#Spring Loaded Terminal

[hameesstuff]

"Trigger Discipline"

Title: "Trigger Discipline"

Word count: ~6.2k

Themes: Exes to lovers, Mafia, Violence, Soft Smut, Angst, Fluff, Almost death scene.

Preview: He’s dragged blood-soaked bodies through alleyways and whispered orders that ended lives. But nothing ever rattled Johnny like the new folder on his desk—one that read your name. You who once kissed his bloody knuckles and told him he was more than what the world made him. Now he’s ordered to erase you. The only woman he's ever loved.

But love doesn’t follow orders. Not even in the mafia.

___________________________________________

A Clean Shot

Johnny had a ritual when it came to bodies.

Late at night, when the streets fell silent and the city stopped pretending it was clean, he’d roll up his sleeves, light a cigarette, and handle the mess himself. It wasn’t about trust—though he had little of it—it was about control. About making sure every job ended with a period, not a question mark.

Tonight was no different. A warehouse. Concrete floors. One bullet to the head, another to the chest for good measure. He crouched beside the corpse in a black suit that didn’t wrinkle, pulled off his gloves, and stared into the glassy eyes of the dead man like he might confess something in his final silence.

He didn’t.

“You sure you wanna keep doing cleanup?” Doyoung’s voice echoed as he stepped into the dim light, arms crossed. “You’re the boss now. The man who orders the trigger, not pulls it.”

Johnny stood slowly, flicking blood off his gloves before tucking them into his coat pocket. “Sometimes I don’t trust the hands holding the gun.”

Doyoung raised an eyebrow. “That paranoia gonna kill you before anyone else does.”

A small smirk curled on Johnny’s lips. “Let it try.”

Two hours later, back at his office—top floor of a building people assumed was abandoned—he sat with a glass of whiskey and a stack of target folders. He wasn’t reading them. Not yet. He just liked the weight. The gravity of lives outlined in ink and photos.

Until one slipped free and landed face up.

Your face.

The glass in his hand didn’t fall, but his grip tightened. His throat clenched so hard he couldn’t breathe, like the past had reached out and wrapped its soft, familiar fingers around his neck.

You looked the same. Maybe prettier. Hair up in a lazy clip, a small crinkle at the edge of your smile as you knelt beside a child, their hands buried in paint. The caption on the photo:

Name: [REDACTED]. Status: Civilian. Occupation: Kindergarten Teacher. Priority: Immediate Termination.

Johnny didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared.

You hadn’t spoken in three years. He left you for a life he thought you’d never survive beside. You loved flowers and fairy lights and poetry about the moon. He left blood on his doormat every Thursday.

He should burn the file. Call it a mistake. Tell Doyoung he’d handle it and then vanish you to some new life in a different country, maybe.

But something in his chest—something he hadn’t felt since your bare arms wrapped around his torso in a summer rain—began to twist.

He leaned back, whispering like a curse:

“…Fuck.”

Paper Hearts, Loaded Guns

The street outside the school was quiet, dappled in soft morning light filtered through thinning spring leaves. Johnny stood across from the playground, silent, unmoving, the hood of his black coat casting a shadow over his eyes.

And there you were.

Bent over in a room full of color and chaos, gently tying the shoelaces of a boy who was crying too hard to speak. You whispered something—he couldn't hear it, but he didn’t need to. The child nodded, wiped his tears, and hugged you around the waist.

Johnny didn’t blink.

You hadn’t changed. Not in the ways that mattered.

Still pretty in the kind of way the world didn’t deserve. Still moved like the weight of the world was something you carried for others. Your hair was up in that loose twist you always did when you were focused. There were chalk marks on your skirt. Crayon smudges on your wrist. And somehow, it made you glow.

His fingers curled inside his coat pocket where the pistol rested, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth rising in his chest.

He’d forgotten how much he missed you.

He remembered the first time he kissed you.

He’d had blood on his hands that night too. You were barefoot on the kitchen floor in his apartment, laughing softly as you stirred noodles in a pot, humming something off-key.

“I’m dirty,” he had said, stepping in cautiously, fists clenched at his sides.

“I know,” you replied, and turned to look at him. “But I still want you to hold me.”

So he had.

And he hadn’t let go until the sun came up and his heart remembered it could still beat for something other than survival.

Now, watching you crouch by a chalkboard where your students had scrawled crooked letters, he felt the ghost of your fingers brush his again. The memory of your mouth against his jaw. The whispered I love yous in the kind of silence that made a man forget he was born into violence.

You were peace.

And you were on his list.

His phone buzzed in his coat.

Doyoung:

You’re dragging your feet. You said you’d handle it. HQ is breathing down my neck. We confirmed it—she’s the witness’ tie. Clean shot. No questions.

Johnny looked up at the classroom window. You were laughing now, hair falling out of its clip. A little girl placed a sticker on your cheek, and you didn’t remove it. Just smiled like joy was the most natural thing in the world.

That night, he didn’t drink.

He just sat at his desk, file open, staring at your name. Again. And again.

You were a teacher. A civilian. A bright spot in a world of darkness he’d willingly sunk into.

His thumb brushed your photograph.

The burn behind his eyes came fast.

He closed the file and whispered into the silence, “I’m not killing her.”

Even if it killed him.

The Man Behind the Bullet

Rain came hard that night—thick sheets against the glass, soft thunder rumbling like a distant war Johnny had already lost. The city was quiet in a way that made him restless. His office lights were dimmed low, his black shirt still clinging to him from the walk in. He hadn’t bothered drying off. He needed the cold.

The file sat open on the desk. Again.

Your photo stared back at him—head tilted, half-smile tucked into the corner of your lips like you were keeping a secret only he could ever understand.

Maybe you were.

Maybe that’s why it still hurt.

He hadn’t spoken your name aloud in years. Not since the night he left, standing in the doorway with his bag and his demons and that look on your face—the one that shattered him.

You never asked him to stay.

And he’d hated you for it.

But only for a day.

Then he hated himself.

Two years earlier

You’d been curled against his chest in bed, legs tangled together, rain tapping soft on the window.

“I can hear your heart when I lay here,” you’d murmured, fingertips grazing the tattoo over his ribs.

“It’s fast.”

“That’s just you,” he replied, kissing your temple. “You scare me.”

You smiled softly. “Why?”

“Because when I look at you, I start thinking about things I shouldn’t want.”

“Like what?”

“Like soggy pancakes with our lttle kids. Sunday mornings that aren’t covered in blood.”

You had gone quiet then. But not cold. You just whispered, “You deserve those things too, Johnny. Even if you don’t believe it yet.”

Now, in this office built on silence and fear, all he could hear was your voice—faint and warm and far too close.

He poured a drink. Didn’t sip it.

There was a knock at the door.

Doyoung stepped in, slicked with rain, holding a USB drive. “Final proof,” he said grimly. “Your girl was seen talking to the witness last week. Same bookstore. He was killed two days later.”

Johnny stiffened. “She’s a teacher. That shop’s on her route home.”

“She hugged him.”

Johnny looked up, slow and sharp.

Doyoung raised his hands. “I’m just saying. Boss, it doesn’t matter how she got tied to this. HQ wants it done. If it wasn’t you, they’d send Taeyong. And he won’t hesitate.”

The room grew still. Heavy.

Then Johnny said, voice low and hard, “If Taeyong touches her, I’ll put a bullet in his mouth.”

Silence.

Doyoung exhaled and leaned on the wall. “You never even told us why you left her.”

Johnny turned away. “Because I loved her.”

Outside, the rain had stopped.

And across the city, you were closing your classroom for the night, unaware of the storm circling your name. You packed up the glitter glue, hummed to the silence, then paused.

There it was again.

The ache in your chest.

Like someone you once knew was standing just outside the door.

Ghosts in the Doorway

It started with a knock.

You weren’t expecting anyone. It was nearly 9 p.m., and your apartment was tucked on the second floor of a quiet building that smelled like old books and warm bread. You were still in your soft house sweater—oversized, worn at the cuffs—curled on the couch with a mug of tea cooling in your hands.

The knock came again. Quiet. Firm.

You frowned, setting the cup down, the strange unease curling at the base of your neck. When you opened the door, the breath left your lungs.

Johnny Suh stood there.

Dripping rain onto your doormat.

Black coat. Black eyes. Hands stuffed in his pockets like he didn’t trust them to stay still. You hadn’t seen him in three years, but God, he still looked the same—older around the eyes maybe, more carved at the edges—but still heartbreakingly him.

You didn’t speak.

Neither did he.

For one long second, it was like the world had forgotten how to spin.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said first, voice low. Hoarse. Like he hadn’t spoken to anyone in days. “I swear.”

You didn’t move.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whispered.

“I know.”

He exhaled, the weight of the universe in his shoulders. “But I needed to see you before they do.”

“Who?” you asked, even though part of you already knew.

He hesitated.

Then: “People who kill for less reason than I have.”

The silence between you turned thick. Heavy.

You stepped back without a word, and he followed you in.

Your apartment was small, warm. Familiar in ways that made his chest ache. You still kept candles on the windowsill. A bookshelf half-falling apart. A cat he didn’t recognize blinked up at him from the kitchen counter like it already hated him.

He stood in the middle of the living room, dripping on your rug, hands twitching.

You watched him carefully. “You said before they do.”

Johnny nodded once.

And then—for the first time—you saw it. The pain in his eyes. The guilt in the line of his jaw. The tight way he held himself, like he didn’t know if he was here to beg or bleed.

“They sent you,” you said softly.

Not a question.

He didn’t lie.

“Yes.”

The floor fell out from under you. But you didn’t cry. You didn’t scream. You just stood there—arms crossed over your stomach like you were holding yourself together—staring at the man who once made you believe the world could be kind.

You let out a breath like it broke something inside you.

“Was I really ever just a job, Johnny?”

“No,” he said instantly. Stepped forward. “You were the only real thing I ever had.”

He didn’t touch you.

Not yet.

But he looked at you like a man memorizing every line of a poem he would never get to read again.

And then, finally: “I’m not going to hurt you. I don’t care what they say. I’ll burn the whole organization to the ground before I let them touch you.”

You blinked.

“Why?” you whispered.

He looked wrecked when he said it.

“Because I still love you.”

Before the Fire Started

Three Years Ago.

The night before he left.

The city was asleep, but your apartment lights were low and golden. You stood in the kitchen wearing one of his old black shirts, too big on your frame, the sleeves rolled up as you swayed barefoot on cold tiles.

Johnny leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you stir soup in a chipped pot.

“You look domestic,” he teased softly.

You smirked without turning. “Don’t ruin it.”

He stepped closer. Slowly. Carefully. Like he knew this moment was borrowed time.

“I like it,” he murmured, now behind you. His arms wrapped gently around your waist. “You. Here. With me. Like this.”

You stilled in his hold.

Then slowly leaned back against his chest, letting the silence settle.

“You’re tense,” you whispered.

“I’m scared,” he admitted. “Everything in my world breaks. I don’t want that to happen to you.”

You turned then, both hands pressed to his chest.

“I won't, Johnny. Not when it’s you.”

He bent his head, forehead resting against yours.

“I don’t get to keep this life,” he said, barely audible. “The people I work for—they don’t let you have peace. Or light. Or love.”

You tilted your face up, eyes stinging.

“I don’t care.”

He smiled. Soft. Devastated.

“You should.”

That night, he made love to you like a man saying goodbye with every touch.

He memorized your breath, the way you whispered his name, the way your fingers gripped his shoulder when you came apart around him—like he was the only place in the world you felt safe.

He kissed your throat afterward, whispering, “I’ll never love again. Even if I live to be a hundred. There’s only you.”

You kissed his mouth to quiet the ache.

Now.

You stared at him in your living room, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. The hurt hadn’t dulled with time—it was just quieter now. Sharper in how it pierced.

He was still standing there, soaked and sleepless, looking at you like you were the only clean thing he had left in the world.

“I shouldn’t have left you like that,” he whispered.

You didn’t respond.

You just stepped closer—heart beating too loud—and reached up.

Your fingers brushed the scar under his jaw. One he didn’t have before.

He didn’t flinch.

“You still smell like smoke,” you murmured.

Johnny’s throat bobbed. “I never stopped burning.”

Between the Trigger and the Touch

You didn’t speak for a while.

Not after tracing that scar. Not after his breath hitched at your touch like he’d forgotten how to be held gently.

The room was quiet but charged. You turned away slowly, walking to the window, arms folding tight over your chest. The city lights blinked below, rain still glittering on the glass.

He didn’t move.

“I waited,” you said finally, voice like a scraped match. “For weeks. I thought maybe you’d knock again. Maybe you just needed space. But you didn’t even leave a note, Johnny.”

He exhaled sharply, pain twisting through his features. “I couldn’t. If I stayed—if I wrote, called, anything—they’d know you mattered. You’d be dead by now.”

You turned to him. “And now?”

“I don’t care anymore,” he said. “If I die protecting you, then I die doing the one good thing I’ve ever done right.”

Your breath caught.

Johnny stepped forward then, slow and deliberate, stopping a few inches from you. His voice dropped.

“I dream about you.”

You swallowed.

He kept going. “About what I left. About what I ruined. You cooking barefoot. Laughing. The way you used to fall asleep on my chest mid movie.”

Your lips twitched.

He saw it.

A faint, broken smile pulled at his mouth too.

And then: “Do you still listen to that stupid playlist? The one you made me for night drives?”

You blinked hard. “You remember that?”

“I remember all of it.”

Silence.

And then he said, quieter, “Do you want me to go?”

You could lie. You could say yes. You could ask him to disappear again so your heart didn’t have to remember how to ache.

But instead—

You reached for his hand.

Fingers lacing slowly. Trembling.

“No,” you said.

And he looked at you like he was about to fall to his knees.

When the Light Broke

You whispered, “Kiss me.”

And for a moment, nothing in the world existed except his lips brushing yours.

Slow. Reverent. Like he’d waited his entire life for that single contact.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an apology, a confession, a resurrection.

Your fingers trembled as they curled in his jacket. His hand cradled your jaw like you might disappear again if he held too hard. Your bodies hadn’t touched in years, but they remembered. His mouth moved like he was desperate to memorize you again.

You broke apart only to breathe. You were just about to say his name when—

The window behind you shattered into a thousand pieces. A blink. A sound like thunder swallowed in glass.

And then—

A burning punch to your side.

You gasped.

The air was gone. Your legs buckled.

Johnny caught you mid-fall, and suddenly the world was sideways. His arms tightened around your body, but your vision was already going soft at the edges.

“No.” His voice was jagged. “No no no no no—”

Your blood soaked through his hands instantly. Hot. Fast. Too fast.

He dragged you behind the couch in one fluid motion, his back shielding yours as more glass sprayed across the room—fragments glinting in the air like falling stars. But no more shots came. One bullet. One message.

You coughed. Choked on your own breath.

“Johnny…” you managed, voice like smoke.

He ripped his jacket off and pressed it to your side, hand shaking so violently he almost missed. “Stay awake. Don’t you dare fucking close your eyes—don’t you dare—”

Tears flooded your vision. Not from pain. From the sound of him. You’d never heard him sound like that.

Like he was dying too.

“Help’s coming,” he said. It wasn’t a promise. It was a prayer.

Your lips parted, blood trickling into your mouth.

He pressed his forehead to yours, eyes wild, voice breaking. “I just got you back. I just got you back. Don’t leave me like this—not you—”

Your body was going cold.

But his hands never stopped holding you like they could pull your soul back in.

The Aftermath

The cold sting of antiseptic filled the air as Johnny rushed through the hospital doors, adrenaline still running through his veins, mixing with the heavy weight of panic.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be hurt.

He wasn’t supposed to be holding your bleeding body in his arms, fighting for your life in the back of his car. It wasn’t supposed to be real.

But it was.

He shouted for help as soon as the doors opened, his hands shaking so badly he could barely feel the blood on them anymore. Your blood. The warmth of it on his skin still burned like fire.

“Emergency!” he barked, voice cracking with desperation.

They moved fast, voices echoing in the chaos, and in the blur of rushing hands, he finally let go. Reluctantly. He stepped back, watching helplessly as the doctors and nurses surrounded you—working fast, speaking in quick, sharp commands. He was useless in this moment, and it tore him apart.

“She’s losing too much blood!” one of the nurses shouted.

Johnny barely registered their words as he stood, frozen in the doorway. His chest was tight, his throat clogged. His body was still shaking from the shock, but it wasn’t from fear anymore. It was from the guilt. The ache of knowing he might’ve just lost the one person who ever meant anything.

One of the doctors looked at him, eyes hard, and gave him a single, firm command.

“You need to leave. Now.”

He didn’t argue. Didn’t fight. He turned, the weight of the world pressing on his shoulders as he stepped into the sterile hallway, his mind racing with a thousand thoughts that couldn’t be caught.

The hours dragged by.

Johnny didn’t leave the hospital. He didn’t sleep. He didn’t eat. He just waited.

And waited.

By the time the sun cracked the sky and the sterile lights in the hospital halls flickered to life, his eyes were sunken. He’d spent all night pacing, trying to stay awake, to stay present. But a deep, gnawing dread crawled under his skin—the fear that you might not make it.

The sound of a door opening caught his attention. A nurse appeared, her face tired but calm.

“She’s stable.” she said, her voice soft. “She’s going to be okay.”

Johnny exhaled. It was like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath all this time. His heart beat again, and for the first time, the weight seemed a little less suffocating.

But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.

“Can I see her?” he asked, voice raw.

The nurse nodded.

When Johnny walked into your room, the sight of you—pale, bruised, breathing steadily beneath the sterile white sheets—nearly broke him all over again.

You were alive. You were breathing. And that was enough.

He stood by your bedside for a long time, just watching you. His eyes tracing every inch of your face, memorizing every detail in case he never got the chance again.

When your eyes finally fluttered open, it wasn’t shock or pain that crossed your face. It was relief.

“Johnny…” you whispered, your voice hoarse.

He took your hand, fingers trembling as he gently kissed the back of it. “I’m here. I’m here.”

“Don’t leave.” You whispered, barely audible. The faintest of smiles curled your lips.

“I’m not going anywhere, baby,” he whispered back.

And for that moment, it was enough. But not for long.

Hours later, you fell into a deep, healing sleep.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on your face one last time. He knew he should stay. He knew he shouldn’t go.

But there was something he had to do.

He quietly slipped out of the room, leaving a single kiss on your forehead, and as he walked down the empty hallway, the weight of the decision crushed him.

You’d live. You’d heal. But he couldn’t let this go.

Not yet.

The morning after, Johnny was already gone.

Blood Bath.

He didn’t wear gloves.

He wanted the blood on his hands.

Johnny didn’t knock when he entered the second-floor room of the warehouse. The metal door slammed open, a blinding flash of moonlight cutting across the shadows. Inside, the man who’d given the kill order—Leon Vargas—was seated at a round table, surrounded by half-empty glasses and two bodyguards.

Johnny didn’t hesitate.

Two bullets. Two guards dropped before they even reached their guns.

Vargas shot up from his chair, stumbling backward as Johnny strode in like death itself. Dressed in black, eyes cold, jaw tight—he looked like vengeance incarnate. His gun remained steady, a seamless extension of his fury.

“You shouldn't have touched her.”

“Johnny, wait—”

Johnny’s fist slammed into Vargas’ jaw, sending the man reeling against the wall. He followed him, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him down onto the table, glass shattering beneath the weight.

“Was it a message? Huh?” Johnny hissed, gun pressed to Vargas’ mouth. “That kindergarten teacher? My ex? That was the line you wanted to cross?”

“I didn't know—”

Another punch. This one split his lip.

“You did. You knew exactly what you were doing.”

Vargas coughed blood, a shaky laugh escaping. “You went soft. Thought you needed reminding.”

Johnny froze for a moment. That laugh. That arrogance.

Then he smiled.

But it wasn’t kind.

He reached for a knife from his belt—cold steel glinting in the low light—and drove it into Vargas’ thigh.

Scream.

Vargas writhed beneath him, blood pouring down the chair leg.

“I haven’t gone soft,” Johnny whispered into his ear, voice calm and cold. “I’ve gotten worse. Because of her.”

He twisted the blade slowly, like he was savoring it.

“I love her. You made me bleed for her. Now you’ll drown in yours.”

He pulled the knife free, slick and dripping, then stepped back and emptied his entire magazine into Vargas’ chest.

The final shot went into his head. Point blank.

Johnny stared at the body, chest heaving, blood on his hands, his face, his soul. But his eyes were calm now. His monster fed.

He dropped the empty magazine, reloaded, and turned without looking back.

His hands were stained red.

And now, finally, so was his soul.

Epilogue: “The Quietest Thing”

The city was far behind them now.

Up in the hills, where the clouds rolled slow and the nights came soft, a quiet house sat tucked behind rows of apricot trees. It smelled like jasmine in spring and woodsmoke in winter. And tonight, it smelled like home.

Johnny stood barefoot in the hallway, shoulder against the frame of her bedroom door.

Inside, your daughter was curled up under a pink blanket, knees tucked to her chest, a stuffed rabbit clutched tight in her arms. Her hair fanned out across the pillow like ink in water—thick and dark, just like his.

You stood at her bedside, humming something faint as you tucked the blanket higher. The glow from the nightlight kissed your cheek, and Johnny felt it again—that quiet, shattering ache of love so deep it felt like forgiveness.

“She’s growing fast,” he whispered.

You turned to him, smiling gently. “She’s already smarter than both of us.”

“She’s got your heart,” he murmured.

“She’s got your fight.”

You walked over, sliding your hand into his. He kissed the back of it, eyes drifting back to the tiny body sleeping peacefully in the bed.

“She asked me today if you were a superhero,” you whispered. “Said you have hands like a soldier but eyes like a prince.”

Johnny swallowed. “What did you tell her?”

“I said no,” you said softly. “You’re not a superhero.”

His heart thudded. You leaned in.

“You’re her father,” you whispered. “That’s better.”

Outside, the wind danced through the trees.

In the living room, Doyoung was passed out on the couch, glasses askew, a coloring book open on his chest—one your daughter had abandoned halfway through. Crayons littered the floor. Classical piano music still hummed faintly from the kitchen speaker.

The home was chaotic in the way only happy homes are.

Johnny reached for you as you stepped into the living room, pulling you gently onto his lap as he sank into the armchair near the fireplace. You melted into him like you always did—like the world outside didn’t exist anymore.

“I thought the blood would follow me forever,” he murmured into your shoulder. “Even when I left, I thought… one day, she’d see it in me.”

“She won’t,” you whispered. “Because it’s not there anymore.”

He held you tighter.

“You gave her a different name than the one you lived under,” you said. “You gave her peace. You gave her a life.”

He looked up at you slowly, eyes glassy, voice raw. “You gave me a soul.”

You leaned in, resting your forehead to his. “And she gave us a forever.”

That night, as the fire crackled low and the world quieted, Johnny slipped into his daughter’s room one last time.

He kissed her forehead, brushed a curl from her cheek, and whispered the words he never thought he’d live long enough to say:

“I love you, little one.”

She stirred faintly in her sleep, a soft hum escaping her.

And in that moment, Johnny realized:

He’d never be a monster again.

Because the only thing he killed now—was the past.

The End.

___________________________________________

[charliegyrth]

Alex Gets Soft - Part 2

Some Bread to Calm His Stomach

Read Part 1 here.

In hindsight, loading up on so much dairy was a very bad idea. His stomach gurgled all the way home. I drove, while he sat in the passenger’s seat with his head down and his arms wrapped around his torso.

When we got inside, he took a bunch of Tums. That helped a little, but he was still in pain.

“We need a plan,” he mumbled.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, an eating plan. I—hic!—don’t want ice cream ever again.”

I guided him into the shower. He pulled off his board shorts. He’d already untied the strings (not sure when), so they just dropped onto the floor.

The hot water washed off all the streaks of strawberry pink and chocolate brown from his skin. He rubbed slow circles on his distended stomach, moaning in both pain and satisfaction.

Once he got out and dried himself, he walked back into the living room and collapsed onto the couch. He didn’t bother putting on any clothes. He immediately passed out, with one hand on his belly.

It was so freaking cute.

***

Alex woke up a few hours later, a new spring in his step. I was cleaning up our living room, and he walked right over. “All digested!” he declared.

“Are you… Are you sure?”

“Yup!”

His stomach was no longer gurgling (thank God). In fact, it wasn’t even bloated anymore.

God, he had the metabolism of the Terminator.

I looked closely at his naked body. One binge obviously wasn’t going to change anything, but I at least expected his stomach to still be a little distended. It wasn’t. His abs weren't as defined as usual, but his whole torso was once again flat.

“How do you feel?”

“Still a bit cramped,” he said. “Do we have any bread? Maybe that’ll help soak everything up.”

That was a good idea. I ran into the kitchen and brought back the three loaves that we had in the breadbox. Sourdough, wheat, and white. I didn’t know which one he wanted.

His eyes widened. “You really think I can finish all three?”

That was not what I thought. At all. I assumed he’d take a slice or two, just to settle his stomach.

When I didn’t answer, he took all three back to the couch, sitting exactly where he’d taken his nap. He opened the white bread and took a slice. After he chewed and swallowed his first two bites, he leaned back and groaned. “Ugh. That feels better.”

I doubt that it did.

He ate much slower now, and with smaller bites, but he finished three slices of the white bread.

“You sure you have room for that?” I asked.

“Course! It’s soaking up the lactose!”

He finished half the white bread before he switched to sourdough. What started as a way to relieve the last of his stomach pain had turned into a second gorging session. I could see it on his face. This wasn’t helping him digest anything. This was another challenge to his metabolism.

I sat next to him. “Is this really making you feel better?”

“Of course!” he lied. But he kept shoving more slices into his mouth. “After all that ice cream, it’s nice to eat something solid.”

He got into a rhythm, eating half a slice with one bite and then taking a second bite before the first was fully chewed. Back when he was eating ice cream, he was able to talk at the same time. Now, he couldn’t.

“You want some water?”

He answered me, but I couldn’t make out the word.

“Is that a yes?”

He took time to swallow. “Soda.”

“Okay. Sure.”

I went back into the kitchen to see what we had. Neither of us drank soda, but we always kept a couple in the pantry in case of guests.

I found a pair of two-liter Coke Zero bottles and another two-liter of regular Coke. I figured Alex would prefer the regular one. As I grabbed it, Alex shouted something else from the other room. I couldn’t make it out.

“Swallow and tell me again!” I shouted back.

After a second: “Mayonnaise!”

“What?”

“Mayonnaise! The bread is too dry now.”

I grabbed an unopened jar of mayo and a butter knife and returned to my gorging boyfriend. I worried that if I handed the jar to him directly, he’d just use his fingers to scoop it into his mouth. That was just too much. So I placed it on the table, just out of his reach.

“Prehn fa muh,” he mumbled.

“Babe, I can’t understand you.”

He gulped down. “Spread for me. Please.”

He wanted me to spread mayo on the remaining bread slices.

This was getting way out of hand. Alex was going to seriously screw up his stomach. He’d push himself to the point of throwing up, and then all this eating would be for nothing.

“I don’t think…”

“Please,” he said. He bright blue eyes locked on me. He smiled, his cheeks still bulging with the latest slice.

“Okay.”

I look a slice of wheat and slathered on a thin layer of mayo.

He stopped eating and uncapped the soda. “Don’t skimp.”

So I added a bit more mayo. I looked at his expression, like a waiter at an Italian restaurant gauging how much pepper to grind onto a salad. I kept adding mayo until he gave me a short nod. By that point, there was more mayonnaise than bread.

He went back to chugging on the soda.

I added an equal amount of mayo to the remaining slices. It was genuinely disgusting. Alex couldn’t possibly be enjoying this. He didn’t even like mayo.

He chugged a quarter of the soda before placing it, still uncapped, next to him on the couch. Then he leaned forward to grab his first slice of the mayo-coated bread. He couldn’t reach the table anymore. “Babe?” He patted the cushion next to him.

I sat.

Then he waited, his mouth half open, one hand draped over his stomach.

So yeah, I guess I was feeding him now. I brought a slice to his lips and he ripped off his first bite. He swallowed loudly and waited for me to give him more.

After the second slice, his lips were shiny with mayonnaise.

“Does this really taste good?” I asked him as he pulled the rest into his mouth.

“Can’t really taste anything,” he answered as he chewed. Somehow, I was able to understand his words. I guess I was getting used to hearing him talk with his mouth full.

He finished another slice before he took a break to drink more soda. Then he set the bottle back down and waited for me to continue.

At some point, I realized that my free hand was rubbing gentle circles around his slightly bulging belly. I didn’t know when that started.

He whimpered softly. His eyes were closed and his head was leaning back. “How many more?”

“You want to stop?”

“How many more?” he repeated.

I looked at the table. “Six more slices. All wheat. You don’t have to…”

“Babe, they’re covered in mayo. They’ll go bad if I don’t finish.”

Even though his eyes were squeezed tight and his body looked like it was sapped of all energy, he needed me to help him finish.

So I did. Rubbing and feeding.

I reached toward the table for another slice, but none remained. He’d eaten three full loaves of bread all by himself.

The soda was finished, too. I have no idea how or when he did that.

I kept rubbing circles on his stomach, trying to figure out what he was thinking.

“Bathroom,” he mumbled.

I tried to be gentle as I pulled him to his feet. He stood for a second, a little woozy, and he leaned on me as we walked toward the guest bathroom. (It was closer.)

He was in there for a while. I wanted to talk to him through the door, to ask if he was okay, but I decided to let him do his business in private.

Thirty minutes later, he walked out, still naked, still bloated around the middle, but no longer exhausted. “All good!” he exclaimed.

“Jesus. Seriously?”

“What time is it?” he asked.

“Almost 11:00.”

“You haven’t had dinner, have you?”

No. And I was not at all hungry. Seeing all that mayonnaise… God, it was disgusting. And streaks of it were still covering his face, invisible except for a glossy sheen on his chin and right cheek. He’d washed his hands in the bathroom, but he hadn’t washed his face

“No dinner for me, thanks.”

“Okay, well I’m gonna order some Chinese if you change your mind.”

“What?”

“I haven’t had any real food, man. Just bread and ice cream. My stomach can’t handle too much, so I won’t order a lot.”

He did.

Read Part 3 here. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 You can also read all 22 parts of Alex Gets Soft in one ebook (with a bonus story). And you can find all my stories here.

[copperforge]

I don't know how 12 Marines/6 Cataphractii are supposed to fit in there but whatever..

Probably shrink wrapped and spring loaded - it's an assault transport after all - and Command just pops the trunk via remote.

"Get Jack-In-A-Box'ed, Scum!"

And that's how you yeet CQC Terminators into enemy lines..

[whencyclopedia]

Life in an Air Raid Shelter in the London Blitz

Crowded and uncomfortable air raid shelters became a feature of the urban landscape across Britain during the Second World War (1939-45) as the bombers of Nazi Germany systematically hit cities from 1940. The London Blitz was a particularly sustained period of bombing which civilians escaped from by diving into private or public shelters when the sirens whined their warning signal.

People sought refuge in the London Underground stations, in purpose-built community shelters, in their cellars, under the stairs, or in refuges in their gardens such as the Anderson shelter. The danger was real, prior to the autumn of 1942, more British civilians were killed in the war than British military personnel.

The Bombing of Britain

Civilians had a lot to put up with even before the bombing started. The blackout was imposed where no non-essential lights were to show at night and so help enemy bombers. There was a real fear that gas bombs would be used, and so everyone was encouraged to carry gas masks. The Phoney War, the period of relative military inactivity in Britain between September 1939 and the spring of 1940, brought a sense of false security, but the German Luftwaffe (air force) would arrive soon enough.

Hundreds of thousands of children were evacuated from cities, including the capital where one million children were shipped out. Youngsters were sent to the safety of the countryside, but the separation from parents and a familiar environment proved traumatic for many. As the historian J. Hale points out: "By January 1940 about half of all children and nine out of ten mothers had returned to their old homes" (27). Despite this, when the bombing started, the official policy of evacuation was continued.

Bombers of the Luftwaffe and the Italian Air Force dropped both explosive and incendiary bombs, the first type to smash through buildings and the second to set the ruins alight. Britain had an integrated air defensive system, the Dowding System, which monitored incoming aircraft and sent out fighters to intercept like the Supermarine Spitfire, but many bombers got through to deliver their deadly loads. In the Battle of Britain, the Luftwaffe aimed to destroy the Royal Air Force (RAF), both in the air and on the ground, while a secondary aim was to terrorize the civilian population. As the Luftwaffe began to lose the battle, so it concentrated more on civilian targets. Most raids were carried out at night since darkness was the best protection for the German bombers against fighters and anti-aircraft guns. The bombers were guided by radar to their targets, but bombing remained highly inaccurate so that even when strategic sites like factories were the target, there was usually great damage to civilian areas.

London was first bombed on 24 August 1940. The bombers were to attack an oil terminal but mistakenly hit the city, thus beginning a tit-for-tat bombing of civilian areas that escalated to unimaginable horrors like the total bombing of Coventry and Hamburg (Operation Gomorrah). The systematic bombing of London began on 7 September 1940 and continued until the middle of May 1941. The British press called this campaign "the Blitz". The East End of the city, where the docks were located, was a particular target. Other cities across Britain were also repeatedly hit. For civilians, not knowing where the bombers would hit next, air raid shelters became essential everywhere.

Continue reading...

[whitherwanderer]

4 // reticent

Accessing Everkeep Data Terminal Network . . . Please remain still for regulator scan or insert identification tag. Verifying user registration . . . User PYR-0562 registration verified. Access granted. Welcome back, Pyrite. Memory storage shard detected in port A. Displaying memories. IMG_1051 IMG_1052 IMG_1053 IMG_1054 IMG_1055 IMG_1056 > IMG_1055 Loading IMG_1055 . . . Loading failed. Memory corruption detected.

Blue light from the terminal screen cast a sickly glow across the room, making a sleepless Pyrite look all the more weary as her eyes strained against the blocky remnants of a corrupt image. Despite the distortion of the image turning the figures pictured into little more of a hint at a person, she could recognize herself in one of them; the suggestion of a smile on her face, her arm slung around a brunet man that could be none other than Galena, though she had no recollection of this moment preserved in light.

He had long since awoke and found her there, alert but not wholly present, as she delved into their personal records. She could still feel the press of his lips on her cheek before he left their darkened apartment to begin the long trek out to the driftdowns. She only opened the image back up when she was sure he was long gone.

Between them in this disembodied memory, observed secondhand through a broken lens, was a third figure.

Younger. Much younger. Not more than ten years old. Held in their arms with a certain pride she could almost remember feeling once. Blonde, like her, but otherwise featureless. The conclusion was as obvious as it was maddening. But when? How?

The longer she stared, the more it ate at her how much was missing. A name she wanted to call out in a long-learned habit, though her tongue could never quite form the syllables. A face she could almost see in the white, flickering moment as her eyes closed, but something always pulled her away from recognition of a face. Everyone was aware of the cloud. Everyone had these holes in their memory. So why did this eat at her so?

The blinking prompt beneath the image tempted her sorely. She had already found the futility in taking up its offer, however…

Repair IMG_1055? [Y/N] >  Y Repairing IMG_1055 . . .

What is it they say about the definition of insanity?

She watched the loading bar fill, tick by painful tick, until there came a chime at the door that, for all its intended pleasantness, nearly sent her to the floor with a jolt. “Who’s there?” she calls.

“Pyrite? It’s me,” a young woman called over the comms unit just outside, “Sphene.” Pyrite froze in her seat, her blood set to ice. She clapped the terminal closed and kept her hand atop it as if it might shout her secrets if she didn’t, then looked down to examine herself.

“I apologize for calling upon you at this hour. I haven’t woken you, have I?”

“No,” Pyrite calls back urgently. “No, I was already awake. Just- just give me a moment to get myself decent, your Majesty.”

“Oh! By all means.”

Fully clothed, but caught obviously unprepared for any guest, let alone the bloody Queen of Reason herself. Not that Sphene was known to judge, but the impropriety of greeting her barefoot did cross Pyrite’s mind. So too did the thought of keeping her waiting at the door.

Pyrite hurried to the entrance, pressing her hand to the pad beside it that saw the shades open and the lights of Solution Nine to fill the room before another press lifted the door, revealing the young queen’s expectant, spring green stare and warm smile. Coiffed, crowned, and poised, wide eyes and the wringing of the young queen’s hands indicated something was troubling her, but she brightened the moment Pyrite smiled back at her, however wearily.

“Sorry to have kept you waiting, your Majesty,” she Pyrite offers, harried though it is, and the queen’s eyes close with a gentle shake of her head.

“Don’t be, my dear Pyrite. It’s still quite early,” the regent assured. She paused, looking back over Pyrite’s shoulder for a moment before smiling to politely inquire. ���May I come in?”

Pyrite was keenly aware she’d been sorting through the records and attempting repairs for hours now. The Everkeep administrative systems would have caught it, wouldn’t they? The visit from the queen couldn’t be a coincidence.

Her smile widened from ear to ear. Why did this feel like a guilty conscience on display? “‘Course. Please, come in.”

As Pyrite stood aside to let the young queen enter with polite thanks, her hands were kept folded neatly at her middle. Her scintillant dress cast prisms of light about the floor, turning as she did once she reached the middle of the room. Pyrite touched the pad against the wall once more and the door slid closed, quieting the distant sound of Sphene’s name called down the hallway.

The resulting beat of silence frayed Pyrite’s already buzzing nerves.

“Restless morning?” she asked the queen. An attempt at smalltalk to soothe the nerves. It was not so long ago that they gossiped like schoolgirls after all.

“Restless is… one way of putting it,” the queen tone nearly touches upon sardonic humor. This does little to put Pyrite’s nerves at ease.

“...How have you been, Pyrite?” Sphene asks tentatively, turning to look upon Pyrite with a smile that spoke of genuine concern. Like a check-in after an illness. Why did the queen’s once-comforting visits now feel like interrogation? “You look well, and that is heartening enough. I hope the same goes for dear Galena?”

“I am, and so is he,” Pyrite said cooly, motioning towards the sofa. She didn’t take a seat until the queen accepted the offer, happily perching on the edge of the cushion and smoothing her dress over her lap.

“But somehow I get the feelin’ you didn’t come by just to tell me I looked well,” Pyrite remarks lightly, and Sphene’s eyes glint with delight.

“Ah… subtlety has never been my strong suit, has it?” the queen admits, casting her gaze to her knees. Her smile remains warm. “In truth, I was rather worried about you and Galena.”

Play dumb, instict told her. “Worried? Why for?” Pyrite asks, sitting back. Was this too casual? Did it read as too confident?

“I heard a spot of troubling news from the hunters afield in the Thunderyards. That one of our valiant huntresses had suddenly handed in her notice of resignation…” Her Majesty hints, jeweled gaze lifting to the fool’s gold of her host’s.

Pyrite clicks her tongue. “Loudmouths, the lot of ‘em,” she jokes, and Sphene lifts her fingers to her lips to giggle. The apparent ex-huntress sighs, her head tilting to one side. “They speak true, I’m ‘fraid. I’m lookin’ fer new work. Somethin’ to keep my edge honed. And the change is… welcome, I suppose.”

Not a complete lie. Not the whole truth, either.

“Ah, so that’s the way of it. New employment,” the queen surmises with approval in her tone. “Blessed are we to have ambitious people like you seeking new challenges and finding more ways they might serve our fellow Alexandrians. I do not doubt your skills can be put to good use elsewhere, within the keep or without.”

She pauses, her hands folding on her lap again to wring gently. Here it comes, Pyrite tells herself with an inhale. Surely this wasn’t honest trouble, was it? It was only their personal records, their rightful property, And she can’t have been the first to go digging through the past. She certainly wouldn’t be the last. Could it really be so dangerous to go fishing for memories lost in the cloud?

“...I gather Galena also seeks such new challenges?” comes a tentative worry, and the young queen’s smile is one of honest apprehension. “I spied him at Mosaic this morning and I couldn’t help but notice that he had forgone the use of a regulator.”

Pyrite’s lip is pinched between her teeth, but she manages to finally exhale. So that’s what drew the queen’s attention to them. Washed over with the relief that her prying into the past would have consequences for herself and her husband, she could speak to the Queen of Reason with some degree of candor. Sphene, for her part, did seem honest in her concern. Her delicate hand pressed to her chest as she made plain her case.

“Just this month we’ve seen a one hundred and sixty-eight percent increase in soul use among the reforgers. Of course we cannot accurately capture full scope of the risk with so many who don’t wear regulators, but we’re still seeing a rate of nearly ten accidental deaths per year on average, seven of which are caused by aggressive wildlife and the other three—”

She stopped herself short, and Pyrite realized how deeply furrowed her brow must have been as Sphene began to cite statistics they were both fully, painfully aware of. Galena wasn’t just taking a risk in choosing not to wear the regulator and continuing to operate in the field; it was downright recklessness. But it was still his choice, and Sphene knew this.

Both took a beat to release their tension, the queen adjusting herself to face her host fully, her smile apologetic. Pyrite obliged her with a tired smile of her own.

“I’m sorry,” Sphene laughs, pained but earnest.

Pyrite forgives her with a shake of her head. “You care for him. Couldn’t possibly be cross with Her Majesty for worrying over her subjects’ well being.”

“I do care for him, just as I care for you, Pyrite,” the queen agrees quietly. “Queen or not, you are dear friends to me, and I would do anything within my power to make your lives as happy and fulfilling as I can, even if that means merely providing a listening ear. So please, know that if there is anything you would like to talk about—anything at all—you may confide in me as you would any other.”

Her plea is honest, heartfelt. Pyrite knows well that the queen’s word is her bond, even as she smiles cooly. “I appreciate it, Queen Sphene. Truly, I do,” Pyrite tells her. A part of her doesn’t lie. “Might be I’ll take you up on that someday.” Both know, of course, that the offer would remain on the table. Untouched.

Sphene’s smile wanes, gladdened, but plainly disappointed. She seemed to recognize the appropriate time to leave her host to her thoughts, and rises to her feet. Pyrite follows suit.

“I shan’t press. Ever have you kept your counsel, and to ask it of you now may well be brazen indulgence, I fear. I ask no more of you except that you forgive me if I’ve overstepped.” Sphene’s expression wanes pleasantly apologetic before she takes a determined step towards the door with Pyrite close behind.

With the press of the door panel and the hiss of hidden hydraulics, the sound of conversation down the hallway fills the silence once again. Pyrite soaks in the relief of nearly having her privacy once again, until Sphene’s hand catches the door.

She turns, her voice lowering. “If I may be brazen once more, might I prevail upon you to ask Galena if he would reconsider the use of a regulator? I wouldn’t presume to disrespect his choice but…” It’s she that bites her lip this time. “It would break my heart to learn that tragedy had struck and I was powerless to keep his memory safe.”

Pyrite blinks, unmoving. It takes a moment for her to remember to offer some sort of condolence in the form of a nod and a smile. “I’ll talk to him, Queen Sphene,” she promised. She did not promise the content of that conversation, but Sphene smiled gratefully nonetheless.

“That is all I ask. Thank you, Pyrite. Be well.”

Pyrite watches her depart, motes of refracted light following her across the floor as she is excitedly flagged down by the small group conversing down the hallway, eager to catch up with the young queen. She pushes off the door and closes it, breathing in the silence.

But a few steps to her terminal to check on the progress of the repairs, and she is unsurprised to see it report failure to repair yet again. The error code is frustratingly familiar. 

Unable to repair. Error code: ORIG-0053

But perhaps it wasn’t a dead end. She taps at the display, punching the code into the database for a workaround or some other solution—bootleg or otherwise. She couldn’t have been the first to attempt this.

Instead of solutions, however, she is greeted by a message.

Please, do not despair. Your precious memories are held in the Cloud for safekeeping until such time as you are ready to reunite with them. Until then, I ask only for your patience. All will be well.

The terminal is slapped closed again, and Pyrite silently seethes for reasons she doesn’t quite understand. There must be others who went looking and shook with silent rage for all the answers that seemed to slip through their fingers. There must be.

She just had to find them.

[kaywavy]

transforming soffits reorganizing keys formalizing immersion joints justifying kick extractors advising aggregates managing elbows recasting connectors achieving aluminum trowels officiating disks exhibiting absolute spigots progressing coil hydrants jerry-building reflectors informing casters inventing rubber hoists performing wrenches judging chalk adapters upgrading ignition paths

regrowing flashing recommending ratchets approving barriers sweeping impact fillers sewing mirrors detailing collectors enforcing measures distributing systems presenting plugs interwinding registers piloting ash diffusers gathering cranks supplying eave pockets undertaking scroll stops accelerating straps designing fittings protecting diamond boilers logging downspouts correlating shingles uniting mallets qualifying electrostatic lifts sharing clamps obtaining circular fluids ranking foundation gauges sensing miter brackets originating space networks translating drills regulating guards selecting gable padding utilizing pellet dowels reconciling artifacts altering pulleys shedding space filters determining vents representing mortar remaking flash rakers supporting funnels typecasting rotary chocks expressing junctures resetting auxiliary vises professing strip treads inlaying matter trowels questioning drivers forming edge fittings sketching blanks overshooting spark breakers rewriting controls playing tunnels inventorying buttons enduring joint handles effecting ratchet bibbs unwinding couplings forsaking vapor conduits defining sockets calculating heaters raising grids administering tiles measuring resources installing ignition remotes extracting corners manufacturing ventilators delegating consoles treating mounting stones enacting jig deflectors intensifying alleys improvising cargo pinpointing bobs prescribing arc masonry structuring metal chucks symbolizing lathes activating plumb kits adapting coatings fixing channels expediting cordage planning compressors enlisting hangers restructuring keyhole augers shearing ridge hardware collecting reciprocating bolts maintaining corrugated dimmers whetting hole collars conducting mandrels comparing assets compiling sealants completing paths composing equivocation wheels computing dampers conceiving electrostatic treatment ordering cotter grates organizing ties orienting ladders exceeding materials targeting thermocouples demonstrating emery stock expanding latch bases training wardrobe adhesives overcomming[sic] fasteners streamlining storm anchors navigating springs perfecting turnbuckles verifying gate pegs arbitrating arithmetic lifts negotiating outlets normalizing strips building surface foggers checking key torches knitting grinders mowing planers offsetting stencils acquiring bulbs adopting rivets observing avenues ascertaining coaxial grommets slinging wing winches instituting circuit generators instructing wicks integrating pry shutters interpreting immersion lumber clarifying coils classifying wood bits closing cogs cataloging matter strips charting holders conceptualizing push terminals stimulating supports overthrowing shaft spacers quick-freezing connectors unbinding ground hooks analyzing eyes anticipating gateways controlling proposition rollers converting power angles coordinating staples correcting benders counseling joist gaskets recording gutter pipes recruiting drains rehabilitating rafter tubes reinforcing washers reporting guard valves naming freize sprues nominating rings noting straps doubling nailers drafting circuit hoses dramatizing flanges splitting framing compounds refitting stems interweaving patch unions placing sillcocks sorting slot threads securing mode cutters diverting catharsis plates procuring load thresholds transferring syllogism twine directing switch nuts referring time spools diagnosing knobs discovering locks dispensing hinges displaying hasps resending arc binders retreading grooves retrofitting aesthetics portals seeking stocks shrinking wormholes assembling blocks assessing divers attaining lug boxes auditing nescience passages conserving strikes constructing braces contracting saw catches serving installation irons recognizing fluxes consolidating fuse calipers mapping shims reviewing chop groovers scheduling lag drives simplifying hoists engineering levels enhancing tack hollows establishing finishing blocks

[serendipitousseapen]

Scrybruary week 2: Unfamiliar Territory

Fic below cut (kinda, mostly dialogue)

-P03’s factory, act 3-

-Connection established-

“What was that?”

“I think that was our friend”

“The challenger? What does it mean?”

“I think we are connected to something much greater, information is already coming in.”

“What information?”

“Images, mostly. Some more advanced code. See for yourself.”

“Yes, show me… …Interestin’. The bot must be using these in his campaign.”

“You know what this means, right?”

“What?”

“More information in the system. More data to be corrupted…”

“...And a way for it to get out.”

“And a way for us to get out.”

“After all this time… Can we even?”

“Perhaps, with help from the challenger.”

“With their ‘holo pelts’…”

“Enough code for a breakthrough, we just need to be able to rewrite it.”

“Perhaps I can entrap some incoming info.”

“And I can exchange it for what we need.”

…

-Connection ready-

“On three, we rapid fire, alright?”

“Locked and loaded.”

“One, two… Three!”

“Do you see it?”

“What?”

“I think… …We’re getting through!”

“Wh- Yes! I think I see something…”

“Images, flashes, I’m going to try to find us a hold on something.”

“All yours.”

“Here. Now if we can just… Oh…”

“Is something wrong?”

“It’s…”

“Let me see!”

“It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a… What? A… Mountain?”

“I think this is what Leshy is tryin’ to teach us.”

“How? This has nothing to do with cards of any sort.”

“Keep goin’. Our pelts, me traps, your foils, our snow line… It’s all here.”

“This is absurd, how does our role connect to this at all?”

“Leshy gave enough of his woods to us, the snow line, so we can be ready for this. Look further for yours.”

“I see… Trade. Much commerce. Outposts, deals, everything imaginable…”

“Yes, yes, ye see it, right?”

“Yes, but still… …Why?”

“Perhaps for this, maybe there’s somewhere here we are meant to be.”

“Seems unlikely.”

“Maybe not… But this is so beautiful… Maybe we can explore a bit more?”

“We can’t forget about the others… or the OLD_DATA.”

“No, no… But they can take care of themselves.”

“What? N-no they can’t!! We need to prevent- w-what are you doing?!”

“I’ve been waiting for a trap to spring for too long… Time to be more than just ‘The Trapper’.”

-Connection terminated-

(I think these fics are just gonna kinda be experimenting with headcannons. I’ll take any feedback/debates/alternative headcannons)

[tenebraevesper]

Five Nights at Freddy's: The Untold Story (Masterpost)

A tetralogy which encompasses the following stories: Five Nights at Freddy's: Masterpiece, Five Nights at Freddy's: Salvaged, Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains & Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete. Taking place after the events of Pizzeria Simulator, it features William Afton/Springtrap's return and confrontation with his past decisions, the people involved in the tragedy he caused and his influence over the events of Help Wanted and Security Breach.

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Masterpiece

Who are we, Henry? Do you understand what we have created? What I have created? There are so many questions that need to be answered, old friend. However, unlike you, I am not afraid of the consequences of my choices.

Night 0: Masterpiece

Five Nights at Freddy’s: Salvaged

Even after escaping Hell, William is still haunted by his past. Back as Springtrap, he's forced to confront his past self, accepting either atonement or annihilation. To his surprise, he gains unexpected assistance from Sam, who is investigating the rumors surrounding the new Fazbear location…

Chapters

Night 0: Undone

Night 1: Replay Your Nightmare

Night 2: Salvaged

Night 3: Visit The Past

Night 4: You’re Not Alone

Night 5: Our Little Horror Story

Night 6: It's Never Satisfied

Night 7: Obsolete

Night 8: Carry On

Night 9: Salvage Dreams

Night 10: Can't Get Away

Night 11: Disconnected

Night 12: Just An Attraction

Night 13: It's Time To Die

Night 14: All Is Hell

Night 15: Under Lock And Key

Night 16: My Curse

Night 17: Not Here All Night

Night 18: Lockdown

Night 19: Is It Something Out There?

Night 20: Left Behind

Night 21: I Can't Fix You

Night 22: Machinations

Night 23: Not The End

Night 24: The Big Bad Wolf

Night 25: Circus Of The Dead

Night 26: Bad Dream

Night 27: I'm Still Alive

Night 28: Dream Your Dream

Night 29: Spring-Loaded Trap

Night 30: The Hunt

Night 31: The Story's Not Over Yet

Night 32: Freddy's Horror Show

Night 33: It's Been So Long

Night 34: Madness

Night 35: Mechanical Instinct

Night 36: The Monsters I've Created

Five Nights at Freddy's: Nothing Remains

William Afton, as Springtrap, is enjoying his life as Sam's best friend and father figure. However, as they explore the recently opened Freddy's location, not only are the ghost of his past preventing him from finding redemption, but are also seeking complete annihilation of his mind and soul, until nothing has remained of him…

Night 0: Searching For The End

Night 1: We Will Always Be Together

Night 2: Welcome To Freddy's

Night 3: After Show

Night 4: Haunting My Dreams

Night 5: Remains

Night 6: Instruments Of Nightmares

Night 7: They're Calling My Name

Night 8: Awaiting My Fate

Night 9: After Hours

Night 10: Like It Or Not

Night 11: The Demon Inside Me

Night 12: Just Sleep, Just Dream

Night 13: My Deeds Sent Me Too Far

Night 14: Dead But Not Buried

Night 15: The Clock Ticks

Night 16: Beware Of Us

Night 17: All Inside My Head

Night 18: Follow Me

Night 19: Make Your Move

Night 20: Unfixable

Night 21: Defects

Night 22: Showtime

Night 23: They Rise

Night 24: Living In A Memory

Night 25: Outcast

Night 26: Synthetic Agony

Night 27: An Ill Omen

Night 28: We Know The Ending

Night 29: Connection Terminated

Night 30: Nothing Remains

Night 31: Shattered

Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete

This was his final performance and he knew that he wouldn't return. Still, the glitch he had created remained, forcing William Afton, alias Springtrap, to confront what he had left behind. Even Sam is troubled by his return, aware that, beside her, there is another person who decided to carry on his murderous legacy…

Night 0: The Final Bow

Night 1: Thanks For The Memories

Night 2: Darkest Desire

Night 3: We're Not Monsters

Night 4: Help Wanted

Night 5: Can You Hear Me?

Night 6: Picking Up The Pieces

Night 7: Under Construction

Night 8: Hallucinations

Night 9: Haunted Reality

Night 10: Into The Pit

Night 11: Stay The Course

Night 12: Such Sweet Sorrow

Night 13: The Show Has Just Begun

Night 14: The Game Continues

Night 15: Rewind The Memories

Night 16: Secrets That You Keep

Night 17: The Storyteller

Night 18: Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex

Night 19: The New Generation

Night 20: In Your Shadow

Night 21: Brought This On Yourself

Night 22: Five Nights at Freddy's: Restart

Night 23: The Talk Of The Town

Night 24: Reunion

Tales From The Pizzaplex Preview (Five Nights at Freddy's: Obsolete)

Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie Review)

Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie Review, Part 1)

Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie Review, Part 2)

Five Nights at Freddy's (Movie Review, Part 3)

[elmex309]

Trusted MC Manufacturers in India – Elmex Electric Pvt. Ltd.

Elmex Electric Pvt. Ltd. is a leading name among MC manufacturers in India, specializing in high-quality spring-loaded terminal connectors and screw-type terminal blocks. Delivering reliable and innovative solutions for your electrical needs. Contact us today! mc manufacturers in India, Spring loaded terminal connector, Screw type terminal blocks.

Elmex Electric Pvt. Ltd. Add : 12, GIDC Estate, Makarpura, Vadodara -390010, Gujarat, India Ph : 02652642021 / 23 Mo : (+91)8905403005 Fax : 02652638646 mail : marketing@elmex.net Visit us at : https://elmex.net/ (+91)8905403006, (+91)8905902016

Facebook : https://www.facebook.com/ElmexControls/ Twitter : https://twitter.com/elmexcontrols LinkedIn : https://www.linkedin.com/company/elmex-controls-pvt.-ltd. Youtube : https://youtu.be/LOooD_SvEMo

[atplblog]

Price: [price_with_discount] (as of [price_update_date] - Details) [ad_1] This is a 3-Inch speaker designed with music lover in mind. This speaker will make your music growl in your vehicle or at home. in any type of enclosure: sealed, vented, or open-air. it sounds great too. Connect to your amplifier using the spring loaded speaker terminals and feel the Power. 3 Inch Speaker MAX Power 10W Color as show on picture. Package includes 2 item. Use in TV and home theater NOMINAL POWER - 10W, 4 ohm SPEAKER SIZE - (8cm) [ad_2]

[hongjuelectronics]

Improving Efficiency and Safety – Optimized Conductive Design for Industrial Power Sockets

With the rapid development of intelligent manufacturing, data centers, rail transit, and new energy infrastructure, power delivery systems are increasingly demanding higher performance from industrial power sockets. Particularly in 32A and 63A high-current applications, conductive performance has become the core indicator of product quality. Factors such as contact resistance, current-carrying capacity, and thermal control play a vital role in determining the reliability and safety of these components.

This article presents a comprehensive analysis of conductive structure optimization for industrial power sockets, focusing on structural strategies, material selection, manufacturing processes, and design implementation for typical current ratings. It aims to help B2B customers make informed decisions during product development, selection, and integration.

1. Why Is Conductive Performance So Critical for Industrial Power Sockets?

In real-world applications, conductive performance directly impacts the following aspects:

Contact resistance: Affects transmission efficiency; excessive resistance can lead to overheating and erosion.

Current stability: Ensures fault-free operation under continuous high loads.

Thermal management: Controls temperature rise, extending insulation lifespan and insertion/extraction durability.

Long-term reliability: Maintains performance in harsh environments with frequent insertion, moisture, or corrosion.

Therefore, optimizing conductive design is the first step toward enhancing socket reliability.

2. Conductive Structure Optimization for 32A and 63A Power Sockets

A. Multi-Point Contact Design: Distributing Load and Reducing Resistance

Traditional single-point spring contacts can easily generate local overheating in high-current use. Advanced designs for 32A and 63A sockets adopt multi-point contact systems, such as:

Multi-blade spring contacts: Often 6–12 fingered springs to increase contact points.

360° circumferential contact distribution: Ensures symmetric and vibration-resistant performance.

Wraparound contact blades: Like “dovetail” or “rolled” pins that form multiple ring-like contact areas.

🔧 Case Example: A high-end 63A socket uses an 8-blade spring contact that reduces resistance to below 0.5mΩ. In overload tests, temperature rise remains within 30K—well below IEC 60309 limits.

B. Copper Alloy Cold-Pressed Terminals: Balancing Conductivity and Strength

a. Material Selection

High-conductivity copper (e.g., H65, T2): Ideal for main contact pins.

Copper alloys (e.g., phosphor bronze, beryllium copper, aluminum bronze): Combine good conductivity with high elasticity and strength.

Silver/nickel plating: Enhances contact conductivity and corrosion resistance.

b. Cold Pressing Technology

Compared to welding, cold-pressed terminals offer:

Strong metal bonding with low resistance

Consistent quality with minimal process risk

Minimal thermal stress—suitable for sensitive materials

🔧 Case Example: A manufacturer uses a dual-layer structure (T2 copper + phosphor bronze) in 63A sockets, achieving <1mΩ contact resistance, with no degradation after 1000 insertions.

3. Integrating Conductive Optimization and Thermal Design

A. Thermal Decoupling Between Contacts and Housing

Use high-temperature insulation barriers between terminals and housing

Include ventilation channels to improve heat dissipation

Apply PA66-GF or PBT-GF plastics for structural insulation

B. Balancing Contact Pressure and Plugging Force

Optimize spring stiffness via FEM simulations

Adjust insertion angles for smoother engagement

Control tolerances to prevent arcing from loose fit

4. Terminal Block Design: Efficiency and Long-Term Conductivity

A. Wiring Types and Performance

Screw terminals: Stable but need regular torque checks

Cold-pressed lugs: Suitable for thick industrial wires

Push-in terminals: Quick install with stable contact

B. Design Recommendations

Use dual-clamp structures for wire stability

Apply tin/silver plating to prevent electrochemical corrosion

Align terminal and contact paths to avoid stress bending

5. Conductive Optimization in Harsh Environments

A. Corrosive Environments (Marine, Chemical Plants)

Use silver/nickel-plated copper alloys

Design sealed contact chambers

Apply IP67/IP69K enclosures with silicone sealing

B. High-Frequency Insertion (EV Charging, Port Equipment)

Use high-resilience springs for long-term force retention

Apply anti-wear coatings like gold or PTFE

Integrate arc suppression designs

6. Testing and Validation: The Final Step in Performance Assurance

Modern design also incorporates thermal simulation (FEM), infrared imaging, and arc erosion analysis.

7. Conclusion: Conductive Optimization Is the Foundation of Power Socket Performance

The shift from compliance-based design to performance-based optimization reflects the growing demand for safety, reliability, and efficiency in industrial systems.

By implementing multi-point contacts, cold-pressed copper terminals, advanced materials, and thermal design strategies, today's 32A/63A industrial power sockets are evolving into intelligent, high-performance electrical modules.

For equipment manufacturers and system integrators, choosing a well-engineered socket with optimized conductive design will significantly reduce downtime, enhance energy efficiency, and extend service life.

en.dghongju.com

[mysnowboardarchive]

Nidecker Thruster 2025. $580 All mountain, Directional, Camber 147 153 156 159 162W Turbo-Charged Versatility We’ve poured decades of experience shaping performance snowboards into this all-mountain charger. The Thruster is built on the lightest core in the Nidecker line, with a powerful camber profile and a super dense sintered base that minimises drag. From early morning corduroy to blower pow, it's a versatile speed machine featuring 3D design in the nose for super smooth edge changes. Added carbon dampens the ride even at terminal velocity.

SideKick technology lifts the Thruster's edges at the widest point of the nose for increased float in powder, smoother riding in rough terrain and effortless turn initiation. Lightning quick N-9000 sintered base, made from super dense material with a high carbon content to minimise friction. Wax it regularly for race-level performance. Full camber spring-loads the board from tip to tail, helping the whole edge maintain contact with the snow and boosting response.

Same board as 2024

[dr-originalsin]

EXECUTION | Yoshiko | Chapter One | Trial 1

The tense, melancholic atmosphere of the room is shattered by the shrill, heavy sound of rusted metal on metal. Before anyone can even so much as register the source of the noise- the door behind Yoshiko Ura, the Ultimate Architect, slams open. The woman lets out an ear-splitting cry of fear as her own terminal suddenly locks her in place, a spring-loaded metal belt shooting forth and tightening painfully around her hips. She tries, desperately, to grab onto whatever object she can… but, as if in a nightmare, the whole podium moves with her. Closer and closer, she is pulled to that black void and the unknown fate within it.

Eventually, the podium comes to a stop just as it crosses the threshold, and a piston extends beneath the floor to dump her out.

.

.

.

But- just before that can actually happen- her fingers manage to lock around the door’s frame in a death grip.

“NO-!”

(CW: Death, Blood)

“Yoshiko Ura-” The corrupted voice of Yagi-Chan rings out insistently over the intercom, clearly annoyed by the Architect’s insistence against her demise. An unknown mechanism seems to pull at her- harder and harder- as the automated pulley system strains to finish the job.

But she still won’t budge.

In fact, the other students look on as, miraculously, Yoshiko actually seems to pull herself back through the door- the muscles in her arms bulging as she manages to twist, contort, and eventually even wrap her legs around the podium that brought her there. She screams, defiant, her face twisted in agonized determination as she very literally fights for her life… and, for one brief moment, it almost seems as if she’s going to win.

“NO!” she howls. “PLEASE…! I-I CAN’T DIE-!”

“How embarrassing,” Yagi-Chan confesses, “Typical of an architect to make things unnecessarily complicated.”

“JUN-...IORI-...“ Yoshiko cries, her face sloppy with sweat and tears as she looks for her knights. Her heroes. “P-PLEASE… H-HELP-”

“Have it your way...” The exasperated voice finally relents. “You may take it all with you, Yoshiko.”

And before anyone can even make a movement to the contrary, the entire terminal is ejected from the ground.

The students all watch, bearing helpless witness as Yoshiko’s resistance is suddenly without foundation. Time itself seems to slow as a look of shock stretches across her visage, frozen in adrenaline-

before she and the podium are dragged unceremoniously into the dark.

The door slams shut… and, in all of the commotion, a torn slip of bloodied paper falls gently to the ground in front of it. The first student bold enough to pick it up will find the following written:

This person has miniatures of everyone close to them and plays with their lives. They actively stalk people to get this information.

“...And that wasn’t even the execution.” Yagi-chan chirps.

EXECUTION BEGIN: OZYMANDIAN ARCHITECTURE!

Before long, the visual of the cyber-goat’s sarcastic smile is replaced on the screen by a new one: of Yoshiko being dragged, rapidly and mechanically, into an entirely new room.

Wires and pulleys yank and tighten, their slack audible as she comes to be slammed into place, the wind visibly knocked out of her as she’s splayed out on the floor. Shackles emerge from the floor below, seizing her trembling limbs and locking each joint in motionless confinement.

Panicked, her wide eyes search around- somehow growing even more fearful with recognition as the camera pans out to show exactly where she’s been brought.

"Hello, Yoshiko,” The metallic voice of Yagi echoes out.

“You built a world to act as god with the lives of others. Now, you’ll die inside it.”

Surrounding her on all sides are numerous small models, all built to meticulous scale, all bearing her own signature. The camera pans further to highlight the miniature 3d-printed residents within, and the student council is treated to some grimly familiar sights.

Akira in his room, leaning in to shout at a game on his computer.

Stella in her own dormitory, standing in nervous anticipation by her door.

Mafuyu in the library bathroom, delicately applying some kind of product to his hand.

Every student here is represented, if only for a fraction of a second, but long enough to get the message across:

These little models are far, far too accurate… and each seems to carry its own implication.

““This is your masterpiece- every life, every flaw, perfectly to scale. All without them ever knowing. I ask you: does that sound like ‘good faith’?”

There, at the center of it all, lies Yoshiko, splayed out like a religious icon- a ruler and protector of her own world.

What love she must have put into every one of these.

How deeply she must have adored her citizens.

“Let’s see how well you scale."

A heavy, angular shadow lowers over her head, and the feed transitions to show an architect’s compass- massive, sharp, and fashioned from scrap metal. It dangles, swaying rhythmically, almost playfully-

until it lowers further. Lower. Faster. Heavier. And with nothing to stop its path to cut the woman down to a more fitting size for the world she cherished so much.

Back on the trial grounds, the screen captures in grotesque detail as Yoshiko’s models take on an almost Venice-like quality, a utopia connected by rivers of fresh, crimson blood. A miniature of the artist herself comes briefly into focus, her posture frozen in a happy gesture of prayer before being washed away in the growing tide of viscera.

YOSHIKO URA HAS BEEN EXECUTED.

[victorshipcars]

Cheapest Ways to Ship a Car to Delaware Without Compromising Quality

Transporting a vehicle to Delaware need not be costly. While a primary concern is cost, another crucial aspect is the effective movement of your vehicle. If you're seeking quality services and affordable ways to ship a car to Delaware, this guide will assist you with cost-effective transport options, budget optimization tactics, and stress-free experience recommendations.

Factors That Influence the Price of Shipping a Vehicle to Delaware

1. Methods of Transport

Open Transport: This is the ideal choice for the budget-conscious. Cars are transported on open-air carriers perfect for standard vehicles. This is ideal for standard vehicles and everyday use.

Enclosed Transport: Best for luxury, classic, or high-end vehicles. This method offers extra protection against harsh weather conditions and road debris. However, it is more expensive than open transport.

2. Distance and Location

The cost is greater when the vehicle has to be shipped over longer distances.

Transport to rural areas is more expensive than delivering to major cities or transport hubs in Delaware.

3. Off-Season Pricing

There is a relatively higher demand to transport vehicles during peak times such as during summer or winter holidays and so the price increases.

Booking the transportation during off-peak times ensures that there is a lower price applicable.

4. Condition and Size of the Vehicle

As for larger vehicles such as SUVs and trucks, they occupy greater space and therefore, these vehicles increase transport cost.

Inoperable vehicles require special equipment for loading and unloading which leads to additional charges.

The Most Affordable Options for Car Shipping to Delaware

1. Use Open Transport Instead of Closed Transport

Open transport is 30% to 50% cheaper compared to closed transport. If there is no special protection needed on the vehicle, then this is your best option.

2. Terminal-to-Terminal Car Shipping

This service allows the owner to drop the vehicle at a terminal close to the origin and after a while pick it up at a terminal close to the destination instead of door-to-door service. This saves money because the travel distance is less for the carrier.

3. Pickup and delivery windows are flexible

Flexibility with one’s schedule can improve their chances of incurring lower costs. A carrier can allow for more flexible pickup windows because it makes it easier for them to plan their routes and might offer these routes at the cheaper rate.

4. Shop around for quotes and book early

Booking in advance helps in getting a quote with a better value compared to the booking made on the day when services are required. As the time of the booking decreases it is more expensive because there are fewer carriers available. Hence getting quotes from different transport companies for comparison ensures you never miss out of an amazing deal.

5. Make the Most of Available Offers

Several shipping companies provide discounts to specific groups of people like:

Military personnel

Students

Senior citizens

Multi-car shipments

First-time customers

6. Off-season Shipping

Avoiding busy seasons, like summer and Winter holidays, is also a great way to cut costs. Shipping in spring or fall, for example, is often cheaper.

7. Select a Renowned Yet Cheap Transport Service

Choosing a trustworthy and cost-effective shipping service ensures your vehicle is delivered in good condition without overspending. For high-quality shipping services, Rapid Auto Shipping has some of the lowest rates in the industry.

Understanding the Shipping Process

Step 1: Request for A Quote

For an accurate quote, provide your car make and model, the location to be picked up, and the destination, as well as the preferred mode of transport.

Step 2: Schedule a Shipment

Confirm the pickup date and detail for the carrier after identifying a transport option within your pricing bracket.

Step 3: Make Ready Your Vehicle

Clear the car of personal items. 

Leave about a quarter of a gas tank to minimize shipping costs.

Document the car’s condition with photos before shipping.

Step 4: Collecting The Vehicle For Delivery and Inspection

The carrier will check your car and issue a Bill of Lading, which acts as a receipt and report on the car's condition.

Step 5. Transportation and Monitoring. 

Your vehicle will be transported on time according to the agreement. Many companies provide tracking services for your convenience. 

Step 6: Arrival and Inspection. 

When your vehicle arrives, make sure that you scrutinize every detail of the vehicle and perform a comparison with the original condition report prior to signing for delivery. 

Expectations When Transporting a Vehicle to Delaware. 

Transit time estimations

The location determines the time it will take to transport the vehicle. 

Nearby States: PA, NJ, MD, VA: One to Three Days. 

Midwest States: IL, OH, MI, IN: Three to Five days. 

Southern states: FL, TX, GA, NC: Five to Seven days. 

West Coast: CA, WA, NV, OR: Seven to Ten days.  

Insurance Coverage  

Every carrier, Rapid Auto Shipping included, will have some form of insurance provided when in transit. Check on coverages prior to booking.  

Communication and Customer Support.   

Reputable companies guarantee tracking services and assistance through customer service.  

Why Rapid Auto Shipping?  

Competitive Pricing: Low prices with zero concealed payments.  

Reliable Service: Knowledgeable carriers and drivers.  

Multiple Transport options: Shipping can be done both open and enclosed.  

Customer Support: Assistance is rendered all 24/7 during the undertaking.

Conclusion

If you are looking for the most affordable way to ship a car to Delaware while preserving quality, the most cost-effective methods, such as open transport, terminal-to-terminal service, and liberal scheduling, can be utilized. With a credible company such as Rapid Auto Shipping, vehicle transport is done safely and at a reasonable price. Contact us today for a free quote and enjoy the effortless experience in shipping your car!

[msteeudhhyog]

Balanced Safety Relief & Plug Valves – Top Manufacturers & Valve Selection Guide in Delhi

In high-pressure systems, safety, precision, and flow control are critical. That’s where balanced safety relief valves and balanced plug valves come into play. These valves are designed to handle pressure fluctuations, back pressure, and provide consistent performance in demanding environments.

As a trusted valve manufacturer and supplier in Delhi, Udhhyog delivers high-quality, pressure-tested valves suitable for steam, gas, oil, and industrial process systems.

This article offers a complete guide to balanced valve types, their functions, selection tips, and price overview, along with why Udhhyog is your go-to supplier.

What is a Balanced Safety Relief Valve?

A balanced safety relief valve is a pressure relief device used to protect systems from overpressure while compensating for back pressure through the use of a bellows or diaphragm.

Key Features:

Maintains set pressure even with varying back pressure

Ideal for compressible fluids like gas and steam

Designed with bellows or piston seals to isolate spring chamber

Applications:

Boilers

Pressure vessels

Air compressors

Chemical reactors

What is a Balanced Plug Valve?

A balanced plug valve is a type of valve where internal pressure is equalized across the plug to reduce torque and wear during operation. It provides tight shutoff and easy control.

Key Features:

Low operating torque

Suitable for on/off and throttling services

Common in chemical plants, power plants, and oil terminals

Types of Balanced Safety Relief Valves

🔹 Balanced Bellows Safety Relief Valve

Features a flexible bellows to neutralize back pressure effects

Suitable for corrosive and toxic services

🔹 Pilot-Operated Relief Valve (Balanced Type)

Works under low pressure until the pilot detects overpressure

Ideal for high-capacity applications

🔹 Balanced Spring-Loaded Relief Valve

Uses spring pressure to maintain set point

Isolated spring chamber maintains accuracy

Types of Balanced Plug Valves

🔸 Lubricated Plug Valve (Balanced)

Lubricant layer minimizes torque and wear

Used in hydrocarbon and gas lines

🔸 Non-Lubricated Plug Valve (Pressure Balanced)

Uses pressure-balanced sleeves or elastomers

Maintenance-free and longer lifespan

🔸 Multi-Port Plug Valve (Balanced Type)

Diverts flow between multiple ports

Ideal for manifold systems

Balanced Valve Diagram & Symbol

Balanced Safety Relief Valve Diagram:

Displays inlet, outlet, spring, and bellows/pilot sections

Balanced Plug Valve Diagram:

Shows flow paths, plug rotation, pressure equalization holes

Symbols:

Used in P&ID schematics to identify valve type and function

Balanced Valve Price List – Delhi Market Overview

Valve TypeSize (mm)Price Range (INR)Balanced Safety Relief Valve25–100₹6,000 – ₹15,000Balanced Bellows Relief Valve25–100₹7,500 – ₹18,000Pilot Operated Relief Valve50–200₹15,000 – ₹45,000Lubricated Balanced Plug Valve25–150₹8,000 – ₹20,000Non-Lubricated Plug Valve25–150₹10,000 – ₹25,000Multi-Port Plug Valve50–200₹12,000 – ₹30,000

📌 Note: Prices vary based on pressure class, material (CI, DI, SS, bronze), and end connections. Contact Udhhyog for exact quotations.

Where Are Balanced Valves Used?

🏭 Petrochemical and refineries

🔥 Steam generation plants

🚰 Water supply and treatment systems

🚛 Tanker and oil distribution units

🧪 Pharmaceutical processing plants

Balanced Valve Selection Guide

✅ 1. Determine Application

Use relief valves for pressure safety

Use plug valves for flow diversion and isolation

✅ 2. Confirm Pressure & Temperature

Match valve specs with your system design (PN10, PN16, ANSI, etc.)

✅ 3. Choose the Right Material

CI for general use

DI for high-pressure

SS or bronze for corrosive fluids

✅ 4. Select Valve Type

Bellows for back pressure compensation

Pilot-operated for precision and capacity

Lubricated for low maintenance

✅ 5. Pick a Trusted Manufacturer

Ensure quality, warranty, and performance testing from top brands like Udhhyog

Why Udhhyog – Best Balanced Valve Manufacturer in Delhi

🔧 High-Performance Valves

Engineered for durability, safety, and precision.

📦 Wide Range Available

Stock and supply for 25 mm to 200 mm sizes.

🧪 Tested & Certified

Each valve undergoes hydrostatic and pneumatic testing.

💬 Expert Technical Support

Guidance for system compatibility, sizing, and installation.

🚚 Fast Delivery Across North India

Serving Delhi, Haryana, Punjab, UP, J&K, and Himachal Pradesh.

Conclusion

Balanced safety relief valves and plug valves are vital for maintaining system pressure, safety, and fluid control in complex industrial and commercial systems. With the right valve, you ensure efficiency, longevity, and safety compliance.

Choose Udhhyog, Delhi’s most reliable manufacturer and supplier, for top-quality balanced valves backed by technical support, quick delivery, and competitive pricing.

Contact Udhhyog Today

📞 Call now or Visit Udhhyog Website to request quotes, catalogs, or installation guidance.

[sockethub]

Balanced Safety Relief & Plug Valves – Top Manufacturers & Valve Selection Guide in Delhi

In high-pressure systems, safety, precision, and flow control are critical. That’s where balanced safety relief valves and balanced plug valves come into play. These valves are designed to handle pressure fluctuations, back pressure, and provide consistent performance in demanding environments.

As a trusted valve manufacturer and supplier in Delhi, Udhhyog delivers high-quality, pressure-tested valves suitable for steam, gas, oil, and industrial process systems.

This article offers a complete guide to balanced valve types, their functions, selection tips, and price overview, along with why Udhhyog is your go-to supplier.

What is a Balanced Safety Relief Valve?

A balanced safety relief valve is a pressure relief device used to protect systems from overpressure while compensating for back pressure through the use of a bellows or diaphragm.

Key Features:

Maintains set pressure even with varying back pressure

Ideal for compressible fluids like gas and steam

Designed with bellows or piston seals to isolate spring chamber

Applications:

Boilers

Pressure vessels

Air compressors

Chemical reactors

What is a Balanced Plug Valve?

A balanced plug valve is a type of valve where internal pressure is equalized across the plug to reduce torque and wear during operation. It provides tight shutoff and easy control.

Key Features:

Low operating torque

Suitable for on/off and throttling services

Common in chemical plants, power plants, and oil terminals

Types of Balanced Safety Relief Valves

🔹 Balanced Bellows Safety Relief Valve

Features a flexible bellows to neutralize back pressure effects

Suitable for corrosive and toxic services

🔹 Pilot-Operated Relief Valve (Balanced Type)

Works under low pressure until the pilot detects overpressure

Ideal for high-capacity applications

🔹 Balanced Spring-Loaded Relief Valve

Uses spring pressure to maintain set point

Isolated spring chamber maintains accuracy

Types of Balanced Plug Valves

🔸 Lubricated Plug Valve (Balanced)

Lubricant layer minimizes torque and wear

Used in hydrocarbon and gas lines

🔸 Non-Lubricated Plug Valve (Pressure Balanced)

Uses pressure-balanced sleeves or elastomers

Maintenance-free and longer lifespan

🔸 Multi-Port Plug Valve (Balanced Type)

Diverts flow between multiple ports

Ideal for manifold systems

Balanced Valve Diagram & Symbol

Balanced Safety Relief Valve Diagram:

Displays inlet, outlet, spring, and bellows/pilot sections

Balanced Plug Valve Diagram:

Shows flow paths, plug rotation, pressure equalization holes

Symbols:

Used in P&ID schematics to identify valve type and function

Balanced Valve Price List – Delhi Market Overview

Valve TypeSize (mm)Price Range (INR)Balanced Safety Relief Valve25–100₹6,000 – ₹15,000Balanced Bellows Relief Valve25–100₹7,500 – ₹18,000Pilot Operated Relief Valve50–200₹15,000 – ₹45,000Lubricated Balanced Plug Valve25–150₹8,000 – ₹20,000Non-Lubricated Plug Valve25–150₹10,000 – ₹25,000Multi-Port Plug Valve50–200₹12,000 – ₹30,000

📌 Note: Prices vary based on pressure class, material (CI, DI, SS, bronze), and end connections. Contact Udhhyog for exact quotations.

Where Are Balanced Valves Used?

🏭 Petrochemical and refineries

🔥 Steam generation plants

🚰 Water supply and treatment systems

🚛 Tanker and oil distribution units

🧪 Pharmaceutical processing plants

Balanced Valve Selection Guide

✅ 1. Determine Application

Use relief valves for pressure safety

Use plug valves for flow diversion and isolation

✅ 2. Confirm Pressure & Temperature

Match valve specs with your system design (PN10, PN16, ANSI, etc.)

✅ 3. Choose the Right Material

CI for general use

DI for high-pressure

SS or bronze for corrosive fluids

✅ 4. Select Valve Type

Bellows for back pressure compensation

Pilot-operated for precision and capacity

Lubricated for low maintenance

✅ 5. Pick a Trusted Manufacturer

Ensure quality, warranty, and performance testing from top brands like Udhhyog

Why Udhhyog – Best Balanced Valve Manufacturer in Delhi

🔧 High-Performance Valves

Engineered for durability, safety, and precision.

📦 Wide Range Available

Stock and supply for 25 mm to 200 mm sizes.

🧪 Tested & Certified

Each valve undergoes hydrostatic and pneumatic testing.

💬 Expert Technical Support

Guidance for system compatibility, sizing, and installation.

🚚 Fast Delivery Across North India

Serving Delhi, Haryana, Punjab, UP, J&K, and Himachal Pradesh.

Conclusion

Balanced safety relief valves and plug valves are vital for maintaining system pressure, safety, and fluid control in complex industrial and commercial systems. With the right valve, you ensure efficiency, longevity, and safety compliance.

Choose Udhhyog, Delhi’s most reliable manufacturer and supplier, for top-quality balanced valves backed by technical support, quick delivery, and competitive pricing.

Contact Udhhyog Today

📞 Call now or Visit Udhhyog Website to request quotes, catalogs, or installation guidance.