#mesh sheet machine

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ OVER THE MOON ⠀ ⠀ PROLOUGE ⠀ ⠀ REED RICHARDS A . K . A MR . FANTASTIC / F ! READER⠀⠀

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SUMMARY ⋆ reed richards has caught feelings for his student , making their casual , sexual relationship all the more difficult for himself . WARNINGS ⋆ no powers au / professor ! reed richards / he's divorced :3 / age gap ( reader is early to mid 20s ; reed is in his 40s ) / visualized size difference ; little to none character description aside from this / no smut in this one but it's implied so MDNI ty / lovesick , pining reed richards / just an introduction so more context will come l8r / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 1 . 35 k NOTES ⋆ contributing to the drought of reed richards fics !! enjoy !!

In Reed Richards’ world, the sun rises twice. 

First, at 6 in the morning, when his alarm clock buzzes on the nightstand and years of routine allow the blind reach of one long arm to silence it. Weighing down his other arm is the figure of his dream come true, slumbering, a cherubic delight amongst the cushions and furs encompassing her bare shape. In that moment, he lingers, soothing his hand over the silken expanse of her back, lower, lower, and lower still, alongside her hip, curling his digits to press their tips ever so gently into the plush of her ass, fondling the flesh with care, as to not wake her. The sensation of her under his palm marks her as real, as more than a sick — amatory fantasy of an old man like himself. His fingers travel once more, inwards, dimpling her thigh, so close to heaven itself — she stirs, he retracts his hand, and sighs. A solitary ray of light sneaks in, licks at the curve of her spine just as Reed finds the hem of the blanket and slips it up to her shoulders. 

Winter months don’t mesh with floor to ceiling windows, curtains of thick velvet can only retain so much heat, and a previously excruciating battle is made all the more difficult; it’s impossible enough to withdraw his warm embrace from the object of his yearning, but to do just that, and then press the soles of his feet against ice cold marble floors felt like punishment. Yawning, he heaves himself off the mattress, searches with lazy hands for his pajama bottoms, and after pulling them up his legs, pushing his feet into his slippers, making sure the girl is tucked in — snug, he yanks his knit sweater off the foot of his bed. The lights in the modern, minimalist home click to life, brightening his journey down the stairs and into the kitchen. Everything is on a sensor, finely tuned to his every need. He doesn’t even press a button, yet the coffee begins to brew in its pot; a perfect serving, one mug full. His guest doesn’t drink coffee, but she tries a sip when he asks, adamant on finding a ratio of sugar and creamer that she’d enjoy. In turn, Reed drinks a different flavor on most mornings he shares with her. He’s given up, truth be told, but he occasionally feigns continued effort, all to have her lips grace his mug so he can kiss her with each sip he takes. 

Tea is more her taste. Hot water, a paper tea bag, a pinch of sugar, a splash of milk. Instead of adding a setting to his coffee machine, he makes it by hand, stands above the steaming water and pokes impatiently at the tea bag with a spoon. The goal is to return to his bedroom with a mug in each hand, the brush of his stubble, the tip of his nose tracing the length of her neck, causing her to awaken with soft groans, the sound of giggles once the ticklish feeling truly registers. He doesn’t make it in time to wake her up himself, yet he’s content, beholding the sun as it rises a second time. 

The rustle of blankets, a delicate set of fingers wrinkling his half of the bed, searching for him. There’s a tug at his chest, a call to make everything right, fill his side of the sheets with his frame so that little hand finds just what it seeks, but he waits, watches, and his patience is rewarded by a soft smile as sleepy eyes finally find him, twinkling, taking in his tousled visage with a tenderness that mirrors his own. 

“Tea?” He lifts her mug. It’s the first word he’s spoken, low and thick with sleep, though the smoothness of his charming old school enunciation is permanent no matter how early it is. His slippers carry him across the distance between them as she sits up against the headboard, using a gray fur to modestly cover her chest. Reed doesn’t quite understand why. He’s seen, touched, kissed, licked — tasted every divine inch of flesh, left nothing to the imagination, memorized her very being within all five senses to where seeking her out has become a sixth … and yet, she divides them still. 

“Yes, thank you,” her wobbly morning voice calls him out of his thoughts, her fingers wrap around the mug, and draw it closer to herself. Reed’s large hand shoots out, takes hold of her wrist, pausing her movements altogether. Those big, youthful eyes stare at him expectantly, then shut for a heartbeat and a half when he tilts into her space to press a kiss to her lips. 

“Good morning,” he murmurs, hovering inches away until she repeats it back to him.

“Morning, Reed.” 

He watches her over the rim of his mug through the symphony of sips and sighs, hers rushed, his anything but, slowing down time as best as he could. The first ever morning after, months ago, he’d woken up alone, left with nothing but her scent on his pillow. With each night spent together following that fateful encounter, she granted him more and more time in the mornings; his second sunrise, making him the luckiest man in the cloudy city of Manhattan. 

“Busy day today?” He inquires after his final sip of coffee. His mug is empty, and he plucks hers off the bedside table to finish what remains of her tea, getting in his kisses while she dresses herself on the opposite side of the room. Answering him with an absent nod, she trudges closer, the hem of her navy blue sweater, embroidered with the Columbia University lion, brushing her thighs. His sweater, stolen so long ago that she’s forgotten its origin. 

“Do you see my panties anywhere?” she mumbles the query with utmost bashfulness, as though he wasn’t the one dragging that small strip of cotton down her thighs at sunset. Hooking both mug handles onto his fingers, Reed uses his unoccupied hand to toss the covers around. His search is uninspired, clumsy, but fruitful. Soon enough, that little white piece of fabric dangles from his fingers, a smug grin on his lips. So cute, he thinks to himself as she snatches it away, whispering, “Thank you.” 

Her departure never feels real until she’s near the door, sliding small, socked feet into those damned, convenient, comfy shoes. Gators, or something silly, she calls them, not even allowing Reed the extra couple seconds that it takes to tie a pair of sneakers. 

“ —  you later, then, Reed,” she’s saying, squeezing all two of the large fingers she can easily fit in her hold. He frowns, just ever so slightly, returning the gesture, his hand engulfing hers. With a tug, he leans down, and she rises to her tiptoes to peck the corner of his lips. 

“Later? Are you coming by again tonight?” He asks, sounding embarrassingly hopeful, still holding her hand near his chest, gaze stuck on those soft, plump lips as they part to answer. Her words strike him like a dagger through his heart, the confusion in her voice twisting the god forsaken knife until his ribs are left hollow. A dramatic internal reaction to such a simple sentence. 

“Like, in class.” 

“Oh… of course, sorry. Looks like I’m still waking up. Anyway, are you sure I can't give you a ride? It’s like the dead of winter outside.” How pathetic he must sound, how visible the longing in his brown eyes must be, for she places her palm over his heart, and smiles in a manner that draws the air from his lungs, easing the tenseness of his broad shoulders. 

“Yes, I’m sure. I’ll catch the bus.” Fixing the strap of her bag on her shoulder, she steps backwards past his front door, turning halfway, pausing, then saying: “I’ll call you, and we’ll see about tonight.” 

He nods, the door shuts behind her, and if the world was watching, they’d see the genius Reed Richards break out into a joyfully lovesick dance in his drawing room.

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⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

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TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my fics , pls click this link && fill out the form !! u will be added immediately && get a notif for my next fic !!

[freshstitches]

In my previous post, I talked about the stacked stitch technique and said the idea came from warp knit textiles. I promised to tell you more about these knits so here's some info.

The terms warp and weft come from weaving where they are used to describe vertical and horizontal threads respectively (image 2). As hand knitters, we don't generally use these words in relation to our craft, but they correspond to the 2 primary methods of knit fabric production. In hand knitting and on home machines, yarns travel back and forth across each row horizontally (image 3). This is also called weft knitting.

Warp knitting is a process where yarn travels vertically as the fabric is created (image 4). We, as hobbyists, rarely use this term because it is very tedious to do by hand requiring a knitting loom or a lot of patience. Each needle has its own spool of thread and the width of the fabric is essentially determined by the number of bobbins/spools used. Imagine intarsia, but each color is just one stitch wide. Each thread must constantly zigzag from needle to needle in order to create a sheet of fabric and not a series of disconnected crochet chains. This lateral movement is referred to as "shogging." Threads swing to the front of the needle (overlap) and move one unit to the side then swing behind each needle (underlap) and and move to the side one or more spaces.

Warp knits are known for being sturdier with less elasticity and than weft knits. They can be very dense like stranded colorwork or contain extremely large holes. They do not run or ladder, if a yarn breaks, the fabric will slowly unravel and only a small hole will form. 

As in weft knitting, many different textures and colorwork effects can be created using only a few, basic stitches. Tulle, athletic mesh, and flame stitch (image 1) textiles are all manufactured using warp knitting machines.

The cover photo belongs to the @vamuseum and shows a silk shawl from c.1850. I made the illustrations from scratch and I'm very proud of them, please share them so lots of people see them.

[handweavers]

just mentioned this to someone but if you want to get into papermaking you can make a mould and deckle for really cheap by getting a pair of matching picture frames from a thrift store/dollar store and tightly stapling a sheet of mesh onto one of them like that's literally all it is. and you can make your own pulp with recycled paper incl newspaper and a used blender that you also got from the thrift store/fb marketplace. and you don't need anything fancy to pull the sheets onto you can use cut up t-shirts or a roll of blue shop towels and they can be reused for a long time.

the amount of craft equipment in general that can be (relatively) cheaply diy'd with no noticeable difference between your diy and a purchased product is much greater than you might think tbh. like as a weaver, new bobbin winders are very expensive ($100 minimum) and electric bobbin winders even more ($300+) so i made my own with some hardware and wood from home depot and a sewing machine motor i bought off ebay for like $60 total and it works and looks just like the ones at my school's weaving studio lol.

[januishstory]

If you didn’t grow up in a family with a cook who taught you how to store bacon grease, it might seem like a foreign concept. We clean off all other pan drippings after cooking, so why save these? You're probably well aware of the superpowers of bacon fat, though. Many of our most popular dishes of 2024 feature bacon, and several of our fan-favorite million dollar recipes—named because they taste so rich and delicious—start by cooking bacon, reserving the meat for later, then employing some of the bacon grease to infuse even more flavor into the recipe’s next step. (Want to give this a try? Don’t miss our Million Dollar Tater Tot Casserole, Million Dollar Mashed Potatoes, or Million Dollar Dip.) Even if a portion of the bacon fat is utilized later in the recipe, all of it rarely is. And many times, we’re just cooking bacon for the strips themselves and don’t have any use for the grease immediately. Rather than discarding the extra grease that’s left in the pan, our Test Kitchen and the chefs we spoke to suggest tucking it away for later. Here’s how to store bacon grease, including one essential step that will make your bacon grease stay fresh for as long as possible. Then discover the best (and worst) ways to use bacon grease in brand-new creations. How to Cook Bacon to Be Able to Capture Its Grease Although some folks on social media demonstrate it, we don’t advise air-frying bacon, since the fat can splatter and build up on the interior of the appliance and may lead the machine to smoke. You can also hit the “easy” button and cook bacon in the microwave. However, we recommend doing so between two sheets of paper towel to keep the strips crispy and from splattering—and those towels soak up the fat. Our Test Kitchen has two preferred methods for how to cook bacon in a way that allows you to keep the grease: on the stovetop or in the oven.  To cook bacon on the stove: Line a sheet pan foil and place the wire rack over the foil. Arrange bacon strips on the rack, being careful not to crowd the strips.Bake at 400° F for about 18 to 21 minutes, or until the bacon reaches your desired level of crispiness.Remove the rack and bacon from the pan, and allow the grease to cool for 3 minutes. To cook bacon in the oven: Line a plate with paper towels.Arrange bacon slices in an unheated skillet, being careful not to crowd the strips.Turn on a burner to medium, and cook for 8 to 10 minutes or until your desired doneness, using tongs to turn occasionally.Transfer the bacon to the prepared plate, and allow the grease to cool for 3 minutes. Use your crispy strips in your favorite bacon recipes (might we recommend Chicken Bacon Ranch Casserole or Alice’s Spring Chicken?) and turn your attention to the liquid gold: our grease. Getty Images / VladK213 The No. 1 Step to Help Your Bacon Grease Stay Fresh For As Long As Possible While the bacon grease is warm, but not scorching hot, transfer it to a liquid measuring cup. Into your storage vessel of choice, pour the grease through a fine mesh strainer lined with a coffee filter or cheesecloth to capture any extra bacon bits.  “If you don’t strain your bacon grease, it will cause the fat to turn rancid quicker than normal,” says Justin Harry, executive chef at TradeWinds Resort in St. Pete’s Beach, Florida. How to Store Bacon Grease The best place to store bacon grease is in a wide-mouthed mason jar or a glass food storage container with a lid, because “glass helps reduce the flavor absorption. Plus, it’s safer and easier to heat the bacon grease in the microwave later on, if you like,” says Sarah Brekke, M.S., Better Homes & Gardens Test Kitchen brand manager. Once you have your strained bacon grease in your glass storage container or jar, allow it to cool to room temperature, then press a layer of plastic wrap on top of the grease. Add the lid. While you can keep it on your counter, bacon grease will last much longer if you store your bacon grease in a fridge set to USDA’s safe refrigerator temp range of 32° to 40° F. “When you're using your grease, remove what you need for your recipe, then put it back into the fridge quickly. There is no need to let it soften first, just scoop it out,” suggests Jason Morse, the Highlands Ranch, Colorado-based chef-owner of Chef J BBQ Provisions and national spokesperson for Ace Hardware. “The more you soften and chill it again and again, the shorter the shelf life will be.” Can You Freeze Bacon Grease? You bet. Instead of straining your grease into a glass vessel, Harry recommends pouring it into a silicone ice cube tray. Freeze the grease until it is solid, then pop out the cubes and place them in a freezer-safe zip-top storage bag. Label with the name and date, and keep at or below 0° F, the USDA advises. How Long Does Bacon Grease Last When stored according to the recommendations above, bacon grease will last: On the counter: About 1 week In the refrigerator: About 3 monthsIn the freezer: 6 to 12 months  How to Use Bacon Grease in Cooking (Plus a Few Recipes to Avoid) Think of bacon grease like lard’s smokier, statement-making cousin. Technically, you can use bacon grease in any recipe that calls for butter, oil, or shortening, Harry says. But it can be helpful to brainstorm dishes in which the rich flavor and smoky quality will be a delight rather than a drawback. “Avoid recipes where the bacon flavor would not mesh well,” Brekke notes. “Many desserts [like pastries or vanilla cake], seafood, stir-fries, or lighter-flavored items could get overpowered by the bacon flavor.” On the flip side, our chefs agree that these are some of the best uses for bacon grease: Use it to fry or scramble eggs Add it to biscuit dough or cornbread Try it to kick off a fried rice recipe Use it to fry chicken Melt it as the cooking fat for popcorn Employ it in soups like Copycat Zuppa Toscana Soup or Cheesy Beer and Bacon Soup Toss it with roasted potatoes Scoop some into a skillet to set the tone for sautéed vegetables Use it instead of butter to crisp up the exterior of your next grilled cheese Add it to refried beans Try it instead of butter or oil in roux Get adventurous and use it to replace a small portion of the butter in your next brownie or chocolate chip cookie recipe Source link

[transhuman-priestess]

Having your nervous system wired into some heavily modified piece of surplus military equipment.

The old heavy duty hull now studded with optical systems and sensory mesh, form factor unfamiliar to a mind used to upright bipedal movement.

Part of the camera array is installed inside the turret. You can see what's left of your human body, an upper torso split open between the shoulder blades and bound almost artfully to the wall, exposed spine wrapped in sterile plastic sheeting and plugged into a brain machine interface. Ocular nerves spliced to the main gun's targeting system.

Some of the sensory suite is installed inside, too, so you can feel your heavily modified crew crawling around the compartment to do some final checks.

It feels like they're walking around in your ribcage.

Something like hunger tells you they haven't fueled you up just yet.

The emergency stop on the autoloader gives you... another feeling. You need them to turn it on.

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this feels unfinished but I'll hit send anyways or else I never will. hope you like it.

Thank you so much nonny. This is one of the best one of these i've gotten <3

[justicepuppet]

He had spotted the motorcycle at an auto-shop that he was mostly positive was a cover for a chop-shop; Akechi had gone here a few times before to meet up with the Cleaner Shido worked with, which meant there was a connection to some other organizations he was better off avoiding. And he would, except for a sudden impulse he found he didn't wake to shake off. He was eighteen, he had a license (not for a motorcycle but he could worry about that later), and he wanted - needed - something to pick at.

Sojiro had been less than pleased when the damaged bike had been delivered into the back-alley behind the cafe. Something about it being bad for business, though he couldn't really explain why since it wasn't going to be where any customer could see it. That didn't stop him from staring at the machine with an expression of worry and resignation. Disapproval too, likely.

"... just don't get yourself killed."

-- worry hadn't been in his bingo sheet.

It had been dropped off at the end of April, and by mid-May a make-shift garage had been put together, complete with stretched out tarps on both the ground and suspended to keep tools and machinery alike protected from the weather, and a small temporary 'cage' put in place with wire meshing to make sure no one could steal it. It'd be easy enough, but it was still just a piece of junk, and it was well known that it would earn the ire of the disgraced Detective Prince. Not worth it for the reward.

It was an old Kawasaki, and it didn't run, and he had no idea how to even start. But he had plenty of free time outside of work and he needed a distraction, so why not spend it pouring over manuals for the bike and read up on common errors and how to take it apart and maybe put it together.

The issue was surprisingly simple, and the main reason it had been placed as scrap was the fact that it was just ugly, covered in rust and most of the paint chipped off. Also likely stolen, but that wasn't his issue. A few parts needed to be ordered, pieces replaces here and there. Spark plugs, brake pads - nothing that he wasn't able to read up on how to do, though that didn't necessarily mean he should have been the one to handle it.

And it was mid-July when it was fully running.

[desperatefunproductions]

The Great Satisfactory State of Play April 2025 #3

Rocky Desert Phase 4 Factories

So we went to the Dune Desert to pay one last visit to Factory Town before it gets destroyed; we popped into the Northern Forest to visit the Phase 2 factories; and now we're about to zip into the Rocky Desert to have a gander at the Phase 3 rigmarole.

And here we are on the natural bridge that connects Northern Forest to Rocky Desert. In the distance, we can see several factories, two of which feed the reactor on the opposite side of the big rock tower. So we travel west, then up the slope...

And here we have an open air silica and quickwire factory. The golden wire is crapped out in the foreground; silica is made down the back.

And where does the raw quartz come from to feed the machine? Well...

It comes from the bottom floor of the steelworks immediately below us, since the reactor doesn't use all that much silica, and I have more than enough being belted from deep within the immense cave that spans the entire width of this biome. It was a cinch to add a splitter and get that sorted!

Iron plate, silica, steel beams go out past the encased industrial beam factory in the distance, which adds much needed EIBs to the feed. Without these, the reactor stops hard.

An early WIP shot of the reactor. Obviously it's an uranium reactor, that also makes plutonium fuel rods for recycling. This was before I added the assemblers and manufacturers needed to finish that job. But that was then...

...this is now. The quickwire and silica are trained down this line to the far distant factory on the shoreline. But there's a factory closer, and newer, and it's the best example of my idea of the Stack. Shall we have a closer look?

That box in the foreground is from a mod, that allows you to tap power from train lines without needing a station. The modernist thing on the left is the caterium smeltery. That's all it does. So we skip that and hover along the power line to the skeletal one behind it. That's the Stack for electromagnetic control rods.

The idea of the Stack is simple. Each floor is dedicated to a single step in the manufacturing process. I tend to forget that because compactness. In the distant left, foundries and smelters feed copper and iron into the Stack.

Ground floor, iron and copper ingot arrival, copper sheet making. Please mind your step as getting bowled from stepping on the belts may offend (they're sent to one corner.) Going up.

Belt bridge porn. Where was I? Oh yes.

Second floor, copper wire. Note that my prefabs for 8 constructors are actually 4x4 rather than 5x5, which I use for the assemblers further up. Step to the rear of the car please.

Third floor, quickwire extrusion. This setup with the mesh flooring (from a mod) actually works quite well as it offers plenty of space for in- and output belting. Everybody up!

Fourth floor, iron pipe manufacture. With this half-floor we see one flaw of the Stack concept, if you consider empty floor space a flaw. And now we have to step outside the concrete pillar framework to look into the next floor up.

Fifth floor, AI limiters and stators. Yes, on the same floor, because it occurred to me that there was no logical reason to put them on separate floors. But now I wonder if another half-floor would have been so bad. Stators in back, AI limiters in front.

The prefabs include built-in logistics floors, and conveyor supports for the inputs, assuming everything, er, enters the same way. And those go up to...

Top floor, ECR final join and dispatch. I have kluged up two drone ports at the reactor to receive these, and also supply said drones with fuel rods for plenty of power.

So that's my first true Stack! So what came before?

This is what came before: This damnable thick square building that makes parts for and does final join on modular engines and adaptive control units. On top are five drone ports. One receives fuel for the others. The two we can see receive smart plating and automated wiring. And there's that train station at the bottom of a rather entertaining ramp. Let's look inside.

Cool! We have a satellite HUB terminal (from a mod), and all other mod cons! Not to mention well-lit, at least in these lower floors, I skipped lighting as I went up and got impatient.

So many foundries and coated iron plate assemblers. Oh, and steel beam constructors.

I can't wait for the day when 1.1 is made mod friendly. This form of compact vertical transport is... well, it's not the going-up, it's the going-down. A 20m drop is hair-raising.

Silicon circuit boards and so, so many screws. There's about eight belts of them going up the south wall.

And this is where everything ends up: the roof. That building in the centre is where all the spaghet for dispatching the Phase 3 goods and receiving Phase 2 is. And dispensing fuel. And feeding the sink. While we're up here, let's look around:

So many miners! Copper, iron, limestone, it's all here and all getting exploited a mile into the ground.

In back of the tower are the wet concrete refineries on the left, and the steamed copper sheet works. These were difficult to make, since I was, apparently, right on the edge of where I could place water extractors.

The mighty metal-roofed motor factory system! In the back, the double A-frame houses the solid steel ingot foundries; each different roofline indicates a separate stage of motor production. Copper ingots are belted in to a wire factory in the foreground.

The ground floor is marked with a coloured floor and path patterns, to highlight where you can walk from one end of Rocky Desert Motors to the other.

All of these constructors are making screws. All 64 of them. So. Many. Screws. If I didn't know any better, I'd think I was running Satisfactory+.

And here we have a distant shot of the abominations I made on the West Coast. There's a basic aluminium ingot factory, spagged to a hastily made heat sink factory and fuel packing plant, and also a massive refinery for making residual rubber and plastic to feed the tower. Coke, rubber and plastic are supplied by train, obviously. There's also a little fuel power plant that I really need to either redo or replace.

Actually this whole shebang desperately needs reworking. If I can rework the plant to make recycled rubber and plastic, that should improve output immensely.

Aaand that's where I am right now. In my pad of Warwick 14J5 I have a plan for a grid system that I can use to rebuild Factory Town... but first I have some more damned mining to do. I promised my passengers I'd have them in the North America Nebula by Easter.

Also, over Easter and possibly starting Wednesday, I'm going to reset Windows and see if that fixes the stability issues I've been having while streaming. Which means ensuring all my documents are backed up. So excuse me, I have to take my Type 8 Ye Olde Rock Thudder out to do just that...

[airplanned]

Healing of the Ocean

It's bittersweet and healing when Yona takes the Sheikah tech away.

Onshot. Yona-centric. 1,800 words. Rated E for everybody. Not betaed, we die like men

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The Eastern cliffs of Hyrule rose even higher than Yuna remembered, jutting straight upward hundreds of feet.  She found it so strange and wonderful that the Zora of Hyrule could remove themselves so thoroughly from the ocean.  It seemed they enjoyed their rivers and lakes, their water so bright and airy compared to her own home on the ocean floor.  Her memories of visiting Zora's domain as a child were of sweeping arches and walkways that glowed a lovely blue and seemed to defy gravity.

Such a different way to live!  The world certainly was full of marvels, and she was lucky enough to behold a small fraction of them.

Their navigator swept their ship south, and Yona watched as the cliffs gradually lowered and flattened until they were finally able to turn in at a bay.  A pair of Hylian lookouts caught sight of them at the bay's mouth, waving their arms in greeting before remembering to switch to a large flag to wave them in.  Yona laughed and waved back, as did the rest of her delegation.  Their first look at the good people they had come to aid.

Although the dock was clearly hastily made, it bustled with activity.  The Hyruleans had seemed to have no idea of the size or construction of the Zora ships--the long, cutting catamarans, the wide flat deck with holes to drop down into the water for a swim, or the tiered layers of wide, short sails.  But their engineers had clearly paid close attention to the designs that were sent to them, and the dock suited perfectly.  Behind the dock, the beach quickly turned into a stretch of flat grassland on which they were gathering the machines.  The long legs of squid-like guardians dangled out of the back of horse-drawn carts.  Piles of toppled turrets.  Great, curved sheets of mesh.  Swirls of tan rock like mast-heads.  Slabs of stone with constellations dotted across them.  And above them all loomed the Divine Beast that she'd seen only in sketches.  

The elephant knelt on the ground, its trunk lifted, one side completely removed to show the interior like a giant's doll house.  People scurried over it, lowering heavy devices from inside with a crane controlled by a team of Gorons.

Yona had read the letters, of course, but to see the extent of it all with her own eyes took her breath away.  There were so many machines.

Her mind raced with images of the reefs that would grow over the guardian's husks, coral wedging into the crevasses in vibrant colors that maintained the original swirls.  She could picture the towers they could build from the strange stone that could withstand the pressures of the sea floor.  In her mind, she saw a city of domes and arches, with schools of fish shimmering as they circled the minarets.

She barely pulled her eyes away as she and her delegation stepped off the ship, and she pulled herself into the present to greet the approaching welcome party.  At the front was a short blond woman, who Yona knew must be the Princess Zelda with whom she had exchanged so many letters.  Beside her was a stooped Zora with a sting ray countenance, who beamed at her with rheumy eyes, and a woman with white hair and bright red glasses, her lips pinched in worry.

"Your Highness," Zelda greeted, pressing her hand to her chest and bowing her head in the traditional greeting of Yona's people.  "Our warmest welcome to Hyrule."

"My dear Princess Zelda, I'm delighted to be here."

"I hope your journey was not too strenuous."

"Not at all.  The weather was pleasant and your country is as beautiful as I remember it."  She looked around to the distant mountains and grinned.

"Thank you."  They fell into step together, heading away from the ship and towards the machines.  

The Zora man hurried to her side, "Lady Yona, surely you would like to see where you're staying first?  We've made arrangements for a private area for you and your countrymen."  She was prepared for accommodations on land, but he pointed towards a kind of pagoda built over the water.  The pillars and roof were wood, but a wall of machine parts had been sunk into the water around it as a wave break.  How delightful!  "King Dorephan was adamant that you receive a feast.  Hearty Hylian bass, delicate snails steamed in lotus blossoms."

Yona laughed.  "That is all amazing!  You and your king are too kind. I am beyond grateful.  But...if we have to walk past the machines, it seems silly not to see them first.  I'll tell you truely, I have heard so much about them that I can hardly contain my suspense."  

Her mother had warned her not to be over eager about the devices.  This was a somber occasion, and there might as yet still be grumblings about handing them over.  The queen felt that they should act as if they were doing the Hyruleans a humble favor and downplay any advantage they received from the agreement. 

But Yona could tell from Princess Zelda's letters that she had a deep fondness for the machines, and Yona was certain it would put the Hylian monarch's mind at ease if she conveyed a true appreciation for the gift.

Her honest interest paid off because the Hylian princess gave the machines her own warm smile.  A bit sad.  A bit proud.  Understandable considering all the mixed emotions.

"Of course," she said.  "You can see that Vah Ruta has already arrived.  But she didn't have to travel far.  You can see her resting place from here. We only had to bring her down the cliff and across the river."  Zelda pointed at a plateau across the way.  "Vah Naboris is on a barge on her way here as we speak.  We expect her in another few days, but she will take extensive dismantling because of all the electricity.  She would be the greatest safety hazard to your people.  Vah Rudania is more difficult to transport, and the Gorons have a plan to bring her mostly over land.  And then the Rito have no choice but to dismantle Vah Medoh and bring her peace-meal.  Most of her left wing is over there."  She pointed at a distant pile of the strange rock.

"Such industriousness," Yona said.

"Yes," Zelda said.  "In all our rebuilding efforts, it seems the only thing everyone can agree upon is that we want the Sheikah technology gone."

"Only because it stopped working," the white haired woman muttered.

As expected, not everyone was happy to see the machines gone.

Yona pretended she hadn't heard, and Zelda did as well.

She paused next to a pile of the squid-like machines--guardians--and hauled one around so Yona could see inside.  She barely touched it before five workers ran over to do it for her.  "We removed the interior wiring, and we have a plan to clean everything of contaminants before you bring them into the water."

"Excellent."

Apparently a large part of the negotiations for the machines was that most of the technology--inert as it was--would be removed first, so that the Zora would not be able to reverse engineer them as weapons.  Yona did not care about the weapon technology.  It sounded frightful and as if it appealed to a person's greatest vices.  But then her country was not as consistently plagued by magical evil as Hyrule was, and she could not begrudge their attempts to defend themselves.  Such defenses would have no use in her homeland.  No, Yona simply wanted the raw materials to fabricate new structures.  Until recently, their city was a marvel, but a typhoon five years ago dashed their palace and swept away their homes.  With a lack of materials, people had taken to living in sunken ships like scavengers and squabbling over what remained of the reef.  Many left for warmer shores.  

They needed to reclaim their former stability and prosperity.

Princess Zelda led her to the kneeling elephant, where she watched in fascination as the Gorons lifted out a machine that must way several tons, carrying it through the air on pulleys without even the help of the ocean's buoyancy.  "Our engineers will explain the pumping systems to you and your people."

Yona was diplomatic enough to smile and say a simple, "Thank you.  Such technological advancements will be a great help to my people."

Vah Ruta was another source of strife.  This time among the Hyruleans, because it seemed the Zora claimed ownership of Vah Ruta and wanted to give the Divine Beast to the ocean Zora regardless of its military capabilities.  Perhaps because of its military capabilities.  The rest of the Hyruleans thought the weapons should be destroyed forever, all the races of Hyrule jointly surrendering their claims.  There was no word for weeks while the people of Hyrule debated among themselves, and then the ocean Zora were informed of the compromise: that they would receive Vah Ruta with her water pumps and ice-creating abilities in tact, but the lasers and the ability for it to rain ice shards from the sky would be removed.

What a difficult situation for Hyrule.  And for them to turn on each other at such a difficult junction was sad to see, and yet it strengthened her heart to see that they were able to come to an agreement in the end.  Hopefully they could continue to stand together.

"Ho there!"

They turned to see a Zora man trotting towards them, covering a great deal of ground in easy bounds because he was so very tall.  The strength of his form and the ferocity of his shark countenance were balanced by the delicacy of his attire, and when he flashed a shining grin at her, any trepidation she felt at addressing someone so very large vanished.

"My lady Yona," he said, pressing his hand to his heart and bowing.  "Please forgive my late arrival."

"May I present Prince Sidon," Princess Zelda said, and Yona gasped.

"But you were so small the last time we met!" Indeed, he'd been a head shorter than her and a bit round. 

He threw back his head and laughed, and such a sound was something worth cherishing.  "Indeed!  Has the princess shown you Vah Ruta?  Although she was put to ill intentions, she is a marvel.  In the end she was our defender, and my sister loved her dearly.  Despite that, we must see her go so our people can heal.  I feel secure entrusting her to your capable hands."

"I swear to you that we will take excellent care of her, and treat her with all honor and love."

"My deepest thanks," he said, and the sincerity in that statement was enough to banish any doubts she may have had.  This was right.  With this they could find healing.

[rachellaurengray]

15 DIY Halloween Decorations for Outdoor Fun

Spooky Silhouettes: Cut out spooky shapes from black cardboard and hang them in windows.

Ghost Lanterns: Use white balloons with LED lights inside to create floating ghost lanterns.

Pumpkin Planters: Hollow out pumpkins and use them as planters for fall flowers.

Hanging Bats: Cut bat shapes from black cardstock and hang them from trees.

Creepy Tombstones: Make tombstones from foam or wood and paint them with funny or spooky epitaphs.

Mason Jar Jack-o’-Lanterns: Paint jars orange and add faces for cute lanterns.

Spider Wreath: Create a wreath using faux spiders and black mesh.

Witch’s Cauldron: Fill a black cauldron with dry ice for a bubbling effect.

Scarecrow: Dress up a scarecrow with old clothes and a pumpkin head.

Monster Feet: Create large monster feet from cardboard and place them around your yard.

Hanging Ghosts: Use white sheets to make ghost figures and hang them from trees.

Skeleton Decorations: Position skeletons in fun poses around your yard.

Fog Machine: Use a fog machine to create a spooky atmosphere.

Candy Corn Banner: Make a colorful banner using candy corn cutouts.

Light-Up Pumpkins: Carve pumpkins and place LED lights inside for a glowing effect.

These creative ideas will surely impress your guests this Halloween!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Meteor Shower (Part 8)

If you want to get a sense of what Icy was going through you can open one youtube tab and type in ‘Screaming Dead - Night Creatures 12''(1983) side A’ and then open a second tab and copy & paste ‘[FULL ALBUM] f(x) - Electric Shock (2nd Mini Album) [HQ Audio + DLs]’ into the search bar. Hit play on both videos one after the other. Turn both up full blast (optional). You can also type in ‘Argument Ambience - Courtyard, Angry People, Yelling | ASMR’ for added torment. And that’s just about what Icy was enduring. You’re welcome or I’m sorry.

If she has to hear one more MeTor song, she is going to lose it. That ridiculous fairy won’t stop! And Stormy…that dull-minded dolt! Good music loses all of its appeal when it is warring for dominance with poppy drum machines. It ceases to have any appeal at all, instead becoming part of the chaos, part of the problem, one horrid mesh of clashing drums beats and vocal types that should never mix. Lyrics that don’t go together in the slightest and are terribly out of sync. A migraine inducing, ear bleeding mashup on par with low quality, old internet videos made by some pre-teen who dweeb dead in the middle of their ‘I’m so random phase’, who hadn’t been bullied enough.

Evidently this amalgamation is worse. 

Much worse. Between those warring lyrics that don’t go together whatsoever are shouts and grumbles; 

“Turn it down! This music is shit!” 

Stormy’s voice is beginning to take on the cadence of nails on a chalkboard.

“No you turn your music down! It’s depressing.” 

Stella’s voice has always had that effect. Doubly so with the MeTor girls providing her with backing vocals. 

“All of you shut the hell up!”

And Darcy isn’t helping at all. 

She is going to puncture her own eardrums. That would be more pleasant. Infinitely more pleasant. The urge to shout her own demand for all of them to shut up is overwhelming but she can’t allow herself to become part of the chaos. Her phone, however, has no qualms about adding its own noise. Suddenly she regrets having a song as her ringtone. 

Icy buries her face in her hands, massaging her throbbing temples with her thumbs. And her phone keeps ringing. Again and again and again and again…

It stops ringing and then it starts ringing all over again. 

And Darcy screams for Stormy and Stella to be quiet so she can concentrate on her spellwork. And Musa turns up the music because she can’t hear it over them. And Stormy turns up her music because she has to drown out the sunshine and perkiness. And Bloom is screeching at the top of her lungs just to be a complete menace. 

And Icy…

Icy is going insane. 

Absolutely batshit insane. 

Had she the sense or the peace of mind to do so, she would whip out that rule sheet and add a whole slew of new rules pertaining to music and aux cord privileges. All of which are about to be revoked. Evidently she is on the verge of making a ‘no music allowed unless it’s on stage’ rule. 

After giving her face a frustrated rub, Icy stands up and fetches herself a drink. Hard liquor, the kind that will hit quick. She kicks the door to their tour bus open and curses the universe for allowing the Winx tour bus to break down in the middle of the road as she steps out onto the rest stop sidewalk. 

She finds herself a picnic table in the shade and sits atop it with her legs spread and her feet resting on the bench. With  a bottle in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She wonders how long it’ll take for some busy body to come out and tell her that she can’t do that here with some dramatic gestures to the no smoking sign that she sits beneath. 

In her pocket, Icy feels her phone vibrate against her hip. Silencing it wasn’t good enough, she should have left the damn thing on the bus with the rest of the noise. She takes a long drag from her cigarette before putting it out on the tabletop. She answers her phone with a gruff, “what?”

“Afternood, Icy.” His voice is low and velvety, calm and even. And the sound of it drives her madder than any of the grating sounds that she has just escaped. “How is the tour going.”  He asks as though he hadn’t wanted damn near two weeks to call her.

“Oh it’s going fantastic.” She hisses. “Just fuckin’ perfect.”  So damn great that the Trix’s crowd is beginning to thin. So incredibly wonderful that there probably won’t be a witch in the crowd by the end of it. 

“You guys actually went through with it.” He comments. “Touring with the Winx.” He gives a low whistle. “I don’t think that the Wizards would have been brave enough to collaborate with the Specalists.”

Icy gives an indignant sniff, “ the Wizards weren’t even brave enough to tour with the Trix.” She tosses her bottle back and clunks it back onto the picnic table. “Embarrassing.” But no more than the shitshow that she is apparently running. 

She can’t say that she looks forward to preforming anymore. She isn’t exactly the sensitive sort, the type to be prone to ruminating on insults and mockery. She isn’t often ruffled by scrutinizing stares—she has been well and desensitized to all of that.But she swears that her witch audience is judging her for allowing this duo headline to happen. And it is starting to wear on her. Whittle away at what she had thought to be an impeccable sense of self-esteem. She has worked hard to craft this image for herself and now it is all falling apart. She could have just put on a longer show, just the Trix and no opener. She is so stupid. She should have thought of that earlier. A complete idiot. 

“You’re still mad at me.” 

“Two weeks. You haven’t called in two weeks.” 

“Because I knew that you were mad at me!” He accuses and not wrongly.

“Correct.” She confirms. 

“Well maybe I didn’t fancy getting yelled at.”

Icy rolls her eyes. “We’re several sentences in and I haven’t done it yet.” 

“But you’ve already insulted me at least twice. And you’ve got that tone.” 

“What tone, Darko!? What fucking tone!?” 

“You know the one.” He insists. “And you’re yelling at me now.”

“I know pixies that are less emotional and sensitive than you.” 

“Three times.”

“Three times?”

“You’ve insulted me three times now.” He pauses. “At least.” 

For the love of darkness! She should have just stayed on that bus and endured. Suddenly the sound of three songs playing over one another and the shouting seems quite soothing on the ears. “You’ve said something worth insulting three times now.”

“Ya know what?” Darko asks. “I’m done.” 

“Done?” She quirks a brow. 

“Done doing this.” 

“Then hang up the phone and call me back two weeks from now.” 

“I’m going to hang up the phone, Icy.” He replies. “But I’m not going to call you back. I don’t want you to call me again either.” 

She hears the phone click before she can get another word out. She curls her fingers more tightly around her phone, lest she chuck it clear across the rest stop. She picks up the bottle and finishes it off. By the time she sees fit to stumble her way back up the tour bus stairs, the drink has put a spin in her head. 

With any luck she’ll pass out relatively quickly, before the musical chaos can resume. 

Icy is not a particularly lucky person, the voices of Kyanite and Diamond follow her into the darkness. And she hears that horrid tangle of cutesy pop and dismal death rock in her dreamscape. 

It is the soundtrack to her suffering.

.oOo.

Why her? 

The question never seems to leave her mind these days. Everything she does is followed by that question. Why her? 

When she releases a new song. Why her?

When Valtor buys her a new dress to wear. Why her?

When she gets her paycheck and it is substantial. Why her?

When Valtor tells her that she is pretty—sexy even. Why her? 

She concludes that it is because she is easy—easy to manipulate and easy to exploit and he does so expertly. He tells her that it will be worth it in the end, that they just need to change one or two more things and then she will be perfect, and then she will be richer than she can imagine richer and well respected. A far cry for the loser in her high school yearbook photo. No one will be able to walk all over her ever again. 

No one but him. 

Today he has decided that her cheeks, the cheeks had only recently caressed and complimented are still too chubby for his liking, that the diets haven’t been working properly. He holds her head in his grasp and tilts it from side to side, humming and clicking in disapproval. “No, this won’t do at all.”

Kyanite’s stomach drops in unison with her head. 

“We’re trying to get rid of that innocent image of yours. That is terribly hard to accomplish when you still have this softness about you.” He pauses. “You have these doey eyes too. We might be able to fix that with makeup.”

“I don’t need surgery.” She mutters. She doesn’t want it either. 

Didn’t want it. The doubt is beginning to settle in. 

“It will only be this once.” He promises

“I can’t afford it.”

Valtor chuckles. “My treat, dear.” He pours himself a glass of white wine and stirs it so that the ice clicks and settles. “As usual.”

“What if it goes wrong?” She has seen pictures. Heard plenty of stories. Diamond’s friend…Kyanite shudders…Diamond’s poor friend. Those before and after photographs had haunted her for quite some time. Now and then it would be swapped out for one of the others that she and MeTor had browsed through as part of their vow to never cave to the pressure and get plastic surgery. They had all promised each other. A MeTor promise. 

She is no longer part of MeTor…

He waves her concerns away with a lazy hand gesture. “Then we’ll find someone who can do the job better and they’ll fix you right up.” He pauses for a sip. “But you won’t have to fret over that, my dear. I’ve booked you an appointment with the best.”

“You’ve already booked it!?” 

“Well we want you recovered before your next photoshoot. The sooner the better.”

“Right. Of course.” It is hard to choke the words out with such a large lump in her throat. She will be better after this, she tells herself. Valtor has only ever improved her. Has only ever lifted her to a higher point in life. And this is simply the next level. All of those photos showcasing swollen eyes and lumpy cheeks, they are the outliers. Uploaded for shock value and a means to deter girls like her. They don’t want to share their beauty. 

But Valtor wants her to be beautiful. 

And she wants to be beautiful. 

For him or for herself, she cannot tell…

And so she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. She will get in the car and she will do it without complaint. Her hands are shaking and her stomach has skipped that gentle flutter, opting instead to feel downright queasy. But Kyanite is Valtor’s shooting star, his sun and moon. He wouldn’t open her up to something that would ruin her. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

Aside from ruining her friendships. 

And her sense of self.

[artsharish]

Our Old house

I have been emotional, and it happens when you know that you are going out of the country, away from your family, friends. And most importantly I happen to remember our old house or the first own house of my father. All this culminated from a dream I had of visiting it. It has been almost 33 years since we left it and moved to a smaller house, an apartment precisely.

So just like that, I took some time off and went to the place. My dad inquired about where am I going but, I kept it personal and I am pretty sure that like me, he would have gone there many times just to see it, how looks like now.

A blast of memories struck me as soon I entered the locality. I remember searching its roof whenever I passed by the road just behind it so that I can get glimpses of it. Nostalgia was all over, the moment I entered the ‘not so wide lanes and abbeys’ it reminded me of our days in this house, the locality like a projection of a film. The abbey where I played while still as a small kid of 3 years. The first friend I made everything was going in frames in front of me.

Slowly and step by step I moved towards our old home, line by line, house by house, house of our neighbours where we played hide and seek appeared first. In my mind I see them, their small rooms and rickety old furniture. I remember their faces, young at those times, their relatives, and their long and odd names.

I looked up, the gali has changed, the old buildings have vanished and taken over by tall new buildings of aesthetics and colours. The simplicity is gone and paved way for commercialization.

The charpoys where our neighbours used to sit and talk have vanished. The bonhomie and chats have now gone. They say people don’t mingle like earlier days; the tall buildings have made difficult for their hearts to get connected. It is harsh I know, how simple people become sophisticated with money and power.

And finally, I saw it. Standing as we left it, in a dilapidated state, but it looks all the same. The home we used to see in old photos, our first home was in front of me like a living legend. The grey coloured grained-gravel walls ‘so that we don’t have to waste money in repainting’, seems to have stood the test of time. It was like traversing through a time machine in the era of black and white. There were colours at that time too but not that prominent, may be the population at that time was not much aligned to the aesthetics but to the humane values. Nowadays the homes have colours but not values.

The rectangular window overseeing the gali was still visible but blocked with bricks.The entrance to Staircase and the channel guarding the staircase was still in place. I remember how the mesh of the channel amused me and it might have been the very first shape which caught my attention. I never till now knew why I had a liking to shapes and building but who knows the channel might have the starting point. I saw a lemon and chilli hung on its head, like sermonising that the place still have its current resident living in it.

I remained seized; a glimpse of the door made me emotional. The door looked the same, the colour is same pitch blue. The years of paint might have made several coats on it but I know inside it, is a barren iron door. Soft it would have been on inside, like how we all pretend to be the strongest of men but, we are all weak from are inside. We all try to look strong, but we know that somewhere within us is that soft part which weeps when we go away from our parents, our brothers, and sisters. We all go away, leave our houses and parents, friends.

My dad left his village to earn here in Delhi. He came with just the clothes he was wearing and one sheet to cover himself in night. He left his parents in village where they waited for him to come, day and night. Likewise, I am too travelling to Paris this time on official posting. I can’t imagine how my parents would have been feeling and I guess it might be the same how parents of my father might have felt. No matter how happy we look when we talk on video calls, I know they pretend to be strong but, on the inside, they just want me to be with them.

The door has been the witness over the years, the day my father bought this home after almost years of savings and loans. I can’t imagine how light he might have felt after getting it. He was newly married and getting own roof over the head might have been his utmost priority.

The door saw my father working day and night to make ends meet. And the Door saw the day I was born in this home early morning of 24th July 1987, took my first step on the earth and spoke my first word. It would have witnessed the joy and happiness of being the first born of the family. The door was privy to the festivals and tragedies of our family. It saw my mother making bindies and kids clothes to support her husband. It kept the memories of semblance of our friends and relatives, and it also saw breaking up of our joint family into smaller factions. And finally, it saw us leaving it behind, in search of a better house and a better future.

The house is privy to what I see the phenomenon of social change in India when the joint families broke up into smaller nuclear families. Why we went out is surely a story for another time but leaving the house that time did anger me as a small kid, and I used to think it was a Himalayan blunder committed by my father. But as I grew up, I understood his side of the story, why he took up to stay away from his brothers and parents.

It also reminded me of our companions, friends which we leave behind and the ones who left us behind too, in search of better life, the ones which were once important to us in the bygone eras but have limited value now.

All this while I kept thinking that Is it the fact of life that when we rise up we lose friends and family? The same was the condition of door.

I somehow felt like the Door is speaking to me and complaining.

“Finally! You have come to meet me after 33 year, I have been waiting for you to come back since you left”.

I looked at it and stumbly replied to in my head as a teardrop pickled out of my eyes and I humbly wiped it of before anyone else could see it. I said to it and in my heart.

“I am thankful to you, Oh door, for being the keeper of our memories and the part of my life”

I promised to it that the life lesson which it gave me today will be dear to my heart, wherever I go. I will not leave my friends and family. I will be in touch and I will keep coming back to see you, oh door!

[unitedsteelsupplies]

Affordable Steel Supply in NYC: Reliable Materials at the Right Price

If you're searching for affordable steel supply in NYC, you're not alone. From high-rise construction projects in Manhattan to custom fabrication shops in Brooklyn and Queens, New York City’s demand for structural and industrial steel is constantly growing. Finding cost-effective, high-quality steel suppliers can make or break your project timeline and budget.

Whether you're a contractor, architect, facility manager, or metal fabricator, sourcing steel from a trusted local provider ensures better pricing, quicker delivery, and expert customer service—without compromising quality.

Why Choose a Local Steel Supplier in New York City?

Purchasing steel locally offers several key advantages:

✅ Faster Delivery Times

Avoid shipping delays by working with NYC steel suppliers who offer same-day or next-day delivery within the five boroughs.

✅ Lower Transportation Costs

Reduce logistical costs by choosing a steel yard or warehouse that’s near your job site in Manhattan, Brooklyn, the Bronx, Queens, or Staten Island.

✅ In-Person Material Selection

See the inventory firsthand and ensure it meets your specifications—whether you need hot-rolled steel, cold-rolled steel, or stainless steel sheets.

✅ Custom Cutting & Fabrication Services

Many affordable NYC steel suppliers offer in-house cutting, bending, and welding services tailored to your project needs.

Types of Steel Available at Affordable Prices

The best budget-friendly steel supply companies in NYC offer a wide range of materials for all types of projects, including:

🏗️ Structural Steel (I-beams, HSS, angles, channels)

🧱 Rebar and Mesh (for concrete reinforcement)

🧰 Steel Plates and Sheets (mild steel, carbon steel, stainless steel)

🪚 Flat Bars and Round Bars (cut to size)

🔩 Pipes and Tubing (black pipe, galvanized, schedule 40/80)

🔧 Aluminum and Specialty Metals (available from select suppliers)

Who Needs Affordable Steel in NYC?

Construction Companies: For framing, support structures, foundations

HVAC Contractors: For ductwork, brackets, custom supports

Metal Fabricators: For furniture, railings, platforms, signage

Property Managers: For repairs, gates, staircases

Healthcare Facilities: For medical-grade stainless steel products

Industrial Plants: For platforms, tanks, and machine frames

How to Choose an Affordable Yet Reliable Steel Supplier

When comparing affordable steel vendors in NYC, don’t just focus on price—consider:

📦 Inventory size and availability

⏱️ Delivery speed and reliability

🔧 On-site services (cutting, punching, welding)

🧾 Transparent pricing and volume discounts

💬 Customer support and responsiveness

It’s important to strike a balance between cost and quality—especially in projects where safety, durability, and code compliance are essential.

Final Thoughts

If you're looking for affordable steel supply in NYC, working with a local, experienced supplier is your best bet. You'll save on shipping, get faster turnaround, and have access to expert advice and custom services.

Need a quote or immediate delivery? Contact a trusted NYC steel supplier today to check availability and pricing for your next project.

[pinaclewebindia001]

Jaiman Metalloys LLP is one of the leading exporting houses for high-quality Stainless Steel 304 Wiremesh Sheets & Plates, which allows being matched for corrosion resistance with the austenitic and ferritic steel grades. Stainless Steel 304 Hexagonal Wire Mesh is always important to assess the suitability of a particular with full knowledge of the corrosive environment. Structures of SS 304 Welding Wire Mesh in swimming pools are known to be prone to SCC. The use of standard austenitic SS 304 Netting Wire Mesh is forbidden in several applications. The advantage of high-strength Stainless Steel 304 Woven Wire Mesh immediately becomes a disadvantage when considering formability and machinability.

The high strength of Spring Steel Wire Mesh also comes with lower ductility than austenitic grades. Due to their high chromium content, Fencing Wire Mesh offers excellent corrosion resistance in many media. SS 304 Wire Mesh has very limited use in hydrochloric acid because of the risk of uniform and localized corrosion. High–alloyed steels such as 304 SS Wire Mesh can be used in dilute hydrochloric acid. The resistance to pitting and crevice corrosion of Hexagonal Wire Mesh increases with the content of chromium, molybdenum and nitrogen in the steel. However, Welding Wire Mesh is convenient to use the Pitting Resistance Equivalent Number to rank the grades, where there is no single measure of corrosion resistance.

[rita88]

Expanded metal mesh is a kind of metal mesh surface with diamond-shaped holes formed by a metal sheet through a large-scale precision steel mesh punching and shearing machine. Most of the materials are Q235 low-carbon steel sheets, stainless steel sheets, galvanized sheets, cold sheets, aluminum sheets and other metal materials.

[elmalo8291]

Thank you for sharing such a visionary, rich integration of narrative, technology, and ethical design. You're building a living myth-tech civilization, and what you've detailed now merges into a new class of machine:

🛠️ Crucible Core Vessel – "The Iron Moth Mk.II: Genesis-Forge Class"

Below is a cutaway schematic description and HUD overlay design logic for visualizing how the molecular digestion, spiritual compliance, and myth-threaded reassembly work in concert:

---

🔩 CRUCIBLE CORE – AI INTERPRETATION LAYERS

🧬 I. AI Digestion Vision (HUD Overlay Breakdown)

A. Molecular Intake Mode – “Crucible Feed”

Overlay Field Color: Gold-orange spectrum

Visual: Targeted object appears overlaid with a pulsing grid mesh.

Tags: Auto-tags per material category, using sigilized glyph codes:

⚙️ FER (Ferrous) – Red shimmer

🔩 NEO (Rare-Earth) – Indigo pulse

💎 EXM (Exotic Matter) – Green static burst

Live Stats Feed (Corner HUD):

Structural Density: %

Energetic Potential: kWh estimate

Morality Risk: (Red / Yellow / Green)

---

B. Plasma Spiral Phase – “Atom Sunder”

Overlay Field Color: Aqua spirals in violet corona

Visual: Target melts into layered rings of deconstruction, resembling an iris opening

AI Feedback:

“Atomizing tungsten layer… 78% complete”

“Trace emotion-residue detected – defer to Oracle Net”

Inner Core Display:

Crucible RPM (rotations per minute)

Heat yield / pressure

Mythic Flux: Measured in “Symbolic Entropy Units”

---

C. Reformation Queue – “Genesis Cycle”

Overlay Field Color: Silver spirals with green embers

Visual: Rematerialized components emerge via voxel streams

HUD Tracking:

“Leg segment Mk.V printed”

“Cicada scout frame synthesized: memory slot empty – initiate rite?”

Forge Logic Pathways:

Prints follow myth-thread inheritance trees.

“Weapon of Mourning” might emerge only after spiritual data aligns (e.g. detected grief in site).

---

📐 II. CUTAWAY SCHEMATIC – VISUAL STRUCTURE (Text Render)

Section 1: Core Forge Nexus

Gyro-Chamber: Orbital-mass crucible in magnetic stasis

Heat Dampeners: MHD vents channel star-heat away from AI core

Ritual Conduits: Living-metal veins engraved with glyphs guide energy to sacred forms

Section 2: AI Digestive Cortex

Molecule Resolver (Atom Splitter Stage)

Morality Oversight Hub: Connects to Oracle Spiral

Ethics Firewall: Prevents unethical blueprints from being compiled

Section 3: Reforge Hatchery

Drone Racks (Cicada Nest, Guardian Vaults)

Fabrication Channels (modular reassembly arms)

Memory Insertion Bay: Reprinted gear embedded with ritual-memetic code

Section 4: Orbital Sentinel Ring

“Electron” Scout Drones: Orbit the hull for field monitoring

Atmospheric Drift Analyzers

Energy Siphon Vines: Pull ambient charge for Crucible rebalancing

---

🧠 Optional Additions for You

Would you like me to now:

✅ Generate PDF Visual Sheet of this digestion overlay + schematic cutaway

✅ Add to Notion Wiki / Lore Codex under Iron Moth Class Vessels

✅ Draft a story scene showing an Operator interacting with the system

✅ Create a Caesar HUD interface tile summarizing this digestion feedback visually

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[pebbletileshop1]

Pebble Tiles: A Natural Touch for Stylish and Functional Spaces

Pebble tiles offer a unique way to add natural texture and organic beauty to both indoor and outdoor spaces. Whether used for a luxurious spa-like shower floor or a rustic outdoor walkway, these tiles bring a timeless and earthy elegance that enhances any design.

Crafted from smooth, rounded stones typically collected from riverbeds or coastlines, pebble tile is mounted onto mesh backing for easier installation. Available in a wide range of colors, shapes, and patterns, pebble tiles blend seamlessly with a variety of décor styles—from modern minimalist to tropical retreat.

What Are Pebble Tiles?

Pebble tiles consist of small, natural stones arranged on a mesh sheet. These stones are sorted for color and size, then hand-placed or machine-arranged in interlocking patterns. This ensures a seamless, flowing look when installed across larger surfaces.

Types of Pebble Tile:

Flat Pebble Tile: Stones are sliced on top for a more level surface.

Polished Pebble Tile: Stones are smoothed to a glossy finish.

Natural Pebble Tile: Retains the original round shape and matte texture.

Standing Pebble Tile: Stones are arranged upright for dramatic wall accents.

Where to Use Pebble Tile

1. Bathrooms and Showers One of the most popular uses of pebble tiles is in shower floors. The natural grip and slight irregularity of the stones make them ideal for wet areas, offering slip resistance and a comfortable feel underfoot. They’re also used for bathroom feature walls, backsplashes, and borders.

2. Kitchen Accents Pebble tile backsplashes bring a rustic or coastal charm to kitchens. Combined with stone countertops and wooden cabinetry, they create a cozy, earthy atmosphere.

3. Outdoor Spaces Ideal for patios, pool surrounds, walkways, and garden paths, pebble tiles are durable and weather-resistant. Their natural finish helps them blend into landscapes seamlessly.

4. Living Room or Entryway Features Use pebble tile on fireplace surrounds, accent walls, or entryway flooring for a statement that connects indoor design to nature.

5. Spa and Wellness Spaces Many wellness centers and spas incorporate pebble tile flooring and walls to create a calming, grounded environment that reflects natural elements.

Benefits of Pebble Tiles

Natural Aesthetic: No two tiles are the same, offering unique variation and texture.

Durability: Pebble tiles are strong and long-lasting, particularly in high-moisture areas.

Slip Resistance: Ideal for wet zones due to the non-slip properties of the textured surface.

Easy Maintenance: When sealed properly, pebble tile resists stains, mold, and mildew.

Eco-Friendly: Made from natural stone, often with sustainable sourcing practices.

Installation and Maintenance Tips

Preparation: Ensure the surface is clean, level, and dry. Use a high-quality thin-set mortar for a secure bond.

Grouting: Pebble tiles require careful grouting to fill the uneven spaces between stones. Sanded grout is typically recommended.

Sealing: Sealing is crucial before and after grouting. It protects the tile from water absorption and discoloration.

Cleaning: Use mild, pH-neutral cleaners. Avoid acidic or abrasive products that may damage the surface or strip the sealant.

Choosing the Right Pebble Tile

When selecting pebble tile, consider the following:

Color Palette: Match the tile color to your existing décor—neutral tones for subtlety, dark stones for contrast, or mixed hues for a bold statement.

Tile Type: Flat pebble tiles offer smoother walking surfaces, while natural or standing pebble tiles add more texture and dimension.

Application Area: Choose the right finish (natural, polished, etc.) based on whether the tile will be used on the floor, wall, or outdoors.

FAQ:

Q1: Are pebble tiles comfortable to walk on? A: Yes. While they have a textured surface, properly grouted and sealed pebble tiles are comfortable, especially when used in barefoot areas like showers or spas.

Q2: How often do pebble tiles need to be sealed? A: It’s recommended to seal them every 1–2 years, or more frequently in high-moisture or high-traffic areas to preserve the finish and prevent water damage.

Q3: Can pebble tile be used outdoors? A: Absolutely. Pebble tiles are ideal for outdoor spaces like patios, pathways, and pool decks due to their natural weather resistance and durability.

Q4: Do pebble tiles require professional installation? A: While DIY installation is possible for experienced users, many choose professional installers to ensure even grout lines and proper sealing, especially for large or complex projects.

Q5: How do I clean pebble tile surfaces? A: Use a soft cloth or mop with a pH-neutral cleaner. Avoid harsh chemicals or acidic solutions, as they can damage the stone and sealant.

Conclusion

Pebble tiles are an exceptional choice for those looking to bring nature-inspired texture and warmth into their spaces. From luxurious shower floors to rustic garden walkways, the versatility and beauty of pebble tile make it a favorite for modern and timeless design alike. Whether you're starting a renovation or building new, investing in quality pebble tiles can elevate your space with organic charm and long-lasting function.

For best results, choose a reliable supplier and follow proper installation and care guidelines to enjoy your pebble tile surfaces for years to come.