#1/2'' drop-in concrete anchor | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

simp4wom3n · 2 years

Text

A Broken Ankle + A Whole Heart

Pairing: Alba Baptista x fem!Reader

Requested: Yes/No ~ request

Summary: Y/n has hidden a crush on Alba for quite a while now and was getting quite good at it. An accident on set that should be considered as ruining their day, actually leads to something that makes their year. ~ Word Count: 2.108k ~ Warnings: mentions of injuries + pain but other than that fluffffff

A/N: Hi!! a fanfic not for Jenna whatttttt. It felt weird writing for someone else but I genuinely love Alba sm so for those of you that are Jenna stans GIVE MY GIRL A CHANCE like LOOK AT THAT GIF - also if you haven't already, watch warrior nun <3

The day before Christmas break was always one of great energy and celebration. As per tradition, the entire cast had organised a movie marathon at the end of the day in order for everyone to wind down and say 'see you later' for a few weeks. The set of 'Warrior Nun' was by far one of your favourites you had ever worked on. The cast and crew all genuinely loved working on the show, which combined by the enthusiasm of the fans, made for a dream job. You had also met Alba.

The two of became really close when you were filming season 1, becoming practically inseparable by the time season 2 came around. You had never met anyone as perfect as Alba. She was everything you had always admired in someone, which naturally made you feel some less-than-platonic feelings for her. You were constantly afraid of them. You always kept your feelings to yourself for fear of driving her away and losing your best friend. You didn't even know whether she liked girls let alone liked you.

You were good at hiding your emotions, so things went on as usual, with the two of you having a blast while filming. Alba was currently filming a scene in which she was suspended on wires quite high up, which worried you. As much fun as the wires were to use, they always felt sketchy to you, especially today. You ignored your bad feeling and returned to the sidelines to watch her. She was incredibly talented at many things, one of which was acting, so even if you weren't needed, you would always stand off to the side and watch her completely awestruck.

Laid back in a chair just behind the cameras, you watched with a tender smile as Alba managed to absolutely crush the difficult scene despite being restricted by the wires. 'That must be so uncomfortable' you thought to yourself, cringing as your eyes traced the wires knowing how irritating they can get. As your cautious eyes followed the wires to their anchor point, your face dropped. Your smile of admiration completely disappeared as you noticed the hook that supported the entire rig was loose, hanging at an awkward angle from the concrete.

As your eyes studied the hook, wracking your brain as to whether or not it was supposed to look like that, you slowly rose from your seat with concern plastered all over your face. Glancing between Alba and the hook, you crept closer so you were stood just out of frame, the cameraman sending you a cautious look before focusing back on the camera. Turning your head towards the stunt director, you were about to voice your concern before you heard a sickening crack. your head immediately snapping back to Alba, her eyes widening with concern as they meet yours.

It all happens within a spilt second. The hooks falls. She drops. Your running. Sprinting. You have no idea how you moved so fast - all you knew was you had to get to her before she hit the ground, and you did. Slipping yourself between Alba and the floor, although it wasn't necessarily graceful, you managed to somewhat catch her causing her to fall on top of you. Maybe you hadn't quite thought about how this would end for you, but in that split second decision you made, all you were thinking about was Alba. As the two of collapse in a pile, you feel a sharp pain shoot through your right angle causing to to grunt. Pushing the dull ache and throbbing of your ankle beside, you immediately sit up to check if Alba is ok.

"You ok?" you ask breathlessly as your eyes search her body for any obvious injuries. "Y-yeah I'm ok. Thanks", replying obviously still in shock as to what just happened, she offers you a small smile as you untangle yourselves. The two of you linger on the ground for a moment, just looking into each others eyes, breathless. You completely forgot that you were surrounded by the rest of the crew until some of them came running up to the both of you, breaking your trance as your eyes left her brown ones.

Alba is helped to her feet before she turns her attention back to you, offering you her hand. Your lips twitch into a smile as you slip your hands into hers, trying to ignore how perfect her hand fits in yours. "Ow fuck" you immediately fall back down after trying to stand up, you hands grasping your ankle as the throbbing of your now swollen joint resurfaces, no longer hidden by your adrenaline. "Shit" Alba immediately kneels in front of you as her eyebrows scrunch in a combination of confusion and concern. "Y/n?!? Hey what's wrong what happened?" she places her hand on your arm, sending instant butterflies throughout your body - now was really not the time. "I don't know... I think I landed on my ankle or something but fu..." you manage to mutter as your face scrunches in pain.

As the on set medic reaches your side, Alba sits back as a wave of guilt washes over her. "This is all my fault" she whispers - so quietly you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't watching her intently. Propping yourself up on your elbows as the medic assesses your ankle, you reach one of your hands towards her. You notice the tears brimming in her eyes as she looks at you, her hands clutching her chest as if she was in pain. Giving her a small nod towards your outstretched hand, she gets the signal as she picks it up in her own. "Alba" you comfort softly, giving her hand a soft squeeze. "This isn't your fault. Ok? I chose to be your personal crash mat and I don't regret it" you earn a small chuckle from the girl as a single tear manages to escape and roll down her cheek.

"I'm fine Alba I swear. It just hurts like a b... owww" your face scrunches in pain again as the medic pushes on an especially tender spot. He mutters a small apology as you look back at Alba. "I would give you a hug but I'm a bit... immobilised." you chuckle softly as she glares at you. "Too soon?" you joke earning another small giggle from the girl, a sound you will never get tired of. "I just want you to be ok" she explains softly, a smile tugging at your lips as you feel warmth rise to your cheeks. "I will be. Wouldn't want to miss that movie marathon now would I."

So it turns out your ankle was most definitely broken. Unable to walk, Alba and the medic helped you to your car where said medic would drive you to the hospital. As you hobbled over to the car, you were entirely distracted by the proximity of you and Alba, one of her arms wrapped tightly around your waist, the other holding your arm wrapped around her shoulders. Just the slightest of her touches sent you spiralling so you tried your hardest to hide your definitely obvious blush - which you doubt you were successful at.

Much to Alba's dismay, she had to stay on set in order for the crew to meet the scene requirements before the break, meaning she couldn't accompany you. "I really wish I could come with you" she gives your waist a gentle squeeze as you finally make it to your car. "I would've liked that" your lips upturned in a soft smile, "but they need you here so" "Yeah I know. Still sucks though." "That it does.". She opens the passenger door for you before rewrapping her arms around your waist and helping you sit down. "I'll be fine I promise. I'll be back before you know it." "You better be". Once again your eyes become locked to hers. The air around you shifts. The surrounding environment fades as your façade slips, biting your lip softly as you glance at her lips. She mirrors your movements before she takes a step closer and starting to bend down. 'holy shit this is happening'

"We should probably go" the medic blurts out, snapping the two of you out of whatever incredibly intimate trance you were in. Alba goes bright red as she stands up straight and takes a step away from you. Realisation soon washes over you as to what was about to happen as your cheeks mirror hers. "Yeah, let's go. I'll see you later" you smile timidly before closing the door. As the medic drives out of the parking lot, your eyes remain on Alba as she stands still, almost frozen after what just happened - not the most reassuring.

It had been hours since you had left and Alba still couldn't take her mind off of you. She couldn't focus. She kept messing up her lines, missing her cues, it was fair to say it was going horribly. Thankfully she had made it to the last scene of the day which involved very few lines - a blessing considering you hadn't returned and with the marathon starting shortly, she was just hoping you would keep your promise.

"Cut!" you heard the director yell as you made your way back onto set, armed with two crutches and a cast. A little bit delirious from all the pain medications, you had been non-stop thinking about Alba - being honest with yourself you probably would've done that with or without the medication - but she never left your mind. Sure your last interaction with her was a little bit awkward, but all you cared about now, was seeing her again.

As you made your way towards them as quickly as your crutches would let you, you spotted Alba off to the side amongst all the crew packing up. A smile instantly grew on your face as you slowed your pace and headed directly towards her. Stopping a small distance away, you took a minute to admire her. In full costume and holding a water bottle in one hand and her phone in the other, she tucked a small strand of hair behind her ears as she looked down the check her phone. You can see disappointment flash across her face, although you aren't sure why, as she picks up her head and places her phone in her other hand. She runs her hand through her hair as she turns towards you. The second your eyes make contact, hers widen as her lips crack into a giddy smile - one which you match.

Running towards you, she basically crashes into you as she pulls you into a warm embrace. "Woah" you chuckle, "Careful I'm not exactly stable" "Sorry" she apologises with a small smile as she pulls back "I just really missed you" "Is that right?" you tease with a smirk, "I missed you too". And suddenly, you two are once again enthralled by one another and under the same spell you were before. Now that there was nobody around to stop you, you began to cautiously lean in, being careful to give her enough time to back out. The distance between the two of you gradually decreased as you cocked your head to meet her lips for a hesitant kiss.

As her gentle lips touched yours, butterflies shot through your gut. Even though you were on crutches, you reached up to cup her cheeks and drew her into a kiss as your lips began to move softly against one another. Your spine tingled when Alba's hands slipped around your neck, forcing you to sigh against her lips.

You pull away as you gradually open you eyes, only to be met by her soft brown ones already looking at you. You have no words. All you can do is just admire her. Admire the fact that you just kissed her and she kissed you back. Admire that despite having broken your ankle she was still the only thing on your mind. "We should probably catch up with the others" she suggests with a small chuckle. "Yeah... yeah we should".

You would've taken her hand as you walked to the marathon if it hadn't been for your crutches. Once inside, you were greeted with the bright smiles of your cast mates as you took a seat next to Alba on a couch - with your ankle elevated. It didn't take long for the two of you to get closer, with Alba's head on your chest and your arm wrapped around her shoulders. 'what a day'

#alba baptista #alba baptista request #alba baptista imagine #alba baptista x fem reader #alba baptista x reader #ava silva #ava silva x reader #ava silva x fem reader #warrior nun #renew warrior nun #warrior nun s2 #simp4wom3n #request #fanfic #imagine #warrior nun imagine

174 notes · View notes

fast-safety-nets-chennai · 2 months

Text

DIY Guide to Installing Bird Spikes at Home

Installing bird spikes is an effective way to prevent birds from landing and roosting on your property. If you're considering a DIY approach, this guide from Fast Safety Nets Chennai will help you through the process with practical tips and expert advice.

1. Gather Your Materials

Essential Tools and Materials:

Anti-Bird Spikes: Choose spikes suitable for your needs (stainless steel or plastic).

Measuring Tape: For accurate measurements.

Drill: If you’re using screws.

Screws and Anchors: For securing spikes (if drilling).

Adhesive: For surfaces where drilling isn’t possible.

Screwdriver: For tightening screws.

Clean Cloth: For surface preparation.

Safety Gear: Gloves and safety glasses.

2. Prepare the Installation Area

Clean the Surface:

Remove Debris: Ensure the surface is free of dust, dirt, or old bird droppings.

Ensure Dryness: The surface must be completely dry to ensure proper adhesion or drilling.

Inspect the Surface:

Surface Type: Determine whether the surface is flat, sloped, or uneven. This will affect your installation method.

3. Plan the Installation

Measure the Area:

Determine Length and Width: Measure the area where the spikes will be installed to ensure you have enough spikes.

Mark Placement: Use a pencil or marker to outline where each spike will go. Ensure even spacing to prevent birds from landing between spikes.

Spacing:

Typical Spacing: For most birds, spacing the spikes about 4 to 6 inches apart is effective.

4. Install the Spikes

Drilling and Screwing:

Mark Drill Points: For surfaces like wood or concrete, mark the drill points where screws will go.

Drill Holes: Use a drill to create holes at the marked points. Ensure the holes are the right size for the screws and anchors.

Attach Spikes: Align the spikes with the drilled holes and secure them with screws. Use a screwdriver to tighten the screws.

Adhesive Installation:

Apply Adhesive: For surfaces where drilling isn’t an option (e.g., glass or painted surfaces), apply a strong adhesive to the base of the spikes.

Place Spikes: Press the spikes onto the surface and hold them in place until the adhesive sets (follow the adhesive manufacturer's instructions).

Ensure Proper Coverage:

Check Placement: Make sure there are no gaps between the spikes and that they cover all the areas where birds might land.

5. Final Checks and Maintenance

Inspect Installation:

Check Stability: Ensure that all spikes are securely attached and that there are no loose or wobbling spikes.

Adjust if Necessary: Add more spikes or reposition them if you find gaps or insufficient coverage.

Clean Up:

Remove Excess: Clean up any debris, adhesive residue, or leftover materials from the installation process.

Regular Maintenance:

Inspect Periodically: Check the spikes regularly for signs of wear or damage and make any necessary repairs or replacements.

6. Expert Tips from Fast Safety Nets Chennai

Choosing the Right Spikes:

Material Matters: Stainless steel spikes offer durability and resistance to rust, while plastic spikes are generally more affordable but may not last as long.

Installation Tips:

Weather Considerations: Avoid installing spikes in extreme weather conditions to ensure proper adhesion or stability.

Safety First: Always use safety gear and be cautious when working at heights.

Professional Help:

Consultation: If you’re unsure about the installation or need custom solutions, Fast Safety Nets Chennai offers expert advice and professional installation services.

Get Started

For high-quality anti-bird spikes and professional assistance, contact Fast Safety Nets Chennai. They can provide the products and expertise needed to effectively deter birds and protect your property.

#DIYBirdSpikes #BirdDeterrents #FastSafetyNetsChennai #BirdControl #HomeImprovement #PigeonPrevention #BirdSpikesInstallation #ChennaiSafetyNets #BirdProofing #EffectiveSolutions

0 notes

let-me-be-an-egg-toast · 5 months

Text

CHAPTER 1: THE BIG SLEEP PROLOGUE - SCENE 1 - SCENE 2

CUT TO: EXT. UNKNOWN WAREHOUSE - NIGHT (DOWNPOUR) MURPHY walks in front of the warehouse, all of its large gates opened, revealing the empty darkness from within the establishment. He looks around warily, checking for hidden agents, anchors, anything. [UNKNOWN]: Hello, Mr. Law. MURPHY quickly turns his head to the warehouse, and a pair of floating round glasses at one of its gates looked back at him in the pouring rain, edges glistening in the moonlight. This was O5-1, and all we can tell you is she's no longer welcomed to the Foundation. For purposes we will still be using her former title. Her body could not be seen, the darkness of the warehouse completely covering it without even a hint of her silhouette, adding eerieness to her presence before him. Guessing based on the height of her glasses, she had to be a bit taller than him. MURPHY exasperatedly sighs. MURPHY: Jesus toots - couldn't you have chosen a better place to stand in? O5-1: I'm easily recognizable except when I'm in complete shadow, Mr. Law. Apologies if I startled you. MURPHY silently scoffs. MURPHY: [sarcastic] Oh no need to worry - I'm more concerned on other things. O5-1: [serious] Well I hope they don't distract you Murphy, because right now I need your utmost focus and trust. She sighs. O5-1: Look- She steps out of the gate, revealing her tall frame cloaked in a long coat. Her glasses were perched in front of a blank, porcelain mask. Her hands were covered in white gloves, with one of them holding a mysterious suitcase, rain now hitting and dripping off of it. Despite only a slight difference in height, her appearance makes her feel as if she were towering over MURPHY. O5-1: -I am going to say this as quick as I can. I know you have your reasons. You have every right not to trust me at this moment, but I want you to do so - if only for this once. See, this- She lifts the luggage up, drops of water scattering from it. MURPHY's gaze drifts towards it. O5-1: This is bigger than you and me. Bigger than any of us. All I can tell you right now that it is important we destroy this, as quickly as we can. MURPHY eyes it warily, suspicion slowly crawling inside like a snake inching towards its gullible prey. MURPHY: Why me? Why not one of your squadrons or agents? One of them has to still be loyal to you. She sighs. O5-1: All of them are under a tight leash by my...former co-workers. But you're not. You're not connected to any authority; and that's exactly what I need right now. MURPHY opens his mouth to speak until O5-1 cut him off. O5-1: Look, we wasted too much time. I'll tell you more in the drive, but we need to get going- A bullet suddenly zips past the both of them, putting a hole in the concrete wall behind O5-1, mere milimeters from her head, causing her and MURPHY to immediately back away. O5-1: -now. Without another word, she quickly grabs MURPHY's wrist and bolts away, dragging him with her. Another shot rang dangerously between the two of them, almost hitting MURPHY in the process. Splatters from shallow rain puddles echoed their every footstep in the night as they darted through the rain. More bullets rapidly followed their trail like greyhounds to rabbits, hitting against walls of concrete or glass. They finally reached the car, quickly climbing in as O5-1 hurried MURPHY. O5-1: [panicked] GO GO GO- MURPHY: [muttering] Don't have to tell me twice, woman. MURPHY grimaced as he sent the gas pedal to the floor, sending the vehicle 80mph, its tires loudly skidding from the speed. They went off into the distance, to God knows where.

#scp 3143 #scp-3143 #scp oc

1 note · View note

sugarfortia · 2 years

Text

I don’t know why, but I’ve been thinking a lot about webtoons recently (in the last hour or so), and the one thing that struck me is how certain webtoons just seem to... fall off. Or become popular to hate. I guess this is just a small paragraph of my opinions, so buckle up or don’t:

Problems with webtoons and why some don't work out. (In my opinion. Don't sue me.)

No. 1: Webtoons fall off because they get popular, then people realize they are problematic and collectively decide to cancel them. Prime example: Lore Olympus or the Boyfriends webtoon. Honestly both of them are just too close to being …fetish-y. For me to care about them anymore. Also, they’re too clique for people to defend. So basically webtoon allows them to be popularized for their pretty face and then it becomes a tiktok version of cancelation.

No. 2: Webtoons that are interesting to start out, but the plot is drawn out, takes a weird turn, is rushed, or the creator runs out of ideas. This is also often paired by a non-diverse cast and characters that are just too close to bland for people to latch onto. Ex: Un-Ordinary, which fits almost all the descriptions above.

No. 3: The plot starts off well enough, but the art style or characters aren’t memorable. I don’t want to give an example because this is more of a personal thing, but it’s still important. Webcomics take a long time to update, especially because they are made by people who most likely aren’t getting paid a whole lot (or at all!) for their work. This means that readers wait longer stints between updates or hiatuses and must have an anchoring point when they come back. Plus, unlike mangas, anime, or mainstream printed comics, webcomics tend to have smaller/more concentrated fanbases, so readers will not be bombarded with fan-content in between updates reminding them of characters and plot points. Bottom line: make the comic memorable and highly impactful, and write multiple interesting/relatable characters in order to effectively draw readers back into the plot.

Now for things that make webtoons successful, or at least enjoyable. To me.

No.1: Develop a universe that is iconic enough to be drawn back into. An example of this is Señorita Cometa and other comics by the same author. As soon as I start reading again, I have multiple unique characters I immediately remember, as well as masterful worldbuilding that is easy enough to unjust back to.

No.2: Have a plan for the plot, and stop when it is done. Ex: Omniscient Reader’s Viewpoint and ShootAround. Omniscient Reader is long and ongoing, and I often have trouble adjusting to the plot when I decide to come back to it. However, the plot is still going strong. It has structure, a foreseeable end, and plot-twisted instead of dropping off somewhere. I cannot remember how long ShootAround was since I read it in a day, but it was mildly long, enough for the main cast to ‘grow up’ and have a semi-concrete resolution. It stopped when it needed to and left no shoes untied. Bam. Legacy secured. MCU better take notes.

No. 3: HAVE A DIVERSE CAST. Create characters a wide range of people can relate to. Avoid stereotypes and tropes regarding minority characters in order to create MEANINGFUL representation! Don’t just have a throwaway best friend or bg characters either (I love the owl house but yes they are guilty of the ‘funny black friend’ trope. Don’t do that.). Do some research. Talk to people. Expand ya worldview. This creates a cast of characters that are memorable, unique, enjoyable, and will probably raise your credibility as a good writer IF done right. Remember, diversity is key and not just in skin tone either.

No.4: Artstyle. Obviously stick with what you’re good at, but make it interesting! This includes how settings, backgrounds, colors, and faces are handled. If you can, make it iconic! I don’t read this anymore, but a good example for this would be Ava’s Demon. The creator’s style is recognizable, soft yet vibrant, super colorful, and detailed enough to immediately capture your attention. Another example would be BUUZA! or Phototaxis. Note the color palettes, lineart styles, all the things. Do whatever is comfortable, but I personally would avoid artstyles that blend in with the rest.

No.5: Formatting and design choices. The comic should be readable and aesthetically appealing. Personally I don’t appreciate long intros/title pages but they serve a purpose! Things such as formatting scenes, text size/font, speech bubble placing/shape, and whether or not the title doubles as a logo/wordmark should al be considered!

No.6: Just make something you like. Be able to look at it and say “yo thats cool”.

I’m stopping because this is turning into an advice column. Can you tell I want to create a webcomic? No? Good, keep it that way.

#webtoons #webcomic #yee im getting my brain thoughts down

1 note · View note

fixdex-fastening-technology · 3 years

Photo

SS 304 Drop In Anchor M6-M16

click here to see more of this product

0 notes

tricksters-captain · 3 years

Text

Bucky Barnes imagines - Some Sunny Day Part 6

AN: And it all comes to an end....

Overall Summary: Before the Blip, you and Bucky were close. After you both returning and Tony’s funeral, you decided to go back to your home town to spend time with your family. When duty calls, you return.

In this chapter: An attack in Manhattan brings the gang back together for their final fight against Karli. (Based on S1 EP6)

(PART 1) (PART 2) (PART 3) (PART 4) (PART 5)

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Sam Wilson x Platonic!Reader

Word Count: 3,897

Warnings: Spoilers for episode 6, Violence, some strong language, fluff

“Hello?” You put the phone on speaker as you answered it.

“I got a hit.” Sam informed you. You looked towards Bucky who had just put both your bags down by the couch.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Karli’s in New York. I think they’re gonna hit the GRC meeting.”

“Makes sense.” Bucky tilted his head, pressing his lips into a thin line.

“Right. We’ll suit up and meet you there?” You moved toward your bag to get your things.

“With these new wings, I may even beat you.” You could practically hear Sam’s smirk through the phone. You hung up and immediately started to change.

By the time you were kitted up and ready to go, the news had announced the GRC meeting had gone into a complete lockdown.

“Guess Sam was right.” You switched off the tv and picked up your final knife.

To get you down to the building quickly, you hijacked a motorbike. When you arrived there were swarms of news anchors and cops.

You dismounted the bike and headed to the front of the crowds.

“I’m almost there.” Sam’s voice came through on your coms.

“What’s the plan?” Bucky asked as he walked beside you.

“Karli’s gotta be close. Keep your eyes open.” Sam ordered. Your eyes began to search the surrounding areas.

“Well, it could be anybody.” Bucky mumbled. He was right. Karli had a huge following, she didn’t even need to be here but you were praying she would be.

“And by the way, I called in some backup.” Sam informed you both.

Then, at that moment, a stranger approached the both of you.

“Excuse me, sir. Are you supposed to be here?” The man asked before reaching to his face and removing the illusion mask. “It’s me.” Sharon was revealed underneath.

“Sharon, what the hell are you doing here?” You asked, looking around to see if anyone had been watching.

“Relax. No one’s looking for me here.” Sharon assured you both.

“Is that Sharon?” Sam had recognised her voice over the coms.

“Unfortunately.” Bucky retorted.

“Hey, Sam. I thought I’d get the band back together.” Sharon made herself known to him.

“Thank you. You’re risking a lot coming here.” Sam thanked her.

“I hear pardons aren’t all they’re cracked up to be.” Sharon tried making light of her being back whilst still being a fugitive.

“Depends on the therapist.” Bucky proclaimed. You ignored the comment as you continued to survey the scene.

“They’ll move on the building soon. Be ready.” Sam warned you as he grew closer. And he was right. Within the building, gas was let off which set off a panic. The building had to be evacuated.

“(Y/n), Bucky, what’s going on on your end?” Sam had entered the building through the window where the hostages were being ushered towards the stairs.

“Nothing. All quiet.” Bucky told Sam.

“No one’s moving toward the building.” You added as you patrolled alongside Sharon and Bucky.

“Karli’s not coming in. She’s trying to force everybody out.” Sam had realised Karli’s plan. You looked between Bucky and Sharon. Time for you to go in. yourselves.

“You guys are gonna have to do something.” Sam’s voice came through as you entered the doors. “Don’t let ’em out of the building.”

“Oops.” Sharon said after realising you just let out several people.

“There’s one of em.” Bucky pointed across the building to an impressively large guard. “I’ll get the evac.”

“I’m with Bucky.” You followed Bucky towards the stairwell.

As you were just around to reach the stairs, a woman came forward with a phone.

“Mr. Barnes, it’s Karli.” She handed the phone over to Bucky.

“I’ll go.” You let him take the call and continued to pursue the hostages.

You reached the underground parking lot in time to see the hostages being loaded up into police trucks.

You knew you couldn’t take on all the guards at once and you’d only cause a panic with the hostages, forcing them to run off in different directions and you weren’t even sure which guards were Karli’s and which were the GRCs.

You clocked the large guard from before that Sharon was meant to have gone after. He was applying some sort of lock onto the back of the trucks.

As the final guards climbed into the trucks, you took your shot. You silently ran up behind the large man and forced yourself up onto his back, your hands grabbing onto the guards face. He cried out as he threw you off but the connection was just enough to use your powers.

You fell to the floor, his memories tunnelling through your head like a bullet. He sent his boot into your stomach several times before leaving you. The trucks had already driven away and you remained on the floor so he didn’t bother with killing you.

You searched his memories for Karli’s plan.

“Sam.” You wheezed. “I know what Karli is planning to do.”

“What? How?” Sam responded through your ear piece, sounding concerned.

“She used her powers.” Sharon piped up. You looked around the garage to see her hiding behind a large concrete pillar with her eyes on the guard.

“I’m sending you the coordinates for their rendezvous now.” You typed over the coordinates on your arm pad.

Bucky finally made it down to you and helped you from the floor.

“You can’t fight anymore. You gotta sit this one out.” Bucky told you as the look of exhaustion was obvious on your face.

“Shut up and get moving.” You weren’t having any of it. You moved towards the bikes and Bucky climbed on in front.

You pulled out a small syringe from the inside of your jacket and Bucky cocked an eyebrow at it.

“In case of emergencies, right?” You stabbed the syringe into your thigh and injected the serum. It was a serum that Bruce Banner had worked on with you for these dire times. It gave you enough energy after using your powers to allow you to fight again. There were only a handful of them and the come down afterwards was worse than anything you had experienced but it kept you in the game when you needed it most.

Bucky set off on route to the hostages.

You gripped onto him tightly as he sped through the alleys and roads.

“You better speed things up, Sam. The choppers about to take off.” You heard Sharon warn Sam.

“Bucky?” Sam called out through the coms.

“I don’t fly, man. That’s your thing.” Bucky wasn’t going to be any help now that he was almost at the rendezvous point anyway.

You spotted the trucks up ahead along with large concrete road blocks.

“Drop me here.” You told Bucky as you were far enough away for them to not have seen you yet. Bucky did as he was told before speeding off ahead.

You ran down the sidewalk to keep yourself hidden. The flag smashers should be too busy dealing with Bucky to realise you were going after the trucks.

You reached one of the trucks only to find it the locks were impenetrable. It then didn’t take long for one of the super soldiers to find you. You ducked as she sent her fist towards you. You pulled out your knives, one in each hand, and began to attack.

Suddenly, a fire rose beside the truck.

“Bucky!” You shouted out as you fought. You knew only he could open those doors with his strength and his arm.

The soldier managed to get a grip on your shoulder and tossed you across the street like a pillow. You groaned as your body collided with the concrete.

“Morgenthau!” You recognised the voice as it cried out Karli’s name. It was Walker.

You pushed yourself to your feet and ran back over to the fight. Bucky was desperately trying to open the doors to the truck and John had started to attack Karli.

You lunged forward as John hit the floor, surrounded by the soldiers.

One broke away to fight you.

You growled and grunted as you brought forth all the power you had in you to fight the soldier.

Bucky had saved the hostages inside the burning truck and had come through to help John also.

You grew distracted when you witnessed Bucky falling into the building site.

The soldier took advantages of your loss of focus and managed to put you to the floor with a solid punch to the side of your head.

You vision went spotted and blurred and your head pounded as you lulled on the ground. You were unsure of how long you were lying there when you felt someone take your arm and drag you along the concrete towards one of the trucks.

Karli pulled the drivers door open and shoved you into the passenger seat before climbing in herself. She reached across you and crushed the handle so you couldn’t get out.

Your vision began to clear just as Karli threw herself from the vehicle.

The truck crashed through the gates and down onto the scaffolding. You clung onto the seat as you leant back to stop the truck from moving any further forward.

“Stay calm!” You snapped at the screaming hostages but the truth was you weren’t feeling calm yourself.

You could see Bucky beneath you.

It was one high drop.

You wouldn’t survive this fall. Not sitting in the front. Not at this height with the weight of this machinery.

“Fuck.” You cussed under your breath as your heart thudded against your chest. Bucky could see you inside and he felt his whole body tremble.

You locked your eyes with his. You didn’t want to go. You only just got him back.

Suddenly, the truck shifted again but this time it was being dragged backwards. You glanced to the side view mirror to see John trying to save you.

You couldn’t help but gasp when the flag smashers tore him away from the truck. They all tumbled down to the pit. You squeezed your eyes shut as the truck rolled forward again.

You were thrown forward onto the glass of the windshield when the truck abruptly stopped.

You opened your eyes to see that Sam had finally made it.

“Cutting it a little close, aren’t we?” You let out a shaky laugh as relief washed over you.

Sam managed to get the truck up safely. You escaped through the drivers door and embraced him.

“Looking good.” You smiled at the suit. Sam only winked before taking you down to Karli.

He threw the shield, hitting each flag smasher as he put you down.

“You of all people bought into that bullshit?” Karli looked beyond betrayed at Sam’s new look.

“I’m trying something different. Maybe you should do the same.” Sam retorted.

Just as you went to step forward, smoke bombs were sent down on top of you. It gave Karli the chance to get away.

Fortunately, Sam could use his goggles to track them.

“Hey, Sharon. We’re underground. We entered the tunnel on William. Heading south.” Sam informed Sharon on your position as you all made your way through the tunnel. “Looks like they split up. Here.” Sam stopped at an intersection.

John took off without a word. Bucky looked back at you and Sam.

“I got it.” He sighed before following.

“I’ll head this way. Don’t hesitate to call if you need me.” You broke off in the opposite way to Bucky and John whilst Sam went up ahead. You kept your guard up as you silently made your way around the place. It was like a maze and you had kept running into dead ends.

You cussed as you wished you had the app for the flag smashers in order to receive any news. It was the only way them and you would know the new meet up point.

“(Y/n), we found Karli’s team.” Bucky sent you the location. You hesitated to follow as a bad feeling began to seep into you. “(Y/n)?” Bucky questioned if you could hear him.

“On my way.” You replied, ultimately deciding to join back with Bucky, ignoring your instinct.

When you reached Bucky and Walker, the soldiers had been apprehended.

“Good job, boys.” You congratulated them. “Sam? Any news?” You asked over the coms.

“I’ve got Karli. She didn’t make it.” Sam’s news made your stomach drop.

Karli didn’t make it. She didn’t make it.

“Hey, come here.” Bucky pulled you into his chest after he saw your face drain of colour. All that was playing through your head was the girl’s memories of Karli. Karli playing with the children, her smile, her laughter, her passion.

You forced them from your mind as you made your way to the surface. Ambulances, cop cars and the press had all moved location from the GRC meeting to there.

Your eyes followed everyone’s gaze as Sam came into view.

He flew down to the ground with Karli’s body in his arms.

You felt Bucky slide his fingers down your wrist and take your hand, squeezing it tightly.

When Sam’s feet touched the ground he was ambushed with questions from reporters. He approached the senators without answering any of them.

He was thanked by them before he asked about the relocating plans.

“Our peacekeeping troops will begin relocating people soon.” He was told.

“The terrorists only set us back a bit––”

“––Stop calling them terrorists.” Sam interrupted

“What else would we call them?” They questioned.

“Your peacekeeping troops carrying weapons are forcing millions of people into settlements around the world, right? What do you think those people are gonna call you? These labels, “terrorists,” “refugee,” “thug,” they’re often used to get around the question, why?” Sam started,

“Those settlements that happened five years ago, do you think it is fair for governments to have to support them?” They argued against him.

“Yes.” Sam spoke honestly.

"And the people who reappeared only to find someone else living in their family home, they just end up homeless? Look, I get it. But you have no idea how complicated this situation is.” They tried to put Sam down but Sam wasn’t walking away.

“You know what? You’re right. And that’s a good thing. We finally have a common struggle now. Think about that. For once, all the people who’ve been begging, and I mean, literally begging for you to feel how hard any given day is… Now you know. How did it feel to be helpless? Now if you could remember what it was like to be helpless and face a force so powerful it could erase half the planet, you would know that you’re about to have the exact same impact. This isn’t about easy decisions, Senator.”

“You don’t understand.” They grumbled.

“I’m a Black man carrying the stars and stripes. What don’t I understand? Every time I pick this thing up, I know there are millions of people who are gonna hate me for it. Even now, here… I feel it. The stares, the judgment. And there’s nothin’ I can do to change it. Yet, I’m still here. No super serum, no blond hair, or blue eyes. The only power I have is that I believe we can do better. We can’t demand that people step up if we don’t meet them halfway. Look, you control the banks. Shit, you can move borders! You can knock down a forest with an email, you can feed a million people with a phone call. But the question is, who’s in the room when you make those decisions? Hmm? Is it the people you’re gonna impact? Or is it just more people like you?” Sam paused. “I mean, this girl died trying to stop you, and no one has stopped for one second to ask why. You’ve gotta do better, Senator. You’ve gotta step up. Because if you don’t, the next Karli will. And you don’t wanna see 2.0. People believed in her cause so much that they helped her defy the strongest governments in the world. Why do you think that is? Look, you people have just as much power as an insane god or a misguided teenager. The question you have to ask yourself is, ‘How are you going to use it’?”

You smiled widely at Sam as he finished, walking away. He really was Captain America.

“Sorry, I was, uh, I was texting and so, all I heard was, um, a Black guy in stars and stripes.” Bucky teased the man as he approached you.

You wrapped your arm around Sam, half embracing him as Bucky patted him on the back.

“Nice job, Cap.” Bucky smiled.

“Thanks.” Sam took the compliment.

“Sharon?” You smile dropped when you spotted Sharon trying to perform her own medical procedures beside a car.

“Your blocking my light.” Sharon hissed as she fiddled with her wounds.

“We gotta get you to a hospital.” Sam frowned at the state of her.

“She’s not gonna listen.” Bucky stated flatly.

“It’s not the worst thing that’s happened to me all week.” Sharon admitted, avoiding the mention of the hospital.

“Told you.” Bucky quipped.

“Uh, Cap?” A man came forward, interrupting for a moment.

“I think he’s talking to you.” Sharon turned her face away to not risk getting recognised. “Look, I’m sorry for how things ended down there. For what it’s worth, suit looks good on you.”

“Thanks.” Sam chuckled.

“All right, look, can we get out of here, please?” Bucky ushered Sharon to move.

“I didn’t forget my promise.” Sam turned to remind Sharon of his promise to get her a pardon before he left.

You decided to take Sharon back to the apartment and fix her up there. You had enough supplies and the experience to do an adequate job of it.

“What now? Back to Madripoor?” You asked Sharon as you cup open her top.

“Seems like it.” She winced as she spoke.

“Sam will get you that pardon. You might as well stick around.” Bucky returned to your side with a bowl of water and a cloth.

You worked in silence for a few minutes before Sharon realised something. She had been watching Bucky watch you.

“You finally slept together, didn’t you?” Sharon smirked as it hit her.

“Oh my god.” You groaned, rolling your head back.

“I mean I knew something was different...” Sharon’s smart mouth was quickly shut as you pressed into her wound.

“I’ll get us something to drink.” Bucky excused himself as he felt a blush creep up his neck.

“Bout time.” Sharon murmured but it was the last she mentioned it after the glare you shot her.

Sharon didn’t stick around after you stitched her up. You understood why but you were still hesitant to let her leave.

As she did, you started to really feel the come down effects of the serum.

“Hey. Hey.” Bucky caught you as you began to sway on your feet. He sat you down on his coach and placed his hand on your head. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s the serum.” You reminded him. It had been a long time since you used it last.

Sweat covered down your forehead and soaked your clothes. Your body ached, it felt like it was on fire, and your head was hammering.

Bucky helped you remove your clothes before wrapping a thin blanket around you. He fetched a cloth to rest on your forehead as you laid back.

His face twisted into a grimace as you began to scream and whine, writhing in front of him.

And there was nothing he could do but watch.

The pain of the serum leaving your body was excruciating. Bucky brought over the bin as you had flimsily pointed to it. You curled over the side of the couch and threw up.

Bucky brushed your hair away from your face with his hand and held it behind your head.

“I forget how bad this got.” Bucky confessed as you choked.

The rest of the night was spent like that until you eventually fell asleep against Bucky’s bare chests whilst he held you. The coldness of his metal arm was refreshing against your burning skin.

In the morning, you woke to the news that the captured super soldiers had been blown up on their way to the raft.

It was announced there were no suspects but both you and Bucky knew exactly who was responsible.

Zemo.

“There’s somethings I gotta do today.” Bucky told you as he brushed his lips against your hair.

“You want me to come with you?” You asked. You were weak but you were better after suffering through the night.

“No. It’s something I gotta do it on my own.” Bucky intertwined his fingers with yours as you rested against him.

“Okay.” You nodded. “But I’m here if you need me.”

“I know.” Bucky kissed the back of your hand before pushing himself off the couch. “Now let’s get you in the shower because you stink.”

You laughed as Bucky helped you up.

Bucky told you in the bathroom about his neighbour. He offered for you to see the memories you had missed since you last used your powers on him but you didn’t want to be informed on every thought/memory he had during the time you were away.

He told you what his plans were. It had been a long time since he had been this open.

You spent the rest of the morning cleaning yourself and then the apartment. Bucky helped before you finally encouraged him to get on with his day.

He didn’t return until late.

He walked through the door and you could see his hands were shaking still.

You didn’t say anything. You just hugged him.

The days went by and soon enough you were being called by Sam again.

He had invited you for a little celebration down at the dock. So, you travelled back down to Louisiana and back into Sam’s home town.

The children instantly went for Bucky as you both arrived. You laughed as he chased after them with a cake in his hands.

“Where is everybody?” Bucky asked them.

Sam and Sarah embraced the both of you warmly and an overwhelming sense of love flooded around you.

Pictures were being taken with Sam, the food was amazing, the beer was cold and it was a beautiful evening.

You were stood against one of the wooden pillars, watching Bucky speak with Sarah, a couple kids dangling on his arm. You smiled and took a swig from your bottle.

“Don’t get soppy on me now.” Sam joined you, sipping on his own beer.

“Me? Soppy?” You scoffed, shaking your head.

Sam rolled his eyes as he draped his arm over your shoulders. You leant into his embrace.

“I visited the memorial for Isaiah in the museum.” You confessed.

“Yeah?” Sam cocked his eyebrow at you with a smile.

“It’s a great thing you’ve done for that man.” You praised him. “I’m proud of you, Captain America.”

Sam clutched his heart with his hand dramatically.

“My god!” He proclaimed.

“Shut up.” You nudged him with your hip. You both laughed before making your way down the dock to watch the sunset.

Bucky joined you.

It felt good to be there. It felt like home.

AN: To be continued?? I’ll probably leave this fic here for now but I may continue it on in the future.

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts@darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch@thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts @themaddies-obx @avenging-parker@delilahsdaydream @felicityofbakerstreet @purplewcrld @opheliaaaa @avisexe @lindseyrae20 @thanossexual @smolanxiousdeku @soccer-100000 @peachyxlynch @mads-weasley @zozebo @so-very-asleep @sebby-staan @missroro @bibliophilewednesday @ysywyw626 @serrendipiity

#Bucky Barnes x reader #Bucky Barnes imagines #Bucky Barnes #the winter soldier #Sam Wilson #Sam Wilson imagines #the falcon and the winter soldier #Captain America and the winter soldier #Sebastian Stan #Sebastian Stan x reader #Sebastian Stan imagines #series #some sunny day #part 6 #Anthony Mackie #imagines

262 notes · View notes

chilly-me-softly · 3 years

Note

Please a part 2 to the wedding planning on with Marcus 😭🥺

Part 1

You're on your bed on your stomach looking at wedding stuff on your iPad when the door opens but you act as if nothing has happened. You can see out of the corner of your eye Marcus's body before he moves even closer settling on top of you. You groan instantly as he settles in better anchoring his legs to either side of yours, his arms somehow around your body and dropping his head into your neck.

"I'm sorry" he sighs as you block the screen of the device trying to turn around but failing. "I'm sorry for leaving you alone with the planning. But mostly I'm sorry for making you think I didn't care about our wedding"

"Marcus" you lower your gaze to the black screen of the device where you can see your reflection, a hand of his moving your hair away from your face as his nose brushes against your features.

"Cause I care, hell I can't wait"

"Can I look at your face?" you ask but he shakes his head. "I don't think I could hold your gaze right now. And I need you to understand"

"Understand what?" you sigh hearing his breath against your ear.

"That I didn't plan any of this. That I'm scared and in my head I thought that focusing only on the wedding day would help lessen all this anxiety"

"Scared of what? Marcus we've been together for a while, we live together and we get along well. Isn't getting married the same thing?"

"It's a step forward, it's a concrete thing. Having that ring on your finger means being there, that there's no going back. And I- I've started to think about how I can be there, how I can provide for our family besides money and what I can offer you that the brilliant person that you are can't achieve on your own and I don't know I..."

"Oh Marcus why didn't you tell me about this earlier instead of staying in your head?" you try again to turn to look at him really needing the eye contact, "Can you make me move please?"

Marcus rises up onto his knees allowing you to turn onto your back before leaning back into you, resting his elbows on either side of your body and no longer weighing down on you like before. Your hands massaging the base of his neck.

"You don't have to be afraid in being honest with me okay? You know that"

"I know but- I didn't want you to think I wasn't happy with you" you raise an eyebrow as he shakes his head realising he's had the opposite effect.

"I know what's going through your mind because it's the same for me too, even I can't understand why we need to choose even the napkins on the tables or be careful not to put aunt Betty and aunt Dorothy next to each other-"

"Oh no that would be a mess" you giggle along with him.

"-but the thing is, there's no one I want to do it with but you. And whatever comes next, all the problems and worries we can deal with together when the time comes"

"I love you so much. See? How can I compete with you when you're like this?"

"Being a couple isn't about competing to see who does the most good things, it's about being there for each other and supporting each other in everything. Or almost" you laugh as Marcus reaches over to leave a kiss on your lips.

"I'm sorry for the way I've been acting lately. How can I make it up to you?"

"Well there would still be a lot of things to fix" you allude turning your face towards the iPad. "Consider it done"

"Together" you block him when he's about to pick up the device.

"Together" he smiles before leaving you another kiss and settling in beside you.

#thank you anon #marcus rashford #marcus rashford blurb

48 notes · View notes

slutforbuck · 3 years

Text

Peter Pan Part 5 -- Mickey x Reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5

The salty air blew your hair across your face as you leaned back in the sand. “Thank you for bringing me out today Mickey.” “Anything for you Sugar.” You turned to watch as he flopped down next to you, button down shirt flying open in the wind, dark shades covering his beautiful ocean blue eyes, and his signature carefree smile blessing his face. Smiling contently as he pulled you to his side, the two of you sat in silence, looking out over the ocean. You were so at peace that you thought you may fall asleep, but Mickey noticed this before you did. A mischievous smile crossed his lips and he grabbed you by the waist and ran towards the water with you in his arms. “Mickey!” You laughed as a cold wave crashed over the two of you, knocking you off your feet. Mickey never let you go and hooked your legs around his waist to keep you from floating away. “You looked like you needed to wake up.” His ocean blue eyes stared down at you, his nose crinkling slightly as he grinned at you, now drenched in water. You laughed as you gently slapped his arm, “You ass! I was awake!” “You looked pretty out of it to me.” He laughed and threw you into an oncoming wave. When you popped back up from under the water, you dove for him, “I was totally awake. Not at all daydreaming about all the things you did to me last night.” Mickey groaned as you wrapped your legs around him, anchoring yourself again. “You know we have a party tonight. How adventurous do you wanna be?” The two of you smirked at each other before heading back to the shore to leave.

“Miiickkk!! What time are we leaving?” Lean, muscled arms wrapped around your waist, and Mickey rested his chin on your shoulder in the crook of your neck. “Depends on if you want to have a little fun before we leave.” Finishing up, you turned yourself in his arms and held his face in your hands. “Come on, you promised me a long ride.” With a quick kiss on the cheek, the two of you were out the door. The party was in full swing by the time of you strode in. Mickey’s arm was draped softly around your waist, and you immediately began swaying to the music. “Mick dance with me!” Laughing, he pulled you against him, spinning you until you were dizzy. The last spin sent you straight to the bar, where you fell onto a stool trying to catch your breath. You ordered drinks for yourself and Mickey, and looked back out to the crowd looking for his unmistakable blue eyes. Before you could down your shot, your eyes connected with his and your jaw dropped. Wishing that you could chalk it up to him being drunk, you turned to face the bar, downing both drinks you had ordered. I can’t believe he’s already kissing some tramp. We’ve been here maybe fifteen minutes and he’s SOBER. Well two can play at that game. You stood, adjusting your clothes so that more skin could be shown. Every man you saw had his eyes trained on you, and a smirk stayed plastered on your face. You found one of the most intimidating looking men, and pressed yourself against his chest. He had no arguments, and his hands quickly found their way to your ass, pulling you closer and roughly kissing you. Suddenly you were pulled away from the breathtaking kiss, and pushed to the side. Once you regained your balance, you saw Mickey and the man standing toe to toe. Internally you groaned and pushed Mickey out of the way. “Back off Mick.” “Are you really going to do this to me Y/n? You were all over this guy!!!” A heavy hand came down on your shoulder, letting you know that if he needed to, he could handle Mickey for you. “We can discuss this later. But right now, I’m having a good time. A lot like the fun you were having with your tongue down that slut’s throat and your hand working its way up her skirt.” With the last words dripping with anger, you turned sharply on your heel, pulling your new friend behind you.

A warm breeze accompanied the soft sunlight coming in through the windows of the unfamiliar room you woke in. You rolled to your side and saw the man from last night, and all the memories of what happened came flooding back. Quietly you slipped out of the bed and pulled your clothes on, hoping to be gone before the man woke up. Luckily his apartment was on the first floor, and you snuck out through his patio. Your bare feet touched the cool concrete and you made your way to the nearest café. The squealing of breaks made you jump, and you turned to cuss the driver. Before you could get words out, you noticed it was Argyris. He leaned over and pulled you into the car. “Where the hell have you been? Mickey called me this morning saying you never came home last night.” “Like he’d care.” You scoffed at the mention of his name. “What happened korítsi? He said you disappeared with some guy, you didn't come home. You haven't answered your phone when I’ve called.” Tears welled up in your eyes and you turned to face the window. “Where are you taking me?” Hearing the crack in your voice, Argyris’ voice softened, knowing you needed time before you could explain why you were upset. “I was thinking the beach?” Through the tears that had began to fall, you smiled and gave Argyris a small kiss on the cheek. “Thank you.”

#mickey #mickey x y/n #mickey fic #mickey henry x you #mickey henry x reader #mickey henry fanfic #mickey henry #mickey monday #monday the movie #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you

20 notes · View notes

ororowrites · 4 years

Text

Stripped - (Yahya x Black OC)

Sweet Thang Series - Chapter 2

Warnings: Language

Word count: 2,735

One-Shot: By the Open Fire

Chapters: 1

By the end of the first song, Candace was in her comfort zone. Yahya never let his eyes leave her and she no longer felt shy. The club had rules about no touching but Candace suddenly wanted this man’s hands all over her. Those long fingers and smooth brown skin were doing things to her. Maybe it was the liquor making her horny over a man she didn’t even know.

Little did Candace know, Yahya had thoughts racing in his mind too. He couldn’t stop thinking about her petite body under his or how her lips would feel on him. Candace was a beautiful woman and something about her intrigued Yahya. When she straddled his legs and began to grind on his lap, the urge to touch her grew. The scent of her perfume was as intoxicating as her hips, almost putting a spell on him.

It must have been the alcohol that gave Candace the courage to make her next move. She could feel his breath on her lips before they were interrupted by the dance timer. The euphoria they had experienced quickly disappeared as they fell back to Earth.

“Shit, sorry,” Candace apologized, swinging her legs to the floor. Yahya became any other customer and she held her hand out to collect her payment. “Thank you. You enjoy the rest of your night.”

Yahya opened his mouth but Candace was already heading out the door, stuffing the bills in her bra.

-------

Well into the next morning, Yahya was still thinking about the mystery girl from the club. He’d been to many strip clubs and never felt a connection with any of the ladies he encountered. Something about her grabbed him and sucked him in and had her on his mind hours later.

“You still stuck on that hoe from the club.” Damon lit his blunt and relaxed his head against the back of the sofa. “Nigga, we ain’t taking you to the club again.”

“Word on the street is that the shawties at Dynasty have golden pussy or some shit,” his brother added with a drug induced chuckle.

“Respect the ladies, man. Being a stripper doesn’t make them hoes. And Kevin that’s enough kush for you. Golden pussy? Really,” Yahya snatched the blunt from his friend and put it back in the ashtray.

“Aight, let me respect the skrippas. But still, you don’t know her. What if she’s crazy? You will be going back home tomorrow night and no tellin’ when you’re coming back to LA, so why does it matter,” Damon explained.

“Both of ya’ll are some fucking haters. Trash asses.” Yahya grabbed his phone and took his troubles to the balcony. Kevin and Damon were great friends but their childish, misogynistic antics got on his nerves when he was around them. At times, he felt like he was outgrowing them, even though he still considered them brothers he never had. While he was looking to settle down sooner rather than later, they were stuck in the same phase they were in throughout high school and college and it appeared to be a never ending cycle.

Was it ridiculous to think that the stripper he met at the club was the one? Yep. But, that didn’t keep Yahya from wishing he could see her again before he was back to the reality of being jobless.

-------

“Are you sure you saw him with her?” The very question had Candace’s heart pounding against her chest. Natalie, Maxwell’s ex-girlfriend, had entered the picture again after Candace thought her dropping out of school was the blessing they needed. Now with her back in California via North Carolina, she had access to Maxwell as did he to her.

“Sis, would I lie to you? I saw that bastard with her in the Commons. Took everything out of me not to run up on them and start whooping ass,” Trinity said, fuming on her sister’s behalf. Truth be told, she never liked Maxwell and knew the type of guy he was from the beginning. Maxwell was charming and had the ability to make any girl weak in the knees. Especially a woman like her sister that was in love with being in love.

Anger built from the pits of her stomach. Feelings of betrayal had never quite faded since they had made up and she ignored it in the name of love. “Did he see you?”

“Nope. But I’ll make myself seen when it comes to my sister. Candy, why are you still trying to make things work with this immature, cheating ass, motherfucker? I try to hold my tongue like you ask but I refuse to hold it again. You’re too good for him.” When it came to family. Trinity was the sister that would physically fight for her siblings. At times, Candace admired her sister’s tenacity and wished she wasn’t as timid when it came to relationships with people. That was one negative trait that kept Candace anchored to people that did not deserve her time.

“I honestly don’t know.” Tears began to form in Candace’s eyes as the shame set in for her. She knew Maxwell was no good for her but he always found a way back into her heart. “I’m...um...I’m going to talk to him.”

“Candace,” Trinity called out, noticing her sister’s emotions getting the best of her. “Please don’t cry over that man. Please.”

If only Candace knew her worth.

-------

Candace took the scenic route to Maxwell’s apartment, playing different scenarios in her head on the way. If she murdered him, where would she hide the body? Did she just hit him with questions or soften him up first?

None of those scenarios played out once Candace reached her destination and was met by Natalie in the hall outside Maxwell’s apartment. The three of them froze, each of them searching for words to break up the awkward moment.

“I should get going. I’ll call you when I get home,” Natalie mumbled, lowering her eyes and pushing past Candace.

“I knew that apology was a lie and you were full of shit,” Candace spoke through clenched teeth. She was taught to never put her hands on anyone and it took a strong prayer to keep her fists at her sides. “What the hell is Natalie doing here and don’t even think about lying.”

Maxwell didn’t even put up a fight. Besides, after the news he had learned, he didn’t have the energy to lie or smooth talk his way out of this one.

“What was she doing here, Maxwell?”

“Natalie’s pregnant,” he replied, leaning against the wall across from Candace. He watched as his girlfriend’s face fell blank. “I fucked up and I’m sorry for that. You don’t deserve the shit I put you through.”

Still lost for words, Candace slid down the wall until her rear hit the concrete floor. Pregnant. That had to be the final straw, right? The game they had been playing for the past three years had come to a tragic end that Candace feared.

“Baby, I’m so sorry. I know I stay apologizing but I mean it. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Yeah, you did.”

Maxwell kept his distance. “Did what?”

“If you didn’t mean to hurt me, this would have stopped after the first incident. But I gave you chance after chance and you still didn’t fucking stop. I’m done, Max. I can’t put myself through this shit because it’s obvious you won’t stop. I’m foolish to even think you would,” Candace spoke in a hushed tone, never raising her voice or releasing the tears that threatened to fall.

“I’m-”

“I don’t wanna hear another one of your tired excuses. I sure the hell hope your dick is clean. I’ll come back for my shit another day.”

“Candy, come on-”

“Move! Don’t fucking touch me.” Blood rushed to Candace’s face as the embarrassment set in and she could no longer look Maxwell in the eye. This relationship had become a part of her identity and she allowed it to consume her so much that she forgot to love herself. “We’re done, Maxwell.”

Candace ignored the apologies and groveling. A weight lifted off her shoulders and she didn’t intend to put it back ever again.

------

Yahya had one more day to enjoy Los Angeles before he had to return to San Francisco to figure out his next move. He was desperate to burn off steam and decided to hit the park for a workout. The skies were clear, granting Yahya a good dose of vitamin D while he ran the steps. He pushed himself to do one more set before taking a lap around the trail for a cool down. Yahya was so focused, he didn’t notice Candace approaching him from the opposite sidewalk.

“Hey...wassup,” he said, removing his headphones when he finally saw the brown beauty in his path.

“Hey. Didn’t think I’d run into one of my customers...ever,” Candace chuckled nervously. The breakup had her emotions all over the place and gave her the bravado to approach a man from the club. Keeping those two lives separate was important to her except in that moment.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t want to think of myself as your customer. That’s a little weird,” Yahya admitted, earning a nod from Candace in agreement. “But since we’re outside of your job, can I get your real name?”

“Candace.”

“Nice to meet you Miss Candace. I’m Yahya.”

A short, awkward moment of silence gave Candace time to get a better look at the man she had danced on in a dark strip club. Beautiful dark brown skin covered a body that looked like it was sculpted with the utmost care. If you looked up tall, dark and handsome in the dictionary, Yahya’s picture would be used as the definition. Once her eyes traveled back up to his face, his bright, white smile captured her and held on for dear life. The man was fine and seeing him in the light had Candace acting like a shy, school girl.

“You live around here,” Candace asked, breaking the silence.

“No, I’m visiting my boys from back home. I’m living in San Francisco right now. I go back tomorrow evening,” he explained, looking Candace over. She was petite compared to his 6′3 frame. “You?”

“I’m from Chicago but moved here to go to school. Trying to live the dream, ya know?”

“I hear that,” Yahya nodded. “Well Candace, I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we ran into each other. Would you like to get a recovery smoothie with me? My treat. Unless you’re still in the middle of your workout.”

“I can cut out early. I know a good smoothie spot not too far from here if you don’t mind walking.”

Yahya’s smile grew, “Sounds like a plan, let me put on a shirt.”

Or not, Candace thought to herself.

--------

After the ice was broken, Candace and Yahya began to enjoy each other’s company. The break-up earlier that day was still on Candace’s mind, but she felt at ease being around Yahya. Sure, they didn’t know one another on a deep level, yet she could sense Yahya’s compassion. When she spoke, his eyes stayed on her and he truly listened. One thing that irked her about Maxwell was his inability to listen below the surface level.

“That’s too bad. Many of these fellas out here don’t appreciate their lady until she’s gone.” Maxwell sounded like many men Yahya knew and the type of man his parents raised him not to be. He could see the hurt in Candace’s face when she described what had led up to the end of their relationship.

“Yeah, it’s just a shame I wasted my time and my heart on a guy that didn’t want to protect it.”

“His loss, your win.”

Dumping personal information on a stranger was not how Candace usually moved, nonetheless it felt good. “I’m sorry for treating you like a therapist.”

“Nah, you’re good. You had a rough day. I don’t mind listening.”

“Thanks, but I wanna hear more about you. What do you do in expensive ass San Francisco,” Candace quizzed, sipping her raspberry/banana smoothie.

Yahya hoped telling Candace about his unemployment wouldn’t ruin his chances. He still hadn’t shared the news with anyone else. “I was a City Planner for the Mayor’s office but I was laid off on Friday. I honestly don’t even know what the hell I’m going to do when I go back home.”

One of Candace’s strongest traits was her empathy. She had no issue stepping into a person’s shoes and feeling what they felt. Those that were worthy enough to spend time with her felt Candace’s warmth right away. Yahya could feel it, which is why he felt comfortable sharing the news with her.

“I’m sorry, Yahya. Shit sucks when you get well into your career and your job is in another person’s hands,” Candace sucked her teeth and shook her head. “Are you thinking about staying there and getting another job?”

“To be honest, I need a change of scenery. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise because I think I got comfortable in my lifestyle. I loved my job but things were stagnant,” he explained, tracing the lettering on his smoothie cup. “Right now, I’m thinking about taking a break and figuring out what I want to do from there. I’ll get unemployment, so I’ll manage until I find another career that makes me happy.”

“That’s brave of you. I’m too damn scary and would need to have a plan right away. Good luck with that. You seem to be a determined man so you’ll find your way. I’m hoping I can graduate and get into Yale then we will see if I make a career out of this acting thing. If not, I’ll go back to school for education and teach theatre.”

“Wow, Yale? I did some acting classes back in the day and they seemed pretty cool. I don’t know if I have the talent to get into a school like Yale though. I need to work on my Denzel cry first.” The two shared a laugh and finished up their smoothies.

Time passed as their conversation ranged from discussing their childhoods to recent life events. They were so deep into discussion, they didn’t notice that two hours had gone by since they first arrived at the smoothie shop. Candace was more easy going than Yahya thought. That shy exterior had fallen down, exposing the sweet and funny side of her. Like many women in the stripping industry, her persona in the club was a lot different from her true self. He wished he could get to know more of that side.

They walked back towards the park, where their cars were parked on a side street. Yahya walked Candace to her Jeep and waited for her to load the backseat with her duffle bag.

“Thanks for the smoothie and talk. I needed that more than I thought,” Candace closed the back door and stood in front of the driver’s side door. “Dr. Yahya is a great listener, even though we’re complete strangers.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I wasn’t kidding about taking some acting classes with you when I’m in town,” he replied, flashing his wide grin.

“I’ll hold you to that Mr. Abdul-Mateen. Like I said, acting is like recess so it’ll be fun. Who knows, maybe you’re a natural at the shit.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. I won’t hold you up, you should probably get home before it gets too dark. Text me when you make it.”

“Alright. Thanks again, Yahya. For real,” Candace’s soft curls blew over her face as the wind picked up.

“You’re welcome. Thank you for listening to me ramble. Get home safely and don’t forget to let me know.” Yahya leaned in and placed a soft kiss on Candace’s cheek. The simple act almost made her melt into a puddle in the LA street. Opening her car door, Yahya waved her inside. “Bye, Candace.”

“See you later.”

Candace drove away feeling like a new chapter of her life was on the horizon and she was ready to face whatever it had in store.

Taglist: @blackburnbook @just-peachee @emjayewrites

Want a tag? Let me know.

#yahya abdul-mateen ii #yahya x black oc #yahya abdul-mateen ii fanfiction #black writers #ororo writes

39 notes · View notes

handlewithkara · 4 years

Text

@chassycat-original It’s not that it isn’t possible , but I do think that it is a slightly different situation here. I'm by no means an expert on Supernatural, I mostly know it through general slash fandom cultural osmosi, but my impression is: .

As flimsy as compared to years and years of canon it might be, Destiel does have at least that one concrete scene where a third party character taunts Dean that Castiel is in love with him. So they have opened the door to there being a romantic element. Stories have started on lamer sparks (like parallel universe evil gay vampire Willow)

this supposedly is from the script:

(I think the can’t reciprocate is the bit that sounds suggestive, if this was just a friend I Love You, why should it be a big deal to say it back?)

My personal, fairly uninformed guess on the situation is this: so they came up with the idea of Castiel. They had an idea for an arc for him and then he was supposed to leave.

But he was popular, so they kept him around, but he was aimless for a long time (again, we are not talking a season or two, we are talking 10 seasons!).

And they decided already a while ago that Dean was going to be the main character Cas is linked to and the reason why (in universe) Cas is staying around.

And then for the end of the show they decided that Castiel's motivation is that he loves Dean (or that they are going to expand on the love that was already the motivatino).

Again, keep in mind that I haven't followed SPN like, ever, closely, and I haven't read a writer interview from them in my life, so I'm just going on stereotype of how such things usually go. I could pictuer that maybe if you pressed them they might say something like "Cas loves Dean and it's sort of romantic, but it's kind of angel romantic, which is about half human romantic" and "Dean cares a lot about Castiel, Castiel means a lot to Dean". (if I'm totally off base and there are writer interviews where they say something else and more concrete, please link me)

For what it is worth, I do think that this can be argued to be an instance of the infamous queerbaiting, regardless of how the relationship ends up being defined, regardless of whether Destiel end up romantically, ambiguously romantically, confirmed one sided romantic or just generally ambiguous (or even confirmed "no homo").

The base line is that they set up a heavily ambigous scene, right as the show is about to end. And all those youtube videos show it pretty clearly, it's many people saying "I haven't watched Supernatural in years, but I saw it was trending, so I checked out the episode and I now will watch those remaining episodes like a hawk to see whether they follow up on it or screw it up".

So they are using the ambiguousness of the situation to drum up interest in their series finale.

Okay, let's give them the benefit of the doubt and say they are not using it, they just wanted to tell the story that makes the most sense of the characters in the last few episodes.

They are still really heavily benefitting from this. So the very least they could do would be do a press release where they were clearly state what their intentions are (would be even better is to announce it beforehand that it was coming). Because otherwise it will always come across like a stunt to get attention and ratings by keeping people guessing, rather than something genuine on their side. (yes, a press release or big tv magazine interview is always going to have a lot less reach than the episode itself, but if they did it like that, one could at least say they tried their best not to present it as a “gotcha!” moment)

Why does it smell bait-y to me (again: not an expert, based on what how I have read queerbaiting described)? If they had made it clearly platonic rather than ambiguous then people wouldn’t have this motivation that they need to keep watching to see if there is follow up. Similarly, if they had made it non ambigous, like if they had thrown a romantic kiss in there, then any people who do have a problem with it might have a reason to drop out and not watch the last few episodes because they dislike the direction of the show (even if one takes position that the I Love You is unambiguous, Castiel gets removed from the story instantly. if they had shared a kiss and then Cas disappears, Dean in this scenario would still be unambigously mlm and his story would continue). By keeping it ambiguous they are optimizing their hypothetical viewership for the last few episodes. And the critique of queerbaiting is that that is pretty immoral. Either you jerk people along when you have no intention of delivering or you keep a story restrained in order to maximize your viewership appeal with hypothetical homophobes.

There’s also another aspect. Let's talk about this as a hypothetical best case scenario for Destiel.

3 more episodes left.

Episode 1: Castiel declares his love for Dean and gets disappeared into The Empty

Episode 2: A stunned Dean cries to Sam "OMG, Castiel told me he loves me, I'm heartbroken, I don't know what to do with myself, I should have said it back"

Episode 3: They fight the big bad, suddenly Castiel emerges from The Empty, they beat the bad guys together and Dean throws himself at Castiel and they share a hefty tongue kiss before riding off into the sunset together

Supernatural is a show that has had 15 seasons. FIFTEEN! And Castiel has been around since season 4!

Look I would never begrudge the fans if they were happy over that hypothetical 3 episode best case scenario. I get it. But as an outsider, I can't help but think: really? You had so many seasons to give Castiel an actual mlm storyline and you didn't? Let's say you decided only recently you were going to do that recently. You could still have had this in the first episode of the last season rather than in the almost the last.

For what it's worth, I have NEVER bought into the idea that the CW is just that homophobic that they forbid a storyline like that. We can all see that the CW is absolutely chill with wlw pairings left and right, including pairings for lead characters (Batwoman, Legends of Tomorrow).

I agree that the case is slightly more sketchy for mlm pairings. Though I do think that it is worth noting that they apparently were okay for it for both Captain Cold and Constantine on Legends of Tomorrow). I get that maybe the situation is different for SPN, since SPN was one of their steadiest performers and anchor to their schedule for a long time while Legends is like this cooky little show with barely any ratings or attention. AND Legends is an ensemble piece where maybe it's easier to sell making one of their characters mlm. (for what it is worth, I have never read a single interview about Legends that suggested that it was any sort of big deal or fight to be allowed to make Leo and Constantine on screen gay).

So yes, it is not completely impossible that the CW is homophobic in this really thin slice (mlm characters, but only on their main male dominated steady rating show), but I can’t help but being skeptical when this accusation has been thrown around so many times in situation when it clearly didn’t make any sense. (their long list of wlw characters proves they have no problem with adding wlw characters, Legends and Batwoman prove they have no problem supporting shows with wlw leads, The 100 and Sara Lance show they have no problem adding it retroactively to characters who were intially planned or perceived to be straight)

Constantine they couldn’t or wouldn’t show as bisexual when he was still on NBC, he had to come to the CW for that. Alex Danvers couldn’t or wouldn’t be shown as a lesbian when the show was still on CBS, she had to come to the CW for that. I think CW has shown over and over and over again that it provides a home for gay characters, I think people don’t give them enough credit if they so easily act like it’s obvious they must be the badguy as not their writers or showrunners who maybe just have a different vision or were themselves the ones too afraid to ask the network or were themselves the ones who had those audience concerns without the network ever expressing any opinion on it.

#destiel #the cw

19 notes · View notes

strengthnerd · 4 years

Text

The World Strongest Man

“WORLD STRONGEST MAN 2020” 11th - 15th November in Bradenton Florida!!!!!

25 monters competitos

1: Ervin Toots @ervin.toots 2: Terry Hollands @terryhollandswsm 3: Eddie Williams @eddiejowilliams 4: Graham Hicks @grahamhicksuk 5: Luke Richardson @lukeerichardson 6: Maxime Boudreault @max.boudreault23 7: Tom Stoltman @tomstoltmanofficial 8: Robert Oberst @robertoberst 9: Evan Singleton @evan_trex_strongman 10: Brian Shaw @shawstrength 11: Rob Kearney @worlds_strongest_gay 12: Mateusz Kieliszkowski @kieliszkowskimateusz 13: Martin Forsmark @forzmark 14: Adam Bishop @adambishopstrongman 15: Oleksii Novikov @novikov_strong 16: Jerry Pritchett @jerrypritchettstrongman 17: Konstantine Janashia @konstantine_janashia 18: Kevin Faires @kf_strongman 19: Luke Stoltman @luke.stoltman 20: Mark Felix @markfelixwsm 21: Ari Gunnarsson @ari_gunnarsson 22: JF Caron @jfcaronstrongman 23: Mikhail Shivlyakov @mikhail_shivlyakov 24: Vytautas Lalas @vytautas.lalas 25: Iron Biby @ironbiby Alternate/Reserve: Trey Mitchell III @berserkerlifter Alternate/Reserve: Ole Martin Kristiansen @olemartinkri Alternate/Reserve: Eythor Ingolfsson @eythormelsted Eddie Hall Presenter Magnus Ver Magnusson @magnusvermag Head Referee Colin Bryce @colin.bryce Tournament Director Main Sponsor @sbdapparel

repost @https://www.instagram.com/worldsstrongestfan/

this is where the magic happen where monsters collide with each other batting the title WHO is the strongest man. The World’s Strongest Man competition is about more than just force: it is about stamina, skill, tactics, training and strategy. Every event below is designed to push the Strongmen to their absolute limits, challenging not only their physical strength, but their agility and mental toughness too. there are variety of events that the test the competitors and they are :

1)OVER ARM PULL

Pulling a phenomenally heavy object along a course may not sound like ground-breaking event territory in the world of the Strongmen, but there’s a twist for the Arm Over Arm Pull: the athletes have to remain sitting, and stationary, with their feet resting against a solid base at all times.

Using a rope, the Strongman must then pull an object down a course in the fastest time possible. It appears that the Arm Over Arm pull is, at first, about upper body strength, but actually depends more strongly on leg strength and grip. Most athletes will bend their knees, pull the rope tautly, and almost complete a leg-press style movement to gain speed and traction during the pull. Legs are much stronger limbs than arms, and this technique gives the Strongmen more power and more force behind their pull. In fact, it’s their grip that often causes them to fail at this event, as the roughness of the rope means keeping a tight grip becomes virtually impossible. Especially, when the items they’re pulling range from planes, to boats, to giant tyres.

2)ATLAS STONE

The Atlas Stones are often regarded as the signature event in the WSM contest. As the final event of the whole competition, this event often determines the winner.

Introduced in 1986, the Atlas Stones are five heavy, spherical stones which increase in weight from 100 to 160 kg. They need to be placed on top of five high platforms that span a 16–33 ft. long course. In the early years of this event, it was extremely rare for competitors to be able to lift all five Stones, but now the expectation is that all will be lifted, and it’s the time it happens in that now determines a winner.

Originally, the Stones were lifted onto platforms at waist-height, but over the years the event has evolved and the Stones have increased in weight, and the platforms in height.

This iconic event is strongly associated with some of the biggest names in WSM history: Marius Pudzianowski, Magnus Samuelsson, Magnús ver Magnússon and Žydrūnas Savickas have all conquered the event, and emerged as WSM title holders.

3)BLOCK/ KEG TOSS

The Keg Toss is inspired by the long tradition of Highland Games. Based on the idea of a weight-for-height competition, the Keg Toss relies on pure power to succeed. Competing Strongmen have to throw kegs of increasing weight over a 4.42 metre wall, clearing it in one throw.

There have been several historical variations to this event too: back in 2003 and then again in 2006, concrete blocks – not kegs – were the objects that the athletes had to toss over the walls. During these years, the height of the wall, not the weight of the object, was what increased.

With the kegs – which are now used exclusively over blocks – ranging in weight from 15kg to 24kg, clearing the walls in one go is no mean feat.

4)CARRY AND DRAG

Anvils, anchors and chains are carried over a fixed distance. The Strongmen compete five at a time, and have to carry two anvils first, before dragging an anchor over the same distance, attaching a chain to it, and dragging it back to the starting point.

An anchor and a chain are carried to the end of a set distance, where they must be attached to each other and then dragged back the same distance.

Visually impressive and impossible to take your eyes off, the Carry and Drag event is gruelling for even the most accomplished Strongman.

Weights: Anvils 130kg each Anchors and Chain 300kg.

5)FAMERS WALK

First launched in 1983, the Farmer’s Walk is one of the most well-known and most iconic WSM events.

It originally made its debut in Christchurch, New Zealand, but back then was known as the Fergus Walk. Initially, wooden implements weighing 80kg were carried by the athletes and it was the thickness, rather than the weight, that caused competitors the most problems. When this event launched, the emphasis was on the distance the Strongmen could travel with their weights. Whoever made it furthest around the oval track was declared the winner.

Today, the re-named Farmer’s Walk focuses on covering a set distance within a certain time limit and the apparatus the athletes carry can be dropped and picked up without limit. As the objects become heavier and heavier over the years, the event has come to be known as the Giant Farmer’s Walk – with each item tipping the scales at 160kg each…

That means since the event’s creation in 1983, the weight of a single object is now the same as the old combined weight, showing that each year really does bring with it a new calibre of Strongmen!

6)FINGALS FINGERS

One of the newest events in the WSM competition, Fingal’s Fingers was first launched in 2000 and takes its name from Fingal, a mythological Gaelic hunter-warrior. The event revolves around a series of hinged poles – or fingers – being lifted, starting from a horizontal resting position and flipped over to the other side. The poles get progressively heavier and longer as the event progresses, making the challenge to flip the fingers tougher and tougher as the timer counts down. The event is scored by time and by how many of the poles a competitor was able to flip over.

It’s fast, tough and unforgiving and as a result is used frequently in WSM competitions, both in the Heats and in the Finals. With weights ranging from 200kg to over 300kg, athletes are pushed to flip all five fingers with the pressure of the clock ticking as they do so. Turning all five isn’t enough, it’s whoever can turn all five the fastest who will be victorious.

7)FRIDGE CARRY

No standing in front of an open fridge door, wondering whether to have seconds or not here as the Fridge Carry sees Strongmen compete to carry two fridges along a 30 metre course. A yoke and a crossbar are used to stabilise the fridges, weighing between 415kg / 904lbs.

The athletes then have 60 seconds to complete the course… a phenomenal test of strength which has grown to become one of the most-recognised, and iconic events in the world of the Strongmen.

8)GIANT DUMBELL PRESS

The Giant Dumbbell press seems like one of the more straightforward WSM events, but that doesn’t mean it is any less grueling to succeed in.

In order to compete, the athletes have to lift single-handed dumbbells from the ground and onto their shoulder which they then must raise vertically over their head whilst fully extending their arm upwards. With four dumbbells weighing between 100 and 115kgs this is no mean feat. Scoring – and winning – the competition is dependent on the time taken to successfully lift as many dumbbells as possible.

9)GIANT LOGG LIFT

Giant is definitely the right word to describe this event as it’s an entire tree trunk – not just a log – that the Strongmen have to lift to conquer this part of the competition. The tree trunk is erected horizontally onto a stand which has handles built-in at one end. The athletes have to grip the handles with their backs to the trunk and lift it over their head as many times as possible within a set time limit.

The challenge here is the number of repetitions that can be achieved before the timer runs out. With the average trunk weighing 380kgs (830lbs) the athletes need stamina and strength, as well as an iron-clad grip to smash this event.

10)HUSSAFEL STONE

This event was first introduced into the WSM events repertoire in 1992. Legend has it that the stone was originally crafted in Iceland over 200 years ago and used by an Icelandic pastor to help keep one of his stable doors open. The stone is still kept in Husafell, Iceland, at the site of Pastor Snorri Björnsson’s stables.

The stone itself is a flat, somewhat triangular rock weighing 182kgs. The challenge for this event is to carry the stone held high across the chest over a set distance whilst being timed. During the three years in which the WSM competition was held in Africa, a newly shaped stone was crafted in the shape of the African continent and the event was temporarily renamed as the Africa Stone.

11)LOADING RACE

Five objects, each weighing between 100–164kg, are loaded onto a truck bed or a similar platform over a course of about 50 ft.

Anchors and chains, sandbags, anvils, lobster pots, masts, blocks of ice, wine casks and beer kegs are some of the items that have to be lifted. The athlete who manages to load all of these objects onto the platform in the fastest time is declared the winner. The weight of the objects – surprisingly – isn’t the defining factor in this event: the overall shape of the objects, their dimensions, and the terrain (which can range from rubble to sand to snow) the athletes have to cross to get to the loading bay are all more significant than weight alone.

Twists to the event’s structure have been introduced up over the years, challenging the Strongmen in new and ever more inventive ways. The 1992 Loading Race had five 90kg barrels as the loading objects, which the Strongmen had to wade into a lagoon to retrieve before returning them to dry land. Other variations over the years have seen the Strongmen wade through Bahamian sand, to boats in the Ocean, and through Icelandic snow, to retrieve items to load onto the platforms.

12)OVERHEAD LOG LIFT

The Overhead Log Lift was introduced into the WSM event series in 1980. Originally, the Overhead Log Lift was about lifting the maximum weight possible, but today athletes compete by lifting a wooden log from the ground then raising it overhead as many times as possible within the time limit; returning the weight back to the floor in a controlled fashion each time before attempting to do the next lift.

The Overhead Log Lift began life as a beer barrel lifting contest before the logs were introduced. The first winner of the Log Lift in 1980 was legendary Strongman Bill Kazmaier who powered 157kgs from the floor over his head. He won the event over the next two years too, setting world records with each lift. The current world record holder is the incredible Žydrūnas Savickas with a lift of 212.5kgs.

13)PILLARS OF HERCULES

The mythological tale of the Pillars tells us that Hercules, having to cross a mountain on his way to the garden of the Hesperides, used his superhuman strength to smash it into two pieces rather than climb over it. When these two pieces of the mountain fell into the sea they formed what we now know today as Gibraltar and Monte Hacho. Ever since, these two halves of the mountain have been known as the Pillars of Hercules.

Our Strongmen may not be smashing mountains in two, but they are our modern day Hercules… and for this event they prove their strength by standing on a raised platform, in a fixed position, and using chains to keep two huge pillars either side of them upright. Each of the pillars weighs 160kgs, and there is no time limit, the event will be over when the Strongman is no longer able to support both pillars.

14)POWER STAIRS

Whilst a few flights of stairs leaves most of us huffing and puffing and longing for the lift, Strongmen are powering up stairs carrying a selection of three humongous items all the way to the top. Power and speed are necessary to conquer this event, as the items range in weight from 182–273kgs and are lifted all the way to the top.

Moving from step to step requires speed and strength, and it’s not necessarily the tallest athletes that have an advantage here. The Power Stairs are designed to test every element of the athletes’ ability, and require stamina and skill to conquer.

15)SQUAT LIFT

The Squat is one of the original events from the very first WSM contest. Still going strong (if you’ll pardon the pun) today, this event first began life with women suspended in giant metal birdcages being lifted up as the Strongmen squatted down to lift the bars that the cages were attached to.

Although the competition has evolved since 1977, it is still spectacular to watch and tough to complete as the Strongmen now lift items that weight up to 400kgs… including concrete blocks, tractor tyres, cars and even people.

The challenge is to lift the objects as many times as possible whilst remaining in a fixed position, with only the strength they can put into their squat to help them.

As the WSM contest has continued to grow and evolve, the keg and barrel squats have become more prominent, with Mariusz Pudzianowski and Laurence Shahlaei performing some incredible Squats. In fact, Shahlaei has built a reputation for being one of the most powerful Squat competitors in WSM history, often becoming the only competitor able to squat the heaviest weight. No mean feat, considering this event remains one of the oldest, and toughest, ones to compete in.

16)VEHICLE PULL

Few WSM events are more impressive than the vehicle pull. Introduced in 1977, it’s the jaw-dropping one-to-watch as vehicles such as trams, boxcars, buses and planes are pulled across a 100 ft course, by hand, in the quickest time possible. Originally, the Strongmen would wear a pulling harness, but today it is more common for them to have a harness and a pulling rope. The old harness-only system did see to give an advantage to the competitors with the strongest body weight.

The vehicle is often chosen to reference a previous winner or the current host city of the current competition. The 2007 competition featured a fire truck in a nod to 2006 champion Phil Pfister, a professional firefighter, and the 2008 qualifying rounds featured a coal truck, a reference to the coalmining industry in West Virginia where the competition was held that year. The terrains also change yearly too, with vehicles being pulled on snow, ice, sand and concrete. Other variations to the competition also include filling a tram with passengers for the Vehicle Pull in 1979, meaning the total vehicle weight actually topped 4535kgs.

It’s double WSM Title winner Bruce Wilhelm who holds the record for the first ever pull in the contest’s history, completing the 21 metre course in exactly 14 seconds and proving that this event is about more than just size and strength; that it’s about stamina, strength and skill.

#strongman strength strong fitfam strongmancompetition strongmancompetitor strongmantraining workout lifting gains beastmode fitness fitnessm

3 notes · View notes

buttsonthebeach · 5 years

Text

Lost Horizon, Pt. 1

@scharoux has done me the incredible honor of commissioning me AGAIN for a long fic and I am SO happy to be diving back into writing about Rhaella!!!

This picks up almost directly where The Last Game last left off - with Rhaella pregnant and alone in a world where Solas has removed the Veil, despite her attempts to stop him.

My Ko-Fi || My Commissions (Slots currently open as of 12/13/19! Still guaranteeing delivery by Christmas!)

Other pieces about Rhaella I have written include:

1. All Things Green and Growing

2. The Long Road Back

3. The Turning of the Year

3. The Same Kind of Scar (contains explicit content)

4. World Without End (contains explicit content)

5. The Last Game Pt. 1, the Last Game Pt. 2, and the Last Game Pt. 3 (contains explicit content), and the Last Game Pt. 4

Pairing: Rhaella Lavellan x Solas, post-Trespasser

Rating: Teen for violence, references to sex

Warning: Implied/referenced character death for two DA2 characters

*****************

Rhaella Lavellan wondered how many hundreds of years she would have to live before it became normal to wake with the buzz of magic filling her ears, her lungs, her skin - with spirits drifting through walls, hovering near the ceiling - with the knowledge that she had failed to stop Solas from bringing down the Veil.

It had been a month so far, and every time she woke, the knowledge landed on her chest, something real and physical, something it always took her a minute or two to breathe past. The Veil is gone. Thousands are dead. I am here in the city that used to be Kirkwall, surrounded by elves loyal to Solas. I am carrying Solas’s child.

Sometimes, even after she breathed past it, even after she rose from her bed and went through the motions of getting dressed, of pretending to live a normal life, the knowledge returned, and sat beside her, something cold and huge and inescapable. It did that on this morning, when she sat with her midwife, trying to focus only on the words coming out of her mouth, about how her belly was measuring and whether or not the baby had dropped.

On this morning, the midwife kept slipping in and out of focus, because Rhaella was remembering the house she’d seen in what used to be Lowtown the other day, how everything was arranged within it as if someone still lived there - plates on the table, laundry on a line outside the front door, a child’s doll sitting down at a miniature wooden table with a miniature teacup arranged before it - except the exterior walls were gone. Blasted away entirely by some arcane force. The faded floral wallpaper was scorched with unreadable runes that still flared and glowed, and the icy grip of Terror had closed around Rhaella’s throat as she stood there, staring at it.

I failed these people.

“My lady?”

The midwife slid back into focus. Rhaella shook her head, to clear it, and to indicate her displeasure at the title.

“Rhaella. Just Rhaella.”

The midwife looked down briefly. “Rhaella. I just wanted to make sure you heard me. You are correct to say that you are measuring bigger than we would guess, given the rough date we are expecting your babe. But I haven’t seen anything else in my examination today that would tell us he is coming soon. He has not dropped, and you show no other signs of being ready for birth.”

He. Rhaella had needed something concrete to latch onto in this too-real, not-real-enough world. She had decided that she carried a son, had begun thinking about names. It gave her an anchor to return to when everything else seemed to be spinning out. When she couldn’t seem to do anything else but stare at her left hand, restored again, the palm unblemished by the mark that once let her close rifts. It felt like it was a lifetime ago. Like a story that happened to someone else.

“Rhaella?”

Focus.

“Yes, I’m sorry. I don’t have any other questions.”

“Do you think the father does? I know he wanted to be here today.”

The midwife hesitated around the word father. Rhaella had never once heard her speak Solas’s name. Then again, a lot of people seemed to be doing that. Talking about Solas without naming him, as if his name held some special power, as if he was not a man like any other, made of flesh and bone, whose skin had been warm when he came to her a month before, sitting on a cliff overlooking the sea, and took her face in his hands and told her how sorry he was that he had ripped her world apart.

She’d hated that his skin was warm, that he seemed afraid, that he was not triumphant. She’d wanted him to be a monster.

“I don’t know if he does,” Rhaella said. “If he does I’ll direct him to you.”

The midwife’s eyes slid to the floor, heavy with things unsaid. As heavy as Rhaella felt. Heavy with grief and child. She nodded, said her good-byes, and left.

When the door closed, Rhaella slumped back against the pillows of her bed and stared at the beautifully carved ceiling above her. It was more familiar than the crystal house where she’d first woken in Solas’s new world, the one she’d tried to return to several times before he insisted that she come and stay in the manor he’d chosen in Hightown as his base of operations. That, too, was familiar. Being in a base of operations. The flow of information, of goods, of agents, of soldiers, in and out of the grand house. It felt almost like Skyhold. Except Rhaella was not at the center of it now. Solas was.

Rhaella rose from the bed, dressed herself, trying to ignore the strangeness of having her left arm to help with that task once again, and went out of her room and down the hall to the grand foyer. The walls felt too close today. She needed to go out, even if that meant facing what the world had become.

She knew as she approached the foyer that he was there. She knew it from the buzz of voices, rising and falling like a tide, and from the deep well of magic she could feel in him at all times now. Rhaella paused on the staircase that curved down into the foyer and watched for a moment. Solas was standing there, in his armor, surrounded by maps that he kept suspended in the air, and agents speaking both Trade and Elvhen and the more Dalish-inflected version of the language - making decisions, remaking the world. Nodding at one agent and shaking his head at another, dispatching them both quickly, holding his hand out for a book that a spirit of Learning was handing him, flicking it open, reading something, and then handing it back. Abelas and Merrill were at his side. Two of his closest lieutenants.

Rhaella wondered how she ever let herself believe that she knew him. How any of them had ever fallen for the apostate act. He was more in his element here than she ever had been as Inquisitor.

Solas seemed to sense her then. He looked up, and their eyes met, and she saw his expression shift to something that was half hope, half fear. Something answered within her, something she did not have words for - a twisted, misshapen feeling that stopped her from breathing. She banished it, and descended the stairs.

“Rhaella,” Solas called, cutting through everyone else’s chatter. “How was -?”

“I’m going out,” she said, not turning, already steeling herself for the world beyond the manor doors.

The sunlight blinded her momentarily, but when that faded, she was not surprised to see that Abelas was at her side, having left behind his role as advisor for his role as guard. She’d given up fighting that particular battle two weeks ago. The truth was that Kirkwall was still a volatile place, even a month after the Veil came down.

Hasn’t changed a bit, Varric would probably say. Other than, you know, the spirits and magic and shit.

She had not heard anything of him. She hoped he was alive somewhere, plotting to take his city back. She couldn’t bear the thought of anything else.

Abelas did not even ask her where they were headed. The destination was almost always the same, anyway. Rhaella headed through the throngs of people - humans with dazed eyes, elves speaking urgently to one another, dwarves standing close to one another in protective, angry knots - down towards the Lowtown bazaar, where there was a field hospital that someone had set up, and which Solas now sent healers and supplies to.

Why can’t you be more of a monster? Rhaella thought again as she entered one of the tents and saw one of his agents taking inventory of the supplies, making notes of which to requisition. Rhaella herself took stock of the herbs and salves in their glass jars. There were new plants now, plants she was still learning the names and properties of. The ancestors of prophet’s laurel and elfroot and felandaris, vibrating now with the power of the Fade. Rhaella wondered how large they grew in the wild, considering how big the clippings Solas’s agents brought in were. Considering how the Fade made everything more itself.

Rhaella went to the bedside of a young elf with an arm in a sling. The colored card pinned to the end of his bed was orange, indicating he hadn’t been seen yet but needed to be seen soon - something they had done in the Inquisition’s many field hospitals. Solas remembered, of course. He had been pleased when Rhaella came up with the suggestion. The patient couldn’t have been older than fourteen. He sat up, bright-eyed, when she sat beside him.

“What happened here?” Rhaella asked, reaching out and touching his arm, letting a pulse of magic flow through it so she could begin to sense the damage. A small fracture and a sprain. She was a little less surprised now by how easily the magic came and went from her body - how it was no longer necessary to give a gentle tug to pull it through the Fade, how it no longer went in and out of her like a tide going in and out of a bay. It just was, like the air in her lungs.

“I got this learning how to use Force magic,” he said. “I sent out a shockwave and knocked myself off of the rooftop where I was standing.”

Rhaella could not help the smile that formed on her lips. Her own child stirred in her belly, drawn as always by her magic as Rhaella began to weave healing strands of energy into the boy’s arm, easing the swelling of the sprain and knitting together the fractured bone.

Are you going to be that daring, little one? She thought, trying to imagine the son in her belly at this age.

“I wasn’t a mage before - well - you know. Isn’t it amazing? I only wish the bastard of an innkeeper who never paid my mum enough to work in his dirty tavern was still alive so I could show him. No one can push me and my family around now. Thank the Maker for Fen’Harel.”

Rhaella wasn’t smiling now. Neither was the elf in the bed next to them, whose face was covered in bandages, only one red-rimmed eye and a thin set of lips visible, as well as the long pointed ears. They snorted derisively, a wet, wounded sound.

“Yes. Thank the Maker that half of Thedas is dead or ruined and every asshole in Kirkwall can set fire to every other asshole if they please. Thank the Maker that the world can’t last long like this.”

The boy’s smile faded, too. Rhaella wanted to chastise the other elf, even as she felt the truth of their words. The same truth that set heavy on her chest every morning.

“I’ve healed the fracture and done what I can to ease the sprain, but you’ll still need to wear the sling for at least three days to give your body time to finish the rest of the process,” Rhaella said. “And you need to be careful with Force magic. That’s an advanced place to start. Is anyone teaching you?”

The boy shook his head, and so Rhaella took a few minutes to explain some of the basics that she had learned from her own Keeper long ago, in that other lifetime. The drills that she and the clan’s other mages ran to refine their control over the various kinds of arcane energy, to ground themselves against the backlash of a spell gone wrong.

“There are several classes in Hightown at noon every day. One in the old Chantry square, and one in the old market - I think perhaps one near the Viscount’s Keep. They are informal, but they are a good place to learn,” she said when she was done. The boy nodded his assent vigorously, thanked her, and Rhaella felt a twinge of something that was hope or fear or both.

Rhaella went to the other elf now, the one covered in bandages. They had a green card pinned to their bed. A healer had seen them and done all they could for them. Still, Rhaella asked if there was anything she could do. Any pain she could ease. With her mind still attuned to healing, she could sense their injuries - burns. Mostly healed now, but they had been nasty.

“You’re working for him, aren’t you?” the elf said in reply.

Rhaella’s hands clenched instinctively.

“No. I’m doing this because I want to. Because I have to do - something.”

The elf was silent a long moment, and then nodded.

“I’m sure that’s why a lot of people are helping him. Everyone seems to think that things have changed for our people. But it’s all the same. We’re all just trying to survive, as usual. The only thing that’s different is that the people at the top look like us now.”

Rhaella’s flesh prickled. She thought of the maps she’d seen Solas studying, the words she’d caught him exchanging with the people around him. The names she’d heard. Dirthamen. Elgar’nan. Andruil.

However many adolescents praised the name of Fen’Harel in the same breath as the Maker, neither of them was necessarily at the top right now.

“Perhaps you’re right,” Rhaella said quietly. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the boy she’d treated practicing summoning an ice crystal in his hand. “But let’s let the young ones have their hope.”

“For as long as it lasts,” the other elf said.

Rhaella spent the rest of the morning working with other injured people - not all of them elves. It broke her heart to see the wariness of the humans and dwarves and even qunari she healed. She tried to give each of them an extra smile, even if there was a numbness in her heart that prevented her own gesture from warming her. The only time her smiles felt real was when she was alone, and she was smiling at the baby within her.

She dallied on her return to the manor, finding a vendor hawking skewered meat simmered in a spicy sauce rather than returning for the large meal that likely awaited her. She’d be hungry again later, anyway. She always had to drag herself back there, no matter how tired she was, no matter how much her feet ached, but today felt especially difficult. Her conversation with the first two elves she helped kept replaying in her mind, piece by piece, like snatches of half-heard song that would not leave her mind. One elf who revered Solas in the same breath as the Maker, and another who condemned him as no better than any other power that had ever ruled their people.

Did I really fail you both?

She almost wanted to turn to Abelas and ask him what he thought. He had been stoic and silent as ever at her side throughout the day, and the only times she’d spoken to him had been to ask him to fetch her salves and bandages while she was working with the injured. She felt guilty for that, now and then - treating him as if he did not exist. But she had made it perfectly clear that she did not want a guardian.

By the time they reached Hightown, and the courtyard of the former Chantry, the latest class for new mages was underway. Here, Rhaella could not deny the small surge of joy she felt to see the spirits of Learning and Command and Power circling around the learners. The chantry behind them still lay in ruins, but her people lived on, and they were learning to control the energy that swirled through everything in the world around them. They had persevered, against every force that had tried to stamp them out - against even the ravages of time, if Abelas was proof of anything.

And yet standing here in this courtyard, Rhaella could not help but think of Varric again. Of the people who had looked at her with fear in their eyes when all she wanted to do was help. Of the blasted-apart house in Lowtown, and the little doll sitting there at its little table, waiting for the return of a child who was never coming home.

Rhaella turned swiftly away from the new mages. She would not stay and help today. She went straight back to the manor, did not even take her leave of Abelas. She climbed the stairs to her room and lay back down on the bed and let the weight of it all descend once again.

She knew she slept at some point, but only because the sound of a knock at the door woke her, and once again she had that hazy moment of confusion about where and when she was.

“Vhenan?”

Solas’s quiet voice, the word that had always meant so much to her, only made it more confusing - the way it could both lift her heart and crush it. Rhaella did not answer him. She sat there in bed, waiting to see what would happen next. He never came in, no matter how long she ignored him. He had at least given her that space.

She heard a sigh, and thought he might turn to leave, but then he spoke again.

“I thought to invite you down to dinner. Only you and I. I wanted to hear about your day.”

Another silence. Rhaella imagined it - the two of them by candlelight, his hand on hers on top of the table, the eager warmth of his smile as he tried to make up for lost time, for deceit, for death. She still did not speak.

“The choice is yours,” he went on finally. “I will be in the sitting room closest to the kitchen. You can always ask to have your food sent up, of course.”

He lingered a few moments longer, and then she heard him turn and walk away, descending the nearby staircase once more. Rhaella didn’t think she’d ever heard a lonelier sound.

Rhaella woke the next day certain that she had to find a way to escape.

This was a thought that had come and gone over the last month since the Veil fell. It had been most intense right afterwards, but had then faded somewhat as she began to feel nervous of how close she might be to delivering her child. But now it had returned, like a high tide before a storm.

She had never tried to escape before, not really. Solas had never said she was a prisoner here. But she felt instinctively that if she started trying to walk out of Kirkwall, Abelas would stop her. She was certain that he would say it was for her own good, that he was protecting her from the forces that raged outside the city. She was certain that that was what Solas himself said. That once she had the baby, once he had managed to subdue the Evanuris, she would be free to go. That he only did this because he could not bear the thought of her coming to harm.

Solas had already seen her wield magic once since the Veil fall, on that first day that she found him and railed against what he had done. He knew she was more powerful now, as any mage was. She wondered why that did not factor into his considerations at all. She practiced a little on her own every day, feeling the deep well of her magic. Each spell was like dropping a pebble into dark water and listening for the sound of it striking the bottom - except that sound never came. Between that and the armor she’d had crafted for her pregnancy, which protected her child specifically, she felt certain she could survive on her own, whatever happened.

She wanted to get back to Skyhold. To the last place that had been home. To the people that had been relying on her to stop this all from happening. She needed to apologize. She needed to work to set things right, even if she had no idea where to begin.

The thought would not leave her that day as she walked out to a different field hospital, this one in Darktown. Her eyes lingered on the ships docked in the harbor, on the gates that led out of the city. She hoped Abelas didn’t notice. Then, feeling rebellious, she hoped he did. She might be a match for him now.

The clinic in Darktown was old. It had belonged to one of Hawke’s friends, if she remembered right. Anders. The one who blew up the Chantry. Another man who could never abide injustice, who felt he had to take matters into his own hands, who would accept collateral damage as a price for freedom. Hawke had loved him, or so the story went. Rhaella wondered where Hawke was, wished they could talk about it. What it was like to love men like that.

That portion of her day passed uneventfully. The same kinds of injuries and stories as they always were. She held an impromptu lesson for several elves who had been scraped up while practicing with one another, and her smile was genuine when she accepted their thanks. She could go and do this elsewhere, too, when she escaped. Piece by piece, she could begin to undo her failure.

Then they started on their way back to the manor, and Rhaella was faced with her failure writ large.

As they ascended a narrow stone staircase leading up to Hightown, Rhaella started to hear the dull roar of a crowd of people. No raised voices yet, but there was a restlessness to the sound, and a tension in the air, even more palpable now that magic flowed everywhere. Heavy as her belly was, and tired as she might be, Rhaella still found herself willing her body to go faster, towards the sound, to see what was the matter.

“Rhaella.” At least Abelas had agreed to her request that he call her by her given name. She ignored him anyway.

As she reached the top of the staircase and entered the courtyard, a terrible wailing sound began. The kind of keening that was born out of bottomless grief - a sound Rhaella herself had never made before, but recognized nonetheless. It echoed how she felt when her parents died. She saw the crowd of people now, most of them humans, with some other races mixed in too. They were standing at the foot of another staircase - the one that led towards the manor that Solas was using as his base of operations. A line of soldiers stood at the top of the staircase, preventing the crowd from ascending any further. She could not make out what they were saying to the men and women in the front row of the crowd, but their faces were stern and impassive.

“We will find another way around,” Abelas said, standing at her elbow, not quite touching her, but poised and tense, ready to protect her.

“I want to hear what they’re saying,” Rhaella replied, moving forward, already forming a thin, shimmering barrier around herself.

“I do not think -”

She did not stay to hear what Abelas thought.

This was her fault. She needed to hear what they were saying.

She approached the crowd from the side, trying to skirt around the edges and get to the top of the staircase so she could address them. It was not something she would have done as a younger woman, but after her time as Inquisitor - with how responsible she felt - she was very nearly standing outside of herself, separate from what was happening, only dimly aware that this was a rash idea -

She didn’t see where the first brick was thrown from, or the first piece of rotten fruit, or who cast the first spell. She was too deep in the midst of it by the time that happened. She could only react, strengthening her barrier, making it thick as stone around her belly, still trying to find ways to push through to get to the front, because she could fix this, she could, she could calm everyone, she could assure them that she was still on their side, still trying to find ways to help -

The crowd surged forward, all at once, like a wave on the shore, carrying Rhaella with them, and this was her chance, she would get to the front and she would turn and she would speak and she would atone for how she had failed to stop this -

Then Abelas was there, his Fade step so swift and seamless that it dizzied her. He stepped in, put his arm around her, stepped out, and they were clear of the crowd, on the other side of the soldiers now, hurrying towards the mansion.

“No!” Rhaella shouted, turning around in Abelas’s grasp, trying to head back, desperate to see what the soldiers were doing. Were they fighting those innocent people who only wanted justice for what had been done to their world? Or were they defending themselves? What had they been saying before all of this? She had to know, had to be able to do something -

Abelas was silent until they reached the mansion. Solas met them at their door, eyebrows furrowed, dressed not for battle but certainly for a public appearance, his clothes neat and tailored but not ostentatious. He was not a king, had no desire to rule Kirkwall, but he needed to project authority. She’d heard him discussing such things with his advisors. He seemed shocked to see them.

“Rhaella - were you in danger? I just heard -”

“I want to go back,” she interrupted at once. “I want to try and make peace.”

“Absolutely not,” Solas said, taking half a step forward. She forgot how very tall he was sometimes, how imposing he could be. “It is not safe. These riots are getting worse and worse.”

“Is it any wonder?” She was aware that she was shouting, that others were staring. Merrill was just behind Solas, her green eyes crinkled with concern. “You destroyed their world. They are not rioting - they are grieving.”

“I understand that,” Solas said, his voice rising in kind. “And I will approach the matter as such. But it is not your place -”

“It was not your place to -”

Another wave of sound broke against their ears - was the situation growing worse? Solas strode past her.

“She is not to leave this manor,” he said to Abelas. “Not until this is dealt with. And when I return, we have to discuss the other threats we face. There has been news from the Western Approach about Elgar’nan’s forces.”

Rhaella was so angry that she felt lit from within, like flames might burst forth if she opened her mouth. So angry it immobilized her just enough that everyone was able to sweep past her and shut the door, that Abelas was able to take her by the elbow once more and guide her towards her room. Like she was baggage, and nothing more.

“He wants what is best for you,” Abelas said quietly when they reached her room. “And for the child you bear.”

“Get out,” Rhaella said in reply, unable to look him in the eye.

The only other person she saw for the rest of the day was a serving woman who brought her something to eat for dinner. Rhaella made herself eat it, as she made herself eat everything they brought her, for the sake of the child if not for her own. She still felt angry enough that she might live on that anger alone. Solas had no right to command her. To decide what was best for her and for her child. This was a clear sign. She had to get away. That was what was best for the child.

You will not be born a prisoner, she thought to herself the rest of that evening, stroking her belly.

Solas came to her door later, when the light coming through her window was a rich blue, the color of a clear night. He knocked quietly, and called her name. She did not respond.

“I know you do not like this,” he said. “I do not like it either. I wish - I wish for many things. I wish -”

He broke off and was silent for a long moment. It was not like him to be at a loss for words.

“I have to leave the city tonight,” he went on at last. “Elgar’nan has woken truly and begun amassing forces south of here. I must head them off and destroy him before more of his power returns to him. I swear that I will return to you before the baby is born, Rhaella. I swear that I will keep both of you safe.”

I missed the part where I need you for that. She did not let the words slip free of her lips. She did not want to give him the satisfaction even of an argument.

Solas shifted on the other side of the door, and Rhaella heard the unmistakable creak of his armor. She could smell the oil he’d rubbed into it, too. A thick, metallic smell that made her think instantly of battle, death, and blood. A spike of fear hit her chest. These reports of the Evanuris still seemed like something out of a dream, if she was honest with herself. But if Solas was leaving in such a hurry, and in his armor, they were very real. And very dangerous.

What if he didn’t come back? What if she was truly alone in this new world - the world he had made?

She rose from the bed and went to the door, and stood there, her hand outstretched, not quite touching the doorknob, and then she hesitated. She hesitated long enough that Solas sighed quietly and turned away to go, speaking just once more, so quietly Rhaella almost doubted her hearing:

“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”

Then he was gone.

The blue of night deepened, and once it was nearly black, Rhaella dressed herself for leaving and crept out of her room. She was going back to Skyhold, and there was no one who would stop her. Not Abelas, and not the memory of Solas’s whispered words before he himself left. Not the people she’d been helping in the hospitals or in Hightown’s courtyards. There would be enough people to help everywhere. And she needed to get back to the people she’d abandoned, to the last place that had been her home.

She used every ounce of the skills she learned at her father’s side in the dappled woods of the Free Marches to move quietly through the manor. There were hardly any guards inside the building. She was not a prisoner. Not really. But she did not want anyone to try and stop her in any case. She had squirreled away some provisions over the last month, every time the mood to leave struck her, as well as enough gold to book passage on a ship bound for Jader. She just needed to make it to the -

“Where are you going?”

Merrill’s musical voice, even pitched low as it was, was unmistakable. It drew Rhaella up short right as she reached the back door of the manor, which would lead her to the courtyard where the wash and kitchen prep were done, and then out to her freedom. Rhaella’s stomach dropped as she turned to face the other Dalish woman. She did not know Merrill well - she had heard of her through Hawke and Varric of course, a hundred years ago, when she was Inquisitor - but she had been one of Solas’s closest advisors over the last month. Second only to Abelas. Surely she had orders to keep Rhaella here in Kirkwall.

“I’m getting away from here,” Rhaella said. “I’m going home. To Skyhold.”

Merrill looked at her steadily, green eyes betraying nothing. Then she nodded once, decisively.

“Very well, then. Let’s go. I know of a ship.”

Rhaella was so shocked by the turn of events that for the first few minutes after they left the manor, evading the guards on the perimeter who were there to keep people out, she did not even say anything to Merrill. It was only once they made their descent into Lowtown, when they were surrounded by people stumbling drunk out of taverns, that she felt safe doing so.

“Why are you helping me?”

Merrill’s face was grave. Varric and Hawke had only ever spoken of her as cheerful, bubbly, kind. It was hard to imagine that now.

“I spent my whole life in the service of the People. No, that’s not right. I spent my whole life in the service of what the People lost. The magic, and the knowledge. The glory of Arlathan. Not the People themselves. So I suppose I spent my whole life serving the Dread Wolf even before he ripped the sky apart. I thought I might as well keep doing it, seeing as how he had already won. But every day I stand here in this city and I think - I think that there had to be a different way. Just like there had to be a different way for me to fix my eluvian all those years ago. If I had been more patient, less prideful - if we both had -”

Merrill looked down at her feet. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and then looked up at the sky. It was different now. There were new stars in new patterns. But the old familiar ones were there, too, if you looked hard enough.

“There has to be another way,” she said. “And I want to come with you and find that other way.”

Rhaella’s throat was tight. She had not allowed herself to feel how very alone she had been this last month. Not until now, when she was no longer alone.

They stopped quickly at a tavern called the Hanged Man, where Merrill approached a couple of sailors and spoke quickly to them, and then they were on their way down to the docks. There was a ship there, finer than the rest, with no one guarding it, and no one on board.

“Good,” Merrill said as they boarded it and moved towards the captain’s cabin. “I’m happy to see the scum of Lowtown still have some respect for her, even now that she’s -”

They were in the cabin now, and there was a large feathered hat sitting in the middle of the bed. A pair of knives crossed above it. Rhaella had only to search her mind for a moment for the name.

“Isabela.”

Merrill nodded and took another deep breath, this one shuddering. “It’s all for the best, really. She would not have liked the world the way it is now. Too much gloom, not enough gold and giggles. She’d approve of us using her ship to get away from here. The men I spoke to in the Hanged Man were part of her crew that lived. They will help us sail the ship to Jader.”

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Merrill.”

Merrill smiled through her tears, reaching out to touch Rhaella’s shoulder.

“You tried to stop this. I know you did. That’s all that matters.”

As they pulled out of Kirkwall’s harbor, Rhaella realized how much she’d needed to hear that. She felt something loosening within her, like the unmooring of a ship. She was free for now. She and her baby both were. She would make the best of this new world. For the first time, it didn’t feel quite so much like a lie to believe the words.

#beach does commissions #beach writes #rhaella lavellan #scharoux #solavellan fic #dragon age fanfic

31 notes · View notes

fixdex-fastening-technology · 3 years

Photo

stainless steel SS304 flanged lipped knurled drop in anchor

click here to see more of this product

0 notes

concretefilm1 · 4 years

Text

How Concrete Fasteners Work

The process used when fastening to concrete has basically remained unchanged over the years. Although there are epoxy/chemical type anchors in use today, the majority of anchors rely on the same principles that were developed many years ago.

Fastening to concrete is unique compared to other fastening applications, such as fastening two pieces of metal together by using a screw or a bolt and nut. Concrete anchors of any type are much more difficult to use and install correctly.

The concept of fastening something to a solid base material is completely different than for almost any other type of fastening application. Concrete is the most widely used base material in the world for the last 2,000 years and probably will remain so for the next 2,000 years due to its simplicity, strength, versatility and the abundance of the ingredients used to make it.

The Process With Which We Fasten To Concrete Is Simple:

1. Make a hole in the concrete

2. Put something in the hole to take up the space created

3. Expand the material in the hole via a nail, screw or setting tool

We are making a hole with a certain amount of volume and then inserting more material into the hole. This increased volume of material that pushes against the interior wall of the hole will create friction. This friction is how most mechanical concrete anchors obtain their holding values.

All the mechanical type concrete anchors work on the same basic principle. Drill a specific size hole, insert the anchor, and expand the anchor larger than the hole in order to make it difficult for the anchor to be pulled out of the hole. Concrete anchors are designed to go into a hole in concrete and not come out.

Wedge Anchors

Wedge anchors are two-piece concrete anchors that are assembled into one unit. The steel rod made from carbon steel or stainless steel is threaded on one end and the opposite end starts out slightly smaller in diameter and tapers out to the full diameter of the rod. A clip is then permanently attached to this end of the rod. The wedge anchor is inserted into a hole in concrete until the threads are below the surface of the concrete. The nut and washer are placed on the threads and tighten until finger tight. Using a wrench, the nut is then turned, which pulls the anchor up to wedge the clip between the stud and the wall of the concrete. When drilling a hole in concrete for a wedge anchor, the hole size is equal to the anchor diameter size.

Sleeve Anchors

The sleeve anchor is made up from four different parts. The stud, which is threaded and flared or cone shaped at one end, the expander sleeve, and the nut and washer. The expander sleeve is assembled over the stud with the nut and washer threaded on to the opposite side of the cone shaped end. The sleeve anchor is inserted into a hole drilled in the base material either concrete, brick or block. The nut is turned, which pulls the stud up through the expander sleeve, expanding it up against the inside wall of the base material. The hole size to be drilled into the concrete for a sleeve anchor is equal to the diameter of the anchor being used.

Concrete Screws

Concrete screws are different than all the rest of the anchors because they do not use expansion to derive their holding values. Concrete screws are a special threaded screw, with hardened notched threads and high-low threads. The notches and the high low threads help to eliminate concrete shavings from the hole as the screw taps threads into the base material. The hole size for concrete screws is smaller than the diameter of the screw. A 3/16" screw requires a 5/32" hole and a 1/4" screw requires a 3/16" hole. The concrete screw is inserted into the hole and turned either by hand or by a rotation drill until the concrete screw is tight against the fixture being fastened.

Drop-In Anchor

Drop-in anchors are a female anchor designed to be placed in concrete and then to have a threaded rod or bolt inserted. The drop-in anchor is made-up of two parts: the expansion shield, made from zinc plated carbon or stainless steel, and a case hardened expander plug that is cone-shaped and made from zinc plated carbon or stainless steel. One end of the shield is tapered, with four cut slots that run a portion of its length. The surface of this end may be smooth or knurled while the other end will be smooth. The expander plug is inside the anchor, placed at the end of the anchor that has the four slots, and the other end is threaded. The anchor is set by placing the anchor into a hole in concrete and by setting the expander plug using a setting tool. Each diameter of drop-in anchor has a specific setting tool. This setting tool is a steel rod with one end being necked down. The necked down portion of the setting tool is inserted into the drop-in anchor and pounded with a hammer until the lip of the anchor meets the lip of the setting tool. This action pushes the expander plug down into the drop-in anchor expanding the anchor where the four cuts are. As with all female type anchors, the size of the designated size of the anchor refers to the bolt size that goes into the anchor; the hole size is larger than the anchor size.

Machine Screw Anchor

Machine screw anchors are a female type anchor into which a threaded item is placed. Machine screw anchors are made up of two parts, the internally threaded cone and the sleeve. The sleeve is place over the threaded cone and inserted into a hole drilled in to the base material of concrete, brick or block, threaded cone first. The machine screw anchor is set by the sleeve being pushed over the expander sleeve wedging the sleeve between the expander sleeve and the inside wall of the concrete. The anchor is properly set when the lip of the setting tool meets the lip of the anchor. Each diameter machine screw anchor has a specific setting tool that is designated by the diameter of anchor being used. The machine screw anchor size is designated by the inside diameter of the bolt to be used with the anchor, the hole size required is larger than the anchor size being used.

Strike Anchor

Strike anchors are for use in solid concrete and are considered an impact expansion type of anchor. The strike anchor is made up of four parts: the body that is made from carbon steel with an interior hole the entire length of the anchor, a drive pin that is hardened, and a nut and washer plated in a yellow zinc. The body of the anchor is threaded on one end with the other end having four slots cut a portion of the length - the surface of this part of the body has ribs around the circumference. The length of the drive pin that is hardened must equal the length of the anchor and is placed inside the interior hole of the anchor body. The anchor is set by placing anchor into a predrilled hole in concrete with the nut and washer attached. The anchor must be tapped lightly until the nut and washer are against the base material or fixture being fastened down. The hardened pin is then driven into the anchor until the head of the pin meets the end of the anchor body, which will provide for the proper setting. As the pin is pushed into the anchor, the anchor is expanded. The hole that is needed to be drilled for the strike anchor is the same diameter as the diameter of the anchor being used.

Hammer Drive Anchor

Hammer drive anchors are made from a Zamac material that is strong and malleable. Hammer drive anchors are a light duty concrete anchor, made up of two parts the body and the zinc plated steel pin. The body of the hammer drive anchor is split from the bottom up for most of its length, with a mushroom head. The anchor body is hollowed out that runs through the head thickness and down into the shank for the entire length. The steel pin is what expands the anchor; it is made of high carbon steel, with a small head on one end and with the other end pointed. The anchor is set by hammering the steel pin into the anchor body. As the nail pushes through the anchor body, the split part expands to push against the interior wall of the hole in the base material. The hole diameter to be drilled for the hammer drive anchor is equal to the diameter of the anchor being used.

Split Drive Anchor

Split drive anchors are made from carbon steel that is heat-treated through, hardened and zinc plated. Split drive anchors are one piece with either a flat countersunk head or a round head. At the base of the anchor, opposite sides of the head the shank is sheared into two pre-expanded parts. These two halves are compressed when the anchor is driven into a predrilled hole in concrete. These two halves continually try to get back to their original shape, pushing against the inside wall of the hole. The split drive anchor requires a hole size that is equal to the diameter of the anchor being used.

Lag Shield

Lag shields are made up of two parts that are assembled into one piece. The lag shield is made from a Zamac material, which is a zinc alloy that is rust-resistant. The inside of the lag shield has internal threads designed to accept lag screw threads and its threads are tapered and run the length of the anchor. The outside body of the anchor has ribs that run the majority of the length of the anchor. The lag shield is set by inserting a lag screw into the anchor. Turning the lag screw into the tapered threads expands the two halves of the anchor and pushes against the base material. Lag shield anchors are designated by the diameter of the bolt that goes into the anchor. It is important that the hole size to be drilled is larger than the designated anchor size.

External Links:-

Weblink Wordpress Evernote

Diigo Box

1 note · View note

joshversus · 5 years

Text

... Holiday Gaming, Year 5

It is absolutely batshit that I’ve been running these stupid Risus one-shot adventures every December for half a decade. And yet, here we are, and once again I close out a year’s tabletop RPG play with a chaotic mess of wild improvisation and half-baked ideas loosely themed to midwinter celebrations. You can read about previous years adventures here, here, here, and here.

This year formed a direct sequel to last year’s game, which was itself a semi-sequel to the first holiday one shot.

Following a lawsuit alleging image infringement, trademark violations, defamation, and mail fraud (among other charges), Lucifer settled out of court. As a result of the arbitration, Lucifer (Satan) is legally obligated to fulfill those letters intended for Santa which, due to misspelling, have been delivered to the Infernal Pit instead. The letters from Good Children, in particular, must be fulfilled on Christmas Eve as is the expected contract with Santa. Of course, Lucifer himself is embedded waist-deep in Cocytus, the frozen lake at the bottom of Hell, and anyway you don’t get to reign over the entire Inferno without delegating, so the work has been farmed out to lesser demons. The easy letters are dealt with by imps and various minor servitors, but there remain a few more problematic missives, and the Devil has appointed these to five of the lords of Hell to handle before Christmas morning.

Our player characters are:

HAAGENTI, President of Hell, governor over 33 legions, in the shape of a winged bull. (Polymath 4, Boozehound 3, Demon 2, Alchemist 1)

AMDUSIAS, Duke of Hell, governor over 29 legions, in the shape of an upright unicorn. (Magical Musician 4, Treebender 3, Booming Voice 2, Demon 1)

BARBATOS, Duke of Hell, governor over 30 legions, in the shaped of a devilish bearded man. (Demon 4, Dr. Doolittle 3, Treasure Hunter 2, Fortune Teller 1)

FURFUR, Earl of Hell, governor over 26 legions, in the shape of a hart with a fiery tail. (Cupid 4, Thunder and Lightning 3, Demon 2, Soothsayer 1)

MARCHOSIAS, Marquess of Hell, governor over 30 legions, in the shape of a winged wolf with a flaming mouth. (Rowdy Boy 4, Demon 3, Fundamentally Honest 2, Flamethrower 1)

(Our demonic cast is directly but loosely based off their attributes as recorded in The Lesser Key of Solomon.)

Lucifer lays out the deal: Get this done before dawn. They’ve got to follow the rules Santa laid on in arbitration:

No teleporting inside the residence. They can teleport to it, but must get inside physically.

No damage. No blasting the walls down with hellfire or the like. Santa doesn’t do property damage.

No getting seen, unless being seen fosters belief in Santa Claus and the Magic of Christmas.

If milk and cookies or other snacks have been left out for Santa, they must be consumed.

Letters from Good Children must be fulfilled.

There are five Good Child letters left. Lucifer has provided them with a magic sack which will provide the next letter as each is fulfilled, and also potentially provide gifts or other useful tools (no guarantees). The letters are revealed first with names and locations, and only once the party is at the residence is the child’s request made visible. It is also established that the demons all basically have a roughly 13th-16th century European level of understanding.

LETTER ONE comes from Jimothy Sanchez of Passaic, New Jersey. Jimothy lives with his father Oliver, stepmother Alanis, and his older stepsister Quinn. Jimothy is eight.

The demons arrive via teleportation outside the two-story suburban home of the Sanchez family. They are confused by the environment, but immediately begin debating how to get in. Examination of the letter reveals that Jimmy wants a “fidget spinner” and to “go to space like an astronaut.”

Barbatos begins interrogating a nightbird for information on how to get inside. “You’re tellin’ me you want to get in there to give a little boy a ‘present’? You fuckin’ pervert,” the thickly-NJ-accented bird replies. Eventually, the bird summons some pigeons, who attack Marchosias. Furfur responds by summoning lighting to strike the bird’s tree, which splits and bursts into flames.

This wakes the father inside, who (as can be seen through the window) calls the fire department, although the demons are unclear on what’s happening. Barbatos turns himself into an approximation of Santa (long white beard, red sharkskin suit, curling ram’s horns) as the fire department arrives. Marchosias and Haagenti teleport back to Dis to visit the infernal library and attempt to unravel the word “astronaut”. Amdusias attempts to pull a key out of the magic sack, but gets a viper instead, which she discards on the ground where it almost immediately bites a fireman. Oliver Sanchez comes outside, and Barbatos introduces himself as Santa, leading to a great deal of confusion. Marchosias and Haagenti return, and Haagenti attempts to sell the Santa con by turning into an elf, but succeeds only in turning into an Elf on the Shelf, all of which causes Mr. Sanchez to faint. Barbatos picks up the EotS and they and Marchosias go inside. After getting the rundown on what “astronaut” means, Barbatos attempts to get a book on Space from the bag, and gets a book about NASA. Amdusias downs the milk and cookies, and is revolted by the lack of parasites. Based on the book, he goes to the Moon, where he attempts to collect a footprint left there by astronauts. Since it’s all moon dust, he just gets a fist of dust. He brings that back and stuff it and a wooden top (provided by the sack in response to a request for a fidget spinner) into the stocking labeled Jimothy, and the demons collectively bug out while the firefighters attempt to revive their envenomed compatriot.

LETTER TWO comes from the children of St. Guinefort’s Home for Disadvantaged Children, an archaic Catholic orphanage in NYC’s Lower East Side. Surprisingly, the children have not requested anything unreasonable, but have requested a badminton set so they can play together. Haagenti and Barbatos teleport to the roof of the building in search of a chimney, and finding one Barbatos tosses Haagenti (still in stuffed elf form) down it. Haagenti hits a metal barrier and finds himself trapped. Furfur joins them and drops a steaming, acidic load of demon poo down it, burning a hole through the closed flue and dumping Haagenti into a disused storeroom. Barbatos turns into a rat and follows him down. Haagenti attempts to take the form of a child and only manages to become a naked, horned baby with a devil’s tail, but is at least able to crawl around. Barbatos goes for Santa mode again, but this time ends up worse, appearing gaunt and skeletal in his red garb. Barbatos stuffs the baby Haagenti into the magic bag, a transimensional experience which shatters his mind and that of Furfur, who was scrying on their progress at the moment. The two have a close encounter with and narrowly avoid the notice of a nun doing the rounds, and manage to quickly locate a room full of sleeping children, where a sad, Charlie-Brown-esque tree sits with no presents around. Outside, Amdusias attempts to prevent any undue attention by summoning the sound of a traditional Christmas carol, but unwittingly makes everyone in earshot lose Whamageddon instead, followed by Fairytale of New York.

Back inside, Barbatos extracts the extremely dazed Haagenti from the sack, and then attempts to get a badminton set out of it. The sack provides everything required: net, rackets, shuttlecocks, posts, post-hole digger, cardboard tube forms for pouring concrete anchors for the posts, bags of concrete, a backhoe and steamroller for flattening the court, turf, grass seed, chalk, a spreader, etc. The room is very full, and the tree is entirely obscured.

The demons retreat to Central Park, where they have a brief altercation with some hoodlums, before heading to the next home.

LETTER THREE was from Emily Chen of Hollywood, California, where she lives with her mother Amy and three brothers Ted, Leo, and Bobby in a three-bedroom apartment on the fifth floor of a walk-up building. Emily, as the letter reveals, wants a pony.

Amdusias’s tree-bending bends a palm over the fence and lets everybody past the gates of the building, and the demons gather around the door to apartment. Barbatos uses his treasure-finding skills to locate a key. It is inside the apartment. A cat is sensed inside, and Barbatos attempts to convince the cat to let them in. The cat explains that even if it wanted to, it can’t work the lock. A bribe of fish is offered if the cat will retrieve the key and push it under the door - the cat agrees if they will give it sushi. A key is pushed under the door. It does not fit in the lock. Haagenti turns it into a more ductile metal to make it fit into the keyhole, and then attempts to firm it up so it can be turned, but in doing so ends up fusing it into the keyhole. The cat demands sushi, which when extracted from the bag is revealed to be a piece of tamago nigiri. An offer of salmon is made, but the cat again points out they are not capable of working the locks. One of the demons tried to turn the cat into a human. The locks click, the door opens, and a very sexy, very naked, and entirely testicle-less human man is revealed, demanding salmon. The salmon is given, but the former cat asks for its balls back in exchange for letting them in and not just blowing up their spot right then and there. Magic succeeds in restoring the man-cat’s genitals, and after garbing himself in a child’s gym shorts and some flip-flops, the cat leaves into the Hollywood night and the demons are free to enter.

The living room bears a silver metallic tree, which confuses them, but they quickly and successfully extract a full-sized live pony and a bale of moist hay form the sack, the demons depart.

LETTER FOUR comes from Bethany-Ann Mayweather of South Carolina. Bethany, it turns out, lives in a heavily-fortified survivalist compound in the woods with her dad (Steve), two brothers (Jesse and Dave), and two sisters (Katie and Donna-Lee. The entire place is surrounded by an electrified fence topped with razor wire.

Emily would like to go to school like other children.

Things get weird. Amdusias bends a tree over the fence, and Furfur drops down to discover that the clear ground between the fence and the building itself is heavily mined, exploding instantly (but non-fatally, because demon). Lights are going on at the compound as Furfur starts bouncing around setting off mines and motion-sensing lamps.

Marchosias has the idea that the humans at the first house had somehow summoned that metal chariot in response to the burning tree by talking into that weird curved oblong shape, and that if they do the same maybe the metal chariot will help them get in. Reaching into the bag extracts a banana. Marchosias holds it to the side of his head and says hello.

“Hello?” says a sleepy voice from the banana. “Who is this?”

“Uh, Mark,” responds Marchosias, who is Fundamentally Honest. “Are you the...cops? There is a little girl and there is a lot of gunpowder and fire and explosions.”

“What? No, this is Raffi. How did you get this number? Is this a prank?”

It is established that this is not a prank (”Did Steve put you up to this?” “There’s a Steve here but no.” “From Blue’s Clues.” “I don’t know who or what that is.” “Mark, I’m looking at this caller ID here, and it just says ‘banana’. What’s going on?”). Barbatos teleports to this ‘Raffi’, the shock of which causes Raffi to suffer a heart attack and die. Barbatos resurrects Raffi as an undead revenant, and after difficulty (”Raffi, how do we call the police?” “RING. RING. RING. BANANAPHONE.”) manage to extract the magical incantation “911″ from the former children’s entertainer. Marchosias invokes this to the banana and connects to emergency services, and after a very complicated discussion (and some light aerial reconnaissance to pinpoint a location) succeeds in convincing them that there is a dangerous, heavily-armed incident at the compound and a child is in danger. SWAT is being sent. Meanwhile, Furfur is drawing gunfire from the survivalist dad, and Amdusias uses spectral music to distract him while they slip inside.

The six-foot-tall unicorn-headed naked figure reaches the crude two-dimensional paper Christmas tree inside the survival bunker and attempts to eat the dry saltines and rehydrated powdered milk that has been left out. They are interrupted by the sleepy-eyed and tow-headed Bethany-Ann, who asks who they are. Amdusias explains that they’re subbing in because Blitzen is sick. Blitzen is Bethany-Ann’s favorite. Amdusias tells her she’s going to get to go to school soon, and after a hug sends Bethany-Ann to hide under her bed until some nice people come get her. Furfur attempts to use his lightning powers to dash Blitzen-like over the compound to drive home the Christmas-ness of it all, and instead burns holes through a number of trees as he accelerates to an appreciable fraction of the speed of light. The remaining demons depart as militarized police descend on the compound.

THE FINAL LETTER is from Marcus Fitzwilliams III, son of Buck and Nancy, brother to Samantha, of Casper, Wyoming. Marcus is ten, and he would like “a fortnite”. The demons gather outside the ranch-style suburban home and debate what that means. Eventually, they decide this means he wants to spend a night in a fort, and locating the Fort Caspar Museum nearby they plan to liberate the child from the house and take him there. They decide against a plan to bring the fort to the house on the grounds that this might cause property damage. Everyone but Marchosias goes to the backyard; Marchosias, who at this point looks like Bea Arthur because of reasons, remains out front with the banana to allay suspicion.

In the backyard, Barbatos again attempts to find a key, but fails. He does detect a dog, and attempts to convince the dog to let them in. The dog declines. “Stranger bad. Bite stranger.” An offer of bacon is made, and raw bacon pulled from the sack. “Bacon good. Bite bacon. Bite stranger. Good dog.” This goes back and forth for a bit, and the dog starts barking. Barbatos attempts to turn into a dog to sell the bit, and turns into a massive, ebon mastiff with glowing red eyes. The bacon falls on the ground. Furfur is now hiding in trees behind the house, joined by Amdusias, who attempts to keep things under control by bellowing “somebody let that dog out for a walk”, which comes out in a titanic demonic shout which rattles windows and kills the azaleas. Lights come on. The backdoor opens and Buck, carrying a rifle, looks at the giant demon dog and Haagenti, who is still a demonic baby, and the pile of bacon. In the trees, the flaming tail of Furfur glows.

“MA, GET UP AND CHECK THE FRONT, I THINK THE METHHEADS ARE TRYIN’ TO ROB US.”

Shit goes sideways quick. Nancy opens the front door and sees Bea Arthur standing in her yard talking into a banana, and confirms the meth suspicion to buck. The dog escapes into the yard and eats the bacon. Baby Haagenti jumps on mastiff Barbatos’ back and the two dash into the house as Buck fires wildly at them and the intruders in the trees. Nancy shoots the bananaphone and the side of Bea Arthur’s face. Inside the house, Haagenti and Barbatos dodge bullets semi-successfully. Haagenti scarfs cookies while Barbatos abandons the original plan and reaches into the bag while thinking “Fort Night”, pulling forth a card with a download code for Minecraft. Furfur pulls his lightning-assisted flight trick over the house while Amdusias tries a bellowing “HO HO HO” so loud and infernal it shatters windows in houses throughout the neighborhood.

The list complete, the demons depart for Dis, where they are quickly met by Asmodeus, who tells them the boss wants to see them. The demon lords report total success, but receive a thorough chewing-out from Lucifer, who details the many, many violations they have committed and the agonies he is going to inflict on them for their failure.

“You know the ring where we bury people up to their face in flaming shit?” “Yeah, that one’s great.” “Not for the humans. I’m going to turn you all into humans and stick you there for the next thousand years.”

The demons attempt to portray their actions in a favorable light, and Amdusias protests and attempts to get the sounds of Michael Bublé’s Let it Snow to play and encourage the spirit of the holiday to earn them some clemency. However, it turns instead into Snow’s Informer as Belial reveals himself from behind Lucifer’s torso and tells them he was following and reporting on them the whole time, everyone gets in a Christmas “no, fuck you”, our heroes are consigned to flaming shit, and credits roll. Happy Holidays, everyone.

#risus #annual holiday game #rpgs #not a strict interpretation of the goetia #man seriously a lot happened I probably forgot a third of it but this was long #demons are not elves #also there was the bit where furfur tried to make a bird fall in love and it got weird

6 notes · View notes