful words. You don’t reply, but offer a thoughtful hmm as you carefully pour the milk into the pan of boiling chocolate and begin to stir.

“Well I think you’re nice too. Hot chocolate is almost ready. I can also whip up some whipped cream for the top if you’d like,” you suggest, trying not to bubble over at the simplest of compliments that he thinks you’re nice.  

“You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I’m good with just marshmallows,” Eddie waves his hand with his words, thinking nothing of his request.

“Oh, um, sorry, I don’t have any marshmallows. I don’t ever put them in my hot chocolate,” you apologize and can tell immediately that your response has absolutely dumbfounded Eddie, his face contorting with confusion as he stares blankly at you.  

“What? You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

“Well, I don’t really like them,” you shrug absently, turning to stir the warming hot chocolate and then back to face him again.

“Hold on a minute, back up. You don’t like marshmallows and you don’t put them in your hot chocolate…are you a serial killer or something?” Eddie jests with a laugh, and you shrug again. “Who doesn’t like marshmallows? They are delicious. And then you pop them on some hot chocolate and you have the best winter time drink there is.” With each word, Eddie is becoming more animated, sitting up in his chair and speaking with his hands. A smile creeping across his face as he tries to prove this ever so important point to you.

“They’re just too sweet. And they ruin perfectly good hot chocolate by forming that weird gelatinous goop layer on top when they don’t melt all the way. Whipped cream is the only appropriate topping for hot chocolate,” you retort with a smirk. You swing open the fridge and grab out the carton of heavy whipping cream, wiggling it in his direction before going on. “And homemade whipped cream is by far the superior hot chocolate topping compared to any Kraft Jet-Puffed bullshit.”

“I did not know that I was living right next door to such a staunch marshmallow hater. I can’t believe I was going to shovel your whole side of the driveway. I’m not even sure if I can accept this hot chocolate as a token of your thanks anymore,” he shakes his head with another hearty laugh and acts as if he’s going to stand up to leave before locking eyes with you and offering a devilish grin.

“Hey now, if this isn’t the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, then I will shovel both sides of the driveway,” you promise with an earnest look that makes his heart swell.

“That seems like an unfair deal to make seeing as there is no possible way you can win without marshmallows,” Eddie remarks playfully.

“Fine, if tasting my extra special cream isn’t enough for you, then I will just have to find some other way to thank you properly.” You wink and giggle, delighting in the look of shock on his boyish features before plugging in the hand mixer and settling the metal beaters into the bowl of heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla.

Eddie’s cheeks flush red, fading softly to rosy pink as he clears his throat, inaudible over the hum of the mixer. He isn’t sure if you intended or meant anything by the salacious sounding offer, but he’d be lying if thoughts of you in that way hadn’t crossed his mind at least once or twice, or more, over the last six months. And the thought that you might want him in a similar way sends his brain reeling. His eyes are fixed to the soft sway and wiggle of your ample hips as you continue mixing, staring far longer than just a friendly neighbor should. Eddie is certain he is dangerously close to losing any last ounce of cool he has when you turn off the mixer and dip your finger into the cream, your plump lips closing around the digit and sucking it clean with a wet popping sound.

He lets out a ragged breath and chooses to focus on the frayed holes forming in the faded fabric of the borrowed sweatpants, poking his finger against his thigh to concentrate on something other than you. Eddie wills himself to calm the fuck down, she’s just being kind and neighborly. Just because she has a perfect ass and the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen, doesn’t mean you are getting any. Don’t be creepy. Eddie chides to himself, hoping that more deep breaths will steady his fluttering heart and stifle the throbbing feeling in the pit of his stomach that is threatening to spread south.

He can't, however, tune out the sweetly satisfied hum you make after adding another dash of vanilla and tasting the whipped cream again, the sound reverberating in his ears like a song he never wants to forget.  

“Perfect!” You declare proudly, releasing your finger from your lips and turning to smile at Eddie. “Do you like a lot or a little whipped cream?”

“Ermm, I will let you decide,” he responds quietly, unable to meet your eyes as if you might be able to see all the thoughts racing through his head.

“A lot it is then,” you plop a generous dollop of cream on top of the steaming chocolatey drink and bring it over to him with a smile. He thanks you shyly and takes a timid first sip, trying to avoid getting the whipped cream up his nose.

“Okay, I’m just going to say that you are objectively wrong about marshmallows, but holy shit, this is the best hot chocolate I have ever had,” Eddie admits, finally meeting your eyes as you sit down at the small table and pull your chair close to his, knees bumping his under the table.

“And the whipped cream?”

“It’s delicious. I will agree that homemade whipped cream is a top tier hot chocolate topping, and yours is really fucking good,” his voice drops lower as he emphasizes each word, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Better than marshmallows?” you tease and take a sip of your own hot chocolate, letting the hot drink warm your belly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles and takes another drink. He is less careful this time and pulls the mug away from his face to reveal his lips and nose covered in whipped cream. He looks at you playfully, knowing full well that he looks like a whipped cream covered fool, but he can’t be bothered to care at the moment.

“You’ve got a little…,” you giggle and tap your nose at him. Eddie’s chocolate colored eyes are filled with a devious mirth as he dips his finger into his whipped cream and boops a dollop of it onto your nose with a laugh.

“Now we match.”

“Not quite.” You smile and stare at his soft creamy lips, stomach doing flips as you lean forward, placing a tentative hand on his shaking knee. Your lips press into his in fluttering delicate whipped creamed kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs and all the thoughts from your head. He freezes for a moment, heart beating faster as your gentle kiss slowly warms him head to toe until he feels like he’s on fire. Your lips are sweet and soft against his, cocoa and cream lingering on his tongue as he loses himself deeper in the kiss. You pull away slowly, peppering whispered kisses against his lips and finally on his nose to get up the last of the whipped cream.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, dripping caramel and full of reverent wonder before he kisses away the remnants of whipped cream from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Eddie admits with a nervous laugh, his hands weaving together with yours as you scoot your chair closer to his.

“I have too. And I told you I would find a way to fully thank you if my whipped cream didn’t fully live up to your insane marshmallow expectations.” A giggle ripples from your chest as the air finally returns to your lungs, not realizing you’d been holding your breath until now. Eddie laughs along with you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“So, uh, if that’s the thank you had in mind for just for shoveling the driveway, what do I get if I mow the whole lawn?” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, testing his luck because surely this must all be some frost bitten fantasy he has conjured up in his head. But, sure enough, you squeeze his hand and grin back at him, a teasing fire in your eyes that even the heaviest of blizzards can’t put out.

“Guess you’ll have to stay till spring and find out.”

Tags of some people who might be interested: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @a-time-for-wolvess @b-irock @beep-beep-sherlock @wroteclassicaly @littledemondani @chickpeadumpsterfire @aftermidnightwriting @seidenbros

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Swelling or melting of the seal

Maintenance Procedures for Plate Heat Exchangers

One of the peculiar characteristics of plate heat exchangers is easy maintenance. In fact, looking at the matter from a theoretical point of view and on paper, it would seem so, how do we proceed in practice? After determining that the exchanger is not performing as it is "dirty", there are two ways to clean it:

CIP (cleaning in place) or chemical washing

Disassembly and complete washing (regeneration)

The first system cleaning in place or chemical washing is decidedly simpler but does not always allow you to obtain the desired effect it may not address deeply embedded or inaccessible residues and contaminants, leading to incomplete cleaning outcomes. In such cases, during Plate Type Heat Exchanger Maintenance work, disassembly and complete regeneration is a must.

The cleaning and maintenance procedures for plate heat exchangers (disassembly/reassembly) may vary depending on the various models, but fundamentally they are quite similar.

In any case, the maintenance process involves meticulous steps to ensure optimal performance post-cleaning or regeneration:

Honeycomb: once reassembled, the plate pack must have a honeycomb pattern on the side, otherwise it means that the pack has been assembled incorrectly.

Shifting: be careful when closing the plate pack to respect the sequence of the tie rods, otherwise, you run the risk of shifting the plates, which can lead to leaks and poor pressure resistance.

Tightening Dimension: you don't need a torque wrench to close a plate exchanger, but a simple measuring tape. Measure the internal distance between the two drums, it must correspond to a height indicated by the manufacturer, which is always given by:

Molding depth + plate thickness * number of plates

Conclusion Regular maintenance is the key to ensuring the longevity and efficiency of plate-type heat exchangers, especially in systems involving water-cooled compressors. By identifying and addressing common issues like leaks promptly and following proper Shell Tube Type Heat Exchanger in indiia, you can optimize the performance of your equipment. Whether choosing cleaning in place or disassembly and regeneration, prioritize thoroughness to guarantee the continued reliability of your plate heat exchanger. Remember, a well-maintained system not only reduces downtime but also enhances the overall working conditions for your staff.

[dreamysekai]

Hello!!! I had an idea that popped into my head, but it’s kinda angsty.

So how about Akito and Rui with their younger sibling!reader shouting something like: “I wish [name] was my brother and not you!”, but immediately regretting it and trying to apologise. (The [name] could be Tsukasa for Rui and Toya for Akito, but that’s just a suggestion)

A/N: YOU ARE REAL FOR THIS (it's me i'm a younger sibling!!) anyway yes i imagine this will be fun to write >:)

---

something something sibling fights, the kids are lowkey mean sometimes, angst, it gets resolved at the end, younger sibling!reader, neutral reader

warnings: relative getting upset/angry at you, it's short-lived and resolved but still present

! HEADCANON !

AKITO

You two had been bickering for quite some time

Nothing out of the usual in this house, honestly speaking

But this one was getting fairly heated

It started small- you'd figured Ena had taken your leftovers, something she was notorious for, but finding Akito eating them casually just caused something to spill over

The fight had escalated beyond the trivial slight, of course

Akito, defensive as always when it came to his siblings

"Y'know, I wish I had someone who'd get off my back every now and then!"

He was definitely getting more heated than anticipated

The exchanges increased in extremity, until it came to a head when your older brother finally snapped

"Y'know what, I wish Toya were my brother instead of you!"

The silence that followed was thick in the air as the both of you faced off, eerie silence following the noise you two were making just moments before

It wasn't until Akito tried to say something that you turned and ran to your room, slamming the door and collapsing to your bed before giving him a chance to explain himself

The thought that Akito had some other type of stress going on in his life briefly crossed your mind, but you couldn't bring yourself to care right now

'Why would someone say that to their own sibling?'

A little over an hour passes while you cool off

You decide to get up despite your exhaustion from the events from earlier

You weren't sure how to go about talking to Akito past this point, but you did know that you were feeling something from the kitchen

Maybe water

That would help

As you open your door, though, you notice something on the floor

Your favorite dessert from your favorite bakery, with a note on the plate

You gently pick it up, recognizing your brother's handwriting almost immediately

It was an apology, in the most 'Akito' way of apologizing ever

"Hey. I didn't mean what I said. It came out wrong, but that doesn't make it right. So I'm sorry. I'd never want to replace you, even if you get on my nerves sometimes. You deserve better than what I gave you, so I hope this earns me some points back. We'll talk more when I get home, if you want. -Akito"

It was short, simple, straight to the point, yet it oozed of genuinity

Maybe you'd take him up on that talking offer, you decided, walking to store the dessert he gifted you away so you two could instead share it together later tonight

---

RUI

It was a normal day

Calm and quiet, per usual

The two of you were in Rui's workshop, you handing him tools and holding up a light as he requested it

You has fallen into a rhythm, zoning out slightly from the mediocrity of the task

Until he asked you for something and you slipped up, accidentally handing him the wrong tool

He used it without thinking, something within the machine crunching harshly as he turned

Rui froze at the sound, staring at the spot he had just broken

You froze, too, but you were watching him instead

He gently placed the tool at the ground, his eyes glued to his robot

And quietly, with frustration and disappointment clear in his voice,

"I wish Nene was my sibling instead of you."

He immediately looked up to you after he spoke, panic clear in his eyes

"No, wait, I didn't mean that-"

But you were already burned by his remark, meeting his gaze as he fell quiet

You turned and ran to your room, hearing Rui call for you once again

You ignored him, shutting your door and sitting on your bed while you tried to calm the stinging pain in your heart from the comment

After a while of sitting on your feelings about it, you could hear faint sounds coming from Rui's workshop

'He's probably fixing whatever it was,' you figured.

As more minutes passed, you finally got up

Because, who would say that to their sibling? Over something so small?

It wasn't like Rui couldn't fix it, or that his machines haven't been through worse

You were going to confront him, tell him that big brothers don't say those things even if they "didn't mean them"

Until you opened your door, meeting a shocked Rui on the other side with his hand up to knock

He was holding something behind his back, and you both stood in an awkward silence

Until Rui broke it

"I would like to apologize for what I said. I was simply... frustrated with what had happened. It was my fault for not looking, not yours for handing me the wrong thing. You're less experienced with this than I am, and I hope you don't want to stop being my lab partner over this. I said it in the moment, it wasn't my true thoughts. Please forgive me."

And from behind his back, he pulled out a small robot of your favorite animal in your favorite colors

It whirred to life, and he carefully handed it to you

As it moved in your hand, you couldn't help a smile

"As long as you don't do it again... I'll forgive you, just this once, okay?"

"But of course. Care to help me with a new project?"

"Absolutely."

[galaxyedging]

Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings. Angst. I don't want to give too much away, TLOU type stuff.

You and Joel spend a quiet moment together on patrol

Regret

This was not how you were expecting this day to turn out. Joel frozen as you leaned in to kiss him.

It had taken over a year to get to this point. Everyone at Jackson had been welcoming, cautious but welcoming. The circumstances of your arrival in Jackson won you a lot of good will. It was Tommy who found you while out searching for one of the horses. The poor thing had gotten spooked, throwing one on the newer kids on patrol before bolting. Hearing it's frightened whinnying just off the trail, he pushed through the trees to find you desperately trying to free the frightened mare from some barbed wire. He entered the small clearing with his gun raised. Instinct raised your with one hand as the other stayed on the horse, trying to keep it calm. There was a brief silent exchange before Tommy lowered his weapon. Mirroring his action, you worked together to save the horse. Tommy and the rest of the town were grateful. For you saving the horse and for agreeing to use your skills as a veterinarian to help them in exchange for a safe place for you and your dog to live.

Said dog was a major part in breaking the ice with Jackson more reserved resident, Joel Miller. Joel was relatively new to Jackson too so your houses were practically next to each other. Close enough for Hund to wander over there when he smelled bacon cooking one day. When you caught up to him he was already licking a plate clean. Sat at the foot of the man that you had slowly been developing an increasing interest in. Joel was handsome, he cared for the young girl who lived with him, he often play guitar on his porch. A few passing conversations had given you a glimpse into his intellect and his humour. There was a lot to pique your interest.

"I hope you don't mind. He seemed hungry." There was that voice too. Deep and somehow reassuring. "There's some left if you'd like some?"

That was the first meal Joel had cooked you. They soon became a regular thing. Meals with Joel, with Joel and Ellie, with Joel, Tommy and Maria. Joel became an steady presence in your life. Helping around your house, giving you a hand with the jobs that needed two people. Sometimes while completing those tricker jobs, he'd have to stand close, really close. Like when you both worked together to install a new light in your pantry. The room was tiny anyway. The shelves either side gave only a narrow space to stand. On top of that you had to stand on your tip toes to hold the fixture in place, you could feel the heat radiating from his body. For a while his chest pressed against yours as he set the fixture firmly in place. That was the final straw for you.

For months you had resisted the temptation to let your thoughts wander to Joel as you sort relief with your hand between your legs. This time you let yourself think of his broad chest pressed to yours as he was buried inside you. His breath that you had felt on your neck earlier coming out in harsh pants as he rocked into you. Once you came, louder than you would usually allow yourself, you buried your head under your covers in shame. It was wrong to think of Joel like that. A harmless one sided crush, a little bright distraction in your day was fine but this was crossing a line.

As if he could feel the shame rolling off you Joel didn't push when you gave him a wide birth for the next couple of weeks. It came as a surprise to you when he changed his patrol duty so he could go out with you.

Joel watched as the German shepherd climbed the steps of his porch. Joel quietly hoped his owner would follow. He struggled with the idea of entertaining his rapidly building crush on her. Opening his heart was not a good idea. Ellie has prised her way in and that had lead to death and lies. He struggled with that every day while he tried to build a relationship with her. Joel wasn't even sure if he had the strength in his broken heart to carry this new paternal love as well a romantic one. His internal debated ended when the dog's owner appeared.

"I hope you don't mind. He seemed hungry." He tried to keep the hopeful tone from his voice. "There's some left if you'd like some?"

From then on he let himself indulge in her company. Ellie, Tommy and Maria, all subtlety pushed for it. Sometimes they weren't all that subtle so he began to help around her house when they other were busy. He savoured their alone time. The only time he began to regret it was when her body had pressed up against his. That night he'd laid awake. His cock, hard and heavy between his legs. He was not going to touch himself at the memory of her warmth, of the fullness of her breasts. He took himself for a walk instead. Unfortunately, his route passed under her open window. Where he heard her moans of his name, followed by a scream of pure ecstasy. Shame filled him once he came in the privacy of his bedroom, the sound of her voice in his head. Luckily, for the next couple of weeks she was constantly busy and didn't notice him avoiding her. He succeeded in avoiding her until Maria changed his patrol duty. Now he was going on an extra long patrol route with her.

"So why did Maria want us to come out this way?" You asked after the first hour of riding. When the silence started to get too much.

"The snow thawed further out. It's more likely that we'll get some visitors heading this way." His answer made you feel better. From a few passing comments from Tommy, you were had a suspicion that Maria had sent you two together to force you to work out whatever was going on with you. Maria ran a whole town, she didn't do it without knowing a thing or two about human behaviour.

The first leg of of the trip went smoothly. Everything was quiet, even your mind. Joel's company was soothing once again, having pushed your shame and your crush to the back of your mind. Joel was a friend, a good one. An even better one to have at the end of the world. He was strong, competent and loyal. All the things that attracted you to him made him a perfect ally. That's all he should be to you. Gambling for anything more ran the risk of losing him.

The midpoint of the patrol route was a barely-there town. A handful of houses, most of which were dilapidated. A gas station that was a lot sturdier than the surrounding buildings. With one long road down the middle. The gas station seemed the best place to stop and eat. The horse were tied up in the auto repair shop next door, relatively safe from the elements, while you and Joel ate.

Swallowing the last of your sandwich, leaving your stomach full. Listening to the birds in the trees, with the early spring sun on your face. Feeling Joel at your side, you got lost in your own thoughts until they tumbled out of your mouth. "This is nice."

"The food?" Joel asked around the last mouthful of his own sandwich.

"No." You laughed. "Well, not just the food. The day. This moment. The company."

Fearing you had said too much you looked at Joel, who's eyes were already on your face.

The two of you looked at each other. Really looked at each other, for the first time in a couple of weeks. It was as if both of your emotions finally came to the surface. They overflowed until you were neck deep in them. For the first time you saw how Joel felt his eyes awash with affection for you. Both of you sat in them for a moment. Wading through the outpour made your movements slow. Joel shifted slightly closer to you, building on his momentum you leaned into him. The panic whines of your horse drained everything from the moment.

The two of your were on your feet in seconds. Still, you weren't quick enough. Three infected barged in through the back door, one instantly on each of you. The third fell over itself trying to get to you. Joel managed to bludgeon the one trying to rip him to pieces. As you blew the head off your attacker, Joel stomped on the skull of the one on the floor. His boot came back out with a sickness squelch.

The sound of your shotgun drew the attention of more infected. The bone chilling sound of Clickers carried on the air. The horses pulled themselves loose and bolted in their panicked state. They ran passed the windows, down main street. Joel quickly weighed up his options. "Come on." He pulled you along.

The two of you made it three houses along, the sound of Clickers still echoing behind you before Joel realised he was still pulling you.

"What are you…? We need to go." He huffed dragging you through the front door of an old family home.

"You need to go Joel." You told him calmly. The fidgeting of your hands didn't match your tone.

His beautiful features contorted in confusion. "What…?"

"You need to go Joel. I'm sorry." Lifting your jeans you showed him the deep bite on your ankle.

"No." It was an order. To the virus creeping through your body. No. Not her.

"Take my rifle, leave me my pistol. They'll come at me when I…use it. You can get away. Back to Ellie. Please."

"Ellie. She is immune. It's real. Maybe you are…"

"No, Joel. We can't waste time." The Clickers were nearer now. God knows how many other infected could be with them.

"I can feel it." Your arms twitched as if the two of you, you and the virus were wrestling for control. Each pulling a different way.

Until you weren't. Until you were both moving in a unified direction. Until you were both moving towards Joel.

Your lips parted as you leaned into Joel. Your yearning for a first kiss, matching the viruses yearning to spread far and wide. Joel's hand came up to stop you. He wrapped it around your throat to keep you at arms length. Against every ounce of common sense, just as the virus took you, as your consciousness slipped away but before it could take a good hold on you, he pulled you close. He pressed a single kiss to the side of your head only to press the barrel of his gun to the same spot. Even though the extra seconds could have cost him his life he carefully lay your body down. He made sure your eyes were closed, your hair was off your face, he lay you so he couldn't see the hole in your skull or your blood matted hair. He took one last look before he did as you'd told him. He went back to Ellie.

Years later, your death haunting him like so many others, he awoke in a cold sweat from a nightmare. He'd locked your death away in his mind. He hadn't dared open it, but in the quiet of the night, his brain couldn't resist cracking it open. Death had become part of his life. There were always those what ifs and regrets. What if he hadn't been so distracted by the realisation that his feelings weren't one sided, would he have saved you? The regret that stung the most was that he had kept you at arms length. All those times enjoying your company, stealing lingering glances when you weren't looking. He could have been holding you, kissing you. You could have been his girl. He could have let you into his heart. Into his bed. You were already in his mind. Yet he kept you out for fear of being hurt. Joel Miller was a man full of regret, but by far the biggest was when he tried to protect himself from a loss that happened anyway.

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721

[tubetrading]

The Role of MSERW Pipe in the Oil and Gas Industry: Applications and Challenges

Introduction

In the oil and gas industry, the transportation of fluids and gases over long distances is crucial.  To ensure the safe and efficient movement of these resources, various types of pipes are utilized.  One such pipe that plays a vital role in the industry is the MSERW pipe.  In this blog, we will explore the applications and challenges associated with MSERW pipes and highlight the importance of finding a reliable MSERW pipe distributor, dealer, supplier, and provider in Gujarat.

Understanding MSERW Pipe

MSERW stands for Mild Steel Electric Resistance Welded.  MSERW pipes are constructed using low-carbon steel, which is known for its strength, durability, and resistance to corrosion.  These pipes are manufactured by forming flat steel plates into cylindrical shapes and then welding the edges together using electric resistance welding techniques. 

Applications of MSERW Pipe in the Oil and Gas Industry

Transporting Oil and Gas:

MSERW pipes are extensively used for the transportation of oil and gas products.  These pipes provide a cost-effective solution for delivering crude oil, natural gas, and refined petroleum products from extraction sites to refineries, storage facilities, and distribution networks.  Their ability to withstand high pressure and temperature variations makes them an ideal choice for long-distance oil and gas pipelines. 

Offshore Drilling Operations

The oil and gas industry heavily relies on offshore drilling for exploration and production activities.  MSERW pipes are commonly employed in the construction of subsea pipelines and risers. These pipes offer excellent structural integrity and are resistant to harsh environmental conditions, making them suitable for deepwater drilling applications. 

Oil and Gas Processing Plants

Within oil and gas processing plants, MSERW pipes are utilized for various purposes.  They are often used in the construction of storage tanks, separators, heat exchangers, and other equipment required for the processing and refining of crude oil and natural gas.  MSERW pipes' versatility and reliability ensure the smooth operation of these critical facilities. 

Challenges Associated with MSERW Pipe

While MSERW pipes have numerous advantages, they also face some challenges in the oil and gas industry.  It is essential to be aware of these challenges and take appropriate measures to mitigate them: 

Corrosion and Erosion

One of the primary concerns with MSERW pipes is their susceptibility to corrosion and erosion. Exposure to corrosive substances and abrasive particles in the oil and gas flow can lead to degradation of the pipe's surface, reducing its lifespan.  Regular inspections, protective coatings, and cathodic protection systems are implemented to minimize the impact of corrosion and erosion. 

Weld Quality and Integrity

The integrity of the welded joints in MSERW pipes is crucial for their performance.  Weld defects such as porosity, cracks, and lack of fusion can compromise the strength and reliability of the pipe.  Quality control measures during manufacturing and rigorous inspection procedures help ensure that welds meet industry standards and specifications. 

Finding a Reliable MSERW Pipe Distributor in Gujarat

To address the growing demand for MSERW pipes in Gujarat's oil and gas industry, it is essential to collaborate with a trustworthy MSERW pipe distributor, dealer, supplier, and provider.  The following factors should be considered while choosing the right partner: 

Quality Assurance:  Look for a distributor that sources MSERW pipes from reputable manufacturers who adhere to stringent quality control procedures and industry standards. 

Product Range:  Ensure that the distributor offers a wide range of MSERW pipe sizes, grades, and specifications to cater to various project requirements. 

Timely Delivery:  Reliability in terms of on-time delivery is crucial to avoid project delays.  Choose a distributor with a track record of timely and efficient order fulfillment

[vsanket442]

What is a titanium plate used for? 

An up-to-date material which undergoes considerable demand in many spheres of industry thanks to specific features such as lightweight, high strength, and excellent corrosion resistance. Titanium plates have a wide array of applications, including aerospace and medical devices, chemical processing, and marine engineering, thanks to a unique balance between mechanical strength and resistance to extreme conditions. What are the applications of titanium plates that have made them very versatile? Let's look at the major applications of titanium plates and why they are so widely preferred in so many fields.

Key Characteristics of Titanium Plate

High Strength-to-Weight Ratio

Titanium possesses very good strength but has a mass that is considerably low as compared with steel, etc. Hence, titanium plates are quite suitable for the aerospace and automotive industries as weight reduction forms the main basis for enhancing efficiency and performance there.

Corrosion Resistance

Titanium plates are highly valued for a number of reasons, one of which is their excellent resistance to corrosion. The element titanium is resistant to corrosive environments that can include seawater, chlorides, and any number of acids, so they are particularly suited to chemical processing, marine, and oil & gas applications.

Biocompatibility

Ti's ability to be well tolerated in the human body is one of the main reasons for its use in medical applications. This material has strong corrosion resistance in biological solutions with no toxicity, making it ideal for implants as well as other types of medical-related applications.

High-Temperature Resistance

These titanium plates hold their mechanical properties even when exposed to extreme temperatures without undergoing any degradation; thus, they are used in high-temperature applications like power generation and aerospace applications.

Common Uses of Titanium Plate

Aerospace

The aerospace industry uses titanium plates since they have a great strength value, are very light, and are highly resistant to corrosion. It is applied in aircraft structures, engines, and components such as airframes and landing gears, among others. The titanium plate's ability to withstand harsh conditions at high altitudes and high-speed conditions makes it essential in commercial and military aviation.

Medicine- Use of Titanium Plates for Medical Implants and Devices

Titanium plates are also widely used in the medical field, especially for bone and joint implants. There is no sign of adverse reactions to the human body due to their biocompatibility. The nature of titanium plates also applies them to stabilizing fractured bones, repairing injuries of the spine, and reconstructing any area of the body in which bones require reinforcement. Their application can be found in dental implants as well as prosthetics.

Chemical Processing

The chemical industry frequently calls for highly aggressive corrosion resistance besides the survival of aggressive chemicals, and because of corrosion resistance properties, titanium plates are more commonly selected for this type of application. It is also used for heat exchangers, reactors, and piping systems containing corrosive chemicals such as chlorine, sulfuric acid, and nitric acid. Under such aggressive conditions of operation, corrosion resistance ensures it has an expanded life span of time before wear-off.

Marine and Offshore Applications

An integral reason for titanium's high versatility is its high resistance to corrosion from seawater, making it the favourite material used in marine environments. Titanium plates are used in shipbuilding, offshore oil platforms, desalination plants, and other marine structures. They help prolong the lifespan of equipment and reduce maintenance costs in an environment where corrosion poses a constant threat.

Automotive and Racing Industry

Due to its strength and lighter weight, it is used in the auto-racing and high-performance automobile segments. Titanium plates are used to support strong parts designed without much weight. Exhaust systems, suspension parts, engine parts, etc., comprise its automotive applications.

Power Generation

Power plants employ titanium plates mainly for nuclear power generation. This is because the plates have high resistance to corrosion and high temperature and thus are adequate for use in heat exchangers as well as cooling systems of a power plant where strength and reliability are requirements.

Architecture

Although not as widely used as they are in industry, titanium plates are sometimes applied to architectural structures because of their aesthetic and endurance appeal. Forming a natural oxide creates a sleek, present-day look; strength ensures that the material can support more complex architecture.

Why Use Titanium Plates?

Titanium plates tend to last much longer than other materials, especially in corrosive or high-temperature settings.

Versatility: Titanium plates are used in highly divergent applications-from aerospace to medical to chemical processing; their flexibility is what causes their application in such a wide variety of sectors.

Cost Efficiency: Although titanium plates cost more in the short run, long-term savings from their longevity and lower maintenance, as well as superior performance, usually outweigh the higher costs in the short term.

Conclusion

Titanium plates are very strong, light, and resistant to corrosion; hence, they are very good where reliability and long-term performance are concerned. If you are looking for something to be put in extreme conditions where the structural integrity of the product will be uncompromised, then titanium plates could perhaps be one of the best available materials regarding this.