#metal roof supply near me

[metalroofingsupplyu]

Installing Metal Roof | Metal Roofing Supply

Metal Roofing Supply is one of the best Installing Metal Roof We do what we can to help whomever comes across our business with whatever problem may arise. Quoting and figuring buildings and screws, providing a trailer for your trim and panels, or any of your component requirements, Metal Roofing Supply has got you covered.We do what we can to help whomever comes across our business with whatever problem may arise. Quoting and figuring buildings and screws, providing a trailer for your trim and panels, or any of your component requirements, Metal Roofing Supply has got you covered.

Visit us now:- https://metalroofingsupply.org/

[artists-who-rarely-draws]

hi!!! what about laurance and/or garroth where the reader gets injured in a fight(whether it was because they took a hit for them or they failed to protect the reader)? how would they react? what would they do? thank you thank you! :D

☆°•Hunt down the good in me☆°•

Warnings : Gore, nothing horrific, but the reader gets wounded, and I tell you where and how bad lol. Accidentally focused more on the hurt than comfort. I'm so sorry lolol, you can totally feel free to request a follow-up for the recovery process if you want to focus more on that aspect lolol.

So it turns out this got kinda long- and if laurance is ANYWHERE near this length, then it's probably best to split them lmfaoo. But! I hope you enjoy, I'm gonna set up the masterlist then get working on the next part!

Again hope you enjoy, I haven't written in a few years so sorry if it's a liiittle off I'm gonna write and write till I got it lol.

And with that said, requests are still open!! Ah!! Please feel free to send one :D

GN reader, that will just be my default unless otherwise specified. Reader is wearing a corset of some kind but, there are plenty of Masc and GN medival fantasy outfits featuring corsets I don't think it should be a problem.

Anywho! Enjoy my drabble!

Garroth:

You don't even realize it immediately, your mind went blank and you could hear nothing but your own heartbeat. Time slows as you take in the shock and horror on your companions blue eyes and his mouth open in a shout that vaugley appears like your name.

What led you here? Oh, yes, that's right, you and Garroth were on a supply run for Pheonix Drop. He had taken the heavier of the two crates without a word about it before you both headed back down the trail. You remember it was a goregous day... warm and sunny shining through to the forest floor through the thick roof of leaves.

You were teasing him. You can't remember what for anymore... you're falling over. You had been mid-turn to face him big cheeky smile just in time for a bolt to fly through your upper arm clearly whoever shot you wasn't expecting the turn with their aim, you were mid turning feet unsteady but the force of the bolt going through your arm, knocks you down fully.

Your senses rush back to you when your knee hit the ground, suddenly deeply, agonizingly aware of the hole in your arm as pain shoots down it. Searing fire permiating deep into the tissue and muscle of your arm. The crate falls to the ground next to you. A pained Gasp rips itself from your lungs, and the sound of the forest comes rushing over you like a wave.

Your on your knees crumpled over on yourself shoulder and forehead pressed to the path dirt, you feel clammy and cold, but your arm is so incredibly hot.

" Y/N! " Garroths voice rings out along with the twang of a bolt hitting his shield and the loud thunks of armored boots running towards you but you can hardly register it, your mouth is dry and your nerves are screaming. Garroth slides to a stop and drops to his knees besides you moving one hand to turn you off your side and onto your back.

"GAH! Ah ah-" Another searing wave of pain through your injuried arm as it touches the ground tearing the shout from you, all your muscles involuntarily tense, other hand shooting to the wound feeling boiling hot thick blood covering your hand, the metallic smell acrid and overwhelming almost making the back of your throat feel sticky.

*Thunk* as another bolt hits Garroths shield, and the sun is hidden from your view as it raises to protect you as he asses your damage, eyes wide and frantic.

"No no no, don't do that" he says reaching for your hand to remove it from the wound, he's trying to sound put together for your sake but his voice is trembling.

"Ow ow ow fuck-" you gasp out as your hand is removed, your wrist held gently with his one free hand. You're bleeding a lot, but not enough for him to be worried that it tore a major vessel but far far too much for him to feel comfortable leaving you to take care of the assailant before doing... something ANYTHING to slow it, but he will need both hands to tie a tourniquet but if he puts the shield down he opens you both up to fire.

*Thunk* He growls under his breath at the impact against his shield, looking back at the bolt that spins and lands to the ground, feeling a curse bubble in the back of his throat The Quarrel is straight and smooth with no other points. Good news for you means the puncture should be clean, but those are the heads most adept for piercing through steel as if it's leather. Under normal circumstances, he would gladly take the bolts anywhere to protect you, but your dominant arm is currently out of use, so he can't afford not to kill who is attacking you.

His thoughts rush through him, acting fast he uses one hand to rip his cape off, lay it under your arm, shushing you gently as you groan in pain. He knows he can only do a very very temporary fix, folding it in half over the puncture, grabbing the excess and twisting it *as if* it was a tourniquet as tightly as he possibly can with just fabric alone around his fist. You breathe in sharply through your teeth as your arm is a strange mix of burning and numb pausing only to adjust his shield to block bolts.

"I know, just a few more moments" he whispers finishing tightening the fabric then balling up the excess the pressing it down hard on the top of the wound, your legs jerk harshly as you bite back a scream at the pressure.

"Listen to me very closely Lord Y/N" he speaks again voice firm determination blazing in Garroths mind as he firmly enters 'Guard mode' pushing aside his personal dread at the moment, knowing it will prevent him from doing this with the upmost efficiency.

"Your to use your uninjured arm to hold this ball as *tight* as you physically can right where I have it until I return to treat you. It is absolutely *imperative* that you follow my instructions exactly. It is the only thing keeping you from bleeding out. Move your hand on top of mine so you can press down the moment I leave" he instructs very very firmly, similarly to when he gives orders to his fellow guards. So with shaking hand you move your clammy hand and place it on top of his over the bundle of fabric and you feel his fingers twitch, as his heart lurches nearly losing his composure, sliding his hand away turning and sprinting in the direction of the bolts terrifyingly instead of a white hot rage he feels.. *nothing* devoid of the feeling for the life he's about to take, he's past the point of the hottest anger that could be.

This man is going to die, that is a simple reality. And it will be by Garroths hand.

Such is the fate of anyone who dares cause harm to his lord, his love.

He returns not long after, sheathing his sword and tossing his shield to the side as he runs to your side blood splattered across his face and armour he drops to his knees quickly again with both hands free now to fully pay attention to you, murderous haze melts away as he devolves into frantic movements, that your to lightheaded to really process them. The arm is full of very vital heavy bleeding arteries .

He asses the situation, unwrapping his cape from your arm to determine the state of the wound, cursing his own shaking hands as he tries to focus on his medical training and not the fact that it's you below him, your blood coating his fingers, and face drained of color. He notices instead of gushing the blood was a light dribble which is both... good and bad, your defiantly in shock so your body has severely lowered blood flow to your extremities so, your chances of bleeding out has severely lowered. Shock was something he could treat out here with the help of potions which he knew one of these crates held, they were for the Village but that didn't matter to him now.

"Good, good you did so well m'lord" he whispers taking a discarded bolt to make a more proper tourniquet, putting it in the ball of his cloak and using it to tighten the fabric even further around the wound easily cutting off the blood flow and securing it tightly. Moving a hand to just very slightly raise your back off the ground, second one moving to loosen the laces of your corset to allow for easier air flow as your breathing was turning shallow. He pulls your crate over to be just by your legs, raising up your feet and placing them on top of the crate to improve the blood flow. Before looking down at your hazy eyes.

"Stay with me Y/N. Stay with me, you are going to be just fine, you *have* to be just fine. Think of Levin and Malachi what they would do without you, what *i* would do" his thumb brushes over your cheek leaning down for just a moment to press his forehead to yours, a weak whine escaping you in responce as he shoots up sprinting to the crate he had dropped when he saw the bolt enter your arm. He had heard a smashing sound when it hit the ground and now was PRAYING to any of the divine that would listen that even one of these bottles where in a decent condition, grabbing a bolt that had bounced off his shield once more, he shoves it into the top half way before pressing hard on it until the crack of the crate giving can be heard and he prys it the rest of the way with his bare hands.

Tearing through the contents of the barrel until he finds at the very bottom a second much smaller crate but the lid wasn't nailed onto this one. He pulls it off tossing it away to reveal mostly shattered glass and soaking wet padding, but dizzying relief fills him when he finds 2 bottles that survived; Quickly snatching away one of them and running back to you using his teeth to pull out the cork as he was making his way.

"Good, good, you're doing so good." He continues shakily "your going to be just fine. All you need is to drink this, and you will be just fine. That's all you need." He says quickly, almost as if he was speaking more to himself than you, taking your injured arm and placing it over his shoulder partially to elevate it, heart cracking at the hiss of pain, but mostly to put his arm under your back so he could prop you up to drink from the glass bottle. Whispering words of encouragement and praise as he rubs the skin of your back with a thumb through your blood soaked shirt.

The potion works quickly, veins and nerves rebinding, and skin knitting back together as the thick bitter liquid slides down your throat, gagging in the first moment as your body tries to reject any more negative sensory. But Garroths head against your head gently shushing and still whispering to you gives you enough clarity to keep drinking. Until the cold bottle is taken away. And you feel the rush of blood entering your arm as the cloth on your arm falls away. The physical injury wiped away.. but the brain is not so easily healed, still in shock.

Now that the immeadite danger is gone. All of the emotions Garroth was hiding away to prioritize his duty slams into him like a blow to the gut, trembling sorrow, guilt, relief, and fear running through him as he harshly blinks away the tears burning his eyes. You can't see him cry like this not now. He needs to get you home.

"Hold onto me as tightly as you can" he mummers hating the trembling in his tone as he reaches down gathering you in his arms, one hand pressing your head the the juncture between his neck and shoulder, the other underneath your bottom, moving your legs to hook over his hips. Squeezing you rightly to himself for a moment once he has you situated, one arm may still need time to move bit you cling to him with the other his warmth and the familiar smell of Rosewood that clung to him still under the metallic tang of blood. He inhales deeply through his nose before giving a heavy exhale from his mouth, holding you as closely to him as he possibly can.

He Abandons the crates, and scraps of his cape to start walking to Pheonix drop holding you to him. Keeping the hand holding you to his neck gentle but firm, so you can't see the tears slowly falling down his cheeks.

He had failed you, not only as your guard.. your HEAD guard, but as a lover. And he would never do it again. He carries you home, whispering his love and apologizing over and over and over the whole way.

[lachimolala22019]

Heart full of love

Chapter 1

After losing a beloved person to a war of greed and money.

She never thought a business trip to a small village would lead her to her fate.

She never thought the heart that was once empty will be filled with so much love and adoration for these seven men who she would do anything for.

For first time after the incident her heart was full of love.

They were her family and she will burn anyone who dares to harm them.

Pairing: Hybrid!BTS X Hybrid!reader

Genre: poly, hybrid, mates

Warning: mistreatment.

Masterlist

The loud sound of a metal pipe hitting the iron door made me wake up with a jolt. With my ears pressed to my head, and dilated eyes I look at the door of my room in fright.

I came back to my senses after hearing Marine yelling for us to wake up. It was already seven in the morning, but there was no sunlight coming from the cracked windows. The sky was still covered in thick clouds.

I got up from the cold floor rubbing my eyes to start my daily schedule.

Luckily there was no water on the floor near me through the dripping roof. I would have had to work with damp clothes if my clothes got wet.

The walls however were soaked in water and the mold had gotten worse. There was a strange smell all over the room.

I decided to ignore it as I was already used to it and went out to wash up before I had to get to work. There were around 20 hybrids in the faculty the work was divided between them. I and 6 other hybrids were in charge of cleaning the building.

Walking towards the bathrooms there was a queue of hybrids, I spotted Nate in the line and went toward her.

Nate was a rabbit hybrid who was in charge of cleaning the building with me. Nate came into the faculty a year before me but she was the same age as me.

She was the closest thing to a friend I ever had.

When I came, Nate was the person that was assigned to me to tell me about my work in the faculty. Unlike others, she didn't look at me as if I was her enemy.

Standing behind her, I smiled at her as she faced me. She had a sad pout on her face almost as if she was about to cry.

"What happened Nate?" I asked holding her cold hand in mine.

"The building is a mess because of the rain and thunderstorm, it is going to take us so much time to clean today."

I finally noticed the floors which had a few small tree branches, leaf and mud lying on it. If this was the condition of the bathroom I couldn't imagine what the hallways and canteen look like as they were fully opened.

The fact that the building was near a forest didn't help us at all.

"If we can't clean the building before lunchtime we won't be able to eat," Nate says as she moves forward in line.

"I know, but we can't do anything other than hope that we finish cleaning on time. There are still 6 hours before lunch.", I tell her as we move forward since it was now our turn to use the bathrooms.

There were 4 bathroom in total 2 were used by the girls and the other two by the boys.

After cleaning up and wearing our clothes again we went to the storage room where the cleaning supplies were kept. The other 5 hybrids already picked up their cleaning supplies and went to work.

Nate and I were in charge of the 2nd floor along with James an otter hybrid.

He never talked to us choosing to ignore us and doing his part of the cleaning silently. I didn't know how old he was but seeing his height I could tell he was at least a few years older than us.

Without wasting any further time we quickly picked up our supplies and went to the second floor with the help of stairs.

James was already there picking up the broken branches and shards of a broken glass window.

We spent the whole morning cleaning the 2nd floor. James had already left as soon as the cleaning was done. There was no call for lunch, so we knew we still had some time before we had to go.

I went toward the open window and looked at the small garden, there were some wild plants and weeds with overgrown grass. A small gust of wind blew making my hair blow back, as I closed my eyes to feel the cool air. The scent of wet soil was calming my mind.

I looked back as I felt someone tap my back.

"Y/n it's time for lunch, let's go." Nate said with a tired smile feeling hungry after all the cleaning.

I just nod and followed her, there was a strange ache in my chest and my head felt a bit heavy.

We went to the canteen to have our fill and sat at our usual table. The food was bland the bread was stale, but it was good enough to eat. We also didn't care enough about it as long as we were getting something to fill our stomachs and keep us alive.

Nate and I spent some of our time talking about the adventure we had done when we were roaming the streets, and playing some games I once saw the children in the playground playing.

The rest of the afternoon was uneventful I went back to my room as the headache was getting worse and worse. Laying down on the room floor I closed my eyes from exhaustion.

I woke up with a sour throat and pounding in my head. I had no idea what time it was but looking at the dark room and silent hallway it must be nighttime.

My throat was hurting badly I wanted water. I got up from the floor and went to get water from the water jug that was placed at the front desk.

The sound of strong wind was the only thing to be heard in the building.

"It looks like it's going to rain again," I said moving forward in the pitch-black hallway. If it was not for my hybrid eyes I would have tripped on something.

As I reached the front desk I picked up the jug of water and drank some before putting it down.

The sleep had already left me so I decided to go to the garden to take my mind off my throbbing head. I went to a silent corner in the garden and sat on the damp grass which hasn't dried fully yet.

Looking at the sky covered in dark clouds I thought of nothing and decided to close my eyes and fall back on the ground below me trying to relax.

Next

Taglist

@fluffy-canada-pancakes @mageprincess7 @queen-in-the-shadows @ddaeng-angmoh @missseoulite @sugarrush-blush @demarie04 @singukieee

[oftenwantedafton]

Pas de Deux - William Afton x Female Ballerina Reader ~ A Ballora Origin Story

Finale

Warnings for mention of pregnancy, referenced character death

Taglist @dxstopiaa

Also available on AO3

A cold spring rain falls on the day of your audition for the University of Utah’s School of Dance program.

You’ve already submitted your application for the ballet BFA program, including a generously written recommendation from Mrs. Afton, who’d sent it to your address without prompting. You cannot bear to look at her neat signature for very long, the cursive of that last name instantly stabbing through your heart.

There are a long line of hopeful prospects waiting when you reach the school holding the tryouts. You’re chosen somewhere near the middle of that group to perform. You’ve never been more nervous, tense at first as you begin but losing yourself in the performance soon after.

You can’t tell by the instructor’s expressions if they’re impressed or not, quickly dismissing you once you’ve finished and signaling for the next person in line to step forward. There’s nothing left for you to do but take the bus back to Hurricane.

The rain continues to fall.

You slip inside a nearby phone booth, digging around for quarters in your bag and thumbing several into the slot. Your mother answers, the enthusiasm and excitement clear in her voice. You wish you could feel the same way, the doubts muting your tone as you recount the audition’s events. You hear her ask if you’re okay, a daily query now. She has no idea what’s happened between you and William, of course; the shameful secret remains just that. You reassure her you’re fine, just tired, and that you’ll be heading home now.

You’ve just hung the phone back on its cradle and folded the sliding door to exit the booth when you notice a familiar automobile parked a short distance away.

Your heart lurches and your stomach rolls. You haven’t spoken to William since that last phone conversation four weeks ago. You’d assumed he’d given up, moved on, was too busy to spare you another moment’s thought.

Yet there he is, barely visible through the rain streaked windshield, dark hair and pale skin and shadowed eyes and you misstep, stumbling off the curb, a puddle of rainwater splashing and soaking through your clothing.

The vehicle approaches you at a cautious crawl, drawing even with you and halting, the window cranked down, and the look he gives you, that absolute desperate want, makes the supply of tears you’ve thought exhausted begin anew, lost amidst the downpour.

“Get in the car.”

His words are so soft they’re nearly buried underneath the collision of water to the earth, difficult to discern under the dull metallic sound as the rain strikes the roof of the sedan.

You stare at him, oblivious to your surroundings, everything narrowing in on the man seated there. “How did you know where I was?”

His lips press together in a thin line. “I was told—it doesn’t matter. For Christ’s sake, just get in the car, you’re soaked.”

You shake your head, sniffling. ”I don’t want to.”

The driver’s knuckles blanch as his grip on the steering wheel tightens. “Please, get in the car. I need to talk to you.”

You hesitate.

“I’m begging you.”

Your fingers reach for the chrome handle and tug, nearly slipping free before you can get a good grasp of it. You throw your bag to the floor and your body collapses into the seat above it.

He leans towards you as if to kiss you, but you inhale sharply and turn your face away.

The storm intensifies by the time William pulls into the rear parking lot of the restaurant, the windshield wipers squeakily protesting at the brisk pace they’re forced to maintain until he shuts the engine off.

You feel his eyes on you but you cannot force yourself to meet his gaze. The car suddenly seems so cramped and suffocating, and you find it hard to breathe.

“Come inside with me. You must be freezing. You can get changed and—”

“No. I don’t want to. I’m not going back in there.”

“Why not?”

“Because there’s no point, William.” You muster the courage to turn and face him. You hate yourself for how badly you want to surrender; to pretend you’d never been driven apart; that your world within the space of his arms is still intact.

“What did she say to you that day?” His voice is quiet amidst the downpour.

You’ve had that conversation on replay in your mind over and over. It hasn’t gotten any easier to listen to. “That you were using me. That you’d throw me away when you got tired of me.”

“And you believed her?” William huffs in disbelief.

“I don’t know. Why would she lie?”

“To get back at me. To hurt you.”

“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Your eyes burn. “Please take me home now.”

The older man shifts, beginning to lean in your direction and you recoil. He sighs, lifting the latch for the glove compartment, then removes a small gift box wrapped in pink paper and matching bow. He drops it into your lap and shoves the compartment closed, easing back into his seat.

“What is this?” You stare at the offering.

“Graduation gift. Couldn’t give it to you that night, obviously.”

You hesitate, toying with the loops of the bow on top of the box.

“I don’t think I should accept this.”

He sighs, digging into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Please, just open it.”

You tuck your thumb under one of the folded edges, tearing the paper wrapping. The box inside is wooden, varnished and embellished with scrolled pieces of metal. You lift the lid slowly and are greeted with a soft music box melody, a tiny ballerina inside turning in accompaniment to the gentle tinkling sounds. You recognize the tune as the same one he’d hummed against your cheek that night in the ballet studio.

“Schubert’s Serenade,” he murmurs quietly, staring seemingly at nothing through the rain blurred driver’s side window, one thumb worrying over a crack in the padded vinyl edge of the door, the cigarette he’s selected still unlit.

“It’s beautiful.” Your voice is thick with emotion.

“I’m not using you,” he says quietly. “I could never do that. I’m not a monster, in spite of whatever you were told, or whatever you may think.”

You remain silent, your fingers tracing over the gilded edges of the music box as you gently close it.

“I wasn’t with you just because I wanted to have a fling on the side or just…get off. I wanted to build a life with you. I still want that.” His arm folds and he presses a fist against his mouth.

“You keep telling me how beautiful and perfect I am. What happens when I grow older and I’m neither of those things anymore?”

He looks over at you.

“Is it really me you love, or the idea of me? Like that robot ballerina you want to construct. You want something eternally beautiful. There’s a reason that doesn’t exist in real life.”

He shakes his head, tucking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. “Christ, she’s really poisoned you against me.” He inhales deeply and sends the smoke towards the cracked window.

“It’s not her, William. This is coming from me.”

“So that’s it, then? You’re finished with me? You don’t love me any more?”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. “I still love you.”

He turns to face you. “Then why are you doing this?”

“Because I’m afraid.”

“Of what?”

“I’m afraid you’re going to break my heart.”

“I would never do anything to hurt you.”

“Maybe not intentionally. But still. I don’t want to end up like her.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“How do you know that for certain?”

“Because you’re not her.” He takes another drag and combs the other hand through his hair in frustration. “My relationship with her didn’t fail because she got older or less desirable. It failed because we’re incompatible. We both wanted different things out of life. When I say you’re perfect, I mean you’re perfect for me.” He cautiously reaches out and tucks a damp strand of hair behind one ear, knuckles ghosting against your cheek before he lets his hand drop back in his lap.

“What if I get accepted into the university?”

“I doubt it’s an if. Of course you’ll get in.”

“It’s three hundred miles away.”

The end of the cigarette flares as he takes another drag, nodding. “So I’ll drive the four hours to see you whenever I can and we’ll see each other when you come home on breaks. It’s only a two year program; it’ll go by faster than you can imagine.”

“The distance will bother you. It will bother both of us.”

Another deep inhale. The paper roll is vanishing quickly. “Are you looking for excuses for this not to work out?”

“No.” The rainfall nearly extinguishes that small denial. You hate how practical you are now. It had been so much easier to be lost in the romance of it all just a short month ago. Time had flowed so differently then. Now you're facing decisions that will affect the rest of your life. “How long will it take to get the divorce?”

“Lawyer said probably around three months since it’s uncontested. We’re selling the studio and the house. She’s moving back in with her parents for now. I have to find an apartment.” He scratches absently at his brow. “I’m planning on keeping the restaurant open. I’ve invested too much into it to just abandon it outright. Maybe I can find somebody to help me run it. There was someone I met back in college who seemed interested in the idea. I could try to track him down. It’s too much for one person to manage anyway.”

He sighs, taking in another lungful of nicotine, letting his head fall back against the headrest. He looks exhausted again, like he had back when you’d first started having the affair.

“There’s a studio that’s looking for an assistant instructor in La Verkin. Before we…I was thinking of working for a year, saving up some money. I could defer enrollment.”

He shakes his head, flicking ash from the butt out the window. “No. I’m not going to be the reason you don’t go to college. You’re too gifted to waste it.” His lips twist into a bitter smile. “Contrary to popular belief, I’m not that selfish.” His eyes find yours. “Will you come back to me, when you’re finished?”

You inhale deeply, nod, watch as he gathers the last of the smoke before he leans towards you, exhaling inside your mouth, all ash and heat.

You should never have gotten in the car with him that day; never accepted his smoke tinged kisses and heated promises.

If only you had known, but how could you; how could anyone ever have predicted all of the terrible things that were to come?

***

You return back to Hurricane a week sooner than you’d promised, the first of a pair of surprises for William.

You’d forgotten how small the town was; how cramped and intimate the buildings were. You look through the cab’s rear passenger window at the ballet studio, now under new management with a different name, and you think about your first kiss in that alley two years ago after your hands had tangled. Your own left one is heavier with the engagement ring he’d placed there six months earlier.

It’s a weekday and the pizzeria isn’t crowded yet; that will undoubtedly be changing soon with the coming of summer vacation. A flood of memories washes over you as you make your way to the employees entrance. The door to the manager’s office is cracked open and your heart beats a little faster. His last visit had been six weeks ago.

You push the door open the rest of the way gently and the bearded man inside is a stranger, rummaging among some papers on the desk. He looks up at you and his hands grow still.

“Can I help you?”

“I’m looking for William.”

“He’s out back for a cigarette break, I think.” He pauses, studying you. “I know who you are. I‘ve heard a lot about you. His prima ballerina.”

You flush. “I’ve heard a lot about you, too. You must be his business partner.”

“Henry Emily. Pleasure to meet you.” He offers a hand and you shake it. “Is he expecting you? I would have thought he’d have gone to pick you up.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“Ah. Well, in that case, your secret is safe with me.” He smiles. “You know your way around, or you want me to point you in the right direction?”

“Actually, I’ve always found it to be a bit of a maze back here. I wouldn’t mind the assistance.”

He nods, guiding you to an exit door that leads to the rear parking lot.

You lean your weight against the bar and the door releases, granting you access to the warm sunlight outdoors.

He’s there, just to your left, leaning back against the bricks and mortar, a lazy trail of smoke drifting from the cigarette pinched between index and middle finger.

Your eyes meet at the same moment and the lit paper roll falls from his fingers. He’s on you in seconds, wrapping his arms around you, crushing you against him.

“You’re back,” he breathes beside your ear. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have taken the day off and come to get you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise.”

His lips find yours, gentle at first, then pressing with increasing fierceness, wet and possessive.

“William, wait. I have something else to tell you,” you pant between kisses.

“I’m going to tell Henry I’m leaving early. It’s not like I’m going to get any work done anyway. Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He nuzzles your throat, thumbs stroking over your hips.

“William.”

His head lifts and he draws back to look at your face, finally registering the seriousness in your tone. “What is it?”

“I’m late.”

“What?”

You reach for one of his hands, bringing it around to the front of your body and pressing softly against your abdomen.

The realization flares his eyelids. “You’re pregnant?”

You nod.

He smiles, giving a little surprised laugh. His forehead drops to rest against yours and he strokes over your belly. He tells you you’re perfect and he’s never been happier and for a time you believe it; you think he might have even meant it.

If only it could have stayed that way.

***

Your eyes are closed.

You’re aware, an artificial consciousness flaring into being, the operating system booting successfully after a few false starts. An electrical stimulus signals you to test your motor functions and you move your arm, hand opening and closing. The process repeats for the opposite side. Your lower extremities respond the same way. You feel something warm against your synthetic painted casing just above the details of the lace slippers and it stirs a memory from before. You’d been touched like this, back when you were flesh and blood. Caressed and desired. Promised forever. And here you are now; you’d gotten that eternity. Just not in the way you’d originally thought.

The voice that speaks to you is familiar, too. It’s rougher than it had once been, the cumulative years of smoking affecting the vocal cords’ abilities to vibrate, altering the sound to a coarse rasp. It bids you to respond to it and you do, the sound artificially processed and engineered to replicate your original voice as closely as possible. You hear a sharp intake of breath and feel something wet splash somewhere near one painted cheek. Tears, you think, your new artificial mind registering the sensation. You’d known these well. So many fallen over the years, some in joy, like during the birth of your first child; the loss of your youngest at such an early age. So much tragedy.

Ballora.

A name is spoken, and you recognize it as your own, a new one to accompany your new body, an identity for your new consciousness. The memories are tucked back into the recesses of your data storage. You have no use for them now.

You open your eyes.

[kyienyy]

would you still love me?

lee know x male reader wordcount: 1.6k genre: angst, zombie apocalypse au, non idol au

you and minho had always been good friends, good enough that people would always think there was something more than friendship in your relationship.

but everything changed the day the government announced there was a virus going around in korea.

streets were covered in blood, cities were polluted with the entities people call 'the undead' or 'zombies'.

every day was hard. keeping safe from the zombies, protecting the people you love from them; it was all too hard.

not until you were bit.

you and your group of friends had been staying at a run-down building somewhere in seoul for the past week. it had been two weeks since you, minho, jisung, and yongbok ran away from home. the four of you had been stocking on instant ramen, chips, and other foods.

it was a 'normal' day for you, waking up to check if there were zombies near where you were staying, preparing a small meal for all of you, gathering essentials like food, water bottles, and more. until you spotted a few zombies coming from the southeast.

you quietly return back to the small apartment you and minho found while exploring the small building. "leemin? hanji? leeyong? are you there?" you whispered. "(reader), we're here!" minho shouts. you run to where you heard minhos voice in a hurry.

"minho! dont be too loud. i saw a few zombies while i was finding us food." you shush him as soon as you see him. yongbok and jisung give you a weird stare but continue on with what they were previously doing.

"oh. well, if you're really that scared, we could board up the entrances and windows of this building once we get enough supplies for the four of us." minho remarked almost sarcastically

"i'm being serious, lee minho." you sneered. "sorry, sorry. i was also serious, you know? i just came off... sarcastic." minho apologizes calmly. "whatever, im going to check again." you mumbled.

you were about to go back down until you heard loud banging by the entrance of the building. you look to your group of friends in a panic. "guys, i think now is the time we run." yongbok gulped

you run down the stairs to check if it were zombies that were banging on the door or just the wind hitting the entrance. you looked out of the window of the 1st floor.

there they were. alive zombies banging on the one thing that had been protecting all of you. you rushed back up to tell your friends what you had seen, but they were already coming to you.

"guys, the zombies... they're banging at the entrance... what do we do?" you trembled. "we'll be okay, right?" jisung questioned as he looked into minho's eyes.

"jisung-" minho is cut off as a loud bang of metal clashes on the floor and footsteps are heard running into the building.

"just... go back up! hide in our room, i'll try to ward them off." you exclaimed, "no, we can't leave you here!" yongbok stuttered. "just go. they're almost up here." you insisted. minho takes one long look at you and takes your friends arms. "im sorry." minho muttered as he brought yongbok and jisung up the stairs and into their room.

you look down the narrow staircase. what you had heard was true. a group of zombies were running up the stairs. your life had flashed right before your eyes, all the happy moments you had with minho and your group. mostly minho.

you ran up the stairs, you occasionally shouted so that the undead knew you were still there. you felt like your heart was about to explode.

and there he was. minho. he had been following you ever since you had reached the floor that the three were on. he had caught up to you and held your hand. "come on, don't be too slow, or else the zombies'll catch up!" minho joked as if you two weren't being chased.

you and minho had eventually reached the top floor. and the group of zombies were still following the both of you up the staircase. you didn't know what to do after you two got up to the roof, but minho knew what he was going to do.

"hey, zombies! come catch us!" he shouted. a few seconds passed as the footsteps came louder. then you see the first few zombies. "(reader), trust me, okay?" minho whispers to you.

the zombies come in a line, all running to the both of you. minho quickly pulls you to the side, and most of the zombies fall off the rooftop. except for one.

one of the zombies was smarter than rest. the zombie ran to you. grabbing your arm and biting it; hard. you screamed in pain, feeling a tingling feeling in your arm. "MINHO, HELP!" you shouted. you kicked the zombie off of you, and it fell down the building with a splat.

"oh god... (reader)..." minho says as his eyes widen. "it hurts... minho..." you groan. "i'm so sorry." minho mutters as he starts to regret the decisions he just made.

the both of you walk back to your groups room. you have a ribbon tied around your arm, it being tight enough that it stings. you and minho finally reach the room that yongbok and jisung are waiting at.

jisung stares at you with knitted eyebrows and downturned lips. "(reader), are you okay?" yongbok asks, looking at the bite on your forearm. "i... i was bit." you stutter.

the two best friends' eyes widen. minho starts to tear up. "...i was too reckless." minho mumbles. minho looks down as he wipes off his tears. "its not your fault. i'll be okay, i promise. don't cry." you turn to comfort him. you hold minho by the shoulders and hug him softly. "thank you," you whisper into his neck.

the four of you walk out of the building as you tighten the ribbon around your arm. you all eventually find an exit after walking the empty streets.

there was one con to this exit, though. there was another group of zombies that were walking around. the only thing you could do to get out of the town was to distract the zombies.

you walk behind a trash bin in a narrow alleyway, you get ready to shout as loud as you can as to distract the zombies and climb up a ladder further into the alley, but a sharp pain in your arm brings you to your knees.

jisung finds you laying on the floor clasping onto your arm for dear life, something giving him a feeling that the ribbon tied around your arm isn't enough to stop you from turning into something you hate with your whole heart.

"minho! (reader) collapsed, come quick!" jisung shouts. "jisung... shut up. the zombies... they'll hear yo-" a pain in your gut cuts you off.

minho and yongbok rush to where they heard jisungs voice, but they weren't the only ones who rushed to the both of you.

"the zombies- they heard you!" minho shouts "just go that way!" minho adds as he points further into the alley.

you all run deeper into the alleyway, it being dark even though it was still daytime. the zombies followed your group, but they came slowly, as if they were teasing you.

you all had finally reached the end of the dark tunnel like alleyway, but it gave you a realization that you had all missed the nearest ladder to where you were nearest to.

you felt like you were going to collapse then and there. the exhaustion of running made you want to give up already.

you look around the alley for anything that could be used to escape and get out of this lifeless town.

and there it was.

you found a steep flight of stairs going up to the building to the side, but someone would have to distract the zombies so they wouldn't notice the others running up.

"guys, you all should go up those stairs," you point to your group, "if you go there, you'll be able to go to the other side of the building and get out of this damned town." you add. "what about you? aren't you included?" yongbok questions

"i'm not included, i wont be coming with you all." you reply. "WHAT? no, you have to come... you have to..." minho demands. "i have to distract the zombies so you all can get out safely-" "i dont care if we don't get get out safely. we can't just leave you here!" minho shouts.

"i'm infected either way, i won't be any help to you guys." you mumble. "but- we cant-" minho cuts himself off. minho sighs deeply and looks to his feet then to the approaching entities.

"okay. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry." minho says as he hugs you tightly. "i love you." minho sobs into your shoulder. you share your last group hug with the most important people in your life

the three quickly climb up the staircase, careful not to make too much noise. minho is the first to be able to get up. he watches as you slowly walk nearer and nearer to the undead.

"i love you too." you whisper to yourself. the zombies fully engulf you until the group can't see you anymore. minho falls to his knees as he holds his hair and cries silently.

"let's just... get out of here. i'm sorry." yongbok says as he pats minho's back. "he's... gone." minho cries out.

the three quickly run out of the abandoned town and eventually find a safety camp after roaming around.

minho never forgot you.

requested

[final-girl96]

Broken World: Chapter Nine

As soon as Glenn and the man got back, the rest of us went into action. Jacquie and Andrea stayed by the door, T-Dog and Morales took out a few walkers, and I kept watch to make sure no more walkers appeared from the end of the alleyway. The door was closed and locked once everyone was safely inside. The man who Glenn had just saved was wearing a police uniform. Andrea was quick to push him into a table that was near the door and shove her gun in his face. Of course, Andrea, not knowing anything about guns or how to use them still had the safety on. "Andrea, put the gun down," I said.

"We're dead because of you!" She said to the guy before pulling away from him. "I don't understand." He looked around at all of us in confusion. Morales grabbed him by the arm and pushed him towards the store front. "Look, we came into the city to scavenge supplies. You know what the key to scavenging is? Surviving. You know what the key to surviving is? Sneaking in and out, tiptoe. Not shooting the streets up like it's the O.K. Corral."

We stopped and looked at the doors. Walkers were crowding the glass doors, pounding their dead fists against them. "You started shooting and shooting makes noise and noise attracts walkers," I said, nodding towards the doors. "Every geek for miles heard you popping off rounds," T-Sog said. "You just rang the damn dinner bell," Andrea told him. Right now, we were relatively safe. The walkers hadn't broken through the first set of doors yet. Key word being yet.

"Get the picture now, sheriff?" He looked at me and down at the badge and nodded. The glass on the Kotter doors started to crack the more pounding and pressure it received from the geeks outside. I took notice of one of the walkers. It had a large rock or maybe part of brick or concrete in its hands and was hitting it against the glass. We all moved back further into the store. "What the hell were you doing out there?" I asked.

"Trying to flag the helicopter," he said. We all looked at him like him in confusion. "Helicopter? Man, that's crap. Ain't no damn helicopter," T-Dog said. Jacquie looked at him, trying to be gentle. "You were chasing a hallucination, imagining things. It happens." That didn't seem to make him happy. "I saw it," he argued. Morales turned to look at T-Dog and asked if he could try the C.B. to contact the others. He brought it up and tried to tune into the channel.

"Others? The refugee center?" We all looked at the new guy. "Yeah, the refugee center. They've got biscuits waiting in the oven for us," Jacquie said. "Got no signal. Maybe the roof," T-Dog said. Just as he finished, we heard gunshots. "I'm going to fucking kill Dixon," I mumbled. We all ran towards the stairs to the roof and quickly ran up them and out the door. Merle was standing on the edge of the building, shooting down at the walkers.

"What the actual fuck are you doing, Dixon?!" I yelled. He hopped down and looked at me. "You are such a fucking asshole! What the hell is wrong with you?" He spread his arms out and laughed a little. "You outta be nicer to a man with a gun, sugar tits!" Before I could say anything T-Dog said something and then that turned into a fight and Merle trying to make himself the one in charge. That's when me and the new sheriff that strolled into town on a horse took care of him.

Merle was now handcuffed to a piece of metal. I knelt down in front of him and went through his pockets. "Oh, well, look here! Well, that's no surprise." I stood up with a small little bag of cocaine that I found in his pocket, walked over to the edge, and threw it over the side. "Hey, that was my good shit!" I went back over and bent down to look at him. "Yeah, you got some right…." I flicked the tip of his nose. "There."

I walked away and back over to look over the side of the building. The street was covered in a blanket of dead people shuffling around until something living caught their attention. I saw Morales talking to the sheriff for a few minutes before he walked over to stand beside me. “How can I help you, sheriff?” I asked. He sighed and leaned on the edge where we were standing. “Sheriff's Deputy, actually. Name’s Rick,” he said, holding out his hand.

“Y/N. Homicide detective for Atlanta PD, but I started off as a police officer back in my hometown. What brought you all the way here, Rick?” I asked. “I’m looking for my wife and son. Heard there was supposed to be a refugee center here in the city. I was hoping I would find them there.” I hummed in response. “Yeah, It was here at one point, but it didn’t last long. It lasted maybe a week before it all turned to complete chaos. The dead outnumbered the military by a lot. It all fell…so quickly. When they finally figured out that they wouldn’t be able to control it, they bombed the city.”

We talked a little more before we all started to talk about how we were going to get out of here. Jacquie had mentioned that she used to work in the city's zoning office and suggested we try the tunnels. So, a few of us went down to the basement. I stayed up on the roof with T-Dog, who was trying to get in touch with the group back at the quarry, and Merle. "Hey, sweetheart, why don't ya let your old pal out these handcuffs, huh?"

"Shut up, Dixon, you did this to yourself," I said. He scoffed and spit to the side. "Daryl ain't gonna be too happy when he hears about this," he said. I knew what he was trying to do, and it wasn't going to work. "I don't give a shit what your brother thinks, Merle." I was glad when the rest of the group came back. Unfortunately, we weren't able to get out through the tunnels, but Rick did come up with an idea after asking more questions about the walkers.

"They see you or smell you, they catch you, they eat you." Morales said. "Can they tell the difference from smell?" Rick asked. "Can't you?" Andrea asked. "They smell dead, we don't. It's pretty distinct," I told him. After looking over the side of the roof, he made a decision. We left Merle up on the roof and headed back downstairs where we brought Rick in.

The plan was to cover him and Glenn in guts from a walker. Nobody enjoyed it. We had to cut the walker open, and then we started spreading the guts on him and Glenn, who wore lab coat type coats. We all also wore gloves and protective eyewear. Once they were all covered and out the door, the rest of us rushed back up to the roof to watch them navigate through the walkers filled streets.

[siriannatan]

Best Spot for a Nap - scfwhip

It was meant to be a bit shorter but I got another idea so it got a bit longer.

'Go hang out with your fiancé,' his parents told Scott, to his brother's dismay. Unfortunately for Xor, Scott was more than happy to fly to Grimlands to escape all his classes and other princely duties.

First thing he did in Grimlands was, as always, fly a bit over the area. It was dang pretty if a lot less noisy and dusty than one word expect. Not that noise would be any trouble with how high up Scott liked to fly.

Once he was satisfied with flying he flew towards fWhip's manor. It was pretty and comfy enough for Scott's standards and his cooks made excellent tartlets in many flavoursome. As he neared the mansion he spotted fWhip's helpers running around like headless chickens, looking up to the roof. With burning curiosity he checked there first and found...

Count fWhip, the terrifying half-dragon ruler of Grimlands... Spread out on the roof of his home. Having a pleasant nap judging by how he was purring a little bit.

Holding back giggles Scott sat next to him and started playing with his hair. Scratching at the base of his impressive, decorated with dark metal, gold and gems horns. That got him really purring and Scott could no longer hold back his giggles.

"Why are you here?" The count asked, on eye cracking open to stare at the elf who dared interrupt his dragon-nap.

"I was told to hang out with you," Scott grinned, and started to retreat his hand.

"No, no, carry on, that felt nice," fWhip hummed and yawned widely. Shwing off all his sharp teeth. Scott shuddered as his mind conjured rather inappropriate for the moment images.

"Your helpers seem to be panicking about you being here," Scott hummed as he caught some distant yelling for fWhip to come down.

"They probably got a message that you're coming and want me to make myself more presentable," fWhip sighed and sat up with another yawn. Scott was damn lucky that his parents got him a pretty future husband. "We should go down and get them to stop," he sighed and stretched a little. Careful as to not push Scott off the roof.

"Shame, your naps are cute," Scott giggled and got himself an infuriated huff.

"Don't worry, I'm not telling anyone," he added, just to poke him a little bit.

fWhip hummed something about annoyingly pretty elves ruining his plans and jumped down. Gracefully gliding down towards his advisors.

Scott waited until he landed and quickly followed. With a much more graceful landing.

"...lord Scott's coming for a visit he can't..." The advisors fretted and froze as Scott landed behind fWhip, instantly wrapping him in a hug, using that he's taller.

"I don't mind if he's a bit rugged, it's a good look," he grinned and fwhip just rolled his eyes.

"I have stuff to do Scott," fWhip sighed and offered the elf can do whatever he wants. Scott just said he'll tag along for fWhip's day.

To his credit Scott didn't once complain he was bored or tired. Even after two hours in fWhip's office as the count goes over boring paperwork. At least his staff was used to fWhip's constant snacking so they didn't mind supplying Scott with candy and cookies.

"Why do you have children's book in your office?" Scott suddenly asked. fWhip didn't have to look up to know what the elf meant.

"I learned to read with that book," he said with a soft smile. He was so desperate to keep up with Gem he barely did anything but try and learn to read as fast as she could. He never quite managed that.

Scott hummed, fWhip caught him giving the cover of the book an affectionate smile. "I didn't take you for a memento type," he smiled at fWhip this time.

"I have a few I really like," fWhip shrugged. "You can always go to my library if you want something different, stuff in here is mostly ledgers and some personal favourites for when I take a break," he offered but Scott shook his head and read the children's book. He was visibly careful with it. "Gem enchanter it so it'd never break," fWhip half chuckled and returned to his work.

It felt strangely nice to have Scott read that particular book. He must have been starting to get old...

Scott woke up warm and comfy with vague recollection of some fairytale about a knight saving a Princess cursed into a dragon. It was a really nice story. He also remembered being in fWhip's office so he opened his eyes.

He had to be still sleeping. His head was in fWhip's lap, the count was reading some paper. His hair free of his usual short ponytail. Looking absolutely gorgeous in low light of sunset seeping in through the big windows.

"Slept well?" He asked, giving Scott an unfairly handsome smile.

"I... Yes... How long was I asleep?" Scott tried to act tough but quickly gave up and instead sat up. Hoping fWhip didn't see how he blushed.

"Not that long but it's about dinner time," fWhip informed, putting his papers away. "Did you enjoy the stories?"

"Yes, they're quite nice but I'm not sure if all are suitable for children," Scott shrugged and yawned. "You do not mind if I stay the night?"

"Not at all, I actually already send a message to your parent so your brother doesn't match here to kill me," fWhip shook his head with a smile.

Scott rolled his eyes as he followed fWhip to the dining room. He was wondering if he could convince fWhip to let him sleep in his lap. It was darn comfortable.

[metalroofingsupplyu]

Metal Building Kits Arkansas | Metal Roofing Supply

if you are looking Metal Building Kits Arkansas Metal Roofing Supply is a manufacturer and distributor of metal supplies in Arkansas. They offer metal fabrication, metal building kits, metal building framing, insulation and components, carport kits, . We aim to be your go-to manufacturer and distributor for all your residential metal, commercial building, and component needs. Providing metal supplies at an affordable price. Visit us now:- https://metalroofingsupply.org/

[isleofdragon]

All my bases so far!

🌳Weathertop Base 🌳

Initial Base! It has a large house with all my storage, smithy, forge, grinding station, and my shoulder mounts + my favorite dilophosaurs.

It has a big fence going all the way around it, big enough for my moschops to wander and collect stuff for me :3

It also has a medium-sized stone animal pen, with all my seldom-used dinosaurs like my spare iguanodon, my extra defense dilophs, my parasaur, and some dilophs stationed on the top like turrets! It also has a open roof where I land my extra flying mounts.

And it now has a fabricator building too!

There's crops also, one of every domestic crop and then one for narcoberries. My spinosaurus and diplodocus live there, along with my therizinosaur-slaying triceratops and her mate, and my stegosaurus, a pair of iguanodons, my first tame (a moschops), and a rotating cast of flying mounts!

🪨 Rocky Beach 🪨

So far this is just a big slab of thatch on one of the tall rocks, plus a little roofed area with a bed and chest. It has a lystrosaur too! It functions mostly as a stop-over :3 id hardly consider mentioning it, except for the fact that I use it all the time.

🏝️ Herbivore Island 🏝️

Just a big, half-built wooden cabin! It'll be big enough for a fabricator when it's done. I keep a single Pterosaur there full time, and there's two small narcoberry crops. I visit it for metal, mostly, but theoretically it would make a good place to launch a urgent rescue if needed!

🦈 Waterside Base 🦈

So far just some stone foundations and walls lol. AND two megalodons and their three new pups! And an ichthyosaurus :3 gonna be fully equipped for making saddles and storing stuff. I keep the tamed creatures in a little lagoon/inlet/area where they're relatively safe.

🌋 VOLCANO BASE YEEHAW 🌋

Best base! Best house! Where my Argentavis live, along with a dire wolf, my two strongest dimorphodons, a lystrosaur, and a iguandon i hatched named Agate Jr.

Has storage, crafting stations including a fabricator, and is my main area for smelting metal. It has a cool-ass landing zone above the storage, so my flying mounts perch near enough to the storage that I can transfer heavy items effortlessly.

⛏️ Western Coastal Cave-Mouth Base ⛏️

Near the green obelisk and the western swamp coast. Right in front of that cave opening! It is small, but has storage, a forge, mortar and pestle, a lystrosaur, and a bed!

I have a tech raptor who's jaw joints look like huge googles! And a dimorphodon, and a tough moschops for a guard dog. I plan to take the raptor and dimorphodon into the cave to spelunk!

In progress:

River Plateau Base: mostly just a rest spot with a fire

Eastern Coastal Cliff Base: Could be expanded to be fully equipped, but the Water Base was started nearby and that's getting more attention. Good place for resting with some storage for supply caches and a camp fire.

Cold Lands Base: a large stone slab with walls being added, and a campfire. Essential rest area for surviving in the freezing colds.

[druidgroves]

Chapter 06: I’ve Got a Feeling I’m Falling

Fandom: Fallout 4 Words: 6,937 Characters: Georgia Tate (Canon-Divergent Sole Survivor), RJ MacCready Notes: Content warning for some gore-y depictions that I figure are canon standard, but just thought I’d give a heads up :)

read on ao3

ch. 1 / ch. 2 / ch. 3 / ch. 4 / ch. 5

The next morning they packed up and headed down the road to the old training yard, chewing on the remaining pieces of radstag jerky they had leftover from the day before. Mac ended up feeding the rest of his to Dogmeat after two bites, only acknowledging the nervous sinking feeling in his belly when food didn’t make it any better. The hound had no complaints about him forfeiting his food, and snatched the dried meat from Mac’s hands, making the Boss laugh.

“Dogmeat!” she chastised, though she was doing a poor job hiding her amusement. “That’s Mac’s breakfast!”

“It’s fine,” he said as Dogmeat chewed happily. “I’m not feeling hungry anyways.”

“Aw, c’mon, Mac, breakfast’s the most important meal of the day!” the Boss responded, walking backwards to face him as they talked. “Gotta get that protein in so we can kick some ghoul ass, right?”

“Yeah, sure…You’re gonna fall.”

“I’m not gonna fa—“

With one misstep, the Boss was teetering on the edge of a break in the road, windmilling her arms in a feeble attempt to stay upright. Instinct compelled him to reach out and grab the sleeve of her jacket, stabilizing her on the edge of the hole in the ground that frankly, wouldn’t have even been that far of a fall. He pulled her back into a standing position and raised accusatory an eyebrow at her.

“You were saying?”

The Boss stuck her tongue out at him, righting herself, “Technically I didn’t fall. You made sure of that, Hotshot.”

She reached out and tapped him on the nose, making him scrunch it up and bat her hand away. “Yeah, yeah, next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Are you tellin’ me you would let me fall? On purpose? What do I even pay you for?” she laughed as she began walking again.

“To make sure no one puts a bullet in your back.”

“Alright, smartass—“

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”

“You are on one today, aren’t you?”

Mac allowed himself a short chuckle despite the continued sinking feeling that had started to spread to his chest. Like most mornings, he’d come to figure out, the Boss had seemingly endless energy and a smile to match, even if he didn’t. Going back and forth with her distracted him enough from the job at hand, but by the time the training yard came into full view, it was as if his entire body was trying to refrain from going down with his stomach.

Unfortunately for Mac, who had been hoping that the yard part of the National Guard Training Yard and Recruitment Office would be doing all of the heavy lifting, the two multi-story buildings in front of them sat silently, waiting for them to enter.

“Less of a yard than I imagined,” he commented, uncertain as he tried to keep the anxiety out of his voice. The Boss led them behind the shell of a car left on the road and motioned for him to follow suit.

“The actual training yard’ll be around back,” she supplied, crouching near the car’s front passenger door. She whistled once and Dogmeat sat obediently beside her as she peered over the hood. “You spot those turrets?”

Above the front entrance of the main building, two turrets sat scanning the horizon on the edge of the roof. Further back on top of the secondary building, a few more turrets sat chugging along like they had been for the last two hundred years. They were comically easy shots from their position.

“Got ‘em,” Mac confirmed.

He took out his rifle and positioned it on top of the hood, turning the safety off before putting one of the turrets in his sights. With one breath and a well-placed shot, the machine exploded, raining down metal and shrapnel on the ground below it.

He waited a moment after the first shot, pausing to see if any ferals were hidden amongst the cars in front of the building. When nothing stirred, Mac popped off a couple more shots and the persistent mechanical whirring that had permeated the area was no more. They were good to approach further.

“Nice job, let’s move,” the Boss said.

It had been a split second thing, but he caught the brief look of hesitation on her face before she made some sort of internal decision, and suddenly her hand was reaching out and squeezing his shoulder on the sleeveless side. As soon as her hand made contact, he could feel how cold it was even through the fabric. It had been quick, just one firm squeeze, and Mac had nearly shrugged it off, but then her hand was gone and she had left their cover. Why was she all touch-y all of a sudden?

Dogmeat followed behind her with a whistle and Mac trailed after, mentally preparing himself. They snaked around the cars and barricades until they were at the front door. Mac took a deep breath and held his rifle tightly.

“How do we wanna play this, Boss?” he whispered.

“Careful, for one,” she whispered back, hand resting on the door’s handle. “Maybe we can try to lead them out here?” She pressed her ear to the wood, straining to hear. “I don’t hear any shamblin’, so we might still have the drop on ‘em.”

Mac was perfectly fine taking pot shots from at least ten yards outside the building. That he could do, so he nodded in agreement and let the Boss continue formulating her plan.

“You find a place to shoot them off from, Dogmeat and I’ll go in and draw them out, and then I’ll raise the signal for go-time. Sound good?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at him as she slid her hunting rifle off her shoulder.

Mac nodded, “Sounds good.”

The Boss waited until he found a suitable position behind one of the barricades before she opened both doors and quickly propped them open with a few nearby rocks. Mac put himself on high alert and took the safety off his rifle as she and Dogmeat walked inside.

Nothing rustled as the two entered, the Boss’ boots and Dogmeat’s paws hardly making a sound. From what Mac could see, the place was just as much of a wreck as most other pre-war buildings. A collapsed ceiling, rotting wood, and broken furniture scattered the bottom floor. The Boss and Dogmeat stopped a few feet in and surveyed the scene before she turned around to look at Mac, raising a thumbs up. Mac copied her and settled into position. He could do this. He didn’t really have any other choice.

Mac watched her switch the safety off her own weapon and put two fingers in her mouth, letting out a whistle loud enough to wake the dead—and it did.

As soon as the noise left her lips, the low, guttural growling of ghouls took its place, and several once-sleeping ferals shot up from their hiding places. Dogmeat growled back as he began chasing them around, ducking their hungry hands and gnashing teeth. After one fell through the hole in the ceiling, Mac counted six ghouls as the Boss fell back, jumping over the barricade to join him in picking them off.

By the time the Boss had managed to fell a single ghoul with a shot that obliterated the thing’s chest, Mac had already taken out three with pristine headshots. He had a white-knuckle grip on his rifle and could already feel sweat running down his back, but he kept his focus, picking off another ghoul and doing his best to keep calm. His nerves settled somewhat when none of them managed to get through the door due to their devoted attempts to get at Dogmeat, who evaded them every time. The Boss’ rifle cracked beside him as she took two more shots in quick succession, nailing a ghoul in the shoulder before its chest exploded like her first. Mac caught the last one in his crosshairs as it chased after Dogmeat, and with one clean shot, it fell with the force of its own momentum, crumpling in a heap of limbs against a pillar in the center of the room.

The post-fight quiet Mac was used to settled over them for a brief moment, both his and the Boss’ ears straining to hear anymore shuffling or the telltale moans of any leftover ferals. Dogmeat came trotting over, tail wagging and tongue hanging out of his mouth. The Boss reached out to reward him with a scratch behind the ears.

“Good boy,” she said cheerfully and Mac had to give the dog credit; he was pretty good at making their jobs easier.

The Boss turned to Mac after she was done praising Dogmeat, pushing up her glasses as she straightened from their cover. “I doubt that’s all of ‘em. We’ll have to do a sweep.”

“For sure,” he said, the grip on his gun only loosening enough for him to feel the flow of blood back to his hands as he stood. He sucked in a breath to brace himself, adding, “Let’s go.”

As he stood, the Boss’ eyes stayed on him. Her eyebrows were knit together and her head was tilted to the side and Mac felt almost naked under her gaze for how piercing it was. He was caught between shrinking under its intensity or straightening up out of spite, eventually settling into a weird middle with his back straight but his shoulders pulled up around his ears.

“You alright?” she asked like he inevitably knew she would. She phrased it casually, like she hadn’t advertised her concern all over her face just a second before.

“I’m fine,” Mac answered immediately, dropping his shoulders. In an effort to bypass the moment before it became awkward or tense, he found himself walking past her and towards the still open doors ahead of them.

“Are you sure? We can take a break before we—“

“I said I’m fine,” he repeated more forcefully, enough for her to get the hint and drop it. He heard her hmph to herself and refrained from rolling his eyes—he was fine and he could make it through this, even if it meant punching down on any memories threatening to change that. He reminded himself of the amendment to their contract, of his half of the caps they were getting paid, and pushed ahead. The Boss followed behind with Dogmeat at her heels and they set forth making the sweep.

An empty bathroom just inside the doorway held no surprises, and the main room had been cleared thanks to their plan. A terminal was attached to the wall next to a thick metal door that he assumed led to the secondary building. The Boss ducked through an open doorway while Mac hung back, craning his neck to try and see how much of the upper floor he could view through the gaping hole in the ceiling. 

“Good lord,” he heard her gasp a moment later, startling him enough to make him jump. Making his way over, he poked his head through the doorway to see her and Dogmeat at the back of the room.

The corpses of three ferals were rotting on the floor amongst the old furniture and debris, and as he stepped carefully over them to see what the Boss couldn’t take her eyes off of, he had to look away as soon as he saw it . A person, long since dead and wearing the Brotherhood of Steel insignia on the right sleeve of their flight suit, sat leaned against the wall like they’d just fallen asleep—except the shredded, gory mess of their torso and the rotting skin that had nothing to do with ghoulification ruined such illusions. Their chest and stomach were torn open through the ripped fabric of the suit, a nauseating mixture of bloody innards and white bone exposed for the world to see. Mac had only looked enough to immediately know he didn’t want to see more, but the image was already burned into his mind.

“Ferals got ‘em, nothing we can do,” he said sullenly, one of his hands reaching down to ball up the fabric of his duster. Don't think too hard about this, he told himself.

“I—You’re right. You’re right, let’s keep moving,” the Boss replied, shaking her head and finally averting her eyes. Dogmeat whimpered at her side, and Mac turned away to walk out of the room with eager purpose. He didn’t catch the way she dug her nails into her arm under her coat, hands shaking.

The rest of their sweep through the main building was quiet without any other surprises. The second floor was made up of old offices and a kitchen, though the hole in the center made it difficult to navigate. They found a solitary ghoul in one of the offices and disposed of it before it could do so much as open its jaws to screech.

The Boss ended up finding the password for the terminal downstairs written on a scrap piece of paper tucked into a desk drawer of the office. Mac wondered if this was the same kind of “Admin” she had mentioned the other day, stupid enough to write down their password and leave it in a drawer for anyone to find.

“This next building is the barracks I bet,” she said after they retreated back downstairs, pulling the password out of her jacket pocket and heading towards the terminal. Mac waited next to Dogmeat as she typed it in, the maglocks on the door sliding open a few seconds later. They spent a minute checking their bullet count, making sure they had enough ammo and weren’t caught out mid-fight before the Boss let out a breath.

“You ready?” she asked carefully and Mac immediately knew what she was doing.

She was trying to give him another out.

If there’s a job you don’t wanna do, I won’t force you, said her voice in his head, and he didn’t realize such a job would come up so quickly. Mac grit his teeth, determined he wouldn’t use his pass so soon and nodded his head. Besides, he tried to convince himself, there’s caps on the line.

“I’m ready.”

She nodded back to him but kept eye contact for a moment longer than necessary, not entirely convinced, before turning away. Mac looked anywhere but her, and with that, they opened the door to the barracks.

A short, twisty hallway greeted them, along with a single feral that the Boss took out with an itchy trigger finger and a shot from the hip. Any other day, Mac probably would have chided her about her gun safety, but he didn’t mind her quick reaction this time. At the end of the hallway, they slowly swung the door open and entered the barracks proper.

Another hallway, longer and full of crushed concrete and dead ferals, had several side doors closed off with collapsed walls or floors.

“This place is a mess,” the Boss mouthed to him as they crept up a set of unblocked stairs.

Not the problem to focus on right now, he wanted to say, but left it to a nod and kept going. They rounded the corner just as two ghouls turned their heads, sniffing the air from a hallway atop the second staircase.

Mac was quicker this time, absolutely decimating one of their torsos with a close range shot before it could even move. The other, a feral with thin limbs and a swollen belly, fell down the stairs in anticipation to get to its next meal, only to be taken out by its soft head meeting hard concrete. Blood and brain matter splattered across the stairs, the wall, and even Mac’s boots and the bottoms of his pants. Leaving the feral to twitch in place, he, the Boss, and Dogmeat raced to the top of the stairs and down the hallway where the various groans of more ghouls beginning to wake up could be heard.

They found themselves in another open room with another massive hole in the floor open to the one below it. At the sight of them rushing through the doors, several ghouls sitting around the hole wasted no time in getting up and tearing after them.

“I take right, you take left!” the Boss shouted over the cacophony of moaning and groaning, immediately unloading on two ghouls tripping over themselves to get to her.

Mac managed to down one before it could even stand up on its thin, wobbly legs, and out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dogmeat jump and take one to the floor. He’d never heard Dogmeat growl like that, like the mutated mutts he’d seen roaming the wastes in packs, and as Mac took out another, he heard a strangled moan choke out before going quiet as Dogmeat’s jaws sunk into its jugular.

Unfortunately for Mac, a ghoul took advantage of his wayward attention and barreled into him. Mac fell flat on his ass, dangerously close to the edge of the hole in the floor, but the ghoul had overcorrected and went flying past him. It rolled down a junk pile and landed in a heap on the bottom floor, and he cursed, scrambling to put a bullet through the back of its skull. After the ghoul dropped, Mac kicked himself back from the hole and stood up hastily. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears but threatening to burst out of his chest, breathing rapid and uneven and he had been trying so hard to keep it together—

He turned just in time to see the Boss about to be overwhelmed by three ghouls that had burst in through a door connecting another hallway, looking to get in on the action. One wearing military grade armor, fused to its skin from years of wear, took after Dogmeat as soon as the hound had darted in front of it. He snapped and growled at the ghoul as it chased him, but the vicious guard dog threats were quickly replaced by a sharp, painful whine as the ghoul scratched at him with its claws. 

“Dogmeat!” the Boss yelled as both of them fired at the same time. Two different ghouls dropped in sync; Mac had taken out the one closest to her, head exploding while the Boss had taken a shot at the one attacking Dogmeat, catching it in the throat and making it reel back with a gurgle.

This only worked in agitating the creature further, raring up again and ignoring its previous prey in favor of the more rewarding feast. It barreled towards her, neck a red fountain spilling onto its armor and screeching as it reached out its claws to slash. The Boss kept shooting, firing shot after shot into its armored chest, but the thing took them like she was shooting peanuts. She was barely five feet away from both the feral and the hole in the floor before she was able to make the headshot that took it down.

Mac pinned one coming up from a ramp in the floor he’d only just noticed, blaming his obliviousness to the panic rising in his chest. He counted eight in this room alone and jesus fucking christ where the hell do they keep coming from?

The Boss swung around to the hallway they’d come in from when a low, weak moan caught both of their attentions. Later on, Mac would be able to replay the next handful of seconds in his head like the old holovids they had in Little Lamplight, though not in familiar, grainy black and white.

What happened next would be in terrifying high definition.

The moaning in the hallway revealed itself to be a feral with a broken leg healed all wrong, twisted in such a way that walking was near impossible. It limped-slash-dragged itself into view just as the Boss raised her gun to put a bead on it, and damn if her form hadn’t been perfect in that moment. She went from the panicked, clumsy stance the armored ghoul had forced upon her, to the swift, confident one the glowing one scrambling up the ramp knocked out of her, sending the both of them through the jagged opening of the floor.

For a split second, the two of them were in horrifying synchronicity. Her hunting rifle went flying from her hands the exact moment Mac pulled the trigger on the one limping in from the hallway. He turned his head to watch her fall right as she screamed, the sound intermingled with the glowing one’s retching, and then she was rolling down the pile of broken wood and furniture from the floor’s collapse.

Mac snapped back to himself like the release of a rubber band, letting it propel him forward towards the hole. The momentum of the ghoul’s surprise tackle had slung itself from the Boss’ body, rolling across the floor as they reached the bottom of the pile. It pushed itself up with a screech and surprising force, only to meet three .308’s to the face from Mac still on the level above.

There was no silence that befell the building after its pests were cleared out, the usual quiet Mac was accustomed to replaced by the Boss’ rough coughing and gasping. He broke into a run as soon as his legs allowed him to, nearly tripping down the ramp with Dogmeat at his heels.

Dogmeat made it to her first, shooting past Mac when they reached the bottom floor. The Boss had managed to roll over and push herself up, leaning on hands and knees as she gasped for air like she was drowning. Dogmeat sniffed at her all over, pressing his snout into her side and making pitiful little panicked sounds as she tried to suck down air. She had enough in her to nudge him away, eliciting a whimper from the hound as she coughed again. She was alive and not dead, though, and that was really all Mac had been concerned about when he saw her fall. He could help fix whatever injuries she inevitably had. He couldn’t fix being dead.

He laid his rifle on the ground and dropped to his knees in front of her, trying not to let too much panic show in his voice, “Hey, hey, hey, you’re alright, just breathe—“

“I’m—try—trying,” she wheezed, her own anxiety making the action more difficult than it needed to be. She’d gotten the wind knocked out of her in the fall, that much he could tell.

“In through your nose, out through your mouth,” he instructed her and mimicked the motion unconsciously. She mirrored it and he watched her breathe in and out, in and out for a minute. He took inventory of the new scratches on the right side of her face, the largest barely an inch long. None of them were deep enough to scar, not like the ones on her eyebrow and her chin that he’d only just noticed. After a few minutes, she was breathing again, though they came out ragged and hoarse.

Mac watched as she slowly pushed herself to sit with a pained gasp and raised her hands to wipe the tears that had run down her cheeks, only to stop halfway with realization and a puzzled expression.

“What? What is it?” he asked, wondering what else could be wrong.

“My glasses,” she said roughly. She winced as she coughed, voice less so when she repeated, “My glasses—“

Mac began to look around frantically, trying to find the black-framed spectacles before either of them crushed them underfoot. He spotted them on the pile of debris next to the Boss, covered in settled dust. He reached for them, blowing off the dust and making a face at the crack in the right frame he was pretty sure hadn’t been there before.

“Found ‘em,” he said as she turned around, holding them out to her.

She took them with a frown as she inspected the crack, before sliding them back onto her face. Once they were on, she blinked a few times, eyes sliding to rest on the dead glowing one not three feet away from them. She sucked in a gasp and attempted to scramble away, only to cry out in pain and clutch her side.

“Hey, hey, calm down, it’s dead,” Mac said, reaching out to help her up slowly. “I made sure of it.”

Once she was up, one arm over his shoulder, he helped her hobble to a bench turned over in the corner, setting it right and motioning for her to sit. Dogmeat followed and parked himself at the Boss’ feet, ever the watchful hound.

“Holy shit,” she breathed as she sat down. “Holy shit, Mac.”

“I hear ya,” he agreed wholeheartedly. He went over to pick up his rifle and did a scan of the floor for any more surprises before coming up satisfied at the silence. “I think that was the last of ‘em though.”

He collapsed on the bench beside her, slinging off his pack to begin looking around for the medkit he’d thankfully restocked before they’d gotten themselves into this mess.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked, pushing aside his journal and an extra shirt until he found it. It was a small, metal thing with a faded red plus sign on the front, the outside scratched and dented to hell and back. It was a familiar weight in his hands, cool metal against calloused skin.

“I think my rib is broken,” said the Boss, sucking in air through her teeth as she lifted up her jacket. She pointed towards the lower part of her ribs on her right, then to her leg on the left side. She had a tear in the knee of her jeans where Mac could see a bloody gash, staining the denim around it crimson.

He nodded to himself and opened the medkit, the familiar creak of the hinges making the now apparent shaking in his hands begin to subside. Inside were new bandages and medical tape he picked up at Daisy’s, a small tin of loose Rad-X, a single vial of Med-X, and his share of stimpaks.

“Sharpshooter and a medic. Boy, I lucked out hirin’ you,” the Boss attempted to laugh, only to concede into a string of ow, ow, ow‘s as she brought her hand up to rest on her rib. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Sharpshooter yes, medic no,” Mac replied, picking up one of the stimpaks and holding it out to her. “Here.”

She took it but looked confused about it, raising an eyebrow at him. He raised one back, and they were left staring at each other like they were waiting for the other to make the next move. Surely she knew how—

Mac ran a hand over his face, realization washing over him as he groaned, “Please tell me you know how to use a stimpak.”

“I do!” the Boss said immediately, almost defensively, before looking slightly abashed. She brought her hand up to her face, pretending to check her nails. “Just, whenever I do it I always leave a bruise. Whenever you get to meet Preston, ask him—I’ve put enough bruises on both of us to make it look like we went a round in the ring.”

“What are you doing, just stabbing it into yourself?” Her eyes fell from his face and he could see the tops of her cheeks turn pink. Mac blinked at her. “Really, Boss? Do you know how dangerous that is? Do you want a needle broken off into your body? Or a fu—freaking hole in your arm?”

He suddenly remembered once again that she was a vault-dweller. He suspected that she probably hadn’t needed to inject her own stimpaks in her entire blessed life given that vaulties had their fancy, book-trained doctors to do it for them. At least, that’s what he’d heard.

The Boss narrowed her eyes at him, “Okay, Doctor MacCready, I get it, I get it. Can you help me or not?”

“Jesus, fine. Lift up your shirt,” he said agitatedly. His phrasing earned a playful look from her and he began to sputter when he realized what he’d said. “I, uh, I mean—“

She went to laugh again, tensing as she did, “God, ow, you can’t make me laugh right now.”

“You gotta work here with me, c’mon,” he begged with a sigh.

“Okay, okay.”

She pushed aside her jacket and lifted up the hem of her snug purple sweater, along with the edge of faded blue shirt underneath, revealing an expanse of fair skin dotted with moles and faint freckles. She lifted the fabric far enough for Mac to see the reddening bruise of her broken rib. He took a breath, sliding the cap off the needle and tucking it into his pocket. He just needed to inject the stimpak, but he’d seen Lucy fix bloody noses and broken bones hundreds of times, and he’d even paid attention to a few of them. He didn’t call himself a medic, but he knew what he was doing.

“Tensing up isn’t going to do you any favors,” he told her, then watched her visibly un-tense at his words. He never really did have the best bedside manner—that was the one thing Lucy said couldn’t really be taught.

“A ‘please’ would be nice.”

“Not the best time to be criticizing your medic.”

“I thought you weren’t one?”

“Oh my god, can we please—”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m just nervous. Go, I’m ready,” she said, turning her head away and biting her lip.

Finally, he thought, and slid the needle through one of her darker freckles. It went in perfectly, just like he’d seen and done a thousand times before. The Boss hissed a little at the initial pin-prick of pain, but then the stimpak released its contents and she made a pleasant little hum as the swelling began to subside.

“You’ll need to sit for a minute and let it do its thing,” he said, putting the cap back on the needle and swapping it for a piece of medical tape to serve as a bandage for the injection site. He pressed it onto her skin, gentle so as not to screw up his work, and the Boss slid her sweater back down. He put the empty stim at the bottom of his medkit, saying, “You owe me a stimpak, by the way.”

“You could’ve just taken one of mine, y’know,” she said and stuck out her tongue as he passed her the roll of bandages and pointed to her knee. If she couldn’t handle bandaging her own knee by herself, then he needed to renegotiate for double pay as hired gun and medic.

She took the roll gratefully and began to roll up the cuff of her jeans. Blood ran down her shin, dried in some places but still wet in others. Mac watched as she unwound the bandages, extending her leg before tearing a long enough piece off. She wrapped it around tightly and secured it with two pieces of tape, then rolled her jeans back down, satisfied with the result.

When she went to put the tape back into the medkit between them, Mac saw her squint a little, even with her glasses on. He followed her gaze, holding in a breath when he saw what she was looking at. Scratched into the inside of the medkit’s metal lid was the name LUCY. Mac froze.

The Boss only hesitated for a moment, though, putting the bandages back where they had been previously and closing the lid. She looked back up at him and Mac looked away as she said, “Thanks for doctorin’ me up. Oh, and savin’ my life, too. You were quick with that one.”

Mac’s eyes found the still glowing corpse of the feral across the room and grimaced as he put the medkit away. Almost wasn’t.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he replied, putting his pack back on as he stood. He extended a hand to help her up and she took it. “Not a problem.”

Now that she was standing, the Boss looked a little more severe, like the reality of the situation had finally set in. Adrenaline was one hell of a drug.

“Really, Mac. Thanks. I owe you one,” she said with a soft smile, and reached to squeeze his shoulder with no hesitation. Mac didn’t even flinch this time.

“You owe me a stimpak,” he said instead of saying the other, proper thing and she laughed.

“Alright, alright. One more sweep and then we can get outta here,” she said and he nodded, picking up his rifle again.

After limping upstairs to find her own gun on the floor above, they went through each room together. The ruins of the mess hall were free of ferals, as well as the side rooms off the main barracks. The Boss lamented the ruined bathrooms with attached showers, giving a look so longing it almost made Mac laugh.

“I miss hot showers,” she said forlornly, and they moved on.

In the armory, however, they found two ghouls trapped behind locked doors. Lucky for them, though, they were able to take them out by sticking the barrels of their guns through the security fences locking up the goods. Once they were taken care of, the Boss wasted no time in picking the lock on the armory.

“Take what you want, but try to leave some behind. It’ll be a show of good faith if we come back with gifts,” she said when the lock finally clicked open.

“So we clear out the problem and give away the loot?” Mac asked, visibly disappointed. He had been hoping they would come away with a little more than the hundred caps they were getting paid.

The Boss took him completely seriously, though, launching into another one of her expositions.

“We take first claim, but usually people are pretty grateful for whatever leftovers we bring back,” she said as they walked through the now unlocked door. “Weapons, ammo, food, sometimes. It makes greasin’ the wheel a breeze if you catch my drift.”

He could see her point. “Take care of their problems, come back bearing gifts, they fly the flag. That sound about right?”

She winked at him, “Got it in one.”

She breezed past him to start rifling through cabinets and drawers, popping open old ammo boxes and taking off her pack to put away the spoils and he started to do the same. They came away with weapon mods, extra ammo for the both of them, and ammo they didn’t need but could sell whenever they made it back to the city. For the settlers, a pretty, pristine double-barrel shotgun and shells to go with it. What really caught Mac’s attention, though, was the gunmetal gray, automatic combat shotgun sitting on a dusty weapons rack at the back of the room. He knew it’d sell for more caps than he had on him, but then the Boss came strolling over to see what he’d found.

“Ooh, nifty,” she said, peering over his shoulder. “Thought you were more of a long-range guy?”

“I am,” Mac replied as he lifted the shotgun off the wall. It was lighter than his rifle and felt out of place in his own hands. Overcome with a sudden sense of altruism that only barely masked his real, actual concern, he had a better idea. “I was thinking you’d be better off with it.”

He turned and held it out to her, nodding encouragement when she raised her eyebrows in surprise. She took it hesitantly and let the weight of it draw her hands down before pulling it back up, shifting to hold it properly. She held it up and away from them to look down the sights, finger extended next to the trigger.

“For how much you seem to get into the middle of it, I figured you’d like something that packs more of a punch,” he explained, the memory of her wasting bullet after bullet on that armored ghoul flashing briefly in his mind. He bit down on the shiver that threatened to roll up his spine. “Ammo might be a little pricier, but other than that…you’ve got yourself a proper weapon.”

The Boss grinned and lifted her chin, dark blue eyes peering over the rim of her glasses as she said, “Looks like it’s gonna have one hell of a kickback, but gee, imagine me bustin’ open some double doors and rainin’ hellfire on some ferals.”

Hopefully we won’t run into anymore ferals anytime soon, Mac thought. I’ve had my fill, thanks.

“It’ll definitely have a more powerful recoil,” he said instead, “so maybe give your rib a day or two before you start using it.”

“You got it, Doc,” she said with a wry smile and slung her pack off halfway to slip the rifle inside, letting it poke through the opening of her pack. “Now let’s get outta here. Place is startin’ to feel awfully claustrophobic.”

----------

When they exited the recruitment office it was still a couple hours before noon, the sun not yet hanging directly above them. The walk back was blessedly quiet and when they arrived at the edge of the settlement, Rachel waved them over from where she was sitting next to the shack. She was sitting on a stool, cutting carrots into the pot from the spit and letting them fall into the leftovers from the night before.

“Heard your gunfire from here,” she said as they approached. “How’d it go?”

“Ferals shouldn’t be givin’ you any more trouble,” the Boss said, with that same dazzling smile she’d given Daisy when they’d returned from the library. She knew how to work her charms and work them well, it seemed.

“Looks like they gave you the works.” Rachel’s eyes fell on the Boss’ bloody pants leg then up to her scratched cheek, and Mac saw her turn away slightly.

“Nothin’ we couldn’t handle, right, Mac?” she said, knocking her shoulder against his.

He nodded, feeling slightly more confident now that the two of them were far enough removed, “Right, Boss.”

“And, to help you defend yourselves against any future attacks–” Mac joined her in taking off their packs, pulling out the regular double-barrel shotgun from his own while she took the ammo out of hers. “If anything, it’ll make you look like more of a threat. Not many people expect settlers to have more than a pipe gun, so.”

“Oh, I plan on doing much more than looking like a threat,” Rachel said as she stood up, putting her knife on the stool and trading it for the heavy weight of the shotgun. Her expression very clearly said fuck with me as she held it in her hands. Mac was suddenly grateful that her husband had been the one to greet them, even with his sour mood. “This thing will send any would-be raiders crying home to their mothers.”

“That’s the idea,” grinned the Boss as she handed off the ammo.

“Well,” came Lyle’s voice from the shack entrance behind them, “it looks like you more than deserve your reward, then.”

Mac turned around to see the man walking up with a small burlap sack, tied together in a knot at the top. “So long as we don’t have any more feral visitors,” he continued.

He handed the bag to the Boss, who looked to be between confusion and thankfulness. She didn’t let Lyle’s cheek-turning put her off too much, though, taking the bagful of caps with a nod of her head.

“No more visitors,” she repeated, “on account of them bein’ dead and all.”

“That’s what we like to hear,” Lyle said. He put his hands in his pockets, unsure of what to do with them it seemed, and refused to meet the Boss’ eyes. Rachel cleared her throat and gave her husband a knowing look. He sighed, world-weary, “I want to apologize if I haven’t been too friendly. Thought the Minutemen were done for good so I didn’t give you a fair chance...I, uh, I lost some family at Quincy. I’m glad you’re making a comeback.”

If Mac were a worse person (and god knows he’s been a worse person before), he’d have sneered at the man and smarted off, told him yeah, he should’ve been grateful for their help. Especially given the fact that the Boss, having agreed to the job out of the goodness of her own heart against all reasonable thought, almost died while doing so. He should have told her to argue for more caps, come to think of it.

The Boss, though, she took the high road.

“Lyle,” she said, voice soft and low, and his head tilted up to look her in the eye. “Thank you for the apology, and I’m genuinely sorry for your loss, too. Losin’ family...it's tough. What happened at Quincy was a senseless tragedy that the Minutemen want to prevent from happenin’ again. When we say we’re back, we mean it.”

“Guess I’ll have to take you at your word,” he replied, and extended a hand that the Boss took, giving it a firm shake. Mac watched her smile at him, earnest and kind, the curve of her mouth inspiring a similar smile in Lyle that made his sun-tanned skin wrinkle around the eyes.

“More than words, Lyle,” the Boss said, and spared a glance at Mac. “We’re bringing the action.”

[pbandjesse]

I am back home. It is nice to feel clean and be back in my own bed. And with James. Who is currently folding laundry. It is so nice to feel normal.

Last night was a little tough though. I would end up falling asleep pretty quickly but at 2 it started storming really bad. A branch fell on the roof and startled me awake. And then the sound of how loud the rain was was pretty distressing. I was smart and had left my headphones near me so after double checking that the world was not falling apart I was able to put my headphones on and fall back asleep.

It wasnt the best sleep. But it was fine. And I woke up before my alarm around 8.

I didn't feel great. Like I would be fine but my stomach hurt very much. After I got dressed I went for a walk to take a water bottle I found to the office and made Alexi laugh when I pushed myself up against the screen to say good morning. Literally for no reason just being silly.

I walked to homestead. Where I was happy to see the turkey was in the enclosure but he was all wet from the storm. And then the chickens and duck were as well in their new pen. They don't have a good enclosure down there so I'm sad they were out in the rain.

I went to pet the goats and found that one of them was in their harness but both his legs were in one leg hole. So I fixed it for him and he let me pet him under the chin like a dog and it was so cute. But then the other goat was jealous and jumped up on me with his hooves!!! It was mostly silly but also dirty on my sweatshirt!

I left them and went to find mushrooms. I did find two! A blue one and a white. It was fun. And then I was back at my building. I had an apple and peanut butter. And soon Tatiana was there. It was her last official day!! I'm going to miss having her with me! So wildly helpful.

And I wanted to make sure her projects were all done and I got her a box to put things in. I would send her away at the end of the day with some art supplies and other things I thought she might like. But we aren't there yet, she was still helpful all day.

I would cover my cheek with googly eyes for no reason. I would leave one there all day. I told Tati that it was the new style.

She would just laughed at me.

Our groups were late. We were not shocked. But it would be fun when they did come. Woodlands did well. No accident penises or otherwise. And the pioneer group only had 6 kids and that was so nice. I wish we would have more small groups cause it's great. I enjoyed talking to them and they made good art. It was fun.

Lunch was a weird pizza. I had a little piece of it but would heat up my dumplings I brought from home and ate on the porch at the office.

Eventually I would go back to my building and hung out in my hammock and read until it was almost time for day camp. I went down to use the bathroom and I don't understand why it is always soaking wet in there. I am almost positive a pipe is dripping because it never dries. It's gross but it is also the closest bathroom.

When I got back day camp one was there and they would do so good with their pieces. Kenny made a very small black rectangle with eyes. Harper told everyone what to do, as she does. It was fun and silly and I enjoyed talking to Sasha who was covering the group during a break.

It was hard to make them leave at the end. One little girl did not want to go, even after I talked to her about how I was so glad she enjoyed it but it was time to go. And Sarah had to sit with her outside because she was so upset. I didn't want to smother so I stayed out of it but I felt bad. I'm so glad she liked art so much!! But things end and you have to go to the next thing. I get it though I also don't want to leave my building.

Our break turned into an hour because tipis has a medical issue with someone getting hit with a water bottle in the head. But once they came they mostly just wanted to do clay. A few did metal stamping and another did some sewing. But me and Candela sat and caught up. She just got in from Italy and I was excited to what she got a scholarship to move to the states for two years for her degree! I'm so happy for her. And I got to tell her some stuff about the wedding. Which was nice, I haven't been able to do that much lately.

We had our last group. And we did it! We had enough spoons that everyone who wanted one got to use it and I was thrilled. And it was just a nice thing to end the day with. And the kids made great work and it was good. I was happy. It was a good day. I got to help kids make art. A few came for string. I got to be my best self.

Tati would finish packing up her things and she told me that it was fun hanging out and she thought I was fun and it made me feel so nice. And I was only slightly emotional when she left for the bus.

I would spend the next hour cleaning up the building and putting things away and getting ready for next week. And while I was seeing about paint and starting an example Celia would come join me to sit for a little. She wasn't feeling great but I think she's just on the down swing from the concert on Wednesday. But I hope she isn't actually sick.

I would have to head down to the bears soon enough. I got my bags and drove down there and would speak to so many people. Sometimes I think me being down there isn't helpful but honestly tonight a lot of people didn't know where they were supposed to go. So I was helpful and that was good. The sun kept being exactly in my face though and I had to keep moving and I think I was making the parents laugh. Mostly they were all really nice. I loved being helpful.

At 615 I started to leave but I got a message from Jorge and wasn't sure if he got my response so I went back to the regular route out and got stuck in a little traffic jam. But I had some chips and I got to wave at people. I stopped to tell Chris I didn't want any of the children he was offering. And then after waving goodbye to Charlotte and Candela and Dachelle I was on the road home.

And it was a mostly pleasant drive. Except when someone was driving 30 in a 65. But mostly it was fine and I was just happy to be home.

I had a little chat about how beautiful out it was with a nice man on our stoop. And then I was upstairs and hugging my James and it was so good to be here.

We would hang out while I unpacked things. I would end up brushing Sweetp which we never do and we filled the brush three times! I guess we should actually brush him now? He has never needed it before just maybe his coat is changing as he gets older and thats why he has been looking oily.

James would start laundry while I started counting my squares for my knitting project. I have 121 done! I have one more ball of yarn and then we will see where I am but I'm excited.

I got showered. And James made me an omelet for dinner. And now the sun is down and I am very much ready to go to sleep.

Tomorrow I am running the market and in the evening we have Sam and Paul's engagement party! I'm looking forward to seeing them.

I hope you guys all have a good night. I hope you are sleeping well and taking good care of yourself. I love you. Goodnight!

[ruggedroofhomeimprovement]

Navigating Roofing Solutions in Your Area

When homeowners or businesses encounter issues with their roofing, the first thought that often comes to mind is finding a reliable roofing company near me. Roofing is one of the most critical components of a structure, providing protection from weather elements and contributing to overall energy efficiency. In this article, we will explore the essential services provided by local roofing contractors and what to consider when seeking roof repairs, installation, or replacement.

1: Importance of Professional Roof Installation

A roof is more than just an aesthetic topping for your home; it's a complex system designed to perform under pressure. Professional roof installation is vital to ensure longevity and performance. Expert roofing contractors understand the nuances involved in selecting suitable materials and employing effective techniques that complement your region's climate and architectural style. Proper installation lays the foundation for a roof that can withstand various weather conditions and provide years of security.

2: Common Signs You Need Roof Repair

Over time, even the sturdiest roofs may develop issues due to wear and tear. Identifying when you need roof repair is crucial for preventing minor problems from escalating into significant damage. Some common signs include missing or damaged shingles, leaks or water damage inside your home, sagging areas on the roof, clogged gutters with shingle granules, and visible light through the roof boards. When these symptoms appear, it's time to contact a roofing company nearby for an evaluation.

3: Deciding on Roof Replacement

There are times when repairs might not suffice due to extensive damage or an aging roof nearing its expected lifespan. In such cases, a complete roof replacement may be necessary. A competent local roofing contractor can assess your current structure's condition and recommend whether replacement is the best course of action. They will guide you through material choices—whether asphalt shingles, metal panels, or other options—and manage the entire removal and installation process with minimal disruption.

4: Choosing a Local Roofing Service Provider

Finding a roofing company near me involves more than conducting an internet search; it entails understanding their service quality and reliability. When choosing a contractor for your roofing needs—be it repair, installation or replacement—it's essential to consider their experience in handling similar projects in your area since familiarity with regional weather patterns can influence service recommendations significantly.

Look for companies with positive community feedback who are willing to supply references upon request. Additionally, confirm that they are licensed and insured as this protects you against any accidents or damages during the project.

5: Maintaining Your New Roof

After investing in a new roof or repairing existing damages, regular maintenance is key to extending its longevity. Schedule periodic inspections with your chosen contractor even if there are no apparent issues; they may catch potential problems early on before they become costly fixes down the line.

In conclusion, whether facing immediate concerns requiring urgent repair work or contemplating long-term solutions like full-scale replacement—the importance of finding a trustworthy roofing company near me cannot be overstated. Such companies provide not only expertise but assurance that one's shelter remains secure against whatever nature brings forth while enhancing curb appeal simultaneously—a win-win situation indeed! Remember always prioritize professional craftsmanship over quick fixes as this decision directly impacts both safety within your residence/business premises along with financial investment over time.

Company Name : Rugged Roof & Home Improvement LLC

Complete Address : 4738 Gateway Cir #13, Dayton, OH, 45440, US

Company Phone : 937-932-1236

[ohioroofrepairnearme]

How to Choose the Best Roofers in Ohio? Tips and Tricks!

Installing a new roof or repairing roof damage can be a major investment for any homeowner. With such an important decision on the line, it pays to find the most qualified and reliable Roofing Contractor in Akron in your area.

Use the helpful tips below to locate top-rated local Best Roofers for your residential or commercial building.

Research Local Roofing Companies

The first step is compiling a list of established roofing companies that serve your Ohio city or region. Search online review sites and business directories for highly-rated professionals based on past customer feedback.

Be sure to gather key details like years in business, range of roofing services, and industry certifications. Create a shortlist of contractors that meet your criteria.

Verify Licensing and Insurance

Reputable Roofing Company Wooster should hold all required state-level licensing for operating legally. Always verify active credentials.

Additionally, only hire companies that carry general liability insurance and workers' compensation policies to protect you from liability in the event of on-site incidents. Ask contractors to provide recent proof of coverage.

Compare Experience and Specialties

Carefully examine the backgrounds of each Residential Roofing Company Ohio on your list. How many years have they been installing and repairing roofs?

Do they specialize in particular roof types like tile, metal, or flat single-ply membranes? What about working on historic homes? Choose a contractor that aligns with your specific roofing needs.

Request Local References

The best indicator of future performance is past work. Ask each roofing professional to supply multiple local customer references. Follow up with those previous clients and inquire about their experiences.

Were they satisfied with the finished product? Was the crew professional and courteous? Did the contractor adhere to the timeline and budget terms? Their real-world feedback can prove invaluable.

Evaluate Quotes and Warranties

Have your shortlist of roofing contractors inspect your roof on-site and provide written estimates for the work. Compare quotes side-by-side while accounting for material types, labor warranties, project timelines, and additional services.

Be wary of quotes substantially lower than the competition that seems “too good to be true.” They may be cutting corners or using inferior products and methods.

Trust Your Gut Instinct

Even with all your diligent research, there is no substitute for personal rapport. Meet face-to-face with prospective Roofing Company New Philadelphia before signing an agreement. Do you communicate effectively?

Are your questions and concerns addressed promptly? Go with the Ohio contractor you trust most for such an essential home improvement project.

Finding the ideal roofer takes effort but pays dividends through years of weather protection and peace of mind.

Warping up

For additional guidance identifying top-rated local professionals, contact the experienced team at Ohio Roof Repair near Me today! Our website also features helpful roofer recommendation resources.

[metalroofingsupplyu]

Metal Roof Supply | Metal Roofing Suppl

Metal Roofing Supply aims to be the best manufacturer and distributor of Metal Roof Supply for all your residential and commercial building needs. They offer a wide range of services at an affordable price, including metal fabrication, metal building kits, metal building framing, insulation and components, carport kits, panel profiles, and more. Whether you need a complete metal building package or just a few components, Metal Roofing Supply has got you covered. Visit us now:- https://metalroofingsupply.org/