#federal training centre

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“Le système Borstal appliqué au Canada,” La Patrie. July 23, 1938. Page 45. ---- Le problème des jeunes détenus dans les prisons et les pénitenciers du Canada est à l'étude depuis nombre d'années. On a toujours cherché un moyen de séparer les jeunes criminels des plus âgés et des endurcis.

A cet effet, depuis quelques années, le gouvernement fédéral a chargé certains de ses fonctionarires d'étudier tout particulièrement le système Borstal établi en Angleterre. 

Le lieutenant-colonel P-A. Piuze, commissaire de la Sureté provinciale, naguère prefet du penitencier de Saint-Vincent de Paul, fut l'un de ceux qui étudièrent la question en Europe. 

Le colonel Piuze, à son retour, soumit aux autorités un long rapport de nombreuses recommendations.

A mon humble avis, écrit-il, le système Borutal, avec certaines modifications, est le mieux adapté à notre pays. Toutefois it serait impossible, actuellement du moins de l'adopter immediatement en raison den conditions territoriales et aussi de l'insuffisance des locaux.

Solution provisoire "Pour le présent, j’estime que la meilleure solution serait de hater in construction des bâtiments Laval à Saint-Vincent de l'aul et ceux de Collin's Hay, à Kingston (Ontario), où les jeunes délinquants pourraient être logés. Le pavillon Laval recevrait les jeunes du Québec et des provinces maritimes, et celui de Collin's Bay, ceux de l'Ontario et des provinces de l'Ouest.

"En attendant que les deux établissements mentionnés solent prêts, une certaine ségrégation pourrait être opérée dans nos penitenciers, mais seulement à titre provisoire. Même alors, il y aura toujours l'ambiance, et peut-être contact avec les autres. 

"Je ne suis pas en faveur des dortoirs communs pour les jeunes détenus comme en ont la plupart des établissements Borstal. Les chambres individuelles sont bien preferables.

"Je ne recommanderais pas non plus trop de récréations, et une discipline bien équilibrée devrait être maintenue. Je ne suis pas non plus porté à recommander qu'on accor e aux jeunes delinquants plus de privileges que n'en obtiennent à l'extérieur les jeunes gens honnêtes."

Les institutions Borstal sont des institutions d'Etat dirigées par des commissaires de prison qui font partie d'un service du Home Office.

[yinlotus]

the smoke from the wildfires in canada are crossing the atlantic and is now bringing a haze to the nordic countries

it's said that the soot from the smoke will deposit onto the snow and ice of the arctic which will in turn increase local warming (i.e worst wildfires, ice sheets melting, oceans warming and rising, stronger tropical cyclones, etc. etc.)

From the NY Times (and other sources):

Ways to Help

The Canadian Red Cross: Every $1 donated to the Canadian Red Cross will become $3 to support those affected by wildfires. The funds will be directed to people living in Nova Scotia and other Atlantic provinces, some of the hardest hit areas, for immediate and ongoing relief and recovery efforts as well as community preparedness initiatives.

United Way: The Canadian federal government joined the government of the Northwest Territories in a similar matching program to support disaster relief and recovery efforts. The funds will be used to support nonprofit community groups who are helping local residents.

Donate a Mask: This volunteer-run charity ships free N95-equivalent masks to anyone in Canada who requests them, with priority to Canadians who cannot afford or do not have access to high-quality masks.

Firefighters Without Borders: This Ontario-based nonprofit donates equipment and training to communities across Canada and in other countries.

Odawa Native Friendship Centre: The Odawa NFC is a nonprofit organization serving the Indigenous community in the Ottawa-Carleton region and is currently collecting donations for First Nation evacuees (with “wildfire evacuees” as the donation type). On Facebook, the NFC noted that it can no longer accept clothing donations.

Canadian Interagency Forest Fire Centre (CIFFC): Live map of the fires. Updated daily.

APTN National News: Newspaper on the Indigenous Peoples of Canada. Can be used to understand how the climate is affecting the Inuit, Métis, and First Nations.

[bryhoney]

Recognisance Pt.6

Hello!! I hope you enjoy! Just wanted to say thank you for all the support this fanfic has received so far :) I'm also sorry in advance :((((

<-Previous Next->

AO3

I've got an interview coming up for potentially a dream job offer so I'm prepping for that all the time at the moment - hence the slight delay in posting updates! But fingers crossed that all works out and it should be regular again!!

You’re seated opposite Gabriel and you note that he’s irritated at the commotion around you. No doubt he wanted to seat you in some private room to interrogate you but with the aftermath of the Ghost’s infiltration of the base - there isn’t anywhere to go. 

You’re in an office that hasn’t been soundproofed, people are frantically ferrying their wounded colleagues or scrambling to gather information from each other. 

Gabriel will be called away soon, he will have to answer to someone or orchestrate the next steps the Federation will take. He’d likely take the brunt of the blame for this mishap. 

“Now, I’m only going to ask you nicely, once. You let them out, didn’t you?” He’s smoking, which you find unnerving. He’s doing everything he can to appear calm, but you’re sure he’s shaken by the breach and furious with your actions. 

You don’t answer immediately, you’re not sure what the best approach here is. Despite everything, he’s still the only constant you have in your life. 

“You didn’t tell me,” you’re oddly proud at how stable your voice is, you feel numb to everything other than the man opposite you, and you’re not even sure he’s an ally anymore. 

He sighs, moving to stand. You can tell he’s wrestling with himself to maintain his composure. He looks out the window at the flurry of soldiers outside the office. 

“I thought it’d be better this way, I’ll explain it all when this is over,” he sounds sincere, gesturing to the hallway to indicate that ‘this’ is the catastrophic impact of the ghosts.

“You killed my father,” you whisper, hating everything about this situation. You hate that your heart aches for a man you don’t know. You wished, more than anything, to remember the man whose voice you’d heard consoling you, who sounded like he loved you. 

He turns back to you, “He wasn’t your father in the end, he was a liar - a traitor,” his voice is cold and hard and the look he gives you is lethal. 

You’d also betrayed Rorke.

A soldier bursts into the room, “Sir,” his attempt to portray a calm indifference is admirable despite the heavy breathing that gives him away. 

“I’ll be back soon, I expect you to be in your room until we can secure the site again,” Rorke says calmly before turning his back to you. He strides out of the room, following the younger man towards the main control centre. 

It takes you a second to stand, hesitant to walk through the soldiers. Did they know who you were? Would they kill a relative of a Ghost? A Walker? 

You hold your head up high and turn towards the living quarters, trying not to look at the extent of the damage that just a handful of men wrought onto a base full of highly trained operatives. 

—

Time moves very slowly as you sit and wait in your room for Gabriel. 

You’re sure that outside your room, the base is still in chaos but it’s completely silent in here. You’ve shut out every thought and memory that tries to resurface as you quietly try to piece together what you know. 

Firstly, You’re a Walker. Your brothers are Hesh and Logan Walker. 

From what you can recall, your childhood had been a happy one with the Walkers. This fact is less concrete, just moments of a normal, if somewhat eccentric family. 

Secondly, you were tortured by them. The memories of your time in the room are hazy and interwoven with snippets of pain. But it was them - you’re not sure what drove them to do that to you. What had you done to turn them so far against you? 

Rorke had told you that you’d been tortured to get to him. Who were you to Rorke? You had more ties to the Ghosts in Blood alone. You can’t recall being field-trained or dangerous enough to pose a substantial threat to them. 

But Rorke insisted that they wanted to recapture you.

But you were out in the field, and you had tried to kill someone. 

You had been raised by the leader of the Ghosts. Was it so unlikely to think you hadn’t also been taught some basic self-defence? 

Your brothers were ghosts. 

You-

“Keegan,” that was your voice, it was breathy and- 

Oh God. 

Oh God. 

What the ever-loving fuck was happening. You knew next to nothing and Rorke had kept you in the dark. You had no idea who to trust. 

Why didn’t he tell you? 

Your memories would come back. They had to, you couldn’t stand this awful limbo of not knowing who you were and what had happened. 

The door clicked open, and Rorke stepped into the room before locking it behind him. You felt small, entirely defenceless with him in this space. 

“How you holding up, sweetheart?” his tone calm, reassuring as though nothing had happened. You furrowed your eyebrows. You’d allowed his enemies to escape and now he was calling you pet names? 

“I’m alright,” your voice is small and your knees are now tucked up towards you. 

He sits at the foot of your bed, looking towards you in the darkness, “Today was- it wasn’t what we expected,” he’s being honest, so you hope to keep him calm and keep him talking. 

“No kidding,” you try smiling through the darkness at him. You’re, entirely preoccupied with self-preservation - it’s as though you’ve cornered a wild animal. 

He smiles back towards you, “I suppose it’s high time you knew the truth.” You're taken aback, this was not the route you thought this military strategist would take. You had convinced yourself he would try something more calculated than the truth. But, that is assuming this was the truth. 

You bring your arms up to hold yourself, “maybe," you’re being soft, giving him no reason to see any threat in you. 

“You’re not a Walker,” he says it as though it’s obvious and it earns a physical, knee-jerk response from you,

“I am! I am a-”  You’re furious, he’s going to lie to you again.

“Let me finish,” his tone is violent, final. He softens as you flinch from him, never once has he yelled at you like this. He’s volatile, you’ve always known that and yet-

“You were a Walker,” he adds, he sighs and meets your gaze again, and you don’t expect it. You’re silent so he’ll continue. 

“You were a Walker, God knows what you were before the Walkers took you in.” He tries a smile at you, clears his throat and reaches towards his pockets, “You’ve been a Rorke for just under three years now,” his hand extends towards you, he’s holding a ring. 

You’re blinking rapidly, you feel yourself pale as your stomach drops through the floor. 

No. 

“What?” you whisper, heart in your throat.

“It’s yours,” he says, and you take the ring gingerly, inspecting it as though it might trigger some long-buried memory of your time with Rorke, your husband. 

No. 

This isn’t right. 

“I don’t- I don’t remember any of this?” your voice is level and calm, but internally you’re trying to stitch together even more fragments of your life. 

He laughs, “It was rushed, and they hate me all the more for it.” He places a hand atop your knee and you don’t shrug him off. 

“This doesn’t make sense, I wouldn’t have joined the Federation if I were a Walker, we’d have been enemies? How did we even-?” your train of thought is derailed by the constant theorisations forming and collapsing in your head. 

“It’s a long story, kid, but, I was a Ghost once, before-” he pauses, clearing his throat,  “I was close with Elias,” he replies, and God- it sounds honest. You don’t have any timeline to place this all on to verify anything he’s saying. 

He looks at you, sighing as he continues, “I don’t expect you to wear it, they tried to destroy every part of me from your memory when they took you. I was foolish, I didn’t think they’d hurt you because they were.” He stands, and you track his movements. You feel stupid, even less certain. But he was so much older, how did you even meet - and yet- 

You believe him. 

“Gabriel, I-” You’re not even sure what you were going to say but you felt the need to continue. It makes sense, why the Ghosts would want you alive, why’d they want to hurt you. 

But they’re home. They were home once. 

“I’m sorry," he says, “I should have told you from the start, I didn’t want to overwhelm you.” He moves towards you and kisses the top of your head. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Is all he says before he leaves. 

And you almost hate him for it, he has ripped away the idea that you had a family that loved you. Of course, you didn’t have a family, you only had Gabriel. 

But he was so much older, how did you even meet - how?

The man who has been nothing but respectful and kind. Your husband. 

It explains why the Ghosts want you. It explains why a highly capable, violent man remained calm with you despite freeing his sworn enemies. You hate how much it makes sense. 

“He’s dangerous, and he knows exactly how to kill us,” It’s your father, a briefing before a mission. 

Likely against Rorke. Your husband. 

You don’t remember any of this. 

The Ghosts had taken so much from you. 

You had so many questions. Despite the answers Rorke had given you, you felt more in the dark than ever. 

“You’re infuriating, you shouldn’t even be in that room, anything could-” You cut the man with the deep voice off by kissing him. He doesn’t hesitate - his hands reach for you. One hand on your waist pulls you towards him, the other holding the back of your head fingers in your hair as he devours you. He kisses you with such intensity your knees feel like they’re about to give out from beneath you. You whisper, “Shut up, Keegan,” against him as you lose yourselves in each other, he’s pushing you backwards until your back hits the wall. You gasp at the impact, and he raises one of your legs to his waist before he pushes his hips against yours, you moan into his mouth-

No. No. 

How could a Ghost, Keegan, do those things to you in your memory and then so easily carve a knife into your skin? 

You’re sobbing. Utterly frustrated at your inability to remember anything that could help you put your life back together. 

You weren’t a Walker after all.

[footytea]

disclaimer: these are all romain molina's claims. none of them are mine. romain is an investigative journalist who focuses on exposing corruption, abuse, etc. within the football world. i'm just sharing what he has said over the past few years. some of these claims might sound crazy, but not unbelievable, unfortunately.

trigger warning: his claims mention topics such as rape, abuse, pedophilia, etc. so if those are topics you're not comfortable reading about, please don't continue reading.

one particular topic romain molina has been repeatedly speaking about is the pedophilia and trafficking ring(s) within the football world, involving many (as molina said over half of the) federations, including the spanish federation and the french federation, but also in south & north america, asia, africa. what is happening within these federations is actively being covered up and romain claims that even the french government is involved in the shit happening within the french football federation.

here's a list of a few claims romain molina has made:

more than 400 international players from the premier league, championship, ligue 1 and ligue 2 have been raped multiple times during their youth. some of them had anal injuries and diseases as a result and would go to specialised clinics to be treated. this has been going on for at least two decades.

an international coach was caught raping two 13 year old girls in the middle of an international tournament. his employer covered everything up for him, but still fired him in 2017. romain molina later went on to say that this story was also covered up by a footballer who many idolise and would use as their profile pic on twitter.

a ligue 1 club covered up a pedophilia case, that took place in their training centre. the (foreign) victim was later sent back to his country of origin.

victims of abuse and people who knew about this cannot speak up without facing major consequences. a human rights lawyer who was in the space romain hosted also stated how dangerous it is for the victims to talk about the abuse they have suffered.

an ex-member of the french federation said the following: "when something happens, we keep quiet. they have too much power. the second you speak, it's over."

the ex-director of the french federation said: "at the FFF, everyone talks to everyone. they are all aware of these affairs but they are very quickly buried. it's a policy of silence. they are like ostriches: head in the sand. if you speak, you are eliminated."

didier deschamps apparently claimed he had no idea about the cases of abuse within the french federation, while he was in contact with several people involved these abuse cases and knew about everything happening, but kept quiet for financial reasons.

a lot of molina's work focuses on african football. he has shared stories of female players forced to get abortions (one even died as a result), luring children to their homes, giving children blowjobs and keeping their sperm in jars to perform rituals, academies ran by pedophiles. crazy stuff.

some claims he made unrelated to the pedophilia and trafficking rings:

a current (this was back in 2021, idk if he's still a current player) french international player would organise parties where he would shit in women's mouths and film himself doing it. he forced a girl to participate, who later on issued a formal complaint. molina was also sent a video.

apparently helium balloons are very popular at arsenal and there's a player who even threw a "nitrous oxide balloons"-themed birthday party.

generally, a lot of players smoke shisha. there was a time psg players would bring their shisha/hookah with them on away games. one of the players who would regularly smoke shisha is blaise matuidi.

a few notes:

these are just a few of his claims summarised. if you want more details i would have to deep dive into his work more. romain has written several books and has been doing investigative work for longer than a decade now.

this space was insane, i think there were about 80k listening, even clubs' official twitter accounts were tuning in. the rock was in the space at one point as well 😭 i can't remember who else tuned in as it's been 2/3 years already

these claims simply show how rotten football institutions are and how it isn't surprising that footballers with rape/abuse charges don't have their careers ruined, when the people in charge are doing the same things and even worse.

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you have any Outertale fics that aren't set in the multiverse? Or Aftertale fics that aren't set in the multiverse?

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Nebula by CuddlyQuiche (Explicit, Incomplete)

Tasked with the important job to fix the Federation's training centre on the farthest colony from Earth, all that's on your mind is enjoying the work and eating some fresh food (finally.) Of course, things don't go to plan. There's so much more that wasn't reported in the original request and you're unsure whether you can make it in time. And...is that a floating skeleton? ----------- Bringing together space and magic in this treacherous world. You and your floating buddy learn to fight for survival. Be careful of who you trust.

The Silence in Space by lostflamefox__comic (Not Rated, Incomplete)

Inhale. It burned against her lungs, filling it with sharp needles. Exhale. The moisture hung in the air, a white cloud of foggy condensation that drifted out of the chamber and away into the world beyond.

Wishing for Stars by ArcticCalamity (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Frisk is a human who finds themselves crash-landing on a strange planet filled with monsters. With no memory of where they came from, they must make their way across this new world to find out about their past and set everyone free. (Based on the Outertale AU by http://2mi127.tumblr.com. See notes inside for details.)

Stellar by planterino (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

it's the year 2000X. the humans have conquered other planets after earth crumbled to a barren state at the hands of reckless humanity, living on places like mars. saturn. uranus. only one place is forbidden, and nobody other than the six missing people know why. y/n would be the seventh. there's another world out there in the stars. ________ AKA : my take on the AU Outertale

Science-Fiction for Dummies by saving_star (General Audiences, Incomplete)

It was something straight out of a science fiction film; monsters from space, trapped for decades among the cosmos, free at last. Who wouldn't be curious to see what lay far beyond Earth's starry backyard? Where monsterkind had lived for who knows how long. Maybe if you wished on a star, you'll get to see it some day. Your wish come true comes in the form of a skeleton. And it seems he's just as curious as you.

[rabbitcruiser]

Jasper National Park, AB (No. 15)

The Jasper Park Information Centre National Historic Site, located in Jasper National Park, Alberta, Canada, is the primary visitor contact centre for visitors to the park. Sited in the Jasper townsite, it was built as the park administration building in 1913-1914, and became the visitor contact centre in 1972. It is located in Athabasca Park, which is not included in the National Historic Site designation.

The Information Centre was one of the first rustic style buildings to be built in a Canadian national park. Conceived by park superintendent Lt. Colonel Maynard Rogers and designed by Edmonton architect A.M. Calderon, it incorporates local materials and construction techniques. The design is unique. No two windows or doors are the same, and the different peaks of the roof were meant to remind a visitor of the surrounding mountains.

As built, it was a multi-purpose building. The ground floor was the park superintendent's residence and the park's administrative office. Upstairs, there was a library, a small museum and a drafting room. The basement included a fish hatchery. The building served as a landmark for arriving train passengers on the Canadian National railway line that runs through the park. The administration building was the prototype for future construction in the Jasper townsite, and influenced building designs throughout the Canadian park system.

In 1936 a separate residence was built for the superintendent. The fish hatchery moved out in 1941 to a site near the confluence Athabasca and Maligne rivers. The first park information centre was built in 1949 near the Canadian National line in front of the main building. In 1972 the information centre moved into the old headquarters. In 1988, the Jasper Park Information Centre was designated a Classified Federal Heritage Building and in 1992 it was designated a National Historic Site of Canada. The upper floor is used as office space

Source: Wikipedia

[novankenn]

"Jaune Gets a Gun AU" Day One Recap.

Inspired by @howlingday

Ruby was not looking forward to seeing her teammates and friends again. Not after what happened with and to Jaune during their friendly outing to the Gun Show. She was especially not looking forward to facing Pyrrha. Glancing over, she noticed Jaune wearing his customary goofy grin.

Ruby: So, have fun?

Jaune: Of course! Any day is fun when I'm with you, Ruby!

Ruby: (Blushing) Sorry we didn't find you a ranged option today.

Jaune: It's okay. That convention centre is huge. We'll go again tomorrow, and maybe we'll have better luck.

Ruby: So you want to go again tomorrow? Really?

Jaune: Why wouldn't I?

Ruby: because of all the stuff that happened?

Jaune: No biggie. Water under the bridge, besides, how are we going to get me a ranged weapon if we don't try again tomorrow.

Ruby: True.

The rest of the bullhead trip was completed in silence, with Ruby partially dreading what was in store for her when they landed, and amazed that Jaune's motion sickness wasn't acting up. At the landing pads, Ruby and Jaune found Only Pyrrha waiting for them.

Pyrrha: (Gritting her teeth) So did you two have... a nice time?

Ruby: Of course. Nothing unusual happened. Everything was perfectly...

Jaune: It was fun, Pyr. You should come with us tomorrow. Can't believe all that happened today. It was a rush.

Pyrrha: Really? What happened today... Jaune?

Jaune: Well, I recovered a family heirloom from this Weasel after I kicked him in the crotch and sent him through the roof.

Nora: (From out of nowhere could be heard) YOU GO FEARLESS LEADER!!!

Pyrrha: Jaune! You shouldn't be kicking people! You're a huntsman-in-training, civilians can be easily hurt...

Jaune: It's fine, Pyr. He was a cartoon weasel. He'll survive.

Pyrrha: Wait? What?

Jaune: Anyway, after I shipped my Grandfathers gun back to Grandma, I saw these Gun heels...

Pyrrha: Gun... heels? How? What? I'm so confused.

Ruby could already tell she was going to get it once Jaune got further into the retelling, so slowly she started to inch away in preparation to use her semblance to escape.

Jaune: Yeah, they were cute, but Ruby wouldn't let me try them on... then there was this Adorable Rocket Launcher with little Rabbit icons on it...

Pyrrha gave Jaune a dead pan look, and slowly let her emerald green eyes move to focus on Ruby. She was about to say something when Jaune just continued on.

Jaune: Pyr do you think you can get me a bulk discount on Pumpkin Pete's Frosted Flakes?

Pyrrha: I could ask, but why, though? That cereal is terrible for you.

Jaune: I need thirty thousand box tops to get the rocket launcher.

Pyrrha just blinked and stared at Jaune, unable to process that statement.

Ruby: Well, it was a pretty full day. So I'm just going to...

Pyrrha: Ruby... please... stay.

Jaune: It's okay, Pyr. Ruby is probably tired. It was an exciting day after all.

Pyrrha: You don't say.

Ruby: Yep, full exciting day. I should go take a nap...

Jaune: Talk to you later, Ruby. Anyway, oh yeah. I apparently enlisted with the United Federation's Mobile Infantry

Pyrrha: WHAT!

Jaune: So after graduation, I guess I'm going to boot camp? I'll have to ask Headmaster Ozpin how it all works, before then.

Pyrrha: (Growling) Ruby Rose... you were supposed to keep him safe!

Ruby: I'm sorry?

Jaune: Oh, and I have this new ability! Not that I'm going to use it much. Kind of makes me overpowered.

Pyrrha: New ability? What new ability?

Jaune gives his trademark warm and goofy smile before tapping the yellow bracelet on his right wrist.

Jaune: Neat, huh?

Emerald Sustrai was just coming out to the Bullhead pads just as Jaune finished changing form...

Pyrrha: (Screeching) RUBY ROSE!!!

Emerald: SHE'S MINE!!!

Emerald charges forward and scoops Jaune up in a princess carry, pulls an impressive U-turn and continues to hot foot it back into the school. Leaving Pyrrha and Ruby utterly flatfooted.

Jaune: Hey wait! I want to change back!

Emerald: Not happening, Sweet-cheeks! I'm finding out if the carpet matches the drapes!

Pyrrha/Ruby : Get back here with MY JAUNE!

Jaune: Help! I NEED an ADULT!

Emerald: Don't worry, I'll make a woman out of you tonight, honey-buns!

Glynda Goodwitch steps off a freshly landed bullhead, sees the chaos erupting, and just shakes her head. Picks up her shopping bags and heads off to her private apartment.

(So, having some more fun... thanks for all the re-blogs and likes. Special thank you to everyone who has added to these scenes, and a BIG thank you to @howlingday for being a good sport and joining in on the fun. Thanks all of you. Stay tuned for Day Two)

[bullet-prooflove]

Stars Align - Jubal Valentine x Reader

Tagging: @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @oureternalbond  @trublu2u @greenies-green @darqchilddaydreamz @proceduralpassion @burningpeachpuppy @evee87 @delightfulheroshoeflap @iworldlywriter @helsinkibaby

How they met...

Jubal knows you’re the devil as soon as he meets you.

Nikki Delphino, an arms dealer with ties to Daniel Moreno, the man he’s hunting. The one who murdered two federal agents during the hijacking of the guns you’re currently trying to sell.

You have a body made for sin, eyes that promise a good time and lips so fucking kissable Jubal knows he’s going to spend the whole night fantasising about them. The red lipstick doesn’t help, it’s bright and glossy, something from the Dior collection. He knows because he watched you reapply it in the car before you gave him directions to the makeshift gun range where you bring your clients. He wants to run his thumb over your lower lip, smear it across your mouth.

He shouldn’t be attracted to you. You’re an arms dealer, you peddle weapons of mass destruction, the kind of shit that results in kids laying shot up on the street but there’s just something about you, he can’t quite out his finger on.

He’s always had an interest in the darker, more dangerous side of things. There’s never been the opportunity to explore it, he’s kept it locked away in a little box somewhere deep inside of him. However, when he looks at you, that part of him wants to come out and play.

You’re dressed in a black, sequined mini dress with a hem that teases along the tops of your thighs, black tights and ankle boots. There’s a leather jacket slung over the top, giving you a more dangerous edge. He thinks he catches a glimpse of lace as the dress rides up just a little and it sends a thrill of excitement rushing through his veins because he realises, they aren’t tights, their stockings. He wonders if there’s a garter belt attached.

You stand in front of the wooden crates; one is already open. He can see the brand-new assault rifles stacked on top of one another like toys. Your fingertips trail across the barrel of the first gun, there’s a sensuality to your motions, one that he greatly appreciates. You pick up the rifle, checking it over before selecting one of the magazines and loading it with a sharp snap.

Dangerous and beautiful, it’s a deadly combination.

You take aim at the mannequin in the opposite end of the range. It’s clad in a weathered ‘Frankie Says Relax’ t-shirt. He reviews your stance as you take up position, smooth movements, almost tactical. You’ve been trained he thinks, by who he has no clue. He makes a note to look into it.

When you fire it’s in a neat, tight cluster, centre mass.

“You hate Frankie Goes to Hollywood?” He asks you, the left side of his mouth pulling up into an amused smile.

“It belonged to an ex-boyfriend.” You tell him, setting down the rifle.

“I guess he’s lucky you didn’t put a couple of bullets in him.” He states watching as you remove the magazine and set it alongside the gun.

“Who says I didn’t?” You ask, your eyes flickering up to meet his under those long pretty lashes.

Something else to look into, he thinks, something to leverage during your interrogation.

“So.” You say, your palms coming to rest upon the table. The action pushes your breasts together, his gaze slips just for a second before you tip your head and meet his eyes. “See something you like?”

His cheeks colour before he lets out laugh.

“Yea.” He smiles. “I do.”

You both know he’s not just talking about the guns. That smile you give him; he thinks that you must feel it too. There’s been a chemistry between the two of you since he made contact in the club. In another world, maybe it would have worked.

One night with you, it would have been chaos. Dark, erotic and deeply satisfying. He knows you would have ruined him. He allows himself a second to fantasise, he imagines stripping off that dress in a hotel room somewhere, those bright red lips of yours leaving a pathway of marks down his body until you’re kneeling before him.

It can never happen, he knows that. He’s a federal agent after all and you’re an arms dealer but a man can dream.

“I’ll take the entire shipment.” He tells you crouching down to pick up the black holdall by his feet. He lifts it onto the table, placing it alongside the assault rifle. He unzips the bag, and you reach inside sifting through the cash, surveying the amount.

“Alright. We have a deal.” You say, your dexterous fingers zipping up the bag. “Where do you want them dropped off?”

It’s at that moment that all hell breaks loose. His team erupts through the doors, the chorus of FBI erupting through the room. To your credit you barely flinch, you simply incline your head towards him as you raise your hands.

“Such a pity.” You tut. “We could have had something.”

“I guess it wasn’t in the stars.” He tells you as Scola snaps the handcuff onto your wrist, guiding your hands behind your back.

“We’ll see.” You say with that knowing smile of yours. “I have a feeling they’ll align again.”

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[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“GIVE THEM THEIR CHANCE.” Montreal Star. March 4, 1930. Page 10. ---- AT LONG LAST Canada is to make an attempt to follow modern practice in the treatment of first offenders in at least two of her penitentiaries. In yesterday's Star it was announced that the big prison at St. Vincent de Paul will have a separate department constructed, constituting an independent organization which will be kept for the imprisonment only of first offenders.

It is a thing that should have been done years ago, not only at St. Vincent de Paul, but throughout all the penitentiaries of the country. The indiscriminate mixing up of young men, often little more than boys, who have committed a crime serious enough to justify a penitentiary rather than a jail sentence, but have so offended for the first time, with men who have apparently made crime a life profession is a scandal which has survived from the "good old days". What we been doing from time immemorial has been to subject the young criminal to influences against which, ninety-nine times out of one hundred, he has had no chance in the world. It is a question whether any offence which the young criminal can commit against society can be any more serious (if as serious) than the crime which society commits against him when it condemns him to years of association in circumstances which virtually make of him a criminal for life.

The work which has been commenced at St. Vincent de Paul is, according to report, to be undertaken also at Kingston. That is excellent, so far as it goes; but it does not go far enough. Canadian penitentiaries are under federal control. It is therefore only a matter of money - and not a great deal of money at that - which stands between the many young offenders at present behind their bars and at least an even chance for that reformation for which we all profess such fervent hopes and have so far done so little.

[katelynnwrites]

Hopefully BNG bid for the next WWC it’s way more reasonable than USA and Mexico or USA Mexico and Canada. I’m American and living on the east coast most of the games they would host would be on the west coast and in areas where everything is far too expensive. We also don’t have the transportation really to go from country to country or even state to state in a reasonable time. But then again it’s FIFA anything that is logical and would bring more money and eyes to the sport is always overlooked simply because of the bids made one countries federation. It’s truly dumb especially when looking at the bigger picture and how much he likes to tell the women to prove themselves. Like dude host it in places and countries where transportation won’t be the biggest issue or where Idk human rights are being violated and taken away left and right. This is why I don’t understand men they think small and don’t look at the big overall picture. While I’m happy it’s in Brazil (Brazil needs the boost) I just think it would have been bigger and better in BNG and would have brought more attention and a different atmosphere to the games. I bet the one after will be hosted by the US and Mexico (unfortunately because again FIFA will look at the bid but not the logical money maker)

i agree with you, safe, reliable and affordable transportation definitely plays a big part. not only for the players and staff but for the travelling fans as well. the public transport available definitely needs to be efficient because it contributes significantly to the overall experience the fans get.

take this most recent wwc for example. idk about the rest of the hosting cities but when i was in melbourne, it took only 20 minutes to get from the city centre to the stadium via public transport. it was the same for the reverse trip and that definitely made it a good experience for me because i didn't have to worry unnecessarily about the travelling logistics. there were also plenty of staff who did the directing so that the whole process went smoothly for everyone.

now i come from singapore which has extensive public transportations. you can literally get to anywhere within the country in under an hour, an hour and a half at a stretch, via the public transport. the government prides itself on it and has invested millions if not billions over the years. my point is that i'm not easy to impress and i was impressed with how melbourne worked the transportation out.

now that they're confirmed as the host, hopefully brazil are prepared to work their transportation out too and develop it sufficiently if necessary. the rest of the infrastructure, eg. stadiums and training facilities for the players as well. given how much the women's game is growing, it's only right that they do so.

i'm really glad that south america finally gets a chance to host a wwc because they completely deserve to. it will be great for their tourism and will definitely help showcase their players on a whole, not just legends like marta.

but as you said, fifa definitely ignores important issues like human rights and lgbtq+ rights in favour of money. the 2022 men's world cup in qatar clearly showed that.

however, unfortunately or fortunately, at the end of the day, fifa's decision has already been made and all we can do as fans now is simply hope that brazil and fifa invests properly in the 2027 wwc to make it a brilliant experience for all. it's what the players and fans deserve.

[cerys-capricorn]

The country I live in is on fire with millions of acres destroyed and thousands of people evacuated. This is potentially the 2nd time in 4 years that people will loose everything they have (as the 2019 Canadian wildfires were also horrendous). Millions are suffering displacement, homelessness, and health risks due to the wildfires across the country. I live in British Columbia and I remember 2019. This is so much worse. The ENTIRE country is pretty much on fire.

And what do the people of the U.S.A immediately say? “Blame Canada!” “We need to invade them bc clearly something is wrong up there” “Canada fucking sucks!” “Ugh, here is my Timelapse of how smokey the sky is, but apparently it will be gone in 2 days.”

Well Americans aren’t the ones who have to deal with the LITERAL GIANT FIRES SCORCHING THEIR NEIGHBOURHOODS AND FORESTS! They don’t have to pack up everything they own and hope, JUST HOPE, they come back and their homes aren’t burnt to the ground. They don’t have to hope their communities aren’t entirely destroyed. They don’t have to worry if their friends, families, and animals are okay. They are not the ones trapped due to roads being closed and heavy debris falling as the fires become uncontrollable. And they only seem to care when it is them on fire. But if another country is? They don’t fucking bat an eye, and yet the rest of the world helps them when they are in need.

So instead of complaining Americans, how about you fucking help for once? We are thankful you sent some of your firefighters to help us, but in the grand scheme of things, this isn’t enough. The U.S.A as a country is the 2nd biggest C02 producer in the world, which heavily contributes to the worsening of climate change, hence the wildfires. But Americans seem to forget this little fact. They forget that their politics and their environmental policies have literally fucked the rest of the world. So stop being so fucking selfish and actually help for once by contacting your local, state, and federal government(s). Stop voting for absolute idiots that want climate change to worsen so their pockets can be filled. Help by spreading information that will help those impacted, volunteer if you can, and maybe consider donating if you have the means. Or at least have some goddamn compassion and sympathy.

Here are some ways you can help:

• United Way for the Northwest Territories

All money donated goes to those affected by the wildfires in the NWT. Every donation is matched by the Federal Canadian and NWT governments.

• The Canadian Red Cross

All donations go towards those most impacted by wildfires across the Canadian Maritimes "with immediate and ongoing relief, recovery and resilience efforts in response to the wildfires, as well as supporting community preparedness and risk reduction for future all-hazard disaster events within Atlantic Canada”. The Federal Canadian and Nova Scotia provincial government have committed to matching each $1 donation to become $3.

• Donate A Mask

This organization ships free N95 respirator equivalent masks across Canada to those affected by the wildfires and for those who cannot afford high-quality and high-grade medical masks.

• Firefighters Without Borders

Firefighters Without Borders is a organization based in Ontario that provides equipment and training to local firefighters and communities across Canada. This helps in fighting current and future wildfires and promotes prevention. It also supports local firefighters to host and provide equipment to international firefighters when Canada needs assistance.

• Odawa Native Friendship Centre

The Odawa Native Friendship Centre is an organization serving the Ottawa-Carleton region in Ontario by helping Indigenous peoples that have had to evacuate their homes due to the wildfires. They accept money donations and usually accept clothing donations as well, but they are not taking clothing items at this time.

• The Central Okanagan Food Bank BC Wildfires Emergency Food Relief Fund

This organization donates much needed food to those impacted by the wildfires who are currently facing food insecurity. They have expanded to helping the entire province as the wildfires have spread.

For more information and to stay up to date:

[bryhoney]

Recognisance pt.2

previous

TW: Torture, Kidnapping, Drugging

This is shaping up to be looonggg.

Also on AO3

Next

The control room is a hive of activity; Men and women speaking frantically to one another as they crowd around screens. There are people running messages back and forth across the base, each one seemingly vital for the Federation's continued success. 

You find yourself standing alone, staring up at one of the boards in the command centre that is regularly updated with anything even remotely related to the Ghosts. It's dedicated to the most recent images and reports of the task force, some of the notes tacked onto the wall are just simple descriptors. 

It always takes you a second to muster up the courage to look at the board. It's Gabriel's shrine to them, and recently you'd adopted his mission; To understand these men to the best of your ability and hunt them down. You know you should hate them, fear them after what they did to you. But the memories of your time with them were mostly in the dark, their faces were blurry and secondary to the pain they inflicted. 

You'd read every file that Gabriel gave you regarding the ghosts. Most of them were heavily redacted or had large portions missing, individual pages torn away from the document. You had thought that going over these files would jog something in your memory, but as of yet, nothing. As such, you must have read every piece of information on the board in front of you several times over, you've made it a ritual since being allowed back to work. 

You recite the information silently. 

Two of the Ghosts are brothers, the Walkers. There was a third Walker amongst the Ghosts, Elias Walker, but Gabriel had killed him over two years ago. They -

They're ------. 

"----! You're school re----, your brot--- --- -----! -----! Leave h-- -l---" It's a voice you recognise, but from where? An older voice-

You turn to the other images, Merrick and Keegan. 

"Look at ---"

You're kissing someone, holding their head against the crook of your neck. You hear them whisper "mine," before you feel his teeth move against- it's that deep gravelly voice, it's-?

You audibly gasp at the memory and quickly cover your mouth, shaking the thought away. Inappropriate, incomplete. Shut up. 

Looking back towards the board, you take a shaky breath. These men hurt you and took everything from you and yet you hardly even remember them. A part of you worries about what damage it'll do to remember everything they inflicted upon you. 

"Oh ---" is it your name? A callsign? It's fuzzy and sounds-?

Your head is pounding. 

"NO! -----! I'll kill you! LOGAN! LO-"  It's another male voice, do you know who it is? It sounds so far away and yet...

Your feet are bleeding but you stalk forwards anyway.

Your feet are bleeding. 

You know that name, you know that voice. 

"Logan!" you're screaming, you can hear the panic in your voice.  

Your eyes flit upwards, towards the pictures of the Ghosts. 

LOGAN WALKER - M - 2001

Oh God. 

Your heart sinks and suddenly you dread the idea of remembering. You hate that one of the Ghosts is now more than a name on the wall. You suppress a sob, steeling yourself momentarily before moving towards Gabriel and the commanding officer. Despite being engrossed in their conversation, Gabriel must sense your discomfort as his hand moves to hover over the small of your back. His eyes never leave the man in front of him. 

Had you hurt Logan Walker? Is that why the Ghosts wanted you? The man's voice was furious, sincere, and threatening.

"Did you get that?" Gabriel asks, disturbing your train of thought. 

You shake your head, "I-" 

"There's been a sighting of them, New Mexico, we'll be flying out towards the border in three days, you're with me," he repeats. His tone is hard and unwavering, you know better than to argue but you can hardly help yourself. 

"With-? I don't have any field training, Sir," you stutter, taken aback at his proposition. Rorke was a man who almost exclusively lured his prey on foot, out in the open. He had told you that you were involved in the intelligence-based side of operations once upon a time. 

Rage. Blinding rage. You had shrugged your water-logged shoes off, stalking quickly towards the broad back in front of you. You held your knife tightly in your hand. You had the singular goal of eviscerating and killing -----. In the last few feet you launched -- ----- and -- -o---- --"

The memory is interrupted as Gabriel laughs, "Oh, don't you worry, we just want 'em to see you". 

It's dark. It's always dark. 

Someone had drugged you, you kept repeating this under your breath, trying to remind yourself that the shadows and noises you can hear moving around in the room aren't real. They're just hallucinations. 

Not real. Don't look at them. 

It becomes harder to ignore the bright eyes that blink at you from across the room sporadically. Figures would move in front of you, at inhuman speed. They weren't real. They weren't real.

You yell into the abyss, "Hey! I can see you! You're not real! You. Are. Not. REAL!" your voice is hoarse. It hurts to scream but you do so anyway.

Your chair spins and suddenly you're face-to-face with a skull.

No. A man wearing one of the Ghost masks. You couldn't make out which one they were. The stains on the mask were moving and shifting.

He grips your face hard between his gloved fingers, his voice sounds warbled and is almost static-y in quality. Colours shift around him as he moves, creeping into the holes of his mask. It's beautiful and terrifying all at once. 

Which one was he? 

His voice is cruel, "I'm real though, ain't I?" A hand creeps over your shoulder, digging into your skin before vanishing in the next second. You flinch at the sensation and the hand holding your jaw tightens. 

"AIN'T I?" He yells against the shell of your ear, a scream erupts from your chest. Your bones are shattering and knitting themselves together all at once. His voice is underwater and it's drowning you. 

The air around you splinters into blinding flashes. You're blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to the onslaught of light.

"Yes. You're real, you're real," you whisper, trying to draw all the air you can into your lungs. Your broken ribs prevent a full inhale. 

He's behind you, you hadn't seen him move. His mouth pressed against the shell of your ear and you sob at the sensation. 

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispers, the vibrations are needles of sound that pierce you, "are you afraid of the Ghosts now?"

You hear his laugh echo around the room, as a knife carves its way through the flesh of your sternum.

You hear someone screaming, it sounds like you. 

You wake up screaming, drenched in sweat. You launch yourself across the room and hit the wall hard, scrambling for purchase. You crumple to the floor, sobbing into the darkness as you rapidly assess the room around you. You're not in the hole. You're not back with the Ghosts. 

You're safe. You are safe. Safe.

Your hands come up to your chest, checking for open wounds but all that remains are the silvery, raised scars. It's the middle of the night, you've likely woken someone up. 

Your door crashes open and you throw yourself backwards once again, sliding across the wall. A cry leaves you and you hate how pathetic you sound. 

"It's okay, I've got you, baby. Daddy's always got you," your heart ached, your dad loved you. 

You wanted your Dad. You wanted to go home. You wanted to remember.

Gabriel stands in front of you for a moment before rushing to your side, assessing you. 

"Ssh. Ssh, I've got you" he whispers, pulling you towards him and you finally break, crying into his arms. Your hands rush to cover your face, legs tucking themselves closer to your body. 

"What did you see?" His voice is soothing, he runs a hand over your head, holding you close to him. 

"It was them - I was back in the room with-" You're sobbing freely, grateful he's here. 

"I know, I know. You're safe now. You're with me" He easily lifts you and places you gently on the bed, tucking you under the covers as he continues to hold you. 

You're uncomfortably warm in his embrace but for once, you're being held tenderly. Whilst your time in the hole isn't always clear, you can always remember the pain. 

That's how you fell asleep that night, in Gabriel's arms. 

You don't dream again for the rest of the evening. 

—

You’re terrified to be in the air, to be flying towards the conflict. Towards the ghosts. 

You’re doing all you can to not physically shake at the thought. You want to lash out and scream at Gabriel and yet you're relying on him to get you through this. How could he do this to you? He knew what this must be costing you, but he trusted you and saw your value. 

Fuck. 

“Sir, 10 minutes out” the pilot states across the comms. 

You might see them in just ten minutes and you hate how vulnerable you feel. You're absently thumbing at the sleeves of your dress, some thin grey thing that went passed your ankles. The rest of the team were in their uniforms, armed to the teeth whilst you sat there idly, entirely dependent upon them to protect you. Gabriel had disarmed you, made you weak. 

He argued that you were there for intel and behind-the-scenes work, so civilian clothes were appropriate. You wished that this was the only reason he'd given you, he'd gone on to explain that you were going to be used to draw them out. Gabriel wanted to entice them to act irrationally, apparently, they were furious you had gotten away from them. He was going to lure them out, and you didn't need weapons for that. 

You weren’t sure why he thought you’d be that important to them, or why they’d go against all their training to take you and Gabe down. But you trusted him, he was the Ghost Hunter, the best of the best. 

He was also your commanding officer. So, what he said was law. 

—

The landing pad was out in the open, in front of the base that overlooked the dry mountainous region it was nestled within. Gabriel wouldn’t tell you anything, not why he thought they might be overlooking the base at that time, why he didn’t want to engage with them face to face. How was he so sure they'd see you as you alighted the helicopter? How could he be so blase about the situation? They might just decide to fire some RPG as soon as you ste-

Shut up. 

You suppress a yelp as the helo touches down, taking Gabriel's hand as you move to step off the aircraft. Your stomach turns as his hands move to your waist to help you down.

Your dress whips around your ankles as the helo thrums back to full power, taking off almost immediately after the last soldier's boot touches down. 

“Dad’ll kill you – he catches you —eaking out – meet some b—-. Let al—- if Hes- ca—-- you —. You’re still the ba—-. Quick! Go– I’ll co—-” A kind voice, muffled still but there was laughing, smiles, comradery. Your teenage years? Your brother? Your father? 

You had a brother?

A family? Why couldn't-

You didn’t like how frequently these memories were coming back, how they were less fragmented and easier to understand. What else would come back-?

Before you could properly dissect the new memory, Gabriel had a hand on your shoulder, urging you to duck slightly as the helo took off. He began leading you to some of the men who’d been waiting for your arrival. They were smartly dressed and flanked by men on both sides. 

“Higher!” It was your voice, happy, laughing, young.

“You’ll fall!” A boy laughed at you, his voice deeper, older. 

“I’ll catch you!” another boy, younger, arms raised. 

The sun is in your eyes. 

You shook your head, dispelling the tears that rose to your eyes and you greeted the men alongside Gabriel. His hand had slid from your shoulder to your lower back.  

You smiled and nodded politely, thoughts torn between piecing together the revelation that you had a brother, someone else who called the same man, “Dad” and the uncomfortable feeling of Gabriel's hand on you, as though he was all that anchored you to Earth. 

After what felt like a lifetime, you felt yourself being manoeuvred across the landing pad, towards the very edge of the rooftop. It was a sheer drop, this base carved into the side of a mountain. He pushed you until your toes were over the edge, hovering over nothing. Your arms moved to grip him, "Gabriel?" You didn't plead with him to stop, you trusted him. His hands tighten their hold on you. 

You trusted him. You trusted him? 

“One of us” 

His voice was low as he whispered, “Can you feel them?”

“What?” you whispered, unable to understand his meaning. You felt completely out of your depth and terrified of the drop in front of you. 

“They’re out there, can’t you feel their eyes on you?” His hold tightens even further before he leans forward, over the edge. Your heart plummets and you gasp at the sight, whipping your head skywards, as though you could counterbalance him. You were leaning over a drop of at least 10 floors. It wasn’t his actions that terrified you though. 

He’s talking about the Ghosts. He was saying they were right there, watching you. 

“Sir, please - what if-” your heart rate is frantic. You were out in the open. They were out there. Watching you. 

“You’re good, they ain’t gonna shoot us out here, they’ll want to get closer for that”. His voice reverberating from your collarbone where his chin was resting. It was inappropriate, wrong.

“Only I get to —-” a hand was around your throat, his mouth was- 

He laughs at your breathy inhale, slapping his arm onto your shoulder and roughly turning you back to the compound. His change in demeanour was startling, but you realise that the Gabriel you know at the base and the Gabriel who thrived during the hunt were two very different people. 

He was right though, you could feel their eyes on you.

Next

[soratsuart]

Well, you know what time it is, guys

QSMP Day 40 Lore Summary

Today it will be a long one since so many things have happened, including the mysterious kidnapping of the eggs and, more importantly, the addition of Brazilian streamers to the server. WELCOME WORLD TO QSMP!!!!

We start the day around half an hour before the actual event started, with everyone logging in expecting to spend some more time with their eggs before fighting whatever was coming for them, only to find them and their beds were already gone. This, of course, prompted them to panic and they all reunited to discuss what had happened, somehow ending up with the whole group at Philza's house.

After a while, they get interrupted by a cargo ship crashing into the train station due to a storm. Everyone goes to investigate and they have to make their way through a bunch of monsters until they arrive in a cabin with new Brazilian members trapped. According to them, they crashed the ship because Felps tried to drive without having a licence. The group has to introduce a code in order to let them out and they the Brazilian members introduce themselves to everyone else.

With their new addition in the island, all members go to the adoption centre were English and Spanish members introduce themselves to the new members and afterwards they go Bad's Pizzeria to party and interact with one another. During this time Philza somehow managed to become Forever's sugar daddy by accident (I swear that's what happened, they used the words "sugar daddy").

After a while, Quackity took the Brazilian to have a tour around the island and explain them the history of everything that has happened as well as show them all the buildings, though Forever left after a while to go with Philza. And while all that was happening, Slime transformed into Gegg and finally met Mariana and got him to adopt him. This family dynamic lasted for about five minutes before Vegetta killed Gegg for hitting Foolish and his body revealed him to be Slime, so now everyone knows his true identity.

After some more time, Maxo opened Las Casualonas and everyone reunited there to party (it went exactly as you could expect). However, they were soon interrupted by the QSMP Federation announcing their eggs had been returned in the adoption centre. Everyone immediately goes there to check for them, but they can't find them until Philza discovers them all in the attic. They find all the eggs alive, but they all have cracks. Soon everyone would find out they feel weak and scared, being unable to wear an armour until after a long while, and none of them remember what happened to them.

On the bright side, though, a new egg has appeared, wearing a yellow and green T-Shirt like what Brazil's football team's uniform looks like. All five Brazilian members decided to adopt this new egg and called them Richarlyson. Slime and Mariana low-key have a fight with them to try and kill Richarlyson but they failed so afterwards they tried to fight for their custody. Bobby also started fighting Richarlyson.

Meanwhile, Quackity went to Philza's place to try and get Tallulah to (forcefully) take care of her. However, Bad had already warned Philza since he heard Quackity when he was searching for Tallulah, so he was already prepared and kept shutting him down while adjudging his basement to be Tallulah's room with the help of Bad, Fit and the eggs. Quackity's plan then changed to build a prison with Forever and they want to jail Philza for "rejecting Forever's love and kidnapping Quackity's daughter". They also got Cellbit to join them, but he didn't really believe Quackity, so he went to question Bad about the matter while secretly warning him Quackity was listening.

Cellbit and Quackity have an argument about the eggs and after Quackity jumps from the wall Cellbit allows him to have 1% of Richarlyson's custody. Richarlyson holds now the record of having the most parents of the whole server with 6 parents. Quackity was then adopted as a Brazilian too. They also surprised Cucurucho spying on them.

Also, as last relevant thing, Richarlyson died (yes, already) and Cellbit asked Bad for help to cover it up and blame the Census Bureau for killing them. Luckily, though, their life was forgiven due to this being their first day so they still have two lives.

[scotianostra]

The Scottish Suffragette  Agnes Henderson Brown was born on April 12th 1866 in Edinburgh.

Nannie Brown, as she later became known as was born at 125 Princes Street, which is slap bang opposite the Castle. The street  in those days would have been mainly a residential one, as it was meant to be in the plans for the New Town, George Street was meant to be the main shopping are. 

Their father was interested in social and political reform and the house became a centre of cultural activity. The Dad ran a number of fruit shops under the title of William Brown & Sons he trained his daughters, Agnes and Jessie, well and refused to submit to laws that he objected to, he was an activist for women’s rights. His opposition to taxes that differentiated between genders caused him to end up in Calton Gaol. 

Agnes and her sister Jessie  were among the first women to be seen on bicycles in Scotland. The safety bicycle was the direct ancestor of today’s machines. With a slight adaptation they attracted thousands of women to cycling and some historians point to the safety bicycle as the beginnings of suffrage, women’s rights and feminism.

They first became active in the (WFL) Women’s Freedom League around 1910. Agnes was one of 6 women who walked the whole length of the Edinburgh to London suffrage march in 1912. It took five weeks and involved walking around 15 miles a day and attending a suffrage rally each evening. The marchers were dressed in russet brown jackets, earning the six women the name (the) Brown Women.

Following Emily Davison’s death at the Derby in 1913 a deputation of Councillors, JPs ministers, solicitors and barristers from Scotland and the North of England tried to see Prime minister Asquith, He refused to see them so they formed the ‘Northern Men’s Federation for Women’s Suffrage’ Agnes became secretary of the Edinburgh Branch.

Unlike the (WSPU) The Women’s Social and Political Union , the WFL welcomed male support in the struggle. They continued campaigning throughout the war years.

After the war Agnes was involved in setting up the (SWRI)  Scottish Women’s Rural Institute and was an organiser from 1917-22. She was also a member of the Edinburgh Women’s Citizens Association.

Nannie Brown wrote articles and plays and participated in societies such as the Edinburgh Dickens Fellowship, where she  learned women to type and ride a bicycle. 

She continued to walk. Not content with the Brown Women walk she repeated a similar walk but this time she set off from John O Groats. As she travelled to London she reported on her journey in the Weekly Scotsman.  

Agnes Brown died on 1st December 1943 and was buried with her parents in Dean Cemetery Edinburgh.  She was noted in the Scottish Saltire Society who published her obituary as an Outstanding Women of Scotland Community in 2014

[artemisbarnowl]

I am in a cow paddock. I am 5 kilometres from parliament house. With the right breeze you can hear speeches from the national library as people walk for the Voice to parliament, a referendum that will hopefully change our country for reconciliation and recognition of first people. I am 2 kilometres from an international airport with less than 15 gates. This is the capital, the heart of the country. I can smell cow shit and wattle. Less than half a million people live here. Im 4ks from a grape chupa chup bubble tea and an asian grocer but there is so little culture if i post about a class im doing next week you'll be able to meet me there if you wanted (unless the class was piliates. Theres so much pilates). Behind me is a sorta annoyed water dragon and behind her is a porche that got pulled over by federal police. The prime minister lives 7ks away. The entire economy exists for people who fly here from sydney (2.5 hour drive/1 hour flight) or Melbourne (8 hour drive/1 hour flight) on monday morning and fly home again friday afternoon. A main arterial road was closed because of a flower festival. All this within a 5km radius of the cbd. A couple of hours to walk around and you could see everything but mostly just bush and farm. There is 1 tram line and no trains, except the one that takes you interstate and it does not line up with the bus timetable or even go to cbd to meet connecting services. This is where matters of policy and law are decided. Every time I lay eyes on the spire and flag atop parliament house (just left of centre in the background above. Not the tower on the mountain) i think of the women who are not safe there, were assaulted there, their place of work and the house that decides how 23 million people must live. I know for sure that none of the people making decisions have ever stood in this cow paddock and looked back at their house or their office building, but 200 metres to my left is a road they travel down every week.

[happynationaviation]

TITLE: “NAVIGATING THE SKIES FROM THE GROUND”

Why do we need air traffic control in airports? because it is the way to prevent a collision involving aircraft operating in the system. When it comes to air traffic control (ATC), our top priority is ensuring the safety of the skies. What are the benefits and advantages of being air traffic control workers?

Air traffic controllers must be able to give clear, concise instructions, listen carefully to pilots' requests, and respond by speaking clearly in English. Decision-making skills. Controllers must make quick decisions.

Air traffic control rooms are strategic nerve centres in the aviation industry. These facilities are where highly trained professionals use sophisticated technology to orchestrate the movements of thousands of aircraft, ensuring that millions of passengers reach their destinations safely every day.

An air traffic control room is either located within an airport's control tower or is part of the traffic control centre that manages the broader region of airspace around the airport. The design of the control room is meticulously planned out to optimise controllers' ability to monitor and communicate with aircraft at all altitudes and in all directions. They also tend to feature very large windows in a circular style to allow for optimal ground-to-air visibility.

The control room will host an array of radar screens and computer systems that convey real-time data on aircraft positions, altitudes, and speeds. These systems are always arranged ergonomically, meaning they are laid out intuitively, to allow controllers to remain alert and responsive during their shifts. The layout needs to be as seamless as possible to minimise human error and to allow for sustained periods of uninterrupted concentration.

In this topic I will pursue this job because you make a good salary with benefits, but the work schedule can be inconsistent. Working for the federal government comes with a good salary, and paid leave and health insurance. Air traffic controllers use their skills and judgment to safely direct more than 100,000 departing and arriving flights daily in the Philippines.

Let’s go join with we and we started to count a plane everyday!!!