#concrete drop in anchors sizes

[slyandthefamilybook]

okay because I'm seeing some misinfo, here's the story on the Key Bridge collapse

What was the Key Bridge?

The Francis Scott Key Bridge (also called the Key Bridge, the Beltway Bridge, and the Outer Harbor Crossing) was steel-arch continuous-through-truss bridge spanning the Patapsco River south of the Baltimore Harbor. The bridge took 5 years to build and cost an estimated $145 million ($735 million in today's dollars). The full bridge project (including approaches) was 10.9 miles long, but the stretch over the Patapsco was 1.6 miles long and 4 lanes wide, and comprised a length of I-695, the Baltimore Beltway. It traveled between Hawkins Point and Dundalk, and in addition to the I-895 Harbor Tunnel was the primary way for Marylanders to cross from the Eastern Shore to the West. The bridge carried an estimated 11.5 million vehicles per year. There is a lane for ships to pass under the Key Bridge with enough clearance.

Was it structurally sound?

The bridge received its latest inspection in 2022 and received a 6/9 score, which is considered "fair" by federal standards. There was a concern with one of its columns, which was downgraded from a health index of 77.8 to 65.9, but it is not clear yet if this was one of the columns struck by the ship. In 1980 the bridge was struck by a different cargo ship which destroyed a concrete support structure, but the bridge itself was unharmed. There is as of yet no evidence that the bridge collapsed because of poor condition. Experts say the lesson to be learned is about the size and weight of modern cargo ships, and that the bridge was not to blame. Engineers have noted, however, that the bridge's piers lacked protective devices such as fenders.

What was the ship?

The MV Dali is a container ship flying the Singapore flag. It is owned by Grace Ocean Private Ltd. and operated by Synergy Marine Group Ltd. The ship is currently being chartered by Maersk, a Dutch shipping company. It was built in 2015 by Hyundai. The ship is 980 feet long and 157 feet wide. The ship's gross tonnage (its internal volume) is 95,128 tons (190,256,000 pounds). Its deadweight (the weight of cargo it can carry) is 116,851 tons (233,702,000 pounds). The ship was carrying 3,000 containers. The engine is a MAN-B&W 9S90ME putting out 41,480 kilowatts (55,626 horsepower).

Over its lifetime the Dali has been inspected 27 times, and only 2 faults were ever found. On June 27, 2023 the Dali was held in port in Chile due to an issue with the propulsion system. According to an inspector the pressure gauges on the heating system were "unreadable". The fault was fixed before the ship left port.

The Dali is crewed by 22 Indian nationals including 2 maritime pilots.

What happened?

The Dali arrived at the Port of Baltimore on March 23, 2024. At 12:44 AM on March 26, 2024 the Dali left port, beginning its journey to Colombo, Sri Lanka. At 01:26 AM the ship suffered a "complete blackout" and began to drift out of the shipping lane. It is not yet known what caused the electrical failure. The backup generator did not power the propulsion system. At around 01:26 AM the crew of the Dali sent a mayday distress call to the Maryland Department of Transportation (MDOT) informing them of the loss of power and that a collision with the Key Bridge was possible. The anchors were dropped as an emergency measure to attempt to slow or stop the vessel. At the request of one of the pilots traffic flow over the bridge was immediately halted. Black smoke was seen coming from the Dali, which experts believe was the result of the crew managing to restart the power system to regain some maneuvering capability.

At 01:28 AM the Dali, traveling at 8 knots (considered to be a fast speed) collided with a support strut beneath the Key Bridge's metal truss at the southwest end of the bridge. A Baltimore resident said he heard the collision and that it "felt like an earthquake". Emergency teams began receiving 911 calls at 01:30 AM, and the Baltimore Police Department were alerted at 01:35 AM. One of the officers present radioed that he was going to go onto the bridge to alert the construction crew as soon as a second officer arrived, but the bridge collapsed seconds later.

What was the damage?

The Key Bridge has completely collapsed. The metal truss relies on structural tension from the bridge itself to maintain its rigidity. As soon as one of the support columns was destroyed, the rest of the bridge quickly followed.

The damage to the Dali is reported as minimal. The ship was impaled by the bridge's structure above the waterline, but has maintained watertight integrity. The crew has not reported any water contamination from its 1.8 million gallons of marine fuel. 13 containers carrying potentially hazardous material were damaged, and are being inspected by a team of Coast Guard divers. At least 5 vehicles including 3 passenger cars and a cement mixer were detected underwater, but authorities do not believe they were occupied

Who was hurt?

The crew of the Dali reports no casualties, except one crewmember who was hospitalized for minor injuries. There was a crew of 8 construction workers on the Key Bridge filling in potholes. 2 were immediately pulled from the water by rescue crews, with 1 being rushed to emergency care and the other reporting minor injuries and refusing treatment. The hospitalized worker has since been discharged. 1 of those rescued was Mexican. The remaining 6 remain missing. Of those 6, 2 have been identified:

Miguel Luna from El Salvador

Maynor Yassir Suazo Sandoval from Honduras

Of the remaining 4, 2 are Guatemalan nationals. Neither have been identified, but the Guatemalan Foreign Affairs Ministry has stated that they were a 26-year-old from San Luis, Petén, and a 35-year-old from Camotán, Chiquimula. The other 2 are presumed to be Mexican.

Rescue Efforts

The Coast Guard was immediately deployed for search-and-rescue operations. Military Blackhawk helicopters were seen over the river. Rescue efforts were ended at 07:30 PM on March 26, 2024 due to darkness, fog, and cold temperatures. Rear Admiral Shannon Gilreath said "Based on the length of time that we've gone in the search, the extensive search efforts that we put into it, the water temperature -- at this point, we do not believe that we're going to find any of these individuals still alive". Recovery operations resumed at 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 with all 6 workers presumed dead.

No divers have yet entered the water underneath the bridge. Supervisory Special Agent Brian Hudson of the FBI's Underwater Search and Evidence Response Team said "the debris field is pretty sizable and I know that’s why they’re hesitant to send divers down because some of the debris is still shifting, the heavy weight of the rocks". The FBI has deployed Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) equipped with cameras and SONAR.

Aftermath

At 05:08 AM on March 26, 2024 Transportation Secretary Pete Buttegiege posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"I’ve spoken with Gov. Moore and Mayor Scott to offer USDOT’s support following the vessel strike and collapse of the Francis Scott Key bridge. Rescue efforts remain underway and drivers in the Baltimore area should follow local responder guidance on detours and response."

At 07:30 AM on March 27, 2024 President of the Maryland State Senate Bill Ferguson posted on X (formerly Twitter):

"Over 15,000 in the Balt region rely on daily operations at Port of Baltimore to put food on the table. Today, with Del. @LukeClippinger and colleagues representing Port, we are drafting an emergency bill to provide for income replacement for workers impacted by this travesty."

At around 09:40 AM on March 26, 2024 Maryland Governor Wes Moore and Baltimore Mayor Brandon Scott declared a State of Emergency to take effect at 10:30 AM March 26, 2024, and to last 30 days. Baltimore's Emergency Operations Plan was put into effect.

More than 1,000 personnel from the US Army Corps of Engineers (USACE) have been deployed to assist with clearing the debris and rebuilding efforts. President Joe Biden has pledged that the federal government will pay for the entire reconstruction of the bridge.

Jennifer Homendy, the chair of the National Transportation Safety Board (NTSB) has recovered the Dali's data recorder, and will be inspecting both the Key Bridge and the Dali to determine the cause of the crash and the collapse. She says the investigation could take up to 2 years to complete.

Was it intentional?

According to William DelBagno, head of the FBI's Baltimore field office: "There is no specific or credible information to suggest there are ties to terrorism in this incident".

Secretary of Homeland Security Alejandro Mayorkas said: "There are no indications this was an intentional act".

At least 3 people have been killed in accidents related to ships operated by Synergy in the past 6 years. In 2018 a person on board a Synergy ship in Australia was killed in an accident relating to the vessel's personnel elevator. In 2019 an officer aboard a Synergy vessel in Singapore fell overboard while performing maintenance. In 2023 at least one sailor was killed when a Synergy ship collided with a dredging ship in the Philippines. In the first two cases safety inspectors noted that proper safety procedures had not been adhered to.

Sources

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7

[fnrrfygmschnish]

Apparently one of the directors of the Mario movie came out and said that the reason why blocks float is that they’re made using a magical mineral that’s mined in the Mushroom Kingdom, which gives anything crafted from it floating properties.  There doesn’t seem to be an “official” name for it (unsurprisingly) but they mentioned that they’ve been calling it “floatanium” because the name sounds funny.

Thinking about it... yeah, that actually works!

I think I’m going to adopt this as my explanation for the floaty blocks (I didn’t have one before) if I ever write/draw/etc. anything Mario related at some point in the future.

Unlike many of the weird random theories people come up with to try to explain game-mechanicsy things that most likely were never intended to have an explanation, this idea actually works with what we see of the games.

Donut blocks that fall if you stand on them -- well, they’re made with less of this material than other blocks (they’ve even got a hole in the middle, hence “donut” in the name.)  So they can float themselves just fine, but their floaty magic is not strong enough to support someone’s weight, and if you stand on one for more than a couple seconds it burns through the floaty magic and the block falls.

Other blocks are made of enough floaty-stuff that they can stay up for a very long time even with additional weight added on top; maybe they eventually fall if they’re left floating for years (leading to some ?-blocks lying on the ground in various games), but it probably takes a while.

Blocks that float, but appear to be wooden... maybe somebody in the Mushroom Kingdom just likes the woodgrain pattern and painted/carved blocks to look that way?  Or they are made of actual wood, but with pins/rods of floaty stuff distributed throughout, like how concrete has metal rebar inside for added support.

Bowser’s airships.  They usually are depicted as barely having any propulsion mechanisms, especially for something their size -- just a few jets and propellers scattered here and there.  And they float in midair and need to drop anchor to stay in the same place for long, a lot like sailing ships.  So what if a lot of the metal parts of these airships are made from floaty-material in metallic form?  That way they don’t need any means of propulsion powerful enough to “lift off,” and the few little jets and propellers would be mostly for added speed or changes in direction.

Other parts of the same world seem to have a lot less floating blocks than the Mushroom Kingdom itself -- the setting of the Wario Land games does have them (but then, it might be part of the Mushroom Kingdom or at least located nearby, since the plot of one of them involved a giant gold statue of Peach), but the WarioWare games seem to be set in a city with more real-world style construction materials, and you don’t really see floating blocks in the Donkey Kong Country games either.  Though there are floating barrels... which could be because the metal bands around them are made of floaty-stuff.  There seemed to be a lot less floating blocks in Yoshi’s Island than in the main Mario series, too.  Everything points toward this material being more abundant in the Mushroom Kingdom than in other places.

And if the Mushroom Kingdom is the only place you can find reliable mines for the stuff... well, no wonder so many villains want to conquer the place! People always fight over major resources -- gold, spices, copper, oil, and so on are all good real-world examples, and none of those have obvious magical powers. Maybe Bowser’s Koopa Kingdom used to have a fair amount but he’s already mined it out and used it to build his airship fleet.  And of course Smithy the “fill the world with weapons and have non-stop war” guy would want exclusive access to a magical ore he could potentially craft all kinds of weird floating weapons with.

[fast-safety-nets-chennai]

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.

[jimitjain]

The Role of Fasteners in Construction

Fasteners are the unsung heroes of the construction industry, playing a crucial role in the integrity, safety, and longevity of buildings and structures. Ananka Group is the Prominent Fasteners Manufacturers in India. We supply high-quality fasteners to a wide range of businesses globally. Fasteners come in many sizes, shapes, and dimensions. Many things can be linked or fastened using fasteners. They are vital parts of many sectors, such as building, manufacturing, transportation, and household goods. We are the best  Fasteners Manufacturer. 

Types of Fasteners Used in Construction

Fasteners come in various shapes, sizes, and materials, each designed to meet specific requirements. The most common types of fasteners used in construction include:

Nails: Typically used in wood construction, nails are hammered into materials to hold them together. They come in various lengths and thicknesses, designed for different applications.

Screws: Offering more holding power than nails, screws are used in both wood and metal construction. They provide a tighter fit and are easier to remove and replace.

Bolts and Nuts: Essential for heavy-duty applications, bolts and nuts provide a strong, reliable connection. They are commonly used in steel construction and for securing heavy components.

Anchors: Used to attach objects to concrete or masonry, anchors come in several types, including wedge anchors, sleeve anchors, and drop-in anchors.

Washers: Often used in conjunction with bolts and screws, washers distribute the load of the fastener, preventing damage to the material and ensuring a secure fit.

Applications of Fasteners in Construction

Fasteners are used in nearly every aspect of construction, from framing and roofing to finishing and furnishing. Some key applications include:

Framing: Nails and screws are extensively used in framing walls, floors, and roofs. The choice between nails and screws depends on the specific requirements of the structure and the materials being used.

Structural Connections: Bolts and nuts are critical in connecting steel beams and columns, ensuring the structural integrity of the building. These fasteners must be chosen based on their strength and durability to withstand loads and stresses.

Drywall Installation: Screws are the preferred fasteners for attaching drywall to wooden or metal studs. They provide a secure hold and are less likely to pop out over time compared to nails.

Concrete and Masonry: Anchors are used to secure fixtures and fittings to concrete and masonry surfaces. They must be selected based on the type of load they will bear and the material they will be embedded in.

Importance of Choosing the Right Fasteners

Selecting the appropriate fasteners for a construction project is crucial for several reasons:

Structural Integrity: The wrong fastener can compromise the strength and stability of a structure. For example, using nails instead of screws in certain applications may result in a weaker connection that can fail under stress.

Durability: Fasteners must be able to withstand environmental conditions such as moisture, temperature changes, and exposure to chemicals. Corrosion-resistant materials like stainless steel or galvanized fasteners are essential for outdoor or humid environments.

Safety: Using the correct fasteners ensures the safety of the structure and its occupants. Inadequate or improper fastening can lead to structural failures, causing accidents and injuries.

Efficiency: The right fasteners can simplify the construction process, making it faster and more efficient. For instance, self-tapping screws reduce the need for pre-drilling, saving time and effort.

Best Practices for Fastener Selection and Installation

To ensure the optimal performance of fasteners in construction, it is essential to follow best practices in selection and installation:

Consult Standards and Guidelines: Refer to building codes and industry standards to determine the appropriate fasteners for specific applications.

Consider Material Compatibility: Choose fasteners that are compatible with the materials being joined to prevent galvanic corrosion and other issues.

Use Proper Tools: Ensure that the right tools are used for installing fasteners to achieve a secure and accurate fit.

Inspect and Maintain: Regularly inspect fasteners for signs of wear or damage and replace them as needed to maintain the integrity of the structure.

          We now provide our excellent fasteners and rapid shipping to all major Indian cities. We are the most reliable Stainless Steel Fasteners Manufacturer in India. We provide our clients with the greatest prices available on global stainless steel fasteners. These are also used for delicate applications in harsh settings. 

[camerontrever]

Elevating Brick Masonry with Advanced Anchoring Solutions

In the realm of construction, brick masonry stands as a timeless testament to durability and aesthetic appeal. Yet, the reliability and longevity of brick structures are intrinsically linked to the effectiveness of their anchoring systems. This is where masonry anchors for brick emerge as indispensable allies, offering unparalleled support and stability.

Unraveling the Role of Masonry Anchors

Masonry anchors represent specialized fasteners meticulously crafted to affix a myriad of materials – be it wood, metal, or concrete – securely onto brick surfaces. These anchors are available in diverse types, each tailored to meet specific application requirements and load capacities.

Exploring the Diverse Array of Masonry Anchors

Sleeve Anchors: Renowned for their versatility, sleeve anchors utilize an expanding sleeve mechanism to grip the interior of pre-drilled holes in brick, ensuring steadfast attachment.

Wedge Anchors: Featuring a threaded stud culminating in a cone-shaped end, wedge anchors expand against the confines of drilled holes upon installation, delivering a tight and secure fit.

Drop-in Anchors: These anchors seamlessly integrate into pre-drilled holes and are secured using a setting tool. Once in place, they provide a flush surface for bolts or threaded rods, facilitating seamless integration.

Toggle Bolts: Ideal for heavy-duty applications, toggle bolts boast a bolt with spring-loaded wings that unfurl behind the brick upon tightening, offering robust support.

Harnessing the Advantages of Masonry Anchors for Brick

Enhanced Stability: By firmly fastening diverse materials to brick masonry, anchors bolster structural stability, minimizing the risk of displacement or structural compromise.

Versatility Redefined: With an extensive range of sizes and configurations available, masonry anchors cater to a myriad of applications, from mounting decorative elements to anchoring heavy machinery.

Simplicity in Installation: Installing masonry anchors requires minimal expertise and specialized tools, rendering the process accessible to a wide spectrum of users.

Long-lasting Performance: Premium masonry anchors are engineered to withstand environmental stressors such as moisture, temperature fluctuations, and corrosion, ensuring sustained performance and reliability.

Key Considerations in Masonry Anchor Selection

When selecting masonry anchors for brick applications, several crucial factors merit consideration:

Load Requirements: Assess the anticipated load capacity to select anchors capable of bearing the intended weight effortlessly.

Brick Composition: Consider the composition and condition of the brick masonry to opt for anchors compatible with the material.

Installation Method: Choose anchors that align with the installation method and tools available for the project at hand.

Environmental Resilience: Evaluate the exposure of the brick structure to environmental elements like moisture and chemicals, opting for anchors fortified with corrosion-resistant properties.

Conclusion:

In summary, masonry anchors for brick construction serve as indispensable assets in fortifying the stability, durability, and functionality of brick masonry structures. By securely fastening materials to brick surfaces, these anchors uphold structural integrity, empowering diverse construction endeavors. Whether embarking on residential renovations, commercial constructions, or industrial projects, the strategic deployment of masonry anchors is pivotal in attaining steadfast and enduring outcomes in brick construction.

[dongguan-yusong]

Dongguan Yusong : The Fastner Machinery Industry

Dongguan Yu song Trading Company is a Professional Manufacturer of Fastener Machinery and Fasteners. The Company is located in Dongguan, Guangdong Province, mainly engaged in foreign trade business. of bolts, nuts,screw,washers at present, the company's trade scale is expanding day by day, with customers all over the world.

BOLT:

mechanical parts, cylindrical threaded fasteners with nuts. A kind of fastener, which is composed of head and screw, needs to be matched with nut to fasten and connect two parts with through hole. This kind of connection is called bolt connection.

NUT:

Nut is a fastener with internal thread and used with bolt. it is a mechanical part with internal thread and used with screw to transfer movement or power

WASHER:

washer is a kind of fastener shaped like a ring, which is used between the supporting surface of bolt, screw or nut and the surface of connecting parts to reduce the contact surface area of connected parts, reduce the pressure per unit area and protect the surface of connected parts from damage

THREADED ROD:

In order to adapt to various uses, screw rod provides many standardized products, which are now widely used in machine tools. It is based on years of accumulated technology, from materials, heat treatment and manufacturing and inspection process.

EXPANSION BOLT:

expansion bolt is used to punch into the hole on the concrete ground or wall, and then the bolt is pulled outward by tightening the nut on the expansion bolt. In the case of the expansion pipe not moving, the expansion pipe is opened by the sunk head of the bolt until the whole hole is filled.

RIVET AND PIN:

rivet used for single-sided riveting, but it must be riveted with special tools - riveter (manual, electric, pneumatic). and pin shaft is a kind of standardized fastener, which can be used for static fixed connection or relative movement with the connected parts.

NYLON EXPANSION:

Nylon expansion pipe is called expansion pipe for short. It is used for fastening and connecting objects and matching with self tapping screw.

WEB AND DROP ANCHOR:

the wedge anchor size can also be applied to the shallow buried depth, which provides greater flexibility in the installation. and nternal force gecko is a kind of expansion screw, internal force gecko is internal expansion, screw fixation is relatively strong.

NAIL AND C-BEAM:

Wood screw, also known as wood screw, is similar to machine screw, but the screw thread is a special wood screw thread. and C-section steel is a kind of purlin and wall beam which are widely used in steel structure construction.

FOR MORE DETAILS.....CONTACT US

[onlinepatios]

How to Build a DIY Carport from Scratch?

Have you ever wished for a covered parking space for your car but thought it was too expensive or complicated to build? Well, think again! In this blog post, we will guide you through the process of building your very own DIY carport from scratch. 

Not only will you save money by doing it yourself, but you will also experience the satisfaction of creating something with your own two hands.

So, let's get started on this exciting journey of building a DIY carport.

Before we dive into the nitty-gritty details of building a carport, let's first understand the benefits of having one. A carport provides shelter for your vehicle, protecting it from the elements such as rain, snow, and harmful UV rays. It also shields your car from falling branches, bird droppings, and other debris that can cause damage. Additionally, a carport can extend the lifespan of your car's paintwork and reduce the need for frequent washing and waxing.

Building a DIY carport is not only cost-effective but also a rewarding endeavour. By choosing to build it yourself, you have the power to customise the design, size, and materials according to your preferences and needs. Moreover, you will feel a great sense of pride and accomplishment every time you park your car under the shade of your very own creation.

Planning and Preparation

The first step in any construction project is careful planning and preparation. Before you grab your tools, it is essential to research local regulations and permits required for building a carport. Contact your local zoning office or building department to ensure that you comply with all the necessary codes and obtain the required permits. This step will save you from potential legal issues down the road.

Once you have the green light to proceed, it's time to measure the available space and determine the appropriate size for your carport. Consider factors such as the number of cars you want to accommodate, the space available, and any future needs. Sketch out the design, keeping in mind the roof slope, materials, and additional features you may want to incorporate.

Gathering Materials and Tools

Before you start construction, create a checklist of materials needed for your DIY carport project. This will ensure that you have everything on hand and minimise any delays during the building process. Here are some essential materials you will need:

- Lumber for the frame: Choose pressure-treated lumber that is resistant to rot and insects. The size and quantity will depend on your design and measurements.

- Roofing materials: DIY carports can be covered with metal sheets or shingles. Consider durability, cost, and aesthetic preferences when selecting the roofing material.

- Fasteners: Nails, screws, brackets, and other fasteners will be necessary to secure the components of your carport.

- Concrete mix: If your carport requires a foundation, you will need a concrete mix to create a solid base.

- Tools: Ensure you have the necessary tools, such as a hammer, drill, saw, measuring tape, and any other tools specific to your design.

Foundation Construction

A solid foundation is crucial for the stability and longevity of your DIY carport. Here are the steps to construct a strong foundation:

Clear the area: Remove any vegetation or debris from the area where you intend to build your carport. This will ensure a clean and level surface.

Mark out the space: Use stakes and string to mark the perimeter of your carport. Double-check the measurements to ensure accuracy.

Dig post holes or pour concrete footings: Depending on your design, you may need to dig post holes or pour concrete footings to anchor the structure securely. Follow the local building codes and regulations regarding the depth and width of the holes or footings.

Allow time for concrete to cure: If you are using concrete footings, allow ample time for the concrete to cure and gain strength before proceeding with the construction of the frame. This process usually takes a few days.

Building the Frame

Now that you have a solid foundation in place, it's time to start building the frame of your DIY carport. Follow these step-by-step instructions:

Cut lumber according to measurements: Use a saw to cut the lumber according to the dimensions specified in your design. Double-check the accuracy of each cut to ensure proper alignment.

Assemble posts, beams, and rafters: Begin by attaching the posts to the foundation or anchoring them securely in the post holes. Then, attach the beams horizontally to the tops of the posts, creating the main structure of the carport. Finally, add rafters diagonally between the beams to provide additional support and stability.

Use brackets or joinery techniques: To secure the connections between the posts, beams, and rafters, use brackets or traditional joinery techniques such as mortise and tenon or half-lap joints. These methods will ensure a strong and durable frame.

Ensure proper alignment and stability: Throughout the construction process, use a level to ensure that all components are aligned correctly. This will prevent any issues with the roof installation and overall stability of the carport.

Installing Roofing Materials

The next step in building your DIY carport is installing the roofing materials. Here's how to do it:

Choose suitable roofing material: Consider factors such as durability, cost, and aesthetic preferences when choosing the roofing material for your carport. Metal sheets and shingles are popular options for DIY carports due to their weather resistance and ease of installation.

Attach roofing material carefully: Follow the manufacturer's instructions for attaching the chosen roofing material to your carport frame. Pay attention to the recommended fasteners and spacing to ensure a secure and watertight roof.

Adding Finishing Touches

To enhance the functionality and appearance of your DIY carport, consider adding some finishing touches. Here are a few optional features you can include:

Install gutters and downspouts: By adding gutters and downspouts, you can redirect water away from the carport area, preventing water damage to the structure and the surrounding ground.

Add lighting fixtures: For increased visibility and security, consider installing lighting fixtures around your carport. This will make parking and accessing your car at night much easier and safer

Paint or stain the wood: If you want to give your carport a polished and finished look, consider painting or staining the wood. Choose a colour that complements your house or other structures on your property.

Maintenance and Upkeep

To ensure the longevity of your DIY carport, regular maintenance is essential. Here are a few tips to keep in mind:

Regularly inspect for damage: Periodically check your carport for any signs of damage or wear. Look for loose connections, cracks in the wood, or signs of rust on metal components. Address any issues promptly to prevent further damage.

Clean debris from the roof and gutters: Remove leaves, twigs, and other debris from the roof and gutters. This will prevent clogging and ensure proper water drainage.

Apply protective coatings or sealants: Depending on the material used for your carport, apply protective coatings or sealants as needed. This will help maintain the integrity of the structure and protect it from the elements.

Conclusion

Building a DIY carport from scratch is not as daunting as it may seem. With careful planning, preparation, and the right tools and materials, you can create a functional and aesthetically pleasing shelter for your vehicle. By taking on this challenging yet rewarding project, you will not only save money but also experience the satisfaction of building something with your own hands. So why wait? Start planning your DIY carport today and enjoy the benefits of having a covered parking space for your car. Happy building!

[fixdex-fastening-technology]

Carbon Steel Concrete Drop in Anchor M8 M10 M12

click here to see more of this product

[charnelhouse]

wild things

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader. Past Will Miller x F!Reader Wordcount: 2.24K Warnings: smut. size kink. dirty talk. rough sex. oral sex. Summary: Post-mission horniness is a thing or the first time you and Frankie fuck. A/N: This takes place in the TF Poly universe. I'd always said you'd banged Frankie and Will before the whole sex pollen incident. I'm gonna have to go back and check this...i literally wrote it before an interview i have because i am SO irresponsible

The mission had been rough. You’re still vibrating with adrenaline - energy coursing through your veins like pungent blood. You feel as if your entire body has been scraped to something raw - a single nerve hanging listlessly in the wind and every minute touch and tremble makes you arch.

The safehouse is a barren place - barely held together with nails and concrete. The ground is hard - bleached wood - and you feel a little lost. You’re trying to press yourself into the foundation of the room - anchor yourself to keep the rest of the world from spinning like a mad top. You remember a toy like that from a birthday - maybe you were seven - and you let it loose so violently that it lifted off the floor and smashed against your bedroom mirror.

Seven years bad luck.

You must have broken a lot of mirrors.

You hear the door crash open followed by a harsh pounding of booted feet. It’s Frankie - breathing raggedly - stumbling into this empty room where you’re spread out on the ground like a corpse or an offering.

“Fucking Hell,” Frankie hisses as he moves toward you. He’s clumsy - collapsing to his knees beside you. His hands are hot on your face - thumb tilting your chin up as those coppery eyes scan you for injury. He’s so much like Will in that regard and it made you miss him. Will had left though - Will had a fiance and what you both did together in the backseat of his car under the choking grip of Texas August would not be repeated.

Still - you missed him and it felt like there was a hole in your belly - gaping and black with loss.

“That was close,” Frankie mumbles as he finally lies down next to you. He doesn’t ask why you’ve decided to go near-comatose in the middle of this creepy room. He doesn’t usually ask a lot. He’s Francisco - the best person to have when you just want to run away and shove it. “You okay?”

“Fine,” you murmur despite the slight tremor that drags beneath your skin.

He sits up on his elbows to glance down at you. His hair is curling at the base of his neck - his skin grime-ridden and slippery with sweat. Pink blooms in his cheeks from running.

Sometimes you forget how gorgeous Frankie is. He’s always hiding beneath the wide brim of his hat. He’s always quietly in the corner - assessing and reassessing - until he says something extremely profound or significant and suddenly his presence unfurls like a hothouse flower.

“You’re cold,” he points out.

“Adrenaline.”

He shifts to his side as he looks at you. Stares. Sometimes the fight leaves you aching - thrumming full of blood and vitality and you have nowhere to put it. Near-death experiences get you wet and you can see it in Frankie’s eyes - the brazen gaze of hunger and longing and need.

There’s not really a conversation - no need for words. You both have always played off each other and yes this is probably a very momentous step in your relationship but who cares? You want him and there’s comfort in the fact that Frankie is Frankie and he’d catch you should the other shoe drop - should your world spin off its axis.

No strings. No caveats.

Just you.

***

He’s already rucking your pants down your legs - awkwardly unlacing your boots. He presses his pouty mouth to the skin revealed to him - sliding his tongue along the sweat that drips. When he forces your knees open, you snap them back together - a little unsure.

He stares up at you. “What is it? Do you want me to stop?”

You chew your lip. “I”m all gross right now.”

His eyes narrow before realization sparks across his face. He huffs. “I want you like this. I want to really taste you.”

Oh.

And then he’s pushing his face between your legs - nosing at the most likely translucent cotton of your panties. He inhales and it makes you jerk out of embarrassment before he uses the flats of his palms to hold your thighs down.

“Let me, princesa,” he drawls. “Let me in - just - just relax. You trust me, yeah?”

You nod - your whole body flaming with arousal at this point. He hitches your underwear to the side before he feasts on your cunt. He runs his tongue through your folds - lapping urgently before he latches his mouth to the crest of your sex and sucks. You whine - bucking into his mouth until he fastens his forearm across your belly.

He’s - he’s fucking good. He makes you soak his chin, your hips rolling against his face as he eats you out with just his tongue.

He adds a finger and then a second - stroking through the channel of your pussy as he hums with contentment at the taste of you. His cheeks are still painted in green camo paint - it’s all messy and smeared and catching in his beard. He’s dripping in sweat and so are you but he must like the musk of it - the dirtiness at you both having killed and then come back here for him to practically drive you headlong into an orgasm. He's eating you - licking hole to clit. You clench at the thought of those calloused trigger fingers massaging your walls - rubbing at the softer tissue behind your bundle of nerves. Your lower muscles tighten and tighten until you feel just like that spinning top you let loose as a child. You’re going to burst - and Frankie is praising you through all of it as his words intermingle with the shameless wet noises his tongue and fingers make through the passage of your sex:

Fuck - baby - i’ve wanted this

You taste so good. Your pussy is so responsive - so fucking pretty - you sweet thing - princesa - preciosa - baby baby baby come for me - come all over my face like a good girl

You do - flood him as he seals his mouth to your flushed - spasming cunt. You practically ride his face as he grasps your hips and pins you to the ground. Your inner thighs shivering around his ears as he carefully tongues you through to the end of it.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper as your head drops to the floor. Your breath hitching as you try to climb away from your finish but Frankie is nursing you through a second - smaller, kinder, and muffled but still able to make you lurch up and into his chin.

When he raises his head - the entire bottom of his face is glossy with you. There’s green on your thighs and your mound and when he smiles - the white of his teeth gleam bone-bright in the dark.

“Fuck me,” you plead - fully gone and empty. You need him desperately and you’re shaking like a newborn deer - muscles now twitchy and liquid with your cunt begging for him. He peers down at you - spreading the lips of your cleft apart to just fucking watch your hole clutch around nothing.

“Please,” you whine and his eyes snap back to you. He crawls up your body before lowering his mouth to yours. He kisses you possessively - his tongue slick with your own brine as he uses it to explore the cup of your mouth. He parts his lips over yours - drinking you down as you try to work his pants open. He’s rubbing your essence across your jaw and chin - painting you in your own cum and it’s so fuckin erotic that you whimper into his kiss.

When you finally unbutton his pants and release him - you go still. There’s the blunt head of his cock snagging across the mess of your cunt, but you can feel the rest of him. He’s grunting into your ear as he nudges himself through your folds. Ragged, rough sounds climbing out of his throat as he buries you into the floor.

You push at his chest - a quiet sound of protest and he stops immediately.

“Baby?”

You glance down between you and there’s his fucking cock - thick and leaking and extremely large.

“Um - you’re - you’re huge, Frankie,” you remark - gently running your nails across the length of him - it jumps in your hand.

When you look up at him, he seems almost embarrassed. “Yeah - I mean - I don’t know - we - we don’t have to fuck if you don’t want to or -”

“No,” you interrupt. “No - we are definitely fucking. I was just...observing.”

He laughs and it’s warm and lovely in the cold, wet damp of this empty room. Your lives are ruined by so much blood and smoke - cordite and fear and a strange acceptance of death. To hear him laugh with his chest makes you flutter.

You grip his shoulders - pulling him back on top of you.

“I’ll go slow,” he assures - rubbing his cheek against your own. His lips are soft against your ear as you feel him line himself up and then there’s the first breach of him. He pushes inside -inch by careful inch - and your cunt stretches around him. You’re slick but it’s still a lot - not painful but overwhelming. There’s so much pressure and he ruts into you in short, sharp jabs - dragging his cock out to the head before shoving back in.

“Fuck,” he growls. “You’re tight.”

You’re at a loss - your tongue swollen in your mouth as you gasp and pant and try to accommodate the heft of him. He catches on - understands - and so he tries to distract you - his fingers squeezing your hip as his other hand strokes your clit to make you wetter.

“Feel it,” he demands quietly - brushing his lips over your cheek. “Feel your pretty pussy, baby. Feel how well it’s taking me.”

You slide your hand between you - spreading your fingers into a V and nudging it over the rod of his cock that’s plunging inside you. You can tell how stretched your pussy is - folds parting around the thick of him.

He’s making hot sounds - low, rumbling groans as he begins to quicken his pace. He forces your legs higher over his waist before he plants his forearm beside your head and eases himself back before sinking all the way forward to the hilt.

You can hear your cunt - the wet, squelch of it making room for the even strokes of his cock.

“I think you’re ready,” he announces - almost smug.

“Yeah,” you reply - nearly blind with sex. “Please - Frankie.”

And then he really fucks you.

The floor creaks beneath your back as he spears balls-deep every single time. There’s the harsh pound of his flesh meeting yours and your walls are spasming - convulsing - grasping him as you try to swallow him deeper.

“Look at you,” he praises - his voice hoarse. “Fucking perfect.”

He drops his head to kiss you again - his tongue pressing against your own.

“Such. A. Sweet. Fucking. Pussy,” he snarls with each blunt snap of his hips.

You didn’t know it would be like this. That quiet Frankie with all of his fortitude and reserve would fuck you like an animal. You’re shattering around him - bursting - while he manipulates another climax from your hungry cunt. You squirt all over him - making the passage of his cock all the more loud and obscene.

“Good girl,” he grins - nipping your throat as his ruts grow sloppy. He circles his hips and the length of him fills and pulses - hitting something at the back of you. He’s swelling in the channel of your sex - growing too large and heavy and then he cries out against your mouth and there’s the rush of warmth as he spurts deep enough to make you taste it.

“Frankie,” you sob. “Fuck - I-”

He hushes you - the whole of him trembling as he nearly collapses on top of your body. He bears his weight as well as he can before he tries to ease himself out - his cock twitching as your cunt tries to keep him tangled inside you. He finally falls back on the heels of his feet and there’s the spill of his seed going with it - dribbling between your folds. You sit up to look at him. His pants at his ankles - his shirt gone somewhere with his dark curls boyishly sticking to his brow. His magnificent dick - still swollen and shiny with your spend as it catches in the brown curls at his groin and thighs.

You try to close your legs but he stops you. He forces your knees apart so he can watch your cunt - puffy folds with his cum seeping out of your gaping hole.

“Fuck,” he mutters at the sight of it - expression dazed.

You feel heat burn under your skin and you reach for him - wanting him close - wanting him flush against you. He returns to you - his pants rough on your calves as his belt knocks against your thigh. He scrubs his face against your cheek - nosing at your hairline as he wraps his powerful arms around your waist. He pulls you back to him - blanketing you in the curve of his broad body.

“I could get used to that,” he confesses as he parts his lips over the nape of your neck. “You don’t have to say it back,” he adds quickly.

As if he’d said I love you and maybe he had - in his own way. He did not open himself easily.

You cover the hand on your belly with your own. The flesh ringing hot - the quiet thrum of his heartbeat through the thin skin of his wrist.

“Me too,” you reply - not because it’s kind, but because it’s true.

[moongoddessmox]

Plums in Bucharest | Chapter Six

Warning: 18+, angst, violence, mentions of death, fighting, blood, weapons. Some language.

Word Count: 5,111

Pairing: CW!Bucky x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Bucky, Steve, and Reader confront Tony. Zemo stirs up deadly trouble.

A/N: This loosely follows Civil War, I did change some things to fit my story, but it's still rooted in CW with real dialogue. Going strong, there will be another part! Crossposted on mox-writes for notification purposes!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Mox-Writes

1:27 AM.

The red digital clock illuminated the dark wood of the nightstand it sat on, its dim light reaching the mattress just enough to see the edge covered halfway with a messy blanket. The dark room was cold, the air felt like the dull sting of a winter breeze being inhaled through sensitive nostrils, begging for warm relief. You watched the ceiling, the spinning shadow of the ceiling fan being cast across it by the light of the clock. The only other light in the room was the flashing green bulb of the smoke alarm on the ceiling. You listened to your surroundings; it was quiet, too quiet. It was missing the soft breathing of your partner, the rustling of his moving body in the bed, the peaceful sounds of the man you loved more than life itself–the man you begged to see every day. Begged the sky, your heart, the universe, the voice in your head, him in every letter you wrote but couldn’t send. Begged no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

The weight on your mind kept you in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, feeling the hurt creep across every inch of your skin. You felt numb, you didn’t have any thoughts, and tears couldn’t be produced anymore; you felt like a zombie just dragging through your mandatory daily tasks. You weren’t sure when the last time you cleaned was, or the last time you did laundry–you did know you were running out of clothes to put on, showing up to work in less and less fashionable combinations as the days passed. You weren’t even sure if you had eaten in the last three days. It didn’t feel like it. Your stomach churned as it shot sharp pains throughout your abdomen, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. Letting your body feel the pain of hunger because it was the only thing you could feel anymore.

Your heavy eyelids dragged down, feeling as if they were being pulled by anchors, the dryness of your eyes stinging as your lids covered them. The only way you slept was from pure exhaustion. Your body physically fought against your mind to allow some rest, although it was never a relief. You never felt rejuvenated, just less exhausted, just enough to manage through work. You didn’t talk to anyone anymore, your transactions were silent and cold. The people at the market missed the warmth of your smile as you greeted them, the kids stopped hanging around, just dropped off their notes and art in hopes that you’d eventually see them. You never did. Not finding joy in the love of the town anymore. You felt like a ghost of yourself in the busy Bucharest crowd. A wanderer lost on the way to nowhere, standing in the middle of a sea of people but not being seen.

As the darkness crept into your mind, you were filled with your final thoughts of him. Another reason you couldn’t sleep, seeing his face in your dreams felt like a nightmare more than a blessing. The pain on his face, the sparking of his arm, the cry that fell from your lips that could shake the earth to its core. Maybe it was his cry. His eyes blurred from the waterfall of tears as he watched you fall to the ground. You couldn’t tell anymore, your screams blurred together until all you heard was anguish.

–One Month Earlier–

The gun in your hand was held steady and extended out in front of you, ready to fire at the first sign of danger as you traversed the concrete building. Bucky stood by your side, one eye occasionally looking through the scope of his rifle as you followed Steve, who had his shield up and made sure the coast was clear. The journey to this moment was less than ideal, an explosive fight at an airport that left more than a few of Steve’s “superfriends”, as you called them, bloodied and jailed. You had only gotten away from the fight with the help of the only familiar face, Nat, although Bucky protested you coming with him. He and Steve were supersoldiers, they could handle a group of genetically modified individuals. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human. No serum, no super strength, just an impressive skill set that didn’t help much to prevent you from being crushed to death by the muscle of the people you were looking for there. Clearly, Bucky didn’t know you well enough to know that his protests were falling on deaf ears.

Siberia was cold and snowy, which left a trail of wet footprints from the three of you. Unfortunately, Zemo had a long enough headstart that his prints were dried, leaving you to rely on the sounds echoing through the facility. Bucky would periodically look over to you, your quiet figure so stealthy he needed to check that you were still beside him. It gave him a weird feeling, seeing you in your full gear, weapons and all. It was a stark difference from Bucharest. He knew from your scar-littered body that you had a past, one that was a struggle to discuss, but he never imagined it’d be this. An assassin. So similar to him, yet so out-of-place for the woman he thought he knew. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice that he could feel some sort of relief in the shared occupation, but it also worried him. His love for you would never waver, but he wondered how much you’d done, who you were before, if you were still active, if you felt remorse like he did. You still had your things, but did you still take contracts? Who did you work for? He was insatiably curious and just wanted this whole Zemo thing to be over with so he could finally sit down and discuss things with you. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out about your past, and it wasn’t how he wanted to tell you about his.

You looked at Bucky too. Not to check if he was there, the whirring of his metal arm was a comfortable reminder that he was still with you, but you watched him in this new manner. In Romania, he was soft, gentle, kind, and timid. Here he was hard, scared, and on edge. Seeing him with his arm exposed, gun in hand, made your heart hurt for him. Sure, he always seemed like he wanted more than a quiet little orchard life, but he didn’t want this. Guns and fighting. You didn’t know how much of this life he wanted, but you knew he still wanted you. You could see it in his eye, and it relieved you.

A loud thud echoed in the room from behind you, prompting the three of you to whip around, guns ready. Steve got in front of you with his shield and knelt down as you aimed just over his shoulder. Bucky was behind you on a step, his rifle next to your arm and the warmth of his body gliding over your back. No one moved as you listened to the door creak, someone on the other side finding their way through the metal. You held your breath as the door began to part, waiting for the danger to come through. You weren’t sure if you were hoping it was Zemo or the other Winter Soldiers, both had their pros and cons. Bucky and Steve still didn’t know about your connection to Zemo, it was one piece of information you preferred to keep to yourself. However, you weren’t sure how you were going to handle it when you did come face-to-face with him. He was your boss, your mentor since you were a child; he trained you and practically raised you. You felt loyal to him even despite your hatred for this life.

You heard Bucky tighten his grip on the handle of his gun, the leather on his flesh hand squeaking softly as it rubbed against it. The seam of the door was pushed open allowing a bright light to shine through. You watched as red metal hands pried the metal apart and Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit stepped into the room. You and Bucky stayed firm in your positions, not trusting Stark after the all-out war you just had at the airport, which left you with more than a few bruises. Steve, however, lowered his shield and stood up, taking a few steps toward Tony.

“You seem a little defensive,” Stark said after opening his helmet to reveal his bruised face.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve responded, eyeing Tony to anticipate his next move. Bucky moved to stand in front of you, acting as a shield for your normal-human body. You let out a small huff in protest, despite being weaker and more prone to death, you still wanted to protect Bucky and that meant you’d take a bullet for him if it came down to it. Bucky exhaled deeply in response, an unspoken argument about who would protect who. Tony looked up at the two of you with your guns still on him, ready to make a split-second decision. Your blood was boiling more than anyone there knew. According to Zemo, Tony was still trying to kill Bucky, and you still had your assignment to assassinate Stark. You couldn’t do it there, not in front of Steve and Bucky, especially when Tony didn’t give you a reason to fire. But you knew that you’d have to do it eventually.

“At ease soldier, I’m not currently after you,” Tony directed his voice to Bucky, who only squinted and steadied his gun. On the jet to Siberia, Steve gave you the story of how this whole mess of a situation started. Zemo, or “the Doctor” as they only knew him, had blown up the UN to flush Bucky out of hiding. That’s why he was talking to him at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, he wanted information about the other Winter Soldiers that were created after Bucky. That’s why you were in Siberia, you needed to find the soldiers before Zemo could control them to do his bidding. It made sense to you, super-soldiers would make incredible assassins for Zemo’s business. He always wanted the best in the world to take out people who thought they were so high above everyone else they could do whatever they wanted. He hated people in power who abused it, that’s why all of your missions were people with an insane amount of power and all the wrong intentions.

But it was because of Zemo’s plan that Bucky was on the radar for Tony, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of all the people at the UN. At the fight at the airport, Steve tried to convince Stark that it wasn’t him, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t give up until he had Bucky taken in, dead or alive. And that’s what kept you fueled to complete your mission. You were willing to let it go, but Stark wasn’t. Little did he know, he was signing his death certificate because of his pride.

You still had your gun aimed at Tony, both you and Bucky were unmoved until he motioned to the two of you standing there like predators.

“You guys can relax, there’s a truce here,” he rolled his eyes. Steve motioned for you to lower your weapons and you did so reluctantly, and only after Bucky had lowered his, trusting Steve more than you did. After deciding to find Zemo together, the four of you continued to explore the large building. You hung in the back to keep an eye on Tony, plotting when you would take your chance to kill him, deciding how to do it, wondering if Bucky would ever forgive you.

You entered a large room with several cryostasis chambers. As Tony scanned the room, he registered only one heat signature, despite the various chambers filled with the super-soldiers. Walking around the room, you looked at each person whose tanks were now lit and illuminated their dead bodies. Shit. Zemo didn’t want to use the soldiers, he wanted them dead. Knowing him, that meant bad news for the three men you were with.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice echoed through the room, prompting everyone to look around for him. As he walked, Bucky reached out one hand down beside him, motioning for you to stay close to him. You brushed your hip against his outstretched fingers until he hummed softly, feeling your cold body close to him. He put his hand back on his rifle and slowly inched through the room, making sure to keep you safe. You stayed by his side, not knowing what Zemo could do next, and not trusting Stark.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice echoed again. A light switched on at the end of the room, revealing Zemo’s form standing behind a window. Steve instinctively threw his shield at him, hoping to stop whatever he was planning but Zemo just chuckled.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,” he explained through his speaker. You and Bucky hung back, watching Steve walk straight toward Zemo’s window and Tony circling around, guns ready to fire.

“I guess I should explain why you are here, hm?” his voice was cocky like his plan was falling perfectly into place. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest in fear of what he was going to say, the anticipation of your real plan being revealed had your stomach-turning. Steve stood right in front of Zemo, watching him like a hawk, waiting for his next words and analyzing the situation to figure out how to get to him.

“I was a Baron in Sokovia. Though, I had business all over the world,” Zemo flashed his eyes to you which made you tense up, gritting your teeth together and hoping he wouldn’t mention your name, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. But–” he paused, swallowing hard at the next words.

“You lost someone?” Steve interrupted, eyes softening the slightest bit in remorse and pity.

“I lost everyone.” Zemo corrected, trying desperately to suppress the tears that tried to well up in his brown eyes. “And so will you.” A nearby computer turned on, playing a video of a street cam. The four of you gathered to the screen and watched it. Tony immediately recognized the street, yelling for an explanation. As soon as Bucky saw the video play, he dropped his head, stepping back from the group and holding back tears of his own. You watched him shrink into himself, Bucky cowering under the exterior of the Winter Soldier as his past was being brought to life on video. Furrowing your brows, you took a step toward him which only made him step back again. Just like the night of your party when he met your friends. He became small and panicked, emotions running wild as he tried to keep his composure. You wanted to comfort him but he wouldn’t let you.

In the video, a car crashed and a man on a motorcycle circled back around it before picking up the driver from the ground and punching him until he was dead. You flinched as you watched it, normally you wouldn’t, you’d killed your fair share of people in much worse ways, but this was different. This was Bucky. He went around to the passenger side, choking the woman inside the car until she lay lifeless against the dashboard.

Tony immediately lunged at Bucky, his emotions running wild as he witnessed the murder of his parents. You lifted your gun and aimed it at him, ready to shoot on the spot. Bucky flinched back, raising his rifle reluctantly as Steve stopped Tony from going any further. As Cap tried to reason with him, Bucky glanced at you. Shame riddled his face as tears slipped from his eyes. God, what you must think of him. It hurt him more than anything to have you witness what he’d done, seeing him with no remorse and no hesitation on that video. He felt like a monster and could only imagine that you viewed him as one. But you didn’t. You knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Bucky you built a relationship with, that wasn’t who he was; that was the Winter Soldier.

Tony stepped back, processing the moment but no one let their guard down. You all knew he wouldn’t let it go, and he didn’t, he immediately shot at Bucky, pushing Steve away and putting his helmet back on. You dodged out of the way as Tony blasted more beams from his repulsors, trying to kill Bucky in a rage. You rolled on the cold ground, getting behind Stark and shooting into his back. His suit made it impossible to stop him, you quickly found out it was bulletproof and would need to find another way to slow him down.

The shots to his back made him turn around to face you, blasting another ray in your direction, not caring who he killed. One shot from his repulsor and you’d be dead–all the more reason to disable it somehow. You yelled out as you jumped from its path, tucking and rolling out of sight as you hid behind an old control panel. Zemo still stood behind his window, watching the chaos ensue with a smirk. You furrowed your brows at him, hurt that he didn’t care who survived in the room, namely you. Steve threw his shield at Tony and it bounced off of him, knocking him back. The shield made its way back to Steve’s grasp and was followed by another deadly blast from Stark.

“Tony, stop! You’re going to kill someone,” Steve pleaded, quickly glancing at you then Bucky, who was gathering himself from being knocked down.

“He killed my mom, you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Rogers,” Tony seethed, momentarily pausing his attacks. Zemo tsked, drawing their attention to his smirking face.

“Ah, but you don’t have it in you to kill, do you, Captain? That’s why she’s here.” Zemo’s thick accent ran chills across your skin as he looked you dead in the eyes, standing from your hiding spot, gun in hand and jaw clenched. The three men in the room with you all turned to face you, each with different expressions. Steve looked like a confused puppy, disbelief spread across his face as he was told your connection to Zemo. Tony just looked angry and upset, realizing just how much more of an enemy you were to him. But Bucky, Bucky was crushed. His heart raced a million miles a second as he became flooded with more emotions than he thought possible. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know what to say, or how to process the information. Were you really just there to kill them? Was all of it a lie? Why didn’t you tell him about Zemo?

“Buck…” you spoke softly, not caring about the other two men. Bucky choked back another sob, shaking his head slightly and blinking away tears. “It’s not what you think, I promise,”

“You’re working for him?” Steve questioned, his voice stern and confused.

“Not-not necessarily,” you didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t have time to go over the whole story, not that it would matter much anyway, they wouldn’t believe you, and based on the events of the night, you’d still be eliminating Tony if he didn’t stop his attack on Bucky.

“Nice friends you got here, Rogers,” Stark broke the silence and sent a blast directly to Steve. He blocked it with his shield and looked at you, but you had run off after Tony.

Bucky was caught in Stark’s grasp, being dragged across the ground as he desperately tried to fight him off. You leaped onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat, and attempted to pull him back. Tony stumbled and released Bucky before throwing you across the room and being knocked away himself by Steve’s shield. Bucky got up, rushing over to you worried about your condition. The truth coming out didn’t stop him caring about you, and he knew all about circumstances needing explanations. You’d stuck by him through everything, the least he could do was give you the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a panic as you groaned, your head starting to bleed from where it made contact with a pole. You just shook your head yes, slowly getting up and holding onto Bucky. Steve kept Tony busy while you ran away to the exit. The debris of the crumbling building swept through the air, stinging your eyes with dust and making you cough as you tried to find your way through it. Zemo was long gone, not wanting to stay behind to see the aftermath of his plan. Trusting that you’d still kill Tony, and Tony would kill both Steve and Bucky.

“Can you jump?” Bucky asked as he opened the large hatch on the ceiling. You looked up at the tall platforms leading to the roof–to the outside. Shit. You sighed, it was a long way to the top.

“Yeah, I can get up there,” you unhooked a small device from your belt. A mini grappling hook with enough strength to pull your body up to each platform. Bucky watched as you latched onto the first tier and flew through the air until you flipped onto the metal grate. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile as he watched you effortlessly fling yourself to another platform.

A blast from Tony shook Bucky from his thoughts, dodging out of the way as he jumped and climbed the platforms himself. Steve was right behind Stark, trying desperately to fight him off and slow him down so that the two of you could escape but Tony blasted the shield away, leaving Steve with just his strength. Tony, now struggling with a damaged suit, aimed to fire at Bucky who was nearing you at the top of the room. His targeting system was too damaged to lock onto Bucky’s moving form, allowing him to reach the roof with you. You sat on the ledge, reaching your hand out to Bucky to grab to hoist himself up, but just as he reached for you, a single blast came flying through the air and made contact with the open hatch. Bucky grabbed your body and cradled it as you fell with the destroyed structure, now trapped inside.

You fell down a few platforms, grunting as you slammed into Bucky’s body that made contact with the metal floor. He lost his grasp on you and you rolled away, almost off the edge before catching yourself. Bucky groaned and immediately got eyes on you to make sure you were okay, which you were, you were a hell of a lot tougher than he thought. As you collected yourself, Tony flew up to your platform and tried attacking Bucky, who swung a pole at him. You jumped on Stark’s back and unsheathed your knife, stabbing into the creases of his suit to try and sever something. You heard him groan through his helmet and as you pulled the knife from the groove of his shoulder, it was covered in blood. You stabbed through again, and again, until he was too distracted to shoot at Bucky. Tony tried shaking you off, flinging your body from side to side in an attempt to get you to let go, but you held on, driving the knife further into his shoulder. Finally, Tony grabbed a hold of Bucky and let himself fall down the tall shaft. Steve jumped onto the three of you and pulled your weight faster, crashing you down hard to the concrete floor.

You yelled out in pain as your hip slammed the ground. Yup, definitely broken, fuck. You rolled to try and get some relief, unable to focus on anything but the sharp shattering pain shooting through your body. Bucky had rolled down further than you and laid there for a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, Steve had resumed fighting Tony and was pinned underneath him as the suited-man threw punches. The new location was freezing, arches in the building led to the outside and brought in the snowy breeze, chilling your body to its core. You tried to focus on anything but your leg, but the pain of the cold felt just as bad. The sounds of the men fighting made you crawl to the edge of the floor, you were a little higher up than them and watched as Steve and Bucky traded the shield back and forth, trying desperately to knock Tony down.

Despite your hip, you couldn’t lay there and watch, you had to do something. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to the edge, sliding down the steep platform before crying out in pain when your heels hit the ground, jolting your hip. You reached into your boot and pulled out a small device in the shape of a star, with the press of a button it lit up and you tossed it onto Stark’s right arm. Immediately it zapped and shut down all systems in his arm making it unusable. He whipped his head around to look at you and Bucky took the chance to pin him against the wall, clawing at the arc reactor in his chest in an attempt to disable him. You tried to stand up, feeling like your hip would shatter even more under the pressure but needing to help Bucky.

As you slowly limped over, Tony blasted a beam from his chest, shooting off Bucky’s metal arm, leaving behind burnt sizzling wires. You screamed, falling to your knees beside him as he gasped for air. Despite the arm being metal, he could feel every single thing that happened to it, which made your heart ache for him that much more.

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, look at me,” you held his face as blood poured down his cheeks, the light going out in his eyes as he struggled to stay awake, “listen to me, I need you to stay awake okay? I love you so much, Bucky, please stay awake for me. I’m so sorry, god, I’m so sorry,” your tears dripped down onto his face, streaking through the blood. Bucky’s eyes were on you, he never let go of your gaze but he couldn’t speak, the pain was too overwhelming for him to manage words.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen, I thought I was just doing a job, I didn’t want this. He-he said Tony was going to hurt you, Buck, I didn’t want back in this life. I just want you, I just want to take you back to Bucharest, pick plums with you again, remember the market? We could run the stand together, Buck,” you were trying so hard to keep his attention, keep his eyes open and on you. You weren’t even aware of your surroundings anymore, it was just you and Bucky. All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. It took you by surprise, the adrenaline of your panic over Bucky numbed it for a moment, until you looked down to see Bucky’s eyes wide with horror as a beam of light ripped through your ribcage.

“Buck?” you couldn’t even scream. The pain was so overwhelming that you could only manage his name before you fell over, lying unconscious next to Bucky. Bucky’s scream of anguish ripped through your subconscious as he watched you pass out. He thought you died. Your lifeless body lay on the cold ground with a searing hole through one side of your ribs.

That was the last thing you remembered. When you woke up, you were laid up in a hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped tightly around your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. The soft beeping of your monitor was the only sound you could hear as you groggily shifted in bed. No one was around, not even a nurse. You heard the monitor’s beep pick up pace as you remembered Bucky, concern for him replaced every feeling you felt for yourself. You were frantic to find him, find out what happened to him.

A doctor finally came into the room and calmed you down, telling you to take it easy so you don’t open your sutures. You calmed down enough to notice that she wasn’t a regular doctor, her attire was odd. A lab coat with a tech logo on it, glasses that you could see had a camera right in the middle of the frames, and on her clipboard were blueprints and mechanics to some sort of device. Before you had time to question her, she handed you a small card.

“Someone left this for you,” she motioned to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table. You opened the card, weakly thumbing over the scribbled ink as you tried to adjust your eyes to read it.

He’s gone. Take care of yourself, Y/N. -Steve.

You felt your heart fall to the floor, tears immediately pouring from your eyes as you uncontrollably sobbed. The sutures ripped open, causing you to bleed onto your mattress but you didn’t care. Bucky was gone. Your Bucky was gone. Zemo was right. Tony Stark was going to kill him and you failed your mission to protect him.

–Present Day–

1:27 AM.

Your eyes dragged closed, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over your body. The soft clack of the ceiling fan chains rhythmically lulled you to sleep, darkening your mind as the nothingness washed over you. Slumber, sweet, sweet, sleep. Your breathing calmed down as you fell into the black void of your unconscious. A few moments passed as you rested, mind on nothing, no dreams ever visited you anymore, just the images of Bucky lying on the ground with no arm, screaming out to you as you fell to the ground. As the first flash of Bucky’s pain-filled face appeared in your mind, you shot your eyes open, jolting up from the bed and sitting up in the dark in realization.

Gone.

Gone. Not dead. He said gone.

[peachy-panic]

WHUMPTOBER DAY 3: “WHO DID THIS TO YOU?”

This is the next chronological piece of Do No Harm, continued directly from this chapter.

Tag list: @whumpervescence  @shiningstarofwinter @distinctlywhumpthing @whumptywhumpdump

WARNINGS: Medical procedures, referenced/implied noncon, slavery setting, the usual.

The young doctor seems a bit skittish and far less cruel than the other Facility employees, and that comes with the dangerous notion that perhaps he doesn’t plan on hurting him. But that notion requires a naivety of which Jaime is no longer capable. He, of all people, is aware that cruelty can disguise itself in many shapes and sizes. Just because it isn’t obvious doesn’t mean it isn’t there, and that only makes it all the more dangerous.

There’s no use in hoping either way, he decides. Dr. Tate will either hurt him or he won’t, will either touch him or he won’t, and Jaime can’t — won’t — react. He has already made that mistake once today and will certainly pay for it later in ways he doesn’t want to think about now. He would do well to remember that he doesn’t hold any power here. Not in this room, this building, this life. And that, despite any arbitrary written rules, Dr. Tate is free to do as he pleases. 

At least he had removed the restraints from his mouth and wrists. Jaime can console himself with this small mercy. 

Those had always been the worst part of nights with Mr. Torley, on the all-too-frequent occasions he decided to use them. He was clearly very into them, and even more into Jaime’s fear of them. In addition to the claustrophobia they stoked in him, the use of restraints in bed had always felt something like a mockery. What use was it to restrain someone who can’t fight back regardless? The binds on his wrists and ankles were nothing more than accessories. The shackles in his mind did all the work to keep him still. And Mr. Torley knew that.

He does his best not to think about that now. Not to think about Mr. Torley at all, since that was what had gotten him in trouble in the first place. Distantly, he wonders how long the influence of his first Keeper will continue to stain Jaime’s existence beyond the termination of their six-month contract.

Dr. Tate, who has been buried in the cabinets above the sink for several minutes, turns back to him sporting bright-blue gloves that adhere tightly around his slender hands. He meets Jaime’s eyes for half a second before his gaze darts somewhere just to the left of his shoulder. 

“We need to run a couple of tests,” he says in a detached, clinical voice, all notes of lightheartedness from earlier removed. “I’ll need to collect some samples from you.”

Jaime nods once in acknowledgement, squeezing his fingers tightly, unconsciously around the edge of the table. There’s an unnatural pause in his cadence, and Jaime when looks up, he watches a slight twitch of movement in the doctor’s jaw. 

“Please remove your pants and underwear,” Dr. Tate says, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “You can leave them on up to your thighs, if you’d like.”

The slight shift in demeanor sets Jaime on edge, but he doesn’t hesitate at the command, even as a familiar panic claws at the inside of his throat. He drops forward from the table, his legs taking his weight. His thumbs hook the waistband of the thin, cotton pants he had been returned in, and he doesn’t allow himself a moment of hesitation before pushing them unceremoniously off his hips. He takes Dr. Tate up on his merciful offer to keep them partially on his body. The cold, sterile air inside the clinic is sharp against his exposed skin.

Jaime’s eyes find the ceiling as he prepares for the touch he knows is coming. He doesn’t look to see whatever tools and instruments Dr. Tate is laying out on the silver tray beside the exam table. He doesn’t have to. “We need to run a couple of tests.”  Whatever foolish hypotheticals Jaime once held in regards to WRU — what they did and didn’t know about the treatment of their wards — had long been shattered. 

Of course they needed to test him for sexually transmitted diseases. They can’t have a Domestic Companion spreading something to the next paying customer that buys their time and exposing their innocent charade. 

There’s a pause in Dr. Tate’s movement, but Jaime doesn’t look away from his spot on the ceiling tile.

“I’m going to touch you, now.” Dr. Tate’s voice is low and measured. “I need to examine you for bumps or sores, any abnormalities.” He clears his throat. “And I’ll take a swab from your urethra. It might be uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t hurt you.” Another pause. “Please, tell me if it does.”

Jaime’s grip on the table tightens, but he otherwise doesn’t react. Distantly, he is grateful for the warning, the bare explanation, mortifying as it is. He knows that the doctors here are not obligated to explain anything to the Companion patients, to seek consent in any form. Their consent was implicitly given in the contracts they signed at intake. He just as easily could have left Jaime gagged and bound to the table and gone about the procedure without so much as a word to him. Jaime is glad he hadn’t. 

Instead, Dr. Tate’s touch is light and professional. His gloved hands don’t linger, they don’t poke and prod to get a reaction from him. It seems, even, that he touches him as little as possible. Almost as if he is as eager to get this over with as Jaime is, which doesn’t feel quite possible. 

The fluorescent strip of light next to his focal point on the ceiling burns at the edge of his vision, but he doesn’t look away, using the mild discomfort as an anchor to hold himself steady. He concentrates on that instead of the gentle touches, gritting his teeth against any traitorous urges his body might provoke. Mr. Torley had loved that about Jaime — his responsiveness to touch — but not as much as he loved using it against him. 

His stomach sours at the memory, fresh humiliation creeping into his cheeks at the idea of something similar happening now. He doesn’t think Dr. Tate would tease him the way his Keeper had, but he still doesn’t relish the idea of becoming physically aroused in front of this young doctor, who couldn’t have been more than a few years older than him and, in another life, Jaime might have found pretty. 

The thought is gone almost as soon as it comes, too painful to linger on. The idea of another life. A normal life. A life at all. These are thoughts Jaime is forbidden to have. The phantom sting of an electric shock lights up the column of his throat and Jaime winces.

“Sorry,” Dr. Tate said quickly, misunderstanding the movement and withdrawing his hand. Jaime’s eyes finally fall to his as the doctor takes a step back, inserting the long swab into a glass tube and sealing it with a cap. “The worst part is over.”

Jaime is numb all over, but he nearly laughs. He knows that having stepped foot in this facility again, the “worst part” has not even begun. 

“I’ll need to collect another sample from your mouth,” Dr. Tate continues, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves, and Jaime absently wonders why they even bother wasting extra product on the patients here. “And we’ll draw some blood—” 

Something catches his voice mid-sentence and Jaime’s eyes flick up to his again. Dr. Tate looks at him, and then pointedly, hurriedly away. Jaime swears he can see his pale cheeks reddening.

“You can— We’re finished with that part.” He stumbles out. “Feel free to cover yourself up.”

Jaime does as he’s told, finding it somewhere within himself to be grateful that the doctor had kept the procedure professional. He couldn’t say the same thing for every encounter he’d had in the facility clinic before. 

********

Sebastian knows what happens next, and that’s why he finds himself taking his time with the rest of the visit. As soon as he’s completed the mandated intake exam, he is supposed to mark the patient as cleared in his chart and alert the handlers to come collect him. To take him back into the part of the facility where Sebastian has never set foot; the “residential” wing where the unclaimed Companions are housed between contracts. On all the promotional advertisements, it’s depicted as a dormitory-like accommodation. Now that Sebastian knows just how little truth exists behind their lies, he can only imagine it’s nothing of the sort. 

His mind conjures images of iron-barred cells and concrete rooms, of medieval dungeons with chains and darkness and filth. It’s a sensationalized version of what he assumes is probably the truth, but that doesn’t mean the reality is any less horrible. After what he’s seen in his time here and everything he’s heard, he has no doubt that the people who are forced to reside here between Keepers are subject to the company’s own brand of horror. Frankly, he’s in no hurry to turn his patient back over to their hands a moment sooner than he has to.

The boy is silent and entirely pliable throughout the whole exam, allowing himself to be moved when necessary and not so much as flinching when the needles for the blood draw break his skin. Sebastian is glad when the more… invasive parts of the exam are over. The boy had been no less compliant during them, maybe even the opposite, but Sebastian hadn’t missed the subtle changes in his posture, the way the muscles in his hands clenched and released around the edge of the table as he touched him as little as possible. 

He had looked up at the ceiling instead of at the wall behind Sebastian, as he had done previously, and Sebastian had silently prayed that the position wasn’t intended as a way to hold back tears. He doesn’t know how he could live with himself if he made this kid cry.

When the blood has been drawn, the test samples submitted for lab processing, and a full physical performed, Sebastian has run out of ways to delay the inevitable. He closes out of the boy’s patient profile on his screen and turns to him, hands folded professionally in front. 

“I’ll need to alert the handlers that your intake exam is complete,” he told him, probably unnecessarily. He hadn’t looked to see how long he had been in the system, but from his behavior, he assumes it’s been long enough to break his spirit. He probably knows these protocols better than Sebastian ever wants to. “They’ll come and escort you back to the residential quarters.”

110750 nods once without looking at him. “Thank you,” he says flatly. Then, there is a moment of pause before he lifts his eyes and seems to level Sebastian with something more sincere. “Thank you for… for letting me get cleaned up.”

Sebastian feels like shattering into pieces all over the cold linoleum. Instead, he tries for a smile and lands somewhere in the realm of a tight, thin line at his lips. “Sure,” he says, a bit mortified to hear the crack in his voice. 

He watches 110750 take slow, measured breaths as Sebastian makes the call he desperately wishes he didn’t have to make. He tries not to stare as they wait in tense silence for the handlers to arrive. Of course, Sebastian could leave the room if he wants. The intake procedure is done, and so is his minimal obligation to patient care. But something feels wrong about leaving him. More than that, something feels utterly wrong about this boy being taken out of the clinic, away from his line of sight, where he can’t see what will happen next. He only knows it won’t be good. 

A split second before he hears the clinic doors whoosh open, Sebastian steps closer to his patient, lowering his voice to a quick, urgent whisper. “Keep an eye on that broken nose,” he advises. “If you have any trouble breathing as it heals, please don’t hesitate to let your assigned handler know that you need medical attention, okay?”

The boy hitches in a breath but doesn’t respond. Sebastian takes half a step closer. 

“Look, you have a right to medical assistance,” he says, the words feeling like treason on his tongue despite knowing their written truth. “Even here. Even now. You can always come see me here if you need to. They can’t legally prevent you from requesting care. Do you understand?”

Unexpectedly, something dark flashes in the boy’s eyes. Something less like the fear and dread he had witnessed earlier, and something much more akin to anger. Anger at Sebastian?

Before the interaction can go any further, they are interrupted by the unceremonious swing of the exam room door. The same two men who had brought him in - one with a fresh bandage on his face - push their way in, stepping between Sebastian and his patient. 

“Up you go, 7-5-0,” Handler Hernandez barks, and the boy is on his feet before he can finish the command, his hands behind his back, head bowed. 

“Oh, look who finally decided to behave,” the other one - Smith, maybe? - taunts as he sizes him up in a way that makes even Sebastian’s skin crawl. Just as he had prior to the visit, the man shifts his gaze to him, a sneer permanently embedded into his expression. “Does he get a lollipop for good behavior? Maybe a sticker?”

The boy doesn’t look up at him, but Sebastian thinks he sees his throat move. He feels a swell of rage rise into his throat, coming to a boiling point for the second time since he entered the room with this boy, but he swallows it back, keeping as level an expression as he can manage. 

“He was perfectly agreeable,” he responds tightly, refusing to play into whatever mockery he’s initiating. 

Smith answers him with a dismissive snort, turning his attention back to the boy like a predator who just found fresh meat. “What do you say, sweetheart?” He asks, the thick rubber of his boots squeaking against the tile as he takes a step too far into the boy’s personal space. “Think we can go the easy way back, or would you prefer to do things the hard way again?”

The beat of silence in the room is painful as they await his response, which comes eventually in a subdued voice, through slightly gritted teeth and with his eyes on the floor. “The easy way. Sir.”

A snort from Hernandez breaks the tension. “Yeah,” he says. “We’ll see about that.”

With that, he is escorted from the room and seems to take with him all the air in Sebastian's lungs. Naively, desperately, he hopes for the briefest moment of eye contact before he’s taken away from him. But his eyes stay downward, even as a large hand curls around his bicep and makes him stumble in his gait as he’s yanked forward. Sebastian watches helplessly as he disappears from sight, one singular thought slicing through his mind on a loop:

Who did this to you?

[mox-writes]

Plums in Bucharest | Chapter Six

Warning: 18+, angst, violence, mentions of death, fighting, blood, weapons. Some language.

Word Count: 5,111

Pairing: CW!Bucky x Plus Size!Reader

Summary: Bucky, Steve, and Reader confront Tony. Zemo stirs up deadly trouble.

A/N: This loosely follows Civil War, I did change some things to fit my story, but it's still rooted in CW with real dialogue. Going strong, there will be another part! Crossposted on moongoddessmox!

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven

1:27 AM.

The red digital clock illuminated the dark wood of the nightstand it sat on, its dim light reaching the mattress just enough to see the edge covered halfway with a messy blanket. The dark room was cold, the air felt like the dull sting of a winter breeze being inhaled through sensitive nostrils, begging for warm relief. You watched the ceiling, the spinning shadow of the ceiling fan being cast across it by the light of the clock. The only other light in the room was the flashing green bulb of the smoke alarm on the ceiling. You listened to your surroundings; it was quiet, too quiet. It was missing the soft breathing of your partner, the rustling of his moving body in the bed, the peaceful sounds of the man you loved more than life itself–the man you begged to see every day. Begged the sky, your heart, the universe, the voice in your head, him in every letter you wrote but couldn’t send. Begged no one in particular and everyone at the same time.

The weight on your mind kept you in bed, staring at the shadows dancing across the ceiling, feeling the hurt creep across every inch of your skin. You felt numb, you didn’t have any thoughts, and tears couldn’t be produced anymore; you felt like a zombie just dragging through your mandatory daily tasks. You weren’t sure when the last time you cleaned was, or the last time you did laundry–you did know you were running out of clothes to put on, showing up to work in less and less fashionable combinations as the days passed. You weren’t even sure if you had eaten in the last three days. It didn’t feel like it. Your stomach churned as it shot sharp pains throughout your abdomen, but you didn’t move. You couldn’t move. Letting your body feel the pain of hunger because it was the only thing you could feel anymore.

Your heavy eyelids dragged down, feeling as if they were being pulled by anchors, the dryness of your eyes stinging as your lids covered them. The only way you slept was from pure exhaustion. Your body physically fought against your mind to allow some rest, although it was never a relief. You never felt rejuvenated, just less exhausted, just enough to manage through work. You didn’t talk to anyone anymore, your transactions were silent and cold. The people at the market missed the warmth of your smile as you greeted them, the kids stopped hanging around, just dropped off their notes and art in hopes that you’d eventually see them. You never did. Not finding joy in the love of the town anymore. You felt like a ghost of yourself in the busy Bucharest crowd. A wanderer lost on the way to nowhere, standing in the middle of a sea of people but not being seen.

As the darkness crept into your mind, you were filled with your final thoughts of him. Another reason you couldn’t sleep, seeing his face in your dreams felt like a nightmare more than a blessing. The pain on his face, the sparking of his arm, the cry that fell from your lips that could shake the earth to its core. Maybe it was his cry. His eyes blurred from the waterfall of tears as he watched you fall to the ground. You couldn’t tell anymore, your screams blurred together until all you heard was anguish.

–One Month Earlier–

The gun in your hand was held steady and extended out in front of you, ready to fire at the first sign of danger as you traversed the concrete building. Bucky stood by your side, one eye occasionally looking through the scope of his rifle as you followed Steve, who had his shield up and made sure the coast was clear. The journey to this moment was less than ideal, an explosive fight at an airport that left more than a few of Steve’s “superfriends”, as you called them, bloodied and jailed. You had only gotten away from the fight with the help of the only familiar face, Nat, although Bucky protested you coming with him. He and Steve were super-soldiers, they could handle a group of genetically modified individuals. You, on the other hand, were just a normal human. No serum, no super strength, just an impressive skill set that didn’t help much to prevent you from being crushed to death by the muscle of the people you were looking for there. Clearly, Bucky didn’t know you well enough to know that his protests were falling on deaf ears.

Siberia was cold and snowy, which left a trail of wet footprints from the three of you. Unfortunately, Zemo had a long enough headstart that his prints were dried, leaving you to rely on the sounds echoing through the facility. Bucky would periodically look over to you, your quiet figure so stealthy he needed to check that you were still beside him. It gave him a weird feeling, seeing you in your full gear, weapons and all. It was a stark difference from Bucharest. He knew from your scar-littered body that you had a past, one that was a struggle to discuss, but he never imagined it’d be this. An assassin. So similar to him, yet so out-of-place for the woman he thought he knew. He wasn’t complaining, it was nice that he could feel some sort of relief in the shared occupation, but it also worried him. His love for you would never waver, but he wondered how much you’d done, who you were before, if you were still active, if you felt remorse like he did. You still had your things, but did you still take contracts? Who did you work for? He was insatiably curious and just wanted this whole Zemo thing to be over with so he could finally sit down and discuss things with you. This wasn’t how he wanted to find out about your past, and it wasn’t how he wanted to tell you about his.

You looked at Bucky too. Not to check if he was there, the whirring of his metal arm was a comfortable reminder that he was still with you, but you watched him in this new manner. In Romania, he was soft, gentle, kind, and timid. Here he was hard, scared, and on edge. Seeing him with his arm exposed, gun in hand, made your heart hurt for him. Sure, he always seemed like he wanted more than a quiet little orchard life, but he didn’t want this. Guns and fighting. You didn’t know how much of this life he wanted, but you knew he still wanted you. You could see it in his eye, and it relieved you.

A loud thud echoed in the room from behind you, prompting the three of you to whip around, guns ready. Steve got in front of you with his shield and knelt down as you aimed just over his shoulder. Bucky was behind you on a step, his rifle next to your arm and the warmth of his body gliding over your back. No one moved as you listened to the door creak, someone on the other side finding their way through the metal. You held your breath as the door began to part, waiting for the danger to come through. You weren’t sure if you were hoping it was Zemo or the other Winter Soldiers, both had their pros and cons. Bucky and Steve still didn’t know about your connection to Zemo, it was one piece of information you preferred to keep to yourself. However, you weren’t sure how you were going to handle it when you did come face-to-face with him. He was your boss, your mentor since you were a child; he trained you and practically raised you. You felt loyal to him even despite your hatred for this life.

You heard Bucky tighten his grip on the handle of his gun, the leather on his flesh hand squeaking softly as it rubbed against it. The seam of the door was pushed open allowing a bright light to shine through. You watched as red metal hands pried the metal apart and Tony Stark in his Iron Man suit stepped into the room. You and Bucky stayed firm in your positions, not trusting Stark after the all-out war you just had at the airport, which left you with more than a few bruises. Steve, however, lowered his shield and stood up, taking a few steps toward Tony.

“You seem a little defensive,” Stark said after opening his helmet to reveal his bruised face.

“It’s been a long day,” Steve responded, eyeing Tony to anticipate his next move. Bucky moved to stand in front of you, acting as a shield for your normal-human body. You let out a small huff in protest, despite being weaker and more prone to death, you still wanted to protect Bucky and that meant you’d take a bullet for him if it came down to it. Bucky exhaled deeply in response, an unspoken argument about who would protect who. Tony looked up at the two of you with your guns still on him, ready to make a split-second decision. Your blood was boiling more than anyone there knew. According to Zemo, Tony was still trying to kill Bucky, and you still had your assignment to assassinate Stark. You couldn’t do it there, not in front of Steve and Bucky, especially when Tony didn’t give you a reason to fire. But you knew that you’d have to do it eventually.

“At ease soldier, I’m not currently after you,” Tony directed his voice to Bucky, who only squinted and steadied his gun. On the jet to Siberia, Steve gave you the story of how this whole mess of a situation started. Zemo, or “the Doctor” as they only knew him, had blown up the UN to flush Bucky out of hiding. That’s why he was talking to him at the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre, he wanted information about the other Winter Soldiers that were created after Bucky. That’s why you were in Siberia, you needed to find the soldiers before Zemo could control them to do his bidding. It made sense to you, super-soldiers would make incredible assassins for Zemo’s business. He always wanted the best in the world to take out people who thought they were so high above everyone else they could do whatever they wanted. He hated people in power who abused it, that’s why all of your missions were people with an insane amount of power and all the wrong intentions.

But it was because of Zemo’s plan that Bucky was on the radar for Tony, he thought he was responsible for the deaths of all the people at the UN. At the fight at the airport, Steve tried to convince Stark that it wasn’t him, but he wouldn’t listen, he wouldn’t give up until he had Bucky taken in, dead or alive. And that’s what kept you fueled to complete your mission. You were willing to let it go, but Stark wasn’t. Little did he know, he was signing his death certificate because of his pride.

You still had your gun aimed at Tony, both you and Bucky were unmoved until he motioned to the two of you standing there like predators.

“You guys can relax, there’s a truce here,” he rolled his eyes. Steve motioned for you to lower your weapons and you did so reluctantly, and only after Bucky had lowered his, trusting Steve more than you did. After deciding to find Zemo together, the four of you continued to explore the large building. You hung in the back to keep an eye on Tony, plotting when you would take your chance to kill him, deciding how to do it, wondering if Bucky would ever forgive you.

You entered a large room with several cryostasis chambers. As Tony scanned the room, he registered only one heat signature, despite the various chambers filled with the super-soldiers. Walking around the room, you looked at each person whose tanks were now lit and illuminated their dead bodies. Shit. Zemo didn’t want to use the soldiers, he wanted them dead. Knowing him, that meant bad news for the three men you were with.

“If it’s any comfort, they died in their sleep.” Zemo’s voice echoed through the room, prompting everyone to look around for him. As he walked, Bucky reached out one hand down beside him, motioning for you to stay close to him. You brushed your hip against his outstretched fingers until he hummed softly, feeling your cold body close to him. He put his hand back on his rifle and slowly inched through the room, making sure to keep you safe. You stayed by his side, not knowing what Zemo could do next, and not trusting Stark.

“Did you really think I wanted more of you?” Zemo’s voice echoed again. A light switched on at the end of the room, revealing Zemo’s form standing behind a window. Steve instinctively threw his shield at him, hoping to stop whatever he was planning but Zemo just chuckled.

“Please, Captain. The Soviets built this chamber to withstand the launch blast of UR-100 rockets,” he explained through his speaker. You and Bucky hung back, watching Steve walk straight toward Zemo’s window and Tony circling around, guns ready to fire.

“I guess I should explain why you are here, hm?” his voice was cocky like his plan was falling perfectly into place. It felt like your heart was going to beat right out of your chest in fear of what he was going to say, the anticipation of your real plan being revealed had your stomach-turning. Steve stood right in front of Zemo, watching him like a hawk, waiting for his next words and analyzing the situation to figure out how to get to him.

“I was a Baron in Sokovia. Though, I had business all over the world,” Zemo flashed his eyes to you which made you tense up, gritting your teeth together and hoping he wouldn’t mention your name, “Sokovia was a failed state long before you blew it to hell. But–” he paused, swallowing hard at the next words.

“You lost someone?” Steve interrupted, eyes softening the slightest bit in remorse and pity.

“I lost everyone.” Zemo corrected, trying desperately to suppress the tears that tried to well up in his brown eyes. “And so will you.” A nearby computer turned on, playing a video of a street cam. The four of you gathered to the screen and watched it. Tony immediately recognized the street, yelling for an explanation. As soon as Bucky saw the video play, he dropped his head, stepping back from the group and holding back tears of his own. You watched him shrink into himself, Bucky cowering under the exterior of the Winter Soldier as his past was being brought to life on video. Furrowing your brows, you took a step toward him which only made him step back again. Just like the night of your party when he met your friends. He became small and panicked, emotions running wild as he tried to keep his composure. You wanted to comfort him but he wouldn’t let you.

In the video, a car crashed and a man on a motorcycle circled back around it before picking up the driver from the ground and punching him until he was dead. You flinched as you watched it, normally you wouldn’t, you’d killed your fair share of people in much worse ways, but this was different. This was Bucky. He went around to the passenger side, choking the woman inside the car until she lay lifeless against the dashboard.

Tony immediately lunged at Bucky, his emotions running wild as he witnessed the murder of his parents. You lifted your gun and aimed it at him, ready to shoot on the spot. Bucky flinched back, raising his rifle reluctantly as Steve stopped Tony from going any further. As Cap tried to reason with him, Bucky glanced at you. Shame riddled his face as tears slipped from his eyes. God, what you must think of him. It hurt him more than anything to have you witness what he’d done, seeing him with no remorse and no hesitation on that video. He felt like a monster and could only imagine that you viewed him as one. But you didn’t. You knew that wasn’t him, that wasn’t the Bucky you built a relationship with, that wasn’t who he was; that was the Winter Soldier.

Tony stepped back, processing the moment but no one let their guard down. You all knew he wouldn’t let it go, and he didn’t, he immediately shot at Bucky, pushing Steve away and putting his helmet back on. You dodged out of the way as Tony blasted more beams from his repulsors, trying to kill Bucky in a rage. You rolled on the cold ground, getting behind Stark and shooting into his back. His suit made it impossible to stop him, you quickly found out it was bulletproof and would need to find another way to slow him down.

The shots to his back made him turn around to face you, blasting another ray in your direction, not caring who he killed. One shot from his repulsor and you’d be dead–all the more reason to disable it somehow. You yelled out as you jumped from its path, tucking and rolling out of sight as you hid behind an old control panel. Zemo still stood behind his window, watching the chaos ensue with a smirk. You furrowed your brows at him, hurt that he didn’t care who survived in the room, namely you. Steve threw his shield at Tony and it bounced off of him, knocking him back. The shield made its way back to Steve’s grasp and was followed by another deadly blast from Stark.

“Tony, stop! You’re going to kill someone,” Steve pleaded, quickly glancing at you then Bucky, who was gathering himself from being knocked down.

“He killed my mom, you’re going to have to kill me to stop me, Rogers,” Tony seethed, momentarily pausing his attacks. Zemo tsked, drawing their attention to his smirking face.

“Ah, but you don’t have it in you to kill, do you, Captain? That’s why she’s here.” Zemo’s thick accent ran chills across your skin as he looked you dead in the eyes, standing from your hiding spot, gun in hand and jaw clenched. The three men in the room with you all turned to face you, each with different expressions. Steve looked like a confused puppy, disbelief spread across his face as he was told your connection to Zemo. Tony just looked angry and upset, realizing just how much more of an enemy you were to him. But Bucky, Bucky was crushed. His heart raced a million miles a second as he became flooded with more emotions than he thought possible. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t know what to say, or how to process the information. Were you really just there to kill them? Was all of it a lie? Why didn’t you tell him about Zemo?

“Buck…” you spoke softly, not caring about the other two men. Bucky choked back another sob, shaking his head slightly and blinking away tears. “It’s not what you think, I promise,”

“You’re working for him?” Steve questioned, his voice stern and confused.

“Not-not necessarily,” you didn’t know how to explain it. You didn’t have time to go over the whole story, not that it would matter much anyway, they wouldn’t believe you, and based on the events of the night, you’d still be eliminating Tony if he didn’t stop his attack on Bucky.

“Nice friends you got here, Rogers,” Stark broke the silence and sent a blast directly to Steve. He blocked it with his shield and looked at you, but you had run off after Tony.

Bucky was caught in Stark’s grasp, being dragged across the ground as he desperately tried to fight him off. You leaped onto his back, wrapping an arm around his throat, and attempted to pull him back. Tony stumbled and released Bucky before throwing you across the room and being knocked away himself by Steve’s shield. Bucky got up, rushing over to you worried about your condition. The truth coming out didn’t stop him caring about you, and he knew all about circumstances needing explanations. You’d stuck by him through everything, the least he could do was give you the benefit of the doubt.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a panic as you groaned, your head starting to bleed from where it made contact with a pole. You just shook your head yes, slowly getting up and holding onto Bucky. Steve kept Tony busy while you ran away to the exit. The debris of the crumbling building swept through the air, stinging your eyes with dust and making you cough as you tried to find your way through it. Zemo was long gone, not wanting to stay behind to see the aftermath of his plan. Trusting that you’d still kill Tony, and Tony would kill both Steve and Bucky.

“Can you jump?” Bucky asked as he opened the large hatch on the ceiling. You looked up at the tall platforms leading to the roof–to the outside. Shit. You sighed, it was a long way to the top.

“Yeah, I can get up there,” you unhooked a small device from your belt. A mini grappling hook with enough strength to pull your body up to each platform. Bucky watched as you latched onto the first tier and flew through the air until you flipped onto the metal grate. The corner of his mouth twitched with a smile as he watched you effortlessly fling yourself to another platform.

A blast from Tony shook Bucky from his thoughts, dodging out of the way as he jumped and climbed the platforms himself. Steve was right behind Stark, trying desperately to fight him off and slow him down so that the two of you could escape but Tony blasted the shield away, leaving Steve with just his strength. Tony, now struggling with a damaged suit, aimed to fire at Bucky who was nearing you at the top of the room. His targeting system was too damaged to lock onto Bucky’s moving form, allowing him to reach the roof with you. You sat on the ledge, reaching your hand out to Bucky to grab to hoist himself up, but just as he reached for you, a single blast came flying through the air and made contact with the open hatch. Bucky grabbed your body and cradled it as you fell with the destroyed structure, now trapped inside.

You fell down a few platforms, grunting as you slammed into Bucky’s body that made contact with the metal floor. He lost his grasp on you and you rolled away, almost off the edge before catching yourself. Bucky groaned and immediately got eyes on you to make sure you were okay, which you were, you were a hell of a lot tougher than he thought. As you collected yourself, Tony flew up to your platform and tried attacking Bucky, who swung a pole at him. You jumped on Stark’s back and unsheathed your knife, stabbing into the creases of his suit to try and sever something. You heard him groan through his helmet and as you pulled the knife from the groove of his shoulder, it was covered in blood. You stabbed through again, and again, until he was too distracted to shoot at Bucky. Tony tried shaking you off, flinging your body from side to side in an attempt to get you to let go, but you held on, driving the knife further into his shoulder. Finally, Tony grabbed a hold of Bucky and let himself fall down the tall shaft. Steve jumped onto the three of you and pulled your weight faster, crashing you down hard to the concrete floor.

You yelled out in pain as your hip slammed the ground. Yup, definitely broken, fuck. You rolled to try and get some relief, unable to focus on anything but the sharp shattering pain shooting through your body. Bucky had rolled down further than you and laid there for a moment to collect himself. Meanwhile, Steve had resumed fighting Tony and was pinned underneath him as the suited-man threw punches. The new location was freezing, arches in the building led to the outside and brought in the snowy breeze, chilling your body to its core. You tried to focus on anything but your leg, but the pain of the cold felt just as bad. The sounds of the men fighting made you crawl to the edge of the floor, you were a little higher up than them and watched as Steve and Bucky traded the shield back and forth, trying desperately to knock Tony down.

Despite your hip, you couldn’t lay there and watch, you had to do something. You took a deep breath and swung your legs to the edge, sliding down the steep platform before crying out in pain when your heels hit the ground, jolting your hip. You reached into your boot and pulled out a small device in the shape of a star, with the press of a button it lit up and you tossed it onto Stark’s right arm. Immediately it zapped and shut down all systems in his arm making it unusable. He whipped his head around to look at you and Bucky took the chance to pin him against the wall, clawing at the arc reactor in his chest in an attempt to disable him. You tried to stand up, feeling like your hip would shatter even more under the pressure but needing to help Bucky.

As you slowly limped over, Tony blasted a beam from his chest, shooting off Bucky’s metal arm, leaving behind burnt sizzling wires. You screamed, falling to your knees beside him as he gasped for air. Despite the arm being metal, he could feel every single thing that happened to it, which made your heart ache for him that much more.

“Bucky? Bucky, hey, look at me,” you held his face as blood poured down his cheeks, the light going out in his eyes as he struggled to stay awake, “listen to me, I need you to stay awake okay? I love you so much, Bucky, please stay awake for me. I’m so sorry, god, I’m so sorry,” your tears dripped down onto his face, streaking through the blood. Bucky’s eyes were on you, he never let go of your gaze but he couldn’t speak, the pain was too overwhelming for him to manage words.

“I need you to know I never meant for this to happen, I thought I was just doing a job, I didn’t want this. He-he said Tony was going to hurt you, Buck, I didn’t want back in this life. I just want you, I just want to take you back to Bucharest, pick plums with you again, remember the market? We could run the stand together, Buck,” you were trying so hard to keep his attention, keep his eyes open and on you. You weren’t even aware of your surroundings anymore, it was just you and Bucky. All of the sudden, you felt a sharp pain in your ribs. It took you by surprise, the adrenaline of your panic over Bucky numbed it for a moment, until you looked down to see Bucky’s eyes wide with horror as a beam of light ripped through your ribcage.

“Buck?” you couldn’t even scream. The pain was so overwhelming that you could only manage his name before you fell over, lying unconscious next to Bucky. Bucky’s scream of anguish ripped through your subconscious as he watched you pass out. He thought you died. Your lifeless body lay on the cold ground with a searing hole through one side of your ribs.

That was the last thing you remembered. When you woke up, you were laid up in a hospital bed, thick bandages wrapped tightly around your ribcage as you struggled to breathe. The soft beeping of your monitor was the only sound you could hear as you groggily shifted in bed. No one was around, not even a nurse. You heard the monitor’s beep pick up pace as you remembered Bucky, concern for him replaced every feeling you felt for yourself. You were frantic to find him, find out what happened to him.

A doctor finally came into the room and calmed you down, telling you to take it easy so you don’t open your sutures. You calmed down enough to notice that she wasn’t a regular doctor, her attire was odd. A lab coat with a tech logo on it, glasses that you could see had a camera right in the middle of the frames, and on her clipboard were blueprints and mechanics to some sort of device. Before you had time to question her, she handed you a small card.

“Someone left this for you,” she motioned to a bouquet of flowers sitting on the bedside table. You opened the card, weakly thumbing over the scribbled ink as you tried to adjust your eyes to read it.

He’s gone. Take care of yourself, Y/N. -Steve.

You felt your heart fall to the floor, tears immediately pouring from your eyes as you uncontrollably sobbed. The sutures ripped open, causing you to bleed onto your mattress but you didn’t care. Bucky was gone. Your Bucky was gone. Zemo was right. Tony Stark was going to kill him and you failed your mission to protect him.

–Present Day–

1:27 AM.

Your eyes dragged closed, finally allowing the exhaustion to take over your body. The soft clack of the ceiling fan chains rhythmically lulled you to sleep, darkening your mind as the nothingness washed over you. Slumber, sweet, sweet, sleep. Your breathing calmed down as you fell into the black void of your unconscious. A few moments passed as you rested, mind on nothing, no dreams ever visited you anymore, just the images of Bucky lying on the ground with no arm, screaming out to you as you fell to the ground. As the first flash of Bucky’s pain-filled face appeared in your mind, you shot your eyes open, jolting up from the bed and sitting up in the dark in realization.

Gone.

Gone. Not dead. He said gone.

[jimitjain]

5 Types Of Anchor Bolts In The Market

Anchor Bolt:

Anchor bolts fasten structural components to concrete structures and secure them. In general, anchor bolts are used to fasten structural elements, equipment, and skids to concrete. The anchor bolts have one end that is buried in the concrete and the other end that is left exposed.

It is actually a stud constructed of two adjoined pieces, one-piece is threaded at the top end and the other end consists of a process that includes a wedge and clip that is expanded between the stud and the wall of the hole in the concrete.

The anchor bolt are generally a good option for a heavy shear application and for heavy load. Also the heavier duty seismic wedge anchors are used in areas frequented by seismic activities.

Anchor Bolt Types

Sleeve Anchor Bolts:

A sleeve anchor is a type of fastener used to secure objects to a concrete or masonry structure. They can be used to join two or more concrete structures, or to fasten an object such as a shelf to a brick wall.

Headed Anchor Bolts:

Construction fasteners known as headed anchor bolts have a head on the non-threaded end. In order to secure a steel column, beam, bolt, rail, or other structural part in place, this end is placed into concrete or masonry.

Wedge Anchor Bolt:

Consideration made by wedge anchor bolt manufacturers in India: The diameter of the wedge anchor should match the diameter of the holes that are drilled into the concrete.

Additionally, it is only used for solid concrete; it cannot be used with stone, mortar, brick, etc.

Bent-bar Anchor Bolts:

Bent-bar anchors, which include the customary J and L bolts, are threaded steel rods with hooks on the end embedded into the masonry.

Drop-in Anchor Bolts:

Drop-In anchors are female concrete anchors designed for anchoring into concrete. Drop the anchor into the pre-drilled hole in the concrete. Anchor bolt manufacturer use a setting tool to expand the anchor within the hole in the concrete. Drop-in anchors require a setting tool to install.

Best Anchor Bolt Manufacturer In India

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[xbunnybunz]

Daybreak (1/?) [Wolf Keum x Reader x Alex Go]

Summary: The day brings to you Alex Go, and in the night, Wolf Keum. Your past is inescapable. They build you up and tear you back down, but this is what you need to survive.

Genre: Romance, Angst, Drama

------

“And why not?” You ask, cheeks flushed and heart pounding in your chest. “Why not me?”

When he looks at you, there’s a certain kind of disregard in his eyes. The hazel twinkles like stars, you think. Bright yet so far away. He doesn’t answer you and turns away to nurse his drink instead.

His friends chortle and you pretend not to notice, but a burning humiliation creeps up your cheeks and you can’t discern if it’s from the alcohol or the embarrassment of so many eyes on you at once. In the periphery of your vision, you can see yourself in the clean reflection of the windowpane, darkened by night, speckled by stars.

There’s muted conversations and the clicking of dirty silverware on fake china, of beer cans falling over and clattering hollowly with the floor.

“I just want to understand you better.”

You can’t wrap your mind around why you’re trying so hard to talk to him. It shouldn’t matter, you shouldn’t care. That’s what you tell yourself, but your feet are erected in the ground like a permanent structure and they wont budge, no matter how many times you beg them to leave, leave, leave.

“Wolf’s been having a shit day. I’d recommend you get the fuck outta here before you give us a reason to make it any worse.”

Your resolve embodies itself in your shoulders. They stiffen with frustration, sturdy as an iceberg- then drops suddenly, melting away all at once like cold water running down your back.

The man throws another wayward amber glance in your direction, as if sizing you up for a fight. You would’ve laughed at his belligerence if you weren’t so sure he’d knock out your teeth.

“I’m sorry. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You can feel the stares of the other patrons on you back, but none of them sear you, hot and daring, as much as the pair before you. His glasses catch in the light, and for a brief second you see yourself again.

Desperate, and pathetic. Looking and looking.

Your legs unstick from the mosaic tiled floors, but they feel leaden. You don’t care though, as long as you can move you should go.

You let your legs carry you out of the restaurant, but it feels more like conscious dragging at this point. You think he watches you on the way out, and you wonder if you’ll regret any of this tomorrow.

A tinkering bell chime announces your re-entry to the crisp nighttime air, but the evening breeze does nothing to ease the pounding of your head or your heart. You take a few staggering steps away from the eatery and lean against the brick wall, appreciating the cool sensation washing over your burning cheeks.

The moon is bright and it irritates your eyes. A fist clenches at your side and you grit your teeth at the sting of nails pressing into the soft flesh of your palms. Pain shoots up your arm and you release your grip, but remain unable to get his shitty visage out of your mind.

Purple hair, hazel eyes, red blazer.

“Fuck…”

Your foot meets the wall and you hope that at least a bit of sediment will chip off but it does not yield.

Purple hair,

“Fuck.”

You kick the wall again, this time with more vigor.

Hazel eyes,

“Fuck!”

A puff of dust arises from the wall and you’re unsure of whether it’s from your shoe or the building, but you don’t really give a shit anymore.

Red. Blazer.

You feel your hand curl into a fist again, tight enough that your whole arm shakes with it. You can’t get it out of your head, and you hate that you can recite it from memory.

“FUCK!”

You reel your arm back and send it flying to the wall, itching for the crunch of knuckles, the bursting of skin, the trickle of blood.

But another hand stops you.

It catches your fist in a hand larger than yours, wrapping around it and easily encasing your hand in his.

You look up and expect to see those burning eyes again but are instead faced with a stranger, a sheepish grin plastered on his face.

“That would’ve hurt.”

You don’t realize your vision is blurred until you try to make out his features. Your fist is still captured in his grip and when you move to pull it back, he hastily releases it with a blush on his pale features.

“Ah, sorry. I just grabbed you without thinking.”

He says this as you wipe away your tears with your sleeves, silently admonishing yourself for losing your temper in public and letting a stranger witness it, but he doesn’t comment on it.

He looms a beat longer than necessary and you wonder why until you feel yourself swaying back and forth.

You're not sure what to say to fill the silence, so you remain quiet. Luckily, he seems to take the hint and hops in.

“I’m Alex Go. From Eunjang High School.”

You think it sounds familiar. It might’ve been one of the schools that all the delinquents came from, but you couldn’t be sure.

“I’m (Y/n).”

You shift in place and cross your arms across your body, eyes trained on the concrete rippling below your heels, wondering if you should’ve opted for flats instead.

Alex furrows his brows at your guarded pose and chews on his lip, pushing his hands into his trouser pockets.

“Are you feeling okay? You were really going at the wall here, before.”

There’s a twinge in your heart at the hint of concern in his voice, and can’t help the snark that seeps into your response.

“Yeah. I’m tipsy and just got humiliated by some jackass, but other than that I’m cool.”

The slur is hard to ignore. Harder to ignore than the clicking of your heels against the sidewalk, harder to ignore than the hiking hem of your dress. You can almost swear you see Alex gulp, sweat beading at his temples in an earnest attempt to keep his eyes on your face. You think its cute, but opt out of telling him lest you give him a heart attack.

“O-oh, right…” He trails off, palming at the back of his neck. “Sorry to hear that.”

You slide your eyes down his tense body and watch how your shadows cross on the floor, dark and muted on the concrete. The moment of silence stretches into a minute, and you decide it’s time to retire for the night. You brush past him, a lopsided smile fixed on your face.

“Well, I should be going home now. It’s getting late and we’ve both got school tomorrow, don’t we?”

You turn back to look at him, but all the sudden movements are too much for your slogging brain. A piece of your heel snags in the sidewalk and you stumble a bit before catching yourself, sending Alex into a frenzy. He’s at your side in a second, arms hovering around your shoulders and waist in case you take another tumble. He isn���t touching you, but the boy is like a damn radiator giving off all this heat.

So much for a suave exit.

“I uh,” He gives a half shrug and a shy grin. “I have late classes tomorrow. I can walk you, if you’d like?”

You look at him and only then does he realize how close he is to you. He makes the motion to back up, but a hand snakes out to snatch his sleeve, anchoring him in place.

“Sure. I’d like that.”

He gulps again, and this time you know it happened because you can see and hear it. His eyes are green and glassy. You can see the reflection of the world in them, and you like it.

“Alright,” He says, a bit breathily. “Lead the way, then.”

The entire way back was filled with light conversation, and Alex repeatedly asking if you wanted his shoes after you took off your heels.

You ask about his friends and learn about “Big Ben” Park, Gerard Jin, Eugene Gale and the enigma Gray Yeon.

He asks about your hobbies and learns of your prospects to become a world-renowned writer, or an Olympic wrestler.

When Alex laughs, you feel your lips curl up too and it’s like forgotten magic.

When you arrive at your humble apartment, all the unpleasant thoughts and memories of tonight, and many other nights before this one, have been placated.

“This is me.” You turn to face him, heels dangling from your fingers.

You know you must look deranged, lip color smeared from the drinks and eye makeup smudged from the tears earlier. But in the pale glow of the flickering, yellowed streetlights with Alex, you feel rejuvenated.

“Thanks for accompanying me, Alex Go.”

Alex smiles, a soft, charming blush on his cheeks and brushing over the light scar across his nose, not expecting you to use his full name.

“Yeah, of course. I’m glad you made it back alright.”

He shuffles in place but doesn’t turn to walk away. You wonder if he has anything to say, and when he doesn’t speak, you decide you do.

“Alex?”

“Hm?”

You see his green eyes widen a bit before you’re enveloped in the pressed material of his school uniform, the stiff blue collar pressing into your face. You wrap your arms around him, pressing your head into his neck. He smells like freshly cut grass, and pine, and he’s warm compared to the autumn air.

He stutters, but doesn’t push you away, hands poised to return the gesture. You pull away before he can gather his wits about him.

“Thank you. Seriously.”

You press a gentle, chaste kiss on his cheek. A sign of hope, of hope to persevere. His skin feels good on your lips, and his hair tickles your nose. When you pull back, you fold both hands behind your back and give him a cheeky smile. You stand to admire how the scarlet blush creeping up his neck complements his fair skin and tender gaze. He reaches a hand up to hold his cheek, eyelashes fluttering.

“T-thank you…” he trails off, then pulls himself out of his reverie, catching his mistake.

“I mean-! You’re welcome! It wasn’t any hassle, really.”

You giggle and step back, admiring the gleam in his eyes and the subconscious quirk of his lip. Another step back, then a wave goodbye.

“I hope I’ll see you around, Alex Go.”

You slip back into your apartment without another word, the door clicking closed behind you.

Alex lingers, flustered, watching the spot you once stood. Under the moon illuminating the street, through the brush of reddening leaves, he lets out a breathy sigh.

He hopes so too.

[idreamofplaid]

Inspiration

Square Filled: Artist AU for @spnfluffbingo & Angst to Fluff for @spngenrebingo

Characters: artist!Sam x Reader

Rating: M

Word Count: 1863

Created for @spnfluffbingo & @spngenrebingo

The opening was a smashing success. It was what Sam had been working for a long time, and you couldn’t be more proud of him. He had sold five paintings tonight, and the gallery owner was already talking about a second show. You poured two glasses of wine and handed one to your tall handsome boyfriend. 

Sam was unusually quiet, especially after such an extraordinary night that had made one of his dreams a reality, and it prompted you to ask him, “What is going on in that brilliant mind of yours, handsome?” 

He took a sip of his wine and put it down on the concrete counter. “Everything’s going to change. Maybe.”

You put your arms on his shoulders and let them loosely rest there, your wrists crossed behind his neck. “You deserve this, babe. Why do you sound so worried?”

Sam looked down at you; his eyes were clouded a dark gray, and he quietly studied your face for a few seconds. “What if I can’t do it?” He reached up and wrapped his hand around your forearm by his neck, holding it. You knew what he was doing; he needed the contact. It meant he was feeling at loose ends. “This doesn’t exactly seem real.” 

You moved your arms from either side of his neck and lowered them to your sides.  As you did, Sam let go of your arm. You took his now idle hand into yours. “Tell me, baby. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

He sat down on one of the barstools by the counter, never letting go of your hand. “Every night, I came home from working in an office that made me feel like it was sucking my soul away, and I’d paint. Everything inside me that I wanted to get out, I’d put on the canvas.” You sat down on the empty barstool beside him and squeezed his hand to urge him to keep going. 

Sam sighed. “Then it happens. Finally, a gallery is interested in my work.” You remembered how excited Sam had been when that happened. It had only been two paintings at first, and they hadn’t sold immediately, but they had sold. That was the beginning. It was followed by the sale of more paintings and eventually culminated in the show tonight that was all Sam.

He looked troubled, and you could feel it. His doubt was real, and it was keeping him from fully enjoying his accomplishment, a success Sam deserved. “Y/N, I haven’t painted anything in a week.” You sat in silence, processing what he’d said. Sam took a big sip of his wine. “I haven’t even picked up a brush.”

You understood. It had been the same way with your business. When you were reading tarot cards for your friends, it was fun. Then you’d started posting videos on social media about the meaning of the cards; it led to offering free readings online, which ultimately led to paying clients. Now you were a full fledged intuitive life coach, and the cards were one of the tools you used. It was one of the ironies of life that finding success doing what you loved could freak you out and shut you down. 

Sam was still talking. At least, he had opened up to you now. “What if that’s the best I have in me, and I did it? One show. What if that’s all there is?” He ran his free hand through his hair. “I’m scared to pick up a paint brush, Y/N. What if the whole thing was a fluke? What if I start another painting and it’s just this mediocre thing that no one likes? What if it doesn’t speak to them, doesn’t touch them, doesn’t make them feel anything? What if no one wants to see my work, no one cares about it?”

You brushed your thumb lightly over the scruff of beard next to Sam’s mouth and then traced up his jawline, an idea forming in your mind. “Go change into something comfortable, something you’d wear when you paint.” He didn’t question you, just got up and went toward the bedroom area of the loft. That was one thing that made your relationship strong. The trust between you was solid.

While Sam changed, you did too...in a manner of speaking. You took off all your clothes and lay down on the sofa, pulling the throw from the back of it to cover yourself. You positioned yourself in a seductive pose and waited for him. When Sam reappeared, he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a deep V; his feet were bare. 

His eyebrows raised slightly when he saw you. You swiped your tongue out over your bottom lip and pulled it back into your mouth, dragging your teeth across that lip behind it. You waited a beat before announcing, “Hi, Sam. I’m your muse.”

“Y/N...I...uh…” Sam’s eyes were riveted on you.

You shifted and rolled a shoulder, holding the throw to your bare breasts. “Go get the easel, bring it over here, and put a blank canvas on it.” Sam’s mouth was slightly parted,  then he swallowed looking at your cleavage peeking out over the throw. You nodded to him. “Go on. Get it.”

Sam followed directions very well, especially when he was feeling lost. He had told you more than once that you anchored him, and that’s exactly what you were going to do for him right now. He came back carrying the easel and a medium sized canvas, set them up along with some paints, brushes and his palette, then waited for further instructions from you.

Instead of saying anything, you dropped the throw to the floor. Sam’s eyes traveled down the length of your body, following your curves, and back to your face. “Wh...what are you doing, Y/N?”

You draped yourself over the couch the way you’d seen artist’s models do in movies. “You’re going to paint.”

“I don’t do figure painting; you know that.” His mouth hung open before he found the words. “I can’t paint you. I could never make you look…”

You combed your fingers through your hair. “You’re not going to paint ME.” Sam’s eyes narrowed in confusion. “You’re going to paint for the next hour whatever it’s in your soul to paint, and when that hour has passed I’ll be here waiting for you.” You winked at him just in case he hadn’t caught your meaning, but the way he pushed his palm against his crotch told you that he knew exactly what you meant.

Sam gathered his paints and the brushes he wanted to use. He squeezed some paint onto his palette, then dipped the brush into a cerulean blue and swiped it across the canvas in a broad stroke. He glanced at you every so often as though he were actually painting you then directed his intense focus back to the canvas.

You stretched your arms over your head, ran your fingertips over your decolletage, and started at him seductively providing inspiration and motivation for whatever it was Sam had started to create. Sam didn’t notice when you subtlety checked the time on your phone. He was immersed in the painting. His intensity when he was in the process of creation this way was a kind of sexy that was ethereal and earthy. You quietly put down the phone so you could watch him and marvel at the man who had agreed to be yours and possessed a kind of talent that was rare, a talent to be treasured, and a talent he wasn’t fully aware of.

His hair moved with the strokes of the brush, falling over his forehead and he tossed it out of his eyes with a shake of his head; he had broken past the barrier of his earlier creative block. He was into the work now. You smiled, and like he could feel it; Sam turned to look at you. He smiled back, dimples framing his mouth. The worry and uncertainty was gone. He put down the brush, walked to you, and reached for your hand. You lifted your hand up to him, inviting him down to the couch with you. Sam took your hand, and you pulled him down on top of you. Your lips met, and the passion was instantly ignited. 

His tongue tangled with yours, his firm body pressed against you, and you felt him grow hard through the denim he was still wearing. You could feel Sam’s muscles through the cotton of his t-shirt while his tongue delved deeper into your mouth. You grasped at the back of his shirt to pull it up so you could feel his skin warm beneath your touch. “Sam, take your clothes off; I’ve been waiting for you.”

He peeled off his t-shirt, then went for his belt buckle. In seconds, he was naked and gorgeous before you. If you could paint, you would want to paint him. You’d want to capture the strength of his shoulders and the way his muscles gave form to his arms, gracefully curving to shape powerful biceps. You’d want to give life to the light in his green, gray, and golden hazel eyes. Most of all, you’d want to show just how his hopeful smile could inspire joy in anyone who saw it. 

The most beautiful man you could have ever imagined made love to you there on that couch where you had patiently waited for him to reconnect with his confidence and tap back into his talent that sprang from the well of experience inside him that fueled everything he created. He gave you his passion and his tenderness. He worshipped you with his body and his words. 

In the afterglow of your joining, you lay in his arms with your head on his chest listening to the beat of his heart. Sam’s fingers were entwined in your hair, and the contentment you both were feeling was palpable. “What did you paint?”

He nuzzled his nose into your hair and inhaled you deeply before he answered. “The ocean, at night under the full moon, with the waves rolling onto the sand. It’s a balance of turbulence and peace.”

You rested your chin in the center of his chest and drew curling lines on his pec. “I’d like to see it, but I don’t want to move.”

Sam slid his hands down to your hips and pulled you up so he could kiss you again. Even after being completely sated, he could still make you breathless. It was your turn to play with his hair and run your fingers through it. “I’ll show you tomorrow. It’ll be waiting for your appraisal.” Sam smiled. “I can’t let you go right now. This feels too good.” 

He located the comforter with one hand and pulled it over you. You were snuggled in a warm cocoon between the blanket and his body; it made your eyelids heavy. Sam whispered in your ear as you were falling asleep, “Promise me you’ll always be my muse.”

As you drifted off, in the warmth of his embrace, you answered, “I will.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @67-chevy-baby @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @sea040561 @dawnie1988 @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Sam/Jared: @girl-next-door-writes @stunudo @feelmyroarrrr @sammit-janet @idabbleincrazy @evansrogerskitten @focusonspn @i-joined-social-media-finally @autumninavonlea @spnxbsessed @durinsbride @deansyahtzee @wendibird @team-free-will-you-idjiot @waywardnerd67 @neii3n @fullmooner​ @supernatural-took-me-over​ @julesthequirky​ 

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

Abuelitas, Tantrums, and Ropa Vieja

Summary: With Lucia back from Florida and the squad aware of Rebecca and Catalina, Rafael decides it’s time to introduce them over his abuelita’s ropa vieja. Since he’s been able to maneuver his schedule to spend most days working from home, he assumes a trip to Whole Foods will be no problem, but Catalina isn’t used to hearing no from papi.

Pairings: Rafael Barba x OC

First Part-Second Part -Third Part - Fourth Part - Fifth Part

“Mami, I need to tell you something. Do you remember Rebecca?”

Rafael’s hand was squeezing hers. Now that Liv and her squad knew, Rafael was acutely aware word would travel. There was no logical way for news to reach Lucia, but he wanted to introduce Catalina to her, see the three most important women in his life in one room. He was, however, afraid of what she would say and how she would respond. Once she realized she loved Rebecca, pressure to get married would mount, and he was determined for them to take their time. There was also the possibility his mother would react poorly, questioning paternity or Rebecca’s motives. He couldn’t decide which option made him more nervous. 

“I did go see her while you were in Florida. And we’re together again. She forgave me. But mami, there’s something else.” His eyes flickered to the ceiling, the corner that would be under his sleeping daughter’s bed. “Mami, when I ignored her? She was pregnant.”

She could hear Lucia holding her breath, and Rebecca leaned to press a gentle kiss to Rafael’s shoulder, hovering there. His voice was less like the confident or penitent Rafael she’d seen; instead, he sounded a lot like Catalina did when she was afraid she’d be in trouble. He’d asked her to sit with him as he called his mom, and he held her hand like an anchor, green eyes fixed ahead. 

“Yeah, really. And she’ll be three in August. I moved in with them, not back to my place. Rebecca named her Catalina….Yeah, for abuelita. We want you to come over for dinner. Meet her….Rebecca tried to tell me. It’s not her fault you didn’t know….Mami, she didn’t know how to contact you. Trust me, she’s ecstatic for us to be here. And Cat looks like a Barba. EVerybody says she looks just like me….Yeah. Five is perfect. Becs will be home from school and I’m home with Cat all day….Eres una abuela ahora, mami….Si, yo soy un papa….Te amo. Nos vemos mañana por la tarde.”

He hung up, tongue between his teeth as he texted his mom a selection of pictures and videos. The ones from Christmas eve, New Years Eve, and nights in. Rafael was proudest of one Rebecca had sent him. She’d gotten home, neither Rafael or Catalina noticing her, and when she came to the living room, he was at his writing desk, face serious and Catalina making the same face at her easel beside him. Rebecca’s favorite picture of the father and daughter was from when he’d fallen asleep reading Catalina a bedtime story, curling up in his sleep on the child sized bed with their daughter against his chest. He sent mami that one too.

“Sounds like it went well.”

“I think she’s processing. She hasn’t thought I’ll ever have a partner or a child. But, she’s been playing step grandma to Enrique’s grandkids. I think she’s over the moon to have her own now. He’s in Florida another week or she’d be bringing him.”

“Catalina will be excited.”

“She’s been asking about meeting grandma. I’m making abuelita’s ropa vieja.”

“So I’m not even cooking?” she grinned. “It’ll be a good night.”

“We split it!” he defended, wrapping around her and propping his chin on her shoulder. “Mostly. But not when people come.”

“Exactly. Also, I want to try your abuelita’s ropa vieja.”

“I wish she could have met her namesake.”

“Me too.”

“She’d have liked you. Not how I ended up. But she’d have liked you.”

“She’d be proud of you, Rafa.”

“I was supposed to be a judge,” he shrugged. “Mami is disappointed too.”

“She’d happy that you’re happy, baby.”

“I know. But she can still wish I were an ADA or DA. She used to tell me to stick close to Alex too. And call me el juez.”

“She’d have changed her mind if she knew what he’d done. Rafael, she’s watching over you. I know she is.”

“Gracias, mi amor. Vamos a dormir. It’s late.”

The next day, Rafael saw Rebecca off to work, and it occurred to him this would be his first day running errands with Catalina while she was gone. He’d taken her the park and to the sitter or her uncles’ house. Now, as he bundled her up to go buy everything he’d need to cook dinner, he wondered if grocery shopping with a toddler would be as bad as the parents he’d seen in the past with children screaming for whatever had caught their eye. Then again, he hadn’t seen Catalina throw any fits. He had the collapsable bag and Catalina’s hand in his as they started towards the Whole Foods that he was thankful was within walking distance. Each time they left, he watched her like a hawk, but like clockwork, she’d asked him to carry her after a block.

“C’mon, mija,” he smiled softly, settling her into the cart carefully before he made his way to the meat counter. He hated grocery shopping normally. Rebecca had always teased him for how often they ordered food in. It wasn’t that he didn’t enjoy cooking, he just didn’t have time. Since finding out about Catalina and having the time to cook, he’d gone back to making the recipes he’d learned growing up and figuring out new things Catalina could help make. Grocery shopping remained unbearable, though, and he always ordered them delivered. Today, there wasn’t time, but he found that it was much more bearable as Catalina told him her favorite snacks and chattered away. He gave her Oh yeah?s and Very good, mijas st the right times, even adding the box of frosted cereal to the cart. He did not expect to lock eyes with Jack McCoy across the wine aisle, freezing with his hand on the bottle of red in the cart. 

“Rafael,” he greeted, shaking his hand. “I didn’t know you were back.”

“Jack. Yes you did,” he chuckled. “I went up against your ADA.”

“I suppose you did. But not my ADA. I retired.” The older man’s eyes went to Catalina, watching her father and the stranger. “She’s got to be yours.”

“She is,” he said, and Jack could see Rafael’s chest puff out with a pride he’d only ever seen in court. “Mija, this is papi’s friend, Mr. McCoy. Can you introduce yourself?”

“Hi, Mr. McCoy! I’m Cat!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Cat.” The smile he gave Rafael was knowing. “It looks like leaving the DA’s office was the right move for you. In Whole Foods on a Friday? Defense work? Or stay at home dad?”

“Both. Innocence Project. I meet with clients on Mondays. Other than that I work from home and Cat goes to the sitter or her uncles for court days. I might give it all up to teach, though. I’m doing a class right now.”

“I didn’t know you had somebody, Rafael. She’d have been born after your trial.”

“I didn’t know until December. Her mom tried but I cut everyone off. Showed up to try and win her back. Got a two for one.”

“Fatherhood looks good on you.” 

“Thanks, Jack. I’m happy.” Jack clapped a hand on his shoulder as he passed, and Catalina looked up at her father. He smiled, kissing the top of her head. “You know papi loves you?”

“I love you too, papi.” 

He gathered the groceries, nerves high as he realized Catalina was getting tired. It struck him that it meant he’d be toting her on his hip and the groceries in the bag on wheels. They stood in the line, and she was reaching for every snack nearby. Each time, he took her hand and kissed her fingers, whispering a no softly. Each time, Catalina got increasingly annoyed, and one of his own expressions, mouth in a straight line and brow furrowed, looked back at him. She grabbed a packaged cookie when his wallet was out, and he sighed, taking it from her hand and anticipating the whimper that escaped her. 

Rebecca said he had to work on standing firm and telling Catalina no. It was fine when he had her, but the sitter, Al, and Rebecca were getting to deal with come aparts when she didn’t get her way. He was able to get his card put away before the wail escaped her. Free hand on the handle of the cart, he took her hand and was able to at least get her away from the register before she fell to the floor. Now he saw what Rebecca had warned him about. 

“Cat,” he said softly as he squatted beside her. “Come on, mija. Get up. We’ll go home and have lunch.”

“Cookie.”

“No, mija, you can’t have that. You have to eat lunch first.”

“Cookie.” 

“We can have cookies at home.”

Rafael didn’t like the way his face was heating up as he knelt, able to see the people around him looking. Were they judging him? Did he look like he was as bad at this as he felt right now? His first time not taking her to the park, and she’s screaming? He was also suddenly struck by memories of his own childhood the few times he’d cried. It infuriated him to think his father did anything but accept the red hot embarrassment that was a part of this. Rafael could handle the stares; he could never raise his voice, much less his hand, to her. But, he felt frustration build as he went to lead her out, and Catalina dropped as though her body were lead. A woman stepped past and he sent a tight lipped smile and received an understanding one in return. Dios mio, this must be part of the deal. 

“Mija,” he begged, desperation evident in his voice. “Please. We have to go home.” Does fatherhood still look good on me, Jack? God, McCoy could walk by at any moment. He wanted to just pick up Catalina and carry her screaming home, but when he went to, he received a sharp, definitive no. If there were two goals he had for Catalina, they were to know she was in charge of her person and that no one should ever hurt her. Keeping his temper in check was easier than he expected, but now, he recognized the former goal meant dropping to sit on the cold concrete floor of Whole Foods, back against the wall and Catalina laying beside him as he hammered out a text to Rebecca.

What stops a tantrum?

You have to wait it out or put her in the stroller.

I didn’t bring the stroller.

I told you. Always bring the stroller. You okay?

Fuck, she had. Just not this morning.  

Can’t triple chocolate chip cookies be lunch?

Did you tell her no?

Yeah. I want to take it back.

She’ll be fine. Tell me what’s happened.

She’s sleepy I think. Wanted snacks in line. I said no every time. Then she picked up the cookies while I was paying. I took them out of her hand and she lost it. I’m sitting on the floor by the wall while she screams. I’m a terrible father.  

Within moments, his phone rang, and just the sight of Rebecca’s contact photo calmed him slightly. 

“Please tell me I can just say yes.”

“She’s nearing the end of wailing,” she said, and he could hear the chatter of her students in the background. “Hear how the wail dies out instead of ending strong?”

“I don’t want to say no.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, hating the way his voice sounded: whiny and desperate.

“C’mon, papi, you gotta hold out. When it ends? She’ll take a nap and move on.”

“Or I could just buy the cookies. She’s crying. It hurts when she cries. I don’t like it.”

“Trust me, you’ll realize which cries are ‘I didn’t get my way’ and which cries are ‘I’m in emotional danger.’ I know it’s hard, baby.”

“I’m so bad at this. Everyone keeps staring.”

“If they have kids, it’s sympathetic. If they have kids and it’s not sympathetic, they’re dicks. Did you try picking her up?”

“She said no. So we’re sitting here.”

“This too shall pass. Welcome to the reality part of fatherhood.”

“I like being new and always the good guy.”

“When you give her lunch, she’ll forget she didn’t get the cookies. Probably before then.”

“What if we make cookies?”

“Whatever makes you both feel better.”

“Te amo, hermosa. Thank you.”

“Glad to coach you through. I love you. You’re an amazing father, okay? No one is good at tantrums.” He hung up, and when he looked ahead he saw McCoy give him a sympathetic smile. Of course he really would see Rafael on the floor now. He gave a salute and tired grimace. It took another few minutes for Catalina’s crying to stop. She looked at him with tear stained cheeks, and Rafael felt like an asshole. 

“Ready to go home, mija?” She nodded, sniffling as she held her arms up. He grunted as he stood from the floor, displeased with the way his knees cracked. Once she was settled on his hip, he pulled the basket behind them as they walked. Catalina looped her arms around his neck and laid her head on his shoulder, and he smiled to himself. So it really was temporary. She was definitely tired now if she wasn’t before. He laid her on the couch when they were home, letting her sleep as he created the sauce for the ropa vieja and put the meat in to cook. It smelled like abuelita’s apartment on the cold nights he’d hidden from his father there, and she’d helped him study and fed him the comforting dish. He could still remember sitting at her table, feet dangling the day she saw the deep purple bruising along his side when he reached to get a dish for her. He hadn’t had to go home for a month.

He was always afraid some part of his father would burst forth. It had been two glorious months of being able to be a father, but he still found himself considering the possibility he’d change into some caricature of the elder Barba. The idea of raising his voice to Catalina was enough to make his stomach churn, and he knew he’d never do anything to hurt her or make her feel like he had. 

But surely his father never thought he’d beat his own son? Surely he’d looked at newborn Rafael, small and delicate, and had the same urge he did to protect his child? Whenever the thoughts got bad, every couple of weeks, he’d curl up beside Rebecca and tell her. That was certainly a difference. His father was always rage and disappointment; Rafael couldn’t imagine he’d expressed how he felt to his mother often, especially fear or happiness or sadness. Rebecca thought his desperation to be different was enough proof he wouldn’t end up like him.

When Catalina was awake, the rest of the day went by in a blur. He settled at his desk to grade papers, and halfway through, Catalina climbed in his lap with a notepad, doodling as he marked. That was how Rebecca found them when she got home, pressing a kiss to the top of their heads. It looked like they’d weathered the tantrum just fine. She’d worried about Rafael all day. In the time since they were last together, she’d gotten tougher. He’d gotten more emotional, and she knew this probably brought up a lot he didn’t want to think about, but she was confident now he’d talk to her about it before bed.

“Looks like everyone survived,” she teased gently. 

“Yeah. I just sat there until she was ready.”

“It sucks, I know. That’s why you always take the stroller. Maneuver her in.”

“Does this happen a lot?”

“She’s two, Rafael. Testing boundaries. And then papi never says no.”

“Papi said no cookies,” Catalina said seriously.

“Did you get cookies later?”

“Yes,” she admitted with a sheepish smile.

“So when mama or papi says no, it isn’t always so bad?”

“No.” Her admission was reluctant, arms crossed in front of her and face serious. He laughed, closing up the folder. 

“Well, papi’s mami will be here soon. She’s your grandma. Abuelita.”

“Abuelita,” Catalina repeated, nodding. Rebecca took advantage of being home to sit with Catalina, who was determined they needed to draw together, as Rafael finished cooking. When his mother arrived, he nearly ran to the door, wrapped in an apron. Lucia had only seen her son on video calls while she’d been in Florida, and she realized when he opened the door that cameras couldn’t relay the way her his shoulders and jaw held less tension and his mouth sat in the slightest smile instead of a straight line. The sight of him in a polo shirt and jeans, with bare feet and an apron messy with the ropa vieja she could smell, was jarring in the best way.

“Mami,” he grinned, wrapping her in a hug. He’d always been her son when they were together, soft and sweet and doting, but he’d never seemed so calm. 

“Mijo,” she smiled, leaning back and gripping his forearms. “You look good. And it smells like abuelita’s recipe?”

“Sí. I think I haven’t made it for Rebecca before. And definitely not for Cat.”

“Let me see her.” Lucia was ecstatic, and she could just see the little brunette peaking around the wall. It warmed her heart to see Rafael go and kneel, hushed whispers between them before he picked her up with ease. He’d never been the best with children, but it seemed age, circumstance, and Olivia’s son had done enough to unlock the paternal part of him his mother had always known was hidden. Catalina’s arms were wrapped around her father’s neck, watching Lucia with curiosity. 

“Catalina, this is your abuelita.” His voice was gentle as he spoke, and Lucia leaned to look at her. It was like looking at Rafael when he was the same age. Her mouth was different, more like her mother’s, but the curls and eyes were him. The look as she inspected this new guest in their home was all Rafael as well. 

“Hi Catalina. It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you, abuelita.” Lucia could see the way the little girl focused on the word.

“I made you your papi’s favorite treat. They’re called pastelitos de guayaba.”

“What are those?”

“It just means guava pastries. Your papi used to eat them all when his abuelita and I made them.”

“I’ll share with him,” Catalina said seriously, wiggling in her father’s arms. He knew well enough to know that meant she was comfortable and let her down. “Gracias, abuelita.”

“Is papi teaching you Spanish?”

“Yeah! I ask him words and stuff. And I can count to ten!”

“Wow! You’re smart like him. Can you introduce me to your mami?”

Rafael put the box of pastelitos in the kitchen, turning the heat just high enough to keep everything warm before going to the living room. He watched Catalina, her abuelita’s hand in hers, march up to Rebecca. His abuelita was here; he could feel her presence. It was there in the patience with which his mother was already doting on Catalina, in the smell of the ropas viejas wafting through the house, in the way Catalina was proudly introducing her mother and grandmother. His abuelita had always been home and safety, even when his mother couldn’t provide the latter, and he had both now. He only wished she could see her namesake in the living room, now walking to introduce Lucia to each stuffed animal. He was incandescently happy for the first time, and Rebecca had finally gotten him to believe that would be enough for abuelita. 

When everyone came and sat around the kitchen table, plates piled with beans and rice and beef, the last part of him that felt like it was racing, desperate to prove he could be a good father, stilled. Today had included a tantrum in the market, but he’d weathered it without even raising his voice to Catalina. He was doing work that wouldn’t catapult him to judge, but it made him feel good. He was settled down with Rebecca and a daughter and could finally acknowledge he wasn’t his father. A combination of cherry picked defense work, the Innocence Project, and teaching were allowing him a serenity he hadn’t thought he’d get in his forty-nine years. In August, he’d reach fifty, and he was grateful to realize he’d reach it genuinely happy instead of mistaking success for happiness.

“¿Estás bien mijo?” Lucia had asked while Rebecca was feeding Catalina.

“Sí mamá. Estoy feliz.”

“Puedo ver que lo eres. Cuando te vas a casar con ella?”

“Tan pronto como puedo. Dale tiempo.”