#winch machine

[interfoto]

180809

·

[ritesolution]

Electric Winch Machine

Are you looking for Electric Winch Machine Manufacturer in India? Look no further than Rite Solution , We are a leading manufacturer, supplier and exporter of Electric Winch Machine in India.

For more details, please contact us! +91-7835907263

[bkeposts-blog]

Building Strong Foundations with High-Performance Vibratory Rollers

Building Strong Foundations with High-Performance Vibratory Rollers

Bala Krishna Engineering

Building Strong Foundations with High-Performance Vibratory Rollers

Balakrishna Engineering, a trusted name among construction machiner manufacturers in yCoimbatore, understands the critical role robust foundations play in any construction project. Our high-performance vibratory rollers are meticulously designed to meet the diverse needs of various industries, ensuring exceptional soil compaction and ultimately, superior construction quality.

The Power of Vibratory Compaction

A vibratory roller is a powerful compactor equipped with a drum that utilises a combination of static weight and dynamic vibration to effectively compact coarse-grained, gravelly soil. This innovative method surpasses traditional compaction techniques by:

Enhancing Surface Strength : The vibratory action ensures complete coverage beneath the wheel, creating an unmatched level of surface strength.

Optimum Particle Alignment : Vibrations strategically align particles within the soil, leading to superior compaction compared to static pressure alone.

Multi-Layered Compaction : The dynamic forces penetrate deeper into the soil, effectively compacting distinct layers for a strong and stable base.

Balakrishna Engineering: Your One-Stop Shop for Vibratory Rollers

Our commitment to quality and innovation extends to our comprehensive range of vibratory rollers. As a leading construction equipment manufacturer in Coimbatore, we offer a variety of models to cater to projects of all sizes and complexities, ensuring you have the right tool for the job.

Meeting Diverse Industrial Needs

In the dynamic world of construction, diverse projects demand equally diverse equipment. As a leading construction machinery manufacturer, Balakrishna Engineering understands this very well. Whether you require a heavy-duty roller for large-scale projects or a compact and maneuverable model for confined spaces, Balakrishna Engineering has the perfect solution. Our versatile range of vibratory rollers is expertly designed to fulfill the varying industrial requirements you face. From extensive highway construction to intricate inner-city renovations, our rollers are up to the challenge, ensuring exceptional soil compaction and a solid foundation for any project.

Introducing the Balakrishna Engineering Vibratory Roller Range

HW-1.5T Ride-On Road Roller

This user-friendly vibratory roller is ideal for levelling surfaces and features a reliable Honda engine for smooth operation.

lModel No. DRL-60

Designed for efficient surface leveling, the DRL-60 is powered by a proven Honda engine, ensuring consistent performance.

Model No. DDR-60

The DDR-60 is another excellent option for achieving precise surface leveling. This robust model also utilizes a dependable Honda engine for optimal functionality.

Investing in Excellence: The Balakrishna Engineering

By choosing Balakrishna Engineering's vibratory rollers, you're not just acquiring a piece of equipment; you're investing in:

Unwavering Quality : Our rollers are meticulously crafted using premium materials and cutting-edge engineering, guaranteeing long-lasting performance and exceptional durability.

Unmatched Reliability : Among all the construction machinery manufacturers,we prioritize reliability, ensuring your rollers are dependable workhorses that won’t let you down on the job site.

Superior Customer Service : Our dedicated team is committed to providing exceptional customer service, offering comprehensive support before, during, and after your purchase.

Elevate Your Construction Projects with Balakrishna Engineering

As a leading Construction machinery manufacturer Balakrishna Engineering understands this very well. Whether you require a heavy-duty roller for large-scale projects or a compact and maneuverable model for confined spaces, Balakrishna Engineering has the perfect solution. Our versatile range of vibratory rollers is expertly designed to fulfill the varying industrial requirements you face. From extensive highway construction to intricate inner-city renovations, our rollers are up to the challenge, ensuring exceptional soil compaction and a solid foundation for any project.

More Info : https://www.bke.co.in/building-strong-foundations-with-high-performance-vibratory-rollers/

[wokaite]

Founded in 2006, “Wokaite” is an acknowledged leader of China's Lifting equipment Industry.

We offer most wide range of Lifting Equipment. We are committed to manufacture the Quality Product best of its kind through advance manufacturing processes and techniques.

We specialize in every type of Overhead Cranes,Electric Hoists, Rigging, Chain Pulley Block, Monorail travelling trolley, Crane componets & all Types of Jib Cranes etc.

The management of the company has a vast experience of over Twenty Five years in the field of manufacturing and installation of electric hoist. The dedicated and professional team of management, engineers and worker are always available to share your load wherever you are.

Mobile/whatsapp:+8613989610078 Website:www.wokaitehoist.com

[fanaticsnail]

Body Worship: Franky

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 3,100+

Themes: Franky x gn!reader, angst, self worth, Franky has a little bit of dysmorphia, affirmation, fluff, smut, thigh riding, confession, body worship, praise, love, porn with feelings, mdni, NSFW, smut, 18+, non descript smut, grinding.

Notes: Massive shoutout to @thenotsofantasticlifestory for listening to my thoughts and aiding me with my time on this fic. I love this man, and I adore you. First time writing for Franky.

Cogs, wires, fizzes, and snaps of electrical circuits rang and shuddered within the chambers crafted by Franky’s own hands. There was never a silence to be held within him, not a calm moment where his body was not ticking like a clock wound by a coiled winch. He was constantly on, always on.

There was not a moment where man and machine were no longer merged as one, and Franky usually had no issue with being a self-made man in more ways than simple determination and gumption. But today, he just felt unnatural. He felt those cogs, wires, fizzes and snaps of electrical circuits overtake the humanity he so desperately attempted to preserve within himself.

He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t speak. He didn’t see the body he crafted as a work of mastery, but something foreign and tainted. He couldn’t look at himself without seeing the parts of his flesh, bone, and muscle he replaced, rendered, soldered, and attached. He was no longer himself, but just those parts he forged to keep himself alive.

A pile of scrap made into the shape of a man. Flesh from his prior life stretched over a frame of humanity pushed to its extremities.

Unsure as to when the first tear fell, or whether they were tears at all, his rounded eyes swelled and poured heavy drops down his cheeks and onto his chest within his workshop. Usually when he cried, he had the sensation of an almost sting in his nose: nostrils flaring and a saltiness within his nasal cavity. The lack of this feeling within his steel nose now only made him feel more like a machine and less of a man.

A soft knock at his workshop door was barely audible over the mechanical symphony rattling within his mind and skull. He scrunched his eyes shut and focussed finding a single sound to focus on within himself to no avail. It was just too much. Too noisy. Too intense. Too overwhelming. Too-.

“-Franky?” your voice shocks him out of his spiral, truly unaware of the opening and closing of the door to his workshop. He jolted back, beginning to panic a little while his body caught up to the way his mind was spiraling.

Keeping a safe distance away from the cyborg, you took him in. Noticing how his shoulders and hands were beginning to shake, you tilted your head and furrowed your brows while assessing him further. Franky’s eyes met with yours, a soft quiver of his lip atop his tri-pointed chin matching the forlorn expression blooming over his face.

As ships’ counselor, it was your job to advise and flesh out plans for your captain. It was also within your job title to unweave the troubled thoughts and matters of the head and heart for your crew.

Franky was a friend to you, and you adored the large cyborg wholeheartedly. If he ever gave you an opportunity to see him as more than just a friend or crewmate, you would take it before your heart could skip a beat.

There was no favorites on the Straw-Hat crew, but if there was, Franky would be it for you. You truly loved him for all that he was: man, machine, or otherwise.

It did not take much more than a soft sniffle from the larger man to usher you towards the larger man, opening your arms and taking him within your embrace. Pressing his head against your chest, you cradled his face within your hands and slowed your breathing for him to join with his own. His shoulders slouched, a single hand wrapping around your back and feeling the warmth your body had to offer him in the sensors within his palm and fingers.

Gently carding through his blue hair, you felt him relax into your touch while his ear pressed up against your heartbeat. His broad hands began to clutch at you and tug you into his lap, each thigh placed atop his own at the side while he pressed more of himself into you.

“Want to talk about it, big guy?” you asked softer than a murmur, but louder than a whisper, “I’m always here to talk with you when you need it, just like you are with me. Open door, honesty policy, remember?”

Franky sniffed before a raspy chuckle rattled in his throat. Tugging you nearer to him and releasing a sigh, he moved his chin to rest on your chest while peering up into your face. Gazing down at him, you offered him a softness in your smile while peering into his unshrouded eyes.

“Just-...” he began, waiting for the words to find themselves in his throat, “...It's just… I can't quite put it to words, now you mention it.” His chuckle was more in a bid to rise one of your own, teetering off the more he drank in your smile.

Darting his dark eyes between your own, glancing briefly down at your lips, he drank in your appearance the closer he drew to your face. You and he were nothing more than exceptionally close friends, but the cogs churning in his stomach and heart desperately desired there be a moment. He leaned in just a touch more, his eyes rounded just a touch more while his jaw grew softly slack.

“Franky?” Your voice soothed him, a smile found in each syllable, “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re wanting to kiss me.”

Franky’s eyes darted down to your lips, angling his tri-pointed chin up just a small shift more. His eyelids grew heavy, lashes heavy as his pupils focussed on the way your lips curved in your smile.

“Do you?” he whispered, his voice heavy and husky within his throat. His hands desperately clasped the small of your back, his receptors tingling in indicating your body heat growing warmer.

“Do I ‘what’, Franky?” you queeried, not shying away from his touch. You were curious to see how far he would take this action, enjoying the attention he was giving you and feeling secure within his embrace.

Franky’s outer hand slid down to your thigh, his other moving you closer to press yourself into his chest. The blue-haired cyborg moved his lips in a tone just above a whisper, his breath tingling against your mouth as he ascended them towards yours.

“Know any better.”

His lips immediately claimed your own, focussing his own existentialism on claiming your lips against his own. His skin felt your warmth as you opened yourself up to him. Each roll of his lips mouthing at yours was reciprocated with eager enthusiasm, and Franky began to feel just that little bit calmer.

Until he wondered if it was truly his skin touching your own, not what receptors told him it was. Was it his lips touching you, or the cogs behind him sending sparks to his mind and alerting his brain that it was truly you giving into him.

Did you even like him?

Were you attracted to the man that he made himself to be?

Did you even see him as a man, not just a creation marred with the injury of battle and reforged by his own mind?

You sensed his enthusiasm dwindle against your lips, prompting you to close off the embrace with a soft peck. As you pulled away your lips from his, you peered down at him with your eyes half-lidded and holding nothing but a slight amount of teasing pulled in a soft smirk.

“Franky?”

When you met his gaze once more, your smirk immediately fled your features.

His eyes were glassy, his expression the polar opposite of the manner he usually presented himself as. There was nothing of the boisterous, uplifting, passionate, and optimistic cyborg you had come to adore, and it's absence held you hostage.

“Franky,” you sighed, gently reaching up and cupping his cheek. “Please. There's something going on, and as your counselor, I need to know. I could leave the job at the door and just be-.”

“-What am I?” he answered suddenly, his lips toppling hurriedly over the words, “I need to know.”

Taken aback by his hasty questions, you furrow your brows at him and check him over. Darting your eyes over his face, noticing his posture becoming slightly slouched and his hands holding you in heaped fistfuls, you inhale a soft and steady breath before exhaling.

Your breathing inadvertently has him so the same, both inhaling and exhaling slowly and steadily. After a moment of you both dwelling in the silence, you answer him with a non-rehearsed speech from the heart.

“You are Franky,” you whisper, rolling the pad of your thumb against the apple of his cheek, “Shipwright to the Straw Hat Pirates, senior officer shepherding the Straw Hat Grand Fleet. Creator and master constructor of the Thousand Sunny. Former gang leader, who convinced those joining to switch from beer to cola, and-...”

Franky nodded you on, convincing you to continue to affirm him with your words. You could see it was not entirely the answer he was seeking, which spurred you on to change to how deeply remarkable you found him.

“...-You are so kind. An exceptionally intelligent person with your heart beating for others,” you nod to him, catching the hitch in his throat and paying it no mind. “The way your mind can see the mastery in machines, crafting it with your hands, and forging it into the best version of itself is a gift.” You draw your other hand up to his bare chest, feeling a fizz and beat beneath the skin while you speak.

“You don't just do this with your skilled labor, Franky.” You reassure him, glancing down to your knuckles on the back of your hand in his chest. “You see the potential in others, and coax them skillfully to bring it to the light.” A small laugh fled from your lips, prompting you to shake your head and whisper, “A remarkable skill, and I envy you for it.”

The dampness felt beneath the fingers on his cheek had you moving your eyes slowly back up to meet his own.

“You are, and will forever be, Franky: man, machine, both married as one and inseparable from the other,” you concluded, drawing your hand up on his cheek to slowly caress away his tears. “You are all of this, and you are so much more.”

Franky felt his chest soar, whichever fluid, whether cola or blood, pumped his heart and had him desperate to know more. Considering the fact you didn't pull away from the offerance of a kiss earlier, he drew his hand over your back and rested it on your hip while leaning in.

“What am I to you?”

Without skipping a beat, you spoke truthfully and from the chamber's within your own beating heart.

“And you are beautiful to me.”

Franky scoffed, rolling his eyes and almost pouting at your response. You sigh out with your brow arched high, gently perching your hands against his broad shoulders and grasping his muscles firmly.

“I mean it, Franky,” you reaffirm enthusiastically, “Everything about you is beautiful. Your heart, your soul, your mind, fuck,” you gasp, feeling the firmness of his shoulders beneath his hands.

A warm flush crept up your neck and swelled your cheeks with a vibrant fluster. Franky searched your eyes, darting down to your parted lips and back up to meet your gaze.

“What was that?” he chuckled, picking up your vocal inflection and teasing you with his smile.

“I just,” you halt yourself, slowly molding the joints beneath your palms and squeeze his muscles. “I usually… I usually focus on the mind and heart, but you're-...” Your fingers move down to his scarred pectorals, gently caressing a trail of timidity down towards his nipples.

“...-You're really attractive. Physically attractive,” you admit, pressing a little firmer against his muscles before dipping the pads of your index fingers over his pebbled buds. “Whether it was the kiss from a little earlier, confessing how I see your mind, my position currently on your lap, or the fact that there's a lot of tension between us right now…”

“Oh?” He taunts you a little more tilting his head to the side with a cheeky grin drawing up over his lips. Leaning forward, he pressed more of his pectorals against your hands and whispered coyly against the shell of your ear, “Tell me?”

“Shit,” you stutter past your lips. Eyes rolling a little, you suck your lips into your mouth to halt a moan from fleeing as you feel the tension only swell to a greater intensity.

Franky chuckles, his hands still running circles against your hips and gently ushering you in closer.

“Better yet,” he drew one hand away from your middle and drew it up to collect your chin in his grip. “Show me?”

Your breath hitched as you slowly drew your hand around in circles against his flesh. His skin felt warm to the touch, smooth and soft with coiled ringlets of cerulean fuzz shimmering against his pectorals. Moving your hands up and down his chest, your lips parted in surprise at feeling the buzz of circuitry beneath the stretch of flesh.

“Every nook you've notched into yourself is a work of art, Franky,” you exhale, rolling the pads of your thumbs against his abs and raking them towards his belly. “Each alteration and modification has just made you more you, you know?”

Franky felt his throat hitch at the admission parting from your lips. His body that he saw moments ago as a trap for his spirit, now being worshiped and praised for its mastery. As your hands ran over his skin, his receptors and skin both felt need and desire course through his circuits and veins.

Without any more prompting at your touch, he maneuvered you to straddle one of his thighs and held your pelvis flush against his own. Your hands automatically fled back up to the shoulders that held you captive as he pressed you firmly against himself.

“You like my body much?” The rasp in his voice tangibly reverberated within your chest and shot straight to your crotch, igniting it with need.

“Franky…” you gasp, his hands holding you against his thigh pressed harder, slowly rocking you over the hard muscle lurking beneath. “If you'd give me an opportunity, I'd drop to my knees and worship you like a devotee at an altar.”

Franky chuckles at the comment, using his large, metal hand gripping your waist to slowly rock you back and forward over his thigh. Your stomach bound in knots, your needs only growing higher and more incessant the more he puppetted you against his body and gazed into your eyes.

“No need for all that. I don't need it,” he laughed once more, moving forward and brushing his metal nose gently against yours, “But I do need this.”

His larger hand completely trapped your waist within his grip, knocking your knee against the bulge in his pants and grinding his clothed cock against your own body.

Manhandling you against his leg, bouncing you up to brush more of yourself against his cock, you felt trapped against him as he bore you fully against his body while holding your face gently. His metal thumb stroked your lip as you parted them to release a groan.

Soft whimpers and mewls left your throat as he held your gaze, his own gasps growing in need the longer he rocked you against himself. Your desire began to seep through your pants the longer he held you firmly and guided your motions.

“Show me,” he whispered, peering down his steel nose through half-hooded lashes. “Show me everything.” He worked you harder, his own cock leaking it's head and staining his red briefs with soft dewdrops of precum.

His abdomen tensed, feeling the need rise further in his stomach while his cogs, wires, flesh and bone felt more unified as one than ever. Humanity overtook his senses the longer his primal urge to feel more of you against himself.

You were no different, feeling your own release clench in the pit of your stomach and sizzle your eyes with the first sparks of euphoria. The need fogging your mind spurred you on to bare yourself down against him and begin rutting against him harder. As you found yourself falling over that edge, you clenched your eyes shut, earning you an immediate reprimand from the cyborg cariotting your bliss.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered firmly, “I said ‘show me’. I want to see you. Just you, baby. Gonna cum on my lap?” He rocked you harder, pinching your chin and giving it a soft shake to draw back your gaze on his own.

“Cum for me, baby.”

“Franky-!” you cried, feeling your eyes spring open as your vision blurred as your focus was marred by ecstasy. Your body flooded with endorphins, spurring within your chest and releasing the heavy knots in your belly. The damp patch below you deepened in intensity as your release seeped into his thighs.

Franky’s lips quivered as he darted his eyes between yours, finding in you that tether binding him to the mortal realm. With you anchored against him, he used your body rutting against his own to buck up his clothed cock and roll his hips against your thigh.

With a rough bark of your name, his cock began flooding his briefs with his own release. His eyes never left your face as he rode through his high while you came down from yours.

Two breaths, two hearts, two souls, two people: both enjoying their bodies while clinging to one another. That is where you found yourself, truly just intending to find his office to inform him your crew were about to make port in an island in two hours according to Nami.

As your body slouched against his chest, he cradled you in the same manner you did moments ago while reassuring him of his own body. He had never felt so secure as he did just now with his own body.

“Franky?” you whispered softly, turning your head and pressing your forehead against the crook of his neck.

“Yeah, baby?” He nuzzled against the crown of your head, “What's up?”

“We'll be making port in about forty-five minutes,” you gasp against his skin, pressing a shy kiss against his neck before hiding your gaze in his shoulder to cringe away your giddiness. Franky chuckles, reaching down and collecting your chin in his grip and turning you back to meet his eyes once more.

“Stay with me until then?” he asked softly, blinking slowly and and almost unsure of himself as you seemed to be. You found yourself drowning in his eyes, raw emotion swelling between you as you feel the chemistry fizzing up to a ruptuous tumble.

“After all that?” you scoff playfully, your smile painted over your lips and causing him to mirror it himself, “I'll remain by your side always.”

“Always?”

“Always.”

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @ane5e

🎶 Happy Birthday to Me🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[enkays-den]

Skizz Week 2, Day 3: Fight/Fun

@skizzlemanweek

968 words, no warnings, Skizz, Doc

“What have you called me over for, Doc?” Skizz asked as the two of them stepped through the nether portal.

“I heard you’re a big fan of da win’ charges,” the German replied. “I have a new machine that I’ve already tested and I thought you might like to see it in action.

“Whoa,” Skizz said wondrously, looking up at the tall structure. “What’s it do?” He sounded like a little kid.

“I’ll explain once we go up, we need to get up top anyways to see it.”

Skizz was handed a rock climbing harness to step into. Doc then clipped one of the carabiners to an industrial pulley, and another to a bright red safety line. He also pulled all the straps of the harness tight.

“Hey, you’re gonna cut off circulation to important parts!”

Doc raised an eyebrow. “You wanna wanna take the fall down? Okay.” He reached for the straps again, but Skizz swatted his hands away with a beat of his wing. 

“No touchy-touchy.”

Doc’s laugh sounded almost like a scoff. “You’re so strange, Skizzleman.”

“I grow on you, like a mould.”

“I’m sure Impulse would agree.”

“Skizz giggled. “Nine days out of ten, yeah.”

“You all ready?” Doc was turning dials and cranks on a mechanical console.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Okay, hold on to the redrope if you want. It won’t do anything.”

“Real reassur-AHHH!” Skizz’s retort was cut off by the winch pulling him up at a horrifically fast clip. His knuckles were white as he gripped the red safety rope.

“DOC YOU SUUUUUCK!!!” He screamed below. 

Doc’s maniacal laughter could be heard over the wind rushing in his ears.

The pair zipped up the structure, passing by large matrices of redstone that Skizz wouldn't hope to understand in a million years.

The winch slowed down when they were level with some of the mountaintops. There was a metal platform that the two of them stepped onto.

“You can let go of da rope now,” Doc said, smirking.

Skizz took a deep breath, releasing his lifeline. “Dude, that freaking sucked.”

“Funny, Impulse said you’re an adrenaline junkie, I thought you’d enjoy da ride.”

“Didn’t occur to you that maybe some of us normal people might want to take the elevator?”

“Dat is da elevator.”

Skizz laughed nervously as Doc unclipped him from the winch and to the safety wires.

Doc gave a quick tour and summary of the machinery on this level.

“So we are up here because dis is my wind charge farm. You see over dere is da glass enclosure with a breeze inside. Dis piston can basically catch da charges fired at da iron golem. Dey’re held in stasis and I accumulate them in dis spot.”

“So these aren’t wind charges we can harvest and throw ourselves?” Skizz asked, watching the breeze shoot windballs into the glass chamber.

“No, at da moment, I can’t only isolate the charges into one spot, but moving dem a distance in dis state isn’t something I’ve figured out yet.”

“Yet,” Skizz chuckled.

Doc just smirked. “Yes, yet. Hivemind is very powerful, wit all our minds combined.”

“If you can’t move the charges and don’t want to make them throwable objects, what do you do with them? And why am I here? I’m just the town jester!”

“I remember you were very enthusiastic about using boats and fishing poles for transport earlier in da season. Dis makes dat technique look like playing jump rope.”

Skizz’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Dead. I can get stacks of charges here, get in a boat, activate them, and go over two hundred thousand meters in da air.”

“Holy moly,” Skizz breathed in amazement. He turned to Doc, eyes sparkling. “Please tell me that you brought me here to send me to space.”

Doc only grinned in response. Skizz cheered.

~~~~~

They got into a large oak boat made for four, Doc and Skizz on either end of the boat and some scientific equipment piled into the middle, some analog, some electronic.”

Doc gave all their altitude and accelerometer devices a final check. “Okay, I think we’re ready for takeoff.”

“Hell yes!” Skizz hopped into the boat and strapped himself into the modified seat.

Doc pressed the button to align everything, the boat shifting slightly as everything got pushed into position with pistons. He gestured to a very Dr. Frankenstein looking lever. “Skizz, want to do de honors?”

“It would be an honor.” Skizz grasped the handle. “Wanna count down and I pull on ‘go’?”

“Sure. Three… two… one… go.”

Skizz wrenched the lever down. A moment later, a deafening WHOOOOOOOM sounded and everything in the boat became glued to floor with the G force of their liftoff.

“Jeez!” Skizz yelled, peering over the edge of the boat. They were already so far up, he could see the edges of Joe’s Hermit Homdel. 

“According to dis” – Doc gestured to the equipment – “we passed da max height you were getting with da fishing rods within three seconds.”

“That’s crazy, dude,” Skizz laughed. Suddenly, he gasped. “That’s the hourglass! It looks so small from up here!”

“Da hourglass is not small!” Doc said indignantly. “Da hourglass is a monument to suffering on da server because no one will let me dupe sand!”

~~~~~

After a while, the novelty of watching the landscape below them shrinking wore off, and Skizz looked over at Doc, who was finished examining his equipment and noting things down. The goat-creeper-man hybrid was watching Skizz, seemingly happy he was enjoying the trip, but definitely looking a little awkward.

They still hadn’t finished going up, and the devices tracking their position and altitude was telling him it was already four minutes of vertical travel. 

This was going to take a while.

“So Doc… how’s the German basketball scene these days?”

[sholiofic]

July Break Bingo: Pond

I signed up for July Break Bingo / @julybreakbingo and immediately was inspired by the "Location: Pond" square on my card. I'm so pleased; I've written almost nothing in the last month or two, and it feels so good to get something out again! Also posted on DW.

Location: Pond Biggles, gen, 700 wds

On this peaceful afternoon, there was—until a few moments ago—nothing much going on at this end of the quiet pasture. Perhaps there might have been some excitement at the far end, a few gunshots and the sound of a distant engine starting up. But down here, there was just a picturesque little pond, a few trees with their leaves fluttering in a light breeze, and a handful of drowsy sheep.

The sheep were now clustered in a tight knot under a tree a few dozen yards from the pond, which sported some new accessories, namely: a wing and part of a fuselage and aeroplane tail sticking up the air, and several thrashing, muddy figures struggling to get out of the water.

Ginger was first; he turned back to help Bertie out, while Algy heaved a weakly struggling Biggles onshore with a fist in the back of his jacket and then had to be helped out by Ginger, as they were all covered in mud and he kept slipping back in.

Coughing, Biggles sat up, swiping his hair out of his eyes. "Are we all here? Anyone hurt?" He swept his gaze across the bedraggled little group; his face, under the mud, changed to alarm. "Where's vo—"

"The prisoner?" Algy interrupted. "The one whose ill-advised escape attempt is the cause of our current predicament? That one?"

"Yes, where is he?" Biggles started to rise, fell down, and was then held down when Algy grabbed his arm. "Algy, let go, he might be trapped under the machine—"

"He's over there," Ginger put in.

Von Stalhein, covered in mud and streaming water, was just extracting himself from the opposite side of the pond. With a lithe, eel-like movement despite his sodden condition, he slipped out onto the bank, where he rolled over, sat up, and glared across the pond at them.

"Anyone have a gun?" Algy asked, keeping a grip on Biggles.

"All the guns are at the bottom of the pond, 'm afraid," Bertie said. He attempted to polish his eyeglass on his muddy shirtfront and then looked at it in distress.

"Not to mention the papers we were supposed to retrieve," Ginger remarked. With a swift glance at von Stalhein on the far side of the pond, he added, "I don't suppose there's anything left to retrieve at this point. They'll be so much paper pulp now."

Von Stalhein wrung out his sleeve and plucked a strand of pond weed from his arm, continuing to regard them balefully.

"That means we've nothing to argue about any more," Biggles said cheerfully. He had finally managed to shake off Algy.

"I suppose you're going to tell us that he hasn't done anything wrong and there's nothing to call the authorities about," Algy said between his teeth. He jerked a little, reached into his pocket, pulled out a frog and tossed it back into the pond.

"Well, he hasn't the papers on him, has he?" Biggles said. "You can't arrest a fellow for falling in a pond."

"He crashed the plane!"

"I'd call it more of a group effort," Biggles said. "Anyway, it hardly matters now, does it? The matter's settled, we're safe on the ground and all that's left is to see if there's anything with a winch about, perhaps a tractor." Raising his voice for von Stalhein's benefit, he went on, "We're going to walk over to the farmhouse and find out if they have a telephone and what sort of machinery might be knocking about the place. You're welcome to come with us—get a hot drink and dry off, at least. We can sort the rest out afterwards. Any extra hands raising the aeroplane would be welcome."

"Or you could take advantage of our distraction to run away," Algy said, hopefully.

Von Stalhein said nothing. Calmly he planted a hand in the face of a bolder-than-usual sheep that had wandered up to investigate and pushed it away.

"Come on," Algy said, giving Biggles a hand up. They began straggling muddily toward the farmhouse. After a long moment, von Stalhein got to his feet and followed them, some distance behind, trailed at a further distance by the sheep.

[olivia200312]

Comfort~ Movie! Freddy x Human! Reader

Requested by the lovely GlamRockCrash

Plot: Y/N lost her father at a young age and years later, when she loses her mother due to cancer, Y/N is very tired and depressed. Freddy notices this and approaches her. 

This takes place before the restaurant closes down! Also, Freddy and others are alive in this one.

----------------------------------------

Y/N couldn't believe it. She never thought that she would be one of those people to experience it. She already lost her father at a young age and now, she was at her mother's side, holding her hand as she was sitting down. Her mother was laying on her deathbed at the hospital. Y/N was crying non-stop while holding her mother's hand. Y/N was 26 while her mother was close to hitting her senior year but I guess it won't happen. Y/N's mother was saying goodbye to her only child, a daughter who is a grown-up. Y/N's mother was losing the battle to cancer. The doctors told her that her mother did not have much time left to live as it was an aggressive one. Y/N was devastated as the day came to say goodbye as her mother's condition worsened. 

"M-Mom..." Y/N cried.

Her mom slowly turned to her daughter with a sad smile on her face. "Don't cry, my girl. We will see each other one day. Believe." 

Y/N was too devastated and weak to respond to her mother. She cried harder as her mother's grip loosened and... no response. The heart monitor machine let out a long beep as her mother died. Y/N shakenly let go of her mom's hand and cried even harder until she couldn't take it anymore. She screamed. The doctors came rushing in with the nurses and some of them supported Y/N as they took her away. 

2 Weeks Later~

Y/N entered the pizzeria she put on a tired fake smile on her face. She was a nightguard at Freddy Fazbear's pizza place. As Y/N entered the place, she saw that the animatronics were in their places. There was Freddy, Bonnie, Chica, and of course Foxy. The young woman was a big fan of them ever since she was small, but Freddy was her ultimate favorite with Bonnie coming second. She spent 2 weeks at home, asking her boss if they were okay with it as Y/N explained the reason that her mother passed. Her boss gave her 2 weeks to recover and take a break but the loss of her mother still was affecting her. 

As she walked past the animatronics, she looked at them and gave them a kind smile before going to her security office. She set her stuff aside as she sat down on the spinning chair. She grabbed the tablet and began watching over the cameras. She watched mostly over the animatronics. She grabbed her apple juice bottle and drank some of it before placing it back down on the table. When she checked the other cams, there was no anything suspicious. However, when she checked the cam where the tables were, she caught something in sight. 2 dots in the darkness could be seen. Who was that? Y/N's breathing became quicker as she quickly checked on Freddy, Bonnie, and Chica and saw the bear missing. 

"Where is Fred-" She got cut off once someone pulled the tablet down. 

Y/N gasped once she saw it was Freddy. She screamed in terror and fell off of the chair from behind due to crawling. She winched once she hit the floor but she looked terrified at the alive living bear. Freddy didn't show any emotion as he came closer and closer until Y/N hit the wall with her back. Freddy came closer again and kneeled. Y/N closed her eyes and turned her head away, preparing to die just like so many security guards disappeared. But... nothing happened. What? 

"Huh? Y/N opened her eyes and slowly looked at Freddy, who was now on his knees with his free paw stuck out to her while he held his usual microphone in his other paw. On his free paw, he held a paper. Y/N looked carefully over and realized that it was a note. She shakenly took it over and read it, saying: 'Are you ok?'

Y/N felt tears building up again, stinging her eyes as she sniffed. She looked into Freddy's blue eyes as she cried softly. She raised her knees to press them against her chest and wrapped her arms around her knees. "N-No. I'm not ok, Freddy. My mother passed away due to cancer. I miss her so much."

Y/N didn't look up to Freddy as she continued to cry. Freddy knew what cancer was, a deadly illness and there were different types of cancers like breasts, bones, etc. Some of them had cures, others sadly not. Many scientists were busy trying and testing it. Freddy felt very sorry for Y/N. She used to talk to him and Freddy knew that the young woman lost her father first and now, she lost her mother. Y/N had no one left... That was what she believed, at least. 

As she continued to cry, she didn't realize Freddy sitting down next to her and gently grabbed her, causing Y/N to look up. She relaxed as was sitting between Freddy's legs. Even though they sat on the cold floor, Y/N leaned against Freddy to be kept warm. Freddy wrapped his arms around her shaken form and one of his paws began petting her head, causing Y/N to relax. Y/N whimpered as she began crying again and Freddy began rocking themselves back and forth to comfort her and it was working. Y/N began slowly calming down. She felt so tired that she decided to rest her head against Freddy's chest and slowly fell asleep. 

Freddy never left her side and looked down, his blue eyes shone in the darkness. The handsome bear continued to pet her head and whispered down into her ear: "Goodnight, love."

[feigeroman]

The Boulder Quarry Line

I recently binged the entire Classic Series again, as background noise while I was working on something else. When I got to Series 5-7, I remembered a headcanon I’d developed ages ago, to link together most of the Skarloey Railway episodes from those seasons. This recent binge spurred me to finally write it down, and bash it into something a little more coherent. Most of this is just me thinking aloud, but I thought I'd run it up the flagpole and see who salutes it...

1951

Just as operations are winding down at the old slate quarry at Ward Fell, new beds of good-quality slate are discovered in the hills north of Rheneas. A new quarry is established to extract this slate, and this helps to revive the Skarloey Railway’s then-declining fortunes. Even so, the surveyors who uncovered this slate are convinced there are still further treasures to be found deeper into the mountains.

1950s-60s

The search for such treasures is carried out as time allows - which isn’t very often, considering all the new developments which take place on the SR during this time.

Roughly 1970

Finally, a discovery is made - large deposits of stone in the northern foothills of Shane Dooiney, of similar quality to that quarried at Ffarquhar. Plans are quickly devised to extract the stone, and the Skarloey Railway is tasked with building a line to the new quarry.

The proposed line branches off the Rheneas Quarry line, passes through a natural ravine known locally as Echo Pass, travels alongside the main Skarloey-Peel Godred road, and finally turns south towards the new quarry site.

1970-early 1972

The line is constructed, following the route described above. When it is completed, trains start carrying building supplies to the site of the new quarry. Some trains are also laid on for the benefit of a road-building company, which is upgrading the Skarloey-Peel Godred road so that heavier vehicles can access the quarry as well.

Winter 1972

Due to a problem with the winch, some trucks break away on the incline at Rheneas Quarry. The breakaway tumbles into Echo Pass, triggering an avalanche which buries Skarloey, who happened to be travelling through the Pass with a supply train. He is subsequently rescued by Rusty.

These events are later loosely adapted into the episode Snow.

Early 1973

The new quarry finally opens for business, and even has a new name - Boulder Quarry, after an enormous, spherical boulder which looms ominously over part of the line. Boulder Quarry enjoys a prosperous first few months, and the Skarloey Railway enjoys the revenue boost provided by the new stone traffic.

After a while, Rusty begins to feel nervous about the Boulder, but can’t really explain why. The others don’t take him too seriously.

Autumn 1973

After several weeks of heavy rain, Boulder Quarry is able to try out its latest acquisition - an experimental drilling machine known as Thumper. Unfortunately, the vibrations from Thumper cause the Boulder to fall off its perch, and run away down the Skarloey Valley. The Boulder causes a great deal of damage to track and property all down the valley, culminating in the destruction of some new stone-cutting sheds just outside Crovan’s Gate.

All concerned parties agree the disaster is an act of god telling them to leave that part of Sodor alone, and Boulder Quarry shuts its doors for good - financially crippled by having been forced to pay substantial compensation to every property owner in the valley.

The Skarloey Railway also ends up in dire straits - besides the damage caused by the Boulder, several years of hard work have just gone down the tubes.

The remainder of 1973

The Thin Controller decides to temporarily close the SR, so that everyone can focus their efforts on repairing all the damage to track and property. The rest of 1973 is spent doing just that.

The events of Duncan Gets Spooked take place during this clean-up operation.

At some point, the time is found to move the Boulder to a new, safer perch - on a specially-constructed plinth on a hill near to Crovan’s Gate, and positioned to face in the direction of its old perch.

That winter, during a break, the little engines tell Thomas (or more likely some other standard gauge engine) the story of Skarloey’s Avalanche.

1974

The clean-up continues into 1974, and the line remains closed for the first half of that year. The Thin Controller hopes to have the line ready to reopen in time for the start of the summer operating season. Fortunately, Rheneas Quarry is closed for the two weeks before, freeing up men and engines to help. Elizabeth also happens to be working in the area, and is persuaded to lend a wheel. With all this help, the clean-up is completed in the nick of time, and the Skarloey Railway is officially declared open once more.

Meanwhile, the people of Glennock decide to treat themselves to a new organ for the village school. Headmaster Hastings personally oversees the delivery of the organ. This isn’t really relevant to the Boulder saga - I just felt like mentioning it.

1975

By this year ,things are more or less back to normal on the Skarloey Railway. One day, Rheneas takes a special charter train carrying a party of schoolchildren from the Mainland. On his way back down the line, he is accidentally diverted onto the abandoned line to Boulder Quarry. The line isn’t in the best condition, and wasn’t designed to carry passengers anyway, so Rheneas has a real rollercoaster ride to the Quarry and back.

Since the children enjoyed themselves so much, the Thin Controller lets Rheneas off for his mishap, but it gets him thinking about the old line, and how he might be able to get his money’s worth from it after all…

Surveys are carried out, and it is decided to reopen the old quarry line to serve as a connection between the SR and the Culdee Fell Railway - the latter being reached by rerouting the line in the direction of their station at Skarloey Road.

 The line also passes through many areas of natural beauty, and so a number of stations are proposed to serve some of these areas. These stations include Elephant Park (above) and Rumblin Bridge (below).

The terminus of the line is at the village of Skarloey Road. So as to avoid confusion with the CFR station, the SR station is known as Upland Station. While not a direct link between the two railways, their respective stations are still a reasonably short walk away from each other.

The reconstruction of the line takes place throughout the first half of 1975, and is completed just in time for the summer operating season. Sir Topham Hatt and Lady Hatt attend the grand opening, having first viewed the new line from a hot air balloon (and then made a crash-landing in said balloon).

To finish off, here is a rough map of the original Boulder Quarry line, the subsequent Upland Extension, and how they both relate to the main SR line.

[ritesolution]

Electric Winch Machine Manufacturers in India

Electric winch machines are essential for lifting and pulling heavy loads in various industrial applications. For "Rite Solution," finding reliable manufacturers in India is crucial. Several leading companies in India specialize in the production of high-quality electric winch machines, ensuring robust construction, efficient performance, and safety.

Key manufacturers include Atlas Machines India, offering a range of winches designed for durability and reliability. Hindustan Electric Motors specializes in customized winch solutions catering to specific industry needs. Bhagirath Heavy Transmission has a reputation for producing heavy-duty winches suitable for demanding environments. These manufacturers provide comprehensive after-sales support and adhere to international standards, ensuring that "Rite Solution" receives top-notch equipment. Collaborating with these manufacturers will enhance operational efficiency and meet the rigorous demands of various lifting and pulling applications.

For more information

Contact us :- +91-7835907263

Email id :-  info@riteequipments.com

Address :-   F G- 79, Devika Chamber, RDC, Raj Nagar, Ghaziabad - 201001

[iwannakissasopwithcamel]

Rathenau-9c - "Macchi's Unsung Heroes"

Role: Scout/Attacker Served With: Macchi, UWF First Flight: 1582 Strengths: An Actual Good Scout Weaknesses: Lightly Armed Inspiration: Nieuport 11 (1916)

Description:

Combat in the early years of the war showed the complete superiority of any aircraft that could fire directly forwards. Rathenau’s first type, the 7, used a deflector plate but this was obviously a stopgap and Meike Kessler, Rathenau’s chief designer, drew up a clean sheet aircraft in 1581.

The resulting Rathenau-9 was Macchi’s primary fighter aircraft, at least until the Ritter company moved their factories there in 1587. It provided good handling but was infamous for breaking up in dives. The Rathenau-11 mostly fixed this issue and added another machine gun in an attempt to keep up with the Kobra types coming into service. As Ritter planes became more common, Rathenau planes soon found a new niche in balloon-hunting squadrons, using rockets to down observers before they could be winched out of danger.

The early model 9b and 9c variants are extremely common and put up a fair fight, and their secondary balloon-busting capabilities are greatly valued by pirates and the less reputable sort of circus.

[beguines]

Minework was divided between those underground miners who dug the coal and those who worked primarily above ground. Underground miners generally got paid by the ton. Disputes often arose over pay for dead time (i.e., when extra time was needed to build support structures, or when the quality of the coal was not such as to yield much output, or when the miner had to wait a long time for another car or for the delivery of additional timber) or over the degree of debris in the coal. Often miners were defrauded by short-​weighing of their coal, leading to a consistent union demand for a union check-​weight man at the mine face. In addition to the tonnage miners, the company employed a large number of miners who were paid by the hour: those who moved the coal cars, brought the timber, pumped water, installed ventilation, and performed a variety of other tasks. The above-​ground workers often included young children who cleaned slate and other debris from the coal.

Initial mechanization involved power winches to pull out the loaded cars, power drills, and electric or pneumatic cutting machines, eventually power loaders, and finally "the continuous miner." Whether there was mechanization or not, workers labored in semi-​dark conditions, away from the sunlight, usually breathing varying degrees of dust from the mined coal or broken rocks, often in crouched positions for many hours with low overhangs, sometimes knee deep in water from underground streams, always with the fear that a gas leak or an explosion from gas or coal dust might prematurely snuff out their lives. Workers depended on the skill and safety consciousness of their fellow workers, and also on management, the latter for overall planning of the mine's development and safety provisions, but also for safety equipment and escape routes should a disaster occur. Such disasters were an ever-​present possibility both for the workers in the mines and for their families, friends, and neighbors above ground, who never knew when those below might be buried alive, never to return.

In addition, there were diseases that usually afflicted any miner who spent decades in the mines breathing coal dust. Coal workers' pneumoconiosis (CWP), colloquially referred to as black lung disease, is caused by long exposure to coal dust. It is a common affliction of coal miners, similar both to silicosis from inhaling silica dust and to the long-​term effects of tobacco smoking. Inhaled coal dust progressively builds up in the lungs and cannot be removed by the body, leading to inflammation, fibrosis, and, in the worst case, necrosis. Estimates of the prevalence of severe cases of black lung disease among long-​term miners vary greatly, ranging from 25% to more than two-​thirds. It is a common affliction among veteran coal miners. In Alabama, especially among coal miners in the Birmingham area, dust-​related diseases were quite common. As a sign of the strength of the labor movement, the UMWA Alabama's District 20 sponsored a number of successful suits against coal companies on behalf of victims, eventually (with the support of the rest of the labor movement and labor-​friendly Governor Jim Folsom) amending the state's worker compensation law in June 1951 to include CWP (Derickson 1996:235–​36). None of the other UMWA districts or the national leadership took advantage of this breakthrough in Alabama to promote the identification, prevention, and compensation of respiratory diseases at this time. In response, Alabama operators began to lower the concentration of dust particles in their mines. Thus, Alabama was among the most progressive states in the country at this time in terms of worker safety, one of the facets of "Alabama exceptionalism." Despite later reforms, coal mining has always had, and continues to have, among the highest death tolls and injury rates of any U.S. industry. Nevertheless, despite the dangers inherent in coal mining (highlighted by the continuing dramatic mine disasters in this country and elsewhere), coal mining in the United States has always had far more injuries and deaths per ton of coal mined than that in the United Kingdom or European countries. Fatality rates were 4 per 1,000 in the United States, 3 in Germany, 1.5 in Belgium, and 1 in Britain and France.

Michael Goldfield, The Southern Key: Class, Race, and Radicalism in the 1930s and 1940s

[himbos-hotline]

Day two of the fics. I dont think ill get them done by the deadline [I think my cousin has given me wooping cough?]

But let me kiss your lips [so I know how it felt.]

DAY: 2->Please open the door before I freeze to death." WARNING: Drinking, Being left in the cold FANDOM: AEW [professional wrestling] SHIP: Kenny Omega/”Hangman” Adam Page” WC: 1888 words

Read on ao3:

Everyone keeps telling Adam that it's a bad idea to let Kenny back into his life and sure he knows that. He rolls his phone between his hands, pressing the warmth of the machine against his palms as he sits at the back of the Dark Orders locker room dressed in an itchy Christmas jumper that Uno made and Adam didn't have the heart to tell him its a size too small and bringing a rash up just over his shirt collar. He itches at his neck distractingly as he someone squish into his space. He looks over as Alex rests his head against his shoulder. Adam looks over at him, trying to read the look on Alex's face through the fluttering of dark eyelashes. "You're itching too?" Alex tilts his chin up to show Adam the ring of annoyance flashing up against Alex's skin, winching but nodding along. "Uno tries, ya can't fault him for that. Even if it does itch like fuck."

"Ha, yeah." Adam chuckles back, voice feeling just a little distant off in his mouth. He taps his phone screen and stares down at the blank screen, sighing he lets it darken again and rocks onto his hip to pocket his phone into his back pocket. He looks over at Alex and chuckles a little, throwing his hands up slightly defensively. "What?!" Adam says, punctuating the syllables as picks at the plastic cup that Anna left at his feet a few hours ago. The beer is flat and warm in his mouth when Adam raises the plastic to his lips but he swallows it anyway, watching the brown liquid pool into the cracks in the plastic.

"You're waiting for Kenny to text you." Alex says, trying to yell over the music that plays through the speakers.

Adam finishes his beer to ignore the allegation. Alex sighs and beckons Adam closer, reaching around his side to grab his phone. Adam squawks a little, the sound getting louder when Alex taps Adam ass a little like his old gym coach. Adam shudders at the memory and angles his head down against Alex's temple to watch what he's doing. "one-six-eight-three" Adam watches his friend type before tilting the screen out of Adam's line of sight. "What the hell are ya doing?!" Adam's voice raises louder than he anticipated and he smiles apologetically when Anna raises her head from the top of the couch and scowls. "It's fine!" He mouths, shuffling off Alex.

Adam doesn't get his phone back until the end of the party. John throws up a crumpled up napkin at the back of Adam's head to get his attention "How drunk are you?" Adam sways a little unsteadily when he gets asked that question, so he scoops up the napkin from the hood of his jacket and chuckles a little breathless. "We'll get you an uber home." That's how he ends up in the back of an uber, his hood covering his eyes and scrolling lazily through the pages of his home screen staring at an app that Adam hasn't seen before. He huffs and flicks his eyes upwards as Alex simply texts him "Dating app."

"Oh" Adam says out loud, swiping the text away. He smiles a little sweetly at the driver when he looks up at Adam through the rear view mirror, furrowing his eyebrows before the light above them turns green. Adam thanks him three times as he's scrambling to get his stuff out the car, mentally cursing himself for not fixing his porch light sooner. He fumbles in the darkness with his keys, pink fingertips pressing against the chilly metal of his keychains. He glances down at the snow gathering just outside his front porch and sighs as the front door finally creaks open. Adam wrestles with his boots, leaning against the doorway. He tosses his phone onto the couch and pads through his house, he lights the fire and settles into what he wants to be a quiet night.

His quiet night lasts about an hour.  He's halfway through trying to redecorate his animal crossing island for the third time before his doorbell goes, startling him. He glances up at the clock on the wall, lips pressed into a thin line before his doorbell rings again, louder than the crackling of the fire. "I wonder who that could be huh Tex?" He asks, reaching down to ruffle his dog's ears. The dog tilts his head against Adam's palm, tongue licking against the tips of his fingers. "I guess, there's only one way to find out." Adam reasons, huffing as the doorbell rings a third time, trilling through the house. Adam moves slowly through his own house, glancing over into the darkness of his kitchen before pushing open the living room curtains, rolling the soft fabric between his fingers.. He stares at the figure as they sway unsteadily on his front porch, he follows the slope of their shoulders, before sighing. "Nope. I'm not opening the door." He mumbles, a little too loud because the figure at the door whips its head around fast enough that Adam flinched backwards, slamming his back into the couch.

He watches the curtains flutter in front of him as Adam mumbles curses under his breath, sighing when Tex curls up on his chest. "I ain't gonna let him in, it ain't fair, how'd he even know I was home hmm?" he whispers against his dog's curled fur, letting it scrub against his cheeks when he raises his head. He hears him knock again and something small and scared rolls around in Adam's chest. "It is cold though.." His voice trails away a little as he squirms off the floor, leaning his head back against the couch cushions, for a few moments Adam listens to the crackling of the fire, letting his head roll to the back of the picture frame, eyes trailing over the inscription against the cork. "He's Canadian, he can deal with the cold...right?"

Tex whimpers, brown eyes staring into Adam's as he licks at his nose. "Yeah, it was pretty silly of me t'say.." He hears the door knock again, weaker than before and Adam is careful to move Tex onto the couch. "You stay there." Socked feet press slowly into the stained hardwood floors of Adam's entrance way and he stares at the white painted wood, tracing the chipped paint with his eyes. He swallows, trembling hands reaching out to stroke against the door handle.

"Please let me in." The voice behind the door sounds pathetic, trembling and Adam tugs his hand back, pressing it against his chest. "Please let me in before I freeze to death?" Kenny's voice hiccups at the end and the small lump in Adam's chest knots deeper against his ribs, he feels his lungs press against his heart and he swallows.

Adam shifts the door handle, listening to it pop and the door slowly slides open. The window and a small dusting of snow settles on his front step before Kenny even steps into Adam's line of sight. He blinks into Adam's green eyes, lips a soft blue at the corners, fingertips a brilliant pink just under the nails. Adam barely manages a smile as he steps aside, allowing Kenny to step in. He hears the jingle of Tex's name tag as Kenny pats his head. There's the popping of Kenny's knees when he kneels down and Adam locks the door.

"Stop looking at me like that." Kenny says, warming his palms against the fire. There's nothing in his voice, no anger. Just numbness but he looks away from Adam nonetheless to stare into the fireplace, letting the flames melt the sadness in his eyes.

Adam feels something in his face change and he frowns. "Like what?"

"Like you're...upset to see me. Like you wanted me to just..stay away."

Adam kneels besides Kenny, stoking the fire. "How did you know I'd be here?"

Kenny chuckles a little, swallowing the dryness that's building in the back of his throat. "You always come home for Christmas..." Kenny rubs his palms together and Adam shifts from his place beside his old friend, reaching to grab the blanket off the back of the couch. "Something happens, you go home..."

Adam pretends to not notice the way that Kenny's eyes mist up slightly or the way he flinches when Adam moves a little too fast to wrap the blanket around his shoulders. "I'm sorry." Kenny whispers into the crackling of the fireplace, soft enough that it almost disappears up the chimney with the smoke. Adam looks at him, tucking the blanket tighter around his shoulders.

"None’a that now. Just get warm."

Kenny shuffles closer to Adam and his curls tickle Adam's nose, just a little. He breathes in the smell of Kenny's cheap body wash and stares into the flames with him. "I'm sorry too." Adam tells the fire.

"Yeah." Kenny tells the burning pine, rubbing his fingers against the back of Adam's hand. He looks up through his eyelashes when Adam's phone chimes, breaking whatever moment was building just behind their eyes. There's a flash of confusion and then the slow growth of realization across Kenny's face. "Is that-?" Adam's cheeks flush, scooting across the floor.

"Alex downloaded it on my phone.." Adam mumbles, twisting his phone around between his hands, pressing the front of it against his palm as he sits on the floor. "I wasn't really gonna use it, it don't really feel like..."

"Something youd do?" Kenny mumbles, smiling a little when Adam nods, chuckling a little breathlessly. "You were never good at the whole dating scene.."

Adam nods again, "I should just get rid'a it." He whispers, talking more to himself than to Kenny. He looks up, watching as Kenny squirms under the blanket, legs stretching out in front of him. "its uh.." Adam listens to the sound of the world outside the two of them, picks up the distant sound of snowplow, "Stay the night."

Kenny blinks at Adam, flicks blue eyes across Adam's reddening face. He smiles and Adam smiles back, shuffling back into Kenny's side. "Okay." He whispers against the curve of Adam's neck, breathes fire warm and smoke soft against the stubble on the underside of Adam's jaw as his teeth sink just a little into the bone.

"Okay." Adam whispers back, fingers slowly wrapping around the hem of Kenny's shirt collar. He presses his lips against Kenny's and smiles gently as he leans into him.

The fire highlights the tips of Kenny's curls as he rests his face against Adam's neck, thumb rubbing slowly against the rash on his collarbone. "What happened?"

Adam chuckles, slumping against the front of the couch, watching how Kenny slides his leg to lay across his. "Uno and Christmas sweaters."

Tex scampers into the kitchen, ball in his mouth and Adam feels the familiar weight of his dog against his legs, Kenny's head against his chest. "Can I see it?"

Adam kisses Kenny's forehead, tucking the blanket around the two of them. His eyes soften and he shakes his head. "Tomorrow." He smiles, feeling Kenny breath out against his chest. People keep telling Adam it's a mistake to let Kenny slide back into his life but, how can something bad taste so sweet? 

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

TAGGING: @debbiechanclub @12daysofchristmas @itsnoosetome @santa-omega @yugiohio @daddywrasslin @punks-baybay @jacedoe

[starcolonelkatrinamoon]

Worn Hopes and Armored Plated Dreams

The Scrapplemech had a stupid name, Katrina had decided. No quadmech, covered in salvage arms, fluid support systems, and lifting booms should be named “Scrapplemech”. She hated everything about the name. She hated that Tisha named it that. It was terrible that she got name it for it was her creation. What an awful machine.

And yet here it was, lifting her beloved’s decapitated Phoenix Hawk IIC onto a heavy recovery truck. The six Hammerheads of the trinary’s command star stood vigil over the salvage teams as they moved mechs onto recovery vehicles for towing back to the FOB. It didn’t matter if they were enemy or ally. Both would serve their purposes for what they would need in the coming days.

That did not stop the creeping feeling that crawled down her spine from watching eight of her own mechs get pulled back to the FOB.

______________________________________________________________

The Scrapplemech towered over the rest of the CSJ’s camp as it stood over the area in the middle they had cleared for refit and rearm. It looked like an ominous portent, all of its gantries and support structures extended out into the air, appearing like an industrial spider’s web intent on catching any pesky components. The Phoenix Hawk IIC had been laid out next to it, under one of the primary lift arms that could do major refit work.

Objectively speaking, the Phoenix Hawk IIC was not in bad condition. Katrina hated to think about it too hard, but this was fixable. And quickly as well. Quietly she muttered curses to herself as she hooked up lift gear to the damaged LB 10-X and prepared to lift it out of the torso module that it was seated in, stepping back a foot or so and throwing at thumbs up to Tisha so that she could engage the lift. The humming whine of the crane filled the air as its electric winch engaged, tugging the weapon up and out of its cradle.

The retractable blade that had damaged it had been removed prior, but the damage it left was clearly visible now that the cannon was out of the mech. The blade had mangled the breech and part of the feed mechanism. This gun would need significant rework if it was to be made operational again. For now it would get stuck in the rebuild pile.

Katrina sighed as she directed the boom, aiding Tisha in getting the 10 ton weapon where it needed to go. She had to think about what she was going to rebuild this with.

Maybe… maybe the Blakists needed a bit of a fright. She had some old refit plans floating around for the Phoenix Hawk IIC 7 for if they ever needed to do shock and awe ops. Perhaps those would suit. They had the RAC-2s available as well as the AP Gauss Rifles, and all of their spare parts had been flown down with the Scrapplemech.

Yeah. That idea would work. Maybe the Hammerheads too, if she could get the pilots on board. They likely would be. Disconnecting the lift harness from the landed LB 10-X, Katrina settled herself in for a hard day’s work.

@karriethemechtech

[thesightstoshowyou]

Innate

- A Sight’s Original -

Warnings: Mentions of foot trauma, blood, hypnosis, mentions of violence. GN reader

(~ AN: I had a dream and now I may or may not have a new Slasher OC. Depends on if there’s any interest, I suppose! Thank you for reading ~)

~~

The muscles of your arm ache, the crook of your elbow overburdened by this semester’s required texts. You shift them slightly, winching when the corner of Human Anatomy, 7th Edition jabs the mystery bruise on your inner arm. Should have grabbed a basket.

Something nags at you, some detail pulling at the back of your mind, bordering on urgent (where did that bruise come from)—

You blink and check the print-out clutched in your palm. One last text: The Principles of Human Physiology. You scan the shelves, your mind strangely fuzzy. It’s difficult to focus; you stare at the correct book for a full minute before you realize what you’re doing.

You grunt when the heavy tome comes to rest atop the rest. Awkwardly, you lug the stack to the checkout, sighing in relief when you dump them onto the counter. You massage your aching arm.

The girl behind the counter pops her gum, the rapid beep, beep of the barcode scanner increasing the green price displayed on the screen. You grimace. This is robbery—

“Are you okay?” You startle, realizing the girl is speaking to you. Confused, you frown in response. She raises a hand, points to your face. Mirroring her, your fingertips press to your cheek and come away wet.

You’re crying.

“Oh…. I’m—I’m sorry…I dunno why….” Hastily, you wipe the tears away. She looks concerned, wary. Your face burns in embarrassment. What the hell is wrong with you?

“These prices, right?” the girl jokes in an effort to ease the tension and you force out a humorless laugh, nodding absently. You pay, hurriedly retrieve your bag, and depart without a backward glance.

Outside the university bookstore, the hallway buzzes with activity as students prepare for the upcoming semester. Nervous freshman trail behind parents hurrying to the next task. Student rush to and fro to sign up for classes, meet with advisors, purchase parking passes, retrieve student IDs. Coffee machines hiss at the nearby cafe, their rich scents blanketing the hallway and overpowering the antiseptic smell of freshly mopped floors.

You skirt the line awaiting caffeination, intent on the exit. One more little obstacle awaits: A group of people mingling outside a classroom. You’ll just ease yourself through the throng—

Green eyes meet yours. Fear—bone-numbing, abject horror—crashes over you like you’ve been plunged into an icy lake. Impending doom, imminent death, unbridled panic call to you from those eyes. The scariest part is not knowing why.

It…he…. It’s just some guy, someone you’ve never seen before. He’s tall, mostly generic looking despite the shock of red hair. Young-ish, maybe mid twenties. The face doesn’t ring a bell; you’ve never seen him…. Never?

Something twinges, the barest hint of a memory. It’s…it’s right there, if you could just access it….

Instinct tells you to flee. Your muscles stiffen, body poised to retreat. Then, he shakes his head.

Your breath seizes in your lungs. The action built up in your sinew ceases and you still, rooted to the spot. You can’t move!

He breaks from the crowd and slowly makes his way toward you. With every leisurely step he takes, trepidation grows. More tears well up in your eyes. Each breath is only a little gasp despite the heaving of your chest.

His hand closes around your upper arm and he spins you as he walks, half dragging you along with him. Your right foot lags behind, like it doesn’t want to cooperate. You would have crashed to the floor if not for his vise-like grip on your flesh.

You want to scream for help, to reach for the nearest person, but your muscles refuse to cooperate, like you can’t control them. You can only move your legs to keep up with his stride. He tows you to an empty classroom, guides you inside, and closes the door. The cacophony from the hallway immediately quiets, voices and activity now a muted memory.

You’re alone with him.

Tears spill freely down your face now. The bag of books falls to the floor with a heavy thud. You stagger away, your foot throbbing. Why does it hurt? And more importantly, why are you so afraid of this man?

He crosses to you, cages you in against the wall. ‘Get away, get out, get away!’ your mind screams and pleads with you to act, but you’re stuck as though your shoes are glued to the freshly mopped floors.

He raises a hand. You flinch, expecting a blow, but instead he snaps his fingers three times in quick succession.

The world fades away.

**

Your expression goes slack, your eyes glazing over. Your body calms, relaxes. You’re still, an empty doll awaiting instruction.

A triumphant smile spreads across his face. He could not have asked for better results. Not only did you spend all morning walking around on a broken foot without noticing, you also hadn’t recognized him.

Well, not fully anyway. Innate fear, it seems, cannot be removed from the psyche. However, the memories of why the fear had developed in the first place…. Those can be shaped and buried as much as his heart desires.

With two fingers, he pats your damp cheek. No response, not even a twitch. A glance down at your feet finds the toe of your shoe stained with red. As he watches, the spot spreads, scarlet seeping into the fabric of your footwear. You’re bleeding into your shoe.

It’s not surprising. The foot had been such a mangled mess when he’d forced it back into a shoe early this morning. He’d taken such great care to break every single bone, after all.

Best get you back to the workshop before you bleed all over the tile.

He leans back over you, bringing his face inches from yours. Quietly, he says your name. Your glassy eyes meet his, intent on his next words.

“You are not in pain. Nothing hurts. Isn’t that wonderful?” You nod, a little half smile tugging at your slack mouth. He continues, “It’s time to go. You will walk 10 paces behind me, carrying all your school books. When you get into my car, you will go to sleep. You will come back to semi-consciousness in three, two, one….”

You blink, eyes focusing. Standing up straight, your hands come up and wipe away the tears wetting your cheeks. With purpose, you retrieve the heavy bag of books and stand at attention, waiting. You don’t look at him.

It’s like you can’t even see him right next to you.

Suppressing his grin, he makes it way out of the classroom and toward the exit. Diligently, you follow ten steps behind.

Outside, a cool breeze ruffles his copper hair. Fresh air fills his lungs as he inhales deeply, contentment washing over him in gentle waves.

Curiously, he wonders how many holes he can put in your chest before your body reacts.

It’s going to be such a busy afternoon.