#table top weighing & counting scale

[leotronicscale]

What Are the Market Opportunities and Challenges for Weighbridge Vendors?

The weighbridge market in India is growing fast due to the rise in transportation, construction, mining, and logistics industries. Many businesses need accurate and durable weighbridges to track goods and follow government regulations. This creates a huge opportunity for weighbridge manufacturers.

Want to know more? Visit Leoscale for the best weighbridge solutions in India. the Link given below...

[equalonline]

Best Digital Weighing Scale To Buy In India Online

It was a time not much way back when you and I had to go to the railway stations, hospitals, and hotels, to possess the bodyweight checked. Why? What’s the reason? We all know what it is. Even in recent times, people are more concerned about the way to remain healthy by losing weight.

So the weighing scale is going to be the most effective ever friend during this effort. Keep track of your weight, on a weekly or on a monthly basis by buying the right quality weighing scale.

A personal weighing scale will become a health monitor not just for you but also for your whole family. We’ve got n number of weighing scales available within the market.

Here we discuss something which is more beneficial to purchase and what we'd like to think about while buying.

Accuracy

If you select an analog machine, then it'll most likely give inaccurate over time due to their spring responsiveness. Here comes the digital weighing scale which plays a significant role in terms of accuracy.

Display

The most weighing scale needs a user to face up straight to report the accuracy of the weight. Choose the weighing scale with a clear and visible display.

Capacity

If you see most general bathroom scales have a typical weight capacity of 120 kg to 150 kgs. If you select high weight capacity scales which will give accurate results up to 250 kgs.

Material

Consider the overall quality and material of the scale in order to serve the consistent weight. Most of the digital weighing scale is formed from durable tempered glass, stainless steel and MS they can't be broken easily, easy to clean and maintain.

Automatic Feature

The most digital weighing scale has a feature that it automatically turns off the machine when it’s not used for some time. It helps to save lots of battery and run an extended time at usage times.

If you belong to an industry, then you must need to consider the following

Know Your Application

What will be the weighing scale going to be used for and where it is going to be used? Will this be compatible with other equipment? Few examples are,

Quality Assurance

Manufacturer

Parts Counting

Shipping

Research Laboratory Testing

Personal Scale

EQUAL offers the best personal scale in India to measure body weight. A slim and sleek weight machine that provides accurate measurement every time you are taking a reading. It’s a user-friendly scale with auto-step on technology to provide you quick results. The scale LCD reflects clear readings and the maximum load capacity of this weighing machine is 150 kg.

The machine is able to detect the lowest weight accurately is 100 grams. It has a lithium battery and is powered by 3 volts.

Digital Table Top Weighing Scale

A digital table top weighing scale is especially focused on medium-sized retail shops. This scale is extremely successful for retail weighing things with a solid body, excellent quality, and accuracy. This is often an ideal choice for all grocery shops, meat shops, bakery shops, and supermarkets.

Environment

The weighing scale comes with a range of features like waterproof and shockproof. Before you opt for a weighing scale, consider as to where you're going to place this device, if an area with high humidity and moisture then buy a water-proof machine. Suppose if you have got kids in your home, then prefer a shockproof device.

Skid-Proof

This is the main part to consider while purchasing the weight machine. Some scales don’t meet the skid-proof feature. Some old ones and youngsters may use the device to weigh themselves. So it’s important to get the device with skid-proof design.

Conclusion

Considering all these things EQUAL is the leading weighing scale manufacturer that offers a number of the most effective digital weighing scales in India. During this contemporary world, people have no time to spend and check their weight, but personal weighing machines are the one that helps to examine your weight more frequently, and this keeps you healthy forever.

[elfwreck]

I have a friend who isn't anti-porn but it makes her sad that fanfic has a reputation for being porny and usually not very good. I'm fine with both those things and my views mostly align with that of AO3. I disagree with the idea that porn and badness are treated as equivalent, but for most people that's just how they think. But I was wondering if youve ever written something about this?

There is a lot of smut at AO3.

There is a lot of bad writing at AO3.

There's a lot of badly written smut at AO3.

...None of those are problems except for the people who think there is something wrong with those existing, or that there needs to be some external value that "balances" those that make those acceptable to exist as unwanted side-effects of "the good stuff."

The badly-written smut is also "the good stuff."

It's part of the reason AO3 exists. It's not intended to be an archive for "the high-quality fanfic that could be published if it weren't about characters that someone else wrote first"; it's an archive for "what fanfic writers want to write." That makes the terrible writing and the tacky porn and the badly-written tacky porn part of the reason the archive exists.

Tangent 1 (I'll connect these points later): Theodore Sturgeon said "90% of everything is crud." He was more-or-less referring to the science fiction field in the 50s, but it definitely extended to politics, business, and writing outside of science fiction.

...He was talking about published books in the 50s. Turns out, a lot more than 90% of writing is crud when there aren't any gatekeepers between it and the readers. But also:

Tangent 2, from the book "Art and Fear":

[A] ceramics teacher announced on opening day that he was dividing the class into two groups. All those on the left side of the studio, he said, would be graded solely on the quantity of work they produced, all those on the right solely on its quality. His procedure was simple: on the final day of class he would bring in his bathroom scales and weigh the work of the “quantity” group: fifty pound of pots rated an “A”, forty pounds a “B”, and so on. Those being graded on “quality”, however, needed to produce only one pot — albeit a perfect one — to get an “A”. Well, came grading time and a curious fact emerged: the works of highest quality were all produced by the group being graded for quantity. It seems that while the “quantity” group was busily churning out piles of work – and learning from their mistakes — the “quality” group had sat theorizing about perfection, and in the end had little more to show for their efforts than grandiose theories and a pile of dead clay.

You don't get to "quality writing" without going through a lot of crappy writing.

That doesn't mean the crappy writing is garbage to be thrown out. If you make 50 pots or bowls or vases, and only one of them is The Good One... most of the rest are okay. Maybe not sale-quality good, but your-kitchen-table quality good. Maybe some aren't that good and are kids-toy-in-the-sandbox level good.

Bad writing has a purpose for the writer: they can use it as practice to get better. It has a purpose for the reader: It can serve as inspiration ("I can do better than that") or grammatical instruction ("that...does not work; why doesn't that work?") or just as entertainment ("eh, so it's missing a few commas; I can still understand it").

Smut and porn writing works the same way. It's of some value to the writer, and some to the readers.

It's not of value to everyone. That's what tags and filters are for, and why there's a summary and list of stats (like word counts)--so you can figure out if you're one of the readers for whom this piece of writing is useful or interesting.

But AO3, like any library, is not there to take the top 5% of Excellent Writing and provide it a showcase. It is absolutely for all 50 lbs of pots.

If your friend wants to read the good stuff, there are rec lists and collections to help her find it.

If she already manages that, and is just annoyed at how much of the not-good stuff (however she defines that) exists... she's picked the wrong battle. She's arguing with the ocean that it has too many kinds of fish and some are poisonous a lot of them are ugly.

[grand-theft-carbohydrates]

On my eleventh birthday, Prime Minister Lu gave me the most incredible miniature city. It was a replica of Xianyang's main square, sculpted from clay and so faithfully painted that every red door and thatched roof was rendered in breath-taking detail. It came with its own enormous, custom-built table, spanning one zhang and five chi in total. The model was clearly meant to be a display item, but I loathed to show it to anyone, not even the other princes. I kept it in my room, and none of the other servants were allowed to dust it, except for Zhao Gao. 

The best part was the buildings were not glued down. They could be moved around like the pieces on a chessboard. I would spend entire afternoons gently picking each one up and weighing them in my hands. I imagined this was similar to what Pangu felt when he opened the heavens and split the earth. I had always wondered why a giant wouldn't go rampaging across the countryside, levelling mountains and stomping towns into splinters just for the thrill of it. No one would have been able to stop him, after all. Now that I had a taste of that power, I felt intensely protective. No harm was allowed to come to Little Xianyang. I accidentally dropped the townhall once and burst into tears over it. Zhao Gao eventually fixed it with some flour paste, and you could barely see the cracks, but it still left me heartbroken. 

This city was perfect. So absolutely perfect. Except for one small thing: there were no people! What good was an empty, uninhabited shell? I didn't want to be the king of silent walls and deserted streets. I wanted my city to be alive and busy, filled with bustling crowds, rumbling wheels, braying animals and the smell of smoke and food. 

That became my new project: populating table-top square. After deliberating the matter with Zhao Gao, we raided the kitchens and returned with several bowls of beans. I had them all arranged according to shape, colour and size. Red kidney beans for the soldiers, black dragon-eyes for the gentry, blue mung beans for the scholars, and white soybeans for the common folk. It was so satisfying to spoon them into the streets and watch them wobble around, almost as if they had a mind of their own. I would have preferred to have more accurate representations of people with unique faces and clothes, but not even Nuwa could create those details on such a small scale. In any case, the beans made up for it by being so numerous and colourful. If I squinted my eyes, I could almost believe I was looking at a crowd from far away. 

The city became a small window into the outside world. An escape I desperately craved. I had been in Qin for over a year, but I was rarely allowed to leave the palace. For once, the Prime Minister and King were in perfect agreement over something. The Crown Prince was not supposed to mingle with the common masses. In an ironic turn of events, I had less freedom in Qin than I did in Zhao, where I was surrounded by enemies who wanted me dead. I could count on one hand the number of times I was allowed to have an outing. How I treasured those bright little moments, preserved so clearly in my mind’s eye like an insect trapped in amber. It's strange to think that since then I’ve become the most well-travel man in the Empire. Perhaps the whole world. I’ve summited the highest peaks and visited each of the four seas. Yet the sight of all those wonders could not match the same thrill I felt as a boy, riding for a whole sichen in a stuffy carriage to travel across the city to visit Grand-Uncle Soandso and Second-Cousin Whatshisname.  

The trips gave me so much inspiration. If I saw a fault somewhere, I would try to come up with ways to improve it. Once, when we were crossing the East Marketplace, it suddenly dawned on me that the roads were always heavily congested. I drew up the curtains and poked my head outside, much to the dismay of Zhao Gao. 

"Your Highness!"

"Oh, hush, I just want to see what's going on." 

"Please lower the curtain, Highness, it isn't proper." 

I rolled my eyes. He could be such an old biddy sometimes, especially with that high-pitched, girly voice. Half the fun was teasing him. "I am the crown prince. Who’s to tell me what is or isn't proper?" 

Zhao Gao glanced anxiously at my mother’s carriage behind us. "My Prince, I beg you. Even if you don't get into trouble, l will!" 

Groaning in annoyance, I dropped the curtain and peeked out the side instead. "There! Happy now?" 

Zhao Gao was not happy but wisely decided to cut his losses. He was only a eunuch, no matter how well-liked, and my patience with him only went so far. 

I squinted out across the sea of heads and horses. It was apparent that the streets were badly designed. There were not enough walkways, and everyone was forced into the same exit and entry points. I spent the remainder of the journey pondering the problem, my mind churning as madly as the clogs in my mother’s loom when it was producing a great length of silk. The minute my carriage stopped at the palace, I was off like a loose arrow with Zhao Gao's long-suffering voice echoing in my ears, "My Prince, please don't run!"

I spent the rest of the evening bustling around my model city, jotting down calculations on my handkerchief. First I measured the streets with my thumb and forefinger. Next I put all the buildings together and measured their total area. To my delight, I saw that the numbers worked out. I could fit a new street, I just needed to be clever about it. That was one of the caveats I’d set for myself. I couldn't get rid of any of the houses-- where would my citizens live, otherwise? Nor could I encroach on any of the neighbouring areas, or shrink the marketplace. With those goals in mind, I got to work widening the  throughfare and reorganized the buildings. Zhao Gao knelt beside me, silently grinding ink and occasionally interjecting helpfully; “you forgot to carry the one, My Prince.” 

By the time I finished the sky was dark and the lamps had been lit, though I had not noticed the servants coming in. Grinning from ear to ear, I stepped away from the table in order to admire my work in its entirety. What had once been a column of numbers had been transformed into reality. I cleared my throat and announced in the grand voice I’d been practicing, "I decree this new marketplace open!" With that, the little bean people rolled happily into the new streets, cheering for their clever king. 

Notes: there's something so deliciously ironic about making ying zheng an idealistic child who dreams of improving his citizens lives with grand infrastructure projects vs what he actually ends up doing.

"What good was an empty, uninhabited shell? I didn't want to be the king of silent walls and deserted streets."

aw don't cry buddy. maybe one day the archeologists will crack Mt Li open and you won't be alone anymore.

Green and blue were referred to by the same word 'qing' 青. The “blue” beans he is talking about are actually green mung beans.

Pangu—a primordial giant who created the world. 

Nuwa—a goddess who created the first humans from clay. 

Dragon eyes – transliteration of longan, the fruit was first recorded in the Han dynasty, but could plausibly have existed during the Qin.

[accuratescalesuganda]

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[cursedbanalities]

Zechariah 14:12-13 (A Horror Story--Part FINAL)

CW: Blood and Gore

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Hunter runs back to the dish area to grab two large double-decker metal tables. It takes a lot of effort to get them to the lobby quickly; both the shelves on the top and bottom of the table are weighed down with various supplies— some plastic wrap, scales, pans, oil to fill pans with, etc. Thankfully, the tables have wheels, making it slightly easier. He and Andy position them in front of the doors and windows, and start filling any cracks with chairs from the lobby. Mason scrounges for some duct tape and zip ties amongst their cleaning supplies, allowing them to zip tie the table legs together for better support. Andy tears into the manager’s office to look for anything useful. He finds a box of N95 masks and, thinking it could help keep blood out of their mouths while they fight, he tells everybody to put them on.

Mason zip ties a couple of kitchen knives to broomsticks, taping them down to ensure they stay on better. Cameron helps build their arsenal, sharpening the machete-like pizza slicers with a commercial knife sharpener. Andy and Hunter both wrap towels around their hands as they push the still-hot pizza oven in front of the window of the kitchen to better barricade the lobby windows, and Hunter brings pallets of two-liters from the storage room and into the lobby. He’s managed to cover the whole front of the store, but as he puts the last pallet of pop down the windows start to break. Cracks web through the glass as at least twenty hungry infected people pound on the windows. Hunter runs to the kitchen, locking the door behind him.

“It’s time to fucking go,” Hunter blurts to them, almost too quickly to be real words. Each of their faces darkened, and Hunter could feel the tension in the air grow to an almost crushing weight. His adrenaline starts to go crazy. Is this really worth it? He thinks, growing more and more unsure of their chances with the clamoring horde at their front door.

Andy checks how much ammo the pistol has, ejecting the magazine, and racking the slide. A bullet jumps out from the chamber, and clinks when it falls on the ground. Andy picks it up, and starts counting the ammo left over in the clip, his hands shaking.

“...7, 8, 9…” he counts, “and the one in the chamber makes ten.” Andy looks up at Hunter with a grin, “I mean, that’s ten bodies down, as long as I’m accurate. I’d say that evens our odds a bit, eh?”

“Yeah, there’s a bit more than ten out there.” Hunter remarks, trying to understand the gravity of the situation.

“Yeah, no shit.” Andy says, voice shaking and clearly not in the mood for Hunter’s smart-ass comments. “It’s not a lot, but it’ll have to do. We have to make a stand here. We won't stand a chance trying to get somewhere safe tonight.”

“Woah, what are you, nuts?” Hunter exclaims, throwing his hands up. “Look, those barricades aren’t going to stop them, at most it’ll slow those fuckers down. All that gun is going to do is attract more of them, so unless you think we can defend ourselves with a few knives, we have to leave. NOW.”

“And go where?” Andy responds. “Listen, even if we’re able to make it to our cars, who’s going to let us inside their house? Don’t you live on-campus anyways? I doubt they’ll be too happy when you suddenly show up after dealing with this shit! They’ll probably think you’re infected and kick you out!”

“Look man, I don’t know, okay? I don’t have the fucking answers. But you’ve gotta be stupid to not realize that staying here is going to be the death of all of us.” Hunter argues, pointing his finger around the room. "Do you really wanna take that chance? Or do you want to find some way out while we still can?"

One of the windows in the lobby shatters, and the screams from the infected people immediately grows in volume as they start pushing their way into the store. Hunter cracks the kitchen door to peek into the lobby. The table is still holding, but it's only a matter of time. The infected's hands are bloody from the shards of glass still embedded in the windows, and the tables start shaking as they try to push through the pallets of 2-liters.

“Too late.” Andy says, loading the pistol and racking it. “You can try running if you want, but I’m telling you, we have to stand our ground.”

Hunter lets out a sigh, “Ugh....Fine.” Cameron and Mason rush over and give them the sharpened pizza slicers, ready to slice into the flesh of those invading their store. They both take a couple of practice swings to prepare for the fight while Mason and Cameron grip their crafted spears tight in their hands, knuckles white, and shaking with a nervous anticipation.

“So, what? Any words of encouragement before we do this?” Cameron says, almost trying to crack a joke. Nobody laughs. Andy glares at him.

“Yeah, we wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for you, prick.” Andy spat, “If we die, I’m blaming you.” Cameron opens his mouth like he’s going to fire something back at Andy, but before he could, Andy unlocks the kitchen door and runs out into the lobby; Pizza slicer in his hand, and Cameron’s pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans. Hunter shakes his head, adjusts his mask, and follows Andy with Cameron and Mason close behind him.

The lobby’s already a mess, with two-liters and broken chair pieces littering the ground. The tables are painted a crimson red from the glass cutting into the infected people, and there’s a hole in the barricade. It’s not large, but enough for an infected person- a woman in a business dress- to fit through. Andy’s already set to work, hacking at the woman with the pizza slicer as she tries to force herself through. Every chop flings blood into the air, painting both Andy and the ceiling in red. He takes one more swing, and finally sinks the blade into her skull. The infected person stops moving. Two more sections start to weaken, shaking as the group of infected slam themselves into it. A couple of arms poke through the left side of the store, their hands covered in dried blood and dirt; Hunter runs over to chop at them. He manages to get through one of the arms, slicing through it at the elbow. It falls onto the ground with a wet plap. Mason comes up and pokes the spear through a gap in the stacks of two liters a couple of times, before he yanks it out with a bit of effort, blade covered in blood and brain matter. The arms that Hunter was chopping at go still, but more start to poke through in the barricade, and he focuses on those.

Hunter, Mason, Cameron, and Andy fight back against the infected, locked into a dance of chopping, slicing, and stabbing. It feels as though they’ve been at it for hours, and their skin and masks have been painted red. More of the two liters have been pushed off of the table, but have been replaced by the bodies of the infected that have accrued- about ten of them have been fully killed so far, but some of the arms that Hunter have chopped at are still moving, their stumps trying in vain to grab at the four of them.

Hunter looks around at the three people he’s with, breathing hard. “Holy shit, we’re actually doing it!” He thinks, feeling more confident about his chances of surviving. Everything’s in slow motion as he sees Andy chopping at more bodies poking through the barricade, assisted by Cameron gutting any infected he sees. Hunter turns and locks eyes with Mason, who smirks and gives him a thumbs up. Hunter start to do the same, when an infected man pushes through the pile of bodies and launches himself at Mason. Hunter calls out to him, and starts to run over to help him. Mason’s barely able to get his spear up in time, stabbing the infected man in the gut. The knife shifts, and the zip ties and duct tape holding it together breaks, leaving the knife inside of him. He lands on top of Mason, pinning him onto the ground and biting him. Hunter screams, and sinks the pizza slicer into the back of the man’s neck- nearly decapitating him. Hunter tries to get the body off of Mason, but the head was sticking to him. Hunter gave it a little jerk, and it came free- with a chunk of Mason’s flesh in its mouth. Hunter looks down at Mason, half of his skull was chewed on by the infected person, and his right eye was missing- replaced with a bloody eye socket. Hunter stares at Mason, and feels tears welling up. Mason’s good eye starts to cry as well, and he reaches a shaking blood-covered hand to Hunter. He mouths something, and Hunter starts to get in close to hear what he has to say.

BANG!

Hunter whips around and sees an infected person’s neck spurting blood and dropping to their knees as they bleed out. Andy’s standing on the other side of the store with his gun raised, smoke pouring out of the muzzle.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HUNTER?” Andy screams at him, “YOU CAN'T STOP NOW! MOVE IT!”

Hunter turns back to Mason. An infected person- a twenty-something woman in a fast food uniform- has already gotten through the barricade and back on top of Mason. His hand is no longer outstretched and lays limp on the ground. Hunter chops at the woman, aiming for the back of her neck. He just misses, and lands the blade into her shoulder. He pulls it out as she jerks up and flails at him. Hunter chops at her side, getting just above the hip and causing her to grasp at it, before pulling it out and sinking it into the side of her neck. She falls to the ground, spraying blood all over Mason's corpse.

Andy fires off the gun at more of the people streaming into the lobby, hitting and killing two, who immediately fall to the floor, and hitting the third in the shoulder. It recoils from the bullet, giving Cameron enough time to swing the spear at the infected person’s throat, slicing it. The gunfire brings more attention to Andy, as a man in a flannel shirt with bloody teeth runs through the doors and grabs at him. Cameron and Hunter both try to help him, but more people keep forcing their way into the lobby.

As Hunter looks out the lobby windows. The ten-or-so infected that they’ve dispatched have already been replaced by new people. Cameron stabs at an infected person sprinting at him and catches them in the throat, but his knife breaks off inside of them. They fall to the ground, but another runs over them and hurls themself at Cameron, pinning him against the cash register counter. He’s able to hold his ground against the infected, putting the broomstick in his hands against their throat, but Hunter could tell that he was tired from the fight. He quickly swings his pizza slicer into the necks of two more infected, before sprinting to Cameron and tackling the infected to the ground. He slides the pizza slicer across the blood-soaked linoleum floors to Cameron, who grabs it just in time to swing it at more infected pushing through the doors. Hunter plants his knees into the infected person he’s on top of, who snarls and spits at him. He stands, one foot on their chest, and stomps on their head until they stop moving.

The infected begin to overwhelm Andy. He’s still standing, knife and gun in hand, but with a few infected people latched onto him, sinking their teeth into his neck and shoulders. He screams, and reflexively pulls the trigger on Cameron’s gun, firing it until he empties the clip.

Most of the shots go wide, either tagging an infected person in the arm, or hitting the wall behind them. Hunter throws himself to the slick bloody ground, trying not to be hit in the stray fire. Another shot ricochets off of the metal tables with a “ptew!” and hits one of the dead bodies piled on the table, but the other shot gets Cameron in the side as he was mid-swing at an infected woman. Hunter watches as he stops swinging and clutches at his bullet wound. They lock eyes for a second, Cameron's face twisted into one of pain and pleading, and the woman tackles him. She bites into him, with more infected following suit and piling on top of him.

Hunter looks at Andy, who’s now dry-firing the pistol, slowly getting eaten alive. Despite the screams and snarls of the infected, Andy’s screams rise among the rest of them, before getting cut off with an “GGGGHHHH!” as his throat is ripped out. Hunter starts hyperventilating, he’s the only one left. He gets onto his feet, everything’s spinning again. He almost forgets where he is, but he slightly recovers when an infected woman tries to grab at him. She connects with him, but he breaks her grab and punches her in the jaw. She almost stands her ground, but starts to slip on the bloody linoleum, and falls to the ground. More infected look up from Andy and Cameron’s half-eaten corpses, and scream at him.

Everything is a blur after that. Hunter remembers running to the kitchen and slamming the door behind him. He sprints to the back as the infected start to break through the door into the kitchen. Hunter sprints and slams his body into the back door, and tripped on Ethan and Johnny's corpses. He hits the ground, vaguely remembers the frantic sprint across the parking lot, and the next thing he remembers was getting into his car. He’s panting, lungs on fire, his legs and arms felt like jelly. Looking around, he’s in a place with no more screaming infected, and he’s able to catch his breath for a second. It's silent, other than his heaving breaths. He’s able to think. He thinks about how quickly everything went to shit. How Ethan and Johnny were both taken with such ease, how one stupid, unavoidable mistake cost Mason, Cameron, and Andy their lives. Hunter started to cry, bitter tears seeped out of his eyes, leaving streaks on his bloodstained face.

A scream makes Hunter snap out of his misery, as a man in a leather jacket throws himself at Hunter's car. Hunter jams his keys in, and starts the car. The engine turns over as the man starts smacking at his windows, with more of them coming towards him from the lobby of Eugene’s Pizza. He puts it in reverse, steps on the gas and whips the car around. The side of the car hits the leather jacket-man, causing him to roll over the hood of Hunter’s sedan. He shifts it into drive, jerking his wheel to the side and accelerating as more infected pour out of the lobby and towards his car. He sideswipes some of them as they throw themselves at him, but Hunter makes it to the street and drives further into town.

He starts driving towards the college campus. The only thought on his mind is trying to get back to his home. He has to dodge past some groups of infected people, all of whom give chase after Hunter as he speeds down the city streets. Some houses are fully barricaded, with beams of light seeping through the boarded-up windows. Cars lay abandoned on the side of the streets. Some with doors open and windows covered in blood. Hunter tries to not look at them. He's able to make it to campus quickly and notices a massive smoke stack rising over the academic and administrative buildings, illuminated by the orange-yellow glow of a fire. It’s in the direction of the dorm buildings that he called home. A pit forms in his stomach as he drives closer to the smoke billowing into the night sky. The orange glow grows brighter and brighter, and Hunter comes face to face with his fear as he turns onto the road of his dorm building. The four-story building that Hunter lived in was completely engulfed in flames. Hunter can see figures running out of the fire, arms flailing. He stops in the middle of the road, engine still running, and stares at the raging flames. A flurry of emotions hit Hunter: Anger, sadness, fear; but most of all, an overwhelming wave of hopelessness washing over him. His whole body feels numb, and he doesn’t even notice himself driving away. He just stares ahead as his subconscious takes him out of town and onto the highway.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. He finally broke out of his trance. He doesn't know where he is, or where to go. The road’s dark, the headlights illuminate the empty street and trees surrounding it. It feels suffocating, having just a circle of light to be able to see. Hunter finally feels happy-- no, he's elated. He starts laughing to himself. It starts out as a quiet chuckle, before it slowly crescendos into a boisterous, almost crazed belly-laugh. He welcomes the road with trees. He's just happy that there’s no more people with bloody teeth. He’s alive, whatever that means. He’ll figure it out as he drives. With a smile, he turns on the radio and is greeted with static. So, he plugs his phone into the aux and hits shuffle on his downloaded music. South of Heaven by Slayer comes over the speakers, and Hunter bangs his head to it. Despite being so surrounded by death, he’s never felt more alive. He screams along to the song:

“Chaos rampant in an age of distrust

Confrontations, impulsive sabbath

On and on, south of heaven

On and on, south of heaven”

____________________________________________

[[Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed this story of mine! This is the longest piece I've fully written and edited, coming in at around 25,000 words. It's my crowning achievement so far, and I'm hoping I can keep pushing the bounds of what I can do!]]

[[I've been working on some other stories in this universe, and I thought it would be cool to have them all connected in some small way! Like a small overlap of events or location, something like that. I'm also writing a dramatic re-enactment of my Dungeons and Dragons Campaign, so stick around for that!]]

[[See ya'll next time!]]

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[scalesweighing]

digital balance electronic smart weigh price computing scale

Digital counting table top weighing scale UP to1/000,000 internal resolution With piece weight automated average(optional) Two kinds of counting function for optional(weighing division internal code) 6 digital LCD display,and 3 ways of backlight states Rechargeable battery inside,DC and AC power supply With kg,g,lb,oz units conversion Quantity accumulation Calibration function Tare within full capacity, pre-tare, when weighing

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance. For inquiries on deliveries contact us

Office +256 (0) 705 577 823, +256 (0) 775 259 917

Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

Email: weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

[atgomart]

What Is  The Importance Of Weighing Machines In The Industrial Sector 

A weighing machine is very important in our daily lives and every industry needs it for good reasons. The main purpose of this measuring equipment is to determine the weight of materials or objects. The machine must be technologically advanced, safe, robust, and affordable. A weighing machine is also referred to as weighing balances or scales, and it measures weight by weighing the force applied to the load. The result is then converted into mass and displayed in different kilos units.

Almost all industries on this planet measure the weight of every item they use in their daily activities. Every business tends to perform their tasks accurately, and therefore, they require a weighing machine to accurately weigh things. Weighing machines are employed in all industries to weigh heavy-duty vehicles, materials, and objects. These industries encompass production, railway, manufacturing, retail, construction, agriculture, food processing, shipping, transportation, medicine, and other related fields.

Weighing Machines are essential in the industrial sector

Every weighing machine has a specific function according to industry applications. The use of digital indicators makes reading easy. All industrial scales are made using the latest technology, and most of them are electronic scales.

Uniformity:

Consistency is achieved through uniformity, which is of utmost importance. For example, a company involved in the pharmaceutical or food industry needs to produce precisely measured products. The products can offer the public items that are reliable and won't harm them. Professionals can work with materials quickly and perform important work before or during packaging by having a weighing machine.

Packaging & Shipping:

The weight of your merchandise is important in making packaging and shipping materials simple and easy. Your staff has the ability to weigh or scale products as they please and identify the best packaging and shipping solutions.

Consumers trust:

Transparency and trust are established as a result of industrial weighing machines allowing consumers to see the indicators and weight of products. Customers can verify the weight with their own eyes.

Diverse range:

There are various types of weighing machines used in industry sectors.

Laboratory Scales

Bench Scales

Jewelry Scales

Platform Scales

Counting Scales

Floor Scale

Crane And Hanging Scale

Table Top Scales

Retail Printer Scales

Weighing machines can be selected based on the requirements of your industry. Food, chemicals, liquids, diamonds, jewelry, sapphire, and other valuable gemstones are all suitable for weighing on the scales. At train stations and airports, luggage weighing machines are widely used to determine the weight of passengers' luggage. Industrial products with large capacities, are measured using the platform or drum scales. The majority of floor scales can handle loads starting at 2500 lbs. To 30,000 lbs.Weighing Machine Dealers in Chennai

[go-accurateweighingscalesug-blog]

Digital counting table top weighing scale in Kampala

Our retail weighing scales are perfectly placed weighing solutions for groceries, butcheries and supermarkets.

Our retail scale targets its core competencies on clearly defined areas: backroom, service counter, fresh produce, bakery, checkout, and specialty area. Within these zones, we actively seek the best combination of focused people, intuitive products and effective processes for all grocery weighing needs.

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.

For inquiries on deliveries contact us

Office +256 (0) 705 577 823, +256 (0) 775 259 917

Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

Email:  weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

[midseo]

Supermarket Scales, Retail Scale, Price Computing Scales, Mumbai, India

We are Manufacturers, Suppliers and Exporters of Supermarket Scales, Retail Scale, Price Computing Scales, Hanging Scales, Supermarket Scales Mumbai, India. Get Price Details Now!

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[livestockscales]

Digital counting table top weighing scale in Kampala

Its 100 hour rechargeable battery guaranties steady and consistent usage even in places without a nearby electric outlet. The TCS scale model comes equipped with large LCD screens with include a backlit to clearly show the weight of portioned items even in dark areas.

The on-board memory includes 100 price memories and eight direct access keys that will allow you to easily weigh and sell your most demanded products. The RS-232 data port allows a PC or printer to connect easily to the scale.

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance. For inquiries on deliveries contact us

Office +256 (0) 705 577 823, +256 (0) 775 259 917

Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

Email: weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

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[countrywinggroupofcompanies]

electronic table top weight washable weighing scales

IP68 rated portion scale with stainless steel top housing 23mm selectable backlit LCD display. Rechargeable battery or mains adaptor (supplied). Waterproof, moisture-proof and good vibration resistance · Fast and accurate weighing · Double red LED display · Adjustable LED brightness · 4 adjustable feet · High  3kg, 6kg, 10kg, 15kg, 30kg

water resistant weighing scale is adopted with high precision 24-bit A/D chip and waterproof load cell. It works in good performance of accurate weighing, stable reading and reliable quality, suitable for working in the heavy wet or moisture places. It also has the function of speed change.

high precision digital water resistant weighing scale

IP65 rated portion scale with stainless steel top housing

23mm selectable backlit LCD display

Rechargeable battery or mains adaptor (supplied)

Parts counting and auto-off functions

Selectable resolution up to 1:30,000

Kg, grams, decimal pounds, ounces and pounds & ounces

Which Water Resistant weighing Scales Do You Need?

The IP rating water resistant  is an important factor to consider as it protects the scale from foreign bodies entering the scale, this can include food debris and water. Any type of ingress can create a hygiene hazard and damage to the scale.

digital moisture proof weighing scales for trade 30kg

Waterproof Scale · Water resistant grade at IP68 to protect water and dust · Housing: SUS304 Top, ABS bottom which are durable and dirt-Brand New Waterproof Scale is Coming superSS waterproof scale. New WPS with ABS housing, which is waterproof, moisture-proof.

Adam Equipment digital weighing scales legal for trade price calculating wash down scale has a 15 pound capacity with 0.005 pound capacity. Rechargeable and compact with a stainless steel platform and bright display. Perfect for food prep, grocery stores and markets.

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.

For inquiries on deliveries contact us

Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917

Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

Email:  weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

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[platforms1]

Price Scale Digital Electronic retail Machine in Kampala

The TCS scale model has a stainless steel cabinet and platter to ensure long lasting durability and easy to clean surface. The large platter provides versatility that can accurately weigh your most popular products. This portable item was designed to perform in high pace environments that require durability and precision;

Its 100 hour rechargeable battery guaranties steady and consistent usage even in places without a nearby electric outlet. The TCS scale model comes equipped with large LCD screens with include a backlit to clearly show the weight of portioned items even in dark areas.

The on-board memory includes 100 price memories and eight direct access keys that will allow you to easily weigh and sell your most demanded products. The RS-232 data port allows a PC or printer to connect easily to the scale.

Digital counting table top weighing scale

•           UP to1/000,000 internal resolution

•           With piece weight automated average(optional)

•           Two kinds of counting function for optional(weighing division internal code)

•           6 digital LCD display,and 3 ways of backlight states

•           Rechargeable battery inside,DC and AC power supply

•           With kg,g,lb,oz units conversion

•           Quantity accumulation

•           Calibration function

•           Tare within full capacity, pre-tare, when weighing

•           Two colors charging indicator

Thank you for allowing Accurate Weighing Scales (U) Ltd the privilege to serve you in advance.

For inquiries on deliveries contact us

 Office +256 705 577 823, +256 775 259 917

 Address: Wandegeya KCCA Market South Wing, 2nd Floor Room SSF 036

 Email:  weighingscales@countrywinggroup.com

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[loveshotzz]

fboy!eddie x fem!reader

Rude Boy

Summary: Alone in a basement at Reefer Rick’s party, you finally catch Eddie’s attention.

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: 18 + obviously this is an fboy!eddie fic so prepare for him to be smug, mocking and hot. Fingering (f receiving), dry humping, finger sucking, weed smoking, mentions of partying and a slightly angsty ending.

Authors Note: this is for @newlips #milestoneoflove celebration. I wanted to try something new in between working on bigger fics, I also just wanted to write something for you, cece. Thank you for always bringing us writers together on here 💗. Shout out to both cece and @carolmunson the queens of fboy!eddie. If you haven’t read The Sheep or Baby, As If I highly recommend.

Scanning the party over the top of your drink, your eyes search for the only reason you came to Rick’s in the first place. The rumor mill had let it be known that Eddie Munson and his main girl Cece had finally broken up, and you’d only dreamed of having that top spot.

Tugging down the short hem of your dress that you wore just for him, you were starting to get impatient. You had watched his messy head of curls disappear into the basement that was off limits for anyone that didn’t work for the man whose house you were in. No one had followed him in, and you didn’t notice anyone go before him. Sitting pressed against the wall you weigh the consequences of the choice you were about to make.

Pushing yourself off the wall you make a beeline for the door, weaving through the crowd you’re side tracked by a yank on your arm, falling slightly into the sea of dancing people you shove your empty cup into the chest of a handsy man who was trying to get you to dance. Ignoring the way he slurred ‘bitch’ after you yanked yourself free, all you focused on was keeping your breathing steady as you dared to be bold enough to get what you wanted for so long.

A manicured hand on the door handle, you got dark red just for tonight. The girls around town had always gossiped that color was his favorite. It doesn’t make any noise when you open it, the music upstairs immediately clashing with what he was playing downstairs. Closing the door the lighting is dim at the bottom of the stairs. A thick cloud of smoke creates a haze around the yellow glow and it tightens in your lungs with every breath you take all the way down.

The long wooden table with a lush bag of weed and a couple scales is what you see first, dark green crumbs dusting what was clearly a makeshift weigh station in the middle of it. Neon beer signs add a pink coloring to your forbidden surroundings as your eyes land on the worn couch in the center of the room.

The man you’d been looking for sitting right in the middle.

His long legs are spread wide with ease, and you catch a glimpse of the pale skin hidden underneath through the rips in his black tight fitting jeans. His simple white shirt wraps around his torso and arms the way you see on the models covering the packages at the store. The crisp cleanliness of it makes the ink that covers every inch of his toned arms stand out even more.

His face is hidden by a large hit blowing from between his plump lips adding to the fog that coats the room. You can still feel the heat of his stare and it makes your thighs press tighter.

“Lost?” His voice comes out deep with a teasing edge to it — a harsher rasp from smoking. Leaning forward - his elbows press to his knees, his handsome features reveal themselves to you when he pushes through the cloud of smoke. Straight white teeth shine on display in the kind of smile that ruins the thin fabric of your underwear. “Or just looking for trouble?”

It takes you a minute to find your words when the chestnut of his eyes darken as they take in the way the material of your dress hangs just right off every curve of your body. Thick ringed fingers come up to rest on the plush pink of his lips when they spy the dark red adoring your long nails, his smile widening even more almost like he knew you picked that color just for him.

“Trouble’s my middle name actually.” Biting into the sticky gloss of your bottom lip, mischief flashes behind his hungry gaze when he slowly extends the half smoked blunt in your direction. Daring you to take the bait.

He eats you alive with his eyes as your hips sway and your heels thud muted against the carpet carrying you towards him like a lion’s prey walking right into his den. The sound of Chevelle’s Send The Pain Below drowns out the noise of the party upstairs only intensifying the growing slick between your legs. Nerves vibrating from your fingertips the second hand smoke was already starting the job the blunt was going to finish.

You end up between his legs when you come to a stop and he doesn’t make any effort to leave your personal space. His hot breath fans on the exposed skin of your thighs when your delicate fingers brush against his when they take the blunt from his hand.

Your cheeks hollow when you take a drag, despite trying to keep a confident demeanor you can’t meet his eyes from this close. Black and hungry he doesn’t try to hide how his eyes roam all over you. The scent of his cologne is stronger than the weed burning, swirling around you it overpowers your senses.

His fingertips run a slow path up the back of your calf catching the way it makes you rub your legs together in search of friction. His lips ghosting against your skin as he starts toying with the hem of your dress.

“Didn’t anyone tell you not to talk to strangers?” He looks up at you from under his lashes and you try to ignore the sting to your ego that he doesn’t remember you.

“We went to High School together, Eddie.”

The squeal you let out when his teeth nip at the spot his lips had just been hovering covers the disappointment in your voice.

He just hums to himself giving you no indication if you jogged his memory or not. Squeezing rough with big hands at the doughy meat of your thighs he was focused on getting what he wanted, not the words coming out of your mouth.

Leaning back on the cushions of the couch, he watches you with narrowed eyes. Giving you another once over, he licks his lips watching the way yours wrap around the tobacco.

“Those cute feet of yours are probably sore from standing in those pretty lookin’ heels all night sweetheart.” Patting his lap, the smile on his lips twists like the devil before adding “Why don’t you take a seat?”

You exhale your last drag as he spreads himself out in anticipation for the choice he knows you’re going to make. With the blunt tucked between your fingers, you lean forward, hands gripping his shoulders letting him get a look at the lace that pushes your tits up earning you a squeeze on your sides in approval.

Straddling him with your knees against his hips, the heels of your shoes hang over the edge of the couch. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist — the new position giving him a view of the matching panties underneath.

“Wearing these ‘cause you wanted someone to see ‘em huh?” Plucking at the elastic edge near where you needed his fingers most, his smirk told you he could feel how they were already drenched.

“I don’t know what you’re talking abo-“

“Don’t let the blunt go out.” His tone is harsher than before and you hated how it only turned you on more. “You wanted my attention and now you got it princess, don’t be rude and waste my weed.”

You don’t argue with him bringing it back to your lips, putting your full weight down on his lap you could feel how hard he was underneath you despite his indifference. The silent victory has you smirking around your hit. The callouses that cover his fingertips catch against the smoothness of your skin as they grip and massage over the fat of your thighs.

The silver of his rings gleam against the soft light, the cool metal of the chain that wraps around his wrist leaves goosebumps in its wake with every glide against your heated flesh. Slow and teasing his hands make their way higher, clenching around nothing — he keeps his eyes trained on your face. Playing with the edge of your panties close to where you can feel a second heartbeat, he tuts when your hips give the slightest rock.

“Smoking my weed, breaking the number one rule in Rick’s house, and now you think you can be greedy while you soak my lap?” He lets out a low whistle before snatching what’s left of the blunt from your mouth. The glitter from your lip gloss stains the end when he puts it out.

Big hands on your ass, he pulls you forward when he leans back. A single grunt escapes him when your heat hits where he’s pressing against his zipper. A harsh smack followed by a kneading grip, he keeps one hand on your reddening ass while the other goes back to playing with the seam of your completely ruined underwear. He lets his two fingers dip inside, the fat tips tracing once over your slick lips.

“This is what you wanted isn’t it?” Pulling the offending material to the side his gaze darkens when he sees how you glisten for him, running the pads of his fingers down your slit he’s only partially satisfied when you mewl in response. Your long nails dig deeper into his shoulders when he does it again.

“I asked you a question, trouble maker.”

He doesn’t give you any time to respond before he pushes inside. Despite the lack of warning your walls give him little to no fight as they pull him in until he hits his rings. Eyes screwing shut at the stretch, all coherent thoughts get lost when he curls them to the side. Reaching your g-spot like he knew where it was the whole time.

“Yes! — Fuck, Eddie!” The coil in your stomach tightens when he starts setting a pace that has you clawing at his shirt, eyes rolling in the back of your head when he uses the pad of his thumb against your sensitive clit.

There’s a pang of jealousy when you think of all of the practice it took him to touch your body like he’d done it a million times before, but it’s short lived when he adds a third finger stretching your walls even further a pornogrpahic moan rips through your chest.

“Yeah? It’s like that huh?” His smooth voice is condescending as he mocks the way your mouth hangs open and your brows pinch together but you're too close to seeing god from just his fingers to care. The thought of how his dick would make you feel has you gushing all over him again, walls fluttering with a new wave of arousal. God, you hoped he’d let you find out.

All you can do is nod, your hips starting to meet the drag of his knuckles chasing the high that was threatening to consume every part of you. Too lost in the intensity of being so close you don’t see him lean in until you feel his lips on where the tops of your breasts are exposed from the low cut of your dress. Tongue lapping against the curve of your cleavage he bites down hard enough to leave a bruise, sucking for good measure he was marking you. No one else at this party was gonna touch you.

There’s a flicker of pride that ignites inside you at the thought of being one of his girls, and when the hand that's been firmly gripping your ass starts pushing your hips forward it’s just enough to send you flying over the edge.

White hot heat flashing behind your eyes, his name falls from your mouth in a way that will have your voice horse in the morning. Shuddering on top of him, you don’t think anyone has ever made you cum this hard before.

“Made such a mess of me darlin’, gonna need you to clean it up.” He doesn’t give you time to recover before the fingers that have you still trembling on top of him are shoved in your mouth.

The rough pads of his fingers press down on your tongue, the taste of your release coating your tongue — sweet and tangy. Wrapping glittering lips around them he inhales a shallow breath when you eagerly start sucking them clean.

“Such a dirty fucking girl, I’ve got something else you’d be good at suckin’ just like that.” Rutting his hips up, the over stimulation has you whining around his fingers. He pulls them out with a loud pop and a trail of spit still connects you, wiping the remains on the side of his jeans he gives your ass another spank before ushering you up.

“I’m gonna go get us something to drink then you can return the favor like I know you want to sweetheart.” Flashing you a smile that somehow has you hungry for more, you nod obediently with hot cheeks and a flushed grin on your gloss smeared lips.

“I’ll be waiting, Eddie.” Your voice is shy despite what just happened moments before, and it makes his dimples poke the sides of his cheeks.

You watch him head up the stairs you’d dare to come down, waiting to hear the door click you let out a little squeal. Falling onto the couch with a pleased smile, you toy with the bottom of your dress doing your best to ignore how soaked your were.

It had been ten minutes when you looked down at the mouth shaped bruise on your chest, and another ten when you opted to just lose your underwear for your own comfort. It was when it started pushing forty that the fear he might not be coming back finally set in.

Huffing with a shake in your throat, you finally will yourself to stand. Taking one last look around you finally decide to leave with whatever dignity you might have left after waiting almost an hour.

Your heels feel heavy with each step, the bruise to your ego from before growing ten fold. Turning the handle, it feels like all eyes land on you when you cross the threshold. Whispers and murmurs and stares falling to the mark on your chest, everyone knew who did that to you.

His loud laugh catches your ears and you should have known better than to let the lovesick smile light up your face like it was meant for you. It doesn’t take you long to find him halfway out the front door with his arm slung around a pretty brunette you’ve seen before. His main girl.

Throwing you a wink and less than guilty grin he knew he’d be able to see you again. You owed him a blowjob after all.

Throwing you a wink and less than guilty grin he knew he’d be able to see you again. You owed him a blowjob after all.

[kitakashi]

The Briney Deep

Kyo Soma x f!Reader

Pirate AU

Warnings: Piratey Things, Sword Fighting, Blood, Suggestive

Salt. Everything on this damn ship was wet and tasted like salt. It wasn't that Kyo necessarily minded salt, it was just EVERYWHERE. Stuck to his skin, built up under his nails, between his eyelashes, pasted into his scalp... He couldn't lick his lips without tasting it, or push his flaming orange hair out of his face without getting it in his eyes.

The hot sun beat down on the top deck, sweat dripping down his spine as he ran errands back and worth for the boatswain. Waves beat against the hull, ocean and ship dancing to a song Kyo had yet to learn. Only a few days at sea with the coastal patrol but the landsman had yet to earn his sea legs. He shivered as a particularly powerful swell crested the rails and soaked his already damp trousers.

The ship itself wasn't so bad, and neither was the sea when she was playing nice. He had barely gotten seasick, and Kyo's diligence in his swordsmanship training had given him better poise than most. It was one of the riggers, mates who scaled the masts and operated the ropes, who reminded him of his cousin that made Kyo almost wish to see land again.

Not only did they have the same silver hair, his attitude grated on Kyo's nerves. Damn kid was aloof, but the look he gave Kyo was that the orange haired man wasn't worth his time. The rigger, Kiryu, was exceptional at every task and respected by the crew. He could have gone up in ranks but preferred the freedom and heights no other position offered despite the immense danger. He was infuriating to Kyo, just like that damn Yuki.

"Ahoy, Carrots! Ye daft, swab?"

Kyo's head snapped to the sound of Kiryu's holler. The man hung from shrouds of the fore mast, directly over Kyo's position on the main deck.

Now having the attention of the landsman, Kiryu continued, "Cap'n said its time to weigh anchor. Help the mates raise the line. Savvy?"

"Aye," Kyo bristled, grinding his teeth and clenching his fists, feeling the salty grit on his palms. He hated taking orders, especially from the rigger. Swallowing his angry retort, the orange haired man set off for the pinrails squinting into the glaring sun.

Captain Vivekka Everly, of the notorious pirate ship the Scylla, stood in her cabin staring out the porthole at the crashing waves. Sighing heavily, the voluptuous woman pushed her short white hair behind her ears. Plopping into the velvet chair before her writing table, vivid teal orbs scanned the navigation maps absentmindedly. Spinning the caliper against the star chart, the young captain debated her options.

Unlike Naval officers, pirates used democracy to appoint their leaders. The crew chose who led them by popular vote. They voted on destinations and acted as jury for punishments. All in all, the captain only had power for as long as they had the respect of their crew. Experience, knowledge and talent certainly mattered but when the crew was full of violent thieves and murderers who weren't afraid to mutiny, a captain did their best to keep their people's interests at heart. Pirates had a code they lived by, or died by if they broke it. Honor among thieves and all that jazz.

Recently, her quartermaster and first mate, Y/n, seemed to have lost her spark. The two women had grown close after Y/n accepted her current position aboard the Scylla. Long hours pouring over sea charts, staring at the stars for navigation, counting coins and fighting at each other's backs. While the younger h/c would never admit it, Vivekka knew the dull look in her friend's eyes. For Y/n, the sea was losing it’s siren song.

During Vivekka's time as captain, well over a decade, she had seen a few of her crew from time to time, grow weary of life at sea. If she wanted to keep the talented Y/n aboard her ship, she would need to act fast. The next disembarkment could very well be Y/n's last if she didn't again find her love of the briney deep.

Kicking back the lushly lined chair, the captain threw her long legs up on the desk. The movement stirred one of the Scylla's cats. It opened one lazy eye and glared at the captain before ignoring her for more sleep. Captain Vivekka crossed both her feet and arms and contemplated.

On one hand, she could offer more share of the treasure to Y/n, and take less herself. Or they could take a break from treasure hunting and focus more on attacking lone coastal corvettes. Those small patrolling warships, while offering no golden cache, had maps, charts and logs that were valuable. Along with shipping routes and patrol schedules. While the crew aboard the Scylla weren't particularly bloodthirsty, sometimes a good fight was sufficient to get the pirate heart pumping again. The choice would be up to the crew, but Vivekka controlled the options.

Satisfied in her decision, Captain Vivekka Everly swiped her weathered embellished tricorn hat from its resting place and placed it snugly on her head. Bare feet hitting the floor as she stood, the white haired woman strode confidently from her quarters to gather her crew.

You stretched your arms out, lacing fingers together and palms to the sea. Groaning, you worked the kinks out of your stiff back and neck. The f/c bandanna wrapped around your head to hold your hair out of your eyes shifted, the ends fluttering over your shoulder to dance in the breeze. A deep breath expanded your lungs and drew a smile to your face. The gloriousness of the ocean filling your senses. Shutting your eyes, you absorbed the relative quiet the early dawn provided before the rest of the crew would awaken.

A lone seagull cawed, circling the masts. More would arrive the closer the ship got to the coast. The mates had finally agreed on a destination a few days prior. It was a relief, being the quartermaster meant breaking up fights. Disagreements between pirates was often bloody. Gratefully, nobody fed the fish.

The Scylla hunted for a lone patrol ship. An easy target, not meant for coffers but for navigation booty. Maps, routes-

"Sail ho! Avast! Cog off the starboard bow!" The lookout keeping watch from the crow's nest sang breaking through your thoughts.

A giddy tremor stirred your stomach, excitement making your toes wiggle against the wooden boards. Finally, some action! Taking leaping steps, you pounced on the stairs leading under the deck. A large bell hung from the wall, to be rang to bring the whole ship to attention. Reaching out for the weathered metal object, you shook it successfully startling everyone asleep in quarters. A cat lying near the archway on a barrel jumped, fur standing on end as it hissed at you.

"Awake, ye scallywags! All hands hoay!"

The grumbling quickly became shouts of excitement as the crew aboard the Scylla made quick to their posts. Unfurling the remaining sails to give chase to the coastal patrol ship. Loading the cannons. Aiming guns starboard. Not one idle mate.

Dancing over the ship's cats as they ran to get from underfoot, you made for the navigation quarters. As you reached for the handle, the door flew open. Not wasting a moment, the white haired captain made for the quarter deck to speak with the sailing master at the Scylla's wheel.

"Corvette 'bout 3 leagues out, Cap'n," the coxswain removed the spyglass and replied to Captain Vivekka's unasked question.

"Good," she turned, dark purple tailcoat flaring out behind her and teal eyes glittering, "ahoy, lass. Prepare the gunners. We board once grapplers hook. We draw the ship, secure those naval soldiers, pillage the papers and return. No need to scuttle her, but let the tar untie themselves."

You nod, "aye, aye, Cap'n," and drop to the main deck. Gesturing for a boatswain, you relay the captain's orders. Another mate sent to the gunners to prepare the cannons. Now you wait.

Once the ship came into view of the naked eye, rifle shots were fired into the air above the patrol vessel searching for the lookouts. A body dropped from their crow's nest. The yells of the men in Naval coats echoed as they started rushing frantic around the deck. A shot across the bow came from the cog.

You snorted, "late for a warning." For men in uniform, it looked like utter chaos. "This is why women should lead," you thought smugly, "far more organized and delegated."

"Fire in the hole!"

Internal gloating pushed aside by the mate's warning, as the belly of the Scylla rumbled firing the first cannon. The gunners had aimed for masts, sails, rigging and upper deck, not trying to sink the cog just disable her. 

"Blow 'em down, lassies, but giv'm quarter should they kneel," your order drew cheers from the action starved mates of the Scylla. You all had been craving a good fight.

At the Captain's command, the boarding party lined up along the rails, from poop deck to bow sprit, grappling hooks at the ready. Swashbucklers freeing their cutlass, pistols loaded. Marlinspikes, metal tools used in rigging, gripped in hand for those without weaponry. Sprays of sea water shot up as the Scylla rammed into the corvette's broadside.

The first of the Scylla's mates had already swung across the grapplers. You licked the salt from your lips as the boatswain drew the gangplank across both ship's decks. It was time to cross.

You watched as men in patriotic uniform cried insults and pleas, but none dropped to their knees. That was Captain Everly's special condition for quarter, they have to beg on their knees. The white haired young captain enjoyed the sight of crushed masculine pride. You had to admit, it felt nice when the misogynists recognized their lives were in your feminine hands.

A mate dragging two young cabin boys passed you, taking the young lads back to the Scylla. Children were always given quarter, if they didn't want to stay aboard the Scylla, they were free to leave at the next disembarkment.

Stepping off the gangplank, your bare feet touched the cog's deck. You grimaced, feeling the inferior planks that hadn't been sanded to accommodate bare feet. How the Naval tar wore boots without slipping was beyond you.

A noise drew your attention from inspection. Not many were left resisting. Most were bloodied and soon to be shark bait. Few had been tied to the masts, they must have submitted to their knees. A clash of metal rang from the cog's quarter deck. You scaled the ladder easily, finding the source of commotion.

One man, with bright orange hair, held back 3 of the Scylla's best swashbucklers with a short sword.

"Oh?" You cocked your head to the side, "well sink me, there be a Naval with talent?" Turning to the swashbucklers you sang out, "ye run'n a rig, lassies? Cleave'm to the brisket if he won't kneel."

The youngest of the 3 glared at the man, "ain't no rig, Quartermaster, this tar knows how to fight unlike the rest of the bilge-suckers," she spat the insult.

"Well, well," you stepped forward, "if that be the case, perhaps this dance be mine."

The Scylla lassies back-stepped, allowing you the space to duel. Taking one last glance, they split up to continue pillaging the cog.

"Come on then, lad, shiver me timbers," you taunted cheekily.

The orange haired man grit his teeth, then stuck forward. You parried, cutlass against short sword.

"You know there is nothing of value here, right?" He growled a little breathless.

"Booty is more than doubloons."

A look of confusion crossed his face, making him raise his bright orange brows. "What could be of use to pirates on a patrol ship?"

A sweep of his sword had you twirling off to the side just out of his reach. He dashed forward only to be parried by you again, but you didn't stop there. You reacted with a series of short rapid slashes. He stumbled backwards, almost tripping over some rigging on deck.

"Official papers cost many pieces of eight," you replied encroaching into his personal space. You were faster than he was, but you had to admit, the tar was talented.

"You know," he smirked kicking your legs out from under you, "its been a long time since I've faced a swordsman of your caliber. Pity you're a pirate."

Rolling, you evaded a downward strike of his blade. You flipped yourself backwards, kicking him in the face before landing on your feet.

"Yer the one without freedom, tar. The sea be me mistress, while she yer jailer."

He stopped at your words, rubbing his bruised jaw, thoughtful. You watched, circling him, the man amused you. You took this moment to inspect the man closer. Biting your lip, you fidgeted with your cutlass. He was quite handsome. Hair and eyes as bright as the sunset, jaw angled, nose sharp. Muscles rippled as he shifted his weight to keep you in view. 

"I didn't come to sea to be officer," he began, "I wanted freedom from my oppressive family."

You chuckled, "must be mighty oppressive for ye to choose the King's tar over yer own blood." He nodded. "They say blood of the coven be thicker than the water of the womb. Me coven be the Scylla."

"Scylla?" He questioned, still thoughtful, "is that your ship?"

"Aye."

"What does it take to be a pirate?"

The question almost made you drop your cutlass. "Blimey, the tar asking t'go on account?" A grin split your face from ear to ear. You liked him. "What be yer name, mate?"

He studied you a moment, the smirk reappearing on his handsome features. He sheathed his sword then knelt, "Kyo."

You laughed heartily, bending over at the waist. The lad had been paying attention when you had spoken to the swashbucklers. He knew to kneel. Wiping your eyes, you straightened. Holding the cutlass to his throat, you locked eyes with him. His amber orbs watching your e/c ones.

"It not be a decision for me to make, but," you batted his cheek with the flat side of your cutlass then sheathed your own weapon, "the Cap'n be fair... for a pirate," you added cheekily.

Looking around you saw that you had drawn a crowd. The mates were watching the spectacle unfold. It wasn't often a Naval tar asked to become a pirate. In fact, you'd never known it to happen personally.

Wiping out your pistol, you pointed it to Kyo's temple, "just a precaution, mate, no reason to hang the jib," you replied to the question in his eyes and frown on his face. The mates parted, allowing you to lead Kyo from the cog to the Scylla. As soon as you both had stepped off the gangplank the board was lifted.

Captain Vivekka walked the quarter deck, "weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen! We got what we came for mates." The crew cheered as they pulled the rigging, allowing the sails to unfurl. A strong wind was blowing. She faced the coxswain, "bring a spring upon 'er, we aim for the briney deep!" The helmsman spun the wheel, turning the ship, leaving the cog behind. Once a few fathoms were between the Scylla and the corvette, Captain Vivekka stepped down to the main deck where you stood.

It wasn't often she dressed up, once out to sea you couldn't tell her from a mate by clothing alone. However, now they were close to shore and Navy ships. She looked regal and intimidating; her royal purple coat buttoned and laced with gold embellishments and the glaring noon sun highlighting her white hair under the tricorn captain's hat.

"What loot have ye plundered, Quartermaster?" Your Captain inquired inspecting Kyo.

"This tar knelt and asked t'go on account," you couldn't help your grin. Not only was the orange haired man handsome, he was a talented swordsman AND he respected your abilities in return. You really wanted to keep him, and crossed your fingers behind your back with your free hand.

"Oh?" Captain stepped forwards, sliding a long weathered hand under the man's chin, forcing him to look at her. "What makes ye believe yer worthy tar? I have full hands. What can ye do for me, knave? Answer well or you'll walk the plank."

Kyo gulped then cleared his throat, the salt sticking to his lips, "I was a swordsman before I came to sea. I boarded ship looking for freedom, but there be none under the King's ensign. If you'll have me, I'll lend you my arm for as long as the sea is willing."

She studied him a moment, approving of the fire in his eyes. Throwing her head back, she laughed the clapped Kyo heavily on the shoulder, shaking his frame.

"So serious, lad," the Captain's smile was infectious, she looked to you behind him. "Ye found one of the few not lily-livered," she winked at you, "next one be mine yer hear!" You holstered your pistol and nudged Kyo with your elbow. He looked at you, happy but confused. "Ye be answering to Y/n, the Quartermaster of the Scylla and my first mate. Pirates do things their own way, ye learn the code in time. I be fair, but expect hard work. I'll have none of me crew half-ass, savvy?"

He nodded at her, "aye, aye, Cap'n."

"Stand before the mast, I'll have ye oath now," she pointed to the center of the main deck.

The main mast towered overhead, but nothing at the base was eye catching. Brownish hand prints decorated the wood, where as the rest of the ship was relatively spotless. Some more visible than others, as time and salt water had faded them. As Kyo leaned forwards to inspect the marks, you pulled out a dirk and handed it him. He took it from you with questioning eyes.

"Yer oath be with yer own blood," you informed him, then placed a hand where you had made your own oath. You then stepped back to join the mates who had come to witness.

He understood immediately, slicing across his palm with the dirk. After spreading the blood to cover his hand, Kyo placed his hand on the mast. He then looked over his shoulder to Captain Vivekka.

"Say what's in yer heart, lad. The Scylla and her crew, not to me."

Closing his eyes he drew a deep breath. The salty ocean breeze filling him up, and for once it didn't annoy him. Seagulls cawed following the ship as she left the coast, a song to accompany the ritual.

"I swear me oath of loyalty to the Scylla and her crew. For freedom and me mistress, the lady of the briney deep."

Cheers erupted around Kyo and he opened his eyes. The pirate crew slapped him on the back one after the other. He had never felt such... belonging, and with people whose names he had yet to know.

"Alright, ye landlubbers, back to work before I keelhaul ye!" Spinning on her heel, Captain Vivekka crossed the deck to the navigation quarters and disappeared.

Kyo looked about the ship and crew he had just joined as they carried on with their tasks. Mostly female, but there were a few men aboard the Scylla. He looked you up and down, noticing your attire and figure now that he wasn't in battle. He'd never known a more beautiful and talented woman.

He scratched the back of his head, face reddening, "So... what now? Y/n, right?"

"Yer a pirate now, and me personal mate," his eyes widened at your declaration, and you quickly backtracked with a blush of your own. "I mean, yer me hand, like me own cabin boy but ye not a boy..."

Kyo's nose scrunched up as he chuckled, "I see. Well then, Quartermaster Y/n-"

"Y/n, is fine," you interjected, then looked away realizing your own forwardness.

The grin you received was worth the slight embarrassment. "Then, Y/n," he held out his bloodied hand and the dirk in the other, "shall we make an oath?"

You jolted in surprise. An oath? To each other? You stomach spun with a feeling you hadn't had since your first time at sea. Your legs quivered, and you locked your knees to keep upright. The afternoon sun was sweltering, but not the cause of your dilemma. The orange haired man before you was unknowingly stealing your heart. Which was only fair, as you unknowingly had pillaged his.

A little breathless, you reached for the dirk but he took your hand in his and lightly slid the dirk across your palm. Lacing his bloodied fingers with yours, he looked at you with a smile so bright the sun was dull in comparison.

"Y/n, I make an oath of loyalty to you. I will forever be in your debt for the freedom you have shown me. My quartermaster and my mate." His eyes sparkled mischievously. "I'll fight by yer side until Davy Jones takes me."

"Listen to ye, ye rapscallion," you playfully chastised him, "can't run a rig on an oath."

Kyo chuckled, shaking his head as the Scylla's cats purred and circled the two of you, rubbing up against his legs, "this be no trick."

"Nor trying to swing the lead?"

"I heard Cap'n," he squeezed your fingers with his own, "no half-ass'n."

"Better not be, I expect me mate be a fine swordsman until he old salt 'n can't hold a cutlass."

"I live and die by the sword, as I now live and die by the sea." Kyo's firm conviction and fighting spirit convinced you. He felt warm and alive, his pulse beating against your hand.

"Alright then," you took a shaky breath, salty air of your mistress the sea filling your lungs. "For as long as ye be true, this lass be loyal to ye as well."

Waves crashed over the rails and dampened Kyo's trouser legs. He shivered, but not from the icy water. Salt stuck to his skin, built up under his nails, between his eyelashes and pasted into his bright orange hair. He licked it off his lips; the sea tasted of freedom. Staring into Kyo's sunset orbs, you squeezed his bloodied hand. Your heart felt lighter than ever as the siren song of the briney deep echoed within your soul.

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