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Gruppo Salteco e Castolin eutecnic, due aggettivi per descriverli

Se dovessimo associare due aggettivi che potrebbero descrivere al meglio e sinteticamente i prodotti per la saldobrasatura di Castolin, penseremmo immediatamente a “professionalità e qualità”. Queste sono le fondamenta che dal 1949 reggono il gruppo Salteco, eccellente realtà italiana nel campo della manutenzione industriale. La stessa qualità e professionalità che sa riportare, con minuziosità, in ogni singola componente aziendale, nei suoi collaboratori e nelle loro iniziative guadagnandosi questi titoli a livello mondiale.

Il rapporto, in termini economici, con la concorrenza è imparagonabile, lo sa bene chi utilizza questi prodotti da tanti anni. A fronte di un irrisorio sovrapprezzo rispetto ad altri prodotti della stessa tipologia, si hanno delle performance di gran lunga più efficaci, resistenti e durevoli. Quel minimo aumento si tramuta in un grande guadagno in termini di fatica, tempo e qualità del lavoro. Viviamo in una società dove questi aspetti hanno assunto un carattere fondamentale per potersi distinguere e farsi spazio in un mercato sempre più intriso di consumismo e insoddisfazione. Da diversi anni la nostra azienda propone degli incontri dimostrativi per permettere a tutti, tecnici e hobbisti, di venire a testare personalmente queste qualità che attribuiamo a Castolin Eutecnic, grazie alla disponibilità di Fabrizio Marzulli responsabile del gruppo Salteco della nostra zona (tra le altre), con cui abbiamo da sempre il piacere di collaborare, elogiandone la sua professionalità e competenza ma, ancor prima, la sua umanità.

#il termostato #castoni #salteco #saldatura #brasatura #giornata dimostrativa

come on, fallen star - a castoni playlist. {built by walkingxabovexperdition and starktasticbitch}

- vnv nation. illusion. {x}

- the xx. angels. {x}

- the xx. night time. {x}

- the xx. stars. {x}

- saving abel. 18 days. {x}

- 3 doors down. behind those eyes. {x}

- mumford and sons. white blank page. {x}

- brian buckley band. i am human. {x}

- marina and the diamonds. buy the stars. {x}

- vertical horizon. everything you want. {x}

- IAMX. this will make you love again. {x}

- IAMX. spit it out. {x}

- my brightest diamond. we were sparkling. {x}

- mumford and sons. i will wait. {x}

- lana del rey. national anthem. {x}

- first aid kit. ghost town. {x}

- through the ghost. shinedown. {x}

- lana del rey. lucky ones. {x}

- lana del rey. dark paradise. {x}

#castoni #playlist #walkingxabovexperdition

Having received such a response, it translated that his own initiative wasn't misplaced nor unwelcome. That in itself was the slightest relief albeit there was little tension that existed to begin with considering his parameters were set differently. This endeavor perhaps shed light on what they found pleasurable in such an interaction. Tipping his head forward, there was the murmur of acknowledgement where he mouthed a simple, callous 'yes', in return.

Pleased with his response, he pulls one hand away from that coat, fingers unwinding to let his palm rest on his cheek, pulling his face up and bringing their lips together for a forth time. It's almost sweet, to be honest, just a simple momentary pressing together of their lips, without any teeth or tongue, just lips pressed together with a soft undertone. As he pulls away, his hand remains on his cheek, content in resting there.

"Good."

#walkingxabovexperdition #castoni #beautiful castoni makeouts

That familiar and faint taste of bitter coffee defines his taste, something warm and rough with little romantic inclination beyond just physical feeling. There's a slow departure that separates them even though his hand remains in place, long fingers having fit to the curve towards the nape of his neck. Here, there's no one else to question his actions born of a mild curiosity, none but one being the recipient whose features he gauges further from the look in his eyes to the curve of his mouth.

Fingers find the best possible way to wind around the fabric of that rough overcoat, gripping it just so he can pull closer. He's lost in the motions, in the rough dryness of those lips, their gentle movements contrasting their feel greatly. He doesn't mind too much when the kiss is broken, if only barely, a quick, chaste third kiss left on those lips before they're completely pulled apart. He meets those eyes, lips curving upward in a just barely there smirk, fingers refusing to release their hold, forehead pressed against his. There's a lightness in his voice that is foreign, though the gentle teasing tone is not.

" - was it as good for me as it was for you? "

#walkingxabovexperdition #castoni #beautiful castoni makeouts #yeah that's a tag now

The first press of their mouths is almost tentative with a thumb brushing across the high arch of his cheek and his palm cradling that expression. Then there's a pause, almost as if gauging whether or not such a gesture was appropriate which only lasts a fleeting moment in reality till a second precedes the first. This one lingers, firmer than the last in the way his head is tucked forward to better meet his momentary partner in this shared breath.

At first, he was careful, almost treating the other tenderly. But he'd be damned if he wasn't going to enjoy this, enjoy the feel of the other's mouth against his own, amused the slight tentativeness in those lips. Broad hands gently rest on hips, feeling their shape for a moment before he pulls his attention back to their kiss, focused on the way he seems to loosen into the feeling, allowing him to carefully breach his mouth, if only for a moment before withdrawing, waiting for a reaction.

#walkingxabovexperdition #can i just -#castoni

#IN CASTONI NEWS -

#i'M JUST SO HAPPY #castoni #{ ooc. }#raisedhunter #{ THANK THANK THANK THANK THANK THANK - }

a bird and a metal man - { castoni. fic repost because it was not in the tag. }

“Is the blindfold really necessary?” “I have answered that question more times than I would like to count. Yes. It is necessary.” It goes quiet. “This is more kinky than I thought it would be.” There is a pause, the hands binding the cloth across his eyes stopping before resuming, tugging softly when tying the knot. The billionaire chuckles. “Alright alright, No comments like that. I got it. If I’m going to be honest, I’m just honored that you’re letting me do this.” There is a soft hum from the angel, and he can hear the smile in his voice when he talks quietly, almost in a whisper. “You’re welcome, Tony.” His voice is surprisingly gentle, though it still carries that rough tone that he’d grown so used to, feeling Casitel’s breath against his ear causing him to shiver. He hears Castiel move out from behind him, he hears the ruffle of cloth as he pulls of his trenchcoat, letting it crumple on the ground. He hears the soft thump as he sits down. A gentle hand cups Tony’s chin, tilting his head to the left slightly, and Tony guesses that if his eyes weren’t covered, he’d be staring straight into Castiel’s blue eyes.

Everything goes quiet.

It’s louder than any thunderclap, as if it’s right in his ears, the air crackling as pure energy fills the room. Tony winces into the hand still resting under his chin, cradling his face, his ears ringing painfully. And the light even through the cloth is painfully bright, his eyes snapping shut in a feeble attempt to shut out the burning glow. Castiel doesn’t seem phased, his hand holding steady, almost unmoving except for the thumb brushing against his cheek, comforting and soothing. Tony is blown away when he realizes he can practically hear everything, senses heightened with sight removed. He can hear the sound of his wings coming into existence, he can hear feathers fluttering and ruffling into place, he can hear the wings spread to fill the entire room. Hell, he can feel as the wings curl in, brushing and passing him as they fill the room. They smell strongly of cassia, soft rainy breezes, fir and something he just can’t place, no matter how hard he tries. But the smell is comforting, almost warm. Something else, another scent cuts through it all, coppery and rich. He wishes it took him longer to realize what it was. Blood. He wonders vaguely if it’s a part of his wings, or his vessel bleeding from the wings sudden burst into reality. This all takes place in a matter of seconds, leaving Tony in silence from shock.

There is a minute of silence, which slowly becomes two. Finally, Castiel’s voice breaks the quiet, voice quivering slightly, though it’s calmer than Tony felt. His breath’s coming out in short quick bursts. “Are you alright..?” His laugh bubbles free, breathless. “You’re worried about me?!” The angel chuckles gently, his thumb resting against Tony’s face stroking his cheek softly. “Can I—?” He can’t even say it, His voice shakes. There is a short before Castiel quickly speaks, as if he had nodded before realizing that the other man couldn’t see him. “Yes.” Tony nods slowly, shaking hands reaching out and pressing into what feels like an endless expanse of feathers, warm and soft. It feels like they ripple, like water under his touch. He trails his fingers through, the scent he is unable to place filling his nostrils. He wants to inhale deeply, to catch that scent again. The angel shivers, letting out a soft hum as the billionaire continues to stroke his wings, his other hand coming up on the other side, blindly fumbling until finding their place in the bed of feathers. And then he realizes. He realizes what that smell is. Warm and comforting, wrapping around him like a blanket. Keeping him safe and sound. Home. Castiel’s wings smelled like home. Not a place, But a thing. A place of calm mind and soul, a safe place where everything is alright.

Just this simple fact takes his breath away and it takes all of his will not to bury his face into his wings.

#{ still really freaking proud of this. }#castoni

"i've seen the footage, the only thing you really fight for is yourself."

those words, those words cut him deeper than he showed, because he's who he is, and he doesn't show pain. not him. and it's true. he's selfish, he really is. he only cares about himself.

except he doesn't, not really. because here he is now, fighting hard against something that doesn't even give a flying fuck about who he is or what he's doing, it only even paying attention to him because he won't stop shooting it. and the only reasons he's doing it is because -

and maybe it really is a hopeless cause like the angel has told him over and over again, almost desperate sounding. but he doesn't care. because he won't stop, he won't stop because he can't, because -

"you're not the guy to make the sacrifice play. to lay down on a wire and let the other guy crawl over you."

if the angel had heard those words, he would know they were a lie, because here he was, making the stupid sacrifice play, and he doesn't know why he'd even do it for him.

but the industralist knows why he's doing it.

he's doing it because -