#camping water dispenser | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ktwritesstuff · 1 year

Text

The Babysitter (a Last of Us fanfic) pt. 5

Title: The Babysitter Fandom: The Last of Us Rating: Explicit Characters & Pairings: Joel Miller x Reader Word Count: Summary: Sort of an ending. Beta-read by @bs-fangirl. Additional content notes below the cut.

Content Notes: more angsty sexy-times, oral & unprotected p-in-v intercourse. Although I've been kicking around a few more ideas, I'm considering this an ending for the foreseeable future. Thanks to all who've left likes and notes and reblogs. It means a lot!

The End...?

Everyone at the camp had something they used to numb the pain. If sex kept Joel from drinking himself to death or overdosing on pills, you could live with the risk.

Some idiot higher-up at FEDRA had the bright idea to build a wall around the camp, so poor Tommy was on double-shifts digging ditches and hauling concrete. He was out like a light almost as soon as he got back at the end of the day.

Joel came in late from a run, slipping under your blankets still smelling like gunpowder and gasoline. The cot was too small to share comfortably, but he was warm so you rolled over to make room for him. Joel pet your thighs, which you enjoyed well enough, until he pulled your underwear out of the way so he could press the head of his cock to your entrance.

“Joel,” you hissed, throwing an elbow back into him. “Are you serious?”

He let out a puff of air as your elbow connected with his ribs and he chuckled against your ear.

“C’mon, Sweetpea, I’ll be real quick,” he whispered.

“I’m not fucking you with your brother three feet away,” you hissed back.

Joel snaked one arm around you, reaching under your shirt to grope your breast. You pushed him off.

“I said no.”

Joel rolled over, pressing his back against yours with a sigh.

You closed your eyes and tried to settle back to sleep, but the longer you laid there the worse you felt. Finally you got up, pulling on your flat tops.

“Where you going?” Joel said, sitting up.

“Gotta take a leak,” you whispered, slipping Joel’s jacket on over your t-shirt and panties. “Walk me down.”

“Can’t you just piss out back like everybody else?” Joel said, pushing himself out of bed.

“No! That’s disgusting.”

“Oh my God, will you two shut up,” Tommy roused, throwing one arm over his face. “I have to be up in three hours.”

“Sorry, Tommy,” you whispered, nodding for Joel to follow you out. “Walk me down.”

“Alright, I’m coming,” he growled, pushing the tent flap aside to follow you into the night air.

Joel followed you down to the latrines so you could relieve yourself in the dark. Before Joel could protest you headed over to the little building of showers–they wouldn’t turn the water on until daybreak, but you managed to find a dispenser with some sanitizer left to clean your hands.

“You done,” Joel called from the doorway.

“Come here."

“Why?” Joel moved toward you.

“Because I said so,” you said, sliding your underwear down; you stepped out of them and kicked them over to Joel. He caught them with a grin and tucked them into the breast pocket of his denim shirt.

“Come here.” You lifted yourself up onto the edge of the counter.

“Yes, ma’am.” Joel stepped closer and you grabbed him by his belt, spreading your knees to pull him in close.

Joel leaned into you, putting his hands on your face as you unbuckled his belt. He ran his hands down your body to your thighs as you unbuttoned his jeans, yanking them down over the crest of his ass. His erection springing free, Joel grabbed you by the hips and lifted you on to him.

You held onto his neck as he drove into you at a desperate pace. The two of you had enough practice at this by now that he was annoyingly proficient at reaching the sensitive spot tucked away in the curve of your pelvis. You wanted to stay mad at him, but it wasn’t easy when it felt this good. You bit down on his shoulder to keep from moaning loud enough to wake the whole camp; didn’t even break his stride.

Joel’s thrusts slowed to a lazy grind as he neared his climax and you raked your fingers through his hair.

“Look at me,” you said, guiding his face up to yours. “Look at me.”

Joel’s eyes wandered across the tile floor, your body, the ceiling--his expression contorted with his impending orgasm as he tried to focus anywhere but your face. You squeezed your legs into his sides to keep him from pulling out until he met your gaze.

“No more,” you said. “You do not sneak in in the middle of the night trying to fuck me without even taking your damn boots off. You understand.”

“I know,” Joel whispered, looking properly ashamed of himself, but you noted it wasn’t technically an apology. “I’m like the villain in a damn Loretta Lynn song.”

Joel tucked himself back into his pants. You put your arms around him; he was calmer now, sedated. You swayed your bodies side-to-side, choking down the memory that threatened to surface.

“That make me Loretta Lynn?”

“You can be whatever you want to be.”

“Oh yeah?” you said, dipping your chin. “What if I want to be the boss?”

“Then you’re the boss, Sweetpea.”

“Show me,” you said, pressing your hands into Joel’s chest. He grinned back at you, lifting one eyebrow.

Joel sank to his knees; you adjusted yourself on the counter, supporting yourself on tiptoes as he bowed his head to your thighs, catching your knees over his shoulders. He kissed a trail up the inside of your thigh, his rough beard scratching at the delicate skin, before dragging his tongue through your folds.

He could probably taste himself on you. You had sucked him off often enough, he ought to know what it was like.

You hummed in pleasure, knotting your fingers through his hair. You pressed him into you harder, the soft cartilage of his nose yielding into the hard barrier of your pubic bone. His breath came hot and fast, the sound of it muffled against your skin.

He sucked at your clit until you shuddered and moaned. You nearly slipped off the edge of the counter and Joel braced your thighs with his arms. When Joel finally looked up, his nose was bright red and his face was slick with your arousal.

“I didn’t,” you gasped for breath. “Mean to smash your face into it.”

“S’fine,” Joel murmured, rising to his feet, zipping up his jacket to cover you for the walk back to the tent.

It was nearly dawn when Tommy woke you, the sky was still a lazy shade of purple just before the sun breached the horizon.

“Get up,” he ordered, tossing a duffle onto the bed. “Pack your shit, we gotta go.”

You sat up, rubbing your eyes as Tommy peaked through the tent flaps, holding his rifle against his chest.

“What’s going on?”

“The old lady across the way caught you two going at it like rabbits last night,” Tommy snapped. “She’s currently rounding up a posse to string Joel up for incest.”

“Fuck.” Joel snapped to attention, reaching for his gun and checking the clip.

“Jesus,” you breathed. “Can’t we just tell the truth–we didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh yeah,” Tommy said, losing his patience with you as Joel shoved what supplies you had into the bag. “We’ve just lied to everyone for the past five years–You can explain that to the angry mob sharpening their pitchforks.”

Your sleep-deprived mind finally caught up to the direness of the situation as Joel shouldered his bag and reached for your hand.

“Come on, let’s go.”

“Coast is still clear,” Tommy said, guiding you out. “Stay low, stay quiet.”

You cut through the north fence and didn’t speak again until after daybreak when the camp was a few miles behind. You found cover in an abandoned petrol station and stopped there just long enough to catch your breath.

“Do you think they’ll follow us?” you asked.

“Doubtful,” Joel said. “We should steer clear of civilization for a while–in case they radioed ahead. Let’s keep moving.”

With a sigh, you lifted your pack. Joel moved on ahead of you and you hung back with Tommy.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I feel like I ruined your life.”

Tommy had saved your life all those years ago and you had repaid him by fucking his brother and getting him run out of town.

“Believe it or not,” Tommy grunted. “Forced labor and having orders barked at me isn’t exactly my idea of the good life.”

There was a time, back before the end of everything, when you might have assumed that Tommy was jealous, but things had never been like that between you. All these years you had pretended to be “Sarah.” As fucked up as things were with Joel, there had always been something avuncular in Tommy–the protective older brother you had never had.

“I know,” you said. “But still, this is my fault.”

You considered that maybe you were just as addicted to Joel as he was to you–more so even. Most of the time you spent together Joel was pretending you were someone else anyway, but you needed him to make amends.

Tommy shook his head.

“We can talk about this when it’s safe.”

“So never?”

Tommy chuckled. “Preferably.”

Baby's First Taglist: @stilllivindue2spite, @amethystwonders11, @teacupcollectorr, @jbaby2, @flyingmushroomsss, @boysddontcry, @cated18, @sunnycamm

#joel miller x reader #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #pedro pascal #tlou fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo

157 notes · View notes

i-did-not-mean-to · 5 months

Text

Fairytale AU + Hair Brushing/Braiding

Ah, Elrond/Erestor...and a dash of fairytale vibes! Always a winning combo lol

Sorry for dragging all my blorbos into this LOOOOL

Prompts: Fairytale AU + Hair Brushing/Braiding

Pairing: Elrond x Erestor

Requester: @maglor-my-beloved

Words: 1 130

Warnings: Injury, trauma, doom, nudity, bath scene, Fëanorian Erestor

Once upon a time, in a faraway land that was yet free of the strife of this present day, two young souls sat by a peaceful river’s shore, braiding each other’s hair in a gesture of unmarred affection.

“I shall cherish your design forevermore,” Finwë, future patriarch of a fated line, whispered, and Elwë smiled knowingly.

Soon, though, they were torn apart by destiny.

Many cycles of silver and golden light later, Finwë found himself brushing the hair of his firstborn son—his heir, his cherished boy—and, inspired by the love he had lost, he wove an intricate, intimate pattern into that living silk.

Thus, a hallowed tradition was born on either side of the great divide. For generations, fathers would braid parts of their identity and their most unspeakable well-wishes into the hair of their progeny.

Often hidden but never undone, those tresses spoke of legacies and enduring faithfulness—they spanned ages, becoming ever more complex, and retold the story of a people ever on the brink of desolation.

So it was that, with heavy hearts and three skeletal hands, two notorious kinslayers thusly marked the blessed sons they’d stolen from their intended purpose.

It was with surprise and life-altering emotion that a stubborn, golden-haired princess and her dignified spouse discovered that, despite and beyond their differences, they shared this precious custom. Together, they created a new design for their daughter, interweaving strands that had been set apart by time and providence.

It was with tears in his eyes that a taciturn, irascible hermit looked upon the simple plait a ferocious mortal had put in their sleeping son’s hair.

“So he’ll never forget where he comes from,” Haleth whispered, kissing a burning cheek. “So he might find his people when both of us are gone.”

The one she loved so desperately without being able to save him frowned.

“One day,” she promised, “he’ll be able to trace back these strands of hair to the root of all love. The braid shall lead him home!”

Once upon another time, a valiant leader stood alone in the face of overwhelming evil. He was beaten down mercilessly, and—just as he had accepted that he’d never leave the battlefield alive—a warm hand settled on his hip.

“The day is lost,” a scratchy, breathless voice mumbled. “Come away now and live to fight another day.”

Too weak and injured to protest, Elrond Half-Elven let himself be carried away by Erestor who was stronger, faster, and much more cunning than he looked at first glance.

“I shall bathe you,” Erestor declared as soon as they had reached the camp, “and tend to your wounds.”

When Elrond tried to decline, overcome with a sudden sense of shame and panic, a resolute but tender finger was pressed against his lips like the prelude to a kiss the other didn’t yet feel comfortable dispensing.

“Hush! Your secrets are safe with me!”

Mollified and subdued by the severity of his injuries, the fearless lord mellowed into the caring embrace of his saviour who bore him to a small tent where a copper tub was already waiting to be used.

Servants brought in hot water and clean towels, and Elrond melted into a semi-conscious state of bliss, listening to the soft murmuring of the blurry shapes fading in and out of focus.

It had been many long years since he had last allowed another to gently peel muddied, blood-soaked fabric from his clammy skin, and the very recollection of those hands—drenched in crime and regret—made him sit up with a jolt.

“You must not…” he whispered hoarsely, but already, he could feel nimble fingers comb through the tangled strands of his sweat-matted hair. “I—”

Erestor’s affectionate ministrations slowed to a crawl as he found what his friend had so desperately tried to keep from him—in the face of such stark, unequivocal reluctance, he felt strangely shy and unwilling to cast his eyes down to look upon the discreet braid, burning like a string of hot metal against his palm.

Even though his mind shied away from an identity he had always suspected but never dared confirm, the sensitive tips of his long, sinuous digits deciphered unerringly what his heart might always have known.

“I recognise parts of this design,” he murmured pensively. A wave of heartsick longing threatened to drown him from the inside as he remembered his mother, brushing his hair and sharing all she had been able to learn about his father’s family with him.

Erestor also remembered his father—stern, often distant as if afraid that his mere touch could harm his child, and yet so discreetly and steadfastly loving—and he couldn’t help but wonder what had become of him.

“He thought I was too young to know,” he whispered as if to himself.

“Who? What do you mean?” Elrond articulated painstakingly. The soothing warmth of the herb-infused bath had washed away the last vestiges of his stubborn ferocity, and he felt worn out and dizzy.

With a soft, rueful chuckle, Erestor lifted the obscuring curtain of his dense, dark hair to reveal a gorgeously elaborate tress of his own.

“It is far from being as ornate as yours,” he conceded sheepishly. “Alas, I have fewer legacies to represent and keep alive, but…you are not alone.”

If he had thought that every layer of protection—armour, clothing, and the dignity of his station—had already been stripped from him and that he had nothing left to lose, Elrond now discovered that he had been sorely mistaken.

A weight he had not been fully aware of carrying fell from his soul, and—finally unburdened—his very heart seemed to draw breath for the first time in centuries.

“They have claimed you wholly then,” Erestor said, his voice becoming unsteady as he was shaken to the core by this revelation. At last, he allowed himself to look down and read the labyrinthine story of his dear love’s life, woven in glossy strands that felt more akin to a soothing river on a hot day than to the burning sun itself now.

“How do you know?” Elrond asked, too overcome to play coy.

“My father would only share so much, but—needled and encouraged by my mother’s faith—I have spent a lot of time seeking answers and documenting as much as I could about those lost to horrifying history.”

Spell-bound and stunned into startled silence, Elrond could merely stare at him.

“I shall not undo it,” Erestor promised as he took up his cherished task of carefully washing the abused, battered flesh once more. “Once we get you out of here and into a warm bed, I shall tell you about my findings. Welcome home, little star. You’re much loved still.”

@fellowshipofthefics Here's another one!

Lots of love from me!

-> 🌟Masterlist 🌟

#og post #FOTFICS January #FOTFICS 2024 #January Trope Roulette #2024 #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #Elrond/Erestor #Elrond #Erestor #Fëanorians #Galadriel #Fairytale AU #Hair Brushing/Braiding

19 notes · View notes

captawesomesauce · 10 months

Text

So I'm just getting a bit of my stuff prepped for Hurricane Hilary and these pics are just a snippet of what I've got lined up. The thing is, I'm not too worried about Hilary as I'm planning on staying home, chilling, and just reading on my kindle until it passes. BUT, all of this stuff is good to have in case of an earthquake which can happen any day of the week, any time of the day! So it's good to be prepared! For those who want my list that I have been checking off today, it's below the read more. The key things are:

Food (x)

Water (x)

Meds & First Aid (x)

Cash on hand (x)

Gas in car (x)

Fans for dealing with the heat (x)

Solar Panels & Battery packs (x)

Stuff to do (arts/crafts/kindle) (x)

Wet weather gear (x)

Clothes 1 pair of leather wildland gloves Clothes 1 pair of padded extraction gloves Clothes 2 Fire Brush jackets Clothes 2 Hard hats Clothes 2 pair of good closed toe shoes Clothes 2 pair of gorilla grip safety gloves Clothes 2 rain coats Clothes 2 rain hats Clothes 2 Umbrellas Cooling 1 Fan/lantern (C batteries w/4 extra batteries) Cooling 1 standing room fan Cooling 3 handheld fans w/water tanks Fire 1 Fire extinguisher outside front door Fire 1 window/balcony escape ladder Fire 3 Fire blankets (1 in the kitchen, 1 bedroom, 1 office) Fire 4 Fire extinguishers throughout the house Food 1 long bbq lighter Food Lots of blueberries Food Lots of canned soups Food lots of condiments Food Lots of crackers/chips/Pretzels Food Lots of freeze dried fruits/veggies Food Lots of Nuts and Trailmix Food Lots of ramen Food Lots of shelf stable/canned meats Food Lots of veggies Light 1 handheld led lantern/flashlight Light 12+ led lights for rooms Light 2 chest mounted lights with reflective harnesses Light 2 handheld flashlights Light 2 head mounted lights Light 8 led puck lights med 1 large stocked first aid kit w/burn & trauma supplies med 1 small stocked first aid kit with bleeding supplies med blood pressure cuff Med N95 & P100 masks med pulse ox meter med stethscope Misc Cash on hand in small bills Power 1 100w Solar Panel Power 1 car jumper/battery pack Power 1 Large Battery pack 146WH 42000mAH Power 1 Large Battery pack 150Wh 40800mAH Power 1 Large Battery pack 250WH 64800mAH Power 1 orange solar panel battery pack (10,000) Power 1 orange solar panel battery pack with wireless charging (10,000) Power 1 white battery pack Power 2 21W Solar Panel Power lots of rechargeable and non-rechargeable AA/AAA batteries Radio 1 desk scanner with NOAA weather alert Radio 2 handheld transceivers Radio 2 programmed handheld scanners w/NOAA radio SD Mace Peppergun SD Taser Stuff to do 2 kindles loaded with books Stuff to do arts and crafts projects Tool 1 demolition tool Tool 1 folding pocket knife Tool 1 Machete/Saw Tool 1 Multipurpose Shovel (shovel/e-tool/window breaker/fire starter/saw/axe) tool 1 raptor EMS shears Tool 1 SOG multitool Tool 2 full rolls of duct tape Tool 2 full rolls of masking tape Tool Various Bungee cords Tool Various ropes & tie downs Water 1 5 gallon collapsible water bucket in the tub Water 1 5 gallon water bottle w/dispenser Water 1 large pitcher of water Water 2 30 cup water filter pitchers Water gallons of bottled water Water multiple 2l and 3l camping bladders of water

#hurricane hilary #emergency preparedness #safety #earthquakes

26 notes · View notes

its-deputy-caleb · 2 years

Note

omg i saw requests are open!!! can we get some kiss HCS for some of the far cry 6 crew! thank you so much!

i've had the most chaotic week :'')))) so i really enjoyed writing these HCs! i might be slowing down on requests for a little bit, i'm still gonna be writing when i can but i might just work on some self indulgent fics to cheer myself up! but for now pls enjoy these soft head cannons and i've decided to do a few extra characters

and yes i'm permanently adding carlos now, i'm a simp and i know i aint alone so ya'll are stuck with me and my questionable taste in men :) <3

Dani Rojas

Ever since the first time you kissed Dani, she’s been more than enthusiastic about kisses and general public displays of affection.

It was a spontaneous spur of the moment, liberating the cathedral in Esperanza when you’d thrown your arms around her shoulders and kissed her right on the lips.

Dani is never shy when it comes to asking for kisses, whether its good luck smooches before her missions or returning home tired, sweaty and in need to of some lovin’.

She’ll definitely tell you that she loves all your kisses but her favourite type has to be in the early morning as you pepper sleepy kisses along her jaw and collarbones whilst you cuddle.

Of course, this is Yara and as Clara’s best and brightest Dani has her fair share of injuries from her time on the road. But that only means you get to kiss over her bandages and make her feel better with a daily dose of affection.

Clara García

Clara’s definitely not shy when it comes to kisses, in fact she’s rather confident when she kisses you in the centre of her camp.

The first time you had kissed her was almost a matter of necessity. You had returned to Clara’s command center after a narrow miss with Castillo’s special forces, and there was nothing you wanted more than to fall into her arms. She held you tightly as you kissed her gently and the two of you have never looked back.

Clara doesn’t have to ask for kisses, not only is she la Jefa, but you’re always by her side to fight the revolution and give her kisses in-between.

Her favourite types of kisses are on her hands, palms or knuckles. She loves the public display of affection when you take her hand and litter kisses on her hand after she’s addressed her people or you’re about to head off to a mission.

On the rare occasion the two of you get a night off together, Clara will always take you to a quiet area to snuggle and watch the boats race across the water. Whilst her arms are snug around you and you chat softly, there’s a string of kisses all over temples and forehead.

Juan Cortez

Please give this man all the kisses because he’s stubborn and has an ego that’s too high for him to properly ask for them. It’s not that Juan is embarrassed to ask for affection, he just doesn’t know how unless he’s in his sappy drunk state where he won’t stop asking for kisses.

The first time you’d kissed Juan, his brain went into a malfunction. He’d just shown you his latest supremo design, flexing all the cool new gadgets and poison dispenser to fuck with the FND when you moved his drawings to the side and kissed him squarely on the mouth.

Juan’s never been keen on relationships over his string of one night stands, so asking for any affection is new to him. But when it’s just the two of you in his bunker or out on a mission he will happily ask for his fair share of love.

His favourite kind of kisses are on the bridge of his nose. Juan just melts when you hold his face in your hands and press gentle kisses along his nose.

After you all made a move on the capital, storming the Torre Del León to take down Castillo. The two of you were standing on the balcony over looking the city of Esperanza, your arms are wrapped tightly around his torso in a hug as you place kisses along his cheeks.

Camila ‘Espada’ Montero

Camila can absolutely take on anything the FND throw at her, but when it comes of public affection she ends up rather flustered.

She went bright red with a flush you’ve never seen on her before when you first kissed her in front of everyone at the Montero Farm after a day of attacking tobacco fields in Aguas Lindas (Philly totally cheered for you two whilst Carlos threatened to skin you like a croc if you mistreated his daughter)

It’s definitely difficult for Camila to ask for things she wants, maybe it was from being the oldest Montero but she slowly learns to ask for your affection. Of which, you’re more than happy to provide as you smother her with smooches.

Her favourite kisses from you are always after dinner or a big feast. It started off with you kissing away some sauce on her cheek but now you finish each meal with a cheesy kiss and jokes that she’s your dessert.

Camila has her fair share of stress around the farm, leading new recruits and trying to keep the peace between her brother and the rest of the residents so you do your best to keep her sane. That of course involves you dragging her away from work or her practice post to give her lots of kisses all over her face.

Philly Barzaga

Philly is probably over-enthusiastic for his daily dose of kisses, and almost always going to be flirty in his classic Philly magic style.

He couldn’t stop dancing and cheering when you had first kissed him. It was down at his workshop, the two of you working on designs for diesel daisy and sharing a cerveza to finish the night off. Of course, that lead you to kiss him gently and you watched as his face lit up like fireworks.

Asking for kisses is a walk in the park for Philly and he totally pulls out all his cards. Whenever he’s in need for some extra smooches he holds chorizo up and the two of them make puppy dog eyes until you cave and pamper him.

His favourite type of kisses are on the back of his neck. He just loves when you surprise him by wrapping your arms around him from behind (hopefully whilst there’s no sharp tools in his hands) and pepper his neck with kisses as you squeeze him lovingly.

Of course, Philly has his moments which leave him shaken whether that’s trying to save Ale or freaking out from his fear of flying. In those moments he just needs all your love and support so you never fail to kiss his forehead and hold him close.

Bembé Alvarez

Bembé is totally confident in his ability to deliver kisses, I mean common the man knows he’s sexy and he’s been told how good of a kisser he is.

He was definitely caught of guard when you kissed him first (it was his plan to make you flustered not the other way around). You had just finished a raid, snatching the profit from the Gulov twins on behalf of Bembé. It was late at night, and you were on your way home from his church as you bid him goodnight with a soft kiss to his lips.

From that first kiss, Bembé is more than happy to ask for kisses. He loves showing affection in front of others but he will also ask for a peck over intimate dinners and moments alone with you.

Don’t tell anyone but his favourite types of kisses are the really tender forehead kisses. He has to be in the right mood for them, preferably right before he falls asleep with you in his arms but Bembé will show you his softer side and expect lots of soft kisses on his brow-line, forehead and temple.

Bembé loves the quiet moments with you on the roof of his church. His head can rest in your lap as he runs through his numbers in some peace whilst you occasionally bend down to kiss him.

Carlos Montero

Carlos Montero has a lot of pride in his work, however he’s lost touch with any sort of romance over the years which has led to a certain shyness when it comes to kisses and public displays of affection.

When you first kissed him it was rather unplanned. He had narrowly escaped the attack of José in Verdera and in a state of panic and relief you held his face in your hands and kissed him gently.

Despite his reluctance for romantic activities, you slowly help build up that confidence which was always there. Carlos eventually asks you for kisses around camp or whilst you’re driving around Madrugada in his truck.

His favourite type of kisses has to be when you kiss the corner of his mouth or his chin. Carlos adores walking around Sirena Bay with you, his arm looped over your shoulder whilst you cuddle close and kiss the bottom of his lip.

Whenever there are big celebrations in the Montero Farm, with lots of drinks, singing and dancing, Carlos always takes your hand and asks you to dance under the fairy lights in the middle of camp. Everyone watches the two of you, cheering as you sway together and place gentle kisses along each other’s cheeks.

#far cry 6 #fc6 #fc6 headcannons #fc6 writing #far cry #dani rojas #dani rojas x reader #clara garcia #clara garcia x reader #juan cortez #juan cortez x reader #camila montero #camila montero x reader #philly barzaga #philly barzaga x reader #bembe alvarez #bembe alvarez x reader #carlos montero #carlos montero x reader

149 notes · View notes

aspiring-writer-hidden-voice · 1 year

Text

Save a Horse…Ride a Redhead

**Minors Beware SFW Warning**

“Hey, watch your left!” You shout, spurring your horse faster when a steer made to break formation. It’s been acting antsy for the last ten miles and it had seemed to wait for the hired hand to look away before making its move to escape. The poor green newbie was too slow which resulted in the large beast seeming to prance smugly away towards the nearby hill. There was no excuse for them either since their “references” had confessed to the lacking problem solving they lacked. Too bad, you’d had hopes that this one could at least make it to the next town before you had to fire them. “Damnit! Kid, you just earned yourself an early retirement once we reach that ridge ahead.”

Their expression was lost to you as a blur races past from the head of the herd, leaving behind a crimson streak, and with a disappointed bellow the steer rejoined the group. Atop of the mighty but softy horse who had been struggled to bond with any rider upon your ranch now radiated with authority sat a burly man with wide set shoulders and a toothy grin that could put any predator to shame. “No worries, boss, I got ‘em no problem!” He was an impressive example of the male species. Those muscles could barely be held back by the straining buttons of his shirt, which you’ve seen a few times thanks to those times he’s groomed the horses without upper clothing, and that butt on him was almost too much to take whenever he worked the hay dispenser while making it seem easy.

A sideways glare was sent to the former employee as they cursed your name beneath their breath yet before you could reprimand they were sent to the ground courtesy of a large fist. Amusement filled you when seeing the horse also toss in its two pieces by snorting loudly in their face and flattening its ears in warning when they made to come at you. It wasn’t until they had remounted then disappeared from view that your attention returned to the burly rider who made to return to his original position at the head. “Kiri, hold up.”

He visibly perked then moved beside you instead when another hand instead too his place. “Somethin’ I can do for ya, boss?”

Your hand briefly brushed along the copper horse’s neck, earning a nicker as its muzzle toyed with your boot. “See that Red Riot’s really taken a liking to you.”

“Oh, yeah, we go together like two peas in a pod!” The large man crowed with pride as the horse voiced its agreement with a shrill whiny. If he noticed your gaze wandering downward to follow a fine bead of sweat that slipped along his jawline before disappearing within the collar of his plaid shirt he didn’t react, yet little were you aware that all day long he’d been stealing glances from over his shoulder. Those carmine eyes locked on your own when a whistle sounded from ahead, a designated signal that a cow had gotten loose of formation, and the two of you were off after the surprisingly quick beast.

It took much longer than you would care to admit later, the sun had set by the time you’d secured the cow’s rope to your saddle’s horn, and honestly embarking in the middle of darkness was riskier than swimming in the county’s water reservoir since there were rumors of someone dumping illegal substances; your neighbor who liked to fish there told you a heck of a story the other night of how a fish he’d caught had two heads. The consecutive decision to set up camp was made once finding a secluded area. Campfire light danced, causing shadows to flicker across the horses’ hides, both saddles placed in preparation of alternating night watch between the two of you, yet a star high above your heads twinkled as if scheming the evening be full of something neither of you planned.

“How long have we known each other, Kiri?” You asked while handing him a can of beans that’d been tucked away within one of the bags.

“Oh, wow, let’s see…a few years now.” That grin appeared when he easily opened then placed it beside the fire to warm. “Thinkin’ it’ll be five this spring.”

Heat grew within your chest while smiling in preparation for the entertainment about to ensue. “Wow, so you really don’t remember us meeting way back in high school.” That definitely must have caught him by surprise, judging from the sudden choke from the large man who had been in the middle of taking a swig from the canteen. His eyes widened to the point where you thought they could pop out of his skull. One of your hands trailed absentmindedly rested upon his forearm, earning the smallest hitches of breaths from the man. It was missed by you since your attention was fixated upon the cellphone in your hand. “Just kidding, Kiri, you and I didn’t meet until after that twister that hit town. Looks like everyone else got to the checkpoint just fine so if we set out right at first light—”

“I quit.”

It was as if lightning had struck you as the phone fell to the ground and your jaw dropped, eyes locking on his and finding them full of seriousness. Pain erupted like a volcanic eruption when his words were repeated. They rang in the air like a church bell at a Sunday morning funeral. Tears prickled the backs of your eyes when his resolve remained unwavering despite the long seconds that passed as you waited for him to crack a smile or shout “gotcha!”.

Instead he never looked more like a statue with an expression as stony as marble itself as his gaze remained locked upon yours as he came closer. “After this job, I’m quitting.” The timbre of his voice deepened as your breath stalled when his hands rose to take light hold of your shoulders when anger flashed within your gaze. “(Y/n)—”

“Is working on my ranch too much for you? I warned what you were walking into the day of your interview so if mucking stalls, rolling hay, grooming the horses are too much for you than go back to the big bright twinkly city where slackers like—”

The sealing of his lips over yours effectively cutoff the rest of your sentence. To say you were confused was an understatement so honestly he should have expected the fight response from your body that resulted in sudden release in exchange for him to blink in bewilderment from the punch you’d landed upon his jaw.

Seething, you rose to your feet and stalked to the other side of the fire where you stared down at him through the rising flames which seemed to grow with each anger filled breath you exhaled. “The hell you think you’re doing?! First you tell me you’re quitting then you lay one on me?!”

His head fell backward, mumbling something about giving someone named Bakugo a slug later for giving him bogus advice, then straightened to fix you with a guilty expression. “I’m so sorry, (Y/n), I knew I should’ve done this my way instead. I just wanted to make this moment memorable—”

“Memorable?!” You were instantly across the space to plant yourself upon his chest, the ground meeting his back with a heavy impact from the combined weight of you two, the buttons of his plaid shirt literally flying in unimportant directions courtesy of both your hands taking fistfuls of its fabric. “You think dropping that bomb then trying to force yourself on me was the smartest move?! Eijiro, you owe me an explanation not as your former employer but as your friend!”

A bright red blush nearly matching his hair flooded his cheeks. “I don’t have a choice in the matter!”

“Is it money you want?! I can move things around!”

“No!”

Your eyes narrowed, raising his upper torso up high enough that your faces were inches apart. “Is it that slut down the county road who just got that botox job in her face and ass?”

Scoffing, he rolled his eyes. “Please, her face is so lopsided now it makes her botched boobs actually look level.”

“Right?!” Laughter bubbled up your throat before you could stop it.

“She’s nothin’ compared to you and I thought I had to quit if I wanted anything outside of a work relationship with you.”

Now it was your turn to choke and stare down at him in utter disbelief. Silence rang loudly, when it wasn’t interrupted by the faintest of crickets in the distant night outside of the campfire’s reach, until it was broken by his thick swallow when you brought him closer. You weren’t exactly a tomboy strutting around in overalls and thick boots, nor were you a girly-girl wearing stilettos and makeup, so to hear someone speak in such a way was a bit surprising. “Say that again without blinking.”

“No woman in the county can top you in wit, humor, or sexiness.”

Heat seared across your being a split second before the entire logical function of your brain shut down. “Ever since I saw you working with Red Riot for the first time was the instant I knew it wasn’t the horse I wasn’t imagine riding.” Self loathe filled you for a moment, unable to believe something so scandalous came from between your lips, until something akin to hope flittered within his gaze. “That wasn’t…I mean…Kiri—”

“Maybe you should show me how you really feel, (Y/n).” The corner of his mouth tilted upwards.

Every single fine hair across your body rose when feeling something slowly gain hardness against your jean covered groin when your legs which had managed to maneuver themselves on either side of his hips gave a squeeze. He had to at least be packing seven-no, definitely at least eight inches below that large belt of his! The arousal you’d been struggling to ignore ever since meeting the red haired stud now beneath you gushed forth like a steer out of a bucking chute. The lids of your eyes lowered as one of the logs on the fire snapped loudly. “You sure you can handle it, big boy? I am the holder of the longest record in women’s bull riding.” Your words only seemed to throw gasoline upon the embers within his gaze but you prevented him from stealing another kiss by leaning back slightly, seriousness clouding your resolve. “So you don’t want to quit because of something I did or for money?”

His brows furrowed, lips instead rising to brush against your forehead. “Of course not! I love this job and wanna keep it but I can’t go on hiding what I’ve been feeling since hearing your voice over the phone asking if I could help ya work with Red Riot over there. And then when I rolled up your driveway to find ya grooming (your horse’s name) it was as if I was about to meet a goddess!”

The flesh of your bottom lip caught between your teeth as ever fiber of your being was set aflame. Sure a few of the tacky hands had tried their hands at wooing their way into your pants with snarky comments or big talk but you have grown to know the kind of man he was. “Keep talkin’ like that and I can’t guarantee you’ll be capable of sleeping tonight.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Prepare to be ridden into the sunrise, Eijiro, and I don’t mean just for tonight.” You smirk while licking your lips as the hardened mass that was his member ground itself into your growingly moist jeans.

#mha x reader #mha x y/n #mha au #bnha au #bnha x reader #bnha x y/n #mha x you #bnha x you #eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro x y/n #eijiro x reader #Eijiro X y/n #kirishima x y/n #kirishima x reader #cowboy #save a horse ride a cowboy

69 notes · View notes

lovelylogans · 10 months

Text

the parent trap

CHAPTER FOUR: riposte

The boys come to blows. (With words and stitching.)

⁂

The news of the Pine vs. Maple poker match sweeps through the camp like wildfire.

When Roman walks into breakfast that morning, his back is patted, his hand is high-fived, and his hair is ruffled by the seeming legions of boys who had lost their poker matches against the scourge of the Pine cabin.

His batch of heroism in dispensing back Maple, Sequoia, and Catalpa’s belongings back to them has made any semblance of popularity he’d had before positively skyrocket.

It’s a bit overwhelming, to be quite honest, but it’s also nice.

Boys jockey to sit beside or across from him at breakfast; they fetch him the finest of Walden’s breakfast offerings; they ask him to tell the story of how he’d won the poker match and how he got so good at poker anyway.

However, once the people who wandered over to compliment him who weren’t at the cabin the night before, laid eyes on his face, then did a double take between the Pine and Maple tables (Remus, Roman notes with some mixture of amusement and slight guilt from his cabinmates stealing his clothes, looks a bit grumpy from not having slept too much before).

But once the information that the poker showdown was between the inexplicably identical boys is chucked into the rumor mill? If Roman was sick of talking about how he has no idea of how they looked so alike before…

“Wait,” any person who comes to this new realization says, “are you…?”

“No,” Roman says sharply. “I’ve never met him before camp.”

“Are you cousins?” asks a young, wide-eyed delegate from the Elm cabin asks during morning announcements.

“I don’t have any American cousins.” Roman sighs, returning his attention to Marvin Sr.

Even a fifteen-year-old boy from Cypress asks as Maple moves toward the lake for morning activities—usually, the over-fourteens don’t bother with the under-thirteens, Asher tells him in an undertone, so this news spreading so wide is a big deal.

“I think it’s just a freak coincidence,” Roman says, trying his very best to come across cool.

“Huh,” the fifteen-year-old grunts, then, “Well, I heard it was a good game, anyway. We’ll let you know if we need a child prodigy to empty out Hickory, huh?”

Roman’s eyebrows jump up his forehead; Hickory was one of the two oldest cabins, home to the seventeen- and eighteen-year-olds usually in their last year of camp unless they decided to apply to be a counselor.

“Er, yeah!” Roman says. “Let me know. Whenever.”

“Hickory!” Asher hisses into Roman’s ear as the fifteen-year-old makes their way back to their own kayak.

“I know!”

⁂

The pool at Camp Walden was a highly prized activity location.

The older campers—trusted earlier to take their schedules in their own hands—tended to lounge around the pool most days, splashing around in the shallows or napping on the benches or hogging the diving boards to do fancy dives and cannonballs and backflips.

But today? Today is Pine’s time to shine.

It’s a glorious day to be in the cool pool; the sun beats down on them from the perfect blue sky with no option to hide behind any sort of cloud. There’s not even the little wispy ones gathering up above—perfectly clear.

Perfectly hot.

And perfect for swimming.

Remus has an excellent time cavorting with the rest of his cabin, yelling and shouting and getting into splash fights and getting scolded by the lifeguard on duty.

They play mermaids—Remus’s tail is lime green and he has superpowers—and flip their hair into their best imitations of George Washington.

They dive down to see who can touch the bottom of the pool and come back quickest, who can hold their breath the longest, who can throw pennies into the pool the best and who can collect the most scattered change.

They clamber onto each other’s shoulders and play Chicken and have splash fights and they wrestle each other into the water.

It’s perfect.

Right up until Maple Cabin strolls by with his dorky clone.

“Ugh,” Remus mutters, and he pulls himself up out of the water.

“Hey, James!” He shouts. “Come back for a repeat performance, have you?”

“Repeat performance?” James says, baffled, but it’s too late; Remus has already taken two large steps back, and he begins to sprint.

“CANNONBALL!” Remus bellows, and he launches himself into the pool, curling into as tight a ball as he can, per the Remus Parker Cannonball Protocol.

It perfect, he can tell from the instant he hits the water, hearing the starts of James’s screech even as he gets more deeply submerged in the water; he surfaces and beholds.

James is just about as soaked as he is, gaping at Parker.

“You—!”

Words seem to fail him; James dips his foot in the pool, kicks a might splash in Remus’s direction, and then storms off with his wet shoes and socks, leaving little trails of chlorinated water as he goes.

Remus snickers as he dives deeper into the water.

⁂

Okay, so, Remus is technically keeping his promise to his Pa. He isn’t exploding anything, which was the main thing.

….he is enacting some destruction.

Just a little. Just a little destruction—!

Remus ducks his head and refocuses on his work, haphazardly tugging needle and thread.

He’s not pissed about jumping in the lake naked; he wouldn’t have dished it out if he couldn’t take it, after all. It was actually pretty fun, if he’s being honest; Remus can see why adults are so keen on skinny dipping now.

But stealing his clothes? That was a surprisingly low blow from his stuck-up prick evil clone.

So if his evil clone and his cabinmates didn’t want him wearing clothes? Fine. Then they couldn’t either.

Remus mutters to himself and occasionally cackles as he keeps working, with a needle and thread snuck out from the evil clone’s supplies.

⁂

“Thanks for covering for me,” Roman mutters to Monroe as he slips into line at the mess hall.

“No prob,” Monroe says, casual. “Do anything fun?”

Roman considers it.

“It has the potential for fun,” he says, his hand straying to the scrap piece of sandpaper in his pocket. “I dunno if we’ll see the results, but he’ll certainly experience them.”

“That’s what I like to hear!” Monroe declares, pounding Roman on the back.

Roman manages not to drop his tray, laughs weekly, and quickly reaches to pick out the best segment of lasagna that’s left for him to eat.

He gets together his dinner—lasagna, garlic bread, caesar salad—and moves to the table, avoiding the eyes of their counselor.

Not that his counselor is likely to care much anyway. It kind of seems like this crop of counselors are more concerned with recreating their own camp days rather than actually guiding the children through camp.

That serves Roman just fine.

“What’d you even do, anyway?” Asher whispers to him.

Roman looks back and forth to ensure they haven’t been heard.

“Sanded down his shoes,” he says quietly. “So now he’ll slip and fall anywhere he goes.”

Asher snorts, quickly burying any laughter into drinking his Gatorade.

“Dunno if I’ve ever heard that one before!”

“It’s not very common,” Roman says. “A small revenge, I know, I’ll have to plot for him splashing me today…”

“Ugh, yes,” Asher says, too loud, and Roman shushes him.

“Later!”

“Later,” Asher says. “Yeah, duh, later. Uh—so what did you think about the, uh… tennis matches today?”

“I don’t know much about tennis,” Roman says. “I know about the fashion at Wimbledon, mostly. Erm,” he says, because Asher’s giving him an odd look, “why don’t you tell me about it?”

And so Roman is treated to a long tirade about the finer points of tennis: the game rules, the set rules, the point system, the famous players that Asher is pulling for (Roman only knows about Venus and Serena Williams, who Dad had loudly rooted for during the Battle of the Sexes earlier this year, Asher’s listing off all men) and the finer points of rackets.

Roman had had no idea that Asher was so passionate about tennis, but it’s certainly good cover for the fact that Roman came into dinner late. They’d probably think he was busy researching tennis trivia.

But then Asher falls quiet; Roman blinks, before he turns.

Remus Parker, returned from dumping his plates to be washed, is standing before Maple table, surveying them all with a wild, disconcerting grin on his face.

He looks… very pleased, Roman can’t help but note. Why does he look so pleased?

“Nice duds, Monroe,” he says mildly.

Monroe blinks; he’s wearing a Camp Walden branded t-shirt, one that all of them had gotten upon entry at camp.

“...thanks,”

“Nice duds for all of you,” Remus says.

“What are you getting at, Parker,” Asher snaps.

“Oh, nothing, nothing,” Remus says. “It’s just that you all have such nice clothes, and I’ve recently found that I’m missing some of mine.”

Roman stares at his plate.

“What’s that to use?” Monroe says. “So you managed to misplace your clothes, why should we care?”

“Oh, but you should care,” Remus says. “So easy to misplace clothes at camp. Lose them. Get messy.”

An uncomfortable pall settles over the table.

“Better check on your clothes,” Remus Parker says, and he cackles as he leaves the Maple table.

Everyone exchanges nervous looks.

⁂

Maple falls silent at the sight before them.

The cabin is in chaos.

Everyone’s trunks are torn open, their belongings flung about absolutely scattershot; mostly just clothes. Clothes hanging from the bunk beds, clothes stuffed into their cubby boxes, clothes tossed up onto the ceiling fan and under beds and over blankets and just everywhere. T-shirts, shorts, jeans, shoes—it’s nuts.

Roman, frowning, reaches forward and picks up the most forefront item—a plaid blanket that he thinks belongs to Monroe.

He shakes it out. And, like a war banner, a message is emblazoned upon it.

REMUS WUZ HERE, it reads in block letters (shoddy stitching, Roman notices absently) above a jagged… something?

“Is that a spider?” Monroe says.

“A kraken?” Asher offers uncertainly.

“It’s an octopus, I think?” Roman says uncertainly, tilting the shirt to the side.

There’s a thoughtful pause.

“...Why an octopus, though?”

“No idea,” Roman says. “Why a spider, or a kraken?”

Monroe scoffs, shaking his head. “There’s something seriously wrong with that kid.”

“I’m not disagreeing with you,” Roman says and readies his needle, thread, and scissors. “All right, if he got to your clothes, drop ‘em here! No one picks on Maple!”

A cheer goes up from his cabin mates.

“We’ve got this!” Roman cries back.

It’s a good deal less cinematic when the answering cry is a load of what is essentially laundry is dropped onto his bunk.

“While I’m fixing this,” Roman says, ideas turning slowly in his mind, “Let’s talk revenge.”

previous chapter | masterpost | next chapter

#my fic #my fanfic #tpt fic

13 notes · View notes

aspenmissing · 11 months

Text

𝙲𝚛𝚢𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚕 𝚅𝚎𝚗𝚘𝚖 (𝙿𝚝 𝟸)

Y/N is wearing her pajamas, her hair tied up, having just got out of the shower. She wipes the steam off the glass and starts brushing her teeth. The door to the bathroom then locks, making Y/N looks over at it confused.

"Huh?" She puts her toothbrush now and walks over to the door, trying to open it. It doesn't budge. She bangs on the door "Real funny guys, you got me. Now come on, open the door" No answer "Guys, come on!" The tap then turns on, fast. Y/N rushes over and turns the tap, but it does nothing. She forcefully turns it and it breaks, making it pour more water out. Suddenly pipes begin to burst around the room, filling it with more water "Guys!"

Keith is in the training deck fighting the gladiator robot. He destorys it"

"Start new training level three" A new gladiator robot dispenses from the ceiling and Keith battles it. The fight is too intense "End training sequence" The system doesn not respond; the Gladiator robot turns rougue and rushes Keith "End training sequence!" Nothing "End training sequence now!" Keith is knocked aside by the Gladiator robot and loses his Bayard. He dodges the robot's attacks to recover his Bayard and flee into the hallway for safety. The Gladiator robot forces its way into the hall to follow Keith.

Shiro remains unaware of the chaos as he stands before Sendak's pod in the detainment room.

"I know you're in there, Sendak. I know you have all the answers. Give them to me" Nothing happens. Shiro slams his fists on Sendak's pod "You're a broken soldier? You can't hold out forever!" A memory finally enters the storage system and Shiro Smiles "So, you can hear me"

Coran is cleaning pods in the sleep chamber. He yells when he sees Lance trapped in the next pod he intends to clean. Coran released Lance from the pod, who is stiff with cold. He walks out, shivering.

"Ah, ah...This pod just shit on me and locked me in, while you were rambling on about boot camp!"

"You sure you didn't trip and fall in? No judgement. It happens. Besided, why would the pod automatically lock and start cryogenic freezing process?" Lance sits down and puts on his coat for warmth.

"To kill me!"

"Don't get your boots in a bunch. My guess is they're malfunctioning"

"Okay, I'm gonna float this out there. I think this Castle is haunted"

"The ship might seem like a fantastical, magical creature to you, but it's really just a big embodiment of advanced supernatural technology that cannot be explained by science alone" Lance looks at Coran in disbelief "Well, that does make it seem a bit haunted, doesn't it? Ah, but it's not. Trust me, nothing out of the ordinary is happening here" Coran leaves. Lance hears rumbling and begins whimpering.

"I'm okay. I'm okay, I'm okay, I'm okay..." The pod that trapped Lance descends into the floor, startling Lance and making him scream in fear. He runs out of the sleep chamber. He begins walking through the Castleship's halls. The lights in front of him behins turning off, terrifying him "Okay, okay...Oh...Ah-" Lance sees a flickering image of Kind Alfor "Coran, is that you? Okay, stop messing with me, guys. This isn't funny"

"Help! Help!" Lance hears Coran shouts.

"Hello? Coran?" Lance rushed down the dark hall.

"Help! Somebody!" The voice becomes slightly distorted "I'm trapped in the airlock"

"I'm coming!" Lance enters the airlock and sees no one; the door closes behind him "Huh? Okay, ha-ha. Good joke. You guys got me. Nice"

"Airlock opening in 30 ticks"

"Okay, joke's over! You got me!"

"...29,28,27..." Lance bangs on the airlock door.

"Guys? Guys! Eugh! Help!" No one is around to hear Lance.

Y/N is still in the bathroom, which is flowing quickly. The water already up to her hips. She continues banging on the door.

"Help! Anyone there!" Y/N hears a noise from the other side, recognizing it instantly "Soul! Oh thank god. Soul, go and get help!" Y/N hears a noise. Y/N leans against the door, trying not to worry as the water rises "I hope she's quick"

Shiro is in the detainment room interrogating Sendak, who is still asleep in his pod.

"What was the first rank you held in Zarkon's army? Where did you find the Red Lion? What is the Zarkon's greatnes weakness?" Shiro hears Sendak's voice, becoming startled.

"What makes you think you can possibly defeat him?" Sendak's mouth isn't moving and he remains alseep.

"If you were to attack Zarkon, where would you strike?"

"Why strike at all when you can join him?" Shiro sees an image of Sendak awake, but the commander is still alseep.

Pidge and Hunk are in the Green Lion's hanger.

"I bet if we can modulate the dynamics of this crystal, we'll be able to reverse engineer a lot of Galra tech. Don't you think" Pidge doesn't get an answer and turns to see Hunk looking somewhere else "Hunk? Hunk, are you paying attention?"

"What?" Hunk turns around "No, I'm sorry. That whole food goo ambush really set me on edge, Pidge" Pidge walks over to the Crystal "If we can't trust food, we are lost as a culture"

"Relax. I'm sure the Castle's just glitchy. It's 10,000 years old"

"Yeah, it does seem like the ship is not currently trying to kill us.

"Okay, so, all the sensors are on the crystal. Hit the switch" Hunk goes over to the switch and before he can press anything, everything begins floating, including Hunk and Pidge "Hunk, did you accidentally hit the anti-gravity switch?"

"Uh, no. There's no anti-gravity switch. Uh, is there?" Hunk asks. Pidge tries to reach for the crystal before giving up "Curse my short arms.

"Oh, I hate those little things! All right, forget it, Pidge. I'm going to swim towards you. Just hand on!" Hunk begins to 'swim' towards Hunk, but he doesn't move "That's it. I'm all out of moves" Hunk's stomach rumbles "Oh, I'm hungry again. I hope some food goo comes oozing out of these walls"

Lance is banging on the door to the airlock.

"Help! Help! Help!"

"....12,11,10..." Keith runs around the corner, bayard in hand as the Gladiator robot is still after him "...9,8,7..." Keith is kicked back to the door.

"Keith!" Lance shouts, as Keith stands up.

"...6..5..."

"What are you doing in there?" Keith asks. Lance points the Gladiator robot that swings at Keith, who dodges.

"I need help! Because if you don't get me out of here right now, I'm going to be sucked out into space!"

"Doors opening" The Airlock doors open and Lance holds on tight.

"I'm getting sucked out into space" Keith fights the Gladiator before turning his gaze to the button for the airlock. He pushes the Gladiator back as he pushes the button with his bayard. The door opens and the Gladiator is pulled into space "Keith! Keith, come on!" Keith grabs Lance's hand and pulls him to safety, before closing the door. They sit down, breathing heavily.

"What were you doing out there?"

"Who was that guy?"

"He was trying to kill me!"

"Well, is he the Castle? Because that's who's trying to kill me!" They then hear a noise and turns to look, getting ready to attack. As it comes around the corner they go to attack, before seeing that it's Soul.

"Huh, Soul?" Keith asks, he puts his bayard away "What are you doing here? Where's Y/N?" Soul starts acting out what's happening to Y/N, but they don't get it.

"What? Has something happened to Y/N" Soul nods "What! Where?!" Soul runs away, and the two follow.

Y/N is now touching the ceiling as the water is up to her neck.

"This is how I'm gonna die! In a freaking bathroom!" Y/N hears footsteps, then banging on the door.

"Y/N!"

"You in there!"

"Lance! Keith! Oh thank god! Guys I'm stuck, and the rooms about to be filled with water!"

"Okay, hang on, we'll get you out of there" Lance starts banging on the door, trying to break it down. Y/N takes a deep breath before the water fills the whole room. She looks around the room to find anything to help breath with.

"Y/N!" Lance shouts, he gets no answer "Y/N!" Y/N begins to lose consciousness. Keith gets his bayard out.

"Stand back" Keith slashes the door with his bayard and the water pours out, as well as a soaking Y/N. She lays still as they turn her onto her back. Soul goes next to her head and pushes her head to the side, which stays.

"Y/N...?" They wait a second before Y/N starts coughing up water. Lance and Keith share a look of relief, before helping her sit up. Lance takes off his coat and puts it around Y/N.

"What the hell happened" Keith asks.

"The d-door just locked and the pipes burst...God, I nearly died in a bathroom" Soul jumps into Y/N lap and Y/N pets her head "If it wasn't for her, I would have been dead" Y/N looks at Lance and Keith "This may sound stupid, but I think the Castle's haunted"

"Ya think!" Lance says. They stand up and begins to walk away.

#Voltron #Reader Insert #Voltron Fandom #Voltron Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Keith x Reader #Keith Kogane x Reader #Voltron LegendaryDefender

17 notes · View notes

danielsku · 8 months

Text

The Petwawa River (Pt. 1 Petawawa Guarrison)

The 3RCR, a regiment at Petawawa, headquaters

This is the first thread on this blog about my Top Ten places I visited where I write to you, readers, about my experiences, enjoy! As a part of an opportunity I have received this summer from army cadets, I have had the chance to visit the magnificent Petawawa river. The Petawawa river is located in the northern part of Algonquin park next to the city of Petawawa which is around 2 hours from Ottawa. Throughout this experience, I’ve had the chance to stay at the Petawawa Garrison, bike from the base to the river and canoe the whole length of the river with rapids while camping for 10 days. On this blog, I will cover my stay at the Petawawa garrison.

Rooms in the shacks!

My trip to Petawawa started when me and 35 other cadets and 7 adult staff arrived to stay at the barracks in the city’s military base where we stayed to practice canoeing through rapids. The shacks, as the military personnel call them, were very spacious. They weren’t necessarily cozy, but they were comfortable as they contained 4 huge beds for 4 people per room with 2 windows, 4 wardrobes and 4 bed stands with outlets. Bathrooms were located on the other side of the corridor and were very well kept. My only complaint is that there is not much privacy because the bathroom door was always open and everything was visible from the corridor.

The mess hall at the Petawawa Garrison.

The mess hall at the garrison was just fantastic. The military really knows how to feed their members because it always raises morale to go to the mess hall due to the food being always great. The best meal was supper where they fed meals like lamb chops in a sauce or steaks with cranberries which was something to look forward to at the end of the day. In addition to that, there were always different types of desserts, a salad bar and juice dispensers. As a part of my stay in the Petawawa Garrison, me and the rest of the group biked to the fast moving Petawawa river to practice how to canoe through rapids and how to swim through them if the canoe tipped over. It was fun because I learned interesting different canoestrokes to use through fast moving water and what swim position to adopt if a canoe tips in that water.

This is me swimming in the river!

Stay tuned for the second part of this blog next week when I’m going to cover the trip along the whole Petawawa river.

12 notes · View notes

that-one-guy-who-does-the-thing · 8 months

Text

#poll

5 notes · View notes

ratgrimes · 1 year

Text

Now that I've been done with Tears of the Kingdom for like 2 weeks, my thoughts on it have solidified. Spoiler free thoughts: the major elements of the game (dungeons, bosses, main quest) are a lot better than Breath of the Wild, but its moment to moment gameplay leaves me wanting something more, or really something else.

Minor spoilers below.

The depths are neat but very underbaked. Without shrines or much scenery to explore, it felt like a gear dump. Like you go down there for gear, bombs, and zonaite and that's about it beyond the ocassional hideout. The sky islands are very cool, but there are too few of them, and the ones that are there are too samey. There are like 5 separate islands that are essentially copypasted. You know the ones: there's like a crooked x bit and a launcher in the middle, a gacha dispenser, and a "fetch the crystal" shrine. The low gravity areas were very cool, but only used rarely. I could live with repeats if they're at least reskinned. But the depths and the sky islands were all visually almost identical, so no areas really stand out: the gerudo sky and the akkala sky look exactly the same, and the areas underground are also indistinguishable. Caves are fine, only one really impressed me (the big lookout landing shelter hole that leads to hyrule castle was cool as hell). Again, they're all visually indistinct, and follow the same formula (other than the eldin ones that are spicy).

It feels incoherent in a way that Breath of the Wild didn't. It's like a lot of little ideas packed together that don't necessarily mix. The shrines felt a little better than BotW's, and I'm very glad the tests of strength were gone, but most feel a bit insubstantial, like a massive snack instead of a meal (a problem in BotW too, but given the time they had, it's a shame there wasn't more done with them).

Ultrahand is really the only new ability worth a damn. Fuse is just ultrahand, and quickly becomes a routine necessity instead of a fun bonus. Ascend is just a quality of life feature outside of maybe two overworld boss fights. Recall is useful for puzzles, but rarely any good outside of that. In contrast, I used bombs, ice, and stasis all the time. Magnesis was no good, ultrahand is a straight upgrade there. I just don't really care about the vehicles. It's not what I play zelda for, and it's not what I play games generally for.

I think it's really hurt by being so similar to BotW at its core. Breath felt like a big jump forward, something new and exciting for zelda and a high water mark for open world games. TotK feels incremental, a decent refinement in some ways, and a frustrating step back in others. If it came out 2-3 years after BotW instead, that might have helped. As it is now, i don't think it will stand the test of time in a way that Breath of the Wild has. I don't feel like going back and replaying it.

It's fine. Middle of the pack zelda. Fun bosses, great final boss fight, cool story, and a few good side quests like the yiga stuff. Unfortunately, everything in the middle is kind of goopy and undefined. It slipped out of my mind as soon as I was done. Very few of the locations stand out in my memory, unlike how they did originally in Breath of the Wild. I still remember climbing dueling peaks the first time, watching the sunset in lurelin, camping on a mountainside and waiting for a dragon to come by, jumping off the great plateau for the first time. In TotK, I remember the water, lightning, and wind temple, and the underground yiga hideout. I remember fiddling with car parts and glider angles and a hot air balloon not working quite right. I remember my gerudo gf (Calyban 💙 Link) that lived in front of a cooking pot and grinding for rupees and monster parts.

I liked the idea of rebuilding hyrule and forming connections, but it didn't really work in practice. The game is left in this awkward middle ground where it's not empty enough to feel intentionally lonely, and not deep and crowded enough to feel lively. It also feels weirdly discontinguous from BotW for a direct sequel. It feels more like a do-over or retcon, like how Deltarune remixed people and places from Undertale, but it shouldn't since it's the same world, the same canon. There's very little from your previous adventure that carries over or that anyone mentions, even though it's only been a few years. The timeline between the two is very messy as well, but that doesn't really matter. It just feels off.

There's a lot to be said about how a game feels, about what it evokes and how, beyond or in tandem with the mechanics. BotW felt almost like a semi-transcendental meditation, a lonely journey through the wilderness, a piece of art with Something To Say about games, the series, maybe even life. TotK feels like a video-game-ass video game, like a lego set. If the temples and bosses were lifted from Tears and put into Breath (and maaaybe the building stuff was added as like a big expansion to BotW) I don't think anything of great value would really be lost. Some of the character work was nice, but there's not enough of it.

I really wish they would make something smaller, more inventive, and more intentional next. I want less control, less stuff, more feeling. But given the sales and praise for TotK, I sincerely doubt that will happen. Instead, we'll wait 7 more years for "another one."

And where the hell is my big bird man Kass

#i just want something new #legend of zelda #tears of the kingdom #totk thoughts #totk spoilers #games criticism #legend of zelda: tears of the kingdom

9 notes · View notes

wanderella-w · 1 year

Text

Ferries, cows, and bare feet (day 28-29)

Day 28 felt like a really long day, probably because we had the ferry ride from Falmouth to St Maves in the middle of it. We got up early and had breakfast after an hour of walking with a beautiful sunrise. In Falmouth we picked up a special delivery I ordered a few days ago at Spar: A full carton of 12 cliff bars!! I just tied the whole carton to my backpack and walked around as a living Cliff bar dispenser after that, what a great feeling! We also did groceries for three days, got cash and a new olive oil soap (we use it for washing us our clothes and our dishes), and Rosa tried getting het parcel from Jonny's mum but they said they didn't have it at the post office. I decided my book was to heavy after all and donated it to a charity shop. 12 cliff bars for a book, I got my priorities straight .

After the the 20 minute ferry ride to St Maves we had to take another small ferry, on which we were the only passengers. The ferry driver said that in summer though, it could get really busy and on one day he even had 390 passengers (the ferry fits 12 people at a time). It was nice to chat with him as he was very energetic. After the crossing we skipped about 3-4 km of the path because we were a bit in a hurry to reach Gorran Haven the next day (Emma would be leaving us from there) and Rosa and I were feeling a bit low on energy, I was still feeling my cold. In the afternoon my cold got better though and I was enjoying the walk along the beautiful, less rough coastline.

We pitched our tent on a cow meadow because we could find no better spot and had a nice and relaxing dinner with biscuits sponsored by Emma as dessert. After dinner suddenly a whole herd of cows came running towards our tent, they looked very curious and amazed, what strange green thing had landed on their meadow. We were able to shoo them away but they came back. Everytime we turned our backs on them they came two steps closer, like in the Annemaria-Kuckuck game. We decided to pack up and while doing so, one cow was actually nibbling on our tent! We had spotted a good spot on a beach about 15 walking minutes earlier, so we went back there but when we arrived we saw a sign that it was forbidden to camp there and that there was video surveillance. Alright then. The only other option was to camp next to the trail on a sloped and uneven patch of grass. We did that, and the night was actually still quite relaxing even though we kept rolling off our sleeping mats.

Today we walked approximately 24 km from Pendover beach to Gorran Haven. It was a great day, beautiful whether and my cold is as good as gone. Sadly it was Emma's last day walking with us :/. We had some goodbye cake and coffee at a beach café which was really nice. At the next beach we had another longer break where we went with our feet into the water. The water was still cold but it was warm enough to enjoy doing it! It was nice taking it slowly on that afternoon. After one other climb onto Dodman Point we arrived at our campsite in Trevague.

7 notes · View notes

betty-bourgeoisie · 1 year

Note

You said that you used to work at the museum walked kindergarten kids through it, how was the job?

Lamo, I've never worked at a museum, but I used to be a camp councilor and part of that job was supervising field trips to museums (most of them history or science based). Honestly it was a pretty sweet gig because I got to visit a lot of different museums for free and really get a sense for what kind of exhibits are good and engaging for kids vs. which ones work better for adults. For instance most standard history museums assume their audience has at least a middle school level knowledge of history - something you don't even really think about when going to a history museum as an adult - so even if they have a few kids activities they're not really the best for the elementary school set. Living history, on the other hand, works great for young kids because the actors are usually able to adjust what they're saying to meet the age group.

It was also cool to see what things captured kids interests. For instance one of the museums where I live is an interactive historical computer museum that break's exhibits down by decades and in the 80's arcade room none of the kids even paid attention to the actual video games because they had those at home, but they were absolutely fascinated by the game token dispensers because they had never seen them before.

The worst part was definitely trying to engage kids in topics that not even a lot of adults find interesting 😂. One time we went to a wooden boat museum (which if we're being honestly, is used by locals less as a museum and more as a spot for folk music nerds to meet up and sing shanties) and I had to pull out every half interesting thing I've ever learned about sailboat mechanics and flag signaling just to keep the kids from trying to dive into the water.

So yeah, definitely ups and downs but overall I think getting to help kids explore different topics in a museum setting is a lot of fun!

#thanks for the ask!

10 notes · View notes

xtruss · 10 months

Text

Tina Cordova and her mother, Rosalie, relax at Bonito Lake, New Mexico, in 1960. Cordova says the lake—which lies within the estimated radioactive fallout zone—was a water source for area towns, including Carrizozo, Alamogordo, and Ruidoso. Courtesy of Anastacio and Rosalie Cordova

U.S. Lawmakers Move Urgently to Recognize Survivors of the First Atomic Bomb Test

The 1945 Trinity test produced heat 10,000 times greater than the surface of the sun and spread fallout across the country.

— By Lesley M.M. Blume | Published September 21, 2021 | July 29th, 2023

Barbara Kent joined Carmadean’s dance camp in the desert near Ruidoso, New Mexico, in the summer of 1945. During the day, she and nine other girls learned tap and ballet. At night, they slept in a cabin by a river. Early in the morning on July 16, 1945, Kent says that she —then 13—and the other campers were jolted out of their bunk beds by what felt like an enormous explosion nearby. Their dance instructor rushed the girls outside, worried that a heater on the premises might have burst.

“We were all just shocked … and then, all of a sudden, there was this big cloud overhead, and lights in the sky,” Kent recalls. “It even hurt our eyes when we looked up. The whole sky turned strange. It was as if the sun came out tremendous.”

A few hours later, she says, white flakes began to fall from above. Excited, the girls put on their bathing suits and, amid the flurries, began playing in the river. “We were grabbing all of this white, which we thought was snow, and we were putting it all over our faces,” Kent says. “But the strange thing, instead of being cold like snow, it was hot. And we all thought, ‘Well, the reason it’s hot is because it’s summer.’ We were just 13 years old.”

Thirteen-year-old Barbara Kent (center) and her fellow campers play in a river near Ruidoso, New Mexico, on July 16, 1945, in the hours after the bomb’s detonation. Fallout flakes drifted down that day and for days afterward. “We thought [it] was snow," Kent says. “But the strange thing, instead of being cold like snow, it was hot." Courtesy of Barbara Kent

The flakes were fallout from the Manhattan Project’s Trinity test, the world’s first atomic bomb detonation. It took place at 5:29 a.m. local time atop a hundred-foot steel tower 40 miles away at the Alamogordo Bombing and Gunnery Range, in Jornada del Muerto valley.

The site had been selected in part for its supposed isolation. In reality, thousands of people were within a 40-mile radius, some as close as 12 miles away. Yet all those living near the bomb site weren't warned that the test would take place. Nor were they evacuated beforehand or afterward, even as radioactive fallout continued to drop for days.

The Trinity test took place at 5:29 a.m. local time on July 16, 1945. It was three to five times more powerful than its creators had anticipated, producing heat 10,000 times greater than the surface of the sun. The explosion cloud may have reached a height of 70,000 feet. Photograph By Science History Images/ Alamy

In 1990, the U.S. Congress passed the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act (RECA), which has since dispensed over two billion dollars to more than 45,000 nuclear workers and “downwinders”—a term describing people who have lived near nuclear test sites conducted since World War II and may have been exposed to deadly radioactive fallout.

But those exposed during the Trinity test and its aftermath have never been eligible.

For years, Senator Ben Ray Lujan, a Democrat from New Mexico, and other members of Congress have attempted to amend RECA, due to expire on July 11, 2022. In light of this looming deadline, on September 22, Lujan, along with Senator Mike Crapo, Republican of Idaho, and eight co-sponsors introduced Senate bill S. 2798 to extend RECA and expand it to make those in the estimated Trinity fallout zone eligible, as well as other downwinder communities in Colorado, Idaho, and Montana. The proposed legislation also would expand eligibility for people who have worked in uranium mines and mills or transported uranium ore. Also on September 22, Representative Teresa Leger Fernandez and 15 co-sponsors introduced a similar bill, H.R. 5338, in the House.

The plutonium bomb—nicknamed the Gadget—was set atop this hundred-foot steel tower, which vaporized in the explosion. "From the Trinity test,” a 2010 Centers for Disease Control and Prevention report noted, “it was learned that detonating a nuclear explosive device [that] close to the ground increases the radioactive fallout from the event." Photograph Via CORBIS/Getty

Manhattan Project leaders—including General Leslie Groves (center) and, to his right, physicist J. Robert Oppenheimer—scrutinize the remnants of the tower at ground zero. Upon seeing the detonation, Oppenheimer thought of a line from the Bhagavad Gita: "Now I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds." Photograph Via CORBIS/Getty

“The fact that there had not been a recognition of the impact of the very first atomic detonation in New Mexico was really simply wrong,” says Representative Teresa Leger Fernandez, a Democrat from New Mexico and co-sponsor of the House bill. “We hear their voices, we see their pain, and we must act.”

This is an especially urgent and consequential moment for those living in Trinity’s estimated fallout zone—some of whom have been waiting 76 years to be acknowledged. “We have been denied justice long enough,” says Bernice Gutierrez, who was a newborn when the bomb exploded. Her family lived in Carrizozo, about 50 miles from the blast site. “It’s not like we haven’t given our all to our country. What more can you give?”

‘A Very Serious Hazard’

The blast from the plutonium implosion device, nicknamed the Gadget, produced heat 10,000 times greater than the surface of the sun and was significantly more powerful than its creators had expected. It carried aloft hundreds of tons of irradiated soil and sent a mushroom cloud up to 70,000 feet in the sky. In this experimental atomic detonation, only three of the 13 pounds of plutonium at the bomb’s center underwent fission. The rest dispersed in the fallout cloud.

A tiny fraction of that three pounds of plutonium—about the weight of a raisin—was enough to release “three times the destructive force of the largest conventional bomb used in World War II,” says Robert Alvarez, associate fellow at the Institute of Policy Studies and former senior policy advisor to the U.S. Secretary of Energy. (The Gadget released an explosive force equivalent to about 21,000 tons of TNT.)

Right after detonation, the cloud divided into three parts. One part drifted east, another to the west and northwest, and the rest to the northeast, across a region a hundred miles long and 30 miles wide, “dropping its trail of fission products” the entire way, according to a 2010 report by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC). The fallout eventually spread over thousands of square miles and was detected as far away as Rochester, New York.

Nineteen counties in New Mexico were in the downwind area, including 78 towns and cities, and dozens of ranches and pueblos. Radiation levels near homes in some “hot spots” reached levels “almost 10,000 times what is currently allowed in public areas,” according to the CDC.

“There is still a tremendous quantity of radioactive dust floating in the air,” wrote Stafford Warren to U.S. Army General Leslie R. Groves, head of the Manhattan Project, five days after the blast. Warren, the project’s chief medical officer, added that “a very serious [radiation] hazard” existed within a 2,700-square-mile area downwind of the test.

He also advised that future atomic tests be done only where there were no people within a radius of 150 miles. (Nearly half a million people in New Mexico, Texas, and Mexico lived within a 150-mile radius of the Trinity test.)

“We didn’t know what the hell we were doing,” Louis Hempelmann—the director of the Los Alamos Health Group, a team tasked with managing radiation within the Manhattan Project—reflected in a 1986 interview uncovered by sociologist James L. Nolan, Jr., in his book Atomic Doctors. “Nobody had had any experience like this before, and we were just hoping that the situation wouldn’t get terribly sticky.”

The leaders of the Manhattan Project knew that civilians had been “probably overexposed,” Hempelmann said. “But they couldn’t prove it and we couldn’t prove it. So we just assumed that we got away with it.”

Many civilians living within the estimated fallout zone were unwittingly exposed and sickened. According to Alvarez, even minute quantities of plutonium can inflict disease. “Particles of plutonium less than a few microns in diameter can penetrate deep in the lungs and lymph nodes and can also be deposited via the bloodstream in the liver, on bone surfaces, and in other organs,” he says. “If inhaled, extremely small amounts can lead to cancer.”

How is it, asks Senator Lujan, that RECA covered people living downwind of the Nevada Test Site but left out “the community where the first nuclear bomb was tested on American soil? There’s not been a good answer given to me nor to the downwinders in New Mexico. There’s no question of the exposure that resulted from the Trinity test.”

The explosion seared the desert sand surrounding the tower into a green, glass-like substance, named Trinitite. Photograph Via Bettmann/Getty

Something Felt Terribly Awry

Several people living near the test site later reported that they thought they were experiencing the end of the world. The strange, snowlike substance that fell from the sky for days coated everything: orchards, gardens, livestock, as well as cisterns, ponds, and rivers—the main sources of drinking water because local groundwater was “unsuitable for human consumption,” according to the 2010 CDC report.

One family in Oscuro, New Mexico, about 45 miles from the site, hung wet bedsheets in their windows against the fallout. They felt that something was terribly awry when their chickens and their dog died. Thirty miles away from ground zero, along Chupadera Mesa, burns appeared on the hides of cattle, whose fur eventually grew back gray and white in the burned patches.

A health care provider in Roswell, a hundred miles away, noted a surge in infant deaths there—35 in August 1945 alone. When she wrote to Warren, stating her concerns, his medical assistant replied that there were no “pertinent data” and assured her that “the safety and health of the people at large is not in any way endangered.”

“They Lied To Us. I Didn’t Learn The Truth Until Years Later.” — BatbaraKent, Trinity Test Survivor

For General Groves, getting the bomb ready—in secrecy—for wartime use had trumped all other considerations, including public safety.

Yet he realized that a blast whose flash was seen in at least three states and two countries could not be wholly concealed. He ordered the commanding officer of the Alamogordo Air Base to feed a cover story to the Associated Press that “a remotely located ammunition magazine containing a considerable amount of high explosives and pyrotechnics exploded.” There had been, the report went on, “no loss of life or injury.” Local newspapers reprinted the announcement without challenge.

Barbara Kent recalls that the day after the explosion, her camp’s dance instructor took the girls into Ruidoso, where government officials were to make an announcement about the source of the blast.

“It was so crowded downtown—everyone was shoulder to shoulder,” Kent says. “What they told us—there was an explosion at a dump. They said, ‘No one worry about anything, everything’s fine, just go along with your own business.’ Everyone was confused. Some people believed it, but some people thought they couldn’t imagine that a dump explosion would do this." She continues: "They lied to us. I didn’t learn the truth until years later.”

As time passed, Kent says she began to hear disturbing reports that her fellow campers were falling ill. By the time she turned 30, she says, “I was the only survivor of all the girls at that camp.” She adds that she has suffered from lifelong illnesses: She had to have her thyroid removed and has survived several forms of cancer, including endometrial cancer and “all kinds of skin cancers.”

In this photograph from 1962, three-year-old Tina Cordova (bottom right) is pictured with her father, Anastacio (holding her baby brother, Matthew), and mother Rosalie. The young family lived in Tularosa, about 40 miles from the blast site. Everything they ate, Tina recalls, “was raised or grown or hunted," adding that the bomb’s “ash got everywhere, in the soil, in the water—everything was contaminated." She says her mother and father developed cancers, and she was diagnosed with thyroid cancer when she was 39. Courtesy of Anastacio and Rosalie Cordova

Tina Cordova is a fifth-generation resident of Tularosa, about 40 miles from the blast site. Thanks to an extensive ditch system in the area, the town was an oasis in the desert, and Cordova’s family’s home, like many others, had an orchard and garden.

“You could literally go out into your yard in the summer and eat peaches, apricots, cherries, figs, dates, pecans, walnuts—everything you could think of,” she says. Local people harvested and canned their fruit and collected rainwater for drinking from rooftop cisterns. Milk came from local dairies. People made their own butter and butchered farmyard animals or hunted wild animals for meat, including deer, quail, rabbit, and pheasant.

“Everything that people were consuming in 1945 was contaminated,” Cordova says. “But they didn’t know [the fallout was] dangerous. They went about their lives.”

After the test, she says, health problems began to plague her family, all of whom lived in and around Tularosa. According to Cordova, two of her great-grandfathers died of stomach cancer, and both of her grandmothers developed cancer. Two aunts had breast cancer, and one died from it. A cousin developed a brain tumor. Her mother had mouth cancer, and her sister has skin cancer. Her father, who was four at the time of the blast, suffered from various cancers, including prostate cancer and tongue cancer. Doctors had to remove part of his tongue and his lymph nodes. The cancer eventually spread to his neck and became inoperable. Cordova says he weighed about 125 pounds at his death in 2013 at the age of 71. She says that she herself was diagnosed with thyroid cancer in 1997, when she was 39.

‘When Are They Going To Hold Our Government Accountable?’

After the U.S. leveled Hiroshima with a uranium bomb on August 6, 1945, the secret history of the creation of atomic weapons was released and widely publicized. Many New Mexicans now realized that the blast that had shattered their windows and blanketed their homes in warm ash was not, after all, an ammunition dump explosion. Although they still hadn't been informed by the government about the nature of that ash or monitored for adverse health effects, they were encouraged to be proud of the part they’d unknowingly played in bringing about the dramatic new atomic age.

“When I was a child, the government fed us propaganda about how much pride we should take in the part we played in ending World War Two,” Cordova says. “We still did not know what that meant from a health consequence perspective. Our mom actually took us to the [Trinity] site for a picnic. We brought home as much Trinitite as we could and played with it.” (The Trinity Site is now a National Historic Landmark, open to visitors twice a year, and anyone can go online and buy radioactive fragments of Trinitite—a green glass created from sand and other materials that melted in the immediate blast zone.)

The U.S. Army erected this monument at ground zero in 1965. Ten years later, the National Park Service designated Trinity Site as a National Historic Landmark. It’s open to visitors twice a year, on the first Saturdays in April and October. Photograph By Tony Korody, SYGMA Via Getty

In 2004, Cordova read a letter from another Tularosa resident, Fred Tyler, to the editor of a local newspaper. She says that the letter changed her life. “He said, ‘When are they going to hold our government accountable for the damage they did to us?’ ” Cordova says. “I called him and said, ‘I feel the same way you do. It’s time to start an organization to more fully push the government about this issue.’ ”

In 2005, Cordova and Tyler founded the Tularosa Basin Downwinders Consortium (TBDC) as an advocacy organization for Trinity test downwinders.

At that time, she recalls, they weren’t aware that the Radiation Exposure Compensation Act had been in place for 15 years and already had provided onetime, $50,000 compensation to other downwinders who “may have developed cancer or other specified diseases after being exposed to radiation from atomic weapons testing or uranium mining, milling, or transporting.” Downwinder eligibility initially was limited to those within specified areas around the Nevada Test Site, 65 miles north of Las Vegas, where a hundred aboveground tests were conducted before a moratorium on atomic testing took effect in 1992.

In 2000, an amendment to RECA expanded eligibility to include some uranium miners and millers in New Mexico. Military and government workers who were “on-site participants” in the Trinity test were also eligible for compensation, but civilian downwinders remained ineligible.

Cordova, like Senator Lujan, says she has “never been able to get a straight answer” about why civilian downwinders were excluded from the legislation: “Even from people who were serving in Congress at the time, I’ve been told, ‘Well, no one was connecting the dots that anybody was harmed.’ ”

Bill Richardson—a Democrat who served as New Mexico’s governor from 2003 to 2011 and was a representative for the state’s Third Congressional District in 1990 when RECA was enacted—says, “I don’t think there was opposition [to their inclusion], just perhaps a lack of awareness. I didn’t know about their claims until I started reading about it when I was governor, and I was sympathetic.”

To raise awareness, Cordova and her colleagues at the consortium began to gather testimonies from and distribute health surveys to downwinders who were alive at the time of the Trinity test, along with their descendants who have lived in areas surrounding the test site. To date, the consortium has collected more than 1,000 surveys, and Cordova says that 100 percent of those questioned describe adverse health conditions—from thyroid disease to brain cancer—that can result from radiation exposure. Often participants describe similar cancers that have ravaged many family members over several generations.

‘A Now-or-Never Moment’

Cordova describes this effort to extend and expand RECA as a “now-or-never moment.” Senator Mike Crapo, an Idaho Republican and co-sponsor of the Senate bill, says there’s a “dire need for Congress to extend RECA … [and] to include victims in states across the West.”

“It is beyond time for the federal government to right a past wrong that caused harm to countless innocent Americans,” he wrote in a letter on March 24, 2021, to the chairman and members of the House Judiciary Committee.

“We Hear Their Voices, We See Their Pain, and We Must Act.” — TeresaLeger Fernandez, Representative to Congress, New Mexico

“When [RECA] was first introduced, no one considered the impact on the first downwinders,” Representative Fernandez says. “But we are in a place now where we recognize an injustice when we see it.” Her family lived in San Miguel and Guadalupe Counties in New Mexico, areas of potential exposure. She says her mother and sister—both nonsmokers—died of lung cancer. Her father died of esophageal cancer, she says, and her grandmother, who grew up near the Trinity site, died of leukemia.

Fernandez and Lujan say they’re also going to push for new epidemiological and environmental studies of the Trinity test’s aftermath and possible long-term effects.

Assessing Trinity’s exact “fingerprint” based on current fallout levels is “complicated and subject to large uncertainties,” says health physicist Joseph Shonka, co-author of the 2010 CDC report. He notes that residents of New Mexico have higher positive plutonium levels in their tissues than residents of any other state but says that tracing those levels back specifically to Trinity fallout might be difficult.

New Mexicans also may have internalized plutonium from various additional sources, he says, including general global fallout, releases from New Mexico’s Los Alamos plutonium operations, and fallout that drifted down from Nevada’s Test Site. The CDC recommended prioritizing Trinity’s aftermath for future studies.

Last year, the National Cancer Institute (NCI) released its findings from a nearly seven-year study of the Trinity nuclear test. The study’s lead investigator, Steven Simon, calls it the “most comprehensive study conducted on the Trinity test and its possible ramifications for cancer risks in the estimated fallout area.”

The researchers concluded that up to a thousand people may have developed cancer from the Trinity test fallout and that “only small geographic areas immediately downwind to the northeast received exposures of any significance.” They also said that the “plutonium deposited as a result of the Trinity test was unlikely to have resulted in significant health risks to the downwind population.”

The researchers also acknowledged their study’s limitations. Calculating exposure for those alive at the time of the detonation is “complex and is subject to uncertainties,” Simon explains, “because all of the needed data is not available."

Shonka says the new NCI study “failed to address early fallout adequately.” He says he questions some of the methodology and is preparing a counter-article addressing what he says are inconsistencies with previous findings. Other critics of the NCI study say it doesn’t address ongoing family cancer clusters and the reported 1945 spike in infant deaths in the region, documented in a 2019 paper in the Bulletin of the Atomic Scientists, co-authored by Robert Alvarez.

The NCI responds that its researchers focused on exposures received among “New Mexico residents alive at the time of the test,” and that they didn’t investigate the infant mortality because it was “not a cancer effect.”

Senator Lujan calls the NCI study “limited” and says that he wants to “make sure that there’s accurate data that truly is looking at the exposure that families face.”

“How can someone say that families in proximity to a nuclear blast were not exposed?” he asks. “It goes against everything that I’ve learned and data sets that I’ve seen from different parts of the world where this has happened, whether it’s been from meltdown of nuclear energy generation facilities or where weapons were deployed.”

Lujan continues, “People died as a result of the Trinity test—that’s a fact. People are still suffering—that’s a fact. The U.S. needs to come forward to address this liability, this wrong.”

Cordova says she and her community will be closely watching the RECA bills’ progress. The new legislation asks to expand compensation for individuals from $50,000 to $150,000. But beyond financial restitution, Cordova says, they’re also hoping simply for a government apology.

“We’ve never had an opportunity to live normal lives,” she says. “They can never say that they didn’t know ahead of time that radiation was harmful or that there was going to be fallout. We don’t ask if we’re going to get cancer; we ask when it’s going to be our turn. We are the forgotten collateral damage.”

— Lesley M. M. Blume is a New York Times best-selling historian, journalist, and author of Fallout: The Hiroshima Cover-up and the Reporter Who Revealed It to the World.

2 notes · View notes

testormblog · 1 year

Text

Dirty and Poor

I had little to amuse my inquisitive mind, a few homemade, wooden toys and the hammer I’d confiscated from Dad. Some children like to bang pots and pans; I loved to bang the hammer, mostly on the nails popping up from the old house’s floorboards. The noise let Mother know where I was playing. At first, I bruised my small fingers. With practice, my aim with the hammer became proficient unlike Dad’s.

There weren’t other children to play with. The yard dog, Woolie, black with curly fur, kept me company instead. The dog was so large that I could sit on its back. Together, we observed the comings and goings in our surroundings, in particular the trains passing the house. The rail motor travelled back and forth from Bethania to Beaudesert twice daily. Steam engines hauled regular goods trains. The most exciting, noisy and smelly were the long cattle and horse trains, headed with two steam engines, going to the abattoir. I’d tell my dog everything. He always seemed interested until one day, Woolie became bored and wandered off. The dog was likely bitten by a snake. Time moved slowly with the same daily routine. Except one day, I heard a steam engine’s brakes.

I excitedly watched it stop on the line beside my house. Whilst I wasn’t allowed outside to investigate the unusual event, this was the best day in my life to date! Men offloaded wooden planks from the train’s freight wagons. This second hand timber had come from Camp Cable, the wartime American Army camp, several miles up the line, near Logan Village. Life became interesting. My family were building a house nearby and closer to Bethania Railway Station. My great uncle had transferred to my father a patch of land considered too small for dairy cows or commercial cropping. This triangle of land had been part of the farm established by my forebears before the railway line and the road had separated it. The military had occupied the land and its surrounds with a transit camp. Bethania had been the intersection point for trains transporting troops to the Canungra Jungle Training Camp and Camp Cable.

Pop, an uncle and a neighbour built the cottage where the military’s tents and mess huts had been. Dad wasn’t skilled in carpentry. The simple home had one bedroom, a sitting room, a kitchen, a front veranda and a bathroom with an open wash house and a thunderbox outside. I slept in a cot tucked behind the bedroom cupboard.

As it was in a rural area, the cottage received no rubbish collection, sewerage or water supply services. Rubbish and effluent weren’t an issue. These were buried when Dad showed the inclination. Maintaining sufficient water in the two small tanks for household use and the vegetable garden was an issue. We were dependent on rainfall. Even then, the high tank had to be over half full for enough water pressure to exist for the bathroom and kitchen taps to flow. Mostly, water was dispensed by bucket. I was bathed once a week, and only if I looked sufficiently dirty, in no more than an inch of water in the bath tub. As I didn’t own a toy boat, I didn’t mind.

The cottage did have electricity for lights and three power points for the fridge and sewing machine in the kitchen and the small radio in the sitting room. Dad installed the power pole near the cottage. He purchased a milled log from the sawmiller. Then, he and his mates met, because that was the only labour available, to dig by shovel a large hole in which to stand the pole. At one metre deep, the men hit hard rock. Whilst they didn’t think the hole to be deep enough, they still positioned and raised the pole. For years after, Dad prayed the pole wouldn’t topple on the house in vicious wind. It held until the electricity company replaced it.

A wood stove sat in the kitchen. Finding wood was a chore and a cost most families struggled with. My father fed the stove with used railway sleepers his maintenance gang shared amongst themselves.

Outside, Dad constructed a fowl house from old tanks, sleepers and wire and dug a garden to support the family with eggs, meat and vegetables.

The primitive house met my biggest wish. The rail track ran along the backyard’s fence line! I loved waving at the passengers and guards. Sometimes, I watched Dad banging the spikes along the track.

I was far happier outside, away from Mother’s sight. In addition to the ambience her temperament created, inside the cottage was a horrid place to be. Mother hated housework. We lived in the continual squalor of dirty dishes, clothes, floors and fireplace. The beds weren’t made. The ‘night water’ wasn’t always taken outside early in the morning.

Mother presented a different face outside the cottage however. She was immaculately dressed as a walking advertisement for her dressmaking skills. She was a seamstress and a busy one. Initially, she received her clients in the sitting room but soon a small room was added to the veranda to keep clients away from the squalor. At one point, she started a dressmaking shop with a friend in Beenleigh. Their venture failed quickly as neither understood how to manage a business’ finances.

Money regularly created tension between my parents. There was father’s, mother’s and the housekeeping. Dad handed over the agreed housekeeping from his wage to pay the bills. There never seemed to be enough though. Appliances had been purchased on high interest hire purchase plans. Whatever Mother earnt from sewing appeared to be hers to spend how she wished, usually on more clothes for herself. Dad wasted what remained of his wage on race horses and alcohol. Their financial struggle was a circular form of hell that they couldn’t escape from, precipitated by their inability to work together. Whilst they didn’t physically abuse each other, verbally they did.

#dirty and poor #poverty #Bethania #circular form of hell #financial struggle

5 notes · View notes