#steel rig

[dknuth]

Walking the Crags

Today, we walked the most famous, most scenic, and hardest section of Hadrian's Wall, The Crags.

This is a section of hard stone that rises up in an east-west line with a steep north side. The Romans sensibly used this as a location for the wall, as there are long stretches that no sensible person would attempt to breach. But this line of steep rocks is not uniform, there are several gaps. At those points the wall drops down to the bottom of the gap and back up the other side, and so does the trail.

But it is stunningly scenic, when you can look up from where you are putting your feet.

As we approached the starting point, the wall was running parallel on the right, so we could see where we were going. But it looks less steep from there.

We started at Steel Rig and headed east.

Along the wall, there were the foundations of the "turrets" that were spaced along it.

The wall is much less tall than initially. Some of the stones were taken by farmers to build field walls, houses, barns, and other structures; they were also used in churches, monasteries, and more. Others are lying on the ground next to the wall. Of course, they took the nice regular rectangular facing blocks and left many of the irregular stones from the interior behind. So, these irregular stones often embed the ground next to the wall. They have encouraged the grass to grow on the remaining wall to protect it.

At one-mile intervals, "Mile Castles" held a dozen or so men.

We came to the most famous gap Sycamore Gap, where there used to be a large sycamore tree. It was famous, scenic, and well-loved until someone cut it down in the middle of the night last year.

The north face of the ridge is vertical rock, just what the Romans wanted.

We eventually left the crags and were on more rolling terrain.

Looking back we could see the last part of the crags and a lake below. Then we realized that the copse of trees in the distance was our starting point. not far away.

The wall continued over hills and gaps. With beautiful scenery to the south.

The final mile-fort was in fairly good condition. If you look closely, you can even see that the two bottom stones of the arch in the north gate are still there.

At last, we reached the visitor center.

Cathie was waiting in the visitors center parking lot cafe. But I couldn't see it, and she couldn't see us. Neither of us understood the layout, so we couldn't figure out where we were. Finally, the tour manager went down to get her. She had been told that it would be about three hours and brought a book, but our group had been slow on the hills, and our guide was full of information to impart, so it took over 5 hours to walk the five miles. She was kind of grumpy.

The visitors center is at Housesteads Fort, which we visited, but there wasn't that much interesting to photograph. We were late, so our guide rushed around the fort to explain things, and Cathie couldn't keep up; if I had known how slow we would be, I wouldn't have pushed Cathie to come along.

Despite the clouds putting on a continuous, dramatic show all day it never rained!

[johnnyshrine]

★ 073 // “Puppet Warp Animation”

[emberglowfox]

my very large dog who eats batteries and has been described as "off-putting" and "kind of cringe"

[ltwilliammowett]

In July 1906 the Socoa (a full rigged steel ship) struck some rocks near Cadgwith Cove, England, a moment when a wreck incident became a faraway casualty of a major event triggering worldwide headlines, the San Francisco earthquake of April 1906 – for she was laden with cement to help rebuild the city.

Fortunately she was refloated, even though she was clearly in a bad way.

[steampunkedparm]

"of course you have carabiner's."

yeah??? how else am i supposed to hold my keys?????

[oldtestleper]

all that shit would have never happened if they had followed OSHA guidelines

[greenmagic-oilspill]

Okay the type quiz results have stopped fitting what I have in mind for my characters. Posts canceled!

[indolift]

Indolift, established in 2010 by M/S. PDS Trading & Warehousing Co Pvt Ltd, specializes in material handling equipment, notably Chain Pulley Blocks. They collaborate with Hangzhou Jentan Machinery Co Ltd, a leading Chinese manufacturer, to offer high-quality products at competitive prices. Their product range includes Chain Pulley Blocks, Ratchet Lever Hoists, Webbing Slings, D-Shackles, Plate Lifting Clamps, Steel Wire Ropes, Forged Clamps, Pallet Trucks, and Alloy Steel Chains. Indolift is committed to delivering efficient solutions and maintaining high-quality standards.

[rigroofing]

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[g4zdtechtv]

X-Play Classic - Steel Battalion: Heavy Armor Review

Xplay's lowest rated game, across both incarnations… EVER.

[bluemerakis]

⋆˚࿔ °･⌇ SOLDIER BOY HEADCANNONS .ᐟ

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY has reoccurring nightmares. He has deep-rooted trauma from both the physical and emotional wars of his past—his abusive childhood, the bloody battles fought, and the years he spent as the russians’ experiment. He’s brash and forward in most aspects of his life, but not when it comes to confronting his trauma head-on. Thus, it tends to accumulate and lay siege on him during the time when he’s most vulnerable—in his sleep. He often wakes up in a fit amidst the dead night, and the first thing he does isn’t grounding himself with a few, steadying breaths or a doing scan of his surroundings—it’s to instinctively reach across the bed to make sure you’re still there beside him. To make sure he’s not alone. He’s so plagued with the need to be loved and valued, that he’s latched onto the one person who’s shown him nothing but. So, funnily enough, losing you might be the worst nightmare of all time.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY wears a simple, silver promise ring on his left index finger. After a year of dating, you gifted it to him as a commemoration of your relationship milestone. His first instinct was to bitch about it, but it came from a place of unfamiliarity—Ben’s not used to gifts. He’s barely adjusted to the stability of the lifestyle he’s founded within you. But he takes it, anyway—briskly slipping it into his pocket while he practically herds you into the bedroom for a gift of his own. He kept it stashed aside in a memoir box—yes, he owns one and he hoards all his gems of the past in it for nostalgia’s sake because he’s just an old-timey boy who never fully adjusted to modern life. And after gnawing his ear off about never wearing it, he looped a chain through it and wore it like a dog tag—afraid that it’d get lost to some combat commotion if he wore it on his hand. And then one day, you’d absentmindedly brought up the idea of marriage, and later that night, Ben finds himself considering the lifestyle by finally slipping that ring onto his finger. As time passes, he finds himself absentmindedly playing with it whenever he’s idling around or unwinding from the day. And it’s something he specially reaches for when he feels overwhelmed or anxious. It quiets his brain, like the mere touch of it is the calming tether that keeps him grounded in the midst of his mental storms—reminds him of the solid rock that is you.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY often experiences the “Proust Phenomenon”—where certain smells trigger vivid memories of the past. Due to his Supe nature, Ben’s olfactory senses are enhanced—like a k9 with extensive years of training. It was a handy skill when it came to operations and the element of surprise surrounding rigged locations, where he could detect the biting scent of chemical agents and certain metals that smelled like sure death. But, ironically, it’s also a perforation in his balls-of-steel armour. And now, in the modern days—stemming from the PTSD of his past—there are certain smells that remind Ben of his time in the Russian compound. Of the torture he endured. Metal traces, gunpowder, general anaesthetic—which shares the same undertone of the novichok gas used to put him to sleep. Fun fact—when you had to get your wisdom teeth removed, Ben dropped you off and picked you up but refused to step foot inside the building. He can’t tolerate the smells—chemicals, gas, death. It overwhelms him, and it’s unwelcome on his mind. And later that night, he wouldn’t go within ten feet of you—bothered by the scent of the anaesthetic still clinging to you. Eerily familiar. It was an eye-opening moment for you and the true magnitude of his trauma. So, overtime, you both worked on a way to counter-condition the trait—using smells he could associate with better memories. Something like the scent of your perfume. Everyday, before he leaves the house, he makes sure to spurt a drop of your perfume onto the neckline of his shirt—so that it evades his nose at all times. So that there’s no room for his senses to entertain a smell other than yours. It keeps him grounded and wards off the other scents threatening to invade his fickle peace of mind. And best of all, it smothers him with every thought, feeling and memory associated with you. Another way for him to be consumed by all that you are, even when you’re miles apart.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY craves your proximity. It’s not something he’s aware he does, but it happens, regardless. When you first started dating, it wasn’t anything too serious—mutual benefits with minimal strings attached. But unbeknownst to him, he’d come to crave your company like relentless clockwork. And he was a colossal prick when he didn’t get it—especially on the late nights where he’s taunted by his thoughts. A phone call that found you in the midst of a club amongst men—any man that wasn’t him—was a line of static corrupted with heated words. And a few minutes later, he’d show up like a relentless tractor, ploughing through the crowd with the sole objective to pluck you from the masses and lead you back to the car with a firm grip on your wrist. His possessiveness is something you helped work him through, and he’s surely dialled it down to a stinging glare and a tongue bitten raw whenever another guy spares you attention that extends beyond a polite conversation. He is refined, though—more subtle in his possessiveness. Like when you’re in the kitchen making dinner, he simply grabs a beer and sips on it while standing a little ways away from you, leaned against the counter while he watches TV from across the apartment. If you drift to the island to start plating the meals, he strays to the other end of it—all while his eyes remained glued on the TV. He doesn’t know he’s doing it—it’s like an instinct to be tethered to you at all times, following, guarding, yearning.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY always opens doors for you. Car doors, restaurant doors, apartment door. Any door. Initially, out of habit, he’d always enter the space before you and do a quick sweep of the area—like he’s on the scout for potential danger, or like you’re the president that he’s tasked with keeping safe—before beckoning you inside. It was a prevalent routine in the initial months of his domestic life, but you’d sat him down one night to talk about it—how he doesn’t need to be on such high alert anymore. And admittedly, how it hurt a tad bit that he didn’t let you in first. Almost as though those words had flipped a switch about how unaccustomed you are to his Soldier habits—he made sure from that night onward, that he always lets you in first. He’d wanted to argue that he was doing it from a place of good intent, wanting to keep you safe from any potential hidden threats, but he’d bit down on his tongue. Because it didn’t matter. There was not a damn thing worth doing if it didn’t favour your happiness. Now, he always makes sure that he opens the door to a room and steps aside to usher you in with a jerk of his chin. But once you’re inside, he still executes a subtle scout—a brief survey tossed over your oblivious shoulder and a hasty sweep of the outside before he trails in after you. You’re his gem, after all, and he can’t risk having you stolen from him.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY drives with one hand on the wheel, and the other on you. Whenever you’re his passenger princess—which is always because he still believes in misogynistic chivalry, his hand always manages to stray from the gear and onto the hump of your thigh. Always. He holds you there, strokes an absentminded thumb over the skin, or rubs soothing lines that sometimes dip far too close to your core. And not once will he look at you while he does it—as if it adds to suspense of his clingy encroachment—but you might catch the corner of his lip spreading with a knowing smirk. He also has one hand on your headrest whenever he’s reversing, and then it’ll trail down to tuck your hair behind your ear, or run two fingers down your jaw before settling in its rightful place amongst your thigh.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY likes TLC. I feel like this started with one of those times he was sat on the sofa watching TV, and you snuck up behind him to run your hands through his fluffy hair—because come on. At first, he might’ve flinched away from the unfamiliar intimacy—habitually moving to seize you at the wrist and yank you away with a low muttering of “the fuck you doin’?” But you shake him off with a giddy laugh, telling him to lay off the armour of stress for two seconds before returning your hands to his hair. He still tenses under the touch, but the longer your hands spend entwined with the hairs flowing from his scalp, he starts to melt under the touch—like you’re loosening the strings woven through the very DNA that renders his every muscle tightly-knit. Scalp massages turn into neck and shoulder massages, and that turns into rubbing out his back—and it even extends all the way to arm and head tickles. Sometimes, while you’re laying in bed, he’ll settle himself down beside you with a kiss to your jaw before he’s leaned his head against the side of yours—and he won’t say anything, but there’s a newfound stillness to him that screams expectancy. And when your hand wanders up his back and around his neck to settle in his hair, you feel him start to relax—unwind. And once, he let slip a soft and strained groan of pleasure, like he was desperately trying to swallow the truth of how much he enjoys ed it. But it never escaped your notice, and it wasn’t the last time he did it.

𖦹 SOLDIER BOY loves doggy-style for a quickie, and cowgirl for a stickie. When this man is hard and craving a quick release, he does love the idea bending you over beneath him and sending you to heaven. He’s a refined type of rough, never pushing limits he knows would hurt or leave a bruise you’re not keen on sporting. However, if you ask for it, he’s happy to oblige. And he LOVES holding you at your waist—loves it. Absolutely clings to it like a lifeline—kneading, gripping, pulling you into his every thrust. And he loves drinking in the view of your back—arching and flexing with silent pleas for his touch. But on the slower, softer nights of the week, he’s quite fond of cowgirl—back against the head-board with you on top of him, riding him at a pace that suits your current mood and needs. His hold on you is firm, but open for adjustment—guidance. And he’ll be damned if he doesn’t admit that the mere view of your face—contorted with pleasure and effort alike—gets him worked up in addition to your every movement. God, you’re the prettiest girl he’s ever had the pleasure of calling his, and he watches you like he’s trying to memorise every detail about you. And if he doesn’t also love watching the way you swallow his length whole—and the way he glistens with the mingle of your combined pleasure. This man loves a cream pie—said what I said. And dirty talk.

a/n ─ first ever headcannons 👊 happy birthday to pookie schnooks! can you tell i worked hard on these? pls it’s almost 1 am now and i’ve been busy since 9 pm. and it’s all 100% canon in my head idc what y’all say.

thank you for reading! all likes & comments & deeply appreciated, but reblogs go a much longer way—so please support your writers with it! <3

tags ─ @gibson-g1rl @bohemianblasphemy @fallbhind @angelicjackles @deansbbyx @titsout4jackles @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @honeyryewhiskey @daylighted @deansbeer @deansbbyx @figthoughts @dulcescorderitas @jasvtsc @st4rmarley @bakugotypecrashout @jaydensluv @chi-raz @youdontknowe @misatxox @lixiesbrowniess @ilovedeanwinchester4 @beelzebzb @lunaleah @kr804573 @idontwannabehere7 @lanasgirlfr @cas-only-angel @lucky-beheaded @nperoconelcositoarriba @mahi-wayy @alidiggory92 @idk-123-0 @tuxedoe @cassiecourtemanche @rositaslabyrinth @abox-of-rocks @viluren @h8aaz @cowboysandcigarettes @bejeweledinterludes @emeraldcrs @jensenacklesballsack

want to become part of the taglist for any future soldier boy works?

other works ─ the boys masterlist

© bluemerakis ─ do not plagiarise or steal any of my works.

[cryptotheism]

Okay I've been thinking about other power armors in terms of Amber Skies rig terminology.

Halos mjolnir armor would be a mid grade, master chief is just huge and biologically augmented. It would be seen as like, an advanced combat focused HAZMAT suit. An Amber Skies rig engineer would probably be a bit confused as to why it was even armor. At that point, why not just continue to biologically augment the Spartans? They're already freaks, why not just tailor them so their bodies naturally grow complex ballistic plating?

Fallout Power Armor is the Amber Skies equivalent of those early WWI tanks that were just tractors with plate steel welded into the front. It's got a relatively advanced atomic power source, but it doesn't jack in to your spine, and it's made of like, tool steel. It would almost be cute. Like a golf cart with a thorium salt reactor.

Warhammer space marine armor would be insane combat grade heavyweight rigs to a rig engineer. It would be like finding an old 1980s spacesuit that someone redesigned to survive small atomics. Not terribly far off from how rig engineers see reclaimed old-world rig technology, what with their seemingly impossible alloys and exotic biometals. However, an Amber Skies rig engineer would be able to look at space marine armor, and immediately determine what sort of threats it was designed against. "Low gravity ballistic combat with aggressive necroorganisms."

A Warframe would just be a guy. Like thats a person. You have buddies at the rig shop that can molt their carapace like that. Completely normal.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Mesmerized.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 0.8k.

TW: Hypnosis, Unhealthy Relationships, General Lose of Autonomy, Implied Kidnapping, Implied Stalking, and Obsessive Behavior.

[Commissioned piece. Donate to Palestinians in Gaza here.]

“You’re getting crueler, brother.”

Lynette watched you stir at the sound of her voice, nearly identical to that of your dearly beloved, but you slackened as soon as you realized it was only his sister, melting back into place against Lyney’s side. Your expression was one of vacant bliss; all glassy eyes and careless smiles, worry only visible in the dark circles laced under your eyes, the pained creases folded into either corner of your mouth. A poor imitation, altogether. You looked more like yourself when you were angry.

Lyney hummed, resting his head on your shoulder. As if trained to, you cooed softly and raised a hand, carding your fingers through his hair as he spoke, self-satisfaction heavy in his voice. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. Is it cruel to want to spend time with one’s dearly cherished?”

“Father said not to let the public see them until—”

“—until we’ve fallen in love,” Lyney finished. It was a clipped summary, to say the least. In reality, Lord Arlecchino’s order had played more closely to the tune of ‘until you’ve collared your pet properly’, but admittedly, Lynette might’ve missed something. She and Freminet had been listening from the other side of a steel door, and Lyney hadn’t been eager to discuss their conversation after her lecture ended. “And I’m sure, if you bothered to ask, you’d already know that we’re quite in love. Aren’t we, beautiful?”

��Quite in love,” you parroted. There was something strange about your inflection, as if you were trying to speak in a language you hadn’t yet mastered, but Lynette chose not to dwell on it.

“And I’d hardly call this the public,” Lyney went on, when Lynette made it clear that she had yet to be impressed. He made a quick, sweeping gesture to the rest of the backstage area – as if the technicians and stage-hands rushing between lighting rigs and half-assembled props were no more real than the silhouetted figures painted onto the set dressing they were hauling into place. “Think of it as… a trial run, to see how much we’ve improved. If everything goes well tonight, perhaps we’ll be able to attend Father’s next banquet together, too. I’ve been dying to introduce them to the rest of our family – preferably without all the screaming and biting, this time.”

That, Lynette could admit, would probably be for the best. She still had a bruise in the shape of your teeth on her left wrist from the day she’d met you, but Lyney still claimed it’d been one of your better first impressions.

“I’ve always wanted to see one of your shows.” You were cupping Lyney’s face, now, using your thumb to draw tender circles into his cheek. “I’ve always loved the opera. You’re playing the male lead, right?”

Lynette pursed her lips, her eyes widening slightly as she turned her attention pointedly towards her brother. He looked away. “I’m still working out the kinks. By this time next week, it should all be right as rain.”

Reluctantly, Lynette let her attention shift back to you. Your sleeves were long, dense with lace and tulle, but a patch of reddened, raw skin where the shackle had been wrapped around your wrist was just barely visible underneath the frivolous material. There was a slight tremble in your stiff shoulders, and when she looked closely, she could see that you were swaying; your legs weak from disuse, barely able to hold your own weight. Her brother, on the other hand – she could remember the last time she’d seen him smiling so widely. He been in a state of pure, untethered euphoria since the moment you were dragged, kicking and swearing, into one of the Fatui’s lesser-used underground holding facilities, and she rarely saw him without a glint in his eye and a light flush painted over her cheeks. It was almost upsetting, to see a face so much like her own so distorted. If she hadn’t been so used to his sudden flurries of passion, she might’ve been disturbed.

“It can’t last.” Lyney straightened, but she didn’t give him a chance to cut in. “The—the trance, I mean. You’re a magician, not a hypnotist. It’s going to wear off, eventually.”

“I’ve always hated stage magic,” you muttered, dreamily. “I know I shouldn’t, but I can’t help it. I hate feeling like I’m the only person who doesn’t know what’s going on.”

“It doesn’t need to last forever, just long enough.” This time, it was Lyney who caught your chin in his hand, pulling you just close enough for a quick, shallow kiss. Lynette looked away before she could be forced to endure yet another unabashed show of affection, but she could still hear him far too clearly when he spoke seconds later, his voice now nearly distant as your own.

“Until we both manage to forget how we could ever live apart.”

[anim-ttrpgs]

"The Eye of Neptune," a Eureka: Investigative Urban Fantasy Adventure Module

This previously patreon-exclusive adventure module was just released in beta on itch.io!

This adventure module takes place in 2020 during the height of the pandemic lockdowns, and actually has two possible starting points, one where your characters are fishermen picking up a distress signal from an off-shore oil rig in the Gulf of Mexico, and one where your characters are workers on that oil rig.

This horror-mystery adventure module should last you about 1-2 sessions.

You can download it here. Payment is optional, but highly appreciated!

Here’s the full adventure hook under the cut.

Route A: Man has built a city of steel and black blood atop the endless abyss. It is a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins. Hundreds of miles away from civilization, it stands in the midst of the Gulf of Mexico with naught but empty horizons around it. Within is a vast structure of winding halls, grinding machinery, and thousands upon thousands of small parts working to achieve a grand design. It is the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune, and it was once run by 200 workers. Now, in the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, it has fallen to more or less a dozen. These last vestiges of life in the rig spread themselves thin and work their hands to the bone to keep the massive beast running. In the midst of this overwhelming isolation, two members of the already shorthanded crew are unaccounted for, Seth Barlowe and Lukas Ward. The installation manager, Noah, has convened a meeting to try to find out what happened to them. With the crew already severely shorthanded and tensions running high, a mysterious disappearance is the last thing anyone needs. 

Route B: “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday…” Hundreds of miles away from civilization, a distress call echoes out to a fishing boat about a hundred miles south of shore in the Gulf of Mexico. It hails from a city of steel and black blood atop the seemingly endless abyss, powered by a beating heart bound together with labyrinthian pipe veins - the Offshore Oil Rig Neptune. The distress signal continues, in a haggard and nervous male voice: “This is the fixed drilling platform Neptune (spoken three times). 

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, fixed drilling platform Neptune. My position is 27.383 North, 93.299 West. My vessel is under assault by an unknown perpetrator, and I am requesting immediate evacuation.

I have fourteen persons aboard, this message will repeat.”

A few moments after the message is received, a radio response from the Coast Guard reports that they have received the Neptune’s distress call, but they are weathered-in due to a storm - neither boat nor helicopter will be able to respond for eight hours at minimum. Those aboard the fishing boat set a course to investigate, perhaps out of compassion or perhaps out of legal obligation - and what they will find when they arrive is anyone’s guess.

[henry-cavs-tudor]

Henry Cavill, Man of Steel behind the scenes of the ‘Oil-rig scene’🤤