#small cabins that have been there before any regulation

[yuoimia]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ SAVED NUMBERS

summary: you’re not the only one trying to keep it together (conversations over the phone) based off this scene from summer strike. characters: alhaitham, kinich, childe notes: fluff, teasing, mention of anxiety in kinich’s, wc: 1.3k

alhaitham

A sudden pattern of musical chimes sliced through the silence of the dark bedroom.

Automatically, a cathartic groan and yawn escape from your mouth as you blindly manoeuvred your hand across your nightstand, finally seizing the source of the irritating noise. A tap of your finger revealed the time and responsible caller.

“Is he crazy?” you abruptly sat up, roughly rubbing your eyes as if it there were some kind of mistake. “It’s 4am, for goodness sake.” Nevertheless, your finger swiped to answer the call, sinking yourself back into the warmth of the thick blankets and pillows and holding the phone close to your ear.

“Do you know what time it is?” you drawled, switching your attention from the ceiling to the phone.

“I couldn’t sleep,” came a breathy reply, those three words fluctuating in audibility. A faint hint of laughter. “But to answer your question, yes I do. It’s 4:06am.”

His voice is tender and doused in fatigue, a rare state to find the illustrious scribe. Gentle rustling of a comforter and indistinct breaths over the line. How close was he holding the phone? As if instinctual, you raise a hand against your lips to suppress any traces of nervousness and regulate the rapid beating echoing in your chest.

“You haven’t fallen asleep yet, have you?” he asked albeit suddenly, the sounds of movement halting.

You turned over and pulled the blanket to signify your consciousness, clearing your throat. “No,” then smiling as you added, “does my absence go as far as to completely disturb your precious sleep?”

Despite the cool emptiness of the night, the momentous distance that separated you both felt unimportant and forgotten. “You’re so bold.” Imperceptible traces of adoration intertwining within his voice, “but you’ve never been wrong when it comes to me.”

kinich

The scent of salt and sweet fruit juice swept through the open window of your rented cabin, sweeping the sheer curtains that adorned the wooden sides in graceful arches. Beyond the intricate frames stretched the breathtaking vastness of a tired sky, dwindling from its vibrant hues to a soothing navy blue, the prelude to a serene night blessed with stars. Faraway music and laughter echoed through the rolling hills of the People of the Springs, their infectious celebrations spilling through the evening, washing away any last remnants of worry or doubt that were previously clawing in your guts. It felt strange, almost eerie, somehow. Everything that once seemed so big and important felt so small and trivial against the quiet sanctuary where thoughts could gather by choice. This fragile feeling of saturated peace was always depicted as something temporary, and perhaps it was, but its value always lasted infinitely.

You take a step back and turn yourself to survey the cabin, leaning your hands against the windowsill. A coastal design with a minimal palette of blues and greys. Warm lamps scattered from the corners of the room to the ceilings of the ensuite. Puffy armchairs and beige bohemian couches around the edges of the bed, generously sized and cocooned by thick blankets and billowy pillows.

From beneath one of the blankets, a faint light emits through the fabric, simultaneous with the constant vibrating. The contact name elicits a soft smile, wasting no time to slide your finger to answer the call.

“I thought you’d forget,” you admitted, sinking yourself into the plush mattress. You laid on your back, an outstretched arm over your head as another held the phone.

“I’m offended that you thought so,” came his lofty reply. He was always so casual with his way of speaking. Blunt in some eyes, but equally endearing.

“I don’t have much time before Ajaw comes back,” and as if sensing your confusion, he adds, “I sent him on an… impromptu and urgent mission.”

His earnestness, so refreshing in the midst of such a quiet evening, brought forth a fit of laughter that resonated in your chest, and spread through the form of euphoria into your veins, warm and delicately precious. “It’s not late yet. Did you trick Ajaw into completing your commissions for you?”

His response was a half-hearted ‘hmm’. If this was a video call, you’re 99% sure that it would be accompanied by an even more half-hearted shrug. A moment to close his eyes, too.

“Poor Ajaw,” you jested, leaning to your side. “Out doing his master’s work while he handles other things he deems more important.”

“This is more important,” Kinich replies thoughtfully. “I wanted to say I love you before you went to sleep.”

For a fleeting moment, you’re completely suspended in silence, as if time momentarily halted. Did you hear that right? Of course you did; it wasn’t anything shocking. He was probably teasing you, provoking a reaction, like usual.

“The sun is still setting; what made you think I’d sleep this early?” You were nosy now, curiosity piqued at what he had to reason. I wanted to say I love you. It chanted like a spell, casting you into a dazed and smiling mess. I wanted to say I love you.

“The People of the Springs pride themselves on their bustling atmosphere. You’re not the type to miss out on that. Knowing you, you’ve probably exhausted yourself and are lying in bed as we speak.”

Bingo, bingo, and bingo.

childe

Only three more hours…

Boredom and exhaustion rippled through your body as you cupped your face in your hands, leaning absentmindedly over the front counter of the Northland Bank. Ornamental decorations occasionally twinkled when someone would enter, lazily drifting for a few seconds before falling back right into place, mirroring your state quite accurately. Each person was greeted in the same, uniform way. You’d briskly straighten with a polished smile, brightly posing a list of questions everyone would be asked before slouching back down once you successfully redirected them to an appropriate staff member.

“It would probably be dark by the time I’m out,” you mumbled with a ghost of a pout at the door, gazing half-heartedly at the tinted panels lined near the ceiling. Spotting a loose pen on the floor, you bent to retrieve it when the sound of a phone ringing from a cupboard caught your attention.

Answering personal calls while on the job was a strict regulation that was generally prohibited. Even so, you pondered, folding your arms and sneaking sideways peeks at the entries to empty hallways, so painfully desolate that even it too seemed opposed to any opportunity for distraction, those heedless and sickeningly pompous higher-ups would never dream of working on a Saturday afternoon, more or less care if a forgettable receptionist were to be caught on the phone.

“Hello?” you answered flatly, clearly disinterested in who the caller was from the way you didn’t bother to check the contact name before holding the phone close to your ear. Indistinct sounds of metal clashing and dull thuds echoed in response, and oddly, the bubbling of rushing water.

“Hello?” you repeated once again, a bit more forcefully in case the recipient couldn’t hear over the bizarre assortment of noises. A new round of agitation flushed through your body at the callers purposeful disregard, heat clambering up your face. Within the second you seriously contemplated hanging up, a panting voice emerged, and with it, a fervent series of persistent coughing and choking.

“Hey, don’t hang..up,” the voice, weak but evenly enthusiastic. “Sorry about that, I called, then a random army of treasure hoarders started attacking me from nowhere, and I had to-“

“Is this who I think it is?” Pausing in disbelief from amazement, you felt surges of every possible emotion colliding against each other in nauseating rounds inside your head. Hearing his voice so close by your ear whilst being surrounded by the bleakest of places felt like a taste of something divinely transcendental.

“Who else?” a breathless laugh came from the person on the other line. “I know…you told me to not call you unless it was an emergency, but hey, i’ve got your attention now, and I’d like to savour that for as long as I can.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

Chapter Eleven || Hitchhiker || The Proxies

no tw’s for this chapter

a/n: next chapter finna be just a little just a tad just the slightest bit unhinged

<— previous chapter

“How much longer until she’s awake?”

“There’s not even a rough estimate I can give you. Shes lost a lot of blood. But nevertheless, you need to think of a payment method.”

“Can you at least let her wake up before you start yapping about getting reimbursed?”

“Considering The Operator would hang me if he found out i’m helping any of you, I think not.”

You shifted uncomfortably, stiff metal underneath you as you began to stir. “The Operator hangs people?” You mumbled. You felt your wrist and ankles being restricted, causing your eyes to fly open. You were secured to a metal operating table, leather straps securing your wrist to your sides and your ankles to stay straight. You began to thrash under the restraints, panicking. “Woah woah woah it’s okay, relax,” Brian ushered. Three people stood around you, two of which you actually recognized.

Toby and Brian stood to your left, Toby’s eyes filled with concern. On your right, was someone you’ve never seen before. A blue mask with eerie black eye sockets stared down at you. A jet black hoodie hid any other features, your mind starting to spin. “Holy fuck, what the fuck, what the fucking fuck,” You rambled, trying to move away from the unknown masked man. Brian grabbed your shoulders, trying to hold you down. “Relax it’s just EJ, he here to help,” He said, attempting to comfort you. The tall man known as EJ seemed unamused, tilting his head to the side.

“If this is how she reacts to me standing here, what was her reaction to Toby’s face?”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What about his face?” You questioned. You blinked a few times, trying to understand why your vision was so blinded. “J-Jesus Christ dude move the l-lamp,” Toby intervened. He shoved the blinding spotlight out of the way, allowing your vision to settle. Brian and EJ began undoing your restraints, allowing you to sit up. As you did you hissed in pain, grabbing your stomach. “Take it easy. You’ll rip the stitches,” Brian said. He placed his large hand on your upper back, helping you sit up slowly.

“If you rip them i’m not stitching them up again,” EJ grumbled unhappily. He helped Toby free your ankles, your hands rubbing your wrist. “Is there a particular reason you had me tied up?” You inquired. Brian looked at EJ before answering. “There’s a chance that you could’ve had a seizure during your surgery,” He said slowly. You blinked a few times, lifting up your shirt. It was oversized on you and smelled like Toby. You almost asked how your clothes had been changed, but then you remembered Nova. “Yes, when my patients move during my operation it’s quite irritable,” EJ added. Your eyes searched the room, looking past the three that surrounded you.

“Where’s Nova? Is she alright? And Tim?” You asked. You went to jump off of the table, Toby stopping you. “T-They’re fine. They’re outside,” Toby informed you. It then occurred to you that you didn’t recognize your surroundings, at all. You appeared to be in a small cabin, a small fire crackling in the nearby living room. Despite how tiny it seemed, the soft essence made it comfortable. “EJ only let two of us in at a time. And it’s better Nova and Toby don’t get partnered together,” Brian explained. You glanced at EJ, whose soulless gaze seemed to stare directly into your soul. “Those regulations are over, if you’re going to stay here I need to have a meeting with all of you,” EJ said plainly. He sounded so unamused. So unfazed. As he removed his hands from his hoodie you noticed his ash gray skin.

Maybe all kinds of monsters were actually real, not just the one terrorizing you. Toby helped you over to the couch, Brian off to get Tim and Nova. Once you were all seated, EJ stood in front of you. Tim tried his hardest not to look at you, the guilt of almost getting you killed eating him alive. “I have been friends with The Operator for a long time. Longer than some of you have been born,” EJ began. Friends? Was this guy for real? You glanced over at Nova, whose gaze reminded on EJ. Despite her eyes looking elsewhere, she affectionately put her hand on top of yours. You wanted to question her sudden affection, the two of you hardly hugging before you met the boys. “I’m just going to say it like it is. The five of you are not going to make it out of this alive. I estimate maybe two or three of you. But not all of you,” He continued. You were searching for Toby and Brian’s reactions, the two listening intently.

You expected Tim to argue. Toby to interrupt. Brian to mumble an insult. But they all sat perfectly still, listening to the creature before them. Whoever EJ was, he meant business. “Which of the three of you survives depends on how you want to play your cards,” EJ stated flatly. Tim crossed his arms. “Skip over the drama and get to the point please,” He huffed. Despite EJ’s gaze being concealed by a mask, it wasn’t hard to sense that he despised being interrupted. “Nova and Y/n you’re both targets. Given the situation I suspect we won’t have any visitors for a while. He wants to push Nova to the point of suicide and I can only assume for Y/n he wants her as a proxy,” EJ continued. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. Toby put his arm around you, pulling you closer.

“I can smell your curiosity. Being willing to die in an instant for someone you care about is noble. Too noble. He wants to exercise that nobility to its fullest extent,” He explained. Could he read thoughts too? What did he mean by he could smell you? “So what’s your recommendation for a plan wise guy?” Tim asked. EJ thought for a moment, his body stilling as he thought to himself. “Keep moving until your legs hurt. Train the girl to look after herself. Maybe start to pray,” He suggested sarcastically. Tim frowned as he stood up, glaring at EJ. “Dont push your luck Tim. You’re lucky she’s made it this far anyways,” The demon said plainly. Tim stormed outside, slamming the door behind him. You rose from the couch, abandoning Nova and Toby to shoot daggers at one another. You brushed past EJ, avoiding his eerie gaze.

You reached Tim on the back porch, a cigarette in between his fingers. “Tim…” You started. The brunette refused to look at you, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch. Endless rows of trees surrounded the cabin, the sun beaming through the leafs above. “You can’t keep blaming yourself for this,” You say. Tim flicked some ash off of his cigarette, before returning it to his lips. “My selfishness and greed landed you here. You know it,” He said harshly. A breeze blew past the two of you, your hand involuntarily cradling your wound. You slowly walked over to him, each step taking all of your energy. “Tim, I wanted this,” You argued. Tim noticed how weak you were, his gaze now avoiding looking at you. If he were to, he’d fold and want to touch you.

“You wanted a life stealing demon attached to you? I don’t think so,” Tim debated. You put your hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “I wanted you. The three of you. Everything else will work itself out,” You replied. Tim finally turned to face you, carelessly tossing his cigarette aside. “Tim I can’t do this without you. Masky isn’t enough. I need you too,” You say softly. You bring your hands to his face, cupping it. Tim brought his gloved hands to your wrist, admiring your soft features. When was the last time anyone preferred him over Masky? “I’m so sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am,” Tim whispered. His eyes became glassy, internally fighting the urge to cry. “You can show me,” You suggested. This made Tim chuckle, the brunette delivering a kiss to your forehead. “With your stitches healing? Absolutely not. Nice try princess,” He chuckled.

He leaned his forehead against yours, your gaze meeting his. “Hey Tim?” You whispered. You wrapped your arms around his neck, his large hands settling on your waist.

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

Tim’s lips met yours, his kiss hungry and soft. He tasted like cigarettes and spearmint, your eyes fluttering shut. Your lips moved against his in harmony, the two of you like magnetics. You couldn’t help but feel more drawn to him, your hands gripping his jacket to bring him closer. Tim pulled away first, his face visibly flushed. He gave you a smile, before gathering both of your hands into his own. “I’m going to do everything to protect you. You’re going to be one of the three that survive,” He promised you. He brought you to his chest, pulling you into a tight embrace.

“I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

In the distance, beyond a few rows of trees, the unknowing couple had an observer. He wasn’t a tall slender being like his boss, no. He was something much worse, much more sinister. Unlike his boss, who deployed mindless drones to continue his reign of terror, he considered himself to be much different. He preferred this. To be alone, slaughtering those he was instructed to. It gave him a justification. It gave him a pleasure so strong it was nearly greater than an orgasm.

He was tasked with finishing what Kate started. Except this time, where the chips fall where they may lay. The Operator was very clear. There were no restrictions now. Masky, Hoodie, and Toby, could easily be eliminated as well if they interfered with his task. Crouched in a tree his eyebrows furrowed as he observed you and Tim. You had three lovers? Possibly a fourth with the hot headed detective? He tilted his head to the side as Tim kissed you again. You were an intriguing target indeed. As he fiddled with his metal claws, he couldn’t help but wonder if any of you had figured out the truth yet.

The Operator didn’t want you as a proxy anymore, he wanted you dead.

\/

“Guys seriously I can get in bed just fine i’m okay,” You protested. Toby and Tim had been carrying you everywhere, determined to baby you to the highest extent. You refused to acknowledge or admit how much your stomach hurt. “You got stabbed through the kidney. It’s a miracle not only that you survived, but that EJ didn’t take the opportunity to eat it,” Tim said. They lowered you on to the bed, the oversized pants you were clothed with sagging. “EJ eats kidneys?” You questioned. You could feel your stomach churn. Tim went silent for a moment, realizing he hadn’t thought twice about what he had said.

“H-he eats much much more than that. But we were ver-r-ry clear in our deal with him,” Toby intervened. You propped yourself up against the headboard, the ancient oil lamp on your nightstand accompanying you with a dim light. “What deal?” You asked. Tim ran his fingers through his hair. “Dont worry about it,” He said, steering the conversation in a different direction. You frowned. Toby made himself quite comfortable beside you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Where’s Brian?” You asked. You leaned your head against Toby’s chest, trying to ignore how sore your body felt. “Out on patrol with Nova and EJ. There is no telling who The Operator might try to send here now that Kate’s dead,” Tim stated.

The memory of the blade of the axe slamming down into her skull resurfaced in your mind. The cold blooded killer in question was cuddling you like a teddy bear. He was humming to himself, like he hadn’t committed atrocious acts against God. Tim’s eyes flickered between you and Toby, the brunette swallowing. “Well, i’ll leave you guys to it,” Tim said quietly. He turned to leave, causing you to lean forward to try to grab his wrist. You hissed in pain at the sudden movement, your hand flying down to your healing wound. Your whine caused Tim to turn around, looking at you with eyes full of concern.

“Please stay. I need all of the support I can get right now,” You admitted weakly. Tim glanced at Toby, who gave him a subtle nod. The bed was a full sized one at most. Tim sighed, sliding off his boots and jacket. “You’re lucky I-” Tim began, stopping dead in his tracks once he realized what words were about to fall off of his lips. Your eyes widened, your heart beginning to race. Tim didn’t deserve to say those words to you. He didn’t think he was worthy. “You’re just lucky, princess,” He finished. He shuffled over to the other side of the bed, sliding in beside you. It was then a knock on the door drew your attention, a tired Brian stumbling inside.

“Please for the love of God let me sleep with you guys instead of being on patrol,” He pleaded. You raised your eyebrows, glancing at Tim. “What’s wrong?” He questioned. Brian sighed, shoving off his hoodie. You couldn’t help but momentarily stare at his built chest. He only wore a thin wife beater underneath, the sight making your heart skip a a beat. “EJ and Nova won’t stop yapping. They won’t stop talking and it’s driving me insane. The point of being on watch is to be subtle. Something neither of them know how to do apparently,” He groaned. Brian plopped down onto the bed, carefully laying his head on your inner thighs.

“A demon and Nova. S-sounds like the p-p-perfect match to me!” Toby snickered. You rolled your eyes, elbowing him. Tim laid his head on your shoulder, your right hand lacing its fingers with his. Your left found its way to Brian’s hair, playing with the locs as his eyes fluttered shut. “Shut up Toby,” Tim grumbled. You knew it wasn’t always going to be this easy. Recovery was going to be a bitch. Your mind began to spin, your eyes wide open as fears circulated around your mind. Tim seemed to notice your tension, giving your hand a squeeze.

“Relax princess we’re right here. No ones going anywhere.”

Your feet seemed to carry themselves, trudging through the forest. Thick vines littered themselves across the ground, causing you to consistently look down to watch your step. When you finally looked up, your eyes widened. A rusty gate fenced in what appeared to be a small graveyard. A cold chill ran down your spine, goosebumps rising across your skin as the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. On the gate was a piece of paper, a chaotic and unhinged drawing of The Operator scribbled across the page.

Narrowing your eyes, you grabbed the page angrily. “Stupid drawing,” You muttered. You crumbled up the page, tossing it aside. You shoved the gate open, the fog concealing a clear view of the gravestones. An owl hooted in the distance, the dim moonlight not able to illuminate anything past the relentless fog. You ignored the overgrown moist grass tickling your exposed ankles, continuing forward. Unsettled you hugged your arms, ignoring the eerie feeling of being watched. You did a quick scan of your surroundings, unable to see anything.

Swallowing your fear and unsettlement you walked forward, with each step creating a louder sound of static. You reached the headstones, noticing five of them sat in a perfect row. You managed to see past the fog, your heart beginning to pound as you read the names.

Timothy Wright. Brian Thomas. Nova Parker. Tobias Rogers. Y/n Y/l/n.

You felt your stomach churn, your body boiling with rage. “You can’t have them! I won’t let you!” You yelled into the void. You clenched your fist, your nails digging into your palms. “You hear me you bald fuck!? You can’t have them! They mine,” You screamed. Your voice echoed throughout the trees, your words ringing throughout your ears. You gritted your teeth, the sound of static overpowering your words. You fell to your knees, clutching your head. Your lips were apart, a scream surely escaping your throat, yet you couldn’t hear it.

With every ounce of energy you had left you swallowed, forcing yourself to formulate words. “You’ll never find us anyways you bastard!” You screeched. An abnormally large snow white hand grabbed your shoulder, its fingers digging into your skin.

“Oh my foolish child, I already have.”

—> next chapter

[lotties-ashwagandha]

OUR OWN KINGS AND GODS (nsfw)

(adult) lottie matthews x reader (gender neutral but afab), word count 2k

after an argument with lottie, she shares her anxieties with you over a bottle of rum, and in the late hours of the night you find solace in each other’s arms. set post season two finale, but no hunt au (you'll see what i mean). this took me so long to write pls interact/comment/reblog if u enjoy it :(

You have never seen her like this — tired, defeated. Usually such a source of peace, of joy, but as she stands before you, her love for the world is gone. 

“I’m sorry,” she says again – the third time – breaking the silence that has seemed unending. “It’s been a hard day.” 

You nod. You forgive her, as you always do. Even as the sting of her words still digs into you, still has your hands shaking with words of unspoken fury. You hardly ever get in arguments with Lottie, but when you do, it breaks you both.

“Say something,” she asks. You shrug. You clear your throat, try to swallow the knot building inside it. 

It had started early in the morning. Lottie had left the wellness center without telling you, without leaving a note and without taking her phone that she kept for emergencies when she usually left the compound. When she returned you had been calm about it — it wasn’t worth starting anything over. Yet she had been abandoning you frequently all day, sparing no words for you that weren’t sharp. You finally confronted her about it and she had denied you an explanation. She claimed that she needed space. That you were being clingy. She weaponized ways she knew would hurt you and took pride in it when they did. You knew how to reach her, too — hours you had spent sniping at each other just to see who would be the first to fall. 

“Tell me next time,” you say, “if something’s bothering you.” 

Her anxiety — that’s what she had told you caused the dispute. It’s what caused her to abandon you for the day and deny you entry to her mind. She was overwhelmed. You believed her, but you also believed it was more than that. It was the anniversary of the crash. 

Lottie stands before you still. She agrees to your request that she open up next time. 

“I never meant to hurt you,” she tells you. Her voice has become hoarse from all the yelling. 

You take her hands in yours. I know. You trail your thumbs over her knuckles and meet her gaze. “I want to move on from it.” 

She nods. She closes her eyes for a moment, takes a deep breath. “I do, too.” 

The tension begins to dissipate from the silence, yet the kitchen still feels stuffy. The whole house feels tainted by anger. 

“I can’t be in here anymore,” you say. “I’m going outside to get some air.” 

“Hold on,” Lottie orders. You sigh, but wait. She takes a bottle of rum from the counter and comes back. 

“I can hardly stomach rum.” 

“No one can stomach rum.” 

You smile at that. It seems to endear her. Slowly the two of you are becoming more regulated. 

Lottie leads you outside. You take in the fresh air, look up at the dark sky and your clear view of the stars. It’s one of the perks of being out so far from the rest of society at the wellness center, that you’re so connected to the natural world. 

“Come on,” she calls, and you realize Lottie hasn’t stopped walking. You jog a little to catch up to her. 

“Where are we going? It’s late, everyone’s in bed already. We can’t leave.” 

“We aren’t leaving,” she keeps walking. “But I’m not sitting out here all night.” 

You follow in obedience. Lottie leads you to a wood cabin, and you almost laugh when you see the sign — she’s led you to the Sharing Shack. When you go inside, you let yourself drop to sit on one of the cushions surrounding a small wood table. Lottie sets the rum on it before sitting next to you. 

She sighs. Turns her gaze to you, to examine you, to try to see through you to assess your state. 

“Relax,” you tell her, because though both of you are still coming down from the fight, you can’t handle any more talk of emotions. “Everything’s okay now.” 

Lottie nods. She reaches over to give your hand a small squeeze before directing her attention to the bottle of rum. She opens it, and before you can realize you haven’t brought any glasses she takes a deep drink. 

“Does it taste better than last year’s euthanasia tea you tried to get everyone to drink?” You joke. You know it’s cruel, but you can’t help but remember the last time you were in this cabin at night — the rest of the Yellowjackets, how you hardly averted hunting each other through the woods. 

Lottie falters. She sets the bottle down, she can’t meet your eyes. You realize instantly how horrible it was to bring it up, to joke about it. 

“I didn’t mean it like—”

“I know how you meant it,” she says blankly. Her tone is empty. 

Silence. You take the bottle of rum in your hands and swallow as much as you can in one gulp. 

You watch as Lottie stands and closes the curtains. She craves privacy just as you do — the rest of the wellness center doesn’t need to be awakened when she turns on the lamp on the table. 

Lottie rolls her head, stretching her neck. She sits down next to you again. For a while you sit in silence, passing the bottle of rum between one another until your vision starts to become distorted and your irritability begins to dissipate. 

“I never thought we would make it back,” Lottie admits quietly, unprompted. She’s silent for a moment before something changes in her expression — something raw, honest, something she feels shame in. “I didn’t really want us to make it back.” 

Why would you? You want to ask. Why would you want to waste your time in this world when you can be free? In the wilderness, we are our own kings and gods. 

“Do you still wish you hadn’t?” You ask. You’re a little afraid of the answer, but you have to know. “If you could go back right now, spend the rest of your life where you were in the wilderness, would you?” 

Lottie hesitates. She leans back to lay on her elbows, legs stretched out. Like a teenager. It takes her longer than you’d like to decide. 

“No,” she finally tells you. Her eyes meet yours. “Unless you were there with me, or you were dead.” 

You spend a moment taking in the information. You wonder what she’s seen in the wilderness, what was so beautiful in such horror to let her long for it her entire life. Your thoughts are dulled and loop in unending circles from the rum, yet she occupies all of them. 

“Would you go with me?” Lottie asks. You meet her dark eyes and witness the longing dancing in them. “I know it will never be possible, but if it was…” 

You nod. “Yes.” 

Again, your thoughts are drawn back to the last time you were here, with the Yellowjackets – the moment Lottie raised the glass of clear liquid to her lips and had been effortlessly ready for death if no one else was willing to take the fall. You consider her devotion – and you consider the devotion of her followers, those who would die for her just as readily. You realize you’re one of them. 

You realize the gift of the wilderness has not worn away over time or distance: you are free. 

You lean to her level and pull Lottie into a kiss. It takes her by slight surprise, but she recovers quickly, one of her hands weaving into your hair and pulling you to the angle she wants. Her dominance over you is asserted in the span of a second – it’s a shift you feel potently, one you welcome. 

You’ve been starved of her in conflict. Yet again she is sustaining you in the hunger of her kiss, in the control you give her liberally. You have always been hers to guide and mold. 

Lottie sits up, presses a hand to your chest and pushes you down. The discomfort of the floor is soothed by the cushions you lay on – it’s disregarded anyway as Lottie pulls away and you get a clear view of her as she sits above you. In the dimmed light of the cabin she gazes upon you like an angel, or like a god, one you have dedicated yourself to worshiping. 

Lottie pauses. 

“I did it for you,” she says in a hushed voice. You want to ask her what she means, but before you can she stands and crosses the room. You hadn’t noticed them, yet they’re set there all the same – the collection of glasses from last year, one of which had been poisoned. They are all empty now and thoroughly cleaned. One of them is missing. 

Lottie picks one of the glasses. She holds it in her hand and takes a deep breath. After a moment of examining it she comes back, takes the bottle of rum, and pours some of it into the glass. 

“I would have died for you,” she says. She takes a sip of the rum – the glass isn’t poisoned, but adrenaline runs through you as you watch her sip from it. Her gaze never parts from yours. 

You sit up again, and she sits down next to you. One of her hands comes to rest high on the back of your neck. 

“Drink,” she orders. Her voice is quiet but firm, denying her is not an option when she raises the glass to your lips. It’s intense as it travels down your throat – the warmth of it courses through your body, collecting between your thighs. A look of satisfaction comes over her when the glass is emptied. 

“Good,” she praises, and sets the glass down on the table. “You’re so good for me.” 

You bite back a whine. Lottie notices your growing desperation, she thrives in it. She pulls you to her roughly, into another kiss, one that holds promise of more than innocence. She straddles you, pushes you down so you’re laying flat again. 

You begin to fumble with your shirt – she takes it off for you and tosses it to the side. Her lips attach to your neck, biting and sucking and marking you in any way she can. You let out a moan, hear her breath hitch as you do. She moves down your chest, more gentle but just as fervent as she pulls one of your nipples into her mouth. She runs her tongue over it, hands holding you in place as you arch into her touch. You need more. She can feel it, she loves the torture. 

“Please,” you breathe, begging under her touch. Specifics are gone from your mind, just that you need her, in any and every way she would allow. 

“Please? Please, what, honey?” she asks, giving you a look as if she’s oblivious. You don’t respond as soon as she hopes, so before you can speak, Lottie kisses you – it clouds your mind as you feel her pull off your pants. Your hands find her back, yet one moves to her bicep as one of her hands travels between your legs. 

Your grip on her becomes tight as her fingers run through you, stopping to press against your clit. She moves in tight circles in response to your moan, the sudden intensity of her touch overwhelming in the best of ways. 

“Is this what you wanted, baby?” she asks. “This is what you needed, isn’t it?” 

“Yes,” you whine, your eyes falling closed at her touch. One of her hands comes to rest at the base of your neck, and your eyes open again. 

“Look at me, darling,” she demands, and after you nod, she slides two of her fingers into you. She pumps them into you slowly at first, ensuring your adjustment before speeding her pace. Her thumb finds your clit, and you can’t hold back the string of moans that escapes you. 

“Good, let me hear you,” Lottie praises. “You’re doing so well, my love.” 

Every thought other than her, her touch, fades away. All that’s left in the world is her and all the ways you’d let her use you, all of the sacrifices you would make in her name. In the wilderness she was a prophet, and still she rules as one. 

“Breathe,” she reminds you – she could take you to the edge of death and you’d be willing if it meant a moment more of this euphoria. 

You moan, feeling yourself rush close to the edge. Lottie can feel it, the hint of a smile is present at the edge of her lips as she looks down at you. She kisses you, and you pull her as close as you can. 

“Let go for me, baby,” she allows you when she pulls out of the kiss. Her tone is gentle. “Cum for me.” 

Your body responds instantly. At her words your orgasm courses through you, and every muscle in your body tenses before letting go all at once. You can’t hear her praise as you endure, you can’t think. Your breath comes in gasps.  

When finally the pleasure subsides, Lottie pulls her touch from you. Though there’s no cushion to support her on the floor, she lays down on her side and loops her arm around your waist. The care with which she gazes at you sparks the warmth of love in your chest. You feel safe in her arms. 

Through the wilderness you would follow her if it ever came to it. She ruled as a prophet over you, and you would spill blood in devotion. Every sacrifice she wanted she could take – in the wilderness, we are our own kings and gods. 

[fen-luciel]

The mistakes of a Acolyte

7

Chapters

Summary: You are pregnant with Qimir's child and the universe is not big enough to hide you from him

I hadn't felt this empty for a long time.

The sensation of dry skin from all the tears shed, the difficulty breathing through my nose, the shortness of breath that struggled to stabilize.

It was like watching a child have a hysterical crisis.

Except I wasn't a child.

I had only experienced a similar pain once before. My mind had erased most of that day, I remembered random images, the fire, the rubble, the smell of burnt flesh, the black hands... small. Still...

I took a deep breath with my mouth open, before focusing on regulating my breathing. I was alone in the cabin, having instructed Sam to check for any tracking devices on the ship and Yord's communicator. The one Sol had given me had already been destroyed, thrown to the bottom of the room in a outburst of rage.

I struggled to get up from the chair, moving slowly toward the small bedroom. At this point, my entire body was aching with a dull pain. I couldn't tell what was real or what was paranoia. At first, I even thought that all this stress might have been too much for the baby. A scan from Sam showed no severe damage, but he wasn’t a medical droid, and I needed to be checked before hiding again.

In the room, I reached the small bathroom with a shower. Sam had already prepared some clothes in a corner. The sight made me smile, yet my heart tightened in a painful grip.

There was nothing sweet about all this. I was miserable.

A wounded animal in need of care. Weak. Physically and mentally.

I turned on the faint lights above the mirror and looked at myself.

It was certainly an ironic scene. Just a few hours earlier, I had been in the same situation on the Jedi ship and then alone in this bathroom, which was very similar to the previous one, but everything was a hundred times worse.

Bloodshot eyes, a swollen, red face, dry skin, streaks of mucus on my chin, lips almost bleeding from how much I had rubbed them with my sleeve and bitten them. The vacant stare, the messy hair... I was ruined.

If I had been honest with myself, maybe I had never been healthy. Not as a Jedi, not alone, not as a Sith. But this was the bottom of the barrel.

The little dignity I thought I had, the pride, the faith... what had they led to?

I undressed slowly, my arms burning with pain, the marks on my skin evident and almost distinct in multiple colors—purple, black, red, blue, and lighter around the edges, the older ones starting to take on a greenish hue. I removed my pants and underwear, then took a deep breath. One hand gently caressing my belly, more tears threatened to fall from my eyes, but I held them back.

I needed to stop. I risked harming myself. Even Sam had reproached me for putting too much stress on my body. The last thing I wanted on my conscience was to harm my child before he was even born. It would be just another failure on my part, but I didn't think I would survive the psychological consequences.

I turned on the hot water and waited for the small bathroom to warm up. As soon as the steam began to fill the room, I stepped into the shower under the warm stream. I washed slowly, partly due to my aching body, partly to enjoy a moment of peace. There were many things to do. I couldn't immediately retreat to the farthest corner of the galaxy. I needed to gather healthier supplies, recover my credits from various accounts, ensure the ship was safe from tampering, and check that I had no one on my trail.

Yes, Sam was checking and had been keeping an eye on the ship the whole time, but I couldn’t know if Qimir had gotten his hands on it earlier. Hours had passed, and I was fairly certain he had managed to escape, but he hadn't sent me any messages or tried to contact me through the Force. Everything was too calm.

Maybe he was carefully planning his next moves. After all, now he had a more important reason to keep me close. Five months ago, he hadn't let go, even though he continued his objectives, and time had passed, maybe even with the belief that I would resurface alone. But now, things were completely different.

I knew what he wanted deep in his heart, in his raw and simple desires. Revenge against those who had hurt him. And me. And now our son was indirectly the perfect symbol of his dream, the product of us both as a family, alive and corporeal.

I needed to prepare myself psychologically for what would come next. Even though it was clear my body wasn’t capable of handling it, I struggled to react to his presence. My only option was to flee.

Or if things really went south... I wouldn’t care anymore. I would report him to the Jedi Order if it meant keeping him away from my son. It was already ridiculous trying to help him once, yes, even to protect myself, but everything that came after I could avoid.

I stepped out of the shower feeling somewhat better, though the pain had not subsided at all. Washing away the tears from my face had been therapeutic. I put on a pair of loose pants and a long black robe that reached my knees, deciding to skip the underwear. I had had enough of my miserable hours, feeling the underwire of my bra pressing against my flesh was the last thing I wanted, and no one would notice the lack of underwear.

I wanted to sleep. Lie down and forget everything for a while. But I knew that if I relaxed now, I would open my eyes hours later or worse, not want to get up at all. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time.

It took me at least five minutes to put on my shoes by myself.

When I finally managed, I opened the bedroom door, with Sam waiting outside.

"Did you check everything as I asked?" He gave a small affirmative nod while handing me the holo pad Yord had given me.

I should have destroyed it. What would I even do with it? Contact him? If he were interested, he would have called me earlier or... no, I was delirious.

A bitter laugh escaped me as I recalled Qimir's words. He was right, I was delirious.

I went back to the cockpit, my backpack waiting on the co-pilot's seat, and with a sigh, I slipped the communicator back in. I tidied up the things I needed, decided to tuck the lightsaber into the large pockets of my pants. Since I would be wearing a cloak, I doubted anyone would notice, but I preferred to carry something familiar. Even if I didn’t use it, it would be enough to scare almost anyone, though I preferred not to show it too much.

We arrived at our destination a few minutes later. The planet was a very popular docking destination, especially for those making long trips, as the surface didn’t offer much entertainment for the inhabitants. The docking area was the main commerce zone, legal or otherwise, with a financial flow so significant that even the Republic turned a blind eye to certain dealings.

The logic was quite simple: there were multiple docking levels, marked with different colors or numbers. At first glance, it seemed just a normal numbering system, but each symbol provided specific information for dockers, and if you were ignorant of the matter, you just had to look at the colors.

Green = legal

Purple = illegal

I landed on a lower level, a purple platform with some tool symbols painted on the side. I slung my backpack over my shoulder and, accompanied by Sam, descended the ramp calmly. My feet cried out in pain, especially after resting for a few hours on the ship, but I ignored the discomfort. I would rest eventually.

From the landing area, there was a narrower path overlooking the void, with lights visible below on the artificial pillar. It made little sense to stop here if one wanted to visit the actual planet. Even though there were means to descend directly, it made more sense to land on solid ground.

As I moved away from the ship, I saw two Togruta approaching me with a tool cart in tow. I pulled my hood over my head and stopped a few steps from them.

“Ma’am” they greeted with a nod, which I returned. I then handed them a pouch with some credits, which they tucked into their pockets.

“I need to buy some supplies, but I have a few doubts. I would like you to check the ship internally and externally for any tracking devices or tampering. If you find something like this, please inform me immediately” They nodded before handing me a small device with two lights.

“If we find anything concerning, we will immediately trigger the red light. We assume that any external device will be destroyed if found...?”

I nodded. "Of course, I expect the utmost discretion" I said, and resumed walking. However, one of the two men called out to me, "Excuse me, if you need supplies, my brother runs a shop on the floor above. Right next to the elevator, yellow sign. He has a bit of everything... even some extras if you ask"

I nodded again, and we parted ways. I reached the elevator and decided to take a stroll to see if I could find anything useful. I gathered some credits in various pouches that I slipped to the bottom of my bag, careful not to be seen, and passed by the shop that had been suggested to me, paying a droid to bring the supplies directly to the ship until I decided to stop at a small restaurant.

A counter overlooked the kitchen, with a dozen neatly arranged tables outside. It had a slightly dated appearance, but it was nice and, above all, quiet.

I ordered something simple, and it arrived quickly since there weren't many customers. I ate while waiting for the signal from my ship. People and aliens of all kinds passed before my eyes, but I could barely focus. I was distracted, confused, and not hearing from Qimir was eating me alive. Was this his plan? To torture me with silence? To wait until I let my guard down or to drive me insane?

As I finished my meal, a female voice from a nearby table caught my attention. "Congratulations" a woman in her fifties smiled warmly at me. I immediately recognized her armor as part of one of the bounty hunter clans scattered throughout space. She gestured toward my stomach, and looking down, I noticed that seated, my belly was quite noticeable due to the shirt that had rolled up around my hips.

I placed a hand on my stomach in a small caress and forced a tight smile. "Thank you." I hoped the conversation would end there, but clearly, the woman wanted to chat. "How many months along are you?"

I held back a sigh. It wasn’t her fault I was irritated, I didn’t want to respond rudely, and it was better not to anger strangers—you never knew how they might react.

"Fifth... almost sixth"

I had also finished eating, so I couldn’t use that as an excuse. I could have gotten up and left, but I wanted to enjoy sitting there as long as I could, I still didn’t know how long it would be before I was called back.

"How lovely, you remind me of my first pregnancy. My husband and I were so happy..." She looked at me as she got lost in her story. She was a beautiful woman with copper-red hair tied up, a few gray strands in the middle, and wrinkles that showed her age, but she was so charming that it was barely noticeable. Not to mention she was clearly a trained woman.

But what was she doing here alone? I recognized the armor well, they were usually in small scattered groups. I didn’t recall seeing anyone else with the same clan symbol on the floor, nor had I seen her talking to anyone before...

A shiver of fear struck me.

She was here hunting someone. And now... she was talking to me... it couldn’t be true? Had Qimir put a bounty on my head so quickly? Or maybe he had contacted some private party he knew and...

"Hey, girl, are you okay? You look pale, do you need a hand? Is there someone with you?"

I gripped the edge of the table nervously, my other hand slowly reaching for the lightsaber in my pocket, Sam at my feet, ready to attack if necessary.

"Are you here for me?" I asked bluntly. If we were going to confront each other, it was better not to beat around the bush.

She looked at me puzzled for a moment, then her face lit up in realization. "Oh, no, sweetheart, believe me, I was just on a break before joining my people and... wait, are you in trouble? Who would send bounty hunters after you?" She gave me a closer look before seeing the glint in my pocket. I hid the lightsaber, but it was too late.

She looked taken aback for a moment before sitting in the empty chair at my table, leaning slightly forward. "Are you a Jedi?!" she whispered. "Oh, honey, how did you get into this mess? The cloak reminded me of something, but I didn’t think it was like this..."

I looked around nervously, but no one seemed to pay attention. "I... it’s complicated" I didn’t feel like correcting her, it was better not to reveal too much information, especially to a stranger. She didn’t seem to have bad intentions, but it was better not to risk exposing myself too much.

She sighed.

"This is what happens when you raise kids away from the world. Tsk. No offense, but I never liked your Order. What happens with kids and then... was it intentional at least?" She asked, indicating my belly.

I shrugged in response. I didn’t want to feel like I was being interrogated by a stranger or, worse, criticized for my choices. The idea of going down and waiting at the docking platform crossed my mind.

She exhaled slowly as she leaned back in her chair. "And him? Another Jedi?" I looked at her from under my hood and nodded. She rubbed her eyes. "Tell me you’re waiting for him here, please."

The indirect mention of Qimir by the woman at this point seemed like just another joke from the Force.

I held back a tear, quickly wiping it away, but the gesture didn’t go unnoticed by the woman. I continued nervously looking at my hands in my lap, Sam beside me, whistling sadly.

There was a few seconds of tense silence before she spoke again. "Listen. Let’s start over. I’m Eleena, and you?"

I told her my name in a faint voice.

"Alright, Sabrina. Do you have a plan? A place to stay? Do you know what to do?"

I nodded. "Do you think the Jedi are looking for you? They don’t seem like the type to chase a pregnant girl, despite everything..."

I sighed, distressed. The whole conversation made me uncomfortable, but I was glad to get a bit of understanding after all this time, especially from someone outside all the Order and the Force’s mess.

"It’s... a complicated matter" I started moving the plate in front of me with a finger in a nervous gesture, continuing not to look at her, afraid of feeling judged. "Okay. Then I’ll ask you another question. Have you had any check-ups recently?"

I cleared my throat. "Last month, I wanted to go here, but I saw I had to register at the counter and other procedures, so I didn’t feel up to it..."

She calmly got up from the chair, hands on her hips. "I know another place here. A man who helps bounty hunters. I’ll take you there, and you get checked out, okay?"

I looked at her in surprise.

Was she serious? Was she really helping me? Could I trust her?

"But why...?" She offered me a hand to help me up. "I told you, I’m a mother too. We should help each other, right? And besides, I’m always happy to stick it to the Jedi"

We walked through the market area, reached the elevator again, and went down two floors to the workers' private area. A guard stopped us, but as soon as he saw Eleena, he made a gesture and let us pass. The area looked more like a really disorganized warehouse, with a few tables scattered around and various people on break eating or dozing in chairs. We reached the end of the corridor and went through a side door. There was a small corridor with white walls and another door at the end.

Eleena knocked, and after a moment of silence, the door opened. A massive man, perhaps around two meters tall, welcomed us and let us in.

It was clear that they knew each other. They exchanged a few words while I looked around, still followed by a curious Sam. The place was a storage room cleaned and reorganized as a medical room. Despite the heavy air, it was... nice.

In the end, I managed to get the check-ups I needed. Fortunately, I was fine, although the droid that gave me a quick scan announced the few bruises on my arms and a high stress level in my body. Eleena gave me an intense look but said nothing. I tried to pay them for their trouble, but the man refused, saying, "Friends of my friends are my friends"... or something like that.

Just in time to receive the signal on the communicator, I could finally board the ship and leave. Eleena decided to accompany me to the landing area. I returned the device and paid extra for some minor repairs that had been done.

"I don’t know how to thank you. I didn’t know where else to go. I was thinking of buying a medical droid on the way home" I stopped in front of the ramp as Sam opened the hatch and boarded to check the supplies that had been loaded.

"It’s all right. I’m glad to help, really. The galaxy is already full of assholes, and doing a good deed every now and then doesn’t hurt" I held my hands under my stomach before giving a small bow with my head. "It doesn’t matter. Thank you for everything"

I started to board, but she stopped me. "Listen. I won’t ask for anything else, but I think I have an idea of what’s going on with you. Tell me the truth, it’s just you and the droid, right?"

I bit my lip before nodding.

"Then take this. I don’t care if you use it or not. I feel better knowing you can contact me" she handed me a holo-pad which I took hesitantly. "If you need to kick some Jedi ass, my people and I are here. Even for free, believe me, it would just make us happy"

I looked at her for a few more seconds before pulling off my hood and giving her a gentle smile, perhaps finally more at ease after all the tears shed. "I won’t forget this"

We said our goodbyes, and I finally boarded the ship, reached the controls, and started the engines. The holo-map was lit up next to me, with Sam asking where we wanted to go as he analyzed the various marked locations.

"I don’t know. Maybe somewhere it snows" I whispered more to myself than to him as we flew out of the atmosphere.

[evita-shelby]

They didn't know we were seeds

Chapter 17

Cw: grief, mentions of substance abuse, anxiety, suicidial thoughts

@justrainandcoffee @emotionalcadaver @call-sign-shark @peakyswritings

Jack is a man on a mission.

He has packed all ne should need, he has a good guide and a peacekeeper’s uniform and a badge that should get him all the way to 12.

His beard is gone as part of Peacekeeper regulations, he has adopted a more Capitol-like accent to sell the lie he is a nobody from there and he has enough time to make it back home without anyone suspecting where he went.

His mother will assume he is with Eva, Eva will assume he is at his cabin, and he’ll be back home before they know it. He just needs to meet with their contacts and know how far he can get before 13 picks them up and takes them. It’s over a thousand miles and it would take a month or so to get there on foot if they managed to get there at all.

But the fake passes and the uniforms he’s stolen could allow more people to leave. Adults and some teenagers could do it. Tall girls and boys could make it to safety, but small children and women too far along wouldn’t.

Unless he could smuggle them in containers.

The train ride to 12 is expected to take about two days at the most, 6 to 10 hours if it’s on the newer trains used for government officials and those hosting the Reapings.

It would be a tight fit and risk far too much, but maybe a sedative in Laurie’s juice could have him asleep in a crate until they leave 12 and walk the rest of the way. They could do it, they have to before it takes more people he loves.

“Give the baby a kiss for me.” His mother fastens the straps on his backpack he’s taken to hide some last-minute things.

“I will, mom. Tell Katie that Eva doesn’t have a phone in her farmhouse, so she won’t answer any of her calls while we are there.” He hates lying to her, but he has to do this.

It was the only way.

Jack Nelson leaves his cabin as Sejanus, some rank-and-file peacekeeper assigned to 12.

“Where to, Sergeant?” the Officer checking the papers asks,

“12, under Head Peacekeeper Cray’s command, sir.”

Eva knows something is wrong when Jack doesn’t come.

“Daddy?” Laurie asks, pointing at the clearing that Jack always comes from because it makes it look like he is coming from a path that leads to a neighboring farm some miles out and not 2. Even their toddler knows something is wrong.

“He’s not coming, baby.”

He never misses the first week after the Games end. He always comes home and stays the week with her because there’s no work to be done on her farm and no one will notice he is gone beyond his mother and sister.

But it’s two days into the week and he has yet to show up.

Eva has no telephone here and spends the rest of the week in a state of anxiety waiting for Jack to come and tell her she was worrying for nothing. It takes her everything to pretend everything is fine for her baby son and she prays that he is not dead.

Jack had been in a terrible state when they left, reeking of booze and high on pills to numb himself. He hadn’t even remembered the train ride to 2 according to Katie who had called her to let her know she and their mother were taking care of him.

Their last call had worried her.

“I don’t know if I’ll get better.” He had unburdened himself completely to avoid taking up old habits and something told her that it had failed.

“You will, just as I did, and everyone here has.” She had reassured him as she kept him from hurting himself even more. “You can’t leave me, Jack. I forbid you.”

If he dies, she dies.

The Victor knows in her heart that she could never survive a world without him.

On the fourth day, someone comes and its not Jack. It is his mother who knows Jack as well as Eva does.

“I had hoped he was here.” She takes the whiskey Jack smuggled out of his district and pours it into her tea. Tea was not enough to calm Atia and Eva would do the same if she could. “I knew he was lying to me the second he began packing, but I thought he was just being cautious.”

“Did you ask Lyme?” Eva paces to keep herself from losing her mind in worry.

“She’s in 11 with her girlfriend, her father hasn’t seen Jack. No one has seen him, and I wanted him to be here and tell me I was being ridiculous, and he is fine.” The red-haired woman bites her nail trying to keep it together, but her mother’s heart cannot be hidden. “Oh, my poor rabbit!”

Eva knows what they do to those who run.

She’s seen how they kill and torture them, how difficult it is to leave one district.

And it is then the young mother and wife knows where he went.

Her husband had told her how he gets deserters to 13. A uniform and a fake badge and train to 12 where one of Shelby’s Contacts, a man by the name of Johnny Dogs leads them out to the ruins of 13.

“I know where he is. 13. He has been helping deserters escape Panem.”

He is able to leave the District with far too much ease.

Something is going to go wrong. He feels it in his gut as he changes into plain Coalminer’s getup in some derelict hut in the Seam.

“I can go with you, you won’t even know I am there, Johnny.” The young man, a grey eyed rebel by the name of Gale, begs with the ringleader who shook his head.

“And what will I tell your mom when you are killed or worse, boy?” the short and strange man ---a Covey man going by the way he acts--- was adamant that he turns back when they get to the lake.

“Can you use a bow?” the young man asks the career.

If they knew who he was, they made no mention of it, but for plausible deniability, Jack doesn’t say who he truly is. They wouldn’t help him if they knew.

“Since I turned ten, why do you ask?” Jack no longer feels any pride in how he was raised and yet it is that training that kept him alive and makes him invaluable to the rebellion.

“Just asking, you won your games with a sword.” The sixteen-year-old boy shows how bright he is by revealing to all who is the man wanting to know the way to 13.

“If I’d known the hell I’d live after, I would’ve let Juno kill me.” The victor says to Gale’s honest surprise.

“Tell me how you won, my name’s gonna be in the bowl forty times next year. I have to know in case I---” even the sullen and strong kid as tall as him cannot even bring himself to say it.

“It won’t come to that, not if you do as I say.”

Gale Hawthrone doesn’t turn back as he promised, and Jack makes sure the boy stays on the right path the entire time. When he does finally stop following, Jack and his group are greeted by a man named Boggs.

“Do you think we could get a kid here safely?” Jack asks Johnny and Boggs as they do the trade off and give Jack new orders.

He isn’t Iacobus Nelson here, he is Private Jack Nelson, another new soldier for District 13.

By the time he gets home, to Eva and his mother waiting anxiously on the porch, he and Gale have devised a way to get their families away from Panem should they need to leave without Johnny.

The last of his days with Eva and Laurie are spent planning an escape for all of them. Jack Nelson won’t let his family die while Plutarch wastes their time waiting for something that doesn’t exist.

[queenshelby]

The Future (Intro)

Pairing: Emmett (AQP2) x Female OC

Warnings: Post-Apocalyptic, Post-Trauma, Arranged Marriage, Forced Impregnation

Notes: Alright, you asked for this and I said I would do it! But there is a twist! I am writing my first OC story, so please be kind. I also stole some pictures from Fear the Walking Dead for my character introduction. It seemed fitting enough...

Introduction/Characters:

Caitlin (Original Character & Main Protagonist): Caitlin is 25 years old and single. She is a nurse on the island which sometimes proves difficult for her as, just like Regan, she is deaf. Caitlin suffered trauma and abuse after having been captured by rebels on the mainland and then was rescued by Emmett who took her to the island. Caitlin enjoys drawing, reading, and gardening.

Karl (Original Character): Karl is ten years old and Caitlin’s adoptive son. Their backstory is explained below. Karl is also deaf.

Max (Original Character): Max is eights years and also Catlin’s adoptive son. He is Karl’s younger biological brother.

Emmett (Main Protagonist): We all know Emmett of course. Emmett is 45 years old and leads the task force to the mainland, to which he travels occasionally to source food and seek out survivors. Over the years, Emmett has learned sign-language for Regan’s sake. Emmett is Eloise’s godfather and lives on his own with his dog Scout, in a small cabin, away from the main village on the island. He likes to keep to himself and draw, but often gets forced to socialise with the group.

Regan: We also all know Regan. Regan is now in her early twenties and has a daughter called Eloise.

Eloise (Original Character): Eloise is Regan’s three-year-old daughter.

George (Original Character): George is Regan’s husband.

Evelyn: We all know Evelyn of course. Evelyn is Regan’s mother and Emmett’s closest friend. Evelyn is one of the elected five council members and, unlike Emmett, she is very active in the community.

Jordyn (Original Character): Jordyn is 30 years old and single. Jordyn is interested in Caitlin but has a troubled past. Until one year ago, he lived on the mainland with a rebel group but, due to a dispute with the other men, he took shelter on the island. Emmett and some of the others are keeping a close eye on him and some other young men, including Evelyn’s son, whom he is trying to recruit for an uprising against the authorities.

Background

After years of living on the island, a community had finally been formed and it was this sense of community which gave everyone hope following the invasion.

Other communities like this were soon discovered elsewhere, mostly scattered across different islands off the shores of America and these communities eventually began to form a government again, named the “New Government of the Island States” (NGIS).

Telecommunication was slowly restored amongst these communities and, after implementing successful means of basic communication, five representatives from each island community were elected to form a local council. The local council for each island was then tasked to implement any new laws and regulations proposed within their sector and, so that none of the communities would create havoc for themselves or others, any new laws and regulations were prepared and passed collectively by the Senate of the NGIS. All five council members were also members of such Senate and, together, at least seventy percent of all 35 Senate members had to vote in favour of any new law or regulation before its implementation across the member islands.

It was called democracy and gave rise to many good ideas. After five years of chaos, criminals and murderers were now finally being brought to justice again and there was now also the option of legal marriage and companionship.

The few children that had survived the invasion were now being schooled and everyone was given food as well as employment.

A task force had also been established on each island, requiring at least twenty participants whom were mostly volunteers to, occasionally, travel to the mainland in order to look for survivors and gather supplies. The task force was also charged with killing the aliens which, over the past five years, had destroyed this earth and killed over ninety-nine percent of the population.

But, the fact that ninety-nine percent of the population had died following the invasion also gave rise to a new law which had been voted in favour of at the rate of just seventy-one percent. It was a law that had been frowned upon by many and was called the “Law of Procreation”.

Under the Law of Procreation, every female above the age of twenty and under the age of thirty-five had to be bound to a domestic relationship and produce at least two children if at all physically possible.

Birth control was made illegal for women who fall within this age bracket and if a woman had not found a partner within ninety days of this law having been enacted or within ninety days of turning twenty (whichever is the later), then a partner was to be assigned to her by council.

This, unfortunately, was the case for at least three single women on the Seaside Island, one of whom was Caitlin.

Caitlin was a 25-year-old nurse who had arrived at the island three years ago with a child named Max and a child named Karl. Both children were still young, eight and ten respectively and just like Caitlin herself, Karl could neither hear nor speak. He was deaf and, since he was just like her, this is why Caitlin had cared for him all this time.

On the day of the invasion, Caitlin was babysitting the two boys which was something she had done for several years beforehand. Because she knew sign-language, the siblings’ parents had employed her as a daytime carer for them after they decided that boys should both be home schooled and, with that in mind, Caitlin became a qualified aid to them both.

Then, when the aliens took over, it was Caitlin who saved the boys’ life and although she started looking for their parents, they could never be found. They had probably been taken by the creatures and, with that in mind, Caitlin and the two siblings took shelter in a nearby barn before making their way to the island.

Just as many others, Max heard the signal and told Caitlin about it which is when they made their way to the nearest dock. But, just as they had arrived at the dock to board a small ship to Seaside Island, the unthinkable happened.

Caitlin was taken by a group of men while Max and Karl managed to hide on a small boat near the pier. The boat itself became their saviour and, miraculously, they made it to the island to gather help.

Six men from the island then went to the shore in order to save Caitlin. It was an act full of compassion, led by a man called Norman who, sadly, passed away one year following his mission to the mainland.

Knowing that Caitlin could neither speak nor hear, Norman asked Emmett to join him along with Regan’s husband George. Both George and Emmett knew some sign-language after having learned the basics for Regan’s sake and were therefore well equipped to communicate with the captured girl who appreciated the involvement from both men in the rescue mission.

Alongside Caitlin, the group rescued two more women, as well as a young child who belonged to one of the rebels.

The women had endured great suffering under the care of these barbaric men and it was Emmett who took revenge for them after they were freed.

It was also Emmett who carried Caitlin out of the building as she was too injured to walk herself and they had been acquaintances ever since. One wouldn’t call them friends, but they sure got along, at least until now, which is when their lives were to be changed forever.

To be continued…

Please comment and engage. I love getting comments and predictions pretty please!

Tag List:

@fastfan

@elenavampire21

@dolllol2405

@allie131313

@cilliansangel

@coldbastille

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@cdej6

@kathrinemelissa

@landlockedmermaid77

@crazymar15

@m3th-kate (cannot tag)

@damedomino  

@lauren-raines-x

@miss-bunny19

@halleisheree (cannot tag)

@skinny-bitch-juice

@odorinana

@cloudofdisney

@lexiwoods (cannot tag)

@weepingstudentfishhorse

@allexiiisss

@geminiwolves

@letsstarsfalling

@ysmmsy

@chlorrox

@tommyshelbypb

@chocolatehalo

@music-lover911

@desperate-and-broken

@mysticaldeanvoidhorse

@peaky-cillian

@lelestrangerandunusualdeetz

@december16-1991

@captivatedbycillianmurphy

@romanogersendgame

@randomfangirl2718

@dorothea-hwldr (cannot tag)

@missymurphy1985

@peakyscillian

@lilymurphy03

@deefigs

@theflamecrystal

@livinginfantaxy

@rosey1981

@elenvampire21 (cannot tag)

@hanster1998

@mariapaiva13 (cannot tag)

@fairypitou

@zozeebo

@kasaikawa

@littleweirdoalien

@sad-huffle-nerd

@theflamecrystal

@peakymalfoyscullymulder (cannot tag)

@0ghostwriter0

@stylescanbeatmyback

@1-800-peakyblinders

@datewithgianni

@momoneymolife

@mcntsee

@janelongxox

@basiclassy

@being-worthy

@chaotic-bean-of-smolness

@margoo0

@vhscillian

@crazymar15

@im-constantly-fangirling

@namelesslosers

@littlewhiterose

@ttzamara

@cilleveryone

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon

@dolllol2405

@pkab

@babaohhhriley

@littleweirdoalien

@alreadybroken-ts

@masteroperator

@stevie75

@shabzy96

@rainbow12346

@obsessedwithfandomsx

@geeksareunique

@laysalespoir

@paigem00

@lkarls

@suneshinebelledaisy (cannot tag)

@vamp-army

@luckystarme

@myjumper

@gxorg

@eline-1806

@goldenharrysworld

@cristinagronk16

@stylesofloki

@faatxma

@slut-for-matt-murdock

@tpwkstiles

@myjumper

@cloudofdisney

@look-at-the-soul

@smellyzcat

@kittycatcait219 (cannot tag)

@theliterarybeldam

@bekkiemahonxx95 (cannot tag)

@layazul

@slutforprentiss03 (cannot tag)

@blossemedfloweroflove (cannot tag)

@lyn07

@kagilmore

@dakotapaigelove (cannot tag)

@50svibes

@mainstreetlilly

@ourthatgirlabby

@bitchwhytho

@arthurdeservesbetterrip (cannot tag)

@takethee

@registerednursejackie

@sofi128

@mrkdvidal1989 (cannot tag)

@minxsblog

@annipiola (cannot tag)

@heidimoreton

@laylasbunbunny

@laylasbunbunny

@queenshelby

@camilleholland89

@forgottenpeakywriter

@fmo166

@foofarny

@vintagecherryt

[burnwater13]

Din Djarin repairing the Razor Crest on Maldo Kreis. Image from The Mandalorian, Season 2, Episode 2, The Passenger. Calendar by DateWorks.

Grogu sighed. He missed the Razor Crest. Not just because it had a multi-species privy either. Or a private cabin for his hammock. Or a food preserver. Or a fresher. In fact, he wasn’t a big fan of freshers in general. At least not the ones that used sound to clean the dirt off you. 

Sure, his feet weren’t covered in sand or dirt anymore, but the base of the fresher was and then he always ended up tracking it all over the ship and that didn’t make the Mandalorian any happier than he ever was. It just inspired Din Djarin to tell him stories about how Mandalorian younglings learn to clean everything and that when they developed the syllabus for Grogu’s apprenticeship, cleaning methods, techniques, and selection criteria were certain to be a large portion of the practical application courses. Uff. 

Of course the Razor Crest did have a second fresher that had been perfect for Grogu. The Mandalorian called it a ‘sink’ but given Grogu’s size, it was more like a tub and he really enjoyed it. It wasn’t deep enough for him to do a somersault, but he could float on his back and he could practice swimming, although the sink really wasn’t regulation anything in length.

The only downside to the sink/tub was that the bounty hunter complained at him about leaving a dirt ring in it.

“Buddy, the point of a bath is to get clean. I’m not sure that’s really happening here. Where did this dirt come from?”

It was a fair question. Grogu was often surprised at how easy it was for him to get dirty on a ship that was in the middle of hyperspace. One time he’d tried to blame the purrgils, but Din Djarin wasn’t buying it. Not even a little bit. 

“Buddy, I don’t even believe in Space Whales, but I still know they didn’t somehow transport dirt into the Razor Crest just so you could walk in it and track it all around both decks. I thought that coverall of yours actually covered your feet?”

It had covered his feet. Once. But you only had to spend so much of your time walking around places like Tatooine and Nevarro to have that be pretty much a thing of the past. He had held up the edges of the hem so the bounty hunter could see what it looked like. The deep sigh spoke volumes. 

“Listen kid, you really need to let me know when stuff like this happens. This is the sort of thing that was an easy repair when you had the first little rip or hole. Now… well now I need to see if I even have enough scraps left over from the last time I repaired my second layer to make you a big enough patch. We might have to stop on Joona and see if they have fabric we can purchase to fix this or maybe even make you a new coverall.”

A new coverall?! Wow. 

Grogu had no idea that Din Djarin could sew. Or at least he thought if the Mandalorian had been capable of sewing then his own cape/blanket wouldn’t be in tatters all the time. He certainly hadn’t been fixing it when the problem was small. It was more like he was waiting for the whole thing to disintegrate before he replaced to save time. 

But if the Mandalorian was going to make him so new clothing, Grogu really wanted to provide some solid input on the selection of the fabric and pattern to make sure it was comfortable, durable, and stylish. Most people thought he was a walking sack of tubers. He knew he’d been sold as just that at least twice while he was still on Arvala-7. 

The Jedi weren’t really known for their style. At least not the Jedi he knew. And none of them could sew a fastener to a belt, let alone to leg coverings or a shirt collar. They pretty much covered themselves up in criss crossing layers of stuff and hid it all under a huge cape or cloak, depending on their nature. Open, happy Jedi (there really had been a few of them) used a short cape and it just kept their tunics and leggings from getting dirty. The more serious, battle hardened folks had a cloak with a deep hood that kept all but the most determined from seeing the grim visage that reminded everyone of a cross battle droid. Ready for action but never eager for it. 

Grogu always thought it was a pity that even his favorite Jedi Masters stuck to color palette that ranged all the way from sand colored to mud colored. For the truly adventurous you might have an accept color that was most reminiscent of dried blood. Any critters dried blood, it didn’t really matter. 

Grogu wanted something more colorful. Like rainbow even. Bright stripes. Dots. Maybe a criss cross pattern. It would be loose, but not like a balloon because he didn’t need to go flying across a sidewalk like that one time he grabbed the cloak Obi-Wan dropped. Good thing he could use the Force, otherwise he’d have been on the other side of Coruscant before anyone could catch up to him. 

It would have deep pockets for snacks; a mechanism to pull his hem up so it wouldn’t get wet in every stinking puddle he walked through, and sleeves that didn’t impede his arms from being able to reach out and collect items of interest. You know, things that were shiny, tasty, or willing to talk, like Anzellans. 

Finally, it would come with a pair of sturdy, made to measure sandals. Not boots. Not shoes. Sandals. He liked to feel the water squish between his toes and the wind blow them dry as they trotted from location to location. 

Grogu wondered if that’s what the Mandalorian had in mind. 

“Great news buddy! Remember that cape I used to clean you up when you got sick eating all those cookies in class that day on Nevarro? I just found a good sized chunk of that. Once I wash it I can use that to fix your coverall. I have no idea how it got stuck under my pilot’s seat, but its a lucky find for you.”

Yippee… Grogu just hoped it was still blue from the cookies. Fingers crossed. 

[semcoinfratechworld]

Understanding the Importance of Regular Testing with Hynn Battery Pack Testers

In today's fast-moving world, demand for effective and dependable battery technology is at an all-time high. Be it electric vehicles, renewable energy systems, or consumer electronics, batteries are at the very heart. Standardized testing with advanced equipment—like the Hynn Battery Pack Tester—is how one ascertains safety, ensures reliability, and realizes optimal performance.

Why Regular Testing Is Important?

A battery pack is composed of many cells, and only one weak cell may create serious problems. That is why periodic testing is so very important, to avoid huge failure costs by spotting problems in their early stage. Here are some of the key reasons why Hynn Machines have been considered vital for testing:

Ensure Safety: In terms of battery manufacturing, safety is very important. Overheating or overcharging may result in dangerous malfunctions, which means that regular testing with the Hynn Battery Pack Tester significantly decreases safety risks as it detects problems before they have time to escalate.

Performance Optimization: Performance would be left at the mercy of such factors as capacity, charge cycles, and environmental conditions. The Hynn Battery Cell Tester provides the manufacturer with the actual health of a battery to optimize performance for longevity with greater efficiency.

Improve Quality Control: Battery manufacturers are always in pursuit of keeping quality standards at their best. Testing with the Hynn Battery Pack Tester ensures that each and every lot emerges at standards set under rigorous standards, detects defective units early in production, and increases overall efficiency in the process.

Improve Long-term Reliability: Long-term reliability is a factor in applications like EVs or energy storage systems. Frequent testing helps manufacturers prove that battery packs will be consistent not only now but also for a long time. The Hynn Battery Pack Tester provides very detailed data about degradation and charge cycles that can help predict long-term performance.

Compliance with the Requirements: With regulations becoming more stringent, compliance in the battery industry is increasingly important. As frequent testing is conducted by Hynn Machines, batteries can be guaranteed to work under all levels of safety and environmental considerations. Indeed, with comprehensive reports produced by the Hynn Battery Pack Tester, there is even a guarantee for compliance with both local and international standards.

The Role of Hynn Machines in Battery Testing

Examples include the Hynn Battery Pack Tester and the Hynn Battery Cell Tester, which are designed to provide accurate and reliable data. The equipment has been very helpful for any battery manufacturer looking forward to optimizing performance and safety. Here's why they stand out:

Comprehensive Data: Hynn Machines present in-depth data on voltage, current, temperature, and internal resistance, thus helping manufacturers with the information they require to keep batteries running efficiently.

Ease of Use: The Hynn Battery Pack Testers are user-friendly, and thus the device is made available for beginners and experts alike, hence fastening the testing process.

Wide Applications: Be it for small-scale batteries for application in electronic components or high-scale ones for EVs, Hynn Machines have grown capable of handling each type of battery.

Advanced Power Solution: The Hynn Power Cabinet System assists with accommodating large-scale energy storage and distribution; scalable solutions are made available to manufacturers as per their needs.

Why Partner with a Reliable Supplier?

Working with a reliable Lithium-Ion Battery Manufacturing Equipment Supplier can ensure that you get optimum output from your testing processes. A good supplier will ensure that you have all modern tools in your workshop, like the Hynn Battery Pack Tester, Hynn Battery Cell Tester, and Hynn Power Cabinet System. Such advanced machines go a long way in helping your batteries meet the highest standards of safety, performance, and durability.

Conclusion

Manufacturers willing to stay on top in the competitive battery industry have to undertake regular testing with the Hynn Battery Pack Tester. Regular testing ensures that battery safety and performance are maintained while highlighting areas for quality improvement. These steps result in reliable battery packs that meet all regulatory standards as well as consumer expectations. Consider partnering with a trusted Lithium-Ion Battery Manufacturing Equipment Supplier offering advanced tools—Hynn Machines—that make the process efficient, compliant, and reliable.

[legends-of-time]

The Strength of a High and Noble Hill (Outlander)

Chapter 20: Coming Together

Masterlist

On the way to the Ridge, Brian and Ellen get a rundown of how it's been progressing. Jamie has built a small cabin for him, Mama and Young Ian.

Some settlers have moved onto the land. This includes the Lindsay brothers, their wives and children as well as a Ronnie Sinclair. All the men were in Ardsmuir along with Jamie.

Jamie and Mama explain why they were in Wilmington. It started a week before when Jamie received a letter from Governor Tryon inviting him and Mama to attend a play with him. Turns out the Governor was attempting a trap for the regulators, including Murtagh, Jamie's godfather. Thankfully Murtagh had been warned and suspicion had fallen upon Colonel Washington(!) instead. Jamie had explained it in such a blasé tone while Mama had simply smirked in amusement as Brian and Ellen's eyes bug out of their skulls at the mention of the man. It's times like this that Brian is truly reminded he is in the past.

Jamie and Young Ian have also set up a whisky business. They have a malting floor about a couple of miles from the cabin in a small clearing. Jamie tells them how he had distilled the Ridge's first batch of whisky last autumn. They invite Brian and Ellen to have a look soon.

——

"Brian!"

Brian looks up from where he'd been cutting up wood to see Jamie standing there with another man next to him. The man is lean but muscular. His arms are long, and his skin is spotted by smallpox. His eyes are black, his forehead narrow and his jaw narrow with a grey bushy beard and dense and expressive eyebrows.

The two men walk over to Brian. Jamie is smiling happily while the man has an inquisitive look on his face.

"Murtagh, this is my son Brian, Brian this is Murtagh, my godfather." Jamie introduces.

Murtagh stares at the young man in front of him before glancing at his godson. He looks shocked and overwhelmed.

"Hi." Brian greets awkwardly.

This breaks Murtagh out of his shock. "What took ye so long, diabhal beag?" He chuckles, pulling Brian into a tight hug which Brian reciprocates.

Brian looks over Murtagh's shoulder to see Jamie grin and he grins back. Brian doesn't understand what Murtagh called him but the words fill him with warmth.

Murtagh pulls back, holding Brian at arm's length by his shoulders. "Christ, Jamie, ye dinna tell me he's yer splittin' image."

Jamie chuckles with pride while Brian just blushes awkwardly. All of this, having his biological father around, is taking some getting used to.

——

"Your mother would like you to write more often." Brian remarks to his cousin as they all sit down to eat. "Don't know what made you think once a month was good enough."

Young Ian rolls his eyes, annoyed and slightly embarrassed.

Jamie finds it amusing. "Aw, yer ma chidin' ye from across the seas."

"Aye, and if ye have any sense ye'll pay heed, or no doubt she'll cross the sea herself," Murtagh continues to tease. "Been tha' way since she was a lass."

Ellen gets a mischievous look on her face before her gaze settles between their father and Murtagh. "What was Jamie like as a boy?"

"Och Christ–" Jamie rolls his eyes as his godfather is all too cheery to tell the tale.

Things soon turn to laughing about stories of Jamie's first kiss. A tale of milk pails, Leoch, and an unfortunate method of conversation stirred, as the cabin once again erupts with laughter, recalling memories, and joy.

——

Jamie, Murtagh and Mama are on hand to help Brian and Ellen settle into life in the 18th century, adapting to more laborious jobs. Brian hadn't realised how much harder daily tasks would be now that early his 20th century necessities have been taken away.

Extending the cabin is also a strenuous job. With all the extra people, they need more space to fit them all. It was decided that Ellen and Lizzie would stay in the shelter and Brian and Ian will sleep outside until a second one is built. Murtagh is with them until a shelter on his own land is put together for him.

Everything is going great except one thing. It seems Brian has a follower.

It's Lizzie. It seems she has a crush on him. She is able to find any excuse she can to be around him, even if it is to just be working outside at the same time as him where she can see him or playing dumb to get him to help her with the simplest tasks. She compliments him constantly and always is the first one to jump up if he needs assistance. Brian is too polite and worried about hurting her feelings to deny her. She's just a kid.

Everyone seems to find it hilarious, particularly Jamie and Murtagh who are no help. Mama thinks it's sweet.

Brian wonders if it had always been there and he just hadn't noticed. Granted his mind had been on other things, getting them to the States, Lizzie being ill, Ellen's attack then finding their parents. Settling on the Ridge had been the first time in a while that Brian has been able to breathe.

He's not sure what to do.

——

A/N: There'll be some Jamie and Brian bonding next chapter.

Diabhal beag = little devil

Please leave comments on how you're enjoying this story and what you think.

[railroadasbestos]

How Long Does It Take Asbestos Exposure To Affect You?

What is Asbestos?

Asbestos is the name given to a group of naturally occurring minerals that are resistant to heat and corrosion. Asbestos has been used in products, such as insulation for pipes (steam lines for example), floor tiles, building materials, and in vehicle brakes and clutches. Asbestos includes the mineral fibers chrysotile, amosite, crocidolite, tremolite, anthophyllite, actinolite and any of these materials that have been chemically treated or altered. Heavy exposures tend to occur in the construction industry and in ship repair, particularly during the removal of asbestos materials due to renovation, repairs, or demolition. Workers are also likely to be exposed during the manufacture of asbestos products (such as textiles, friction products, insulation, and other building materials) and during automotive brake and clutch repair work.

What Are the Hazards of Asbestos?

Asbestos is well recognized as a health hazard and its use is now highly regulated by both OSHA and EPA. Asbestos fibers associated with these health risks are too small to be seen with the naked eye. Breathing asbestos fibers can cause a buildup of scar-like tissue in the lungs called asbestosis and result in loss of lung function that often progresses to disability and death. Asbestos also causes cancer of the lung and other diseases such as mesothelioma of the pleura which is a fatal malignant tumor of the membrane lining the cavity of the lung or stomach. Epidemiologic evidence has increasingly shown that all asbestos fiber types, including the most commonly used form of asbestos, chrysotile, causes mesothelioma in humans.

Asbestos and the Railroad Industry

For decades the dangers of asbestos were kept a secret from those who worked with this toxic material. Before asbestos became regulated it was used for several different application throughout the railroad industry as late as the 1980s. Asbestos was used to insulate materials on steam locomotives and diesel locomotives. Asbestos was used in the following applications in the production of boilers, the outside of the train’s engine, under the metal body of the train, in boxcars, ceilings of cabooses, pipe coverings, electrical panels, the driving cabins and carriages, and more. Railroad employees that worked prior to 1982 are at high-risk for developing asbestos-related illness as a result of their time working around this dangerous material. The issue is that microscopic fibers would become airborne, making them easy to inhale or ingest. Once asbestos fibers work their way into the body, they can easily become trapped, permanently embedding into soft tissue. This can lead to genetic mutations and permanent scarring. Compensation is available for railroad workers that have been exposed to asbestos and have since developed health problems. This can even include shortness of breath or internal scarring that you may not be aware of. Our attorneys work with those who were employed by the railroad industry to recover the compensation they deserve.

How Long Does It Take Asbestos Exposure To Affect You?

Asbestos fibers become trapped in the body after they are inhaled or ingested. Once these fibers embed themselves into your soft tissue they can affect the growth and development of your cells. These changes do not occur overnight and may take decades to develop. In some cases, it may take 30 years or more for your exposure to asbestos to lead to an asbestosis, mesothelioma, or cancer diagnosis.

What Diseases Have Asbestos Been Linked To?

Asbestos exposure has been linked to many life threatening illnesses including mesothelioma, lung cancer, throat cancer, esophageal cancer, stomach cancer, and colon cancer. In addition to these illnesses, asbestos exposure has also been linked to asbestosis, a chronic illness affecting the lungs.

Free Asbestos Exposure Consultation in United States

At Sammons & Berry, P.C. we offer a no-cost, no-obligation consultation, so you can discuss the facts of your case without paying for anything upfront. Asbestos trusts claims do not require a lawsuit, depositions, or courtrooms. The process is simple and easy for the client and should not require any stressful legal confrontations for the client. The law firm handles all of the claims for the client, helping you maximize your compensation. We do not accept any payments from our clients until they receive compensation. We charge on a contingent fee basis, which means you pay a percentage of what you get paid in your claim. If we are unable to collect anything for you, there is no cost to you. Call (800) 519-1440 to speak with a Sammons and Berry, P.C. representative and start your journey towards compensation.

Wrongful Death Claims For Families of Asbestos Victims

If you have lost someone in your family due to the harmful exposure of asbestos, you may be entitled to compensation. If you can provide the work history and a death certificate for your loved one, our attorneys can help you file an asbestos claim. We understand how difficult this process can be, this is why we work with you every step of the way to help you get the money you deserve. Reach out to our team today to learn more about filing a claim for a family member.   See if you qualify for compensation Sammons & Berry, P.C. 800-519-1440 View our Google Listing View our Facebook Read the full article

[vesseldocumentationservice]

Buying A Documented Vessel – What You Need To Know

A documented vessel is an option worth considering if you’re in the market for a new boat. Precisely what does it entail, and what advantages does it provide? What you need to know before purchasing a legally registered boat. Vessels recorded by the U.S. Coast Guard are “documented vessels” in the United States. You may avoid paying taxes and register your boat in more places with proper documentation. If the boat is registered, you’ll have an easier time filing an insurance claim for boat replacement or repairs. If you are interested in purchasing a documented vessel, there are a few things you should think about first. Here are some considerations to bear in mind before investing in a legally registered boat.

Make Sure the Boat Is Registered With the U.S. Coast Guard The first thing to remember is the significance of an adequately documented boat or other vessel purchase. If you want to operate the boat in U.S. waters (or even store it there), you’ll need to get it inspected and approved by the U.S. Coast Guard. Small boats that don’t need a title or registration with any state are not required to have documentation, nor are personal watercraft.

But even if your boat is exempt from documentation, you may want it nevertheless. Without proper paperwork, your boat won’t be treated as a distinct legal entity, which might cause problems when purchasing or selling another boat or settling a dispute with another boater over a cabin cruiser. Also, the U.S. Coast Guard will better understand your vessel’s location and history if you register it with them.

Check the Documentation To Make Sure All Information Is Correct The purchase of a documented boat is subject to specific requirements. To begin with, the paperwork: A formal registration of your boat’s data and history will accomplish this. Checking the register after purchasing a documented vessel is essential for several reasons, including ensuring the vessel may be sold or refinanced in the future. Aside from court proceedings, the Coast Guard is another entity that requires paperwork from you.

They will go over your boat and their history with it to see if there have been any difficulties. It’s best to be prepared with any paperwork related to your boat’s history. It’s a breeze to get the paperwork together since the Coast Guard has already confirmed all the data on the ship’s seaworthiness. At first glance, the mountain of paperwork, forms to fill out, fees to pay, and other papers to submit might seem overwhelming.

Verify That the Builder or Owner Has a Valid Marine Surveyor’s Certificate of Inspection It’s crucial to have this certificate of inspection since it attests to the fact that the vessel’s hull, machinery, and other components have all been inspected by a certified marine surveyor and found to be in good working order. A boat is a significant investment, so you should ensure the engine and steering systems have always worked well. If there are any problems, you don’t want the blame to fall on you down the road.

If anything goes wrong after the purchase, proof that you gave it a thorough inspection will help you claim with the insurance company confidence that they will pay for the damages. It’s important to remember that having a Certificate of Paperwork issued by the United States Coast Guard (USCG) is no guarantee that the holder has fulfilled all requirements for keeping such documentation current.

Make Sure All Taxes and Fees Have Been Paid for a Documented Vessel This is so because boats that are required to have paperwork must have documentation or proof that they have been issued documentation. Since it incorporates federal, state, and sometimes even international regulations, the documentation process may be complex. Start your search for a new boat with a question to the seller about whether or not the vessel has the required documentation from the Department of Homeland Security. Do not proceed with the transaction until he produces the official Certificate of Documentation number as verification.

In addition, he must provide the original Certificate of Documentation and any other relevant paperwork he filled out in connection with the yacht’s purchase. The buyer of a recorded vessel is responsible for paying any personal property taxes and any outstanding liens on the vessel. After the initial cost of the boat has been covered, these extras might quickly run into the hundreds or thousands. A hull survey by a certified maritime surveyor is also required.

What is a vessel document? The U.S. Coast Guard requires vessel documents to ensure that every boat operating in U.S. waters is seaworthy and adequately documented. They must be renewed annually and may be obtained from Vessel Documentation Online LLC., through our website, or by calling (877) 564-1398.

[canadianvesselregistry]

Tips for Cruising with a Bareboat Charter in Canada

Are you thinking of taking a bareboat charters in Canada? The following suggestions should help your vacation go off without a hitch. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a seasoned skipper or just starting in the sport of sailing; it’s critical to do your homework and prepare in advance. Make sure you are well-versed on the rules governing boating in Canadian waters and double-check that you have all the essential supplies and protective equipment. And last but not least, make the most of your time spent on the water!

Know the Requirements for Cruising In Canada Canada is a beautiful country with an incredible coastline. One of the finest ways to see it is on a bareboat charters in Canada, where you can set your schedule and stop anywhere and whenever possible. However, just because you���re on the water doesn’t give you carte blanche; there are laws that you must follow when cruising in Canada. Before setting out on the water, you must contact the appropriate authorities to ensure no boating bans are in effect.

The standards are stringent, but they are for the greater good of human and environmental safety. Also, watch your speed; most jurisdictions limit how fast boats less than 10 meters may go (about 11 mph). To ensure a risk-free journey, it’s a good idea to inquire about current weather and boating information from locals. Whether on a vast body of water or a tiny lake, unpredictable weather may throw a wrench into your plans at any time.

Choose the Right Boat and Crew for Your Group Considering the number of persons in your group and the desired level of adventure are crucial when picking a boat for your next sailing excursion. It might be simple to charter a tiny boat (with just one or two cabins) and spend most of your time with the crew if you are traveling with a small group (such as a family or a couple of pals). However, hiring a yacht with more than one cabin might help you save money and ensure privacy.

It would help if you also decided whether you want to embark on a bareboat charter in Canada or a guided small-group sailing trip. This may be the perfect choice if you know how to sail and are searching for an exciting time at sea. If this is your first time chartering, it’s a good idea to have a knowledgeable skipper who can help you get about and show you the ropes.

Make Sure You’re Familiar with the Local Navigation Rules for Bareboat Charter in Canada Become well-versed in the regulations governing boating in your area before beginning your search for a vessel. Learning to read a nautical chart is the first step since it will help you plan your journey and avoid any dangers. If you have leased a bareboat, you should have been provided with maps showing the region you will be sailing in. You can get official charts for sale at many different stores if you don’t have one already.

Canada is a must-see for every traveler as one of the world’s most stunning nations. Many attractions are accessible by boat, but a crewed bareboat rental can significantly enhance your experience. When you hire a bareboat charterer, you can relax and enjoy the ride with a local expert who is your boat’s captain. However, before you sail from the United States or Europe, you should study Canadian restrictions since they vary from those of other countries.

Bring Plenty of Supplies, Including Food and Water Planning can allow you to make the most of your cruise holiday because you’ll be at sea for quite some time, so stock up on provisions. If you’re going to be out at sea for a while, it’s essential to pack more food and water than you think you’ll need. Bring plenty to share with others and yet have some left over for yourself. Easy-to-prepare items that can be eaten without utensils or cooking are ideal for family dinners on the water, so pack peanut butter, jelly, tortillas, and tuna fish. A water maker (a device used to collect fresh water from the ocean) and a supply of fresh water in cans or bottles should be on board every cruise ship. Whether you run out of salt water, it won’t matter if you have a stockpile of fresh water on board since you can’t drink it.

National Vessel Registry Center can help you book a rental that’s right for you as one of the premier providers of bareboat charter services in Canada. We’ve got an outstanding fleet of sailboats, and motor-powered vessels, including many ideas for first-time charterers—our staff is happy to give recommendations based on your preferences and experience level. Call +1 (800) 419-9569, and we’ll get you started.

[lolacouldnotcareless]

23 and 29 for the music ask ily

23:A song that you think everybody should listen to

Oh-oh, is this the world we created? We made it on our own Is this the world we devasted, right to the bone? If there's a God in the sky, looking down What can he think of what we've done To the world that He created?

29:A song that you remember from your childhood

Elle est à toi, cette chanson Toi, l'Auvergnat qui, sans façon M'as donné quatre bouts de bois Quand dans ma vie il faisait froid Toi qui m'as donné du feu quand Les croquantes et les croquants Tous les gens bien intentionnés M'avaient fermé la porte au nez

Ce n'était rien qu'un feu de bois Mais il m'avait chauffé le corps Et dans mon âme il brûle encore À la manière d'un feu de joie

It is yours, this song You, the Auvergne who, without fuss Gave me four bits of wood When in my life it was cold You who gave me fire when The peasants [both genders] All the well-intentioned people Had closed their door in my nose

It was nothing but a wood fire But it had warmed my body And in my soul it is still burning Like a bonfire

[always-andromeda]

I love your writing!! Can I request some Simon Feck x reader? Maybe they’re on an assignment together so they share a sleeper room on the train he was on in the movie, and oh nooo he starts crushing on the reader.. and then…… things happen… but he’s sooooo awkward and shy so he’s just a stuttering mess for most of it >:))

Together Again | Simon Feck x fem!Reader

Simon Feck x fem!Reader

Word Count | 1,412

Author's Note | ummmm, so, OOPS, sorry anon, if this delineates from your fluffy confession fantasy...but I went kind of feral with this concept and it turned into a BEAST.

Warnings | smut (MDNI), masturbation, handjobs (male and female receiving), nothing else I can think of!

Simon recreates your face smiling up at him with his perfect mind. He catches the way your teeth part slightly as you try to speak, the slow blink as you process his words. He can pretend that he'd just told you how he felt. Against his better judgment, he pulls himself out of his sweatpants and tugs softly on his semi-hard cock.

The gentle hum of the train lulls him into a slow rhythm. Lying in bed and circling the image around his head, he tries not to think about how you’re asleep in the bunk just above him. The sleeper cabin is small, yes, but large enough that he can put up a wall between imaginary you and the real you.

You'd kiss him. Wait. No. You'd grab his collar and pull him down. Your hand would caress his cheek. You'd stare into his eyes lovingly. And then you'd kiss him. And it would be perfect. He'd kiss you back like he'd done it more than the one time he'd been kissed during his university days. And you'd moan. You'd tell him he's such a good kisser.

You hear Simon groan below you.

"Simon?" 

Then there’s a strangled gasp.

Since it's your job to protect him, you jump at the sound, immediately shifting to hang your head down from the top bunk. But as soon as he's in your sight, you realize pretty quickly he's not in any sort of danger. For a few seconds you watch him stroke his pink cock. Watch him bite on his bottom lip, eyes scrunched closed, and brows lowered to focus on the torturous pace he's putting himself through. 

"Uh, Simon?"

Finally, his eyes shoot open. Hyperventilating within seconds, he's the weirdo. The touch starved freak that gets taunted when a simple make out in college made him nearly cream his jeans.

He rushes to cover himself and sputters out, "I'm so sorry. I had--"

"What were you thinking about?"

He can't tell you what was running through his wishful imagination.

"Were you thinking about me?" you question with sincerity. "I-it's okay if you were. You could've just...told me."

Frozen in place, Simon can't even fathom what you just said to him. He doesn't even have the time to begin to process it before you're climbing down the little ladder and sitting at the foot of his bed between his legs.

You poke his leg, "Talk to me. Please." Your shining eyes pierce through him in the dark.

He mutters, "I was thinking about you."

"Yeah? What was I doing?"

"Uhhh, kissing me."

You giggle once, "That's it?"

Simon nods swiftly, hoping that gives him an extra point for not being as gross as he could've been.

But you crawl up the length of him, lips only a few inches from his own as you whisper, "I could make that a reality."

"Please," he begs. You kiss him softer than that girl in college had kissed him. And your hand goes to clutch his chin, tilting his head so the kiss deepens. He doesn't remember how to do this in the slightest. So he closes his eyes and tries to regulate his breathing. When your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, he opens his mouth immediately, letting your warm tongue explore his mouth.

His erection quickly returns with the way the sheets brush over him and you feel it press against your stomach.

Pulling away, you breathe out, "Can I touch you?"

Simon squeaks out, "Sure, whatever you want."

You grin and lean back so you can pull the sheet away. The sight makes you burn up inside. The sweet, pink cock you'd seen from before, weeping from the tip and partially pinned down by his sweatpants. You want to take it in your fingers and softly pull at him the way he'd done to himself until you get a thrilling idea.

"Simon, honey, do you want to touch me?"

For once, his mind is blank. Malfunctioning. Overheating and practically melting out his ears. But as soon as he regains some composure he says, "Yeah...y-you'll have to tell me what to do..."

You take his hand--the one still sticky from his own pre-cum-- and dip it beneath the elastic waistband of your pajama shorts, down over your heated mound. "Is this your first time touching a girl down here?" That earns you another sheepish nod from him.

"Oh, sweet boy." you coo, "You can go slow. I'll go slow too. Just follow my directions and you'll be golden."

Simon likes the sound of that. He's always been much better at learning with his own hands anyways.

With that, you grab him. Starting at the base, you tighten your grip more than he had; watch him hiss as you begin your sluggish pace. He's not going to last long. So if you're going to get any teaching done, you'll have to be fast.

You blurt out the basics, "Now, I just want you to get your fingers wet. You'll want to run them between my lips."

Simon does what he's told, gathering the growing slick with two fingers. He's too afraid to plunge any more than that beyond your folds.

You shift, clenching around absolutely nothing when his hesitant finger brushes across your skin. "Right at the top, you're gonna find a little bud; that's my clit. If you want to make me cum, you're gonna want to rub circles over it. Can you do that?"

Swallowing hard, Simon nods and says, "Y-yes, ma'am."

His fingers search, landing right over the gnarled bunch of nerves that you had to be talking about. Waiting for him to pluck up the courage to make some sort of progress, you tug particularly roughly before stopping entirely. Simon whines and gazes at you, looking for an explanation for your cruelty.

You press a chaste kiss to his quivering lips. "Can't have you losing focus now, can we? You've hardly touched me."

Chasing the high of your hold, Simon pushes onward. He messily circles three fingers around the nub. You yelp from the sudden burn of overwhelming pleasure, laying your hand on the fabric of your shorts over his.

“No, no no no. Simon, baby, go a bit slower. Gently build it up.” you instruct him.

Like the dutiful man he is, he continues, controlling the motion. You resume your steady pace, practically suffocating his slick cock under the weight of the euphoria in his belly. It’s too much but not enough all at once.

As the seconds pass, Simon comes to perfect his ministrations. Like everything else he’s worked on, he can’t help but want to know how it ticks. How this little bead of flesh can hold the burden of your climax. How it’s even possible for you and him to inspire this much elation in each other, pressed together like this.

His mind wanders as you begin to gasp. If he can do this with just his fingertips, he couldn’t begin to understand what kind of explosion would come from his cock sliding in and out of you. Closing his eyes, he does a little extra work to picture your hand being made of the slick heat under his hand. He imagines your walls milking him for all he’s worth, making him cry out.

He’s getting closer and closer, edging towards the edge of a dark pit. Peeking over side, he stares into the void; wants to feel its comforting embrace as you push him in. He’s never been able to bring himself to a peak this intense, this drawn out as he teeters back and forth. But your ever changing hand and the sound of you coming undone for him is enough. More than enough to last him a lifetime of daydreaming material.

Then he cums; thick ropes of milky fluid spilling over his belly. As you follow after him, he says something truly deadly.

“Oh, I love you so much.”

The sentence melts you completely. It makes your head swirl with thoughts of your sweet, nervous Simon, gazing at you like you’re the most fascinating piece of tech he’s ever seen as you climax. The likelihood of your feelings meaning anything to the CIA in the grand scheme of things is unlikely. They’d never allow this conflict of interest to fly. But you don’t care.

Love is a bit strong, but you kiss him through the final wave and murmur against his lips, “Good.”

[penguinlop]

Albedo x Reader

/// Tiny Hands, Tiny Feet - Part 2

Summary: You always wanted to marry someone charming and have your own little family. But when you fall in love with Albedo, a homunculus who is infertile, your dreams seem so distant all of a sudden.

Warnings: angst to fluff, infertility, afab reader, slight not sfw content, depression, anxiety, mentions of death

word count: 3.6k

part 1

It was simply another cold day on Dragonspine.

You used to become so utterly giddy at the thought of rushing back to the walled City of Freedom. The joyous sight of chubby, tiny hands grasping for toys and their mother's legs made your heart swell. Now? Well, let's just say the thought is akin to drinking a glass of vinegar.

Albedo tried to provide comfort as your devoted lover. His cold touch, his frosty blond hair, and his solemn eyes did their utmost best to keep the cabin a safe haven. He'd thoroughly write in his leather journal every tiny detail he noticed. Your lack of appetite, your irritability, or that sense of impending doom you sobbed into his chest about. All of it was encoded and stored properly into his long-term memory. No mistakes could be made.

This was you, after all! His dearest angel.

Though his analyses and tender care did make you feel quite smitten, it didn't quell the consuming ache. Drifting dreams brushed against your mind. They left a haunting trail of cozy desires. The yearn to settle down in a small cottage and be surrounded by children was what they whispered.

Your dreams became more like a pesky insect the more time passed. You could hear the ringing buzz and see the speck prance around. Quite annoying, really.

Gentle lips made their way to your cheek. They were so frigid.

"My love, come with me to the city. Human interaction has been stated to help regulate stress. Also, Klee has been asking for you." The caution. The hesitation. The apprehension in his characteristically blunt tone. You wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so close to him. He saw how your eyes focused, and your back straightened slightly. Good, your attention was caught. It was a calculated risk mentioning the unruly tiny elf.

The alchemist made sure to monitor your morning behavior before bringing up anything. You seemed a bit better today. He mentally noted that you appear to be a tad more animated when he kisses your cheek more. His biological studies that physical contact increases the level of dopamine and serotonin have proved to be rather beneficial.

"Klee wants to see me?" It was the softness of your voice that nearly made him balk. Your eyes drooped once more, your body hunched again. He almost cursed out loud for considering this to be a "better day." Humans are so frail, like a paper dragonfly. Any moment they can be whisked away by the trials they endure. It broke his heart to see you like this.

Albedo looked down for a moment. The ravenous guilt was coming back. Why did you fall for him so eagerly? If only he made you see sooner that he was indeed not the Prince Charming you made him out to be, possibly you'd already have heard the church bells ring or listened to the cries of an innocent babe.

"Of course, she wants to see you, dear. You know how persistent she can get. She misses your baking and hugs." There was an attempt to lift the tense atmosphere. "We wouldn't want Alice on us, now would we?" The beautiful chuckle that came from his lips sent butterflies to your stomach, but it wasn't the same as before. The pragmatic man was succumbing to unrelenting grief because of your state. You almost missed his rationality.

A frustrated frown beset your face. It was all rather odd, wasn't it? The amount of desperate sentiment plaguing your darling made him look so utterly human. Perhaps, he was more human than the inhabitants of Mondstadt with all the care he had given you. But, oh! You hated seeing your Kreideprinz in pain.

Each silent evening you'd pray to the Moon Sisters to bless you with stardust and grant you happiness in your relationship, yet by each sunrise, you'd weep, for you knew your intentions would be in vain. You were asking deities that have been slain for aid. It was truly all for naught. Besides, you couldn't help but think you had been forsaken by the gods for the love of your life is Gold's prized treasure. A ticking time bomb.

You felt Albedo's lips once more. Ah, yes, you never did respond to him properly.

"My prince, I'll go for you."

Albedo sighed slightly and wrapped his arms around you, feeling the cashmere of your comfy knitted sweater. Those gorgeous lips of his littered your neck and face. It felt like dainty snowflakes. When you began dating the homunculus, you saw how he scribbled in his journal that your love language was words of affirmation or possibly quality time. He has changed his theory.

"Thank you, but please don't go for me only."

___

You felt awful.

The uneasiness of it all caused you to tightly latch on to your lover. The grip on his arm from your clammy hands, the pressure and weight on his body as you leaned more into him.

Albedo didn't mind at all. His body is much more robust than the average human being. Besides, you were a delicate angel in need of support.

As you two walked to Mondstadt, a tally system was going on in his mind. A mark for each time your hand frightfully tugged him more or every time you shakily muttered something incoherent under your breath. After a certain number, he would slow down then ask if you needed a break.

You hated how pathetic you were. You wanted your love to see you as strong and capable, but you supposed your actions spoke louder than your feeble words.

More wrinkles appeared on his white coat as your hands wrapped around his arm tighter.

The stone bridge was in view as you looked up from the dirt road. Pigeons were flying around merrily. As you neared them, you saw a young boy scatter bread crumbs.

It made you sick to your stomach.

The alchemist quickly noticed each acute change. Fluctuating heartbeat. Rapid breathing. Accumulating sweat. Before he could open his mouth, you sternly glared at the man and seethed, "I. Am. Fine."

Albedo mentally recorded this occurrence. Hmm, irritability again. I'll make sure to write it down later.

Passing the young boy on the bridge with a tawny attire, you gazed down to meet cobblestone. The sea of different shades of gray drowning your sorrows.

As soon as you reached the coveted city, those gleeful giggles and gleams killed you.

The clicks of their shoes as they ran around. Their whines as they fell and scraped their knees. Little pouts and tugs as they passed the stores in the shopping district.

Your eyes closed for a brief moment. Then, holding on to your partner, you allowed him to guide you towards the alchemy table where Timaeus and Sucrose were.

You tried to tune in to their conversation as you sat down on a nearby bench, but it was futile. You couldn't stop listening to the sounds of children playing near the spewing fountain. The water continued to highlight those small forms. The water continued to allow itself to be tarnished by little hands sullied from sweat, dirt, and fleeting childhood innocence.

The water continued to drip down. The water continued to blur everything—

Delicate lips greeted your wet cheeks. "Here's my handkerchief." Albedo pecked you again before cracking his knuckles and sighing, "I have been notified by Sucrose that I am urgently needed at the medical wing in the Church of Favonius."

"Oh, why? It must be serious," you said as you patted the fabric near your eyes.

The Chief Alchemist ran his gloved fingers through his hair. "At this moment, I am unaware of the details. However, I was told there was an incident near the border between Mondstadt and Liyue, near Stone Gate. The group involved were traveling alchemists carrying potions. When they were attacked by a Mitachurl, the spilled potions amalgamated and affected the surviving victim."

Your eyes watered again. Must everywhere I go be struck with tragedy?

"I think it will be in your best interests to stay here."

A frustrated cry billowed in the air. The sharp turn of your head surprised your partner. "I can't sit here all day and be useless! At least let me go with you! I can even wait outside…"

The blond man tried to reach out to you, but you wouldn't let him. "You have to understand that you aren't being 'useless,' as you say. Human beings are sensitive. That's what makes them so unique. They are bound to go through tumultuous times. You are in that stage where you must allow yourself time to recover. Healing is a taxing process for your species."

"Albedo. This isn't making me feel better," you bluntly stated to him, mouth tightening.

"I see. I apologize." He made sure to note your responses and facial expressions in the back of his head again. Before he could go in for another peck, you grabbed his arm and marched towards the Cathedral.

Interesting reaction. Perhaps, this is progress in a way?

___

Albedo was aware that there was a victim. An individual with their vitals intact, albeit injured. A person who had been exposed to a plethora of potions crafted from alchemy. He had prepared thousands of situations he may encounter once he was guided by an elderly nun to the designated hospital cot.

Burns. Odd discoloration. Skin transforming into stone. Bones fusing. Feet turning into fish. Fingers elongating. Anything was genuinely possible with what was given.

Yet, out of everything Albedo expected, He didn't predict that his patient would have tiny hands and feet.

"It's an infant?"

The nun scrunched her nose, the wrinkles on her face ever prominent, and joyously laughed, "Well, I sure hope you can identify our patient as a child!"

Albedo pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I apologize. Personal issues. However, we can't rule out the possibility that this is an adult who has undergone age change. Alchemy is truly wondrous, after all. Do we have any knowledge of their identity prior to the attack?"

The nun pushed her round glasses up and cleared her voice, "Luckily, we do. They were coming to Mondstadt in an attempt to sell potions they learned from alchemy originating from Sumeru. Hotel files, we were able to obtain, state two adults and one infant."

"Thank you."

The alchemist's artificial heart wept and convulsed at the baby's hauntingly painful screams. He was sure you could hear it all from outside. He tenderly brought his pointer finger to the child's plump cheeks stained with tears and caressed their burning skin. It felt as if he was soothing a furnace of pure torment and affliction. They have lost so much already.

Albedo was quite mindful that the first thing people notice is his frigid touch.

The sharp pulling away from his extended hand to them sheepishly apologizing. It became so common, Albedo could forecast the exact moment the individual would snatch their hand back from his polite grasp and then promptly apologize. He understands. It's merely instinct. It's nothing more than human nature. It's no different than meeting piercing waters and flinching at the temperature.

"Humans are so frail," he would tell himself.

In a way, the homunculus is a personification of Dragonspine. A misunderstood being with icy eyes as bitter as his fabricated origins. The bones of his kin. The body rotting in the belly of the dragon. The everlasting rime. The dreadful songs from the princess who perished with her people.

His mother made sure all the misery was meticulously stitched into her perfect being crafted from chalk. He desperately yearned to become the average Mondstadter. To rip out the torturous thread sewn into his skin; however, even as he held the gold string in his bleeding, cold hands, the holes and tears revealed it all.

He can never be human. He can never be what you want him to be.

Fertile spring will never arrive. Persephone will forever stay in the underworld.

That's why it took every cell, tissue, organ, and muscle in him to not choke on tears when such precious, new life leaned into his touch and stopped their agonizing cries.

Albedo took off his coat. Shaky, cold hands gently picked up the baby. The prince who carried too much burden cradled the tiny human being near his cool chest. He heard everything. Their gurgles. Their whimpers. Their beating heart. Every aspect was noticed by him.

Before he could lose sight, the Chief Alchemist maintained his professionalism and was about to state his diagnosis and treatment to the nun, but he was met with a pure smile when he turned around.

"It seems they really like you, my prince."

You hesitated to step closer. Albedo moved the child oh-so-lightly so you could get a better look at their cherubic features. You didn't move. Too afraid that you would disturb the sleeping infant. "Are they okay?"

Your lover looked towards you then met the eyes of the elderly nun.

"Their injuries don't seem too bad to me besides their internal body temperature being affected. I believe the deaconess' healing and my own alchemical remedy will suffice. It may take some time, as I do not want to strain their body, but in the meantime, washcloths and an ice bath will be quite useful."

The elderly nun eyed you two gingerly before leaving to bring Deaconess Barbara and necessary items.

"Albedo…Can I…I mean, is it okay if I come closer to them?"

"Of course, my love."

You walked on the balls of your feet to make less noise. You always were quite a sweet partner. Tip-toeing, you planted a kiss on your lover's cheeks and breathlessly chuckled. The fatigue was still strenuous, yet you truly desired to cherish the scene brimming with familial serenity.

"A kiss for all the ones you have given me today."

Albedo smirked and kissed your forehead. "I'm still one ahead of you, though."

Tears welled up as you saw what had plagued your dreams for far too long. Your prince charming cooing at an adorable baby. You brought your finger to touch their little nose, forehead, and hands. You sobbed when the child nestled into his chest more and latched on to your pointer finger. The way such tiny fingers moved and wrapped around yours.

So frail.

So small.

So perfect.

___

A month and a half passed.

The child still remained in the Hospital. You and Albedo acquired lodgings at the Knights of Favonius Headquarters. He wanted to make sure no other symptoms and issues would arise. In his words, "Alchemy doesn't follow the rules dictated by nature."

In a queen bed, your naked bodies intertwined. Blissful sighs. Feathery touches. The morning light welcoming you two. It wasn't easy adjusting to this schedule, so as always, Albedo did his best to distract you. Perceptive eyes saw the hope that lit back up when you held the baby that day. Yet, that wasn't enough to halt the hellish sorrow you felt as the moon made its way into the sky. Is this joy even real? When this all ends, what would become of you and your darling—

A knock was heard on the door.

Albedo clicked his tongue and frowned, not wanting to part with you just yet. Your warmth was far too luscious and inviting. But nevertheless, it could be important. He was on standby for this child.

He put on a cotton robe and made sure you had secured yours too and were covered by a blanket before opening the door slightly.

A smug smirk. An eyepatch. A fur coat.

"I knew people liked you a lot, calm, collected Albedo but not this much. Seems like someone had a festive night. Am I wrong?"

The Chief Alchemist moved closer to where the door was ajar to shield you more from inquisitive eyes.

"Kaeya. What do you need? Is it urgent?

The Cavalry Captain crossed his arm and pouted for a brief moment before changing his stance and asking the blond man to step outside. Kaeya lowered his voice to a whisper.

"It's about the child. Finally, after nearly a month of research, our team has been able to find some extended family. This was mostly due to Lisa asking alumni from the Academia if they know them, as they learned their alchemy in Sumeru."

Albedo's face dropped slightly.

"Now, now, don't get all down on me just yet, Chief Alchemist. That's not where the fun ends. The only relatives by blood we could acquire information on are one of the victims' parents. However, due to their age, they are placing the child for adoption. Quite the turn, is it not?" Kaeya smirked once more and placed his hand on his hip. "I thought you would like to be the first to hear the splendid news." The cryo user became smaller and smaller as he walked away. Albedo didn't move. He listened to the beating of his heart produced by a sinner from a fallen nation. He felt his chest which was crafted only with the goal of absolute perfection, go up and down.

The homunculus took a moment for it all to seep in.

He entered the room again and saw you playing with the sheets on the bed. Hair disheveled. A hastily done cotton robe.

Albedo monitored how your questioning eyes watched him grab the doorknob and slowly close it.

"We're going to be parents."

"What?" You stared at him in disbelief.

Albedo inhaled, "To repeat my statement, we will adopt them."

Walls came up in an instant. "Please… I can't take it…. Don't lie to me."

Before you could say anything, your lover kissed your back, rubbed circles into your hands, and said it again, "I'm not lying. As of right now, they are available for adoption. This is our chance. I can finally make you happy and fulfill your dreams."

For once, you didn't cry. Every emotion. Every shred of confusion, euphoria, and fear didn't dare to affect you when you wanted to say this.

"I thought I told you my Kreideprinz. It was never about you being unable to 'fulfill my dreams.' You already make me so utterly happy. It’s me…"

___

Once again, it was yet another cold day on Dragonspine.

The heat of the stove contrasted with the winds of despair churning outside. Teal eyes bore into the glass windows fogging from wintry gloom. Icicles and frost built up as more howls echoed. The meticulous alchemist brought his attention back to the copper pot on the stove. It had to be the right temperature. He watched the kitchen thermometer reach the correct degree.

Perfect.

After heating the formula and once again checking the temperature, he walked to the nursery. Albedo saw all the frilly toys gifted by friends. He heard the sound of a music box. The messy crayon drawings by Klee pinned to a wall always caught his eye.

"It's done, my love."

A tired, solemn "thank you" was all that was given.

You were so tender and loving as you sat on the rocking chair and fed your child. You were so nurturing when you wrapped the blanket around them and wiped their mouth when they finished. You were so caring when they put your finger in their mouth. You were so beautiful when you cooed and read classic fairy tales.

Albedo is many things, but he wasn't blind. His dear was still recovering.

He helped you place the child to sleep in their wicker bassinet covered in white linen and delicate lace. A few silent moments were taken to watch the restful expression of the slumbering babe in a knitted swaddle. Then, you two waved your hands around to disperse the smoke of the extinguished beeswax candles. Cranking the music box once more, you watched as the dainty wind spirit with a lyre on top twirled, whisking your infant to pastel dreamland with infinite cecilias.

After the nursery door shut, you stared at the hanging wooden sign. It was skillfully engraved with the name of your baby.

When you entered the master bedroom, you stumbled into your partner’s chest and broke down. Sobs of everything you bottled inside flooded out.

"I'm so scared I'm doing everything wrong! I feel like all of this is going to end! What if I mess up? What if I'm not good enough? Sometimes I look at them and feel like I shouldn't even be allowed to be with them…"

Albedo caressed the small of your back and pulled you in. He rested his head on yours as you clenched his shirt so tightly and mumbled frantically. You were so fragile to him, like a transient cloud, ready to hide away from the darkness of the world.

"As I said before, human beings are sensitive and need time to heal. It hasn't been that long since we adopted them. Your mind needs to adjust. Parental interactions are daunting as new instincts make way."

The alchemist covered your wet cheek with pure, unadulterated devotion. Then, he pinned you to the bed gently and brought chilly, pale fingers under your sweater.

"Even with all my knowledge and alchemy, I can't make your fears magically disappear. But I will do my best to alleviate your stress."

Strands of blond hair tickled your neck and face as he adored your body. You gasped when you felt his lovingly, frosty lips against your skin.

"I know your dreams of having a small cottage and being surrounded by milk and honey isn't what we are experiencing at the moment, do not fret, my love. It will happen. That I will make sure of"

You tilted your head and arched your back to allow him to kiss you more.

"My Kreideprinz, you will be the death of me. What have I done to deserve your affection?"

"It's simple, really. You fell for me when no one else would love the cold alchemist who lives on desolate Dragonspine."

Thanks for reading!! ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა

This is the optional happy ending to this story!

[unholyhelbig]

Ronancetober Day #2: Vampire/Werewolf

[A/N: I really wanted to go for a pulp horror fiction vibe here. Real Christopher Pike energy... Also, I'm late again and will continue to be so]

Read on Ao3

Summary: Robin gets trapped in the halls of Hawkins High, persued by a group of bloodthirsty vampires.

She didn't know how she ended up here with her back pushed against the short end of a set of puke-green lockers with a wooden stake clenched in her grasp. Robin couldn’t catch her breath, but it didn’t seem to matter as she swallowed down her fear, and tried to regulate the sound of her own blood pulsating past her ears.

Any creature could track her in this state, sweat dripping in the hot air of Hawkins High School. The beginning of silver moonlight flecked through the slatted windows of metal doors. Robin’s eyes had adjusted to the dark- had been well adjusted before this ordeal had started before vampires were released into Roane County.

It sounded crazy to Robin too, even running through her thoughts in the trenches of the battle didn’t make sense. Vampires, blood-sucking demons that were out for blood. Specifically, her blood. She was sure it smelled different, though it dripped red just like the rest of the people around her.

Vampires were inherently stupid. That was something Robin had learned quickly and not from her own family's doomed lineage. They were limited to stalking their prey in the dark of night, just as Robin was limited to her own benefits by the lack of a full moon.

It was a terrible time for Robin to become hyperaware of the history homework she left in her locker. It was subsequently a horrible time for her to notice a light spilling from under the Hawkins Streak.

Robin had walked into a full-force vampire congregation gathered around a rolling projector, drawing a complex plan that looked like a football play. They had all turned, all hissed at her baring their fangs.

She’d excused herself before running as fast as she could, stupidly not towards the doors leading to the parking lot. Robin wasn’t going to give them open space, even if she did have more of a technical advantage in the forest surrounding the school’s property.

The girl ended up in the art room, the only place plastered with windows floor to ceiling, plastered with craft paper to create a sunroom effect during the day. Right now, it bathed the room in red. She had shut herself into an art supply cabinet, crouched and uncomfortable.

“Robin,” Tammy Thompson’s voice sing-songed through the room like the low whistle of the wind. “I know you’re in here.”

She would not break. No matter how hot her former Muppet of a crush looked with fangs in her mouth. Robin’s fingers started to inch against the craft paper, the modeling clay, and the safety scissors. She eventually gripped the closest thing to a weapon- a wooden ruler.

“It reeks of dog in here. I promise I’ll go easy on you.”

Like shit, she would. Robin waited until the girls’ sneakers stopped in front of the cabin. She imagined a perfectly manicured hand towards the cabinet. Robin mustered the most animalistic sound she knew she was capable of.

Tammy Thompson was cold, icy, and dead as she sprung forward and shoved the side corner of the ruler with her wolfish strength into Tammy’s chest. It was easier than she expected, terrifying in all aspects.

Tammy stumbled back a few steps, the small of her back hitting the nearest desk “You bitch.”

She crumbled to ash that sparked a brilliant orange and fizzed like a firecracker before dying to a black in a pile at her feet. Gross. Robin reached down and picked up the only thing that survived of the attack, the ruler that was easy enough to break into a point down the center.

Robin exited into the cold and empty hallway before she heard another noise. It was how she ended up here, with a broken ruler against her palm as the noise of scattering vampires filled her ears.

They had found Tammy, she heard them. Their shock and their anger and their subsequent hunt. She could smell them, their death and their anguish. Robin was still reeling from her freshman crush exploding into dust particles when a cold hand pulled her into the nearest classroom.

Robin swallowed a scream in that moment. She used her strength in the dark science room to mount her attacker, even with her eyes clenched shut in fear. She straddled the figure beneath her, letting out a growl as she raised the pointed ruler about her head.

“Robin,”

She halted at the voice, whispered, and hushed as it vibrated under her. It was so familiar and sounded just about as scared as Robin felt. The tip of her makeshift weapon had just about pierced skin, she nearly shoved it through a still heart.

“Nancy?”

Robin tightened her grip on the broken ruler. It cut into the side of her palm, leaving a cotton candy pink mark. Her mouth was suddenly dry, and all the fight threatened to leave her. Nancy was cold and pale and had a red tint to her usual sharp blue stare.  She was here, and she hadn’t had her throat ripped out by the blood-sucking vampires yet.

It made sense, really. She hadn’t seen Nancy in over a week due to purposed stomach flu that she didn't want to get Robin sick with. She complied and dropped off soup and a few books that she thought Nancy would enjoy. All of it had been in vain (no pun intended).

She pushed herself off the vampire and used the heels of her Doc Martins to press her back flush against the brick wall, under the written-on chalkboard. Nancy propped herself up on her elbows, a broken look on her face.

“It’s not what it looks like, Robin” Nancy’s voice came out as a cracked whisper.

“You’re… one of them.”

She sat up entirely now, holding her hands with her palms towards Robin as if to push the air towards the floor, to calm the situation. “I wanted to tell you, but I had my reasons. Had my orders, really.”

“And when does Nancy Wheeler follow orders?”

“When her life is on the line, Robin. I was backed into a corner, literally.” She swallowed hard and inched closer “Don’t act innocent in all this, you’re hiding something too. I can smell it on you.”

Pain rushed through her. She had lied to Nancy. It wasn’t intentional, it was a mix of embarrassment and fear. It was unfathomable, really- an ancient bloodline that was awakened within her psyche when she reached the tender age of 18. A beast hidden within a woman, now working hand in hand with her. Werewolves were unhinged enough, but add vampires into the mix, and the whole world crumbles.

Nancy was close now. She smelled metallic. She smelled the like the earth. It was masked by the same floral scent that Robin was used to, still there. Still Nancy. She wanted to collapse into her arms, into the cold feeling of her embrace. Instead, she pressed herself harder against the wall, drawing in a shaky breath. It was all too much.

“Robbie,” She tried again, “Listen to me. If I can smell you, so can they. There isn’t much time. We can deal with the whole undead thing later. Right now, I need you to leave, because they will not show mercy.”  

“How?”  

Nancy’s ember eyes darted towards the wooden door that led to the hallway, then to the windows that seeped a silver light in a slatted pattern. She gestured and Robin followed blindly. She would follow Nancy Wheeler anywhere, she realized.

She stood and gripped the base of the window and tugged with minimal effort. The cold night air filled the room and hit Robin’s bones. She shivered, gritting her teeth as Nancy brushed her fingertips against Robin’s bare skin. There was no difference between the temperature outside and her subtle touch.

“I won’t hurt you,” Nancy confirmed before she ripped a solid strip of fabric from the sleeve of Robin’s shirt. “We must make it believable. Now, go. They’re coming.”  

She could hear the fear in Nancy’s words as she propped her foot up on the windowsill and dropped onto the cold grass just in time for the door to the classroom to burst open. The metal hinges rattled. Robin held her breath, held the makeshift stake closer, and clenched her eyes shut.

“Where is she?” Jason Carver’s voice hissed.

“Gone, escape through the window and took off.”

“You’re sure?”

“Pretty damn sure. Put up a hell of a fight but she’s not human, Jason.” Nancy defended, “I’ve already lost my life once this week, I don’t want to make it permanent.”

There was a silence in the room. His sneakers walking across the floor. Robin’s lungs began to burn in protest. The air was too cold for her to feel her toes, her fingers. She didn't stand a chance against the slow beating hearts she heard above her shoulder.

“Right,” He laughed humorlessly. “She’ll be back. She can’t avoid us forever, can she?”

Nancy waited; voice low. “No, not forever.”