#Construction safety posters

[saurabhsafety]

Construction Safety Posters: A Crucial Sign for Workplace Safety

Construction sites are inherently dangerous environments, filled with potential hazards that can lead to severe injuries or even fatalities if proper precautions are not taken. Ensuring the safety of workers in such settings is of paramount importance. One of the most effective and straightforward methods to promote safety awareness and compliance is through the use of construction safety posters. SaurabhSafety, a leading name in safety solutions, provides an array of construction safety posters designed to educate and remind workers of essential safety practices. 

Importance of Construction Safety Posters

1. Visual Reminders:

   Construction safety posters serve as constant visual reminders of safety protocols and hazard awareness. When strategically placed around the worksite, these posters reinforce safety messages and help ensure that safety is always at the forefront of workers’ minds.

2. Educational Tools:

   These posters are valuable educational tools that can teach workers about specific dangers, such as the proper use of personal protective equipment (PPE), safe machinery operation, and emergency procedures. They provide concise and clear instructions that can be easily understood by all workers, regardless of their language proficiency or literacy level.

3. Regulatory Compliance:

   Many regulatory bodies, such as OSHA (Occupational Safety and Health Administration) in the India, require construction companies to display safety information prominently. Using compliant safety posters from SaurabhSafety helps ensure that your site meets these regulatory requirements and avoids potential fines or shutdowns.

Key Themes in Construction Safety Posters

1. Personal Protective Equipment (PPE):

   Posters emphasizing the importance of wearing hard hats, safety goggles, gloves, and other PPE are critical. They can illustrate the correct way to wear and maintain PPE, ensuring maximum protection for workers.

2. Fall Protection:

   Falls are one of the leading causes of injuries and fatalities on construction sites. Posters that detail the proper setup and use of fall protection systems, such as harnesses and guardrails, are essential for preventing these incidents.

3. Hazard Communication:

   Understanding and communicating potential hazards is vital. Posters that explain the meanings of different safety signs and labels, as well as how to handle hazardous materials, can prevent accidents and exposures.

4. Emergency Procedures:

   In case of an emergency, every second counts. Posters that clearly outline emergency exit routes, first aid procedures, and emergency contact numbers can save lives.

5. Equipment Safety:

   Operating heavy machinery and tools comes with significant risks. Posters that provide guidelines for the safe use of equipment, regular maintenance checks, and the importance of operator training are crucial.

Implementing Effective Safety Poster Programs

To maximize the effectiveness of construction safety posters, consider the following tips:

1. Strategic Placement:

   Place posters in high-visibility areas where workers are most likely to see them, such as entrances, break rooms, and near hazardous areas.

2. Regular Rotation:

   Change the posters periodically to keep the safety messages fresh and engaging. This prevents workers from becoming desensitized to the information.

3. Language Inclusivity:

   Ensure that posters are available in the primary languages spoken by your workforce. This promotes better understanding and compliance among all workers.

4. Engagement and Training:

   Use the posters as part of a broader safety training program. Engage workers in discussions about the information on the posters and incorporate them into regular safety meetings.

Conclusion

Construction safety posters are an indispensable component of any effective workplace safety strategy. By providing constant reminders and clear instructions, these posters help create a culture of safety that protects workers and ensures regulatory compliance. SaurabhSafety offers a comprehensive range of construction safety posters designed to meet the unique needs of construction sites, helping to foster a safer and more productive work environment. Investing in quality safety posters is a simple yet powerful step towards achieving a zero-accident workplace.

[hot-pota-toes]

Morning Cuddles

Eddie Munson x gn!reader 

Summary: You have to get up for work in the morning but it's a little difficult with your boyfriend's arms wrapped tightly around you.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: weed is mentioned once, a lot of fluff

A/N: This is my first fanfiction ever! I've had this idea sitting comfortably in my brain for what feels like a whole year, so I finally said screw it and wrote it down, and now I’m posting it. This takes place before the events of season four or maybe just in a completely different universe where everyone is alive and happy :)) Hope you enjoy it!!

You gently drifted awake to the warm early morning sunlight spilling into the bedroom through cheap curtains. As your surroundings became more clear. The week old clothes scattered along the floor. The posters and random doodles that covered every inch of the bedroom walls. You were reminded that you're not in your own apartment, but in your boyfriend's trailer and bed. The boy still sound asleep next to you.

Your head tucked gently into his chest as his chin rested upon your own head. His long arms were wrapped around you, similar to a child squeezing their favorite teddy bear. Your legs intertwined, holding you as closely as he possibly could. You felt warm and protected being pressed into his chest, listening to his gentle snores.

When he held you like this, it somehow made his twin size bed feel so much bigger. Unfortunately, the realization came that you would soon have to leave the comfort of your boyfriend's arms. It couldn't have been more than ten minutes before Eddie's alarm clock would go off (you had thankfully remembered to set it up last night before falling asleep), signaling the start of another grueling day at a job you didn’t care for.

Not wanting to disturb your peaceful surroundings, you stifled a groan, and instead let out a long, soft sigh as you turned over to rub the sleep from your eyes, as gracefully and with as few movements as possible, so as not to wake the warm safety that lay next to you.

You and Eddie had known each other your entire lives growing up together, from climbing trees in the woods and playing pretend when you were children, to weekly movie nights in middle school, to hotboxing his van the first night he got the keys. But it wasn't until high school when Eddie had told you he’d had feelings for you his entire life. Not being able to imagine a life without Eddie, you agreed to go out with him only to realize just how much you loved him too. Time you weren’t spending with him was time you spent thinking about him, and when he was around, you felt free.

You felt like you didn’t have to hide yourself, watch your every move, stringently guard yourself for fear of others ruining the things you had built within your castle walls. You were a private person, years of fortification having constructed barriers of the hardest stone, and Eddie somehow had found the key to the door of your castle. Maybe it was the way his deep brown eyes looked at you, not just looking, but seeing. Maybe it was the way he smiled, the light in his face brightening the entire room. Maybe it was the way he touched you, gently and respectfully, the warm skin of his hands making everything inside you melt.

He stirred, not yet fully awake, but adjusting to this new position. One arm hugged your waist while the other was tucked under your head, serving as a pillow where you had foregone yours. He nuzzled the top of your head. His eyes still closed.

This started out as a rare occurrence when you would spend the night. It happened one night, after you had spent the day together, and when the time had come for you to separate, you didn’t want to drive back to your apartment alone, nor did he want to leave you. The pure desire to be close to one another intoxicated the both of you, and you spent the night tangled in the sheets, wanting nothing more than for that moment to never end.

You buried your face in his chest, letting the smell of his detergent mixed with his deodorant fill your nose, the scent so comforting that you began to drift back to sleep.

And then the alarm clock went off.

You both took a deep breath, stirring awake. You reached behind Eddie towards the clock on the nightstand, but your movement was restricted by the two long arms that were still wrapped around you. The more you moved away, the more he latched onto you, burying his face in the space between your neck and your shoulder.

“Edd–“ you started. You didn’t really know how you were going to finish that statement, but you knew he was the obstacle between you and stopping the blaring sound yelling at you from just slightly too far away.

He mumbled a low groan into your skin, and you felt the vibration, tempting you to stay.

“Eddie please.”

He groaned again, slightly louder and assuredly more distressed than before, now wrapping his legs around you, pulling you tighter. You couldn’t help but let out a soft giggle as you made gentle attempts to free yourself, his hands going back to you and arms holding you tighter the more you tried to escape.

“I need to get up.” You pleaded.

“No you don’t.” He slurred in a tired response, his voice rough with sleep.

After more struggling, you finally managed to free yourself just enough to reach the alarm clock with your right hand stretched as far out as it would go, the top half of your body twisting uncomfortably away from your captor. Grabbing hold of the clock, you haphazardly grabbed the whole clock so that you could bring the device closer, locating the alarm’s off button. Its red numbers are no longer flashing.

You gently placed the clock back to its place on the nightstand and returned your body to its natural position, still being tightly bound by lanky limbs that had no intention of letting go. You decided to try a different approach.

Having wrenched yourself upward in your escape attempts, his face was now in your chest, his brown curls tickling your nose. You began petting his hair down, creating a spot to place a soft kiss.

“Eds, baby…” you murmured into his hair.

He didn’t reply. You continued petting and kissed again.

“I have to go to work.”

Still no reply.

“Not all of us get weekends off cause they're still in high school” Part of you was jealous. Okay, a lot of you was jealous. Eddie and you were supposed to graduate together, but that didn't end up happening with him being held back. Twice.

He sleepily breathed out a laugh. “You could just quit.”

You laughed in response, once again leaning away, trying once more to release yourself from his grasp. This time, he relented slightly enough so that you could sit up, but as you did so, his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling himself to your hips and weighing you down.

“Eddie,” you groaned in mock frustration as you put your hand on his back, trying to rub him awake, “You know damn well how badly I want to stay here with you…”

He murmured an affirmation, as well as what might have been words if they hadn’t been so muffled.

“…But I really do need to get up.”

Not moving, he repeated the same low whine from before.

“It’s only going to be a few hours,” you bargained.

He snorted. “Yeah, like, nine of them.“

You rolled your eyes. Not wanting to spend the whole day in your place of work either, but knowing that you had to. “Yeah. Like I said. A few.” You both chuckled. “It’s not gonna be forever. I’ll come back here after work…”

You lifted his arm, which was heavy as he had no intention of helping you move it, and placed it to the side, sliding out of his other one. As you moved to a kneeling position and looked down at him, his eyes were half-open, meeting yours, practically reaching out for you. You leaned forward and kissed him on his temple, caressing the side of his face. “…And then we can pick up right where we left off.”

[gwendolynlerman]

Things that surprised me as a European tourist in the United States

This is based on my experience as a Spaniard traveling to the United States (specifically New York City and Washington, D. C.).

Like many people around the world, I have grown up in contact with U.S. culture through literature, film, and music, so I didn't experience much cultural shock, but some things still surprised me.

All vehicles (cars, trucks, school buses...) are huge! Most cars are pickup trucks or SUVs. The most common brands came from the United States, but I also saw many Japanese cars, especially Nissan and Toyota (mostly Prius, USAmericans seem to love this model 😂).

Customer service is great, not only in restaurants or places where one is expected to leave a tip but also in museums and subway stations.

I heard many different languages spoken by locals, including Mandarin, Russian, and Spanish, as well as European languages spoken by tourists, such as French, German, and Portuguese. (I think that this is mostly the case in big cities, and especially NYC.)

People wear face masks more often, although I guess that this is transient due to flu season. Still, way fewer people wear them in Spain.

Taxes are not included in the price. (I was aware of this but used to forget about it at first.)

Toilets are not as deep as in Europe (the water is really close to your butt 😖), and many flush automatically. Public restrooms always have seat covers but normally do not have a toilet lid.

Doors are really heavy! No wonder many people (mostly men) held them open for me. I once had to throw myself against the door to open it. What is the deal with doors in the U.S.? (Is it a NYC thing only?)

People were quite loud (and this is coming from someone who grew up in a country that is renowned for how loud we talk) and played music/videos without headphones in the subway 😑

Cops are surprisingly chill despite the reputation that they have. A guy was insulting a couple of them from across the subway platform, and they just smiled and waved at him. In Spain, it is a crime to insult a police officer, so I was surprised that they were so calm about the whole situation.

On that note, there were a lot of cops around the city at all times (even at 5 a.m.). I counted nine of them in Penn Station!

Drivers honk all the time because of every minor inconvenience. On Thanksgiving Day, there were a lot of traffic jams, and people were honking as if that would magically clear the streets... And, of course, if one person honked, the rest honked as well, so walking on the street on the main avenues was really deafening 😐

Traffic lights are quite far away from where cars have to stop.

Fire truck sirens are really loud and sound like emergency alarm systems. (It reminded me of those TikTok videos ranking them.)

People say "Excuse me" in the subway when going in or out, which was a nice change from the shoving and pushing I'm used to in Madrid.

I saw a lot of people carrying around huge reusable water bottles. (Here's an explanation for why USAmericans drink so much.)

People called me "Ma'am" instead of "Miss". I know it's the polite way to address people, but it was very weird 😂

New Yorkers love to use cardinal directions (north, south, east, west) when giving directions. Someone once told me, "Go west on Broadway" and I was like "I have trouble orienting myself when I use Google Maps, do you think I know which direction I'm going in at all times??".

There are lots of caution signs about worker safety on construction sites, both in English and Spanish, which leads me to think that there are many work accidents 🤔

As a solo female traveler, I was a bit concerned about my security in a city that I have heard is dangerous and in a country where mass shootings are a relatively normal occurrence, but I felt mostly safe. I was surprised to see many posters that read, "If you see something, say something".

Related to the above, I was shocked to see "This is a gun free zone" posters in public places and "No guns allowed" posters on supermarket doors.

I was really surprised to see ads with phone numbers with words in them, like the one below. After doing some research, I discovered they are called vanity numbers and are easier for people to remember. (If, like me, you're wondering how to dial these numbers, apparently you just press the number that corresponds to the letter on the keypad.)

I smelled marijuana everywhere! Although illegal in Spain, you can also smell it sometimes, but it seemed ubiquitous in NYC. (I personally hate the smell, which is why I noticed.)

[notbecauseofvictories]

obssessed with Mark Pavillion XIII being paranoid and also correct. The Cassandra of gazebo researchers!! This is the peril of being annoying at local government meetings! (anyway I now need this novel too, please write it thank you in advance)

The worst part---or the second worst part, since the first worst part is obviously the fact that the gazebos will rise up once more and demand a bloody toll for all the years of peace they bestowed on their less-than-grateful adherents---is that Mark Jr. has to eventually come down off the stage. He has to stick his poster-board charts under his arm, and catch the bus, take that to the train, and then wait for his cousin Sam to pick him up at the station.

He has to go to family dinner. That's definitely the second worst part, after the probable large-scale slaughter.

There's nothing Mark hates more than the sight of the whole Pavillion clan, gathered around the table. Boasting about their recent schemes to coax garage bands out from basements, charm puppeteers into taking a gig that's long past any child's bedtime. They are the Pavillions, after all! Marcus Pavillion the First was there, he worked with President Washington himself to create the first American gazebo; he corresponded with the Italian masters of the casina, married a woman from the Bavarian Schöns ("The Dianatempel was ours, did you know?" Mark's mother liked to say at parties, then smile coyly.) The Pavillions have been keepers almost as long as there have been structures to keep, theirs is a rich and storied history.

........Mark does not appreciate this. Mark spends most of his time at the kid's table, trying to avoid conversation about whether gazebos prefer to eat in solitary dignity, or to tear into a visiting chamber ensemble with a full audience. It makes him uncomfortable when Kimmy, his youngest cousin, starts scrawling red lines around her smiling clown---"He's being eaten!" she says cheerfully.

Mark does not ask follow up questions.

The problem---after problems one and two, already mentioned---is that he doesn't know if there's any stopping this. With the odd exception (e.g., the 2004 incident that resulted in Hurridge, Minnesota being carefully removed from US maps) gazebos seem content these days to snack on the occasional piano player, with a couple rambunctious kids as an digestif. But Mark has been tracking these things. He knows that the incidents are gathering closer together, both in time and in location. He knows they're getting less easy to predict, less easy to hide, less easy to excuse. His family might sit around the table and complain about keeping 4-5 gazebos happy, but Marcus Pavillion died trying to appease just one. Those times will come again---are coming. Are here. Mark's got the numbers to prove it.

Walking back from the bus stop, Mark finds himself looking up and---suddenly stops dead outside a lot that's been vacant almost as long as he's lived in this neighborhood. There's a safety fence around the property now, and silhouetted in the light is a brand new sign. UNDER CONSTRUCTION, the sign states, above a sketchy outline of a park. COMING SOON!

In the center of the picture sits a gazebo.

[insincere-engineer]

omg, i love to see an engineer in gc/radfem spaces! im in my second year of a civil engineering degree, any advice for me?

Great to hear there's another one of us out there too! I'm sure there's more advice I'll think of later but these are the points that come to mind today.

Don't take shit from men in university or in the workplace. If you know you're right, don't be afraid to argue back. Working with a bunch of cowboys who care more about making money and being macho men than actually valuing safety and quality will never get you ahead in the industry, it'll most likely leave you either in hospital or in court.

Not sure about where you're from, but female civil engineers are reasonably rare here (with the exception of environmental specialisations). Whilst it can be lonely, it's also an asset in that as long as you're decent at your job, companies will want you because you make them look good. Female civvies are a white whale in some disciplines. Find somewhere with good pay, good work/life balance, and good company culture. So many organisations will likely want you as their poster child that you won't need to settle.

If you can avoid working for a company where you're the only woman on the payroll, or being the only woman in your team for group projects, do it - whilst you might feel like a trailblazer at the start, it will become a very isolating environment.

If you end up working/interning in a site-based role, invest in a menstrual cup if you're physically able to use one. Construction site toilets are notorious for never having sanitary bins - half of them don't even have soap, so it's wise to keep hand sanitizer on you too.

If you need to purchase work boots, get a pair specifically designed for women - the foot proportions are different and your body will thank you for it in the long term.

[hearsayhorizons]

Holism’s introduction and the confirmation that there are more ships/intelligences on ART’s level with their own idiosyncrasies and quirks has a real possibility of opening up that coven/school house fertile field of fanfiction that makes people grab other series and hold on tight (not that we weren’t doing that already with this one).

Perihelion’s secret function is in confirming lost colonies and providing initial response for the purposes of safeguarding “”assets”” from predation.

Based on its interactions (attempted interactions) with SecUnit, Holism’s function/special interest is to provide infrastructure after Perihilion’s crew has argued/forged their way into securing long-term protection for those people. 

Perihelion is a secret agent ship and befriended Murderbot, who watches thrillers and other media. Holism the infrastructure/”look at this neat thing!” ship is probably going to find a receptive contact in Three, who seems most comfortable with nonfiction and educational materials (some other good poster pointed out that Three’s interests are tied to its introduction to freedom and choice via Murderbot 2.0’s autobiographical files; I want to put a pin in that for later).

This establishes a thematic setup I want to play with. I was going to fiction this up, but I have weather-related migraines and it is WEATHER lately.

My contribution is [namepending]. Once you have safety, once you have infrastructure, you look at connections and community. And you know what would be a great way to jumpstart an ambassadorial program or knowledge exchange? A university where everyone is doing something new, going somewhere new, where you might have interactions that last a few years and still mean a lot to you later, OR they might help define how you choose to live forever—there’s no knowing, even in real life, how experiences as a young OR older person going to school will influence you.

Why does that student wear something no one else does? Why do those hand gestures stand out? That’s an unusual set of facial features. But no one, literally no one, is going to look at a batch of shaky college students and assume they’re all from a/a variety of colonies 40+ years out of contact with the wider world.

So yeah, I know ART is already the Magic School Bus with weaponized pathfinders, but I posit that our next/a great fanfiction point is... [pending], much more a school bus. Maybe ferrying back and forth between colonies to keep the info exchange open too, but I think the university would be SO useful to give colonists a knowledge base without overwhelming them or forcing them to assimilate into other cultures.

Now, I imagine that just like Amena has to do some learning modules before she can join the University, there’d be sims and modules for incoming students or people going between colonies. And just like System Collapse chapter 8, you hit them where it works—right in the media. So this [pending] has a huge collection of, and is interested in, games.

As a side note, part of me thinks a fully mechanical system like ART would be a bit better able to perceive/use games without a SecUnit filter than media; sure, there’s music and mechanics meant to emotionally motivate the player, but non-visual novels non-dating-sims (eg: “game games”) have goals, mechanisms, more hard input than media.

Remember my pin from earlier re: Three’s interest tied to its path to freedom? I posit a SecUnit (either one of the two freed at the end of System Collapse, or someone else if there’s...)

Actually, if I’m already spitballing fanfic bullshit and ComfortUnits presumably have resources for interacting on a more emotional basis with clients, the CU. I want that construct on [pending]. The odds of that happening are miniscule unless it was maybe at a wit’s end, didn’t know what to do with itself like other units after having its freedom foisted on it.

Yeah, so, it has access to surreptitious funds secured by Tllacey. Maybe IDs. It doesn't have weapons and I get the vibe that no one would be looking as hard for a rogue CU, so I don't imagine it's hacking or has to hack anything. Maybe it can't, since it isn't a security system.

But it IS probably meant to be fluent in current events, folklore, random shit random clients care about. Ergo the Ganaka pit bit.

It searches for SecUnit activity in the news. Oh, or maybe info on ART, maybe it picked something up during its last scene. Murderbot does have a whole aside in SC panicking about the news and what info about the kidnapping could mean for the University’s colony-saving scheme, but that doesn’t go anywhere given the timeframes. So, maybe there is something there, some way to pull the ComfortUnit back in.

It finds the University. It finds, or [pending] finds it, and [pending]’s whole schtick is orientating confused people. It introduces CU to some sims, some games, maye interactions in reality or through games with young people.

I posited in previous posts that SecUnit probably wouldn’t be super into games because the ability to passively exist alongside an atmosphere presented by a story or music is the appeal of its media; it is an actor DOING things during its day job. But CU has presumably been always acted-upon in its day job. So now it has a risk-free method to DO things. Maybe it prefers solo games, or it participates in group games where its identity as a CU comes up only as far as it is comfortable.

I’m sure my [pending] would be thrilled to have a contact/friend who can both communicate comfortably with newcomers while also relating really hard to them. Plus, I feel like the CU construct just sort of gets set loose and abandoned by Murderbot and the narrative. Sometimes those loose ends happen, but I kind of see a way we could work it back in now that we know there are more ships and they want filters/friends/units.

Now I just gotta find a name for [pending].

I do think I have the first few lines of the fic, though:

The shuttle came within range of the bigger ship annotated in the smart glass: Perihelion.

This is you. I transmitted an image of a young human and what the news broadcast identified as another human.

Oh, fuck off.

[dateless-bar]

Can I Follow You Home? - Traitor Primarch Ver. (Modern AU)

If you ask Can I Follow You Home...

*: Character design from #projectepd, see character design pics here: ☆

Magnus

If you want to visit Magnus at his mansion in the New Capital, he might scrutinize your email with pursed lips for a while. From the subject line to the signature, and even the style and wording of the text—if you're lucky and what you propose happens to pique his interest, he might allow you to come by with a research proposal for consultation.

Magnus's mansion truly lives up to its original meaning. He won't greet you at the door; instead, he'll instruct you via email which room to go to, explicitly marking areas off-limits without permission. You have to tread carefully as soon as Amon opens the door for you, as you'll sense the space is filled with various antiques, rare books, specimens, and other collectibles. Whether it's hand-copied manuscripts with ink still fresh or prayer books adorned with jewels, the cabinets display a vast array, while numerous scrolls and carvings are sealed behind thick glass.

Amon will lead you to the reception room on the second floor, which, to be honest, leaves hardly any space to walk. The carpet is thick and soft, giving you the sensation of walking on sand. You can be sure there are cats in the house, as you spot cat hair on the couch and objects. However, unfortunately, the mansion is too large, and all the cats have hidden away. Magnus sits on the innermost sofa in the reception room, waiting for you to present your research report. During this time, you can smell the sweet aroma of wine and beeswax, a scent compounded with the heavy dust in the air, almost dizzying.

While he peruses your work, it's strongly advised not to let your gaze linger on areas of the room obviously concealed. If you were to discreetly lift a blanket or push a cabinet to reveal the modern lighting and the opposite cabinet, you'd find various movie props, first edition comics, signed posters by game designers, and perhaps even his secluded gaming den filled with numerous controllers, game boxes, and Blu-ray discs. If you were to really do that... Well, okay, okay, Amon, please show the guest out.

Perturabo

It's hard to imagine Perturabo introducing his house to anyone, but if there's anywhere in the world that brings him peace of mind, it's probably his own steel-reinforced safe house. This house is located at a secret address, accessible only through a long, narrow underground passage.

If you were to actually enter it, you might find yourself completely in the dark. That's because this place requires Perturabo's personal authentication to activate, and there's even an Iron Circle robot at the entrance—whether it can be activated or not is uncertain, but it looks quite formidable. Additionally, there's a rather intimidating set of exoskeletons, making you feel like you've stepped onto a movie set.

After navigating through various security measures, you finally reach an explosion-proof door. Behind this door lies a small room equipped with a separate escape hatch and water pump system, doubling as a precision mechanical workshop. From here, Perturabo can monitor all the activities in his main residence. It's like a doomsday bunker with comprehensive systems for any contingency. Here, Perturabo contemplates or crafts devices in absolute safety and silence, free from any possible disturbance, making it one of the few places where he can find complete tranquility. Sometimes, he spends entire weekends here alone, dedicating his time to constructing and manufacturing machinery. He even manages sleep on a mechanical bench or a hardboard bed. Then, at the beginning of the week, he returns to his regular duties, and of course, the items he manufactures here are never given to anyone.

If you find the space a bit cramped, you can activate the artificial scenery function on the multi-panel screens to display realistic landscapes. However, there's one obvious drawback: Perturabo hasn't equipped the house with any kitchen facilities, so if you're really hungry, you might have to make do with a few biscuits and water.

Fulgrim

Imagine visiting Fulgrim's mansion— which one, though? Let's go with the one he's been favoring lately. The walls of this mansion are painted in dazzling purple, and the satin on the velvet couches shimmers with a soft, enticing glow, but none of this compares to how he looks when he opens the door wearing his cozy housecoat. No more high-heeled boots or leather shoes, just bare feet adorned with a pair of fuzzy deep purple slippers. As you step inside, he'll surely ask you what music you'd like to listen to, and as you ponder which record suits this warm, radiant evening, he'll inquire about your drink preferences and if you'd like some snacks—too many choices might leave you a bit overwhelmed, but Fulgrim has already selected a few that he's perfected. Herbal tea, mille-feuille, a selection of classical recordings from the La Fenice Theater—the needle of the record player gently drops, and you never imagined you'd hear his collection in the home of this opera master.

You might find yourself sitting on a couch that's unbelievably soft, not as tidy as you'd imagine, adorned with dried flowers and fabric samples. But the pillows and cushions you hold emit delightful scents, and he promises to send you home with a sample of his handmade incense. And because the snacks are so delicious, you have to be careful not to eat too quickly. If you're full, you might explore the dressing rooms on the second floor—or should I say, the entire second floor is dressing rooms. Each room has floor-length mirrors and professional lighting fixtures, showcasing a variety of costumes, identical to those seen on the opera stage, down to the hand-sewn details. He'll show you the rooms for shoes and hats, the sheer volume from floor to ceiling is staggering, and you realize Fulgrim can clearly recall which designer or era each piece is from.

And if you're having a delightful conversation with him at this moment, he'd be more than happy to show you his clothing design sketches in the studio on the third floor. But as you step into the study, you might inhale sharply— the room is filled with numerous magazines and movie posters, all featuring his various personas. However, you can't help but admit that none of the pictures in the books seem as vivid and lifelike as the person standing before you.

Lorgar Aurelian

You initially prepared to visit Lorgar and expected it to be a public display, but you ended up at his private residence instead. He waits at the door for you before your arrival, claiming he anticipated this.

Lorgar's actual room is quite modest, even modern. People often forget his profession and find it hard to imagine his modern side. The room is so standard it could pass for a rental in the city, with some potted plants on the balcony. You gaze at him in his high-neck sweater, feeling a bit surprised—it's an uncommon sight.

There's still a faint scent of incense in the air, much like what you often smell in Word Bearer churches. Under Lorgar's gaze, you might need to change into slippers and shoe covers before entering. His bookshelf isn't stocked with books but scattered with wooden or metal ornaments, making you realize he has a habit of discarding or burning books after reading them. Interestingly, there are some modern-looking self-help and popular psychology books on the shelf, which Lorgar might explain are for Angron.

There are very few electronic devices in his home, not even digital clock screens, still relying on a very quaint chiming clock and occasionally using an old laptop and a fax machine for work. Judging by the dust, it seems Lorgar doesn't use them often. When you inquire about this, he mentions he still prefers handwritten letters. If you ask, he might even show you the Word Bearer seal. Interestingly, the ink pens and other items he uses daily are all handmade. As you approach the desk, you can smell a distinct classical ink scent. However, he expresses regret that he can't offer you any souvenirs—after all, his handwriting and signature are too precious, and you wouldn't know what to do with a true relic.

Angron

The idea of visiting Angron's home was rather nerve-wracking, to say the least. Honestly, if it weren't for the TV station's insane idea of doing this special program, chances are you wouldn't have had the opportunity to explore. However, what was likely aired on the show probably wasn't what you truly saw today. The Nuceria Wrestling League probably wanted to stage more stimulating scenes for the audience, so they might have taken away some items from here later and set them up elsewhere for shooting.

You shift your gaze back to the house in front of you, evidently arranged by Nuceria as Angron's residence, a luxurious apartment. Angron storms out of the bathroom, still dripping with water. He seems entirely unwilling to bother drying himself off. You can see water seeping onto the floor, clearly cleaned regularly by Nuceria's arranged personnel, replacing the vases and cabinets Angron smashes with new ones. No matter how roughly he treats the space he occupies, it returns to its original state after a while—you even feel that might be the reason for his anger.

You glance at the dining table, where Angron's previously endorsed cereals and protein bars lie. But you're pretty sure he doesn't eat them himself. Even the entire kitchen looks brand new, untouched by him, but you know another wrestler, Kharn, and their agent, Ms. Sarrin, sometimes use it to prepare simple meals.

The bathroom Angron just came out of doesn't have many bathing supplies; instead, it's stocked with bandages and painkillers you wouldn't typically find in a household. Next door is an entire home gym, a rarity, with a variety of exercise equipment dazzling the eyes, and the battered punching bag makes you shudder. Angron would smirk and say this place is just for show, with only the punching bag being somewhat useful. His real training is obviously in a more professional gym, and this place is probably just an assumption made by Nuceria.

You're surprised to see a cramped compartment, seemingly originally used as a small storage room. But when you discreetly open the door, you discover a hidden world inside. There are many scribbled to-do lists and tips from counseling centers, and a few crumpled manuals on the table. There's a pen holder made from a crushed soda can, with two or three stubby pencils inside. Before you can figure out what exactly this place is for, Angron grabs you by the scruff like a rabbit and drags you out.

Konrad Curze

In a sense, his home could even be considered a tourist attraction—if you're a fan of urban legends or folk horror radio shows, you've probably heard of the infamous haunted mansion at 50 Berkeley Square. Its notoriety isn't just historical; it's also connected to Konrad Curze. Some say he lived there, while others claim Curze himself is the source of the eerie tales about the mansion... Urban legends only get more mysterious as they circulate. If you're a social media influencer or a haunted house explorer, or even if you're looking to invest in real estate and have enough courage, perhaps you could try entering.

Of course, the faint-hearted should go during the day, but the brave, unafraid of death, can choose nighttime. The atmosphere and the gusts of fog alone are enough to make one gulp down a pot of tea, and as you shiver while trying to push open the mansion's front door, only to find it immovable, you might need a helping hand or a ladder to climb through the broken window on the east side—actually, Curze usually exits from here; he doesn't have much of a concept of using the front door, but he's rather fond of the gargoyle on the roof.

There are appliances in the house, and you can even try turning on the lights, but you must be wary of potential electrical hazards, as you have no idea where the wires are connected, definitely not to code. There are suspicious marks on the wooden floorboards—let's refuse to ponder whether they're claw marks or bloodstains, carefully avoiding all hazardous areas, and you'll find that the mansion is like a massive secret chamber or maze. Many of the upholstered or leather furniture pieces are either covered in dust or in a state of disrepair. A large portion of them is even strewn across the floor, blocking your path. After finally maneuvering past the creaky floorboards and reaching the kitchen, you're pleasantly surprised to find that not only are the lights functioning, but the fridge is also plugged in! However, after noticing the suspicious traces seeping from the fridge and cabinets, perhaps it's better not to open them...

You turn to look at the kitchen utensils on the countertop—they're quite new, most likely brought over by Fulgrim, who is always dedicated to getting Curze's life back on track. You're certain the bath salts strewn everywhere in the bathroom and the torn bath bombs are also his doing. As you contemplate further exploration of the other rooms in the house, Curze, who has suddenly appeared on the sofa, emits a hissing sound, forcing you to stop in your tracks. He blends completely into the darkness, using the unplugged wires to tell you he doesn't like too much light in the house. Curze curls up on the torn sofa, the once black and yellow fuzz now darkened and scattered from the overturned cushions.

Mortarion

If you're one of his trusted Deathshroud laboratory assistants, you might get the chance to visit his private residence. You'd disembark in the backyard, not at the front gate. Upon entering, you might initially think it's a karesansui garden. However, upon closer inspection, you'd discover that the tiered flower beds and foliage are actually arranged in intricate geometric patterns, following the mysterious Fibonacci sequence found in nature. You'd notice many plants with peculiar shapes or overly vibrant colors, and your intuition would tell you to stay far away from them. Mortarion breathes in the air of the courtyard through his mask, his fingers almost grazing the plants.

After circling the garden, you'd enter his home. It's eerily quiet, to the point where you can hear the chirping of insects from the courtyard. Mortarion is wearing nothing but a thin plain robe indoors, which obscures his overly pale skin, giving off an unsettling chill.

He would draw the curtains when the sun rises, shrouding the interior in dim shadows. You might find yourself unable to resist looking at the printed numerical sequences on the walls of his room, as well as the insects and plant specimens framed in display cases. And the darker the environment, the more lifelike they appear. If you stare long enough, you might almost feel as if they're about to flutter their wings at any moment. As you walk along the walls, you'd come across a fish tank illuminated only by scenery and a dim green light, devoid of any fish. Just as you can't help but wonder what happened in there, you catch a faint whiff of formaldehyde from the closed door nearby.

At that moment, dusk sets in. Mortarion suddenly pulls back the curtains, startling everyone present. Yet, he casually produces homemade wine from the courtyard. If you're lucky enough, you might be treated to these drinks alongside other visiting Deathshroud members—you all instinctively don't think to refuse such a possibility.

Horus Lupercal

Horus's current residence is the result of a black market deal after a fire many years ago, but now it's deemed 'completely legitimate and legal,' with records in the Luna Wolves' archives even documenting the hefty property taxes they dutifully pay.

The overall style of the house bears a striking resemblance to the Wolves' old home in Sicily, likely because Sejanus and others brought over a fair amount of furniture from there. They even had a massive oven installed for occasional nostalgic pizzas or bread reminiscent of home. Whenever Horus needs to meet privately with the Mournival, it's almost always held in the ground floor of this house. They would sit around a long table, surrounded by paintings by artists who once owed substantial debts, hanging on the walls and ceiling. Torgaddon once quipped that while meetings in this environment were bearable, eating was out of the question—prompting an immediate reprimand from Abaddon.

If you're one of Horus's trusted confidants, you might have the chance to see the final painting in that series, displayed alone in his living room. Surprisingly, his room doesn't entirely adhere to the style of the rest of the house; it's more minimalistic, with fewer decorative furnishings, featuring only a bookcase, a bed, a clothes rack, a drinks cabinet, and a table. The bookcase holds a collection of epic, literary, and historical works. If you catch him in a good mood, he might allow you to pour a drink or help him hang up his suit jacket. Whether to add ice, how much ice to add, whether to send it to the dry cleaners, and where to hang it all become matters of importance. And if you get it right, Horus might relax a bit, loosen his tie, and share the story behind the painting with you. But the test has only just begun; either stay silent and listen carefully or ask the most precise questions to help him tell the story he's told a thousand times before. And if you happen to mention some keywords he doesn't like, then all efforts will be in vain. Remember, caution is key.

Alpharius

You walk into a room.

As for what kind of room it is, you feel it's a bit like an employee dormitory, yet also reminiscent of a single room in a budget hotel.

It looks completely fine. Neat, clean, with items that are ninety percent new, not overly pristine to make it difficult to use, yet appropriately lacking a sense of warmth. You attempt to turn on the lights in the room, only to discover that all the power sockets perfectly match your lifestyle, requiring almost no additional adapters or special interfaces. Speaking of interfaces... where is your phone? Realizing this, you glance at the coffee table and the cabinet above it, noticing that the room is not equipped with any telephones.

You suspect your phone might be in the pocket of your coat, so you try to open the wardrobe in the room. Inside, there are three hangers, each holding your outerwear for different seasons, perfectly matching your size and dressing habits. However, they are all brand new, without any signs of being worn.

Despite thinking it's impossible, you still check the pockets of these clothes. In the inner pocket of your winter coat, you find a business card. There's only one name on the card.

You feel a dizzy spell. How long has it been since you last ate? A wave of weakness washes over you, and you collapse onto the unwrinkled bed.

You wake up to the sound of your own phone ringing. As you regain consciousness, you find yourself lying in your most familiar bed. The scent, the pillows, the blankets all make you feel incredibly safe. You sigh with relief, realizing you've just had a strange dream - but it's all over now, isn't it? You pick up your phone, intending to freshen up.

After a moment, you realize there seems to be something under your phone.

It's a business card.

[jolenes-doppelganger]

Twisted Motives (Chpt. 1)

Larissa Weems x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: Caught

Summary: A troubled writer flees from her troubled job in New York to teach a workshop on creative writing. However new she appears to Jericho, Y has history, a child born of the D’je tribe, a nomadic group native to the East Coast, Y’s existence has been shrouded in mystery since the moment she was born. Finding comraderie in the most unexpected not places, of people, Y mistakes her acceptance for safety. As things at Nevermore take a turn for the worst, Y learns that it isn’t just her secrets that are at stake, but the whole of Nevermore. [SO much world-building in this fic, will be a series].

Warnings: Written third-person, reader identified as ‘Y’ for my own sanity, Hispanic culture incorrectly used as a tool to teach (piñatas are NOT properly used).

Word Count: 2.1k words

The rain poured through the open cracks in the stone of Nevermore, slowly trickling down through the walls and into Y’s classroom. Buckets quietly tinged as drops of water splashed at the bottom of the tin. It added to the ambience of her classroom, the dim light and walls decorated with posters of classic English and Russian literature, the cornerstone of Y’s teaching style. Truth be told she had never expected to be teaching a classroom, especially with her religious and cultural preferences. But Y was mistaken, the students were both accepting and a bit relieved to have a teacher just as outcast as them. It was a simple job, albeit filled with corrections and piles of students short stories that never seemed to run out. But every once in a while, on a day identical to this one, the students were given the chance to put their creative ideas out into the world.

Paper and glue filled every open surface, the students happily slapping on the tiny colored paper shreds onto balloons. This was Y’s crowning accomplishment as a teacher, and activity both educational and engaging. The balloons has been filled with not candy, or toys, but rather jumbo puzzle pieces painted white and scrawled on in sharpie, puzzle pieces that once exposed, would be constructed to form the chronological composition of the student’s ideal fantasy novel. The piñatas would be decorated with a short summaries of their stories. The students had chattered about this activity since Monday, and it had drawn the attention of a good portion of the staff, including the principal.

“Alright everyone, find a good stopping place and direct your attention to the front please,” Y called.

The students begrudgingly stopped their crafting, sighing and groaning as they turned their attention to the strangely dressed woman at the front.

“Principal Weems is coming in to examine the progress of your writing piñatas, and I expect you all to be on your best behavior,”

Students began to roll their eyes and idly chatter among themselves.

“The most respectful students get candy. More specifically, skittles or starburst,”

Several of the boys whooped and the classroom was once again filled with laughter and talk, bubbling up like a milk-filled pot. Y smiled, her students were so full of life, and it refreshed her.

“Now, I expect her in about 5 minutes, assuming she’s early per usual, but since we have a little bit of time, how about we do the daily question?”

The daily question consisted of student’s questions pre-written and left in a jar. One question was pulled per day and answered unless it was otherwise inappropriate or otherwise irrelevant to Y’s stance as a teacher. Most questions were silly, ‘Favorite color’, ‘What are your big three’, and so on.

“The daily question is….” Y said, shuffling her hand around the glass jar until she caught ahold of a corner, “What are your cultural practices and how do they influence the way you dress?”

Y was shocked. It was neither inappropriate or otherwise irrelevant, but so thoughtful was this question that it surprised her. The handwriting was neat and elegant, and Y immediately narrowed it down to a few girls. It would take further inspection to be sure, but she suspected it was Wednesday who wrote it.

“Well,” Y began, “My cultural practices are heavily influenced by-“

The door swung open to reveal the tall figure of Principal Weems, dressed to kill as was customary for her. Y and Weems exchanged a glance before Larissa nodded for her to continue.

“Right, as I was saying per the daily question, my cultural practices are influenced by D’je spirituality which follows the movement of celestial bodies, more specifically the moon, which dictates how we dress, eat, and conduct our lives,”

Y paced around the front of the room, uncomfortable under the intense scrutiny of Principal Weem’s gaze.

“It is practice that all D’je tribes folk wear the Lorid, or the head piece that covers our scalp. It is not a hijab or a hair covering, but rather a symbol of our devotion to the moon,”

Weems nodded as Y spoke, intrigued by her culture. This was the first time Y had publicly spoke about her cultural customs in such explicit detail, and it entranced her.

“We also wear the Særth, or the wrapping that covers our back and upper chest. This too is tradition. All garments, whether cultural or otherwise, must follow the moon cycle. Dark, heavy garments are worn on the New and Waning moons, while lighter, brighter, garments are worn during the full and waxing moons,”

By this point all students were engaged and intrigued by Y’s brief introduction into the D’je cultural beliefs. The tribe was a quiet part of the Jericho community, a small group living in a secluded reservation up in the mountains above Jericho. Not much was made public about their traditions, but the bloody history of the D’je people was carved into local legends. A defensive and deeply rooted tribe, these people had not once been moved from their land, rather they were known for keeping to themselves and generally avoiding colonizers, a trait that bore them much bloodshed during the early stages of colonization.

But the history was as deeply intriguing as were the whispers. Locals had spun tales of the deformities the D’je tribe hid, the monstrous scales and crooked tails they hid, the deformed backs, the bald scalps. They were all bullshit of course. At least that’s what Y had adamantly defended to her students.

“Alright. That’s a brief summary of my cultural traditions, please welcome Principal Weems to your stations, I’m sure she has much to explore,” Y said, a tight smile on her face.

As the Principal took note of every students design, Y took a moment to fiddle with the Lorid. All this scrutiny had worried her. It was a full moon which meant Y was as lightly dressed as could be reasonable in this chilly climate, all of her hair exposed and cascading down her neck and back. The Lorid was secured by a thousand pins, but Y still felt nervous. Being the full moon Y was granted exemption from her evening classes to attend a tribal gathering, but she still had a good hour before then.

“Ms. Y, I am pleased with both your teaching and relationship with your students,” Principal Weems chirped, breaking Y’s inner monologue.

“Well thank you Principal Weems, I’ve grown accustomed to both in the two months I’ve been here,” Y nervously smiled.

“Oh for the last time, it’s Larissa when we’re alone,” Larissa playfully scolded.

Y’s smile melted into a genuine one, relief washing over her like a cool breeze.

“I was so honored to hear about your cultural practices. I’m well aware of how tight-liked you usually are,” Larissa continued.

“Am I tight-lipped or did you just never ask?” Y joked.

Both women laughed at this, comraderie bubbling as the students finished up their projects.

“Class, this is your five-minute warning!” Y called, briefly breaking from her brief conversation with Larissa.

As the students filed out of her classroom, Y anxiously waited for Larissa to excuse herself. Although she was not teaching a class, Y had a mountain of grading to get caught up on, and her prep-period only allotted an hour before she was expected to leave and attend the D’je ritual.

“Larissa, I am delighted to have had your presence in my classroom today, but I fear that my grading can only wait for so long,” Y sighed.

“Oh of course, I understand. Although I was hoping we could have a quick chat about next-year,” Larissa mused.

“Next year?” Y gasped.

“Well of course, we’d love to have you on the roster full-time,”

“Oh, well I just couldn’t be sure-“

“-Come discuss it with me in my office tomorrow morning before school. Here is some paperwork I’d like you to look over before then,” Larissa smiled, gently pushing the folder into your hands.

Y was left dumbfound as Larissa turned and walked down the row of desks, turning to momentarily smile before shutting the door. Looking at the stack of files Y groaned. The grading would have to wait.

<^*————————*^>

Y walked across the gravel road that led to the tribe’s gathering hall, tired and a bit depressed by her inactivity. The file had been filled with teacher reports and student notes praising Y’s teaching, how included and safe they felt, how writing would be their career once they left Nevermore, all of it was a trap devised by Larissa to keep Y there, to keep her teaching. Y’s simple plan to take a break from her novels had ended up being a roadblock, a sign post pointing in two conflicting directions. It was so overwhelming, and Y needed an escape. That’s what she found in the hall.

“Y, you’ve come!” Sierra, Y’s younger sister cheered as she ran towards her. “C’mon, it’s time to remove your Lorid and Særth,”

Y smiled as she slowly began to fiddle with the headpiece, watching as her sister did the same. Bobby-pins decorated the floor as they hastily unwrapped the head covering to reveal their dark horns. The Lorid was indeed triangle-shaped, constructed in a way that hid and concealed their horns without adding too much weight or bulk to the hair. Most horns were no more than three or four inches, pointing at an angle that made for easy concealment. But the Jericho tribe was known for larger horns, big twisted things that led for tricky concealment. Such was Y’s curse.

The Særth was next, carefully unraveling the twisted fabric, Y let out a sigh of relief as her wings were slowly unbound. When properly wrapped, Y could get away with the excuse of bad posture, one she had often used in the city, but at Nevermore she had grown more lax, a decision that both relieved and prevented wing cramps. The Jericho wingspan was also notably larger than most tribes. It made for easier and prolonged flying, a trait all members took advantage of.

“Did you hear, Aunt Cara gained five pounds last week from the baby, I don’t think she’ll be able to fly tonight, at least not for long,” Sierra giggled.

“That baby is gonna be massive,” Y smirked. “Hopefully she won’t need a C-section, Doctor Mark might have to be re-sworn in,”

The girls giggled and joked as they made their way over to the open arena, stretching and pumping their wings as they went. Joined by a group of 70 adults and 10 children, they listened as Chief Vera prompted the ceremony.

The Full Moon ceremony consisted of a little dancing, singing and a few whispered prayers of protection for the night’s adventures. Warnings and reminders were given: Don’t fly directly in the moons light, don’t approach residences and don’t fly towards lights. Ever since the appearance of the Jersey-Devil’s legend, the D’je people had been hyper-vigilant against being spotted, but the story continue as people blamed the tribes uncovered forms on a devilish creature born of the night.

The girls were unconcerned, however. They knew the rules by now, and could recite them in their sleep. Eventually a horn was blown, and the D’je people took to the skies. Sierra and Y quickly banked toward the Nevermore school, a river and several scenic bits of the forest begged to be visited on that night.

As they flew closer, the girls spotted a dim light quietly pacing through the undergrowth. Y quietly flew into the upper foliage of the trees, being sure to land quietly. Sierra was soon to follow, and they slowly began gliding from tree to tree, closer towards the figure that dared step so close into D’je territory.

The form was familiar to Y, and she gasped as she made out the figure of Larissa, quietly walking a forest path through the wilderness. Y was clumsy, too focused on getting closer than to being quiet, and a branch snap alerted Larissa. Y watched in horror as Larissa extended the torch up and toward the outer branches, inches from Y’s feet. But Y wasn’t alone. Sierra let out a series of short yelps, in imitation of a hoot owl, and flew off, giving Y a short period to fly off before Larissa turned the torch back towards her. Y flew forward, determined to make it our, but a curiosity drove her to look back, to see the face of a woman she had so unnecessary spooked.

The torch light grazed against her face, and for a short moment, Larissa and Y’s eyes met. Y shook and wearily flew back to the tribal hall, her mind frozen, replaying the look of recognition on Larissa’s face over and over, waking and dreaming.

A/N: This is a slow-burn. Sorry not sorry, I am not 18 for another week and I refuse to write smut until I can reasonably say I could at least be legally pegged. Will I write it? Stay tuned.

[mariacallous]

EARLY VOTING in Mariupol began on March 10th, courtesy of armed election brigades who criss-crossed the city in search of participants. Sometimes, mobile ballot boxes were unveiled to the sounds of rousing hits such as Sergei Voitenko’s “My Russia” (Russia! Russia! My Russia! / Great country! Motherland!). Other times, guns did the talking. Those preferring to wait until the official start had a harder job. The locations of polling booths were not advertised ahead of the vote—a provision, officials explained, designed to ensure the safety of organisers. By the time polls closed on the evening of March 15th, the first of the three official ballot days, a stratospheric 69% of the region had already voted. This was all the more remarkable given the absence of accurate voting lists to calculate the number from.

The vote in Mariupol could be written off as a farce, were it not for everything that went before it. The second day of voting came exactly two years after Russian planes dropped bombs on the city’s main theatre while a large number of children were taking shelter inside, killing hundreds of them. Local authorities estimate that at least 22,000 civilians were killed in the city during weeks of bombardment. It may be considerably more. Only 120,000 of a pre-war population of 450,000 remain in Mariupol, plus a similar number of new migrants from Russia and central Asia.

Local sources, whose identities we are withholding for their protection, report that Mariupol has been unusually deserted over the days of the vote. The city still bears obvious war scars, they say. Central streets alternate between ruins and, where houses have been cleared, empty pits. Only collaborators who have proven their worth to the occupying Russian forces have been given homes in the few new-builds, hastily constructed for the cameras on the edge of the city. Access to the city is still tightly controlled, with checkpoints on the roads in and out. Anyone wanting to enter has to get permission at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo airport, 1,000 km away.

The Kremlin has been nonetheless keen for Mariupol to display loyalty. One of the very first acts of the occupying forces—even before the theatre was filled in with concrete in an attempt to contain the stench of rotting corpses—was to wheel in massive video screens showing Vladimir Putin. “They hadn’t even opened the shops or the market, or the hospitals, but they had the big propaganda screens,” one local said. In the run-up to the presidential elections, there was a campaign to encourage locals to take up Russian passports. Its lack of success was perhaps most clearly shown in the decision in December 2023 to allow people to vote using their Ukrainian IDs, a rare example of a state allowing nationals of another one to take part in a presidential election. It is one of many avenues for voting fraud, suggests Mariupol’s elected mayor Vadym Boychenko, now based in Ukrainian-controlled Dnipro.

Solomiia Bobrovska, a member of Ukraine’s parliamentary intelligence committee closely connected to resistance movements, says that Mariupol remains a partisan hotbed. “That’s why they are so strict about the city. They don’t trust locals with anything important.”

The resistance effort can broadly be split between military and civilian wings. Partisan and diversionary activity in the former category is overseen by agencies like the SSO, Ukraine’s special forces, and HUR, its military intelligence agency. The SBU, the domestic intelligence outift, leads on civilian resistance.

Alongside this are other more independent activist groups, like Yellow Ribbon, which says it has 15,000 activists across Ukraine’s occupied territories. The resistance is mostly low-level: printing anti-Putin posters and organising underground Ukrainian flag production. Its social-media channel offers suggestions about how to avoid voting and share information about election organisers with prosecutors. “It’s about giving people support, to show they are not alone,” says “Alex”, a co-founder of the movement. “Our aim is to irritate the hell out of the Kremlin.”

Civil and military representatives are hesitant to discuss the extent of their networks, but it’s clear that their work has become much more difficult since the early days of the war. Many agents have been compromised, hauled off to prison in the best case scenarios. Russia has dispatched tens of thousands of security officers to the occupied territories. Petro Andryushchenko, an adviser to the mayor of Mariupol, also in exile, admits the resistance was “losing too many people,” and suggests Ukraine should become more careful. He suggests encouraging locals to vote unless it was safe not to do so; a boycott was unlikely to change anything and could attract dangerous attention, he says. “The Mariupol resistance is different to everywhere else given our history and the level of control. At this stage we need to think about keeping people alive. They are our stake.”

The Ukrainian government, perhaps surprisingly, has not produced a unified position on what its citizens should do: take part in the electoral farce to avoid reprisals, or ignore it. That is partly down to disagreement inside the corridors of power. But it is really because officials find it hard to admit that the liberation of Mariupol now looks remote. For Mr Boychenko, the exiled mayor, who has been criticised for his decision to leave his city in the early days of the war, the focus should be on helping the 200,000 or so survivors now scattered across Ukraine. “We are an evacuated city, a people in exile. But we haven’t disappeared.”

[amenders93]

The Surprising Meeting

Over time, the new road was constructed and completed. When the road was done and vehicles were allowed to drive on it, that meant it was time for a stake-out. Ginger, Bunty and Mac were on the beach trying to see what was happening on the mainland. Mac gloomily states that it was only a matter of time before the humans showed up. Somehow she must have known that the safety they've felt for so long wouldn't last for long. Mac and Ginger looked through binoculars to get a closer look, just like they did back on Tweedy's Farm. As they peered through the binoculars, they see a large truck wound its way along the new road. It had a colorful logo on the side that said FUN-LAND FARMS. There was a picture of a happy-looking chicken sitting in a bucket, doing a happy 'thumbs-up' sign. There was also the sound of clucking birds coming from inside the truck.

Ginger frowned at the sight and the sound, believing that humans are taking chickens to some kind of chicken farm. That's when our island queen lowered the binoculars and got a serious look on her face. Bunty starts to worry, saying that she hasn't seen that particular look in a long while. She tries to tell her friend that she can't right all the world's wrongs. However, this apparently falls on deaf ears because Ginger states that there will be a meeting tonight and to spread the word. Then she heads back to the village. Bunty looks at Mac; she knew Ginger very well and she knew that her friend would stop at nothing to fight back against any humans who threatened them. Our muscle-bound hen says what we can all agree from this, "Here we go again." 😏

The meeting was arranged for the town hall that very night and Molly could see from her bedroom window that all the chickens were gathering at that very moment. Our island princess goes downstairs to see Ginger getting herself ready to go to the meeting. She asks her mother some pretty serious questions like, "What's going on?", "Why can't I go up my tree anymore?", and "What's this meeting about?" Ginger tries very hard to think about something to tell her daughter. Then she comes up with an excuse that there's some quite big wasps up the tree this year; Molly looks at her mother in disbelief.

Ginger also tells Molly that she needs her to stay home and look after her father. Both island queen and princess turn to see Rocky trying to swat a moth away from their hanging light, but our island king loses his balance and falls off his stool, painfully saying he's good. We all know he's not 🤕. Molly starts to cheer up a bit, suggesting that her dad can tell her a story while her mom's out. Ginger smiles, agreeing with her daughter's idea. Then our island queen bids her big, brave girl goodnight, kisses her on the cheek and heads off to the meeting. As Ginger leaves, Molly runs up the stairs giggling and Rocky wishes his wife good luck with the meeting.

Once father and daughter were alone together, Rocky calls out to Molly, asking her what she wants to do as she comes back downstairs. Molly then holds up a large poster, suggesting to her dad that he could tell about it. It was Rocky's old circus poster with ROCKY THE FLYING ROOSTER on it, the same one that Rocky packed away the day Molly had hatched. Our island king is taken aback; he tries to convince his daughter that the rooster on the poster wasn't him. However, Molly is smarter than she seems. She looks at Rocky, then she looks at the poster and then she gives her dad a knowing look. They were clearly the one and the same rooster. Rocky caves in, saying that the rooster in the poster is him but it was a long time ago. Our dashing rooster then gazes at his poster, probably remember how different his life as a Lone Free Ranger was back then. Molly raises her eyebrows, convincing her dad to continue. Rocky then brightens up, stating that it's actually a pretty good story. Our island king then starts to tell his little princess all about his exciting adventures as a Lone Free Ranger. Those were the days when he lived in the circus and was shot into the sky from a cannon. He was living the life, free as a bird. This is going to come back to haunt Rocky. He's soon going to wish he'd never told Molly any of those stories.

Meanwhile at the town hall, all the chickens gathered around, chattering anxiously about what was happening on the mainland. At that moment, Ginger arrived and walked up to the podium with her serious look. Bunty is in one corner of the hall with Mac, Babs and Fowler with her arms crossed and frowning, knowing that when Ginger's got that look, she'll probably have them all charging right into the fray. Babs nervously says she doesn't want to charge into any frays since she's fray-phobic. Classic Babs 😂. Ginger then calls out to the crowd to settle down to make her annoucement.

Our island queen goes over what they already know: the new road and the trucks taking chickens to what looks like some kind of farm. Some of the chickens start to panic a little; one chicken named Beryl even laid an egg. Ginger calms them down again and continues with her announcement: that from their past experiences, they know what this new threat can mean. It's something that they just can't ignore and that they all only have one choice. Throughout this, the panic started up again and begins to get worse with each time Ginger gets more intense. Babs unknowingly knitted a blue masterpiece with a chicken skull and cross bones on it; she's obviously terrified with the news and tries to hide behind it, not wanting to hear their only choice. But surprisingly, Ginger says that their only choice is to hide.

Everyone is shocked silent. Even Mac, Babs, Bunty and Fowler were surprised. This wasn't the bold and brave Ginger they knew. One chicken suggested that by hide, it means like pretending that they're not there; Ginger agrees. There was more silence and then the crowd erupts in loud cheering. This didn't sound dangerous at all. All the chickens were cheering except for Mac. Our Scottish hen knows her best friend too well and this whole hiding plan was definitely not in her nature. Ginger explained how they could hide from the humans on the mainland by making a huge leafy screen to block the chickens from their view. The chickens left the meeting happily, ready to start to work right away, leaving Ginger in the hall. Even though old Fowler was used to facing up to the enemy, he tries to be enthusiastic about the plan. He walks alongside Babs calling this plan Operation Lie-Low; our ditzy hen states she likes lie-lows, especially the stripy ones 😂.

As Ginger watches the chickens leave, she's hoping she made the right choice for everyone even though it's usually not like her. Mac walks up to her best friend asking about her welfare, knowing that it's not like her to shy away from danger. Ginger knows that she would rather face the humans and stop the threat against chicken kind, but things are not the same as they once were. Now that she is married to Rocky and they have Molly to think about, she cannot risk their freedom by venturing into a world that finds chickens so delicious. They all have spend so long trying to escape from Tweedy's Farm to freedom for a better life and now that they have, they're not about to lose it at the hands of humans once again.

Our island queen had had a change of perspective now that she's a wife and a mother. She's trying so hard to protect her family and all her friends, even if it means shying away from danger instead of facing it like she used to. There are times when we think we made the right choice because it's easy, but sometimes the easy choice is not always the right one. However, I just hope that Ginger's decision to hide from the humans is a good one. 🤔

[laststandx3]

I think there’s a case for “heather could have stopped tozer from joining the mutiny,” a big part of why he joined seems to be that hickey could use his grief over heather to convince him that crozier wasn’t looking out for the marines

Exactly!!! very real case!! this why i'm here screaming about it in polls.

Because Heather was THAT important for Tozer than after he died (in an horrific way) Tozer wasn't the same man anymore.

And of course Hickey took advantage of that grief, but what if we have the same story and the only thing we change is that Heather survives? There's still a monster hunting them, there's still the arctic cold around them, there's still people that burned alive at carnivale.

If Heather is there with Tozer after Carnivale there are still point that one can make against Crozier's leadership. There is still a base for a mutiny. To try and save your skin because so far the captain hasn't capitaned much.

Personally I think both Tozer and Heather would have joined the mutiny. And this comes from the fact that they're really close and that we actually see Tozer advocating (in a way) for the marines before Hickey got any chance to even think of a mutiny.

and let's assume it wasn't Heather the last victim of the Tuunbaq. It was another man. There are already dead marines who don't really belong in the expedition.

Tozer is making the Heather is strong speech, yes but he's also pointing out how none of them choose to be there. It's a vent out of fear for his life, for his close friends life. but it's based on a belief he already had. They had no choice, that they had no extra pay, that they were the first line, first to cut down (an acceptable sacrifice because their job as put them there)

If Tozer had these beliefs before the mutiny there's no reason that someone very close to him wouldn't share them.

And Hickey overhears it and that is why he can get Tozer in the mutiny, because they have the some common knowledge that command isn't looking out for you.

Now an extra because I'm obsessed with scenes nobody talks about:

When Sir John visits the marines waiting for the Tuunbaq. You can say whatever you want about sir John but the one thing he was good at was approaching the men. He's always kind, constructive and positive. He's was a man of politics after all. So when he visits the marines he brings them booze, makes jokes and compliments them on their cleverness of using the rats as bait. They take a picture for posterity and like a good politician now that he showed up and did nothing he can go back to the safety and warmth of his ship. Franklin doesn't want to freeze his ass any longer. Already about to shake hands. Then Tozer stops him : Then sit with us Captain, why don't you? Perhaps it can be you who fires the shot that will convince it [Tuunbaq]

Heather: At least be here to see it felled

script dialogue. that tells us that Franklin gets touched by the offer, it leaves us no indication on how to understand Tozer's offer. So when he invites Franklin to stay, my interpretation is that he does it out of being a little annoyed at his boss. Have you seen how Franklin moves around? He has the pose of a man who's never lift a finger in his life, can you imagine him firing a weapon? can you imagine him firing the striking shot? You can't tell me that Tozer invitation is genuine praise for his captain. And then Heather who sees that Tozer aimed to high with Franklin's vanity reframes it a little. (have you ever told a lie with your bestie and they sort of adjust your version of the story?) This is why I think that Tozer and Heather share at least the core idea that pranking your boss it's a good thing to do there's a gap from the marines and anyone else there. They are technically the ONLY ones who give Franklin's authority a lesser weight. You can't imagine this little prank made by anyone else. To everyone else the captain is THE authority and they would never ever imagine that authority wouldn't see thought you. But Tozer and Heather do. they don't owe Franklin/command anything because they're not there looking for glory, the country, or an hawaian vacation. They're there because they got assigned to the job. And they do feel the gap between them and everyone else, and when there's an us and them than it's enough seed to start a mutiny.

[wvbaandtheboys]

it's huggin time!! (bear hugger hcs)

hiiiii i need to pick up this series again... but anyways here's your warnings: CW/TW// Animal Death, Death, Gore

Bear Hugger, named Elijah Moore, was born in Saskatoon, Canada. He had three siblings: Nolan Moore, Emily Moore and Gabriel Moore. He was the eldest son of his family.

Nolan was the second eldest, Gabriel was the youngest, and Emily, their only sister, was the eldest of them all. Elijah and his siblings lived in a rundown farmhouse near the woods on their single grandfather’s property. Their grandfather, John Moore, was a carpenter that worked on faraway community projects to bring in money. (Taking reference from Bear’s SPO poster that said was a carpenter.) As such, Elijah and Emily were usually the ones policing their younger siblings in their grandfather’s absence. (Which was frequent.) Though they also had the minor responsibility of caring for what few farm animals were present.

Though, when John could be present, he taught Elijah the tools of the trade, intending for Elijah to take up the profession for when John had to retire. As the guy was of course getting older and was already struggling with health problems.

Unfortunately, Elijah back home was not a very happy and jolly man like he is today as Bear Hugger. In fact, Elijah was rather irate on a daily basis thanks to many things, namely his brother Nolan being, well… not the best at doing things. He was always fucking up one thing or another from small to big. It wasn’t help by his reluctance to take accountability for his fuck ups, so it really made Elijah and his’s relationship sour. 

However, Elijah had a soft spot for his little brother Gabriel. An innovative and curious boy, though Elijah was not at all the kindest brother, he tried to be encouraging of Gabe’s little spirit. (He even drove many hours into a nearby town just to get Gabriel a little toy construction set once for his birthday.) 

However, Nolan didn’t like Gabriel. He would often bug the little guy for whatever reason, seeing that he was getting better treatment from Elijah than he was. 

Emily, however, kept a level head throughout their time together having to look after their siblings. Sure, there were times she’d get fed up and end up reprimanding Nolan. But she did it out of love.

Until one day, all four of them received news of a horrible accident: John had been crushed due to a rickety foundation crumbling while the builders were still on site. Though he was rushed to the hospital, he was pronounced dead soon afterwards.

This devastated the siblings. It especially hurt Elijah on account of him being the closest to their grandfather out of all of them. However, they were given the remaining sum of money the company would have paid to John, giving them more savings to thrive.

Years later, while in the woods working as a lumberjack, Elijah stumbled upon a bear’s den. There, he found an older female grizzly that clearly wasn’t well. Taking pity upon the animal, he gave it some nourishment and stayed with it for a while. It perked up.

When Elijah left the site for the day, the grizzly followed him home, but gave no signs of hostility or ill intent. It was friendly, and didn’t want to be left alone.

When talking it out with Emily, she also took pity on the animal but worried for the safety of Gabriel, as the boy was naive when it came to assessing danger. Elijah and her made a compromise to keep the bear in its own space away from both the farmhouse and the other animals. They gave the bear the name Forrest.

Forrest lived with the Moores for a while, being a kind bear who loved attention but made it clear when she wanted to be left alone. In a time of great stress and misery, Forrest gave Elijah the relief he needed. They had a close bond. 

Things got troublesome one early morning, though. Emily awoke to the sound of commotion coming from outside. She checked on both Nolan and Gabriel’s beds, and found that they were both gone. She rushed outside of the house to find a horrifying sight. 

Forrest was being antagonized by the other animals, making her increasingly agitated. And there was Gabriel, running out into the field in his pajamas and hefty boots to go see what was wrong.

As Forrest turned her attention to Gabriel, she stood on her hind legs and roared. Emily knew what that meant.

She cried out in horror as the bear charged at her brother. Forrest attacked Gabriel quickly, catching his head in her jaws and wrestling him to the ground where she mauled him. He died in seconds. The next thing she heard was Nolan yell in anger at the bear. When she looked in his direction, she saw him hauling a shotgun in his hands while charging towards Forrest. She again could only watch in horror as Noel shot her, killing her instantly. The worst part?

Elijah hadn’t left for work yet. He came running at the sound of both his sister screaming bloody murder and hearing a gunshot, only to see his animal friend and little brother dead on the ground. With his brother shaking, rattling the gun in his hands. And as they made eye contact, he saw a look on Elijah’s face he hadn’t seen before. Intense rage.

The emotions of losing both his brother and old bear, plus seeing his brother holding a gun and still having it pointed in the direction of them was Elijah’s breaking point. All sense of patience, rationality and awareness left him. And he charged towards Nolan with tears in his eyes, roaring in anguish as he hoisted his axe overhead. He was intending to hurt him. If not, kill him.

Nolan shrieked and ran right for Emily, who pulled him inside of the house and shut the door, turning the latch. Elijah broke it down with a single swing of the axe, forcing his way in. Emily ran with her brother up the stairs while hearing her brother scream and curse at her to stop running. Running to her and Eli’s bedroom, she shoved her brother inside and locked the door in the nick of time. She tried desperately to reason with a grief stricken Elijah, but ended up just getting shoved away and knocking her head on the ground.

Oh god. Nolan just had to sit there and watch as Eli took down the bedroom door and peered in at him one more time before actually knocking it down. Terrified at the thought of his axe wielding brother’s wrath, Nolan tried to clamber out of the bedroom window and escape, but Eli grabbed his leg. And dragged him kicking, screaming, begging back into the bedroom. He then proceeded to beat him by kicking him repeatedly, before lifting the axe up and striking his brother’s leg without thinking. He chopped off up to the midpoint of Nolan’s left calf, leaving a bleeding stump in its place. It was only then when Eli heard his brother cry out in intense pain and terror, as if he was about to die, that he realized what he had done.

Emily shook Eli out of his stunned stupor and he called emergency services while Emily made a makeshift tourniquet for Nolan and brought him out to the yard. They made up a cover story about Nolan also being attacked by Forrest, and that they panickedly thought that they needed to remove the leg that had been mauled. Thankfully it was bought by the paramedics that rushed all three to the hospital. Nolan ended up being taken to intensive care where he remained for a month. But everything that had happened in that one day was just too much for Elijah to bear. So, after tying up everything he could like burying his little brother on the farm grounds, burying Forrest where her makeshift home was, saying goodbye to Emily and telling her to relay a message to Nolan, he left.

He migrated to Salmon Arm, Canada. He was unable to continue being a lumberjack for a long time after the incident, as everything would remind him of the decision he made. How he nearly killed his brother in a blind rage. In need of something to do, he became a foster for animals. This is where his love for animals truly blossomed as he took in whatever critters he could and gave them all the affection and care he could give. They slowly helped him heal enough to pick up the slack again and become a lumberjack again, even if he did find it hard to deal with for a while. This was also when, just like back in Saskatoon, he found an abandoned bear’s den with no parents. But, there was a lone cub in there. A little girl.

He took it in without hesitation. Memories of Forrest plagued his mind as he watched the cub grow, but she was different from Forrest. She was always willing to receive affection, and was playful. But she looked like her. Eli would eventually name the cub Maple. And she would be his lifelong companion. But unfortunately his work output in lumber started failing not too long afterwards (memories, man) and he had to quit yet again.

Later on, Elijah would move to New York to find his new place in the world.

- Hugger and Piston? Best friends. Funnily enough, they both met around the same period that both came to New York. They hit it off well enough, even if Hugger was kind of somber and Hondo was struggling with his temper. Hondo was the reason Hugger got into boxing in the first place, as the two would spend more and more time together until Hugger found out his friend was signing up for boxing. He signed up with him. - God, Hondo was a godsend for Hugger. Hugger was struggling with a lot of untold emotions about the incident (which he’d mentioned to his buddy but never said anything specific.) Hondo was basically the therapist friend (even if, again, he himself was having issues at the time, he was delighted at having a bud) that helped Bear express himself about what happened, allowing him to get it all out. He felt a hell of a lot better after that. - Hugger of course had to bring Maple with him. She was the only animal he actually kept, well probably cause she wasn’t a foster going out to anybody- But yeah she just lives at his cabin. She’s chill and loves her owner to bits, so don’t go fuckin’ around or ya might just find out. The way he actually met Pine (his squirrel) was because Maple caught him snooping around and Hugger had to get her to let him go. Since Pine has a knack for getting himself hurt and being ironically clumsy for a squirrel, Hugger just lets him stay at the cabin. - Getting the joy he needed from the Major Circuit guys really helped shape Hugger from a somber mess to an up-beat and sometimes cheeky boxer. He loves all of them and would definitely do anything he could to keep them safe. He also has a belly laugh cause why not! -But thanks to the incident, it did permanently give Hugger issues with overcompensating for rage, and having a shorter fuse but just being good at hiding it. And never speaking about when he feels upset. His friends are trying to help him though! We love having the Major Circuit being a supportive friend group. But the times he does get mad, it’s not pretty at all. (Ong Hugger could be smiling and seemingly having a nice day and Great Tiger will float up to him like “You’re upset. Is something wrong?”) -Damn, this man can cook. He’s got tons of cookbooks just laying in a random drawer in his kitchen. One could say he’s a better cook than Don, and Don certainly does also know how to cook. (Don’t tell Don what I said though. He’s gonna get jealous lol.) - Hugger’s the type of dude to find something shiny and take it. He has shelves full of weird nicknacks and doodads. But hey, he thinks they’re neat. - Dad. Dad to the max. He might have been angry at Mac for hurting Pine when he did, but they eventually made up and Mac now has yet another boxing dad. - Don’t let his cuddly kindness trick you. He does love giving people a good scare once every so often, ESPECIALLY Mac and Peter who love causing their own mischief sometimes. And with how big he is, it’s super effective. Tell me you wouldn’t go white as a sheet hearing someone like Hugger chuckle menacingly while you couldn’t see him. Or hearing him growl quietly. He never fails.

[hannienthusiast]

Chapter 6

Y/N POV

Time seemed to crawl at a slow pace, every minute dragging its feet as you anxiously awaited the end of the school day. The minutes felt like hours as you counted the seconds until your final period ended.

With an intense stare fixed on the clock, you watched the hands move agonizingly slowly, inching closer to the coveted after-school hour. As the last bell finally rang, signaling the end of class, you wasted no time darting out of the room. Dodging through the bustling crowd of students, you were determined to be the first out, eager to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the school halls.

You longed for the solitude of your workplace, where you could immerse yourself in tasks far removed from the noise and distractions of life.

Speeding along the corridor, you made a beeline for the exit, your mind already on your part-time job awaiting him beyond the school gates. However, your hurried pace came to an abrupt halt as something unexpected caught your eye—an open classroom door, offering an enticing glimpse.

Inside, your gaze fell upon an unmistakably charming figure, none other than Danielle Marsh.

You were captivated by her presence, your gaze drawn to the intricate details that adorned her face like a masterpiece. Each delicate mole, the gentle curve of her lips, and the sparkle in her eyes rendered you momentarily speechless.

As you stood there, grappling with her presence's unfamiliar warmth, conflicting emotions surged within you. The vulnerability creeping in felt like a breach in the composed exterior you usually wore, a crack that threatened to unravel the carefully constructed walls around your heart. You were torn between the desire to embrace Danielle's presence and the instinct to retreat into the safety of your solitude.

You believed happiness was temporary, slipping through your fingers the moment you dared to grasp it too tightly. While you didn't necessarily associate Danielle with this sentiment, you couldn't shake the fear of losing something that could bring light into your life. The thought of risking that fragile sense of contentment was enough to keep your heart barricaded, unwilling to take the chance on something that might ultimately slip away.

You unconsciously stood there, staring at her as the thoughts lingered in your mind, when she suddenly turned around.

You froze in your spot as you saw her stare back at you with a small smile.

"Hi!" she mouthed, waving her hand at you. You would be lying to yourself if you didn't find her pretty. You hesitantly raised your hand to return the gesture, but as you noticed one of her friends approaching, you swiftly withdrew your arm. With a self-conscious scoff, you lightly tapped your forehead with your palm, acknowledging the awkwardness, before making a quick exit.

Danielle POV

Y/N's stare wasn't exactly subtle; you could feel his eyes lingering on you without even needing to turn in his direction. Yet, you held off, not quite ready to meet his gaze just yet.

Pretending to inspect the poster on the wall, you ran your fingers along its edges, the action more for show than anything else. It was endearing that he was checking on you instead of simply darting off as he had done the day before.

The gesture caused a flutter in your chest, a warmth that spread despite your best efforts to keep it at bay.

As you finally turned to acknowledge him, you caught him in the act of freezing, his expression similar to that of a deer caught in headlights. It was undeniably cute.

With a small wave, you hoped to break the tension, silently urging him to reciprocate. He did, albeit hesitantly, but it didn't last too long as he caught sight of Haerin approaching you with something to show. Without a word, he abruptly turned and left, making you pout your lips at the short interaction.

"Unnie, look at this froggie plushie I found by the..." She paused mid-sentence, seeing you in a daze, and waved her hand in front of your face.

"Earth to unnie, are you okay?" she switched between looking at you and looking at the ajar door of the classroom.

"Are you looking at something I can't?" she gasped. "Maybe a ghost?"

"What? No, there's no ghost, Haerin-ie" you assured her, petting her hair. "I just saw Y/N a moment ago, that's all."

"Ah, so that guy's got you all in a daze, huh?" Haerin mused, oblivious to the blush creeping up your cheeks at her comment.

"Come on, let's wrap this up so we can meet with the others," you chuckled, trying to steer Haerin away from the topic.

Thankfully, she went along with it, dropping the whole Y/N thing. But, damn, just thinking about him still made you blush.

You couldn't shake the memory of him dodging your question last night about why he was out so late. I mean, if he wasn't into wandering around, shouldn't he have been home earlier? Shaking your head, you figured you were probably overanalyzing things. You decided to shrug it off and go back to tidying up the club room.

Yesterday, Hyein had found a local coffee shop that swarmed with students and adults alike during this hour and insisted that all of you try going there after school, so that's exactly what you're going to do today.

"There it is!" the maknae pointed at a certain shop. Though it wasn't spacious, it gave off a relaxing atmosphere. "Let's go inside."

As you and the others followed Hyein's lead, you entered the coffee shop, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you. You scanned the crowd, searching for an empty table, when suddenly your eyes landed on a familiar figure behind the counter.

It was Y/N, wearing an apron, and busy taking orders with a focused expression on his face. It seemed like Y/N had a part-time job here, a fact you hadn't known until now.

'So that's why he leaves so early,' you thought as the group made their way to an available table. Taking a seat, you immediately volunteered to handle the order at the counter. The reason behind your sudden eagerness was crystal clear, requiring no explanation.

"Oh, thanks! That's so sweet of you, Dani," Minji beamed, passing their contributions your way as you made your way to the line.

As you Y/N accommodated customer after customer, you found yourself getting closer to him and couldn't contain the smile tugging at your lips. After the person in front of you finally got their order, it was your turn.

"Hello, welcome to Moon Money Cafe, may I take your ord—" Y/N paused, mouth agape at the sight of you. He quickly closed his mouth and cleared his throat, doing his best to be professional.

You giggled before reciting your order to him. "Yes, I'll take five orders of your best seller, please?"

"S-sure," he cutely stammered. "F-five Cookie Cream Cheese. That'll be 4,058 won."

You handed him the money as he swiftly punched in the order on the register, his movements were practiced and efficient. Making your way back to your table, you found your friends engrossed in conversation, but your attention remained fixated on Y/N.

The determination in his eyes was palpable, evident in the way he effortlessly prepared your drinks despite being the sole worker during this busy hour. You couldn't help but admire his dedication and hard work, a silent acknowledgment of the effort he put in behind the counter.

"Yo, bro, who's got you smiling like that?" Hanni's mischievous tone distracted you, making you slightly jump from your seat.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you denied, but your lips told them otherwise. The members began teasing you, not even bothering to know the reason why you were smiling.

Soon enough, Y/N served your drinks, setting them down gently at the table. "Here's your order: five Cookie Cream Cheese Milkteas. If you need anything, I'll be right behind the counter."

He sounded so professional yet welcoming, a huge contrast to his chilly tone when he spoke at school. You kind of liked to hear more of it.

"Thank you so much." You thanked him as he gave you a simple nod and went back to accommodate the customers.

As you sipped on your drink, a sense of contentment washed over you, not just from the beverage but from the simple pleasure of sharing this moment with your friends and the unexpected connection you felt with Y/N.

"Y/N, you're... intriguing."

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[its-wabby-stuff]

The Red Slider, Chapter four

“8 months have passed since New York was attacked by the alien species known as the Krang,” Channel Six reported, “City restoration has been in full force and now our great city is stronger than ever. Construction is planned to be finished before the year is up. The Earth Protection Force, a new branch of the US military, was voted into position nearly three months ago and has skyrocketed recovery times, providing much needed support and safety in these trying times. Currently, the EPF is focusing their attention on medicinal recuperation from Krang possession, which has provided positive results, with many being able to return to their normal lives. With the EPF working non stop, we can guarantee our City will never be in danger from alien threats again. Support is still needed to rebuild. You can volunteer at-“

The video went silent, though it continued to flash pictures, displaying QR codes for multiple volunteer programs. Other recordings lined the top of the screen. Two other screens sat on either side and displayed mountains of files, schematics, and other such recordings. The screens provided the only light in the entirety of the lab. Donnie sat at his chair, hood over his face, and clicked through the surveillance footage of the lair. The Channel Six News shrank to the back.

He flicked through the rooms, many looking just as cold and empty as his. Boxes still laid around the house. Furniture still sat with a space for some missing piece. Rooms remained dark.

His dad lay barely upright in bed. He mindlessly watched the small TV in his room without a single emotional expression crossing his face. He hadn’t moved to his chair in- a while. He barely moved at all.

He looked dead. He acted dead. His vitals said he wasn’t.

Raph’s room was empty, only scraps left behind. A spider had made home in the upper corner. Donnie wasn’t going to deal with that. Mikey’s room remained blacked out. He claimed to have accidentally sprayed over it, but hasn’t allowed Donnie in to clean it. He didn’t care to fight about it. It hardly mattered anyway. Mikey was never there.

He clicked over to Leo’s room. Mikey sat on the floor, near the base of the bed, curled into himself.

The poster

[hellfireconfessions]

Hi Guri! since youre so willing to give “explanations” for your docs. lets go over the ones you gave, and put them alongside actual excerpts from the docs themselves. – which you failed to do yourself. Lets start off with “Both characters are adults” Both characters are not adults for the entirety of the docs. That is confirmed by you, when your doc speaks about how one of the characters is “a cub”. Next, we’ll address the “sexual content” and “Love bites”. “I think as I approach Sages small frame, and she looks at me with those worried eyes, like prey that has been caught. Am I not worthy? I think while I sink my fangs on her backneck, and a pained huff escapes her muzzle. Am I a monster? ———– And the feeling of her fur pressed against my abdomen makes me feel, for a moment, that im alive." In exactly what way is this not hinting at actual NSFW content between your characters? yeah, theres a bite that can be explained as a "love bite” but then you go on to speak about the characters “feeling her fur pressed against my abdomen”. We’ve all seen cats getting it on, and this seems like a pretty decent description of it. “did the doc have non con” yeah. yeah it did. “The tears that form on her eyes with a muttered "stop” fill my senses, like a drug.“ There you have it. Theres a STOP. anything after that, is non consensual, period. end of story. ”‘what does [swollen womb] mean?’ pregnancy" Okay, we can all agree it does. But why in gods name did you think it was acceptable to give detailed, graphic depictions of pregnancy and live birth in a doc that was accessible to children as young as 14 years old? Theres no shame in the topic, but you, as a 30+ year old woman on the internet do not have the right to expose other peoples children to that sort of content. at all. “The doc had a trigger warning on the top and was censored entirely to ensure the safety of sensitive readers.” No childs safety was ensured. Thats like if I went into a middle school and hung up posters of your doc but taped a piece of construction paper over it that said “hey guys dont read this its sensitive lolz”. Kids are curious. kids are GOING to read it, regardless of whether or not you spoil and trigger warn it, because theyre children. They literally are not mentally developed enough to understand otherwise. You, as a 30 year old adult should know that already, and the fact that someone a decade younger than you has to spell it out is quite frankly, embarrassing. yeah, to our knowledge you havent groomed an actual child, theres no evidence of that, and im not going to act like you did. However you DID expose children barely old enough to be on discord to this sort of content. The fact that your friends had to beg you to apologize just for you to own up and say something is genuinely just sad. 

[pit-crew-chronicles]

So, when safety tech, scouting mentor and I arrived at our pit this morning, we found this:

Balloons everywhere. Our robot covered in posters and stickers. Cup walls and stacks everywhere.

The culprits?

Team 7404. The Wired Boars.

Upon being asked, they said that when they were blowing up balloons yesterday, this was the plan all along.

Just after the discovery, they had to double queue. That’s when pit crew took charge.

We took a single stack of cups and built this on their work bench. However that was not enough. It took 3 minutes. There were many stacks of cups. 10 minutes later we began the wall.

4-6 teams came throughout construction to lend some help. It stretched completely around the perimeter of the 7407 pit. It was 13 rows tall and towered over many students. One kid from another team jumped over the top chest in the back and made a pentagram in the center. Reminder, this was in the time it took for Choate to double queue and return from their match.

Upon return, they discovered our masterpiece. They were shocked and laughing.

Later we found about 20 posters in our t-stack drawers. Not sure how many are left.

Any ideas for the next round?