#erect scaffolding

[stakscaffoldseo]

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[safetycourses2022]

[renewablescaffolding]

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Renewable Scaffolding Services (RSS) is a leading provider of scaffolding services for renewable energy projects in Hertfordshire, Cambridge, Essex and London. We specialize in safe and reliable scaffolding solutions to support your renewable energy construction needs.

[mens-healthessential]

Emperor's Vigor Tonic

Emperor's Vigor Tonic is a dietary supplement that promises to enhance male sexual vitality and performance. It's marketed as a holistic approach to improve various aspects of men's health. After using it for a while, here's my experience

Natural Ingredients

One of the appealing aspects of Emperor's Vigor Tonic is its focus on natural ingredients. Many male enhancement products rely on synthetics that can have unwanted side effects. Emperor's Vigor Tonic prioritizes natural herbs, vitamins, and minerals known to support men's health.

While the exact formula is proprietary, some of the listed ingredients include:

Tribulus Terrestris: This herb has been used for centuries in traditional medicine to support libido and testosterone levels. Research suggests it may have some benefit, but more is needed [WebMD Tribulus terrestris ON webmd.com]. Eurycoma Longifolia: Also known as Longjack, this plant is traditionally used in Southeast Asia to promote vitality and libido. Studies have shown mixed results, and more research is needed to confirm its effectiveness [Examine.com longjack ON examine.com]. Other ingredients include Maca root, Nettle leaf, and Cordyceps Sinensis. Focus on Nitric Oxide Pathway

The product literature mentions that Emperor's Vigor Tonic works by modulating the nitric oxide pathway. Nitric oxide is a molecule important for blood flow and relaxation of blood vessels. Increased nitric oxide is associated with improved erectile function.

While this theory sounds plausible, there's no independent verification on how effective the Emperor's Vigor Tonic formula is in influencing nitric oxide levels.

Increased Stamina and Performance (YMMV)

It's important to note that individual results may vary. In my experience, I did notice a slight improvement in stamina and endurance. This could be due to the natural ingredients or the placebo effect.

Libido Boost

Similar to the increased stamina, I noticed a gradual increase in libido. Again, this could be due to the supplement or simply a focus on overall well-being since starting the regimen.

Overall Impression

Emperor's Vigor Tonic is a decent supplement with a focus on natural ingredients. While the science behind some of its claims is not entirely settled, it may be worth a try, especially if you're looking for a natural approach to improve your well-being and sexual performance.

Things to Consider

Like any supplement, consult with your doctor before starting Emperor's Vigor Tonic, especially if you have any underlying health conditions. Be patient and consistent with use. It may take some time to experience the full effects. Remember, individual results may vary. What works for one person might not have the same effect on another.

Disclaimer: I am not a medical professional. This review is based on my personal experience and should not be taken as medical advice.

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[sunderwight]

Bingqiu "Marry Me" AU where mega pop idol Luo Binghe's third marriage is set to be a hugely public concert event, only shortly before the segment where he is actually supposed to get married, footage goes viral of his fiance Sha Hualing swapping spit with rival starlette Liu Mingyan.

So when Luo Binghe gets on stage, he decides to point out a random person from the crowd and marry that person instead.

He picks out math teacher Shen Yuan, who ostensibly only came to this concert because his meimei is a huge Sha Hualing fan and didn't want to go alone. (Lies -- he bought the tickets well in advance, and is a madly obsessed Binghe fanboy.)

OR

Wangxian "Marry Me" AU where idol princess Jiang Yanli is all set to marry corporately-arranged match Jin Zixuan in a big public event, except Jin Zixuan jilts her at the altar.

To cover it up and save his foster sister's identity, controversial rockstar Wei Wuxian "hijacks" the wedding and declares that actually this whole thing was a cover-up so that he could get gay-married to his secret lover and former rival from their teen years, Lan Wangji! Otherwise their management teams would stop them! Of course this is a lie, he's barely been able to speak to LWJ for the past ten years, but he's planning for Lan Wangji to turn him down in disgust and to be like 'oh no he broke up with me' and keep the gossip columns focused on that rather than Jiang Yanli's humiliation.

Except, then Lan Wangji gets on stage and uh... marries him?

OR

Hualian "Marry Me" AU where famous celebrity duo Xie Lian and Jun Wu are supposed to get married in a big public celebration/concert, only for someone backstage to film Jun Wu locked in a heated embrace with Xie Lian's own manager, Mei Nianqing.

Midway through dealing with this public reveal and trying to decide if he's still going to go through with the wedding or not, some of the hastily-erected scaffolding above the stage gives out, and Xie Lian ends up catching the (presumed) production worker who basically drops out of the sky and into his arms.

Taking it as a sign from the heavens, Xie Lian marries this random 'San Lang' instead. (San Lang is in fact a wanted criminal named Hua Cheng who broke into concert.)

[foursaints]

does rosekiller fall into their bunny/daddy roles gradually or is it like their first time and barty calls evan "bunny" and evan's like "i think im dying i swear i dont like that" and bartys just panting and drooling all over him.

to me barty generally approaches every sexual encounter with the same predetermined script of immediately going 100% off the rails, just pressing his partner down by the head & drooling & rambling crazy shit like "come on bunny, bounce for me" into their ear and calling himself daddy in the third person (<- FREUDIAN HANGUPS) regardless of who it is....

with evan (terminally frigid adult virgin) this dynamic is more fun because evan doesn't even know what to expect from sex and he's getting met with THAT. barty is calling him a perfect bunny & grinding his erection against evan's malnourished bony hip before he has his clothes off (ev is going to die and/or kill someone). barty obviously gets off on his dismay and likes to feign a predatory sort of innocence, touching evan strange places & bending him into depraved poses & sighing like a disappointed pureblood father when telling him that he's a wicked, filthy little thing for enjoying it. (<- FREUDIAN HANGUPS X2!!)

naturally evan would flush indignantly in his neatly pressed lab-coat and make a noise of disgust! what horror! but of course being denied control to such an extreme degree (and his disgust at the whole "daddy/bunny" thing in general) excites him. evan goes along with it, and i think he finds this dynamic to be helpful scaffolding as he builds his own relationship to sex!!

once they're more established i believe their sexual roles become much less defined... to me rosekiller begins with two comfortable but warring dynamics (1: evan cooly & dispassionately "experimenting" on barty / 2: barty as the lecherous pervert molesting evan) but the really compelling stuff happens when they step outside or blur these boundaries. rosekiller's relationship deepens whenever it becomes less clear which one of them actually has control.

[terrence-silver]

Hello 🖤 I love seeing your blog pop up in my feed, simply exquisite 🖤

I have a request. What would older Terry Silver do with an adult student who is rather boisterous in class, she listens but only when she wants, she's a smarty pants. Terry so wishes to teach her a lesson after many months of class passing, learning her mannerisms, learning HER. Ever the voyeur, finding her home, seeing what lies within when she's not home, Terry plans a little 'private lesson,' specifically for her at his home dojo. Ending with his gi sloppy on him, his hair a mess like the slut he is with his student underneath him with no mercy being shown. His student definitely listens to HIS wants and desires, eager to please.

Breaking Stone.

(Terry Silver x Reader)

---

-"How safe is this, Sensei? I mean, it’s solid rock."- 

Your voice speaks up from the gathered crowd and Terry Silver, he knew you’d have something to say without having to turn his back towards the mass of students keenly eyeing his demonstration in silence, standing jam packed in a circle around the erected board with a concrete block fastened to the center of the scaffolding propped up on iron legs, following his every word like a mantra only for him predict that your mouth will eventually move to utter something and dare interrupt him. Class fifty eight. A lesson on Brick Breaking. Tools necessary; pretty straightforward. A slab of rock and a fist. Additional spices; your usual commentary in the midst of it all. Happened almost daily. Happened to the degree it was a constant he could count on. -"We’ll break our hands on that."- You add with a sense of urgency and worry once the entirety of the exercise’s participants turn their eyes towards you, scrutinizing, weighing and accessing what you just blurted out and you tended to blurt out stuff frequently. Terry joins them in their quiet staring, finding a twitch of satisfaction stir through him once he realized you were jittery and stuttering, made self aware through the fact you were the sudden center of attention. Needing to justify yourself for placing the spotlight unto yourself, you blurt out some more bullshit. Nerves, was it? You deserved that. Deserved much worse for stepping out of line. -"What do we do in case we tear our ligaments punching the board?"- You ask, scratching the back of your head. Ligaments? Were you frightened of getting a boo-boo? At that point, Terry allows himself to turn his entire body towards you, taking his time, slowly --- painfully slowly --- looking straight ahead, towards you. You shift, from one bare foot on the mat to the other, like the stillness of everything around you gave you a sense of discomfort.

Stew in it. He hoped you'd stew in it.

-"Seems a bit extreme. Sorry."-

You chuckle, apologizing, looking down. Then back up.

Terry has to chuckle with you, neatly folding his hands in front of him.

A bit extreme? It was meant to be extreme.

-"Our student here thinks our methods are strange, but these classes aren’t mandatory."-

He simply shrugs matter-of-factly, addressing the people around him, all eyes leave you and pinning themselves in his direction instead, encircling him like a tightly closed ring, listening attentively, leaving you even more isolated in your folly. The great mother hen and the ducklings. The one, solitary ugly black duck that talked too much. -"Nobody’s here by force."- He explains, and contrary to popular belief, everyone here gave their signature of consent on a written contract. Terms. Conditions. Price rates. Health insurances. They showed up to daily classes because they wanted to, giving their hard earned money out of their own volition. He didn't go kidnapping people off of the streets of LA and harassing them into black Gi, in spite of what the likes of Larusso tried to accuse him of, same way not even Larusso himself was harassed into this, decades ago. -"Or are you all here by force?"- Terry purses his lips, looking around, enjoying this far too much to stop. In unison, they all speak up, one voice, stemming from one collective lung. -"No, Sensei!"- The dojo resonates with their shout. He tries again, spreading his arms, envisioning himself like Pontius Pilate about to wash his hands clean of you and let the crowds make their decisions. -"Why are you here for then?"- He inquires, raising his voice, encouraging them. Spurring them on. -"To learn, Sensei!"- Obeying, they repeat the motion, letting out a united cry and content, Terry squeezes his fingers into a fist once they all fall silent, all but an echo remaining, his other free hand caressing the concrete block in front of him, never taking his eyes off of you. At this point, with a mouth standing agape, forgetting you should've joined everyone in their jubilant war cry, you were as pale as a ghost. Not quite so chatty or smart anymore.

Perfect.

-"The lesson is —"- He begins. -"A true artist of the craft spends years, even decades just hitting things. Sand. Wood. Stone. Metal. Flesh."-

Terry coos, confessing, that he did, on occasion, imagine hitting you.

The sweetest thing he'd ever strike. Purely to shut you up, get you the way you were right now; As quiet as the dead; all gulps and anxious little eyes darting left and right. Preferably having you bent over his knee like an unruly child and taking the bamboo stick to you bare buttocks until they were rendered crimson red with punishment. After it was all done, he'd have you thanking him for the honor too. He smiles, just at the notion; an expression he doesn't bother hiding.

-"Having been broken so many times, it makes their bones so dense that when it comes in contact with solid rock, the rock breaks first."-

Terry digs his teeth into his lower lip, taking his stance and lunging forward suddenly, knuckles breaking through the barrier of the rock and crumbling, his fingers pushing through the crack he made on the other side. It was as simple as that. -"Asaa!"- He bellows and if the dojo was collectively holding it's breath, once he's done, the remains of sharp jagged tiny pebbles spilling on the mat under around his feet like so many rolling marbles, he senses an equally collective exhale. He can swear you weren't blinking at that point. What were you shocked by? The fact that he just smashed through a brick that weighed ten pounds like it was nothing or the implication he's broken his hand by choice so many times that he could pull shit like this in the first place? Maybe it wasn't smart to backtalk or question the methods of a person who could crush your windpipes in with merely just his thumbs. -"So, you see — breaking our fists, it’s part of the curriculum."- He shakes his head, staring you down, taking a couple of steps forward, until it was undeniable he was addressing you in particular; his infuriatingly Doubting Thomas, ignoring the students that wordlessly volunteered to clean up, scooting down to pick up the unfortunate remains of the rock slab, chirping away at the remains like a handful of chicks. -"This is part of what you signed up for when you came to this dojo. When you came to Cobra Kai."- He assesses firmly. -"You came to break with the old so the new and the improved could take its place."- He adds. Eventually, you'd have to bruise and break in those pretty little hands much like everyone else would and if you didn't have the guts to do that, you'd advance nowhere and your here would become fairly obsolete. Someone might as well tell you that upfront.

Even though, he confessed. The idea of a piece of rock breaking your hands?

Something shoots through him, like a radioactive phantasm of jealousy.

He wanted to do the breaking instead.

Not leave it up to an inanimate piece of training gear.

-"And if you can't imagine yourself doing that, you can always take up a knitting class."-

He adds, finally, earning himself a couple of amused chuckles.

Blood rushes into your cheeks.

Were you angry? Ashamed? Humiliated? Good.

—

Looking through your files was child's game after that.

He pretty much had everything he needed to know about you, printed in black and white in his own two hands, on the very exact form you filled the day you signed up for adulted classes six months ago; your home address, bank statement, contact number, email, age, place of employment, blood type in case an accident took place mid-training and a transfusion was needed on short notice. And yes, he's broken into your home before. Terry did it the first time you ever ran your mouth to backtalk him, asking if doing fifty consecutive push ups as warm was a smart decision because it was bound to leave everyone too exhausted to hold proper form and too distracted with tiredness to properly follow the class. He checked every drawer, every shelf, every nook, every cranny, supposing he wanted to find something he could spit on in indignation and discovering nothing more fitting but what he could only deduce was your framed graduation photograph, pursuing his lips and letting the saliva build up right before he hurled the spittle out of his mouth and right unto the glass inside of the frame, watching it trickle down your face, smearing it with his finger in retaliation, deciding the gesture was fitting punishment. If only he had a chance to do it with your actual face next. Spit in your mouth too, for refusing to shut up as it did. Spit in your mouth for missing three of your classes this week, like that was a thing you were allowed to do when you weren't. Did he tear into you verbally too hard last time? Was that it? Undoubtedly, but that still didn't give you permission to leave. He wanted you to come back so he could harass you some more, like you deserved to be harassed.

He knocks on your door, freshly having concluded this week's teaching.

Still in his Gi, jacket slung over his shoulders.

He did that on purpose, to make it seem like him coming here wasn't premeditated or something he tactically prepared for in advance, but rather, like a last minute decision he made in the utmost rush to the degree he didn't even have time to change out of his training attire, forgetful, overworked old man that he is. -"Who’s there!?"- Your concerned, slightly confused voice calls from the other end and he hears the keyhole clicking, only for your uncertain face to show up in the precipice of the doorframe illuminated by the warm light of your apartment's foyer looming like a halo behind you, brows practically jumping once you recognized him, appearing relieved. -"Sensei Silver!?"- You state in surprise, opening the door entirely, letting him step over the threshold, moving out of the way to usher him inside from the corridor. He tries not to seem too familiar with the territory, pretending not to know exactly where to stand; next to the shoe rack or the coat hanger. -"God. I’m so sorry. Got scared halfway to death!"- You place your hand over your chest, exhaling and smiling. Way too fidgety for someone who took Tang Soo Do classes. What were you afraid of? Of someone barging in and subduing you? -"What do I owe the honor of the visit! I didn’t expect anyone."- You shake your head, all charm. Of course he prepared an excuse for him being here and it comes in a form of a sleek pamphlet he produces from inside of his jacket, handing it to you. He had it printed, in bulk and giving out to everyone at the dojo solely so he could have a reason to give you one to you as well. -"The curriculum. For our future classes. I thought you might wanna look through it. Freshly printed."- Terry explains. He hoped you would've continued showing up, smart mouth you always were, but there you went, disappearing. If Muhammad wouldn't come to the mountain, the mountain would have to come to Muhammad.

-"You missed the last session so I brought it over personally. Where'd you go?"-

Terry feigns concern. He knew where you went. You were pegged down a notch.

Proceeded retreating with your tail behind your legs.

That's what you get for questioning him.

But, he didn't expect you to retreat quite so definitely.

Who'd you ask if you can do that? Did you ask anyone? Him?

You eyelashes flutter, like you were about to come up with an excuse.

-"I think you're right, Sensei. I mean, the whole Cobra Kai dojo scene, ---"-

You begin, looking away from him, vehemently staring at the pattern on the corridor carpet, holding the flyer with a sense of unease, like you weren't certain what to do with it. If you crumpled it up, he'd make you eat it. -"It ain't for me. I'm not cut out for it."- You confess, finally meeting his gaze, appearing a bit shy at the notion. He knew a tangent was incoming. Decides to let you have it. And knowing you, you wouldn't shut up any time soon in the next five minutes. -"I can't do any of those things you demonstrated last week. Break my bones on purpose? Smash through rocks? Ignore pain? I know when I'm out of my depth and there's no shame in admitting something ain't for me and gracefully moving on. What you said the last time --- you helped me see that. You really did."- You utter, in one solitary breath, and it takes everything within Terry not to laugh at you. So, humiliating in front of the whole class for interrupting him for the umpteenth time with some inane observation, you thought it was for your own good and that it made you see things more clearly? What? Was that why you left his dojo like it was a bus station? Did you really take up knitting as a hobby in the meantime as well? -"I had a great time studying these past few months under you, but I just can't continue."- You visibly gulp once he says nothing and you feel incentivized to further explain. You never had a problem with that before. Go ahead. He was giving you center stage to speak. So speak. -"I talk back. I interrupt. I question. I worry. I'm so sorry. I can't just let go and do it. Do what I'm supposed to do on the mat."- You add, your eyes widening, perhaps in anxiety, pupils dilating, looking back and forth between the surrounding furniture and the wall --- anywhere but at him. Why should he let you go? When it was so fun pushing your buttons? In fact, he decides you could use some more of that.

-"Do you like me?'-

He asks, bluntly. You take a step back, stammering.

-"Excuse me, sir?"-

-"I said, do you like me?"- He repeats himself, firmer.

Your mouth wordlessly forms a shape, but no sound comes forth.

You weren't certain what to say.

Finally.

You were speechless for once. That was a welcoming novelty.

-"Because, if you like me, you won't leave me here stranded, with one student less and waltz out impulsively, on such a short notice. That's not how things work. There's a price for that."-

He winds you up, deciding to stoke a fire and then immediately extinguish it, intending to fluster you for thinking what he led you to think, watching the abject shame settle into your expression like a newly formed wrinkle just because for a mere second, you thought this was a confession of something more than it was instead of a cleverly phrased and deliberately misguiding segway intended to put you on the spot and make you feel like an idiot with no listening comprehension. -"I'll pay everything I still own and ---"- You practically stumble over your words, clutching the pamphlet to your chest vigorously, like a shield, referencing unpaid lesson, trying to regain what little balance you had, visibly sweating bullets. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Stoke the fire. Extinguish the fire. Terry steps forward, shutting you up. Commanding you to stay silent. -"Don't talk."- He orders, flatly, putting up his hand alongside his finger as a warning and then coming closer still, until the tip of it is practically pushing against your mouth. You appeared flaggerbasted. Like you weren't sure what was going on, too shocked to actually move. This was why confusing people into a state of paralytic awkwardness was paramount in verbal warfare. He pushed his index finger between your lips and you still didn't move, letting him get away with it, too stunned for words. -"For once, listen. Don't speak."- He murmurs, staring at your mouth, pushing his nail inside, feeling your wetness and finding your tongue, frozen stiff, clasping it with his thumb and index finger and holding it, pulling on it, until you groaned, trying to mutely gibber and failing. -"This is the thing that always talked back. Can't talk back anymore, can it?"- He taunts and you shake your head with an expression that would place deer in headlights to shame, shivering vigorously.

You've seen what his hands could do. What his fists could do.

He could rip your tongue out of your skull and it would pose little issue.

He felt you knew that right about now.

Practically dangled by the tip of your mouth's organ. Your head slumping back.

Unable to release yourself, you slowly lower yourself, to your knees.

-"That's good."- Terry coos, pleased, watching you drool all over his hand.

-"Open that pretty little mouth of yours and use it for something really valuable for a change."-

He purrs, even as his fingers go fidgeting, lower his Gi's trousers, loosening the obi around his waist, pulling his cock out of his briefs, showcasing it to you so the state of the situation would settle in. He'd hatefuck your mouth. He was already hard. Already dripping precum. Almost like the very act of coming here and pestering you served to do it for him as he, without much deliberation, pushed himself inside of your lips, taking in the sloppy, receptive moisture, enjoying the symbolism of the flyer he's given you falling next to you on the floorboard until you were practically kneeling atop of it. -"Perfect."- He hums, praising. -"You've been badgering and badgering and I can't tell you how many times I thought about interrupting class and just giving it to you, in front of everyone, right there, in the middle of the dojo. Let them all see what happens when someone questions Terry Silver and his methods."- Now it was his turn to make some confessions, fingers tangling into your hair, coiling into a fist, making you look at him with your watering, teary eyes. He amps up his pace, bobbing your head back and forth for you, using your tresses as reins. Look how you've infected him. Now he was the one rambling and loving it. -"But, I wanted the occasion to be something special. Someplace I could really savor it --- and what better place than right under your very own roof."- He closes his eyes, smiling, enjoying the sensation of tense pleasure building up in his gut, right before looking down at you with your brows furrowed. You were just now realizing this was premeditated. Poor you. -"Oh, don't look at me like that. Don't think I haven't been in here before. Been here a thousand times."- He chuckles into his own chin, moaning. Of course he's desecrated something miniscule every time you talked back as an elaborate form of revenge and violation, like wiping his cock on the curtain after masturbating on your bed. Nothing was for free. Disrespect certainly wasn't.

-"And you'll be seeing a lot more of me just yet. Don't think this is over. Don't think you can disassociating with Cobra Kai and me on a whim. You can't."-

He flat out threatens, his hips rutting vigorously against your head.

You thought this was a game?

You sign up to his dojo for like six months and call it quits when things get hard?

Cobra Kai was a brotherhood. A society. Not an extracurricular pastime or a hobby.

That's what people weren't getting. He didn't want them to just yet.

But you? He'd was breaking the news to you hard and fast in the flesh.

-"You belonged to me from the moment you met me and put on the Gi and you'll belong to me until your dying breath."-

He grits his teeth, shaking, seething, feeling his tresses slide out of his ponytail and unto his forehead in an unruly mess, satisfaction coiling in his groin imaging you returning to the dojo on Monday, dressed in your uniform, all neat and proper, your attitude curbed and kept only for special occasions, releasing suddenly, just at the thought that he owned you, hearing you gurgle from the floor, droplets of his cum trickling down your chin and leaking unto the Cobra Kai pamphlet on the parquet in front of you. No, no. That wouldn't do. Not a single ounce wasted. -"Swallow."- Terry orders, catching his breath, scrutinizing you as you did so, still holding your hair, yanking forward suddenly, his cock falling out of your mouth, giving you leeway to breathe again and you do, gasping with sharp inhales of breath, a bubble of saliva popping between your lips as you rolled back to sob and cough. Pathetic. Eager to serve. So you were capable of shutting the fuck up, letting go and getting lost in an action after all? You were teachable. He knew you would be. Much like the rock slab on the training dummy, though, you needed to be broken in first. Terry slides his hand across the top of his head, slicking loose hair strands back, lifting up his finger to threaten and warn once again. Remind, in case you've forgotten. Had your brains scrambled in all sorts of awkward and unlikely directions. -"So, you better not miss out on any of my classes ever again or I'll have a reason to hold a very, very big grudge. Especially if you don't show up and break that stone like I've taught everyone to do. Understood?"-

-"Yes, Sensei."- You manage desperately, drooling, nodding your head.

[safetycourses2022]

[beardedmrbean]

COPENHAGEN, Denmark -- Denmark’s King Frederik laid a foundation stone Thursday to launch the reconstruction of Copenhagen’s iconic Old Stock Exchange, the 400-year-old harborside landmark that was partly destroyed by a fire in April.

Frederik squeezed in a square sandstone, etched with his monogram and weighing about 60 kilograms (130 pounds), into a red brick wall on a corner of the Old Stock Exchange. That marked the official start of the reconstruction.

In the early morning of April 16, the blaze tore through Boersen, as it is known in Danish, collapsing its green copper roof and iconic dragon-tail spire. Two days later, a large section of the building’s outer wall collapsed inwards. The site took months to clean up as some 1,000 tons of debris had to be removed.

Considered a leading example of the Dutch Renaissance style in Denmark, it opened in 1624 as a trading place, nine years after construction had begun. Denmark’s Chamber of Commerce, the building’s owner, has said it wants it to be as it once was. The plan is to use the same materials as when the building was erected.

Initial plans had been to mark the building’s anniversary after a thorough renovation with festivities but those plans were changed following the fire. Now only about 45% of the Old Stock Exchange still stands. An old firewall stopped the blaze from spreading.

“Today we are celebrating the 400th anniversary of the Stock Exchange! And we mark that with the laying of the foundation stone by King Frederik, which is the start of a new chapter: the rebuilding of Boersen,” Brian Mikkelsen, head of the Chamber of Commerce, wrote on X.

It is expected to take several years with no end date for now and no details about the costs. The owner has said it will foot the bill.

As the blaze raged, ordinary people ventured in to help authorities rescue artworks, and around 90% of the cultural objects were rescued from the fire.

They have been stored in a modern warehouse northwest of Copenhagen, along with sculpted stones, bricks and wall parts. The aim is to reuse as many of the latter as possible, the Chamber of Commerce has said.

Some 800,000 handmade bricks have been ordered in Germany and the plan is to use between 800 and 1,000 trees from a Swedish Baltic Sea island.

“We must do everything to ensure that that tragedy does not repeat,” Culture Minister Christina Egelund said in a statement, as the Danish government announced that it would look into whether current regulations are sufficient to protect historic buildings.

Danish authorities have yet to reveal the cause of the fire, but it’s believed to have started on the building’s roof, which had been wrapped in scaffolding because of ongoing renovation work to be completed for its anniversary in 2024.

The blaze was reminiscent of the April 2019 fire at the 800-year-old Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris.

[captain-price-unofficially]

The German aircraft carrier Graf Zeppelin undergoing modifications in the Spring of 1940. Workers have erected scaffolding around the bow of the German ship as the rebuild the carrier with an "Atlantic" bow.

[scotianostra]

Leaders of the “Radical Rising”, John Baird and Andrew Hardie were put to death on September 8th 1820 at Stirling.

I last covered the Rising just over a week ago when I posted about the execution of James Purilie Wilson on Glasgow Green.

By 1820, living and working conditions for Scottish weavers, spinners, colliers and manual labourers were often brutal. Many had no work; the labour market flooded with demobbed soldiers from Wellington’s army.

Radicals wanted wide-sweeping change: reform of the corrupt Westminster parliament, universal adult suffrage (not necessarily excluding women), annually elected parliaments and the repeal of the hated Corn Laws, which kept the price of bread artificially high, protecting the interests of landowners and grain merchants at the expense of the poor.

A strike of some 60,000 workers was called in April 1820 and a so-called ‘provisional government’ was even called in Glasgow. A group of Scottish Radicals, mainly weavers armed with pikes, prepared to break into the Carron Ironworks to seize armaments. They were easily overcome by the Yeomanry at Bonnymuir and 47 were arrested on charges of treason. After their trial, three of the ringleaders, Andrew Hardie, James Wilson and John Baird, were executed and nineteen others sentenced to penal transportation to Australia.

What may have looked to the governing authorities of the time as dangerous insurrection, can with hindsight be regarded as part of the 19th century struggle for social justice and democratic human rights. The Scottish Radicals are now regarded as courageous campaigners for justice who fought for the democratisation of Scotland. One of them, John Baird, has a local primary school named after him.

Shortly before he died, standing on a scaffold erected in Broad Street, Andrew Hardie declared: ‘I die a martyr to the cause of truth and justice.’ John Baird said the same. The two men were buried in pauper’s graves in the graveyard of Stirling’s Church of the Holy Rude.

Decades later, their bodies were exhumed and brought to Glasgow, where they were re-interred at Sighthill Cemetery in the north of the city. The monument above their last resting place also honours James Wilson.

The pics include a Broadside reporting the trial, you can find a transcript of here

https://digital.nls.uk/broadsides/view/?id=14665...

[resident-rats]

30 metaltango??? seems like them 👉👈

This got away from me a bit dhdfhdj. But you’re right!! It is very them

Word count: 1231

Prompt: “I bet I can make you cum without even touching you.”

[18+ under the cut]

Grass, grass and more grass.

Leon was laying low, flat on his stomach, looking through the scope of his rifle. Krauser next to him, head low. The stakes were kept to a minimum at least. Another training drill. Like Leon didn’t have enough of them already.

“Good Kennedy, just like that.”

He had been instructing Leon for the past hour. Targets popping up from the makeshift scaffolding, teaching him how to hit each one with tactical precision. It had been a long day.

“C’mon, focus. Head out the clouds.”

Right. Yeah. He had to concentrate. Which was easier said that done with his Major pressed against him, voice low in his ear.

“Easy now, deep breaths.”

It was torture, it really was.

One target sprung up, Leon steadily moving the rifle, aligning it with the crosshair. Controlling his hands, ridding them of any shake.

“Attaboy Kennedy, just like that.” The gruff way in which Krauser spoke was doing him no favours.

But he did it. Fired. Hitting it first time. Ensuring to reload efficiently afterwards.

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, fingers dipping down into his collar bone.

“Good job soldier.”

It would have been a better job if Leon hadn’t been lying there hard as a rock for the past half hour or so. Having finally given up on fighting it. Krauser having done nothing but praise him for that duration. It was unfortunate.

“Thank you, Major.”

Ignoring the way his erection pushed into the grass.

“C’mon rookie, onto the next lot.” Standing and extending an arm down. Only Leon didn’t take it. He couldn’t. Not without Krauser learning of his predicament anyway.

“I- uh-”

“What’s wrong now?” Not sounding amused.

“Nothing, it’s just…” What was he even meant to say?

“Don’t have time for bullshit Kennedy, c’mon.” Grabbing Leon’s wrist and flipping him over. Just when he was about to hoist the man up, that was when he noticed. Eyes running down, noting Leon’s problem. Immediately releasing the arm from his grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Tripping over his words as he watched his Major’s expression. Deadpan. One hand went down to adjust the front of his army fatigues. Maybe he could hide it. “It’ll go down, I promise.” Said almost stupidly.

Krauser just remained above, glaring. Almost like it burned.

Leon went to get up, gaining leverage from an elbow.

“Stay put, soldier.” Before dropping to rest on his haunches beside him. “That’s an order.”

Slowly Leon lowered himself back down, rifle in the grass by his side. Lying there, vulnerable.

“On your front,” Only Leon didn’t obey immediately, taken aback by the command. “Now.” Spoken with a little bit of bite.

So, he turned, lying there on his stomach. No idea what was going on, but the adrenaline was doing nothing to help the issue between his thighs.

“Major, listen, I’m-”

“Shut it Kennedy, you listen to me okay?”

Leon just swallowed around the lump in his throat.

A hand came down, brushing along Leon’s side, pulling a small shudder from the man.

“That do it for you, huh?”

Silence on Leon’s end. Embarrassment flooding his face.

“Like it when I touch you, Kennedy?” Hand running back and forth. “C’mon, answer me.”

He closed his eyes tight. “Y-yes.”

“Attaboy.”

A small whimper came from him hearing that, no longer holding back, too confused by what was happening.

“Oh.” Krauser smirking as he spoke. The penny had dropped. “That’s what you like?”

“Shut up.” Leon said back, face growing redder.

“Why, scared of what’ll happen if I call you a good boy now?”

“It’s not like that.” Trying to deny the arousal festering within him. How his cock lay heavy, pathetic and drooling, unable to do anything about it.

“Really? That why you’re rutting into the grass like some kind of desperate mutt, hmm?”

Turning his head to meet Krauser’s. Pupils blown wide, face flushed.

“Bet you like that, thinking what I could do? How I could use you?”

“Krauser.” Named whined a bit.

“Tell me I’m wrong then, huh? Go on, do it.”

But he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t.

“Fuck the ground. Go on.”

It was a little humiliating but Leon needed it. Cock craving relief, already leaking into his underwear. So he did it. Rolling it into the ground. Hard. Indulging himself.

Krauser clearly getting some kick out of controlling the whole situation.

“That’s a good boy. Always do as I say, don’t you Kennedy?”

“Uh-huh.”

Fuck it felt good, even if the friction was kept to a minimum.

“What sort of stuff do you think of Leon? Lying in your bunk at night, with your hands down your pants.” Grumbling it’s way from Krauser’s chest. “Tell me. That’s an order, soldier.”

It really shouldn’t have been having as much of an effect on him as it was.

“A-anything. I’ll take anything.”

“Hmm, that so?”

Mewling a bit at that.

“Want,” Pausing to catch his breath, a bead of sweat falling from his temple. “Want you to fuck me, hard. Hold me there, use me. Fuck- just anything. However you want.”

“Like me to push you up against the walls in the showers then, huh? Fuck you ‘til you can’t stand?”

“Please.”

“Tell you how good you are? That your pretty little ass is all mine? Stroke that stupid cock of yours?”

“Fuck.” Pace faltering just a bit, while lost in the image.

“Watch you fall apart in my hands. Want that do you rookie?”

He did’t even reply, focused on rutting harder and harder where he lay.

“So fucking pathetic.” Krauser laughing as he said it. “Should get a look at yourself, dumb and fucked out.”

His hips slowed as he looked hard into the man’s eyes.

“Krauser, please.” Not quite knowing what to beg for. But something. Anything.

“So fucking whiny. Did I say you could stop?” Practically growled at him.

Fuck.

“Krauser- Major- Please.” Picking up again, voice tapering off.

“Bet I could make you cum without even touching you.”

Head dipping down as the arousal became unbearable. The blunt rub of his cock somehow getting too much. Wet spot forming where the tip met underwear. The constant grinding while trapped in the tight clothing was both a blessing and a curse.

“Gonna be a good boy and cum? Can you do that for me, huh?” Voice getting closer to Leon’s ear, worming it’s way into his brain.

It became increasingly difficult to focus. Only thing he could think of was his cock and Krauser’s voice.

“Gonna be an obedient boy aren’t you?”

And that sent him. Body stilling as he came hard into his pants. A strangled gasp pried from his lungs. Cock twitching uselessly, still trapped between him and the ground. Underwear sticking to him, when all he could do was lie there, helplessly pumping it all out. Leg jolting just a bit.

“That’s good Kennedy.” Krauser’s hand coming up behind to pet his hair, fingers running along the nape of his neck. Somewhat pulling him back into the moment. “Good job.” Just like how he had praised earlier.

“On your feet now soldier.” Said as he stood, just like nothing had happened.

With a soft groan Leon got up, legs still shaking. Grabbing the rifle as he found balance.

“Need to get on with training.” Before marching off to the next area, expecting Leon to follow.

Oh right, yeah. Training.

For this ask game!!

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