#and abolish the very concept of snow

[coldgoldlazarus]

Temperatures above 85° make me lethargic and sweaty, unpleasant but I can handle it

Temperatures below 65° make me depressed and reluctant to go outside, unpleasant but I can handle it

Temperatures below 40° make me deeply miserable and hateful

Temperatures below 15° make me borderline suicidal

And I live in a state where they can drop to -20° most winters

[perlelune]

Training Wheels | Coriolanus Snow | iii.

Your mother's macabre work never appealed to you as you always preferred the comfort of your books, but when her apprentice takes a special interest in you, your safe, quiet world is flipped upside down.

Warnings: DUB-CON, NON-CON, Gaul!Reader, Shy Reader, Manipulation, Parental Neglect, Drinking, Peer Pressure, Hazing, University set, Loss of Virginity, Dumbification, Insecurities, Abusive Relationship, Degradation, Suicide Attempt

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“So what’s your deal?” Festus Creed asks out of the blue. 

Your mouth opens in shock, a nervous laugh slipping out. “My deal?”

A mocking sneer twists his features. “Yeah, Coriolanus kept trying to get you to eat with us but you were being weird about it. If you hate us, just say so.”

While some snigger at the table, Coriolanus stares daggers at him. The mirth instantly vanishes from Festus’ face.

Clemensia bumps her elbow into his rib, chiding him, “Festus, come on,”

“I don’t…hate anyone,” you defend, your voice hardly above a whisper.

Clemensia flashes you a reassuring smile.

“Of course, you don’t. Coriolanus said you’re very sweet.”

Livia rolls her eyes.

“Ugh, whatever. Can we get back to discussing the Yuletide Ball?”

Surprise flutters through you. The name bears vague familiarity. It can be found in the archives detailing the history of the Capitol University. But it’d since long become a frivolity amidst concerns such as quelling the uprisings in the Districts. What’s a students’ dance in the face of war and famine?

“The Yuletide Ball? I thought this was an abolished tradition…I mean since the war.”

Excitement illuminates Livia’s face.

“We’re bringing back the tradition this year, thanks to Coriolanus here. He convinced the new dean.”

Coriolanus lowers his head in apparent humbleness.

“I just made a few good points and he couldn’t refuse me,” he shares. He turns to you, blue eyes sparkling.  “I’m pretty persuasive when I need to be.” A chill dances through you at his low, suggestive tone. 

To your relief, his attention switches to the rest of the table.

“It’s important to not let District scum ruin our way of life. Traditions must return.”

Livia smirks. “Spoken like a student body president.”

Coriolanus waves a dismissive hand but a hint of smugness lingers in his tone as he says, “Please, elections are only in a month.”

“And it’s obvious you’ll win,” Clemensia states.

He gives a light shrug.

“We shall see.”

Clemensia pivots to you.

“Ivy, Liv and I are on the Ball committee,” she preens, her face brightening. “You could join us if you want.”

You lick your lips. “I don’t know if I’d find the time with midterms coming up soon…”

Coriolanus’ fingertips graze your arm as he offers, “You should do it, angel. It’d be a good way to expand your social circle.”

“You mean her nonexistent circle,” Festus gibes.

The blond’s jaw clenches.

“Talk to her like that again and see what happens, Creed.”

Festus cowers, nervousness flickering on his face. He clears his throat.

“Sorry,” he says to you.

“It’s fine.”

Coriolanus’ fingers latch around your wrist as his steely gaze cuts into Festus.

“No, it’s not fine,” he articulates. 

Undisturbed by the altercation between the boys, Clemensia prattles on about the ball.

“We meet up every Saturday morning. We’re working on winter-themed decorations right now. It’ll be so fun. It takes forever to do though.” She looks at you with emphasis. “An extra set of hands would be really welcome.”

“Clemensia…”

“Call me Clemmie,” she interrupts. “All my friends do.”

Friends? You study her hand clasped around yours. The concept is a little foreign to you. You also ponder why someone like Clemensia, with her perfect silky mane and smooth, blemish-free face would want to befriend you. She is the girl everyone gravitates towards. Charismatic, smart and nice to boot. And you might as well be a fly on a wall, ignored on the best days.

You are so stunned that it takes a shamefully long time for the words to fall back on your tongue.

“Clemmie, I’m usually busy on Saturday.”

“Oh.” She deflates, her hold on your hand loosening. “I get it. Sorry I asked.”

The excitement on her face plummets. Immediately, you feel terrible. You’ve never missed a single Saturday of studying, using that time to break down your more complicated courses of the week. But Clemmie looks crestfallen.

Perhaps, this one time, you can adjust your plans a little. One Saturday won’t make a difference in the entire year.

“But…I can try to free up some time,” you offer.

She perks up with your response.

“Great. We’ll be expecting you then.”

Lunch then proceeds, the table resuming the lively debate they were having before you showed up. Festus maintains facts about his family’s role in the reconstruction after the war while Clemensia rolls her eyes. They go back and forth and you observe them, slightly fascinated by the exchange. It’s such a rare occurrence for you to be around others that you soak every bit of their interaction. You get the inkling this happens a lot between them, them ruffling each other’s feathers. Ivy and Livia get wrapped in their own secret conversation you don’t catch a single word of. Meanwhile, Coriolanus watches all of them, taking a bite of the food on his plate every once in a while. The way he eats is slow, nonchalant, almost like he couldn’t care less what’s on his plate. Even if he doesn’t interject at any point, he looks right at home at this table. Unlike you. You recline into silence, letting every minute fly by as you wait for lunch to be over. When it finally is, relief surges inside you. 

You mumble a quick goodbye and gather your things. Clemensia beams and waves at you while the others barely acknowledge your departure. 

You head for the hallways, trying not to allow your mind to linger on the strange, uncomfortable lunch. Still, your mind swirls. You curse yourself for every blunder and awkward moment. You told him you don’t belong, that you’re an outsider, and always will be. It’s painfully obvious. From the way you dress, talk, carry yourself, you have nothing in common with girls like Clemensia or Livia. There’s a vast chasm between you and them. He should have listened. It astounds you that you even let yourself get roped into joining Clemensia’s committee thing. Though perhaps that won’t be too much of a hassle. You’ll show up to keep your word, then sink back into your rigid study routine.

Coriolanus’ deep voice, a sound you’re now oddly familiar with, erupts behind you.

“Let me carry those for you,” he says, swiping the books in your arms before you can protest. He falls in pace with you, a gentle expression decorating his  handsome face.

You frown, the uncanny emptiness of your arms swelling your discomfort.

“You don’t have to-”

“I insist,” he interrupts, chuckling lightly when you try to reach for your books and he dodges you with ease. Your shoulders sag. Your strides hasten, an urgency limning your steps now. 

Coriolanus meets no issue with your escalating cadence. He easily keeps up with you, a subtle hint of mirth lurking in his cobalt gaze. 

“It wasn’t too much, was it?” he inquires. “I know they can be a lot but they’re all good people. I promise.”

A myriad of words weigh heavy on your tongue but you diplomatically swallow each, settling for a safe, innocuous remark.

“Clemmie was nice.”

The corners of the blond’s lips quirk skyward. 

“I told you she was.”

The statement hovers between the two of you for a while. Clemensia seems nice indeed. The rest of his friend group…perhaps a little less so. Possibly a bit more cutthroat and self-absorbed. Though you surmise it is a requirement to be a member of Panem’s elite.

No other word is traded between you and him as you make your way to the lecture hall. 

“This is me,” you announce.

You turn to Coriolanus, hands stretching towards your books. He makes no move to give them back. Your forehead creases.

He gives you a sluggish once-over before offering, “What if I drove you back home after your classes?”

You nibble your bottom lip, dismayed by his proposition. You’ve caught glimpses of his fancy new car, as you’re sure most have at the University. As heir apparent to the Plinth fortune, he gets to spend money as he likes. 

“I usually walk. It’s okay.” 

He gets a little closer. “Come on, angel. Just let me do something nice for you.”

You shrink until your back hits the wall, stunned when Coriolanus follows each of your steps.

“My last lecture is…Professor Bellweather tends to ramble,” you mumble, his proximity unnerving you. “I don’t…I don’t know when he’ll be done.”

He licks his lips.

“I’ll just wait for you, angel.”

He utters the words like it’s obvious. You gawk at him. It takes you a few minutes to retrieve your speech.

You scratch your arm, your frown accentuating.

“You really don’t have to. Like I said, walking home is fine.”

The gaze trained on your form sharpens.

“And I’m offering to take you home so you don’t have to exert yourself.” He bends over you, invading the already insufficient space between the two of you. “Has a friend never done something like that for you?”

“N-No,” you admit. 

His tone’s heavy with suggestion as he rasps, “So let me be your first then, angel.”

Your heart stumbles inside your chest. 

“I’m gonna be late for class,” you blurt out, attempting to brush past him. 

Coriolanus’ hand darts out, swiftly cinching around your wrist to stop you from leaving.

“I still don’t have an answer,” Coriolanus says.

You glance from his hand, tight around your wrist, to his determined gaze. Your throat goes dry.

“Okay, you can d-drive me back home.”

He releases your wrist and returns your books, a smile ghosting over his lips.

“Wonderful. I’ll come get you later, angel.”

Clutching your books against your chest, you watch him glide away.

As promised, Coriolanus is waiting for you when you exit from your last class. You don’t even think to hide your shock as you find the blond leaning against the wall. A smirk unfans on his lips, your reaction seeming to amuse him.

He doesn’t say much to you as you walk side by side and head to his car. When you’re outside, he surprises you by opening the passenger door for you before you can even lift a hand. 

“T-Thanks,” you stammer. You plop down on the plush seat. The leather smells new and expensive.

Your nerves thrum as he takes the driver’s seat and starts the car. You’ve never been alone in a car with a boy before. Uneasy, you let your eyes roam outside the window. The Capitol’s high buildings blur past you rapidly. 

You’re lost in your thoughts when you notice the prickling sensation over your flesh, The burning, unwavering weight of Coriolanus Snow’s scrutiny. 

Your head whirls.

Bashful words quake through your lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” Your hands reach to touch it, just in case.

He chuckles.

“No,” he replies, shrugging. “It’s a nice face that’s all.”

The casual compliment sends a wave of heat through your body. 

“Can you drive?” he asks, curiosity lighting his features.

You shake your head. Getting your license has never been a priority. Besides, it’s only a thirty minute walk to get to the University. You don’t mind it, often using that time to sneak in some reading.

“No.”

“I could drive you if you like,” he offers, his gaze holding yours. “Anywhere you want to go.”

Your cheeks warm. “I’m okay.”

Coriolanus nods, his focus shifting back to the road.

“You always say that…” He hums low in his throat. “I’m just not sure I believe it, angel.”

You’re so nervous the entire drive that you don’t even notice when he arrives at your house. You stare at him, mouth agape. You haven’t given him a single instruction on how to get there.

“You know where I live?”

As he opens the door for you, Coriolanus simply replies, “You told me earlier.”

Your brows furrow. You don’t remember telling him but his tone harbors no doubt. You rummage through your brain, seeking the moment. Nothing comes up and you grow confused. 

You blink up at him.

“I-I did?”

“Yes, you did, angel.” He snorts as if your line of questioning is beyond ludicrous. “How else would I know?” He slams the door of the car as you rise. “Besides…Dr. Gaul is my mentor. Of course, I know where she lives.”

You nod. That makes sense and it didn’t even occur to you.

“I…”

He cocks his head. “What?”

You fidget beneath his stare, discomfort flaring in the pit of your stomach. 

“Nothing. Thanks for driving me home.”

He flashes you a wide smile.

“My pleasure. See you soon, angel.”

He starts the car and drives away. You don’t feel quite at ease until his car’s gone from view, heading towards the Corso.

Walter zooms across the room as soon as you enter the large apartment. Your eyes wander about. As usual, the place is empty besides you and Walter. Mother rarely spends any time here nowadays, her work occupying all of her time. 

Walter rubs his furry head against your ankle, twirling around you as he meows. He then stands on his hind legs and starts gently raking his claws across your leg. A way for him to demand that you pet him. A small smile tugging your lips, you pick him up. The orange ball of fur purrs, curling against your chest as you carry him in your arms. You make your way to the kitchen and pour a mix of leftover meat and fish in his bowl. 

You set him down on the floor. His tail wiggles as he hops to his food.

You crouch next to him.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened today, Walter,” you say while giving gentle pets to his back. “I was invited to their table.” The orange cat pauses his eating to stare up at you blankly. “Yes. Theirs,” you repeat as if he could understand you. He gives a long meow before focusing on his bowl again. You sigh. “I know. I thought the same thing.”

Once Walter’s emptied his bowl, you pick him up again and make your way to the living room. 

You collapse on the couch.

“And then…Coriolanus Snow drove me home. Yes, the Coriolanus Snow. I didn’t even think he knew I existed.”

For a while, you remain on the couch, stroking Walter’s fur as he sits on your lap. His tail whips the air, his eyes closing as you pet him. His soft rumble of content reverberates against your belly, amplifying when your fingers drag behind his pointed white ears. You lean back, a blanket of peace settling over you. 

Walter’s not just a strange-looking cat, he’s also a rescue…from your mother’s experiments. A kitten mutt with mismatched eyes, one blue and one yellow, his mushed, wrinkled face gives him a passing resemblance to a rodent. Pets like him are a rarity in today’s world as most creatures such as him were eaten during the First Rebellion. 

Your mother finds him appalling. In her eyes, he is a failed experiment. Like you. Perhaps it’s why you have such kinship with the creature. You still recall her unsettling glance in your direction the day she asked the entire class of nine-year-olds at the Academy if they had pets they were sick of. She then proceeded to burn the flesh off a lab rat to demonstrate her pulsed energy laser.

This moment is burned into your mind forever, your mother’s clinical tone chilling your blood.

You stole Walter from the Citadel and took him home that same day.

You were careful to hide him, though you suspect your mother figured out what you did. She likely added it to her long list of disappointments when it comes to you.

Sometimes, you envy Walter. The simplicity his days hinge upon. His obliviousness to the woes of the world. His uncanny ability to sleep through the chaos of it, ignore the disarray. Walter’s world consists of food, play and cuddles. 

What a blissful existence. You bet Walter never had a vexing thought in his short life.

The train of your thoughts is interrupted by the shrill ringing of the phone.

You carefully remove Walter from your lap. He meows in protest and jumps off the couch. You pick up the phone, chest clenching as a familiar face fills the flickering screen.

“Mother,” you greet. “How are you?”

She ignores your question, curtly stating, “You’re falling behind in Molecular Cell Biology.”

You know that tone all too well, the warning laced within it so achingly familiar.

Your fingers twist around the phone cord, your voice becoming small.

“I’ll get my grades up, I promise.”

Silence hovers between you and your mother for a while. Faint hope sparks within you. Perking up, you decide to tell her about your day.

“Oh, mother, today-”

“I must go,” she interrupts. “It’s time for my milk and cookies.”

Your spirits plummet. You nudge a hollow smile onto your face.

“Right. I didn’t realize,” you say, checking the clock hanging on the wall. “I’m sorry.”

She heaves out a deep sigh, her lone blue eye narrowing.

“Focus on your studies. And try not to be even more of an embarrassment to me than you already are.”

“Y-Yes, mother,” you reply, your heart shriveling inside your chest.

As she hangs up, you feel silly and horrible. Silly for trying to strike up a normal conversation with your mother. And horrible for letting her down once more.

“You came!” Clemensia exclaims as she rushes to you. You try not to tense as she gives you a tight hug. Ivy and Livia linger in the background, their eyes lifting from the crafts’ table. 

You wave at them and are surprised when Ivy wiggles her fingers at you. Livia is more withdrawn, nodding to acknowledge your presence but quickly returning to her task.

You step out of Clemensia’s embrace and flash a quick smile.

“Well I promised you that I would,” you reply nonchalantly. You take a look around the room. Various decorations and posters are propped against the walls, while snowflakes cut-outs and what looks like moon dust are scattered on the table. It seems the girls have been busy.

You turn to Clemensia. “What’s the theme again?” 

Ivy surprises you by answering cheerfully, “Well, it’ll be like a Winter daydream and we were thinking of making it a masquerade.”

Excitement sways in Clemensia’s bright eyes. “What do you think?”

“Sounds nice.” Your trite answer draws every gaze in the room to you. Awkwardly bouncing on your feet, you correct yourself, beaming at Clemensia. “I meant amazing.”

“I think so too,” she chimes.

She shows you the empty chair next to hers. The both of you sit down and she starts rambling about the theme and all the ideas she has to decorate the ballroom. You grow dizzy with all the information, trying to follow along her instructions at the same time. 

“We’ll need to find you a date,” Clemensia says. 

You shake the can of blue paint before spraying over the tree cut-out.

“It’s okay. I probably won’t be going anyway,” you respond absently. 

The pencil in Livia’s hand snaps. Your head rises. The blonde’s gaping at you. You then realize…the same look of disbelief is etched on all the girls’ features. A frown mars your brow. Did you say something wrong? You didn’t realize this was such an important event. 

A nervous laugh peals off Clemensia’s red-painted lips.

“No, but you have to,” she says, “It’s the first Yuletide Ball in over a decade. Everyone will be there.”

You shrug. “It’s four months away, Clemmie.”

Her onyx gaze shimmers.

“Well, a lot can happen in four months,” she sings, a mysterious smile spreading onto her lips.

[wcrriorhearts]

"You will never be liked by everyone, that's impossible. But I'm sure you can make people remember you for the games. They have a soft spot for girls since Lucy Gray." Vesta didn't like to think about the former victor and how much her brother had changed since mentoring her, but Lucy Gray had managed to bring a certain sense of humanity back to the games that had been lost before. The tributes had been treated like animals and people had viewed them as such, with little interest or regard for their lives. It didn't change that the children were still sent into an arena to die, but at least the capitol spectators were learning to view them as humans too and felt for their favorite victors. It was the very least they could do in the grand scheme of things but it was a start. Maybe Vesta would live to see the games being abolished, but she shouldn't get her hopes up.

She would have to ask Tigris to get wool for her. Vesta rarely ventured into the city and didn't know where one could acquire it, but her dear cousin would know where to find some. "I'll get you wool", she told Cecilia with a nod and rose from the chair. The other mentors were parting with their tributes as well and though she would have liked to speak to Cecilia a little longer, she needed to outwardly obey the rules, so she could break them in secret. Even though she had been invited to visit the talk show with her tribute, Vesta had politely declined. Unlike her brother, she didn't like to be in the public eye and would rather gnaw off her own leg than being interviewed by Lucky Flickerman. She knew the only reason why she had been asked when all of the other mentors had not been, was her affiliation to the Snow family.

"I will see you for training in two days. You will be shown to the training center with us for the first time then. Until then, stay alive", she smiled slightly at Cecilia and halted when the other spoke to her, giving her a shake of the head in response. "Don't thank me. I'm doing the bare minimum. My father invented the Hunger Games", she said sadly, knowing that even though Dean Highbottom got most of the praise for it, her father had developed the concept for the games with him and now children like Cecilia were sent to their deaths. With a hanging head, Vesta left the meeting hall and returned to her lessons, contemplating where to get wool and what her tribute might be planning with it. She watched Cecilia on TV that night and found her very sweet and charming, which was a good thing. The next day, she was supposed to go to the training gym after lunch, but never made it, because she collapsed at home that morning and couldn't go to school. So she only showed up on the second day of training, eyes searching for her tribute. When she find her among the others, Vesta walked over and gestured towards a bag she carried. "I got you wool. Sorry for my absence yesterday. You were great on TV."

 “Make a run for shelter. Got it.”    Although it was easier said than done. They had no idea what the arena would look like and if she was completely unfortunate, it would be a terrain she could not navigate at all. She was good at climbing but her swimming skills would not save her life. What were the chances that they would throw them into an arena that would benefit a certain District? Fairly high if one took last year’s games into consideration. You gotta think positive, CeeCee, she could hear her sister saying. Although she had a feeling that positive thinking would not help her situation much, she still decided to give it a try.

For now, the arena was the least of her worries. The interviews were the bigger problem at the moment. Was there a way to prepare for it? Probably not on her own; she doubted that her fellow tributes had any desire in preparing for that occasion and she couldn’t blame them.    “Be likable… I think that I can do that. Back home, there are few people who don’t like me. But my life never depended on it. Maybe we could talk about that some more next time?”    Vesta grew up in this place, she would be more than competent enough to tell her what the people in the Capitol liked. It was one thing to make people with a similar life like someone but it was a completely different thing to make strangers whose lives were so very different like one as well. She needed more information.

A faint blush appeared on her cheeks when Vesta questioned her about the wool. Maybe it was a stupid idea but she figured anything that could potentially help her in the arena would be a good thing.    “The color doesn’t matter. Clothes aren’t the only thing you can make out of wool. Maybe I can make something useful for the arena but disguise it as clothing.”    Maybe she could trap someone long enough to survive a little longer, or maybe it would simply serve as a way to collect loot and carry it around. Or worse case, Cecilia would die in something she made herself that reminded her of home.    “And Vesta? Thank you.”

[conradoneil]

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We are not now speaking of the Southern States merely, but of the New England States; for, startling as it may appear, slavery is not yet wholly abolished in the free states of the North. Jajuka also won Best Constructed, for good measure look at the gold detail and how smooth it is! I wonder how long it took to put all that on. And they said, 'Well we've called up there and we hadn't noticed any difference air max 90 ultra se in the company.' And I told them, 'Of course, we have the same people doing those jobs as before.'.

[atlasllm]

This may be cringe and idk if it's offensive but I have no idea what the fuck is going on in DreamSMP and if you want to info dump I would love to learn literally everything about it. If you want I can drop my discord.

-panicked.shrieking

I gave up the concept of cringe when I unironically joined the Onceler fandom. 

The Dream SMP is a Minecraft roleplay series, with a server run by Dream (and friends?) where a bunch of content creators are invited now and then. It’s very tough to keep track of actual videos for it sadly, since not all of the members archive their streams for it. Techno and Tommy do so from what I know, but there’s so many more perspectives. You could also try out the “clipshow” Youtube channels, they may not be ethical for stealing content but they do a good job putting it into edible pieces. From where I jumped on, Wilbur Soot made a drug van with Tommyinnit and Tubbo, and wanted to become their own nation. This started the war between the nation of “L’manburg” and the Dream SMP. At some point, L’manburg citizen Eret betrayed the others for Dream. However, L’manburg won its independance, and all was well for awhile.

After realizing that he just named himself ruler, Wilbur Soot called for an election, running against Quackity. Jschlatt (I don’t like his vibes very much) was invited to endorse Wilbur and Tommy, but ended up becoming his own party and becoming ruler of now “Manburg”.

Upset after losing their own nation, Wilbur and Tommy set off into a ravine, named Pogtopia, with the help of Technoblade (recently invited at the time, roleplaying an anarchist). Their friends, such as Niki and Tubbo, suffered Schlatt’s rule. At some point, Tubbo was executed for being a spy for Pogtopia, with Schlatt using Techno’s power to do so. This creates tension between Tommy and Techno.

This led to an all out battle between the Dream SMP/Manburg and the allies of Pogtopia. Pogtopia won back L’manburg, with the rulership going to Tubbo. Wilbur set off on his own after the battle and blew up L’manburg after realizing the nation he’s created has turned into a catalyst for pain and suffering. Knowing full well that he’s irredemable, he asks Philza (recently invited at the time, roleplaying Wilbur’s “father”) to kill him, which he does.

Realizing that he has been used as a pawn to take down the government so Wilbur and Tommy could have their own, Techno (known as a PvP master both in-universe and out-universe) releases a few Withers. He gets labeled as a traitor to L’manburg, and after destroying more of the country Techno retreats into a snowy forest to be a peaceful man.

Despite getting L’manburg back, Tommy is interested in getting some Minecraft discs back from Dream, who had them from the very first battles for L’manburg’s independance and refuses to rule, hence why Tubbo becomes president. However, he destroys the house of Dream’s best friend, Georgenotfound, and is found guilty. New member Ranboo is also suspected of doing so, but Tommy decides to take all the blame and gets exiled by Tubbo.

Dream is the only one who visits Tommy in exile, manipulating him to think that he’s his only friend. Tommy reaches a breaking point and seeks the help of Techno again, who’s reluctant but still willing to help him if he helps Techno destroy the new L’manburg. Tommy is hesitant, but they form an allyship anyway. I forget where this part happened, but Techno was a victim of a failed execution by Quackity, being executed for his crimes against L’manburg but escaping due to a Totem he had. He kills Quackity and goes on a mission to get his gear back (I believe Techno died in-game, and everyone saw it as an opportunity to get his OP gear and capture him while defenseless).

After being framed for blowing up the Community House by Dream, the oldest building on the server, Tommy snaps at the citizens of L’manburg and deems the discs more important than Tubbo. Realizing he’s been fighting for possessions this whole time, Tommy tries to redeem himself and sides with his best friend, Tubbo. Techno, feeling betrayed by Tommy once more, sides with Dream to destroy L’manburg once and for all.

Techno and Dream succeed (also aided by Philza, who lives with Techno in the snow forest after being unwillingly used to track down Techno), and all former L’manburg citizens can only watch as their home is destroyed.

This is where things start to get blurry from my perspective, since I’ve been busy:

Ranboo believes that he’s actually the one who blew up the Community House, and begins to hallucinate Dream’s voice in his head. Due to his memory issues, he can no longer distinguish between friend or foe, the real Dream or this “phantom” Dream.

At some point, Tommy and Tubbo go off to fight Dream for the discs once and for all. Dream and Awesamdude (Sam for short, he’s the Technoblade of redstone I think) have been building a grand prison that no one can escape from. Dream offers that it’s either the discs or their lives, and he aims to collect everyone else’s prized possessions in order to hold control over everyone in the server. He refuses to kill Tommy, because he’s just too fun to mess with; however, he is still willing to kill Tubbo if he steps out of line.

However, Punz, former ally of Dream, shows up and the old L’manburg citizens (and probably more) show up to fight against Dream. Dream surrenders, and becomes the first and only resident of the prison. He is only kept alive due to a supposed book that Schlatt gave him, which can bring people back from the dead. Tommy wishes to bring back Wilbur.

I think at this point, Tubbo goes off to create the country of Snowchester. Ranboo still struggles with memory problems, as he hasn’t recieved closure on whether or not he’s being manipulated by Dream or not. Techno and Philza have now formed “The Syndicate”, an anarchist group meant to go around and abolish governments.

At some point, Tommy confronts Dream in the prison. However, an explosion (most likely caused by Ranboo due to in-game evidence) causes the prison to go into lockdown, leaving Tommy with the server’s greatest enemy. After a week with each other, Dream kills Tommy after he kills the cat he has and screams his doubt about the resurrection book. Sam, the warden of the prison, feels guilt about Tommy’s death. The whole server mourns (except for the Syndicate). Jack Manifold, previously an ally to Tommy who worked with Niki to kill Tommy due to the bad things he’s done (I forget the exact events that led them to vengeance, but sometimes I don’t like Tommy’s vibes so I assume it’s related to that), realizes that this wasn’t what he wanted and mourns.

However, Tommy is ressurected by Dream; the book has been real the whole time, and Tommy regrets keeping Dream alive. He doesn’t want to bring Wilbur back anymore, but he also doesn’t have the strength to kill Dream. I don’t think anyone realizes Tommy’s alive yet.

All while this is happening, the “Badlands” ruled by Badboyhalo, Antfrost, and Skeppy (among others, I forget their names) are getting posessed by a giant red egg; their goal is to spread the egg’s corruption, which slowly has taken over the lands of L’manburg and the Dream SMP area.

Captain Puffy seeks the help of the Techno to destroy the egg.

Aaand that’s all I know. 

[t00thpasteface]

@socksual-innuendos YES! there's always something unique and wonderful in every season. i love the way the chills of fall and winter can both bring people together and make you feel solipsistic. and i think fall/winter at the beach in particular is FASCINATING! the ocean in winter is truly a force to be reckoned with.

i'm not asking anyone to abolish the concept of a favorite season— just that you don't waste your precious short time on this beautiful life-giving earth loathing the very planet and its weather. the summer sun is not intentionally out to get you. the winter snow is not deliberately making your life hell. spring and fall are not personally hell-bent on ruining either of those. and people who like other seasons than you do not need to be insulted or persuaded to prefer the "correct" season. (and if you hate a season because of the animals in it, or lack thereof... how ungrateful can you get? how tragic that we share this planet with— gasp!— arthropods who also need to eat and reproduce just like we do!)

i'm just getting wistful about the passage of seasons as summer reaches its zenith and i prepare to move out to a new college, and it really breaks my heart to think about how many people spend months pouting indoors and cursing the sky because of how much they hate summer or winter. sure, i'm not perfect, and i've stayed inside from extreme temperatures plenty of times throughout the years. but i just don't think it's healthy to harbor so much disdain for nature itself. dare i say we should all touch some grass... and wear some warm mittens, or citronella wristbands.

"are you a summer person or a winter person" "are you a spring or fall person" "do you love or hate thunderstorms" there is something to love and admire in every season and natural phenomenon and i think it's better to find little things to appreciate no matter the weather rather than staying inside and wasting time waiting until it's different outside. hope this helps

[whitherliliesbloom]

The joyous cries of the fae could be heard throughout the Kingdom of Rainbows, as the people tossed popfires and glittering streamers across the sky.

“Hail to the new Queen of Il Mheg!” 

Plentiful offerings had been given to the newly crowned fae that day, gifts of all kinds from both friends and new subjects that sat untouched in the middle of the empty throne room. 

And in the dark of the new Titania’s private chambers, crumpled on the floor, the queen clutched onto the brooch bearing the last king’s insignia and wept by her bedside alone. 

[[ Backstory for Illya, the kingdom of the fae and a bit of lore regarding previous Titanias and Urianger for the fae au! Tagging all the peeps who are involved in the fae au or at least have participated in it once: @ofthesilverlining​, @yumeaino​, @maiden-born-in-snow​, @mintdrop​, @wysteria-ffxiv​,@windupnamazu​, @firstblesssed​, @astralyehga​ ]]

“Am I right to assume that you’ve kept by the queen’s side for long now?” with a clumsy flutter of his glowing blue wings, Alphinaud clutched the stack of books he had graciously offered to sort, flew up and begun sliding them into the gaps in the top row of shelves, spine side out as requested. 

He wasn’t given an answer right away, and he casts a glance backwards towards the elder man, who stood in front of his desk with his arms crossed over his chest. The firefly that buzzed within the confines of the glass lamp did little to light up the room, barely illuminating a circle around the man as he frowned down at the scattered documents on the table. 

When Urianger finally snaps out of his train of thought, he lifts his head to look at Alphinaud, now returned to make another round of gathering up the books that had laid abandoned on the floor and returning them to the shelf they belonged.

“Indeed I have. Moreso, I have served as the advisor for the past many Titanias of Il Mheg.” 

Fae certainly live a long time, but for Urianger to even live long enough to see the coming and going of several generations of rulers, Alphinaud would guess that he is way beyond several times his own age. 

Though Alphinaud has not served for very long for the fae, he has thrown questions about enough to learn a great deal more than he had when he first set foot within the kingdom. 

‘Titania’ is in fact, not the name of the queen, but a title given to the monarch of the fae, whether it be king or queen. The words of Titania hold with absolute authority, and with that authority came an equal status of power to match.  Though time is but a mere concept to the fae, he has been made aware that the Titania of the current is decades younger than those that came before her. For what reason however, he has yet to uncover. 

His knowledge on fae culture, and by extension potential leads regarding the cursed ailment that haunted his kind were gathered by his own merit - a combination of relentless questions directed to the fae, private readings into the scrolls the fae owned, and also a great deal of intuition on his part. His knowledge on the queen however, is limited.. and what little he knows of her has been information so graciously supplied by her very own advisor. 

It would be a lie to say he isn’t even a bit curious about Titania, the faerie he only ever sees fleetingly during respites between both their busy schedules. Titania held a grace and air to her that was befitting of queen, and yet at the very same, her demeanor was not so much different from the fae around her. 

In fact, she was perhaps a tad too gentle. Soft was her voice that she could not even bear to yell when the fuath had flooded the flower beds near Longmirror Lake once again. He saw the way she bit the insides of her cheeks as she overheard the words of a pixie who spoke ill of her efforts to restore the nectarine supplies within the kingdom, and the tragically sad smile she gave him when she caught his gaze trained on her. 

It made him wonder what drove her.. made him wonder what circumstances she’s had to endure prior to his arrival. 

He wondered if he could possibly have the audacity to learn more about her - the girl beneath the shine of her crown and the fluttering of her gown. 

“Then.. Would it be out of line for me to inquire more about Her Majesty?” 

Alphinaud’s words pierce through the silence, and causes Urianger to pause in his moments. His eyes narrow and his gaze slowly trails towards the mortal. And though Urianger had made it a point to sharpen his glare, he could tell by the unflinching stare back from Alphinaud, that the young man had no intentions of taking back his words.. nor did he seem at all unsure about what he was asking for.

“You wish to know about Titania.”

“That I do.. If I may, at least.. I wish to know all about her, and perhaps even what came before her.”

“Pray, why the sudden interest in our history?”

Alphinaud’s chapped lips curl into something of a sheepish smile.

“Is that not what I am here for? To learn? T’would be a waste of her majesty’s blessing if I don’t learn as much as much as I can about the fae.”

With a slump of his shoulders, Uriangers sighs and shakes his head. The curiosity and stubbornness of mortals have always been one of their worst qualities.. And yet, it was through those very qualities that he knew, that he has seen Alphinaud’s sincerity towards their cause.. and the queen. 

How long has it been since he has seen the queen’s eyes glitter as brightly as they do when she lays eyes upon this boy? Or the pride that he senses welling in her bosom when she hears of praises about his kind deeds throughout the kingdom? Even a man, as old as he would not seek to stop the flowers of youth blossoming when he sees one.

Urianger reaches to grab the lamp that sat on the table, and saunters towards the back of the room, where a worn, old flag of the Rainbow Kingdom hung proudly. 

“Thy kind is truly fortunate that the age of our old traditions are far behind us..”

------------------------------------------------------

The fae kingdom was truly beautiful in all its splendor. From the deepest parts of their oceans, to the highest top of their mountain, did the land of the fae prosper in all its glory. All of fae folk lived in harmony, in no small part thanks to Titania, and the Royal Guards who served under them.

And yet, beneath the beauty of the land came a hidden secret.

Their soil was dyed red with the blood of mortals. Mortals who would dare trespass the land of the fae, for whatever reason it may be. They were all to be brought before the king or queen of the fae and executed without delay, and their bodies are to be used as a reminder of the gruesome fate that awaited those who would dare thread upon land that was not theirs.

For many years, did the fae live in isolation, but peace under this undisputable law. 

Urianger has seen many mortals fall before his eyes - head cut from their necks and their remains to be thrown and forgotten.. and he has seen many others more under the care of his shadow. 

He could not count the number of Titanias he has attempted to convince to abolish this law.. for how could he sit idly by while the lives of potentially innocent mortals were lost to ignorance or perhaps even accident? And when yet another king or queen is crowned who is far too stubborn in their ways to change tradition, he would go behind their backs, hiding the mortals away and helping them escape. 

He isn’t always successful, and the lives of those he could not afford to save always did weight heavy on his mind, and served to deepen the creases that would form into his skin as wrinkles of age. 

There would be no such need for such betrayal, such secrets if Titania were one of reason, if he had more power than a mere advisor, who in reality, truly had no real power.

That is.. until the son of King Everard - Lachlan. The next in line out of many kings Urianger would have to serve.. one he was prepared to have to betray the trust of yet again.

To his surprise, and the shock of the entirety of the kingdom however, upon being crowned the new Titania, Lachlan’s very first act was one that broke the long established rule upon the land - the execution of any mortals who came to Il Mheg. 

Under his new rule, all mortals are to be welcome with opened arms. with no exceptions, no trial and no borders. 

To this day, Urianger knew not the reason for Lachlan’s open mindedness towards the mortals.. what he did know however, was the chaos that befell the kingdom following the order of his law. 

A swarm of mortals that immediately came into the kingdom for a myriad of reasons.. Some had nothing but the purest of intentions - children and the innocent who merely wished to learn about the kingdom and people who has kept themselves in isolate for so long. Some wished to open trade with the fae, some wished to study the fae... and a good majority of the others merely wanted to plunder. 

And plunder they did- from the sap of their trees, the water from their lakes, the crystals from their mountains and even the very roofs above their homes. Wherever the humans went, came the desecration of their once beautiful home, left with nothing but rot and emptiness that the fae were left to handle on their own. 

Lachlan’s law had certainly brought about change to the kingdom, one that his subjects all felt, agreed were for the worse. 

By the time his wife, the queen Cocona had thought to bring upon the ban of mortals once more, the damage had already been done beyond repair. Millennia of prosperity and peace had been swiftly undone in less than a single decade. 

With their land polluted, resources depleted, and their faith in the rulers of the kingdom drained, the fae folk did bid in whispered breath for Titania to be dismissed.  

How could they place their trust in the one who had allowed their home to be destroyed so swiftly by outsiders? How could they bear to serve and smile upon the one who had been the direct cause of their suffering? 

Under traditions, Titania would still have many years remaining to sit upon the throne. 

Sensing however, that goodwill and morale had been utterly lost on him, for the first time in the history of the land of the fae, did King Titania willingly give up the crown early and placed it upon his only daughter, before leaving the kingdom with his wife to never return again. 

Many rejoiced upon the King’s leave, praising the new queen who had sworn to serve the remaining years of her service and what her birth guardians had owed to restore the kingdom to its former glory. 

The new Titania’s coronation should have been one filled with great joy and celebration. 

Few in the kingdom truly saw the deep sorrow the queen felt, however.. a relatively youthful fae thrust upon the throne several decades too early, made responsible for the restoration of the kingdom that her father had been said to destroy.. and above all else, the disappearance of her parents, who had left naught for her but a singular brooch behind for her to remember them by. 

That such a huge burden would be placed upon a singular fae was too much. Urianger knew this, and had thus begun taking a far more involved role than he has in generations in ensuring the queen’s welfare. 

He would deliver her her meals when she forgets to have them, write her missives that she could not handle on her own, teach her many, many subjects that a fae of her age wouldn’t usually already know. 

And he’d quietly listen to her sobs from behind closed doors, wondering if he had perhaps been a better advisor to her father, that he would not have deprived a girl of her youth so cruelly. 

------------------------------------------------------------------

“.....For her to bear such burdens alone...” The scowl Alphinaud wore upon his expression was all Urianger needed to see before nodding in agreement.

“And I admit to bearing a part of the blame for her majesty’s plight.. The problems the kingdom faces, even those that were not of her doing, are now placed squarely upon her majesty’s shoulders..”

“Then I would share part of that burden.”  

The elder man is taken aback by the swiftness of Alphinaud’s words, nor did he expect the determined clenching of the boy’s fists.

“You know not what it is you claim. Your lifespan is but a fraction of fae folk.”

“That may be so.. But I can still help her.” His wings carry him towards the door, assured in their movements now than ever before. “For as long as I still have her blessing, I am a fae.. I have every right, and every wish to lighten the burden of my queen.”

The door to Urianger’s cottage opens, letting a flood of moonlight envelope Alphinaud’s form. His wings are glowing brighter than ever, and just before the young man thinks to fully leave, he casts a final glance back towards Urianger.

“If I may trouble you yet another question... What is her name? Her true name.”

It takes a few long moments of silence for Urianger to finally bow his head, lips twitched upwards into a small, barely visible smile.

“The name of Titania, one that has not been spoken to her for years.. is Illya.”

[rjhamster]

HISTORY Part 1

October 12

by Joe Susan I hope that you and your family are well. This is a special year in that College Football celebrates its 150th birthday and the NFL celebrates its 100th. The sport has changed in many ways since the first game was played in New Brunswick, New Jersey between Rutgers and Princeton. The people who play and coach this special game are very much the same. They have a passion for competition, they love being challenged, and they love being a part of something bigger than themselves…..THEIR TEAM. This sport becomes a part of your life. Many people who play start in the backyard with their friends. Two hand touch quickly becomes tackle. You find a field wherever you can; from the street to the park to the school playground. You can play with different numbers. You yearn to play in the rain and snow. I played a lot of games in my backyard, my brothers painted yard markers on our driveway that are there to this day. Many people play another team sport before they begin their love affair with football. Baseball, Basketball and Soccer are those that Mom feels comfortable with prior to giving in to your relentless pleading to put on the pads. As a youth player you find out quickly that Football is different than other sports. Practices are every day. There is a lot of difference between positions though most of us just want to carry the ball. We all want to play the game. When you put your helmet and pads on you are wearing body armor. You learn how to run with this extra weight. The first time you get hit you quickly understand that this is real and work hard to pay it forward. When you step onto the field during a game you understand how special this is. I found that when I played I never really saw my facemask. Being an offensive and defensive lineman you must understand there is often anonymity built into these positions. The men who carry the ball get most of the attention. The success of the TEAM is related to the ability of the offensive and defensive fronts. People that know the game understand this. That will never change. In the early days the game was played with few rules other than advancing the ball by kicking it. Different teams played by different rules and many of the games were preceded by a long conversation about what rules they would play by. Running the ball became a part of the game in 1875 and a specific set of rules followed Football started as a violent game and there were many injuries and fatalities. The country was concerned about this and there was a movement to abolish the sport on many college campuses. This resulted in a move to change the rules and the passing game became a major part of the game and ultimately what it is now. To this day there is a penalty for unnecessary roughness. That implies that there is a level of roughness inherent in the sport. The field is a special place. It is 120 yards in length and 53.3 yards in width. This has been true since 1881. The markings of the field have changed as the game has evolved. On game day the field is sacred ground. The timing of the game has changed as well. The College game and the NFL have adapted to accommodate television. The clock and the ability to control it are critical to the success of teams at all levels. Football is a game of space. The run game is still a critical component. The evolution of the variations of the spread offense has had its impact. The offense came to strength in the college game and spread to the high schools. The NFL has integrated components of the spread offense in many of its concepts. Both the NFL and College Football have continued to adapt and work to utilizing schemes related to the strength of their players. Defense is a game of movement and pressure. There aren’t many teams that can line up and play a base defense unless there is a mismatch against a specific opponent. Teams play with multiple fronts and coverages. There are many different personnel groupings that work to match what offenses do with their personnel. Special teams are a critical part of the game. In the punt and kickoff game they represent the biggest exchange of yardage. The potential for explosive plays is there any time the ball is kicked. Punters, Kickers and Long Snappers are critical players in this phase. The ability to evaluate digital video is immediate on the NFL sideline. The same holds true for the high school game. I am certain that it is going to happen in College Football very soon. The evolution of technology has enhanced the efficiency of the coaches and players at all levels. The men who play the game are special in their dedication to team. On a College team there great diversity. It is represented by racial diversity. The early years of the sport were years of segregation and led to the growth of Historical Black College Football. That has changed as our country has changed. There is geographic, socio-economic, religious and age diversity on every team. The strength of our unity is related to our ability to be open and accepting of our differences. This should hold true for our country and our football teams are a great examples of this. The relationships that are formed on every team are special as they are bonds forged by what the TEAM stands for. In many instances this bond lasts forever. It is a fact that everyone who plays football for any length of time will refer to themselves as Football Players for a long time. I was and will always be a football player. I am privileged to be a part of this game for a long time. Game day on a college campus is a special thing. The school colors create a bond that goes beyond distance and time. People come together to support the team. They become ONE for four hours. The emotion they share with the men on the field is special. There are parents, relatives, alumni, friends, neighbors and the students who drive the noise that is felt by the team as they battle for ground. As a player there was nothing better. The game field seemed much larger than the practice field. The first time I went onto the field the crowd noise made me bristle with emotion. It is an advantage whether you are home or away. My college coach said they were yelling for us regardless of where we were. There are times when the clock moves too fast or slows to a crawl. There is nothing better than running out the clock when you have the lead. The opposite holds true for the other scenario. There once was a time where the clock defined the end of a game. Overtime has changed that in College Football. The good thing about this is that there are no ties. Thistory continues next week. I truly hope that we all spent some this week remembering what happened on 09/11/01. I know that we all remember where we were. We can never forget who they are. My best to you for a great day. Take care, Joe

No Email tomorrow

Enjoy your Sunday 😎

Call someone you love

Make a difference today,

Love Clint

[sandramsizemore]

Premises Liability Lawsuits in Massachusetts

When we talk about personal injury cases, we are typically talking about someone being injured through the negligence of others.  Negligence is one type of tort (a civil wrong for which the law provides a remedy), which is the most common claim in a Boston personal injury case.

If you are injured on someone else’s property, and the cause of your injury was largely the result the negligence of the property owner or manager, then you will likely have grounds to file a premises liability lawsuit.

Papadopoulos v. Target Corporation

The law surrounding premises liability cases in Massachusetts works quite a bit differently than it does in other states, which hold truer to the common law as handed down from the old English legal system.  At common law, there was much distinction put on the reason the plaintiff was on the property when the injury occurred.  This can include whether the plaintiff was a social or business invitee or a licensee.  As our Boston premises liability lawyers have discussed in other posts on this personal injury blog, the Supreme Judicial Court (SJC), our state supreme court, did away with these distinctions in the 1970s.

Since that time, there have been a few other major decisions that have had a major effect on how premises liability law works in the Commonwealth.  One of these cases was Papadopoulos v. Target Corporation, 457 Mass. 368 (2010).  In this case, a plaintiff was injured on snow and ice.

Snow and ice are two of the more common reasons for slip-and-fall injuries in our area. When someone slips on ice or snow that is on or in front of someone else’s property, that may the basis for filing a personal injury lawsuit, and that lawsuit would be filed under a theory of premises liability.

Prior to this case, there was a distinction between accidents that occurred due to naturally occurring snow and ice, or ice that was placed there or accumulated due to the efforts of property owners.  For example, if someone shoveled the ice and snow into a pile and left that pile on a part of the property, it would be considered an unnatural accumulation.

In this case, plaintiff slipped and fell on a patch of ice in a shopping center parking lot in Danvers, Massachusetts.  He was injured when he fell on the ice and eventually filed a personal injury lawsuit against the owner of store adjacent to where he fell.  That store was responsible for the ice and snow cleanup and had hired a contractor to handle the work.

The defendant filed a motion for summary judgement, and the judge granted that motion to as to all claims.  A motion for summary judgment is filed pursuant to Rule 56 of the Massachusetts Rules of Civil Procedure and allows for a case to be dismissed when there are no genuine issues as to a material fact.  In other words, this means that when all the facts are examined in the light most favorable to the non-moving party (usually the plaintiff), there is nothing in dispute and the case can be dismissed.

In this case, there was no dispute that the snowplow had deposited a pile of snow and ice on a median next to a handicapped parking space.  When the plaintiff was leaving the store with his purchase, he stepped on an icy patch.  This patch was determined to be the result of snow from the pile left by the plow that had melted, run along the ground, and then refroze.  This was then considered a natural accumulation.   The case was dismissed, because case law at the time made a distinction about whether the snow was a natural or unnatural accumulation and if it was unnatural, it could be defendant’s fault.  If it was natural, there was no liability.

On appeal, the court abolished the distinction between natural and unnatural snow and ice accumulations. Under current law, landowners must make sure to take reasonable precautions to maintain the property so slip and fall accidents are not likely to occur.  Failing to do this is considered negligence, and that could be the basis for filing a premises liability lawsuit in Boston.

Sarkisian v. Concept Restaurants, Inc.

In Sarkisian v. Concept Restaurants, Inc., 471 Mass. (2015), the SJC once again made major changes to premises liability law in Massachusetts. In this case, the court decided that the mode of operation doctrine in premises liability actions did not only apply to actions that involved and injury outside of self-serve establishment.

The mode of operation approach holds that a defendant in a premises liability action will be liable if the mode of operation chosen by the owner is the reason for the injury that occurred to cause the plaintiff to suffer a personal injury. Originally, this theory of liability was essentially reserved to slip and fall cases that occurred outside of defendant’s property; however, in this case, Supreme Judicial Court increased the scope to include other types of premises liability cases, as well.

In this case, the plaintiff broke her leg when she slipped on a dance floor.  The dance floor was wet and was located in a nightclub owned by defendant. The defendant filed a motion for summary judgment in this case, as well, and that motion was granted. The reason this motion for summary judgment was granted is because the court concluded that defendant did not have actual or constructive notice of the wet floor, and the mode of operation did not apply, as it was this case that extended the scope of the doctrine.

One of the facts in this case that goes to mode of operation is that alcoholic beverages were served in plastic cups so that patrons could consume their beverages on the dance floor. They were frequently drinking on the dance floor and spilling drinks.  The plastic cup was so there was no broken glass on the dance floor.

The court concluded that the club had a mode of operation that likely led to a wet dance floor and a wet dance floor could lead to plaintiff’s being injured if they slipped and fell. While it would be very difficult to see a wet spot on a crowded dance floor, the club owners should have known this was likely to occur.  However, this was different from having actual or constructive knowledge of the actual spill that caused plaintiff to be injured.

The court held that requiring the plaintiff to have to prove that defendant had actual or constructive knowledge of the actual dangerous condition in cases where the defendant chose a mode of operation that was likely to cause an accident, and did in fact cause and accident in this case, would be unfair to plaintiffs.  For this reason, the mode of operation theory was extended to other types of premises liability cases.

If you have suffered personal injury in Massachusetts, call the Law Offices of Jeffrey S. Glassman for a free and confidential appointment — 1-888-367-2900.

Additional Resources: Sarkisian v. Concept Restaurants, Inc., 471 Mass. (2015)

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