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thethreebroomsticksficfest · 1 year

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In the Bleak Midwinter

By: FloreatCastellum

Prompt: In the Bleak Midwinter

Summary: ‘Twas the week before Christmas and in grand TTB tradition @floreatcastellumposts was serving up some heartbreaking, festive angst. Don’t forget your cloak as we journey into the forest with Dean.

Read it below or on AO3 here.

The snow is not settling on the ground. Each snowflake has a brief life of falling from the grey sky onto the scrubby grass and then vanishing at once. Dean supposes that in other weather it might be beautiful here; perhaps the sun would reflect gloriously off the small trout lake, perhaps the rushes of the river just over the bank would sway pleasantly in a warm summer breeze, perhaps the short, muddy grass would bloom with wildflowers.

But at the moment, all is washed grey with sleet, and he has that heavy coldness that comes from clothes that are always just a little bit wet. Shivering has become an unremarkable constant.

‘Accio trout,’ says Dirk, and three fish have a bewildering end to their lives as they are magically hoisted out of the cold water to struggle and twist for breath in the damp air. The ripples from them spread and then settle once more into grey, stone-like stillness.

They are setting up camp on a little island in the lake, accessible by a thin, creaking footbridge. Small wooden platforms punctuate the shore, for anglers who pay for the privilege of fishing here, Dean guesses, and a thicket of forest provides some shelter from the bitter wind which moans around them.

‘Bleak, innit,’ grumbles Ted, clearing the ground. ‘Grab that guyline, would you, son?’

Dean does so; the rope stings and leaves red marks on his numb hands but he’s used to this routine now. He twists it around a peg as it magically hammers itself into the ground, and knots it the way Dirk showed him. Ted is cursing under his breath; the frost has left the ground as hard as iron, and even with magic it’s proving difficult to get the pegs in.

The goblins speak in their harsh, guttural way, and then Gornuk says, ‘you need to descale and clean it.’

‘Yes, I know,’ says Dirk irritably. ‘You tell me every time.’

There’s more gobbledegook, and then snickering laughter; Dirk throws a dark look to Ted, who replies with an exasperated little chuckle and a shake of the head.

Dean and Ted continue putting the tent up; the sleet-snow is falling thicker now, though still not settling on the ground, so it’s with great relief that they finally get it up and are able to sit in the entrance and light a fire.

It’s a burst of colour, and Dean is briefly hypnotised by the dancing orange and flickering yellow and the rough sound of Dirk and the goblins descaling the fish nearby.

He is sick of bloody fish. Sick to death of it. It’s not as though he was someone who didn’t like fish before. His mother would stew fish, or pan fry it and serve with a mango salsa, or add to a curry, or serve up ackee and saltfish. All spice and heat and colour. It makes Dean think of the way the sun bounces off the cracked pavements of East London and the throb of music and bright but skimpy clothes. It used to make him think of a childhood holiday to Jamaica, fried fish on Hellshire Beach, golden sands and azure waters.

But out here, in a different middle of nowhere each day, they choose fish because it is the only reliable source of food available. They stick to rivers and lakes and stretches of lonely coastline because Dirk has perfected magical fishing, and they can no longer find much from raiding peoples’ allotments, so they’re guaranteed a meal. But after just a few seconds away from the fire it feels cold again, and in dim winter light it always looks grey, and there is not a hint of spice to warm his tongue. He is sick of spitting out flimsy little bones, even when he pushes his knife away from the spine like Ted showed him, even when the fish are filetted by the goblins (which is rare, because they enjoy the crunch).

He doesn’t think it’s enough, either - there’s no fat on fish, and he finds it hard to ever feel full on it, even when they manage to scavenge a few potatoes or rice to have with it. He craves red meat, daydreams about it, his mouth salivates as he imagines biting into a thick, juicy burger, or the smell of bacon frying, or the richness of Mum’s mutton curry.

He watches for a little while, as Dirk pulls a knife roughly across the fish, from the tail towards the head, sending scales flying into the air like metallic snowflakes. He turns his attention back to the fire; just looking at it warms him a little.

The low winter sun has darkened swiftly; the water of the lake seems to go black quicker than the night sky. Dean has never been much of a landscape artist. It’s not that he doesn’t appreciate the beauty of nature and all that (though he has found that he appreciates it far less now he is forced to live in it), but he’s found his drawings have always felt a little empty without a person in them.

So instead of the dramatic view ahead of him, of the snow falling in a flurry over black water and windswept rushes, he pulls out his sketchbook and warms up his fingers by drawing a rough, unidentifiable shadow descaling a fish.

‘That Dirk?’ Ted says after a while. He’s rubbing his hands together and blowing on them between their chatter. Dean’s own fingers are numb with cold; it’s all he can do to loosely hold the pencil.

‘I s’pose - not specifically. Just - the action. The pose.’

Dirk was squatting on the ground to clean the fish; one shoulder against a tree trunk to keep him steady. Dean had been practising the lines and perspective of it.

‘I was going to say, you’ve drawn him far too attractive.’

Dean grinned, and Ted continued.

‘I hope when you draw me you do the same; take a few pounds off, iron out some wrinkles. Make my hair a bit thicker.’

‘Sure, mate, I can do that for you.’

Ted tutted. ‘I thought you’d argue - where’s your artistic integrity? Aren’t you meant to tell me those things make me more interesting?’

Dean laughs out loud. ‘I s’pose a proper artist would.’

‘And what stops you being a proper artist?’ asks Ted. His voice is a little like a friendly teacher, or beloved uncle. He’s taken Dean under his wing a bit, which Dean appreciates.

‘Being paid,’ says Dean flatly.

‘What’re your rates?’

‘You couldn’t afford ‘em, Ted.’

Ted hisses, his shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. ‘That’s cold, son. You know I can’t wander into Gringotts.’

Dirk and the goblins return and the fish are charmed to rotate slowly over the fire. The smell of them roasting fills the cold air, and Dean watches their eyes shrivel and blacken. He thinks about Hogwarts, and how the food magically appeared, hot and fresh and deliciously prepared. He thinks about how he and Seamus used to complain about it being boring.

He would love some boring food right now. A boring shepherds pie, a dull pasta bake, a dreary fish and chips. Something warming and comforting and plain.

‘Is Potterwatch on tonight?’ asks Ted.

‘Er… I’ll grab my diary, I wrote it down…’ says Dirk, and he squeezes awkwardly past Dean and Ted to vanish into the tent.

The snow has started to settle now, Dean notices. It’s collecting at the edges of things first. The roots of sleeping, bare trees, the grooves of the little wooden fishing platform.

‘Gringotts will be suffering without that man’s organisation’ says Ted, taking a long stick and prodding at the base of the fire. ‘Legendary. Bet he was like that at school too. Bet he was Head Boy.’

‘Eh?’ comes Dirk’s voice from the depths of the tent.

‘You were Head Boy, weren’t you? After I left.’

Dirk staggers clumsily out of the tent, sniffing in the biting cold, and settles back down by the fire. ‘Yeah, that’s right,’ he says absent-mindedly, opening his red planner and rifling through the pages. ‘School swot, I was.’

‘I wasn’t,’ Ted told Dean. ‘Too cool for that.’

Dean grinned. ‘Same. I mean - I didn’t get Prefect, so-’

‘Blimey,’ says Dirk suddenly, looking at his diary. He looks up. ‘Merry Christmas, everyone.’

A heavy silence falls on the three wizards; just the slight spit of the fire and crackle of the fish roasting. The goblins exchange glances that seem to Dean to be exasperated smirks, and start muttering quietly in gobbledegook.

‘Oh,’ says Dean.

‘Happy Christmas,’ says Ted hollowly.

The snow falls thicker, collecting easily now, resting on that which has already fallen.

It hits Dean very hard then. He tries to reason with himself; it is just a day, that is all. If he had not known the date, the sun would have risen and set and the night passed overhead with the same dreary monotony as any other at the moment, and he would have felt no stronger.

But he does know, and he feels suspended in it. He is left bereft, devastated, almost abandoned as he thinks about what this day should be, what it has always been to him – full of warmth and excitement and joy and love, and it is like being torn apart from his family all over again. He does not dare speak, because he knows his voice will crack.

‘Not how I’d like to be spending it, no offence to you lot,’ Ted says.

Dean swallows, and nods.

‘I’ve not got any of you anything,’ says Dirk.

‘You got us some fish,’ says Ted. ‘Cheers, mate.’ It’s a weak attempt at bravado, but Dean appreciates it. He tries to salvage something of it himself, and returns to the rough sketch that was supposed to be him practising form. With fingers stinging from cold, he does what he can to improve it, to make it more recognisable, to make it look like he put some thought and care into it.

‘You’re welcome,’ Dirk says to Ted, a wobble in his voice.

It remains a rough looking sketch, but he signs it, tears it out from the pad, and leans over, holding it out to Dirk. He had nothing else to give him, in these circumstances. ‘Merry Christmas,’ he says, to Dirk’s surprised face.

‘Well - thanks, I - oh! Hah!’ He gives a spluttered, watery laugh as he looks fondly down at the drawing. ‘Thank you, Dean, really.’

Ted whistles, long and low and approving. ‘Signed and everything, Dirk, that’ll be worth a few bob in the years to come, trust me.’

‘I’ll get started on yours now, Ted,’ Dean assures him. ‘How do you want to be posed?’

‘Heroically.’

‘Lying in your camp bed snoring, got it.’

They try, they really do. They dance around it, they feign lightheartedness, they take the dark, terrible, lonely thoughts that are screaming in their brains and try to pretend that they do not in fact feel them, that they can shrug it off.

The snow falls thicker and thicker as they eat their fish (instantly cold), and retreat into the tent for scant warmth. They force laughter. Even the goblins seem to take pity and offer up a flask of something goblin made that Dean cannot pronounce but tastes, to him, like vodka.

‘You lot don’t celebrate Christmas then?’ Ted asks them.

‘No,’ says Gornuk flatly, ‘but we understand the traditions for you.’

Dean finishes the drawing of Ted, and offers it as a Christmas gift with a great flourish. He offers to repay the gift of alcohol with drawings of the goblins. They do not seem impressed. With that, they retire to their camp beds, leaving the three wizards to carry on drinking.

The alcohol liberates the unspoken words. It is Ted who raises the subject of their longing loneliness first. ‘Who’re you missing this year, Dean?’ he asks. ‘Who’s the family waiting for you to come home?’

‘My mum,’ admits Dean. ‘Sisters.’

‘Older or younger?’

‘Younger - we’re all so close, they were furious when I went away to school. I’ve never had a Christmas without them though. I wonder how it’s going for them.’

‘I wonder how my daughter’s Christmas is going,’ Ted says vaguely. ‘She’ll be… a few months along now, I suppose.’

‘You going to be a grandad, Ted?’ Dean asks.

He hums and nods slowly. ‘Apparently so.’

‘Next Christmas will be fantastic,’ Dirk tells him. ‘With a little one running round. Or, well, crawling.’

‘You’re going to be a great Grandad,’ Dean says. ‘The favourite one, I bet.’

‘Do you know, I don’t even know if there is another grandad, I don’t know much about my son-in-law, considering,’ says Ted. ‘Everything moved pretty quickly, then I had to leg it.’ He looks at Dirk. ‘Who are you missing this Christmas?’

Dirk thinks for a long time, staring at the flickering paraffin lamp on the table. When he speaks, Dean can hear the heavy regret in every long pause between words. ‘You know, I… I spent so many years thinking there was time for… all that… later. I was so…’ He took a great shuddering breath and turned to Dean. ‘You don’t know how lucky you are, you know.’

Dean doesn’t feel lucky, but he also knows these men well enough by now to wait, and listen.

‘This is awful, obviously, but you had some good school years. When we were at school, muggleborns had to prove themselves a hundred times over to be in with a shot of getting a decent job. Didn’t we, Ted?’

Ted sniffed, and nodded, his eyes fixed on the lamp too. ‘Yeah - bloody hard if you were average like me, but I tried to keep a good sense of humour and that helped more than you’d expect, just about. Wasn’t easy though. Got into my fair share of scraps.’

Dean could not imagine Ted as a fighter, but Dirk swiftly clarified the confusion. ‘They used to target us, didn’t they, Ted? Horrific, what some of them used to get away with - then they all became Death Eaters later, didn’t they? You just tried to keep your head down.’

‘Well,’ said Ted fairly, ‘or you started scandalous relationships with Slytherin pureblood girls, but you know, we all had different tactics for survival.’

Dirk laughed. ‘You were a braver man than me - I just studied hard, tried to prove I deserved my place. Got there in the end. I don’t suppose you remember Lily Evans, Ted? Later became Lily Potter?’

‘No, she was too many years below me, never really crossed paths, from what I recall.’

‘She was the year above me; her tactic was to bloody try and kill ‘em with kindness, she was friends with some of them, for a bit anyway. Obviously didn’t work for her. But she was similar to me, talented enough to get into the Slug Club, but bloody hell did she have to work for it.’ He sighed heavily. ‘And I was the same, and anyway - I got myself a decent job, and worked hard and just kept working hard… Never really accepted that I was safe from any of that, never focused on anything but work.’

‘You regret it?’ Ted asks quietly.

‘I never did before,’ says Dirk. ‘I was proud. I still am, really. And I suppose I should count myself lucky there’s no wife or kiddies at home missing me. But… it would be nice to be missed.’ He turns to Dean, and fixes him with the sort of stern stare Professor McGonagall so often gave, in what feels like a lifetime ago. ‘Don’t become a cynic like me,’ he implores. ‘Don’t let them rob you of joy too. When all this is over, make sure you actually live - really live.’

He seems to realise what he says, and for some reason this embarrasses him. He flushes, and seizes the flask of vodka-like drink, and takes a swift gulp.

Dean nods, but then lets the silence awkwardly rest over them. He knows the cause - knows what all of them are thinking. When will this be over, really? Will it ever be over? Will they see the end of it? Or will they freeze out here in this bleak and barren landscape?

He tries to think of something else to say. ‘I didn’t realise Harry’s mother was muggleborn,’ he says at last.

‘He never mentioned it? I thought you said you were in the same dorm,’ says Ted.

‘We were. He doesn’t talk about his parents. Not to me, at least. Never really mentions them.’

‘That’s a shame,’ says Dirk. ‘They were decent people. Well, Lily definitely. James Potter could be a bit of a prat to be honest.’

A moment for the words to sink in, and then they splutter with shocked laughter.

Dirk’s words swirl around Dean’s head as he tries to sleep that night. They leave a lamp on low for the scant warmth, so he stares at the warm, flickering yellow glow as he thinks about them. After the war is over, he must live. Truly live.

He should, he knows, be thinking about his family. And it’s not to say that he hasn’t been thinking about them, because of course he has. He misses them so much it is sheer agony. He wants to risk it all and apparate right back to them, just to feel them in his arms even for a brief few seconds. He yearns to hear his mother’s voice. Perhaps he will find a payphone soon, and call. Maybe that would be safe.

But in truth, it is not them that he is fixating on as he gazes into the dim lamplight.

He thinks instead of the most lively person he knows. The person that has him roaring with laughter. The person who always finds the fun in something. The person that seems to be synonymous to happiness.

Silently, without waking the others, he gets out of bed. His pencil once again glides over the page, the guidelines soft, the tone layered up, careful detail. It’s as though his hand moves of its own accord, he doesn’t really register what he’s doing except for the fact that a hundred, a thousand, a million different fragments of memory were pummelling through his brain, each one as though painted by watercolour, soft and clouded and drowning in colour and light.

How long it takes him to draw in that dim light he isn’t sure, but he eventually puts down his pencil and looks upon perhaps the best piece he has ever created. If only he had watercolours, to add to it, to bring it away from that black and white and into something truly reflective of the person he was trying to capture. He was beautiful, Dean realises. He has never considered it before.

Still as though in a daze, he pulls on his boots, swings his coat over his shoulders, and slips out of the tent. The snow is thick now, it crunches underfoot, but otherwise muffles the world so that he stepped into a strange, close silence. The branches of the trees are covered in frost and ice, a strange tinsel, glittering in his wand light.

He goes down to the wooden platform that perches just over the water edge. It has not frozen over but it is uncommonly still, and in the snow and the dark it is black looking, as though the depths of it continue forever. His fingers are numb and prickling in the chill already, but he takes out the drawing and holds it before him. It is cast in faint blue from the light of his wand.

Seamus stares back at him, with the slight upturn of his mouth and hooded eyes that Dean fiercely knows to be the pale blue of a morning sky but are here cast, by circumstance alone, in the grey lead of his pencil.

Dean wonders if it is normal to feel suspended like this when thinking about someone. He wonders if it’s normal to think this strongly about a friend. He wonders if it is normal to miss a living person so strongly it feels like grief, like the gently increasing pain of being out here in bleak weather is nothing compared to his warm absence.

He wonders why he does not want to risk anyone seeing this drawing, this outpouring of… He cannot admit the word to himself.

Instead, he crouches, and gently places the drawing on the surface of the still water. For a moment, it seems as though it hasn’t even made a ripple, but then he sees it, reaching out into the night. The drawing of Seamus floats for a while, and he watches it, hoping desperately, praying, even, that all of this will end. That spring will eventually soften this iron hard earth, that they will see one another again at last.

Gradually, the drawing sinks into the safety of the black water, unseen by anyone but Dean. He watches it vanish, and feels oddly freed.

He will see him again, he decides. And this time, as Dirk suggests, they will live. Really live.

#submission #ttb yule bash 22 #dean thomas #seamus finnigan #hp fanfic

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londonplatformsroofingservice · 4 months

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ocmontessoriacademy · 7 months

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keirock00 · 10 months

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evscleaningservices · 10 months

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greene57 · 1 year

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In a bustling world constantly on the move, the significance of professional services cannot be overstated. Whether it's plumbing issues that need urgent attention or high-level tasks requiring expert rope access skills, the need for specialized services is ever-present. This article delves into the world of two such crucial services: Plumbers in Tunbridge Wells and Rope Access in London. First, let's talk about plumbing, a field where expertise and swift response are critical. In Tunbridge Wells, plumbers have long been serving the community, solving a wide range of plumbing issues from the simple to the complex. When a plumbing issue arises in a home or business, it can disrupt daily life or operations. A leaky faucet, a blocked drain, or a malfunctioning heating system - all can lead to significant inconvenience or even health hazards if left unattended. Plumbers Tunbridge Wells, renowned for their professionalism and dedication, are committed to providing quick, reliable, and cost-effective solutions. Their expertise covers a broad spectrum from traditional plumbing tasks to heating system installations and repairs. Many people don't realize that the role of a plumber extends far beyond fixing leaks and unclogging drains. Modern plumbing and heating systems can be quite complex, requiring a broad knowledge base and a keen understanding of the latest technologies and methods. So, whether it's a residential plumbing issue or a commercial heating system challenge, the plumbers in Tunbridge Wells are adept at handling it all. Moving from the ground level to soaring heights, let's take a look at another vital service, Rope Access in London. If you're unfamiliar with the term, rope access refers to a set of techniques where ropes and specialized hardware are used as the primary means of providing access and support to workers. You'll typically see rope access utilized in high-rise constructions, window cleaning, industrial installations, and more. It's a safe, efficient, and cost-effective alternative to traditional access methods like scaffolding or cranes. Rope Access London has been a game-changer in the realm of construction and maintenance of tall structures. The city's skyline, filled with towering buildings and architectural marvels, necessitates the need for this expert service. Rope access technicians have the unique skill set that combines knowledge of safe rope techniques with the particular task at hand, be it inspection, maintenance, or even complex engineering tasks. The versatility of rope access is unparalleled, and the technicians in London provide exceptional services while adhering to the highest safety standards. To summarize, in an ever-evolving urban landscape, the demand for specialized services like Plumbers in Tunbridge Wells and Rope Access in London will only continue to grow. These services not only help in maintaining the health and safety of homes and commercial properties but also contribute to the upkeep and preservation of our cityscapes. These professionals, with their comprehensive skills and unwavering commitment, truly keep our world running smoothly. So the next time you encounter a plumbing hiccup or see someone suspended high above performing an intricate task, remember the essential roles these experts play in our daily lives.

Need top-notch plumbing or rope access services? Contact Plumbers Tunbridge Wells for plumbing and heating solutions. For high-rise tasks, Rope Access London is your go-to expert.

#Plumbers Tunbridge Wells

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cityrope11 · 1 year

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City Rope Access London: Redefining Urban Construction and Maintenance

LONDON, UK - May 13, 2023 - With increasing heights and complexities of London's architectural landscape, there's a growing demand for safe, efficient, and cost-effective solutions to undertake construction, maintenance, and repair tasks. City Rope Access London is at the forefront of providing innovative, high-quality industrial abseiling services in London and its surrounding areas.

City Rope Access London has established itself as a leading provider of rope access services, delivering a unique blend of safety, efficiency, and innovation. Their team of highly skilled technicians, armed with state-of-the-art equipment, leverage their experience and training to perform a wide range of tasks in hard-to-reach areas.

From building inspections to high-rise window cleaning, banner installations to structural repairs, City Rope Access London's specialists are equipped to handle a diverse portfolio of projects with unparalleled precision and dedication. Their service portfolio caters to various industries, including construction, telecommunications, and energy, among others.

The company's commitment to safety and adherence to industry standards sets them apart from their competitors. With a proactive approach towards risk management, they ensure that all tasks are undertaken with minimal risk to personnel and property. Each member of the team is IRATA (Industrial Rope Access Trade Association) trained, reinforcing the company's commitment to high safety standards and professional integrity.

City Rope Access London's cutting-edge approach to urban construction and maintenance has not only garnered them a reputation for service excellence but has also contributed to reducing the environmental footprint of the construction sector. Their rope access methods require fewer resources and create less waste than traditional methods, making them an ideal choice for clients committed to sustainability.

"City Rope Access London is more than just a service provider. We're problem solvers. Our rope access techniques allow us to navigate complex structures and challenging environments, providing efficient and cost-effective solutions for our clients," said the spokesperson for City Rope Access London. "We continue to push the boundaries of what's possible in the rope access industry, delivering bespoke solutions tailored to each client's unique needs."

City Rope Access London's commitment to quality, safety, and innovation continues to redefine the urban construction and maintenance landscape. As a testament to their service excellence, they've garnered a growing list of satisfied clients across the commercial, residential, and public sectors.

For those looking to leverage City Rope Access London's expertise for their next project, the company offers free, no-obligation quotes, allowing prospective clients to understand the benefits and potential cost savings associated with their services.

About City Rope Access London

City Rope Access London is a leading provider of industrial rope access services in London and the surrounding areas. With a team of IRATA-trained technicians, they deliver a wide range of services, from high-rise window cleaning to building inspections and structural repairs. Committed to safety, efficiency, and innovation, City Rope Access London is at the forefront of the rope access industry, redefining urban construction and maintenance.

#Rope Access London

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karlosmoore · 2 years

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Planning a construction or repair project in London that will require scaffolding? Consult with a professional scaffolding company in London

Commercial Scaffolding is a temporary structure that is used to support people and material during the construction or repair of buildings and other large structures. Scaffolding in London is typically made from metal, wood, or bamboo poles. It is held together with rope, wire, or clamps, and it is often used in conjunction with ladders, planking, or ramps to provide access to elevated work areas.

Scaffolding London must be strong enough to support its own weight, as well as the weight of the people and materials it is supporting. It must also be stable, meaning that it should not wobble or shift when someone climbs on it or puts weight on it. Scaffolding in London is typically only used for a short period of time, until the construction or repair work is completed. After that, it is dismantled and removed.

Scaffolding can be used for a variety of purposes, including:

To provide access to high areas for painting, repairs, or cleaning

To support scaffolding platforms that holds materials during construction

To create an elevated work surface

To provide a temporary roof or floor

To support a bridge during construction

To provide access to the exterior of a building for repairs or cleaning

Commercial Scaffolding is a vital part of many construction and repair projects in London, UK. It allows workers to safely access high areas and provides a stable surface for materials and equipment. Scaffolding London must be properly erected and maintained to ensure the safety of workers and passersby. When scaffolding in London, UK is not used correctly, it can collapse, causing serious injury or even death.

If you are planning a construction or repair project in London, UK that will require scaffolding, it is important to consult with a professional scaffolding company based in London, UK. They can help you determine the type of scaffolding you need and erect it safely. It is not a do-it-yourself project; it should only be attempted by trained professionals in London, UK.

If you are working on or near commercial scaffolding services London, there are some safety tips you should follow:

Wear a hard hat to protect your head from falling objects

Wear safety goggles or glasses to protect your eyes from dust and debris

Wear gloves to protect your hands from sharp edges

Be aware of your surroundings and stay clear of areas where scaffolding is being erected or dismantled

Do not climb on scaffolding that is not meant for climbing

Do not lean on scaffolding or hang objects from it

Report any damage to scaffolding to a supervisor immediately

Scaffolding London can be a useful and safe tool when used correctly. However, it can be dangerous if it is not used properly. If you are working near scaffolding, make sure to follow all safety guidelines to avoid injury.

#construction #scaffolding #commercial services

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

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Wilhelmina Wren Pendleton

Wilhelmina Pendleton has dedicated her life to her family’s legacy and is the proud head of Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary in Diagon Alley. Mina is a logic-driven, sensible person and has no patience for anyone fooling around. She takes pride in growing most of the ingredients for her shop herself but makes a point of staying clear of any animal involving scales. When one day during the Second Wizarding War, her cousin Ava one day turns up at her shop asking for a copious amount of very particular ingredients, Mina gets roped into a series of events she really just wanted to stay clear of.

Name: Wilhelmina Wren Pendleton

Nicknames: Mina

Birthday: 15th May 1974

Nationality: English, Swedish

Sexuality: Heterosexual

Residence:

Pendleton Hall, Pendle Forest, Lancashire

Diagon Alley, London

Nyberg Estate, Gotland, Sweden

Face Claim: Jennifer Lawrence

PERSONAL:

Appearance:

Measures: 175 cm, 63 kg as and adult

Build: thin, very little muscle, not athletic at all

Hair: pale blonde, shoulder length

Eyes: blue

Skin: fair

Style: practical, fuss-free, expensive, timeless pieces

Misc: often wears a jade hair comb, which used to belong to her great-grandmother, to keep her hair in place

Character:

Positive Traits: logical, reliable, exact, sensible, quick-thinking, tidy, loyal, access to ingredients not many people should have access to

Negative Traits: pedantic, insecure, stuck-up, slightly hysterical at times

Favourite Food: Cinnamon rolls, pizza (would never admit it)

Favourite Drink: Camomile tea

Interests: Potioneering, tending to her herbs and plants needed for ingredients (with gloves, mind you), cleaning, collecting tea mugs

Boggart: A big, fire breathing dragon (pre-war), a tall man with cold eyes and long white hair, the ends of which are on fire (post-war)

Patronus: Stork (post-war only)

Amortentia:

What she smells like: Herbs, heated metal, peppermint

What she smells: Amaryllis, citrus, camomile

HOGWARTS:

House: Slytherin

Extracurriculars: Potions Club, every club her cousin Ava attends

Best Class: Potions, Herbology (natural talent)

Worst Class: Transfiguration, Herbology (the dirt)

Third-Year Electives: Arithmancy, Ancient Runes

CAREER:

1985 - 1992: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

1992 - 1994: Apprentice potioneer at Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary

1994 - 1995: Potioneer at Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary

1996 - 1998: Head of Pendleton’s Potions & Apothecary

1998 - 2014: Independent research on alternative approaches to Potioneering

2014 - onwards: Potionsmaster at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

RELATIONSHIPS:

Family:

Faceclaims: Rob Lowe, Julia Stiles

Boreas & Sonia Pendleton: Being an only-child, Mina got doted on by her parents. Although they tried to keep her free from expectations, once Mina’s talent for Potioneering became apparent, she saw it as her responsibility to continue her family’s legacy.

Carolyn Pendleton: The matriarch of the Pendleton family and Mina always shared a special bond over their passion for Potioneering. Although oftentimes cool and aloof, Mina worshipped her great-grandmother, and was close to tears when Carolyn - after generations of handling things herself - entrusted her with her beloved apothecary.

Ava Campbell: One year her senior, Ava is the closest thing to a sibling Mina had. Ava was her idol growing up and her point of reference whenever she felt unsure of what to do. They kept close as adults and after the war, with Mina providing Ava shelter when she needed it most.

Romantic History: Leif Ahlström

Thinking she was done with loud, slightly unmannered men with dirt under their fingernails, Mina wasn’t prepared to meet her new research partner upon arriving in Sweden. Leif Ahlström was everything she didn’t want in her life, and more skilled in Herbology than Mina could ever hope to be. After some initial difficulties, their work on cruelty-free approaches to Potioneering bore fruit, revolutionising not only the world of potions but Mina’s take on Leif as well.

Friends:

Kaari Arcano: @kathrynalicemc Being thrown together into the workings of the Phoenix Resistance, it took Kaari and Mina the length of the Second Wizarding War and some survived attempts on their lives to stop hating each other and become some sort of friends. She still thinks he’s a crude Norwegian, and he’s still convinced she’s a stuck up not-even-full-Swede, but that’s part of their charm.

Rivals:

Penny Haywood: This being more of a one-sided rivalry, Mina cannot stand Penny’s eternally bright mood. She can’t see how everyone is acting like Penny is the only capable student at a cauldron, the head of Mina’s own house included. In an attempt to make peace, Penny offered to study together more than once, but there were very few things Mina could think of wanting to do less.

Liz Tuttle: Liz and Mina shared a dorm, and Mina would have liked Liz’s calm and quiet way, were it not for their entirely opposed fields of interest. Their friendship hit an all time low when Mina threatened to chuck Liz’ pet frog Sir Ribbithe into her cauldron if she found him in her drawers one more time.

Pets: Mina doesn’t own a pet and has no desire to whatsoever.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #mina pendleton

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cityropeaccess · 3 years

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Discover the many benefits of working with a rope access company

As a facilities manager, the care and maintenance of your building is completely in your hands. You must ensure that the building is clean and sanitary and that any discrepancies are promptly repaired. If you manage a high-rise building, this is not always an easy task to fulfil. It is impossible for conventional window cleaners and repair personnel to reach the outside upper levels of the building. To get these areas serviced, you must hire a vendor with the right tools. A rope access company can provide you with the solutions you need. A company that offers rope access services is able to fix broken fixtures, windows, and other items on the top floors of such buildings. They can also carry out the necessary cleaning. Rather than do without these solutions it is better for you to call such a rope access company. The businesses that work in the upper floors of your building expect to have their windows clean. For both practical and professional purposes, this is a perfectly reasonable request. No company wants to host clients or other guests in an office that has dirty windows. If you hope to keep your clients on these floors, then you must have their windows cleaned regularly. The same goes for maintenance. You should resolve all trouble calls as soon as possible. If something is not working on the upper floors and it can only be reached from the outside, then you should call a company that can access it safely. Safety is the key word here. You don’t want to be liable for an accident by anyone who is working on your building. This kind of work should not be put into the hands of amateurs. And under no circumstances should you hire cowboy cleaners who are without the tools and equipment to do the job. Not only are such people likely to do a bad job, they will as likely as not get themselves killed trying to do it. For work on the upper floors of your building, you must hire a Rope Access London company. It is the only way to carry out the job safely and effectively. As a facilities manager, you have plenty to keep you occupied. You should be able to leave the task in the hands of professionals who can do it. You should not have to oversee or micromanage the vendors you have hired. Get the people and the service you need by hiring the right Rope Access Maintenance in London. The company you with should be flexible in the way that it schedules and delivers its services. You have many different companies in your building, all of whom have different needs. The company you hire should be able to customize the solutions it provides to fit the requirements of its clients. The company you work with should also make certain guarantees about the quality and thoroughness of its work. It is right for you to expect nothing less than perfection from the company you work with.

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foolgobi65 · 4 years

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yeh rishtaa kya kehlataa hain

@allegoriesinmediasres asked for: Rama/Sita, travel!AU, friends to lovers, “you confuse me”

as usual, this is completely unedited and thus is probably chock full of grammar errors, bad characterization, and terrible pacing. but! it was fun to write on my end so as always if u want me to rewrite it I’d be glad to lmaoo. it’s super super super cheesy at the end...like the whole third bit is just super cliche but w/e i love cliche romance its all good lol. anyways, i hope you like it at least a little!! thank you so much for the prompt <3 <3 <3

if you’d like to send me an au prompt from this list, please do!!

(title is from a lovely ar rahman song from the movie meenaxi, and also apparently a hindi soap, meaning “what is this relationship called?” )

---

It’s been two weeks since the Raghuvanshi Group put out a notice that nearly brought the Indian manufacturing industry to its knees: Ramachandra, eldest son of Dasaratha Raghuvanshi and anointed heir since his very first breath, has been stripped of his VP positions within the company, his stock options, even his entrance card. The gossip blogs report that Ramachandra has lost access to the family accounts and family property, have posted pictures of the young man once posed to be the next titan of Indian Industry at a local branch of the Bank of India, handing over what is rumoured to be his great-grandfather’s watch as a starting sum so that he can get his own personal account.

Bharata, three years Rama’s junior, is still in the United States working on his MBA: he has not yet been told of his brother’s effective exile from the family, nor of his own subsequent ascension to the position of CEO-in-waiting. Twins Lakshmana and Shatrugana, five years younger, are in London having just begun their undergraduate degrees. It was interesting, people used to say, that of the brothers it was only Rama who stayed in India. Rama who attended every company party and toured factories, solemnly noting down worker complaints on the weekends he could spare from his studies, in all respects the near exact opposite of his father whose four children are the sons of three women.

Four days after the company announced its decision, Ramachandra disappeared from the public eye. It takes ten days, but Janaki eventually tracks down enough public and private conjecture to find him in a housing colony nearly an hour long ride from Ayodhya, the Raghuvanshi family home in the center of the city. The door opens, and Janaki greets the man who can only be Sumantra, Dasaratha’s long-loyal driver who had apparently left the same day as it’s once shining son.

“Hello!” she says, palms folded and motorcycle helmets dangling by their straps from her wrists, “I’m a friend of Ram. Is he at home?”

The door closes almost entirely. “Why would sir be found here,” Janaki hears from the gap, as Sumantra hooks the metal chain that would prevent her from barging in even if she was strong enough to shove aside a man nearly 50 pounds heavier than herself. “He is a very rich man’s son, and I am only a driver.”

Janaki frowns. “No one is ever ‘only’ anything Sumantra-ji, we all do some type of work in order to live, and not one of these jobs is better or worse than another.”

From behind the door, she hears the sharp exhalation that could almost be a snort from someone more given to expressing his own feelings. Janaki was right, then, Ramachandra Raghuvanshi who grew up on one of the most expensive properties in India has sought refuge in a home he could have bought on a moment’s whim only two weeks before. The chain rattles, and the door opens wide.

“Janaki Videha,” Rama says, and suddenly it is four years ago and Janaki is again a student politician stuck in a hospital bed after a bad encounter with the police, flipping through notes meticulously taken by a classmate who insists on anonymity but could only possibly be the lanky, nearly silent boy that everyone knows will one day be one of the richest men in India.

Normally, a person seeing an old acquaintance after a few years would speak their name, then utter some platitude about how long it has been since they last met and invite them inside to catch up. Rama, who is only capable of erudition in front of men his father wants him to impress, conveys the implication that all of these social niceties have been uttered without saying anything but her name. Janaki smiles, takes off her shoes, and walks in.

---

“What are you even doing here?”

Janaki raises an eyebrow, pouring a little more soap into the bucket they were offered to use for clothes washing. It has been a month since Janaki found Rama and told him that she was going on a trip, and that she needed male company to keep her safe. A month since she handed him one of her motorcycle helmets, helped him pack his single spare change of clothes and toothbrush, and directed him to sit behind her and hold on tight so that they might make it to another friend’s village by evening and have a place to spend the night. Together, they have followed the western coastline, trading off who drives when Janaki realizes that not only does Rama have a deft hand at the wheel, but in the proper circumstances can coax thrills out of her old bike that she hadn’t even thought possible.

“What do you mean,” she asks, grabbing his kurta top from the pile of clothes he has slowly gathered from the families he has inadvertently charmed over their travels. He’s standing off to the side, hanging their host family’s saris to dry in order of color, taking the pains to smooth each piece of fabric and making sure none of them touch. In exchange for doing the family’s laundry today, Janaki and Rama are allowed to do their own, an exchange of goods and services that has served them well so far.

“We both know what I mean,” she hears in response. “You’ve just been elected President of the University Student Union, your father is up for election this year, and even if neither of those things were important enough you must have research you should be doing instead of traveling the coastline with the penniless, disgraced son of an industrialist.” His voice is as matter of fact as it always seems to be with him, but Janaki feels an undercurrent of self-hatred at the core of his little speech. Still, she thinks with a faint flush, it’s nice to know that he has kept up with her just as closely as she had him -- though of course it was much easier to find information about Ramachandra Raghuvanshi, always in the papers at exact, two week intervals so as to prevent the creation of scandals to amuse the public with during a news drought.

“I’d call your father a capitalist if I was really embarrassed to be seen with you,” she says back, “and there is more to be ashamed of in becoming rich through exploitation than in being poor through no fault of your own.”

Janaki hands over his kurta, and watches him wring it out one more time with hands stronger than her own. He smiles slightly. “The revolution never stops, does it?”

“No,” she smiles in return. “Not with me, and not, I think, with you either.”

Rama looks away, walking back to the rope to hang up his shirt. “What do you know about me that makes you so confident?” He pursues his lips briefly. “We weren’t even friends, and still you’re here with me.”

Why are you here, Janaki hears go unspoken, why haven’t you abandoned me as well?

When Janaki arrived on campus all starry eyed at 17, she had taken the student body by storm. Blessed with a vibrant personality and the natural pull of a gravity well, she brought people into her orbit effortlessly, rising up the university party ranks within months rather than years of her peers. Academically, she was registered as an economics student, a category the papers said she shared with the Raghuvanshi heir who had created quite the stir when he took his place at an Indian University instead of going abroad. She had been doing quite well, she thought, until the exhaustion after her first collection drive in support of a local workers’ strike fund had caught up to her and she had slept through a full day’s worth of classes. Just when Janaki had been about to call up an acquaintance in their batch she thought might lend her notes, a folder had been slipped underneath her dorm door. Inside, a set of meticulous notes, and a 2 lakh check.

“Isn’t the factory a subsidiary of the Raghuvanshi group?” Janaki’s roommate asked, turning over the check as Janaki flipped through the notes. Thank you for your work, they said at the top. Please let me know if the workers need more.

“Yes,” she had said, “but we can’t tell anyone about this.” For four years she had kept his secret, waiting for his packages whenever she was detained, or ill, or beaten up and could not attend the day’s lectures. More than just a copy of the class outline, Rama’s notes were full of asides, connections, slips of paper clipped with outside citations when he saw something that could be countered, or expanded on. When the party canvassed for funds, her notes would arrive with another check, no demands made in exchange except a humble request to let him know if they ever needed more.

Janaki looks at Rama now, hair growing long to match his new beard. Ramachandra Raghuvanshi had always been clean shaven, hair short and neat and slightly parted to the side in a way every girl instinctively knew must have been how his mother told him would suit. Her eyes soften.

“You used to take notes for me,” she says, “Why?”

His lips turn down just slightly. “It helped me study, to transcribe them again.”

Janaki raises an eyebrow. She remembers that the notes had always focused especially on areas she was known to be weak in, but she lets his half-truth slide. She has a better arrow in her quiver.

“And the money?”

His eyes are trained to the ground. “It wasn’t my money.” Well, certainly the last six weeks have made that much clear. But Janaki did not remember Rama spending exorbitantly in school: his largest expenses seemed to be the checks he sent her.

“We weren’t friends,” Janaki agrees, “But I knew that you were a good man,” Janaki says, “even if you’ve had to hide it from your family your whole life.” She snorts. “And if we weren’t friends then, we certainly are now -- look, I’m washing your underwear right now, and if that isn’t friendship I don’t know what is!”

The joke isn’t really that funny, but suddenly Rama bursts into laughter, loud and deep in a way Janaki doesn’t think she’d ever heard from him in class, on campus, even in the videos posted by the gossip rags online.

“I’ve never had a friend before,” he finally says, and Janaki tries not to show her surprise or the way that makes her hurt on his behalf. “But I would be grateful to be yours.”

Another two months pass, Janaki and Rama journeying up and down and around the west coast. Slowly, Rama starts to gravitate towards the work that he seems suited to do in trade for the day’s food and shelter, and Janaki watches as he seems to blossom in front of her eyes. Every place they drive into, Janaki begins to ask around and invariably there is a person who, more than needing wood split or clothes washed, is in need of a good scribe to write, in English, the details of their grievance against someone with more power than them. Rama listens, and writes, and accompanies men and women to go see a lawyer, or their landlords, and stands behind them speaking in that perfect colonial era British Indian accent he says he picked up at boarding school, making even Janaki squirm when she hears it.

Janaki’s ideology does not allow for her to venerate colonial markers of class, so that squirm must be one of discomfort, rather than, well, --

It has been three months since Janaki and Rama set out on their travels, and time is running out for Janaki who really does have things she has to get back to: a student union to run, a doctorate to work towards, a father’s election campaign to help out with. But everytime Janaki thinks about waking up one morning without seeing him when she turns her head, the pit in her stomach grows larger and more snarled. She doesn’t know how it happened but somehow Rama has gone from acquaintance, to friend, to....to something Janaki can’t even describe beyond simply laying claim to the person at her side. He has become “her” Rama, even though she knows you can’t own a person -- yet Janaki is greedy, and when she watches the small smiles that their trip has coaxed out of his mouth, watches him bargain with their host so that she can eat her favorite vegetable at dinner, watches him finally fall asleep after talking to her for hours into the night and finally look like the youth he is, Janaki knows that she can’t bear to leave.

“Are you angry,” she asks one day, passing him the newspaper cone of roasted peanuts they’ve been trading between themselves while they sit on the sand of an empty beach. There is no need to clarify what he possibly could be angry about.

“No,” he says, taking the cone. “I obey my father’s will.”

From anyone else, Janaki would laugh, but she knows that he speaks the truth as he sees it. The Raghuvanshis raised the perfect scion, a boy right out of those terrible 90s Hindi films who saw their parents as God and venerated at the altar of increased profits. Yet, they chose to throw him like yesterday’s trash -- but no matter, because their loss is Janaki’s gain, and she knows him, knows what makes him happy and sad, and glad and mad.

She knows, for one, that he is angry and that he needs to acknowledge it before she can ask him to come back with her and start over.

“Yes,” she says, “you obeyed quite beautifully. That doesn’t mean you aren’t upset.”

“Don’t -- I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work.”

She turns to look at him, jaw already clenched where usually it would take five times as long to get him to this state. He’s furious. Janaki’s heart aches in sympathy, longing to gather him up in her arms and tell him that it’s alright to be upset, that it would even be right to feel so, to kiss away the furrow in his beautiful brow and brush his curls behind his ear. But that would only make him close up, so instead --

“Don’t what?” she asks.

His entire body tightens, like a screw wound one turn too much. “I’m not upset,” he hisses, eyes flashing. “I’m fine!” Janaki brushes her hand over the one of his currently crushing the newspaper cone. As if burned, he lets go.

Sita sighs. “We don’t have to talk about it, but you’re clearly angry and it really isn’t healthy to keep it all in. There’s no one here at the beach, so I think you should just scream it out and try to move on with your life.” She’s not being entirely truthful, since she really does think he should talk about his family’s sudden and entire abandonment after years of encouraging near insane amounts of familial loyalty and emotional repression, but even this journey started out with a single step.

“You think I should... scream,” Rama says, eyebrow raised in perfect, aristocratic, condescension. Janaki nods.

“Just go out into the surf, scream at the top of your lungs for 20 seconds, and then we can leave no questions asked. I promise.”

“You won’t bring this up again,” he asks as if to confirm the terms of a business deal. Perhaps that’s what this is to him, finally back on familiar territory. Janaki shrugs, ignoring how her heart sinks to think of him seeing her care as nothing more than something to trade in order to keep away.

“For now.” At his frown, she shrugs again, allowing herself to smile a little. “If it looks like you’re struggling in the future, I’m definitely going to ask again.”

For a moment, Rama’s eyes widen in ...shock? Surprise? Was he not expecting for them to remain in each other’s lives? Janaki can’t allow herself to think too hard or long on the subject, especially since Rama has, without a word, risen and walked over to the surf.

He glances once over his shoulder, and Janaki waves in encouragement. He begins to scream.

20 seconds pass, and Janaki really does think he will stop and walk back, brushing off any questions and wandering back into the village they’ve decided to stay in this week. But then 30 pass, then a minute, and suddenly Rama is just screaming, knees falling into the waves and hands coming up to clutch and pull at his hair and Janaki is running as fast as she ever has to crash next to him in the wet sand. She shifts sideways, putting her body perpendicular to his so that her back is not to the waves but she can still look at his face -- he’s still screaming, doesn’t seem to have noticed her body next to his, tears streaming down his face. Janaki’s hands flail, but finally she realizes that she can only rely on the instincts that have led her the past few months to find him, to drag him on the back of her bike, to tell him to scream.

Janaki pulls Rama into her chest, her arms around him as she begins to weep along with him. Every time she tries to grasp the scale of the injustice done to him, she finds that her mind is too small. He was raised with every luxury, but with a conditional love that demanded a machine instead of a man. He’s stopped screaming, but has replaced it with gut wrenching sobs, hoarse from when his throat seems to have finally given out -- Janaki wonders when he last wept.

She loves him, she realizes, pressing an absent kiss into his hair. That’s what this feeling must be.

“You what?”

Oh, Janaki thinks, did I say that aloud?

“Ah,” she hears, “yes you did.” Rama raises his head, both of them still kneeling in the surf, tear tracks glistening down the cheeks he had just shaved at the request of an older lady who offered to house them if only he would look respectable. “Do you mean it?”

Janaki swallows, the pit in her stomach as large as it ever has been. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be -- she was supposed to convince him to come back with her, and then later talk about how she wants to kiss him silly.

“You want me to come back with you?” Oh for--

“Yes,” she says, confident that nothing she thinks now will remain within the privacy of her mind. “I want you to come back with me, and study to become a lawyer, and live with me as we try to make the world a better place.”

Rama’s eyes are wide, and Janaki wonders if she’s ever seen him look so fragile. He sputters.

“Fragile? I don’t look frag--”

Janaki laughs, bringing her hand up to cradle his cheek, right thumb brushing gently against his cheekbone. “Alright?”

Rama swallows, blinking his assent as if he suddenly can’t speak. A minute passes where the only sound is of the ocean waves crashing gently in front of them, water periodically flooding them up to their hips.

Rama clears his throat. “Do...” he takes a breath, “do you really think I could?”

“What,” Janaki asks, “become a lawyer?”

He nods. “Everything. I...” he looks away, and Janaki feels the beginning of euphoria. In his eyes there is fear, but not dread -- he wants what she wants, wants it bad. “My entire life I was trained to bring honor to our family name, to do that by making money and keeping my family members happy. I don’t--” Janaki’s thumb moves from his cheekbone to his lips, before he can say something idiotic like ‘I don’t know how to keep you happy.’ Rama laughs, eyes glistening with hopefully something other than tears.

“But I don’t know! Your needs are so different from the people I grew up with!”

Janaki leans forward until her forehead rests against his and their lips nearly touch. “I love you as you are,” she says, “the things I want, you’ve already given me.”

She can feel his brow crinkle, pressed as it is against hers. “I don’t own anything to give you!”

Janaki laughs: only the hideously rich could think so.

“I’m greedy,” she says, eyes closed as wave after wave of happiness floods her exponentially like the way the water of the high tide touches further and further parts of the land. “I want things that you’ve given no one else -- your grief, and joy, and triumph, and failure. I want to wake up with you, and go to sleep with you, and make breakfast with you, and dinner too. I want--”

Rama bridges the gap, and Janaki says no more. He gasps when they break apart, and a vicious part of her wants to ask if he’d kissed any of the high society women he’d been photographed with like that.

“No,” he laughs, and Janaki feels another thrill to see it. “It wouldn’t have been polite.” He leans back, bringing up his own hands to cup her entire head in his palms, lips curved in a wistful smile. “Everyday you confuse me.”

Janaki bites her lip when he doesn’t continue. “Do you like that?”

He shakes his head, and suddenly the pit comes roaring back. “I think I love it,” he says instead, smiling still. “I think I love you, Janaki.”

His smile widens, almost a full grin now. “My Jaan.”

#ramayana #maya writes #obviously this is just wish fulfillment #but he goes back with her becomes a lawyer #leaves behind the company #eventually probably reconciles with his family #definitely with his poor brothers stuck abroad who don't know wtf is happening #but he never goes back to running hte company esp when hes in love with communist sita #who gleefully talks about her 'class traitor' husband #he takes her last name when they marry eventually #oh i keep calling her sita on instinct instead of janaki #which is a change i made entirely based on how much nicer janaki videha rolled off the tongue than sita videha #its just a slight different but w/e #i still think sita is the prettier and better name tho #also...had to be janaki so that the nickname could be jaan #had to sneak that shit in ok its gold #but yeah he becomes a lawyer specializing in land rights cases vs the state #its all very sexy

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insert-witty-comment · 3 years

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Chapter 1- Prayers to the False God. February 9th, 1925 Saint Michael’s Home for Boys Hampstead, London. I was a quiet child growing up. I was a foundling. Found one morning on the doorstep on a January morn in 1915, or so the nuns tell me. I grew up in England. From the time I was an infant, I knew I was different. When I was younger, before the abuse began, the Nuns would talk about the golden rule. That we needed to treat each other as we wanted to be treated. I, personally, did not believe that first part. I knew I was meant for more than dreary orphan halls, secondhand clothes, and a greatness few of these brats would know. I knew this because the little voice told me. The voice didn’t talk to me all the time, and sometimes went months without even interacting with me. But, it did give me impressions about my surroundings and the other orphans. This meant that I preferred talking to the little voice instead of talking to the other orphans. When the voice was silent, I would practically live in the library. The little voice had taught me to read by the time I was three. The voice also acted as my conscience of sorts, teaching me when and when I shouldn’t do something. The Voice didn’t speak to me, no, it just gave me impressions. Wrong and Right, feelings that felt like praise, and joy when I was doing things properly. These feelings helped me, and gave me something to hold unto as the Voice came and went as I got older. My social reclusiveness led me to be bullied by the other children at the orphanage. There were a few moments that stood out. The first was the week Tommy Michaels killed my pet. I had a hamster, the nun’s allowed us to keep small animals in our rooms as long as we kept their cages cleaned and fed and watered properly. Tommy was a vile child. We had never gotten along, and when I was seven, my hamster escaped. It returned to me piece by piece. His legs, one after the other. Then his torso. Day after day. Until one morning I woke up to his furry brown head on my nightstand. That morning at breakfast his smirk told me everything I needed to know. That day, in our playroom, Tommy taunted me about the death of my furry companion. I proceeded to lose my mind. It felt like a dam burst somewhere deep inside me. A wave of light surrounded my palm, and a shimmery blast of emerald light exploded out of it. Tommy was catapulted into the wall of the playroom and fractured his leg. I was sent to bed without dinner. The voice had wanted me to kill them. The next morning, I looked in the mirror. I noticed that my normally blue eyes had turned a startling bright, vibrant green overnight. When the nuns noticed, that was the first time I was locked in a closet and forced to pray for my sins. For my eighth birthday, I had my first exorcism performed on me. For Tommy’s, he got adopted. I found out after some experimentation, that I could make things happen. I could levitate and move objects with my mind. I could force someone to tell me the truth and knew when they were lying. I had learned to read early, and frequent trips to the library led me to discover and cultivate a passion for reading. I dove into the classics and the new. I was particularly drawn to fantasy novels for some reason. I knew what I could do was magic, or something similar. The voice had told me this, and it was always right. Those works of literary masterpieces, and a restless urgency from the voice, gave me an impetus to learn all I could about my new abilities. It all made sense, from a literary perspective. I was the downtrodden orphaned magic user. Voice was my version of the Blue Fairy. Of course I’d be the hero in my story. Meanwhile, as I practiced my newfound abilities, my hair changed from blond to the same emerald shade of green. The nuns took offense to this, they called me a devil, or a demon; Insisted on praying over me and forced me to learn their scriptures in hopes of drawing out the demon they swore lived in my body. It might have been a self fulfilling prophecy, but I drew special motivation for training when they screamed Exodus 22:18 in my face. My life became hours locked in a closet that was barred with planks, or chairs. Filled only with mental conversation. That was more me talking and the voice giving impressions of sadness and helplessness that only served to add to my drive to train, to become more powerful. This was how my life was for those three dark years. I’d attend the trivially easy school they had in the mornings. Then, I spent my afternoons having the bible literally pounded into my skull on a few occasions, and my evening’s were passed by sneaking out to the small green grove near the woods, experimenting with my magic or powers. I’d earned quite a few scars over the years from the nun’s tender mercies, and slowly, began to resent them and the religion they tried to literally cram down my throat. I certainly wasn’t the only orphan they did this too, but I was definitely one of their favorites. One day, I had enough of the endless lectures, of being locked away for hours, or deprived of meals for some perceived slight against their God. The Voice was urging me to get me-us out of this mess. When the nun’s decided they had enough of my “devilry.” and decided to lock me in the prayer closet overnight one evening, I turned the tables on them. I broke the ropes they had bound me with. Then I locked them in the small room where I’d spent so many hours forced to pray to a deity, I frankly had my doubts about. Usually they left me with a candle. I didn’t grant them that luxury. I forced my magic to hold the door, and then let them stew for a few hours. They stopped trying to “convert” me after that, and I was allowed to eat on a fairly regular schedule. This continued until shortly after my tenth birthday. It was Monday, and I had settled into the library. My homework was arrayed before me, and a day of pretending to care about basic sums and Latin awaited me. Some things, I instinctively knew, or the voice did. I wasn’t sure which. That was where Sister Agnes found me. She approached me as she always did, an aged leather hand clutching a wooden crucifix attached to the matching rosary in one hand. A glare on her face, and a murmured prayer on her lips. She was one of the oldest nuns at the orphanage and was convinced that I was the devil incarnate. She was one of the nuns that had led a crusade to remove the so-called demon from beneath my skin. “Good day sister, what prayer are you muttering to the false god today?” I asked with a sneer. Okay, so I’d learned to play up to the sisters. Sue me. “Stephen, there’s someone here to see you.” She said, a look of fear on her face. Her back was straight, and her posture stiff. I looked up from my compendium on Latin. That was certainly odd. I had no known associates in this life. I also knew that I was growing into the age where it would be harder for me to be adopted. I wasn’t concerned with that reality. I had my own plans for what life would entail after I aged out of this place, if not earlier. “A prospective mother.” The nun said. “Just the mother? Where's the father?” I asked. “He’s attending to other matters. You’ll only be meeting the mother today.” She replied, “come on boy, before I drag you by the ear.” She said, and I closed my book. I followed her into the office that the nuns used for administration. Mother Superior sat at the front of the desk, and seated in front of it was my prospective parental unit. I took a seat, and Sister Agnes left. The woman was dressed casually, in a dark blouse and skirt. Her hair was pulled up in a severe bun. She didn’t wear much jewelry. A string of pearls, a single diamond ring on her finger. When she turned her gaze on me, I instantly felt a tingle come across my skin. I could feel the magic practically pouring off this woman. It was the first time I’d met someone else magical, and a weight I didn’t know I carried felt like it was lifted from my shoulders. The voice was excited too. “This is the boy?” She asked. Her tone was grim. “Yes, just as you wanted, an older child, independent. Smart.” The nun said. The woman sniffed. “His hair?” “Not a clue. The boy is quite adventurous. He just showed up one morning with his hair like that. Don’t worry, he won’t be doing that again. ” The nun replied. “I should hope so.” The women remarked with a murmur. “Stephen, my name is Bethany Andrews. If you’d like, I’d like to adopt you. My husband wants a son, and I am unable to conceive.” She said. Mother Superior gasped, and I gave the matron an innocent look of curiosity. We learned quickly in the orphanage, and I admired Bethany for how blunt she was. I looked into her eyes. There was something about her gaze that seemed to pull me in. “Careful boy, you might not like what you find if you keep looking.” A voice in my head said. Her voice. I gave her a startled look, and recoiled visibly, almost knocking over my chair in the process. and she smiled softly, a knowing glint in her eyes. I nodded once, and the woman smiled. “Fantastic!” Mother Superior said elatedly. “I’m sorry you’re leaving us child, I hope you’ll carry the lessons we taught you in your new life.” I looked at the matron. “Mother, I appreciate how you’ve treated me over the years, and I hope someone will return the favor to you one day.” I replied with a too-sharp smile. She faltered for a moment before she spoke again. “Good! I’ll fill out the paperwork while you go pack your things.” She said. I nodded. I knew there had to be other people like me out there, people with magic. There always was in the books, after all. My plan was to find them after I left the orphanage. I needed to learn more about these abilities, how to use more than the paltry telekinesis than I currently had access to. I went back to my room and grabbed the few belongings that I had. I didn’t have much, a few sets of threadbare clothes. A stuffed bunny; A couple of shells from souvenirs at the beach; The one trip we had made there. I shuddered as those memories came to the forefront of my mind. Lingering hands belonging to old men who had no place touching younger boys in those places. Memories I squished down. I quickly packed it all in a rucksack and went back to the office. Bethany had finished the paperwork. She grabbed my hand, and we walked out of the front. A car was waiting for us. It was a gorgeous piece of engineering for the time, painted a shiny silver. I recognized the hood ornament, and realized this car likely cost more than the orphanage’s yearly budget. The rear doors of the car opened, and we got inside. As soon as we settled, the car roared to life and took me away from the dreary orphanage forever. Okay, so, this is actually a completed work. I’m just trying to get that ever elusive exposure. If you like this, reblog, and I’ll post the second chapter, in a week, or a year, or whenever I get back to tumblr.

#web serial #Web Fiction #urban fantasy #fantasy #steampunk #fantasy serial

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cityropeaccss-blog · 3 years

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Discover the many benefits of using rope access companies

It is your job to maintain the appearance of your building. To do so, you must bring in people who can do proper cleaning and maintenance work. If you run one of the taller buildings in London, then you will need to bring in a crew that can access the upper levels of the structure. This kind of work can only be carried out by Rope Access companies London. Rope Access Maintenance London companies provide cleaning, repair, and maintenance services for building managers throughout the city. You should not delay needed work on your building. Nor should you pretend it is not required. Doing so will only put your building in even more danger. The better response to urgent and routine maintenance is to call in people who can help you carry them out. Doing work on tall buildings requires specialist training and equipment. The best way to carry out such tasks is to access the building by rope. It is the simplest, least cumbersome, and most proven method around. However, you should entrust the task only to those companies that have mastered the practice of rope work. This is the only way to get the results you need and expect. The one thing you should not do is hire amateurs, and there are plenty of them around. Rope work should only be done by people with the expertise and experience to do the job properly. It takes years of training before someone can safely use ropes to do cleaning and maintenance jobs. They must master the basic kinds of repair jobs that tall buildings require. They must also know how to handle tools and equipment at that height and know the various safety measures and precautions that must be taken. If you send up an unqualified person, you will be putting their lives in danger and possibly the lives of people below the worksite. You will also risk getting a poor result. The rope access company you work with should know its business. It should have a qualified and experienced crew ready to go. When you book such a company, they should have the organization and competence to manage the task themselves. You should expect the work crew to show up at the day and time designated. And you should also expect them to complete the job within the agreed time. There is no reason for rope work to drag on for days. You should also be charged a reasonable fee, and you should know what you are expected to pay upfront. There are plenty of cowboys out there—companies that offer rope access services for low prices. They will not give you the results you need. You should always verify the record and reputation of the company you hire. You should seek out information about them and come to understand what they have done in the past. You have high standards, and it is right for you to hold the rope access company you hire to them.

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ployed37-blog · 4 years

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City Rope Access: Your Partner In Proper Building Maintenance

The use of rope access technology is not only helpful in constructing buildings, but also maintaining their cleanliness and structural integrity. When it comes to employing rope access London for proper building maintenance, the expertise of City Rope Access is second to none. With more than 10 years of height work experience, the company has steadfastly built a towering portfolio of successful projects with clients across different sectors and industries. Why Rope Access? Rope access refers to the use of ropes and special equipment -- together with safety gear -- to grant workers access to high or hard-to-reach areas. Techniques involving rope access in London are widely employed in constructing and maintaining buildings because of varied reasons. Primarily, this method is cost-effective. It requires less personnel for it to be accomplished and it entails minimal disruption to your workplace. With less downtime period, the productivity level of your business won’t be significantly affected. Additionally, it's considered as the safer alternative -- compared to scaffolding and other traditional methods. And because it is more versatile, it can be used for different purposes, in different buildings and environments. Experts also laud rope access’ being environmentally friendly. It uses equipment that leaves minimal to zero damage to the surroundings. Access Top-Notch Building Maintenance Services via City Rope Access The main advantage of hiring City Rope Access is the opportunity to tap into their team of certified industrial rope access London technicians. This means that their workers have up-to-date skills and knowledge when it comes to working at heights. One of their expertise is building maintenance. While observing safety -- both for their site personnel themselves and to your workforce and workplace as well -- they are dedicated to offering a wide range of services: Building repair and surveying Plumbing and water system inspection Waterproofing Cladding inspection and replacement Window cleaning and restoration Pressure washing Concrete, brick or stone repair Bird proofing Mastic application Painting and decorating They also take pride in using state-of-the-art equipment that enables them to be more competent in their job. Because no project is too big or too small for them, they make it a point to deliver high-quality services consistently. Above all these, you'll benefit from working with their accommodating customer service team. Their mission is to make your transaction with the company as hassle-free as possible. City Rope Access believes that maintaining a commercial property is a vital aspect of running a business. This is what drives the company to deliver services at competitive rates. They go gentle on the price -- but they are aggressive when it comes to completing projects in a timely and excellent manner. City Rope Access has the leading team of experts in rope access in London. From building repair and inspection to window cleaning and pressure washing, they are the name you should trust. Their technicians are all trained and committed to offering only the best services for your business. Need their help? Call them at 0800 049 9698 or email them at [email protected]. Visit their website, www.cityropeacess.co.uk to learn more about them.

#Rope Access London Rope Access in London

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zephyrchin5 · 4 years

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Flooring Cleansing Provider - Get The Very Best Outcome For Your Budget Plan

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Filling your clothes iron with vinegar to clean it can irreparably damage the small home appliance. To minimize future scale build-up, usage just distilled water in the storage tank and vacant it out after every usage. It is necessary to clean up splatters as well as dust on ceramic floor tiles without delay, whether on floorings, walls, or backsplash, so discolorations don't have a possibility to establish or set. However when you're hurrying to tidy up a spill, prevent the vinegar and instead grab hot water and also mild recipe soap.

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To clean thoroughly, get rid of any type of debris caught in the bristles making use of non reusable handwear covers. Let the brush soak in the remedy for a few mins to separate any kind of dirt. The oxygen bleach service will certainly also disinfect and also deodorise the brush. It's also a green and inexpensive house cleaner.

You can make use of a fraction of the remedy if you're only dealing with a tiny area, however the option stores just great for later on, so do not be afraid to make the whole batch. Using your nylon brush, gently work the cleaning solutions right into the stain. Take care not to scrub too hard or you take the chance of disturbing the fibers of your carpeting.

And in many cases, you just require to blend vinegar with water. Plus, distilled white vinegar has concerning 5 percent level of acidity, which is additionally similar to the level of acidity degree in several day-to-day multipurpose cleaners.

Does vinegar sanitize?

Acetic acid (a.k.a. white vinegar) can act as a disinfectant that can destroy some bacteria and viruses. Studies confirming vinegar's antibacterial properties: Household natural sanitizers like lemon juice and vinegar reduced the number of pathogens to undetectable levels.

Non-oily and non-greasy stains such as ink stains can be gotten rid of using water. Apart from water and also routine cleaning agents, the housekeeping staff likewise utilizes cleansing chemicals, which are commonly readily available in the form of liquids, obstructs, and also powders. The housekeeping personnel requires to clean various visitor areas, guest shower rooms, and a number of public locations in the hotel. The staff needs to take the help of numerous cleaning equipment while trying to maintain the hotel properties to the highest possible standard of look. Brushes must be washed after every usage and cleaned up monthly.

A deep clean is a professional cleaning company used when a business needs something cleaned, past the level of sanitation provided through daily and also regular cleaning. A deep clean is performed by an expert group making use of the most up to date approaches of cleaning. Daily cleaning services are commonly needed by organizations with a large capability and high foot web traffic throughout the day.

What can you not clean with vinegar?

Wherever you find rubber, don't clean it with vinegar. The acid can eat away at rubber just as it does natural stone, causing it to degrade. Instead, use soap and water or a solution of soap and baking soda.

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Best type of vinegar to use White distilled vinegar is the best vinegar for cleaning because it doesn't contain a coloring agent. Therefore, it won't stain surfaces. Staining can happen when cleaning with a darker-colored vinegar.

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Likewise, regardless of granite's durability, acidic materials-- even acidic foods-- can leave notes known as etchingthat call for sanding as well as brightening to eliminate. Soak rusty tools in a container of white vinegar as well as brush to clean. Industrial cleaning equipment replaces the cleansing task force that is required to do the job by hand. They are likewise constructed in such a manner in which they take in little quantities of energy which is economical. When it involves the atmosphere, they will not infect its crucial components such as air which if harmed, could cause breathing issues and other health-related issues.

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Hiring a professional home window cleaning service aids ensure you are cleansing your home windows in the most efficient and non-intrusive means possible. A window cleaning company is essential for a lot of companies.

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It can be poured into a cleaning equipment, but it will eventually be watered down with water there. Most of us scent bleach as well as believe that it is cleaning up a surface area, however actually, it is possibly being utilized to sanitize the surface area rather. For instance, many people make use of bleach in their washrooms to wipe down their toilets and also tubs. If there was a tarnish on a sink, the bleach may not eliminate it yet it would certainly eliminate any type of germs externally.

What chemical is used to clean floors?

Some examples of alkaline cleaning agents include (but may not be limited to): Potassium hydroxide. Sodium hydroxide. Bleach.

While most floor tile can most likely stand up to vinegar, the acidic fluid can eat into cement as well as liquify the finish on ceramic tiles. Prior to making use of any kind of soap or cleaning agent, it's ideal to review the manufacturer's guidelines to discover if the item is recommended for floor tile. Granite is an additional all-natural stone surface area that reacts improperly with vinegar. Spraying your granite counter tops with a vinegar service can make them plain as well as create them to shed their sparkle over time.

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Tea tree oil has microbial buildings that make it an effective cleaner. You can purchase four ounces for around $10, which sounds costly till you understand that you only require a couple of declines at once. If that still sounds like too much cash, avoid it-- you can develop terrific cleaning remedies without it. Home window cleaning services are special and also rely on the customer's needs. Some are as simple as cleaning up function as well as low-lying home windows conveniently visible to customers, where others require methods such as rope gain access to home window cleansing to reach difficult to get to home windows.

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Measure and also integrate two cups of water as well as a half-cup of either inexpensive vodka or massaging alcohol. If you like your cleaning items to smell great, you can add a drop or 2 of vital oil. Stone kitchen counters look excellent if they're on a regular basis cleaned down. However sadly, many industrial cleaners are also extreme for stone counter tops, especially if they are not "sealed" counter tops. Combine approximately one cup of white vinegar with one gallon of cozy water.

Before using any cleaning product on rug, test it on the fibers in a low-profile place to make sure it does not create discoloration.

I 'water rinsed' those locations once again and also it still feels extremely little 'gaudy'.

If there is shade transfer, do not use the product on your carpet.

Develop an option that is one part vinegar as well as one component water.

Everything essential to cleanse your carpetings can be located at your neighborhood hardware or supermarket.

This classification of carpeting spots consists of all non-oil-based food and also beverages, blood, vomit, ink, latex paint, and also cologne.

Initially, get rid of the spill as high as possible without pushing it right into the rug, literally removing solids with your hands and also blotting fluids with a white cloth.

Then, pour the vinegar solution over the area influenced by urine, gently scrub it, as well as let the area completely dry completely.

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Exactly How To Get The Smell Of Family Pet Pee Out Of Carpeting.

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Is Method All Purpose Cleaner a disinfectant?

About this item. Antibacterial all purpose cleaner and disinfectant spray. Kills 99.9% of household germs including influenza a flu virus, staphylococcus aureus, rhinovirus and salmonella enterica. All purpose cleaner is tough on grease and grime and easy on surfaces.

The cleaning of a business's home windows helps develop an expert and also competent feel for visitors visiting your premises. Home window cleansing can be reserved when you need it or it can be set up on a regular routine. Usually clinical cleaning will conform to the Care Quality Commission as well as National Medical Care Specifications. This means that experts can support businesses with authorized consumables, such as sanitisers, soaps, recycled paper items, bathroom solutions and also waste removal.

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What can a cleaner do in 2 hours?

What can be accomplished in 2 hours?Vacuuming the entire house. Cleaning the bathrooms, including toilets. Cleaning the kitchen, including quickly mopping the floor. A few assorted small tasks like wiping surfaces down.

Cleansing regularly ensures you create a good impression to anybody strolling into the office and offer the perception of a professional, organised business. The UK market for contract cleaning is estimated to be ₤ 5.6 billion alone. Within this large industry there are a selection of different types of cleaning company that will fit various types of services. These variety from the demand for a commercial tidy to wanting a one off standard tidy.

Bleach does an amazing job of killing bacteria; it eliminates difficult spots and whitens clothing. For the last couple of years, I have actually truly been attempting to eliminate harmful chemicals from our home. It is difficult to remove them completely, because the chemicals are truthfully in virtually every little thing. Breathing in the chemicals utilized in traditional cleaners threatens and harmful, especially if you have bronchial asthma or allergic reactions.

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