#Sales Territory Planning

[spmtribe]

Mastering Sales Incentive Strategies: Harnessing Historical Data and AI for Market Success

In today's dynamic business landscape, crafting an effective sales incentive strategy is crucial for driving profitability and maintaining a competitive edge. A well-structured incentive plan not only motivates sales teams but also aligns their efforts with the organization’s broader goals. With the rise of advanced data analytics and artificial intelligence (AI), companies now have unparalleled tools to refine their sales incentive strategies. This article delves into how leveraging historical sales data and AI can revolutionize incentive planning and propel business outcomes to new heights.

The Bedrock of a Successful Sales Incentive Strategy

A sales incentive strategy is a carefully crafted framework that employs a mix of rewards and recognitions to spur sales teams towards achieving and surpassing their targets. These incentives can range from tangible financial rewards like bonuses and commissions to intangible non-financial perks such as career advancement opportunities and public acknowledgment. The core objective is to synchronize the sales force's efforts with the company's strategic goals, driving growth and ensuring profitability.

Leveraging Historical Sales Performance Data

Historical sales data is a goldmine of insights that can shape effective incentive strategies. Here’s how organizations can harness this data to fine-tune their sales incentive programs:

1. Uncovering Successful Sales Patterns

By delving into past sales data, companies can identify patterns and trends that have historically led to success. Recognizing what has worked well enables businesses to design incentive plans that replicate these triumphs.

Example: A consumer electronics company noticed that their sales peaked during the holiday season when sales teams emphasized bundle deals. Armed with this insight, they crafted an incentive program that rewarded reps for promoting bundled products during key holiday periods, leading to a 30% increase in seasonal sales.

2. Profiling Top Performers

Analyzing the behaviors and tactics of top-performing sales reps can provide invaluable insights into what drives success. By pinpointing common traits and strategies among high achievers, companies can shape their incentive programs to encourage these behaviors across their entire sales team.

Example: A B2B software company found that their top performers consistently excelled in closing deals with small to medium-sized enterprises (SMEs) by offering personalized service and flexible pricing. They rolled out an incentive scheme that rewarded reps for adopting similar approaches, resulting in a 40% boost in SME sales.

3. Segmenting the Sales Force

Sales teams are typically composed of individuals with diverse levels of experience, expertise, and motivations. Segmenting the sales force based on performance data allows for the creation of customized incentive programs tailored to different groups within the team. This ensures that each segment is motivated by incentives that resonate most with them.

Example: A pharmaceutical company divided its sales team into new hires, mid-level reps, and seasoned veterans. They developed tailored incentive programs for each group, offering training incentives for new hires, performance bonuses for mid-level reps, and market expansion rewards for veterans. This segmented approach enhanced overall team performance and morale.

Integrating AI for Advanced Incentive Strategies

Artificial Intelligence (AI) has transformed various business aspects, including sales performance management. Here's how AI can amplify sales incentive strategies:

1. Predictive Analytics for Anticipating Trends

AI can sift through vast amounts of historical data to predict future sales trends and outcomes. This capability allows organizations to proactively adjust their incentive strategies to align with anticipated market changes. AI-driven predictive analytics can forecast which products or services will be in demand, identify the most effective sales techniques, and uncover potential opportunities or risks.

Example: A retail company utilized AI to forecast a rising demand for eco-friendly products based on evolving consumer preferences. They recalibrated their incentive plans to offer higher commissions on green products, capturing a significant share of the growing market segment.

2. Personalizing Incentive Programs

AI can analyze individual sales reps' performance and preferences to tailor personalized incentive plans. This level of customization ensures that incentives align with each rep’s unique motivations, whether they are driven by financial rewards, career advancement opportunities, or other factors.

Example: A telecommunications firm used AI to understand their sales reps' preferences and career aspirations. They developed personalized incentive packages, offering higher bonuses for reps motivated by financial gain and leadership opportunities for those seeking career progression. This approach significantly improved overall sales team satisfaction and performance.

Frequently Asked Questions (FAQs)

1. How can AI assist in designing an effective sales incentive strategy?

AI assists in crafting effective sales incentive strategies by analyzing historical sales data, identifying successful patterns, and predicting future trends. It enables the creation of personalized incentive plans and facilitates real-time adjustments to align with evolving market conditions and sales team dynamics.

2. What types of data are most crucial for developing a sales incentive strategy?

Crucial data for developing a sales incentive strategy includes historical sales performance, customer demographics and behavior, market trends, and individual sales reps' performance metrics. This data provides insights into what drives sales success and how best to motivate the sales team.

[submariini]

When Finland’s Käärijä took the stage at this year’s Eurovision, a star was instantly, explosively born. With an outrageous energy, infectious presence and that oh-so-catchy hook, the Vantaa-based rapper may not have won the contest but he certainly snatched the hearts of those in his home country and beyond. We ask Käärijä the million dollar question: what next?

[full article under the cut]

Last May, a peculiar frenzy engulfed Finland. Virtually all green foods – cucumbers, especially – were sold out from stores. Buildings across the land were bathed in vivid green lights. Social media brimmed with green-themed parties, while data obtained by Swedish fintech company Klarna showed a 570 per cent increase in the online sales of neon green shirts.

This phenomenon was all thanks to Käärijä, the rapper who represented Finland in the 2023 Eurovision Song Contest. His now-infamous, blazing green puff sleeve bolero – dreamt up by Finnish broadcasting company Yle’s costume design team and which he dons when performing the smash hit track ‘Cha Cha Cha’ – had taken on a life of its own, the lush hue uniting the entire nation amid the competition. “It was incredible to see it happen and so cool being part of it,” Käärijä says. “It wasn’t planned at all – it was the people who created the commotion. I’ll definitely never forget it.”

When we speak over Zoom, Käärijä, whose real name is Jere Pöyhönen, is lounging in his minimal apartment in Vantaa, a city just outside Helsinki. He appears on my screen shirtless, a chunky gold chain dangling on his neck. On his head sits a pastel turquoise cap adorned with little cat ears. As he gestures with his hands, I spot flashes of poison green nail varnish. Pöyhönen’s chosen attire, or lack thereof, is extremely fitting – he typically performs bare-chested (“It gets so hot during my gigs”) and his Instagram handle is @paidatonriehuja, or ‘shirtless rascal’.

Hot off a performance in western Finland, the 29-year-old is enjoying his first days off in a while. It’s been a sweltering summer of non-stop touring, with fans flocking to festivals and concerts nationwide to see his explosive live show. Things are not winding down either, with Käärijä heading off on his first-ever European tour this month. Some of these shows sold out in mere minutes, an indication of his immense international following. “It’s so exciting; I’m definitely jumping into a new territory with that tour,” Pöyhönen says. “But I don’t have any expectations – I’m just going to let everything happen organically rather than stressing about it.”

Although he created one of this year’s buzziest songs, the guy on my screen is humble and, save for his look, almost un assuming. I remark on the stark contrast to his fiery and flamboyant stage presence. “Through Käärijä, I get to channel all the craziness, quirkiness and hyperactivity I’ve had since I was a child,” Pöyhönen says, describing himself offstage as “just this ordinary dude”. Without delving into further details, he tells me that the name Käärijä (translating roughly to moneymaker) stems from a history with gambling. Despite the darkness of its origin, he notes that the moniker is to be taken with a grain of salt.

While it might seem like Käärijä exploded into the public consciousness from obscurity, Pöyhönen has a long journey in music behind him. Born in Helsinki but having spent most of his youth in Vantaa, he started dabbling in the medium at just three years old. Coming from a musical family (“My dad and big brother both play the guitar”), jamming sessions were commonplace in the Pöyhönen household, his instrument of choice being the drums. “I was playing with pots and spoons before I got a set of those plastic kids’ drums,” he says. “When we moved to a bigger house, we built a band room downstairs where me and my brother spent a lot of time practising.”

At that time, rap music hadn’t yet entered Pöyhönen’s life; he was strictly a self-described “metal guy”. His older brother had instilled in him a love for the genre, particularly metal icons Rammstein. Upon starting high school, his musical taste broadened and he began listening to Eminem and popular Finnish rap groups Fintelligens and JVG. “Me and my friends were filming our own music videos to old rap songs, learning the words by heart,” Pöyhönen says. “It [making rap music] pretty much started as this humour thing I did with my mates.”

Encouraged by his loved ones, Pöyhönen began writing his own songs, still playing it for laughs. Turned out he had a knack for it. “Since I was little, I’ve been an avid storyteller – my imagination ran a little wilder than the rest of the kids’ at my school,” he says. “So when I started making music, I didn’t even need inspiration; I was able to whip up the lyrics from my head.”

But then, at 15, an unexpected turning point came by way of a severe sudden illness. Rushed to the hospital with ulcerative colitis, a chronic inflammatory bowel disease, Pöyhönen underwent emergency surgery to remove his colon. Had he not been treated immediately, the complications could have been fatal. “I was writing songs in the hospital – music became a source of strength for me,” he says. “I decided that if I make it through this, I’m going to give my all to music and be serious about it.”

After over a decade of hard work and countless hours in the studio, Käärijä released his first album, Fantastista (Fantastic), in 2020, but it would take three years for him to become a household name in Finland. After snapping up the top prize in Uuden Musiikin Kilpailu (the Finnish contest for new music) with his party anthem ‘Cha Cha Cha’, a song dedicated to a hedonistic night out fusing rap, electronic music and metal, he secured the coveted spot as his country’s entrant for the 2023 Eurovision, held in Liverpool. One of Pöyhönen’s craziest dreams had come true.

For Pöyhönen, Eurovision was “an amazing but immensely tough experience”. The event’s intense schedule and the little time carved out for practising surprised the artist. There was no room for errors or retakes once it was time for rehearsals. “They didn’t give much mercy,” he says. On the bright side, the long days filled with “lots of press conferences and waiting around” gave Pöyhönen a chance to get to know the other artists. “The group we had there was wonderful – there wasn’t a competitive atmosphere at all,” he says. One of the contestants he became especially close with was Sweden’s Loreen, with whom he exchanged numbers and promised to “meet up and talk about everything else but music”.

By the time the grand finale came, Käärijä’s explosive performance and infectious song had made him one of the favourites to win. Ultimately he came second, while Loreen nabbed first place. How did Pöyhönen handle the letdown? “It was a huge disappointment, but in the end, the feeling didn’t last long,” he says. “When I thought about how far I’d gotten, the incredible journey it was and all the new friends I made, I realised that these things are far more meaningful than winning.” Plus, he still achieved something major: ‘Cha Cha Cha’ made history as the first ever Finnish song to reach Spotify’s global most-listened charts. The track’s reach proved to Pöyhönen that language doesn’t matter; it’s all about creating a singular, infectious sound: “The mouth is just as much of an instrument as the piano or the guitar is,” he says.

Having made history, I ask Pöyhönen if he felt any pressure after the Eurovision bubble had burst. “Of course there are the thoughts of ‘what now?’ and ‘is this going to be it, will anyone be interested anymore next year?’ – I’m aware that the hype won’t last forever,” he says. “But I’m onto creating the next thing, trying not to feel any pressure for future releases. I haven’t done that before, so why would I do that now?”

Pöyhönen hints at a new album dropping sometime next year, but in the meantime, he’s enjoying the attention – including his Vogue Scandinavia debut. Shot at the extraordinary home of the late interior architect Antti Nurmesniemi and his wife, textile artist Vuokko Nurmesniemi, we find the space where Pöyhönen and Käärijä meet, the quiet confidence mingling with that more-is-more persona.

And while Käärijä might develop as a character (“I want to show that he’s more than just a bolero chap”), he’s adamant that he will stay true to his music and keep singing in Finnish, despite the sudden international attention. “In the end, I’m doing this for myself,” he says. “Also, why change something that works?”

Photographer: Karoliina Bärlund Stylist: Sanna Silander Talent: Käärijä Hair Stylist and Makeup Artist: Neea Kuurne Photographer Assistant: Milja Laakso Stylist Assistant: Nelli Korhonen

[harlowtales]

Y/N goes into labour at Gazebo Fest with Jack on stage 👶🏻

18+ only - Mature Themes🚨

“Ok baby I hope you’re ok.” Jack said as he kissed you and grabbed his keys heading out the door to head to Gazebo Fest sound check in the heat of a May Kentucky afternoon.

“Will you please go? Grandpa is coming to pick me up later. We’ll be in the VIP section so gramps is out of the way. I know this is your first festival you’re running for the city and I’m about to deliver this baby at any moment but everything is going to be fine.” You went in for a deeper kiss as you couldn’t get enough of your husband’s pillowy perfect heart shaped lips. Your favourite thing to do was suck on his juicy bottom lip just to remind him of who’s boss.

“Mmmmm don’t start ok, I’m going to be late. I don’t know how you manage to heighten my anxiety and calm me down at the same time.” Jack said to you half wanting to take you into the bedroom but his heart was beating fast as he had his mind on the 2 days coming up of the whole production of the festival. It was all on him to make it a success.

As planned Grandpa came to get you and promised he wouldn’t go and try to get too close to the action. He insisted on going and Jack had a hard time talking him out of things. Now that you were pregnant it was more him keeping an eye on you.

“Are you comfortable Y/N? Let me know if you need anything” Grandpa said as you took your seats. He was forever the gentleman and it was obvious where Jack got it from.

“I’m fine, just feeling the pressure is all” you said as you rubbed your belly “the baby is sitter lower.”

“Oh I know it’s just a matter of time. We’re all very excited. I have big plans for this little one. Maybe they’ll like car sales and I can buy them a dealership.” He said proudly.

“Maybe Grandpa.” You said with a giggle. Everyone was putting their 2 cents in as to what the first grandchild from Jack would be. Jack and you agreed you would let your child decide what they want. Jack said if they want to act or rap he wasn’t going to stand in the way, but was maybe hoping for a doctor or professor.

The opening acts were done and it was time for the big moment for the King of Kentucky to take the stage. You got as excited as any fan and were disappointed you weren’t allowed to watch from the side of the stage as usual but Jack wanted you out of harms way and away from the music being too loud. In the box they catered to your every need, but you would rather be hanging out around the stage drinking ice cold Modelo in the heat.

It was evening now and you didn’t want to miss Jack but it was too long of a day for you now. You asked if there was someway to lay down and Grandpa was concerned. “We can go home” he suggested kindly.

“No I….I don’t want to miss Jack.” You said wincing a bit from the baby kicking hard.

“Y/N you don’t look good.” Grandpa said honestly and concerned.

“That’s enough for you for the day. There’s plenty other times for you to see Jack.” He insisted.

“But there’s no…ouch!” You paused and winced. This felt different. It was a sharper pain you hadn’t felt before. “There’s no other first….oh!” It came again “No other first Gazebo Fest.” You finally finished saying in between wincing and flinching from sharp pains you were starting to feel in waves.

“Get over here! She’s going into labour, I need help!” Grandpa said having no idea what to do. He thought he could handle it but seeing you in such pain was too much for him. He had grown so close to you it was hard for him and he had never seen a baby born in his life. In the days his wife had babies husbands weren’t allowed in the room.

“I got this don’t worry.” Sunni said who was hanging around in the vicinity. He didn’t want to step on Grandpa’s toes who claimed territory over being beside you, but he knew if shit went down he was the only other one in Jack’s circle that could help. He had seen his sister’s kids born in her home birth and helped out during the whole ordeal.

“You got this ok?” Sunni said rubbing your back “breathe like this” he demonstrated taking a deep breath in for a count of 3 and slowly letting it out. You started to feel more in control, but the contractions were speeding up.

An ambulance was on the way and venue security was making sure the whole area was blocked off for privacy. They found a cot for you to lay on as you felt weak. Jack continued to spit bars of such hits as Nail Tech, and They Don’t Love It while you started to cry out in pain holding Sunni’s hand tight as he guided you in what to do. He advised people to not call Jack but in an open air festival people saw a commotion in your section and cell phone started coming out like crazy.

Finally the ambulance got there and gently moved you onto the stretcher. Jack saw ambulance lights in the distance and paused the show as he always did concerned about the crowd. He hadn’t yet got the news while performing that his baby was coming.

“Everyone please take one step back. An ambulance is here please if someone needs help clear the area and make sure everyone around you is safe.” He said trying to keep the crowd calm. Just then Urban came up on the stage and whispered in Jack’s ear.

“What the fuck??” He said to Urban amplified by the mic near his mouth. “She said what? Finish my set? Is she fucking crazy?”

In between contractions you sent a message for Jack to finish his set and not leave to come to the hospital. There was too much riding on Gazebo Fest for him to not continue for the fans. In your mind this made perfect sense. Sunni was with you in the ambulance and Grandpa was following in his car. Grandpa had alerted the whole family who was headed to the hospital also.

“Y’all I gotta fucking go. I’m having a baby!” Jack screamed and everyone at the festival roared as Jack jumped down off the side and took off running. Urban, his security, and assistant had no choice but to take off and try to keep up with him. Kat his assistant was running behind him with the puppy who was barking with excitement. They located the black sprinter van and jumped in “How fucking fast can you go?” Jack asked the driver “I’m having a baby.” The driver looked at him confused. “No not me my wife I mean, fuck go!!” Jack said flustered.

It took about half an hour to get to the hospital and was the longest 30 minutes of Jack’s life. “K, I need to know where my wife is. I’m Jack Harlow and her name is Y/N Harlow.” Jack explained as he walked up to the counter out of breath.

“We know who you are Mr.Harlow. Please remain calm. Your wife is on the 12 floor in room 1204, she hasn’t delivered yet, but you’ll have to squeeze in. Your whole family is in there.” The front desk admin explained not too happy with about 6 people in the birthing room that wouldn’t take no for an answer.

Maggie was wiping your brown as you were in position. You had your hospital gown on and a large sheet over your bottom half. You were dilated and the baby’s head was crowning when Jack burst into the room. They managed to stop him long enough for him to put on a gown, wash his hands, and put gloves on.

The baby was coming fast. It had only been a few hours since your contractions started. Jack got there just in time. “Whoah baby! Look at you my superstar. You…oh…oh shit! I see the head!!! She’s coming!” Jack exclaimed and let out the secret you were having a girl. None of his family knew until he just blurted it out. The whole family cheered much to the doctor’s dismay and more people had showed up like Urban and 6 of Jack’s other friends.

“Ok everyone I know this is a big deal, but it’s a little tight in here can you please step outside and Mr. Harlow please contain yourself. It’s distracting. Baby is coming and we need to focus.”

“Yeah of course doc I got you.” Jack said “Ok y’all get da fuck out.” He said to everybody ushering them out of the room. I gotta catch my little soccer ball right quick here.”

“That’s not exactly what I meant Mr.Harlow but thank you for clearing the room. Now are you ready?” The doctor said motioning for Jack to crouch down and get in position to catch the baby.

“Doc I said I got you. You don’t even need to be here for real. I got this.” Jack said confidently.

You were so happy to see him. It was getting chaotic and Jack being him brought you some peace and made you laugh which took your mind off some of the pain.

“You look good down there baby as usual, don’t trip, ain’t no thang, just need a few more pushes and she’s out.” Jack said coaching you in his own way.

“Jack don’t make me laugh right now.” You begged breathlessly holding Maggie’s hand and trying to listen to the nurse telling you when to push, breathe, and stop. He was being completely serious and didn’t get how much he was irritating the doctor.

“Ok Mrs. Harlow bear down and give a big push. This is it.” The nurse said. “Mr. Harlow get ready. Hold your hands like this. Here’s your clamp and scissors.” She said handing everything over to Jack who wasn’t ready for what everything entailed in this moment. His whole world was about to change and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Welp you got this so I can go.” The doctor joked with Jack patting him on the back and heading for the door.

“Ah hell naw doc, I was just kidding please don’t go.” Jack begged.

“Uughhhh!!!!!” You screamed and bared down hard. The head came out and rest of the body just slipped out quickly. Jack caught his daughter filled with so many emotions he started to cry with joy. Guided by the doctor he clamped the umbilical cord and snipped it. It all happened so fast.

“Mr. Harlow you want to bring your daughter over and clean her off for mom?” The nurse asked as Jack was just stunned staring at her in his arms. Her tiny body was shaking with loud crying.

“Got good lungs on her baby.” Jack said to you staring at her and continuing to hold her.

“Jack give Y/N the baby.” Maggie said “She needs to eat and bond right away…Jackman…did you hear me?”

“Jack give me my dang baby.” You said prying her away as he was fixated on her. She latched on immediately and sucked happily resting on your tummy. She was beautiful with fine brown curls, olive complexion, and grey/hazel eyes she hadn’t fully opened yet. Jack saw a dimple like his when she yawned and he lost his mind. You were exhausted and had nothing left. Jack kissed you on the forehead and pulled back the curtain covering the glass doors.

About 20 people were waiting from outside the room. It was the most famous birth the hospital had ever had. They all would have been front row for the event had they been allowed.

“Don’t y’all got nothing better to do?” Jack teased them. “Y’all act like there ain’t a festival going on. We’ll have y’all over soon. Thanks for coming I love y’all so much but we getting on these good people last nerves so go on y’all.”

“Just one peak.” Phil said anxiously

“No come on Phil.” Said Ismail pulling him away

“Baby, you ready cuz they all crazy.” Jack said about all your family and friends

“And my family hasn’t come yet.” You said rolling your eyes. They had a ways to travel from out of state but when your mother and Grandmother and aunties got there, it was going to be something else. Your daughter had no shortage of love.

“Did you see the way I cut the cord like a boss” Jack bragged.

“Hunny please.” Maggie said “You did nothing compared to Y/N.”

“Ok fair but I executed perfectly. She has a perfect lil belly button.” He beamed with pride.

“Jack.” You said faintly as you were now just too weak and falling asleep ready to go to your room and rest.

“Yes baby?” He said “You want me to take her so you can rest. I get it give her to me.” Jack said eagerly

“No, I want you to go, like can you leave please?” You said half smiling “like how turnt can you be right now. Just looking at you is making me tired.”

“Ok. I’ll chill out but let me take her please.” He said reaching down to scoop her up.

“Hunny hold her like this.” Maggie said “hold her head properly.”

“Mom I got it.” Jack said defensively

This was just the beginning of motherhood as Mrs.Harlow.

@okaaay-mice @itsyagirljaz @ride4harlow

[pastanest]

Daryl Dixon x she/her!reader

A/N: set in Alexandria, no spoilers of events, just one character who lives there

For Your Hand

From the moment Daryl strolled into Alexandria with one hand holding yours and the other holding a dead opossum, he had made a statement, and everyone in Alexandria had understood it loud and clear. In truth, Daryl had not thought much about the deeper meaning behind his statement, he simply wanted the crowd of strangers to understand that you were under his protection and he was very capable of handling pests. In his own way, the gesture was very sweet and because you knew him so well, you took it as a compliment. 

Anyone that had looked at you and seen you as an easy target or - god forbid - available, had quickly been set on the right path upon seeing the large hand that held yours and the way in which you partially hid yourself behind what you had accepted to be your guardian angel while others saw an unpredictable, animalistic, territorial wild-man, and you didn’t mind that description, either. There was only one person in the crowd of strangers that had been stupid enough to misinterpret the display and, instead of taking the “back off” message and following suit, took it as a personal challenge.

Deanna’s eldest son, Spencer, was the furthest thing from your type you could have conjured up if you were to try. Clean cut, smooth talking, clearly views himself as charming; the perfect salesman, in a time where nothing would ever be sold again. But, you were never one to be impolite without good reason, which was something Daryl admired about you from day one. Being naturally standoffish, he could not understand the warmth you immediately offered every person you met, including him, until a person gave you a reason to treat them differently. As ridiculous as you thought Spencer’s attempts at wooing you were, he had not overstepped a boundary or acted inappropriately, he remained respectful and would accept your refusals at every turn, but would approach you again in no time from a different angle, trying out some new sales pitch on you. It became an inside joke within your group, everyone laughing and rolling their eyes when they saw Spencer approach you, and because you had made it clear to Daryl you had no interest in the guy and he trusted you wholeheartedly, he saw the humor in it, too.

That was, until yesterday, when you went to Daryl nervously to tell him that the previous night, after Daryl had left to check the traps he’d set beyond the walls - not wanting to rely on the community’s food just yet - and Spencer took it upon himself to knock at your door. It was very late by the time your soulmate and protector had left your home, meaning it was no coincidence that Spencer was around when he left; he had been waiting for Daryl to go before he made his move. While the conversation he approached you with was nothing out of the ordinary for Spencer, you were made uncomfortable by the way in which he had snuck around Daryl, it meant he understood that your boyfriend would not approve of his intentions and that raised alarm bells for you.

Listening intently to your explanation, Daryl nodded only once, scowl already darting around Alexandria until it landed on the idiot that had dared make you feel uncomfortable. Fixing his icy glare on him, Daryl finally answered you.

“I’ll deal with ‘im.”

He considers running over and tackling the guy to the ground then and there, but decides against it in favor of a better plan, the thought of which leaves a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth for the rest of the day.

Daryl makes the executive decision to stick to you like glue for the rest of the evening. While he is not always at your side, he is never more than a few feet away, smoking a cigarette while you chat to someone else, helping you with your daily tasks, leading you over to his bike and having you sit on it while he works on it for absolutely no reason, solely to relish in the disdainful expression he catches on Spencer’s face from the corner of his eye when he stands up and you swoon over your greased up wildman. He ensures that, for the duration of the day when the sun is up, Spencer has no opportunity whatsoever to get you alone, for your sense of safety and his own personal enjoyment. 

Much like the previous night, Daryl spends the evening with you in the house you share, the two of you enjoying each other’s company, cooking up what he retrieved from his traps the night before, laughing and joking around like a married couple in the suburbs. As ironic as that description is, considering the state of the world and Daryl’s general opposition to that kind of dream, he cannot deny that, when that kind of dream involves you, it brings the softest smile to his face and the lightest dusting of pink to his cheeks. 

Around the same time as the previous night, Daryl takes his leave, kissing you goodbye at the door and swinging his crossbow over his shoulder before heading for the gate. This time, though, he intends to trap a different kind of pest. Instead of going to the gate, he turns left down a different street, then left again down another, then left one final time, between some houses that bring him right back to yours. There, he finds Spencer jogging up your porch steps with some flowers clasped in his hands. Daryl scoffs, approaching silently to stand at the bottom of the steps and right as Spencer lifts his hand to knock at your door, his voice cuts into the silence of the night.

“The hell you doin’?” His voice is quiet and gruff as ever, but the way Spencer’s stance stiffens tells Daryl he has already succeeded in making the younger man shit himself where he stands.

Clearing his throat, he turns to face Daryl, trying lamely to hide the flowers behind his back. “Daryl! Hey!”

Taking a drag of his cigarette, Daryl tips his nose, gesturing to the flowers. “Those for (Y/N)?”

Accepting that he has been caught in the act, Spencer can only nod.

Daryl nods back at him. “She don’ like ‘em, she likes pink ones best.”

Spencer’s eyes widen. “O-Oh…”

Dropping his cigarette on the ground, Daryl puts it out with a single drag of his shoe. “Course, ya’d know that if ya cared enough t’ ask ‘er, but ya dont. Every time ya talk to ‘er, yer tryna persuade ‘er that yer her dream guy, but ya know nothin’ about ‘er.”

Spencer frowns at this. “Hey, man, I never meant to-”

Daryl waves him off. “Save it, I’ve known what you were doin’ since the firs’ time I saw you lookin’ at ‘er.”

Spencer’s frown intensifies. “You knew and never tried to stop me? Isn’t she supposed to be yours?”

Daryl smirks at the idiot’s poor attempt to get under his skin. “Glad ya know that, at least. Never stopped ya ‘cause (Y/N) never asked me to, she didn’t wanna be impolite an’ as long as you stayed respectful, I would’ve had no problem laughin’ at yer attempts to get ‘er. Ya crossed the line las’ night, so ‘m stoppin’ you now.”

Spencer sighs, feigning defeat as he hangs his head and walks slowly down the steps, not meeting Daryl’s scowl as he passes him. “I never meant to make her uncomfortable…You win, man.”

At that, Daryl scoffs again. “She ain’t no damn prize to be won, asshole.” Then it’s his turn to jog up the steps and stand at your door, intending to guard it until Spencer is out of sight. 

Unfortunately, Spencer’s ego just won’t let him leave without taking one last jab. Looking over his shoulder from down the street, he calls out.

“I hope someday (Y/N) realizes what’s good for her and chooses someone that will actually fight for her!”

For a moment, there is silence, because Daryl allows it. He watches the silence lull Spencer into a false sense of security, waits for the victorious smirk to appear on his face, and then lets that smirk disappear at the sound of a crossbow falling against your porch. 

The steps towards Spencer are silent, but he turns to face the fast approaching wildman with an expression of a deer in headlights. Once only a few feet separates them, Daryl stops. 

“Ya think I won’t fight for ‘er?”

Spencer clears his throat. “W-Well, I just meant that you haven’t-”

Daryl shrugs, interrupting him. “C’mon then, gimme yer best shot.”

Spencer’s jaw drops. “Wh-What?!”

Daryl crosses his arms over his chest. “C’mon, man, you wanna fight for ‘er hand or whatever, go for it. I’ve got all night.”

The sound of your front door opening pulls Daryl from his current conversation immediately. As soon as his eyes land on the sight of you, stepping out onto your porch, his scowl softens into the loving smile that only you can bring him.

“Daryl? Is everything alright?” You call out to him, your concern for what is unfolding between the two men obvious by your tone.

“Everythin’s fine, almos’ done here!” Daryl calls back to you. 

Seeing your expression relax makes his heart sing, even from afar, but it doesn’t last long. A look of alarm flashes across your face and you’re quick to point behind him. 

“DARYL! LOOK OUT!”

Scowling, Daryl turns around just in time to duck out of the way of Spencer as he lunges for him, sending him stumbling. The moment Spencer is steady on his feet again, Daryl closes the space between them with a swift right hook to his jaw, Spencer landing on the ground with a thud. Standing over him, Daryl shakes his head.

“If ya wan’ed me t’ fight for ‘er, only had t’ ask.”

With that, he steps over Spencer as he sputters blood onto the gray street and rolls onto his back, staring up at the night sky in total defeat. Meanwhile, Daryl strolls over to you so casually, as though he hasn’t just made the most chivalrous and impressive display for your hand you have ever seen. Playing along, you hold your hand out to him and as he ascends the porch steps, he takes hold of it and gently kisses your knuckles, the two of you chuckling at the ridiculousness of it all, but both feeling heat rising in your faces at the intensity of your feelings towards each other, following such a gesture.

Hand still in his, you tug him as close to you as you can bring him and lean up to place a chaste kiss on his lips. You can both feel Spencer’s eyes on you as you do, bringing amused smiles to your faces, but a chaste kiss is the most PDA either of you want to give him the satisfaction of showing off. Leaning down to pick his crossbow back up, Daryl swings it over his shoulder, and you are quick to instinctively brush his hair from his face as you admire him in all his glory.

“My knight in shining armor.”

—————

taglist:

@ruinedbythehobbit @iamburdened @evilbabyelf @of-storms-and-sadness @crossbowking @spidergirla5 @jodiereedus22 @thanossexual @captain-shannon-becker @cordialgargoyle @romanoffs-bitch @daryldixonandfrogs @just-always-tired @pillowjj @the-musical-doodle @likeablevillain @irrelevantyettopicalusername @notquitecannon @alyisdead @polkadottedpillowcase @twdeadfanfic @wishingtobeforeveryoung1994 @sigynlokiem @courtnytrash04 @thatwrestlingfan91 @buttsology @prettylittleblog13 @milariskanavasi @whatanicepanohthatsjustme @your-new-mom @daryls-angell @lilzebub @amaroho @bakedcrispss @yes-sir-hotchner @wasted-years @kpopandharry @madshelily @datidixon @dumandbass @savageneversaw

[determinate-negation]

“The division of labor is a broad concept and both in the workplace and across societies, and there are numerous social and cultural distinctions that shape its formation, including the organization of productive and social reproductive labor through gendered and racial hierarchies. However, at this point, Marx is focused on divisions between firms and economic sectors and more broadly with territorial divisions of labor. As with cooperation, he suggests (cursorily) that a social division of labor of some form exists in all types of societies, and in relation to territory, this includes exchange relations that arise between different communities with different assets, resources, and products. He asserts that “the foundation of every division of labor which has obtained a certain degree of development and has been brought about by the exchange of commodities, is the separation of town from country.” While territorial divisions of labor exist in precapitalist societies, the division of labor in the manufacturing system provides a “fresh stimulus” to the “territorial division of labour, which confines special branches of production to specific districts of a country” and “exploits all natural peculiarities.” This extends yet more broadly to the “colonial system and world market.”

While they reinforce each other, Marx makes an important distinction between the division of labor in the enterprise and in society, which he suggests, differ not only in degree but kind. One key difference is that with the social division of labor, the means of production are not strictly concentrated, but rather distributed among independent producers, and the connections between them are formed through the purchase and sale of commodities. The way the social division of labor is organized is also quite different. Marx points out that its organization is not based on conscious control but rather “the play of chance and caprice,” which “results in a motley pattern of distribution of the producers and their means of production among the various branches of social labour.” While the division of labor in production is extensively planned, regulated, and supervised—and is thus enforced a priori by capital—the division of labor in society, Marx writes, is enforced a posteriori, via market-price fluctuation and competition.

As a result, capitalism is characterized by “anarchy in the social division of labour and despotism in the manufacturing division of labour.” While capitalists eagerly plan the organization of production in the factory, they continually resist attempts to control and plan the social division of labor. This resistance, as Marx presciently observes, is enforced by bourgeois ideology which “celebrates the division of labour in the workshop” but “denounces with equal vigour every conscious attempt to control and regulate the process of production socially.”

There is a deep contradiction, in Marx’s view, between socialized production and private appropriation, leading him to suggest that under socialism, society-wide planning would eliminate capitalist “anarchy of production,” ensuring a more rational allocation of economic resources and productive capacities, while eliminating economic crises. This is expressed succinctly in Marx’s reflections in the Civil War in France, where he writes: “If co-operative production is not to remain a sham and a snare; if it is to supersede the Capitalist system; if united co-operative societies are to regulate national production upon a common plan, thus taking it under their own control, and putting an end to the constant anarchy and periodical convulsions which are the fatality of Capitalist production—what else, gentlemen, would it be but Communism, ‘possible’ Communism?”

In the chapter on divisions of labor, Marx points not only to the irrationality of market coordination, but also to the despotism and coercion this market system produces in the workplace. “Manufacture proper not only subjects the previously independent worker to the discipline and command of capital, but creates an additional hierarchical structure among the workers themselves.”The result is an “impoverishment of the worker in individual productive power,” such that “the possibility of an intelligent direction in production expands in one direction, because it vanishes in many others.” Workers’ own capacities to administer production are thwarted.”

Planning and the Ecosocialist Mode of Cooperation, Nicholas Graham

[covid-safer-hotties]

Also preserved on our archive

Just a totally normal headline for a society that's "back to normal" after "beating a pandemic" :)

By Jennifer Yoon

Montreal pharmacist Aleck Brodeur just got a shipment of COVID-19 rapid tests. Ever since the temperature has been dropping, more people have wanted to buy them, he says.

"They go out so fast. We always have to order some every day, and we keep increasing the supply that we order, but they're still all going," he said.

He expects this shipment — 13 kits in total — to be gone by the end of the day. In Quebec, there were 3,882 new laboratory-confirmed cases of COVID-19 between Sept. 15 and Sept. 21.

Unlike last fall, Brodeur doesn't have free rapid tests to hand out. The federal government stopped providing free COVID rapid tests to provinces and territories in May.

In a statement to CBC News, a spokesperson for Health Canada said it is no longer procuring rapid tests en-masse. The agency also says there are no plans to replenish the federal inventory after it is depleted.

That means pharmacies have been purchasing the tests from suppliers and selling them, like any other over-the-counter merchandise. Pharmacists say the supply is sometimes thin.

"We kind of hunt them down and make sure they're Health Canada approved," said Kyro Maseh, a Toronto-area pharmacist.

Artron Laboratories Inc., which manufactures COVID test kits, said in an email it has increased test production in the past few months, and is expecting to ramp it up even more for the upcoming winter season.

Where can you get your hands on COVID tests? You might need to visit several pharmacies before you're able to find one that carries rapid tests — free or for sale.

While some pharmacies in Quebec and Ontario have run out of free tests, the situation is different elsewhere. Alberta public health says they're still handing out free tests from the federal stockpile at participating pharmacies until the supply runs out.

While Quebec pharmacies may not have any more free rapid tests, the province is handing out free rapid tests at certain clinics or service centres.

PCR testing is also available in some provinces for those at higher risk of severe illness from COVID-19. The results just take a bit longer to come in: at least 24 hours.

If you have expired tests, experts say most work for a few months after the expiry date, but they also warn false negatives are a risk: if you test negative on an expired test, but you're still experiencing symptoms, it's possible you may still have COVID — even if the expired test didn't detect it.

"If it's positive, you're definitely positive. If it's negative with symptoms, that's when you need to worry about using expired tests," said Dr. Dawn Bowdish, a professor of immunology at McMaster University and the executive director at the Firestone Institute for Respiratory Health, in Hamilton.

Should we even be testing for COVID anymore? If you're otherwise healthy and young, chances are, whether you test positive for COVID or you have the common cold, you'll be given the same advice: don't go to work or school, stay at home.

But for those who are more vulnerable to severe illness, an early positive test can change the treatment options — and possibly, health outcomes.

"Older adults and the immunocompromised who are at high risk of hospitalization should get antiviral drugs within a day or no more than two of becoming ill," Bowdish said.

"If they don't know they have COVID, they can't get the drugs that might keep them out of hospital."

Latest numbers from select public health and hospital laboratories across Canada suggest COVID-19 levels are holding steady nation-wide, but Dr. Donald Vinh, an infectious disease specialist and medical microbiologist at the McGill University Health Centre, thinks the numbers don't reflect what's actually going on in the community.

"What we know is that this is an underestimate of what's going on," he said.

There's no doubt in his mind about whether widespread testing is still worthwhile. COVID, he says, can have serious impacts on vulnerable populations — and there are also treatments available.

"Instead of saying, well, we're four years out, do we still need tests for SARS-CoV-2? I would say we, in fact, should be having broad availability of tests for pathogens which have high impact in high-risk populations and for which we can give therapy," said Vinh.

In the U.S., the federal government has re-opened a program that allows any household to receive up to four free COVID test kits by mail. American public health authorities are urging the public to take a quick test before visiting with friends and family during the holiday season.

Bowdish, the immunologist, says she would like to see something similar in Canada.

"People do change their behaviours and decisions if they know they have an infection that might cause an older adult or someone who's vulnerable to get seriously ill."

[evilwickedme]

This wasn't asked for because nobody in their right mind would ask for this but this is a fic rec list of fics I cannot stop rereading

Just started yet another reread of Inimitable Verse by deniigiq and I fully plan on rereading their into the multiverse series which occasionally crosses over also - this is a Spider-Man/team red focused series, think comics canon infused early mcu-spidey since only homecoming had come out for a non substantial amount of time they were working on the series and the daredevil stuff is explicitly tv show AND comics. Also the multiverse series is how I got into Murderdock and therefore how I got into Spider Gwen

Unpretty's Sorrowful And Immaculate Hearts series which is just a loosely interconnected series of DC fics. My personal favorites are Empty Graves, in which Martha Kent keeps killing time travelers trying to kill baby! Clark; any of their clois fics but especially Third Wheel; and Anti-Social, which is a social media fic mostly about Tim and Bruce that made me cry laughing. Catch Bruce trying to get Walmart's employees to unionize. Also shout out to unpretty's only fic with Jason in it, it looks awesome but is tragically incomplete

This particular Reverse Robin AU which put in the work to reverse every single younger generation and is chef's kiss I LOVE this version of Tim he's wild

Both of Shoalsea's fics are in constant rotation for me I talk about Into The Brighter Night all the time in the tags of reblogs and stuff it truly lives in my head rent free. Anyway Tim gets kidnapped by aliens and the batfam have to watch as yj98 saves him and it's angsty and funny and such a good take on what could have been if the new 52 hadn't happened. And Compassion Builds No House is about Tim and Pru from Red Robin. Ugh they're both so good

Speaking of Clois (I did you've just forgotten this by now) brilliant (like a confession) by kathkin (penny-anna on the hellsite) is so fucking good I'm. Okay. Anyway it'll be listed as inspiration if/when I finally post my two person love triangle fic for them

I'm too anxious to catch up on this before it's done but jumble sale chic is hands down the best spideydevil fic series despite and because of the omegaverse

Make A Little Birdhouse In Your Soul is my favorite take on Jason, period, and has a lot of fantastic Damian stuff going on too. It's updating every few weeks still! Sometimes more often! I love you bacondoughnut it's me JustGail the person who will not stop commenting on your fic you're stuck with me forever

I lied above Rumspringa Murderdock is what got me into Murderdock but that series is second place. I found this one while scrolling through the tv show's mattfoggy tag, thinking I was safe

Speaking of Murderdock mattfoggy, The Lawyer All the Wickedness was written early on in spider-gwen's history and so diverges from canon really early in ways that I think are super interesting and creative

Oh also straight on 'til morning by merils (Tumblr url mamawasatesttube) does SUCH a great job unpacking Kon's trauma and building up healthy relationships around him including a budding timkon romance and yeah it makes me sad and happy at the same time

We're getting into poisonivory territory so just trust if you like the pairing and poisonivory is writing it you'll like it. Ok rapidfire

Like A Handprint On My Heart mattfoggy soulmate au with a twist

Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow? Damijon future fic/au. Jon came back from the future when both of them were 19. Demisexual!Damian at its best. Damian's terrified of being abandoned by Jon again and it made my heart hurt

I feel like I've already recommended every JayRoy fic by poisonivory and genuinely I do reread them all, sometimes in order of publication if I'm in a particular mood. Maybe the one I've read most though is I've Got the Feeling You're the Right Thing After All which is about Roy and Jason starting a fwb thing while Roy still harbors old feelings for Dick. Can't see anything going wrong here lmao

Mmm this post is long enough so I'll leave it at just superhero fic for now but I do in fact have the ability to do a whole post just for the Witcher or Leverage so I might do that. Anyway thanks for following me on yet another burst of insanity it will happen again

[meloncholy-words]

Robin: A Word That Means Run (Chapter 1: Nightwing)

Nightwing hasn't been Robin in years. He still remembers what that name means in a situation like this.

A/N: I'm not going to apologize for any inaccuracies in lore and characterization. If canon can fuck off and do whatever they please than I can too. I'll try staying as close to what I know as canon as possible but also I do what I want lmao.

~~~

Chapter Warnings: Explosions, minor gun violence(no one gets shot but there are guns), canon typical violence(nothing graphic/explicit! it's just there), swearing, Scarecrow's fear toxin (though the effects of it happen off screen), mentions of past violence, mentions of injury(stitches, concussion, etc.). No permanent injury or death occurs! Let me know if I should add more warnings!

AO3 | Chapter List

The case was simple: Scarecrow was shipping out vials of fear toxin to buyers from other cities. There were five buyers; one from New York City, Washington DC, Brooklyn, Metropolis, and Blüdhaven. All that they had to do was intercept the sales, arrest the buyers, and run tests on the toxin to check if it was a new strain. It usually wasn't, but it never hurt to check. If it was, that would mean that Scarecrow was planning something big.

The issue was that all sales were happening on the same night, and all in different parts of Gotham, with not enough vigilantes to handle all of them.

Red Hood was investigating a new business of dealers near his territory, trying to gauge how much of a threat they were so he could take them out. They were experienced, and growing fast; if he didn't nip it as fast as he could, it might grow out of control and start becoming an issue.

Spoiler and Black Bat had had a recent run in with Killer Croc, and were both benched due to injuries. Steph had a sprained ankle, and many stitches all along her arms and back. Cass had a dislocated shoulder and concussion, as well as many stitches along her legs and torso. Both were lucky to have not gotten worse.

Signal, despite insisting that he should go, was out of commission. He'd already worked well into the night shifts the previous three nights due to several kidnapping situations that happened too close together to not be connected, but ended up just being very coincidental. That, plus his need to keep his grades up, had him pretty sleep deprived. While not usually an issue, a fourth night out later than he should've been would've only made it worse, and fear toxin with sleep deprivation was one of their absolutely nots.

That left only Batman, Robin, Red Robin, and Nightwing to deal with busting the sales. Four vigilantes to deal with five sales in five separate locations within the city. No problem, could be done very easily.

Nightwing had gotten the sale in Fashion District. The information that Oracle had been able to dig up lead him to an alley behind a two-story boutique. An unusual meeting place, but better than some abandoned warehouse. That was just becoming cliche at this point.

He was perched on a rooftop above, blending into the dark, clouded sky. It wasn't as efficient as the shadows, but he had been yet to be spotted. A car was already waiting, three guys twiddling their feet as they waited. The buyers, undoubtedly. Nightwing sat studying them from above.

Their car was a black SUV, covered in family stickers. Likely to be more inconspicuous, but could've been from one of their moms. Criminals were just like that sometimes. Two of the men were obviously well built, their frames on the bulky side. The third wasn't quite so built, but he seemed relaxed as they leaned back against the metal frame of the car, so he wasn't just some lackey dragged along. Likely a getaway driver, maybe the leader of this operation.

After around 15 minutes of sitting around, a van pulled up to the entrance of the alley. The driver stayed inside, while the the passenger and a few men from the back hopped out. The gimmicks of their outfits told Nightwing that they were Scarecrow's men. One of them was carrying a briefcase, which he identified as the goods.

The three guys snapped to alert, the leaner man taking charge. That clued into him being the leader. They met each other half way, a conversation springing from hushed voices. Nightwing strained to hear what they were saying, but that wasn't the important thing. What he needed to do was stop the sale from happening.

He monitored the men for a bit longer, listening to them speak. They were haggling, probably. If they sale went through, than he would need to apprehend all of them. If it didn't, he'd only need to deal with Scarecrow's men. The others would be their own cities problem.

"My sale fell through," came Red Robin's voice crackling through the comm in his ear. "Moving in now."

Below him, the leader gestured back toward the car. One of the bulky men moved towards it, opening the back and pulling out a small duffel bag. He handed the bag over, and Nightwing shifted to get a better look at the bag that was being opened.

Yep, that was cash.

"My sale is going through," Nightwing said into his mic, hushed. "Moving in."

Before the trade off could happen, Nightwing slipped off the ledge of the roof quietly. He angled himself slightly, making sure that when he landed it was on the lean man's shoulders, sending him shooting down to the ground under the weight. The man under him grunted as he hit the ground, letting out a wheeze. He wasn't unconscious, but he made no move to get up. Probably due to the pain of being slammed into an alley's concrete floor from roughly 180 pounds from above.

"Gentlemen," he chirped in greeting, electrifying the ends of his escrima sticks before flipping of the man under him towards the other two. The men reached towards their waistbands, likely reaching for a gun, but it mattered little when the electricity pressed hard above their collarbones. They spasmed, muscles stiffening under the shock, before collapsing as he pulled back.

Scarecrow's men gasped, followed by shouts and the sounds of feet scuttling away. Nightwing grabbed the lean man's collar, tossing him towards the other two. He dropped a bead in between them that exploded, wrapping cord around their limbs and tying them together.

"I'll be back for you!~" he called in a sing song voice, spinning around to watch the henchmen loading into the van. He pulled one of his sticks up, letting the hidden grapple inside of it shoot into the side of the building. The van roared to life, and Nightwing used the momentum of his lines tension to propel forward, landing on the roof as the wheels screeched against the road.

"Sale went through, moving in," came Robin, and from the sounds of exertion coating his voice, he was a little late on that callout.

The van wiggled underneath Nightwing's grip, trying to shake him off. Nightwing acquiesced, his hands gripping the edge of the top as he forced his legs down and through the windows of the back doors.

Several more shouts filled the air, and Nightwing was quick to silence them. He was also careful to not shatter the fear toxin that had been dropped on the floor in the struggle. The passenger in the front whipped around, and Nightwing was distantly aware of the glint of metal pointing towards him, but he snapped the wrist pointing the gun at him before he even recognized it as a gun.

The henchmen yelped in pain, and then did it again when his head was slammed into the dashboard. Nightwing hopped over the seats, landing on top of the unconscious body, his feet resting in the lap of the driver. In his hands, a stick came to life with more electricity.

"You gonna pull over?" he asked, smile in his voice as he waved the shocked-up end at the other. The henchmen let out a small whimper, leaning away from the weapon. Nightwing almost felt bad for him as he screeched off to the side, obeying.

When all of the henchmen were tied up, and Nightwing had doubled back to make sure the almost-buyers hadn't managed to escape, he notified the police before sitting back on a roof, basking in his victory.

"All involved are apprehended and waiting for police custody, and the toxin has been secured," Nightwing said, stretching out from where he was sat. The men didn't put up much of a fight, but the few blows the did land would probably bruise in the morning. Probably. This was a surprisingly easy run. "Reports?"

"Scarecrow's men are being tied up now," Red Robin replied, his voice soft after the fight. "Toxin secured"

"All involved apprehended," came Batman, who hadn't given the status earlier, the asshole. "Toxin secured."

"You never notified us you were moving in," Nightwing said helpfully. Not that it mattered too much; he was Batman, he'd be fine. "I'll start moving into the last sale now. Send me the location, O." Then, after a beat, "Robin, status?"

There was a brief stutter of silence. Nightwing hardly noticed it as he crossed from building to building, careful not to break anything. Hardly.

"Robin?"

"All involved apprehended," came the shaky voice of Robin. Uh oh, not good. "Toxin secured, one... one vial broken."

Shit.

"Try staying calm, I'll head your way," Nightwing said, spinning on his heel to where Robin handled his sale in the Narrows. It was on the opposite side of Gotham, but he'd be damned if he didn't do anything to-

"Actually," cut in Oracle's voice, "You should get over to Diamond for that last sale. You're the closest, and if all other sales are finished by now, that one might be close to done, or already finished. Red's the closest to Robin, he can go."

Red gave an affirming hum into his mic. "On my way, hang tight Robin. ETA like... 12 minutes."

Robin didn't respond, which made Dick's heart stop, but he turned back to his original path. His family was reliable, and they'd be fine. Stopping this sale was important, and he wasn't even close enough to object.

"I'll go with Nightwing," Batman said, voice gruff and focused as usual. "If they're wrapping up, and he gets there too late, I can keep speed with the batmobile."

"Acknowledged," Nightwing acknowledged as he soared over the gaps between buildings. "ETA 5 minutes."

Those five minutes were rather silent, only filled with his heavy breathing and grunts and he hopped and rolled around and off the rooftops. The vials in the briefcase he had pressed against his ribs clanked together ominously, but there was not breaking glass yet. He hoped there wouldn't be.

This time, the place of sale was some old, rundown warehouse. Nightwing gently set down the briefcase on the roof, dropping through a shattered skylight and moving like a spider in the rafters. There was arguing below him, loud and... not quite angry. No, it was frustrated, and building up to anger.

"I'm just saying, that seems like a high price to pay for something we don't even know works." The accent suggested Blüdhaven. Good, these were his own criminals then. He could handle that just fine.

Nightwing slipped around the rafters a little more until he had a clear view of everyone. He took a quick headcount. Five of Scarecrow's men, and he thought he saw another van outside, so probably more in total. Seven men stood before them, and Nightwing thought he recognized them from a gang who caused a lot of problems for him. It was hard to tell in the dark. This warehouse was so run down that there wasn't even any lighting in here.

"Twelve counted inside, likely more spotted outside," he said into his mic, his voice kept low and even as the men continued to argue. "The outcome of this is probably gonna be a big fight, so have your rebreather on just in case."

Nightwing slipped his own rebreather over his mouth, fastening it tight behind his head.

"Understood. I'm pulling up now."

The arguing below softened, and Nightwing was struggling to hear what was being said again. He did notice the exchange of bags, though.

"Good, the sale just went through. You're just in time."

Once more, Nightwing dropped from the sky like a missile. This time, he focused on the henchmen, as the gang men had the fear toxin. He had to be careful to not break them open. Even if he had his rebreather on, fear toxin wasn't fun to deal with.

These henchmen put up a bit more of a fight. Not good enough, of course. The metal pipe to the back of his head was, though.

Four of the five of Scarecrow's men were down, and what knocked him off his feet was a metal pipe. Damn. He tucked and rolled with the blow, bouncing up on his hands and knocking the weapon away with a kick. He was back on his feet, escrima sticks in both hands and poised to fight when a shadow descended upon the others.

The fighting only increased with a new player in the ring, but it was easier this time. Batman wrestled the briefcase of vials out of the gang's hands, tossing it on the floor behind him and out of the crossfire. The final henchmen had been forgotten in favor of the others. By the time another four men were down, Nightwing had realized that it was a mistake.

A click of metal made Nightwing whip around, arms raised and ready to either take or deal some serious blows. What he saw, instead, was a grenade mid air, heading fast towards him. It bounced off the ground, nestling against the briefcases handle.

Nightwing's muscles tensed, crouching low and fast, the hold on his weapons loosening. He needed to grab the briefcase. If the toxin blew, everyone without a rebreather would be affected. Dealing with a large number of criminals was hard; dealing with a large number of criminals who were terrified out of their minds and fighting like caged animals was hell.

His eyes flicked over to the grenade, and he hesitated. That wasn't good. You never hesitated on the field like this. But he knew those grenades. Most had plenty of seconds of fuse in them, for optimal range. If a grenade blew up too quickly after it was thrown, you'd get caught in the crossfire. But these ones, the one that had been thrown his way and was nestled against too many vials of fear toxin, was very short fused. The best way to take out a bat was to surprise them. That was very hard to do.

Using a weapon with no guarantee of survivability for the user was a good way to do it.

Nightwing wouldn't have time to move, not anymore. Maybe if he'd jumped at first, he could've gotten far enough away. But he was crouched down low, leaning toward the thing rigged to explode in at most two seconds, one hand reaching forward. His mind processed, vaguely, that he should run. Maybe he could run still, maybe, but would his body catch up to his thought process? Probably not. It hadn't even registered he was in danger yet.

Shit. He was going to die, huh? Or at the very least get badly injured. He was going to maybe die because he was too slow to recognize danger and his body was even slower to respond to his mind's commands and-

"Robin!"

His body moved before his mind caught up this time. He didn't know why. He hadn't been Robin in, what, 8 years? 9? But he new that name. He new that tone. He'd heard them both countless times over the years. And when they were paired together like this, when his veins were full of adrenaline and his stomach felt like a pit of ice, it meant run.

So he did. His legs pushed up, and his hips turned so fast he might've gotten whiplash, and his arms reached out until they found something firm and dark and safe. There was the flutter of a cape, and then there were strong arms around him, grabbing so tightly that the skin and bone underneath them ached.

There was an explosion. He didn't feel it. He could hear the sound of it, the gunpowder igniting and swelling into a cloud of fire. He could hear shouts and shrieks around him, groans and yells and maybe something breaking. He could feel his side grinding against something he recognized as the floor, but it felt distant.

He could feel his face pressed into a chest, coated in a thick material that had repelled knives, bullets, and wandering hands and fingers that traced the bat design on it after he had saved someone that he would gag about later in the back of the batmobile because he was too small to ride shotgun.

The floor under him stopped moving, and the screams had cut off. He peaked an eye open, looking up at the roof of the warehouse. There was a face there, with a chiseled jaw and scars that were small enough they could only be seen up close. There was black material that only covered the top half of that face. Above them was a thick substance in the air. Fear toxin, he registered after a few moments.

Slowly, the two bodies pulled apart. A hand was under his arm, guiding him up to stand. A survey of the area showed no deaths. Everyone unprotected had at least been far enough to only have been blown back. No missing limbs, no cuts, no burns. Just a few bruises.

"Are you guys okay?" Oracle asked, a hint of panic in her voice. "Cameras showed a bright light go off inside, and your vitals are off."

"All good, Oracle," said Batman, still surveying the scene. "There was a little explosion. No one seems seriously injured. Everyone else is unconscious, though, and there's toxin in the air." He didn't mention calling for his Robin.

"Good news about that!" Red Robin chimed. "It's not a new strain, which means we have antidotes on standby. Also, Robin's doing alright."

"Hn, good. We'll tie up loose ends here and head out. See you at the cave."

There was a round of sign-offs, and the two in the warehouse began rounding up the unconscious thugs. Toxin seeped out of the skylight above. The henchman that threw the grenade was nowhere to be seen, likely having fled during the chaos.

"I left my case of toxin up on the roof," Nightwing said when everyone had been restrained. He didn't mention the name either.

Batman let out a hum of acknowledgment. "I'll be waiting for you in the batmobile to head back to the cave." The flutter of a cape - one that had protected him - let him know that his dad was gone.

Nightwing climbed his way up to the roof once more, slow and deliberate. His body ached a bit more, now that he'd taken more hits and had been thrown across the floor. Being thrown by an explosion wasn't fun, 0/10, would not do it again.

Despite that, there was a smile plastered on his face.

Dick kinda liked being Robin again.

[yuanyuaning]

Liguang Sales Department Talk

HAMA Tours - Office Floor

Liguang : Today, I made plans to go to the mahjong parlor with a business partner.

Isotake happened to hear us when we had this talk and called me out for playing around, though…

Mahjong is a more suitable game for business than golf.

Not only can you deepen your bonds with your partner, you can, above all, get a glimpse of their nature by the way they discard their tiles.

Are they trustworthy enough to continue doing business with ?

If not, how should we proceed with our dealings from now on…

It’s like carrying out a reconnaissance mission in enemy territory to gather intel.

proofread by the TLward : jelly ; aca ; dimi ; peko

[usafphantom2]

The D-21 Drone and project Senior Bowl: i.e. the SR-71 Blackbird was not the Most Secret Program ever developed by famed Lockheed Skunk Works

The D-21 Drone and project Senior Bowl

At Beale Air Force Base (AFB), in California, you would think that the SR-71 Blackbird program would be the biggest blackest deepest secret.

But you would be wrong.

The biggest secret was Project Tagboard/Senior Bowl.

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

Project Tagboard/Senior Bowl is a relatively unknown project in the history of Area 51 reconnaissance A-12 aircraft. This project was Top Secret from its inception and during the Senior Bowl part of the project, there were less than 100 personnel cleared to work on it.

According to Air Force Test Center History Office documents, all manned flights over the Soviet Union were discontinued by President Dwight Eisenhower after Francis Gary Powers’ U-2 spy plane was shot down May 1, 1960. However even if the US government was planning on using satellites for reconnaissance, the technology was still a few years away and the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) determined unmanned drones could fill the gap until satellites became viable.

For this reason, in the 1960s the famed Lockheed “Skunk Works” developed the D-21 a highly-advanced, remotely piloted aircraft (RPA) designed to carry out high-speed, high-altitude strategic reconnaissance missions over hostile territory.

The D-21 Drone and project Senior Bowl: i.e. the SR-71 Blackbird was not the Most Secret Program ever developed by famed Lockheed Skunk Works

M-21 and D-21

Launched from the back of the M-21

According to the document Project Tagboard/Senior Bowl Overview by Road Runners Internationale, Project Tagboard/Senior Bowl was the brain child of Lockheed’s Skunk Works’ Kelly Johnson. It consisted of a drone (D-21) mated to a modified A-12 aircraft (M-21), the combination known as MD-21 (mother/daughter).

The project was first conceived in 1962 when Lockheed’s Kelly Johnson got approval from the CIA to add two aircraft to the existing A-12 assembly line. Known as M-21’s, these aircraft were built with a second crew station for the Launch Control Officer (LCO) and structurally enhanced aft fuselage with a large dorsal pylon to carry the new drone atop the rear fuselage. When attached, the wingtips of the D-21 would have only six inches of clearance with the tops of the vertical stabilizers of the mother ship. This combination was known as the MD-21 (mother/daughter).

The D-21 would be launched from the back of the M-21. Ideally, after conducting its reconnaissance mission it would eject a hatch with photo equipment to be recovered either mid-air or after the hatch landed.

The D-21 Drone and project Senior Bowl: i.e. the SR-71 Blackbird was not the Most Secret Program ever developed by famed Lockheed Skunk Works

B-52 – D-21

However, on the fourth flight test, the D-21 experienced an “asymmetric unstart” as it passed through the bow wake of the M-21 causing the mothership to pitch up and collide with the D-21 at Mach 3.25. Crewmembers Bill Park and Ray Torick ejected from the M-21, but Torick opened his helmet visor by mistake and his suit filled up with water causing him to drown.

After the accident and after the death of Ray Torick, a test flight engineer, the M-21 launch program was cancelled but testers still believed the D-21 would make a valuable reconnaissance vehicle and decided to launch the drone from B-52Hs under a top-secret test program named Tagboard. The new code name for the D-21 project became Senior Bowl.

Modified B-52s

It was Kelly Johnson, President of Skunk Works, who suggested to use the B-52. As a result of Johnson’s advice two B-52’s were modified: 61#0021 and 60#0036. Both B-52’s are still in the US Air Force (USAF) inventory. The ultra-secret 4200 test squadron was formed at Beale.

The D-21 Drone and project Senior Bowl: i.e. the SR-71 Blackbird was not the Most Secret Program ever developed by famed Lockheed Skunk Works

D-21 drone.

+Only a few of the men that flew the SR-71 had been read into the program: out of necessity one of the few included my father Richard “Butch” Sheffield, SR-71 RSO who had already been read into Oxcart in 1965. In his unpublished book he writes that on the flightline he was with Bob Spencer, SR-71 pilot. They were taxing out when they saw the B-52 with a drone underneath it. Spencer asked ‘What is that under that B-52?’ My Dad responded ‘I have no idea.’ He couldn’t tell Bob Spencer the truth.

These two B-52‘s were kept away at the end of the runway apart from any other operations.

The D-21s were used on four flights over communist China but none of these missions fully succeeded.

Two flights were successful; however, the imagery could not be recovered from the D-21’s hatch. The other two operational flights ended with one being lost in a heavily defended area and the other D-21 simply disappeared after launch.

D-21 over China and Senior Bowl

The main mission of the D-21 was to fly over China and take pictures of its nuclear weapons test facility in the remote west central of the country near Lop Nor.

An Omega KDC-10 is the first commercial tanker to refuel USAF B-52, MC-130J over Pacific Ocean

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. B-52H Stratofortress 2nd BW, 20th BS, LA/60-0008 “Lucky Lady IV”.

The pictures were supposed to be dropped in the ocean and recovered by the Navy. During the Cold War this information was necessary for the defense of the US.

The fourth and final mission of the D-21 drone took place on Mar. 20, 1971 and was undertaken by D-21 #527. Experts at the 4200th Support Squadron and at Skunk Works concluded that #527 must have malfunctioned. It was thought to have gone down near Lop Nor. This drone is on display in China at their national aviation museum. So, we know that it got close to the target.

Senior Bowl lasted from January 1968 until Jul. 15, 1971. Interestingly, after the fall of the Soviet Union, Ben Rich (then retired president of Lockheed’s Skunk Works) finally had an opportunity to tour Russia himself. While in Moscow, the KGB presented Rich with a gift of what they thought were the remains of a stealth fighter that had crashed in their territory. As it turned out, the wreckage was actually pieces and parts of the lost D-21 Drone!

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter X Page Habubrats SR-71, Instagram Page SR71Habubrats and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder Habubrats for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

@Habubrats71 via X

[magz]

Palestine Summary April 27 to April 30, 2024. From LetsTalkPalestine (LinkTree Here)

April 27. Day 204

• 32 Palestinians killed, 69 injured in Gaza in last 24 hours

• Overnight Israeli strikes on Rafah & Nuseirat camp (central Gaza) death toll rises to 15, incl. 8 children

🚢 US & Israel continue construction of floating aid pier on Gaza’s coast w/ UK Navy assistance, despite Israel blocking flotilla ship carrying 5,000+ tons of aid

• Escalating IOF raids in West Bank — 2 Palestinians killed & left to bleed out as IOF blocked ambulances in Jenin

🇶🇦 Qatar considering ending mediatory role in ceasefire negotiations citing frustrations w/ Israel & Hamas for stalling efforts

• Armed Israeli settlers raid homes & tents of Palestinian farmers in West Bank

• IOF abducts 20+ in overnight raids in West Bank

🇨🇳 China to host Palestinian unity talks between Hamas & Fatah (controlling party of Palestinian Authority), aiming to reconcile their complicated political rivalry. For more on Palestinian political parties: https://tinyurl.com/2s3ub7yu + the PA: https://tinyurl.com/3fmhaav3

April 28. Day 205

• 66 Palestinians killed, 38 injured in Gaza in the last 24 hours

⚖️ Israel consults US to prevent ICC arrest warrants against Netanyahu and others on the basis of the deliberate starvation of Palestinians in Gaza

• 270+ settlers storm Al-Aqsa Mosque compound for the 2nd time recently w/ IOF protection

🚢 US predicts Gaza pier to be operational in 3 weeks, citing challenges posed by Israel’s naval blockade of aid

• IOF abducts 15 in overnight West Bank raids

🇬🇧 UK says it may deploy troops in Gaza to allegedly help deliver aid. PFLP (socialist resistance group) says UK troops not welcome, and that it may target them

🇺🇸 Biden to discuss concerns ahead of Rafah invasion, threatening to slow arms deliveries to Israel if no appropriate & credible humanitarian plan for Rafah

🇺🇳 UNRWA: 2 children in Gaza killed due to Israeli restrictions on clean water amid rising temperatures

• Israeli police arrest 5 settlers amid West Bank settler rampage, to avoid US & EU sanctions

April 29. Day 206

• 34 Palestinians killed, 68 injured in Gaza in the last 24 hours

• Several Israeli attacks on homes in Rafah kill at least 20, including 5 children and 9 family members

🇺🇸 US finds 5 Israeli military units liable for serious human rights violations but says 4 have “remedied” & don’t need sanctions. US is hesitant to sanction the 5th unit

• Mounting garbage and rising temperatures infest besieged Rafah with flies & mosquitos, worsening conditions for displaced Palestinians

🇱🇧 Lebanon accepts ICC jurisdiction to prosecute Israelis for crimes committed on Lebanese territory; considered a landmark step

🎓 1,000+ have been arrested at Gaza protests on US campuses since encampments started. Student protests have spread to France, Italy, Egypt & Jordan

🇮🇩🇲🇾 Boycotts in Indonesia & Malaysia force equity firms (General Atlantic + CVC) to halt multimillion-dollar US fast food company stake sales like in McDonalds

April 30. Day 207

• 47 Palestinians killed, 61 injured in Gaza in the last 24 hours. But Gaza’s health officials express likelihood of underreporting, unsurprising after 7 months of constant bombardment while thousands remain buried under rubble

• Israel reportedly creating gender-discriminatory checkpoints around Rafah to block Palestinian men of “military age” from fleeing, while allowing women & children, in preparation for Rafah invasion

• Netanyahu asserts Rafah invasion will happen regardless of ceasefire deal, undermining ongoing negotiations & US pressures for a deal

⚖️ ICJ rejects Nicaragua’s request for emergency measures for Germany to suspend arms exports to Israel for complicity in genocide

• Today in Hebron (West Bank), Israeli forces tear-gassed a school, injuring many children & teachers + Israeli forces shot & killed a Palestinian man

• Palestinian Authority security forces crack down on protestors in front of Canadian representative office in Ramallah (West Bank)

[zvaigzdelasas]

The global market for carbon offsets is worth about $2 billion today and projected to grow to as much as $1 trillion in 15 years even as it faces fundamental questions about credibility and effectiveness. Add government appropriation to the list of risks for this climate solution. A shock announcement this week that Zimbabwe will take half of all revenues generated from offsets projects developed on its territory is a harbinger of an uncertain future in the carbon trade. The African nation is the world’s 12th largest creator of offsets, with 4.2 million credits from 30 registered projects last year, according to BloombergNEF.

Zimbabwe’s move gives the government control of carbon credit production and cancels all past agreements with international organizations. That means more revenue generated from credits tied to protecting forests and other efforts to cut emissions will flow into national coffers rather than going to project developers. There’s now risk that other countries might follow suit, creating new uncertainties for businesses that develop and sell offsets, corporations that purchase offsets as a way to counterbalance their greenhouse gas pollution and the cohort of traders who invest in this emerging asset class. [...]

The move “blindsided” CO2balance, a company that runs five carbon offset projects in Zimbabwe. “Everyone knew changes were happening but we weren’t expecting this — it wasn’t on the horizon,” said Paul Chiplen, head of sales, in an interview on Thursday. “It does put a question mark in investors’ minds when you’re not quite sure of what level of return you’re getting.” [...]

“I think it is an entirely understandable thing for Zimbabwe to want to take a proportion of the funds from any exports of carbon from its territory,” said Edward Hanrahan, director at carbon project developer Climate Impact Partners. “But the issue is they acted rapidly and without prior notice.”[...]

Each credit represents one ton of carbon dioxide and can be bought and sold many times before being used. The unregulated structure of the market involving companies, traders and governments creates risk of double counting. What if a government seeks to benefit by trading a credit produced in its territory after its been sold to an investor or used in a corporate sustainability plan?[...]

Treating carbon credits as just another export commodity underscores an imbalance at the heart of this global trade: Efforts to develop credits are usually funded by firms from wealthy countries and sold to corporate buyers in Europe and the US, yet most of the projects are located in emerging economies. This setup has been derided as a form of carbon colonialism that strips developing countries of an increasingly valuable resource. “Rushing to frame the decision by Zimbabwe as ‘nationalization risk’ exposes a sense of entitlement to access those resources by the global North,” said Rich Gilmore, chief executive officer at investment manager Carbon Growth Partners in Melbourne. “We need to acknowledge that the past 200 years of resource extraction have miserably failed people and the planet. And if we want the carbon market to scale, we need to respect the right of the nations of the south to determine their own rules.”[...]

Developers and investors might start to prioritize countries where governments have been transparent about their future carbon policies. Plus, if governments follow Zimbabwe in taking half of the project revenues, that will create a barrier to carbon projects that are the most costly to implement.[...]

It’s “entirely appropriate” for countries to seek a larger share from their carbon resources but they must “carefully consider the economics,” said Martijn Wilder, chief executive officer of Pollination, a climate advisory and investment firm. “If what’s left for a project developer is not sufficient to cover an investible rate of return, the project simply won’t happen.”

21 May 23

[dumb-teambucciarati-headcanons]

Giant snowball fight headcanons (but it’s all of passione and they aren’t trying to kill each other)

Giorno: he didn’t make an alliance with anyone and no one really knows what they should expect from him, and if they should be scared or not. He built a snow fort to hide in and attack from, and his plan is to leave it when there are not many people left so that he might be able to uncover who the boss is.

Bruno: also doesn’t have an alliance with anyone, but isn’t gonna get any of his team out. Uses sticky fingers to avoid snowballs and detaches his arm to send them flying further. He hides in trees to ambush people when they aren’t expecting it.

Abbacchio: he was the first one out and willingly, and now he is just drinking wine and enjoying the peace and quiet.

Mista: used the pistols to send the snowballs wherever he wants. Was in an alliance with Narancia and Trish. He got out really fast by one of his own snowballs.

Narancia: used Aerosmith to see where the others were and ambush them. Somehow managed to catch things on fire. Got out quickly because he is silly. He wanted to get Fugo out, but couldn’t find him.

Fugo: is hiding.

Trish: the only one in her alliance still in because everyone is too afraid to get out the bosses daughter. Also her ability to make things soft has been useful in getting missed snowballs to bounce back on people.

Polpo: is in jail, so they got him out pretty fast.

Zucchini or whatever his name was: Got out really fast. Was in an alliance with Sale of course. Narancia took him out right after Abbacchio got out.

Sale: is still in because he has been making the snowballs freeze mid air before they reach him. Is very afraid of Bruno because he has been hiding in them trees.

Formaggio: is small.

Illuso: he got out really fast by his teammates. They were mad at him because he left his hair in the shower drain.

Prosciutto: is in an alliance with Pesci and Risotto. He wanted to use his stand, but Risotto didn’t want to have to deal with wrinkles and back pains.

Pesci: very scared, he built a fort for himself to help protect him from the scary snowballs.

Melone: Ghiacco got him out really fast because he was being annoying.

Ghiacco: this is his territory. He doesn’t even need to make snowballs, his stand can provide them. Might actually win this.

Risotto: he started out being a really scary opponent, being able to turn invisible and all. But now he is cold and wants someone to get him out but everyone is too scared to.

Squalo and Tiziano: they are partners and they are on a date. Scary opponents but a little distracted. Built a snow shark together. Now they are eating chocolate. Not out yet though.

Carne: out so fast they barely remember him being there.

Scary chocolate man: has sent several people to the hospital already. Needs to be stopped.

Secco: isn’t allowed to melt the ground and is sad because of it. Hasn’t gotten anyone out yet because he is too busy complaining about not being allowed to use his stand.

Doppio: no one knows this kid is part of passione, but they let him join the fight because he really wanted to. He got out in the middle and is now playing Mario kart at home.

Diavolo (the boss): everyone is aware that he is playing, but they don’t know what he looks like or where he is. But they can see he hasn’t gotten out yet. He is at home because Doppio got out and is playing Mario kart. Wins by default.

[minamaybe]

There’s a saying at the University of Vienna: No matter how bad your studies are going, at least you’re not working for the Department of Parafolklore, right?

The select few who do research the strange, the unknown, the monstrous. Laughing stock or no, there’s records to modernise (“Why is the only piece of technology we own a fax machine?”), local cryptids to research, and, oh yeah, someone’s gotta babysit the demon in the attic.

genre: modern fantasy, elements of horror, some romance sprinkled in for good luck

status: plotting, making intricate mind maps

main characters

Nita: After her life took an unexpected turn for the worst, all Nita wants is a calm, quiet office job. It doesn’t get much calmer than typing up old records for the Department of Parafolklore; or at least, that’s what she thinks. Soon, Nita’s knowledge of obscure folk legends and Middle High German will be needed, because someone - no, something - is trapped in the attic. And it is essential that it doesn’t get out.

Lukas: Since no one has seen the Head of the Department of Parafolklore in… hm, has it been five years already?, Lukas is the next best thing, considering he’s been there the longest. Earnest and ambitious, he is determined to raise the Department’s social standing and show the world that their research is valuable.

Kim: Her years of studying Marketing & Sales have left Kim with a broken-off engagement and the ability to make pretty Instagram reels. As the Department’s social media manager, she tries to make dusty books and antisocial hermits look cool.

Said: An expert in art history and disappointing his parents, Said analyses artwork depicting various local legends and cryptids. He gets a tattoo of every folk creature the Department can prove truly exists (so far, he’s got a Lindwurm, Perchten, and the Mothman. That last one doesn’t necessarily fall into Austrian territory, but he chose to trust the Americans on that one).

“Oscar”: Really, he doesn’t know what all the fuss is about. They treat him as if he’s going to unleash chaos on the world as soon as he gets out of the Department, and that’s just so unfair. He can unleash plenty of chaos from right up here in the attic, thank you very much.

here it is, a proper wip intro! if you stuck around until now, thank you so much!

i’ve been working on this idea for a while now, and the basic plan is to tell austrian folklore stories through this group of outcasts, who, each in their own way, figures out what the paranormal world means to them, and their place in it. also, i want to try something new with it, and write connected short stories instead of going for a classical novel structure. this is new for me, so if anyone has experience with that kind of writing they want to share, i’d be very interested to hear your process!!

thank you for reading, and i can’t wait to share more about this wip as it develops! <3

[smells-like-mettaton]

Rating: G Summary: Sans treks through the laughterless Ruins to bring Toriel a donut. She has other worries on her mind. (Soriel, Exiled Queen Ending) Word Count: 2449

XXX

Sans is nothing if not a creature of habit. Routine means Not Thinking and Not Thinking means he can pretend everything’s okay for a little longer. 

QC’s bakery is closed. The sheet of paper tacked to the door says her sister caught some kind of bug (metaphorical, unfortunately, or else he’d ask for tips). So no Cinnamon Bunnies he’d planned on gifting Toriel to make up for accidentally sleep-shortcutting into her bedroom last night.

(That better not become a habit. For someone who snores so hard, she’s quick to jump awake, fireballs in hands. She wouldn’t hit him on purpose, and bone’s not particularly flammable, but still.)

Habit. He’s not been on the other side of the door long enough to build new ones, yet, though he will. He has before. Not the first time his life’s up and uprooted like a grinning Vegetoid, and at least this time there are familiar places to backtrack to.

Too bad they’re not open.

He sighs, watching the artificial sunlight filter through the golden storefront window, before shortcutting out of the closed shop.

By habit, he almost ends up at Grillby’s before yanking himself back to the Ruins. Can’t throw those dogs a bone. They’ll have too many questions about the Ex-Queen—geez, even about him—and whatever he says’ll end up back to Undyne and he’s not ready for that.

Ruins. The Ruins are safe, for all that they’re unfamiliar. Papyrus would’ve loved exploring the place, with all its rusted traps and spikes.

He shuts his eyesockets for a moment. No habit to keep him on autopilot here. What was he doing again?

Treats. That’s right. Something loaded with sugar that Toriel won’t have to bake herself. Conveniently, his off-kilter shortcut landed him in the room with the bowl of candy… but pilfering the sweets she’d left out for the Froggits and Whimsuns just to give them back to her is too lazy of an apology, even for him.

Speak of the devils. A pair of Froggits and one shaking Whimsun hop-and-flutter through the door. The moth-like monster bursts into tears at the sight of him, fleeing back into the hall.

“Huh. That’s a first.” His grin tightens. “Normally pals wait to cry until after the joke.”

“Ribbit, ribbit,” one Froggit’s face-mouth croaks.

“(Joke?)” the mouth hidden in the shadows of its belly translates. Different from the Final Froggits Sans is used to, whose two mouths tend to speak in harmonizing tandem. “(I don’t understand.)”

Man. Tough crowd.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” He shrugs his hands into his hoodie pockets. “Not everyone’s got a funny bone.”

Not even a groan at that. Just a couple of low, cricket-like croaks.

How has Toriel survived so long with this kind of audience? He can feel the humor leaking out his humerus already.

The Froggits are still staring at him. Warily.

“You know anywhere to get some grub around here?” he finally asks, because the silence is threatening to suffocate him and shortcutting around still-mostly-uncharted territory is a great way to spring one of those centuries-old traps. Just walking until he finds something is out of the question, of course. The Ruins are huge, and his legs aren’t.

“Ribbit…” “(Grub…?)”

Right. They’ve been stuck here as long as Toriel, with even less contact with the outside world. 

“Food,” he translates. Though Toriel would probably appreciate literal grubs, too, considering her bug-hunting hobby.

“Ribbitttttt.” “(Ohhh. Spider bake sale. Go out and make a left, then keep going until you reach the end of the hall.)”

He has no idea how far that is, so. Walking. Fun.

“‘Preciate it.”

His slippers scuff across the lavender stone, and he can feel all four pairs of eyes follow him out. Normally he only minds stairs, not stares. But for some reason it makes his vertebrae shiver.

Maybe it was just that Whimsun. The sudden crying, before he could even get a word out… he’s not used to that. 

He’s not used to silence. He’s used to laughter and warmth and explosions and booming cries of “SANS PICK UP YOUR SOCK!” He’s used to being at the beating heart of wherever he is—lab or town or bar or, or. Maybe no one needs him, but they like him and want him and he wants them and he never realized how much being alone sucks.

And this is how Toriel’s been living. For centuries.

Maybe she likes it this way, he rationalizes, but he’s heard the excitement in her voice every time he arrived at the door, the faintest longing whisper any time he mentioned his brother or friends. He doesn’t know her at all, and he knows her too well to believe that.

The thoughts buzz in his skull up until his foot plunges through a false veneer of stone. 

Normally, he has a healthy respect for puzzles, for all that they’re not really his heritage to claim. Today, as he lands face-down in a leafpile, all he can muster is a flat annoyance. 

Maybe he could shortcut back to Toriel’s house and restart from there. But ironically, he doesn’t have a good enough sense of direction to find the bakesale from that angle. If he even can now that he’s fallen a layer deeper underground…

The leaves are pretty comfy. It’s tempting to just lie here. It’s what his old habits want.

Fortunately—unfortunately?—something chomps down on his ankle.

“Contains Vitamin D,” a Vegetoid says, its voice muffled by the tibia in its mouth.

“Huh. So this’s where the jokers’ve been hiding.” Sans grunts and kicks the sentient vegetable away. “No wonder I didn’t Cal-cium before.”

Cal-see-’em. It’s horrible. He’d bet twenty G he can get Toriel to shoot milk out her nose with it.

“Plants Can’t Joke Dummy,” the Vegetoid deadpans despite the grin still carved into its face.

Eh, he can’t begrudge it the grin. He knows how having a one-note facial expression goes. Couldn’t it have at least given him a pity “heh,” though?

“Nah, Dummy’s in a different room,” he glibs despite knowing it won’t get him any results.

“Eat Your Greens,” it replies unrelatedly as he checks the puzzle explanation on the sign and treks back up the stairs.

Ugh. Stares and stairs. They really should just close the curtain on him today.

This time, he pays more attention to the terrain, and makes it to the bake sale with only a few more awkward encounters. 

(He hadn’t meant to pick on Loox. He doesn’t pull out the eye trick for just anyone. It isn’t his fault the optical monster had chosen to interpret it as an insult rather than a flashy display of solidarity.)

He blinks at the bake sale prices on the signs. Only seven G for a donut here? Maybe that’s a reasonable price, but Muffet’s Hotland stand was as much of a ripoff as his fried snow. When the Froggit mentioned spiders, he’d expected to have to haggle or barter his way into some baked goods—which was always a good time, with Muffet. She understood the art of a good deal and if she swindled him a bit too much, at least it was going to charity.

Of course, Muffet isn’t here anyway. He doesn’t know what kind of bargaining these spiders would be up for, if any—and considering his track record today, dropping fourteen G in the web is probably his safest bet.

Some spiders crawl down and silently hand him two donuts.

“Pleasure doin’ business with ya,” he says. Habit.

His words echo off of the enclosing walls, topple down like a cave-in. With ya, with ya, with ya. 

Somehow, he hates that even more than the silence.

XXX

Routine is like habit’s second cousin. Close enough to crash family reunions, distant enough to flake out when you need it most.

There’s no routine to coming home, ‘nuts in hand, only to find Toriel sobbing in her armchair.

“Uh,” he grunts, too caught off guard to even curse. 

Toriel doesn’t cry. She didn’t cry when she saw Asgore’s dust, or when Undyne threatened her at spearpoint, or when she stumbled back over the Ruins threshold, blank stare glazing over her mahogany eyes. And Sans—well, he can’t cry, no ducts to pump out saltwater with, so he doesn’t—doesn’t know what to do. 

Now that’s an understatement.

“Spider ‘nut?” he offers weakly, because food never made anything worse.

A wheeze cuts through her sob. She shakes her head, but waves him over. 

Mixed messages, here.

“I was gonna get ya a cinnabun,” he approaches with soft steps, “but QC was closed today.”

Toriel wipes her face. Her hands are shaking; her claws leave thin trails in the fur above her brow.

“Of course. Of course, that’s all it was.” Her laugh cracks over the words.

“Huh?” Another step closer. 

He wishes he weren’t holding donuts; he’d like to take her hands, pull them away from her face before her claws decide they want to dig in any deeper. He’s not sure that’d be welcome, anyway, after the scare he gave her last night.

“Ap…apologies,” she murmurs. “I… s-so pathetic…”

“Hey.” His browbone scrunches a little. “Not sure what you’re goin’ on about, but I won’t judge. There’s do-nuthin’ to be ashamed of.”

After all of today’s failures, he almost expects it to fall flat, but this is Toriel he’s talking to. A wet bleat interrupts her tears—and boy, that’s a lot of snot. He’s impressed. 

“O-oh dear…” She stares down at her slimy hands.

He shuffles the donuts to the dining table so his hands are free, then shrugs out of his hoodie. 

“Here.” He offers it to her, and she blinks down at him sharply.

“What—no, Sans—”

“‘S due for a wash anyway.”

He drapes the hoodie over her hands before she can protest any further. Too late, he hopes she wasn’t protesting because she wanted something cleaner to wipe her hands on. Oh well.

“...Thank you.” She clutches the garment tightly.

Something squeezes in his ribcage. They’re both staring, and trying to pretend they’re not, and the fireplace is cold so the only thing he can hear is her still-somewhat-congested breathing.

“You, uh. Want me to give you some space…?” he finally asks.

“No,” her answer is quicker and firmer than he expected. “No, please. Stay.”

He nods. Then, hoping he’s not pushing his luck, he hauls himself up onto the arm of her broad chair. His legs hang off the side, his back pressed to her shoulder.

“Now ya won’t have to break your neck lookin’ down at me,” he rationalizes away the touch.

“How thoughtful.” She smiles with a wet snort. 

Her hands tangle deeper into his crumpled hoodie. Her claws are retracted now, though. He’s pretty sure she won’t poke any holes in it. Not that he’d mind if she did.

“I… thought you…” she inhales a shaky breath, “I thought you had left.”

“Yeah, I went out to get snacks and—oh.” He blinks. “You thought I—why?”

She’d thought he left. For good. Not even that he was gone, which could’ve implied she thought a stray Froggit offed him for one of his bad jokes. That he could’ve understood. But left, on purpose?

Nope. Not happening. She’d have to throw him out the doors and recast the seal if she wanted to get rid of him.

“I—I nearly hurt you last night…” she trails off, brows furrowed. 

“Yeah, ‘cause I sleepwalked into your room.” Sleepwalked? Sleptwalked? Technically it was sleep-shortcutted, so. Whatever. “That’s, uh, what the apology ‘nuts were for.”

Stupid walking with his stupid legs. He must’ve taken even longer than he’d thought if Toriel had thought he wasn’t coming back.

“Of course. Of course.” Another weak laugh. “I have been falling apart over nothing…”

“I’ll leave a note next time,” he says lightly, but he means it. 

He knew he meant a lot to her, but this—geez, this scares him. And thrills him, in a messed-up way that sends guilt itching at his collarbones. Someone does still want him, and that someone happens to be the funniest, sweetest, most incredible monster in the Underground. Staying with her was the easiest decision he’s ever made.

The thing is, where he stays is rarely his decision. Not with his luck. If anything happens to him, and she thinks he left by choice—

He just. Won’t think about that. Honestly, he may look as tough as wet cardboard, but he’s not gonna fall down to any Froggit or Loox. 

(And if any twist of fate tries to drop him somewhere new again—he’ll fight and claw with all the determination he doesn’t have. He’ll try.)

(It’s the best he can do.)

He burrows his hand into the hoodie with hers, because the joke he has in mind doesn’t work without touching her palm. That’s the only reason.

“Tori. I’m sticking with you.” 

She looks up, and her hand twitches. Still sticky.

“Snot like you can get rid of me that easy,” he says, in case the first quip was too subtle.

And there it is again, that laugh he lov—likes. 

(Cherishes. Adores. Wants to bottle and put on everything like ketchup.)

“Thank you, Sans. I am… sorry you had to see me like that,” Toriel says, having mostly recovered. He can’t feel her shoulder trembling against his back anymore.

“Hey, like I said. No judgment here.” He shifts, bumping his shoulder against hers with a grin. “What’re friends for?”

After a blink, a warm smile spreads across her face, uncovering the two sharp teeth poking down from her upper lip. 

“They are for worrying me silly, apparently.” 

He’s about to apologize when she cups the side of his face, hand still sticky. Her thumb brushes the curve of his cheekbone.

“Also, for making me laugh, and smile, and apologizing for things that are not his fault, and being kinder than I remembered was possible.”

“Uh-uh…” he blushes, warm and blue under her touch. His brain is short-circuiting a little, and it shows in the embarrassingly flimsy joke he comes up. “I know you are, but what am I?”

She laughs anyway. She always does. It’s enough to make up for every silent Froggit and Whimsun and Loox in the Underground.

“You are awfully handsome in that shade of blue,” she answers, and his brain’s short-circuit goes into full power outage—

Only to explode like Gyftmas lights when she presses her lips to the side of his skull, her protruding teeth scraping slightly in a way that makes him shiver. 

That’s something he could stand to make a habit.

[rabbitcruiser]

International Rabbit Day

If you have a pet rabbit, pamper them! If not, do your research and decide if these adorable little creatures could be the right fit for your home.

Held on the last Saturday of September, this annual celebration of the long-eared, short-tailed mammal is not just in the name of the millions of bunnies kept as pets across the Western world but aims to promote a serious message about animal welfare.

On International Rabbit Day® we are encouraged to consider, not only the companionship offered by our favorite hutch-dwellers, but the various ways in which rabbits are harmed by medical and cosmetic testing, hunting, fur farming and, of course, casseroling.

Yes, there is a serious side to International Rabbit Day® but you may not be surprised to learn that events are somewhat sporadic – so let your bunny out of its hutch and give it an extra carrot or two (and be sure to plan chicken for the family roast).

How to Celebrate International Rabbit Day®

There are several different ways to celebrate International Rabbit Day®.. One of the best ways is to adopt a pet rabbit. Many animal shelters offer this service. Take some time to research the shelters in your local area. You can email them and ask whether there are any rabbits available for adoption at the moment.

Suppose you are thinking about adding a pet rabbit to the family on International Rabbit Day®. In that case, it is important to make sure that you are aware of the responsibilities you will have as a rabbit owner. You need to make sure you are in a position to give your rabbit everything that he or she needs to have a happy and healthy life. So, what do rabbits need?

They require a suitable place to live, protection from disease, injury, suffering, and pain, appropriate company, the ability to behave as they normally would, and a healthy diet, which includes clean and fresh water.

Rabbits love to dig and they need to have enough space to run around. They also enjoy company from their owner, as well as other rabbits. In terms of diet, they enjoy eating a handful of various leafy greens on a daily basis, such as kale and cabbage. They also want to feel safe and they need to have some shade when the sun is shining. They also eat a lot of grass and hay, and it is important that their living area is dry and is protected from the rain and wind.

You can also use this day to learn more about rabbit welfare. Rabbits have distinct needs compared with other domestic animals, and it is important that we understand and appreciate this. You can use International Rabbit Day® to do some research online regarding the sort of environment that rabbits require.

You can also look for different ways that you can help to contribute to rabbit welfare. You can contact your local shelter and make a donation or volunteer some of your time. We are sure that they will greatly appreciate this. You may even decide to put on some sort of event on International Rabbit Day® in order to fundraise and raise money for your local animal shelter. From bake sales to fun runs; there are so many different things that you can do to raise money for this cause.

Learn about International Rabbit Day®

International Rabbit Day® has been designed so that we can appreciate the contributions and value that our pet rabbits bring to our lives. The day is also incredibly important in terms of promoting the welfare of rabbits, as well as encouraging people to create healthy environments for their pet rabbits.

There are a number of different events that are hosted on this date by The House Rabbit Society. This includes various fundraising events and a carnival.

Pet rabbits form complicated social structures. They are very territorial but they are also highly social. They also have a very unusual digestive system. The food they consume will pass through their gut, resulting in the creation of caecotrophs, which are special droppings.

Rabbits will then eat these caecotrophs, meaning that they re-ingest their food. This highlights why it is so important to make sure that your rabbit follows a healthy and appropriate diet. Pet rabbits are also some of the most intelligent pet animals.

If you use positive reward-based training, you can get your pet rabbit to respond to your commands. You may also be surprised to learn that rabbits; teeth grow at a rate of 3mm per week and that they are always growing!

There are a lot of fictional rabbits that have become famous all around the world. The most famous is Bugs Bunny. Not only is the character well-known for his antics with the Roadrunner, but he was also the star of the show, alongside Michael Jordan, in Space Jam. Of course, one way to spend International Rabbit Day® is by watching this film.

Lola Bunny is another rabbit that makes an appearance! Other famous rabbits include the waistcoat-wearing White Rabbit from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter ~Rabbit, and of course, Roger Rabbit.

We have also seen rabbits appear as part of folklore and mythology. Often, the rabbit is viewed as a trickster; an animal that is able to outwit his enemies. This is something that has carried on into American popular culture. You only need to look at Bugs Bunny to see that this is the case! It is certainly interesting to dig a bit deeper into mythology and folklore.

For example, did you know that in Korean and Japanese mythology, rabbits live on the moon, where they make rice cakes? In a mythological story from Vietnamese culture, the rabbit is portrayed as youthfulness and innocence.

History of International Rabbit Day®

House Rabbit Society has been celebrating International Rabbit Day® for a number of years. Their mission states the following:

ALL rabbits are valuable as individuals, regardless of breed purity, temperament, state of health, or relationship to humans. The welfare of all rabbits is our primary consideration. In line with our mission, we are against the exploitation of rabbits…Domestic rabbits are companion animals and should be afforded at least the same individual rights, level of care, and opportunity for longevity as commonly afforded to dogs and cats who live as human companions.

Yes, rabbits have a very long history in our culture and they make great pets, but they also need our help. Not all rabbits are safe. Rabbits are used for product testing and medical experimentation, as well as being hunted. It is up to help rabbits live a safe and protected life, and this is why International Rabbit Day® is so important.

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