#Making sure she's drinking enough fluids not to get totally hammered

[heavenlyborne]

postmortemlullabies sent: "Good girl," Emil grinned and put another pitcher in front of Shalria. "This one is apple juice, toffee syrup and lemon juice alone. The same as the alcoholic one but minus the alcohol." She plopped down on a chair. "Doing or not doing something because someone told you so is bullshit." She raised her teacup. "Think about it yourself, decide for yourself whether you'd like to try it out or not, follow on your own decision. Traditions and customs might hold a bit of truth in them but they hold just as much boloney."

“I’m not a dog, Emil.” Shalria chuckled at the ‘good girl’ remark but otherwise didn’t pay it much mind, grinning back at the other woman. She was feeling good, relaxed somehow even if the first drink had tasted different from what she usually enjoyed. The apple juice made it much more palatable and easy to swallow too, downing the rest of the cup not long after trying the first few sips. Maybe it wasn’t strong for an experienced drinker but the World Noble was already beginning to feel the effects, leaning back in her seat and resting her head against an open hand in a gesture as relaxed as she felt. ”And you’re preaching to the choir. I wouldn’t be down here with you right now if I was listening to the others like a good little noblewoman is ‘supposed’ to do. It doesn’t matter what they think, I like doing what I want and that’s going to keep happening even if they expect otherwise.” Another sip, a slight frown forming at the sharper taste of this new drink that was still apple-like but without the alcoholic content from before as Emil had just explained. The lemon juice gave it a sourness that hadn’t been present before, but was mercifully offset by the sweet notes of toffee syrup balancing the fruits. Was it hypocritical to be talking like this? Perhaps. Shalria wanted all of the rights without the responsibilities and moreso expectations, that certain traditions and customs, as much happiness as some could bring were capable of being equally dreadful too. It was a sobering thought, the Celestial Dragon staring down at the pitcher before raising her own teacup to mirror the older woman’s actions and knocking that back too... Damn. It was almost as strong as the first drink but tasted alright too, feeling nothing but a pleasant burn rippling down her throat and into her stomach. Shalria swallowed again. ”It’s hard when that’s all you know, though. Traditions, customs. Your world down here is very different from the one above where I come from. Some before tried making their own way down here, and... ah. Let’s just say it didn’t end well, but it was still their choice at the end of the day so what hope have I got?” She paused mid sip, blinking as though she’d forgotten something.                                      ”... I’ve got no idea what boloney is.”

#postmortemlullabies #tw alcohol #cw alcohol #Not that Emil gave any but it's still the undisclosed meme #Also good that Emil ISN'T wasting her with booze #Making sure she's drinking enough fluids not to get totally hammered #There's drunk and then there's hangovers #Shalria is bad enough on a normal day without hangovers #b a b y #This is why there is drinking age people #You COULD be a dog if you wanted Shalria

[pa-panda-heroes]

Ahhh I love your blog! May I ask for hc’s of the league figuring out that the female reader is very flexible and into yoga?(●’◡’●)

thank you very much!! I love seeing you in my notifications btw ( ◠‿◠ ) it means a lot to see you there.

LoV figuring out female reader is very flexible and into yoga!

Tomura:

Tomura would honestly find out accidentally. It would take either one of the other members telling him accidentally or his walking in on you while you’re in action.

He’s quite impressed at your balance and flexibility and admires it. He has to wonder if you put in a lot of time and effort to become so flexible.

If you try hard enough, you can convince him to join you and learn yoga himself, but he has to watch you a few times and see what it’s about before he decides to or not.

He’ll just sit and gawk silently, mostly in awe because woah, that looks uncomfortable and you’re so flexible. Throw a downward-facing dog his way and you’ll catch him moving his head to the side as if to track yours.

Tomura may look lanky and scrawny, but he’s pretty flexible himself, and he’s stronger than he looks. So anything really basic won’t be very troubling for him!

But his balance is... not great. You have to do more supervising than instructing when teaching him anything that involves balance. He’s just a tad clumsy!

He will frequently tell you that being so flexible and nimble can be useful in a fight, but at some point he’ll probably admit he loves it because it gives him a good opportunity to acceptably gawk in awe at your talent and focus - and commitment.

Tomura won’t be super quick to master the poses, you notice, and that may or may not be because he gets undivided, one-on-one attention from you!

Mr. Compress:

Mr. will absolutely appreciate yoga as an art. It’s good for physical and (supposedly) mental health, not to mention it requires a lot of practice, effort, and patience. Naturally he admires you for being into it!

You don’t have to offer to teach him - he’ll outright ask. It never hurts, right? It’s possible to teach an old dog new tricks! Especially when that old dog has such a great teacher!

Whenever he sees you in a particularly stretching pose or just how flexible you are, his instincts kick in and he has to look away for a moment because how is that not painful?

You’ll catch him researching and practicing poses that are too advanced for him or are generally difficult because he just has a curious mind and wants to do more.

His favourite thing about yoga is that it’s something you can enjoy in various ways together! Warm-ups, trying new poses, it doesn’t matter what you do, as long as he gets to marvel over your abilities.

He’s the most likely to push himself to improve, not to show off or in a rival-ish way of catching up to you, but just because he enjoys it so much.

Mr.’s balance is more than impressive, but if you compliment him on it, he’ll be a little more modest than you’d think and he’ll find a way to send a compliment your way instead.

If you manage to use that nimbleness and flexibility in combat, he’s going to gush with pride and stop for a moment and point at you like “that’s my y/n, that’s my y/n! Look at her go, the lithe little thing! Isn’t she incredible?”

Twice:

Much like Mr., Twice is going to have that super proud attitude towards your abilities and will want to show you off to essentially everyone he meets. Inside of the League and out. All the time.

“Y/n, do the thing! Please!” he’ll say, holding his hands together with an imploring tone. He’s referring to a move that you can do to show off your flexibility.

Convincing him to join you will take a lot of effort, but considering it’s you, it will work and soon enough he’ll have his own mat (before you can even tell him to get one) and will be rearing to go.

He might not love the whole ordeal at first, but considering it is challenging for one’s physique and it’s more relaxing than slugging a hammer at a tire, he’ll learn to appreciate it.

Twice stays fit, we know this by looking at his costume - so he’s not going to totally shy from it. He can build muscle other ways and obtain flexibility this way.

He’s honestly enamored with how you move while you’re practicing (or in general honestly), so you’ll catch him staring a lot. It’s just relaxing to watch the slow and fluid movements.

Not great at yoga. Sitting still for periods of time and patience don’t really mix well with Twice.

Expect him to ask for your measurements so that he can make a clone of you to practice even when you’re busy!

Himiko:

Why didn’t you tell her sooner??? Omg y/n! Himiko loves yoga and she’s really good at it!

She’s like a kid in a candy shop when she finds out you’re into yoga and super flexibile - so is she! She learned it for combat, but still, that’s means girl bonding time!

Himiko is super flexible herself, so she’s totally going to try to compare your flexibility with hers to gage and see if one or possibly both of you can help each other improve.

And she’s 100% going to suck you in to doing it with her. She gets rather bored and lonely while she practices alone, so now that she has a yoga buddy? She’s so happy she vibrates in place!

She will literally want to buy matching or complimenting mats, yoga outfits, and even drink containers because it makes her so happy to be able to bond with you like this.

It’s probably not how you’re supposed to do it, but she likes to hum while she’s in pose. It helps her relax and sit still.

Sometimes it mindless humming to whatever she thinks sounds pretty, and sometimes it’s actual songs that she enjoys.

Give her the role of teacher and ask her to teach you a pose, and she’s totally up to the task. She’s actually a great teacher (and handsy if you’re comfortable with that). Give her the role of student and she learns really quickly.

Dabi:

He’s probably the only member for whom yoga is a no-go. He can’t help it. Stretching skin too much stretches his staples, and that’s a recipe for a literally bloody disaster.

He’d probably be willing to dabble with something that doesn’t involve stretching or balance, but it takes a whole load of convincing and demonstration on your part. He’s just really uneasy about it.

Dabi’s more than happy to watch, though, whether his dirty mind is kicking in or if he just wants to marvel at your talent and focus.

He can participate in that he can be on standby in the rare case you lose your balance, so that he can catch you and prevent you from falling on the floor if need be.

Prepare for stares and innuendos. Sometimes. Okay, maybe all the time. He’ll tease you constantly for your flexibility and what he “could do with it.” Sometimes he teases you just to tease you about it.

Prepare for every gift you get from him after he finds out to be yoga pants. Tight ones. And low-cut tops - bonus if the tops are baggy.

He will admire your abilities and he’s not afraid to tell you that. Dabi’s impressed with your progress and skill and you’re going to know it. He’ll even brag about to the others when you’re not around.

The more he sees you do yoga, the more he sort of wishes he could join you. You look so focused yet so at peace. He would like to experience that.

Spinner:

Not entirely sure how yoga works. He knows of it and all, but he’s never tried or went out of his way to learn about it.

So is he curious? Yes! Does he think it’s neat? Sure! Is he willing to try? Eeh..

Show him what you can do with your learnings from yoga, though, and he’s interested! He’s rather impressed by what the experience is given you, and he wants to see if he can benefit from it, too.

He’s in a bit of a rush, though, trying poses that are too advanced for him and sometimes hurting himself. You have to make sure he goes at a proper pace.

But he’s a quick learner, so that helps with his rush to catch up to you. You still have to keep him on a tight leash, though!

Spinner is the type to show you off anyway, but he’s really going to show you off for being into yoga. You’re doing what you can to take care of yourself, and he’s proud of that.

Literally won’t practice without you. You’re his second pair of eyes that makes sure he’s in the proper position, because he’s still a beginner. Plus it’s just not as fun without you.

His balance isn’t the best, so he’ll constantly ask you to help him improve because who better to ask? You’ve got it down pat! He knows you’re a great teacher.

#mha #mha headcanons #mha x reader #shigaraki x reader #mr compress x reader #twice x reader #toga x reader #dabi x reader #spinner x reader #shigaraki tomura #mr compress #twice #toga himiko #dabi #spinner #i don't know as much about yoga as i should (despite being told to do it for my scoliosis hnhn) but i looked up some thing #s and hope this is okay?

[savofid]

So, I was reminded of this while watching a video just a few minutes ago.

CW: murder, manipulation of a minor, presumed statutory rape. For clarification, I did not participate in these things. The person I'm about to describe did them.

Many years ago, there was a guy I knew while I was in the military. He was a funny and rather well liked guy by most of my friend group, but I didn't really trust him. Something felt, I dunno, off about him? Like he gave off these vibes of "don't get too close." I trusted my gut and kept him at a distance.

One night, while he was drinking underage, he was caught by an NCO, who just sat down with him to talk. He didn't want to get the guy in trouble, just really wanted to hammer down the problem and help him see the error of his ways... And then the guy pulls a knife on him. Still, despite having a knife pulled on him and being clearly threatened, the NCO remains calm and defuses the situation. I kept an even greater distance after that.

Fast forward a few years, and I'm at my first duty station. My soon to be boss calls me over and asks if I know [that guy].

"Yeah, I knew him. Didn't really try to know him well. Dude sorta gave off bad vibes to me. Why do you ask? Is he okay?"

"Well, he's in prison."

"Oh, man. What did he do?"

"He, uh... He murdered a woman because she didn't approve of him dating her daughter."

"Well, that's a bit extreme, don't you think?"

"Well, it gets worse." She pulls up the article and scrolls down. "So, not only did he murder a woman, but the girl he was dating? She was 15."

"Holy shit."

"Yeah, and then he coerced her into helping him get rid of the body. It was her brother who called the police about it."

"Jesus, that's messed up."

"Look how fucking smug he is in this photo. Dude just murdered a woman in cold blood cause she, sensibly, didn't approve of a 21 year old guy dating her 15 year old daughter."

[That guy] had this smirk on his face that just screamed "I'd do it again."

Once I got off work, I texted an old drinking buddy of mine who was close friends with him before he got out of the Army.

"Hey, [that guy] is in prison for murder."

"Lemme guess... He stabbed someone?"

"Yep. Stabbed the mother of his girlfriend cause she didn't approve of their relationship. To be honest, I don't blame her. The girl was 15."

"Man, I knew he was fucked up, but not to this level. Shit..."

To anyone that might read this: Trust your gut. If someone is giving off that set of vibes that tell you to stay away, do it.

On a somewhat related subject, that being sorta reading people, I'm pretty good at it in general. Doesn't even need to be in person. In a Twitch channel that I moderate, there was this guy that was just an asshole to everyone, particularly in the realm of music taste. We all knew he was gay, he was quite vocal on the subject, but that didn't matter to us. That particular channel is home to folks of all sorts of sexualities and gender identities. We're a pretty inclusive bunch.

Anyways, I quite liked him. He was an asshole, sure, but it's always nice to see a familiar face. Well, one day, he took it a bit too far, enough to almost completely piss me off. This was during the days of being able to have music playing during a stream, so one of the other regulars requested some stuff they liked. The asshole guy just chewed into him for it, saying that it sounded like "a group of people trying and failing to sound indie with this poppy bullshit."

What I wanted to do was go full psychoanalysis on him and basically publicly tear down any leg he had to stand on with his music taste being, somehow, superior to someone else's. My thoughts at the time were:

The reason your particular taste of music is so important to you is because it was introduced to you by the first person you fell in love with. You have to feign this sense of superiority about it because you still love them, even after they left you. I assume there was a decent age gap between the two of you, which is why you, being older than most folks here, press so firmly about your taste in music because now you're in the seat they were in when it was first introduced to you. Not only is that person important to you because they were the first you fell in love with and likely the first partner you ever had, but also because they were the first person who really let you be yourself. I think your parents didn't accept you, likely forcing you out on your own before you were even close to ready, which explains why you're so cold to everyone else. Anyone that doesn't let you be yourself immediately brings you back to your parents and fills you with anger. This person likely took you in and became more than just a surrogate parent, but, like I said, someone you truly loved. They were the one who broke up with you, not the other way around, otherwise the idea of that music would never be so important to you. It reminds you not only of when you were able to always be yourself and be accepted, but loved for who you were.

Now, I never sent it. I wanted to, believe me, I did. However, I felt it was too cruel to basically dissect someone with a live audience, mostly populated by people who didn't like him in the first place. However, one night several months later, chat got into quite a deep discussion, and he participated in that. Not in a joking way, but a rather serious manner. Everything I assumed about him was correct, and it kinda broke my heart a bit because I probably would've destroyed him emotionally with that. Sure, I was right, but the fact that I was right that he went through such trauma at a young age just because of who he loved by the very people who should be supporting him hurt me so much.

My parents don't know I'm bi. They'll likely never know. The nail in that coffin was when I came home after having my makeup done by a friend just for fun and my mom said, "You better clean that off your face before your dad gets home, or he's gonna call you a f*****." It nearly floored me then, and I thought I was completely straight. I will say: trying to get eyeliner off without makeup removal pads is a nightmare. The eye shadow, lip gloss, and lip liner came off just fine with a damp towel, but I rubbed my eyelids raw trying to get that eyeliner off before he got home.

All things considered, I looked damned good. Well, the eyeshadow wasn't my color, being purple and silver. Would've been better with maybe a maroon and black to help contrast my very pale skin and make my hazel eyes pop that much more. But enough about that.

Just kidding. See, if you read about those gender identity dreams I've been having, you'll probably notice that I have no idea what I am. Born a male, sure, but am I? Not saying I'm trans, cause I don't think it would make any sort of difference for me. In fact, a recent dream on the subject tells me that it wouldn't make any difference at all.

But, for once in my life, I can say that I don't know enough about the spectrum of gender identity to even know where to place myself. A few friends say nonbinary, but it just doesn't, I dunno, click with me, for lack of a better term. It just doesn't feel like me. Neither does gender fluid. I don't feel like one or the other depending on external factors. I don't know what I am.

However, much like the advice I give to friends who are trying to find their identity, I'm not looking for someone to just show up and tell me, "Oh, you're [this]." No one can tell you who you are because no other person knows what's in your mind but you. As such, that identity has to be found on your own. Like, I say I'm bi to help people understand the ballpark I'm in, but I'm really in between heteroflexible and bi, but, technically, both of those aren't even accurate. I don't have any particular preferences for women but I'm both demisexual and pansexual when it comes to men. I require a strong emotional connection with one and it's only with very select individuals. Out of all the people I've been attracted to, only 3 of them identify as men, those being a guy I lived across the hall from when I got to my first duty station (who I had known for years prior, as I was their mailman), a buddy of mine in Florida (whose wife said he's got "sexual magic" that makes nearly anyone he meets instantly want to sleep with him. I can't say he doesn't, cause I was totally game), and my best friend.

The only reason my roommate and I aren't sleeping together is because both of us are tops. We discussed it at length and decided that it just wouldn't work on that alone, which is completely fair. Pretty hard to have a game of baseball when everyone's pitching.

Well, that got off topic quick. I'll end this before I continue rambling, AKA I'll just ramble in another post.

[splattershotsundae]

Better Eight Than Never --- Chapter 46: Two steps back.

“Attention!” Sheldon shouted from the darkness, followed by a flashlight flicking on. Despite wearing Oz’s mask Hachi still cringed at the sudden change of light; this was not helping the amount of stress she was currently under.

"They cut the power!" Simon cried, pressing their hands against their forehead. “And we’re blocked in, it’s over, it’s all over! Nonononono...”

Sheldon cleared his throat, but was cut off by Toda swearing and pulling his hat off to hide his face in.

Hachi clenched her hands into fists and attempted to steady her rapid breathing. “I’m sorry.” She said. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t prepare us for this, we’re trapped, and we might die, and it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault.” Bato assured immediately. “It’s really not.”

Despite her best attempts, her fear only grew worse and worse. It felt like one shift when she’d woken up to the ground shaking, the power went out, and the dome caved in. It was the most frightening time of her life… well, until recently. She’d been cut off from everyone, and trapped for three whole shifts in total darkness, had she not gotten a refill on her drinking water she was sure she would have died… alone, in the dark.

“ATTEEEEEENTION!” Sheldon shouted, stomping one of his feet. Hachi looked up, thoroughly startled by this outburst. "Do we have any more injuries?!"

Jill stood up straighter, in what she seemed to think was ‘soldier-like’. "We are fine, sir!”

“Oh, no no, that’s not necessary..!” Sheldon reassured quickly. “But fear not! We still have hope!” He gestured upward dramatically, then stepped a couple of steps to his right and pointed upward again, to a trapdoor just overhead. "Through this we can get into the vents and make our way to the roof! We cannot let this precious opportunity go to waste! We will open up that wall, for my Grandpappy may have left something down there he was hiding for just this sort of circumstance! Perhaps some sort of weapon prototype…!"

Bato looked up, and then back down at his mother. "Will you be able to get out that way?" He asked.

Tanya paused, then took a deep breath. "I'll try. But if nothing else, I can stay here until things have been taken care of."

Bato frowned. "But--"

"You kids getting out is what's important right now." She interrupted him. "I won't be much help like this anyway. I'll be fine."

“Look, even if we get out, we can’t… we can’t win!” Simon exclaimed. “Ophelia’s got that barrier, and ink can’t go through it, and defeating her is the only thing we can do to stop this.”

“Wait wait--” Sheldon said, turning to his workbench and picking up the pistol Hachi had let him borrow. “Doesn’t this thing fire metal, and not ink?”

Hachi blinked. “Of course! That’ll get through the field no problem! Just… one problem. It’s range isn’t near long enough to be able to… well, be lethal at a big distance, which is an issue.”

“Hmmm...” Sheldon replied. “How’s the bullet propelled?”

“Well, when you cock it, ink pressure builds up behind the bullet, and is released when you fire. Sort of like ink shots but with.. well… metal.” She said. “At least, that’s my understanding...”

“Then what we need is a bigger gun!” He exclaimed, then cautiously made his way into the ruined shop and came back with a giant sniper rifle.

“An E-litre?” Simon asked. “I mean, if any weapon can do it, it’ll be that one.”

“Indeed!” Sheldon said as he dropped it onto the workbench, which wasn’t even long enough to support the entire thing. “You go investigate downstairs, I’ll work on modifying this charger for optimal function, given the circumstances.”

Hachi nodded. “If… you go looking in these ink puddles, you might find more pistols, if you end up breaking the bullets.”

“Does that mean… I can dissect one?” He asked. “Such mechanisms, I’ve never seen anything like it before, except in like, ancient weaponry but those never seemed to have much of a purpose, after all such records showed that it wasn't based on any liquid whatsoever! Furthermore--”

Bato cleared his throat. “Sorry bud, I’d love to sit and listen, but we don’t have much time. Catch me up on your thoughts later?”

“Righty-o!” He exclaimed. “Can do!”

"We're going to need more than one light." Jill pointed out.

Hachi paused, then opened one of the mask’s menus and turned on a spotlight. “Here.”

“… Finally! Something has an easy solution!” Jill smiled.

“Finally...” Toda agreed.

"We need to get to work." Simon said, and headed toward the stairs. "We don't have much time. We need to see what’s on the other side of that wall.”

“Feel free to use anything you find!” Sheldon said.

“Thanks for everything Sheldon.” Bato said, grunting as he stood up. "Stepmom...? Do you need anything?"

"I'm fine, sweetie, just do what you need to." Tanya replied, giving a small, but forced, smile.

Bato sighed, then turned to Hachi. “Lead the way.”

She nodded, then cautiously advanced to the stairs, and descended into the deeper darkness. The scenery around them seemed so much more sinister without the overhead lighting, although the light quality wasn’t too much worse, if she was going to be perfectly honest. She carefully stepped up to the excavation site and hung back. “I’ll stand here, I’m the light I can’t… get in the way.”

“Do you need company?” He asked her with a frown.

“I’ll be fine.” She said firmly, trying to keep her head steady while Toda examined the wall.

"Well, no time like the present." He said, before raising his foot and driving it at the damp, crumbling wall. However, one thing that he had failed to consider is that while the wall was weakening and a bit rough around the edges it was still, in fact, a concrete wall, and he howled in pain and staggered back.

“What the hell did you do that for?” Hachi demanded.

“I… I wanted to get it done faster?” He said sheepishly.

“Are you okay?” Simon asked as they stepped up to him.

“Yeah.” He replied quickly. “But that answers that question, we need tools for this.”

Bato looked around. "Did Sheldon leave that hammer down here?"

“No idea...” Simon replied.

“Hey guys, how about this?” Jill said, holding up a shovel.

Bato took the shovel and looked it over. "This might work." He said, then stepped up and stabbed the wall with the shovel’s blade. As he moved away, there was a fine line imprinted in the surface of the wall, and a few loose pebbles fell away.

“Yeah, that seems like it’s working!” Jill beamed.

“I’ll take over when you get tired.” Simon offered.

Bato nodded and began to hack some more at the wall, and Hachi couldn’t help but feel ill at ease. She couldn’t move at all from where she stood, and while in front of her was a beam of light, she was all too aware of the darkness all around her. She tried to reassure herself that there was nothing else down there with them, but there was only so much she could do with so much already on her mind. All she could do was watch them work and scrape at the wall. Jill’d ran off and grabbed a crowbar from wherever it was that she’d found the shovel and joined Bato in chipping away, until finally they both stepped back. Before them was a hole about an inch wide, and a pile of dust.

Bato brushed at the hole with his fingertips. "Well, there's a start," He murmured.

Simon leaned and surveyed the progress before turning toward Hachi. "Hey, do you think you could see through this?" They asked.

She blinked, then stepped forward "... See through? I-I could fit through this hole."

"You could?" Toda asked in surprise, glancing at her, then at the hole, then back at her.

"... Yeah?" She said slowly. "You can't?"

Toda paused, looking back at the hole again. ".. It'd be awfully tight." He muttered, his expression a bit dubious.

“Are you kidding me?” She asked. “I had to fit through holes half that size in training.”

“Uh huh.” Simon muttered.

She grimaced. “I can transform and fit through that, I swear!”

Bato paused, then shook his head. "I'll see if I can get it a little wider before we send anyone back there." He said, then stepped back up to the hole and hacked at it once more.

She huffed in annoyance and folded her arms. Why didn’t they believe her? She just had to sit back and watch while Bato and Jill passed their tools off to Toda and Simon and kept trying to widen the hole. Above them in the plaza they heard activity of some kind, which urged them to work faster. They finally stepped aside once the hole was nearly doubled in size.

“I think that’s good.” Simon said, setting aside their shovel.

“You’ll let me through now?” Hachi asked.

“Well, the sooner we find out what’s on the other side, the better.” Bato said.

As soon as he finished speaking she charged at the wall and jumped, transforming through the hole and back in a single fluid motion. When she changed back though, she hit her head on a hard surface and cringed. “Ow!”

"You alright? What's back there?" Bato asked.

“Not sure… hold on.” She said, then took a brief stock of what was around her. There wasn’t much room around her, and even for how short she was she had to duck. Right in front of her was this large slick panel of.. glass? And above her was a small metal lip which rested against the concrete and quite possibly was what began to wear it away. “Well, there’s something here...” She concluded, brushing some dirt off the glass surface to get a better look. It was resting over… these multitudes of tiny dots… Which she realized with horror were pixels. She brushed away more dirt, and found the upper rim was curved. She punched a quick calculation into the mask and gasped. If this was an even circle, it could be up to eight feet in diameter. “… Guys… we found its eye.” She said. “The Octomaton… It’s real… and it’s huge...”

“How big?” Simon asked.

“This eye is bigger than I am!” She exclaimed, then turned around with a little difficulty to face the hole in the wall. “The other octo weapons were… the size of a few rooms, or maybe like.. a house? If this is the eye… It’s going to be much… much much much much bigger than that!”

“Okay, okay come out of there.” Bato said.

Hachi gripped the hole with both hands and transformed through, accidentally shining her mask’s lights in Bato’s face as she changed back. “Sorry...”

“It’s okay.” Bato reassured quickly. “What do we do?”

“I think we need to break through this wall more than ever.” Simon said.

“Agreed.” Toda said.

“I already have blisters though...” Jill frowned.

“We’ll ask Sheldon for band-aids if it gets really bad.” Simon said. “Let’s get back to work.”

Hachi stepped away from the wall and sighed as she watched more progress be made on the hole. She was beginning to worry that this was just some huge waste of time… What could they even do on the other side? So they’d found the eye, it wasn’t like that was an access hatch! She couldn’t bring herself to speak up. They finally were doing something they felt could save them. They were doing something, anything, to fight back.

How long until they gave up?

She watched the countdown timer, feeling a little sick as the hours kept slipping away from them, but finally Toda slumped back against the wall. "We've already spent so much time at this, we don't have time to uncover the whole thing." He said.

“I agree...” Hachi said immediately.

“What if we just break it?” Simon asked.

“I have no idea...” She frowned. “I don’t know how tough it is, that might take some work…”

“I don’t have much more of that in me...” Toda admitted.

“We have to remember, this is a war weapon.” She continued. “It’s plating could be incredibly durable, if we had all day we might be able to break through it...

"But we don't." Simon concluded, rubbing their forehead.

"... So what can we do?" Toda asked, looking between the other four.

"We've hit a dead end..." Simon muttered. "But we've spent so much time on this! we can't just... uuurghh!!!!" They started pacing, growing agitated.

“How much time to we have left?” Bato asked.

Without warning, the ground shook, and Hachi feared for a brief moment that it was too late… but then a rhythmic thudding permeated the ceiling above. “A… A baseline?” She asked, her voice cracking ever so slightly.

“What are they doing?” Simon asked.

“I… I mean they could just be motivating themselves to work.” Hachi said. “We listen to songs all the time, and we sing, just to keep going… but… I don’t think that’s it. Is Ophelia here already?”

“Either way, it can’t be good.” Bato murmured.

“Wait, Hachi, turn off that light for a moment.” Jill said.

“What?” Hachi winced. “Why?”

“I need to see something!” Jill exclaimed. “Please, just for a moment!”

Hachi stared, but then turned off the light, shuddering as they were enveloped in darkness.

But it wasn’t total darkness. A faint purple glow came from within the hole in the wall, and ever so slowly a small orb of purple light floated out of the wall, followed by another, and another, and soon there were clouds of them rising up through the ceiling.

“Wh… What’s that?” Hachi asked.

“That’s… one of the lights that shows up at Splatfest.” Bato said. “Oh dear Judd… they’re coming from the Octomaton.”

The lights swirled as Simon moved to the wall, faintly illuminated as they put their ear to the cold concrete. “… They’re playing City of Color. The song the Sisters always sing at Splatfest.”

"We need to get back up and find out what's going on up there." Bato said.

Hachi turned the light back on. “Ophelia must be up there by now, we need to get moving.” She said, then turned and started to briskly lead the way back up to Sheldon’s shop, ears pinned back against her head.

As they came back into the shop, Tanya was struggling to try to get up, bad leg threatening to buckle. "What's going on?" She asked.

"Tanya, don't try to stand up!" Jill said.

“Agreed.” Bato said.

"Look, we don't know what's going on out there, that's part of the problem." Simon said with a huff.

“Can you please be just a little quieter?” Sheldon asked from where he was leaned over his workbench. “I am nearly finished with this adaption!”

Tanya sighed, then she slowly sank back down to the floor, though she kept her good leg drawn close to her body so she could try and rise again if she needed to.

“Why are they playing Squid Sisters songs?” Simon muttered, then paused as there was a break as the song outside ended… only to start right back up again. “Oh, my bad, Squid Sister’s SONG.”

“Look, if the Octomaton is responding to it, then that means that this might be how they’re trying to activate it.” Bato said.

“If this song is what would activate it, why would you dummies play it during your Splatfests?” Hachi scoffed. “Do the Sirens think through anything at all!?”

“Sirens?" Sheldon asked, looking up from his work. Likewise Tanya looked up sharply, but her expression was much more surprised than confused.

Hachi grimaced. “Nevermind.”

“Look, we need a firm plan.” Simon said, starting to pace. “We don’t know how many are out there… They’ll all be armed...” They took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Ok... Ok... We try to shoot Ophelia... and then we... run like hell."

"That's it?" Jill asked. “That’s our big plan?”

"Yes." Simon replied. "That's it. If we miss, they'll be after us in a second. We run away, maybe we survive and fight another day.”

“There’s not going to be another day!” Hachi exclaimed. “This thing emerges, your city is doomed! They know where all of you live, you can’t just hide!”

"We'll just.. run." Simon said. “We have to, because there’s a chance we’ll make it.”

“Stepmom can’t run!” Bato exclaimed.

"No, I can't." Tanya replied, grunting as she pulled her .52 gal over."But I may be able to buy you kids some time. I might even be able to take a few of them out first. One of the reasons I've always loved this bad boy, it only takes two or three hits to Splat a fellow."

"NO!" Bato shouted. "I'm not leaving you here!!"

"Then I'll stay!" Hachi interjected, stepping forward. "I'm immune to the ink, and I... I'm willing to take a few shots."

"No!" Both Bato and Tanya said at the same time, then Tanya continued. "Hachi, honey, they're going to need you up there. I can't run, and I certainly can't run and fight at the same time, if I try to go with you I'm only going to slow you down, and then you'll have no chance whatsoever. If I can stay here and--"

"NO." Bato said again. "You have to come with us, we're not just going to leave you here!"

"Sweetie--"

"I'M not going to--”

"Bato, hon, please--"

"There has to--"

"BATO TARAFAH EUTHIS, LISTEN TO ME." Tanya snapped, then took a deep breath and continued in a calmer voice. "There isn't any other way!"

"Look... I... I can't run either..." Jill said quietly.

"Jill!" Simon snapped.

"Well I CAN'T! Not like this, you shot me in in the foot! I'm the one of us who has sniping experience, I'll take the gun, and snipe from the roof and give you guys a head start, you can carry Tanya in the backpack!"

"No, Jill." Tanya said firmly. "You'll be the one in the backpack when the time comes."

"But if we want the best chance for everyone to escape, someone has to stay behind and take the shot while everyone else runs! I'm the only one who could hit her from the rooftop!" Jill protested.

"But can you KILL her?!" Simon demanded. "I know you, you’re too nice!”

"I will for you, Simon!!!" Jill said, tears springing to her face. "I know it hasn't felt like it lately, but I really really care about you!!"

"Children..." Tanya said, looking between the two of them; this sounded like it was about to deteriorate quickly.

”Don’t ‘children’ me, I don't have a choice!" Jill said, gripping her weapon tightly.

"Yes you do!" Simon said. "I’ll stay and do it!"

"WHAT?! No!!" Jill said hurriedly.

"Just let me do it." Hachi stepped forward, they didn’t have time for arguing. "I've got the training required for an elite, I can take her down. I have the skill and I have the will!"

“Guys, stop!” Toda exclaimed, and all eyes turned to him. "Look, we can all stand here and shout at each other until the metal monster in the basement comes to destroy us all, but I'm pretty sure no one here is going to be able to convince the others to leave them behind, no matter how convincing their arguments are or how loud they yell. And while I can't speak for the rest of you, I think I'd rather go down fighting."

“Same.” Bato agreed. “This is the last stand.”

Hachi swallowed, then stood more attentively. “… I’ll stay too.”

“… Hug anyone?” Jill asked.

“Yeah.” Simon agreed, wrapping their arms around Jill.

“Hey, can I have one too?” Toda asked.

“Of course!” Jill said. “Hugs for everyone!”

Hachi paused as Toda walked over, then looked at Bato. “… Can I hug you?”

He gave a faint smile. “Yeah, of course.”

“Thanks...” She whispered, then stepped close and hugged him, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the embrace. She felt as thought it might be the last one she’d ever have.

“Well everyone, I did the best I could with these bullets!” Sheldon said, cutting into the moment. “I imagine the bullet might go even further than the range of a normal E-litre shot! However, I had to take the gun completely apart to put it in, which… means that you’ll only be able to fire once every two minutes!”

“… That’s okay.” Hachi said as she pulled away from Bato. “We only have one shot anyway.”

“Hey Sheldon...” Jill said as she pulled away from Simon and Toda. “Since the world is ending, do you mind if I borrow a Splattershot Pro?"

"Yes you may. If any of you have weapons you prefer, go ahead and pick one." He said. "I've done all I can do to help in a technical sense, but I will go to the front lines just the same!" He then reached over and picked up a revolver, nodding in a determined fashion.

“Thanks bud.” Bato said, giving him a thumbs up.

Sheldon gave one back. “Oh yes-yes, which of you is ready to wield my brand new, one of a kind, E-litre custom pro?

“I will.” Hachi said, and stepped over to pick it up. “I know the most about these weapons… I should do it.”

Jill nodded, and she looked… genuinely relieved. “I believe in you Hachi.”

Hachi nodded, then paused and picked up another pistol off the counter. “I’ll bring one of these just in case.”

“Good plan.” Simon agreed. “We should also charge our specials before we go out.”

“Wonderous idea!” Sheldon agreed. “I was about to suggest it myself!”

“I should probably take the Forge Splattershot Pro for this, shouldn’t I?” Jill asked. “Inkzooka will be better than Inkstrike I think...”

“And Kraken will be better than killer wail.” Simon agreed. “I’ll get the slosher deco.”

“We just have to be careful not to hit Hachi with any of those.” Toda pointed out. “We can’t even bubble her, because she’s a different ink color, right?”

“Yeah, she is.” Bato said.

“But, if one of you holds me, I can be in the bubble.” Hachi pointed out. “Perhaps not the most practical use of my time, but I’d rather survive.”

Simon looked around at the assembled group and took a deep breath. "... This is almost it you guys. Let’s do our best.”

Bato nodded, then took a step toward the twins. "... Whatever happens tonight, I want you two to know that you guys have been some of the best friends I could ever have hoped to have, even if our time spent together has been wild since the beginning, I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Toda nodded his agreement.

Jill smiled a little. "Aww... You guys are my favorite squad! I'm so glad we got to meet! Funny that it's going to start and end at the same place."

Bato chuckled a bit. "That's right, we met here. That's kinda funny."

Hachi looked over all of them, then hefted the E-litre. “We’re not going to end here. I swear.” She said. “I… It’s my fault all this happened, I’m going to stop it before it gets worse.”

Bato frowned. “Hachi, it’s not your faul--”

He was cut off as through the wall a roar of applause broke out, accompanied by woops and hollers.

“We don’t have time for this.” Simon said, then paused. “… Autobutts, roll out.”

Hachi shivered as she lowered into a sniping position along the edge of the Booyah Base’s roof. Since they’d last been out the sun had set beneath the horizon, which had left their foes plenty of time to dominate the plaza. Soldiers were everywhere, and several flying saucers hovered in the sky, occasionally firing off Inkstrikes. Despite this, the busiest part of the plaza was the center, where’d they dug up the ground to reveal a circle of metal with an octarian insignia in the middle, a beam of moonlight drawing ever closer to it. Off to the left the Great Zapfish was finished being dragged from it’s place on the tower, and was now being held down by rubber-coated chains and a whole battalion of soldiers.

Naturally, Ophelia was impossible to miss among all the action, she had positioned herself on the balcony in front of the Squid Sister's studio, said Sisters were on either side of her, and the three of them were all dressed in glittering golden armor, and with brilliant headdresses, and Ophelia had a bejeweled scepter that gleamed in the moonlight. The lights on Ophelia's clothes flashed in several patterns and could have almost been called the end-all be-all freshness were it not for her devilish smile as she anticipated the revival of the greatest, or at least most deadly, weapon they’d ever made.

"Holy mackerel." Toda whispered as he lay down nearby. “They did a number on this place...”

“Figures it’s right in the middle...” Bato murmured. “That’s right where the spawner marking was.”

“Ironic...” Hachi muttered as she zoomed in on Ophelia. “Shit, she’s wearing armor on her front… I might have to wait until she turns around to snipe.”

She watched Ophelia as patiently as she could as she sprang off the balcony to the ground level, Callie and Marie right behind her. The soldiers all parted for her, and saluted, in such a uniform fashion that she knew she would have followed along with just a few shifts prior… Watching that sickening smile of hers made her feel so uncomfortable. She’d taken everything from her, she’d chopped off her tentacles, and was going to end her life… She grimaced as Ophelia not only continued to face her way, but started to talk to Orion. The left side of his face was swollen and purpled, his mechanical eye switched off. Just then Ophelia stabbed her scepter down at the ground, and began to shout loud enough for them to hear. "Send an assault force into that building! NOW! I WON'T have my grand moment ruined by those filthy mudfish!"

Orion grimaced and replied too quietly to hear, but then gestured at some elite soldiers who then grabbed various heavy weaponry, such as bazookas, and began to head for Sheldon's shop. They had such a limited window… Come on Ophelia, turn around… She was beginning to pace back and forth in front of the circle, and she took aim, grimacing. Her pacing was too quick, if she fired she was bound to miss…

Ophelia finally stopped pacing and spread her arms wide, and the squid sister’s music faded out, being replaced by her own commanding voice. "My loyal forces! It is nearly time for our decimation of Inkopolis!!"

She shuddered as a cheer ran through the crowd, and Callie and Marie walked forward, forming a triangle around the metal sigil. As the moonlight began to hit the circle’s rim, a light came on, and then two more as the moonlight touched them. She was running out of time… She took aim at Ophelia’s neck, the least armored part of her body. Even if this didn’t kill her, it would still make it so she would be unable to give orders… But what if the range wasn’t as good as promised? She wavered, trying to steady her breathing.

She twitched her finger toward the trigger…

And then the circle shuddered and burst up from the ground, revealing a tall, ten-foot-high tower… right between her and Ophelia. She wanted to scream. She should have taken the shot. She should have just done it!

And then Ophelia began to sing, her voice sending shivers down her back. Like every time Ophelia sang, she felt this compelling that she didn’t understand; A compelling which now that she was ignoring felt psychologically painful. The song was joined by Callie and Marie, and a thick band of colored lights came on on the base of the tower, bright purple in color. Some lights turned off in a pattern to create a picture of an octopus. She couldn’t wait any longer for Ophelia to come back into sight. She swung the barrel of her gun around and took aim at Callie.

“Hachi!” Bato hissed from beside her. “Hachi what are you doing!? We can't hurt the Sisters!"

"It's her or the world." She hissed back, trying to focus. Out of the corner of her vision she saw a second band of lights turned on, green with squid patterns. She had to stop Callie from singing… not… kill her. She dipped the barrel of her gun, aimed at her legs, and gave herself a mental countdown.

Three…

Two…

One…

BOOM!

“AHHHHHH!”

Callie crumpled to the ground, right as the top band, bright yellow in color with… some sort of strange squid pattern flashed on. She’d been too late again.

The tower gave a whir so loud it shook the earth and began to spin, all the while the plaza’s speakers rang loud with Ophelia’s cackles. Hachi lowered the rifle, feeling sick. “I’m sorry...” She said, not sure if anyone could hear her. “I’m so sorry…”

The rooftop shook as soldiers began to land alongside them, weapons drawn and about to attack, when the tower in the plaza split apart to reveal a hole. And from that hole, an octarian tentacle with a bright green X on it burst forth, stretching toward the sky, and the earth shook tremendously as the tentacle fell and flopped to the ground, lifeless. Hachi couldn’t believe her eyes, and neither could her friends or the soldiers around them. They all stood there, frozen. The Octomaton was dead?

"NO!" Ophelia screeched, her tentacles coiling up like springs. "NO NO NO!!!! ORVOKKI! EXPLAIN!” And with that she stormed up to the fallen Callie, picking her up with her tentacles and leaving her dangling in her grasp.

Callie’s expression was pained, but she still smiled, speaking loud enough to be picked up by Ophelia’s microphone. “Me and Marie… we sung to it… every month… We made a song… with the tune… to make it give off the beacons.”

"They drained its power supply." 'Marie' said, stepping up to her. "They killed it little by little, making it use up it’s reserve battery. It’s likely been dead for a while.”

“Clever...” Bato murmured.

Hachi nodded in agreement and took notice of the soldiers who had originally come down to fight them were now stepping in alongside them on the edge of the roof, watching the scene below.

Ophelia shouted in rage and threw Callie across the plaza, causing her to give a weak yelp. “MUST I DO EVERYTHING MYSELF!?” She demanded, then twisted her scepter and tore a sheath off of the bottom, revealing a thin, sharp blade inside. She then stepped up to the tentacle and swung her scepter, severing it from the machine. "ORION! GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!"

Orion heeded her orders immediately, stepping over and kneeling down.

"POWER THE OCTOMATON!" She commanded.

Orion looked up sharply. “… You want me to what?”

Ophelia reached down and ripped off Orion's mask."BECOME THE OCTOMATON!" She shouted, and gestured at the hole where the tentacle once stood.

Orion stood, tentacles writhing and coiling. “No.”

"YOU WILL! THAT WAS AN ORDER!!!" Ophelia said, then snapped her fingers.

Hachi’s world became a blur as over the speakers a familiar beat began to play. Without thinking she got on one knee and dipped her head in respect, as did the soldiers around her. This song was one of DJ Octavio’s mixes, the former king of the octolings, may he rest in peace… “All hail the king.” She said before she could help it.

“As you wish, your majesty.” Orion said, and Hachi lifted her head and watched as Orion stepped into the shallow hole left when Ophelia had removed the old tentacle. Orion jammed his hands into the pool of ink that remained, and then screamed in pain as robotic claws dug into his arms and dragged him under the surface.

The music stopped, and the reality of what just happened hit her like a wave. That was horrible, that was…

The ground heaved, and a tentacle shot out of the hole, wearing the black hue of an elite, and lashed out at the Great Zapfish, wrapping around it and pulling it down into the machine. The octolings alongside them on the roof decided to turn tail and flee, and Hachi grabbed Bato’s arm for comfort.

The ground shook harder, and cracks began to appear in the concrete, but Ophelia did not move from where she stood. When the tentacle emerged again, she slashed it with her scepter in two quick strikes, forming an X in the flesh. “RISE OCTOMATON! LEVEL THE CITY!”

The tentacle lashed, and then wrapped around her, lifting her into the air.

She seemed startled for a moment, but then gave another slash at the tentacle with her scepter. “PUT ME DOWN!” She demanded, but the Octomaton paid no heed, coiling and then plunging into the depths. Even though she was out of sight, the plaza’s speakers broadcast her screams, which grew in intensity before being cut off in static.

It took all of her will not to vomit as she clung to Bato as hard as her trembling fingers could, and he clung back.

The cracks in the pavement grew, and then the ground heaved and began to break apart as an angular head began to rise up from the ground, and cracks began to appear in the rooftop as well. She scrambled backward as best she could, as she shaking grew in intensity. A mechanical tentacle shot up from the ground, so tall she had to crane her neck back to see the top of it, and then the tentacle broke apart at the tip, and condensed to form a sort of four-fingered hand, which came down onto the ground to help push itself free from its underground prison. The head rose higher, and higher, and four tentacles attached to it whirred and shifted before opening up to reveal missile launchers, and these tentacles flexed and shifted, as if testing their full capacity. One of the saucers above began to flee, but a second hand reached up, grabbed, and threw it like a toy before continuing to haul itself from the ground, revealing legs the size of small buildings. It dwarfed everything around it, standing just barely taller than Inkopolis Tower, its electronic eyes flickered on and beamed like spotlights. Its beak flung open and let out a screech, the more horrifying sound she’d ever heard, and then lashed one of its weaponized tentacles at the Tower, breaking off the top and sending it crashing to the ground.

Every solider in the plaza scattered like insects as the Octomaton turned and began to stomp off away from the plaza, its footfalls setting off car alarms and shattering glass. They’d failed. She’d failed.

They’d lost the world.

Bato, Toda, and Tanya are Knitter’s characters

Hachi, Jill, Simon, Orion, Ophelia, and Orvokki are Shuckle’s characters.

Sheldon, Callie and Marie are from Splatoon, which belongs to Nintendo, and was portrayed by Shuckle

Please consider liking or reblogging if you enjoyed, it’s nice to know we’re doing things right.

Shuckle has a patreon if you would like to provide additional support!

[<PREV] [INDEX] [NEXT>]

#better eight than never #Splatoon #octoling #inkling #Splatoon fanfiction #SS Simon #SS Jill #SS Toda #SS Bato #Octo Hachi #Octo Orion #Octo Ophelia #Misc Tanya

[ember-of-sin]

Writetober Day #1: Fear

Going to try some prompts from inktober/writetober, and see how it works out. Here’s the first day. Enjoy!

~

Hungry.

~

“Fucking Sudan,” Hamish Bertold swore, putting the cigarette to his lips and taking a long drag from it. The mercenary leaned back against the side of his jeep, looking up at the stars. “Fucking Sudan.” The Englishman looked over at the rest of his unit – Frederic Pashayev, a former Chechen guerilla, who’d giving up fighting for a cause once Russian artillery landed on his wife and child. Disgusted with both the failed separatist movement that couldn’t even save his own family and by the increasing number of Islamic fighters flooding into the country, the ex-Soviet had left his nation behind. Next to him, weaving his hands back in forth in a description of an event he’d probably mentioned ten times before was Jacques D’Entremot. Always well-groomed, even in a dirty fucking country like this, the Frenchman also loved fire. Perhaps a little more than he should, but not so much that Bertold had to make sure he didn’t go burning down a village for no reason.

Sitting on the hood of the car was the fourth member of their team; Anna Lee Smith, an American. ‘Little Orphan Annie’ whenever you thought she wasn’t listening. You didn’t find many women in this kind of work, but Smith was one of the exceptions. A head shorter than Bertold, she wasn’t squat or bulky, but built and definitely tough enough to lay out any man that thought she was an easy mark. Smith was also prone to starting bar-clearing brawls whenever she thought that she was getting less than the full amount of respect that she deserved.

Bertold ran a finger around his collar, desperate for even that temporary relief. It was a hot night here, so humid you could practically drink the air. “How much longer, Abdul?” he asked.

“Please, sir,” their guide offered in a voice of forced obsequiousness. ‘Abdul’ was not his real name. In the North, he was a devout Muslim convert. In the south of the country, he was an upstanding Christian by birth. For want of an actual identity, Pashayev had given him his name and it had stuck. “It will take however long it takes.”

“It better take less time than that,” Frederic commented darkly. They’d been waiting here, outside another shithole Sudanese village for the past four hours. Allegedly, Abdul had a contact here who would know where their targets were headed.

The mercenary ran a finger through his collar again. A very wealthy man had hired them after his very idealistic daughter had run off to join one of the aid agencies working in the country. A death squad had visited the girl’s camp. They had not been terribly impressed with the group’s humanitarian mission, and had objected to the dispersal of supplies, food and medical attention to the southern Sudanese. They had requested that all goods be turned over to them, as government authorities, for proper distribution. The medical personnel had not wanted to do this. The northerners had insisted. Quite strenuously.

Officially, the government knew nothing about the ‘Camp Holtisce Massacre’, where 87 southern Sudanese men, women and children were slaughtered, 7 foreign aid workers were butchered and one very wealthy man’s overly idealistic daughter was raped and murdered. The very wealthy man had pressured his government to take corrective measures, which amounted to a strongly-worded finger-wagging. The very wealthy man then spent a considerable amount of money to find out exactly who had carried out the Camp Holtisce atrocity and to contract, through appropriate channels, Bertold and his team. Who would, thank you, locate the team and make sure to express the very wealthy man’s extreme displeasure before sending them off to whatever lay in the hereafter.

A good job for good pay.

Bertold’s team had been tracking the northerners for some time now and were almost on them, but somehow they’d given him the slip. They’d moved into the small, out-of-the way southern town to do what came naturally to genocidal lunatics – at least Bertold had thought so, but the notable lack of shots and screams showed a restraint that was totally out-of-character for the northerners. Either they had decided to give peace a chance, or they had figured out that Bertold and his team were tailing them and were either a) lying in wait, or b) had snuck out of the village either to escape or circle around and then ambush the mercenaries.

No matter how it went, Hamish did not like the possible outcomes. He’d fallen his unit back off the main roads far enough that they should be able to spot any flanking attempts, but there was no sign of life from the village ahead.

Abdul had gone ahead to signal his contact there, and received the ‘wait’ response. Which only made Bertold and his team more nervous.

Smith and D’Entremot had swept the area three times already; no sign of flankers and Abdul had checked with his contact again, got another ‘wait’. So, what the fuck was going on?

“This is ridiculous,” Pashenyev growled. “If they’re going to fucking come at us, then come at us already.”

“Maybe they’re bunkered down, thinking the same thing?” Anna suggested, cradling a sniper rifle that seemed two sizes too big for her.

Hamish nodded to himself. No point in waiting any more; if there was a trap, they might as well go in to spring it. “Move out, then. We’ll leave the jeep here.”

“And, you can be assured that will I safeguard it valiantly,” their guide promised.

Frederic grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and gave him a shove. “You’re on point,” the Chechen growled.

~

“Motherfucking Christ,” Smith whispered in horror as the cone of light from her flashlight played over scene of carnage.

There’d been no sentries.

No drunks loitering around the outskirts of the town, no children sneaking out of bed, no men and women carousing. There was only the stench of blood, the hissing of small, unattended fires and the crackling of glass from shattered windows underfoot. There were no bodies. Only bloodstains splashed against walls and doors, dirt and fences. Bits of bone, pieces of entrails. Drag marks leading off into the savannah.

The crude wooden floors of huts were splashed with dark, reeking fluid. Fingernails had curled deep scratches leading in floors, door frames and windowsills. The woman’s nose crinkled at the mingled scents of blood and urine, the actinic musk of perspiration underlying everything. Not, not just perspiration; fear.

Anna could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She didn’t know why; she’d fought on a dozen different battlefields, seen and done things far worse than this empty village but here… it was wrong. Indefinably, inescapably wrong. Something… something bad had happened, beyond even what her eyes were telling her.

They shouldn’t be here.

-run-

It was a whispering, chittering voice in the back of her skull, repeating the mantra over and over again. Run. Run. Run.

The mercenary played her flashlight over the walls of the house she was in, a squat and simple one-room hut. There; something on the walls, some kind of writing, it looked like. Smeared on the planks in a shaking hand, barely legible, it trailed off into an indecipherable scrawl as its author was dragged away:

They are h...

Inside her, the voice grew louder, but she shoved it away and backed out of the empty house, continuing her sweep of the village, and if a shiver of movement caught her eye, it was only ever the rustling of grass or some litter that had caught in the wind.

~

“This is wrong,” Abdul said, clutching his own pistol tightly. “Death squads leave the bodies as a warning. This is not a regime were people are disappeared. Not like this.”

“Yeah? So where are they?” Hamish demanded, playing his light over a broken bicycle. The dirt beneath it had been torn up with frantic movements, a dark stain in the dusty soil. A busted watch lay discarded in the dirt, its strap torn, the glass face broken. The mercenary knelt down to pick it up. It had stopped over six hours ago, even before the death squad had gotten here.

That was impossible. It meant-

“Ham,” Anna’s voice crackled through the radio. “Get over here. We’re in the village square.”

“What’d you find?”

“Our targets.”

~

The death squad; a dozen men armed with a variety of weapons, from machetes and hammers to AK-47s and even an RPG or two. Not that it had done them much good. These bodies were still here, left out where they’d fallen, their manner of their deaths telling a very distinct tale.

They’d come to the town to rape, pillage and murder and found it just as empty. Fanning out to search for the villagers that they’d believed to be hiding, they’d been hunted down and killed themselves, picked off one by one. In houses, searching closets. In the street, standing guard, or when they’d tried to run.

One of them was slumped at the wheel of one of their vehicles, a jagged chunk of metal imbedded in his skull, thrown with considerable force and accuracy.

“Their magazines are still full,” Jacques pointed out, touching a finger to the barrel of the driver’s gun. It was no warmer than the Sudanese climate allowed for. “Whatever happened, happened fast.”

“It must have been the villagers,” Pashayev said, his fingers tapping against his submachine gun in a cadence continually increasing in tempo. He felt it too. It was in the air. Something wrong had been here.  “The villagers. They decided to not to put up with these fuckers’ shit and gave a little back.” He didn’t sound like he believed it, but Bertold could see Frederic was rattled. They all were. There was something about this place

“Yeah, you think?” Smith spat, shining her flashlight into Frederic’s face. “You think a village of goat-farmers just up and killed a dozen men and then ghosted off into nowhere again like the fucking SAS? That strike you as plausible?”

“Maybe the old man hired someone else for the job,” Jacques snapped back, stroking his natty little goatee. “They just got here first. Some other merc troop.”

“No…” Bertold mused. “We would have heard. And nobody on the market is this good.”

“Then what the fuck happened here?”

“More to the point,” Anna raised her hand. “Why do we care? The targets’re dead, we’re not. Let’s go get paid. Do we really have to play the horror movie cliché of ‘explore the spooky village’?”

Jacques nodded. “I agree. Answers are for people who care to ask questions. Let’s not.” There was an edge to his voice and Bertold looked over at his companion; he was feeling it too. They all were.

“All right,” he said. “Let’s-”

“Wait,” Abdul put in. “We must find our contact.”

“‘Our’ contact?” Pashayev grunted.

Hamish pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m sure he’s fine. He probably lit out when he saw us coming in.” Burn the village, run away run away never come back.

The Russian laughed. “Didn’t want to be mistaken for another spook in the dark.”

Whatever Abdul had been about to say in reply was cut off by a startled shout from Anna. “Movement!”

Hamish spun, lifting his gun and sweeping the flashlight beam across the empty village; there. Someone had just run between two houses. He gestured to his team, Frederic and Jacques breaking off to slip around while he and Anna moved in. Abdul remained where he was.

The clear night was starting to cloud over; only the orange glow of the small, still-burning fires and the thin cone of light from Hamish’s lamp provided any light at all as the moon’s glow was slowly devoured. He flicked off the flashlight, unwilling to give away his position. Ahead of him, he could hear raspy, frightened breathing, the scrape of feet over dirt. His nose twitched.

-blood-

The village reeked of it, stunk of fear and pain. He didn’t want to be here. He wanted to listen to the gibbering voice inside him and just run, run until he no longer could and pull the ground in over him. Instead, he forced himself to take another step and then, another.

His head throbbed, the flush of adrenalin making his entire body shake. I know this, some ancient part of him quavered. I… remember this. Long-forgotten, buried beneath generations of human primacy, some atavistic part of him shivered in uncomprehending horror. That … there was no word to describe it. The human sense of smell was vestigial compared to that of other organisms and the scent of blood and death, ash and befoulment in this place was almost overpowering, but beneath it… one particle in a thousand. A million. A billion. There was no definable odour, but he could still feel it. It was everywhere. This is a bad place, that primitive voice whimpered.

Beside him, he could hear Smith, the hitch of her own breathing telling him that she felt it too. Their eyes met, each of them wanting to run, each of them shaking off the primitive instinct as nothing more than the willies. But, the little voice insisted, growing louder. You’ve seen worse. You’ve done worse. Why this place?[/i]

He remembered a tidbit he’d heard on one nature program or another. The scent of a ferret so terrifies rabbits that some die of fright before they ever see it...

Stop it! he ordered himself as he continued down the alley. A ray of moonlight pierced through the clouds as they briefly thinned out. There was a shadow on the other side of nearest house’s corner. Hamish slid sideways, cursing himself for the scuffing his feet made in the dirt. You’re better than this!

So thick in the air, he could almost feel it, making every nerve scream in primal terror, he forced the incomprehensible fear away and moved closer, adrenalin starting to make his arms shake.

As the moon’s light retreated again, he gestured for Anna to give him a little space as he whirled around the corner. There was a startled cry as he swung the barrel of the gun into the face of a terrified girl.

~

The man who today went by the name of Abdul swore to himself and kicked a furrow in the beaten-down dirt of the path. He didn’t like this, anything about this. Jamal should have been here waiting for them when they arrived, even if the village was like this. It wasn’t like him to play these sorts of games.

Waiting for the mercenaries to return, Abdul sighed with disgust. He headed to Jamal’s house, forcing himself to loosen his grip on his pistol, but each time he inadvertently found his hands tightening about it painfully, like a child with a security blanket worried about the Boogeyman.

He passed by a patter of red in the silhouette of a man and suppressed a shudder, recalling too many local tales of the jinns. In some tales, they were harmless tricksters. In others, they were malign spirits. Still others… Abdul shook himself. Superstitions, he told himself. That was all.

There; he was at his destination, a small chicken coop on the edge of town. Jamal’s brother owned it and it would not be out of place for his contact to be seen here; that was why they had chosen it. There was a cluttering of clucks from the hens; they were all cowering in their coop, heads cocked at Abdul, terrified eyes staring... almost expectantly.

Abdul suppressed the insane urge to scream at them, demanding that they tell him what they had seen. He paused, catching some motion in his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look, there was nothing. Just another stupid bird.

He found the small shed that Jamal contacted him from, frowning as he picked out a strange shape in the dirt. It was Jamal’s flashlight. Why would it…? He turned it over in his hands, freezing as his fingers touched something sticky, warm and wet. With a suddenly shaking hand, he drew his own flashlight and shone it on the ground, revealing the thick, matted bloodstains there.

“No…” he whispered.

“Khalikh,” he heard someone call his name, his real name.

He looked up, seeing a form slip behind a house. “Over here,” the familiar voice called.

“Jamal? Is that you?”

“Over here, Khalikh,” Jamal called. “Over here.”

His heart pounding, the man vaulted over the fence, rushing to the building, and rounding the corner, but there was no one there.

“Khalikh,” the voice called, a little closer. There – in the shadows between this house and the next, he could just make out a human form. “Over here. Hurry.”

“Yes, yes. Just stay there.”

“I’ll stay,” Jamal promised. “Khalikh, come here.”

Khalikh stepped into the darkness. “What happened here, Jamal? Are you all right?” the other man did not respond. “Jamal? Are you hurt? Say something!” He fumbled with the light, almost dropping it before turning it on, a spotlight shining on the ground, catching the dried pool of blood there perfectly, a fresh drop splashing onto the crimson soil. The blood drained from Khalikh’s face as he panned the beam up over the figure. “Jamal,” he whispered, reaching up to close his friend’s eyes. Left here like… like…

…like bait.

“Khalikh,” Jamal’s voice called from behind him. “Over here.”

~

“Please!” she begged, cowering away from the mercenary. “No hurt!”

As keyed-up as he was, Hamish almost pulled the trigger anyways. “Who are you?” he demanded, his nostrils flared. “What happened here?” He could barely form the words, his breath ragged and hoarse in his throat.

The girl – her skin was lighter than that the southern Sudanese African population, pressed herself up against the wall as if trying to flatten herself against it. “Don’t hurt me! I’m afraid!” She didn’t look more than twenty years old, if that. Kill her! some part of Hamish shrieked in rising panic.

“It’s okay,” Smith tried to reassure the frightened girl, but could barely form the words. Run, her mind screamed even louder, a shriek that bubbled up from the deepest, darkest recesses of racial memory. Run from her! But even as that voice screamed and gibbered, another insisted that everything was all right, that she didn’t have to be afraid, that she just had to reach out and help the girl…

“I’m afraid,” the young woman repeated.

“You don’t have to be,” Smith tried, swallowing back her own terror, forcing herself not to retch. Her legs were shaking. “We’re here to help you.” She had to help her; the poor thing was so frightened, she had to, to get closer and…

..she took another step.

“Please,” the girl said – did her lips twitch just then? – pulling deeper into the shadows, but letting Anna approach. “I’m afraid.”

Something’s not right. Hamish realized, pulling himself out of his stupor. He grabbed his radio. “Jacques, Fred – come in.” There was nothing; only static. “Abdul.” No response. “Anna, let’s-” Smith was reaching for the girl. Yes, that was the thing to do. Run! Don’t be afraid. Never stop, never stop! Hamish grabbed her arm and pulled her back.

“The fuck, Bert?” Anna demanded, but the mercenary captain’s eyes never left the young woman in front of them, his gun still shaking in his one-handed grip.

“Don’t hurt me,” the girl sobbed, so small and frightened. “Please. I’m afraid.”

The moon returned, filling the entire village with cold, clear light. It lasted only seconds, but that was enough. The shadows vanished and Hamish could see the dark stains covering the girl’s clothes, the dried blood around her mouth… and the green cats-eye gleam of her gaze. She was beautiful, but… wrong somehow, her near-Arabic features perfect; too perfect. As if someone had tried to sculpt a human, but didn’t quite realize what one should be. She saw his realization. Her eyes glittered with reflected light as she smiled, exposing a too-wide mouth full of gleaming teeth. “Please help me,” she begged in the same pleading tone. “I’m hungry.”

Shoot her! Shoot her shoot her shoot her now! Hamish’s mind shrieked, but he couldn’t make himself pull the trigger. It was all he could do not to run, his heart pounding in his ears like thunder, his entire body shaking. He backed away from the girl, pulling Anna with him, each step an effort not to throw the woman at the thing in front of him and flee in blind panic.

There was a flicker of motion and the girl was gone, as if she’d only been his imagination.

~

“She was there,” panted Smith. “She was there.”

“Yeah,” Hamish nodded, checking behind them. “Yeah, she was.” He grabbed his radio. “Abdul, Jack, Fred. Where the fuck are you?” Christ, her eyes. Her mouth. Was that just a… a trick of the light? He almost staggered as faded, washed-out memories threatened to overwhelm him. No, not memories. Not really. No faces. No images. No sounds. But they were there, a terrifying recognition. His knees buckled, but he kept control of his stomach, clutching the radio as if it were a lifeline to sanity. His conscious mind struggled to make sense of atavistic memories, interpreting them as fragments, scenes played out over and over so many times that they’d imbued themselves directly in his genes. A warning, dormant for generations but now shrieking as strongly as any other primal instinct.

-screaming, dragged off into the darkness-

-gleaming green eyes in the dark, Cheshire grins of sharp teeth-

-the scent of them filling the air, nostrils flaring, hooting in rage and fear, a fist clenched in panic-

-they are watching, always watching-

“We’re here,” Jacques answered, his voice crackling through the radio, pulling Hamish out of his spell.

Bertold pulled himself back to his feet, trying to calm himself, but he was still shaking, that fear was still there, eating away at him. He had enough firepower to kill this village himself and he’d gotten the shakes over a ninety-eight pound waif? What the fuck happened here? What were those things? “Christ, you assholes take a vacation or something?” Focus on them. On them, nothing else. We’re getting out of here, that’s what matters.

“We’re here. Are you coming?”

“Fuck you,” Hamish growled. “We’re pulling out. Now. I can’t raise Abdul. You seen him?” Yes run run run run.

“No.”

“Too bad for him, then. I’m not waiting. We’re leaving.”

“Where are you?”

“We didn’t go far, jackass,” Hamish snapped. “You?”

“Over here.”

“Thanks. Very helpful.” Bertold had reached the village square again, the dead death squad still laying where they’d fallen. He staggered and almost fell; looking down, he saw what had tripped him. The flashlight from Frederic’s uniform. There was a spot of red liquid on the lens. Hamish picked it up, the blood draining from his face. “Jacques… let me speak to Frederic.”

“I’m here,” Pashayev’s Russian burr growled through the comm. It sounded just like him. “Are you coming?”

“Yeah. Yeah, we are…” Hamish said, acid bubbling up his windpipe. Just like the girl.

From behind them, he could hear a soft, flowing melodic cry. The girl. She was crawling over the thatched roof of the nearest house, arms and legs moving like a spider, feet dug in, ready to spring. She was staring at them, her eyes shining green in the reflected firelight, the blood around her mouth glistening wetly. There was no malice in her expression, just… intensity. She opened her mouth and sang again.

Something nearby answered her, a hushed, taunting whisper in Jacques’s voice: “Over here.”

Hamish let the flashlight fall from his hands, looking to Anna for… what, he didn’t know, but the woman was gone. He looked back up at the girl, watched as a long, bifurcated tongue ran over her lips and the blood there. It was fresh.

Her expression never changed as she continued to stare. Patient. Wary. Hungry. Name. My name is Hamish Bertold, he told himself. “I know what you are,” he said; barely a whisper, his mouth was dry. He forced himself to scream it: “I know what you are!” I have… I have survived worse than this. I have killed dozens of men. I am a human man, top of the food chain and I am not afraid. I am not afraid. I have a gun and all she… they have is… is…

I know what you are, she seemed to say, his imagination filling in her part of the conversation. And it is simple. Prey.

It was only the smallest gesture, really. The girl slid her tongue out towards him, a beckoning gesture. His courage failed entirely and Hamish opened fire, screaming incoherently, the weapon bucking in his shaking hands as he sprayed bullets in all directions, hitting nothing. In seconds, the weapon clicked empty and he threw his gun away, running for all he was worth. His lungs burned as he ran, his heart thudding so hard it felt as if it would explode, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter where he ran, just as long as it was away.

Rabbits and ferrets…

There was a rush of movement behind him and he looked over his shoulder, he had a glimpse of green and white as he tumbled to the ground, flailing, shrieking and gibbering in blind panic as warm breath blew over his face and sharp teeth closed on his throat.

“Please,” even over the sound of his own screaming he heard someone speaking in Anna’s voice. “I’m hungry.”

#writetober #fear #horror #proximal flame #writing

[gordonwilliamsweb]

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening

As a contact tracer, Teresa Ayala-Castillo is sometimes asked whether herbal teas and Vicks VapoRub can treat COVID-19. These therapies aren’t exactly official health guidance, but Ayala-Castillo isn’t fazed. She listens and then suggests other ideas — like getting rest and drinking plenty of fluids.

“I don’t want to call them old wives’ tales, but these remedies are things that I’m 100% familiar with because my mom used them on me,” said Ayala-Castillo, a bilingual first-generation Ecuadorian American who works for the city of Long Beach, California.

Health departments across the U.S. are working at a furious pace to staff their armies of contact tracers to control the spread of the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. Experts estimate local and state health departments will have to add 100,000 to 300,000 people to get the economy back on track.

As they build these forces, many states and localities are trying hard to hire from the racial and ethnic minority communities hit hardest by the virus. They’re anticipating a need for skilled, culturally competent tracers who can convert suspicious or hesitant contacts into enthusiastic, willing participants in the drive to stamp out the virus.

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Subscribe to KHN’s free Weekly Edition newsletter, delivered every Friday.

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Virus-tracking activities vary by state. Most states have created plans to add contact tracers through hiring or volunteering, but wealthier ones — including California, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York and Washington — are further along than others, said Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.

Delaware, which aims to begin hiring in a month, plans to prioritize hires from vulnerable communities with bilingual language skills. Minnesota is hammering out staffing contracts with diversity quotas that match the demographics of the state’s COVID-19 cases.

“One size does not fit all for making that first call and being successful in having them pick up the phone and have a good conversation,” said Chris Elvrum, a deputy incident manager at the Minnesota Department of Health. “We need to recognize that we have to approach it in different ways for different cultural communities in the state.”

Tracking the disease works like this: After someone tests positive for COVID-19, a case investigator from the local health department calls the patient to ask detailed questions about her health, movements and whom she interacted with over a certain time frame. A contact tracer then calls everyone the patient named to let them know they were potentially exposed to the virus. These contacts are instructed to stay home and self-quarantine for 14 days after the exposure. If they live with other people, the recommendation may extend to those individuals.

Under stay-at-home orders, it’s often relatively easy to figure out who may have been exposed to the disease, health officials say. Infected people usually have been around only family or close friends and will often warn contacts to expect a call from the health department, said Emily Holman, communicable disease controller for Long Beach.

But shoe-leather fieldworkers may be required in some instances, said Dr. Kara Odom Walker, secretary of the Delaware Department of Health and Social Services. “There are some communities that aren’t going to respond to a phone call, a text message or a letter,” said Walker. “That could be due to health literacy issues, which could be due to fear, or documentation status.”

So far, most people are following instructions, say officials. Holman estimates that fewer than 1% of those contacted in Long Beach refused to participate.

Teresa Ayala-Castillo, who has worked for the city of Long Beach for 20 years, was a billing supervisor before being reassigned to contact tracing for COVID-19 patients in March. She says her background as a first-generation Ecuadorian American helps people feel at ease with her on the phone. (Courtesy of Teresa Ayala-Castillo)

But some defiance is likely, especially among those who cannot work from home or are the only provider for their children, Elvrum said. People being notified about contacts with a COVID-positive patient might think the call is a scam, or worry the information will be shared with immigration authorities or cost them their job. Health departments do not have to turn information collected for medical purposes over to federal immigration enforcement, but it takes a sensitive, empathetic and knowledgeable contact tracer to explain this.

“You need someone to be a cultural broker to say, not only are these policies in place to protect you, but I’m telling you to trust me that this will be OK,” Walker said. “I’m going to make sure you have what you need to safely quarantine.”

Minnesota plans to dedicate 1,400 staffers to contact tracing by July, Elvrum said. Contracts with two companies involved in the hiring stipulate that they bring on people of racial and ethnic groups proportional to their numbers in the state or the percentage of positive COVID-19 cases in those groups — whichever is higher.

They’re seeking hires who speak Hmong, Somali and Spanish, said Kou Thao, director of the Center for Health Equity in the Minnesota Department of Health.

About 23% of the state’s positive cases are among black people, who make up only 7% of the state population. Hispanics make up 19% of cases — and 6% of the population. However, about 22% of the cases are unknown.

Virginia, which has 200 contact tracers and hopes to hire a total of 1,300 staff to support the effort, is looking for speakers of Mandarin, Haitian Creole, Spanish and Bengali, said Mona Bector, deputy commissioner for administration at the Virginia Department of Health.

The state has received more than 6,000 résumés for these positions, Bector said.

Long Beach prides itself on a diverse workforce that reflects the city’s population. Officials pulled their contact tracers and interpreters, including Ayala-Castillo, from municipal staff members who speak Samoan, Khmer, Tagalog, Spanish, Vietnamese, Mandarin and other languages to create a staff of 60. Their goal is to have 200 people trained and ready to deploy as needed.

Having workers who can speak to contacts in the language they prefer is a step forward, said Crystal Watson, a senior scholar from the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security. Being able to extract information while being sensitive to patients’ concerns and mistrust is paramount, she added.

Sgt. Jairo Paulino, a 38-year-old member of the Delaware National Guard, is one of several bilingual guardsmen volunteering to help call COVID-19 contacts. When he started the job in mid-May, he noticed there was a “major backlog” of names because the state didn’t have enough Spanish speakers to reach out to everyone quickly.

Paulino was born in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York as a boy. He grew up translating for his father and attending church — both elements that help build trust in the Latino community, he said.

Poor access to the internet also poses a challenge. In Tulare, a rural county in central California, health workers ask patients to use an online portal to help streamline data collection of their contacts. However, 5% to 10% of people cannot get online, said Tiffany Swarthout, an administrative specialist at the county health department. In those cases, health workers will speak to the patient on the phone.

Employment concerns represent another tricky area for contact tracers. Some people they reach out to may hesitate to stay home because they are strapped for cash, especially if the pandemic has left members of the family without work, said Jody Menick, a nurse who supervises contact tracing in Montgomery County, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.

Some employers are requesting proof that patients and contacts were safe to return after quarantine, and some areas provide official letters that specify the worker’s quarantine period.

But undocumented workers — who have fewer protections than employees with legal status — have been pressured to show up to work in her area, Menick said, leaving them with a difficult decision.

“Am I going to have money to buy food for my family, or am I going to stay home?”

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/

[dinafbrownil]

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening

As a contact tracer, Teresa Ayala-Castillo is sometimes asked whether herbal teas and Vicks VapoRub can treat COVID-19. These therapies aren’t exactly official health guidance, but Ayala-Castillo isn’t fazed. She listens and then suggests other ideas — like getting rest and drinking plenty of fluids.

“I don’t want to call them old wives’ tales, but these remedies are things that I’m 100% familiar with because my mom used them on me,” said Ayala-Castillo, a bilingual first-generation Ecuadorian American who works for the city of Long Beach, California.

Health departments across the U.S. are working at a furious pace to staff their armies of contact tracers to control the spread of the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. Experts estimate local and state health departments will have to add 100,000 to 300,000 people to get the economy back on track.

As they build these forces, many states and localities are trying hard to hire from the racial and ethnic minority communities hit hardest by the virus. They’re anticipating a need for skilled, culturally competent tracers who can convert suspicious or hesitant contacts into enthusiastic, willing participants in the drive to stamp out the virus.

Don't Miss A Story

Subscribe to KHN’s free Weekly Edition newsletter, delivered every Friday.

Sign Up

Please confirm your email address below:

Sign Up

Virus-tracking activities vary by state. Most states have created plans to add contact tracers through hiring or volunteering, but wealthier ones — including California, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York and Washington — are further along than others, said Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.

Delaware, which aims to begin hiring in a month, plans to prioritize hires from vulnerable communities with bilingual language skills. Minnesota is hammering out staffing contracts with diversity quotas that match the demographics of the state’s COVID-19 cases.

“One size does not fit all for making that first call and being successful in having them pick up the phone and have a good conversation,” said Chris Elvrum, a deputy incident manager at the Minnesota Department of Health. “We need to recognize that we have to approach it in different ways for different cultural communities in the state.”

Tracking the disease works like this: After someone tests positive for COVID-19, a case investigator from the local health department calls the patient to ask detailed questions about her health, movements and whom she interacted with over a certain time frame. A contact tracer then calls everyone the patient named to let them know they were potentially exposed to the virus. These contacts are instructed to stay home and self-quarantine for 14 days after the exposure. If they live with other people, the recommendation may extend to those individuals.

Under stay-at-home orders, it’s often relatively easy to figure out who may have been exposed to the disease, health officials say. Infected people usually have been around only family or close friends and will often warn contacts to expect a call from the health department, said Emily Holman, communicable disease controller for Long Beach.

But shoe-leather fieldworkers may be required in some instances, said Dr. Kara Odom Walker, secretary of the Delaware Department of Health and Social Services. “There are some communities that aren’t going to respond to a phone call, a text message or a letter,” said Walker. “That could be due to health literacy issues, which could be due to fear, or documentation status.”

So far, most people are following instructions, say officials. Holman estimates that fewer than 1% of those contacted in Long Beach refused to participate.

Teresa Ayala-Castillo, who has worked for the city of Long Beach for 20 years, was a billing supervisor before being reassigned to contact tracing for COVID-19 patients in March. She says her background as a first-generation Ecuadorian American helps people feel at ease with her on the phone. (Courtesy of Teresa Ayala-Castillo)

But some defiance is likely, especially among those who cannot work from home or are the only provider for their children, Elvrum said. People being notified about contacts with a COVID-positive patient might think the call is a scam, or worry the information will be shared with immigration authorities or cost them their job. Health departments do not have to turn information collected for medical purposes over to federal immigration enforcement, but it takes a sensitive, empathetic and knowledgeable contact tracer to explain this.

“You need someone to be a cultural broker to say, not only are these policies in place to protect you, but I’m telling you to trust me that this will be OK,” Walker said. “I’m going to make sure you have what you need to safely quarantine.”

Minnesota plans to dedicate 1,400 staffers to contact tracing by July, Elvrum said. Contracts with two companies involved in the hiring stipulate that they bring on people of racial and ethnic groups proportional to their numbers in the state or the percentage of positive COVID-19 cases in those groups — whichever is higher.

They’re seeking hires who speak Hmong, Somali and Spanish, said Kou Thao, director of the Center for Health Equity in the Minnesota Department of Health.

About 23% of the state’s positive cases are among black people, who make up only 7% of the state population. Hispanics make up 19% of cases — and 6% of the population. However, about 22% of the cases are unknown.

Virginia, which has 200 contact tracers and hopes to hire a total of 1,300 staff to support the effort, is looking for speakers of Mandarin, Haitian Creole, Spanish and Bengali, said Mona Bector, deputy commissioner for administration at the Virginia Department of Health.

The state has received more than 6,000 résumés for these positions, Bector said.

Long Beach prides itself on a diverse workforce that reflects the city’s population. Officials pulled their contact tracers and interpreters, including Ayala-Castillo, from municipal staff members who speak Samoan, Khmer, Tagalog, Spanish, Vietnamese, Mandarin and other languages to create a staff of 60. Their goal is to have 200 people trained and ready to deploy as needed.

Having workers who can speak to contacts in the language they prefer is a step forward, said Crystal Watson, a senior scholar from the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security. Being able to extract information while being sensitive to patients’ concerns and mistrust is paramount, she added.

Sgt. Jairo Paulino, a 38-year-old member of the Delaware National Guard, is one of several bilingual guardsmen volunteering to help call COVID-19 contacts. When he started the job in mid-May, he noticed there was a “major backlog” of names because the state didn’t have enough Spanish speakers to reach out to everyone quickly.

Paulino was born in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York as a boy. He grew up translating for his father and attending church — both elements that help build trust in the Latino community, he said.

Poor access to the internet also poses a challenge. In Tulare, a rural county in central California, health workers ask patients to use an online portal to help streamline data collection of their contacts. However, 5% to 10% of people cannot get online, said Tiffany Swarthout, an administrative specialist at the county health department. In those cases, health workers will speak to the patient on the phone.

Employment concerns represent another tricky area for contact tracers. Some people they reach out to may hesitate to stay home because they are strapped for cash, especially if the pandemic has left members of the family without work, said Jody Menick, a nurse who supervises contact tracing in Montgomery County, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.

Some employers are requesting proof that patients and contacts were safe to return after quarantine, and some areas provide official letters that specify the worker’s quarantine period.

But undocumented workers — who have fewer protections than employees with legal status — have been pressured to show up to work in her area, Menick said, leaving them with a difficult decision.

“Am I going to have money to buy food for my family, or am I going to stay home?”

from Updates By Dina https://khn.org/news/hiring-a-diverse-army-to-track-covid-19-amid-reopening/

[stephenmccull]

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening

As a contact tracer, Teresa Ayala-Castillo is sometimes asked whether herbal teas and Vicks VapoRub can treat COVID-19. These therapies aren’t exactly official health guidance, but Ayala-Castillo isn’t fazed. She listens and then suggests other ideas — like getting rest and drinking plenty of fluids.

“I don’t want to call them old wives’ tales, but these remedies are things that I’m 100% familiar with because my mom used them on me,” said Ayala-Castillo, a bilingual first-generation Ecuadorian American who works for the city of Long Beach, California.

Health departments across the U.S. are working at a furious pace to staff their armies of contact tracers to control the spread of the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. Experts estimate local and state health departments will have to add 100,000 to 300,000 people to get the economy back on track.

As they build these forces, many states and localities are trying hard to hire from the racial and ethnic minority communities hit hardest by the virus. They’re anticipating a need for skilled, culturally competent tracers who can convert suspicious or hesitant contacts into enthusiastic, willing participants in the drive to stamp out the virus.

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Virus-tracking activities vary by state. Most states have created plans to add contact tracers through hiring or volunteering, but wealthier ones — including California, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York and Washington — are further along than others, said Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.

Delaware, which aims to begin hiring in a month, plans to prioritize hires from vulnerable communities with bilingual language skills. Minnesota is hammering out staffing contracts with diversity quotas that match the demographics of the state’s COVID-19 cases.

“One size does not fit all for making that first call and being successful in having them pick up the phone and have a good conversation,” said Chris Elvrum, a deputy incident manager at the Minnesota Department of Health. “We need to recognize that we have to approach it in different ways for different cultural communities in the state.”

Tracking the disease works like this: After someone tests positive for COVID-19, a case investigator from the local health department calls the patient to ask detailed questions about her health, movements and whom she interacted with over a certain time frame. A contact tracer then calls everyone the patient named to let them know they were potentially exposed to the virus. These contacts are instructed to stay home and self-quarantine for 14 days after the exposure. If they live with other people, the recommendation may extend to those individuals.

Under stay-at-home orders, it’s often relatively easy to figure out who may have been exposed to the disease, health officials say. Infected people usually have been around only family or close friends and will often warn contacts to expect a call from the health department, said Emily Holman, communicable disease controller for Long Beach.

But shoe-leather fieldworkers may be required in some instances, said Dr. Kara Odom Walker, secretary of the Delaware Department of Health and Social Services. “There are some communities that aren’t going to respond to a phone call, a text message or a letter,” said Walker. “That could be due to health literacy issues, which could be due to fear, or documentation status.”

So far, most people are following instructions, say officials. Holman estimates that fewer than 1% of those contacted in Long Beach refused to participate.

Teresa Ayala-Castillo, who has worked for the city of Long Beach for 20 years, was a billing supervisor before being reassigned to contact tracing for COVID-19 patients in March. She says her background as a first-generation Ecuadorian American helps people feel at ease with her on the phone. (Courtesy of Teresa Ayala-Castillo)

But some defiance is likely, especially among those who cannot work from home or are the only provider for their children, Elvrum said. People being notified about contacts with a COVID-positive patient might think the call is a scam, or worry the information will be shared with immigration authorities or cost them their job. Health departments do not have to turn information collected for medical purposes over to federal immigration enforcement, but it takes a sensitive, empathetic and knowledgeable contact tracer to explain this.

“You need someone to be a cultural broker to say, not only are these policies in place to protect you, but I’m telling you to trust me that this will be OK,” Walker said. “I’m going to make sure you have what you need to safely quarantine.”

Minnesota plans to dedicate 1,400 staffers to contact tracing by July, Elvrum said. Contracts with two companies involved in the hiring stipulate that they bring on people of racial and ethnic groups proportional to their numbers in the state or the percentage of positive COVID-19 cases in those groups — whichever is higher.

They’re seeking hires who speak Hmong, Somali and Spanish, said Kou Thao, director of the Center for Health Equity in the Minnesota Department of Health.

About 23% of the state’s positive cases are among black people, who make up only 7% of the state population. Hispanics make up 19% of cases — and 6% of the population. However, about 22% of the cases are unknown.

Virginia, which has 200 contact tracers and hopes to hire a total of 1,300 staff to support the effort, is looking for speakers of Mandarin, Haitian Creole, Spanish and Bengali, said Mona Bector, deputy commissioner for administration at the Virginia Department of Health.

The state has received more than 6,000 résumés for these positions, Bector said.

Long Beach prides itself on a diverse workforce that reflects the city’s population. Officials pulled their contact tracers and interpreters, including Ayala-Castillo, from municipal staff members who speak Samoan, Khmer, Tagalog, Spanish, Vietnamese, Mandarin and other languages to create a staff of 60. Their goal is to have 200 people trained and ready to deploy as needed.

Having workers who can speak to contacts in the language they prefer is a step forward, said Crystal Watson, a senior scholar from the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security. Being able to extract information while being sensitive to patients’ concerns and mistrust is paramount, she added.

Sgt. Jairo Paulino, a 38-year-old member of the Delaware National Guard, is one of several bilingual guardsmen volunteering to help call COVID-19 contacts. When he started the job in mid-May, he noticed there was a “major backlog” of names because the state didn’t have enough Spanish speakers to reach out to everyone quickly.

Paulino was born in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York as a boy. He grew up translating for his father and attending church — both elements that help build trust in the Latino community, he said.

Poor access to the internet also poses a challenge. In Tulare, a rural county in central California, health workers ask patients to use an online portal to help streamline data collection of their contacts. However, 5% to 10% of people cannot get online, said Tiffany Swarthout, an administrative specialist at the county health department. In those cases, health workers will speak to the patient on the phone.

Employment concerns represent another tricky area for contact tracers. Some people they reach out to may hesitate to stay home because they are strapped for cash, especially if the pandemic has left members of the family without work, said Jody Menick, a nurse who supervises contact tracing in Montgomery County, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.

Some employers are requesting proof that patients and contacts were safe to return after quarantine, and some areas provide official letters that specify the worker’s quarantine period.

But undocumented workers — who have fewer protections than employees with legal status — have been pressured to show up to work in her area, Menick said, leaving them with a difficult decision.

“Am I going to have money to buy food for my family, or am I going to stay home?”

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening published first on https://smartdrinkingweb.weebly.com/

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Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening

As a contact tracer, Teresa Ayala-Castillo is sometimes asked whether herbal teas and Vicks VapoRub can treat COVID-19. These therapies aren’t exactly official health guidance, but Ayala-Castillo isn’t fazed. She listens and then suggests other ideas — like getting rest and drinking plenty of fluids.

“I don’t want to call them old wives’ tales, but these remedies are things that I’m 100% familiar with because my mom used them on me,” said Ayala-Castillo, a bilingual first-generation Ecuadorian American who works for the city of Long Beach, California.

Health departments across the U.S. are working at a furious pace to staff their armies of contact tracers to control the spread of the coronavirus that causes COVID-19. Experts estimate local and state health departments will have to add 100,000 to 300,000 people to get the economy back on track.

As they build these forces, many states and localities are trying hard to hire from the racial and ethnic minority communities hit hardest by the virus. They’re anticipating a need for skilled, culturally competent tracers who can convert suspicious or hesitant contacts into enthusiastic, willing participants in the drive to stamp out the virus.

Don't Miss A Story

Subscribe to KHN’s free Weekly Edition newsletter, delivered every Friday.

Sign Up

Please confirm your email address below:

Sign Up

Virus-tracking activities vary by state. Most states have created plans to add contact tracers through hiring or volunteering, but wealthier ones — including California, Connecticut, Massachusetts, New Jersey, New York and Washington — are further along than others, said Marcus Plescia, chief medical officer of the Association of State and Territorial Health Officials.

Delaware, which aims to begin hiring in a month, plans to prioritize hires from vulnerable communities with bilingual language skills. Minnesota is hammering out staffing contracts with diversity quotas that match the demographics of the state’s COVID-19 cases.

“One size does not fit all for making that first call and being successful in having them pick up the phone and have a good conversation,” said Chris Elvrum, a deputy incident manager at the Minnesota Department of Health. “We need to recognize that we have to approach it in different ways for different cultural communities in the state.”

Tracking the disease works like this: After someone tests positive for COVID-19, a case investigator from the local health department calls the patient to ask detailed questions about her health, movements and whom she interacted with over a certain time frame. A contact tracer then calls everyone the patient named to let them know they were potentially exposed to the virus. These contacts are instructed to stay home and self-quarantine for 14 days after the exposure. If they live with other people, the recommendation may extend to those individuals.

Under stay-at-home orders, it’s often relatively easy to figure out who may have been exposed to the disease, health officials say. Infected people usually have been around only family or close friends and will often warn contacts to expect a call from the health department, said Emily Holman, communicable disease controller for Long Beach.

But shoe-leather fieldworkers may be required in some instances, said Dr. Kara Odom Walker, secretary of the Delaware Department of Health and Social Services. “There are some communities that aren’t going to respond to a phone call, a text message or a letter,” said Walker. “That could be due to health literacy issues, which could be due to fear, or documentation status.”

So far, most people are following instructions, say officials. Holman estimates that fewer than 1% of those contacted in Long Beach refused to participate.

Teresa Ayala-Castillo, who has worked for the city of Long Beach for 20 years, was a billing supervisor before being reassigned to contact tracing for COVID-19 patients in March. She says her background as a first-generation Ecuadorian American helps people feel at ease with her on the phone. (Courtesy of Teresa Ayala-Castillo)

But some defiance is likely, especially among those who cannot work from home or are the only provider for their children, Elvrum said. People being notified about contacts with a COVID-positive patient might think the call is a scam, or worry the information will be shared with immigration authorities or cost them their job. Health departments do not have to turn information collected for medical purposes over to federal immigration enforcement, but it takes a sensitive, empathetic and knowledgeable contact tracer to explain this.

“You need someone to be a cultural broker to say, not only are these policies in place to protect you, but I’m telling you to trust me that this will be OK,” Walker said. “I’m going to make sure you have what you need to safely quarantine.”

Minnesota plans to dedicate 1,400 staffers to contact tracing by July, Elvrum said. Contracts with two companies involved in the hiring stipulate that they bring on people of racial and ethnic groups proportional to their numbers in the state or the percentage of positive COVID-19 cases in those groups — whichever is higher.

They’re seeking hires who speak Hmong, Somali and Spanish, said Kou Thao, director of the Center for Health Equity in the Minnesota Department of Health.

About 23% of the state’s positive cases are among black people, who make up only 7% of the state population. Hispanics make up 19% of cases — and 6% of the population. However, about 22% of the cases are unknown.

Virginia, which has 200 contact tracers and hopes to hire a total of 1,300 staff to support the effort, is looking for speakers of Mandarin, Haitian Creole, Spanish and Bengali, said Mona Bector, deputy commissioner for administration at the Virginia Department of Health.

The state has received more than 6,000 résumés for these positions, Bector said.

Long Beach prides itself on a diverse workforce that reflects the city’s population. Officials pulled their contact tracers and interpreters, including Ayala-Castillo, from municipal staff members who speak Samoan, Khmer, Tagalog, Spanish, Vietnamese, Mandarin and other languages to create a staff of 60. Their goal is to have 200 people trained and ready to deploy as needed.

Having workers who can speak to contacts in the language they prefer is a step forward, said Crystal Watson, a senior scholar from the Johns Hopkins Center for Health Security. Being able to extract information while being sensitive to patients’ concerns and mistrust is paramount, she added.

Sgt. Jairo Paulino, a 38-year-old member of the Delaware National Guard, is one of several bilingual guardsmen volunteering to help call COVID-19 contacts. When he started the job in mid-May, he noticed there was a “major backlog” of names because the state didn’t have enough Spanish speakers to reach out to everyone quickly.

Paulino was born in the Dominican Republic and moved to New York as a boy. He grew up translating for his father and attending church — both elements that help build trust in the Latino community, he said.

Poor access to the internet also poses a challenge. In Tulare, a rural county in central California, health workers ask patients to use an online portal to help streamline data collection of their contacts. However, 5% to 10% of people cannot get online, said Tiffany Swarthout, an administrative specialist at the county health department. In those cases, health workers will speak to the patient on the phone.

Employment concerns represent another tricky area for contact tracers. Some people they reach out to may hesitate to stay home because they are strapped for cash, especially if the pandemic has left members of the family without work, said Jody Menick, a nurse who supervises contact tracing in Montgomery County, Maryland, just outside Washington, D.C.

Some employers are requesting proof that patients and contacts were safe to return after quarantine, and some areas provide official letters that specify the worker’s quarantine period.

But undocumented workers — who have fewer protections than employees with legal status — have been pressured to show up to work in her area, Menick said, leaving them with a difficult decision.

“Am I going to have money to buy food for my family, or am I going to stay home?”

Hiring A Diverse Army To Track COVID-19 Amid Reopening published first on https://nootropicspowdersupplier.tumblr.com/