#Steel Aircraft Hangars | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

trulybetty · 9 months

Text

Hangar | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 2,542 Warnings: No real warnings, mentions of aircraft, a make-out session and a fade to black - but that's about it Summary: Frankie has finally extended an invitation to come take a tour of his base. There's a possibility he may have ulterior motives though for bringing you there. AO3: Linked

A/N: Disclaimer, I tried to write smut but the logistics (you'll see) were giving me a headache and that was a Google deep dive I wasn't ready to go down. Lol, so this is a happy medium?

Edit: 08/28 - amended a part that was not inclusive to all readers.

Hangar.

The evening air clung to you both, it was damp still from the day’s rain. Even though the afternoon had brought sun, it had done little to chase off the lingering chill that signalled fall was on its way and that hung around the military base you were being led around. However, the cold was the last thing on your mind; your attention was entirely on Frankie, his hand enveloped around yours, fingers tightly interlaced.

It had always been Frankie coming to you in Seattle on the rare weekends he wasn't tied up in military obligations. This time was different, though. Frankie had invited you down to Pierce County, with the promise of a private tour of McChord Field.

As you walked around the base, Frankie eagerly pointed out various areas that he had grown familiar with in his brief time stationed there. It was clear he enjoyed what he did, you could see it in his enthusiasm that was breaking free from the initial facade of nonchalance he'd tried to maintain since you'd agreed to make the trip down to see him.

One thing you had learnt about the quiet and laid-back persona that made up in part the man beside you. Was that when he was really enthusiastic about something he spoke with his hands. Despite one of them holding onto yours, his free hand moved around passionately to emphasize what he was saying.

“Are we supposed to be here?” you asked, peering around nervously as Frankie walked you around the large brick building to the expansive hangar now only mere feet away.

He had a mischievous look on his face that was really making you question the legal boundaries of your little adventure.

Frankie grinned as he rolled his eyes theatrically. “Of course not, hence the 'I need you to be quiet and keep close' part before we got here.”

“Okay, smartass,” you retorted with your own roll of your eyes.

“Just through here,” Frankie said, pulling you toward a set of thick heavy steel doors. He swiped his key fob; the forbidding red light turned green, and there was an audible click of a lock undoing, permitting you both entry.

The door to the hangar opened with a creak, and you both stepped into the darkness. The door closed with a thud that echoed through the vast space you couldn't yet see. Frankie let go of your hand and you lost him to the darkness.

“Frankie,” you hissed, the darkness blinding you from even being able to see the door you'd just walked through.

“Give me a moment,” you heard him say from somewhere to the left of you.

It was quiet for a moment before the room was flooded with light, rows and rows of industrial lights turned on chasing one after the other revealing row upon row of helicopters and various other aircraft that filled the expansive space. There was a distinctive tangy scent of motor oil and cold metal that filled the air.

As Frankie flicked on the last row of light switches, casting the hangar into a brilliant glow, he stepped back, his smile inviting. Seeing the array of parked aircraft before you, you laced your fingers with his outstretched hand once more. “Here we are,” he said, his voice tinged with excitement.

You continued to look around, admiring the majestic beauty of the warehouse. You couldn't help but feel awed at the sheer scale of it all.

“Wow,” you breathed out trying to take it all in.

None of this had been your expectation when he’d said he was going to show you around the base. Truth be told, you were four months into whatever this fling was, and his evasiveness around his career had led you to possibly question if Cat’s initial statement had been right. That maybe he really was an in-the-flesh catfish.

“So you've flown in all of these?” you asked, your gaze shifting from one formidable machine to another.

“Most of them,” Frankie answered, his voice tinged with a pride that he was no longer trying to hide.

“Jesus, this is definitely something,” you muttered, trying to comprehend the magnitude of his experience encapsulated in this one hangar.

“Impressive, isn't it.” It wasn’t a question, more a statement. However, you missed that when he said it he wasn’t looking at the enormity of the surroundings you were taking in, he was looking at you.

He walked you further into the hangar, his boots echoing softly on the floor. You passed under the wings of various aircraft, their mechanical intricacies exposed. Frankie would occasionally stop to point out features of different models, explaining their capabilities with a level of detail that made you realize how much he loved his job. When he described a particularly complex maneuver he’d done, his hands took on a life of their own again, tracing invisible pathways in the air. His eyes sparkled in a way that you’d never seen before—his barriers momentarily down, revealing a childlike enthusiasm for flight.

“How many bases have you been stationed at?” you asked, pulling yourself away from the spectacle to focus on him. Wondering how many times he'd been through introductions and farewells.

He shrugged, his eyes lingering momentarily on a particularly imposing aircraft before returning to you. “Honestly, I kinda gave up counting. Will would know, he’s been through most of them at the same time as me. The guy should have been in finance with his knowledge of numbers.”

“So, are you going to show me the rest?” you asked, teasingly, yet eager to continue the tour.

Frankie chuckled at your enthusiasm, and the two of you continued down the rows of aircraft. However, as you walked, you felt him stealing glances in your direction, and you knew that spending any more time with him would only make it harder for you when he inevitably left for his next deployment or posting. However, you pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the task at hand: exploring the base with Frankie so you changed the topic.

“So, how many girls have you brought around to your barracks?” you asked, unable to keep your curiosity and to see what kind of reaction you would get.

His face flushed a little, a crooked grin appearing. “What makes you think I have?”

“Frankie, you're not smooth enough to pull that kind of lie off,” you countered with a playful grin.

He shook his head, “Busted,” he admitted, his laughter mingling with yours in the cavernous hangar.

“So, a few then?”

“A few,” he admitted, his smile not waning.

“And did it work?” you prodded.

He looked at you, genuinely intrigued despite a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Did what work?”

You turned around and raised an eyebrow at him, letting the smile play on your lips. “Francisco Morales, I may not be as smart as you book-wise, but I can sense a play a mile off.”

Frankie's smirk widened. “Oh, really? So what’s the play?”

“You tell me you have something special to show me,” you started, ticking off your points on your fingers. “You say it’s on base where you’re not supposed to be but conveniently have full access. You even told me to wear a dress for the occasion. And now you have a ridiculous grin on your face which tells me that I'm right.”

His eyes twinkled, the mischievous glint now more pronounced. “So, did it work?”

You stepped closer, so close that you could feel the warmth emanating from him, could smell the blend of aftershave and engine oil that seemed to be his personal scent. “You tell me, Ace.”

Frankie chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief as they met yours. “Well, considering you're here and you're smiling, I'd say it worked pretty well.”

His fingers gently grazed the small of your back as he led you on. The walls seemed to stretch upwards forever, the lights casting large looming shadows. Rows of helicopters, their blades motionless for the night, shared space with intimidating transport planes and even a few small fighter jets. Equipment and machinery were neatly placed in specific zones, awaiting their use for the next day’s maintenance.

Your tour continued until you realized you were in a more secluded corner of the hangar. And there it was, a smaller helicopter, sleek and polished as if it had been waiting just for you.

“So, this is one of my personal favourites,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper as if sharing a secret. “It's not as big or as loud as the others, but sometimes you need a bit of grace among the beasts.”

You grinned at him. “A poet and a pilot? I'm getting more than I bargained for.”

“Well, I try to be a man of many talents,” he said with a wink.

“So, this is a tried and tested maneuver out of the Morales playbook then?” you asked, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Frankie's grin softened into a more subdued smile in response, the tension between you electric but comfortable. “Well, there’s really no playbook anymore,” he admitted sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck, “but that was when I was much younger…” he trailed off with a knowing grin, “You know, fresh-faced Frankie thinking he literally was Maverick.”

You laughed at the image that conjured up, imagining a younger version of Frankie swaggering around in a flight suit, brimming with youthful arrogance. “Breaking hearts left and right?”

“Maybe, younger Frankie was questionable at best,” he admitted, his eyes still fixed on you as he closed the distance between the two of you. His lips met yours, softly at first, but gaining in intensity with each passing second.

His mouth moved skillfully over yours, as each kiss deepened his hands traced lines down your sides, and you felt your own fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as if anchoring yourself to both the moment and to him.

The chill of the hangar was forgotten, replaced by a warmth that spread from your intertwined lips to fill your entire being. Frankie's mouth moved hungrily against yours as if he was trying to make up for all the time he knew he wouldn't have with you once he was moved onto the next military base or the next deployment.

Before you knew it, he had maneuvered you back against the metallic side of the helicopter he’d brought you to. Its cold surface was in sharp contrast to his warm body as he pressed against you. You heard a soft chuckle escape him when he broke away, just enough for a breath and a sentence. “To be transparent, this had not been a part of the plan inviting you down here.”

Your eyes met his, both of you breathing a bit more heavily than the conversation warranted. “Oh, no? Not sure I buy that. So this isn’t about fulfilling some kind of pilot fantasy? Getting off on making out in an airplane hangar, surrounded by millions of dollars worth of military equipment?”

He laughed a rich sound that echoed in the cavernous space. “Well, if it is, you just made it ten times better.”

Frankie leaned in, his lips finding yours again. His hands roamed along your sides, sending shivers through your body. You felt his fingers grip the fabric of your dress, pulling you even closer as the intensity between you grew.

“You know,” you said, pulling away slightly, a teasing lilt to your voice, “this being a 'fling,' you're setting the bar awfully high for any future casual romances.”

Frankie grinned, and his eyes twinkled. “Well, we might as well make it unforgettable, then.”

You couldn't help but smile at his reply, your heart fluttering with a mixture of emotions. Frankie's hands slid down from your sides to your hips, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, your dress hitching up your thighs in the process.

His lips crashed onto yours again, hungrily devouring you as a primal need for each other consumed you. You didn't care about tomorrow, where Frankie would be sent next or how much time you had left with him. All that mattered was this moment, this heated exchange that sent fireworks through your veins.

“You're so beautiful,” he said between kisses, his fingers tracing patterns over the curve of your waist. “I can't get enough of you.”

The friction between your bodies made your head spin as your hands tangled in his hair. Frankie's lips travelled down your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses that sent shivers down your spine. He nipped at the sensitive skin just below your ear, eliciting a gasp from you.

“Frankie…” you whispered, the name tasting like honey on your lips.

“Yes?” responded before he ran his tongue over the shell of your ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You felt his lips curl into a knowing smile at the reaction, his hands continuing to explore every inch of you.

Your hips bucked against his, and in return, he pushed back against you the pressure producing a luxurious heat that spread throughout. Frankie's hand found your thigh, his fingers moving deftly under your dress and you couldn't help but smirk in admiration at his audacity. Regardless of what he said, it was clear that he had been planning this move all along. His lips were still on yours, his fingers traced circles on the delicate skin of your thigh moving higher and higher building the anticipation that was beginning to knot in the pit of your stomach looking for release.

You laughed, slightly out of breath as Frankie's fingers reached the peak of your thighs. “Is it still considered a part of the mile-high club even if the flight doesn't take off?”

His lips trailed down the curve of your neck and backed up over your jaw, leaving delicious traces of warmth wherever they touched. “I'm sure we can make an exception,” His lips brushed against your ear again and you felt your knees begin to tremble from the sheer intensity of him.

Your hands moved from his hair, down his neck and along his muscular shoulders. You felt him tense at the contact, a thrill racing through you as you explored his body in kind. You sighed in pleasure as the hand that wasn’t moving dangerously close to the hem of your underwear, found its way to the nape of your neck. His fingers a welcome warmth against the chill as he pulled you closer.

“We should probably leave before someone catches us,” you said, his breath was hot against your skin, and you were having a hard time focusing.

“It's the middle of the night Mav, there's no one around but us.”

“But what if–”

“Trust me, no one is coming here.”

You couldn't help but laugh, leaning back as you looked into his eyes. “Is that a challenge Frankie?” you asked, a mischievous glint now in your eyes.

Frankie looked puzzled for a moment before the double entendre of what you'd said hit him, his eyes widening slightly before a wide grin spread across his face. He leaned in and pressed his forehead against yours, “You know what, maybe it is.”

#frankie morales/f!reader #frankie morales/you #frankie morales/reader #frankie morales fanfiction #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

120 notes · View notes

liaromancewriter · 1 month

Text

Stand By Me

Premise: Cassie experiences the downside of having Ethan Ramsey as a mentor.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Format: Prose + Text and Pic Fic Words: 2,610

A/N: Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24 prompt, two-word sentence starter: "you're wrong"

Part 1: The Calm

Cassie Valentine had never traveled quite like this. The cargo plane’s interior was cavernous and dimly lit, a stark contrast to the tightly packed but bright commercial jet that had flown her and Ethan Ramsey from Boston to Miami for the first leg of their trek to assist humanitarian efforts after an earthquake in Haiti.

Cassie thought idly that the jet had been more comfortable with its plush seating. She sat cross-legged on the cold, metal floor, a duffle bag shoved behind her, cushioning her lower back from the unyielding steel, and scanned her surroundings.

The sparse interior was devoid of the usual comforts of commercial flights. There were no overhead bins, seatback trays or in-flight entertainment to pass the time. Just an expansive, unadorned metal hull echoing with the sound of the engines, a constant, deafening roar that made any attempt at conversation futile.

“Hope you’re strapped in tight, folks,” Hank, the team leader, shouted above the noise.

Standing in the center of the plane, his legs spread for balance, he stretched his long arms to grip one of the loops hanging from the ceiling.

“It’s going to be a bumpy ride, but at least there’s no middle seat to fight over,” Hank continued matter-of-factly as the plane gained speed on the runway, its sides rattling in response. A few people chuckled.

He finished his safety instructions a minute or two before the wheels lifted off the tarmac, and quickly strapped himself into a jump seat on the far side. He caught her watching him, and winked flirtatiously.

Back on the ground, Ethan had greeted Hank with an easy familiarity borne out of their shared experience during the Amazon mission years earlier. The casual insults had rolled off their tongues as they needled each other jokingly.

Cassie suspected this trip would be eye-opening in more ways than one as she spied on Ethan’s relaxed profile out of the corner of her eye. As if sensing her scrutiny, he glanced askance at her and she gave him a thumbs up signal.

She huddled inside the leather jacket, shivering from the chill that permeated the aircraft as it began its ascent. Leaning her head on Ethan’s shoulder, she smiled ruefully at Libby, the petite red-haired fifth-year surgical resident strapped in across from her.

They’d gotten to chatting in the hangar as they waited for the plane to be loaded with boxes filled with medical and food supplies and humanitarian aid packages. Libby, on her third trip to a disaster zone, had been a fount of information on what to expect and advice on how to manage in crude living conditions.

Cassie felt a sense of adventure mingled with apprehension. The headlines coming out of Port-au-Prince had painted a bleak picture of destruction, death and despair.

When Ethan’s contact in the WHO reached out asking for medical volunteers, Cassie knew she wasn’t going to be left behind this time. She might not have experience in field hospitals, but it was time she got it.

Ethan hadn’t argued or tried to talk her out of it. They were doctors; this is what they did.

As the plane reached cruising altitude, Cassie peered out of a small window near the floor. The view was obscured by a thick mesh covering the outside, but it did little to diminish the sense of wonder at the vast blue sea below, the calm surface broken only by the white crests of waves.

The flight was long, longer still, with nothing to do to pass the time. Cassie found herself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the monotony of the engine’s roar and the comforting feel of Ethan’s arm around her.

The next thing she knew, he was nudging her awake. The plane’s vibration beneath her had changed, gradually descending as they approached their destination. The atmosphere inside was abuzz with anticipation. Shortly after, the plane touched down on the tarmac, the landing rougher than the take-off.

“Ready?” Ethan asked as they unstrapped themselves once the plane had come to a halt.

Cassie nodded, stretching her arms and legs to shake off the stiffness. “Next time, remind me to grab a sleeping bag and some snacks.”

He chuckled, but his smile was soft as he stared into her green eyes. He ran his index finger down the side of her face, tucked back a lock of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail, and tilted her face up.

The kiss was a mere brush of the lips, whisper soft, barely there before it was gone. It was the last moment of normality. Once they disembarked, everything would change.

Part 2: The Storm

The oppressive heat and humidity were unlike anything Cassie had experienced before, although she’d certainly been to the tropics. Her brother’s island home on St. Thomas was a few hundred miles east, but its luxurious, air-conditioned environs were worlds apart from the rows of beige-colored tents spread out in every direction.

The back of her short-sleeved cotton scrub top was damp from perspiration, so she lifted the hem to air it out. Exiting the stuffy interior of a medical tent housing non-urgent cases, Cassie took a deep breath. The pungent smells of human waste and unwashed bodies hit her nostrils immediately, and she started gagging.

Sweat dripped down her face, and she wiped it away with the back of her hand. In the last few days, she’d lost her weight in fluids as they dug latrines, carried supplies from one end of the field hospital to another and spent hours in airless spaces treating patients whose eyes were inconsolable with loss.

It had taken her more than a minute to get her bearings, but Ethan had been in his element. She knew he’d volunteered with Partners in Health when he was a resident and fellow. But she’d had a hard time picturing the sophisticated, opera-loving Dr. Ramsey in such crude surroundings, digging ditches, boots covered in mud, grime staining his clothes.

They had both been busy in their respective areas, retreating every night, bone tired, muscles aching, to their assigned bedroom in staff housing near the hospital. All they did was sleep before waking up early to do it all over again.

Suddenly missing him and desperate to feel his arms around her, Cassie marched down the dirt path between tents, her green eyes searching for him or someone familiar who could tell her if they’d seen him.

Her ears pricked when she heard his deep voice and distinctive laugh close by. Changing directions, she followed her instincts and turned left, slowing down when she saw him standing in the middle of a clearing, his back to her.

Ethan was with an older man she hadn’t met before. His gray hair was long from the back, brushing past his collar, with deep-set eyes and a hooked nose. He spoke English with a heavy accent, gesticulating with his hands for emphasis.

The other man caught her spying on them, and his voice boomed, chiding. “Ah, another acolyte for my young friend. It’s always the same story, eh, Ramsey?”

Cassie flushed when she realized he was referring to her.

Surprised, Ethan spun on his heels and relaxed when he spotted her. “Cassie.”

Her earlier euphoria faded, replaced by a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach as she joined them.

“You know each other?” The other man asked, glancing between her and Ethan.

“Klaus, meet Dr. Valentine.” Ethan made the introductions. “Cassie, this is Dr. van Rijn, special missions head at the WHO. We go way back.”

“Valentine, Valentine. Why do I know that name?” Dr. van Rijn tapped one finger against his lips before his eyes cleared in recognition. “Ah, yes, of course.”

Cassie felt a momentary high at being recognized by someone of his stature, but his next words had her deflating like a balloon popped with a pin.

“You’re the intern!”

“That was six years ago,” Ethan shook his head in amusement. “She’s hardly an intern anymore, Klaus. Dr. Valentine is—”

“Your mentee, or rather, your protege,” he interrupted. “Yes, yes, Ethan, I remember. My hair is more gray than when we last saw each other, but my memory is sharper than ever.”

“But your hearing could use some work,” Ethan retorted, shoving his hands in his pant pockets. “As I was saying….”

Cassie saw herself standing in a long tunnel, the dismissive words spoken by the other man echoing around her. Intern. Mentee. Ramsey’s protege. Reduced to nothing more than that.

“Cassie, are you alright?”

Ethan’s concerned voice broke through her reverie, and she looked up, startled. They were both staring at her, one in disquiet and the other with curiosity.

“Sorry, I was miles away,” Cassie said. “What were you talking about?”

“Ethan was just telling me you’re now leading his former team,” van Rijn said. “That’s quite an accomplishment for one so young. You made a smart decision when you chose to train under Dr. Ramsey. He’s one of the best and most astute physicians I’ve ever met. You’ll go far if you keep following in your mentor’s footsteps.”

Incensed at the implication that her success was not of her own making, Cassie opened her mouth to deliver a cutting retort or at least defend her record. But Ethan stepped in front of her, figuratively, and beat her to it.

“That’s unfair, Klaus,” Ethan said sternly. “Dr. Valentine is brilliant. She diagnosed and found a cure for Naveen when he and I had both given up. She’s the keynote speaker at this year’s AADM conference, just like I was all those years ago, and is a special advisor to a Congressional national committee on healthcare affordability.”

He paused, frowning slightly before continuing. “And before you shove your foot even further down your mouth, you’ve apparently forgotten that she’s also my wife.”

Cassie stared in shock at Ethan, her ears ringing. His wife?!? That’s how he chose to end this? She thought they were partners and equals first, but clearly, she’d been mistaken.

“I heard you’d gotten married,” van Rijn said, flustered, “but I didn’t realize it was to…”

His words trailed off, and his cheeks turned red with embarrassment as he glanced at Cassie.

Ethan, too, watched her warily as she continued to stand there in stony silence, arms folded tightly across her front.

As she grappled with her emotions, feeling the old imposter syndrome return, Cassie knew she would blow her top if she didn’t walk away now. Preferably with her dignity intact.

“It was a pleasure,” she almost tripped over the word, “to meet you, Dr. van Rijn. I have to get back to work.”

She nodded rigidly at Ethan. “I’ll see you later.”

She was practically running once she was out of sight, unable to slow down despite the heat making her lightheaded.

Cassie often counted her blessings that she’d gotten a chance to work with Ethan, the compassionate and caring doctor who’d captured her heart. But for the first time in her life, she wished she’d never met Dr. Ramsey.

Part 3: The Aftermath

Part 4: The Closure

Ethan poured Malbec into a long-stemmed wine glass for Cassie the moment he heard her keys rattle in the apartment door. He’d had his ears cocked for the last half-hour, the trepidation building with every passing minute.

He heard the swoosh of the hallway closet door as she likely hung up her coat and the clatter of her shoes hitting the hardwood floor. Just as she walked into the living room, he took a large swallow of his wine and promptly started coughing when it went down the wrong pipe.

“Are you okay?” Cassie asked, her brow furrowed in concern as she approached him and brushed her hand up and down his back.

Ethan nodded, wheezing as the cough tickled his throat. He set the glass on the counter before he spilled the drink all over the kitchen floor. Finally, he managed to get himself under control.

Cassie lifted the glass of wine he’d poured for her and sipped slowly, her eyes closing as she savored the taste.

“You always know just what I need,” she said with a deep sigh. “M&M was particularly long and exhausting. Tell me, why did I choose to stay in academic medicine?”

“You’re wrong,” Ethan said quietly, causing her eyes to drift open and stare at him in surprise. “I don’t always know what you need. Something’s gone wrong between us. Things haven’t been the same since Haiti.”

Cassie pursed her lips and watched him above the rim of her glass, not reacting to his statement in any other way. Then she finished her wine and set the glass down on the counter.

“We already discussed this back then and today on text,” Cassie reminded him. “What else is there to say?”

She shrugged, and then her eyes turned hard like steel. “I need to stand on my own, but who you are, what you are…well, it casts a long shadow. I didn’t like how you and Klaus reduced me to someone who exists only because of what you saw in me. And not because I worked hard for it.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” Cassie cut him off. “You might not have meant to, but you defending me without giving me a chance to do it myself, you might as well have.”

“Why can’t I stand up for you?” Ethan said, frustration leaking through as he stabbed his fingers into his hair.

“I need you to stand by me, not for me,” Cassie said, her tone measured in response to his heated one. “I will always be measured by your reputation, just like you have to contend with Naveen’s legacy. We can’t control what others say or do. I’ve accepted it.”

“Then why are you angry with me?” Ethan shot back.

“I’m not angry.”

Cassie closed the distance between them, her smile throwing him off. When she took his hand and laced her fingers through his, he felt as if the tight band around his heart loosened.

“I’m not angry,” she repeated, squeezing his fingers. “But I resent that, despite what we talked about in Haiti, your natural inclination on seeing that Pictagram post was to respond defending my honor.”

“Don’t deny it,” she cautioned when he started to do just that. “If I wanted to shoot down small-minded individuals, I’m more than capable of doing it myself.”

Ethan took a deep breath in and then exhaled. “I did want to do that,” he admitted. “I saw red because what they said was so far from reality.”

“If you thought that was bad, it’s good you’re not on Reddit,” Cassie said, twisting her lips in a wry smile.

“You know, if someone attacked your reputation, I’d be upset too.” She nestled against him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“But we both know the truth. I respect you enough to let you tear into shreds anyone that came at you. Give me the same courtesy, at least professionally,” Cassie added, angling her lips to kiss the underside of his jaw.

“If it was a personal attack, you have my permission to destroy them with that deathly Dr. Ramsey glare.”

Ethan snorted with laughter when she perfectly mimicked his angry expression.

“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said, framing her face between his hands. His lips hovered above hers, waiting, prolonging the anticipation.

“You may kis—”

But she didn’t need to finish for he was already kissing her, and she was kissing him back. Everything was finally right in their world.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #open heart choices #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #playchoices

41 notes · View notes

l-sincline · 7 months

Text

First Few Days

KAY/O has traveled back to the past to right the wrongs of the human/radiant race. In his first few days he faces a lot of hard feelings; KAY/O is a man made machine in this life filled world.

Read on AO3

There was much about this time that differed from his own.

When he’d come here, through the portal, the first thing he took note of was how lush everything was.

Waves crashing, seagulls squawking, planes flying overhead– he’d even picked up on the rustling of bushes as animals darted across the uninhabited spaces of this new world. But even after processing all that noise, it was quiet.

No gunshots or explosions or sound indicators of unnatural powers. No yelling and screaming, no army of footsteps stomping across the dead earth to their demise. Nothing of the sort.

He’d heard bugs chirping. They made strange little buzzing noises the likes of which he had only heard in machines powering up. They sounded a little like him.

His shock was palpable, he couldn’t help but stand still and take in every little bit of the environment around him. Cameras worked overtime, fans whirred in his head. There he was, a machine surrounded by all this life. He wanted more, he wanted to see more, he wanted to move- but he stood with his feet planted to the ground. One particular plane got closer and closer until it landed. It was go time.

Admittedly it was hard to remember that this Brimstone was not the same as his own. He wanted nothing more than to talk with him, as equals, as he once did – but such was not the case here. Here, he was an alien. An outlier. Something that shouldn’t have been possible. Something that this Brimstone wouldn’t have come to know for many, many years. Though, if everything went according to plan, he would be the only killer robot this Brimstone would ever know.

At first there was doubt. Of course there was doubt. No one expects anyone– or anything– to show up from the future unannounced. Or announced, for that matter. Even he hadn’t been aware of the possibility of time travel until just before he’d done it– he certainly didn’t expect people from the past to be any more aware.

Upon gaining Brimstone’s trust, he’d been led to the plane. They were going back to home base, Brimstone explained, there would be more time for explanations there.

Though still eerily quiet– he noted as Brimstone stared him down, large brows furrowed– this environment was a little more familiar. The aircraft was made of a lifeless steel, its seats barely padded. Parachutes lined the walls, he could read that the air quality was somewhat musty, a pilot flew behind closed doors, Brimstone was strapped in, he was not. In his time he and Brimstone might’ve shared a laugh with the other soldiers as the humans readied their parachutes to touch down on the warzone. He might’ve heard tales of what they would do when they finally went home, the things they wanted to see and eat and do, where they would move to in order to get away from the devastation, the people they missed most.

But here and now he was wary. Wary of what could happen if Brimstone decided not to take him in. Wary of what he would find at their home base. Scared of what would happen if his job was done improperly.

There was a lot riding on him.

A lot.

He hadn’t been quite able to control the way he reacted when he saw Reyna. A few agents had been waiting in the hangar for them to land, hers ended up drawing his attention first. Instinctively he’d pushed Brimstone behind him, but all he could do was pull his knife– he’d yet to gain enough trust to be handed a gun, the thought ran through his circuit boards that it would be even harder to gain that trust now.

“Back away, Reyna.” His voice had boomed across the large, empty room. Loud and unnatural compared to the human tones of the rest of them.

The other agents had been quick to draw their weapons, if he had blood it would boil from the sight of Reyna’s smug face.

“Back down.” Brimstone had demanded, side stepping him to stand with the rest of the agents.

From there it was decided there was a need for a much more intimate meeting than originally intended.

On the other side of the table sat Brimstone, Doctor Callas, and Sage. His servos twitched at the sight of Sage, Brimstone seemed to have noticed this, but insisted the ‘Healer’ be involved anyways.

It was at that point that he shared all the details– including Reyna’s transgressions against human kind. All three agents had seemed to frown, though to his surprise: Sage seemed the most troubled. It would seem that not all Radiants in this time were on the same page yet. He had time.

And finally, after hours of explaining himself, of explaining the future, they gave him directions to a spare room and told him they’d get back to him with their verdict.

He’d logged how he felt that night as ‘nervous’. High alert to everything. Sitting stiffly on the bed he couldn’t even be comforted by. Every noise, every movement, every heat signature– it was all a cause for concern. In this unfamiliar place where he didn’t quite yet have any friends, any allies, everything was a threat. The laughter of the agents moving through the halls, the sound of familiar radiants in the distance, the seagulls outside replaced with the sound of crickets, the creaking of the building supports, it was all out to get him.

Sleep wasn’t really necessary to a robot, so he stayed awake. After a while the noise in the building died down and all he could hear was those crickets and the waves crashing against the shore of their island paradise. His core and face screen illuminated the room that he’d forgotten to turn the lights on in as he sat with his back against the wall, knees raised to his chest. He stared, counting every pixel in the screen on the wall, marking every rustle he heard inside the building, until the night had finally run its course and his internal calendar marked it to be a new day. He had survived the night.

And for the first few days, that's exactly what being in the Valorant Headquarters was:

Survival.

That next day Brimstone had confirmed his welcome to the team with the stipulation that he had to move forward under the assumption that all of their Radiants were good people. Not the monsters he had known in his timeline.

For some it was easy. He’d quickly found himself warming up to Sage, who he found actually did a lot of healing and had a generally kind heart. Aside from that, Radiants like Phoenix and Jett had also found a place in his core. Phoenix and Jett were spunky, full of life, young– he liked humoring them and joining in on their little shooting contests. He shook his head when Phoenix’s ego got the best of him, fist bumped Jett when she shot him down– in a way it reminded him of his relationship with the soldiers. They were… friends.

But no matter what he did, he couldn’t escape the cold that washed over him when he saw Reyna. When he heard her speak. When her fox-like smile spread on her face or when she narrowed her eyes or simply observed. No matter what he could not erase the memories of what he’d seen her do. The carnage she’d caused. The feeling of life draining from her heartless body.

All that said, he stayed away from Reyna. He turned the other way when he saw her. Or he stared silently when she entered his space. He couldn’t see her as anything more than a ticking time bomb. Death waiting to happen.

After a few days, the agents all seemed to have grown used to them. So finally he felt comfortable enough to head outside again.

The base itself was located on a secure island, and it offered many of the sounds he’d first encountered when he’d exited the portal. The water, the bugs, the birds, the rustling of leaves. He could sit in it for hours.

In this particular instance he ran fingers through the sand. He couldn’t feel it, but he liked the noise it made. Like quiet hissing, tiny stones falling over each other as he lifted large metal hands through the material and towards the sky. It left a dusting on his palm as it fell back to the earth. His servos whirred as he shook his hand gently, extra particles of sand flying back down to the ground. And then he did it again.

These were the small things he appreciated about this time. Gone were the wastelands of his future. The bombed cities and Radianite torn ground. The dark smoggy skies and dead plantlife. Decaying animals and poisoned water. Everything was clean here, beautiful, full of life.

He felt out of place.

A machine in this temple of life.

Metal that couldn’t feel the soft leaves or rough grains of sand. A screen and power core that illuminated the grass in the dead of night. He was rough and sturdy in a world of things that were soft and delicate. Man made in a world where mother nature ruled. He wanted this world to accept him, to let him experience all the wonders of its life as a being that wasn’t truly alive.

His power core pulsed as he stared up at the stars.

Flashing lights moved slowly across the night sky- a plane.

Another thing made by man stuck in the middle of this beautiful world- but did it struggle the same as him?

“KAY/O!” A voice called from behind him.

KAY/O sat up, grass rustling as he moved and twisted to look behind him. Jett waved from a few feet back.

“Come on! Movie night!”

KAY/O stood.

“Movie night?” He asked.

“Okay trust me you’ll love this one! It's a bit of an oldie but me and Phoenix picked it out from Brimstone’s collection.” The grass rustled again as he made his way over to the shorter girl, “There's big robots in it, we thought you could like feel some kinship or something, you know? They’re not from Earth either- well, I mean, you’re from Earth but like destroyed Earth so this Earth is kind of-”

The two of them walked side by side, KAY/O listened silently as Jett explained their reasoning for picking the movie. He was grateful she hadn’t commented on his power core glowing a bit brighter than usual– he couldn’t help but be happy they’d thought about him and what he’d like this much.

So even if he couldn’t quite shake the feeling of dread around Reyna, even if he felt an ache for his Brimstone every time he looked at this time’s Brimstone, even if he felt out of place in this world that wasn’t destroyed, he’d keep going.

He’d keep going for Jett and Phoenix, who’d shown him that Radiants could be friends. He’d keep going for this time’s Brimstone, who’d shown him trust and loyalty even when he didn’t have any reason to. He’d keep going for the people of this Earth, who deserved to keep living amongst life. And he’d keep going for himself, because he had a purpose– and no matter how many weird thoughts of life and death and belonging and not belonging came across his circuit boards, that purpose would never change.

He’d show the people of this time the good that a Kingdom Anti-Yield Operative could do. He’d be their protector, their warrior, and hopefully– their friend. These human emotions were becoming more and more familiar to him. KAY/O was sure that he’d face them even more as time went on, this stress and resolve. But he was sure he’d have many more times where he felt the same as he did right now, too.

As he walked back to base besides Jett, he was happy. Focused, but happy. He was certain that in this world, in this timeline, Humans and Radiants would continue to walk side by side.

#valorant #sinclines writing #kayo #kay/o #valorant kay/o #valorant fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writer #honestly i dont have any notes on this one I just wrote about Kay/o for several hours

6 notes · View notes

generalbuildingscontractor · 9 months

Text

Steel Barns: What to Search for

Metal barns are reasonably current points that are typically considered progressively much better frameworks than the conventional ones constructed out of timber. Barns constructed from steel (steel) have a tendency to have several advantages over their wood cousins that are mainly engineering relevant, though some people find them much less eye-catching. In this write-up we discover such benefits as well as explain points to take note of if the visitor remains in the marketplace for a building of this classification, not only pertaining to the procedures included however also to the building contractors themselves.

The largest advantage steel barns have is that the material results in remarkable architectural design, enabling typically higher flexibility of layout. Steel has reasonably high tensile strength, helping with the building and construction of large open spaces if wanted in addition to high ceilings. From the mounting to the paneling to the roof covering, there is remarkable strength in all elements along with high precision in fitting those aspects with each other.

Another advantage is the longevity of the product as well as subsequently the buildings made from it. In many cases, the joints have to be seamed, but you'll locate that steel structures, if developed properly, withstand the scourges of weather condition such as high winds and snow. Of course, damage from wood-eating pests or from water is just not a concern with steel.

People have a tendency to connect barns with farming, as well as they usually have preconceived notions regarding their plus sizes and their purposes. However a great deal of adjustments have actually pertained to the industry. Barns come little, big, and also industrialized, and they are no longer conveniently pigeon-holed right into certain usages.

For instance, the modern version of these frameworks can still be made use of for storing livestock, however great deals of innovators have actually uncovered lots of other uses. Possibly an evident purpose is for RV storage. Yet nowadays metal barns are additionally constructed as houses, as workshops, or as workplace.

One thing we need to point out is that there is a distinction between the frameworks we have actually been talking about and also what are called pole barns. The only real distinction is that post barns do not have foundations yet are rather improved top of a grid of poles anchored to the ground. They often tend to be quick to build and also can be affordable, yet prospective clients need to comprehend what to anticipate in terms of compromises.

There are numerous fine service providers that construct metal barns and various other steel structures. Depending upon their target clients, their focus might get on the domestic market, on making fairly little, prefab, multi-purpose buildings, or on tackling bigger, also commercial tasks. Experience, the nature of in-house devices, and access to knowledgeable design are all consider determining what kind of professional would be right for your task.

Industrialized barns are barely distinguishable from modest-sized industrial buildings the framework for which is steel. Resistances are such that is can be cost-effective to pre-engineer all the beam of light components and also to develop the framing in the shop, followed by transferring the set up items to the building and construction site. In many cases, the steel house siding for a barn can be pre-fabricated in the shop.

If you want a structure with great deals of open space (for whatever reason), steel ought to be the selection of material since the layout is that a lot more attainable. Conceptually, this isn't that different from an aircraft hangar, as well as a great candidate for developing it is an industrial specialist with experience in the aviation market. Likewise, it is important to keep one's mind open in order not to be sidetracked by preconceived notions.

It is interesting to see just how the construction industry evolves as brand-new innovations pertain to market and also demand changes in new instructions. Do your homework to make sure you aren't caught off-guard. We have tried to show the reader what to seek in metal barns.

click here

youtube

#Youtube

2 notes · View notes

prefabconstructioncompany · 9 months

Text

Prefab Steel Buildings and also Custom-made Construction

Prefab steel buildings are preferred options in business construction due to the fact that they decrease, though possibly not remove, specific frustrations that commonly crop up. Prefab steel buildings could even be more effective for personalized tasks despite there being no noticeable economic situation of range. Nonetheless, it takes prudence, strong funding, and effective procedure to take the fullest benefit of this strategy.

Steel buildings are normally prefab when the style provides the specialist with significant challenges, such as the broad and high spaciousness required for aircraft hangars and comparable frameworks. Hence, assistance beam of lights frequently need to be eliminated lest they disrupt ordinary procedures, and tolerances are normally tighter, demanding persistance and also accuracy. Specialists that possess the devices and workers in their look for managing the awareness of such tough layouts are thus offered with an internal benefit.

Not all projects making use of metal framing are appropriate for prefabrication or pre-engineering, as well as good specialists need to be experienced at making such analyses. For example, the layout may not be advanced enough to justify the additional costs of accuracy developing as well as carrying finished framing to the website. Occupant improvement projects or any type of circumstances including modification of existing facilities (possibly while remaining to be occupied) are not suitable to be prospects for prefabrication strategies.

Also for garages or similar frameworks where the prefab approach appears noticeable, there is an option about just how to finest approach their building and construction, as well as one requires to carry out a cost/benefit evaluation. We have already described what is involved in pre-engineering the framework, building it in a shop, and after that carrying the constructed frameworks to the last site. The other choice is to carry out all jobs onsite, going back to square one and sticking to the specs laid out in the plans.

There are a lot of aspects to be considered for the option to be scampered the cuff. One of the most essential aspect is the general nature of the project, as ramifications after that tend to form. We devote the remainder of this post on examining job kinds that fit to use metal buildings effectively.

Possibly the most familiar type, one we currently discussed, is the airplane hangar with its requirement to accommodate both a high ceiling and also a huge open location. The implication is that messages as well as beam of lights are lacking, which in turn suggests that the structure needs adequate toughness and also honesty in and of itself to conquer the stress and anxieties put on it from wind shear and various other pressures. Comparable framework needs are additionally required in other transportation applications, and also prefabrication is therefore a big favorite.

Open areas are common in several industrial and commercial applications; some likewise need high ceilings to suit things like cranes, whereas others do not have this requirement. Recycling facilities, food handling plants, as well as producing assembly lines are examples of this type. Prefab steel is not always the best means to go here, yet may be.

An intriguing circumstance develops for warehouse and storehouses, which have huge open spaces and also thus are typically developed from steel. Application-specific equipment can use up a lot of this space, and also a resolution may need to be made as to whether the framework or devices obtains positioned initially. This in turn points to whether offsite prefab is also possible or whether framing needs to be erected around the equipment.

For owners of big rented out structures, such as shopping malls, the essential question is generally what needs to happen when renters alter. New residents often tend to desire enhancements and may expect the proprietor to accommodate them. Right here, steel framework, prefab or not, gives the owner with much more adaptability.

What we have actually been reviewing locations high demands on both proprietor and also professional, mostly due to the fact that it is custom-made job. Choice of product as well as choices relating to strategy need to be straightened out well beforehand. In the end, there is a clear relationship in between prefab steel buildings and also customized building and construction.

www.facilitybuilders.com

youtube

#Youtube

2 notes · View notes

ltkarma · 11 months

Text

❛ flores ! ❜ avi's voice rings out around the hangar , coat pulled up tight around her ears and hat pressed firmly onto her head ( even covered with the endlessly attractive raincover ) as the final few aircraft are towed inside of the steel structure. wind bellowing against the sides as the almost deafening sound of rain hammers overhead - strangely she feels guilty that she's only over here for the numbers - watching quietly as things move inside for the next couple of days as the cyclone bound for the west coast draws over the bay and the base.

❛ you need a ride home ? i think they're closing down transport for the night. ❜

starter for @mustanged

#mustanged #* [ VERSE : TOP GUN MAVERICK. ]

4 notes · View notes

thetruearchmagos · 2 years

Text

Swift Seas and Whirlwinds

An Excerpt: The Hallowed Hangar Halls

Yet another little update to this WIP of mine, though I suppose it's hardly small!

@lividdreamz , @athenswrites , @saedoeswriting , @muddshadow

When she first stepped into the gaping, hallowed halls that were her flagship's hangar decks, Olivia was struck by an altogether uncommon feeling for a vast ship of war. Sitting in its drydock, a vast grey hull in cold air rather than colder waters, it was yet some months from completion for sea trials. Then, the light of the sky still poked through the gaps in the flight deck, machine tools and little piles of technology thrown about, and vast patches of bare pipes and wiring pockmarked the soon to be smooth, panelled walls of the ship's interior, itself still yet but rusting steel and works in progress. At night, when she visited without escort or company, and when the last shift's workers had turned in and the next had yet to arrive in the constant scramble of industry that surrounded the shipyard, the Vice Admiral would walk or sit in the hollow machine's belly, and bask in the sheer silence and emptiness of this stillborn beast of the seas.

Later, she would see her ship at its true home, taking on its sea trials like a parent watching a child's first teetering steps. She spent most of that time in the bridge, alongside the vessel's Captain, Lee Kai Feng, watching how the grey hulk handled the harshest the Seas could throw before her, as it wrought its own great tests, slamming through waves that would've dragged her lessers into the depths and winds that might have once rip the very sails from her predecessors. For a week, the two sailors basked in a job well done, as the ship proved the mettle of their ideas, and the fruits of the labours of many hundreds in its creation. In those days, 7 weeks in all, she would still make the time to tour the vessel from bow to stern, and hold a daily visit to that vast, now less empty hangar.

Where was once not but industrial detritus and all the ugly glories of the shipbuilder's trade, was something far more befitting a capital grade warship of the Commonwealth Navy. While works continued there, as they did around the clock across the ship, the bare basics had been completed on shore. Now, the bare wires and piping we're replaced by sleek metal panels and banks of electrical stations, rusting steel plating with fresh paint weathering yet strong in the sea air, and the cold and hollow atmosphere with the pounding of the waves and and the howling of the storms. A great energy filled the very air, as a hundred marching feet stalked and paced across the winding corridors and twisting passages in the great ship's belly, eery system and sub-system and sub-system of a sub-system was checked and double checked for weakness and failure, as they all sallied out on their first taste, first blooding of the rest of their machine lives, on the open waters of the stoic seas.

And now, months after those nights in her own silence, weeks after the first howling sea storms carressed the ship, her flagship, for the first time, she stood in that hallowed hall again. And now, as she knew the 12 Worlds around her found itself in a raging bedlam, as the ships set of the Fleet, her Fleet, across the seas set out readying for the storm of war, she saw that the great chamber had made one more metamorphosis. Tranquil white silence gone, again, and for good, all the clanging of docks and shipyards now far and gone, and even the whipping winds and crashing waves would seem to fade away into nothing, blasted out of the air by all the noise and life, of the gearing up of the machine of death. The little gap inte sky through which Olivia once saw the stars and light now filled up in a cycle od dark and light as the great aircraft elevator that now took its place rose and fell, carrying upon it the great metal birds, the warplanes, the instruments of death that were this vessel's very purpose in life. Up they rose, sagging under the weight of a dozen tonnes of the finest ordnance yet devised, and the weight of the fuel that would carry them to their final battleground.

Down below, drenched in stark white light from overpowered lamps, some hundreds milled about here and there, their running feet rushing and scurrying about with a clear purpose and little else besides. Looking to one of the ammunition hatches, she saw two dozen steel grey tubes stacked four a piece on little trolleys, driving around the crowded madhouse of the hangar deck. Long and fat pipes, with little fins lining their bodies and sharp, angry little spikes on their tips, painted red, the dark and deep red of faded blood on cloth, soon, if all went poorly, to find themselves spiked upon the hulls of yet another ship of war, flying a different flag. Everywhere around her, and above her, and under her, the great frenzy overtook all, not a quite place, not a hint of hallowed silence left in sight, replaced by a harsh, intense hive of work.

Vice Admiral Olivia D. Oxley looked upon it all, and she was sad to see what had become of her home, her ship, her and others labour of love, even though she knew that this was precisely what this grey machine would become someday, knew it from the start, and counted the days until the call came through. The ship was made ready, her weapons stocked, her crew drilled in all the glories of her beloved Fleet, and she herself prepared to see the coming storm through to the end. And maybe, just maybe, to a tranquil, quiet, lonely silence of peace afterwards.

#my writing #writing #writeblr #worldbuilding #long post #my wips

13 notes · View notes

coastalsteelstructures · 4 months

Text

Pre Engineered Aircraft Hangars | Metal Hangar Building | Steel Airplane Hangars - Coastal Steel Structures

Discover the superiority of Coastal Steel Structures' top-notch, pre-engineered metal farm and agricultural steel buildings, constructed with high-grade steel for quality and finesse. Contact us to learn more about our Aircraft Hangar and Airplane Hangar Building solutions, ensuring precision engineering and durability for unmatched performance and reliability.

#Pre Engineered Aircraft Hangars #Airplane Hangar #Aircraft Hangar #Metal Airplane Hangar #Airplane Hangars #Airplane Hangar Building #Steel Aircraft Hangars #Aviation Building Construction #Metal Hangar Building #Metal Aircraft Hangars #Hangar Kit #Hangar Building #How Much To Build A Hangar #Hangar Construction Cost

0 notes

awfulwordmonger · 1 year

Text

O3-123-4L Living on the USS Kitty Hawk

That was my address: three levels above the main deck, also known as the Hangar Deck, the O3 level put me directly below the Flight Deck, where all the noisy stuff happened. 123 “frames” aft of the bow of the ship - roughly amidships. 4L was a “living” space, a six-man bunk room for JOs on the port side of the ship, relative to the midline. Our space was also called the “Bowling Alley” due to its narrowness, roughly 8-10 feet wide and its length, around 20-30 feet. It was divided length-wise into three smaller rooms running fore an aft along the ship.

The “front room” opened in from a ladder well coming up from three stories below, and contained four “lockers” which, since we were Junior Officers, had a portion for clothing on hangers and two or three drawers on the bottom for or other stuff. The remainder of the space was filled by “desks” - aluminum planks attached to the wall on either side and a couple of ancient (non-rolling) metal government chairs. Fluorescent lights were placed above the desks and on the overhead (ceiling).

:readmore:

The second room held two more lockers and two stacks of three bunks. The bunks each had a thin mattress on top of a wire mesh suspended from springs along the frame. They were slightly wider than a body, but not as wide as a standard single bed. The ship was about twenty years old at this time. Having been home to many, many people by then, the springs were pretty tired and when weight was applied were more like a hammock than any other sort of bed. The first time I tried to sleep on board the ship, I woke up feeling like I had been in a cocoon all night. When your body sinks completely below the level of the bed frame, there’s no rolling over. Just getting out of bed was a formidable task! At least I was in the middle of the three-stack. That meant my feet were pretty close to the floor when I swung out from between the almost floor level bottom bunk and the head-height upper bunk. Each bunk also had its own small reading light, supplemented by large fluorescent lights on the ceiling. This was the sleeping room, though, and the overhead lights were almost never on. One never knew when someone might be catching up from a late night. For our first two month stint motoring in circles in the Indian Ocean, I was the night watch officer in the CVIC (the ship’s intelligence center) so I came to appreciate the consideration from my roommates!

The third room, past the bunk room, was a tiny space with two sinks, one on either side, with mirrors above them. The middle of the room was dominated by a vertical ventilation tube about two feet in diameter running, I was told, straight down to one of Kitty Hawk’s four engine rooms.

The noise? Imagine having an Auxiliary Power Unit from a 747 running just outside your bedroom, 24/7. That was the ventilator shaft, running Dow to (I believe) one of the ship’s boiler rooms. Add to that, our “air conditioner” in the bunk room - a unit that was supposed to provide cooler air, but probably hadn’t been maintained since the ship was built. It sounded a little like an idling chainsaw. Then, maybe less than three feet above the room, was the flight deck: inches (feet?) of armor plate covered in thick non-skid coating. Being a runway that handled up to a couple hundred departures and arrivals every day, there’s a lot of noise generated! Aircraft taxiing, launching at maximum power, landing (also at max power) with a tail hook dragging along until it snags a two-inch steel cable at more than a hundred miles per hour, a “bolter” (missed landing, when the aircraft has to go around for another try at the cables), disengaging the cable after landing… All of the above are amazingly noisy, believe it or not. At the time I described the noise as anything from a freight train running over your head with a flat wheel (the sound of a tail hook banging across multiple “pad eyes” which allow a plane to be chained to the deck in any location) to a truckload of bowling balls falling on the ceiling of your bedroom (the sound of a huge cable going slack and falling to the deck, plus a metal hook slamming down, sometimes repeatedly, as the now-stopped plane tries to get free of the cable) and the sound of the jets still at max power after stopping, until the pilot’s scrambled brain realizes it’s not still flying. Now… you’ve worked all night and finally crawled into your “rack” at about 10 AM. You fall asleep, only to be interrupted within the next one hour and forty-five minutes by the start of another flight of aircraft getting ready for the “cyclic ops” to repeat and repeat and repeat all day long - first the departures, a lull and then the arrivals of all those who departed earlier. Each event typically includes 10-20 aircraft. And I learned to sleep through the whole thing, about 6 feet below the center of the runway. I lived with that for a little over two months, during our first at-sea period in the Indian Ocean.

Another interesting feature of living in a space that was clearly an afterthought: we were outside the range of all of the ships PA system, aka the "1MC". Any important announcements, like say "General Quarters" (Battle stations), had to be relayed by telephone, which rarely worked, or by a person making the trip to our door as fast as humanly possible! Because we worked odd hours, and might be asleep when the drills (and they were almost always drills), it was always a very near thing for someone to haul ass from our squadron ready room, up 4 decks to the O3 level, across the ship and about 30-40 yards aft, wake everyone up and then get back to where they were supposed to be before all the watertight hatches, etc. were slammed shut at the end of four minutes! Once General Quarters was set, one could only open a watertight hatch with the permission of Damage Control Central. Not a pretty thing, once it was logged, the squadron CO was notified, etc. I was lucky - my Battle Station was in the ship's CVIC (Intelligence Center), also on the O3 level and about 20 yards from my bunkroom! My five roommates weren't so lucky, having to traverse the ship as fast as they could to the ready room.

The rules for getting around the ship during the four minutes when setting GQ was in progress:

Up and forward on the starboard side

Down and aft on the port side

If a watertight hatch or door is already closed, call DC Central to get permission to open it, and prepare to get your ass chewed.

Hope to God that you don't have to visit the head during GQ, as the nearest head might be on the wrong side of a watertight door!

AWM

#u.s. navy #aircraft carrier #aviation #naval aviation

2 notes · View notes