#afla | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

predispusalascandal · 7 months

Text

slang-ul meu preferat din alt oraș este termenul de socolist/socolistă, provenit din iași. personal, eu asa o strig pe pisica mea

#ok deci in socola se afla spitalul de nebuni din iasi #si daca cineva iti zice ca esti socolist inseamna ca esti nebun #personal ador toata chestia asta #romanisme #own post

11 notes · View notes

elceeu2morrow · 1 year

Text

“The irony is there definitely is a thing I could say to my younger self, and maybe I could say ‘carry on trusting your gut, be confident that you’re going to get what you want to get eventually’, but truthfully I had to find out those things on my own and it wouldn’t have been a piece of advice that someone gave me along the way that would have been able for me to kind of find that idea. I had to go through that process myself and work that out for myself.”

- What advice would you give Louis from Walls? [Alfa 91.3, 12.6.22]

#lt quote #advice louis #fitf promo #get there eventually #posted on #12.5.22 #afla fm #my repost #lt interview

15 notes · View notes

eddzillla · 1 year

Photo

#Alfa Romeo #Alfa #Romeo #Afla Romeo 155 #Alfa Romeo Giulia #Alfa Romeo 4c #DTM #Alfa Romeo DTM #Alfa Romeo 155 DTM #alfa romeo giulia dtm #Alfa Romeo 4c DTM

11 notes · View notes

americansealo2 · 10 months

Text

Gaskets and Gasket Materials

Gaskets Manufacturer. We cut PTFE, Non-asbestos, flexible graphite, Grafoil, buna, flange, EPDM, Aflas, and rubber gaskets. 714-361-1435

#Gaskets #Aflas Gaskets #Grafoil Gaskets #Armstrong Gaskets

0 notes

thejoyofviolentmovement · 1 year

Text

New Video: Alfa Mist Teams Up with Kaya Thomas-Dyke on Soulful and CInematic "Aged Eyes"

New Video: Alfa Mist Teams Up with Kaya Thomas-Dyke on Soulful and CInematic "Aged Eyes" @AlfaMist @KayaThomasDyke @jamie_leeming_ @Sekito_Records @AntiRecords @grandstandhq @shazi_la

Throughout the London-based producer, composer, musician and Sekito Records head Alfa Mist’s career, he has steadfastly refused to be boxed into a specific genre or style: his work has spanned everything from hip-hop beatmaking to producing for rappers like Loyle Carner, composing neo-classical works for the London Contemporary Orchestra and reworking tracks for Ólafur Arnalds and legendary jazz…

View On WordPress

#Afla Mist Bring Backs #Afla Mist Structuralism #Afla Mist Variables #Alfa Mist #Alfa Mist Antiphon #indie pop #Jamie Leeming #Kaya Thomas-Dyke #London UK #music #music video #New Video #singer/songwriter \#video #Video Review #Video Review: Aged Eyes feat. Kaya Thomas-Dyke #Video Review: Alfa Mist Aged Eyes feat. Kaya Thomas-Dyke #women who kick ass

1 note · View note

carsthatnevermadeitetc · 4 months

Text

Alfa Romeo Prettycar, 1968, by Casale. A second Afla Romeo prototype by Carrozzeria Casale used the chassis from a 1962 Abarth 750 Allemano Spyder and an Alfa Romeo DOHC 1600cc engine. The front and rear hoods were made of aluminium while the windshield and rear glass were Plexiglas.

source

#Alfa Romeo #Alfa Romeo Prettycar #Casale #Carrozzeria Casale #one-off #coachbuilt #prototype #DOHC #1968 #1960s

215 notes · View notes

saintslewis · 6 months

Text

Reasons I couldn’t be an f1 driver, a thread:

vroom vroom, b*tch

i get angry so fast, it’s actually concerning

i would scrap everyone that says anything bad about me

if a haas, alpha tauri, afla romeo overtook me, i would actually park the car on the side and go home

i would wear the most cuntiest clothing walking into the paddock, it would be sickening

i would not be able to answer ANYONE after a race like singapore or qatar like i don’t have time for long ass questions pls 🖐🏽

if anyone says anything stupid, everyone would know by my face

i would NOT keep up with my diet. if i feel like eating ice cream before a race, I WILL

i would cuss the FIA the fuck out everyday

i would be a PR nightmare, genuinely

i’m a party girl, that’s just how i am so if y’all see me partying after qualifying, mind your business!

if the team did me wrong, i would not be thanking those mf for ANYTHING

don’t judge but girl if i got the gossip???? 🤭🤭

they would not let me race bc i would keep asking if lewis is okay

“oh there’s a safety car out bc of my crash? great, lewis can win!”

i would talk in my home language to piss EVERYONE off

i’m really just there for lewis

i would GLOAT if i got a win or a world championship, i’m NOT keeping that shit to myself 😭

the things i would post on my socials or just how i talk to my fans would be so entertaining 😭

i would openly fangirl or blush if Lewis, Charles, Jenson or Carlos spoke to me (DON’T JUDGE)

i need music to focus on something

75 laps is actual insanity, i would not be able to do that shit

i’m so petty, you crash into me, ITS OVER FOR YOU

the money????? i would buy literally everything i’ve ever wanted 😭

i would value my fans so highly, those are my babies and i’m so serious

i would lurk on my fanbase through social media, i would be one of y’all

i won’t be able to answer those long ass questions, period.

i would want my fav songs to be played rather than my national anthem (sometimes)

if i feel like twerking or making tiktoks in the paddock, i WILL

me and my headphones against the world 🫵🏽

i’m a black woman, says enough than it should (a girl can dream)

my face is full of expressions so pls 😭

my favouritism for the drivers would show very directly

staying overnight after a race to study even further for the next day??? yeah no, a bad bitch will sleep 🤣🤣

i am extremely straight forward. if i don’t wanna be somewhere, i will walk out 🤣

calling grown men “girl” >>>>>

i will be reminding everyone and their mothers that Lewis is a 7x World Champion and is called “Sir” 😋

i love my phone, i would carry it everywhere

they wouldn’t be able to handle a bad bitch on the grid other than me and Lewis (Charles and Oscar are an extra bonus)

again, really only there for Lewis

This is getting long, hope you enjoy 🤭

taglist: @thisismeracing @httpsserene @lorarri @non-stop-imagines

#pls this was so fun to do 😭#you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to!#☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #formula 1 #f1

161 notes · View notes

chococolte · 2 years

Note

i adore your writing SO much its so detailed and expressive its amazing like im in awe??? even the old works you reposted i love it so much?!??? if its open still id like to request sagau with ayato and thoma (and any other if you want to add someone!!) and them maybe meeting their god or being praised?

Thoma already is such a sweetheart so i can imagine how he'd melt from even the slightest bit of praise, and ayato is such a prideful man but itd be so interesting to see how he pushes that aside for his god. Absolutely adore all the sagau works youve posted so far, imagining their wholehearted devotion and love in such a way is just 👌 cant wait to read more <33333

word count. 1.1k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obssessive thoughts/behaviors, religious & cult themes, sagau + cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl.

୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. nonnie r we about to kiss...? u know just how to make me write ur req... regardless, thank you so so much!!! i hope this is okay for you??? this is just u praising them since im working on a bigger work that'll have all my takes on the genshin men as worshipers, I hope u don't mind!!

ayato

Ayato is a prideful man.

Raised from birth to be the clan head after his father, Ayato has always been steadfast. He has to be. He has a duty to his clan, to his sister; to protect her from the darker side of politics, the back-stabbing and infighting; to protect the ones who he cares about the most, the ones who work underneath him and the ones who have put their trust into his command.

He works because he must. He lies and deceives, and with guile he crafts webs of intricate gossamer, lying in wait for an unfortunate individual stupid enough to cross him. Ayato's pride is deliberate, molded by his hands, by the azure glow of the vision at his hip— he is sagacious and determined, mature and mighty.

It is surprising, then, how easily he crumbles when with you.

The echo of your laughter, your refulgent eyes, the steady cadence of your voice and your dulcet tones; every detail of your being enraptures him with the ease of breathing, with all of the ease of sunlight seeping through verdant glades.

Your praise, whether light or ostentatious, leaves Ayato melting in his seat. It's unlike him— unlike the tall, dignified man of cunning and wit, to be so weak and defenseless to only your words; but the tides of his heart pull regardless, drifting to the moonlight of your smile. To feel the weight of your eyes on him leaves him preening, crooning at your slightest attention.

What pride Ayato has is discarded for this brief moment of peace with you, so he can revel in the euphoria your praise alights.

Your eyes crinkle at the sides, twinkling in the dim light of your private chambers. "You did good," you say. You say it so simply he feels silly for getting so worked up, foolish for the way his cheeks burn.

A soft ember of candle wax lights your face only slightly, an orange halo coalescing behind your head. Despite the twilight, Ayato does his best to impress your visage into his mind; the rim of ethereal light cupping your head like a sunset dipping beneath the sea, the flame's reflection dancing on your skin, the light glistening in your eyes like a blanket of stars. He drills it into his head, desperate to never forget.

You stare into the candlelight for a moment, then rise to your feet. You take small, measured steps towards him, then take a spot next to his seated figure.

"I'm sorry to have called you so late at night," you whisper. Ayato keeps his expression calm, showing no emotions on his face, despite the wild rhythm of his heart in his chest. "I'm afraid I wouldn't have been able to speak to you privately, otherwise. But I truly am grateful for all you've done."

Without breaking eye contact, you reach forward and cusp his cheek, rubbing your thumb over the birthmark under his lips. His skin burns like electricity runs through the current of his veins, his nerves set aflame by the kindling of your touch.

"You're so good for me. I think you deserve a reward, don't you?"

Ayato swallows thickly, then with trepidation, softly leans into your hands.

thoma

Thoma's heart beats against his ribcage with all the fury of a raging fire.

He squirms where he sits in front of you, furtively rubbing his legs together. Thoma drums his fingers on his knees in an attempt to calm himself, trying to focus on the light sound of the rapping of his knuckles.

The mere thought of being alone with you is enough to send him into a frenzy, but the reality of it makes it difficult to breathe. You had fed him compliments before, simple praise— but still, enough for him to wish the moment would last forever.

Light bores down through the diaphanous curtains of your throne room, reflecting your glistening, specular throne. Carved into the pillars that hold you up are jewels and precious stones, ingrained and polished until they shine like the sun in the sky.

“Thoma.”

You say his name in such a particular way, entirely unique to you. It sticks out in his mind, burning like a pyre. The way your lips cup together to form every syllable, the soft click of your tongue hitting against the roof of your mouth. That you know of his name at all is a kindness; that you speak it aloud, a blessing.

He grips the fabric of his pants a little tighter, digging his nails into his knees. Thoma helplessly resists the urge to kowtow before you, staying seated peacefully by your feet. You asked for him to do no more, and to imagine you ever dissatisfied with him brings him to tears.

You are his God. He wants to kiss your feet, whisper words of worship and love— but you have not asked for that. You asked for him to sit, and so he does. No more, no less, despite the yearning that aches within him.

Thoma nods his head in understanding, untrusting of his own voice. His heart trembles, drinking in your being, draped in fine silks and ornate jewelry. You are effortless in beauty and elegance; next to you, every god only stands to look like a parody of the beauteous glory of your existence.

“You're so beautiful,” you say. You reach forward and cup his cheek, and his breath hitches in his throat. Thoma’s eyes haze over with fog, but a warmth courses through him past the mist. Warmth from you, from the light you provide. Heat like an undercurrent runs through his veins and brings him back to reality. “So pretty. So good for me.”

A faint blush dances on his champagne-tinted skin, softly embracing his face and ears. Thoma looks up and meets your eyes, watching as you smile and wrinkle your eyes in a way that makes his knees weak. He's never been happier to be seated.

“I'm so proud of you.” You twirl his hair in your fingers, playing with his messy locks, ignoring the red blooming on his cheeks. Thoma bites his lip in an attempt to keep himself silent, butterflies hopelessly fluttering in his stomach.

“Please,” he murmurs. It's both a plead for you to continue and for you to stop— his heart is weak enough as it is, even without your praise. Coupled that with even the faintest of your breath against his skin, and Thoma is struggling to keep himself composed.

You laugh, whispering. “It's okay. Let me show you how proud I am of you.”

2K notes · View notes

ancaxbre · 1 month

Text

Am dat cumva de Ana cu cea mai de cacat viata din toata literatura romaneasca? Nu-s sigura, dar ma cam obsedeaza viata fetei astea. Si, da, stiu ca amestec doua variante destul de diferite a unei balade pentru toata povestea, ceea ce poate n-ar trebui facut, dar sunt pe prea mult paracetamol ca sa-mi mai pese. So...

Fata de imparat frumoasa ca o stea, floarea florilor etc etc, isi traieste viata linistita pe langa ma-sa cand se trezeste unu' sa se indragosteasca de ea. Cine putea sa fie decat cel mai voinic dintre voinici, brat de buzdugan etc, etc, Iovan Iorgovan fecior de....acelasi imparat. Fata normal ca-l trimite la plimbat de ursi, dar afla parintii si ii blesteama pe amandoi pentru incest. De ce pe amandoi? Ca sa se mire cititorii. Fata nu mai poate cu drama asa ca fuge de acasa si traiese in pustiu ca o fata salbatica. Isi gaseste la un moment dat niste prietene cu care se intelege de parca ar fi surori si zburda impreuna prin paduri, dar alea de dovedesc a fi fake friends ca o lasa intr-o zi de izbeliste in mijlocul padurii cand ea dormea si nu mai stie saraca cum sa iasa din padure. Dar totul e OK e un cuc pe aproape si in n mii de balade cucul e defapt un Fat-Frumos care te scoate la civilizatie daca ii promiti sa te mariti cu el. Amamdoua problemele ei s-ar rezolva cu aceeasi pasare, daca ar avea si ea putina bafta, dar cucul ei e doar pasare si n-are chef nici s-o ajute, nici de insuratoare. Apoi un balaur vrea s-o inghita ca n-o avut fata destule pe cap pana acum. O aude un voinic strigand si vine si omoara balaurul. Is fate finally giving her a break? Nu. voinicul ala e frate-su, Iovan Iorgovan, si inca vrea sa se insoare cu ea. Ca cica 'scumpi, nu mai pe tine te vreau ca esti ca Ileana Simziana si nu se mai gaseste nicaieri in lume alta ca tine' si bla bla si bla bla. Fata normal ca-l refuza iar, si incearca sa-i explice 'mai omu' lu' Dumnezeu, suntem pe valea Cernei nu a Nilului si nu merge cu incest pe aicea.' dar nu se prinde nimic de el. Iovan o leaga si o suie pe cal si nu-i mai ramane fetei nimic de facut decat sa incheie povestea aruncandu-se in Cerna. Dupa ce se ineaca se transforma intr-o floare de colt.

Numai una din variante ii da nume fetei si cred ca nu surprinde pe nimeni ca e Ana. 🙃

Exista cumva vreo Ana in toata literatura romaneasca care nu moare si are o viata fericita?

#romanisme #citesc balade ca-s prea racita ca sa am rabdare de altceva #iovan iorgova #romanian folklore #de fapt imi place setul asta de balade cu cate referinte si conexiuni la alte mituri si legende are dar fata asta...#merita mere si o soarta mai buna #f pentru toate anele din literatura romana

26 notes · View notes

aelinschild · 2 months

Text

Paradigm; side by side

˙✧˖ March 8th: Sweater

Main Masterlist | Paradigm; side by side Masterlist |

A/N: Huge apologies for missing the post yesterday (March 8th), life is busy :) But, the post for today (March 9th) will be out shortly following this.

SYNOPSIS: Carry my heart. WORDCOUNT: 1.4k (whoops, ignore that.) WARNINGS: Cursing(?), Lustful roommates (theyre both guilty)

Huge thank you to @throneofglassmicrofics for organizing! Make sure to check out other works over on their account!

Its worth a shot. “Rowan, uh, where do you keep the towels?”

He paused. The ample expanse of his back pushing ridges and dips in the fabric of his shirt. Something worn and tired, a breathy material that probably had molded to his shape. If Aelin had to guess, most of his clothes had. Or would have to.

He had yet to show a penchant for nudity, but there was still time.

Twirling the hem of her cover-up between nimble fingers kept the current of energy burning through her at a gentle hum. A buzzing inside bones, just under her C1 vertebrae. Target and switch, a noise she could flick off…if she wanted to, of course.

“Are you out in your washroom?” He gruffed out. Muscles assuming their previously arrhythmic movements.

“Not out. I was just wondering if you kept towels for the beach…?” She layered the question in a politeness, consideration lining every word. Had evaluated her grounds, found herself lost in the unsaid dance of the days.

“For the beach?” Swiveling on his spot, eyes like magnets to he being. “Why, are you-”

She wanted to make a joke, some sort of dig at his proclivity for repetition. Something to ease the brute of silence. But it had dripped from fists like a fine sand, slipping out of her mind when the force of direct seeing struck her. A breathless conclusion from moments of buildup. Green; deep fern and new life, no longer a smokescreen of skepticism – mistrust, but a telling. Seven days in close quarters had somehow drained the oxygen from her atmosphere, sharing noxious gases that toed the knife edge of ruination.

Back and forth, a game of shared breaths before the final gasp of air. Suffocating and final.

She would ignore the burning path of his eyes, would ignore the clenching of jaw muscles or the tightening of fists. Pulling at tendons in forearms that she had felt against her neck- Let her roommate collect his thoughts, simply a shock. A lapse in judgement. “Outdoor cupboard, by the stairs. Check for spiders, though. The bites sting.”

It would be like snuffing out a flame, maiming its burn until it failed to exist. But in its darkness, grew life from a form of other worldly exoticism.

“Thank you, Rowan.”

“Wear sunscreen. And try not to drown again, yeah?” She laughed.

-

When she had made the leap – most definitely by her own choice, no financial incentive or anything of the likes – to take up residence with a complete stranger, she hadn't expected the result. This result. At the time, getting away from a place where the traffic had permeated her internal monologue like a cursed whispering was conceivable only in dreams. The space between consciousness and not. Woman-Rowan had been a respectable option for a half crazed Aelin needing an escape for metropolitan life. Man Rowan was not.

She needed the baggage that men carried like she needed more debt.

It was possible that the exorbitant distance between where she was now and who she was not too long ago had shaped her, relaxation and unrestrictedness, into a pacifist. Sensation and thrill were closer to ones closed hands, just footsteps across the hall. Eyes like new growth incurring reactions so deeply chemical she could have described the shift as primal. A knee jerk reaction awaking a piece of herself she had tucked in so long ago.

And… Rowan was different. Nothing like the men she had found herself in company with. This strange man, isolated and admittedly stunted, was a balm and a surge at once. Just talking to him hours ago had set her rationality aflame.

She could not help but toe the line, jump over an invisible edge with every moment and find his eyes, his gaze, to gauge the reaction. Just to see. Desire and shame played like a record lowly in the background, inching further and further into some unparalleled mistake, or something else.

Ultimately, though, it was only a game. Life would resume; this lapse would come to an end, and Aelin would be erased from the land like the drawings she was toeing into the sand. Nothing is forever, and she was not delusional enough to believe so. But, just enough to soak up the incredulity of every moment and lean into misinterpreted glances and burning touches.

So as the sun began to set, the last washes of colour bleeding from the sky in a way that could only remind her of the man himself, she stayed on clear sand. Surrounded by whispering grasses and mumbling waters. On a towel – shook and beaten to assure that no pests would be biting her ass – borrowed and dirtied from sandy footprints. Skin still pulsing for unrestricted sunshine that left a golden luminosity to skin, highlighting the silvery scars on hips and bruises still healing over. Her novel and journal a quiet company. It was peaceful and healing.

But, the March winds washed over with the final dregs of winter, chilling and nipping at the great areas of exposed skin. Gooseflesh, much different from how it appeared yesterday, rose to her skin. Nipples stiff with the chill. She could only laugh, of course she forgot suitable clothes. The sheer dress – appropriate for beach settings, would not warm her.

“Aelin!”

Good gods.

Sound was heard differently on sand. This, she had learned. Weight played a part in the muffle of footsteps. Heavy strides were lower, less sound noise from the redistribution of sand. An unusual thud from the immediate compression. Being dropped resounded that way. A run often echoed in the movement of sand elsewhere. Spraying up and landing metres behind. But it was nearly impossible to silence ones own footfalls; sand would find a way to warn ever the most prepared creatures.

Except for, of course, Rowan.

“Couldn't hear me, huh?” He chuckled. “Cooked up some dinner, wanted to know if you were hungry.” Throaty and…shy? She had scrambled up to sitting at the first shock of his voice, body nearly exposed. Hidden behind fabric masquerading as a swimsuit. Tan lines aren't needed with the proper preparation. The sheer cover-up in her lap, balled up between fists. She had let out a hum of acknowledgement.

“Oh, yeah I would love that. Uh, thank you.” Rowan. Thank you, Rowan.

“Right.” He mused, hand scratching at the length of his forearm, over fading tattoos. She had yet to notice, but his gaze was anywhere but herself.

Gathering her novel and notebook, Aelin made to stand. She could feel the tension in her legs from the horizontal position of the day. Residue of lactic acid and tranquility. Pinpricks of chill, the gusts sweeping her hair over her shoulders and twining it into a mess. In a curious way, his presence before her had warmed her core. The offering, his kindness, gruff and untried.

“Here,” snapped the suspended introspection, a offering of cloth was jerked forward. Aelin only looked up, snagging her gaze on his. Blown out pupils and dancing hair. Swept across his forehead, ruffling the strands that begged for her touch. Following down, to his body now unclothed with the sweater she was so sure he had been wearing. To the fabric in outstretched arms.

“No need,” she laughed. A little shocked at the boldness. “I’ll just change when I’m inside. I’ve got to get used to the temperatures somehow.” Moving to pull her shift on, the hand that had haunted her sleep last night was wrapped around her wrist.

“No.” Shaking the sweater out, with one hand, Rowan maneuvered it so it would be easy to pull over. “Put this on.”

“Rowan. Thank you for the gesture, but truly, I am fine.”

“Just… please. Please put it on.” It was strained, like it hurt to push those words from the recesses of his mind. “No need to catching a cold, yeah?”

For a moment, his hand still tight like a vise around her wrist and her with the sheer dress in clenched fists, Aelin faced off with him. Staring directly into eyes dwarfed by pupils. Indignance seeped from her pores. She didn't acquiesce easily, but usually there was solid ground for her to stand upon. Stone formed from a life lived, hard to push over or redirect. But… it was like toying with fire. He didn't care about a cold or her frigidity. Curious, indeed.

“Sure. A cold, yeah.” He dropped her wrist and she pulled on the sweater. Curious, indeed.

Taglist: @mariaofdoranelle , @leiawritesstories , @renxzs

Let me know if you would like to be a part of the taglist :)

24 notes · View notes

goodeviilgirlintentions · 3 months

Text

- Iubito stiu că ai impresia că te neglijez, dar tu ar trebui sa faci ceva pentru mine mai intai! As vrea sa te uiti si pe bancheta din spate, nu doar la mine, te rog.

Știu că urmează un act artistic din partea ta, pentru ca stiu ca atunci cand ne vedem tie iti place sa te scalzi in atentia mea, dar ai fost asa prinsa de momentul asta in care ne-am vazut incat nu ai observat buchetul de flori si cadoul.

Roșești toată, îmi sari in brate și pupi pe obraz, conduc, deci nu ne putem sărută.

(eu)

Observ că suntem la ieșirea din oraș. Curiozitatea mă împinge să ma duc în spate, printre scaunele din față, dar nu înainte de a-mi împinge fundul puțin în tine. Îl plesnești, obraznicule.

Pe banchetă găsesc un buchet mare de trandafiri albi, o cutie si o pungă.

Miros florile ma bucur de ele, apoi mă năpustesc asupra cadourilor. Desfac prima data cutia, rămân șocată când văd ce se afla in interiorul ei. Imi doream asta, imi doream atât de mult sa le încercăm, imi trec o mana peste ele si simt un fior pe spate. Trec la pungă, ating un material catifelat roșu! Țip de bucurie. Simt cum imi ard obrajii. In tot acest timp, tu ma priveai în oglinda retrovizoare, erai atent. Muzica incepe sa rasune în toată mașina, ma cuprinde o stare de euforie.

(el)

- Știu că ești excitata, te simt. Schimba-te in lenjerie, vreau sa te privesc.

(ea)

- O să oprești masina când am sa zic eu, ok?

(el)

- Ok.

(ea)

Mă schimb, arăt sexy.

Mă uit din nou la cutie, apoi la el. Un drăcușor își face apariția. Tocmai i-am zis că nu are voie sa oprească ma��ina până nu zic eu.

În cutie am niște clești pentru sfârcuri, un choker, un vibrator wireless si un plug.

Aveam de gând să te surprind.

Revin la locul meu, dar acum fierbinte.

https://youtu.be/_DjE4gbIVZk răsună acum, excitandu-ma si mai tare

#goodevilgirlintentions 😈❤️

12 notes · View notes

poveste-trista · 9 months

Text

Verifica-ti sufletul mai des decât telefonul.

Despărțirile sunt dificile, dar uneori trebuie sa accepți.

Oricine se poate schimba brusc, indiferent cât de strânsă este legătura

In cele din urma, toți pleacă și rămân doar amintiri.

In spatele fiecărui citat, se afla o persoana care a vrut doar iubire adevărata.

18 notes · View notes

gentle--man · 7 months

Text

In loc sa te concentrezi pe ceea ce nu ai, mai bine incearca sa te gandesti si sa apreciezi ceea ce ai, iar altii nu au.

Viata e o lupta si fiecare clipa de iubire e o victorie.

O cale de a afla daca este un motiv intemeiat sa ne ingrijoram, este sa ne intrebam:

- Va conta acest lucru peste un an? Dar peste trei? Dar peste cinci?

Daca nu, atunci nu este niciun motiv de ingrijorare.

Indiferent cat de bine sau rau consideri ca iti este, fii recunoscator in fiecare dimineata.

Cineva, undeva, lupta cu disperare pentru soarta lui.

"Sunt două feluri de a-ți trăi viața... unul de a crede că nu există miracole, altul de a crede că totul este un miracol." Albert Einstein

via Dana Popescu

7 notes · View notes

americansealo2 · 1 year

Text

Spiral Wound Gaskets in United States

We cut our own custom gaskets to your specifications from high-quality Gasket Materials. Our gasket materials stock incorporates quality brands AS&P, Durlon, Sichem, Thermoseal, Grafoil, Pioneer, and Teadit. We can cut Garlock, Frenzelit, Sepco, Utex, Interface Solutions, and other brands.

Joints between two flat surfaces are sealed with the help of gasket material. Understanding the demands that the joint may experience is necessary in order to determine what should be placed between flanges or mating pieces. Your gasket’s material must be compatible with the media, temperatures, and pressures it will encounter. Expanded PTFE and Flexible Graphite are the sealing materials with the greatest potential to seal a wide range of applications.

Our recommendation for gaskets is based on sound engineering. Our specialty is fluid sealing solutions that have worked in the past. We can quickly cut your gaskets from the best gasket material because we are an independent family business.

Utilizing only the best gasket materials is essential to the production of a high-quality gasket. We take great pride in cutting materials from the highest quality manufacturers, such as; Thermoseal, AS&P, Durlon, Grafoil, Sichem, Garlock, and others.

When compressed, spiral wound gaskets, which are made of steel tape that is formed into a V, produce an energetic recovery. A material that seals the gap between the steel windings is typically flexible graphite, PTFE, non-asbestos, mica, ceramic, or vermiculite. The spiral winding is spot-welded and can be installed between two steel rings or on an I.D. or O.D. ring.

Refineries, petrochemical plants, power plants, chemical and power system systems, and any place where pipe flanges are above 150# class and dependability is required all benefit from spiral wound gaskets.

The advantages of thermal and pressure resistance and the elasticity provided by the metal’s V shape are combined in the design of the seals. by incorporating the characteristics of soft sealing materials like PTFE or expanded graphite. These gaskets are resistant to blowout, inflammable, and seal effectively with relatively little torque.

Spiral wound gaskets are excellent choices for applications that require prolonged periods of operation. Pipe flanges, pumps, valves, boilers, manhole and handhold covers, tube covers, heat exchangers, pressure vessels, and compressors can all be sealed with them.

A gasket with a spiral wound is called a spiral wound gasket and can have one or both of a centering outer and inner ring. The inner ring provides strength to prevent winding collapse due to vacuum, reduces internal turbulence, protects the sealing element, and primarily centers the gasket between flanges.

#Spiral Wound Gaskets #Aflas Gaskets #Armstrong Gaskets #Gaskets

0 notes

burlveneer-music · 8 months

Text

Eparapo - Take to The Streets - Afrobeat band led by Suman Joshi and featuring Dele Sosimi and Tamar Osborn, among others

Wah Wah 45s are proud to present the full debut album from Afrobeat supergroup Eparapo. Having come together during the unprecedented events of the pandemic and the Black Lives Matter movement, and despite being a project born from the privations of lockdown, their music is ultimately an expression of hope, resilience & resurgence. The word “eparapo” means “join forces” in Yoruba, the language of Afrobeat. It’s also the title of a track by the late, great Tony Allen - drummer for Afrobeat legend Fela Kuti and lifelong friend and mentor of our very own “Afrobeat Ambassador”, Dele Sosimi. Not only did Tony help to invent Afrobeat, he always looked for ways to push the boundaries, never content with recreating what had gone before but constantly expanding and developing the genre. This project hopes to pay homage to his legacy, and that of Fela Kuti himself. Its aim is to innovate, fuse and diversify while still retaining the essence of the music. The force behind Eparapo is bassist, composer & producer Suman Joshi. He has been a member of Dele Sosimi’s Afrobeat Orchestra for nearly a decade and has performed on stage with the likes of Tony Allen, Seun Kuti, Ginger Baker & Laura Mvula. He is also bassist with UK jazz ensemble Collocutor and fusion project Cubafrobeat. The rest of the group comprises of highly rated UK jazz vocalist Sahra Gure; saxophonist, composer, producer and bandleader of the renowned forward thinking jazz outfit Collocutor, Tamar Osborn; keyboard player, producer and front man for Lokkhi Terra and Cubafrobeat, Kishon Khan; one of the UK’s finest and most in demand trumpeters, Graeme Flowers, who has played with Quincy Jones, Gregory Porter and many more; trombonist for Bellowhead and mainstay of Dele’s Afrobeat Orchestra, Justin Thurgur; and finally drummer for Steamdown and Sons of Kemet, as well as the man behind the Nache project, Eddie Wakili Hick.

#Eparapo #afrobeat #funk #uk #2023 #wah wah 45s #Bandcamp

7 notes · View notes

ispeakofficial · 11 months

Text

Doar "DA" înseamnă "DA"

Afla tot ce ai nevoie despre consimtământ si nu lasa pe nimeni sa iti îngrădească libertatea si bunastarea!

Au fost situații in care consimțământul tau a fost încălcat? Spune-ne printr-un mesaj iar noi iti împărtășim(in mod anonim daca dorești) povestea mai departe.

#consimtamant #educatie #educatiesexuala

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by E.C.L.E.R (@ispeak_official1)

instagram

#Instagram

10 notes · View notes