#steel erection companies near me

[islazoe]

[hirazuki]

Maedhros and Mairon + 49

…out of necessity | Maedhros & Mairon

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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."

[sidewalkstamps]

Union Iron Works of Los Angeles (Photo taken by me on July 27, 2024).

Another not sidewalk. Sorry! But this is an interesting placement, isn't it?

Union Iron works of Los Angeles, Inc. was founded in 1884 according to Victor C. Darnell's Directory of American Bridge-Building Companies 1840-1900 (Society for Industrial Archeology, 1984). To be included in this directory, the company had to build bridges or advertise that they built bridges, even if it was only once and "not their usual activity." However, according to the finding aid for LA County Incorporation Records collection of the Seaver Center for Western History Research, the articles of incorporation were filed in 1899, with principles D. P. N. Little and Horace G. Miller.

It's president in 1907 was Little, per this personal update:

(San Pedro Daily News, Volume 5, Number 249, July 3 1907, accessed via UCR Center for Bibliographical Studies and Research California Digital Newspaper Collection). Interestingly, Little and Union Iron Works are listed separately in the aforementioned Directory of American Bridge-Building Companies, but with overlapping time periods. It's possible that Little was included as an engineer "who advertised as bridge builders, signing contracts for complete projects, making the designs, and subcontracting the actual construction."

Los Angeles Herald, Volume 35, Number 184, April 3 1908, accessed via UCR Center for Bibliographical Studies and Research California Digital Newspaper Collection.

Little was vice president of the Founders' and Employers' Association and Manufacturers' Association of Los Angeles, which this labor paper wasn't so happy about (Industrial Worker, Spokane, WA, June 22 1911). I'm just going to include some snippets:

They owned this tract, according to LA County Public Works land records recorded July 10, 1914.

The National Park Service National Register of Historic Places Inventory--Nomination Form for the Chapman Building (1922-23) in Fullerton, CA includes a listing of local companies involved in the construction. Union Iron Works of Los Angeles, for steel work, are the first in the list!

In 1924, they won the bid to erect eight steel factory buildings for Western Glass company in Fullerton, CA ("Give Contract for Factory Buildings," The Register, Santa Ana, CA, Monday, February 4, 1924, page 14, accessed via Newspapers.com).

In the same year, they were listed in the Directory of California Manufacturers for 'structural iron, iron work' at 5125 Santa Fe Av, Los Angeles (California Development Association, 1924, via archive.org). This address seems to no longer exist.

They built a plant northeast of "the latest subdivision" in 1927, near plants for Truscon Steel company and Goodrich Tire & Rubber and a Southern California Edison company sub-station ("Laguna-Bell and Maywood Gardens Put on Market," Daily News, Los Angeles, CA, Thursday, June 23, 1927, page 10, accessed via Newspapers.com).

In 1928, Union Iron Works merged with Llewellyn Iron Works and Baker Iron Works to become Consolidated Steel Corporation, which is now part of U.S. Steel.

In a 1954 publication by Cal Tech, we learn that Alden G. Roach, at the time president of the Columbia-Geneva Steel and Consolidated Western Steel Divisions of the United States Steel Corporation, was newly elected to the Institute Board of Trustees ("The Summer," October, 1954). He had been at the company since it had been Union Iron Works of Los Angeles (and was that endeavor's president in 1941).

See below for an update from 1955 from the earlier discussed Directory of American Bridge-Building Companies:

[the-firebird69]

Along with those companies we already mentioned we're going to try and get some more out. We are purchasing several high performance vehicle companies believe it or not and weaponry companies Small arms Porsche no but it's subsidiary which is Volkswagen and the selling off 50% and mother and father from Germany are finalizing the deal Husqvarna 50% that's the terrific company and they make a motorcycles and dirt bikes mostly they do make street bikes and BMW motorcycles 50%, BMW automobiles 10%, we mentioned Swiss Air but we are purchasing the entire company and they are arranging for that right now it's a big firm, there's a couple others coming in United airlines 50% Delta airlines 50% American airlines 10% let me increase it later and there are several steel companies Pittsburgh steel 50% us steel 70% and we've been talking to them for weeks and we have several erection companies near purchasing and we're moving out we have a lot of work to do Costco Sam's bJ's we are purchasing 50% of each and also Walmart we are purchasing 10% today we mentioned but it is the same group and it's huge same type of group JCPenney 20% Macy's 50% even Marcus 70% and Dillard's 20% and there's a couple more I like that the outdoor store 50% and there are tons of retailers but only a few were signing today but they're big and the others will start falling in but Sears and roebuck are coming to us with a 50% request and we are also talking you target about 80% still there's a whole bunch of groceries stores in fast food restaurants and restaurants. We're signing up probably half of the fast food chains on Earth today and about 25% of the eateries and including practically everything you can think of all about pawn and Panera and cheesecake factory California Pizza outback restaurant and Chili's TGI Fridays almost all of them are going to sell we're going to keep all their doors open and all the work people working working and we're going to hire a lot more shortly Thor Freya Olympus Zeus Hera nuana Ariana

[newstfionline]

Monday, April 17, 2023

Florida floods: Businesses, residents cleaning up mess (AP) Workers at one of Fort Lauderdale’s landmark restaurants spent Friday tearing out carpeting and original hardwood floors, both ruined when 8 inches (0.25 meters) of water poured inside two days earlier. Old Heidelberg was among numerous businesses and residences affected by historic rainfall in South Florida this week that caused widespread flooding, closing the state’s international airport for nearly two days and turning streets into rivers. While it started raining on Monday, much of the water fell Wednesday, and the Fort Lauderdale area saw record rainfall amounts in a matter of hours, ranging from 15 inches (38 centimeters) to 26 inches (66 centimeters), the National Weather Service said. Stephan Liebe, the Old Heidelberg owner, noted that the National Weather Service called this a 1-in-a-1,000-year storm. “I could live with that—but can I get that in writing?” he joked.

Gunmen storm Mexican resort, kill 7, including child (Reuters) Armed men on Saturday killed a child and six others after storming a resort in the central Mexican state of Guanajuato, authorities said, in a region increasingly plagued by drug cartel violence. Footage widely shared on social media showed the aftermath of the attack in a palm-studded resort in the small town of Cortazar, about 65 km (40 miles) south of the Guanajuato city. It was not clear who was behind the shooting that killed the seven-year-old, three men and three women, Cortazar’s local security department said. One person was seriously injured in the La Palma resort. But in recent years rival drug cartels have been waging brutal battles to control territory and trafficking routes through the state.

US dollar scarcity threatens Bolivia’s ‘economic miracle’ (AP) Sofia Andrade, a lawyer, chose over the past month to withdraw all her dollar savings from the bank as the US currency became scarce on the streets of Bolivia. “I prefer to have them at home,” she said. “I fear they won’t let me withdraw them later.” Like her, many Bolivians are withdrawing their dollar deposits or rushing to buy the US currency amid increased concern about Bolivia’s economic fragility, a marked change for a country that for more than a decade experienced what many called an “economic miracle” amid strong growth, record exports, low inflation, a fixed exchange rate and subsidized gasoline. The scarcity of the greenback, which opposition politicians attribute to the Central Bank running out of hard currency reserves and the government blames on speculation, means that for the first time since 2011, a parallel market for the U.S. dollar has emerged that charges slightly more than the official price.

NATO member Finland breaks ground on Russia border fence (AP) The construction of barbed-wired fence along Finland’s long border with Russia—primarily meant to curb illegal migration—has broken ground near the southeastern town of Imatra less than two weeks after the Nordic country joined NATO as the 31st member of the military alliance. The Finnish Border Guard on Friday showcased the building of the initial three kilometer (1.8 mile) stretch of the fence to be erected in Pelkola near a crossing point off Imatra, a quiet lakeside town of some 25,000 people. Finland’s 1,340 kilometer (832 mile) border with Russia is the longest of any European Union member. Construction of the border fence is an initiative by the border guard that was approved by Prime Minister Sanna Marin’s government amid wide political support last year. The main purpose of the three-meter (10-foot) high steel fence with a barbed-wire extension on top is to prevent illegal immigration from Russia and give reaction time to authorities, Finnish border officials say.

Breaking up with Russia is hard for many Western firms, despite war (Washington Post) Only a small percentage of the hundreds of companies that promised to leave Russia after its invasion of Ukraine have exited, according to several groups keeping a scorecard—and for those that dawdled, departing has only become more expensive and complicated. The Western companies that stayed are often heavily reliant on Russian business, with the losses of an exit perhaps outweighing possible damage to their brands of staying in the country. Some businesses even grabbed a bigger market share as their competitors departed. Many others announced they would pause or scale back operations but continue to trade. Others said they would sell their Russian assets but still are seeking buyers or trying to reduce the cost of leaving. News of the departures last year briefly threatened the Kremlin’s efforts to muffle the impact of the war on Russians. But the continuing presence of so many companies has undermined the Washington-led effort to crush Russia’s economy, contributing taxes that help keep Russia’s war machine running and allowing Russians to maintain their prewar comforts and quality of life, even as Russian missiles destroy Ukrainian lives.

Ukraine reports unprecedentedly bloody fighting in Bakhmut (Reuters) Ukrainian and Russian armed forces are fighting extraordinarily bloody battles in the smashed eastern city of Bakhmut, but pro-Kyiv forces are still holding on, Ukraine's military said on Saturday. Russia's defence ministry said earlier in the day that fighters from the Wagner mercenary group had captured two more areas of Bakhmut, the main target of Moscow's offensive in eastern Ukraine. Wagner has spearheaded Russia's attempt to take Bakhmut since last summer in what has been the longest and deadliest battle of the war for both sides. "Bloody battles unprecedented in recent decades are taking place in the middle of the city's urban area," said Serhiy Cherevatyi, spokesperson for Ukraine's eastern military command. Bakhmut, which had a pre-war population of around 70,000 people, has been Russia's main target in a winter offensive that has so far yielded scant gains despite infantry ground combat of an intensity unseen in Europe since World War Two.

India sees signs of renewed Sikh separatism and sounds the alarm (Washington Post) The Indian government is sounding the alarm about what security officials see as signs of a potential revival by a Sikh separatist movement in the northern state of Punjab. These concerns have recently spiked, with police hunting the self-described separatist Amritpal Singh and reporters chronicling his every sighting on CCTV cameras. Senior security officials say they have seen increasing turmoil in Punjab over the past five years, with renewed calls by some members of the Sikh religion for an independent state called Khalistan. The recent events bring back memories of a Sikh insurgency in the 1980s, triggered by the Indian army raid on the religion’s holiest shrine, the Golden Temple in Amritsar, in which the Sikh militant leader Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale was killed. Some see Amritpal as trying to inherit the Bhindranwale mantle. There has been sporadic violence, with isolated bombings, attacks on police stations and killings of religious leaders. On Wednesday, four soldiers were shot dead at a military base in Punjab. The incident is under investigation.

Taiwan highly vulnerable to Chinese air attack, leaked documents show (Washington Post) Taiwan is unlikely to thwart Chinese military air superiority in a cross-strait conflict, while tactics such as China’s use of civilian ships for military purposes have eroded U.S. spy agencies’ ability to detect a pending invasion, according to leaked Pentagon assessments that contain troubling details about the self-governed island’s ability to fend off war. The assessments state that Taiwan officials doubt their air defenses can “accurately detect missile launches,” that barely more than half of Taiwan’s aircraft are fully mission capable and that moving the jets to shelters would take at least a week—a huge problem if China launched missiles before Taiwan had a chance to disperse those planes. The classified documents addressing a potential conflict suggest China’s air force would have a much better shot at establishing early control of the skies—a strategy that Taipei itself believes will underpin an attack—than Russia did in Ukraine.

Bali locals are fed up with bad tourists (Washington Post) The image many outsiders have of Bali—the one depicted in the 2010 Julia Roberts blockbuster “Eat Pray Love”—still exists. Bali remains covered with deep green rice paddies and golden sand stretching into turquoise water. But it’s not as tranquil these days. In a little over a year since Bali reopened for international travel, an uptick in unruly behavior from tourists has removed some of the magic from paradise, pushing national and local officials to think up new ways to address offenders. Bali is part of a growing number of popular travel destinations fed up with overtourism. Hawaii is considering a bill to dissolve its government-sponsored tourism marketing agency. Amsterdam has been trying to reduce rowdy tourist behavior in its Red Light District, rolling out a ban on pot-smoking on the streets there, reducing hours for restaurants and brothels, and tightening some alcohol restrictions. Italian authorities have been fining tourists in Rome, Florence and Venice for littering, camping, vandalism and traffic violations. Like Hawaii, Amsterdam and Italy, Bali is also fed up with tourists who aren’t breaking any laws, but show little respect for local life.

Israeli protests of legal overhaul show no signs of slowing (AP) Israeli demonstrations against the government’s plan to overhaul the judiciary continued on Saturday, despite Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s decision to pause the contentious proposals. Tens of thousands of people participated in the main protest held in the central city of Tel Aviv, while smaller demonstrations took place across the country. Protest organizers, who have held these weekly protests for over three months, aim to maintain momentum and increase pressure on Netanyahu and his government until the proposed changes are scrapped. Bending to the mass protests, Netanyahu paused the overhaul plans in March, saying he wanted “to avoid civil war.”

Battle for control of Sudan intensifies (AP) Sudan’s embattled capital awoke Monday to a third day of heavy fighting between the army and a powerful rival force for control of the country, as the weekend’s civilian death toll rose to 97. Airstrikes and shelling intensified in parts of Khartoum and the adjoining city of Omdurman. Rapid, A sustained firing was heard near the military headquarters, with white smoke rising from the area. Residents hunkering down in their homes reported power outages and incidents of looting. “Gunfire and shelling are everywhere,” Wadeya Mahmoud Koko, head of a union for thousands of tea vendors and other food workers, said from her home in Khartoum.

Tonga volcanic eruption was bigger than any U.S. nuclear blast (Washington Post) The Hunga Tonga-Hunga Haʻapai undersea volcano eruption in 2022 was larger than any natural explosion in the past century or even any U.S. nuclear explosion, according to a study released Friday in Science Advances. It rivals the massive Krakatau volcanic explosion near Indonesia in 1883 that took more than 36,000 lives, though the Tongan volcanic explosion in the southwest Pacific caused four deaths. “The only way you can make an explosion of this size is with a hydrogen bomb,” said Sam Purkis, lead author of the study and marine geoscientist at the University of Miami. “This is way off the charts of anything” in human experience. Using satellite data, field observations and drone mapping, the team created a simulation of the eruption and resulting tsunami waves to provide a new detailed look of the explosive event. They found tsunami waves reached heights of 45 meters (148 feet) on Tonga’s Tofua Island. It released the most water vapor into the atmosphere by a volcano on record, enough to fill 58,000 swimming pools, which may temporarily warm the climate in years to come. It set a world record for highest volcano plume in the satellite record, sending ash 36 miles high into the atmosphere, surpassing what many scientists had considered physically feasible. It triggered the fastest atmospheric waves ever observed at 720 mph, circling the planet at least six times. Scientists estimated the strength of the last blast wave to be 15 megatons (equivalent to 15 million tons of TNT). That’s roughly equivalent to the largest nuclear test performed by the United States.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Sweetest of Exiles - One

Summary: When Oberyn Martell travels to Essos for exile, he found more than he anticipated when he first lays eyes on Pero Tovar, his brother-in-arms in the Second Sons mercenary company. While Pero is a bit resistant to his Oberyn’s overt charms at first, the Prince always gets what he wants. When the Second Sons are hired to rescue a wealthy merchant’s daughter, Oberyn learns there is much more to the grumpy sellsword. And Oberyn doesn’t mind sharing–especially when the merchant’s daughter smiles at him like that.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell x Pero Tovar, (past) Pero Tovar x F!Reader (No Y/N), future--it is a surprise.

Rating for this chapter: T for mentions of blood, guts and gore...magic. My overuse of italics. 

Word Count: 5k

A/N: I wrote most of this drunk (or buzzed). I am still riding my red wine high so I almost apologize for the nonsense. If you have any questions about the ASOIAF lore/geography that I’m mentioning, please send me an ask or a DM! I’m always happy to ramble about this series.

(thank you to my love, @starlight-starwrites for the absolutely gorgeous banner. I love you.)

Or read on Ao3 here!

CHAPTER ONE: The Mercenary

Oberyn had always wondered what he looked like when fucking someone. He had looking glasses set up in one of his lover’s rooms so he could try to catch a glimpse himself. But his unrelenting need to keep his partners satisfied always won out over his curiosity.

But then the gods seemed to have a sense of humor when they sent him away from Dorne after he might-have-killed Edgar Yronwood. The Citadel and Oldtown had entertained him for a moment but it soon bored him and he set off across the Narrow Sea to Essos. While the Second Sons mercenary company welcomed him and his sword arm, his eyes were firmly trained on the man toward the back of the company with the scar down his face.

His face.

And well, his time away from Dorne just became much more interesting.

**

It had taken almost an entire year of not-at-all subtle flirting and propositions and nearly losing their lives time and time again before Pero found himself tumbling into the Prince of Dorne’s bed. The Prince was definitely persistent, Pero would never admit that his charms—his annoying charms—had worn him down instead of Pero’s selfish desire for release while the company was too far away from any sort of willing woman and his hand just wasn’t cutting it. But the Prince had been attentive—willing to let Pero wrap his scarred and rough hand around his throat when he was pressing him into the threadbare bedroll in the quiet corner of camp.

The prince felt good—and he knew how to make Pero feel good.

It was infuriating—he wanted to strangle he smug smirk right off the prince’s face but he knew that the Prince was only capable of enjoying when someone’s hand was around his throat. But he had to admit that he had finally found a true friend (and not just release) with the man who looked strangely like him.

It had been nearly two decades since he could speak with someone as openly as he did when he was alone with the prince in their tent.

But his mind still drifted—to years ago. To his life before finding coin in the service of the Second Sons.

“You make the moon shine brighter, Pero.”

It was childish of him, stupid, to still think of her all these years later. Surely she had forgotten him. They had just been children—he had just been a third-born son of a disgraced lord from Valysar and she had been… she had been everything.

“You are pensive, Tovar.” The prince’s voice cut through his reverie.

He had thought the prince asleep—spent from a long day’s ride and a quick, near-desperate fuck as soon as their shared tent was erected. “It is dark, princeling. You cannot see me.”

Oberyn chuckled. “I know your brooding silences from your angry quiet.”

“You think a great deal of yourself, don’t you?” He grumbled, rolling his eyes despite the dark.

“I believe you think a great deal of me, as well.”

Pero sighed.

“Tell me what weighs on your mind.”

“Nothing that concerns you. Go to sleep.”

Oberyn laughed. “I will find out what has you brooding.”

“Do not hold your breath, princeling.”

He only laughed.

Pero was not sure when they had both fallen asleep but they were both woken by a frantic yell outside their tent. The prince’s knife glinted in the dimming moonlight and Pero had never let his hand leave the hilt of one of his smaller swords as they charged outside. They expected an ambush—a retaliation from the Tyroshi they had just pushed back on behalf of Lys—but instead, they found a disheveled man, bloodied and bruised and desperately limping toward their camp, frantically waving his hands above his head, shouting something in the Myrish bastard Valyrian dialect.

Pero sheathed his blade as he finally started to realize what the man was babbling. “Calm yourself, man.” Pero said, stepping in front of Oberyn.

The man nearly collapsed as he reached them, big, brown eyes shining in the moonlight. “They took her. They took her—I barely escaped.” He continued to jabber and Pero mostly listened—having heard desperate pleas from hundreds of men and women over the years of his service in the mercenary company—the man’s story consisted of being surrounded on the road to Myr by a group of religious zealots. The story was not an unfamiliar one. The Free Cities were known to erupt with pockets of violence; the causes ranged from trade disputes, claims to land, religion, and everything in between.

Pero had heard it all.

But then the man opened his mouth, blood drying on his chin, and said, “but they took her—they wanted her.” And a name pushed by the man’s bruised lips—a name he hadn’t heard in years.

Before he could stop himself, Pero reached out and grabbed the man by the collar of his tunic and hauled him to his unsteady feet. “Tell me where.”

**

The captains deliberated for only a few short moments before refusing to take the charge.

The fact that the woman was Qohorik had negated the fact that the Myrish magistrate who had fought his way to their camp had promised a princess’ ransom and promised that her father, a prominent merchant, would double it for her safe return. The Second Sons had been humiliated generations ago at Qohor and had not taken any bounties or contracts from the city or its inhabitants since then.

The Second Sons gave the magistrate—Orestes, his name was—some water and a bit of feed for his exhausted horse and then told him to leave. They would not go.

And Pero was an angry man. He had wrath in his blood since he was a boy, tempered only with bouts of relief and quiet. But this had sent him into a near rage with how flippant they captains had been when they had delivered their decision. Of course, he had not mentioned that the woman Orestes had pleaded to be rescued had been…her. Or how he knew her. Attachments like that were frowned upon, even by mercenaries. Soft hearts made easy targets.

But as the sun set the next day, Pero knew what he had to do. Even if he was alone. He packed his bare essentials, mostly worried about his sack of coin and weapons, and then pushed out of the tent-

-only to be met with the smirking face of the princeling. “Come, I have a surprise for you.”

“I do not have time for this.”

“Yes, you do,” Oberyn said with a broadening smirk as he turned away, leading Pero further away from camp as the moon continued her climb up into the inky sky. And why was Pero following him? He had to leave. He had to find that stupid magistrate. He had to-

There were about two dozen Second Sons, including one of the company’s healers, waiting at the tree line with their packs and mounts. Oberyn’s smirk reached its peak as he winked over his shoulder at Pero who only scowled in return. The Magistrate—Orestes—was standing with them, looking more than a little out of place with his rumpled fine clothes, now stained with dirt and blood. But he offered a tentative tilt of his head when Pero stepped up to the group with Oberyn.

“What did you do?” Pero hissed.

“I formed my own mercenary company,” Oberyn replied with a roll of his shoulders. “I know you are brighter than this, Tovar.”

If possible, his lips formed an even thinner line.

“Do not pout. We are going to save the damsel and get paid.” There was a cheer from the small band of men—both Tovar and Orestes were the only ones who did not seem to enjoy it. But soon they were on their way, each step taking them further away from the strange safety of the Second Sons and into the wilds of Essos.

**

Orestes, Pero found, was fond of speaking to anyone who would listen. His voice was pleasing but Pero preferred the quiet in most instances. But, he supposed it was necessary to learn just how he had ended up fleeing to the Second Sons in a desperate plea for help.

Orestes and his companion had been traveling from Qohor to Myr—and Pero tried very hard to not grind his teeth every time Orestes referred to her as ‘my lady’—to allow her to see more of Essos and to return Orestes to Myr after his year-long residency to Qohor that had been in the name of strengthening trade routes and agreements.

(“But, of course, I found myself more entranced by the city and its people than my fellow magistrates’ mandates that I was told to quickly solidify.” He sighed, the sound only a lovelorn man could make and Pero could not stop the grinding of his teeth at that.)

But on the road between Volantis and Myr, a group of heavily armed, religious zealots had slaughtered their small band of traveling companions and guards and took her and Orestes captive in a plot to gain the knowledge her father was keeping secret.

Her father, Lord Ollo, had been one of the famed smiths in Qohor who still knew the secrets of re-forging Valyrian Steel. The famed metal had become a treasure since the Doom and those who could work with the fickle and strong metal were regarded as lords and wielded their power like nobility, too. Travelers from all across Essos sought him out for new weapons, armor, and the occasional piece of jewelry from bits of Valyrian Steel and he had gained a reputation for being excessively secretive but the best at his trade. His wife was a noble woman and had raised his status with their marriage while providing her with the lifestyle on par with princesses.

But Pero knew all of this. He had seen it firsthand. He had supped with him and felt his lady-wife’s fingers tug at his boyishly poorly cropped hair with a fond smile. He knew that their home, an imposing fortress deep in the Forest of Qohor, always smelled of fire and metal and drying flowers.

It smelled…like home.

Well, it had. For a time. A long time ago.

And Orestes never needed to know that—never needed to know that the only reason he had a small band of mercenaries at his call was because the Prince knew that the woman, whose name he could not even say aloud, meant something to Pero.

For all his pride and well-earned arrogance, Oberyn was a good man, Pero had to admit. (He would never actually say this to Oberyn, his ego was big enough without the extra fodder.) And he would have to find a way to repay the prince-who-had-everything in some fashion. Pero’s pride would not allow this kindness to be left unpaid.

Orestes went on to explain that the zealots thought attaining the knowledge of Valyrian Steel would allow them the proper way of sacrificing in order to satiate the supposed blood lust of some old, stupidly named god. They hoped to trade her for Lord Ollo’s knowledge.

“But you seem to know my lady,” Orestes said, turning in his saddle to look Pero straight in the face. “Do you?”

“Is she your lady?” Pero asked in return, ignoring Orestes’ question and how his stomach turned at the thought of her being alone with a group of men as delusional as the band of zealots. Thankfully, they were nearing where Orestes said he had been held captive—less than two days’ ride from their camp but they had set their horses upon the trail with haste, cutting time from their journey.

Orestes’ answering smile was small. “No. But I am blessed to know her and I will never forgive myself for leaving her behind.”

“But she told you to, didn’t she? Told you to run and not look back.” The words were out of his mouth before he could bite them back and his ever-present scowl deepened.

“You do know her. Indeed, she told me to run as soon as I was able. But not to Myr—she told me to run west.” He paused and shook his head and Pero barely caught the confusion coloring the Magistrate’s features. “I had thought the prince was jesting when he said you knew her. I am in your debt, it seems.”

“Just pay the fee you promised.”

“Of course! I would not dream of-”

“Good.” Pero dug his heels into his horse’s side and urged the animal into a faster trot. “You will keep your head, then.” Orestes said something else but Pero had already galloped away to Oberyn’s side at the front of the group. “What have you said to the magistrate?”

“Nothing of consequence.”

“Do not lie to me, princeling.” Pero scarcely noticed the men behind them slow their horses’ pace to give them room. Their relationship—if it could even be called that—was an open secret to most in the Second Sons and some of those who followed Oberyn into this new company were also willing to indulge themselves in each other’s bedrolls if the time called for it.

Oberyn only laughed. “I did not know that your obvious reaction to a lady’s name was a secret needing to be kept.”

“What else have you told him?”

“Nothing. Just as you have told me nothing. But I have still called the men who were loyal to me and the promised coin to save this woman you have kept like a secret.” Oberyn arched an eyebrow, a look Pero knew meant Oberyn was daring him to argue. “She will be safe. The Magistrate will be on his way and our pockets will be filled.” Oberyn’s dark eyes sparkled in the growing sunlight. “And I shall meet this lady of yours. She must be a sight to behold to warrant such attention.”

“She…” The words died on his tongue. How would he even try to describe her? How childish would he sound to a prince for harboring such affections for his childhood love after all this time? “She warrants much more than any man could ever give. Including the Magistrate.”

Oberyn huffed but a smile tugged at his lips. “We are nearly there, Tovar. You can make the polite introductions.”

**

Night had just started to fall, painting the sky a violent shade of orange, when Orestes had announced that the ruined castle was just over the next hill.

Pero felt his chest tighten for a moment, a shot of adrenaline he had not felt as strongly since he was a new recruit to the Second Sons facing a small horde of Dothraki.

They crested the hill and Pero saw the broken remains of a once-grand castle. A single window was lit with the dim light of a candle just as the sun disappeared behind the stone, making it look like it had absorbed the red light and bathed in an inky black.

Defense of the castle was nearly impossible with its location and the small band of mercenaries quickly surrounded it, ready to drive inside when suddenly….the door, large and rusted, opened and a single man rushed out, screaming something in what Pero thought to be Old Ghiscari and covered in…blood.

Pero turned to look at Oberyn who seemed to be waffling between amusement and confusion at the sight. He waved a hand, silently commanding two men to secure the fleeing zealot—quietly, if possible.

“It is too quiet,” Pero said as he turned back to the castle after watching the screaming man be brought to his knees and a dirty rag shoved between his lips.

Oberyn agreed. “Surely a band of zealots would make more noise. I’ve been told they’re fond of chanting.” The prince slid closer to the ruined castle, staying hidden behind the rolling hill and scattered boulders for cover.

Pero watched him move, knowing the prince had an innate talent for hearing the smallest noises—whether it be from a rabbit or a sneaking assassin, and would trust whatever his judgement was.

“If anyone is left, they are not moving.”

Pero nodded, ignoring the umpteenth time his chest clenched, and signaled for the rest of their band of men to press forward. Step by step, they neared the castle and spread out to find different entrances. Orestes stumbled in the loose dirt to stay near Pero and Oberyn and Pero grimaced when Oberyn nudged him in the side, silently telling him to allow it—at least for the time being.

Closer and closer, they crept until they Pero was able to curl his hand around the edge of the door and peel it open just enough for him and Oberyn to slip inside. Orestes tripped over a loose stone as he followed.

And Oberyn had been right.

The castle was quiet. Unnaturally so.

The grip on his swords tightened as the small group pushed further into the dark ruins. Torches were scattered and burning out in their holds on the wall, casting even more shadows against the crumbling stone. He heard the soft footfalls of his fellow mercenaries coming in through the east and west entrances but it gave him little comfort. They were alone.

Alone.

His next step made a splash and he looked down to see the toe of his boot submerged in a dark puddle. He reached out and grabbed a torch from the wall and let the dying flames shine near the floor.

It was blood.

He raise the torch just enough to light the end of the hall and sighed.

“How interesting,” Oberyn said as he glanced over his shoulder.

Blood pooled between the broken stone and drip-drip-dripped from some unseen source to puddle in the corner. Bodies were crumpled along the path and Pero turned to pin Orestes with a look. “These men were the ones who slaughtered your guards and took you captive?”

Orestes looked down at a body and seemed to bite back a gulp. “Yes.”

“It looks like they put up quite a fight.”

“It looks like they were ripped open,” Pero corrected before pressing forward. “What did this? Did they do this to each other?”

“I’ve never seen a group more cohesive than them,” Orestes said. “They never contradicted each other or spoke out of turn. They had a singular mentality, it seemed. I would not believe they turned on each other.”

“Men turn on each other all the time,” Oberyn said. “Even without cause.”

They continued forward, Pero leading. He was not sure where they were going, but he knew—instinctively—that he needed to keep moving. If another person or creature had found the castle before they did, what hope did she have? Would he find her like this, too? Reduced to a bloody corpse? Would that be the last chance he would have to see her?

But they walked on, further into the dark, catching glimpses of the rising moon in the half-collapsed windows until they turned and saw the outline of a door, lit by a dim, orange light. Without a care, Pero pushed forward, hilt of his sword still in his hand as he pushed the door open and his grip faltered.

For the first time in nearly two decades, Pero let his swords fall from his grasp.

In the corner of the small room, huddled near a solitary candle, was a woman. Not just a woman—her.

Chains wrapped around her ankles and wrists and angry, deep cuts spanned the length of her legs and arms and her fine dress had been reduced to rags. He barely registered Oberyn calling for the healer as he stepped to her side and quickly knelt down. The locks on the chains were easily undone and his roughened hands carefully prodded at the broken skin.

“Pero,” she whispered, the name sliding by her chapped lips. Her head sagged and Pero moved just enough to let her forehead rest against his shoulder. “You’re here…” her voice was rough and raspy, like she had been screaming for hours. And perhaps she had.

“I’m here.”

The healer came in, arms filled with supplies, while more than a few of their company stuck their heads into the room to see their charge. Oberyn quickly moved them back and shut the door—Pero would thank him for it later.

“Look at me. Look at me, Petal,” Pero said as the healer tutted as he looked over her wounds before uncorking a bit of firewine.

Her unfocused eyes slid to him as the healer set to work. A cry broke her chapped lips as the firewine started to spill across her legs.

Pero reached out and kept her head still, gaze on him, as the healer continued. “Just me, Petal. I am here.”

“Pe-Pero.” The name was stilted on her tongue. “Please—it hurts-” a scream tore its way out of her throat but Pero held her steady even as his chest clenched.

“I know. But it will be over soon.”

Tears gathered in her eyes and slid down her dirty cheeks as her hands shot out to grab at his armor; he could feel the heat of her touch sliding and blooming warmth through his thick tunic. But he kept her focused on him even as the healer muttered about needing more wrappings.

“I’m here, Petal. I’m here.”

**

“This is my fault,” Orestes whispered.

The company had settled into the ruins as a camp for the night, finding the rooms (where there wasn’t blood or any bodies) more comfortable than the outside ground. Pero, Oberyn, and Orestes were the last three to retire from the roaring fire they had made in the remnants of the great hall.

Pero agreed but kept that to himself. “How?”

“We travelled by Myr weeks ago. But I could not bear to part from my lady’s side—I convinced her, selfishly, to let me take her to see Volantis, Lys, Tyrosh. She had marveled at everything Norvos and Braavos had offered—even Lorath had made her wonder like a child. I wanted to give her more of that, to show her all I could.”

“And then you were set upon by zealots. Probably followed you from Dagger Lake.”

Orestes shook his head. “Our party never neared that pirate hive. The closest we came to it was when she insisted on seeing Valysar. That little town of no consequence.”

Oberyn, only briefly, touched Pero’s back and he knew the prince meant it as a comfort at the mention of Pero’s former home. Orestes did not notice it.

“But she was adamant and refused to tell anyone why. But she all but disappeared for an entire day once we arrived and would not speak of her adventures—the little box she had procured never left her side and was never opened.”

Pero almost smiled at that. She had not changed—in that respect, at least.

Orestes yawned and stood from the rickety chair. “I must retire for the night. Please alert me if my lady calls for me.”

Oberyn hummed an agreement while Pero felt his face curl into a sneer as the magistrate left the hall.

“He certainly holds a candle for his lady, does he not?” Oberyn mused as soon as Orestes was out of earshot.

“She did not ask for him once,” Pero said before reaching forward to grab the jug of terrible wine left on the table and took a large gulp.

“But she’s asked for you? Hm?” Oberyn asked, snatching the jug from him. “And you’ve yet to introduce me. I am almost insulted.”

“She needs rest, princeling.” He had made sure she was comfortable in one of the largest rooms and was happy to find that her trunks, filled with her belongings, were still intact and made sure she received them before he had let her rest for the night, making sure to let the rest of the company know that she was not to be disturbed.

“I’m sure she does.” He took a drink. “But she has also been trapped, alone, with men who meant her harm for nearly a week. You were the first friendly face she saw—do not think that I misheard her. She called for you. Pero.”

“You could walk in there now and she would not be able to tell the difference.”

Oberyn tutted and Pero stole the jug back. “I believe she would.”

Pero nearly startled when Oberyn reached out and grasped his wrist, keeping him from draining the rest of the wine. His grip was firm but gentle and a hold Pero knew well. “I thought people in Essos were more willing to indulge themselves in matters of the heart and flesh. Do not be stupid.”

And somehow…that worked. Pero slipped into her room and found her sitting on the small bed, wrapped legs atop the thin blankets and a book on her lap. In the warm candlelight, she looked almost healthy. Like she was not covered in healing salve and he didn’t know there were long, angry cuts hidden by wrappings and her thin nightgown.

She looked…so much like the girl he had left behind decades ago.

Pero remembered Lady Daeryssa smiling down at her daughter, flowers twisted into her braids.

“You are special, my star. Like me.”

“Like you, Mama?”

Daeryssa nodded and grabbed the small, blue rose she had Pero fetch just that morning and pressed her thumb against one of its thorns until blood bloomed on her skin and started to trickle down her skin. Her face was serene and Pero could not look away. Her bloodied fingers pulled the petals from the rose and she carefully pressed them against her daughter’s forehead, sticking them to her skin with blood. Words he didn’t understand slipped by her lips as she pressed another petal and then another to her daughter’s face until she stripped the flower bare.

“You will be magnificent, my star. Your trials will be hard but you will always rise above.”

“Come in,” she said, setting her book aside.

Pero did as he was told and blindly set his hands in hers as she reached out for him, letting her tug him onto the edge of her bed. “How are you?”

“I will heal.” She smiled as if nothing had caused her pain and his chest hurt. “I brought you something.” She leaned back just enough to retrieve a small box from the mess of blankets.

The box was nothing spectacular, made from a polished dark wood with a simple latch and did not weigh more than his dagger. “How did you know we would see each other again?” He asked.

She only smiled and pressed the small box further into his grip. “Open it.”

And he could not tell her no. He unfastened the latch and felt his face crumple as he looked inside. His mother’s handwriting, still beautiful and tilted, drew his eye first. He grabbed the thin bit of parchment and unfurled it.

My dear boy- I love you more than words can say. You have saved us.

The rest of the letter was filled with anecdotes, telling Pero how the coin he had sent back home kept their family afloat and settled his father’s debts, allowing his mother and brothers to stay home and retain their titles and livelihoods. He had saved them. His mother had written it at least three times in her short letter.

But I still wish I witnessed you grow into the man you are today. Come home. You are always welcome.

He quickly let the letter curl in on itself again and shoved it back in the box, knowing she was watching him, face serene and almost unreadable. He reached into the box again and let his fingers brush against something cold and smooth. A shuddering breath pushed its way out of his lung as he pulled out a small, carved wooden wolf that fit in his palm. He raised it up to press the well-worn wood against his lips, just once, before placing it gently back into the box.

“You met my family.”

“I did,” she said. “They were very kind.” She paused. “And they smile so often. I almost didn’t believe you were related to them.”

He huffed. “You never let me have a moments’ peace, Petal.”

“You were the only peace I knew as a child,” she responded.

Pero sat with her for hours under their tree after her mother had disappeared and the petals remained on her face, only falling one by one after the sun had set, leaving little bloody thumbprints across her skin. He tried to press them back onto her skin without success, and she only giggled at his attempts, leaning into each of his touches and letting him try and try again.

She collected all the petals as they fell and Pero had given up on trying to re-stick them.

“What are you doing?”

“Practice.” He watched her reach out and scratch her palm against the broken bark of the tree, slicing open her palm in a single movement.

He squawked and moved to grab her hand but she curled her fingers into a fist, crushing the petals against her bloodied palm. She took a single, long breath through her nose and then unclenched her fist. The petals rose from her bloodied hand and floated up into the air as if pulled by invisible strings. They swirled around the pair before, with another long breath, she let them fly away, disappearing into the thick of the forest.

She laughed then, a light sound that had blood rushing to his cheeks for a reason he could not explain or pinpoint at that moment. All he could mutter as she looked at him, eyes twinkling and a giggle still on her lips was…”petal.”

“Why did you leave?” She asked as he tucked the small box away into his tunic.

Pero froze. “I had to.”

A/N: please let me know what you think! I hope you guys like this! there will be three chapters. 

[ficforce]

Coming Home

Leonard Burns x Reader NSFW No one asked for this but I don’t care.

Y/N had spent the entire day cleaning, she had washed everything in the house and that included the curtains. She was oddly nervous for someone who was only expecting their husband to come home, it was so rare she got time alone with him and this time it would be for at least three days. The small home she lived in was always clean and tidy but once she had received his phone call she couldn’t sit still, even as she waited the scant few minutes for him to arrive she was cleaning.

The front door opened and Y/N’s breath hitched, her heart began to pound and she all but ran to the entrance, “Leonard!”

The man watched as she skidded slightly on the wooden floor in her rush, his green eye met hers and he gave her a warm smile, “I’m home.”

“Welcome back!” Y/N sounded breathless, she ran to him without further delay and was delighted when he lifted her into his arms. Leonard Burns was a tall man and it was one of her favourite things when he would pick her up, Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist and buried her fingers into the loose hair beneath his ponytail before leaning in and kissing him chastely. “I missed you so much, are you hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m fine,” he reassured her and pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips, “I’ll have to be careful about flames though, how are you not dizzy with all the cleaning fumes in the air?” Leonard watched her expression become a little flustered as he noticed her cleaning spree, “Let me go change, maybe you could open a window or two.”

Y/N’s feet reached the ground but he hands remained on his biceps, her head tilted up until he took the hint and leaned down to press a kiss on her mouth, followed by another, then another. He gave her a little nudge and Y/N headed to the living room to open a window. Her heart was still beating quickly in her chest, it always had when he was near.

There was a fifteen-year gap between their ages, she first met him when she was twenty-two and he had been so gentle with her. Her home had been in ashes, her best friend had turned Infernal whilst they slept, the fire spread quickly and Y/N had found herself trapped in one of the rooms, her once friend screaming outside the door as the building went up around them. Leonard had found her under the debris, her clothes had burnt to ash and he had simply wrapped his jacket around her, he didn’t hesitate in holding her hand as she cried on his shoulder when they took her friend’s boy away. He had arranged for her to stay at Company 1, not an unusual occurrence when people lost their home, the Company housed victims until they could be rehomed. Y/N had been angry, she had always believed that her ignition abilities were a gift, she couldn’t be burned, even in the inferno of her home she had remained unharmed by the flames. Now that her friend was dead and she had lost everything, her home, her belongings - everything. What was the point of surviving if she hadn’t been able to save anything at all, she had always said her prayers, she had been a good follower of Sol and what had it gotten her?

Leonard had listened to her angry words, he’d witnessed her loss of faith but he didn’t give up on her. He didn’t tell her that she was wrong, instead he taught her that prayer didn’t have to be to ask for anything, she didn’t even have to speak to Sol - just the action could be soothing. He told her that simply believing in something was enough to get people through the hardest times.

So she had chosen to believe in him.

As a Priest and the Captain of Company 1, Leonard Burns was a man with so many responsibilities and secrets that it was difficult to be with him the way she truly wanted. They loved each other and despite that, he had tried so hard to keep her at arm’s length…

Y/N smiled to herself as she looked around their home now, they had married in private and she lived as far from him as she could whilst remaining in a safe part of Tokyo, they had a child together. No one knew. They were the only ones and sometimes that was heartbreaking but she understood it was to keep her safe, to keep their child safe. She knew that he was more than he appeared to be, she understood that the Church had secrets and he kept them.

“Y/N?” Hearing his voice she headed upstairs to their bedroom, she found him half-naked looking into the dresser drawer, “I can’t find any clothing…”

“I… may have washed everything.” Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and she was a little embarrassed, “It’s dry, I just need to iron and fold - I’ll do it now.”

As the woman made to leave he reached out to catch her hand, tugging her back toward him and wrapped his arm around her waist as he brought her hand to his lips, “Would you rather iron clothes or spend a little time with your husband - in our bedroom.” Leonard could still look mischievous and his charming smile had her feeling warm in seconds.

“Do you even need to ask?” Y/N removed his hands from her and then she gave him a shove, sending the man to fall onto the end of their bed, “My sweet lion…” She had been waiting for him eagerly to come home, she wanted to give him a decent welcome back and Y/N knew he enjoyed it when she took control a little. “You’re not allowed to touch me with your hands, Leonard, it shouldn’t be too difficult for you - I have to suffer through not being able to touch you every time you’re away.”

He tilted his head a little, “That works both ways.”

Y/N climbed onto his lap and pushed his shoulders until he was laying against the mattress, her hands remained on his bare shoulders, her mouth settled at the base of his throat and he could feel her sucking a bruise into his skin. He forced himself to control his heat output, his neck had always been sensitive and she knew that. The Captain’s back arched before it fell back to the mattress as she nipped at the mark she had just made on his neck and then she sat upon his hips. He noted the pleased look on her face, “Are you trying to tame me or rile me up?”

“Maybe both? Can I remove this?” Her fingertip traced the edge of his eyepatch gently, she always asked, even after ten years of being married. He nodded and she removed it, leaning down to kiss his eyelid before she sat up and wriggled her hips against him, watching as his fingers buried into the sheets and his pelvis rolled up toward her, wanting friction almost as badly as he wanted to pull the modest clothing from Y/N’s body. Her eyes were roamed his chest and stomach, her hands stroking over his muscled body, slowly deciding where to plant her teeth next, Y/N pressed down on his stomach and she felt him tense, the muscle under her palms was hard like steel and he made such a lovely sound when her nails dragged along the dips and grooves of him. Sliding down from his hips, Y/N laid over him, resting her upper weight on her forearms as she swiped the flat of her tongue along the pink scratch marks she’d left on his belly, trying her best to ignore his clothed erection trapped under her.

She heard his little growl and held in a gleeful laugh as she began to suck another mark into his skin, this time over his ribs just under his right pectoral, making the spot sensitive before she bit him – her body throbbed as he arched again, it was like riding a wave and she bit her own lip as she was reminded just how strong he was. Leonard could break her just by sneezing too hard, his body was strong and solid and he always let her have her way - he was so indulgent to her whims. His submission to Y/N had always humbled her, it showed her his trust and the fact that he gave her that power was enough to keep her warm even when he wasn’t there. His willing obedience to her was the most precious and arousing thing she’d ever received. Her own little moan escaped her and she saw his head lift so that he could send his heated gaze her way, smirking at her because he hadn’t even touched her but he could feel she was damp against his thigh.

Leonard lifted the leg she had been resting along, his raised thigh causing Y/N to slide against it and cry out into his chest, her hands gripped his sides, nails digging in painfully as she pushed against his thigh a little too eagerly, “Still getting so wet, even after all our time together.” Despite his voice vibrating through her every nerve and heating her skin further, she buried her teeth into his right bicep, he groaned loudly and dug his fingers into the bed, “Now, now…”

She wasn’t biting him hard enough to break his skin, just enough that it stung and would leave a mark for a day or two, the bite to his arm gained in pressure and he finally took the hint and dropped his leg. The man had always had a weak spot for a little pain, he enjoyed being in a submissive position when he was alone with Y/N, he always had to be in control when he was on duty - The Church, the Force, other duties he couldn’t speak of. This was a relief. Y/N released his arm with a self-satisfied grin, “Don’t tease me too much, Y/N, it’s been too long,” Leonard warned her but she shrugged and pushed his head back down into the pillows – she was having a power trip.

Again and again, she bit him, alternating between harmless little nips and soothing licks to stinging bites that made him growl and buck, she’d go back to throbbing marks and suck them until he was bruised. The heat in the room increased and Y/N sat up with a little puff of air escaping her, he was like a furnace at times. She settled on his hips again and felt his cock straining against his pants to an almost painful point, Y/N helped him out – but only a little. She sat up on her knees and playfully tugged at his belt, watching his muscles bunch and tense as he restrained himself from grabbing her, his control was phenomenal and she had almost forgotten about pulling off his pants as she admired his restraint.

She pulled his boxers down past his thighs and palmed him playfully, Leonard’s lips parted but no sound came out as he writhed on the bed, exhaling harshly, “Tell me if you need a minute~”

He didn’t seem amused by her teasing, didn’t seem pleased when she let him go and moved to sit on his waist where he couldn’t even gain friction against her. Y/N’s hands stroked up and down his torso, soothing him as best she could, still admiring how he was littered in bite marks and pink, red and plum bruises from her mouth. His breathing was a little laboured and his cheeks were flushed, a sheen of sweat covered him and Y/N laid over him, the tip of her tongue tracing across his collarbone, savouring the salty taste of him with a low moan. He was struggling to keep his hands from her, as her lips found his throat again he let out a breathy little groan, her teeth scraped across his skin and suddenly she felt herself going backwards.

Y/N’s breath caught as she found herself pinned to the bed, her husband over her, his gaze hot as he looked like he wanted to devour her. He licked his lips, earning an excited little mewl from her and made him grin, kissing her deeply enough that their lungs burned for air, his beard tickled deliciously as he moved from her mouth down to her throat, returning some of the marks she had left on him - and then he was gone.

The woman rolled onto her side, climbing over him as he settled on his back once more, he held her hand to steady her, his hands encircled her thighs as she settled her over him. They ran up her thighs to play with the edge of her underwear, noting they were damp before letting her adjust her seat on him. Her arousal was more obvious as he felt the heat along his shaft, Y/N made to remove her clothes but he shook his head, “Just move.” Needing little encouragement Y/N began to rock her hips over his, moaning quietly as she could feel the outline of him perfectly through her thin clothing and his hardness rubbed her in just the right way. Leonard pushed against her, feeling the tension building up low in his belly, he watched her attentively, enraptured by how her eyelashes fanned out on her cheeks, her eyes were closed and her brows furrowed as she rolled against him – her concentration on pleasing him was enough to make his body shake with need.

He pulled her down to kiss him, slanting his mouth over hers and swallowing her mewls until her lips were soft and pliant to his. Leonard loved kissing her, loved to explore her mouth so thoroughly that she couldn’t breathe, he liked to kiss her until their lips were puffy and she was begging him to stop all the while asking him to never stop. How many times had they kissed and rocked against one another like this? Both content to let the pressure build and build until they were just a heap of exhausted limbs?

It was a luxury they rarely had and he didn’t want to simply indulge in something so quickly over, he tore his mouth from hers, delighting in her disappointed call of his name, he resisted the temptation to keep kissing her, “Let me love you.” The Captain pulled at her skirt and underwear, pushing them down her hips and letting out a slightly frustrated growl when she had to wriggle out of them, it left him bereft of her touch. Leonard sat up and helped her remove the rest of her clothing before pulling her back to him with a harsh tug.

Y/N tapped his jaw and held a finger up to him as if scolding a child, he was getting a little too excited, “Be a gentle lion, Leonard.” She listened to him grumble, the corners of her lips lifting at the pout on his lips.

“Perhaps you’re not as talented tamer as you think?” His grin didn’t last long as she lowered herself onto him, crushing their lips together and sighing into his mouth as he groaned into hers. She was so ready for him, so hot and wet from teasing him for so long that his generous length slid in with ease, they started slow and Leonard’s eye squeezed shut as she tightened around him.

She loved watching him lose composure like this, his expression so blissful it was difficult to imagine he had troubles outside of their home, his body rolled under her and Y/N gasped as she felt his cock move, feeling every throb and contour as her body tried to accommodate him better. They weren’t patient, Leonard delivering long, smooth thrusts, slowly pulling out – making her feel it – before snapping his hips up to bury himself to the sound of her breathless calls. He stroked her arms and back, marvelling in how she trembled because of his touch and then his hands were gripping her hips, pushing and pulling her with him at a faster pace.

It was a struggle not to let her eyes close but she wanted to watch his face, wanted to admire the look of rapture in his expression as she rode him, his name fell from her lips with growing volume and they were both so close she could taste it. Every honed muscle on his body was tensing and he moaned her name, told her how she felt around him, his husky voice describing how good it felt as her tight little hole swallowed him again and again, taking him like she was made only for him. Y/N cried out as the man pushed her hips down to his, forcing her to feel every last inch of him as he shifted up to lean against the headboard, sitting them both up so that he could kiss her.

Her fingers tangled into his hair, Leonard could feel her nails digging into his scalp, one hand escaping his silver locks and scoring down his chest until he could feel the sting of sweat in the newly made scratches, she pulled his hair hard enough to force his head back and her mouth was on his throat, hot and wet, nipping and sucking bruises into his skin. He wanted to hold out just a little longer, wanted to listen to the broken gasps and moans being ripped from her mouth.

Where he wanted to stave off release Y/N needed it, she grabbed at any and every part of Leonard’s body she could reach, desperately meeting every thrust with one of her own. She was dizzy with pleasure and every nerve in her body was burning, the heat they were creating in the room steaming up the windows and making it hard to breathe. “Leonard…! O-oh! Please, please -!” One, two more harsh thrusts and Y/N was done. Her teeth bit down into his shoulder, screaming into his skin as she came around him and she was vaguely aware of her husband’s feral growl in her ear as he stiffened and held her in an almost crushing embrace.

His grip loosened after a little while and he tried to cool himself down, the room felt almost like a sauna, Leonard peppered kisses to Y/N’s temple. He could feel her heart beating against his own and gave a pleased sigh, “I’m home.”

[islazoe]

Steel Erection

[piracytheorist]

Keep Doing That (1/1)

Summary: The only thing hotter than watching one Killian is watching two Killians getting it on. And then getting some yourself. Pr0n Without Plot.

Notes: So you’re in bed, about to fall asleep, but an idea hits you. You share it in the group chat, then immediately put the phone down and go to sleep. And you wake up the next morning with @hollyethecurious and @shardminds shouting at you for leaving them like this. Ya gotta write the thing, even if you’ve never written something like this before, right?

Okay so this is Captain Swan x Wish Hook threesome smut and it’s the first time I’m writing this kind of thing, shamelessly so though. No warnings apply here though if you’re curious about the details you can check the tags on AO3.

Also a clarification, I'm borrowing an idea from other authors where “Killian” refers to OG Hook while “Jones” refers to Wish Hook.

RATED E FOR EXPLICIT Y’ALL.

Word count: 2k AO3

~

Killian had never imagined what good company his own self could be. Having spent so long hating parts of himself, it was certainly a pleasant surprise to be happy to spend time with someone just like himself. Jones could understand him so well; though he had to admit there were times that they frustrated each other - probably because seeing their own behaviour exhibited by someone else made them more aware of it.

But through the months after Jones moving in Storybrooke, Killian had never imagined it would lead to this.

It had started with Emma going for an errand at the station; Jones had popped in for a casual visit; they’d talked and talked, after all, small talk was always easy and comfortable between the two; they had been sitting next to each other at the couch; and before they even knew it, they were too close to each other, it only took a soft nudge of his head to bring his lips against Jones’.

Killian felt a bit of stiffness against the man’s lips, but damn, were they soft still. But Jones didn’t pull away, instead, Killian felt those lips relax and yield against his. He sighed into Jones’ mouth. Was he always such a good kisser?

Killian brought his hand up, softly resting it on the crook of Jones’ neck, softly touching his scruff with the tip of his index finger. Jones let out a tiny moan, and then his hand rested on Killian’s waist. Killian wrapped his hook around the other man’s wrist and leaned forward, leading him to put his head back on the armrest as Killian followed him with his lips. Jones turned his head, allowing them a deeper kiss, and Killian felt the hot blush on his face when a tongue reached inside his mouth.

He started moving his hand downwards, slowly dragging it over Jones’ chest, intending on reaching his zip, until he heard the familiar sound of a magical teleportation whoosh.

Opening his eyes wide, he turned his head, feeling the now stiff again lips brush against his scruff as both men turned to look at a shocked Emma.

She just stood there, staring with eyes wide open as well, jaw slack and eyebrows nearly touching her hairline.

Killian felt one normal and one mechanical hand softly push at his chest, and he barely managed to give Jones the necessary space to move away from under him. Jones stood up clumsily, hand fidgeting like crazy on his side before he dropped his head and headed for the door. Just as he put his hand on the door handle, Emma spoke.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

She was still looking at Killian, her eyes now slightly narrowing, eyebrows dropping to their usual place. Killian saw Jones swallow hard, take a deep breath to steel himself, then walk back to stand in front of Emma.

Killian sat down on the couch awkwardly, feeling his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest in anticipation for Emma’s ire. He doubted Jones felt any different.

Emma finally turned towards Jones. She gave him a smirk Killian had never before seen on her face.

“Keep doing that,” she said.

Now it was the men’s time to raise their eyebrows to their hairlines.

“Wh-what?” Jones stuttered.

“Do you want me to spell it out for you?” Emma said and nodded towards Killian.

After missing one single beat, his heart started beating even faster. He was looking at Emma, but when he saw Jones walk back towards him, his eyes turned to him, in near-disbelief of what was happening and what he was actually doing.

Jones looked scared but still he sat down next to Killian and leaned his head towards him. Killian chanced a look at Emma, who threw her head slightly back and looked at them, that same new smirk still on her face. He then turned to Jones and captured his lips again. His heart was still beating crazily fast, and he could feel both his and Jones’ erratic breaths land on each other’s faces.

He felt Jones’ trembling hand rest on his waist, then Killian tried deepening the kiss again. He felt Jones moan against his lips, then a soft moan from Emma had them both turning their heads towards her.

She was still looking at them, though now her smirk had softened a bit.

“Swan?” Killian said. “Are you-”

“Hopscotch,” she breathed their code word, letting him know it was really her. “Keep going.”

This time it was Jones that pushed Killian backwards, now with a ferocity that took him by surprise. He closed his eyes and focused on the kiss, the tongue finding its way in his mouth... and the hand trailing down his torso. Jones didn’t bother with zips. His hand reached immediately under the waistband and wrapped around Killian’s length.

With a moan, Killian threw his head back. Bloody hell. Opening his eyes, he spotted Emma having her own hand inside her pants.

“Swan,” he breathed. “What are you... doing?”

“Enjoying the sight,” she said in a deep voice that, along with Jones’ hand, had him spring fully hard.

Without thinking, he tried to extend his hand towards her, but Jones was in the way. “Let... me...”

“Shh.”

She took a few steps back and positioned herself on the armchair there. She spread her legs and breathed hard as she pleasured herself on the sight.

Killian sighed and allowed Jones to keep kissing him. By now Jones had undone Killian’s zip and had his erection firmly in his grasp. Killian shivered slightly, realizing he stood no chance against the familiar, knowing hand. With Emma’s deep breaths and moans beside them, he reached orgasm within seconds, pulling away from Jones’ lips and grunting hard, the sound slightly echoing in the room.

He opened his eyes and saw that Jones had his closed, resting his forehead on his, obviously unbothered by the substance now staining his clothes. Killian looked at Emma, who was still focused on her task, eyes now closed.

“Think it’s... your turn now... eh, mate?” Killian managed.

Jones sighed and started preparing himself to lie down, but Killian stopped him.

“Wait.” He stood up from the couch and knelt down in front of Emma. Bringing his hand and hook to drag her jeans down, he whispered, “Let me, love.”

Emma pulled her hand away, resting both arms on the armrests as Killian took her boots, jeans and underwear off. She looked at him, eyes narrowed, lips parted and wet. He then turned to look at Jones, who was slightly panting. Killian beckoned him forward as he lowered his own pants and positioned himself. Emma flicked her wrist and suddenly all three of them were naked.

“Are you sure?” Jones whispered.

Killian simply nodded. He wasn’t sure he could trust his voice right now. He turned to look at Emma, felt his belly nearly explode with want, then he leaned in and buried his face in her wet, ready sex.

He felt himself harden again at Emma’s broken gasp. He felt her hand softly rest on his head and brush through his hair. A cool shiver run down his spine when he felt Jones also position himself behind him, hand and glove softly grabbing his hips.

“Here,” Emma said and Killian heard another magical whoosh.

He looked up, as much as he could without his tongue losing contact, and saw Emma hand a bottle of lube over to Jones.

Killian opted to close his eyes and bring his hand to assist in his ministrations. He needed to focus on Emma for as long as he could before-

He realized he was doomed the moment he heard the squirt of the bottle and Jones breathing hard behind him. Killian positioned himself firmly, still trying to focus on pleasing Emma even as Jones’ wet fingers entered him, preparing him.

He was breathing hard against Emma’s sex, and judging from her moans rising in volume and her hand grasping his hair more firmly, it was having the desired effect. Luckily, Jones, like himself, was not a man to wait and stall. He entered him with a steady thrust and Killian grunted hard and deep against Emma. With a broken moan, he relaxed, tongue slipping out of her as he struggled to move his hips along with Jones’ thrusts.

He moaned again, feeling his body shake with need. His hand trembled, and it was only when Emma grabbed it that he realized he’d left her unsatisfied. Gathering his wits, forcing his mind to land back to earth, he buried his face in her again.

Slowly, he felt Jones’ body lean against him, left arm wrapping him in an embrace and in a way helping him stay grounded as Jones’ thrusts kept threatening to send his mind flying again. He felt like screaming when a wet, warm hand wrapped around his member again. There was only so long he could contain himself.

Luckily, Emma seemed to take pity on him. “Leave it, Jones,” she gasped. Jones let go.

He wasn’t sure if he felt gratitude or a want for retribution when his hand left hers and brought it back to toy with her clit. With every thrust from behind he moaned against her, and every moan seemed to bring her closer to climax.

Suddenly, she stiffened around his lips, grabbed his hair and softly pulled him back. Without a word, she stood up and waved her hand at the armchair. It disappeared in a puff of smoke, and Emma immediately lay down, opening her legs for him. Shaking with need and making sure Jones was following him, he leaned forward and entered her, barely biting down a grunt.

Emma wrapped her legs around his hips, letting him in deeper. Killian buried his face in her breasts, letting Jones control his thrusts inside her for him with his own inside him. He grasped her hand in his and brought it over her head; she did the same with her other hand after she took his hook in it.

Now Emma was shaking against him, her nipples hard against his lips, and he knew they were both coming close. Jones too, if he judged by the moaning against his back.

Just as he’d guessed, he felt Jones finish inside him at the same time he and Emma finished together, a mess of gasps and moans and deep breaths the only sound heard for some long seconds. Killian could tell Jones was barely holding himself from collapsing against him, if only not to cause him to crush Emma under both their weight, and then he felt him start pulling off.

“No,” he tried to say, and uncertain whether his voice had made his intention clear, he brought his hand to push Jones’ hip back against him. Jones sighed and relaxed against him, and Killian felt Jones’ erratic heartbeat and quick, hot breathing against his back slow down a bit as both his own member and the one inside him went soft together.

Emma sighed deeply, untangling her legs from around him and nudging him a bit to the side. Both men, still connected, lay down on their side as Emma turned as well, facing them. Killian put his arm around Emma, pulling her close as she buried her hand in his hair and Jones wrapped his arm around Killian’s waist, resting his head against his so his hot breath fell on Killian’s neck. Killian let out a shaky breath and watched as Emma's eyes fluttered close.

Realizing he could stay like this forever, he left a soft kiss on Emma’s lips before he too closed his eyes.

[stellardrift]

Magpie

I observed a key worker trundle his wheelbarrow of concrete to an open sore on the pavement and later on thought you can’t heal us with cement and communication lines. Henry Miller knew this, working for the Cosmodemonic Telegraph Company, poverty everywhere, not just famine and sewage but spiritual, terrestrial, the limbs ripe and swollen with longing and engulfed with towers of heaped mineral and steel, cutting out broad swathes of pavement. People hot with themselves, oblivious to their burgeoning racism. And back here there’s waving purple and ochre that gradually replaced a hillock of daffodils, yellow and creamy white, now gently swaying lilac and brown, and in rain green rich wet brown and sodden. I walk to a modest faerie hill, gorse and lemon yellow, and a magpie, black, white, emerald and sapphire weaves near me, a buried church with an avenues of trees, in a jungle of concrete and telegraph poles, tightening round the belly of the city like too much belly fat, I walk round and up and face downwards and a narrow glimmer of beach yellow flickers through the winding road, the tall buildings, the city’s greyish span. The scent of summer air, Scottish, Irish salty and tasting of yellow and rainwater. I turn into a hill and relieve myself in a bush, there is a lemony smell from around me and a robin flutters down next to me. Evergreens produce little juicy stems of purple and beneath me there is heath with the tiny stems of heather erecting themselves. Morning is awash with pine and you want it so bad you can taste it, resinous and warm but cooling in the morning temperature. Remember the first time you saw morning dew and wanted to bend down and lick the covered stem. A am awake now in the daydream. My mind flits to the concrete, the hard and the divisive. I think of a video I saw, men in blue vests pressing weapons into their victims hands repeating the vulgar crimes that erupted this chaos and my mind dreams black, white and glassy like the magpie, dripping between one another like sapphire, and how we must seek that beauty or collapse in our own division.

[kazlifeadventures]

Chernobyl!!

23 May

Those of us who signed up for the full day trip to inside Chernobyl’s exclusion zone were up early in our long pants,sleeves,with enclosed shoes with our passports ready for the security checks to go into the zone. We signed our lives away on a safety waiver, and check in sheets that go to the highly controlled checkpoints located at the different zone crossings. Visits to the area are highly controlled with only a few tour companies given permission to enter, they are required to wear a tracker at all times so they are monitored to ensure they are not going into areas where they are not permitted. We were all required to wear dosimeters so that our radiation exposure could be checked at the end of the day. Our guide, Alexi, gave us some amazing insights he has learned from years of research, insights into not only the events that lead up to what occurred in the early hours of 26th April 1986, but also the time line of sorts of what was done afterwards. A lot of the ‘truths’ surrounding the reactor explosion were lost when witnesses died, or were buried by the propaganda and coverups of the Soviets at the time. Don’t forget it took for America to call them out with the incontrovertible satellite photos of the blast for the Soviets to admit anything had happened, let alone take steps to contain the ongoing radiation leakage and further risks of explosions. When it comes to information surrounding Chernobyl it’s difficult to find a complete story, let alone be able to fact check anything. Alexi gave us the name of a you tube documentary that he advised shows the true side of what happened in reactor 4 on 26 April 1986. The " Battle of Chernobyl" if you want to look it up!

First up was a stop in Zalesye, an abandoned village within the exclusion zone. It was surreal, to step off the bus, knowing that we were walking down a main street, but seeing nothing but vegetation. Then through avenues in the trees we came across the remains of the houses, we then entered into the old town hall building with its rotting floors, and decaying walls. There were still old signs on the walls. I managed to get myself what I like to call a ‘shin - obyl’ bruise on my way in, as only I can - stacked it climbing up onto the entry. Luckily one of my bus mates helped me up as we were told not to touch walls, or ground...or anything really ... so that would be why we had to wear long pants (for when idiots like me fall over!)

The next stop was the reason the power stations were built, the Duga radar. Holy huge metal antenna array... when you know that the huge, costly, power hungry radar actually wasn’t that good at its job makes the events of the reactor explosion seem even more of an avoidable incident. Incredibly, you would have no idea that it was there until you walk into the forest of vegetation, then it’s an ‘oh my’ moment at it’s sheer size and the wonder of the precision of the components. It is slowly rusting, and someone died climbing it a few years ago, so we were not allowed to climb it.

We then headed to Chernobyl and the Reactor canteen for lunch. Yes, complete canteen lunch on a tray... Soup, mains, desert, replete with unsmiling Ukrainian canteen ladies serving it to us. With the extra bread we’d grabbed at lunch we then fed fish from the railway bridge near the reactors. Then it was up close to reactor 4 and the monument for it. I couldn’t believe we were able to get to within about 200m of it. Although there are strict rules on photos in this area - can only shoot in one direction, and there are guards and cameras everywhere.

Chernobyl town was the administrative centre for the district and until its evacuation on the 30th April 1986, housed about 14000 people It was not as close to the site as our next stop.

Alexi gave us an interesting parallel: apparently ‘Chernobyl’ means wormwood in Russian. In Chernobyl town, 164 died as part of the first responders to the explosion, and there is a memorial that has been erected in the central square depicting an Angel blowing a trumpet. The 8th book of revelations talks of a cataclysmic event : “And the third angel sounded, and there fell a great star from heaven, burning as it were a lamp, and it fell upon the third part of the rivers, and upon the fountains of waters; And the name of the star is called Wormwood: and the third part of the waters became wormwood; and many men died of the waters, because they were made bitter.” Revelation 8:10-11. Draw from that whatever conclusions you will, interesting nonetheless...

Pripyat was designed to be new age city of sorts, with its amusement park, cafes, art installations, hotels, apartments it was coming into itself with 50000 residents, housing workers at the power plant. It was finally evacuated in the afternoon of the 27th April 1986, with residents being told they would be gone for a couple of days and to just grab a few things and leave their pets. They were never allowed to return. We climbed through the maternity hospital, where the abortions were performed, with some of its records and equipment still intact. We were warned not to touch anything that still remained as it would still be highly radioactive. Trekking through the vegetation we came across what once was a beautiful cafe on the banks of the river that was due to open on the day the city was evacuated. The stained glass art that had adorned its window depicting the four seasons, some still intact, the rest of it lying shattered on the ground. From there we headed to the sports stadium, through what we later realised was the soccer field (no sign that it was there!) To me it was incredible to see sparks of beauty still there, the glass work in the cafe, the tile art adorning the external sides of two of the buildings we saw. We ventured into the pool area of the sports complex, it’s dive platform still intact, tiles, ladders, everything still there, just decaying, old, or vandalised by some who have snuck into the area over the years. It was then time for the iconic amusement park. Again something that was only just opening when the incident occurred. It stands as a rusting memory of time gone by, bumper cars, Ferris wheel, all the fun of the fair, with that eerie overtone of nothingness or is it hopelessness, I’m not sure.

We then took off to see the last Lenin statue in Ukraine, all others have been removed. It is still located outside of the Communist party building where the ‘fake’ trial took place of a power plant director and 2 engineers, where they were found guilty of negligence and the the blame placed on them for the incident. Nothing of course said about the safety measures that were supposed to have been installed in the reactor, or the fact that they failed, or they fact that the staff were following orders as required under Soviet rule. The Chernobyl town is home to what are known as the ‘self settlers’. Previous residents who have returned of their own volition to continue living in their property.

Our last stop was in the Red forest area, northern part of the exclusion zone. It apparently received the worst of the radiation. We entered the kindergarten where to my dismay we learned that kids continued to be sent to for at least a week after the reactor explosion. Testing after the incident proved that everything including the toys they had played with were riddled with extremely high levels of radioactivity. It was poignant and incredibly sad to see the remains of the toys, the cribs/beds knowing that these children had been exposed to such toxic levels of radiation due to the inaction of the Soviet authorities.

On our way out of the zone we stopped briefly at ‘The men who saved the world’. An un-offical memorial to the first attendees, doctors, firefighters etc, who all died in hospital number six in Russia and were then buried in lead coffins somewhere in Russia. Their families were not allowed to even see them or be at the burial.

On our way out of two checkpoints we had to submit to a full body radiation scan at each in order to check for any contamination. Luckily none of us had to be decontaminated (ie hosed down!). We were then given strict instruction to shower thoroughly and ensure our clothes were either washed or kept in an area safely before we washed them... On a side note the radiation we experienced for the day was somewhere around a 5 or 6 hour transatlantic flight so I pretty much got more radiation flying over to Europe than I did wandering around all day - good to know though!

It was an amazing day. A long one, we're all tired. But wow. How lucky am I that I got to do this. Mother nature has given the human race and it's nuclear power a big fuck you. And I love it! It's surreal to walk down what was once a street realising that on both sides of you hidden by nature's growth stands the time capsule of the crumbling remnants of the buildings of whole towns. Nature has rebounded here in spades, the birds chirping constantly, the land brimming with growth, the fish teeming - and no, none of them have 2 heads or mutations anymore. Apparently nature very quickly removes such mutations when they serve no purpose. The amusement park, a ghost town of rusting steel and decaying wood. The beautiful art works of tile and glass slowly deteriorating. It's eerie, and incredibly fascinating. My emotions are everywhere. Our guide is so passionate about what happened here and what the Soviets did to cover up their mistakes and the impact this had on the people who are still affected to this day, with no accurate records of how many have died from exposure in the years since the explosion. I was astounded how close we were able to get to reactor four. Incredibly saddened at how little care was taken of the people here. This Chernobyl adventure will stay with me forever, and has left an indelible mark on my psyche. If you don’t know much about this story, read more, find as much of the truth as you can, and most important of all - never forget.

[luckyfirerabbit]

Embers: Jaune dies instead. Pt 4

Nothing but dreams, one after another. She dreams of home and her family no longer recognizing her. She dreams of Beacon where they all turn and run like she's some kind of monster, and of the vault beneath where everything went wrong. She dreams of Jaune lying dead in her arms though that never actually happened, and the burning eyes of Cinder Fall.

There's a fleeting thought of not having dreamed like this since she caught the flu when she was ten. The fever was so bad Pyrrha was delirious for what felt like days, and now it is only marginally different. It's cooler now, and there's steadily radiating pain coming from a place, or places, that her fractured consciousness can't define. Voices drift around her from time to time, none that she recognizes and she takes that with an ounce of comfort; she doesn't know that she responds to them sleepily, mostly apologizing like she tends to do. She wakes once, but partly, and is aware enough to make out the blurred shapes of people with rabbit ears before the darkness takes her down again.

When she fully wakes Pyrrha tries to take stock of herself through a heavy, groggy haze. There's a roof over head and she's surrounded by bare walls and daylight coming through a single window. There's a bed beneath her, a blanket across her body, atop the bandages that she feels rubbing against her tender skin. Looking down she sees her foot wrapped up and propped on a mound of pillows. she swallows, her mouth dry, and then turn her head more so on the urge to move at all than to look around. In either case, now she spots the little girl, a Faunus child with one erect rabbit ear and one drooping at half mast, sitting in a chair facing her. Her little legs are crossed, cradling a box of cereal while one small arm dives into it to collect another handful. She looks at Pyrrha with a sort of indifference, or that's how it appears. Without a word she'll stand up and leave the room, leaving Pyrrha with a tired but insistent confusion.

The little girl doesn't come back, instead it's a full grown woman -clearly much older by the gray streaks in her curly hair- who is also a rabbit Faunus with dark skin and piercing blue eyes. The eyes make Pyrrha uneasy, but for a reason she can't immediately understand.

"Morning." the woman says softly.

"Morning." Pyrrha rasps back.

"Ah, nice to see you can say something other than sorry." there's a smirk on the older woman's face that's there and gone again, and she comes to sit on the edge of the bed. "Can't help but be curious as to what a young woman like you has to apologize for."

Pyrrha is just able to decipher the statement through a thick accent and respond. "Plenty."

"Hm." she nods. "Mayhaps. I'd have a look at your ankle if you're up to it."

Pyrrha just nods and warily watches the woman's hands as they move carefully around her foot. The dressing comes up easily, no pull of dried blood on a healing would or pinch of medical tape.

"Felt your aura flickering yesterday, thought you'd be coming around soon." she cocks her head and ears. "Looks like it's already starting to mend on its own. Try moving it?"

Pyrrha braces herself for pain, but finds only tight soreness when she flexes her foot and curls her toes. The woman nods again, pulling the pillow from under her leg and pulling the blanket over it.

"Suppose you'll be able to put weight on it by tomorrow, sooner if you could stand to eat something. I'd mind that shoulder a while yet, though."

"Who are you?"

The question seems to take her by surprise, her ears flitting and her brows rising for moment. "Oh, of course. My name's Gypsy, and this is my home."

"How did I get here?"

"My daughter Nessa found you." Gypsy crosses her legs and settles in a side-saddle position on the edge of the mattress. "She chased off whatever gods-forsaken things you had after you, then brought you here. You were quite the mess."

"I'd imagine so." because now she remembers and her face still hurts. "Thank you for your help."

"Of course." another nod, this one a little more drawn out. "Though I'd appreciate an explanation as to what brought you all the way out here with problems like that."

"It's...a long story."

"Then it'll keep. Could you give me a name then?"

She's reluctant, and she knows Gypsy can see that. Still, she answers because she knows better than to be so rude. "Pyrrha."

"Nikos? I thought you looked familiar. You look just like your mother."

"That was the point." And while she's curious how she and her mother knew each other, she doesn't ask.

"Considering the whole kingdom is on the lookout for you, I believe it."

"Are you going to turn me in?"

"No." Gypsy shrugs. "Not today, at least. Not until I have a few questions answered at most."

"Not now I hope." Pyrrha whimpers a little, not meaning to but unable to keep it down. She's still so tired.

"Don't worry, child. Like I said, all that will keep. You rest easy and it'll come when it's time."

***

There's nothing easy about sitting down at the near empty dining table at such a late hour, certainly not when Pyrrha's only company is Gypsy. Over the last two days with her and her family, she had come to realize exactly who and what she is, and it leaves her timid to do more than sit stock still and breathe. And watch as the Arc Family Matriarch quietly, meticulously, sharpens each of her kitchen knives one by one. For several minutes Gypsy doesn't even acknowledge her, just looks neutrally down her nose and through the lenses of her glasses as she draws the blade across the whetstone. That just makes Pyrrha more nervous, to be truthful.

Then, finally, the silence breaks from the whispering scrape of steel and stone. Gypsy exhales. "I expect you to answer all my questions."

Pyrrha just swallows, hoping that's enough to tell the suddenly intimidating woman that she's listening. She watches Gypsy lift the knife she's sharpening, looking down along its edge with severe scrutiny. Seemingly satisfied she sets it down and picks up another.

"My sister," she begins, pauses to adjust her grip, then continues, "told me that you were one of the last people to see my son alive."

Pyrrha feels her jaw moving before any sound leaves her throat. "I...I,"

"You know her, she was a teacher at your school, goes by Goodwitch."

Pyrrha blinks, surprise rippling through her for an instant. "Yes."

"So was she telling the truth? Were you there?"

Her heart clenches. "Y-yes." Then she feels a shift in the air and it makes her wary as Gypsy's hands still, and her brilliant blue eyes slide to meet hers, the woman's head unturned. Her gaze is like a blade at Pyrrha's throat.

"Did you kill him?"

Pyrrha's heart drops, ringing somewhere down in her stomach, and it hurts. It hurts because she wants to say yes though it is only a partial truth. But she has the sneaking suspicion that Gypsy would see the partial lie in it. "N-no." then she takes a stabilizing breath, unsure if it's enough. "But...but it was my fault. He...he was trying to protect me."

Pyrrha watches as Gypsy's long ears twitch before slowly slanting back in congress with the knitting of her brow. The older woman's hands still again, once she has set the knife down, and then she takes off her glasses to rub her eyes with another heavy exhale.

That sounded very much like her son, her Jaune, that big hearted and gentle boy that she hasn't been able to go a day without thinking about. She had felt it, the exact moment he died, and it changed everything; not just on the level of a Witch with a broken focus, but also that of a mother who had just lost a part of her very being. A loss that echoed through the house and its inhabitants, leaving them misshapen and unfamiliar in ways that none of them know how to repair.

"Do you know who did it?"

"Yes." Pyrrha answers readily.

"Are they still alive?"

"Yes."

"Why?" the question sounds impulsive, biting, like a reaction that Gypsy is quick to reel back in. "I'm sorry, that's...they got a name and do you know where I can find them?"

"Her name is Cinder Fall. I don't know where she is. I've been hunting her since Beacon fell." Only to find out she' s been hunting me too, but she was always a step ahead somehow. "I'm sorry."

"You did what you could, I'm sure. No use in expecting a young thing like yourself to do it all." Gypsy smooths a hand across the top of her head, her ears lifting up again after. "Suppose we'll talk about her more after a spell. Presently, I need you to explain something in particular to me."

"Oh?"

Gypsy nods. She picks up her knife and begins the process of sharpening anew. "I'd imagine you've guessed how good my hearing can be? Well, my daughter's get it honestly, to be sure, and Nessa said she heard something when she found you. I'm assuming you said it, that's what she led me to believe anyhow."

"What did...?"

"You called Jaune's name, like you were talking to him, but all Nessa found was some woman and a hulking Grimm looking thing. Now would you be so kind as to clear this up for me?"

Pyrrha swallows again, a little louder this time. She knows how crazy this is going to sound, she knows it and hates because she barely believes it herself, but it's all there is to say. The young huntress takes a breath and does her best to maintain something like stability while she does as Gypsy asked.

[greenvillemetalbuildings-blog]

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When looking for steel building near me, you'll find a few options. You can search online for local businesses for the best quality and price. If you're not sure what you need, you can always call a local storefront for a quote. The Greenville Metal Buildingscompany may even have a showroom nearby to see and touch the actual building. They are also available to answer any questions you have about the process.

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[everythingcranes]

What Are Self Erecting Tower Cranes?

What Are Self Erecting Tower Cranes?

Self-erecting tower cranes are marvels that have allowed construction teams to do more with less space for a number of years. Using a combination of hydraulics, steel, and good old-fashioned physics principles, these vital components of complex construction jobs keep workers safe while quite literally pushing our world to new heights.

In this article, we’ll be talking specifically about what self-erecting tower cranes are, along with how they work, how they’re applied, and whom they help most. Let’s start building!

Why We Need Them

Our world is ever-growing, ever-increasing in population. While the problems of overpopulation can seem overexaggerated to some degree, the reality is that tools such as the self-erecting tower crane help us better deal with a world that is constantly expanding with higher numbers of people.

Meanwhile, the earth itself is the same size it has always been. Tower cranes help us build up instead of out, so we can accommodate larger numbers of people. We do this through building more residences as well as businesses to accommodate those individuals with necessary goods and services.

How They Work

Using our skies to better facilitate the growth in population isn’t magic. It’s good old-fashioned physics, albeit with the aid of some modern technologies. If looking for self-erecting tower crane tips, you must first understand how they work.

Such cranes incorporate hydraulics, trolley systems, concrete foundations, counterbalancing weight, and steel sections to build a crane that is as expandable and retractable as it needs to be. Here’s how it works.

The tower crane is stabilzed in a concrete foundation with steel rebar. This is done about 30 days prior to the rest of the crane, giving the foundation time to be settled and secure. And if done improperly, it’s a step that can paralyze the entire project.

From there, steel tresses are added, one on top of the other, to produce the initial crane height.

That initial height varies but is topped off with a slewing unit, cathead, jib, and counter jib that are able to lift, pull, and balance new tresses as necessary. A hydraulic-powered climbing tray helps to raise or lower the crane as new sections are added or removed to adjust the overall height, while the counter jib is balanced with concrete slabs to keep the crane secure as new tresses are added to the jib and lifted to the desired height.

Whom They Help and What to Look For

A self-erecting tower crane can guide the construction process as it extends up into the sky. This helps multiple segments of society, from commercial real estate to business to multi-family housing. The crane quietly yet powerfully helps us to do more with less space, adding to quality of life in the process.

So, what does one look for in a self-erecting tower crane rental or when searching for a “self-erecting tower crane near me”? Start with an emphasis on safety first and foremost. Choose companies with great safety records.

Check their standing with the Better Business Bureau. Make sure they’re committed to crane safety principles. While setup of a self-erecting tower crane sounds automatic, the prep work in establishing these cranes is vital.

Self Erecting Tower Cranes Emphasize Safety

You can use self-erecting tower cranes whenever you have a job that requires aerial construction or when expanding on an existing multi-level building. Having an understanding of how these cranes work and operate should give you peace of mind throughout the process. If you’re in the market for one, you can start by searching for a reputable dealer.

https://everythingcranes.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Self-erecting-tower-cranes-1024x681.jpeg https://everythingcranes.com/what-are-self-erecting-tower-cranes/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=what-are-self-erecting-tower-cranes

[barberawjohnson]

What Are Self Erecting Tower Cranes?

What Are Self Erecting Tower Cranes?

Self-erecting tower cranes are marvels that have allowed construction teams to do more with less space for a number of years. Using a combination of hydraulics, steel, and good old-fashioned physics principles, these vital components of complex construction jobs keep workers safe while quite literally pushing our world to new heights.

In this article, we’ll be talking specifically about what self-erecting tower cranes are, along with how they work, how they’re applied, and whom they help most. Let’s start building!

Why We Need Them

Our world is ever-growing, ever-increasing in population. While the problems of overpopulation can seem overexaggerated to some degree, the reality is that tools such as the self-erecting tower crane help us better deal with a world that is constantly expanding with higher numbers of people.

Meanwhile, the earth itself is the same size it has always been. Tower cranes help us build up instead of out, so we can accommodate larger numbers of people. We do this through building more residences as well as businesses to accommodate those individuals with necessary goods and services.

How They Work

Using our skies to better facilitate the growth in population isn’t magic. It’s good old-fashioned physics, albeit with the aid of some modern technologies. If looking for self-erecting tower crane tips, you must first understand how they work.

Such cranes incorporate hydraulics, trolley systems, concrete foundations, counterbalancing weight, and steel sections to build a crane that is as expandable and retractable as it needs to be. Here’s how it works.

The tower crane is stabilzed in a concrete foundation with steel rebar. This is done about 30 days prior to the rest of the crane, giving the foundation time to be settled and secure. And if done improperly, it’s a step that can paralyze the entire project.

From there, steel tresses are added, one on top of the other, to produce the initial crane height.

That initial height varies but is topped off with a slewing unit, cathead, jib, and counter jib that are able to lift, pull, and balance new tresses as necessary. A hydraulic-powered climbing tray helps to raise or lower the crane as new sections are added or removed to adjust the overall height, while the counter jib is balanced with concrete slabs to keep the crane secure as new tresses are added to the jib and lifted to the desired height.

Whom They Help and What to Look For

A self-erecting tower crane can guide the construction process as it extends up into the sky. This helps multiple segments of society, from commercial real estate to business to multi-family housing. The crane quietly yet powerfully helps us to do more with less space, adding to quality of life in the process.

So, what does one look for in a self-erecting tower crane rental or when searching for a “self-erecting tower crane near me”? Start with an emphasis on safety first and foremost. Choose companies with great safety records.

Check their standing with the Better Business Bureau. Make sure they’re committed to crane safety principles. While setup of a self-erecting tower crane sounds automatic, the prep work in establishing these cranes is vital.

Self Erecting Tower Cranes Emphasize Safety

You can use self-erecting tower cranes whenever you have a job that requires aerial construction or when expanding on an existing multi-level building. Having an understanding of how these cranes work and operate should give you peace of mind throughout the process. If you’re in the market for one, you can start by searching for a reputable dealer.

https://everythingcranes.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Self-erecting-tower-cranes-1024x681.jpeg https://everythingcranes.com/what-are-self-erecting-tower-cranes/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=what-are-self-erecting-tower-cranes

https://everythingcranes.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/Self-erecting-tower-cranes-1024x681.jpeg https://everythingcranes.weebly.com/everything-cranes/what-are-self-erecting-tower-cranes

[islazoe]