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little-p-eng-engineering · 1 year ago

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Little P.Eng. Engineering: Leading the Way in Bulk Material Transport Design across North America

In industries where massive volumes of materials are processed, the importance of efficient and safe bulk material transport cannot be overstated. Little P.Eng. Engineering stands as a beacon of excellence in this niche, offering top-tier structural and mechanical designs for a variety of equipment across Canada and the USA.

The Genesis of Bulk Material Transport

Bulk material transport is an integral cog in the machine of large-scale industries. Be it mining, manufacturing, or agriculture, the ability to move vast amounts of raw or processed materials efficiently ensures seamless operations and reduced downtimes. This task's complexity demands innovative solutions tailored to specific needs and geographic conditions.

Decoding Little P.Eng. Engineering's Portfolio

Apron Feeders:

Role: Essential in mining and heavy industry, they deliver a steady feed of materials to other machines.

Little P.Eng. Precision: Custom designs account for rugged conditions, ensuring robustness, minimal wear-tear, and efficient feeding speeds.

Belt Conveyors:

Role: The backbone of many industries, they transport materials over short to long distances.

Little P.Eng.'s Approach: Focus on load-bearing capacity, adaptive designs for different terrains, and durability in varied climatic conditions.

Belt Feeders:

Role: Controlled feeding of bulk materials, often used in coordination with other systems.

Little P.Eng.'s Vision: Precision-engineered for accurate delivery rates and volumes, ensuring no overloading or wastage.

Mobile Conveyor Bridges:

Role: Vital for large mining operations, they offer flexibility in transporting materials across significant distances.

Little P.Eng.'s Craft: Mobility and stability converge, ensuring these bridges can be relocated effortlessly without compromising safety.

Mobile Transfer Conveyors:

Role: As the name suggests, these conveyors are mobile and are often used in tandem with other stationary equipment.

Little P.Eng. Insight: Prioritizing easy maneuverability, these conveyors also spotlight on energy efficiency and fast material transfer.

Tube Conveyors:

Role: They provide enclosed transport, often used for grains, powders, or any material susceptible to external contamination or spillage.

Little P.Eng.'s Touch: Airtight sealing, efficient transport mechanism, and designs that reduce maintenance downtimes.

In-plant Conveyor Systems:

Role: Within factories or processing plants, they link various stages of production or processing.

Little P.Eng. Expertise: Modular designs that fit seamlessly into existing infrastructures, ensuring no workflow disruption.

Pipe Conveyor Systems:

Role: Offering enclosed transport, they are often used for materials like coal, ensuring no spillage or dust emissions.

Little P.Eng.'s Specialty: Enhanced curvature ability, ensuring a smaller footprint and efficient transport even in space-constrained areas.

Steel Belt Conveyors:

Role: Handling materials at high temperatures or those that might be abrasive or cut regular belts.

Little P.Eng. Mastery: Heat-resilient designs, ensuring prolonged lifespans even under intense conditions.

The North American Landscape: Challenges and Innovations

From the icy terrains of Northern Canada to the industrious heartlands of the USA, each region poses its unique challenges. Whether it's dealing with permafrost or ensuring equipment can withstand desert heat, Little P.Eng. Engineering's designs embody adaptability, ensuring machinery performs at its peak regardless of external conditions.

Moreover, with both countries emphasizing sustainable operations, the engineering firm ensures eco-friendly designs, minimizing energy consumption and environmental impact.

Conclusion

In an age where efficiency can dictate market standings, Little P.Eng. Engineering's contribution to the bulk material transport sector across Canada and the USA is undeniable. Through an intricate understanding of mechanics, topography, and industrial needs, the firm crafts solutions that don't just move materials but advance industries.

Transforming the Landscape of Bulk Material Management through Structural and Mechanical Design

Tags:

Little P.Eng. Engineering

Structural design

Mechanical design

Mining equipment

Tailored equipment design

Bulk material transport

Modular design

Apron feeders

Belt conveyors

Belt feeders

Mobile conveyor bridges

Mobile transfer conveyors

Tube conveyor systems

In-plant conveyor systems

Pipe conveyor systems

Steel belt conveyors

North American industry

Sustainable operations

Material movement solutions

Efficient material transport

Custom machinery design

Industrial innovations

Canada industrial machinery

USA industrial machinery

Adaptability in design

Eco-friendly machinery

High-temperature material handling

Enclosed transport systems

Production workflow

Advanced material handling

Bulk Material Handling & Processing

Engineering Services

Structural Engineering Consultancy

Located in Calgary, Alberta; Vancouver, BC; Toronto, Ontario; Edmonton, Alberta; Houston Texas; Torrance, California; El Segundo, CA; Manhattan Beach, CA; Concord, CA; We offer our engineering consultancy services across Canada and United States. Meena Rezkallah.

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continentalbelting · 2 years ago

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Our Pipe Conveyor Belt is widely used in mining, coal, cement, metallurgical, and other industries. It has high elasticity, high anti-abrasive, and high strength rubber as a working surface. Contact us, as we are one of the prominent Pipe Conveyor Belt manufacturers & Pipe Conveyor Belt suppliers in India.

#Pipe Conveyor Belt #Pipe Conveyor Belt Manufacturers #Pipe Conveyor Belt Suppliers #Pipe Conveyor Belt Exporters

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demilypyro · 25 days ago

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did you guys ever play that minecraft mod where you can make automatic quarries and oil rigs and pump all the materials through pipes and automatically craft things and there were conveyor belts and generators and electricity and copper wiring and nuclear reactors and

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the-phoenix-industry · 2 years ago

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Roller Track Manufacturers

The Phoenix Industry is a well-known Roller Track Manufacturers in India. Our Roller Tracks is made of high quality that can wear heavy load efficiently. They are easy to install and durable. Our team of expert professionals has used high-level technology to fulfill our customer's needs perfectly. You can rely on us for all your needs.

#Roller Track Manufacturers #ABS Coated Pipe & Fitting Manufacturers #GI Rollers Manufacturers #Conveyor Rollers Manufacturers #Rubber Timing Belt Manufacturers #Treadmill Belt Manufacturers

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thephoenixindustry · 2 years ago

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#Roller Track Manufacturers #ABS Coated Pipe & Fitting Manufacturers #GI Rollers Manufacturers #Conveyor Rollers Manufacturers #Rubber Timing Belt Manufacturers #Treadmill Belt Manufacturers #PU Timing Belt Manufacturers #PVC & PU Conveyor Belt Manufacturers

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ccazimi · 2 months ago

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Nightingale (pt. 2)

Read pt. 1 and pt. 3

CW: stepcest, period sex (oral, fingering), noncon/dubcon, wounding? (fingering with nails), namecalling (princess, pet, slut, etc.), squirting, fem reader, degradation, modern noncurse au, lmk if i missed anything else

WC: 4.5k

as usual, 18+, mdni

Morning sunlight streams into the window as you bite into the toast smothered in anko. Both your parents have already left to go to work, leaving just you finishing your meal and Yuuji scarfing down his next to you. Sukuna still hasn’t shown himself to your relief but you hasten your chewing to disappear into your room before he possibly decides to make an entrance.

You were almost scared to return home after your date last night, but luckily you didn’t run into Sukuna when you got back around 11 and let yourself in.

The date itself was pretty decent, especially for a first one. He’d taken you to a trendy new conveyor belt sushi restaurant, the night filled with laughter and playful banter that almost made you forget about what had happened right before.

Almost.

Unfortunately the awareness of its proof in your panties ruined your first ever kiss at the end of the night, effectively putting a damper on things when they started to heat up and he’d invited you back to his dorm at uni. You had been preparing for this night, for this moment, but suddenly it felt uncomfortable as you became even more conscious of the urge to peel off your undergarments and scrub your skin.

You politely declined, rambling on about how your parents expected you home or something. If he knew it was an excuse, luckily he didn’t mind and the drive to drop you home was still in good spirits.

If you blocked out all memories of Sukuna from yesterday, it was actually a pretty decent night.

You finish up your toast before moving onto the yogurt with chunks of fruit in it, just about to dive in when you hear his footsteps and make out the silhouette of his frame coming down the hallway.

Though your eyes are steadily trained on mixing the yogurt your body still tenses and the hammering in your chest urges you to leave.

“Good morning, Sukuna!” Yuuji greets his older brother with his usual sunny disposition that does nothing to ease the prickling on your skin. You can feel Sukuna’s eyes boring into you.

“What’s left to eat?” Sukuna asks lazily, pulling out a chair in front of you and taking a seat.

His voice was the last straw and you keep your eyes cast downward as you slowly stand up, holding the open container of yogurt.

“Eggs, toast, yogurt, coffee, some fruits. You goin’ to work today?” Yuuji replies through a mouth full of food.

“I am.” To your dismay, Sukuna turns his head in your direction before you can sneak away. “And where are you going?”

You swallowed. “I’m done with my food and I have some homework to catch up on….” You mumble.

“Its bad manners to get up while we’re still eating.” Sukuna chides you. “Besides aren’t you gonna tell us how your date went last night?”

Just like Sukuna probably intended, Yuuji perks up at the mention and looks curiously at you. “Date? You went on a date? How’d it go?!” He asks excitedly.

You glare at Sukuna and that stupid smug grin on his face as you sit back down. His nerve never ceases to astound you.

“It went fine. We got dinner at that new conveyor belt sushi place.” You spoon some of the yogurt into your mouth.

“No one cares about that.” Sukuna reaches over to pluck the yogurt from your hands despite your protests. “So did you fuck or not?”

You turn pink as Yuuji pipes up. “Sukuna, give her yogurt back and stop asking her questions like that.”

The question wouldn’t be so bad if you didn’t know as well as Sukuna did that he’d effectively made sure you couldn’t have sex with your date last night even if you wanted to.

“The princess can get a new one.” He finishes your yogurt in about two bites before setting the empty container back in front of you. “Yes or no?”

“We didn’t. Can you leave me alone now?” You snap a bit more sharply than you’d intended, causing Sukuna’s eyes to slant as you stand up to get another yogurt from the fridge.

“Watch your tone.”

“Let it go, Sukuna. Besides you’re being a jerk anyways, what did you expect?” Yuuji defends you with pure intentions but still you feel a bit embarrassed as you remember what Sukuna said last night about his “white-knighting”.

He probably thought of you as sheltered, soft. Unable to defend yourself.

The thought irritates you more than it should and you promptly dismiss yourself after retrieving the yogurt, making your way past Sukuna and into your room.

The next day your date texts you asking if you want to go out again and while you do, luck just has it that your period starts so you schedule for next week instead. Two days pass by and between schoolwork, classes, and staying holed up in your room in pain, you don’t see Sukuna all that much.

Three nights later you’re curled up on your bed in fetal position, unable to fall asleep thanks to the constant pinching in your belly. Not even the hot shower you took seemed to help, neither did the 500 mg of ibuprofen. You’re considering if you have it in you to get up and make some hot herbal tea when you hear the motorbike pull up to the house before shutting off and the front door unlocking.

Sukuna must be back from his shift.

You check the time on your phone. It’s a bit after 1 am and with the quietness in the house you know both your parents and Yuuji would already be asleep right now, leaving only Sukuna awake and prowling about.

No tea tonight.

You curl up tighter as another especially sharp cramp pierces through your gut and you feel warm blood leak out into your pad, praying sleep will fall over you soon.

A few minutes later your hear footsteps coming up the stairs, your breath involuntarily pausing, waiting for him to walk by your room.

Except he doesn’t.

The doorknob starts to turn and your mind races at what he could possibly want or be doing at this hour. You bury your face into your pillow facing your back towards the door, shutting your eyes as you hear it open.

For a few seconds everything is perfectly still and you think he might have left.

Suddenly a peculiar sensation makes you jump- long fingers on your scalp, stroking through the length of your hair. The feeling makes your stomach curl and you snap your head around to tell him to fuck off.

“What do you want?” You hiss, biting your lip to hold in a wince as another brutal cramp rips through you.

The only light in your room is the pale moonlight streaming in, illuminating just the contours of his face, the rest of his figured cloaked in shadows and barely visible where he was standing by your bed.

“I knew you weren’t sleeping.”

“Get out. I don’t want to deal with you right now.” The pain in your abdomen made you more irritable than usual, growling at him as you turn your face back into the covers.

You feel the bed dip under his weight, gasping as your face is grabbed by the chin and twisted back to look at him. “And who do you think you’re talking to? You’re feeling brave tonight, huh?”

Another cramp. You stay silent, hoping he’ll leave if you don’t provoke him further.

Instead, he lets go of your face to swat you lightly. “Move.”

You want to deny him but between the pain and your fear of provoking him you do as he says, still facing away as you shift to the other side of the bed. Sukuna crawls in beside you under the sheets, scooting close as he lies down and pulls you in so that he’s spooning you.

Your chest is fluttering at the warmth of his body against yours more than you’d like and you conveniently blame it on the state of your period hormones.

“You know how much I hate that bratty attitude of yours…” He sighs against the back of your neck, rubbing his lips along as the hand on your hip pulls you even tighter.

“How was work?” You ask quietly, shifting tactics and hoping you could loosen the building heat by asking him normal and mundane questions.

“Good. It’s a nice restaurant, the kind you take a girl to for a first date.” He lifts his head a bit while his fingers begin trailing the length of your body, down over the tops of your thighs and back up to skim across your clothed abdomen. “Not a conveyer sushi belt place.”

“I liked it, okay? It was a good date.” You huff a bit defensively. “Besides I don’t think any college student has the money for kaiseki as a first date.”

Sukuna offers no response apart from a slight chuckle, though his fingers are growing bolder in their exploring in a way that has your breathing quickening slightly.

You tense as another cramp seizes your uterus but the pain is quickly overshadowed by the feeling of his hand abruptly slipping under the hem of your top and reaching up to cup your breast.

“What are you doing?” You whisper as your own hand comes up to pull his off while you shoot a worried glance to the door to your room still ajar behind you. “Wh-what if mom or dad…or Yuuji see-”

“So what if they do?” Sukuna nips playfully at the shell of your ear. “I’m just helping my little sister fall asleep…”

You suppress a shiver down your spine, disgust at his disturbing words settling down into unwanted sparks in your gut. Your hand loosens its grip on his and just as soon he squeezes your sore breast, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Could you at least close the door? In case someone walks by?” You plead quietly as another one of his arms slip under you and wrap around to grope your chest with both hands. “Ow, ah-”

“Close the door? Why?” His fingers are kneading the tender tissue of your tits, making you wince. “What do you plan on doing with me?” He teases, pressing his hips up into your ass to make sure you can feel his hardening dick. “Gonna jerk me off with your panties again?”

Heat blooms across your cheek, once again caught between yourself and the repulsion that was slowly morphing into a dark desire that was only encouraged by the pads of his fingers tracing your areolas, nipples hardening under the touch.

Its just your period hormones you repeatedly try to reason with yourself again and almost on cue, your uterus contracts again. The cramps along with the pain from your aching breasts being massaged and the heat infecting your brain was all too much.

“S-stop, Sukuna…it hurts.” You say hoping it’ll convince him to ease up at the very least as you squirm against his hands groping your chest.

“You’re so fucking fragile. I’m barely even squeezing them.”

“Well they’re already sore because I’m-” You hesitate for some reason. “..on my period.”

His movements pause and relief washes over you.

“I know.”

And just like that your stomach is up in knots again. “Huh?”

Suddenly the heat of his body against yours dissipates as he gets up from the bed before peeling back the layers of your blanket.

You’re about to protest when you catch a look at his expression, a wolfish grin plastered on his face that was visible even in the faint moonlight.

Before you know it his hands are gripping your ankles, pulling you unceremoniously to the edge of the bed where he kneels by it on the ground.

“Sukuna? Stop it, what are you doing?” You whisper frantically trying to keep your voice quiet despite the growing panic at being unable to do anything but flail about helplessly in the sheets.

“Consider this another gift, princess. I’m gonna show you how a real man eats so that my little sis never settles for anything less from another man.”

“Eats? You can’t possibly mean-”

Oh, but clearly that was exactly what he meant, judging from how he was gripping the waistband of your pajamas to tug them down.

“Sukuna. I’m on my period, please not now, please can’t we do this after or something?” You realize you’re already crying as you desperately try to reason with him. “You won’t like the taste, it’s gross-”

More tears well in your eyes as you watch his sinister smile grow wider as he drinks in your disheveled state, begging him not to. “You clearly don’t know my tastes then.”

He yanks down your pajamas, dragging the waistband of your panties with it as you twist to stop him from taking them off.

He growls in agitation. “Stop making this difficult or I swear to god I’ll get scissors and cut these clothes off you.”

You still, meeting his eyes that somehow look redder than ever right now, almost as if they were glowing.

He smiles as he pulls your clothing all the way down your legs, removing them and tossing your pajamas along with your panties and the pad on it to the side. “There you go. Just lay back and let your big brother make you feel good, okay?”

You shiver at his words, aware he was trying and succeeding at making you as uncomfortable about this as possible.

Cool air brushes over your wet pussy as he spreads your legs to hook them over his shoulders, drawing your awareness to your vulnerable position. Your screw your eyes shut so you don’t have to see his as he drinks in the sight over your bare and bleeding cunt. It was your first time being seen with anyone, the feeling of being so exposed like this making a potent mixture of humiliation and shame burn in you.

And you thought it couldn’t get worse than the last time.

“Open your eyes.”

Your lids flutter open at his voice, unexpectedly soft , though it still held a firm edge.

“There you go.”

You grip your sheets as you watch him lean in, realizing your clit was already throbbing in anticipation at the feel of his tongue.

The flat of his tongue presses against your clit and you gasp.

The feeling was even better than you’d imagined - soft, wet and hot. Not to mention you'd forgotten entirely about that piercing on his tongue- you'd never really noticed it till now and as the cold metal ball catches against your clit you realize the reason he probably got it.

Your fingers twist the sheets into fists as he licks a long stripe up from your sopping hole back up to your clit before latching his open mouth all the way on your pussy.

His eyes are piercing through you as you hold your breath when you feel a tongue slithering into your entrance, tasting the mixture of blood and juices. A low groan vibrates from his throat as his lids relax and his tongue slides back out and he pulls away, dark red staining his lips as they curl into a smirk.

“Oh, you taste even better than I expected.” He leans closer, voice dropping with some sinister intent. “So good that I think you deserve to know what your cunt tastes like too.”

Your eyes widen as he bends in over you. “No-”

Wet lips are already crashing onto yours, swallowing your denial as his tongue pries its way through your lips and teeth. The sharp taste of yourself coated your tastebuds all at once - salty, warm, and metallic - making you cringe and try to break the kiss, if you could even call it that.

Sukuna’s tongue is pervasive, exploring the crevices of your mouth with a domineering harshness before finally pulling away, snapping tiny gossamer threads of saliva between the two of you.

“That was ….disgusting. What is wrong with you?!” You pant, trying to scrape off the taste from your tongue against your teeth.

He giggles, a low sound that makes your hairs stand up. “I’m gonna teach you to love ‘disgusting’.”

You look at him in horror before peeling away your eyes to the door frame, listening closely to make sure the house was still quiet.

You would never be able to recover from being caught in this position.

Sukuna lowers himself and grips your hips, latching his mouth back onto your pussy and staring directly up into your eyes as his tongue begins to lap at your damp folds, dragging through them to collect all the juices and swallow. You stare at him with wide-eyes, completely enraptured by this incredible sensation, wondering how you’d gone without it for so long.

You’re already barely holding yourself together when he starts licking your swollen clit, the hard metal of his piercing rubbing over and over against it, blending deliciously with the warmth of his wet tongue.

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hold in the feverish moans that were rising from your chest. He notices, narrowing his eyes and increasing his pace, sucking and caressing the sensitive bundle of nerves till you’re biting down on your palm even though small whimpers still make their way out.

Every small flick of his tongue feels like jolts of lightning from your most sensitive spot and you don’t even realize you’re lifting your hips up higher, pressing your pussy into his mouth for more.

He stops for a second, removing his mouth to eye the wet mess he’d already made of your cunt. The sudden dissolving of pleasure from his tongue was almost painful, eliciting a frustrated noise from you as you looked up at him desperately.

“Feel good?” He asks, obviously taunting you like he didn’t already know the answer and just wanted to hear you say it.

“Fucking— yes, it feels good.” You grit out, impatiently trying to lift your pussy back to his lips. “Keep going.”

“What’s the magic word?”

You clench your jaw, the pure neediness of your cunt straining against the agitation bubbling on your face. "Are you fucking seriou-"

You’re not given a chance to even try and fight back when he parts his lips ever so slightly and breathes out, the tendrils of his breath cool against your wet folds as it almost spelled out how swollen your clit was, coated in slick and saliva.

The feather-light sensation was too much, snapping the last threads of control leaving you thinking only through your agonizingly aroused cunt.

“Oh f-fuck, please Sukuna,” You whined. “Please make me c-cum.”

He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the addicting heat of his lips clamping back around your sex, watching intently as you begin to unravel with every careful move of his tongue. Lewd, sloppy noises fill the room and normally you’d be nervous about someone possibly waking up and hearing him slurping your pussy, but you’re too far gone, squeezing your thighs around his head instead.

You watch him through the tears filling your eyes as you feel your orgasm begin to build up - slowly and heavily. He looks like nothing short of a monster, hungrily devouring you and the fresh blood leaking out, the sight of his head between your thighs and on your pussy only pushing your orgasm towards you with increasing intensity.

And before you know it you’re falling, drowning in the waves of pleasure rippling through you so strongly that your mouth is open in awe, soft moans burying into the flesh of your palm with tears rolling down your cheeks. Sukuna doesn’t let up, leading you through your orgasm with his mouth and even when you feel yourself start to come down his pace and pressure don’t decrease.

“S-Sukuna, I came.” You try to pull your hips away but he grips you tightly, fingers digging into the flesh of your hips.

Even with his mouth occupied you can see the glint in his eyes, smirking as his tongue continues its relentless assault on your sensitive clit. He changes up the pace and you whimper as he begins sucking on it, overstimulation drawing fresh tears at your lash line.

“Sukuna, ‘s too much - ah - , s-stop,” You try to draw your hips back from discomfort but he tightens his grip with an almost painful pressure, pulling you closer into his mouth till you feel the bolts of pleasure igniting again at your clit.

His tongue goes back to stimulating it with increasing intensity as you feel your second orgasm begin to build.

“Oh god-” You tilt your pelvis up as the heat grows and grows until your fingers find their way into his hair, gripping the messy strands as you lift your hips and pull his head as tightly as you can into your pussy. “Fuck, fuck, oh my fucking-”

Your second orgasm crashes into you abruptly and without warning, leaving you breathless after it dissipates. His tongue slows down into slow languid strokes before stopping entirely and unlatching his mouth while you catch your breath. Sukuna’s face is shining, covered in juices and blood that you can feel running down from your entrance to your ass.

Your hole clenches, the need for your g-spot to be stimulated growing imminent now that you were sufficiently prepped from not one but two clitoral orgasms.

His eyes drag down to the movement and he smirks, licking his lips to clean them off. “Need something, pet?”

You try to close your thighs, only making him spread them wider as your post-nut clarity washes over you like a bucket of icy water being dumped on you.

“No. Let me go before I fucking scream for mom and dad.”

You can take care of yourself with your own fingers after he’s gone.

That smug look on his face doesn’t budge at your threat.

“You’re not gonna do that.” He tells you coolly.

“Fucking let me go-”

You’re about to try and kick him in the face when he slides a finger into your dripping entrance, curling it up to massage that spongy area of tissue that made your mind go blank and all the words melt off of your tongue in favor of an involuntary moan.

You look at him through glazed eyes, mouth parted as he rubs into your flesh, a new type of pleasure blooming and taking hold.

“You’re such a stupid slut.” He sneers, rubbing a finger against your sensitive walls before harshly shoving in another finger. “Don’t ever try those empty threats with me, you dumb little girl.”

“Ahh” You bite down on your lip, ashamed at how you melted into putty under his touch till the point even his demeaning words only fueled the pleasure.

“I bet your fingers never felt as good as mine do, huh?” With the way his fingers are positioned, you can start to feel the edges of his nails scraping against the tender flesh.

“N-no, oh fuck,” You babble mindlessly, all composure falling away with the steady pressure of his fingers against your walls being exacerbated by the stinging of those dark nails inside you. “No they don’t, Sukuna-”

“You like this you sick little slut?” His fingers begin pistoning up into you at a new angle, the sudden change of pace causing fresh moans to spill out of you, the wet sounds of crimson-stained fluids so messy and erratic you already know these sheets will be permanently stained.

“Y-yes, -nhgh- love it, I love it-”

Love it?

You were entirely out of your mind, even Sukuna knew by now if it wasn’t already clear from your watery and dazed eyes, the sweat clinging to your skin, how every muscle in your body was tensed up, the amount of wetness coating his fingers that couldn’t be just blood.

“This is really all it took for you to give in? Fuck, your virgin cunt must’ve been so miserable.” He curves his fingers up even more against your gummy walls now plushy and inflamed from how hard he’s finger fucking you with nails cutting themselves into the flesh. “Say it. Say that you’re pathetic.”

“Ah-” You bite in a yelp, vision blurry and eyes stinging from tears, only able to feel his fingers thrusting aggressively into you, the pleasure threaded with pain and a brand new wave of humiliation at his biting words as if you weren’t already mortified by how much your body apparently loved this. “P-please, Sukuna-”

“Say it.” He spits on your pussy, the wet wad of spit catching on your clit, making you whimper at the visceral sensation. “Say you’re my pathetic little plaything.”

His sadistic gaze burns into you and with the building pressure between your legs you feel like you’re being compelled.

“I’m your p-pathetic, -ah- little plaything S-Sukuna,”

“Yeah? Still wanna call Mom and Dad? Have them see you cumming all over your big brother’s fingers like a filthy bitch?”

The words are like a match striking something in you and you moan so loudly that Sukuna leans over to clamp his other palm over your mouth, so close you can see the faint striated pattern in his blazing irises.

“Go on, then. Show me how much you love this.”

With that, hot liquid rushes out of you as you cum, seeping uncontrollably from your walls and gushing around his fingers and splattering out as he continues to drive them into you, juicing every last drop of your orgasm.

You come down, his hand over the lower half of your face lifting when your muffled moans become pants for air. Every muscle in your body is tired from being tensed and you bite your lip from the sharp pain when he pulls his fingers out from your abused cunt. Your walls are tighter than before, inflamed and puffy from the battering of his fingers. There’s a dull soreness, but at least the pain in your womb has subsided for now.

Sukuna lifts his fingers, admiring the mess of smeared blood, fluids, and tiny stringy bits of soft flesh clinging onto his nails. You gulp as he looks at you, scared he’s going to put them in your mouth to make you taste yourself.

“Please, don’t.”

He flashes you a cocky smile, clearly pleased at the apprehension he’d instilled in you before licking his fingers clean. You watch in repulsion, suddenly aware of the mess that was left on your skin and sheets and slide your legs back down to close yourself up from his view.

And of course with it was a growing disgust with what had just happened and how much you’d liked it.

Loved it.

You cringe, unable to be in Sukuna’s presence after humiliating yourself and coming undone like that in front of him, at his hands.

“I n-need to cleanup…” You mutter keeping your eyes trained on the dark ceiling above you, voice breaking as the weight of everything begins to come down on you.

“Good luck with that,” He replies indifferently as he stands. “You’re definitely gonna need new sheets.” Your heart tightens as you feel him moving around the side of the bed to stand beside you and bend down. “Goodnight, sis.” He presses a mockingly chaste kiss on your forehead with the lips that had just been eating out your pussy, leaving your stomach lurching and wanting to gag as he pulls away and walks out the door, once again leaving you in both physical and mental shambles.

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methodsindia · 3 months ago

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#Conveyor Idlers #Conveyor Pulleys #Pipe Conveyors #Structural Steel Fabrication #Conveyor Roller

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immortalbumblebee · 2 months ago

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Chapter 20: Forged in Fire

So two chapters of this series passed 100 notes this week? Holy shit, guys!!! Thank you so much! I've been trying to find as much time for writing between finals, but this is probably going to be the last chapter I publish until the hoidays.

Thank you so much for y'all support. The likes and comments are really motivating.

Content warning for mentions of birth

Masterlist

Working at the factory had become excruciating since you got arrested. Well, it had always been a little excruciating. But it had been especially bad for these past few months once word had gotten out that you’d spent the night at the Enforcer HQ. Your pay had been considerably docked, nearly all your coworkers all but refused to interact with you, and all your supervisors would go out of their way to be right pricks to you whenever given the chance. Morichi had made it clear that you’d almost fully lost your job from the whole kerfuffle.

It was fairly easy to ignore when you were working, primarily just focusing on your work. Sure, your supervisors were bad, but no worse than the chembarons your sort were used to back home. No, what really made it insufferable were the moments between work, like in the dressing room when you could feel your coworkers eyes’ on you, hear their judgmental murmurings.

Finally shedding yourself of the annoyingly stuffy uniform, you couldn’t help but close your locker with a particularly loud ‘slam’. The room grew silent at this, which only worked to further irritate you.

Fuck this

Storming out of the change room, you didn’t even think as you made your way down the hallway and over to the catwalk that led you to the staff entrance. As you crossed the raised catwalk, however, you found yourself stilling as you passed over the main floor underneath. Down there, you could hear the high-pitched hum of the metal on the conveyor lines. Eerily familiar. As you watched the assembly line workers do their work, you found yourself focusing on the metal parts being put together. Long pipes and complex golden mechanisms. All being locked together and assembled until finally…the all too familiar shine of the barrel of an Encorfcer’s gun. Hundreds, if not thousands of them being pumped out of this factory every damn day.

You’d put the dots together after your arrest, when the Enforcers had stormed the fighting ring. The ringing had been too familiar, like a blacksmith recognizing his own maker’s mark.

Zeroing in on the cool, familiar texture of the metal, you couldn't resist the urge to lift one hand. A few pieces on the conveyor belt trembled briefly, then floated effortlessly a couple of inches off the ground. With a subtle flex of your fingers, the metal obeyed—curling in on itself with a sharp, satisfying ‘crunch.’ It was almost as if you were breathing—effortless, instinctive, and perfectly in tune with the world around you.

Shaking your head out of your thoughts, you let the metal fall thoughtlessly back onto the belt and went to continue on your way, didn’t even notice anyone around you as you began to march down the catwalk. That is, until you came crashing full-force into a tiny body. Colliding, you both stumbled back, the impact snapping you out of your daze.

“Oh!” Victoria exclaimed, jumping back. “Terribly sorry!”

“Oh my gods, no. I’m so sorry. I totally wasn’t looking where I was going.” You scan her over, but she looks fine.

“No, no. ‘ts my fault, really!” She waved her hands anxiously, her cheeks flushing. “Are y’alright, miss?”

“I’m fine.” You give her a little smile. “Thanks.”

"N' problem!" she says, just as a few of your coworkers round the corner. The moment they spot you and her standing there, their expressions shift subtly, but it's enough to catch your attention. You can practically hear the hushed whispers starting up behind you as they hurry past, heads down, moving with that practiced air of nonchalance—like they think the two of you are completely oblivious to the thinly veiled judgment they're broadcasting.

“Well now,” Victoria murmurs, “who pissed in their pond?”

“Sorry,” You sigh, lifting your hand to rub the bridge of your nose in annoyance. “Y’may wanna back off from me. Seems like ‘m bit of a social pariah at the moment.”

Victoria shrugs. “Like anyone ‘round ‘ere be given’ me the time of day, anyday? I’m the only foreigner workin’ here, lass. Heard you got yourself locked up?”

“It’s…a long story.”

Victoria seems to think for a moment, looks around (lacking any semblance of subtlety) then motions to the worker’s exit. “Wanna catch a smoke wit’ me?”

As she led you outside, you were immediately thrown off by the unexpected direction she took. Instead of heading toward the usual smoking section, she veered sharply in the opposite direction, heading straight for the bridge. Her pace quickened, and despite your curiosity, you asked her where she was taking you. Without even looking back, she waved you off, offering no explanation.

For a moment, a flicker of doubt crossed your mind—was this some sort of twisted trap? Were you walking into some elaborate murder plot? The thought lingered, but before you could give it more weight, she made a sharp turn down a narrow flight of stairs, just as the bridge came into view behind you. You had never taken this path before, and only now did you realize how easily you'd overlooked it. The steps seemed unremarkable, tucked away beneath the looming shadow of the bridge, as if they were meant to be ignored.

The descent felt oddly quiet, the rhythmic thud of your footsteps mingling with the distant hum of the city. After just a few flights of stairs, the air grew thicker with the scent of brine and decay. You reached the bottom and, as you rounded the last corner, the waters of Pilt River stretched out before you. A small, neglected beach lay before you, its shoreline littered with an unsightly amount of garbage. Old, rusted cans, plastic wrappers, and pieces of broken wood jutted out from the dirt, an unfortunate testament to the city’s disregard for this forgotten corner.

Yet, amidst the debris, something caught your eye. Set into the side of a nearby wall, nearly camouflaged by grime and neglect, was a large manhole. About as tall as Vander, if you had to guess. The rusted metal bars that covered the opening were more than big enough for a normal-sized person to slip right through.

“What…is this?” You asked Victoria.

‘M not really sure, to be frank.” She shrugged, wandering closer to the giant manholes. “When I first moved ‘ere, I took it upon m’self to find all the points o’ access t’ the water tha’ I could. Even if I can’ be swimmin’ in it, it’s nice just to be close to it y’know? But these…these stuck out t’ me.” She slipped right through the bars. “This tunnel in particular splits off, say, ‘bout half a mile out? Goes that-a ways,” she points off in the direction of the bridge, “righ’ under the river.”

You followed her lead, stepping easily through the rusted metal bars. The air in the tunnels was thick and stagnant, a foul mix of rotting garbage and something else—something eerily familiar. A few breaths later, the stench hit you like a wave, sharp and unmistakable—the pungent smell of Zaun’s mines. It was the same stench that clung to the clothes of the boys when they came home from work, the same tainted air that swept through the slums and left so many of your people sick every day.

"This... this is part of the Underground’s ventilation system," you said, the realization hitting you as the damp walls closed in. "It must have overlapped with Piltover’s sewage system somewhere along the way, when they were engineering the city. Seems pretty par for the course, doesn't it?"

Victoria wrinkled her nose. "Ventilation and sewage?" she repeated, sounding dubious. "That don’ 'ound righ’."

You stifle a chuckle. "Welcome to life on the other side of the bridge." You paused, eyeing the dark path ahead. "But... Victoria, you’re sure this leads to the other side?”

She nods. “Not far in, I’d wager, but it definitely be lettin’ out on the Promenade. Been there m’self. Tunnels could definitely use some serious upkeep though, I warn. There’ a pretty big leak a good ways in.”

“How many people know about this?” you asked, your mind racing with possibilities.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Who else would I be tellin’, Lass?"

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "Then why show me?"

She shifted uncomfortably, casting a sideways glance at you.

“Well, if I’m bein’ honest…you’re the only one at that factory that treats me as anything more than a stupid immigrant that ‘an’t speak. And I figure, if you e’er need to…y’know, I just figure you’d ‘ave more use for this than me.”

Her words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. You felt the cogs in your mind clicking into place. A direct tunnel from the Promenade to Topside. The sheer scale of it hit you like a punch to the gut.

"Lady be damned." You muttered under your breath, shaking your head. The magnitude of what you were looking at was sinking in. You raised a hand and let it slide over the worn stone, feeling the miles of metal pipes buried within it. The structure was ancient, far older than anything you’d seen before. It would need significant repairs before being used for anything substantial, but the potential... The potential was enormous.

“Victoria…” you said, your voice low with awe. “You’ve got no idea how big this is gonna be."

Back at the apartment, you’re more than happy to share this news with the guys. You pulled out the old blueprints—dusty, frayed at the edges, but still legible enough to make sense of. They’d been tucked away for years, a relic from when one of you managed to snag them from Piltover’s archives. As you spread the paper across the table, the lines and markings revealed exactly what you’d hoped for: the tunnel on Piltover’s side was labeled as a sewage system, but further down by the shoreline, it merged seamlessly with the ventilation tunnel that led up into Zaun’s upper levels.

The room grew quiet as everyone leaned in, taking in the implications.

“How bad’s the damage?” Vander asked, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence. His brow furrowed with concern. “This girl, Victoria, said there’s a leak?”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to recall every detail Victoria had mentioned. “I’m not sure exactly. The tunnels are old, and if there’s a leak, it could be a serious issue. But if I can get in there with Connol and some of the other factory folks, we can probably assess the damage and figure out how to fix it.”

Vander gave you a curt nod, but the expression on his face told you he wasn’t completely satisfied. He was always cautious, always weighing the risks.

Silco, ever the skeptic, leaned forward, his sharp eyes fixed on you. “And your source can be trusted?” His voice was calm, but there was a glint of doubt in his gaze as he scribbled something into the worn pages of his notebook.

You met his gaze, unwavering. “I’d say so. She’s Bilgewater-folk, like me and Ma.” You paused, considering the weight of your words. "I trust her. She wouldn't steer me wrong."

Benzo let out a laugh, breaking the tension that had begun to build in the room. He threw an arm around you in a rough, familiar gesture, his grin wide and infectious. “Trust a gutter fish to be all tricksy-like,” he joked, the teasing tone in his voice lightening the mood. “Good find, Fishie.”

“If we’re able to get this into proper commission, this could change a lot of Zaun’s infrastructure. What if we—” Silco’s words were abruptly cut off as the door to the apartment swung open with a loud crash. The sudden intrusion startled everyone, and you all whipped around, trying to make sense of the noise.

Standing in the doorway, panting heavily and struggling to catch her breath, was Niya. She was disheveled, her work clothes torn and streaked with dirt, as if she’d sprinted across the entire length of Zaun. Her eyes were wide, panic etched across her face.

“What in the blazes��!” Benzo started, his voice rising in surprise and confusion.

Niya barely seemed to hear him as she staggered into the room, clutching her side and gasping for air. “Felicia, she–fuck that was a lot of stairs-she-” She made a sudden gagging sound, her body curling inward as if she was about to collapse. It was clear that she was exhausted, and something about her frantic movements made your gut twist with unease.

“Fel? What’s wrong with Fel?!” Vander sprang into action, running over to help Niya further into the apartment as she continued to hack up a lung. The moment his hands were on her, however, the poor girl all but collapsed into him.

“The baby!” Niya puttered out. “Fel, she-oh geez-went into labour!”

The apartment broke out into panic, all four of you crying out in different voices.

“The baby’s not due for another couple months!” Silco’s voice broke out against the panic.

“Seven weeks, but yeah. I know.” Niya gestured to herself, her breath still ragged. “You think I would’ve run all the way over here if it wasn’t an emergency?”

You felt your heart sink as you moved quickly to support her, taking her into your arms, steadying her as she swayed on her feet. “Niya, where is she?” The urgency in your voice was impossible to hide now.

She wiped a hand across her face, trying to push through her exhaustion. “We were at her place. Had a playdate scheduled. My niece, Skye, she—” She broke off, coughing harshly, and then continued, “She ran to get Dr. Yan.”

“And Connol?” Silco’s voice cut through the room, sharp and demanding.

Niya pointed back toward the door, her body still shaking. “Already ran and got him from Heisen’s factory. He should be with her by now.”

Vander, already moving, was the first to gear up. As he laced up his boots, his expression hardened, a stone wall of determination. His voice dropped into that deep, commanding tone that everyone knew meant business.

“We need to move, now!” Vander’s words were quick, measured. “Min, grab the first aid kit, painkillers, any medicine we’ve got. Benzo, emergency water, towels, matches—now! Move it!”

The adrenaline coursed through you, making everything seem sharper, faster, like your mind was suddenly running in overdrive. Your heart beat heavily in your chest as you sprang into action. Your legs felt like they were moving on their own, each step pulling you closer to where you needed to be. You bolted and grabbed the first aid kit, not bothering to check what was inside as you threw it into an old duffle bag. Then, you started grabbing anything else you could find—rubbing alcohol, numbing ointment, gauze strips, painkillers, and any other supplies that might come in handy.

Benzo was already ahead of you, throwing on his jacket and grabbing the emergency water, towels, and matches, his usual lighthearted demeanor gone. His face was set, and you knew that under all the humor, he was as serious as Vander right now.

“We’ve got that shipment coming in from Noxus tonight.” Benzo mentioned, handing Vander the supplies. “But only one of us has to be there to do the hand-off. I’ll meet you at Con and Fel’s.”

You shake your head, handing Silco your duffle. “Two of us go, just to be safe.

Silco’s sharp mind was already calculating their best route, and you could practically hear the gears turning in his head. “Vander, Niya and I can take the path that lets up by Babette’s,” he said, looking over at you all. “If you take the route we take to Lou’s from the promenade, it’ll get you back to their apartment the fastest. Cuts through some of the alleyways, avoids main streets. You’ll be there in half the time than any of the main routes.”

Vander nodded, already moving toward the door. “Good, let’s go!”

***

The tradeoff had taken far longer than expected, and when you finally reached the apartment, Felicia’s piercing screams echoed down the hallway, sharp and urgent even from several doors away. Your steps quickened, Benzo muttering under his breath about the delay as the two of you pushed through the door.

Inside, the tension was palpable. Niya stood near the window, her arms crossed tightly as she glanced toward the bathroom door. The little girl at her side—her niece, Skye—clutched an old book to her chest, her glasses slipping slightly down her nose as she looked up at you with wide, curious eyes. On the bed in the corner, Violet sat perched beside Vander, her legs swinging back and forth as he played with her and an old stuffed rabbit. The moment you stepped inside, she spotted you, her face lighting up like a candle.

“Auntie Min! Uncle Benzo!” Violet squealed, leaping from the bed and barreling toward you.

“Sorry we’re late!” Benzo panted as he stepped over the threshold, ruffling his hair with one hand. “Damn traders wouldn’t stop haggling, and then someone got knife-happy.”

You shrugged off your jacket and hung it over the back of a chair. “I got them to agree to the original price in the end, didn’t I?” you shot back, giving him a sideways glance. “How’s she doing?”

“No major updates yet,” Silco answered, his tone clipped but steady. “But we haven’t had to call in an emergency ride to the hospital, so that’s a good sign—for now.” His eyes darted to the bathroom door before returning to you, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

Violet reached you, arms outstretched, and you scooped her up effortlessly, her tiny frame folding into your chest. She wrapped her arms around your neck and squeezed tightly, her happiness contagious even in the heavy atmosphere.

“Auntie Min, look what Uncle Vander gave me!” Her little hands grasped a little golden amulet tied to a thin black cord around her neck. It was a simple piece of jewelry, but you recognized it easily as a bracelet that Vander liked to wear to important events.

“Wow! Look at that!” You smiled, your eyes casting over to Vander with a raised eyebrow. “That was very nice of him.”

Vander, standing nearby with a proud smile, nudged Violet gently and stepped over to the two of you. He wrapped a secure arm around your waist, pulling you a little closer.

"Tell Minnie what I told you when I gave it to you, kiddo," he prompted, his voice warm and encouraging.

"Umm... if I'm gonna be a big sister..." Violet said really slow, her eyebrows all scrunched up like she was thinking hard. "I gotta remember to take care of them. And... this is gonna be a thing that helps me remember!". She leaned back just a little, her face lighting up with a wide, toothy grin as she looked up at you. Her excitement was so pure, so full of love, that it was impossible not to smile in return. That bright smile, filled with so much promise and joy, made your heart melt in a way nothing else could. You gave her a little extra squeeze and a kiss to the forehead before setting her down.

“You’re gonna be a great big sister, Luv,” Benzo replied, stepping in for a quick high-five that made her giggle.

“Is Dr. Yan in there with your parents?” he asked, motioning to the closed bathroom door.

Violet nodded, her bright pink locks bouncing with the movement as she pointed toward the door. “Mommy’s been in there a long time.”

“These things take time, little one,” Silco said gently as you brushed her hair back from her face. You could feel her energy, her eagerness, and a touch of nervousness beneath it all. She clung to you like a lifeline, her small fingers gripping your shirt.

From the corner, Vander cleared his throat, catching your attention. He looked calm but watchful, his hand resting on the children’s book he’d set aside. “Felicia’s tough. She’ll pull through,” he said in his steady, reassuring tone.

Benzo nodded, his jaw tightening. “She’s tougher than most of us, that’s for damn sure.”

The seconds stretched into what felt like hours, and the room seemed to tighten with anticipation. The low hum of voices behind the door grew, rising and falling in strange patterns, and then it happened—the crescendo of frantic, desperate cries, followed by an eerie, sudden silence. The apartment held its breath. Time itself seemed to stop. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on that door, waiting for the next sound, the next moment, but it was as if the world itself was waiting to exhale.

And then… the sharp, unmistakable wail of a baby filled the space, raw and full of life. It was a sound so powerful it seemed to shake the air itself.

“Oh, thank the gods…” Niya let out a long, relieved sigh, her head falling forward as if the weight of the world had just been lifted from her shoulders. Her shoulders slumped in exhaustion, the tension that had coiled in her body for so long finally unraveling. Skye gently placed a hand on her aunt’s shoulder.

Vander chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that filled the room with warmth. “It’s got a set of lungs, that’s for damn sure.” His voice cracked with genuine amusement, and he gave a small shake of his head, still eyeing the door as though waiting for the next sound, the next sign. Violet, unable to contain her excitement any longer, made a move toward the door. Her small feet pounded against the floor, eager to see her new sibling. But before she could take another step, Vander was there, quick as ever, sweeping her up into his arms with a gentle but firm grip. "Not yet, kiddo," he said, his voice soft but clear. "You’ve gotta wait for your parents to let you in on their own time. Okay?" Violet pouted slightly, her small lips curling into a frown, but she nodded, her eyes still trained on the door.

And wait you all did, for yet another set of long moments, Felicia’s cries now replaced with that of the infant. The rest of the group tried to busy themselves as best as they could—Benzo and Skye even began washing some of the dishes that had been left in the sink, their clattering almost a distraction from the tension hanging in the air.

Violet, content to be held by Vander, made faces at him, trying to distract herself. Conversations about business and idle chatter filled the gaps between those breaths, but none of it mattered. Not really. You couldn’t escape the waiting, the anticipation. Everyone in the room had been drawn into the same orbit, eyes occasionally drifting toward the door, hearts waiting for the next moment to arrive.

And then, with a soft creak, the door to the bathroom opened. The room fell utterly silent, as if the very air had been sucked out of the space. All eyes turned toward Connol, who stood in the doorway.

He looked dazed, weary, his face a mix of exhaustion and elation. His hand rubbed over his face, as if to wipe away the tension of the past hours. For a split second, panic flared in your chest—something about the way he looked, so tired and worn, unsettled you. But then he looked up at all of you, his eyes catching yours, and he smiled.

“It’s a girl!”

The apartment erupted in a wave of cheers and clapping, the tension finally breaking as everyone poured out their relief and joy. Vander and Silco both lunged at Connol, enveloping him in an enthusiastic embrace that was almost too aggressive for the moment, clapping him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him over. Connol, despite his exhaustion, laughed, wrapping his arms around them in return.

Violet, who had been playing with Vander, was suddenly all movement. She wriggled free from Vander’s grasp and darted across the room, her small legs carrying her quickly toward her father. Connol, still smiling wide, scooped her up into his arms, pressing a kiss to her hair and snuggling her closer to his chest. She giggled, the joy on her face as radiant as his.

“Are they both okay?” Silco asked, his voice a little rough with concern as he gripped Connol’s shoulder tightly.

“They’re fine! Perfectly fine!” Connol grinned, shifting Violet to his hip as he addressed the room. His voice was brimming with pride. “Yan wants to keep the baby in an incubator for a few days just to be sure, that’s where she is now. She might have a little trouble breathing, but…” He paused, looking down at Violet, then back at the others. “They’re both going to be okay.”

Violet’s eyes widened, her small hands tugging at Connol’s shirt. “Can I see Mommy now?” she asked, her voice filled with the kind of innocence and urgency that only a child could muster.

From behind the bathroom door, Felicia’s voice echoed out, soft but clear, though tinged with exhaustion. “You promise to be gentle and careful, sweetie,” she said. “Especially around the incubator.”

Yan poked his head out from the bathroom, his weathered face creased with lines that spoke of years spent helping others. He gave the room a reassuring smile. “The bleeding is minimal now, so long as Violet can handle a little post-birth gore,” he added with a knowing chuckle.

“I can handle it! I can handle it!” Violet exclaimed, twisting and wiggling her way out of Connol’s arms before taking off in a full sprint toward the bathroom. Connol watched her with a mixture of amusement and pride, a soft laugh escaping his lips. His eyes softened as he let out a long, weary sigh.

“Seven weeks early…” he muttered, his tone low, his hand rubbing his tired eyes. “I’ll admit, I was terrified.”

Silco, ever the steady presence, gave Connol’s shoulder another pat, his expression serious but supportive. “Yan’s practically delivered every baby in the Lanes for the past 20 years. They were in good hands,” he said, offering his usual reassurance.

“I know, but still…” Connol trailed off, his voice still carrying the weight of the fear he’d carried with him through the night. Then, as if a thought suddenly struck him, he turned his gaze toward Silco and Niya, who had been talking quietly in the kitchen. “Actually, speaking of being in good hands…” he started, his tone shifting to something more deliberate. “Fel and I were talking, and… we want you two to be her godparents. With Vander and Min being Violet’s, it just felt right, you know?”

Niya’s eyes widened in disbelief. She nearly squealed as she stepped forward. “Are… are you serious?” she exclaimed, her voice cracking with excitement. “Oh my goodness, Con! I don’t even know what to say!”

Silco, his usual calm demeanor never faltering, smiled warmly and extended his hand toward Connol. “I think I speak for both of us when I say we’d be honored, and we won’t disappoint. She’s in good hands, I swear it.”

Then, as Connol took his hand into a firm handshake, Silco paused, “Does she, uh…you know, does she have a name?”

Connol’s smile widened. “We talked about that, too. We were waiting to decide when she came out but,” he gave a nod, his expression full of love and certainty. “Powder. Her name is Powder.”

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preservationofnormalcy · 8 months ago

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[Somewhere deep in the Bronx there’s a warehouse building with a big sign that reads “Carpet Heaven,” and I’m standing outside of it. When I blinked, it changed to “OPN Site 27.” It stayed like that after I looked at it again - a feature of the Office’s “memetic masking” that hides their locations from those not exposed to the supernatural. Or “Extranormal,” as is the Office’s preferred term. Site 27 is the official name for the location - though the staff that work there call it something else: the Station.

Graffiti dots the bricks of the building’s exterior, following me up the small stairs to the building’s entrance. There’s a nondescript door that buzzes as I approach, quietly unlatching. Past the doors, security towers loom in front of me. An electronic voice asks me to place my belongings in a tray and slide them into a conveyor. I do as I’m asked, but I’m somewhat confused - why does this place need so much security?]

A few moments later, I retrieve my things from the tray and keep moving. I’ve become used to the intentional plainness of Office locations. I’m always torn as to what it means. In a place like this, it’s obviously meant to put people off. This is Carpet Heaven, the most boring place in the world. Every panel, every wall, every chair seems to be chosen with the sole purpose of being as unremarkable as possible. But then, many interior locations within the Office are similarly designed. They’re not designed to fool anyone. Did the designers just get used to it?]

[My thoughts are interrupted as I walk into the tiny reception room, a desk with a few chairs and a single fake potted plant. A man stops his conversation with the receptionist, looking me up and down. He’s short and stocky, heavyset, a man clearly used to physical labor - and judging by the look on his face, not used to being inconvenienced at work. His hairy arms folded over a broad chest, his thick eyebrows scrunched into a wary suspicion. A thick mustache completes the look of a blue collar dad, close to retirement but not close enough.]

B] Hendricks. Ma’am.

M] Mr Koppel?

B] Call me Barry.

M] I hear you’re the person to talk to when it comes to occupational health and safety in the Office.

B] I got a reputation for it.

M] I saw the poster about, uh….unstable reality zones, and I wanted to ask you about it.

B] About the zones, or our response to ‘em.

M] Sort of…both if that’s okay. I figured a quick tour wouldn’t be out of the question.

[He nods, his arms not moving from their position across his chest. His voice had an air of curt evasiveness, clearly not enjoying my questions. Now, there’s a moment of awkward silence.]

M] You seem annoyed, Barry.

B] Yeah, well. Let’s just say I wasn’t real happy when I heard you were coming over. Especially today.

M] What’s today?

B] Work meeting later. Something I didn’t think I’d have to start late, and I hope I won’t have to.

M] I won’t take up too much of your time, I promise.

B] No. You won’t.

[It’s a veiled threat, but his tone doesn’t veil it very well. He gives the receptionist a look that she returns, and jerks his head slightly, leading me through the door deeper into the facility. Past the doors, it looks like something you’d expect from a government facility: bare concrete and pipes, emergency lights every several yards. It all looks very old. At this point, Barry seems to catch himself, his tone shifting to that of a practiced but bored tour guide as he leads me down the hallway.]

B] This is OPN Facility 27, known as the Northeastern Power Facility, or to the people that actually work here, the Station. The Station was discovered in 1932 during Operation Doorway, an attempt to investigate rumors of spatially-noncompliant buildings in the United States - that is, buildings bigger on the inside. After mapping and cataloging it, the Station had the distinction of being one of the few spatially noncompliant facilities grandfathered into current extranormal building code.

[Just down the hall is a locker room, which we move through. Barry points to a sign that reads “Hard Hat Area Past This Point” and hands me a hat taken off of a nearby peg.]

B] In other words, this facility is one of the only places in the US legally allowed to be bigger on the inside. The Office did this cause, for reasons that still ain’t totally clear, the Station anomalously produces enough electricity to power the entire eastern seaboard with no energy input. This building powers every Office facility this side of the Mississippi and north of the Mason-Dixon. New York, DC, Philly, Boston. Further than that, with hydrogen.

[Opening the next set of doors, the facility opens up substantially, a wide open space that looks more like I’d think a warehouse would look. The ceiling several stories above, massive industrial shelves at the edges of the space, machines operating in distinct areas of the room. A forklift beeping away, carrying yellow drum barrels on a pallet. A few workers were here and there, some of them giving Barry a quizzical look that he didn’t return.]

B] It needs people like us to maintain the works during reality shifts, pump out the byproduct, keep everything in as much working order as we can.

[Another set of doors ahead - a massive sign above them reading “End of Geometrically Compliant Building Space.” The hazard symbol on the sign depicted a building within a larger building, the larger of the structures emblazoned with the eye symbol and a question mark. Another sign on the door read “Audio-Memetic Inoculation Equipment Required” with a depiction of a head wearing both a hard hat and large headphones. Barry stopped and jerked a thumb at the door. His voice was low and serious.]

B] Like any spatially-noncompliant structure, this place doesn’t make sense. This wall right here is the absolute limit of what the building’s size should allow, and as you can see, it keeps going.

[He paused, looking back the way we came for a moment.]

B] When the Office figured out they could use this place for free power, they rushed in. But the Station….it didn’t take kindly to that. It doesn’t like intruders. The higher-ups don’t like hearing it, but this place is….kinda alive. It grows, changes. We don’t know who built it, or even if anyone built it. Coulda just appeared one day. From the late 30’s to the early 40’s, it was…a lot of death, lotta guys going home without hands or legs or an eye. Machines not working right, hallways shifting around, pipe structures growing suddenly. There’s places, deep in the belly of this fucking machine, that I’ll never go…we’ve blocked off rooms where time runs in reverse, or that swap temperature extremes every forty-five seconds. Lotta guys like me laid down their lives figuring this place out, mapping it. That’s what the signs and posters are for. Every warning in this building is written in blood.

[He gestured to a worker at a nearby desk, who got up and reached for a tray.]

B] Just past these doors, there’s a hallway in complete silence. Not just a lack of sound, pure silence. If you listen to the lack of sound, you go insane. Understand?

M] I don’t understand why you can’t just…avoid it, or unravel it, or—

B] The Office ain’t gonna just put it’s head in the sand, ma’am. It can’t. And all respect to the wizards and shit upstairs, but sometimes you can’t just wave your hand and make it go away, either. The Station is important. Without us, the entire Office goes down. It’s the sacrifice we make. We gotta deal with the situation in front of us, and sometimes the situation’s got teeth.

[The worker walked up, offering Barry two pairs of headphones and a clipboard. He took them, checked them over, and handed one to me.]

B] Here. Press the button on the right side, you’ll hear elevator music and nothing else. This’ll protect you from the silence. Then initial the sign out sheet.

[I did so, sliding the bulky device over my head and hearing generic Muzak once I hit the nub on the right. At this point, I didn’t question much of anything. They knew what they were doing. I took the clipboard from him - the sheet was keeping track of the headphones, calling them safety equipment. I wrote my initials on the sheet, noting I was a ‘visitor’, and as I did I noticed Barry and the other worker conversing in sign language.

I was slightly surprised at first. But it made sense - if you had to work a lot of the time in silence with these headphones on, it might be worth the time to teach everyone ASL. I tried not to betray any comprehension. They didn’t need to know I’d grown up with a deaf cousin, had a deaf roommate in college, that while I was rusty I could understand most of what they were saying. The two men gestured furtively, quickly, an ‘accent’ that tinged their words.]

<No. Same time. Won’t take long. Lady is looking for scapegoat.>

<Unlikely. Ghost-talking I-R-E-N-E telling me she’s been asking around lots of departments.>

<Why?>

<Don’t know. Could be politics.>

<LA?>

[Barry looked over his shoulder, and I tried to look nonchalant, putting the clipboard on a hook by the door and giving him a smile and a thumbs up.]

<Maybe.>

[He nodded and opened the door. I felt a physical sensation as I passed the threshold, and it was silent. It was a silence so intense I could feel it on my skin. When my feet hit the floor I felt nothing, not even the vibration through my own body. It was oppressive, covering me in a heavy blanket. I heard the music in my ears but I was intensely aware that a bundle of plastic and electronics was all that stood between me and…that. I felt like an eternity. I tried to focus on the music as my vision swam, having to stop to breathe when we rounded a corner. When we finally passed through the hallway, taped marks on the floor told me where it was safe to take off my headphones. I was almost out of breath, a little disoriented.]

B] You get used to it.

M] Do you?

B] You gotta if you work here, ma’am.

[His voice slipped back into tour guide mode as the space widened again. Huge doorways on each of the three walls ahead, large enough for a vehicle to pass through. Each passageway had different signage, and two had a conveyor belt stretched across the room, running parallel above us with clear markings on the floor underneath them.]

B] To the left we have the Gearbox, straight ahead is Onto-Runoff Byproduct Packaging, and to the right is the Dynamos, where we try and funnel all power generated by the Station so it can be directed to other facilities or converted into hydrogen energy storage.

M] Onto-Runoff?

B] That, ma’am, is the stuff on the posters.

[He pointed up to the conveyor belt. Yellow barrels traveled across the room, stamped with the Office logo on one side, and a depiction of an eye on the other.]

B] It’s a byproduct of the Station’s works. The labcoats have been studying it for decades. They’re not real sure what it is, just that it…kind of isn't. It technically doesn’t actually exist. No mass, can't be detected on any spectrum they got. Theory is that we're not actually seeing it, just the absence it creates. Pure, concentrated entropy, runoff from the Station creating energy from nothing. You can’t violate laws of spacetime without some consequences, and in this case it’s creating all this…almost-kinda-real entropy that gets everywhere if we don’t clean it up.

M] Sounds like the Ontophages.

B] Yeah, like that. They think they’re related, but we ain’t seen an Ontophage down here in ages. This non-stuff drops off pipes down in the works, or leaks out of compressors. Pools in lower areas, or gums up machines. If it touches anything outside of the works that exists, it starts to cause what the Office calls ontological dissolution - it gradually stops existing, like an acid that melts reality. Some of it gets processed for the Office’s use, some of it goes to the folks at the Yellow Circle, a good chunk of it goes to long term storage.

M] What does the Office use it for?

[At this, Barry gives me a sidelong look as we approach a small office in the corner between two junctions, little more than a shack.]

B] That part’s classified. We don’t even know. They don’t tell us. Could be a secondary energy process, could be they use it to contain something….could be a weapon.

[The tone in that last phrase…we enter the shack and Barry grabs a drink from a water cooler.]

M] You sound like you have an idea of what it’s used for.

B] A hunch. This stuff is dangerous. It’s half the reason we made the Union way back.

M] The Union?

[I remembered them signing that word - two fingers extended on each hand, moved in a horizontally circular motion.]

B] The North American Supernatural Worker’s Guild. Started in ‘42 after the big paracompressor explosion down in sublevel 17. The Office kept pushing us, we kept cutting corners, and eventually five people died. Including my great uncle. After that, my grandfather started the Union to push for better working conditions and hazard pay.

[His tone is softer now, taking a drink. He gestures to the Unstable Reality Zones poster on the wall, a copy of which began my trip here.]

B] I could talk all day about the history of it. We ain’t perfect, of course. Didn’t accept nonhumans until ‘63, which my father went to his grave ashamed of, but we’re the reason the Office more or less abides by the safety guidelines we’ve come up with. Without that there’s a work stoppage, and everything grinds to a halt.

M] Has there been a lot of conflict between the Union and the Office in the past?

B] It’s all conflict, ma’am. The Union and the Office are engaged in a state of irreconcilable disagreement. They wanna pay less and get more, we want better pay and better, safer work. The whole history of the Office can be seen through that lens.

M] Do you see the posters as a win for the Union?

B] Without a doubt. You know the bodycount we’d have if we didn’t keep drilling all our safety precautions into everyone’s heads? Safety win, morale win. We need all the help we can get.

M] What do you mean?

[Barry finishes his drink, looking away, through the window looking out onto the junction.]

B] Ehh. I’ve said enough already.

M] You too, huh.

B] Hm?

M] Everywhere I go in this organization I’m being bounced off walls. Secrecy seems to be something you and the office both abide by. The Office acts like it’s giving me clearance, but….they’re curating my job.

B] Mmmh.

M] Everyone I talk to is knowledgeable about what I’m asking, sure, but they’re also….company people. All of them are either trying to cover their ass or they honestly believe that they’re doing the most important job in the world. The only person I’ve met so far with an honest opinion on the Office is you. I thought I might get some actual answers.

B] About what?

M] Anything. How the Office determines normality, the numbers stations, the identity of the Director…what happened in Los Angeles.

[He stiffens.]

B] I don’t know anything about that.

M] You said the Runoff could be used as a weapon -

B] I said I had a hunch. Don’t put words in my mouth.

M] What’s your hunch based on?

B] Listen. I’m one of those guys covering my ass. If I say something I shouldn’t or I fuck up, I don’t get a slap on the wrist. I'm not some spokesman for the Board of Infernal Affairs. I’m a union officer, and we’re already on thin goddamned ice with the Office. Secrecy is a tool. We both use it for our own goals.

M] So you can’t help me.

B] I’m walking you back. This is fucking over.

M] That’s…probably for the best.

[I let the moment pass before I speak again.]

M] I don’t want to keep you from your union meeting tonight.

[He stops in his tracks, shooting a look over his shoulder. His face moves from surprise to realization to suspicion. After a moment he half turns back to me.]

B] Ma’am, what are you here for?

M] I just…want answers. All of these interviews have been someone beating around the bush because they’re scared. After your speech about it, I thought the union would be people who could stand up.

[Barry hesitates, frowns, and silently turns back to keep walking. My face burns in embarrassment, my heart racing. This wasn’t worth it. I wanted answers but this wasn’t worth it, was it? Shame now, but what if I pushed a button I couldn’t un-press?

Barry doesn��t speak. We reenter the room of silence, mechanically putting our headphones back on. As we round the corner in the hallway again, he stops. Of course I can’t hear him, but his frame calls as if he’s letting out a heavy sigh. He turns to me, and signs.]

[He trailed off - with signing, he sort of stared into space and tried to find the right words.]

[He pulls a pen from his vest pocket and writes down an address, handing me the paper.]

(Buy the poster here.)

#office for the preservation of normalcy #interview #osha violation #still technically on hiatus #safety #workplace safety #health and safety #microfiction #short fiction #sci fi #urban fantasy #writers on tumblr

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