#Tender Estimation

[bidkon]

Common Mistakes in Cost Estimation and How to Avoid Them

Thus, cost estimation forms an important part of every construction project process and happens to be its major success determinant. Therefore, the aspect of cost estimation is relevant in budgeting and planning, not allowing the aspect of financial consumption to shoot up. These estimations bring about common mistakes that make a huge discrepancy in the reliable estimate of the costs which are to rise. The learning related to these mistakes and the know-how to avoid them is quite important for construction project management firms, cost consultants, and quantity surveyors. 

Underestimating Project Scope

The most common mistake in estimating cost is when there is an underestimated project scope. This usually happens because of ineffective project planning where the requirements of the project have not been well understood. Poorly estimated scope results in delays, cost overruns, and poor-quality work. Elaborate project planning and discussion with stakeholders should pave the way for capturing all facets of a project. Furthermore, engaging the services of construction project management firms will also substantiate definition of scope accurately, otherwise the scope of a project in terms of tender cost estimation will miss out on several elements.

Ignorance of Market Conditions

Ignorant of Market Conditions. Prices of materials, labour, and equipment are bound to fluctuate for a number of reasons—economic scenarios, changes in source of supply, and fluctuations in demand for material, among others. Ignoring these would lead to serious overruns with variances between estimation and actual cost. In order to minimise these risks, the cost consultant shall ensure keeping abreast with market trends in the price level and shall provide for contingencies with all material prices possibly changing within the estimate. Review and update cost estimates on a regular basis in order to reflect prevailing conditions in the market to ensure that it does not lose its accuracy over time.

Poor Risk Management

Poor risk management is another critical cost estimation predicament. Construction projects are prone to being inherently risky in nature, such as risks from weather, unforeseen site conditions, and regulatory changes. In case they are not properly catered for, they may ultimately lead to high cost overruns. Whatever the case, a quantity surveyor should be able to carry out a comprehensive risk assessment and include appropriate contingencies in his cost estimate. The more the risks are identified early and planned for in advance, the more reliable and resilient the cost estimate that the construction project management firm will establish.

Being Negligent About Indirect Costs

Many estimators only consider direct costs like material and labour costs, and most of the time, they skip indirect costs. Examples of indirect costs are those associated with project management, permits, insurance, and overhead. Ignoring such costs during estimating the same may cause underestimation. Therefore, it should be detailed either through direct or indirect costs. Involvement of professional cost consultants with relevant experience will ensure the fact that necessary costs have been taken on board and the cost estimate is made reliable and accurate.

Conclusion

Accurate prediction of cost is important in construction. Construction project management firms, cost consultants, and quantity surveyors can enhance their estimate reliability by observing principles that prevent the usual mistakes in underestimation of project scope, non-consideration of market conditions, improper risk management, and neglecting indirect costs. Adequate planning, continuous market study, effective risk evaluation, and detailed cost breakdown are the major strategies to be followed to enhance the practices regarding cost estimation. This is apart from assisting in delivering projects on budget; they would also help in the overall efficiency and profitability of construction endeavours.

[twilight-zoned-out]

Things I noticed about The Great Gatsby that might help put the book in perspective:

-It takes place during Prohibition. Although the book is constantly filled with people drinking, the making and selling of alcohol was technically illegal and had been since 1920.

(Note: this is also why everyone gets mad at Daisy when she wants mint julep when they get to the hotel. Unless they smuggle in alcohol from home, it’s a ridiculous thing to ask.)

-1920′s humor included absurdism and wit, which combined humor and intelligence or ‘sharp’ intelligence. Daisy makes witty comments throughout the book. When she talks about Ferdie in a ridiculous way and Nick continues the conversation as if he thinks she is being serious, they are essentially joking with each other in the conventional way of the period.

-Nick is older than Tom, Daisy, and Jordan. He is not only an outsider in terms of location and wealth, but in terms of a (slightly) older culture looking in on the newer generation. When Nick leaves Jordan with the comment that he is “5 years too old to lie to [himself] and call it honor,” his insult carries extra weight because he is saying she is too young to mature herself enough for a reasonable conversation.

-It takes place after World War I, during a time when the US aggressively pursued an isolationist stance. The US did not want to become involved in any overseas wars. Most of the main characters in the book served in some way during World War I. 

(Note: This story was written before Germany began to loom as a threat in the years before World War II. When Nick calls the deaths at Gatsby’s mansion a Holocaust, it did not have the same connotation it has today.)

[edits made]

[pejasurveying1]

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[bidartpro]

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[aestheticbf]

When it comes to façade projects, it's important to have a team that can handle everything from start to finish. At Aesthetic Building and Facades, we provide a complete package of services, including estimation, tendering, procurement, site installation, and final handover.

We'll work with you every step of the way to ensure that your building's exterior is everything you want it to be. Call us on 📞 02 9622 2455

[sayruq]

unicef estimates that a thousand children in Gaza have become amputees since the conflict began in October. “This is the biggest cohort of pediatric amputees in history,” Ghassan Abu-Sittah, a London-based plastic-and-reconstructive surgeon who specializes in pediatric trauma, told me recently. I met him in the waiting room of his plastic-surgery clinic on London’s Harley Street, and we walked to a nearby pub for a glass of water. Abu-Sittah, a fifty-four-year-old British Palestinian with an angular face and tender, deep-set eyes, has treated child survivors of war for the past thirty years in Iraq, Yemen, Syria, and elsewhere. Abu-Sittah is the author of “The War Injured Child,” the first medical textbook on the subject, which was published last May. In October and November, he spent forty-three days in Gaza, conducting emergency surgeries with Doctors Without Borders. He shuttled between two hospitals: Al-Shifa and Al-Ahli, which is also known as the Baptist hospital. The casualty rate was so high that, during some intense periods, he didn’t leave the operating room for three days. “It felt like a scene from an American Civil War movie,” he said. In Gaza, Abu-Sittah was performing as many as six amputations a day. “Sometimes you have no other medical option,” he explained. “The Israelis had surrounded the blood bank, so we couldn’t do transfusions. If a limb was bleeding profusely, we had to amputate.” The dearth of basic medical supplies, owing to blockades, also contributed to the number of amputations. Without the ability to irrigate a wound immediately in an operating room, infection and gangrene often set in. “Every war wound is considered dirty,” Karin Huster, a nurse who leads medical teams in Gaza for Doctors Without Borders, told me. “It means that many get a ticket to the operating room.” To mark the gravity of these procedures, and to mourn, Abu-Sittah and other medical staff placed the severed limbs of children in small cardboard boxes. They labelled the boxes with masking tape, on which they wrote a name and body part, and buried them. At the pub, he showed me a photograph he’d taken of one such box, which read, “Salahadin, Foot.” Some wounded children were too young to know their own names, he added, telling the story of an amputee who’d been pulled from rubble as the sole survivor of an attack.

[tenebrous-if]

LINKS:

🜲 Play the Game

Estimated Release: N/A

🜲 FAQ

🜲 Pinterest

🜲 Character Descriptions

🜲 Family Descriptions

🜲 Map of Arvandor

🜲 Genre(s): Fantasy, Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, and Action/Adventure.

🜲 Rating: Tenebrous is an 18+ Fantasy IF set within the mythical world of Arvandor.

The Kingdom of Aetheria, within the world of Arvandor, is a nation ripe with history. King Lysander du Aetheria rose up and led the fledgling Aetherian Army against The Forsaken One— Herald of the Abyssal Uprising— and came out victorious when everyone else had failed. With his victory, Lysander placed Aetheria as one of the key pillars of keeping Arvandor safe; allowing for peace to reign over the continent for centuries.

Peace, however, was never meant to last.

The Order of Netheron, Followers of The Forsaken One, had captured you at the tender age of fifteen, holding you captive for a decade within a tower only labeled as “The Spire”. All due to their wish of resurrecting their fallen deity— something that they believe could only be accomplished by using the blood of King Lysander’s descendants; it was a ritual that didn’t go as planned— one that did bring back their deity, but only for your eyes and ears only; the both of you attached to the other in a way that probably wasn’t intended.

And that’s how you spent the last decade of your life… Growing used to the presence that now appears whenever the time calls for it. It isn’t until your twenty-fifth year that you’re finally found and taken back to Aetheria, to everything you had long thought you’d lost.

Your time in the sun, however, was short-lived as the tidings of an even darker uprising was beginning to grow— one that threatens to demolish everything and everyone.

Can you figure out how to save your home?

🜲 Create your Aetherian Royal:

Name/Nickname

Gender [Male, Female, or Non-Binary]

Appearance

Hobbies

Personality [Mainly involving unique reactions to certain situations— the MC is semi-set in some ways]

🜲 Romance 1 of 4 potential love interests— each offering their own unique experience within the story and how the world at large will react to the burgeoning relationship.

🜲 Bond with your family after being apart for so long. They have missed you a great deal. [The MC is a middle child.]

🜲 Harness the magic that flows through your veins due to the gift of your blood.

🜲 Choose from a variety of skill sets that your MC may be able to acquire. [Note: This means you can choose something to specialize in, instead of having to constantly choose between being a diplomat or warrior. You can instead choose to be a swordsman while also focusing on the art of diplomacy.]

🜲 Build a codex from the various interactions that you can have throughout your story— from places, to people, to old legends that have tested the passage of time within Arvandor.

Astorian/Astoria du Aerilon: The Heir to Aerilon, and the person that was your betrothed from the time you were seven until your disappearance. Astorian/Astoria spent every winter with you, and you every summer with them, in hopes that a union between the both of you would bring your countries together. You remember many things from that time of your life: their warm laugh, brazen attitude, arrogant smirk, and their inability to stay still for long. Meeting them again? It simply proves how much can change in a decade. [Can choose to have been in an almost relationship with them or still rivals.]

William/Wilhelmina du Arvandor: A recent addition to the Holy Order, who has an iron-clad need to help and be of assistance to anyone that may require it. Being a Paladin has been something they’ve strived towards for the last eight years of their life; training being second to nothing. It’s simply a mere coincidence, or the Divine’s Will, that their first major mission was to rid Arvandor of the last dregs of Netheron… A mission that brought them to The Spire, with a small band of warriors, to carry out that very task— wherein they find the Lost Heir of Aetheria. You.

Gabriel/Gabrielle Adair: Being renowned within the arcane arts, having achieved the rank of High Mage within the Aetherian Institute of Magic, it’s of little surprise that the royal family of Aetheria would call on someone with their skill set— if it weren’t for the scandal that still plagues them. You’re not sure what could have been so bad that would force them to retreat within themself like they have, especially if your parents had seen them fit enough to tutor you, but it’s obviously something that weighs heavily upon them. Will it be possible to wrangle out the secrets of their past when you’re still trying to figure out your own gift?

Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis: The Forsaken One, an individual that’s visible only to your eyes from a ritual gone wrong. There isn’t much you can glean from them, after all you can only take what they say with a grain of salt, but the shadows that lurk within their eyes has nothing to do with the darkness that now lives within them. It’s hard sometimes to look at what they’ve become when you’ve seen what they were in Old Texts, when they weren’t the Forsaken One, weren’t the Divine’s Disgrace… When they were simply Ilyran/Ilyria Caelestis, High Priest/Priestess of the Holy Order.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: Bruises

Bruises - or ecchymoses

A discoloration and tenderness of the skin or mucous membranes.

Due to the leakage of blood from an injured blood vessel into the tissues.

Pupura - bruising as the result of a disease condition.

A very small bruise is called a petechia.

These often appear as many tiny red dots clustered together, and could indicate a serious problem.

Pattern of a Bruise

Bruises change colors over time in a predictable pattern, so it is possible to estimate when an injury occurred by the color of the bruise.

Initially, a bruise will be reddish, the color of the blood under the skin.

After one to two days, the red blood cells begin to break down, and the bruise will darken to a blue or purplish color.

This fades to green at about day 6.

Around the 8th or 9th day, the skin over the bruised area will have a brown or yellowish appearance, and it will gradually diminish back to its normal color.

Long periods of standing will cause the blood that collects in a bruise to seep through the tissues.

Bruises are actually made of little pools of blood, so the blood in one place may flow downhill after awhile and appear in another.

For instance, bruising in the back of the abdomen may eventually appear in the groin; bruising in the thigh or the knee will work its way down to the ankle.

The blood under the skin that causes the discoloration of bruising should be totally reabsorbed by the body in 3 weeks or less.

At that time, the skin color should completely return to normal.

Sometimes, a bruise may become solid and increase in size instead of dissolving. This may indicate blood trapped in the tissues, which may be need to be drained. This is referred to as a hematoma.

Less commonly, the body may develop calcium deposits at the injury site in a process called heterotopic ossification.

Treatment

A bruise by itself needs no medical treatment.

It is often recommended that ice packs be applied on and off during the first 24 hours of injury to reduce the bruising.

After that, heat, especially moist heat, is recommended to increase the circulation and the healing of the injured tissues.

Rest, elevation of the affected part, and compression with a bandage will also retard the accumulation of blood.

Rarely, if a bruise is so large that the body cannot completely absorb it or if the site becomes infected, it may have to be surgically removed.

Prevention

Vitamin K promotes normal clotting in the blood, and therefore may help reduce the tendency to bruise easily. Green leafy vegetables, alfalfa, broccoli, seaweed, and fish liver oils are dietary sources of vitamin K.

Other good foods to eat would be those containing bioflavonoids, such as reddish-blue berries. These can assist in strengthening the connective tissue, which will decrease the spread of blood and bruising.

Zinc and vitamin C supplements are also recommended for this.

Sources: 1 2 ⚜ More: Writing Notes & References Writing Realistic Injuries ⚜ On Anatomy ⚜ Fight Scenes Part 1 2

[nicelytousled]

Steve's House From Hell

I'm bastardising @mcmansionhell's carefully honed craft to make fun of Steve's house from Stranger Things. If you like making fun of far more ridiculous houses and learning about architecture along the way give them a follow!

The Harrington's house is actually in Atlana. 8253 Carlton Road, Riverdale to be specific. With that in mind, lets get into the epic highs and lows of this property.

FRONT EXTERIOR

Built in 1976 when Steve was the tender age of ten, this grey hunk of bricks boasts 4 beds, 5 baths, 2 acres of land, and of course the heated pool. These photos are a mix of shots from the show and pics taken when the property was last sold in 2009.

FOYER

There isn't physically a chandelier in the Harrington's foyer but spiritually there is.

MAIN ROOM

I think Steve's Plaid RoomTM was a set built separatley from the house? Unless that balcony bit has been renovated since 2009.

POOL ADMIRATION ROOM

Why this room has two giant empty doorframes into the main room I don't know. Otherwise it's kinda cosy!

A KITCHEN

I have no idea where this kitchen is in relation to any of the other rooms.

REAR EXTERIOR

(as someone who has zero garages I may have gotten emotional here)

I hope you enjoyed this foray into all the photos I could find of Steve's dumb rich people house! Worth an estimated $421,700 today, it's nowhere near the fanciest or most ridiculous McMansion out there. Nonetheless I hope this inspires you to include it's more nonsense features in your fics.

[jayparked]

teaser: relief switch | jaeyun | m

release date: TBD pairing: switch sim jaeyun x switch female reader genre: smut au: established relationship rating: explicit/18+, minors dni estimated word count: 7k+ // current word count: 4.2k sexual warnings: oral (male receiving), fingering, dirty talk, head pusher jake, unprotective sex, non penetrative and penetrative sex, whiny jake, begging, swearing, slight size kink???, thigh riding, hair pulling, lots of praise (praise kink???), spanking, naked dry humping???, pet names (useful girl, sweet boy, good boy/girl,sweetheart, babe, baby etc), marking, edging, overstimulation, forced orgasm, more tbd ♡ a/n: a special thank you to my best friend @sungbeams for all the encouragement and reading over this even with it being unfinished. this one is dedicated to you ♡

“How would you like me to take it out on you?” you question with a lowered voice, tilting your head down slightly to flick your eyes more up at him, batting your eye lashes in a way you know he can’t resist. 

His thumb stops moving just below your bottom lip where his eyes also rest. “Well, depends on the type of day you had. Do you need to let out your anger? Pretend I’m your boss and raise your voice, say some absurd things? Or do you need to feel useful?” The more he talks, the lower his tone and volume go, his voice growing softer while his speech slows. To make it worse, at the end of his sentence he releases your lips from his gaze, his deep brown eyes flicking up ever so slightly to meet your own. And you instantly become putty in his hands. 

“Useful,” you mutter, averting your gaze to the side to avoid the smirk you know is displayed on his handsome face.

“Oh, I can put you to use, love. Knees. Now.” Jake commands with a snap of his finger before pointing it down at the ground and using his other hand to give your bottom lip a quick swipe with his thumb. 

“Right here? What about the bedro-“

“I thought,” he cuts you off, removing his hand from your face to slowly start undoing his belt, “you wanted,” the belt’s on the floor, his hands now unbuttoning his slacks, “to be,” his eyes are locked on yours, “useful,” he growls.

Placing a hand on the back of your head, he leans you forward, giving you a swift tender kiss on the forehead before pushing your head down. 

You fall to your knees quickly, your hands sliding down his torso until they rest at his hips where his slacks are barely hanging on by his growing bulge which you’re now eye level with. 

Between clenched teeth and a sharp inhale of his breath, Jake commands, “Don’t make me have to ask you twice.”

Your hands move without any further hesitation to push his slacks and underwear down from his hips, his hardened member bouncing at the release of the constraints. How is he already this hard? Jake’s weeping cock is already fully stiff and alert, begging for contact. 

Looking straight up at your man, wanting to hold his gaze, you stick your tongue out and give him a long lick from the base of his member to just below the bulbous part of his tip. Jake’s head falls back against the door, his eyes fluttering to the back of his head as one of his hands reaches for your hair. He strokes it gently at first before giving a warning tug. 

“Please,” he whines softly with an airy gasp, eyes still closed, “not today. Don’t tease me today, Y/n.”

a/n: ♡ pls like, comment, and reblog if you enjoyed! ♡ masterlist all rights reserved jayparked 09/20/24 do not copy, repost, or translate want to be added to my tag list? click here

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

No thoughts, head empty except for…

The thought of werewolf!Simon asking you to put a collar on him.

CoD ML

Just imagine this rough-looking imposing figure awkwardly approaching you with a collar in his big scarred hands. His palms are marred with traces of all the fights he’s gotten into, but the worst of them betray he’s gone Feral.

Yet Simon tries so hard to stay with you as long as he can.

Despite the terrible craving to let the Wolf take over completely forevermore and vanish.

Before he hurts you in a way that wants to make him eat silver until his lungs rot with the stuff.

“Y/N?” For a moment he hesitates, but he knows it’s too late when your eyes fall on the thick black leather band lined with silver studs. “Collar me.”

“You sure you want that?” You’re more than aware how much pride your recently returned husband puts into being a Wolf. Moreover, collaring is a very intimate experience, almost on the same level as mating. It’s binding.

A level of commitment neither of you had expected him capable of. Yet, Simon craves it even more than the ring on his finger.

That’s what his human side wanted.

But the Wolf wants this.

Needs this.

“Yes.”

He picks you up and plops you on the counter, secretly pleased with the way your boobs bounce ever so slightly as you land on the surface. Also, he simply enjoys displaying his strength so he’s prone to sweeping you up whenever he feels like it.

Simon leans in to give you easier access to his neck. Eyes closed, he loses himself in the way your nimble fingers put the collar on. A low growl escapes him when he hears the click of the lock, the leather flat against his skin.

“I can take it off,” you offer, alarmed by the swift snarl that passes over his face.

“No. Just gotta get used to it yet.” Simon’s features soften as his calloused fingertips brush your cheek. It’s in moments like these, when he notices the sharp sting of anxiety in your scent, that he barely has the courage to touch you at all. “That’s all.”

His eyes wander to the empty pill box behind you. “Need to up the dose.”

“Ah,” you murmur. It’s all you can say, haunted by the visions of him hanging over the loo, sickly and pale. Unfortunately, there’s no other way to keep him here.

Either hope to remain human enough through ingesting wolfsbane mixed with silver only to vomit your guts out or go Feral and lose yourself to the Wolf.

“So it’s getting worse again.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the last estimate they gave you?”

For how much longer will you be here?

The thought hangs heavy in the air, haunting the silence in your kitchen.

For both your sakes, Simon ignores your question. As per usual whenever his remaining time comes up, the only kindness he can show you is carrying on casually. “I’ll drop by Johnny later. Get the proper prescription.”

“I’ll write a memo.” Lest he forgets.

As he tends to do often nowadays.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?”

Simon takes your hand and hooks one of your fingers beneath his collar. Making use of your puzzlement, he cups your cheeks and gently presses his lips on yours in a tender kiss. “This means something. Fucking everything. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

In all his forms.

Ghost.

The Wolf.

Simon Riley.

[katerinaaqu]

So how old is Odysseus exactly?

A small Odysseus age analysis based on a description in the Iliad

Many make speculations of his age, me included. Interestingly we have several hints in both art and the scripts but is hard to pinpoint. In general Odysseus is considered old or one of the oldest generations among the poems.

In art he is always depicted bearded which is something only men in maturity have in ancient greek art (somewhere between the late 20s early 30s) and his beard is full indicating that he is at least in his 30s. Most art of his, ranges from the events of the Trojan war till his journey and the murder of the suitors. In all cases we see him having a full beard. So it is pretty hard to determine his age but we know he was at least 30 in the war making him at his final 40s or early 50s when he comes back home depending on interpretation.

In the Iliad in the 23rd rhapsody/book we have an interesting description by Antilochus

"And this one (Odysseus) is of an earlier/previous generation of earlier men; we call him "omogeronda" (early-old man, green old age); yet he is really hard to be competed against in speed (lit: his feet are troublesome to compete) by the Achaeans, except from Achilles"

For starters he clearly states that he is "one generation older" (προτέρης γενεής) but he also calls him with the interesting word "ωμογέρων" which means "raw old man" literally aka "not ripe old age". The word has two possible interpretations; one that he is a "green old man" aka he just began to grow older or to pass to old age and two "a vigorous and lively old man" 😉

Now it could be a tender nickname that they call him "old" but I think the first interpretation fits better to the description. So we know that Odysseus was already mature man when he entered the war (bearded=somewhere in his early 30s and above) and he spent 10 years in the war. We know that he is "one generation older".

The age of marriage differs in ancient greece (for example in 5th century BC Athens, 300 years after Homer's time and almost 1000 years after the time Trojan war took place, the age of marriage for men ideally was 30 years old when they had served their dues although it is unclear how often it was being done this way) but we are to expect that a man in his middle 20s was expected to have at least considered marriage if not already have a spouse and kids. So if Odysseus is "one generation older" on average he is around 20 years older than younger individuals (anywhere between 15-20 years could be closer) such as Diomedes or Antilochus here or Aias. Nestor who was considered an old man was in his 60s. He was still active on the field just not the same way as characters like Odysseus were.

Given the characterization "ωμογέρων" in the Odyssey and the description of him being a generation older than many young heroes I should calculate Odysseus is in the same age group as people like Agamemnon, making him older than other characters like Patroclus who was also generally older (closer to his early or even middle 30s if we assume that Achilles who was repeatedly said to be very young he was in his middle to final 20s during the war). That would make Odysseus a middle aged man and therefore closer in his 40s at the final year of the Trojan war.

My rough estimation is that he is in his early or mid-40s when this conversation takes place. He is middle-aged and yet he is vigorous, sportive and fast (so much so that only Achilles is said to be easily competing against him while most achaeans have hard time to), he is also strong given the many times his strength in spear, sword or bow were praised but at the same time he is obviously past the age of youth. That would make him in his early 50s at least when he arrives in Ithaca.

But what do you guys think? Agree or disagree let me know to the comments below! ^_^

[pejasurveying1]

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[angelwings-crossbowstrings]

Blood Ties Chapter 6

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Typical TWD violence and gore, allusions to suicide, morning sickness.

A/N: Okay, I screwed up on some of the timeline. I made a change in chapters 1 and 2 that reader and Daryl met up every 3 days instead of every 6. Also, I adjusted the amount of time between Rick waking up and actually making it to Atlanta. So instead of it being about 9 weeks into the outbreak, we’re about 12-13 weeks in when they are at the CDC. Rick’s timeline was really the only one I could work with, so I hope to hell it makes sense now. Anyway, on with the show!

Moodboard by @dannyo000 💙

Morning came way too quickly. In an environment where you should have felt at ease and been able to get restful sleep, you were a wreck. After fleeing Daryl’s room, you spent a long while curled up on the bed, folded into yourself as tightly as physically possible. You cried until you were exhausted, your eyes red and sore. In the end, sleep was not merciful enough to take you. 

When the wall you were staring at began to distort and move, you finally deemed it necessary to leave the bed and force yourself to shower. You felt dirty. You had responded so vehemently to Daryl’s advances, quick to repudiate the pressing matter that would most certainly only continue to grow. You couldn’t blame the hunter for your actions. 

With the water running and steam filling the small bathroom, you shed your clothing and stepped beneath the spray. It had been months without a proper shower, the water itself feeling like heaven against your skin. You hadn’t even realized how filthy you truly were until you saw the grimy water swirling at your feet. Scrubbing your skin was something you decided to savor; the same with washing your hair. You shampooed it twice before deciding you had probably abused the hot water rule and reluctantly shut it off. 

The air in the bathroom was humid, still steamy, which made it a little less shocking to step out of the stall. After toweling yourself off, you wiped off the mirror with your hand, taking in your reflection. Circles under your eyes and a more angular look to your face; not sleeping and eating less and less as the world continued to deteriorate. 

The mirror was small so you had to step back to get a look at your body, taking stock of things you hadn’t noticed while in a state of constant stress and fear. Your breasts were tender, but Daryl hadn’t exactly been gentle with them the night before. Other than that, nothing appeared different that could be blamed on pregnancy. You had definitely lost weight as you examined your stomach. Trying to track the days in your head without your calendar, you eventually estimated that you were only about 7 weeks. You would need some sort of book or would eventually need to ask Lori or Carol about the changes you could expect. 

But that would mean telling them. 

As you dressed, you wondered how long you might be able to hide it, assuming Daryl wouldn’t want his comrades to know since even giving them your name had been privileged information as far as he was concerned. 

You left your room as quietly as possible, figuring it was really too early for anyone else to be awake. They would all probably sleep in now that they had the chance. You left your boots off, padding barefoot through the halls to the kitchen. Maybe there was some tea that would help settle your nervous stomach. It was dark, the lights off to conserve power. Pursing your lips, you looked toward the ceiling, feeling a bit ridiculous. 

“VI, could you turn on the lights?”

The response was immediate with soft lighting chasing away the shadows in the room. You raised your brows in shock that the system had operated for you. 

The kitchen was well stocked but you settled with some black tea and an apple. You probably wouldn’t be able to keep anything else down with the relentless nausea. Was this the result of stress or could it be morning sickness?

The silence and solitude helped more than you could have imagined, but all too soon, people began to shuffle in. Most of them appeared to be hung over, especially poor Glenn. To your surprise, almost everyone greeted you and asked how you slept. You dodged the question with a shrug each time. They seemed content with that and moved on to the next person. 

T-Dog came into the cooking area and began digging through the contents of each cabinet and then the refrigerator, obviously intending to make something either for himself or perhaps for everyone. Carol came around to start coffee, offering you a squeeze to the bicep and a gentle smile that you returned. 

You were nearly finished with your tea when the smell wafted through the air, sending your stomach into a revolt. You were quick to cover your mouth and nose, spinning to find T-Dog scrambling eggs. You audibly gagged before your feet moved of their own accord, carrying you quickly toward the door. To make matters worse, you had to bodily maneuver past Daryl to make your escape toward the privacy of your room.

Your meager breakfast was flushed down, the act of bringing it up leaving you more exhausted than you had already been. Maybe spending the day in bed wouldn’t be such a terrible thing. 

You crawled onto the bed, melting into the soft mattress. In pure contradiction to your earlier predicament, your mind went blissfully blank and sleep found you almost immediately. 

You jerked awake to the sound of a small knock at the door. You didn’t feel quite rested but you did feel better. Your stomach still felt uneasy but you didn’t foresee it forcing you to pray to the porcelain god anytime soon. Your body was reluctant to comply with your brain’s order to leave the bed but you soon found yourself in front of the door, pulling it open to meet the concerned face of Carol. 

“Honey, how are you feeling?” She asked softly. 

“I’m okay.” You answered tiredly, leaning against the door. The urge to go back to sleep for the foreseeable future was quite difficult to ignore. 

“I know it’s none of my business but,” the woman dropped her gaze to her wringing hands, “it’s just that I couldn’t stand the smell of eggs when I was expecting Sophia. And I wasn’t just sick in the mornings. It was all the time, which made Ed—well, that doesn’t matter.”

You were already feeling the familiar tightness return to your chest, the uncomfortable fluttering inside your gut. “I—” You couldn’t possibly tell Carol. You hadn’t even told Daryl yet and he was the baby’s father. Still, the way she was looking at you. It was as if she was as desperate to have a friend as you were. “Please don’t tell anyone.” You relented, slumping even further against the door. 

“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t. I just figured having someone that understands couldn’t be such a bad thing.” She shrugged with that sweet smile of hers. 

You have no idea. You returned the smile. “Thank you.”

“Here.” She extended a hand, opening her palm to reveal several red and white candies. “Peppermint will sometimes help with morning sickness.” You stared for a moment before accepting, stuffing all but one into your pocket. You quickly unwrapped it and popped it into your mouth, yearning for some relief from the constant waves of nausea. 

“Thanks. Really. You could tell me to sacrifice a chicken while standing on my head and I’d do it at this point.”

Carol covered her mouth and chuckled, the moment hanging briefly before her expression turned suddenly grim. “That isn’t the only reason I came by. I wanted to fill you in on some things Dr. Jenner told us this morning.”

That did not bode well. “Yeah, okay. Come in.” You stepped back and allowed her to enter, closing the door behind her.

Carol had finished retelling Jenner’s explanation and the two of you were sitting in solemn silence when the lights shut off. You figured the other woman was looking as puzzled as you were before the two of you clumsily found the door in the darkness. You opened it to find Dale and Lori in the hallway, others with their heads peeking out of their rooms. 

Footsteps caught your attention just before Jenner passed you by, intercepted by Dale. 

“Why is the air off?”

“And the lights in our room?” Lori added. 

Another door opened, Daryl leaning out with that same bottle of liquor from the night before firmly in his grasp. “What’s goin’ on? Why’s ev’rythin’ turned off?”

Jenner seemed unbothered by the inquiries, casually swiping Daryl’s bottle in passing without missing a beat. “Energy use is being prioritized.”

Dale appeared taken aback. “Air isn’t a priority? And lights?”

Jenner tipped the bottle to his lips for a long swallow. “It’s not up to me. Zone 5 is shutting itself down.” Everyone filed out into the hall and began following the doctor, Daryl yelling at him as they walked. 

Carol touched your arm but you nodded and gave her a gentle push to encourage her to go to her daughter. “I’m gonna put on my boots and I’ll be right behind you.”

Moments later, you entered the big room and started down the stairs to join everyone just as Daryl snatched back the liquor bottle from the doctor. Jenner failed to react, his eyes on Andrea. 

“It was the French.”

The blonde stood puzzled. “What?”

“They were the last ones to hold out as far as I know. While our people were bolting out the doors and committing suicide in the hallways, they stayed in the labs till the end. They thought they were close to a solution.”

Jacqui spoke up as you came to stand next to her. “What happened?”

Jenner was utterly nonplussed. “The same thing that’s happening here. No power grid. Ran out of juice. The world runs on fossil fuel.  I mean, how stupid is that?”

Shane stepped forward, his face twisted in anger. “Let me tell you—” 

Rick was quick to interject. “To Hell with it, Shane. I don’t even care. Lori, grab our things. Everybody, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here now!”

Jacqui gently took your arm and urged you toward the door. “Oh, okay.” She said. It was obvious she was trying to maintain calm. Meanwhile, your heart was attempting to beat out from behind your ribcage. You barely made it to the middle of the stairs before a shrill alarm began blaring. 

Amidst everyone’s panicked inquiries, the AI sounded overhead. 

Thirty minutes to decontamination.

Daryl was worked up, his posture tense and expression angry. “Doc, what’s going on here?”

Jenner had weaved through the consoles to one on the end, scanning his badge and punching numbers on a keypad. 

Shane continued to rally everyone onward. “Everybody, ya’ll heard Rick!”

Rick joined in the urging. “Get your stuff and let’s go! Go now! Go!” 

Others were shouting as you climbed the remaining stairs and headed for the exit. There was a whirring clang as the door slid shut just before you could reach it. You were trembling, steps on autopilot while your brain raced through every possible outcome of the situation. None of them were pleasant. You didn’t even remember descending the stairs again but found yourself back on the lower level, watching Shane and Rick restrain Daryl. 

You were in shock, only registering key words in the intense conversation happening around you. 

“…locked down…”

“…28 minutes…”

“…catastrophic power failure…”

“…it sets the air on fire…”

Daryl ran past you with an axe, threatening the man that had just condemned you all to die.

And then, as Daryl was being held back and everyone shouted and cried, the doctor was speaking directly to you. 

“You. You don’t want to bring that innocent baby into this nightmare. This is a mercy.”

Your eyes widened and immediately sought out Daryl, who had gone still and silent. T-Dog was able to pull the axe away from him, the redneck being too busy staring back at you, his expression equal parts anger and shock. 

“You’re pregnant?” Dale exclaimed, releasing his hold on Daryl. 

“You do want this! All of you!” Jenner secured everyone’s attention with the exception of you and Daryl. 

While the pandemonium dragged on, the two of you were frozen. Your eyes pleaded with him to understand. He had no way of knowing how long you had known; whether or not you had lied about taking a test. He was only aware that you knew and you didn’t tell him. He was breathing fast through his nose, nostrils flaring. 

When he finally looked away, it felt as if your bones turned to jelly. You slid down in front of one of the stations and pulled your knees to your chest, fighting off yet another episode of panicked emotion. 

Distantly, you were aware of things happening around you. A shot was fired. The axe was hitting the door again. Everyone was yelling, pleading. 

Jenner hadn’t been offering you a medical alternative. He was telling you that this was going to happen. You could have warned everyone. You could have done something!

Now, everyone was going to die. You were going to die. Your baby was going to die. Your choice was made for you and the only thing you could think was that it was not the choice you would have made. You wanted this baby, Daryl or no Daryl. You wanted the chance to be a mother. You wanted your baby to have a chance. 

Feet began to pass by in front of you, but you were slow to respond, only looking up when someone grabbed your upper arm. 

Blue eyes. Angry, concerned, panicked blue eyes. 

“Get up.” Daryl ordered, hauling you to your feet. His hand slid down your arm to your wrist, and he pulled you along behind him. When you reached the hallway of rooms, he let go. “Get your bag.” You watched him start to walk away but found yourself still unable to make your feet move. Daryl snarled and ran back to you, grabbing your shoulder to give you a none-too-gentle shake. He leaned in, his face inches from yours, eyes blazing but voice calmer. “Y/N. Get your bag.”

It only took a heartbeat, but finally, you nodded and pulled away from him. You only had the clothes from the day before to grab and shove inside the bag. You had to shuffle around in the dark but somehow, you successfully gathered your things and stepped out into the hall just as Daryl was approaching. He still had the axe in one hand, his crossbow hanging from one shoulder and his pack from the other. 

“Go. Go, go!” He threw out his hand to urge you forward. This time, you didn’t hesitate. You met up with the group,  gathering at the front doors. They were still sealed. While the men were trying to break the glass of a large window, you noticed missing faces. Hoping you weren’t overstepping your boundaries, you laid a hand on Lori’s shoulder. 

“Not everyone’s here.” You felt stupid once the words were out. Of course she knew people were missing. They were her people. Surprisingly, she just gave you a mournful look and shook her head. What did that mean? Your expression shifted to disbelief. Unless Jenner had killed them or sealed the doors with them still inside with him, they had a chance. You had to go get them. You had to help. You had to—

“Get down!” You heard Daryl yell just before he dragged you to the floor, shielding you with his body. The surface beneath you vibrated, glass shards scattering across the lot of you. “C’mon!” He pulled you along again, this time by your hand.  

“Wait!” You yelled, your sudden stop causing him to lurch backward. The hunter growled in annoyance as you stopped to pick up his crossbow and bag. He didn’t take your hand again but you were right behind him, careful of the swinging axe when he took a walker’s head clean off.

Everyone sought shelter in the separate vehicles, Daryl leading you straight to his truck and opening the driver’s side door while snatching the weapons and bags to toss them carelessly in the back. “In! Get in!” He was almost shoving you while you scrambled inside and tried to cross into the passenger seat to give him room. However, his fingers snagged the back of your shirt and pulled you back toward him while, at the same time, he closed the door. You were pushed down toward the floorboards with Daryl’s body covering you once again. 

The explosion was massive. The truck rocked violently; the blast so loud that it left your ears ringing. You felt Daryl’s weight shift before it was gone completely, his hands on your arms to help you up into the seat even as he stared out the window. You followed his line of sight and gasped. The building had all but disintegrated. Cars, trucks, tanks: just gone. You felt only a slight relief at seeing Glenn wave Andrea and Dale into the RV. Maybe Jacqui was in there too. You weren’t a part of their group, but they were living breathing people. And that meant they mattered. 

“Hey.” You slowly turned your head toward Daryl, his hands patting down your arms, your face, your stomach. The concern he was showing was odd but not unwelcome. “Y’alright? Hurt anywhere?”

You shook your head. “No. No, I’m okay.” And right before your eyes, his expression morphed and twisted into bitter anger. 

“Good. Best sit there an’ just be quiet.” His voice was low, bordering on threatening. He started up the engine, cracking his neck while his eyes burned into the vehicle in front of the truck. 

“Daryl, I was gonna—”

“Did I stutter or ya just hard’a hearin’?” He roared, not even looking your way. 

You took in a deep breath, fighting back the tears with everything you had. You had fucked up, that was true. Maybe you deserved his wrath but you’d accept it with grace. Well, you would at least try. If there was any hope at all of fixing this—of getting through it at least civilly—you would need to let him cool down. 

As Daryl turned the truck around, pulling up the rear of the caravan, you watched the column of black smoke from what once was the CDC spiral up to layer across the Atlanta sky. 

[leroibobo]

when the homes in the depopulated palestinian village of lifta were originally built is impossible to tell and most likely varies from house to house. the area's been known since ancient times, including having been written about in the hebrew bible. it's retained multiple different names throughout history - lifta by romans, nephto by byzantines, clepsta by crusaders, then lifta again by arabs. in more recent times, the area saw battle in the early 19th century, when it saw a peasant's revolt against egyptian conscription and taxation policies. (egyptian-ottoman ruler muhammad ali had attempted to become independent from the ottoman empire, and sought to use the area of "greater syria" which palestine was apart of as a buffer state.)

the village was predominantly muslim with a mosque, a maqām for local sage shaykh badr, a few shops, a social club, two coffee houses, and an elementary school which opened in 1945. its economy was based in farming - being a village of jerusalem, farmers would sell their produce in the city's markets. an olive press which remains in the village gives evidence to one of the most important crops its residents farmed. the historically wealthy village was known for its intricate embroidery and sewing, particularly of thob ghabani bridal dresses, which attracted buyers from across the levant.

lifta also represents one of the few palestinian villages in which the structures weren't totally or mostly decimated during the 1948 nakba. 60 of the 450 original houses remain intact. from zochrot's entry on lifta:

israel's absentee property law of 1950 permits the state to expropriate land and assets left behind, and denies palestinians the right to return to old homes or to reclaim their property. it's estimated that there's around 400,000 descendants of the village's original refugee population dispersed in east jerusalem, the west bank, jordan, and the palestinian diaspora.

like many depopulated palestinian houses, some of those in lifta were initially used to settle predominantly mizrahi immigrants and refugees, in this case 300 jewish families from yemen and kurdistan. the houses weren't registered in their names, and the area generally saw poor infrastructure and no resources including water and electricity provided by the government. most left in the early 1970s as a part of a compensation program to move out people who'd been settled in depopulated palestinian houses - if they didn't, they were referred to as "squatters" and evicted. (holes were even drilled in the roofs of evacuated buildings to make them less habitable). the 13 families which remain there today only managed to do so because they lived close to the edge of the village.

in 1987, the israeli nature reserves authority planned to restore the "long-abandoned village" and turn it into a natural history center which would "stress the jewish roots of the site", but nothing came of it. several more government proposals on what to do with the land had been brought up since then. this culminated in in 2021 when the israel land administration announced without informing the jerusalem municipal authorities that it issued a tender for the construction of a luxury neighborhood on the village's ruins, consisting of 259 villas, a hotel, and a mall. since 2023, they've agreed to shelve and "rethink" these plans after widespread objection.

the reasons for the objections varied significantly between the opposing israeli politicians - who see the village as an exemplar of cultural heritage and "frozen in time" model of palestinian villages before 1948 - and palestinians - who largely see the village as a witness of the nakba and a symbol of hope for their return. lifta is currently listed by unesco as a potential world heritage site, a designation netanyahu has threatened to remove several times.

many palestinians who are descendent from its former residents still live nearby. like with many other depopulated palestinian villages, they've never ceased to visit, organize tours of the village, and advocate for its preservation.