#✓Motor Training Schools For Heavy Vehicle

[mychoombatheroomba]

Show Them What You Can Do

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 27

Training begins at Fort Benning, and Leon realizes just how far he's come.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

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Chapter Index

CW: assholes in the army in the 1990's and some slander against tank operators

The ride to Fort Benning was a long and strange one. 

When Leon had been "recruited" into STRATCOM, he'd been promised that they would teach him how to handle every kind of situation. He supposed that he hadn’t really expected that to include tanker training. More than that, he hadn’t expected to leave the base he'd called home for so long. He knew it was for more than just tank training that you were all heading there, though. Krauser needed time. He needed to convince the men upstairs that this training should be tell-all. 

To tell everyone what sort of horrors they’d be thrown up against. 

Leon tried to imagine their reactions. They might have heard rumors of Raccoon City and the undead that had stalked its streets, but that was all too different from knowing that such a thing was possible. That it existed. 

Assuming that Krauser could get access to what he needed. 

That was what he thought of as he sat in the Humvee, wishing that you had been put in the same vehicle as you. Or, at the very least, that there was some music. Instead, he'd sat with Valeria, Anderson and Alejandro, while Alenko drove and prattled on about the tanks that awaited them all. 

The man’s eyes lit up even more when you all arrived, searching for the heavy machines he was so excited to see. 

Fort Benning was massive. Large enough to house hundreds of soldiers, as well as the tanks and open space large enough to drive them. Your squad's home base wasn't even half that size. It was meant to be small. Covert. Everything about this place was shock and awe by comparison. 

And the soldiers being trained there acted like it. 

Your base had an air of bravado and arrogance to it, sure, but the men here were on another level. The minute your squad unloaded, Leon felt eyes on him. Heard whispers and snickered jokes. He supposed that driving around several-ton machines that were designed only to kill, could inflate one's sense of confidence. But he soon learned that it was more than just the tanks these men drove that made them eye your squad like vultures. 

"You'd think they'd never seen a woman before," Williams grumbled as everyone filed into the barracks, passing too many leering cadets on the way. 

"They haven't," Alenko shook his head. "At least, not here. The Armor School's never admitted women before." 

Leon had frowned at that. "What?" He'd looked over to you for confirmation, and you barely nodded before Valeria grinned and butted in. 

"So, these boys get to see history in the making. Lucky them," she said, giving one particularly offended looking cadet a wink, and even if Leon didn't like or trust her, he couldn't help but smile at the sentiment. He saw that even you did, as much as you tried to hide a positive reaction to anything Valeria did. 

And even if it was more training, more exertion and more methods of dealing death to learn, there was some excitement to be found in the fact that this squad was making history. And Leon soon found some small excitement as the squad lined up in the motor pool on the first day, and you were all surrounded by massive metal beasts. Things Leon had never thought to be so close to, much less operate. That excitement spread through most of the squad, he could see it in their eyes. 

But in your eyes, he saw something else. Something he only glimpsed at lunch in the mess hall, or when you would all retire to the barracks. Your eyes would linger on the soldiers of Fort Benning - not the ones that would cause you and the rest of the squad trouble, but rather the little groups they’d formed amongst themselves. Leon saw you watching them laughing together at mealtimes, talking in groups before turning in for the night . . . 

It didn’t take a genius to imagine why. You’d spoken very little about those you’d been stationed with before, but the Army had been your life. Your purpose. And the people in it . . . well, Leon knew you well enough by now to know that you hadn’t always been so guarded. 

He wondered if you’d shared laughs like that with your brothers in arms, once. If you’d shoved someone when they told a bad joke. If you’d shown the side of yourself that Leon had been lucky enough to know more freely. 

There was little time to think about it, though. Not when you were all essentially learning two Army roles at once. When you weren’t all learning how to operate and maintain the tanks, you were sent into the woods alongside the cavalry scouts, rifles in hand. It was more work in less time than either role would traditionally have to deal with, but Leon expected no less of Krauser. Even if the Major wasn’t there, he was still pushing you all to the limit. 

And you and Leon pushed yourselves harder still. 

Your sparring sessions continued in your off hours and, somewhat begrudgingly so, Williams, Alenko and Valeria joined you most nights. The staff had seemed intrigued when you both asked for the practice knives necessary, and your sessions quickly drew crowds. The cadets wanted to see what was so special about these STRATCOM recruits, it seemed. And the five of you gave them a good show. Good enough that Leon heard the cadets whispering. At least, it started as whispering. Then it gradually grew loud enough for Leon to hear the words. 

“Don’t see what’s so special about them.”

“Shit, bet we could lay ‘em out.”

“I’d like to lay that pretty one out-”

“Which one? That boy with the fringe is prettier than all of them-” 

Leon’s eyes narrowed, ducking under a swing from Valeria as he heard the words. If his sparring partner noticed the conversation happening around them, she didn’t seem to mind it. 

Who did mind, though, was watching with crossed arms from the sidelines, giving Williams and Alenko notes in a way that reminded Leon of a bit of Krauser. He didn’t know how the Major would react to the comments, but you . . . he saw the annoyance on your face grow more and more.

Williams beat you to the punch, though. 

“You assholes don’t have anything better to be doing?” she asked, stopping her fight with Alenko and looking over at the sneering cadets. 

The leader of the little group just smiled. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he said, looking past Williams and to Valeria. “There are lots of other things I’d rather be doing.” 

The fight between Leon and Valeria ended quickly then, as the dark-eyed woman noticed the attention on her. “Don’t think you could handle me,” she said, and even if it was in her usual confident tone, the sharpness of her eyes betrayed that she didn’t appreciate the attention.

With a self-satisfied smile, the leader of the pack stepped forward. “Think I’d like to try, though.”

“Don’t be a dick-” Alenko began to protest, but Leon was a little faster.

“If you’re looking to get your ass handed to you, go ahead,” Leon said, because he of all people knew that Valeria could shut this man up with little effort. Any of the five of you could, he was sure. But this man didn’t seem convinced. 

“Bet she’d put up more of a fight than you,” the man said, stepping closer to Leon now. Two steps were all he managed to take before another voice joined in. One that made Leon smile, despite the irritation he was feeling.

“You wanna run your mouth all night, or you wanna fight?” you asked, looking over at the cadets that had been dealing out the trash talk. 

The men looked surprised, and then they looked far too smug. “Oh, yeah?” one asked, a young man with broad shoulders and short-cropped hair. A jaw that Leon thought was exceedingly punchable. “Didn’t think you spec ops types were allowed to mix with the rest of us,” he said, drawing a hard line between your group and his. 

You just held his eye contact, and Leon felt a surge of utter adoration for you as you spoke again. “We all have to get our hands dirty sometimes.” 

The cadet sneered, looking to his fellows before stepping forward. “Alright. Never thought I’d get to kick a spec ops soldier’s ass.” 

Your reply was cold and swift. “You won’t.” 

That sneer turned into a full-bodied frown, his eyes flashing with the fire of a wounded pride. “You think you’re special? An army of girls and pretty boys? What do they teach you over there, huh? How to paint your nails? How to style your hair?”

“How to humble assholes like you.” Leon couldn’t say where the comment came from, and he didn’t much care. He took some small pride in the way the cadet’s gaze snapped towards him, all angry fire. 

“You think you can take me, pretty boy?” It was amazing how, from you, the nickname sent chills down Leon’s spine. From anyone else, though - and from this cadet specifically . . . Leon just felt it stoke the need to show this arrogant bastard what you’d all spent so many hours learning. What so many bruises and black eyes had taught him. 

“I don’t just think it,” Leon answered, and he saw you smirk out of the corner of his eye. You and the rest of your little training group.

The square-jawed cadet tilted his head, popping the bones in his neck in an over-exaggerated way. “Alright then,” he said, stepping up to Leon. "Let's do this." 

This man, whoever he was, was massive. He was built well, no doubt from hours spent training. He looked like the kind of man who could knock someone unconscious with a single punch. 

So, Leon wouldn't give him the chance.

"Armed or unarmed?" Leon asked, his heart steady. Steadier than maybe it should have been. 

The answer came quickly. "Unarmed." 

And so, Leon handed his knife to Valeria, who gave him a devilish smile. "Fuck him up, blanquito ," she said and stepped back. Leon looked over at you, watching from a few feet away. You wore a smirk that matched Valeria's. A silent urging that he could see plainly in your eyes. 

Show them what you can do.

Who was he to disappoint you? 

So, he took up his stance a little ways away from the challenger, bringing his arms up. He had never liked the idea of violence to prove a point. He'd never been one to pick fights, and all the ones he'd chosen as of late were not out of malice or anger. But if the man was going to say shit like that, Leon could make an exception. Besides, he wanted to spar anyway. Krauser's words echoed in Leon's head, and they made him have to suppress a smirk. Might even learn something. So, as the cadet met him, taking up a ready stance as well, Leon exhaled a breath, and found that there was no fear to expel from his body. 

Only the need to teach this asshole a lesson. 

The cadet attacked first, as Leon expected he might. His fist came forward with a power that Leon knew would bruise, the force of it parting the air as the man across from him swung. But the blow never landed, and Leon met the man's strength with his own as he blocked the strike. 

And then, with a speed that he'd honed at the end of your knife, Leon moved.

There was no knife in the man's hand, but Leon knew that certain techniques would carry over anyway. Techniques like controlling the arm, his hands closing to keep it in place. Keeping the cadet he was fighting still long enough for the quick knee Leon brought up into his stomach to connect. He pulled the blow just enough not to hurt the man too badly, but the cadet still had his air forced from him as it landed. And then even more air as Leon leveraged his arm and forced the cadet face-first to the ground, pinning him down in the dirt. 

And from there, from his place of near-effortless victory, Leon knew exactly how you'd felt that first day he'd met you. He knew how utterly powerful you must have felt, taking someone down like it was nothing. He remembered so vividly what it was like to be the one down in the dirt. The one who'd been so thoroughly defeated. That day, part of him had thought he'd never know what it was to be the victor. 

But here he was. And as he looked up at you, as he saw the utter pride in your expression, he couldn't help but feel pride in himself, too. 

Pride enough for him to do as you did on that first day as he let the squirming cadet up, looking down at him with a smirk of his own. "Again?" 

The man was furious, Leon could see it in his face. Ears and cheeks red, eyes narrowed . . . but his pride wouldn't let him stop. He spat the word Leon was waiting for. "Again."

⧫⧫⧫

And again. 

And again. 

And again.

You watched Leon humiliate the cadet who'd challenged him over and over again that night, and with each victory, you felt something swell in your chest. Pride, yes, but something else too. Affection. Adoration. You thought back to that first day, when you'd faced down a frustrated and overwhelmed rookie, one you'd never imagined yourself caring for.

One you'd never imagined yourself falling for. 

You'd fallen for Leon's kindness. His empathy. His determination. But as you watched him fight that night in Fort Benning, you found yourself falling for another part of him entirely: his power. His skill. His steadiness. He'd come so far, and as the sun dipped beneath the sky and Leon went on, sweat beading at his brow and his beautiful blue eyes focused on his opponent, you couldn't have been prouder. More . . . 

You didn't let yourself focus on that deeper emotion bubbling in your chest. The one that bellied all others, which made the world a little brighter when you looked at Leon. When you spoke to him. When he kissed you. 

You didn't want to focus on that. Didn't want to name it. Instead, you watched as Leon brought the cadet he was fighting down with a powerful kick to the side, sending the man sprawling. 

And finally, it seemed, the man had enough. 

He stood slowly, trying his best to keep his balance after the thorough thrashing Leon had given him. His eyes told you that even if he'd been defeated, though, this fight wasn't over. "Fucking spec ops-" he spat, and the crowd that had gathered to watch the fight murmured a little. "None of that shit is gonna help you behind the controls of a tank." He was grasping at straws. Trying to keep some semblance of his tattered pride. 

Your squad, though, wasn't having any of it, and you found your heart stirring for a different reason when Alenko stepped up beside Leon, clasping a hand on his shoulder. "No. And bruises won't help you behind those controls, either. So, I'd suggest you go get some sleep."

"Or stay," Valeria piped in, crossing her arms and smirking. "If you want some more." 

You watched from the sidelines as your fellow recruits stood by Leon, backing him up. Supporting him as a squad should. It had been so long since you'd felt that. Camaraderie. Unity. And then, even if it should have frightened you, it made you crack a small smile.  

The cadet Leon had beaten looked between you all, then to Leon, and his rage simmered behind his eyes. Still, he waved a hand, turning and storming off. Some of his fellow Fort Benning cadets followed him, throwing harsh glances at Leon. Not all, though. Some approached, grinning or giving respectful nods. Some congratulated him on his string of victories, their respect earned. 

And then it was just the five of you, and you were all smiles. 

"Fucking beautiful, Kennedy," Williams said, stepping up to Leon and then punching him a little too hard in the shoulder. "Next time, though, leave some for me." 

Leon laughed, and the sound only made your smile grow more. "Deal,” he nodded, and Alenko piped in. 

“There might be a next time, you know. Guys like that don’t like being made a fool of.” 

“Good,” Valeria grinned. “Because I think I’d like to see you land a few hits on him,” she looked at Williams, and you missed the way it made the taller woman go pink because you looked down, overcome with a sense of longing that you’d never quite been able to bury. A memory of smiles and witty comments, and a radio playing stupid, happy songs. A sense of togetherness that had been ripped away from you. 

And you realized then, when it was just in reach, how much you’d missed it. 

“Sarge-” your title. Always your title with everyone but Leon. It was that way by your own design, you supposed. It was less personal that way. But the way Valeria said it now, like more of a nickname than a rank . . . it made you look up, and you almost didn’t begrudge her the too-knowing look she shot you. “Aren’t you going to congratulate your boy?” 

Your boy. 

You should have been pissed at her for saying something like that, for risking even an implication of that connection. Instead, though, that frustration melted when you saw how Leon looked, smiling and surrounded by his squad mates. 

It made your troubled eyes soften. 

You didn’t move closer, not yet, but you did nod. “Never enjoyed seeing someone get their ass whooped so much,” you said, your eyes finding Leon’s, saying more to him with that look than you ever could with words. 

The smile it brought from Leon was worth more than anything in the world. “Learned from the best,” he said, and you wished that you could just grab him and kiss him, then and there. 

Instead, you volunteered for fire watch that night. 

And when you were sure that everyone else was asleep, when the shadows of the new barracks were at their darkest, you made your way to Leon’s bunk. He was dreaming, you could hear him shifting uncomfortably in bed, and you knew that his eyes were likely shifting back and forth beneath their lids. It made you feel less guilty about waking him up, placing your hand on his shoulder. You heard his sharp intake of breath, and he sat up a ways, the outline of him turning to look at you in the dark. 

Neither of you spoke - not wanting to even risk a whisper. You just kept your hand on his shoulder, and you felt his clasp over the top of it. A silent gesture.

It was a risk, but you leaned down, pressing a kiss to his lips. 

Even if it only lasted a second or two, it was enough. You didn’t let yourself wonder how the hell you’d gotten here; how you’d fallen so hard. No, you just smiled at Leon through the dark and gently pushed him back down, silently telling him to go back to sleep. You felt him squeeze your hand and then obey, and you resumed your watch, glad of the dark for hiding the stupid smile that graced your face.

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Chapter Index

[leporcide]

cicadas in the background

"Fresh air, scenic views, and a beautiful lake offer a perfect retreat when you need to escape life's troubles. But your peace, however, is shattered when rowdy campers move into the cabin next to yours and an eerie presence in the lake takes a keen interest in you."

pairing: modern au kisame hosigaki x gn!reader for: the Cabin event! word count: 12ishk tw: nsft, body parts are named and described, but i have two versions of the smut section for afab and amab,! there's a divider to warn you! its the first full smut i've ever written so i apologize if it's lacking (or too much!) like reading on ao3?: here u go tags: blood, murder off-page technically, smut, breif? description of being drugged/lingering effects of a sleep medication reader took, bullying, animal death and gore (rip to a frog), uuuh being peeped on in the shower, if there's any i miss pls let me know i'm terrible at it notes: this is kind of a super modern au, with a heavy southern US lens, so take the setting with a grain of salt also thank u to mel for beta reading part of this for me :'>

The sun’s rays reach through the water, warm and easy as they ride the breeze-driven waves of the lake’s surface. Their strength wanes the further down they stretch, lost to the gloom further out in the water. Here in the shallows, though, the water weeds eagerly drink it up and grow lush along the muddy bottom. And in turn, schools of glittering silver minnows dart in and out of the greenery.

It’s so alive. And quiet.

None of the noise above the water reaches your ears. When you don’t move, you can hear the rushing of your blood. Your lungs ache—have been aching—for fresh air for a few minutes now. But you’ve finally settled at the bottom, a foot of blue-green water above your head, a large rock in your lap to keep you down, and the minnows that startle easily gather around you. You are so much bigger than them–they swim over and under your calves and duck close under your chin, looking for any place to hide from larger fish.

The bluegills, with their sunny bellies lurk further away. Wary of how you loom over the minnows. Their spiny fins look deadly compared to the small, rounded ones that propel the smaller fish. When they swoop close, trying to snatch a minnow, the sunlight catches on their scales, highlighting the vibrant red oranges of their bellies. They certainly look more predatory than the minnows. But you know the spines and bright colors are more defensive than offensive. Bluegills might be dangerous in the shallows, but in deeper water, they’re on the menu.

Finally, your lungs give—your ribs convulsing once in warning. The movement sends the minnows scattering. Pushing the heavy rock away, you’re suddenly at the surface.

Everything is overwhelming the moment you break the surface. Annual cicadas buzz—loud, high-pitched, and fast. The sunshine is blindly bright. Birds call back and forth. And a squad of vehicles crunches over the gravel path to the campground’s main office, the driver of the last one smacking their horn in a quick burst that startles you.

You push your goggles up onto your forehead, blinking hard against the fresh air. The sight of others surprises you. It shouldn’t.

The lake isn’t massive, certainly nowhere near the scale considered “impressive,” but it’s big enough that while you can see from one side to the other, you can’t swim across without some kind of endurance training. There are waterways leading to and from the lake, namely a deeper stream which feeds into a river boaters like to take. You spent your first night here tracing a map of all the connections until your finger found the ocean.

The lake prohibits fishing, and only the campground owner is allowed to use motorized boats on the water. You hauled yourself onto the dock. The sign at the end of it announces the swimming hours—between noon and 4 pm. Only four hours. The strange rules cut down a lot of people’s summer plans at the lake.

Your towel is sun-warm, dry, and fluffy. You aren’t quite ready to leave the lake yet, though swimming hours are almost over. Instead, you drape the towel over your shoulders and let your legs dangle in the cool water. Water bugs skate over the placid water’s surface, elegantly moving in patterns that you don’t understand but admire all the same.

The new arrivals are loud and excited behind you. Their car doors slam and you hear them joking together. Though they’re too far away for you to make out what they’re saying.

You turn your head, catching sight of the tail end of the group. A short redhead and a taller blond seem to bicker, their stances tense in the office doorway. They’re close, though, nearly nose-to-nose. Your weight shifts, leaning a little closer, trying to see their faces better.

Something closes around your ankle, still in the water. Warm, alive, and strong. It tugs and you’re jerked forward on the dock; the wood scraping against the exposed underside of your thighs. You shriek and jerk back.

For a split second, you’re hindered, and you’re certain that whatever has a hold of you isn’t going to let go. But then it releases and you tumble backward. Your skull cracks against the dock with a sharp stab of pain.

You scramble to your feet. When you look at your ankle, you don’t see anything. Not a mark or a scratch. Your heart pounds wild and scared in your chest. Laughter breaks out from behind you. The blond, his long hair covering half his face, has seen you freak out. Embarrassment warms your cheeks.

His laugh breaks your fear. You feel silly. A curious fish had probably just gotten too close to your ankle. You exhale, fingers twisting in the comfort of your towel. It’s time to get out, anyway.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The office is small, the tiled floor a dingy white with tread marks a person could spend days scrubbing and they’d still be there. Pictures of the campgrounds, guests, posters, and lists of information cover the walls.

Half the office is a store. A big display fridge hums in the back, hosting neatly organized rows of beverages and cold things. Someone neatly stacked bags of ice in the bottom. Canned goods and snacks with long shelf lives take up space on a single display rack. There’s a window unit propped up by a ten-gallon bucket next to the fridge and from the sound of it, catches the water dripping from the A/C as well.

But despite the constant noise, it’s quiet in here. The group earlier cleared out. The only person left is the campground’s owner. He stands behind the counter that also serves as his desk. You watch him from the corner of your eye while browsing the snacks offered on display. He writes on a piece of paper in slow, smooth movements while the other hand holds a paper fan.

How he’s hot in this little building is beyond you. Then again, you’re in nothing but your bathing suit and a towel, a coin purse in your hand.

You bought groceries before you came, of course. Easy to make camp fair you can make on one of the many grills outside or on the single hotplate in your cabin. Snacks included. There’s no need for you to be in here.

Except that you’re nosy. You haven’t seen anyone else in the campground since arriving. The strangers that stopped by didn’t exactly look like camper material either. It’s a benign sort of curiosity. Something new to poke at more than a real need to know.

You need a plan of action– way to ask the dark-haired man who his previous guests were. When you checked in, you got the impression he was not a talkative person. Shamefully, you can’t recall his name until you spot the nameplate on the counter by the register.

Itachi Uchiha. Certainly an interesting name.

Your stalling comes to an end when he glances up, his dark eyes meeting yours over the top of the display shelves. You duck your head with a silent curse. Grabbing the first thing you can reach, you head to the counter with it.

“Did you find everything okay?” He’s soft-spoken and reserved, his question a rehearsed line more than genuine care.

“Yeah, was just looking for a quick snack. Worked up an appetite swimming,” you lie, putting the treat down.

He sets his pen aside and his long, pale fingers clack against an old register’s keys. The total reads in dim green numbers on a tiny screen that faces toward you. You’re a little disappointed that he’s more focused on his job than continuing the conversation. But you accept it without complaint, handing the due amount over.

“You stayed out there longer than usual,” he says after a beat longer. The register closes with a scrape of metal against metal. There’s a change in his tone, something more amused. “The sign says swimming is closed at 4 pm.”

Your eyes cut away from the path of the creases in Itachi’s face, floundering to focus on anything except him. You almost miss seeing of the upturned corner of his mouth. The big window behind him, decorated with receipts, old order forms, and sticky notes, has a clear view of the lake. And the dock you spend most of the swimming hours on.

“Did I? Sorry, it’s easy to lose track of time out here!” As you apologize, your eyes find the analog clock on the wall above the entrance door. It’s almost five o’clock—an hour over.

“Try not to make a habit of it,” Itachi says, not unkindly. He leaves your purchase for you to collect and resumes writing.

However, you’re not quite ready to let the conversation end. “Is it a slow week? It’s pretty empty for a weekend, isn’t it?”

“No. We’re out of the way. Locals give us the most business in the fall.”

“Oh. Was that group earlier local, then?”

The sound of pen scratching paper pauses.

You look back and find him watching you, face impassive. It makes your mouth go dry, but you press on. “They seemed pretty lively, huh?”

“They are. You would be wise to stay out of their way while they’re here,” he answers after another beat. The way he says it makes you feel like the kid who isn’t in on the joke.

“Noted.” You take the packaged snack off the counter. The plastic crinkles under your grip. “Have a good day, Itachi.”

He doesn’t return the sentiment.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The cabins don’t have private showers. The campground shares a bathhouse instead. Fours stalls for toilets on one side of the building. Four enclosed stalls for somewhat private showering on the other side. Then a heated bath in the other half of the building. Being the only camper these past two days has felt like a luxury.

Well, luxury is a bit of a stretch.

Like the campground office-store, the bathhouse is an older building. You can only assume that only the most pressing repairs get done around here. Spiderwebs are in every nook and cranny of the place with new ones every day. There are small floodlights on either side of the door and in the dusky haze of evening, the spiders have a veritable feast gathering at their doorsteps.

For you, however, it’s like walking through a bait ball on land and the bait gets its revenge. You’ve made it mostly intact this trip, but when you open the bathhouse door, you duck as a heavy-shelled beetle goes sailing past your head.

The inside of the bathhouse is a little unsettling. The walls are the same thick white-painted cement blocks as the outside and the floor is bare concrete. Both of which make it echo. The showers don’t drain well and underneath the smell of harsh cleaning chemicals is the faint scent of stagnant water. There are four yellow fluorescent lights on the ceiling and one of them flickers at random intervals like some Morse code in its dying days.

But this being your third night visiting, you have outgrown your fear of it. You set your travel bag of non-essentials on the ledge above a sink before taking the shower at the end of the line. It has the best water pressure out of the four. But it lacks the coat hooks the other ones have. You balance your clean pajamas and towel over the stall door and your bathroom caddy sits on the ground.

Calling the bathhouse luxury is a stretch indeed.

You strip out of your bathing suit. A small amount of lake debris has gathered under the elastic band. The water is lukewarm when you first turn it on. You hold a hand under the spray, waiting for it to warm, shifting from one foot to the other on the plastic slip-resistant mat on the floor.

The lake will be colder than this with the cooling nighttime temperatures. It’s unfortunate the swimming hours are so short. The chorus of small frogs, crickets, and katydids is peaceful compared to their daytime counterparts. If the night is clear and the wind is still, the lake’s surface calms enough it reflects the night sky. It would be like swimming through the stars themselves.

However, you would hate to ruin the wildlife’s routines. You snort quietly to yourself once you step into the now steaming water. If you were a raccoon, the last thing you would want is to come to the lake’s banks to wash your breakfast and see some half-naked fleshy thing swimming at your table.

You snort at the mental image.

After a long day of sunscreen, lake water, and sweat showers feel rewarding. Like you’ve earned it. It certainly feels that way as you scrub the grime from your skin.

You want to soak in the bath tonight too. With the group Itachi warned you about coming in, you aren’t sure you want to be caught naked out there. You would stick to showering for the rest of your stay, but tonight you were going to take full advantage of the bathhouse.

Perhaps, though, you aren’t quite used to the hollow feeling of the building yet. Or maybe you’re still unnerved by the fish biting at your ankle.

It starts with a fleeting thought. Just a passing whisper from your mind that maybe you aren’t alone. Your chest tightens and the hand scrubbing soap against your skin jerks.

You huff at yourself, trying to be rational. The only other person on the grounds is Itachi, and you have yet to bump into him at the bathhouse. There isn’t anyone else here. But the baby hairs on the back of your neck raise. It feels like someone is trying to stare a hole into your back.

Your heart pounds in your chest. Like a child too afraid to look under the bed, you’re struck with the idea that when you turn, there will be someone standing right behind you—breathing down your neck. The feelings increase with the staccato of your heartbeats. Until finally you cannot stand it anymore and you twist, eyes wide to meet—nothing.

There’s absolutely nothing and no one behind you. You almost roll your eyes at yourself, exhaling with relief. Though, you peek over the top of the stall door, just to confirm that you’re alone in the bathhouse. Your mind is on edge. After the bath, you’ll go back to your cabin and go to bed at a decent hour rather than stay up reading to lamplight.

You’ve just stepped back into the warmth of the shower spray when the bathhouse door creaks open.

Everything inside you comes to a screeching halt. Your heart slams against your rib cage like a panicked, trapped bird. Terror floods your system like a bucket of ice-cold water. Thoughts fly through your brain, too frantic to focus long enough to hold on to one. You need to pull clothes on, need to find something to defend yourself. You need to—you don’t know what you need to do in this situation.

You stand there helpless, naked as the day you were born, with no idea what to do now that someone has come into the bathhouse with you. You’re so scared that you can’t move.

Instead, you listen. It feels like you’re going to burst an eardrum with how hard you strain to catch a noise. It’s hard to hear over the shower and after a few minutes of gathering courage, you snake a hand out to turn the water off.

You stand there listening for so long, staring at the wall of the shower, that your vision blurs and you get light-headed.

There isn’t a single sound except your frantic heart and the gurgle of water doing down the pipes. After far too long, you try to rationalize it. The door isn’t heavy, made to be easily accessible. In theory, a breeze could blow it open.

If it opened at all. It’s entirely possible you imagined it.

Your sleep schedule still isn’t great. The stress from the city, from being let go—maybe it’s affecting you more than you originally thought. Staying up late reading horror novels isn’t helping either.

You take a shaky inhale, trying to force your nerves to calm. Everything is fine, you’re fine. You turn, reaching your hand out for your towel. You meet the gaze of someone very tall. His eyes are small, beady, and bloodshot, and staring at you.

The sight of a face peeping over the shower stall’s door, gray-blue and cast in the shadow of a flickering fluorescent light, sucks all the air from your lungs. There are markings on the person’s cheeks, sharp and angular, but you can’t quite make them out. Dark blue hair drips with water, wild despite being soaked.

It seems like everything stops, coming to a deathly stand-still before you scream. It rips so violently from your throat, tearing at the soft flesh of your esophagus, that it throws you back. Your eyes shut tightly when your back hits the steam-wet cement brick wall, hands flying to cover yourself.

There’s noise, the sound of things falling on the floor, the startled shuffling backward—then barely covered laughter just as the bathhouse door creaks open and close again.

It’s the laugh that catches you off-guard. You hear it over the scream dying in your mouth. And when your teeth clack together, you begin to put things together. You feel stupid in an instant. The bastards confirm it when you hear their laughter further away, muffled by the bathhouse walls.

The group Itachi warned you about.

They must have come back while you were in the shower. How they figured out you were in here is beyond you, but isn’t hard to guess with how small the campground is.

Where they had gotten it or why they had put a stupid—if realistic—Halloween mask on to scare you is also beyond rational thought. But after seeing your little freak out on the dock, you wouldn’t put it past them to dress up like some swamp creature to scare you.

From the two you had seen, they were at least your age or older. Adults acting like jerk teenagers had you cross. Angrily, you dry yourself and throw on your pajamas.

You don’t bother going through with the bath or the rest of your nightly routine. Instead, you stalk from the bathhouse, across the gravel road and to the big cabin a couple of cars are now parked outside of. The blond man stands at the door, his arms braced on the lip of the door to hold himself upright while he teased someone inside. Water drips from his long yellow hair.

You clear your throat loud and ugly. It catches the blond’s attention quickly. He glances at you over his shoulder, his brows furrowed in apparent confusion. A second later, recognition flashes across his face and he turns to you, his lips parting in a smile—a greeting on the tip of his tongue. But you’re not having it.

“Listen, pal, I do not care what you and your little friends do but do not fuck with me,” you steel your nerves as you bite out your words.

He hunches his shoulders at the threat, his expression dropping into something hostile. “Excuse me?”

“Your pranks aren’t funny. I’ll stay out of your way if you stay out of mine, okay?” You don’t give him the benefit of the doubt.

“What are you even talking about? Back the hell up,” he snaps back. There’s a nasal grunt at the end of his sentences.

It irks you that he’s playing dumb.

You catch sight of red hair coming up behind him. You’ve told him off, but you don’t think you can handle reinforcements. So you give him one more warning look, tug your bathroom caddy close, and stomp the few feet to your own cabin.

Neighbors. Great.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The windows of your little cabin rattling from something loud and heavy scares you awake. You scramble in your sheets, heart pounding before you free yourself of fabric and realize it’s music. It comes through the panes of glass muffled, but you can hear it now that you’re conscious. It’s full of drums and rage against society.

It sounds good—would have sounded good if it weren’t seven in the morning.

You groan into your hands, far too tired to be awake. Considering how late your neighbors got in last night, it’s surprising they’re up so early. But they’re obviously making it your problem as well.

The music continues to blast at top volume for the hour it takes to get your day started. There’s a pause after breakfast where the mirror stops shaking. It gives you a clear view of your bloodshot eyes and puffy eye bags. The respite of silence is short-lived. You bite down on your toothbrush when pop music takes the place of heavy metal.

It goes through several more changes, ranging from country music to techno before it quiets downs again. You’ve put on a cute, comfy outfit for the day, draped a towel over your shoulder, and picked out an easy-to-read book to lounge on the dock with.

You brace yourself, hand on the door handle, for just a moment before stepping into the summer day. It’s hot but lacks the humidity from previous days. The sun shines brightly overhead, with only a few puffy clouds drifting through the blue, blue sky. Cicadas call from the trees. This is your vacation. Your new camping neighbors cannot take this from you.

In the next second, pushing the door open just a little more to step out fully, you’re doused in freezing cold water. It’s such a stark difference in temperatures that it burns. You scream, unable to hold it back. Your muscles lock up from the shock, and you can’t dodge the bucket when it comes down too. It thunks against your skull, still a quarter of the way full. It hurts like a bitch and nearly knocks you off your feet.

You grit your teeth, pushing through the tightness of your shocked muscles and the ringing in your ears. Your neighbors laugh, loud and mean. You’re grateful, in a terrible way, that no one can see the tears among the rest of the water dripping down your face.

“That’s who you’re wasting your time on?” an unfamiliar voice asks, clearly unimpressed.

You glance up, seeing a man with stitching tattoos peeking out from under the sleeveless shirt he wears. Saying he looks intimidating is an understatement. He sits on an ice chest, a speaker crooning something low next to him. The two he’s speaking to—the blond from before and a taller, silver-haired man—clearly don’t hear him.

Your teeth chatter, your mouth twisting into something you hope is unpleasant.

The youthful-looking man with the dull, apathetic eyes is there too, pulling something from the trunk of his car. “Children will act accordingly.”

You blink, droplets of water falling from your lashes, before looking away from them. Despite the warm air, you shiver with cold. The water has soaked your towel too. But your book is dry.

Your book is dry. The vitriolic heat burning your tongue cools when you register that fact.

From the corner of your eye, you catch sight of a silhouette at the edge of the office building. Itachi stands outside, leaning against the white-painted brick. You can’t see his face clearly from where you stand, but you feel his disappointed gaze.

It reeks of “I told you so.” Your gaze drops. The last thing you want is to be kicked out of the campgrounds and have your getaway cut short by your own behavior. When you look back up, he’s gone.

You shoot a glare at the four men gathered in front of the cabin next to yours. The blond shifts his weight to a leg, jutting a hip out. He grins, smug. He’d be handsome if the back of your head didn’t ache and your skin wasn’t just now thawing out.

“Deidara, leave it,” the redhead says sharply. Like calling back a dog.

He snorts and you bite back something mean. Your book is dry and in an hour on the dock, so will you. However, you take their plastic blue bucket. If they want it back, they’ll have to really fight for it.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The sunshine is warm on your back, the gentle lapping of water against the shore soothing you into a comforting feeling. You think about getting in once swimming hours open, but hesitate, thinking about whatever touched your foot yesterday. But it’s your lovely neighbors dragging kayaks out onto the water that makes up your mind for you.

You’ve made it halfway through your book before Deidara seeks you out again.

“You look like you recovered from your shower this morning!” There’s a surprising friendliness in his voice when he calls your name.

Your fingers tighten around the edge of your book, the paper giving slightly. He’s under dressed to be kayaking in deep water—not a life jacket in sight. His shoulders are already turning red. You wonder where he learned your name from. Had Itachi told him?

“I have. Thanks for the concern.” You are far less inviting.

It doesn’t deter him. He dips his paddle in the water, bringing the bright orange kayak closer. The nose of it bumps into a wooden pole and you feel the vibration through the dock.

“Oh, that’s where that thing went,” he says once he’s closer. “Smart.”

Your eyes follow his gaze, landing on the blue bucket. You’ve filled it with ice from the office, drinks buried in it to keep them cold. Irritation pops between your teeth when you say, “It works great. Keeps things real cold.”

“You don’t say…” It’s unfair how pretty he is, with his mouth cocked to the side in that smug way of his. “What are you reading?”

“A book.”

“You’re a straightforward one, aren’t you?”

His grin only grows wider. You think of the knot on the back of your head. Your eyes drop and you turn the page of your book, not reading the words.

“We got off on the wrong foot but look, I’m willing to forgive and forget, alright?” he offers, like you’ve asked for it.

You have to bite back an ugly remark. He shifts in his seat. The squeak of his water shoes against the kayak is loud in the silence. Even the cicadas have gone quiet, as if silencing themselves to spectate this uncomfortable encounter. You turn another page.

Deidara isn’t good at silence. He shows you so in the next moment when his paddle comes up and knocks your book from your hands. It was spared from the prank this morning, but it is the sole victim this afternoon. It lands with a splash on the other side of the blond.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you snarl at him.

“Hey, I didn’t mean for it to go in the wat—”

You don’t touch him—a fact you repeat adamantly later. When Deidara’s kayak suddenly flips, his single cornflower blue eye widening in alarm, you aren’t even close to him.

Your hand reels back in a fist, ready to slug him, but you don’t touch him. Something grabs the lip of the opening of the kayak—you see pale blue, the arc of water droplets catching sunlight like gems—and flips the little boat.

It’s chaos from there. It happens so fast you can do nothing but watch. You don’t feel afraid while he thrashes under the surface, kicking up water and mud.

When Deidara breaks the surface, he’s screaming. Red slashes mar his chest. They’re horrible. The edges of the skin are ragged. Parts of it flap with his panic, barely remaining connected to him. He scrambles to climb atop the flipped kayak, yelling at you.

You think of the knot on the back of your head. It hurts.

It’s Deidara’s friends that save him, eventually. The silver-haired man, Hidan you learn, paddles up, teasing him for being scared of little lake fish. Until he sees the blood. It’s not worry that he uses when he hauls the blond out of the water, though. He seems annoyed at the blood being spilled everywhere, and that Deidara won’t stop screaming that it was a person down there.

The man turns on you until Deidara says it wasn’t you. It doesn’t look like Hidan believes him, but he also can’t believe someone like you could do that kind of damage.

You suggest a hospital, but they both shut the idea down quickly. The other two arrive and they go into the office building, Itachi holding the door open for them. He watches you with his dark eyes.

You feel like he blames you. A part of you blames yourself as well. You should have reached out to help him at least.

You pick up the plastic handle of the bucket and go back home to the cabin.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The evening is quieter. There’s a bullfrog croaking outside your window, cracked just enough to let an unusually cool breeze in.

You’re watching one of the movies you downloaded on your laptop. It’s an old, black-and-white film. It’s entertaining despite its age, but you think you’re made of stronger stuff than to be scared by it. Especially during this scene, where the lead actress is just swimming. Beautiful, of course, with perfectly practiced flips in the water.

People’s fascination with the underwater world hasn’t changed. You included.

The music changes, sharp and threatening as it pans away from the woman and to the monster lurking in the thick netting of green water weeds.

Knock, knock, knock.

Three gentle but obvious taps against your door startle you. Made of stronger stuff indeed. Your first thought is your neighbors, your mouth set into a thin line. But you haven’t heard a peep from them all evening. You give your unexpected visitor the silence treatment, hoping they’d get the hint and leave.

Knock, knock, knock.

Or not.

You’re aware of yourself. Guilt makes you defensive. You should have reached for Deidara, tried to help him somehow. Acknowledging you’re being cagey doesn’t help, though.

Finally, you sigh and call out, “What do you want?”

Silence is the response. It extends for so long that it makes you uneasy. You pause your movie and sit up on the bed. The bullfrog croaks, deep and bassy outside the window. A voice answers just as you're about to stand and move toward the door.

“I have your book.” The voice is raspy, rough—out of practice.

Your heart pounds in your chest, quick like a frightened bird. You like to think you’re good at picking up on voices, and this one is entirely unfamiliar. Your tongue swipes over your lips. “Thank you…?”

You aren’t sure what you’re supposed to say. It feels wrong, somehow. After everything today, you hadn’t had the chance to worry about the book you had lost. The book Deidara had knocked into the lake.

There isn’t an answer to the drawn-out pause left for them to give their name. In fact, there isn’t any noise on the other side of the door. It makes your mouth go dry and your stomach queasy. You’re filled with so much anxiety it’s hard to breathe. It presses in on you, suffocating. Until you get to your feet and go to the door.

This is stupid. You know it’s stupid. You’d be snarking at the character on-screen that opening the door is an incredibly stupid idea. But not knowing feels so much worse.

You open the cabin door, just a crack to peek. There’s no one there.

Chagrin floods your cheeks. You aren’t familiar with your neighbors. That’s all. One of Deidara’s friends must have returned the book in apology.

The book in question is set in front of the door. Its pages are sun-dried and stiff with water damage. The cheap ink has bled, smearing a lot of the words. But it’s kind of sweet that they returned the book after everything. You flip to the page you had been reading when it was knocked from your hands, then nearly drop it.

The pages here are soaked red, glued together by something thicker than water.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟. The week will end soon.

You try not to let it loom over you, but it’s there—in the quiet gaps between cicada songs and in the stagnant heat of the day. But it is most obvious in the “No Swimming” sign Itachi posted after Deidara’s accident. You can only watch the minnows darting underwater like quicksilver now. It’s an unsatisfactory goodbye.

You stop, sweat dripping from every roll and crinkle in your skin, to uncap your water bottle before downing half of it. The handle of the blue plastic bucket sits in the bend of your elbow, half-full of lakeside debris: fallen leaves, twigs, some acorns, little round pebbles. Things for you to shift through later and make little handmade things for souvenirs. Most campsites are strongly against the practice, but Itachi is indifferent.

You hadn’t planned to take this hike around the lake, but you’ve already made it to the other side. A sigh leaves your lips when you toss the water bottle back into the bucket. You’re being avoidant as well. Your “neighbors” are still around. They’ve pestered you about everything from borrowing your grill lighter to trying to bully you into drinking with them.

Deidara, with white bandages peeking out from under his shirt, has been the most persistent. It’s flattering, in a vain way, to have the blond’s attention. But you aren’t stupid enough to get involved with whatever that group has going on.

If you let him hit? You would never live it down.

You shudder at the phantom catcalling and jeering as you come up to a bend in the trail. There’s running water here, one of the streams that cut away from the main lake. Further down, you can see a bridge that goes over it.

You hear the sound of splashing above the babbling of the stream. It’s not obvious and if you hadn’t stopped you don’t think you would have heard it. You listen to the noise for a while before curiosity gets the better of you.

You’re so nosy.

Stepping off the path, into unmaintained woodland doesn’t feel as foreboding as it should, considering all the stories that come from doing something like this. The sun is too bright, too warm, and the shade too thin to be anything but pleasant to step into. But your gut still tightens. Something brushes against the back of your mind, warning you it could be an animal you don’t want to startle.

But you’re already so close to the source of the splashing. The undergrowth here is denser, the trees coming together in thick green webs of leaves. You peek through them, eyes wide as movement catches your attention immediately. The person on the side, down in the stream rips the breath from your lungs.

The overhead foliage blankets the stream in shadow, dark and damp—a contrast to the warm sunlight caressing your back. While you watch him, a peculiar mix of emotions stirs within. Despite the well-defined muscles, he looks almost sickly, as if he might be unwell. His cheeks are hollow, his face is made up of harsh angles, and his skin is a soft, pale blue-gray that seems more pronounced in the shade.

You watch the water roll up his arms and over his shoulders in wild arcs. Standing with his legs apart and bent at the waist, he appears entirely absorbed in his task, his hands chasing something unseen in the murky water.

Each movement causes the muscles under his skin to ripple. His tall frame moves with a sense of purpose, exuding both grace and strength. There’s something captivating about his presence, an allure that draws you in despite the uncertainty.

A bolt of fear strikes like lightning as you catch sight of his face. You’ve seen him before. You’re the one peeping now, it seems. You should leave—the thought nags at you, screaming in the back of your skull. Whoever, whatever he is, you know he’s dangerous. The shark-like appearance cannot be a coincidence. But a part of you refuses to move. Rooted to the ground, you watch the flex of his biceps, lick your lips at the downward turn of his mouth while he concentrates hard on his task.

You’re fascinated by something so different.

His hands snap out again, closing around something finally by the grin that flashes across his face. Porcelain white teeth, pointed and sharp, catching a sliver of sunshine.

The tiny body of a muddy green frog almost escapes his palms, flinging itself desperately from the giant that holds it. He moves with it, refusing to let it go. You watch, mouth parted, though you aren’t breathing anymore. The man, his eyes gleaming, presses his hands together.

Squeezing and squeezing until—there’s an awful popping sound and pink-stained water drips between the man’s fingers. It’s terrible what he’s done with that handsome grin on his face.

Then he tosses the dead thing toward the bank below you. Two little raccoons, too small to be on their own chitter in excitement. They run forward to where the frog’s guts spill into the mud, squabbling over it before their fighting tears the body in half. They feast like they’re starving.

It’s gross and makes your stomach queasy. But it offers understanding. He’s feeding them. In an archaic, far too gruesome way, but feeding the animals nonetheless.

Your eyes leave the small raccoons, returning to the strange man. He’s looking at you now, too. His grin is gone, faded into a thin frown. You’ve been caught, the blood draining from your face.

Neither of you make the first move.

The baby raccoons, licking their lips after their frog, chatter at him from the water’s edge. They slap the surface, splashing each other by accident when he ignores them. They’re impatient and demanding. The shark-man glances between them and you. Contemplating, he shifts his weight, disturbing the flow of water around his calves. It’s a tiny movement, barely anything at all, but it causes you to flinch back. And the frown on his face deepens.

“What are you lurking like a pervert for?” he calls out, a lilt of sarcasm in his voice.

His strikingly recognizable voice. You’re relieved, somewhat, to know he can speak. Then feel stupid for the assumption he couldn’t. “You’re one to talk.”

“Me? No no, I would never go around peeping at people like that,” he responds quickly. As if he’s eager to be talking with you. “Especially not you. Not with how much you go around shrieking.”

Your stomach twists itself into knots. It strangles the butterflies. This feels surreal to you. You shouldn’t, but you find yourself pushing back the branches of the trees to ease yourself down the slope of the bank, the temperature dropping when the sun can no longer touch you. The little raccoons scamper away with unwelcoming hisses when they spot you.

“Thank you, for bringing my book back,” you say before trepidation can stop you. You can feel it in your gut that getting closer is a bad idea.

The man doesn’t move from his spot in the stream. His expression shifts from his half-smug teasing to more of a question. It’s reflected when he speaks again, “What book?”

“The one that fell into the lake. I recognize your voice.”

“Just from hearing it one time, huh? You sure?”

“I can remember voices pretty okay and yours is very—well everything about you kind of stands out.”

He pauses for a heartbeat, various emotions flickering across his face before he chuckles, “I’ll take that as a compliment from you.”

Oh.

Your stomach swoops in a distinctly different way from fear this time. It shocks you. Somehow you’ve inched closer and mud wells up around the soles of your sandals. Your throat bobs when you swallow your nerves down.

“What’s your name?” you ask him the words a little strained with how tight your throat is.

His sharp, beady eyes observe you intently. Again you find that as unnerving as his gaze is, you don’t dislike it.

“If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,” he says, his tone light. The way he smiles at you is not comforting.

“Is that code for you don’t have one?” It’s half-playful and wholly unsure. Is it rude to ask another being if they have a name? You offer your own name in the next breath.

He takes it, chewing on it a few times like he’s deciding if he likes it or not.

Suddenly, you’re the frog. Your heartbeat is frantic in your chest once more, desperate for something you’re not sure about. And blindly you think you’re leaping toward the threat when he says your name a final time, his tongue swiping across his blue lips.

“Kisame,” he tells you.

“Kisame,” you murmur, holding the word too gently. “A little on the nose isn’t it?”

“You shouldn’t be so relaxed,” he warns you. “I really could kill you.”

He’s serious. You can feel it in how he looks at you. In the cool shade of the trees crowding too close with the cicada still silent, you know he can. Still, your mouth opens your mouth to protest. Maybe you’re still the desperate frog, jumping the wrong way.

But you hesitate. And he latches onto that hesitation.

You see his plan in the wicked curve of his grin returning before he does it. But you still squeal when he lungs forward, his big arms scooping up water and splashing you in a great wave. The bucket slips from the crook of your arm, cracking against the mud.

His hand, rough but warm, brushes against the exposed small of your back when you turn, fleeing up the side of the bank like a drowned rat. His booming laughter follows on your heels when you return to your cabin.

Your heart is pounding and you stupidly want to see him again.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The first mistake you make is with Deidara.

You’re outside cutting up pieces of your favorite fruit. Fresh and in season, it’s quite a treat. The juice slips down your knife and onto your fingers. You don’t the like the stickiness as much but tolerate it for your snack. The cicadas are at full volume again and sitting beside you is your journal, with glue drying leaves to one of the pages.

It’s a nice day, with a light breeze that occasionally sweeps past you. It makes you drowsy.

You watch the lake. After meeting him, you’re certain it was Kisame that grabbed your foot and injured Deidara. Every disturbance on the water makes you hopeful. Disappointment fills your chest when nothing comes from it. Your ride these up-and-down mood swings for most of the day.

You have to wonder if Itachi knows about Kisame. Is that why he put up the sign? You’re itching to ask, but if he doesn’t you’d sound out of your mind. Or be exposing Kisame’s existence. Which feels worse than being called crazy.

You don’t want to admit there’s selfishness at play too. A part of you resists the idea of sharing the secret you now know. You want to keep Kisame for yourself.

You pop another slice of fruit into your mouth, swiping away the juice that dribbles down your chin with the back of a hand. There’s another disturbance on the water, right next to the dock that’s more agitated—

A figure steps in front of you with a grunt of your name, blocking the view. You sit up in your chair, snorting as you meet Deidara’s gaze. He holds it for a second before darting away. His painted nails tug at his shirt, pulling it up to cover the stark white bandages.

He opens his mouth once, twice, before he finally says, “Hey.”

You chew the flesh of another slice of fruit, holding your gaze on him. When you swallow you drop your eyes to watch the blade of the knife cut another one. “What do you need Deidara?”

“I don’t need anything,” he snaps back too quickly. “Can’t a guy just say hi to his neighbor?”

“Then, hi.”

“You don’t have to say it like that.”

You stop what you’re doing, lips pressing into a flat line. Deidara’s gaze doesn’t waver when you meet it this time. A muscle in his jaw twitches. The mutual annoyance feels heavier than the humidity in the air.

You’re being unfair to him and you know it. The first night they were here you had torn out of the bathhouse, picking a fight with them. But it had been Kisame who had been peeping on you, you’re sure of it despite his denial.

But everything else he had done himself. He didn’t deserve the apology on the tip of your tongue.

“You like art?” he tries again, smoothing the irritation from his expression. You glance at the journal he gestures to.

“Yeah.” You can’t make yourself happy with the conversation change.

“I do art,” Deidara continues as if you’ve asked. “Not any of this kid stuff, of course. I have an appreciation for finer art. The kind of beauty you can only see for a fleeting moment before it’s gone, the aftermath of it vibrating through you.”

He’s animated, his hands moving as he speaks. Whatever he’s talking about, it’s obvious it’s his passion. But you’re stuck on the fact he called your glued-on leaves and scribbles “kid stuff.” Deidara always has a haughty air to him, but it’s most apparent in this aspect.

You have to hide the scowl in the corner of your mouth. But it’s pointless when you say, “So like fireworks?”

Deidara catches you immediately. He scents the mockery in words like blood in the water. His eye flashes, dangerous and scorned.

“I’ll have to show you what I mean sometime,” he offers, challenging.

“Maybe,” you reply. He frowns at the rejection.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The second mistake you make is not locking the door to your cabin.

Well, it’s more so that you’re listening to that damn fluttery feeling in your stomach. You nearly vomit twice from the nerves before you settle onto the bed—it’s neatly made up and smells of air freshener to hide a week worth’s of you.

Your laptop is open, the fans whirring while another black-and-white movie plays on-screen. It’s the sequel to the previous one you watched.

You can’t focus on it, though. Picking at your nails, chewing on the inside of your lip, and glancing like a fugitive at the door takes up more of your attention. For once, you hate the isolation of the campground. You’d be less nervous if your phone had a connection to the outside so you could doom scroll the hours away.

Music from your neighbors rumbles through the walls. It’s nowhere near the volume of their first full day here, but tonight it’s full of spite and bass again. Occasionally you hear one of them belting out the lyrics.

You bite down a tad too hard on the tender flesh inside your mouth. The taste of copper spreads across the tip of your tongue.

A scream rips through the quiet hum of the window unit and the night chirping outside. It’s so sudden it startles you, your heart jumping into your throat before you realize it’s the movie. You reach over and turn the sound down, scoffing at yourself. “Jesus, the volume is all over the place.”

“That’s what you get for pirating bad movies.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to scream, a hand clapping down over your mouth. Panic and terror rips through your system, eyes rolling wild while you try to pry his hand off. The bed dips behind you and then you’re pulled up, back pressed up against a damp chest.

Kisame’s laughter rolls over your ears, rumbles against your back. And your heart beats hard for a reason different from fear. When you stop struggling he eases his hand away and then drops something on the bed in front of you. Shiny blue plastic reflects a warped version of yourself, Kisame wrapped around you. A crack splits the image in half.

It’s filled to the brim with leaf litter.

How he came in through the door without you noticing is a mystery. It’s closed when you glance toward it.

“I’m starting to think you’re leaving excuses to see me again.” Kisame’s thumbs press into the skin of your arms. He hasn’t let fully let you go yet.

Your breathing steadies. “What?”

Lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “You keep leaving trash in my lake.”

“That’s not fair,” you start to say, then think better of it. Looking away from his plastic reflection, turning your head to look at him. He’s startling close. “The bucket technically isn’t even mine and you turned the water into a bloodbath so I couldn’t get my book back.”

“Oh, I suppose that too,” he says with an edged humor.

Your brows furrow. Then you realize what he means. Laughter, surprised and jittery tumbles out of your mouth. “Not a fan of him either, huh?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Someone has to like him, with all the confidence he’s got.”

“But not you.” There are teeth in his statement.

“Definitely not me.”

Kisame grunts in response. He’s warm against you, sturdy. And you find that you’ve relaxed into him. He notices it too, his muscles tensing. For a second you think he’s pushing you away—except he’s moving the little blue bucket he’s returned. It finds a new place on the windowsill by the bed.

You find yourself rearranged as well, scooted to the side so Kisame can sit on the bed next to you. It’s a tight fit. He takes up so much space—even more when he leans into you.

“What are you watching?” he asks, drawing your attention to movie still playing.

Warm embarrassment floods your system. You flounder for words, only to mumble, “A bad sequel.” He snorts and you offer, “You wanna finish it with me? Or… do you need go back into the lake?”

Kisame watches you for breath, considering. “You’re awfully comfortable next to someone who could kill you.”

That gives you pause. The words you want to say are sticky in your throat. They’ll choke you if you try to speak them to life.

You like that he’s dangerous. You like his sharp teeth. You like the way his fingers have inched under your shirt to trace the line of your spine—

“That doesn’t answer the question. Do you dry out on land?” you refocus the conversation.

“I’ll be fine for a couple of hours,” he chuckles, low and raspy.

“Good then buckle up for a feature film from the 1950s.” You give him another pause to change his mind. But when he leans back, his hands behind his head, you settle in next to him.

His brows raise when the antagonist appears on-screen. The costume—a feat of practical effects for it’s time but now barely believable—is awkward on land and even more so when it swoops the female lead for the movie up. Another loud shriek crackles out of the speakers.

You’re deathly quiet while it plays out–a back-and-forth between the hero and the monster before it escapes out to sea. The main couple embrace after the ordeal, but there’s still a third of the movie to go so it’s not over.

Kisame sits with you while it plays out. His mouth closed, eyes intent on the screen. He knows quite a bit for not being human. You wonder if he was one once, or if he learned everything somewhere.

“Does Itachi know about you?” You break the comfortable silence when the credits begin to roll. Somehow the two of you have become entangled, hands touching places bordering overly-friendly.

“You ask a lot of questions.” Kisame is quick to answer, a hand sliding a little lower on your hip. His nails scrape at the sensitive flesh, not friendly at all. “You worried he’d see you with a swamp monster?”

“Not at all,” you say just as easily.

He hesitates at the elastic band of your pj bottoms. Teases the flesh of your hip. “He does. We have…an arrangement of sorts.”

The question must be plain on your face because Kisame laughs. It makes your heart squeeze and a heat flare between your thighs.

“I’m not fucking him,” he says just as plainly, his grin half-feral at the expression you must be making. “Don’t let him fool you. Itachi’s more dangerous than I am. But he hates getting his hands dirty. Sharks gotta eat. He keeps the lake mostly free of shitheads.”

You swallow thickly. His tone is light, joking, but his gaze is sharp. Testing.

“Is he how you know so much about everything?” you ask, voice quiet. Trying to keep the mental images from rushing to the forefront of your mind.

You know you’ve made a mistake when his expression clouds, dark and stormy. “No.” He pulls away so quickly it leaves you cold and falling onto the blanket. “Movie’s over. Try to pick a better one next time.”

Kisame slips out of the cabin as quietly as he came in. He takes the heat of the summer night with him.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The third mistake you make is drowning in desperation.

The sun burns hot outside, the humidity is the worst it’s been all week. Cicadas scream, loud and wretched in their search for a mate.

You slept like shit after Kisame left. Your morning is filled with a back-and-forth of what you wanted to do and what you should do. It’s a game of tug-of-war within your mind and it shows in the shadows under your eyes.

There’s an ugly sense of longing in your chest you can’t let go of. Even when the handsome lines of Kisame’s face clashes with the vivid imagination of him knelt over a body, tearing into the gore of it with his sharp teeth. There has to be something wrong with you. Losing your job couldn’t have driven you to this in a week, could it?

You need to see him again. Before you go home.

Your despair must ooze from your pores, acting like blood in the water to those in the campground. Like with the lake, there’s a new sign at the start of the trail that goes around the lake. The one where that leads to the stream you first found Kisame in the stream. You can see it the moment you step outside, the sweltering heat swarming close to your body.

Your “neighbors” are out too. Hidan and that tattooed man haul packs of beer from the back of their truck. More than four men should have. You would have ignored them like you intend to ignore the sign, but Hidan makes an effort to catch your attention with a wave. He grins too widely to be well-meaning.

Your mouth forms a thin line. It just feels off—wrong.

Before you reach the trail, Itachi steps out of the office. His expression is unmoving as he approaches you. Your intentions are obvious. Your feet are still pointed toward the trail. He is not surprised.

“You’re causing trouble,” he says, stopping a foot away from you.

You bite the inside of your lip before you answer, “I haven’t done anything.”

His dark eyes watch you with a sense of apathy. You feel it in how he talks to you. He isn’t telling you this out of annoyance or anger. Not even out of worry. It’s as if he doesn’t care one way or the other but he knows he’ll have to deal with the aftermath no matter what.

Through sheer respect, you don’t try to step around him. You’ve wasted the morning though, you can’t just stand here.

“It’s a bad idea,” he warns again. His voice is softer. It almost makes you want to listen to him.

But your heart doesn’t want to. It bares its teeth with a petulance. “I’m grown. I don’t need to be told what to do.”

“Then let me suggest you go home before you get yourself hurt,” he intones.

Cicadas scream from the tree line behind him even louder. Furious with how long they’ve been alone, their cries unanswered. It constricts around your bones. “Are you kicking me out then?” He stares at you, silent. “I paid for the week. I’m staying until that time is up.”

“Your time is up tomorrow morning.”

Sharply you inhale. It’s a truth you don’t want to hear. It sits like rot at the forefront of your mind. Itachi doesn’t say more when you ignore him—doesn’t stop you when you walk past his “Trail Closed for Maintenance” sign.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The emptiness in the cabin reflects the feeling in your chest. It’s pathetic, mourning like a lovesick teenager again. But you know what’s waiting for you when you go home to your tiny apartment in the city. Bills will be due. Your bank account will be empty. And you’d have to start looking for a new job.

You’ve packed away your things and tucked all but the bare essentials into your car. You want to make another trip around the lake before you leave in the morning. Just one more chance to see him again.

There hadn’t been a sign of him yesterday.

And here you are with a puffy, wet face from hurting your own feelings. Sleep can’t come fast enough. Stupidly—so undeniably idiotically—you’ve left the cabin door unlocked again.

Your “neighbors” are playing their music impossibly loud again. The glass in the windows rattles. Curling in tighter around yourself you cover your ears. It sounds so angry you can’t stand it. It’s too much noise. Too much emptiness.

Too much everything for your sad little self.

Eventually, you have to get up and dig through your bag in the car to find a sleep aid. Deidara sits on the porch outside the other cabin, drinking. It’s too dark to see properly but you can feel the heat of his stare. It burns into you long after you get back into bed.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The laughing is what wakes you.

It feels like you’ve only just closed your eyes when the drunken snorts and giggles of men too old for it pulls them open again.

The handle turns. The door swings open. The sleep medication you took slows your reflexes, your understanding.

For a long, sluggish moment your heart flutters between your ribs.

But then the figure in the doorway splits in two and they step fully into the cabin. Pale yellow and silver catch the dim moonlight. A single, pretty blue eye meets your gaze. A mean sneer mars his expression as he looks down at you.

Deidara crouches to your level, his breath fanning over your face reeks of alcohol. Amusement is tucked into his words when he coos, “Aw look at you, hm? Did our music keep you awake?”

The nasally grunt at the ends of his words makes it hard to focus on anything else. What had he said? You blink hard, trying to remember. Your tongue sticks to the roof of your mouth, dry. A soft hand brushes against your cheek.

Your nose scrunches, a low warble leaving your lips as you pull away. Hidan cackles behind him.

“They’re so fucking over you,” he scoffs. “Let’s just toss them.”

“Shame,” Deidara huffs. “Would have loved to show you my art.”

Your vision swims, sleep trying to pull you back down. You remember the conversation about his art though, and snort. “Fireworks.”

The taller man finds this hilarious, nearly folding in half laughing at his friend’s expense. You aren’t sure why. The blond’s expression is thunderous–ugly and mean. You hate it.

You hate the way he digs his fingers into your face more.

“Let’s see if a dip in the lake will make you a little less bitchy,” Deidara hisses, spittal flying from his lips and hitting your face.

The sleep aid dulls your fear and that’s terribly dangerous. It doesn’t make sense to you at first. Why are they here? Why is Deidara so mean to you? Your head spins and you can’t think straight.

You’re still so sluggish when he pulls you from the bed, locking his arms under your armpits. It’s uncomfortable and you weakly protest. But it doesn’t hit you just how bad the situation is until Hidan takes hold of your legs.

You’re so fucking stupid. Everything goes sideways as you fight against them; slow, uncoordinated kicks of your legs and slurred screams. You didn’t lock the door..

They don’t have any trouble carrying you to the dock between them. Nor do they struggle when they throw you. You hear them laughing, mean, and loud again. The late-night cicadas laugh right along with them when your head goes under.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

The lake water is cold. It’s a shock to your muddled brain.

Your muscles lock tight, refusing to move at the sudden drop in temperature. It’s not terrifying at first. Just cold. Your vision blurs in the dark water, and the moon becomes a hazy image as you sink downward.

Down, down, down.

You don’t even need a rock to sink you to the bottom this time.

Then your body releases you from the shock, limbs unlocking with a rough beat of your heart and your lungs swelling to take a breath.

Except you’re underwater and instead of oxygen your lungs fill with the lake itself. It’s painful and so much worse than you ever imagined drawing would be. It feels like someone’s shoved sandpaper down your throat, into your chest and it’s grinding the soft tissue away in there. Your heart hammers as panic bursts awake under your skin.

How stupid this all is. You’ve drugged yourself—Deidara probably hasn’t even realized. You flail weakly in the darkness. You can’t see the moon above the surface anymore. There’s no way to tell which way is up and which way is down under water like this.

Pain sears, angry, and bright in your chest as your body coughs harshly to try to expel the water. There is nothing but water around you, though.

You want to scream.

You’re going to drown.

Going to die.

Something collides with your torso, even in the water it feels like you’ve been rag-dolled. Your head snaps back on your neck and everything from your lungs is forced out with no time to inhale more water. You’re terrified—so incredibly disoriented. Has your soul been ripped from your body? Are you dead?

Your head breaks the surface. Warm night air kisses your face, your cheeks, your mouth. Dazed you see stars above you, twinkling next to the half-moon above you. Silhouettes of clouds drift lazy and unhurried under them.

It’s so pretty.

A wretched sob breaks free from your chest, hacking up lake water with it. Strong hands, clawed and webbed heaves your body up and dumps you on a dock. It’s not the sun-weathered one with smoothed wood. It’s older. It leans to one side, the dark wood splintering and covered in moss.

You cough and gag up water, whoever—whatever—saved you keeping a hand on your back. It’s horrible. It hurts going out as much as it did going in. Your mind is still foggy, slowed by the sleep aid you had taken.

Finally, when you aren’t vomiting up water, you look at your savior. You recognize him instantly, though he’s different—monstrous in the most basic meaning of the word.

Kisame looms over you on the old dock, his pitch-colored eyes glinting. He is, for certain, more shark than human at this point.

He’s horrifying at first glance. His sharp features merge with a more streamlined shark body. Muscles ripple beneath scale-like patterns down his biceps and forearms, bent to accommodate the fins that sprout from them. Gills at his neck pulsate rhythmically, wet and sticky above water. A massive dorsal fin goes down his back and to a tail that stirs in the lake.

But you know it’s Kisame. You know it from the fluttering beats of your heart that’s been yearning to see him again. He’s saved you from drowning.

He jerks backward when you lift a shaky, uncoordinated hand to his face. You gently cup his jaw, not letting him avoid you. Your thumb brushes a serrated tooth. A pearl of blood beads instantly. His pupils shrink.

There’s so much you want to say–so much you need to confess.

Somewhere on the other side of the lake, Deidara is shouting. He sounds like he’s in a panic. An ungodly sound rips from Kisame’s chest. His webbed hand pushes you down, not unkindly.

“Stay,” he says. When you don’t fight him, he slips off the dock and back into the water.

You sit there, shivering in your soaked clothes feeling like you’ve been drug through hell. It’s less than a minute later when you hear the first scream.

smut warning! afab body parts named and described here! scroll down to the next divider for amab!

The screaming continues even after the cicadas fall quiet. The first one you heard ended quickly. Whoever it was died choking on their own blood. You want to pretend you don’t know who it is.

But you know both the victims and the attacker.

You should leave. Itachi’s office should have a radio or satellite phone— some way to reach help. You don’t like Deidara, but you don’t want him and his friends to die. Your stomach somersaults unpleasantly at the thought.

Getting to your feet has you wheezing by the end of it. You wobble on the first step but can make it to the second step without tipping over. You take a deep breath, you can do this.

On the third, however, your foot goes through the wood. You go down with it, the soft skin of your thigh snagging on the edge of the broken board. It happens so fast you don’t have a chance to even think about screaming. And when you realize what’s happened, you have to bite it back to keep quiet.

Katydids and frogs chirp back and forth while you cry, scooting back to pull your leg out of the hole to look at the damage. You’re bleeding but it’s not gushing blood. It’s hard to tell just how bad it is in the half-moon lighting.

You waste too much time.

A hand closes around your ankle, too close to the edge of the rotting dock. Lacking the claws and webbing between his fingers this time, and strong. He tugs you forward on the dock, the wood scraping against the exposed underside of your thighs.

Kisame doesn’t leave you wondering this time. He lifts himself out of the lake, meeting your body with his own.

Despite being in the water, the blood hasn’t washed off. It’s deep red, staining from his mouth and down his chest. It rolls downward to his naked hips. The sight plucks a cord of fear down your spine.

Just as you’re staring at the blood on him, Kisame is staring at the blood on you. His hand drags upward, over your calf. When he brushes his thumb over the scratch on your thigh you wince, but keep quiet. There’s a fear inside you that you’ll trigger something predatory if you make a noise.

But you can’t stop the gasp when his rough lips meet the flesh of your thigh. It’s just a brief kiss, tender and gentle before his tongue slips out to lick up the length of the wound. He hums, the sound and vibration going straight to your core. He leaves behind goosebumps and smears of red.

His touch drifts higher and higher until he pauses. Your stomach is tight in anticipation, breaths shallow. After a long minute, you meet his gaze, flesh burning under his scrutiny. He’s waiting. And you—you’re sick to death of waiting.

God, you are fucked. “Don’t stop now.”

He grins, full of teeth. The sight of them between your legs, stained with blood, with a different kind of hunger sends a terrible sort of thrill through you.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips to help him ease them down your legs. Kisame groans out loud when you’re exposed to him as if he’s been waiting for this too.

His thumbs part your sticky, slick folds. His warm breath sends a tremor up your spine. The millimeters of space between his mouth and your cunt feels too far and you can’t wait. He meets your core with more force than intended because you buck your hips upward, needy and eager.

He chuckles into your wetness, flashing those sharp teeth so dangerously close to your sensitive flesh. The hand that pushes your hips down is gentle though, fingers kneading the heated skin in soothing circles.

“Easy,” he rasps.

You have to bite back a whine, grounding yourself by scraping your nails against the rotting dock underneath you.

His tongue meets you again, pressed flat through your folds. It drags a shivering moan out of you. Kisame’s answering groan makes you throb. It’s embarrassing how wet you are—how quickly your lower belly coils tight.

He’s gentle at first, his mouth cautious on your puffy slit as he explores you. Like he’s savoring the flavor of you. One of your hands sinks downward, slipping through his wet hair, fingertips pressing against the back of his skull to push him into you.

“Kisame,” you pant, “please.”

He obliges, a thick arm sliding over your hips and tugging you closer to him, lifting your lower body slightly for better access. Your head tilts back, knocking against the rough wood. His tongue cuts through your wetness, sending sparks of electricity through your core as he teased your clit with skillful flicks. Each groan and gasp that leaves your lips makes him work harder.

Your inner muscles ache, clenching tightly around nothing. Kisame takes his time though, following his own sweet rhythm. You almost beg for him to touch you more, but before the words have the chance to form his fingers are inside you. Thick and skilled two of them stretch your hole, curling against your sensitive walls while his mouth suckles your clit.

He drags his tongue back and forth over your sensitive bud while his fingers maintain a steady rhythm, coaxing you ever closer to the edge. His finger finds the spot inside you that sends your hips bucking up in pleasure and an involuntary cry spills from your lips. You can feel Kisame's rumble of approval vibrating against your core as he licks and teases until you finally go limp, still panting heavily from the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“Not bad,” he all but coos to you, letting your thighs drop.

Words die on your lips as he settles himself fully between your legs and seals his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself is heady and thick. You want to pull him closer, to delve into his mouth like he had done with your sex. But he pulls away before you have the chance.

You make a quiet sound of disappointment when he moves away. It morphs into a startled cry when, without warning, his hips buck forward and the thick head of his cock sinks into you. His fingers dig into the plush meat of your hips, holding you still so he can fuck himself into you. He splits you open, bigger than you expect.

You’re over-filled by the time his hips lay flush against you. Your chest heaving between adjusting to him and fighting the pleasure wracking up your spine.

“Been thinking about how good you’d feel since the first time I saw you,” Kisame says, voice husky and low with a teasing roll of his hips.

You manage a smile, trying to appear unaffected despite the heat coursing through your veins, “Me too.”

His expression is feral in the silvery moonlight, all teeth and pride. Red smears across his face, between your thighs. Kisame, even in his more human form, looks like a monster. It sends your heart fluttering something terrible.

There isn’t time to admire him, though. You buck your hips, a whine on your lips. His length twitches inside you once before he answers, snapping his hips into you. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and feels like he reaches even deeper inside you. Groans leave both of your mouths.

It’s hard to think straight as he rocks into you, picking up the pace when your hand slips down to rub your clit. He presses into you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His sharp, sharp teeth graze the sensitive skin there and earns him a drawn-out moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck…not gonna last long,” Kisame pants into your ear. It almost sounds pleading.

“Almost there,” you whine, your core tightening. You’re so close.

His hips stutter a strangled moan slipping out of his mouth. His teeth press a bit harder into your throat and you feel him gush inside you. It sends you over the edge again, insides clamping down around him. It’s quiet aside from the heated panting as you both try to recover and the lapping over the lake against the dock.

A soft-breathed moan wrings itself from your throat when Kisame pulls out. Warmth trickles out of you. But you can’t focus on it because he kisses you again—softer without an urgency. You still chase after him when he pulls away.

He tucks a grin into the corner of his mouth, trying to look serious. “You need to go talk to Itachi.”

“Itachi? Why?” you ask, eyebrows raising.

“He’ll walk you through what to say,” Kisame says hands sliding your shorts back up your legs. As if it’s the most simple thing in the world. His teeth flash in the silver moonlight, unable to help himself. “You look fucked up. The police won’t question you too much.”

It’s so stupid you laugh.

smut warning! amab body parts named and described here!

The screaming continues even after the cicadas fall quiet. The first one you heard ended quickly.  Whoever it was died choking on their own blood. You want to pretend you don’t know who it is.

But you know both the victims and the attacker.

You should leave. Itachi’s office should have a radio or satellite phone— some way to reach help. You don’t like Deidara, but you don’t want him and his friends to die. Your stomach somersaults unpleasantly at the thought.

Getting to your feet has you wheezing by the end of it. You wobble on the first step but can make it to the second step without tipping over. You take a deep breath, you can do this.

On the third, however, your foot goes through the wood. You go down with it, the soft skin of your thigh snagging on the edge of the broken board. It happens so fast you don’t have a chance to even think about screaming. And when you realize what’s happened, you have to bite it back to keep quiet.

Katydids and frogs chirp back and forth while you cry, scooting back to pull your leg out of the hole to look at the damage. You’re bleeding but it’s not gushing blood. It’s hard to tell just how bad it is in the half-moon lighting.

You waste too much time.

A hand closes around your ankle, too close to the edge of the rotting dock. Lacking the claws and webbing between his fingers this time, and strong. He tugs you forward on the dock, the wood scraping against the exposed underside of your thighs.

Kisame doesn’t leave you wondering this time. He lifts himself out of the lake, meeting your body with his own.

Despite being in the water, the blood hasn’t washed off. It’s deep red, staining from his mouth and down his chest. It rolls downward to his naked hips. The sight plucks a cord of fear down your spine.

Just as you’re staring at the blood on him, Kisame is staring at the blood on you. His hand drags upward, over your calf. When he brushes his thumb over the scratch on your thigh you wince, but keep quiet. There’s a fear inside you that you’ll trigger something predatory if you make a noise.

But you can’t stop the gasp when his rough lips meet the flesh of your thigh. It’s just a brief kiss, tender and gentle before his tongue slips out to lick up the length of the wound. He hums, the sound and vibration going straight to your core. He leaves behind goosebumps and smears of red.

His touch drifts higher and higher until he pauses. Your stomach is tight in anticipation, breaths shallow. After a long minute, you meet his gaze, flesh burning under his scrutiny. He’s waiting. And you—you’re sick to death of waiting.

God, you are fucked. “Don’t stop now.”

He grins, full of teeth. The sight of them between your legs, stained with blood, with a different kind of hunger sends a terrible sort of thrill through you.

His fingers hook in the waistband of your shorts. You lift your hips to help him ease them down your legs. Kisame groans out loud when you’re exposed to him as if he’s been waiting for this too.

His thumb ghosts up the underside, until he reaches the head smearing the pearl of pre-cum. His warm breath sends a tremor up your spine. The millimeters of space between his mouth and your dick feels too far away and you can’t wait. He barely has time to wrap his lips around his incredibly sharp teeth before you buck your hips upward, needy and eager.

He chuckles around your length, flashing those sharp teeth so dangerously close to your sensitive flesh. The hand that pushes your hips down is gentle though, fingers kneading the heated skin in soothing circles.

“Easy,” he rasps.

You have to bite back a whine, grounding yourself by scraping your nails against the rotting dock underneath you.

His cheeks hollow out, tongue dragging over you before swirling around the head. It drags a shivering moan out of you. Kisame’s answering groan makes you throb. It’s embarrassing how hard you are—how quickly your lower belly coils tight.

He’s gentle at first, his mouth cautious on weeping cock as he explores you. Like he’s savoring the flavor of you. One of your hands sinks downward, slipping through his wet hair, fingertips pressing against the back of his skull to push him further down on you.

“Kisame,” you pant, “please.”

He obliges, a thick arm sliding over your hips and tugging you closer to him, lifting your lower body slightly for better access. Your head tilts back, knocking against the rough wood. His head bobs wetly over your length, sending sparks of electricity through you. Each groan and gasp that leaves your lips makes him work harder.

Your balls tighten, your hole clenching tightly around nothing. Kisame takes his time though, following his own sweet rhythm. You almost beg for him to touch you more, but before the words have the chance to form his fingers are inside you. Thick and skilled two of them stretch your hole, curling against your sensitive walls while his mouth sucks you in further, your tip touching the back of his throat.

He pulls back, inhaling softly and swiping his tongue over the slit of your cock head, while his fingers maintain a steady rhythm, coaxing you ever closer to the edge. His finger finds the spot inside you that sends your hips bucking up in pleasure and an involuntary cry spills from your lips. You can feel Kisame's rumble of approval vibrating around your length as he licks and teases, swallowing your cum until you finally go limp, still panting heavily from the sheer intensity of your orgasm.

“Not bad,” he all but coos to you, letting your thighs drop.

Words die on your lips as he settles himself fully between your legs and seals his mouth against yours. The taste of yourself is heady and thick. You want to pull him closer, to delve into his mouth like he had done with your sex. But he pulls away before you have the chance.

You make a quiet sound of disappointment when he moves away. It morphs into a startled cry when, without warning, his hips buck forward and the thick head of his cock sinks into you. His fingers dig into the plush meat of your hips, holding you still so he can fuck himself into you. He splits you open, bigger than you expect.

You’re over-filled by the time his hips lay flush against you. Your chest heaving between adjusting to him and fighting the pleasure wracking up your spine.

“Been thinking about how good you’d feel since the first time I saw you,” Kisame says, voice husky and low with a teasing roll of his hips.

You manage a smile, trying to appear unaffected despite the heat coursing through your veins, “Me too.”

His expression is feral in the silvery moonlight, all teeth and pride. Red smears across his face, between your thighs. Kisame, even in his more human form, looks like a monster. It sends your heart fluttering something terrible.

There isn’t time to admire him, though. You buck your hips, a whine on your lips. His length twitches inside you once before he answers, snapping his hips into you. He throws one of your legs over his shoulder and feels like he reaches even deeper inside you. Groans leave both of your mouths.

It’s hard to think straight as he rocks into you, picking up the pace when your hand slips down to jerk your dick, already half-hard again. He presses into you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His sharp, sharp teeth graze the sensitive skin there and earns him a drawn-out moan, your walls fluttering around him.

“Fuck…not gonna last long,” Kisame pants into your ear. It almost sounds pleading.

“Almost there,” you whine, your walls tightening. You’re so close.

His hips stutter a strangled moan slipping out of his mouth. His teeth press a bit harder into your throat, and you feel him gush inside you. It sends you over the edge again, insides clamping down around him. Your cock throbs again, cum coating your fingers. It’s quiet aside from the heated panting as you both try to recover and the lapping over the lake against the dock.

A soft-breathed moan wrings itself from your throat when Kisame pulls out. Warmth trickles out of you. But you can’t focus on it because he kisses you again—softer without an urgency. You still chase after him when he pulls away.

He tucks a grin into the corner of his mouth, trying to look serious. “You need to go talk to Itachi.”

“Itachi? Why?” you ask, eyebrows raising.

“He’ll walk you through what to say,” Kisame says hands sliding your shorts back up your legs. As if it’s the most simple thing in the world. His teeth flash in the silver moonlight, unable to help himself. “You look fucked up. The police won’t question you too much.”

It’s so stupid you laugh.

[kemetic-dreams]

Charles Leroy Thomas was born 17 April 1920 in Birmingham, Alabama. He grew up in Detroit and graduated from Cass Technical High School in 1938. Thomas then worked as a molder for the Ford Motor Company (Ford River Rogue factory) with his father, and was a student at Wayne State University studying mechanical engineering.

He was drafted, and entered the U.S. Army on January 20, 1942, at Fort Custer, Michigan. He completed Basic and Advanced Infantry Training at Camp Wolters and was assigned to the Infantry Replacement Training Center at Camp Wolters.

When the Army began forming tank destroyer units, Thomas was transferred to Camp Carson, Colorado and joined the segregated 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion, which had been activated on July 25, 1942. The soldiers were African, but most of the officers were white. Thomas quickly rose to the rank of Sergeant during unit training and was chosen to attend the Tank Destroyer Officer Candidate School (OCS) Class # 21 at Camp Hood, Texas when the battalion was transferred to Camp Bowie Texas on December 18, 1942.

Thomas was commissioned a second lieutenant upon graduation from OCS on March 11, 1943, and returned to Camp Bowie to assume command of Company C, 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion and prepared the unit for the move to Camp Hood that was completed on March 23, 1943.

On August 27, 1944, he deployed with the 614th to England, arriving on September 7. On October 8, the 614th was on Utah Beach in Normandy, France. The 614th led by Lieutenant Colonel Frank S. Pritchard, then would join General Patton's Third Army in Metz, France. The 614th saw its first combat on November 28. On December 5, the 614th was attached to 411th Infantry Regiment, and on December 6, the 614th was attached to the 103rd Infantry Division..

On December 14, 1944, 1st Lt. Thomas volunteered to lead 3rd Platoon, C Company, 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion in a task force named "Task Force Blackshear" to storm and capture the village of Climbach, a strategically important town which was five miles from the German border. The task force spearheaded by Thomas' M20 scout car (modified M8), consisted of a platoon of Sherman tanks from the 47th Armored Battalion, 14th Armored Division, a platoon of F Company (riding on tanks), 411th Infantry, 103rd Infantry Division, 3rd Platoon, C Company, 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion, rest of F Company, 411th Infantry, and a heavy weapons platoon. Approaching Climbach was uphill, Thomas' armored scout car was knocked out by enemy fire from the German 21st Panzer Division, and he was wounded.

Thomas helped his crew out of the vehicle, but as he left the car's protection, he was again wounded in the chest, legs and arms. Despite his wounds, Thomas directed the dispersal and emplacement of the anti-tank guns, which then returned fire and covered the attempt by the rest of the task force to outflank the defenders. He briefed the 3rd Platoon leader of C Company, a first lieutenant, on the general situation, and only when he was sure the situation was under control did he allow himself to be evacuated. 3rd Platoon, C Company continued to fight for four hours, losing two of its four guns and over half its men as casualties (3 dead, 17 wounded).

The "valorous conduct" of the platoon, "in the face of overwhelming odds enabled the task force to capture its objective", the village of Climbach, and forced the defenders to withdraw to the Siegfried Line. 3rd Platoon, C Company, 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion, was awarded a Distinguished Unit Citation, the first black combat unit, and the first unit attached to the 103rd Division to be so honored. Its soldiers received four Silver Stars and nine Bronze Stars. Captain Thomas received the Distinguished Service Cross on February 20, 1945, and returned home a hero, though he played down his role – "I know I was sent out to locate and draw the enemy fire, but I didn't mean to draw that much." Thomas remained in the Army, and retired with the rank of major on August 10, 1947.

Thomas married in 1949, and his wife and he had two children. He went to work as a missile technician at Selfridge Air Force Base and later as a computer programmer for the Internal Revenue Service. He died of cancer on February 15, 1980. He was buried in Westlawn Cemetery in Wayne, Michigan.

In the early 1990s, it was determined that African soldiers had been denied consideration for the Medal of Honor (MOH) in World War II because of their race. In 1993, the U.S. Army had contracted Shaw University in Raleigh, North Carolina, to research and determine if there was racial disparity in the review process for recipients of the MOH. The study commissioned by the U.S. Army, described systematic racial discrimination in the criteria for awarding decorations during World War II. After an exhaustive review of files, the study recommended in 1996 that ten African Americans who served in World War II be awarded the MOH. In October of that year, Congress passed legislation that would allow President Clinton to award the Medal of Honor to these former soldiers. Seven of the ten including Thomas were approved, and awarded the MOH (six had Distinguished Service Crosses revoked and upgraded to the MOH) on January 12, 1997. On January 13, 1997, President Clinton presented the MOH to the seven African Americans; Major Thomas and five others were posthumously presented the MOH. A niece of Thomas accepted his MOH during the ceremony. Vernon Baker was the only living recipient of the medal at the time.

Medal of Honor Citation stated the following:

For conspicuous gallantry and intrepidity at the risk of his life above and beyond the call of duty: Then Lieutenant Charles L. Thomas distinguished himself by extraordinary heroism in action on 14 December 1944. One platoon of Company C, 614th Tank Destroyer Battalion, was designated as the lead element in a task force formed to storm and capture the village of Climbach, France. Lieutenant Thomas, the Commanding Officer of Company C, realized, with the obscurity of information regarding the enemy and a complete lack of reconnaissance, the mission would be an extremely dangerous one. Fully cognizant of the danger, Lieutenant Thomas volunteered to command the selected platoon of his company and ride in the column's leading vehicle - a highly maneuverable, but equally vulnerable, M-20 scout car. Lieutenant Thomas knew that if there was a concentration of enemy armor in the village, as was believed, he would absorb the initial shock of the first enemy resistance. The task force left Preuschdorf, France, at 1023 hours, and proceeded to advance in column toward Chimbach. Lieutenant Thomas in his scout car stayed well in front of the column. At 1400 hours, upon reaching the high ground southeast of the village, Lieutenant Thomas experienced initial contact with the enemy. As his scout car advanced to an exposed position on the heights, he received intense direct fire from an enemy artillery, self-propelled guns, and small arms at a range of seven hundred yards. The first burst of hostile fire disabled the scout car and severely wounded Lieutenant Thomas. He immediately signaled the column to halt. Before leaving the wrecked vehicle, Lieutenant Thomas and the crew found themselves subjected to a veritable hail of enemy fire. Lieutenant Thomas received multiple gunshot wounds in his chest, legs, and left arm. In spite of the intense pain caused by his wounds, Lieutenant Thomas ordered and directed the dispersion and emplacement of his first two antitank guns. In a few minutes these guns were effectively returning the enemy fire. Realizing that it would be impossible for him to remain in command of the platoon because of his injuries, Lieutenant Thomas then signaled for the platoon commander to join him. Lieutenant Thomas then thoroughly oriented him as to the enemy gun positions, his ammunition status, and the general situation. Although fully cognizant of the probable drastic consequences of not receiving prompt medical attention, Lieutenant Thomas refused evacuation until he felt certain that his junior officer was in full control of the situation. Only then did Lieutenant Thomas allow his evacuation to the rear. Throughout the action, Lieutenant Thomas displayed magnificent personal courage and a complete disregard for his own safety. His extraordinary heroism spurred the soldiers of the platoon to a fierce determination to triumph, and resulted in a mass display of heroism by them. Lieutenant Thomas' intrepid actions throughout the operation reflect the highest traditions of the military service.

[ridetherain]

Courage At the Front Part 1/2

Hi. I have Zelda fanfic for reading. It's been mostly finished for like, a year? I had a lot of fun with it and I learned a lot about WWII warfare. Thanks to the hubby for pretending his expertise in pre-industrial arms and armor also includes early 20th century tanks.

Summary: Zelda is a mechanic and Link is a tank operator in Hyrule's WWII equivalent. And our two heros get trapped together behind enemy lines.

Warnings: This is a WWII fic. It has crude language, descriptions of frontline warfare and it's aftermath, slight gore and major character injury. And gallows humor, cause they're soldiers in war and they gotta live through it somehow.

Part 1 | Part 2 | AO3

Part 1

Zelda

"I want to do something real!"

Zelda was screaming at her father over the phone. She was breaking every one of her rules. No using royal privilege; how else was she going to get access to a phone? No subverting the chain of command; well, she had gone directly to the King. That might have skipped a few rungs on the ladder. Act like any other enlisted man; and screaming at the King is unlikely to be the standard operating procedure. Zero for three.

"I've been trained to fix anything! I was best in my class! Jeeps for the brass are not a priority. I should be with the troops and I should be serving my country in the best way that I can. Isn't that why I'm here?"

All the wind had blown out of Zelda's sails by the end of her argument. She was getting nowhere with the King. He wasn't going to lift his order to keep her safe and he certainly wasn't going to send her to the frontlines himself. She'd trained to fix the heavy infantry tanks that were stationed all over the eastern front. She was the best. No one was faster or understood more intuitively what needed to be done. But, instead, she was fixing jeeps that the Generals treated like pleasure vehicles. They'd come in with no gas and tell her it was broken or they'd need their goddamn wipers replaced. It was insulting.

"Nevermind, father. I'm going to get back to work."

She hung up and went back to her command. Which was a small motor pool with a squad of mechanics. Technically she was due a larger command, but no mechanic this far from the fighting should have her rank. The boys didn't really need her there at all, truth be told. General Impa was a micromanager and their shop ran like a civilian auto repair anyway.

Link

Link huddled into his small corner of home in the trench. He'd cleaned it up nice so there was a small divot dug into the wall so rain wouldn't ruin his small collection of keepsakes. Right now he had a little journal to write in, some playing cards, and a letter from some school kid who informed him "Mr. Owlen says I have to tell you that you're brave" which was charming enough to keep. He'd smoothed the ground beneath his feet so that he had comfortable dirt to sleep on and his trusty rifle settled over his shoulder digging into yet another dug-in divot in the wall. All-in-all he'd dressed it up to be the nicest spot in the line.

His squad had been stationed here for two weeks so far with very little else to do. At some point they would probably jump up and storm the enemy, but he tried not to think about that. He was too young to die. He tried to keep some dirt on his face at any moment. He wasn't technically old enough to enlist and anything that kept people from really looking at his face was a plus. It was easier before. He was the loader on a medium tank with only four other men for company. But then the gunner got his points and was sent home leaving the rest of them a man down. He'd gotten orders an hour ago to report to the depot to be assigned to a new crew in the morning. Until then, he'd be hunkered down here in this cesspit trying to get some shuteye and stock up on "supplies" that weren't part of the standard kit. Dirty pictures, booze, and hopefully some real food.

Zelda

"Lieutenant! Call for you, ma'am!"

"Thank you, Private."

Zelda took up the office phone and snapped out a greeting. She was losing another man. Pretty soon she was going to be running this place alone. Apparently heavy fire was anticipated and they needed another mechanic on hand familiar with the newest combat vehicles. She took up her roster to see who had the best qualifications for the job. If they were calling up someone from here it would be a rough job. She ran her finger down the list and stopped at a name. Could she do that? There was an obvious implicit order, but it wasn't actually said. She had free reign to send whoever she chose. Who could stop her decision? They were leaving soon.

She scribbled out the order, updated the roster list, filled out the daily report, and marked the next in command. She would leave immediately. Her duffle was already supplied for departure and she grabbed a go-kit with essential tools. The truck was already nearly loaded up with supplies and her driver was climbing in.

"Ready?" She called to the back when she was settled.

"Ready!" the loaders confirmed.

"Move out!"

The driver pulled out of the compound and they were on their way to the front. He glanced at her, but clearly eyed her epaulettes before deciding to keep his mouth shut.

Link

Link settled into his position in the turret. They were buttoned up and already getting ready for a fight.

"Load up, gimme seven five!" The new commander Burlon called from his spot above him in the radio seat. Link slithered down to the floor and started pulling up the armored cover and pulled out the smooth munitions. Burlon was calling out directions to Dalt to position the gun. The ammo was loaded and the gun was ready in seconds.

"Up!"

Burlon called out the fire and Link pulled up the next load. He was fast and being small made it easier for him to get into all the little hideaways where any spare air was filled with ammo. The place stank up quickly with the sweat of five men in tight quarters. It was hot as ever and beads of sweat ran freely down his back. Only his hands were kept dry with any spec of spare cloth to be found. He couldn't afford to drop something. One store empty, Link closed it up and moved to the next in an awkward spot beneath his gunner's butt.

"Move your ass, Dalt. I can't get in."

Not quite a well oiled machine just yet, this new crew.

"Fuck you. I gotta aim."

"Quiet. All of you," The commander was looking through his scope, "HEAT! Take us back!"

Burlon's frantic calls on the radio blurred into the background. Anti-tank guns. Link scrambled to lock away all the mortars. Easiest way to kill a crew was to blow them up with their own gun. The tank rocked roughly in the retreat and Link banged his jaw against the bottom of his seat. He let out a slew of curses and braced against the top cage.

"Back in your seat, soldier!" Burlon ordered.

Still cursing, Link threw himself into his seat and threw a hand up to check his face. It came away bloody.

"Incoming!" As one, the team bent and braced for impact.

Zelda

"Okay team, the enemy is retreating. We need to get out and salvage what we can. Level one and two damaged vehicles will be handled by the first division. Level three damage is us. We'll work from near to far."

Zelda nodded to her partner and began running to her assigned vehicle. A Farore Mk IV about a mile away that's likely still in good enough condition to at least drive. The field was a mess of tracks and mud and empty casings. Burn marks scorched across huge stretches of land where shells exploded. Zelda tried not to see the remains left behind. The wounded and dead were attended already, but sometimes things were left behind. A half burned boot was stuck in the mud and Zelda pretended it's because the soldier decided to take off his shoe. She knew these soldiers were fighting for their homes and their families, but it felt like they were fighting for her as the Princess. She would face the cost when she wasn't working. When she had time to process.

She stopped with her partner, a big Private who could do some of the heavy lifting, when they reached a potential salvage.

"What do you think, ma'am?" He circled and shook his head.

"I don't think so, let's keep going. We can't drive with the track looking like this." It was mangled. "Avoid that next one, it's still smoking."

"It should be alright, let's look real quick. See? The smoke is coming from the front. Probably just overheated." Zelda wavered and the Private took his chance.

"It'll take less than a minute to check and then we can move on."

Zelda sighed and gave a nod. He was older and more experienced for all the rank difference. They crept to the tank and began an exterior inspection. Smoke was lightly billowing from the front so Zelda moved around to the back to ensure that whatever was smoking wasn't coming out another side.

Everything looked fine in the back except another pair of boots under the chasis. This time, the boots still had feet in them.

"Hey! Wounded!"

Zelda pulled on the boots and a soldier slid free with a squelch. She yanked his shirt out of the way and thrust her hand to his throat for a pulse. It was strong and steady. The Private was working the portable radio frantically.

"Lieutenant! Incoming troops! We have to find shelter!"

"What?!"

"I'm going in!"

"What?! NO! It might not be-"

An explosion cut her off. The opened hatch let in a rush of oxygen and ignited the dying fire within the tank body. Zelda threw herself over the unconscious man. She held on for dear life and clamped her eyes shut. Her ears rang and her head blurred, the heavy armored vehicle rocked ominously in her direction. The enemy was coming. She never learned her partner’s name. The man below her would die if she didn't recover quickly enough. What next? She could hear them coming. A dull rumble turning to a roar. Men shouting.

She shoved the wounded man back under the chassis where she had found him and squirmed into the mud beside him. She prayed to all the goddesses that they would take the smoking remains of this tank as reason to pass it by. Prayed that it wouldn't continue to explode above her. Prayed the man next to her didn't die while she laid in a grave next to him. Just in case, she kept her hand on his throat to feel his pulse throb in a steady, comforting rhythm.

Link

His head ached. A terrible ringing grayed out his vision. His body was hot and cold and hot and cold. His throat was full of smoke and death and weight. And damp. A wet, hot, muddy hand was pressed against his throat. He breathed in quickly then was cut off from shouting when the dirty hand shot up to his mouth.

"Shh!" He couldn't see the shusher, "They'll hear you."

It was a woman's voice. Link tried to take stock of the situation, but there wasn't much to go on. He was lying in a drying puddle of mud under what was likely his tank with a woman. If it weren't for the mud it might have been on purpose. And if his head didn't feel like it had been split open by a hatchet.

"What happened?" His words were slurred.

She didn't answer immediately.  "We were overtaken."

Enemy territory. Okay. There was a process for this. Hide. Get somewhere safe. Take stock. Gather supplies. Make your way back. Don't get caught.

"Did you work on this hunk of garbage, Sargent?"

"Yes, ma'am. Loader in the hole."

"Okay. Then here's what we're going to do. The M4A2 at two o'clock looks in alright condition from here. We'll take shelter inside until we can come up with a better plan or until we can get it running and make a break for it."

"That's a Zora tank. I've never-"

"Me, either. Can you walk? You hit your head, I think."

"I think so. It's not far."

He really wasn't sure. The woman, a Lieutenant, seemed to have a plan which is a sight better than he had so he would just have to make it. The mud squelched and slurped noisily with every extracted limb. A cool breeze nearly froze him to the bone after so long in the damp. The Lieutenant steadied him with one hand and kept a grip on a metal box with the other. He thanked the Goddesses when he realized it was a mechanic's toolbox. She carefully picked her way through the supplies they had strapped to the back of the vehicle and grabbed the med kit and a small bag of foodstuffs. Link grabbed his personal pack and slung it over his shoulder with his rifle.

They set out across the field with furtive glances in the direction their camp used to be back when it wasn't completely deserted. The ground was rough and packed hard from the heavy machinery driving over the ground. A faint smell of dead hung suffocating in the air and kept Link light-headed the entire journey. He hung his head to the ground and followed the woman blindly into danger. They stuck together from one safe cover to the next. She stepped carefully around any unknown piece of metal on the ground and avoided bloodstained dirt like it was contagious. She was basically unarmed and unfamiliar with a battlefield and squeamish on top of it all.

"You green?" he asked.

"No" was the clipped reply. He reached out to her anyway and pulled her up short.

"Listen, Lieutenant Bospho-" He squinted at her name patch. "Bosphor--... Lt. Bosso. Listen Bosso, I've been active for a while and I'm the one with a rifle. I'll take point."

She looked very upset. Either she wanted to lead the way because of her greater rank or she disagreed with his butchering of her name. It's not his fault her name didn't fit with standard sized lettering. He let his grip on her sleeve tighten and pulled her behind him before striding forward carefully and tugging gently at her sleeve in a silent command to follow. She didn't think of an objection before they were moving, but Link heard her mouth click shut. It hardly mattered, superior officer or not she was a mechanic and likely didn't carry anything more than a pistol if she had any weapon at all. He was trained and was at least used to the leftovers in a field. His hands were already bloodied.

Their pace picked up with him in the lead. He marched confidently through the mud, avoiding bloodstains for his delicate companion, and arrived at the Lanayru tank shortly. He circled the machine once to look for smoke. The turret hatch was open so there was unlikely to be anything smoldering inside. Lt. Bosso hauled herself up to the top and flashed a torch into the hole. As it happened, she did carry a pistol, and was comfortable enough with it to wield it alongside the torch.

"No one's home. Let's get in and rest for a bit. I wonder if they've got a decent map in here."

Link pulled himself up and slid in after her. She shuffled her way into the driver seat and he slid neatly into the gunner's . This thing had elbow room. Maybe he should have lied about his age and his home province. This would have been nice. It gave him the room to eye the Lieutenant's shapely behind from several excellent angles while she found her seat. He was still considering his luck when she finally put her butt down in a chair.

"So, Sargent Forrester. Let's figure out what's next."

Zelda 

Sargent Forrester was rude and brash but kindly enough. His stumbling over her name was fairly rude and Zelda wasn't sure how he didn't recognize it. His behavior bordered on insubordination, but she was grateful that one of them knew what to do at least. She could plan all she wanted, but none of this was like boot camp and certainly unlike anything she had seen in her year of service. She ignored him as best she could when they got in the Lanayru M4A2 and immersed herself in the parts she could see from the driver's seat. The most obvious problem was a misaligned periscope, but there was likely something more wrong with it or it wouldn't have been abandoned like this.

She opened her baggage to see what they had to work with. Extra rations would have been nice, but instead there were perishable goods that had the faint smell of smoke wafting out of the first bag. Probably three or four meals worth for each of them. A field medical kit with little more than trauma bandages and some morphine. If things got that bad they were dead for sure. Her kit was undamaged but was designed to repair Hylian machines. The small kit from under the co-driver's seat would be more useful. Her own pack had some rations and a similar first aid kit supplemented with alcohol.

"What's in your bag, Forrester?" she asked. Maybe he had something of use.

He settled further into the gunner seat and closed his eyes.

"Standard pack. Rifle. Canteen. First Aid. Shovel. Ammo. Pistol. Rations. Blanket. Cigarettes. Ma'am."

Technically not insubordinate. The lists soothed her frazzled nerves. When in doubt, make a list. When the air smells of death and sweat and burning rubber, make a list. When you've seen bloody spots on the ground where your subjects lay dying, make a list. When you're locked in a tank with a stranger with a gun, make a list.

To be fair to Sgt. Forrester, he seemed trustworthy. He was rude and gruff, but followed her where she wanted to go and was clever enough to inspect the machine before he just climbed in like her dead partner. She just left his body there. She didn't even look to see if there was anything she could salvage for his family. Self-recrimination ate her from mind to heart.

"Are you alright?" Sgt. Forrester had come up to her from behind without her noticing. His eyes were soft and concerned and scanned her head to toe. He seemed to be assessing her physical and mental condition with one efficient glance. He didn't seem satisfied with the results when he was done. His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment before retracting back to his knee. "Is this your first time out? There's no shame in snapping your cap looking at all this. I wouldn't judge you for crying even, the Goddess knows I've wanted to more than once."

Zelda didn't want to feel better. She wanted to curl up and wallow in self-pity. But he was kind and she couldn't help but be comforted by his words. She gave him a wan smile and gave herself a little shake.

"I'm fine. Thank you," she said a little more prim than she had planned, "This is my first day out, but I've been in the service for almost a year. I didn't expect... Well I thought it would be different. I've never been to the front before."

"Little more than the front, I reckon. We seem to have wandered past the front and into the back again. This hunk of metal gonna get us back? I've never been in a tube so roomy. We could..." he glanced at her and changed what he was going to say, "We could throw a party in here."

"Yes, well. There's definitely a few things that need fixing. We'll be here overnight at least. Might need to look for some replacement parts. I'll know more when I open her up." Zelda replied. She thought for a moment then thrust her hand in his direction. "I'm Zelda. What's your name?" She wasn't going to miss another name.

"Link, ma'am."

They shook. Link's hand was warm.

Link 

Zelda was a surprisingly good mechanic. She pulled apart the busted periscope and spilled metal innards across the ground like the first slice into a pot pie. It didn't seem like a complicated piece of equipment until he saw all the pieces dumped unceremoniously on the floor of the otherwise pristine cabin. She poked at one of the mirrors with a wrench she pulled from her bag until she was satisfied. Link thought it looked exactly the same as when she started poking at it, but she's the expert.

She bent over nicely to see the track the periscope swivelled on to view side to side. Since her back was turned, Link let his eyes wander over the view she provided. So it was a surprise when a loud clang echoed through the still cabin. It rang like a bell for a moment before Zelda reeled back and whacked the track again with a hammer that had appeared in her hand while he was distracted.

"What are you doing?!" Link asked incredulously, "You're gonna break it!"

She ignored him and reeled back where he caught her hand before she could thrust forward and hit the track again.

"Hey!" She screeched, "Let go! It's almost fixed!"

She yanked against his hold and he tightened his grip.

"You can't do that! What if it breaks? We need that periscope so I can see while I drive this thing back."

She stopped flailing against him for a moment and he suddenly noticed their position. He was holding her arm over her head and had pulled her by the waist to press her back flush against him. There was very little space between them and it was completely inappropriate, but if he loosened his grip she might hit the hull with her hammer again. Or him. Either way, he kept his grip tight and imagined she didn't feel soft and plump and warm. She didn't seem to be having the same problem.

"You drive?! I'll be driving."

"You? I know how to drive these things. You're just a mechanic. You'll be on the radio."

"No, I'll be driving. No one is going to be on the radio. You will be sitting in the back and manning the gun. I can't shoot that thing and there's no way we're getting back without alerting the enemy. When we've crossed the lines then I'll man the radio."

Right. That made sense. He released her body and immediately used his hand to push the hair out of his face. He needed to find out how to fire this thing quickly. She used his lapse to throw her whole body forward and hit the periscope track one more time with all her body weight. She inspected her hack-job and seemed satisfied with the level of damage inflicted. The periscope was reassembled in minutes and she gave him a smug look when it swivelled from side to side smoothly. Minx.

"How do you boys sleep in this heat? I know sometimes you're in here for days. It's suffocating." She asked while sitting down delicately in the drivers seat. It was strangely feminine compared to the way she trudged around while working. She clasped her hands and draped her legs elegantly to the side as if they were sitting in a nice restaurant instead of huddled in a tank beyond the front.

He shook himself. "We don't. I usually sleep on the ground outside. But, we'll have to keep buttoned and tough it out in here. "

Link tried to seem nonchalant as he unbuttoned the first few buttons on his uniform and removed his boots. Every movement felt unrefined compared to her effortless presence. It was going to be a long, hot, uncomfortable night. The width of the cabin wasn't wide enough to lay completely flat, but it was close. He couldn't remember a time that he wished he was shorter. Zelda wasn't faring much better. She was a little taller than him and seemed reluctant to sleep sitting against the wall as he was preparing to do. He mostly didn't watch as she pulled off her shirt to reveal a white undershirt and remarkably toned arms. Link suppressed a smile when she bundled it into a cushion for her distracting bottom. Zelda's shoulder brushed his before he realised that the only place for her to sit was squished next to him, jammed into the console and with her feet pressed against the small step on the other side into the turret. She was soft and warm against his side. He pulled his bandana off his head and offered it to her. Anything to keep her soft hair from brushing him all night long and shifting his dreams to images of her.

Part 2

[werindialive]

Supreme Court Allows LMV License Holders to Drive Transport Vehicles with Conditions

In a significant ruling, the Supreme Court of India has declared that individuals holding a Light Motor Vehicle (LMV) license are permitted to drive transport vehicles, provided they comply with certain conditions. This decision has raised discussions across various sectors, especially among those involved in the transport industry.

The Supreme Court’s ruling comes after a petition challenging the restrictions imposed on LMV license holders. According to the Motor Vehicles Act of 1988, an individual with an LMV license is only authorized to drive private vehicles, not commercial transport vehicles like buses, trucks, and other heavy-duty vehicles. However, the latest judgment revises this stipulation, allowing LMV license holders to drive certain transport vehicles as long as they meet specific qualifications outlined by the court.

Key Details of the Ruling

The court emphasized that while LMV license holders can now drive transport vehicles, they must undergo additional training and obtain a certification for the specific type of transport vehicle they intend to operate. For instance, those wishing to drive large commercial vehicles such as trucks or buses would need to attend special driving schools that focus on transport vehicle operation. The ruling ensures that drivers are well-equipped to handle the unique challenges of driving transport vehicles, ensuring safety and efficiency on the roads.

The Supreme Court further clarified that the transport vehicles in question must meet certain weight and size restrictions. For example, the judgment specifies that an LMV license holder can drive vehicles with a maximum weight of 7,500 kg, a typical threshold for many light commercial vehicles.

Implications for the Transport Industry

This ruling could have significant implications for the transport industry, especially in terms of the availability of drivers. India has faced a shortage of skilled commercial vehicle drivers, and this decision could provide a new pool of potential drivers who are already familiar with the operation of light motor vehicles. It could also reduce the burden on transport companies that struggle to recruit qualified drivers.

However, the ruling may face some opposition from road safety experts and transport associations who express concerns about road safety and the lack of experience among LMV license holders driving heavy vehicles. They argue that transport vehicle driving requires specialized skills that go beyond what is typically learned while driving lighter vehicles.

Conclusion

The Supreme Court’s decision marks a notable shift in India’s road safety laws and regulations, aiming to address the ongoing shortage of commercial vehicle drivers. As this judgment unfolds, it will be essential to monitor how it affects road safety, driver training, and the transport industry as a whole.

[floorinsite]

Norfolk Training centre set to 'floor' local Students with New Installation

 A Norfolk-based training facility is doing its bit for the environment by becoming one of the first in the UK to use recycled plastic in its flooring.     

Open Road West Norfolk has enlisted the expertise of Loughborough based Abacus Flooring Solutions, to become part of a movement that has already saved 5,825 kg of plastic waste from going into landfill.  

The move came after the floor surface at the 1970’s building on Rollesby Road in Kings Lynn, was painted so many times that it became unfit for purpose.    

The centre which is home to a state-of-the-art automotive workshop and training facility, has now installed this ‘world first’, environmentally friendly flooring in its four-bay motor vehicle workshop. 

Using recycled plastics, Abacus Flooring Solutions installed its unique Abaplas flooring system, which uses waste plastic as a substitute bulking material in its industry-leading resin flooring.   

This advancement has changed the course of resin flooring in the UK, by vastly reducing the volume of plastic ending up in landfill.  

It also removes silica sand, which requires a carbon-heavy extraction process and is a dangerous substance when inhaled. Instead, silica is replaced with non-harmful recycled plastic, which has been ground down to a powder.  

The result has ‘floored’ students and staff at the registered charity’s King’s Lynn based training centre.  

Martin Slater, managing director at Open Road West Norfolk, said: “We called in Nick Megson and the team at Abacus Flooring Solutions after a recommendation.  We relied heavily on the team’s expert advice and guidance on what would be the most suitable surface for us.  The thought of being the first training centre to have a floor made from plastic, which would have gone to landfill is simply amazing.” 

The team at Abacus Flooring Solutions used a diamond tipped grinder to prepare the floor, then laid resin and topped that with the recycled plastic finish. 

The project tackled the existing 323 sqm floor space, and took four workers around a week to complete.  

Nick Megson, managing director at Abacus Flooring Solutions said: “Open Road West Norfolk is such a valuable asset in the local community here.  We wanted to give them a hard-wearing surface which would allow them to continue their work with these young people for many more years to come.” 

Martin added: “I had struggled to find a firm locally to do the work competitively. Nick and his team at Abacus Flooring Solutions have been brilliant.  They were faultless and nothing was too much trouble.  I couldn’t recommend them highly enough.”    

He added: “The transformation is just incredible – it’s like night and day in terms of safety and look.”  

Open Road West Norfolk was established in 2009 in response to a lack of alternative training facilities for disadvantaged, vulnerable and excluded young people aged 14-16.  These young people have all experienced difficulties in school and mainstream education.    

The centre works with up to 60 different young people delivering 90 training days each week, using practical on the job skills to engage them in professionally recognisedaccredited training. 

Martin added: “The professionally finished flooring provided by Abacus Flooring Solutions creates a real wow factor for our young people.”  

For more information, visit www.abacusflooringsolutions.co.uk  

[satijamotordrivingschool]

Top Motor Training Schools to drive vehicles to utmost perfection

Do you think about learning to drive, especially in metro cities? But you do not know where you started with this skill. Then, you will know the best practice on how to achieve perfection in your driving. When you drive a low-weight vehicle, you can self-practice for this purpose. You are likely to be successful in driving a special vehicle shortly. But this outcome does not occur as you must drive heavy-weight vehicles. Do not be careless while driving certain vehicles, as it is the subject matter of your safety and security on the roads. One should pay attention as they have to drive vehicles in metro cities. Otherwise, there might be happen accidents.

Nobody has the ability to drive vehicles on roads, and one should have to learn how to enroll themselves in driving school.  However, not all persons have the same ability to drive vehicles on roads.  Some do not take time to drive the vehicles on the road as they inherited skills from their ancestors. If they learn it from industry professionals, then they are bound to do it with optimal care.

When considering enrolling in a driving school, it's important to do your research. The most preferred Motor Driving School in Dwarka is dedicated to providing the best training for driving motor, truck, and four-wheel vehicles. By researching the success rate and customer satisfaction of different schools, you can find the best training school in Delhi.

If you find the most renowned training hub, you do not think more about opting for motor driving. Having a high success rate means that your preferred driving school offers you the best training. Now, do not let down your confidence and opt for the best school as a top priority. But, first of all, you should ensure the type of service you seek. To keep this point in mind, you can choose the best Driving courses near me in Delhi. Once you pay attention to this concern, you will likely explore your weaknesses and strengths.

Nobody should have to think more about this concern about which destination sounds perfect for driving skills. If you are looking forward to Top Motor Training Schools in R K Puram, you can end your search with an independent company. They have great business experience and the high credit to make their trainee the pro driver.  To learn more information, you can surf our website.

[drivingschoolganesh]

Mastering the Roads: Your Ultimate Guide to Driving Schools in Kerala

Kerala, the picturesque southwestern state of India, is known for its stunning landscapes, vibrant culture, and rich history. Navigating its roads, however, requires more than just an appreciation of its scenic beauty. The unique driving conditions, marked by narrow roads, bustling traffic, and diverse terrains, demand a higher level of skill and confidence. That’s where the role of a proficient driving school becomes pivotal. Whether you’re a native or a newcomer, enrolling in a driving school in Kerala is a smart move to ensure safe and skillful driving.

One such exemplary institution is Ganesh Driving School, renowned for its comprehensive training programs and dedicated instructors. This article delves into the essentials of choosing a driving school, the unique challenges of driving in Kerala, and why Ganesh Driving School is a top choice for aspiring drivers.

The Importance of Choosing the Right Driving School

Why a Driving School Matters

Driving isn’t just about getting from point A to point B; it’s about doing so safely and confidently. A reputable driving school imparts essential skills that go beyond the basics of operating a vehicle. Here’s why selecting the right driving school is crucial:

Safety First: Proper training minimizes the risk of accidents.

Legal Compliance: Ensures you meet all legal requirements for licensing.

Confidence Building: Helps overcome driving anxiety, especially in complex traffic situations.

Comprehensive Learning: Covers defensive driving, emergency response, and vehicle maintenance.

Factors to Consider When Choosing a Driving School

When searching for the ideal driving school, consider the following factors:

Accreditation and Licensing: Ensure the school is accredited by the Motor Vehicles Department of Kerala.

Instructor Qualifications: Check the credentials and experience of the instructors.

Training Vehicles: Look for a variety of vehicles in good condition.

Curriculum: A comprehensive curriculum that includes both theoretical and practical training.

Reviews and Testimonials: Research feedback from former students.

Location and Availability: Choose a school that is conveniently located and offers flexible scheduling.

The Kerala Driving Experience

Unique Driving Challenges in Kerala

Driving in Kerala presents a unique set of challenges that even experienced drivers might find daunting. Here’s what makes driving in this state distinctive:

Narrow Roads: Many roads are narrow, winding, and often crowded.

Heavy Monsoons: The heavy rains can lead to slippery roads and reduced visibility.

Diverse Terrains: From coastal roads to hilly paths, the terrain can vary significantly.

Dense Traffic: Urban areas, especially cities like Kochi and Thiruvananthapuram, are known for their heavy traffic.

Cultural Nuances: Understanding the local driving etiquette and customs is crucial.

Traffic Rules and Regulations

Kerala follows the Indian Motor Vehicles Act, which outlines various rules and regulations. Key aspects include:

Speed Limits: Vary depending on the area — typically 50–60 km/h in urban areas and 80–100 km/h on highways.

Right of Way: Strict rules about who has the right of way, particularly at intersections.

Use of Horns: Frequently used in Kerala to signal overtaking or alerting other drivers.

Seat Belt and Helmet Laws: Mandatory use of seat belts and helmets for riders and pillion riders on two-wheelers.

Ganesh Driving School: A Cut Above the Rest

History and Background

Ganesh Driving School has been a staple in Kerala’s driving education landscape for over two decades. Founded by Mr. Ganesh Nair, a veteran in the field of road safety education, the school has earned a reputation for excellence and reliability.

Course Offerings

Ganesh Driving School offers a range of courses tailored to meet the needs of different learners:

Beginner Courses: Designed for those with little to no driving experience.

Refresher Courses: For those who need to brush up on their skills.

Advanced Driving Techniques: Focus on defensive driving and handling emergency situations.

Specialized Courses: For commercial vehicle drivers and those requiring specific endorsements.

Training Methodology

What sets Ganesh Driving School apart is its holistic training approach. The methodology includes:

Theory Classes: Cover traffic laws, road signs, and safe driving practices.

Simulated Driving: Use of simulators to teach basic controls and maneuvers.

On-Road Training: Practical sessions on various types of roads under different conditions.

Mock Tests: Regular mock tests to prepare for the official driving test.

Instructor Expertise

The instructors at Ganesh Driving School are not only experienced but also certified by the Motor Vehicles Department. Their patient, encouraging, and personalized approach ensures that each student receives the attention and guidance needed to succeed.

The Road to Getting a License in Kerala

Steps to Obtaining a Driving License

Here’s a step-by-step guide to obtaining a driving license in Kerala:

Learner’s License:

Eligibility: Must be at least 18 years old for a private vehicle license.

Application: Submit an application online or at the RTO (Regional Transport Office).

Test: Pass a written test on traffic rules and regulations.

Driving Training: Enroll in a driving school like Ganesh Driving School for practical training.

Driving Test:

Schedule: Book a test date with the RTO.

Test Components: Includes a practical test where you’ll demonstrate your driving skills.

Results: If you pass, you’ll be issued a driving license.

Tips for Passing the Driving Test

Practice Regularly: The more you practice, the more confident you’ll be.

Know the Test Route: Familiarize yourself with common test routes.

Stay Calm: Keep your nerves in check to avoid mistakes.

Listen to the Instructor: Follow all instructions carefully.

Why Ganesh Driving School Stands Out

Personalized Learning Experience

Ganesh Driving School prides itself on offering personalized learning experiences. Each student’s progress is monitored closely, and the training is adjusted to address their specific needs and challenges. Whether you’re struggling with parallel parking or highway driving, the instructors are there to help you overcome any hurdle.

Community Engagement and Safety Initiatives

Beyond training drivers, Ganesh Driving School is actively involved in community engagement and road safety initiatives. They regularly organize awareness programs, safety campaigns, and free workshops on defensive driving and first aid.

Success Stories and Testimonials

The success of Ganesh Driving School can be best measured by the numerous success stories and glowing testimonials from past students. Many have gone on to become confident, skilled drivers, and some have even taken up professional driving careers.

Advanced Driving Courses: Beyond the Basics

Defensive Driving

One of the standout offerings at Ganesh Driving School is its defensive driving course. This program teaches drivers how to anticipate potential hazards and react appropriately, reducing the risk of accidents. Key components include:

Hazard Recognition: Identifying potential dangers on the road.

Safe Distances: Maintaining safe following distances.

Evasive Maneuvers: Learning techniques to avoid collisions.

Night Driving

Driving at night poses its own set of challenges, from reduced visibility to glare from headlights. Ganesh Driving School’s night driving course helps students master these conditions through:

Proper Use of Headlights: Understanding when and how to use high beams and low beams.

Dealing with Glare: Techniques to minimize glare from oncoming vehicles.

Speed Management: Adjusting speed for safe night driving.

All-Weather Driving

Kerala’s monsoon season can make driving particularly tricky. The all-weather driving course prepares students for such conditions by focusing on:

Wet Weather Driving: Techniques for maintaining control on slippery roads.

Fog and Mist: Navigating through low visibility conditions.

Windy Roads: Managing vehicle stability in high winds.

Embracing Technology in Driver Training

Simulation Training

Ganesh Driving School is at the forefront of incorporating technology into driver training. Simulation training allows students to experience a variety of driving conditions in a controlled environment. Benefits include:

Safe Learning: No real-world consequences for mistakes.

Variety of Scenarios: From city driving to highway conditions, students can practice different situations.

Immediate Feedback: Instructors can provide instant feedback and correction.

Online Learning Modules

To complement practical training, Ganesh Driving School offers online learning modules covering theoretical aspects of driving. Topics include:

Traffic Laws: In-depth coverage of Kerala’s traffic regulations.

Vehicle Maintenance: Basic vehicle upkeep and troubleshooting.

Eco-Driving: Techniques for reducing fuel consumption and minimizing environmental impact.

Conclusion: Your Journey to Confident Driving

Choosing the right driving school in Kerala is a crucial step in your journey to becoming a confident, skilled driver. Ganesh Driving School, with its comprehensive training programs, expert instructors, and commitment to safety, stands out as a premier choice in Kerala. Whether you’re a novice driver or looking to enhance your skills, Ganesh Driving School offers the perfect blend of knowledge, practice, and support to help you master the roads.

So, why wait? Enroll in Ganesh Driving School today and take the first step towards safe and confident driving in Kerala!

[the-firebird69]

I do appreciate you doing that and it's helping me with the math. They're kind of an idiot sometimes sometimes it doesn't work for me what you're now saying about the money makes sense if I get money what happens. So I got it filled in there's a whole bunch of things we have these projects and we need them to go and I'm happy to tell you we have some progress on the project announced this morning and we have some real big ones we need to announce and he says later on today I'm going to do that.

## We have a lot of interest in the automobile project. A gigantic Whopper of a project and we have a lot of people signing up for that duty and volunteering for it and even part time and it's going now we are getting several plants up and running and streamlining them and we took the odd doodads out of the design and we have to go for a redesign to get the other stuff out 2025 vehicles are too similar to the last year and they have the weird stuff in them too and we just don't want it it's going to be sold to the general public but these people buy it first and they'll make it happen there's other stuff going on and we are going to make it work too but this has taken off like I said this morning in about 10% of the factories are ready and we're working on 10% more of the total project by the way and we are acquiring 50% more over the next week or week and a half and we are also going to be acquiring stock and factories in the perimeter area shortly after this coming week and this is huge.

# Other news associated with this is that we have about 50% of the workforce we need. Do need a concentrated amount for the factory lines. Probably the hardest job and it's the most demanding and you will switch from occupation to occupation so if you're putting on tires one day you'll be putting the wheels on the next and you the next day you'll be putting the frame together and you'll know how everything is built and you'll be ready for the field with other with slightly some other training and it won't take us long you'll know how a motor works and more and it's all necessary. There's some other things to learn and hands on is great and classroom is great and it's inside the factory it is for safety all of it is very pertinent in during the missions.

# We have a couple other things too it's something to do with how you put it together those skills and moving around the factory lifting things using equipment to move things and shipping things dealing with people and being part of a big crew and a big team and an action team because there's some action around and learning the lingo and local customs and habits all part of it and it's rigorous training. We're going to go ahead and begin it now.

All those interested please sign on to the automobile project you can't miss it it's number one now.

Hera

She's very honored to do it as you are and we can see it it'll help our people. And there are people yes and we are going ahead and starting this up and we are going to make a lot of vehicles one of the largest demands right now is for busses in cities groups of people who did come in and take them and they go quite a ways before breaking down their actually heavy duty they're not as heavy as a greyhound but you don't have that many passengers and last pretty well but they took like half the busses from each city in the perimeter areas and it's starting to take school busses believe it or not this is a big operation they're gonna end up destroying them so we should make busses there's a simple rugged model by Ford chevy is a bit more complex and taste longer and it's not as good really and bare bones we can make school busses day and night they're easier to make than any other bus he says that we could probably be a part of the basis out there and they wouldn't know it of course and we'll bring busses out and it will bring us out so we're gonna look at that and have her take a look and just make these green busses or beige in this case they're beige and they have the same regular tires and we know what model so they're pretty heavy duty we're gonna start making those now we see the idea and we're gonna put in for approval so everyone can look at it

Olympus

[internationalnewz]

No Need for Driving Tests at RTO: New Driving License Rules Effective June 1st

The Ministry of Road Transport and Highways has unveiled new regulations for obtaining a driving license in India, effective from June 1, 2024. Here are the key points:

Driving Tests at Private Institutions

From June 1, 2024, individuals can take driving tests at authorized private driving training centres instead of government RTOs. These centres will be empowered to conduct tests and issue certificates of eligibility for driving licenses.

Focus on Environment

The new rules emphasize reducing pollution by phasing out approximately 900,000 old government vehicles and implementing stricter car emission standards.

Stricter Penalties

The fine for speeding remains between ₹1,000 and ₹2,000.

Minors caught driving will face a substantial fine of ₹25,000. Additionally, the vehicle owner’s registration card will be cancelled, and the minor will be ineligible for a license until they turn 25.

Simplified Application Process

The Ministry has streamlined the documentation process for obtaining a new license. The required documents will vary based on the type of vehicle (two-wheeler or four-wheeler), reducing the need for physical checkups at RTOs.

New Rules for Private Driving Schools

Land Requirement:

Driving training centres must have at least 1 acre of land for training two-wheelers and light motor vehicles, and 2 acres for four-wheeler training.

Testing Facility:

Schools must provide access to suitable testing facilities.

Trainer Qualifications:

Trainers must have a high school diploma (or equivalent), at least 5 years of driving experience, and be proficient in biometrics and IT systems.

Training Duration:

Light Motor Vehicles (LMV): 29 hours over 4 weeks, comprising 8 hours of theory and 21 hours of practical training.

Heavy Motor Vehicles (HMV): 38 hours over 6 weeks, comprising 8 hours of theory and 31 hours of practical training.

These regulations ensure high standards of education and preparation for new drivers at private training schools.

Licensing-related Fees and Charges

Issue of learner’s license (Form 3): ₹150.00

Learner’s license test fee (or repeat test): ₹50.00

Driving test fee (or repeat test): ₹300.00

Issue of driving license: ₹200.00

Issue of International Driving Permit: ₹1,000.00

Addition of another vehicle class to license: ₹500.00

Endorsement or renewal of authorization for hazardous goods vehicles

Renewal of driving license: ₹200.00

Renewal of driving license (after grace period): ₹300.00 + additional fee of ₹1,000 per year or part thereof (from the expiration of the grace period)

Issue or renewal of license for driving instruction school or establishment

Issue of duplicate license for driving instruction school/establishment: ₹5,000.00

Appeal against licensing authority orders (rule 29): ₹500.00

Change of address or other particulars in driving license: ₹200.00

Application Process

The application process remains largely unchanged. You can apply online or offline at Parivahan. The application fee depends on the license type. Applicants will still need to visit the RTO to submit documents and demonstrate their driving skills for license approval.

[he-india]

Improve your road safety driver training and traffic management courses by following these tips

According to the Indian road safety organization, road accidents in India are higher than the other countries, in every minute on road accident occurs, due to these thousands of peoples are die and some of them get injured, so their safety is one of the most important for any point of view.

To improve road safety for all road users, especially the most vulnerable road users such as cyclists and other non-motorized transport users anywhere across the country, we need to be aware of road safety training for drivers safety rules and their regulations.

This rule and regulation is not only for road users but also applies the rules to the entire category of candidates. The main objective of our company is to reduce road accidents and make the future safer for all road users, and maybe even to provide the best road safety and defensive driving possible solution to save the lives of all the users.

According to the Indian Road Safety and Highways Department, it has been made mandatory for all road safety awareness programme for all users including heavy vehicles, passenger buses and school buses to use seat belts and helmets to reduce casualties and injuries in road accidents.

There are various types of road safety and traffic training rules, some of them are mentioned here in the lines below:

Wear seat belt and helmets regularly while driving.

Do not overtake another vehicle.

Do not drink and drive.

Do not cross the red-light signal.

Do not drive the vehicle at high speed.

Do not drive on wet roads.

Keep your vehicle headlights on at night.

Maintain speed limits while driving any vehicle on the roads.

Do not cross the zebra crossing.

Always keep the vehicle clean and neat.

Always follow the right-hand sign on the road.

Never forget safety equipment always use safety equipment while driving any vehicle on the road.

Always wear a seat belt and helmet while driving on the road.

Always use defensive driving and traffic management techniques on a regular basis.

Maintain distance between two vehicles during driving period.

Always look both ways while crossing the road.

Do not use any cell phones while driving on the roads.

Always maintain the vehicle regularly.

Do not override the heavy and dangerous vehicles.

If you are facing any type of road safety and traffic safety issue, do not hesitate because we have the solution for any type of defensive driving and traffic management training courses. Our company provides all types of defensive drivers training in India with the help of highly skilled road safety trainers at your reasonable rates.

[todamovingandstorage]

Preparation is the Key to Making Your Move Smoother and Stress-Free

You are relocating due to the need for additional space, the desire to upgrade, or a new job opportunity. Relocating to a different area can be a challenging endeavor. Are you moving to or from Shaker Heights or Cleveland? One thing is certain: you want to choose the best local moving services in Cleveland for this ambitious project. With the help of a reliable moving company in Cleveland, the process can become much smoother and less stressful.

Moving into a new home and new place can be an exciting life change, but it comes with its own set of stresses. Whether it’s cross-town or cross-country, relocation requires a lot of work to pack up your belongings, transport them, and lug them into your new place. It is very important to take various precautions before moving out to a new place.

Professional movers like we do at Toda Moving and Storage can provide big help in such situations because we do all of the heavy lifting for you. We can even pack and unpack your stuff. However, preparation is the key to making sure that your move won’t take longer than it needs to.

We understand that a positive attitude and hard work are the basics for providing superior standard services. We have the industry-best local moving services in Cleveland hire our employees through extensive background checks and screen tests. We are Shaker Heights cheap movers and our well-trained professionals have the required expertise to help you while moving.

There are many steps that you should take before moving to a new place. Some of these are given below for your consideration! please take a look. • Before you move to a new location, find out the cost of living, the cost of property, local cultures, job opportunities, weather, traffic, etc. of that place.

• Also check for schools, dentists, hospitals, and professional daycare services, if you are moving with your children.

• Before one month, contact your local post office to change your communication address. When you change address, make sure to mention the date from which you want the post office to forward the mail to your new address.

• Also make a notice about your address change to your banks, credit card companies, local and federal government agencies, employers, telephone companies, and utility providers.

• Also, change your old address on your driver’s license and motor vehicle registration.

• If you are moving out with your children, try to convince and prepare them for the move. For them, adjusting to a new life in a new community can be difficult. To make this process comfortable for them, try to involve your kids in the relocation process. Share the details of your move with them. Ask for their help in packing and some light work, which will encourage them for this relocation.

• Choosing the right moving company in Cleveland for the job. It is essential to guarantee a smooth and trouble-free relocation. The hired Shaker Heights cheap movers can take one less thing off of your to-do list.

Pre-preparation is the key to a great moving experience. Don’t forget or miss anything at the pick up. Always keep your eyes open and your relocation will go smoothly, it’s our promise.

[lindabrooksschoolofmotoring]

Automatic Driving Lessons in Blackburn, Darwen, Great Harwood and Rishton?

Introduction:

Being how to drive is a necessary life skill, and as automated cars become more and more popular, automatic driving courses are becoming more and more in demand. As a respected driving school like Linda Brooks School Of Motoring serving the UK's Blackburn, Darwen, Rishton, and Great Harwood, we understand the special requirements of students and the advantages of automatic driving classes. The benefits of automatic driving lessons, the significance of selecting a trustworthy instructor, and how our extensive automatic driving programme may help you develop as a confident and experienced driver are all covered in this article.

Why Choose Automatic Driving Lessons?

Automatic cars have gained popularity due to their user-friendly nature, especially for beginners. Choosing automatic driving lessons offers several advantages, including:

1.1. Simplified Gear Shifting:

In automatic vehicles, there's no need to worry about gear changes, allowing learners to focus on other aspects of driving, such as road awareness and safe maneuvering.

1.2. Reduced Learning Time:

Learning to drive in an automatic car can be quicker than in a manual car, as it eliminates the complexities of clutch control and gear shifting.

1.3. Easier Traffic Navigation:

Automatic vehicles can make driving in heavy traffic or stop-and-go situations more manageable, reducing stress for learners.

The Importance of a Reliable Driving Instructor

Choosing the right driving instructor is crucial for a successful learning experience. Here's why you should entrust us with your automatic driving lessons:

2.1. Extensive Experience:

With years of experience, we have honed our teaching techniques to cater to learners of all abilities, ensuring each student receives personalized attention.

2.2. In-depth Local Knowledge:

As local driving instructors in Blackburn, Darwen, Rishton, and Great Harwood, we understand the unique road conditions and challenges learners may face in the area.

2.3. Patient and Supportive Approach:

We believe that every learner is different, and we adopt a patient and supportive approach to help students build confidence behind the wheel.

2.4. Up-to-Date Teaching Methods:

Our driving lessons incorporate the latest teaching methods, ensuring learners receive relevant and practical instruction.

The Comprehensive Automatic Driving Program

Our automated driving programme is meant to provide students the abilities and information they need to drive safely and confidently. What the programme comprises is as follows:

3.1. Introduction to the Vehicle:

We start with a comprehensive introduction to the automatic vehicle, familiarizing learners with the controls and safety features.

3.2. Road Safety and Awareness:

Our first priority is safety. We go through traffic laws, defensive driving methods, and how to recognise and deal with potential problems.

3.3. Maneuvering and Parking:

Learners gain proficiency in essential maneuvers, including parallel parking, three-point turns, and reverse parking.

3.4. Navigating Roundabouts and Junctions:

Roundabouts and junctions can be challenging for learners. Our program includes specialized training to navigate these areas confidently.

3.5. Motorway Driving (where applicable):

For learners preparing to drive on motorways, we offer guidance on safe motorway practices and building confidence at higher speeds.

3.6. Mock Tests and Exam Preparation:

We administer simulated driving exams to learners to ensure they are adequately prepared for the driving test, offering helpful feedback and building confidence.

Answers to Frequently Asked Questions

Is learning to operate an automated vehicle easier than learning to operate one with a manual gearbox?

Yes, many people believe that operating an automated vehicle is simpler than one that requires manual control. Manual gear changes are no longer necessary in automatic vehicles, freeing up the driver-training population to concentrate on other elements of safe manoeuvring and traffic awareness. For beginners, this may result in a shorter learning curve and less stress.

Can anyone take automated driving lessons?

Automatic driving classes are appropriate for students of all skill levels, yes. Our automated driving programme is made to meet your specific needs, whether you are a total novice or have some prior driving experience.

After gaining experience in an automatic vehicle, may I transfer to a manual one?

Yes, new drivers are only permitted to operate automatic cars after passing their driving test in one. You would need to take additional driving lessons and pass your driving test in a manual car if you wanted to operate one. However, many students discover that taking driving lessons in an automatic vehicle is a terrific way to build confidence before switching to a manual vehicle.

How many driving lessons will I need to develop my confidence?

Depending on their learning style and prior driving experience, each person will require a different amount of driving lessons. After a few lessons, some students could feel secure, while others might need more practise.

Conclusion:

Our comprehensive programme and qualified instructors are available to assist you in achieving your driving objectives whether you're searching for automatic driving lessons in Blackburn, Darwen, Rishton, or Great Harwood. Our focus on safety, individualised coaching, and cutting-edge teaching techniques guarantee that you'll be well-equipped to travel the roads with assurance. Enrol in our automated driving courses right away to take the first step towards mastering the wheel!

[elitehrcareers]

CDL Truck Drivers Job Opportunities With Elite Careers

Introduction

Trucking is a career that's different from anything else. It'll allow you to see the world and work with a lot of people. Class A and B CDL drivers shall be described here in simple terms. However, the responsibilities, skills and requirements of a job may be different from one employer to another. Still, we have detailed some important points that hiring agents are commonly looking for.

Significance of Truck Drivers in the Global Economy

 The global economy depends on truck drivers for the movement of basic commodities, complete goods and other indispensable items from one place to another. The employment of truck drivers plays a vital role in maintaining the flow of trade and ensures that companies can remain operational at all times. In addition, it highlights how the transport industry is employing millions of people as local truck drivers around the world, with an important impact on the economy.

Types of Truck Driving Jobs

Truck driver jobs include long journey, regional, local, specialized and owner-operator positions. In every rule, there is a special set of skills and competencies which are adapted to the individual's lifestyle. Employers and job seekers must understand this distinction, as it helps to determine the most appropriate place for their needs when hiring a truck driver.

General Qualifications and Requirements

Generally, CDL truck drivers must have a reasonable and valid commercial driver's license (CDL), a clean driving record, and pass medical and physical examinations. In addition, specific endorsements may be requested in some cases, e.g., for transport of dangerous materials. Candidates who already possess driving experience and a high school diploma or equivalent may also be sought by employers.

Valid Class A or B CDL and Airbrake and Tanker endorsements.

 Work from elevated platforms, climbing ladders, and lifting to 50lbs.

Clean DMV Driving record

READY MIX: 3 years (Required)

Communicate effectively with customers and Dispatch 

3 years of commercial driving experience

Responsibilities and Duties

 As a truck driver, your role is to ensure that goods and materials are transported efficiently from one route to another. You're not just responsible for driving; you are an important link within the supply chain, able to guarantee on-time delivery, keep vehicles safe as well and represent a company at the client and public levels.

Keeping their trucks safe and clean.

Safe and efficient delivery of concrete to our customers.

Work outside in all weather conditions

Nights will be required on very rare occasions.

Maintain driver logs and time cards within the DOT guidelines

Work Shifts will vary and may include overtime work.

Saturdays are required unless requested off and cleared by management.

CDL Driver Job Description

Class A/B Ready Mix Drivers Job Description

CDL A/B Ready Mix Drivers are needed in Sacramento.

 In order to join our team, we need experienced Ready Mix drivers! Our batch plant safely delivers ready-mix concrete to a variety of locations. The Ready Mix drivers are responsible for ensuring that the work is performed safely at all times. Other related duties may need to be performed by drivers. Candidates with Airbrake and Tank endorsements have the opportunity to receive training on Class A or B CDL.

Class A Drivers Job Description

CLASS A DRIVER, $27/HR, HEAVY TOUCH, AM SHIFT

 We're looking for a full-time CDL Class A driver to run our daily collection and delivery routes right now. For smart, useful products that improve people's lives, more than 190 million tires are collected and recycled into raw materials. Applying for a commercial driver's license.

A commercial driver's license is necessary for the operation of a commercial motor vehicle, such as a tractor-trailer or heavy truck. Candidates are required to pass written knowledge tests and the skills test, which includes a pre-trip inspection, basic vehicle control as well as an on-road driving exam, in order to obtain their CDL. Candidates who wish to take the CDL test must, in some states, also complete a vocational training program for truck drivers.

Benefits 

PAID WEEKLY

100% Medical, Dental, and Vision insurance

401k Program with a 4% company match.

Paid Holidays

Vacation Pay

Room for Growth

Overtime pay

Direct Deposit

Strong Safety Program

Conclusion

Elite HR Logistics began as a small, local company founded on the principles of people first, family first, and community first. We have continued to uphold our commitment to safety, service and relationships over more than two decades. With the resources to support a wide range of large companies and their specific needs, Elite HR provides a close and personal experience that you would expect from a small business.

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Steps to Obtain a Driving License in India

Introduction

A driving license is a crucial document that allows individuals to operate a motor vehicle legally. In India, the process of obtaining a driving license is governed by the Motor Vehicles Act, 1988, and is administered by the Regional Transport Offices (RTOs) in each state. Whether you're a first-time applicant or looking to renew or upgrade your license, understanding the steps involved in obtaining a driving license in India is essential. This article will provide you with a comprehensive guide on how to secure your driving license in India.

1. Eligibility Criteria 

Before you embark on the journey to obtain your driving license, you must ensure that you meet the eligibility criteria set by the Indian government. The eligibility requirements typically include the following:

 a. Age: The minimum age for applying for a learner's license for a non-transport vehicle is 18 years, while for a commercial vehicle, it is usually 20 years.

 b. Citizenship: You must be an Indian citizen or fulfill the specific conditions laid out for foreign nationals. c. Medical Fitness: You should be medically fit to drive a vehicle. You may need to provide a medical certificate confirming your fitness, especially if you are applying for a commercial driving license.

2. Learner's License Application 

The first step in obtaining a driving license in India is to apply for a learner's license. Visit to our online driving licence portal www.drivinglicenceapply.in 

A learner's license allows you to practice driving under the supervision of a licensed driver. Here's how to apply for a learner's license: 

a. Locate the nearest Regional Transport Office (RTO) in your area and visit their website to download the application form.

 b. Fill Out the Form: Complete the application form carefully, providing accurate personal information, address proof, and age proof documents. 

c. Many RTOs now require applicants to book an appointment online before visiting the office. Check the RTO's for the appointment booking process. 

d. Visit the RTO: On the appointed date, visit the RTO with the completed application form, necessary documents, and prescribed fees. You may also need to take a learner's license test, which includes questions on traffic rules and regulations. 

e. Learner's License Issuance: If you pass the test and your documents are in order, you will be issued a learner's license. This license is typically valid for six months and allows you to practice driving. 

3. Learner's License Period 

During the learner's license period, you can practice driving, but there are specific rules and restrictions you must follow: 

a. Display 'L' Sign: Your vehicle should display a prominently visible 'L' sign indicating that you are a learner. 

b. Supervision: You must always be accompanied by a person who holds a valid driving license for the same category of vehicle you are driving. 

c. Avoid Rush Hours: It is advisable to practice driving during off-peak hours to avoid heavy traffic.

4. Driving Training 

To become a proficient driver, it is highly recommended to enroll in a driving school for formal training. Driving schools provide structured lessons that cover essential driving skills, road safety, and traffic rules. Completing a certified driving course can also help you gain confidence behind the wheel.

5. Applying for the Permanent Driving License

 After practicing with your learner's license for the prescribed period (usually six months), you can apply for a permanent driving license. Follow these steps to obtain your permanent driving license: 

a. Schedule an Appointment: Visit the RTO website or office to schedule an appointment for the driving test. 

b. Driving Test: On the scheduled date, appear for the driving test, which typically includes a practical test to assess your driving skills. Ensure that you are well-prepared for this test, as it is the most crucial step in obtaining a permanent license. 

c. Documents Required: Along with the application form and learner's license, you will need to submit identity proof, address proof, passport-sized photographs, and the prescribed fee. 

d. Biometrics and Photo: Your biometric details and a photograph will be taken at the RTO. 

e. Test Results: If you pass the driving test successfully, your permanent driving license will be issued to you. The license is usually sent to your registered address.

6. Upgrading to a Commercial License

If you wish to drive commercial vehicles, you will need to upgrade your regular driving license to a commercial driving license. Here are the steps involved: 

a. Meet Eligibility: Ensure that you meet the eligibility criteria for a commercial driving license, including the minimum age requirement. 

b. Enroll in a Driving School: Enroll in a certified driving school that offers training for commercial vehicle licenses. 

c. Learner's License: Apply for a learner's license for the specific category of commercial vehicle you intend to drive. 

d. Training and Test: Undergo training at the driving school and take the required test.

e. Permanent Commercial License: Once you have completed the training and passed the test, apply for a permanent commercial driving license at the RTO. 

Conclusion

 Obtaining a driving license in India involves a systematic process that ensures only qualified individuals are allowed to operate motor vehicles on the country's roads. It is essential to meet the eligibility criteria, follow the necessary steps, and gain practical experience to become a safe and responsible driver. Remember that adhering to traffic rules and practicing defensive driving is just as crucial as obtaining your license. By following these steps and maintaining road safety, you can enjoy the freedom and responsibility that comes with being a licensed driver in India.

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Get the best of your confidence with driving schools.

The institutions that educate future motorists on how to safely operate motor vehicles are leaders in their industry. Given sufficient time, it has never been impossible to learn how to drive in a way that is both safe and competent. However, the drivers that approach heavy traffic well prepared, with a methodical game plan and meticulous observation in hand, are the ones who end up having the greatest success. 

In today's world, Driving School in Fairfax County have earned the respectable reputation of imparting the wise counsel of an art form rather than the sterile knowledge of a dry science. 

Many students continue to display anxious behaviour even after they have graduated from a Driving School in Dale City that has been authorized. It's possible that a driver's self-assurance will skyrocket once they've completed their driving education. Driving School Services Ashburn are the best. While it does not take a lot of practice to become an expert driver, it is essential to form the habit of checking and double-checking everything before setting out on the road. This is a significant problem for a great number of driving schools all around the world.

It is unusual for Driving School in Herndon to profit on the superb reputation that was earned by their ancestors or by the personnel who were once responsible for monitoring all elements of the driving schools. These types of programs are based on the established standards of the industry as well as the reputation of existing driving schools. However, while improving the students' sense of self-worth is still the primary objective, enhancing the school's bottom line is still an essential consideration. Because of this, Driving School in Manassas provide a money-back guarantee to students who aren't satisfied with the training that they had in the event that they didn't like it.

The vast majority of driving schools place a significant amount of importance on the advantages that their pupils gain from having a driving instructor who has an outstanding reputation. Driving School in Merrifield is aware that, just like any other kind of educational institution, driving schools are required to actively seek out and hire highly rated driving teachers. Driving schools in Loughton and the surrounding areas place a high value on seemingly little aspects such as the comments of students and observations made by instructors. It has been discovered that the frequent movement of driving instructors from one driving school to another is the result of a large number of student transfers. A SMART choice would be to have such in-depth knowledge of everything that can have an impact on your company.

While Driving School In Great Falls have figured out how to turn a profit by adopting practices that seem inconsequential at first but end up having a profound effect on their bottom line, the overarching goal of these institutions' packaging and development of their various programs is to help students gain the self-assurance and mastery necessary to safely operate motor vehicles.