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bmtillerbabe · 19 days ago

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~ Body Heat ~

A Reader x Ghoap fic!

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Written for the amazing @onlyareyyyy ! Sorry it took forever, thank you for being so patient! :):)

Originally one of her posts, I decided to take it and run with it and turn it into a mini fic :D

"sharing a bed with Simon ghost riley and johnny soap mactavish. having a crush on ghost. being unable to sleep because all you can think of is your proximity to ghost and feeling his massive erection against your back. some sort of conversation or confession which results in ghost fucking you on your side which cause the reader to squirt and which wakes up johnny"

Hopefully, I did it justice! Please, enjoy! (and go follow @onlyareyyyy , she got the goods yo ;) )

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MDNI

18 + ONLY

MDNI

NSFW, and the smut be smuttin' - you've been warned!

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A sharp crack of thunder made you jolt back awake, lifting your hands to cover your ears.

It was raining.

Again.

With an aggravated sigh, you gripped the scratchy duvet and threw it over your shoulders, twisting it with a huff and flinging your body over to face the opposite direction.

Fucking safe-houses. They were never comfortable.

You tried your damndest to get back to sleep …. Closing your eyes, counting imaginary animals, hell, even trying to meditate. But it was no use.

Your comfy spot was long gone; the mattress was now cold; the patter of the raindrops against the cracked windowpanes of the old safehouse was anything but calming right now; and the fear of another loud boom of thunder was enough to keep you wide awake.

Growling to yourself, you tossed and turned again, blinking in the dark.

Another lightning flash.

More rain.

More thunder.

And somewhere amidst the constant torrential downpour – on top of being uncomfortable as shit – the power decided to go out.

A flicker-flicker-flicker, and then …. Nothing.

Great.

The distant buzz and hum of the lights just outside your room was abruptly cut off, as was the little golden glow from underneath the door.

You grumbled to yourself and sat upright, wiping your eyes and slumping your shoulders, staring into the darkness.

Any other time, it would have made you eerily uncomfortable, and you’d have had half a mind to trudge through the blackness and find your two so-called “guardians” who were supposed to be keeping you safe from some so-called “threat”, and see if you could maybe pester them a little into keeping you company. But you never got the chance.

As if the gods heard your silent plea, the heavy thudding of steel-toed boots was headed your way before your thought had even finished forming.

Hmm. Maybe they really were taking this “guardian” thing seriously.

With a flashlight in his hand, Ghost opened your door (without even knocking, the bastard), Soap following close behind.

“You a’ight, luv?” The Brit asked, shining the sharp white light directly into your face.

You scrunched your eyes shut, nodding as you held your hand up to ward away the sudden brightness. “Mmm-hmm.”

“Aye, Ghost, yer gonna blind the poor lass.” Soap scoffed, batting Simon’s hand down.

“I’m fine.” You answer verbally this time looking at them both, illuminated only by the stray flash of lightning and the flashlight that was now reflecting off the scratched wooden floor. “I was awake, anyway. I couldn’t get back to sleep.”

Another burst of thunder rolled through the room and made you jump again, covering your ears.

Jesus Christ, every one was like opening a can of biscuits …

You watched as Soap walked over to the light switch on the wall, flipping it on and off a few times.

“Aye.” He confirmed, “Wasn’t just our room, then. Looks like the whole house is without power.”

Ghost sighed heavily, shaking his head. “In this cold? Great. Tha’s jus’ wonderful.”

He wasn’t wrong. It was the dead of November, and even if the safe-house wasn’t full of leaky windows and cracked walls, it would have been hard to stay warm all night without any electricity. As it stood now, you were set to freeze.

As if on cue, your whole body decided to shiver, and you clamped your jaw shut to keep your teeth from chattering.

You weren’t sure if the men had heard you, but either way you pretended they didn’t when you heard Soap pat Ghost’s shoulder. He nodded for the larger man to follow him out into the hall, turning to you before he did.

“Stay here, lass. We’ll be right back.”

And the two left the room.

You wrapped the blanket around yourself tighter, suddenly aware of the intense chill in the room biting at your nose, any heat that had been blowing through the vents quickly being dispersed through the battered house.

Well.

This was just great.

Now what?

You’d already been at this safe-house for days, and who knew how much longer you three had to wait for exfil. And now you had to go without power – and heat – on top of it?

You tried to remain positive, but it was becoming increasingly difficult.

Boots thumping back towards your room caught your attention before you could sink any deeper into your head.

“A’right, luv.” Ghost clears his throat as he enters the room with Soap in tow once more. You notice their hands are much, much fuller than they had been when they’d left.

Were those …. Blankets?

“S’been a change of plans.”

Your throat went dry.

He couldn’t possibly mean ….

“We’re gonna be sharing the bunk wit’ya tonight.”

Alright. Maybe he could.

But perhaps it wasn’t really sinking in just yet, the situation not quite made clear, or maybe your brain was just sleep-deprived thanks to the last hectic week; but it wasn’t until Soap just casually sauntered over to your side of the bed and tossed down the armful of quilts and began promptly taking off his overshirt that it finally seemed to hit you in the head like a ton of bricks.

Sharing the bunk … as in, sharing the bed?

Your cheeks flush and you sputter out an incoherent strand of mumbles once your brain peels itself away from the shred of toned muscle of Soap’s chest revealed in the lightning flashes.

“Wh-wh---h-huh?”

“Good.” Ghost grunted as he, too, began to shed himself of the gear and over-layers of clothing. You heard the clinking of his belt buckle and felt your cheeks flush deeper – suddenly warm all over despite the cold, your mind bombarding you with delicious images of the muscled man undressing just in front of you.

If only the darkness hadn’t kept you from seeing ...

“Cuz, er …. ‘Ere’s been a change of plans.” Ghost spoke again in the dark, somewhere to your left now, a sudden weight making you jerk your head to see his shadow crawling into bed with you. You opened your mouth to try and speak again, but another weight on your opposite side made you shift your sights back when you felt Johnny crawling into bed as well.

Was this seriously gonna happen ….?

Ghost tossed his boots off somewhere in the room and grunted softly as he removed the rest of his gear. “Since the power wen’ out and we can’t guard ya proper … we’re gonna hafta sleep in ‘ere with you.” He said as trivial as if he were merely telling you about the weather, and not something as monumental as sharing a bed with two, fully grown, fully muscled, toned, beefy military men, sandwiched between them all night.

If there had been any light in the room, they would have seen your jaw hit the floor.

Of all the things you’d expected Ghost to suggest for tonight – this situation hadn’t been one of them.

“W-what?” You finally stammer out again, a little clearer this time, finding your voice.

“Aye, we won’ try any funny business with ye, lass, but ye are the precious cargo in this mission. We cannae afford to let anyone get to ye.” Johnny said softly, his voice somehow even darker and sexier than normal in the shadows. “And since the power’s out, and we cannae hear ye over the monitors an’ such, there’s not much of a choice. If anythin’ happened to ye on our watch, Price’d have our heads.”

“B-but---wait, we---I---” You stutter out, but Ghost abruptly cuts you off with a scoff.

“Oh, come on, luv. Ain’t no sense in gettin’ all fussy about it. The power’s out and we’re jus’ doin’ our jobs. Ain’t neither of us takin’ no fer an answer. Now, scoot over.”

Dumbfounded, all you could do was obey orders, and scootch closer to Johnny, accidentally bumping him as you did so. The King-sized bed suddenly felt way too small with these two buff-cakes taking up all the space. Ghost settled into the mattress next to you, his weight making it sink in just slightly, threatening to pull you into his orbit.

If the situation hadn’t been so absurd, you might have found it in you to laugh; at the reality that you were currently sitting between two of the biggest, hottest, most handsome men of the 141; and that you were now not only supposed to get sleep, but were supposed to remember how to breathe, too?

Life was truly unfair.

“You gonna lay down sometime tonight?” Ghost huffs, but before you can respond, his big, still-gloved hand is on your shoulder, pulling you backwards. You let out a gasp as you fall back onto the bed and hear another snort from the Lieutenant.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re a right ice-block, luv. Get your arse back here.” He says, gripping your arm and pulling your back flush against his chest as Johnny straightened out the layers of blankets, throwing them over the three of you in a small pile.

Suddenly very, very aware of the wall of Ghost behind you, pressing up against the entirety of your body, you stiffen and squirm; trying to get comfortable – maybe even put a shred of distance between your bodies – but the man’s grip is iron-tight.

“Oi, quit squirmin.’ Get snug and hold the fuck still.” He barks at you, and you immediately calm. Johnny finishes covering you all up and lays back down to face you.

“Haven’ya ever had ta use body heat before, lass?” The Scotsman asks quietly, and you can hear the grin in his voice. “Might not be the most comfortable of situations, but be better than freezin’ ta death, aye?”

At his words, you feel Ghost’s grip around your waist tighten, and you manage to barely suppress a squeak when his huge palm is suddenly against your side, the intense head radiating off of him in waves.

Jesus, was this man a walking heater?

“I’ll take firs’ watch, Johnny.” Ghost grunts leaving no room for argument, and Soap nods, settling in and getting himself comfortable.

“And you,” Ghost growls in your ear softly, leaning in so that you can feel the warmth of his breath through his balaclava, and pick up the faintest smell of Earl Gray – “Hold still, and get to sleep. Got it?”

You nod quickly, trying to keep your breathing steady and calm your mind as much as you could. Trying and keep your mind off his huge, hulking form laying comfortably behind you; off his steady breathing and heartbeat that was soothing like a lullaby.

Fuck.

It was going to be a long night.

~ * ~

Maybe hours had passed, maybe minutes. It was impossible to tell with the rain still pouring and the power still out.

In the shadows, everything looked the same.

You weren’t even sure if you had even really fallen asleep or not, but you knew at least some time had passed since Johnny had not only rolled over to face away from you but had begun to snore softly.

Even Ghost, still situated easily behind you with his hand across your midsection seemed to be breathing at a slower rate – deep in his sleep.

You sighed to yourself quietly, shifting your head on the pillow and blinking in the dark.

Try as you may to chalk it up to the stress of the situation you were in, or even the unfamiliarity of your surroundings, you knew deep down the warmth settling in your core wasn’t from any of the excuses you tried to convince yourself of.

You closed your eyes and listened to the rhythmic breathing of Ghost and Soap, humming quietly to yourself.

Gods, since you’d first seen this man, you’d been smitten with him. I mean, how could you not? Those dark, piercing eyes, framed by the longest, prettiest, most blonde lashes you’d seen in your life; that gruff, British voice; the command and authority he exuded to everyone around him, leaving no room for doubt who’s in charge.

And that body.

Ugh.

Don’t get me wrong, you’d caught yourself more than once eyeing up the Sargeant that currently slept across from you; fresh out of the showers, water still dripping down his scruffy beard; running his hands through his short, tawny-brown mohawk while he laughed at something; catching a stray smile. Fuck, he was just a treat to look at as Ghost was.

Both of them had biceps that the gods themselves would be jealous of, broad toned chests, firm pecs poking through every shirt they wore as if their bodies were trying to shred the fabric to pieces in order to breathe.

Both of them were hands down the most attractive men you’d seen in your entire life.

But it was hard not to pick a favorite when one of them was literally wrapped around you, his scent invading your senses and stealing away your rest.

His scent.

Ghost’s scent.

Cigarettes and Bourbon.

You swallowed a soft moan as you inhaled deeply, your mind swimming with images of just licking the very smell off his skin, of tasting the salty tang of his body’s natural musk and sweat, wanting to drown yourself in it and never come back up for air.

Fuck, he smelled amazing.

And with an internal sigh, you realized your nose wasn’t the only thing enjoying the fragrance of the Lieutenant.

Shifting your thighs, you realized your entire body was reacting to it …. Your pussy was reacting to it.

Warm, wet, and nearly dripping already, you could feel your arousal pooling at your centre; your poor cunt aching and empty and eager for something to touch her, please her, fill her, and make her feel good.

Ghost shifted behind you, grunting softly before breathing steadily once more.

You held your breath until his movements stilled, suddenly afraid that he’d heard your inner thoughts, or that – fuck – he may have smelled you somehow. But when his breathing evened out once more, you breathed a sigh of relief and let your mind wander back to the dangerous territory you’d been pulled out of.

And maybe it was wrong. No, not maybe – you knew it was wrong. You knew it was immoral, or bad, or whatever …. But damn, the temptation was there ….

And what he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him … right?

After all, with the rate you were climbing this ladder, it wouldn’t take you long to get there …

Heart aflutter with the naughty secrecy of your act and the thrill of being caught, you bit your bottom lip and ever so slightly shifted your arm out from under Ghost’s; snaking it down and around into your waistband. Into your panties.

You kept your lip between your teeth, biting it softly to keep yourself quiet, moving slow as you could stand it, the heat from your core already reaching your fingertips as you slowly reached down.

You hoped the torrential rain would help cover any sounds you might make.

With a small sigh, you pressed a finger to the slit of your entrance, pleased to find that the arousal was indeed seeping out of you, and you grinned to yourself, braving a finger inside.

Your hips bucked softly, involuntarily, and you closed your eyes; your breathing quickening under your touch.

This wouldn’t even take two –

You gasped in shock when a large, thick wrist clamped down around your own, stilling your movements, and another hand flew to your mouth, nearly covering your entire face with its size.

Your entire world froze and your heart stopped, eyes going wide.

“Now … what do you think you’re doin’, luvie?” Ghost growls into your ear, his voice like gravel and sandpaper.

The tone alone had you clamping your thighs shut and letting out a muffled moan of pleasure before you could stop yourself.

Caught.

Shit.

You tried to muffle something to him as a response, possibly even as an excuse, but Ghost merely chuckled darkly in your ear; sending a wave of gooseflesh down your body.

“Now, now – quiet down, there, luv. Wouldn’t wanna wake up ol’ Johnny boy, now, would ya?”

With a shift of his hips, you nearly groaned when you felt the thick warmth of his erection pressed into your backside through his trousers.

You closed your eyes, your mind and body sending mixed signals, unsure of what to do or how to proceed.

Ghost didn’t have a shred of hesitation.

“Now, if I was a bettin’ man,” he said, letting his hand go from your mouth to your neck, holding your chin high as he buried his face in your skin and inhaled.

“I’d say you was turned on by this …. By me.”

You gulped, trying not to grind against him, your heart hammering in your chest and his hand sliding down the wrist that was currently still in your panties, dancing dangerously close to your core.

You felt him smirk against your jaw, giving you a nip.

“Ain’t that right, luvie?”

You released a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding through your nose, closing your eyes and squirming under his touch. You shake your head, trying to deny it, but he’s having none of that.

His hand around your throat tightens and his voice drops to a grating growl.

“Oh, come on, don’t play me for a fool. I’ve seen the way you look at me, at Johnny, at us. Seen the way you bite your lip when you think none of us are looking …” His hand delves deeper into your panties, and suddenly, without warning, his long, thick fingers are rubbing through your folds and causing you to gasp.

“Heard those sweet little moans of yours as you pleasure yourself at night thinking no one can hear you ….” He continues, moving is hand in time with his seductive voice and dangerous words, palming your clit and spreading your slick through and around your entrance.

Johnny snores loudly, and your breath hitches.

“Heh. Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Ghost clicks his tongue in mock disapproval. “Now, now little birdie ….” he growled, one of his fingers circling your opening. You clenched, eager and desperate for him to just shove it in already …

Fucking jack-off was taking his good ol’ easy time, and it was driving you up the wall.

“If you want me to keep going, you’re gonna have to be very …. Very quiet.”

You nod desperately against him, willing to agree to just about anything at this point.

“Say it, luvie … I need to hear you say it …”

“Yes.” You croak out on a broken whisper. “Please, Simon, please, just—”

You don’t get the chance to finish, letting out a sharp squeak of pleasure when one of his fingers is suddenly shoved so far into you that you see stars.

The hand on your neck moves quickly back to cover your mouth and he bites at your earlobe threateningly.

“I said be fucking quiet.”

You nod, breathing through your nose in quick short bursts; your pussy clenching needily around his greedy digit. You close your eyes in bliss when he slowly begins to pump it in and out of you, making a delicious slick, squelching noise; and you damn near come apart in his arms when he utters a soft, “Good girl.” Into your ear.

His finger feels like heaven, and you weren’t sure it could have gotten any better until he slid a second one in and you thought you’d pass out from how good the stretch felt.

He made quiet grunting noises behind you, brushing his stubbled, scarred jaw over yours, around the shell of your ear, the skin at the base of your neck. Your mouth fell open in a silent sob, tears springing to your eyes at just how good this felt. How good his fingers were splitting you open, brushing every little part of you that drove you crazy with lust.

He added a third finger, the burn damn near addicting as he grunted into your ear and thrusted them in and out at a brutalizing pace.

“Fuck, dovey … fuckin’ hell, you’re so fuckin’ tight … Bet this lil’ cunny’s never felt so good, ‘as she?”

You swallowed a noise in the back of your throat, thrusting your hips in time with his hands to meet his fingers.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head in pleasure and you felt the familiar coil of heat build in the pit of your stomach, the tell-tale sign of an impending orgasm approaching.

Fuck, it felt so good, and you fucking chased it.

Bucking your hips back and onto his fingers, you whimpered softly as you ground your pussy into Simon’s hand; desperately chasing your high.

His noises and grunts and growls in your ear were driving you higher and higher up the wall, and you were already so fucking close – but then his fingers are withdrawn and you’re left achingly empty, whining softly.

“Simon …” You beg on a breathy whisper, but you pause when you feel the hand that was just inside you moments before reaching down to yank his trousers down; and feel his massive, thick cock spring free and smack against the curve of your ass.

Your throat went completely dry.

You tried to keep quiet, your eyes locked on the back of Johnny’s sleeping head as you felt Ghost fuck into his fist from behind you; the tip of his cock brushing against the small of your back with each thrust.

“Tell me, luvie,” he growls against your ear, shifting on the bed so he can rub the tip through your weeping folds.

The breath left your lungs.

“You ever had a man this size? Eh?”

You shake your head, trying to remember how to even speak, but he grips your neck again. Tight. Hard.

“Answer me.”

“No,” You gulp thickly, letting your mouth hang open on a pant.

He chuckles darkly, and you feel him notch himself at the slit of your entrance.

“Good. I always like to be a first.”

And he shoves his cock into you without any further warning.

You let out a soft cry, unable to help yourself as your walls clamp down around him; and then he’s thrusting into you, brushing against your g-spot with painful accuracy; his balls slapping against your flesh with each needy jerk of his hips, pushing his hard, thick length deeper and deeper into you.

His hand continues to grip your neck, panting into your ear while his other hand slides down to palm at your lower stomach; pressing down where he feels himself stretching you from the inside out. He smiles against your skin, hungry and predatory.

“Fuck, you’re taking my cock so well, doll … fuck, you’re so tight. So wet. So needy …. Look at you, all desperate for me and my cock. My cum. You want me to fill you up, doll? Fill this tight, little cunny up? Breed you so good and deep, you’ll be walking around leaking me for days? Eh?”

You groaned at his filthy mouth, trying to stay quiet but failing miserably, nodding.

He laughed under his breath at you.

“Such a filthy fucking slut you are. Lettin’ me fuck you nice and hard while Johnny’s just layin’ there in front of you, unawares.”

You felt your insides clench at his every word, your orgasm building like a tidal wave inside you.

At this rate, you were going to cum faster than you’d ever remembered before.

“Wonder if he’d like to join in on the fun?” Ghost grunted as he angled his hips to somehow thrust even deeper into you; the slick, wet, squelching sounds echoing up through the blanket and into the empty room.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you, you little whore? Have bo’f of us men, filling your holes at once, breeding you from both ends? I bet you would. I bet you’d be such a good fucking girl and swallow every last drop Johnny’d give ya, and then turn around and take another load right up this tight, fucking pussy---agh, fuck!” You feel his entire body clench and his thrusts grow choppy and quicker.

You moaned, closing your eyes, reaching up to grip the back of his head and hold it down against you.

Almost, you were almost fucking –

“Oh, fuck, fuck babygirl, I’m---I’m so close---I’m---Fuck!” Simon grunted and with a final thrust, he buried himself to the hilt, cumming deep within your warm, gummy walls; sliding his hand down to pinch your clit as he did so.

That little action was more than enough, and your orgasm ripped through you like a tornado – leaving a mess of a trail in its wake.

Clenching tightly around Simon’s cock, you pulsed and twitched around his length – and also managed to squirt; something you’d never ever remembered being able to do before.

“Fuuuuck….” Simon grunted in your ear, giving you a few more sloppy thrusts as he slowed down; his cock pulsing the last bit of seed deep into your compliant pussy.

Moaning softly and panting into Simon’s hand, you slowly came down from your high; the world coming back into focus around you.

But it isn’t the room that comes back into focus, nor is it the lightning flashes that dance across the walls.

It’s Johnny’s bright blue crystal eyes; dark with lust and need, his hand on his cock and the front of his shirt drenched in … your squirt.

You felt your soul leave your body and a bright blush rise to your cheeks in shame, but Johnny just chuckled.

“Aye, I see you’re havin’ all the fun without me, eh?” He groans when he gives his cock a long, languid stroke; arching his back to meet his fist, his eyes locked on yours as Simon slowly began to thrust back into you again.

“Think you’ve got another round left in ya, princess?”

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3rdeyeblaque · 1 year ago

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On Sept 20th we venerate Ancestor & Hoodoo Saint John Henry on the 153rd anniversary of his passing 🕊

An icon of Hoodoo Folklore & History, John Henry - aka the Steel-Driving Man - embodied the otherworldly strength & will that defied physics, expectation, & the harsh conditions of his time. He is a symbol of Black Power as an unbreakable spirit of resistance and protest.

John Henry was indeed a real man behind the lore of his legend. Though there is still much debate as to who was THE John Henry among many possibilities. As it stands, most scholars believe he was born enslaved in VA in 1840’s, later emancipated after the Civil War. He stood at 6ft tall, 200lbs - a true giant of his time. He carried a beautiful baritone voice & played the banjo. That would make him the 19yr old who was convicted of theft in a VA court in 1866. For his alleged crime, he was sentenced to 10 years in the penitentiary & put to work building the C&O Railroad during the Reconstruction Era.

In the February 1870, the legend of John Henry was born along the C&O Railway at Big Bend Mountain near Talcott, WV - when over 1,000 railroad workers began drilling the Great Bend Tunnel where the Greenbrier River makes a seven-mile meander around the mountain. John Henry was a "free Negro" hired as a Steel-Driver on the C&O Railway. He & his counterparts were saddled with the gruesome task of hammering steel drills into rock to holes for explosives to cut a 6,450 ft-long tunnel through the mountain. Railroad work was hard; long hours of grueling labor, dangerous at times, for little money.

Holes were drilled into the layers of rock using a hand drill & hammer, then filled with powder & blasted in order to make the rock small enough to remove from the tunnel. The drill was held by a “Shaker” - tasked with turning it slightly after each blow & shake it to flip the rock dust out of the hole. The “Steel Driver” swung the hammer as hard & as often as he could, pounding the drill into the rock. John Henry was prolificly known as the strongest, fastest, & most powerful man working on the railroad.

One day, the C&O railroad company bought a steam drill. It was said that the steam drill could drill faster than any man on earth. This sparked the age-old debate & challenge of Man-versus-Machine. John Henry immediately volunteered to go up against the machine to prove that the Black worker could drill a hole through the rock farther & faster than any drill could.

John Henry wielded two 10-14lb hammers, one in each hand. He pounded the steel drill so hard & fast that he drilled a 14ft hole into the rock. The steam drill only reached 9ft. John Henry held up his hammers in triumphant victory. Nearly a thousand railroad workers shouted & cheered his name. So much so that it took them a while before realizing that John Henry was tottering. Exhausted, he crashed to the ground with his hammer at his sides. It is said that the crowd went dead silent as the foreman rushed to his side. John Henry had passed away from exhaustion due to bursted blood vessels in his brain.

The Great Bend Tunnel was eventually completed on September 12th 1872, & remained in service until 1974. A life-sized, 750lb bronze statue of his likeness was erected on Dec 28th 1972 - on the 100th anniversary of the completion of the Great Bend Tunnel. Barbed wire was placed around the statue for many years to combat vandalism of white paint being thrown on it, gun shots to the face and torso, etc.

Sadly, no one knows where John Henry was buried. Some say his likeness can be found carved into the rock inside the Big Bend Tunnel. Others say if you walk to the darkest edge of the tunnel, you can still hear the sound of two 10-14lb hammers drilling their way to victory.

"If I can't beat this steam drill down, I'll die with this hammer in my hand!"- John Henry, as told from The Ballad of John Henry.

John Henry's choosing to go up against the steam drill was not about the challenge in and of itself. It was about proving that the body & spirit of the Black man could NOT be broken. Especially while living in such hard, grueling times. Our livelihoods were at stake & our future was even more uncertain.

Thus, he is forever immortalized in the hearts & minds of our people as symbol of the blood, sweat, & tears that drench the C&O railway by Black railroad workers of the past/present. A beacon for those who lost their lives laboring under such dangerous occupation conditions. The lore of his legend (and the lives of Black workers lost) lives on in oral tradition through story, ballads, Blue's, & work songs from coast to coast. These songs and tales did more than transform John Henry into a folk hero, they reminded us to "slow down or die", which became a tool of resistance & protest among railroad workers.

John Henry was a legend turned symbol among the Black populace of the time. And an Ancestor turned Saint for us those of Hoodoo Culture.

We pour libations & give him💐 today as we celebrate him for his unbreakable spirit, unparalleled strength, & defiance against a system that see us all perish beneath its heel.

Offering suggestions: tobacco smoke, libations of dark liquor, railroad dirt (especially from the C&O railway tunnel/line), & sing/play ole rwork songs and ballads to his name.

‼️Note: offering suggestions are just that & strictly for veneration purposes only. Never attempt to conjure up any spirit or entity without proper divination/Mediumship counsel.‼️

#hoodoo #hoodoos #atr #atrs #the hoodoo calendar #Hoodoo Folklore #Hoodoo History #Hoodoo Saints #hudu #john henry #steel driving man

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mikathemonster · 2 years ago

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“kisses and fireworks”

author’s note: happy new year everyone! I'm so excited to go into 2023, I feel like things can only go up from here :D and while I'm feeling very hopeful and optimistic, I figured I'd write a little treat to commemorate the new year with the classic tradition of a new year’s kiss! I hope you all enjoy :)

Pairing: Kíli / Gender-neutral Human Reader

Word Count: 5,165

summary: Finally being able to witness the majesty of Erebor on the anniversary of Durin’s Day was already enough for your hungry heart, but maybe there was more to these mountain halls than just architecture...

content warnings: Post-BOTFA, Everyone Lives! AU, knives, fireworks

DO NOT REPOST OR COPY. MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT.

Five years. That’s how long it had taken to rebuild Erebor from the aftermath of Smaug’s conquest, to rebuild Dale into the prosperous city it once was, and for the rich trade of Laketown to return. Five whole years. And in those five years, news of Thorin Oakenshield had spread like wildfire; people gathered to tell stories of his great journey and monumental accomplishments. He was like a dwarven god, a figment of heroism built upon a true and very real legacy. Portraits were made of him, and the great city of Dale had even erected a statue in his honor. He was the picture of dwarven royalty; a hard-worn and steely gaze followed by an aura of immense power and dignity. You had come to know his face well, catching tales of the stories all the way in The Angle. In fact, it was for that reason you had journeyed east of your home, hoping to see the majesty of Erebor for yourself. Your journey took place on the fifth anniversary of Erebor’s reclamation.

Now, it had been ten years since Smaug’s demise, and five years since your own journey. When you had originally traveled east, you had come to find out through merchants in Laketown that the dwarven kingdom of Erebor prohibited outsiders from entering, save for the few dignitaries of Men and Elves that had aided Erebor in their time of need. Despite being let down by this, your determination hadn’t been swayed. Onward, you pressed on, eventually settling down in Dale for the better half of the last few years. Keeping a trade, you had gotten into smithing, setting up a small shop for yourself where you crafted decorated chains and knives of silver steel. You were known for your highly-detailed decorative work, especially when it came to hilts of blades. And for a while, you were satisfied with your new life you had made for yourself. But as days went on, you often wondered if there was any chance to see more than simple daydreams of the proud dwarven kingdom.

And just your luck, there was! News spread fast throughout Dale of a banquet to be held in the massive halls of Erebor, and the invitation had been extended to anyone who wished to come. You all but jumped in delight at the thought that after all this time, you’d finally see the great city-kingdom. More news of the banquet came to pass, and you wasted no time in finding a suitable outfit. It would be held on Durin’s Day, the anniversary of Thorin’s company reclaiming Erebor with the death of Smaug, and would commemorate the tenth year of Erebor’s reclamation. Another new and prosperous year was to be celebrated, and you had even heard word that Gandalf the Grey would be conjuring up fireworks for the spectacle. How excited you were to see a wizard! How excited you were to see Erebor! You were so wildly excited for this, wondering what could possibly lie beyond those bedrock gates. Perhaps you would even meet a jeweler who would be willing to supply you gems for your craft! Oh, it felt like the possibilities were truly endless.

The next few days, as Durin’s Day was merely a week away, seemed to whizz by rather quickly. Within two days, you had already found your outfit: a billowing cream-white tunic tucked into a long brown skirt, which was embellished with silver embroidery along the seams and edges. Bringing everything in together was a quilted green vest, also embroidered with silver thread resembling leaves. You decided this would be a fine opportunity to showcase your handiwork, and so all your jewelry was your own: a thin bronze band engraved with feathers on your right hand, a delicate silver chain adorning your neck with a blue pendant, and a chain belt of shining bronze wrapped around your waist, with the metal peppered in decorative carvings. It was modest, surely, but you felt regal enough to grin every time you caught yourself admiring your silhouette in a mirror.

Two more days passed, and you had found yourself busy with your latest order: three knives, all sisters, and all to be made with your finest work. The customer, a young dwarrowdam named Bralva, had insisted the knives be prepared and finished before the banquet. You would’ve refused the order for the lack of time if she hadn’t promised to reward you handsomely. Fueled by the notion that you would need to buy new tools soon, you had taken her on.

“But what for, if I may ask?” You were perplexed by her need to rush. “For Durin’s Day? I thought weapons wouldn’t be allowed at such a banquet.”

“Oh Mahal, no!” Bralva chided. “They’re not for me, dear. Ten years I’ve waited to see my homeland again, and I won’t risk the chance to not marry well into Durin’s line while I’m at it! I plan on offering them to the king and princes, in hopes I marry off.”

“Marriage?” You scoffed. “At a celebration of a new year?”

“You think of me as a joke, but I know what I’m doing,” she insisted. “All three royals of Erebor sit unmarried as it stands. With gifts such as these, I’m bound to make my presence known well!”

You simply laughed her off, not wanting to risk insulting her and therefore lose a customer. “Alright, alright, then I wish you well, Miss. But how can you be so willing to marry a stranger?”

“It’s a new year, dear. How can you be so unaccepting of wishful thinking? Besides, banquets like these are such romantic places to find love. Or lust…” She muttered the last bit, her cheeks glowing as rosy as her magnificent beard from thinking such thoughts.

That was the last you had seen her in all her glory, and since then you had been set to work on making the most exquisite knives you had crafted yet. Now, on whether or not they’d be worthy of a royal marriage, you weren’t sure. But you would damn well try your hardest! You had immediately gotten to work on the blades once she left, and spent the next two days working on the hilts with such a ferocious intensity and tenacity that by the time she came to collect them on the morning of Durin’s Day, you were exhausted. Sleep tugged at your undereyes and you were in desperate need of a shower.

“My, the skill! I dare say you have almost the talent of a dwarf! ” Bralva cheered, holding one of the delicate blades up to her face for a better look. And, just as promised, you had indeed been rewarded quite handsomely, with a pouch full of gold pieces in your hands. Unfortunately, in your exhaustion, you had missed her compliment and only picked up on her muttering about dwarven princes and marriage.

“Hm? Oh, yes, of course,” you mused in your sleepy stupor.

“My dear, I hope you intend to bathe before tonight,” she chuckled, waving a hand at your disheveled appearance. “Luck will not be on your side if this is to be your attire!”

You sighed, casting a quick glance in the mirror. By the gods, she was right. You shrugged her off, letting out a tired groan. “I’ll be fine, there’s still a whole rest of the day before the banquet tonight. Besides, luck should favor you more if you plan to be wed so soon.”

She blushed at your words, giggling to herself. “But still! You are young, and you won’t get any younger! Take it from an old dwarrow, my dear.”

“Old?” You scoffed, running a hand through your hair to get it out of your face as you got a better look at her. “Look at you! You’re so beautiful and young, yourself! How old can you possibly be?”

“A woman never tells her age,” she chuckled, leaning in. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But if you must know, I’m to be 183 soon.”

You bit your tongue from cursing in shock. It seemed you had forgotten the differences in life spans between man and dwarf. “What? Surely you jest!”

Again, you were graced with a blushing and smiling Bralva. “Still, my dear, don’t refuse love to come to you! Who knows, with three single royals, maybe we’ll both end up with one!” She winked, and you silently hoped she’d buy your wares again in the future. She was cheekily amusing, and good gossip and entertainment was hard to come by when you were always holed up to work on your chains and knives.

“Well how am I to know if I’m in the presence of a prince?” You leaned in, humoring her despite the slight ache in your back. Once you wrapped up with her, you were intent on taking a nap after a vigorous bath. “I hardly think they’d be impressed by me, after all.”

“Well, your looks are certainly considered more… unorthodox to most dwarves, and considering you’re not a dwarf yourself…” She trailed off, realizing that maybe she hadn’t fully meant it when she jested about you both marrying off. “But nevermind that! The princes are as strong as they are young! Too young for me, I'm sure, but I’ll certainly still try!” She gave another wink, and you chuckled, realizing she still hadn’t answered your question.

“Yes, but I’ve only seen portraits of King Thorin. How will I know which ones are the princes?” You smiled, enjoying the conversation. It was nice to talk to someone after working for three days straight.

“Well, they both have the same powerful looks as they’re uncle, that’s for sure. I myself haven’t seen them, but I’ve heard tales that the oldest one carries beautiful metal beads in his mustache braids, and he’s skilled with swords and knives! He’s a natural warrior, he is!”

“And the other?”

“I’ve heard less of him, only that he once took a Morgul shaft and survived, and that he cannot grow a beard,” She sighed, muttering. “Poor thing.”

“Surely you know more about these two than their beards, or lack thereof?” You scoffed.

“I know enough to gift them your beautiful work! That’s all I need!” She grinned, boasting. “And speaking of which, I’ve got to go get ready! Time moves quickly when corsets and gowns are involved, my dear. Take care!”

You waved as she left, saying your own goodbyes, and soon as she was out of your eyesight, you immediately closed up shop. If she was already getting ready and it was still morning, it seemed you’d need to hurry yourself as well.

Hours passed, and after bathing yourself and falling asleep in the bath, you deemed yourself hygienically appropriate for a banquet. The dirt and grease from your trade had been scrubbed off, your hair now brushed and freshly cleaned, and you smelled more like a normal person and less like a furnace. A job well done, I’d say! Now, all that was left was to get ready for the night.

Now, while you hadn’t planned on arriving particularly early, you were mildly annoyed with yourself and how late you had become. Bralva was right to mention getting ready takes time; you had spent a whole hour trying to do something with you hair! Eventually, you settled with wearing it down and peppering it with small braids hidden within the tresses.

The trek from Dale to Erebor wasn’t terribly long, and it was more of a hike than a trek, as the path was already lit with torches that beckoned visitors into the night mountain fortress. You couldn’t help the excitement you felt, which pressured your feet to walk faster as you tried not to practically run to the mountain. Oh, Erebor! Finally, you would see if all the legends of its majesty you had heard were true!

As you stepped into the halls of the mountain, you couldn’t help but gawk in awe of the architecture. Hell, you had thought Dale to be lovely and beautiful, but even the glorious city not too far away now paled in comparison to the extravagance of Erebor. Glittering gold accented every wall, every pillar, every carving into the darkened stone of the mountain. Each shadow in the halls cast a green glow about the place, luring you in like a moth drawn to flame. It was enchanting, alluring, and breathtaking. And despite finding yourself taller than almost all of the folk around you, you looked up at the terrifically high-vaulted ceilings of the mountain and found yourself feeling small. The ceilings themselves were beautiful as well, gems glittering in the mountain-rock that even underground, it felt like you were stargazing.

After minutes passed by of you taking in the scenery, you found yourself being led deeper into the mountain halls where the true festivities began. In one of Erebor’s many great halls, it seemed the banquet had been going for quite some time already (which made sense, after all you hadn’t exactly been on time). Tables filled with sweet meats and good drink with an endless amount of laughter and drunken shenanigans, and the back of the hall served as a ballroom, where many regal-looking dwarrowdams were seeking the attention of any young dwarrow who they deemed fit to dance with. A part of you wondered where Bralva might have wandered off to. At the very head of this hall lay a large stone table littered with delicacies and fine wines, fit with four grand thrones behind it. You only recognized one of the two seated at the table: Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain. Next to him sat a dwarrowdam of immense beauty, her beard beautifully braided down her dress. She shared the same steely gaze as the king, and you wondered if they were related. The two thrones on each side of them sat empty, and you assumed that meant that the princes were off somewhere.

Eager to dip your toes into the culture and wonder of Erebor, you quickly made your way down to the tables to fetch yourself a bottle of ale, finding the taste as delicious as it was potent. You wandered around the outskirts of the hall, snacking on foods here and there and occasionally being dragged in to dance with random strangers that beckoned you onto the dance floor. And how could you not? It was the celebration of a new year! And what a mighty celebration it was, as your night quickly began getting filled by being whisked onto the dance floor by men and women alike. Amidst the dancing bodies and jigs being played, you spotted Bralva merrily along, and eagerly returned an exciting wave. She was bladeless, which meant she had successfully completed part of her mission: gifting the royalty your best works. It was an honor, really, and you wish you could have seen their reactions. Better yet, you wondered how much more of Erebor you could see before the night ended, considering you weren’t sure whether the kingdom would remain open to all after tonight’s feasting. If you snuck off of the ballroom floor right now, there was still a chance you could sneak into the kingdom’s halls scot-free with none the wiser.

And so, armed with your second bottle of ale (not that you needed more, you were already starting to feel tipsy), you snuck out of the great banquet’s hall and found yourself meandering through the dark stone corridors, lit only by torches. It began to seem to you that a place like this would be impossible to live in. Hardly anything was marked, every hallway looked the same, and no matter how grand the architecture was, you found yourself incredibly and hopelessly lost. Leaning against a wall, you slumped down onto the floor, legs sprawled out in front of you as you quietly drank your ale. What were you to do? You’d rather be caught by a guard and thrown out of the party than risk trying to find your way back and only getting more lost! At least for now, you could live in your dream that had up until now been simply that. A dream.

Time passed slowly, and your only measure of it was your ale reaching the halfway point in its bottle. You were starting to get bored of sitting around, and desperately craved something to do. Perhaps you should try and explore some more? Maybe try to find the rumored treasure halls of Thráin? Or perhaps you could try to steal a peek of the forges, if you were even that lucky?

Unfortunately, time waits for no man, least of all one stuck in a decision. For in your pondering, you hadn’t realized that a certain dwarrow was running right towards you, seeming to try and escape someone or something else with a cheeky glint in his eye. But right when you noticed him, it was all too late; in his haste, he hadn’t seen your extended legs, and tripped over them like a blithering fool. You quickly got onto your knees, horror creeping on your face as you’d realize what you accidentally did.

“Oh. Oh my gosh! Oh my, I’m so sorry! I really didn’t mean to, truly!” You pleaded, extending a hand on his back for reassurance. “Are you okay? I didn’t even see you, I’m so sorry!”

The dwarf sat up, propped up on his elbow while the other hand went to his nose to check for blood. Nothing. It seemed he was about to scold you until his eyes met yours, and suddenly he was looking at you with such wonder that you thought maybe he really had hit his head.

“Are you alright? Is anything bleeding?” Your eyes scanned his features, looking for any sort of bruise he could have suffered, and trying to stay focused all at once. My, he was handsome. Tousled brown hair that fell down in waves upon his shoulders, wondrous brown eyes that seemed to glimmer in the dark, and rough stubble growing out of his face in a sort of ruggish beauty.

Finally, his speech returned to him. “I’m fine, really. I’m so clumsy, it seems we both didn’t see each other.” He smiled, and for some reason you were so enamored by it. You had only just met this man, and yet you already couldn’t get enough of that charming smile.

“Well, that’s a relief!” You sighed, sitting back on the floor, distancing yourself lest you find yourself flustered in front of this beautiful dwarf. “You had me worried there, you could’ve really hurt something.”

“Well, it’s not every day I find myself tripping over people in the hallways,” he mused. “What are you doing in here? You’re not from here, are you?”

You offered him your bottle of ale, and he obliged. “I live in Dale, I have a smithing shop there. I moved here years ago to see Erebor, and the one night I’m let in, I get myself lost!” You groaned, frustrated but still seeing the humor in your misfortune as you chuckled dryly. “I mean, a grand kingdom such as this, and I’m lost! Nothing is marked, there’s no signs anywhere! How do you even get from here to there in a place like this?”

The dwarf laughed at your plight, and despite the embarrassment you were enduring, you couldn’t help but smile at him. “The halls are marked, they’ve always been!”

“What?” You were awestruck, mostly out of ignorance. “Where?!”

“Look at the floors, they’re marked,” he said, moving closer to show you as he pointed his finger at a corner of the floor. As you leaned in to get a better look, you found he was right. Each hall was color-coded by the gem embedded in the stone flooring. Your jaw dropped, but you were quick to pick it back up.

“Wait, but how is any of that supposed to help me? I don’t know which means what!” You leaned back, exasperated, much to the dwarf’s amusement.

“That’s the point. Each gem holds a meaning in our culture, which makes it easy for us to navigate these halls and even easier for trespassers to get lost. It worked for everything except a dragon,” he smiled, looking at your annoyed expression. Suddenly feeling all too noticed as you caught him staring, your face felt hot and flushed, and you were sure it wasn’t just the ale this time.

“Alright, fine,” you lamented. “You caught me. Next time I sneak around these halls, I’ll just bring you along to make it easier.”

“Well,” he spoke, getting up from the floor and offering a hand to help you stand back up, his other hand holding your bottle of ale. “I can’t say I would mind, you already seem like such great company.”

You politely took his hand, standing up yourself to find the dwarf only coming up to your chest. You felt your face heat up again at the sight, taking in how… cute he looked. “I’m sorry,” you took a step back, shaking your head. “I don’t think I even got your name? I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N…” He whispered it to himself, almost like a secret, and found himself smiling after. “It’s beautiful.”

You chuckled nervously, not sure how to handle all the sweet attention. “And yours is?”

He thought for a moment, seeming to ponder whether or not he should tell you, which seemed a little absurd after how friendly you two had been so far. The least you were owed was a name.

“Kíli,” he said with a bow. “At your service.”

“Oh my, it seems your tripping has caused me to trip over my words,” you joked, returning the bow. “However will I repay you?”

He immediately sprung back up, an idea already in his mind. “Your company, perhaps?”

You seemed playfully shocked, putting a hand across your chest. “Who, me? Well who would I be if I declined?”

He smiled at your answer, taking your hand into his as he led you down the halls of Erebor with a swift tenacity just like he had entered with. “This way, I want to show you something!”

You let yourself be dragged across the mountain kingdom with Kíli leading the way, a giddy but nervous smile plastered on your face from holding hands like this. Perhaps it was the alcohol or the excitement of the night, but you were having a grand time being lost, so long as it was with Kíli.

After three minutes of twists and turns within the mountain rock later, suddenly you found yourself on a balcony high above the great hall of the banquet, so high up that the ceiling no longer felt so big. In fact, you yourself felt much bigger now that you had the view of the whole banquet, where everyone else seemed like little partying ants. You were speechless, there simply weren't any words left to describe how amazing this secret spot was. You quickly turned to Kíli, smiling wide like a cat.

“This.. This is amazing!” You shouted, but quickly hushed yourself amidst Kíli’s own shushes, which were accompanied by the most precious smile you’d seen. God, that smile of his shone brighter than any of the precious gems you had seen tonight, brighter than even the stars themselves. You so desperately wanted more of that shining light, especially for yourself.

“Isn’t it?” He smiled, inviting you back down to the floor to sit down. “It’s my secret little spot, I come here whenever I want to be alone, or away from the throngs of people. Not even my own brother knows how to get up here.”

“Well neither do I, so consider your secret kept safe,” you laughed, taking in a moment to look back down at the party scene below. With squinting eyes you could make out Thorin Oakenshield, who now was in deep conversation with a younger, blonde dwarf. Despite the distance, you could make out metal beads in his braids. “That must be one of the princes, look!” You pointed, scooting closer to Kíli so he could see it from your eye line better.

“Really?” He paused for a moment, choosing his words carefully, but you were too excited to notice. “How do you know?”

“A customer of mine bought some knives from me — beautifully decorated, may I add — in the hopes to present them to the princes and king and maybe even marry them!” You giggled at the last bit, the alcohol making Bralva’s boasts even sillier in your head. Quickly, you searched for Bralva’s beard amidst the sea of dancing ants. “Look! There she is!”

Kíli leaned even closer now to see, his cheek grazing yours, and it made you turn your head to look at him. Reading his expression, you could tell the exact moment his eyes found Bralva, his eyes glimmering once again with that devilish smile of his. You don’t know what led you to be so bold in this next moment, but by some small amount of courage, you leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.

He was quick to turn and look at you, his face shocked at your gesture, before his shock melted into a giddy smile of joy. A small laugh left his lips, and he raised a hand to tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Mahal…” he whispered to himself, smiling softly. “Even the stars cannot compare to how radiant you are tonight…”

Your eyes widened at his words, unsure of what to say. You’d never been told such sweet things before. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Then don’t,” he chuckled, leaning in closer. Ever so slowly, he leaned in, his lips drawing ever nearer but not quite touching as if to ask for a silent confirmation of what was about to happen. Happy to give it, you leaned into him, your lips finally joining together in a kiss that was soft and slow. Your hand took its time to reach into his hair, and you felt him smile into the kiss as you did so, his own hands coming to rest at the nape of your neck and caress your jawline. You felt like you could keep kissing him like this forever, but all too soon, you pulled away, nervous.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered. You weren’t ashamed, just a little anxious. “I’ve.. Well I'm not... I’ve never-“

“It’s alright, Y/N,” he smiled, petting your head reassuringly as he placed a kiss on your forehead, lingering for just a sweet moment. “There’s no need to explain. We could go somewhere quieter, if you’d like.”

You thought for a moment, catching your breath. You very much wanted to keep kissing him: there was something so addictingly sweet about kissing him. But it seems you definitely needed a moment to collect your thoughts first. “Yes, please. I’d appreciate that.”

“Of course,” he spoke softly, his voice so kind and gentle. He was kind and gentle. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

You nodded with a smile, standing up in tandem with him, when all of a sudden…

BOOM!

Up in the air, the fireworks show had begun, startling you and causing you to jump, knocking you and Kíli back down as you stared at the sparkling fireworks that lingered in the air, resembling butterflies. A sigh of relief washed over you, and you laughed to yourself before looking back to Kíli, who seemed to be in pain. “Oh my gosh!” You quickly got back up, not wanting to crush the poor dwarf. “I’m so sorry, I just got startled, and-“

“No, no, don’t be! It’s not you, it’s-“ he winced, pulling something from under his vest. He must have landed on it, but what he pulled out surprised you more than anything about tonight. There it was, shimmering in the light of the fireworks. Your own handiwork on full display as he held one of the knives you had crafted for Bralva.

“You… You’re…” You pointed a finger at the blade, still so overwhelmed and shocked by the nature of it all. Could it be? There was no way! What were the chances?

“What?” He feigned innocence, getting up. “Charming? Rugged? A sight to behold?”

“You’re the other prince!” You exclaimed, still in shock.

“Ah, right,” he nodded sarcastically. “You know, I always seem to forget that one.” He chuckled to himself, looking away for a moment before turning back to look at you, holding the blade out to you. “It truly is a wonderful gift, Y/N. I'm honored to have met the craftsman behind it.”

You scoffed, now coming back to your senses. “I think you’ve done a little more than ‘meeting’ the craftsman, Kíli. Or am I supposed to call you Your Highness?”

“Just Kíli will do, I can assure you, love.” He smiled, amused at your aloofness towards his title. “And as for doing ‘more than meeting’,” he took a step closer to you, offering his hand. “If you still feel the same, I’d love to continue ‘meeting’ you…”

Love. He had called you love. Gods…

You furrowed your brow, contemplating for a moment, all too worried of what this would implicate for both you and him. He was a dwarven prince, a direct descendant of Durin himself! And you? You were just a smith from Dale, with nothing to your name other than your skill. Could it even work?

Just as you tried desperately to reach a decision, another round of fireworks went off, the sparklers erupting into silvery leaves that fell onto the crowd. And suddenly, you knew. There was nothing else to wonder, to ponder, to overthink.

You turned back to him, leaning in as you dove for another kiss, this one slightly more fervent and desperate, just in case you’d risk never seeing him again. He was a stranger, but he was starlight. He was the sun, and you weren’t sure if you’d bloom again if it wasn’t by his rays. Your hands reached into his hair, tugging slightly, and he eagerly smiled into it, his own hands snaking up your body to rest on your waist, pulling you closer despite the height difference. He laughed between the dance of your lips, pulling away for a moment.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” His child-like eyes seemed to lure you in and drown you in their murky waters, and you wanted nothing more.

You smiled, looking down at him. “My prince, I believe you’d be correct.” And before the shorter one could get another word in, you took his hand, leading him away to somewhere quieter where you two could escape.

And while you may continue to get lost in the halls of Erebor, it was beginning to seem as though having Kíli as your compass, your guiding light, wouldn’t be too bad.

#kili #kili durin #kili fanfic #kili x reader #kili durin x reader #LOTR #LOTR fandom #the hobbit #the hobbit imagine #the hobbit fanfic #The Hobbit fic #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader

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finniestoncrane · 1 year ago

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I'm back on my rogues b/s and once again consuming any and all content- Grats on your milestone!! A tad dealers choice depending how u feel! -- F reader OR F (good) Ex-Arkham Psych insert, who since sided w/fights alongside rogues+plays doctor - (crane confessing but otherwise receiving/sub? Oral only pls? I like my men pathetic heehee) --- Sit-in: Signature cocktail, Pumpkin Ravioli (Btas if poss <3) - Chicken Wings, Pizza Bites, Sushi Sampler, Roasted Veg (OR Toasted Peanuts) --- BLESS ty!!

general!scarecrow x female!reader, word count: 400 content (warnings): lil bit of blood mention, orgasm denial the kitchen is now closed! 🔞minors dni🔞 • masterlist • kofi link • tag: finnie1500 (to follow or to block) a/n: ah i hope this was ok! the word count limited me on what i could put in!!💚

"Perhaps you ought to be more careful with your words around your fellow inmates, Crane."

He winced as you patted the now stitched up gash on his arm, leaving him to wash the dried blood from your hands in the rusted sink of his cell.

"Nothing makes me feel quite as powerless as allowing them to revel in their worthlessness without intervention. If I don't get to feel like I am at my best here, that I am living with greatness, then neither do they."

Turning to him, you cocked your head, raising an eyebrow in disbelief at the way he seemed to unwilling to concede to your advice.

"And that's why you keep ending up injured and under my care."

Jonathan coughed lightly, clearing his throat, as though he were stalling for time. But your silent gaze pulled his words from him, sooner, perhaps, than he intended.

"Maybe I enjoy your company. Maybe... I like being the centre of attention. Or... the centre of your attention."

"Is that so?"

Taking the initiative, you dropped to your knees in front of him as he sat on the solitary steel chair permitted in his cell. Grazing your hands up his thighs, you maintained eye contact, noting that he wasn't tryint to stop you, or question you, and only letting out a single, whimpered breath as you pulled his bright orange pants down and unleashed his semi-erect cock. There were so many things he wanted to say, to scream, but he managed out a soft quip.

"And do you do this... for all of your patients?"

"If you're worried that it means you're not special, or 'living with greatness', don't. I've never done this before."

He was quick to ease up to your touch, his muscles relaxing, tension dissipating as you took his cock in your mouth, wet and warm. His hips bucked up as his back buckled, his body shifting into a relaxed pose against the chair, all but his abdomen which tightened and strained as he lifted himself up at the hips into you. He was close already, desperate for touch, desperate to feel a semblance of importance, of affection.

But you pulled back from him, wiping your mouth on your sleeve.

"That's all you're getting, Crane. I can't reward bad behaviour. See if you can be good this week and I'll consider giving you some more attention."

#also i'm sorry i should have expressed in the event that characters had to be ones i write for oops!#so anyone who requested one i don't do #i've just done general! and i hope that's ok!! ;-;#finnie1500 #finnie writes

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crystalconcretelimited · 20 days ago

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Construction Company in Toronto- Crystal Concrete

Steel buildings in Canada are now viewed as a representation of resilience, creativity, and versatility. Crystal Concrete, a top construction company in Canada, focuses on building strong steel structures that adhere to the highest standards of quality and effectiveness. Steel buildings in Canada, whether they are tall skyscrapers or large warehouses, are well-known for their strength, versatility in design, and affordability.

Steel structures are built with structural steel elements, offering superior strength and durability. In contrast to conventional materials such as wood or brick, steel provides a superior strength-to-weight ratio, boosting structural integrity and decreasing required materials. This feature makes steel buildings in Canada perfect for regions susceptible to severe weather and seismic events, guaranteeing durability.The versatility in design is one of the most appealing aspects of steel buildings. The capability to design expansive, column-free interiors provides more flexibility in architectural design. Steel buildings in Canada can be customized to fulfill various functional needs, whether it is for a modern office building, retail space, or industrial facility. At Crystal Concrete, a reputable construction company in Toronto, we work closely with architects and engineers to turn creative designs into reality with accuracy.

The construction efficiency of steel buildings in Canada is unrivaled, along with their design flexibility. Pre-fabricated steel parts are made away from the construction site and transported to the site, leading to decreased on-site work and a significant reduction in construction time. This efficient method is a major benefit for developers looking to finish projects more quickly and see a faster return on investment. Crystal Concrete, a top construction company in Toronto, guarantees efficient erection of steel buildings with no compromise on quality.

Choosing steel is a responsible environmental decision as well. Much of the steel used in modern construction comes from recycled materials, making it completely recyclable. This sustainability, combined with the long-term durability of steel, makes it a smart choice for eco-conscious developers looking to minimize environmental impact. For a reliable construction company in Canada that specializes in innovative, sustainable steel buildings, Crystal Concrete is your go-to partner.

#Crystal Concrete #construction company in Canada #Crystal #Steel buildings in Canada #construction company in Toronto #Toronto

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islazoe · 10 months ago

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Steel Erection

#steel erection companies #steel erection #structural steel erection #steel erection companies near me #steel erection company

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 11 months ago

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"TURNING OUT ONE COMPLETE TRAIN A DAY," Winnipeg Tribune. December 4, 1913. Page 13. ---- Shops at Angus Largest of Their Kind in the Dominion-C.P.R. Building Cars of Steel ---- The Canadian Pacific railway's shops at Angus, in the extreme northeast of Montreal, are the largest of their kind in the Dominion. Here pig iron is turned into monster locomotives with shiny fittings, and when roughhewn logs are not employed made into palace parlor cars. Angus shopmen boast that the plant is capable of turning out a complete train a day. When the entire force is working an army of 6.000 men are employed at the works.

From the boy who deftly catches bucket of red-hot bolts tossed to him from a forge twenty feet away, to the expert engaged in tuning and testing the bells and sirens which are to clangs and whistle in Saskatchewan or Austria, every person at Angus fits into his niche of the intricate organization and there is no confusion and no de-ay.

When the Pennsylvania railroad system completed its tunnel into New York, it made a regulation that no wooden cars were to make use of its lines. This led the railway companies of Canada to construct steel cars, for which the public had been agitating for some time, as they constituted less risk to the tray.... So that now wooden cars are gradually disappearing and will soon be 3 thing of the past.

The decision on the part of the Canadian Pacific to build its cars of steel instead of using wooden bodies, while not exactly a new step in Industrial activity, will probably be taken up on a larger scale than ever before on this continent. The capacity of the new steel shops which have just been completed is ten cars a day, and this department of the works is now running full blast.

Assembling a Steel Car. When the trucks are delivered from the trucks shop, steel girders, punched for bolts and rivets, are hoisted on cranes and held in position while a workman with a hydraulic drill drives the fasteners into place. The assembling of a steel car is much more speedy than the old method of building wooden coaches, using the trucks as foundation. A large amount of the old equipment which was used in the construction of the wooden cars 14 being reconverted and adapted for the making of the new carriers.

This department of the Angus shops is now in the course of transposition and will be much condensed, as wooden parts required will be much less numerous. The wooden box which forms the exterior of the freight car is fastened outside of the girders and can be replaced on the same car when it wears out.

Comfort and Luxury. Although the project of making all cars, passenger and freight alike, with steel frames, has been proposed, and is now under serious consideration by the C. P. R., no move has been made at Angus towards installing a steel plant for passenger coaches. The general plan of assembling a passenger car is that used in other train work, the component parts being added to the trucks, which are set in the erecting pits to be built upon.

The finished parlor car is in itself an achievement, for here not only safety and utility are to be considered but comfort and luxury for the passengers.

Coaling Up Real Test of Engine. Coaling up is the real test of an engine's worth. Parts may have been perfect and preliminary inspection may have found no defect in the whole, but engines are made to run, and if this one will not, back it goes through a long series of tests and examinations to discover where is its weak point. As with ships at their first launching, the constructing engineer who has planned the whole is never certain that his locomotive will run without mishap.

To the east of the Angus shop is a side track where the monster engines are first tried with coal in the bunkers and steam in the boiler.

A little group always gathers around the new engine. Fires have been laid, the smoke pours through the exhaust pipe and the fireman gives a preliminary tug at the bell rope Then the grisled engineer, who is the only one who does not appear excited. throws open a throttle, opens the siren into hideous shriek, and the leviathan chugs along the track, as if this were no new feat and it had been chugging along tracks for years.

The little group of foremen and inspectors give a weak hurrah, as they have done for hundreds of new locomotives since the first was turned out In a few minutes the big engine has steamed backwards into its place at the end of the erecting pits, and stands all ready to go on the "main line."

#montreal #angus shops #usines angus #railway workers #canadian pacific railway #locomotive works #factory workers #capitalism in canada #railway capitalism #railway construction #boxcars #passenger train

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siliconecuk · 9 months ago

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Get the Best Shop Drawing Services in Liverpool, United Kingdom

Silicon EC UK Limited stands as a beacon of excellence in providing prime Shop Drawing Services in Liverpool, UK. Our team of experienced draftsmen and engineers is dedicated to delivering high-quality shop drawings that align precisely with the project requirements and specifications. We collaborate closely with you from the outset, meticulously interpreting your drawing intent and translating it into an optimized structural framework. We leverage the latest software tools and technologies to create comprehensive drawings that cover every aspect of the construction process, from structural components to mechanical, electrical, and plumbing systems.

Choose Silicon EC UK Limited for your shop drawing needs in Liverpool, UK, and experience the difference that our commitment to excellence can make in bringing your vision to life. Contact us today to learn more about our Outsource Shop Drawing Services and how we can support your next Shop Drawing project.

For More Details Visit our Website:

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hirazuki · 1 year ago

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Maedhros and Mairon + 49

…out of necessity | Maedhros & Mairon

•────────────────────⋅☾ ☽⋅────────────────────•

Aman, somewhere in the north. Fourth Age.

"And you are absolutely certain I cannot persuade you to come?" Maedhros asks, only half in jest, over the rim of his near-depleted glass.

Mairon tucks away the warm bloom of pleasure he feels at the Elf's clear approval of the vintage -- made from fruit harvested just over the hill; he has been experimenting, in the hope of finally discovering a drink to his own liking -- and casts a withering glare at him instead, of the kind that once flayed servants and kings alike and stayed dragons in their tracks.

His visitor, true to form, remains entirely unaffected.

The Maia clicks his tongue and runs a subtly-clawed hand through a strand of hair that has fallen over his eyes, examining its ends before flicking it back.

"No, thank you," he declines, feigned sweetness and a hint of fang slipping in, in reminiscence of bygone days. "I have no desire to mire myself in the politics of Valinor and Tirion and Tol Eressëa and whatever new settlement the latest group of reembodied discontents has elected to erect."

Maedhros chuckles into his glass, with sympathy and, likely, no small amount of envy -- he does not possess the luxury of choice in this matter -- before he drains it.

To say receiving him had been a surprise -- wine-dark elegance walking down the garden path to his doorstep, his Fëanorian finery a far cry from the remembered bronze and battered steel; hair, once and forever, a bloodstain in the sun -- would be to say the Grinding Ice was cold.

Awkwardness and cautious circling had gradually given way to unspun talk of things both great and small, held over sectioned wooden plates and light-colored tea in patterned cups; Mairon eagerly lapping up every scrap of information offered, starving mind ever at odds with his self-imposed isolation in the wilderness of Aman's empty north. He'd come here in pursuit of peace -- to remove himself from the noise and the tangle, the unbearableness of eternity's everyday; and the price for soothing his spirit was boredom. There was a line between too much quiet and not enough, and it was as gossamer stretched between the trees.

Neither had the irony been lost on him: he who, once, had stood on sheer precipices, feeding news of the world below to hungry ears upon its peaks. An unthinkable case of turned tables.

The paltry heat of the day -- a ghost of the burning summers across the sea -- had eventually faded into bland evening, with a suggestion of night-flowers in the air too timid to be truly called a scent. They had barely noticed, until firelight hair started shining brighter against the window panes.

Mairon has enjoyed this far more than he would have anticipated; certainly more than he will ever admit. He supposes he should not be surprised at it -- he has been alone since coming here, after all, and Maedhros has always proved to be intriguing, intelligent company, even in throes of imprisonment; even in torture.

Fëanor's eldest stands, apology on his lips. "I should be returning; it is some way to Formenos, and there are those among my family with a predilection for hasty conclusions; regardless of however little actual information they possess." His face does something complicated, that echoes the tightness the Maia feels in his chest. "I did not think I would stay so late."

Mairon pauses, halfway to standing himself. "You did not tell anyone where you were going?"

"Should I have?"

The former Lieutenant of Angband -- Gorthaur; Sauron; the Second Dark Lord and erstwhile Lord of Mordor -- stares at him, blankly.

Maedhros laughs, and it is the same mirthless, rueful laugh he remembers from a different land under a different sky, if somewhat filed down around the edges by time spent in silver vapors and vast caverns that trail below the seas.

"And what designs do you have on me, here in Aman?" the Elf asks him, with a manner that is heedless of the eggshells others have strewn all about him since his return to the West, and it feels like the fire coursing through his veins when he runs after being confined for too long. "What have you ever done towards me, in person, other than argue yourself hoarse to have me unhung?"

Oh. He'd noticed. His one-time prisoner had noticed, somehow, through the haze of blood and pain and stinging northern winds. Mairon is not certain how he feels about that.

"I dislike waste," is the response he settles on; it is not a lie. "And you forget too easily."

"I have not forgotten anything," Maedhros assures him, and holds up his left hand to look at the yawning black that graces its reincarnated palm. "I simply think I am no longer in a position to cast stones."

Mairon looks at it, too.

He thinks of Celebrimbor, of how he has heard that his shirts are always sleeved to the wrist and he avoids eating with knives, and of Maeglin, and how he shirks high places, and of the blistered skin still stamped around his own throat, a collar fashioned of previous flesh and soul-carved fear that hounds him in every form.

Is it the same for a Vala? he wonders, suddenly; does Melkor also wear the wounds of an old life? He has not seen him, yet, though Nienna has reached out.

"I have not been for a long time." Maedhros' voice is a half-whisper, but it draws him out from where he has fallen into his own head, before he can sink in deeper to drown in the sirenic call of afterthoughts long dead.

He watches him take out a glove from a pocket in his cloak and, using his teeth, pull it over his hand.

"You keep it hidden?"

The question is intrusive, insensitive, and wholly involuntary -- Maedhros has not shown any indication that the burn of the Silmaril bothers him, and the care with which he covers it now strikes the Maia with the suddenness of hammer upon anvil.

"I grew tired of both pity and censure," comes the answer -- raw in honesty and distressingly intimate, it devastates like Song.

And yet, Fëanor's firstborn leaves his right wrist bare for all to see. Perhaps it is because the injury is older, Mairon thinks; or, perhaps, it is that some scars are more private than others.

He catches Maedhros smiling at him, and at the hand he did not realize he has raised to cradle his own neck.

The Elf says nothing, and turns to make his way to the front door.

Mairon follows; it is only proper to walk him out.

He is about to bid him goodnight on the threshold, in the fashion of old Beleriand, when Maedhros leans forward and places a quick touch of his lips on him, once on each cheek.

Mairon stills, for the span between seconds, before flinching back. "What are you doing?"

"Satisfying the demands of Noldorin etiquette," Maedhros replies, brow slightly creasing under the plain band of burnished copper that goes around his head. "I should have thought you familiar with all our customs."

Mairon retreats within his mind and quickly flips through the tome of his life labeled 'Eregion' -- still within easy reach, though riddled with dust and disuse.

There is nothing there.

Curious; but, it is possible the Elves of Ost-in-Edhil -- Tyelpë, in particular -- had kept more of a distance from him than he'd been led to believe. Despite the long winters and the late nights and the celebrations, there had always been a boundary between Elf and Maia: too insubstantial to ever be commented on, just solid enough to be vexing. That, or they had left some traditions behind when they had crossed over the mountains, alongside everyone else, in the wake of rising water and incalculable loss.

None of that is pertinent, however, at the moment. What matters is his old counterpart standing before him, the lingering trace of foreign warmth on his face, and his ever-burning need to know.

"And what does it signify?"

"It means," Maedhros begins, speaking words that Mairon could not have imagined existed on the other side of howling cliffs and deep fire and wretched hallowed light, "that it is good to see you again."

#maedhros #mairon #sauron #silmarillion #tolkien #my writing #hira writes tolkien #😉 😘#okay; this is softer and more wholesome than what i typically write #but given what i'm putting them through in your other prompt i figured they can have one (1) nice thing #i hope you like it!!! ♡#i tried to write it in a way that it could fit with both our personal verses ^^#(though i'm sure it's nigh incomprehensible to everyone else XD)#(it would have made /a lot/ more sense to y'all if i had managed to first publish Bun's flower ask from a month+ ago)#(but you'll just have to take my word for it lmao)#two down three more to go!#these two caused /such/ a holdup in my creative endeavors; hopefully i can work my way faster through the rest XD #fic: what we'll find

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andromeda1023 · 1 year ago

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ESO’s Extremely Large Telescope is now half completed

The European Southern Observatory’s Extremely Large Telescope (ESO’s ELT) is a revolutionary ground-based telescope that will have a 39-metre main mirror and will be the largest telescope in the world for visible and infrared light: the world’s biggest eye on the sky. Construction of this technically complex project is advancing at a good pace, with the ELT now surpassing the 50% complete milestone.

The telescope is located atop Cerro Armazones in Chile's Atacama Desert, where engineers and construction workers are currently assembling the structure of the telescope dome at a staggering pace. Visibly changing each day, the steel structure will soon acquire the familiar round shape typical of telescope domes.

The telescope mirrors and other components are being built by companies in Europe, where work is also progressing well. ESO’s ELT will have a pioneering five-mirror optical design, which includes a giant main mirror (M1) made up of 798 hexagonal segments. More than 70% of the blanks and supports for these segments have now been manufactured, while M2 and M3 are cast and in the process of being polished. Progress on M4, an adaptive, flexible mirror that will adjust its shape a thousand times a second to correct for distortions caused by air turbulence, is particularly impressive: all six of its thin petals are fully finalised and being integrated into their structural unit. Further, all six laser sources, another key component of the ELT’s adaptive optics system, have been produced and delivered to ESO for testing.

All other systems needed to complete the ELT, including the control system and the equipment needed to assemble and commission the telescope, are also progressing well in their development or production. Moreover, all four of the first scientific instruments the ELT will be equipped with are in their final design phase with some about to start manufacturing. In addition, most of the support infrastructure for the ELT is now in place at or near Cerro Armazones. For example, the technical building that, among other things, will be used for storage and coating of different ELT mirrors is fully erected and fitted out, while a photovoltaic plant that supplies renewable energy to the ELT site started operating last year.

Construction of ESO’s ELT was kickstarted nine years ago with a groundbreaking ceremony. The top of Cerro Armazones was flattened in 2014 to allow for space for the giant telescope.

Continue reading/pictures/videos: https://elt.eso.org/public/news/eso2310/

#eso #large telescope #chile #telescope

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hclib · 1 year ago

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Prefab Aluminum House, First of it's Kind

In 1947, the George F. Cook Construction Co. erected an aluminum prefab house at the corner of Blaisdell Ave. and W 73rd St. in Richfield. The house, manufactured by Butler Manufacturing Co. of Galesburg, Illinois, was the second of its kind in the nation (the first being in Kansas City, Missouri). Its outside walls, one side of partitions, and ceiling were all made of aluminum and a breezeway connected the house with the garage. The aluminum house opened for public tours for one week, and then was held for a veteran-employee of the Butler Manufacturing Company's St. Paul office, who was to make regular reports to the company on its practicality for Minnesota climate. It was built to sell at around $10,000, which is about $142,000 in today's dollars. Today, the house still stands. Check it out on Google Maps.

The first of the better known Lustron (all steel) homes would be built in the state two years later, in 1949.

Photo from the Minneapolis Newspaper Photograph Collection in the Hennepin County Library Digital Collections.

#Minneapolis #Minnesota #Richfield #houses #aluminum houses #residential architecture #architecture #metal #1940s

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archinform · 1 year ago

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Fisher Building, Chicago

343 South Dearborn Street

Completed 1896; addition 1907

Charles Atwood, D.H. Burnham & Co. architects

1907 addition, Peter J. Weber, architect

2001 restoration and adaptive reuse, Pappageorge Haymes, supervising architects

by Roger Jones, August 2023

Fisher Building, photo by Roger Jones

Lucius Fisher (1843-1916). He was a Chicago, Illinois paper company magnate and architect. In 1895, he commissioned Daniel Burnham and Company to build the 20 story, 275 foot tall Fisher Building in the Chicago Loop.

Fisher Building, Chicago, taken April 29, 1896. From The Inland Architect and News Record, May 1896. [Link to full article PDF here]

The writer of the 1896 article described the building thus:

But here, for what we believe to be the first time in human experience, one of the highest commercial buildings in the world has been erected almost without any bricks. It fronts on three streets, and on the remaining side adjoins other property. The fronts are covered with cellular terra cotta on the outside, not in imitation of a wall, but following upward the steel supporting members, and closing in the transoms between the windows, leaving two-thirds of the exterior to be enclosed by glass… Only two bricklayers were employed at any time in this part of the work.

(Left) Daniel H. Burnham (1846-1912)

(Right) Charles B. Atwood (1849-1895)

The Fisher Building, 343 South Dearborn Street in the Chicago Loop, was commissioned by paper magnate Lucius Fisher. The original 18-story building was completed in 1896 by D.H. Burnham & Company; the architect was Charles B. Atwood, who died before the building's completion. An addition was later added in 1907.

Some facts about the building, from the Emporis site:

The original wing was only the second building in Chicago to reach 18 stories (after the Masonic Temple), and is the oldest still standing at that height.

Because of the building's great height for its time, the usual spread foundations were supplemented with piles underneath them to support the added weight.

The second floor was originally a banking room, and has especially large windows compared to the floors above it.

To enhance the facade's vertical emphasis, most of the ornamentation is placed on its horizontal members, reducing the banding effect that would occur if they were blank.

The Gothic ornament is in the 15th century style of Bruges and Rouen.

Declaring the structure a Chicago Landmark in 1978, the Landmarks Division noted:

Cladding this early skyscraper with Gothic-inspired, terra-cotta tracery was not a casual stylistic choice. Its designers looked for inspiration to the early Gothic cathedrals of Europe, which shared common characteristics of tallness and often having more glass than masonry. Cut glass door panel Eagles and mythical beasts decorate the upper stories, and aquatic creatures and seashells--a visual pun on the name of the building's original owner, Lucius G. Fisher--are found at the base. A later addition to the north is largely a repetition of the original design, except for the absence of bay windows.

Early postcard views of the building

Archival photos

Fisher Building under construction (left) and on completion (right)

Van Buren (main) entrance; Lobby stairs

Entrance hall

First story entrance corridor in 1896

Original elevator cage

Original elevators

Advertisement for Winslow Brothers, who executed the metalwork for the Fisher Building

Late 19th Century Cast Iron Elevator Lobby Door from The Fisher Building, listed for sale on 1stdibs.com. Compare to original elevators photo above.

Rendering of the 1907 addition, Peter J. Weber, architect

Other illustrations

Upper elevator grille. Art Institute of Chicago

Elevator frieze panel. Urban Remains, Chicago.

Architectural Description from the 1965 Historic American Buildings Survey Report [Link to PDF of report here]

PART 11 ARCHITECTURAL INFORMATION A. General Statement: I. Architectural character: The Fisher Building is a large office 'building designed by the firm of D. H. Burnham Co. in 1895. It has been cited by the Chicago Landmarks Commission and it is indicative of the level of achievement in skyscraper design attained by the architects of the Chicago School. The steel cage structure is sheathed in a curtain wall of decorative terra cotta and glass, providing ample space and light for the occupants and making it possible for the building to be erected relatively quickly and economically. B. Description of Exterior: 1. Over-all dimensions: Rectangular 70'-6" (five-bay south front) x 150' 0" (eleven-bay west front), including addition. Eighteen stories. 2. Wall construction, finish and color: The original block of the building had tripartite projecting bays alternating with planed surfaces. Bays end at sill of 17th story. Arches of varying width span the window openings of the 17th floor. The original salmon terra cotta finish is now coated with a black patina from the soot and dirt of the city. 3. Openings: a. Doorways and doors: The arched entrance on VanBuren Street, originally the principal entrance, is intact; that at 343 South Dearborn Street has received a 20th century I 'modernization"--a polished granite portal with plate glass and aluminum doors. The original doors from the vestibule inside are decorated with an ornamental fish cut in the glass panels. b.. Windows: Mostly one-over-one light, double-hung windows; those of the original building are grouped three to a bay window, two between; in the north addition, the windows are placed in a plane in groups of three. At the 17th floor the lights are gathered under wide arches; at the 18th they are again in threes with transoms above. The first floor display windows have been disfigured by a variety of signs, aluminum panels, and other attempts at commercial modernization. ...General setting and orientation: The buiIding occupies the southern portion of a narrow block at the south end of the Loop. Its neighbors are the Old Colony Building (HABS No. ILL-1053) to the south and the Monadnock BuiIding (HABS NO. ILL-1027) to the west. The buiIding fronts the sidewalk line on three sides and is adjacent to the elevated on VanBuren Street. Prepared by Larry J. Homolka, Historian and Assistant Supervisor National Park Service August, 1965.

My Photos: